“Let’s go back to your place and get ….” He stopped when I gave him a look of warning. “We need someplace to talk. This could take a while.”
“Okay, Jerry. Where’s your car? You can follow me back to the house.”
“I don’t have a car. One of Nappi’s men dropped me here when I didn’t find you at home. I figured you might be having a drink or something.”
“No car? How are you supposed to get around in town?”
“Taxi?”
“There are no taxis in this town. You should know that.”
“I’ll rent something.”
“In the morning you’ll rent a car. Until then, where are you staying? I suppose I’ll have to drop you off.”
“Uh, I haven’t gotten a place yet.”
“Have you thought any of this through? There’s a big bass tournament in town. There’s probably not a room for fifty miles around here.”
He shook his head and plastered what could only be interpreted as a hopeful, save-me look on his face.
That was Jerry. When we were married he counted on me to bail him out of dicey situations. I guess divorce hadn’t changed that.
“Okay. You can crash on my couch for the night; then I drop you by the rental place early tomorrow, and I do mean early. You’re on your own from then on.”
I muttered under my breath the entire way to my place.
When we got there, I tossed my purse on the coffee table and headed for my liquor cabinet. The margaritas had worn off, and after my day, I needed something. Scotch or chocolate. Scotch and chocolate.
Without asking, I also poured Jerry a shot of Scotch.
“Cheers.” He lifted his glass.
“We’ll see about that. Talk.” I threw myself onto the couch.
“Tough day, huh?” He set his glass on the end table and moved my feet off the couch, then sat there. “I could give you a foot rub. Remember when I used to do that?”
“I do remember. And don’t do it now.” I sipped my Scotch. It felt like fire going down and like velvet in my tummy. Ah.
Jerry remained on the couch and tossed down his drink in one gulp. It seemed to light the fire of important conversation under him.
“Nappi looked into Darlene’s past and found some interesting things. It seems Winston wasn’t her first mob connection. She was the long-time girlfriend of Fingers Bucoli.” Jerry paused and gave me an expectant look.
“So? This is supposed to mean something to me?”
“You never heard of Fingers?”
I wiggled mine at him and shook my head.
“Fingers Bucoli died several years ago, supposedly hit by a rival family vying for control of an area of Philly.”
“Darlene likes mobsters. That’s all you’ve got?”
“Nappi says there’s a rumor going around that the hit wasn’t by someone outside the family, but might have been the work of one of Finger’s closest associates.” He sat back on the couch with a look of satisfaction on his face.
“Maybe Darlene?”
“Maybe Darlene.”
I thought about this. “Perhaps it was a lover’s quarrel?”
“Then she’s a real smart dame. It looked like a legitimate hit.”
I wondered about using “legitimate” as the way to label having someone killed off, but I let it go.
“What does Nappi think?”
“He’s still talking to his contacts, but regardless of whether she’s involved or not, his feeling is that Darlene lacks good girlfriend potential.”
Some might question whether such a judgment coming from a mob guy carried any authority, but I trusted Nappi to protect my interests, regardless of the ethics he adhered to in his own business relations.
“What do the Philly authorities think about Fingers’ murder?”
Jerry shrugged and held up his glass. “Got any more of this?”
“I’ll run this by Frida and see what she says.” I ignored his request for more Scotch.
“Oh, and Nappi says to remind you again. Mob folks don’t kill people who owe them money. It’s just bad business.”
“I get that.”
He set the glass on the end table and reached out to pat my shoulder.
“God, Eve, you’re tight as a corset on an overweight hooker.” He grabbed my feet and lifted them into his lap, then slipped off my Ferragamos—the ones with the snake skin straps and three inch heels, of course—and began to rub my toes.
It felt so good, I let him continue.
“Did you hear a car pull up?” I slid forward on the couch.
The doorbell rang.
I swung my feet onto the floor and went to the door.
“Am I interrupting something?”
It was Sammy Egret. He eyed Jerry with suspicion.
“No, of course not.” I gestured him into the room.
Jerry rose from the couch and approached Sammy. He stood a good six inches shorter than the Indian. Both men seemed to square off as if they intended to engage in combat in my living room. It looked like a toy poodle had wandered into the fight ring with a pit bull.
“I’m her husband.”
“Ex-husband.” Why did it seem so important I make it clear to Sammy that I wasn’t attached to Jerry?
“Same difference. Who are you?”
“He’s my airboat pilot, tracker, and bodyguard.”
For a moment Sammy looked doubtful about the titles I’d given him, but he nodded anyway.
“You won’t need him tonight, since I’m staying over,” Jerry said.
I could tell Sammy wanted to laugh at this, but he made polite and didn’t.
“In your house? With you?” Sammy seemed puzzled at my choice of sleep-over companion.
“By the way, Sammy, what are you doing here?”
“Madeleine sent me. She wanted me to check on you. She said you had an appointment tonight, and she was worried you might not be safe. I followed you from the Biscuit. You really want this guy in your house?”
“Not really, but he’s not the one she was worried about.”
The two men stood in the middle of the room, still squared off, as if waiting for the starting bell to signal round one.
“Let’s all of us sit down. Can I get you anything, Sammy? We’re having Scotch.”
“I’ll take a beer if you have it.”
“In the fridge.” I gestured toward the kitchen, grabbed Jerry by the arm and shoved him onto the couch. I stuck my feet back in Jerry’s lap. He was too good at foot massages for me to let this one go.
Sammy got his beer and sat on the arm of the couch farthest from Jerry.
Jerry paused mid-massage. “I think I heard another car. Are you expecting someone else, Eve?” Jerry nodded toward Sammy.
Was I expecting anyone else? Not really, but there’s no accounting for who might come through my door. This was a friendly community, and people dropped by. Maybe Madeleine decided to check up on me and Sammy. Maybe Sophia decided to get pushy once more. And there were Grandy and Max ….
Nope. Wrong on all counts.
The front door banged open and Alex stood there, backlit by the street light and looking like an avenging angel.
“What the hell is going on here?” Alex asked, and not in a friendly way.
Now there were three men in my house. The level of testosterone circulating in the room rose astronomically, my tingling from tip to toe not simply the result of having my feet rubbed.
Chapter 8
I introduced Alex and Sammy and explained that Sammy was here at Madeleine’s behest and Jerry at Nappi’s, information I hoped would calm him down. I hadn’t seen him for several weeks, and I missed him. I assumed he missed me, too, and that was why he was here. I also considered another reason for his visit: he didn’t trust me and was checking up on me. Putting myself in his shoes, I might have had some concerns if I entered his apartment to find his ex-wife and a comely bronze-skinned Indian maiden on the couch having cocktails.
; Sammy seemed to sense he should leave. He was quick to pick up that Alex was more than just a friend. He offered to give Jerry a ride, but Jerry, being the insensitive lout he was, declined. Jerry knew Alex, knew he was my boyfriend, so it was classic Jerry that he would hang around to make things difficult for us.
“Wrong, Jerry. You do want a ride.” I gave Alex a look I hoped he would correctly interpret as a hankering to get cozy together. Alone. It seemed to miss its mark. He appeared fixated on Sammy.
“I don’t have any place to stay. You know that, Evie.” Jerry wrung his hands and looked helpless.
I bristled at being called Evie, especially in front of Alex. I considered simply throwing him out onto the lawn but worried the neighbors might object to trash in my front yard.
“That’s not my problem.” I appealed to Sammy’s knowledge of the area. “Is there any motel around here that won’t be filled with bass tournament people?”
“Sure. I’ll get him a place.” Sammy smiled his enigmatic smile, and I wondered for a moment where he would put Jerry—maybe a hammock in a chickee—but as I’d said earlier, that wasn’t my problem.
I closed the door on the two of them and turned to Alex.
“You don’t know how happy I am you’re here,” I said.
“No, I don’t. It looked to me as if you had plenty of company to make you happy. Two men, one massaging your feet, the other sending smoky signals of desire.”
“You know Jerry and you know there’s nothing between us. Well, nothing on my part. As for Sammy, don’t you think your remark is kind of racist? Besides he’s Miccosukee. They don’t use smoke signals.”
“This one does.”
“Okay, I get that you’re perturbed with me. But for no reason.”
He stood there for a moment, then moved across the room and took me into his arms. This was more like it.
We settled on the couch and began talking. That’s when I made my mistake. I told him about everything that was happening, and he did what I should have expected him to do.
“You’ve got to go to the cops. You know that. You think kidnapping by Russian mobsters is something you can solve by giving this woman money? Maybe it’s just a scam and there is no kidnapping.”
“I’ve already thought of that. I have a source—”
“Source?” He snorted the word. “You mean you’re going to use Nappi’s connections to find out, don’t you?”
Well, sure I did. “It’s a damn reliable source.”
“And then you’ll owe him.” He got off the couch and moved toward the door.
“Hey, where are you going?” I thought by getting rid of the other guys I made it clear to him that he and I could have some time together, like the entire night.
“I’m leaving.”
“You’re punishing me for using my friends to help me find my uncle’s murderer?”
“This is not finding his murderer. This is blackmail. With the Russians. Are you crazy?”
“I think it’s all related.”
“How?”
Well, he had me there. I didn’t know how. I spread my arms in a gesture of helplessness. You’d think a guy who loved a gal might sweep her off her feet, carry her into the bedroom and forgive her all her recklessness, wouldn’t you? Maybe not.
“I can’t stay.”
“You are punishing me. How can you? You were simply checking up on me, weren’t you?” I knew I was going overboard with what I said to Alex, but I couldn’t help myself.
Alex looked exasperated at my outburst and threw up his hands.
“Just go then.” I pointed at the door.
Alex got very still and silent for a moment.
“That’s what you really want?”
“Absolutely.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest and tapped my bare toe.
“Fine, but I think you should know I drove here from Pensacola just to make sure you were all right. I can’t stay because I have to get back for an important meeting tomorrow.”
Oh, no. I rethought the drama queen act.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”
He turned away from the door. “Sometimes you are a challenge, Eve.” He put his arms around me, this time pulling me so close I thought he might break something. “Listen to me. Stay out of this investigation and stay away from the blackmail thing. The Russian mob is nothing to get involved with. Even Nappi will tell you that.”
The next morning I rolled over in my empty bed. Alex had left as he promised, but he’d stayed until early morning. I didn’t envy his long drive back to the Panhandle. The evening wasn’t what I’d envisioned for us, but work sometimes gets in the way of romance. Murder is even more intrusive. I grabbed my cell off the bedside table.
“I hate to do this, Madeleine, but can you tend the store alone this morning? I’ve got an errand to run.”
“Sure, but what errand?”
“I’ll be in around one this afternoon with some clothes from our clients on the coast. Promise. We can talk then.” I clicked off before she could ask any more questions.
Before I went to the store I had the morning to accomplish two items of business. I wanted to find out where Sammy had stashed Jerry so I could make contact with Nappi. And then I needed to hire Sammy to take me on another airboat trip. Oops, three things: I had to make a quick trip to replenish our dwindling supplies of designer items in the store. If I forgot that, Madeleine would have my head. Or worse yet, she’d tell Alex and Grandy and maybe Frida what I was up to. Then I’d have an entire posse on my trail.
The sun was inching its way over the eastern edge of the lake, sending pink light onto the water’s surface. It looked like a fine day, despite that old sailor’s warning rhyme. I turned onto the dirt drive to Sammy’s chickee, thinking I’d have to walk to his house and roust him out of bed. I was wrong. He stood leaning against the center post to the chickee, his eyelids half closed as if he was just awake enough to hold his body upright but not so alert he welcomed another human interfering with his morning meditations.
I smiled, thinking I’d caught him off guard and almost napping. I was wrong. In the few seconds it took me to get out of my car and approach him, he’d moved out of the chickee and was walking toward me. His lids still hooded his black eyes, but when he got close I noted they were sharp as a raptor’s.
“I guess your boyfriend left early. And you got lonely and came to see me. Should I be flattered? Had your coffee yet?”
Before I could decide which comment I wanted to address, he moved away from the chickee and headed down the path to his house, gesturing with a lazy sweep of his hand that I should follow. “Grandfather’s been up for hours. He figured you might show up looking for something.”
He did?
The smell of coffee welcomed me into the house. Sammy pulled out a chair for me at the table.
“When I drove past the Hardy brothers’ place, it was closed. I guess they’re still in jail,” I said.
I sipped my coffee. For having been made in an old enamel pot, it was surprisingly good, the flavor deep and full. The world’s most experienced coffee barista couldn’t have improved on it.
“Don’t stir the grounds. Let them settle. An eggshell keeps it clear.” Grandfather Egret slipped a fried egg out of the pan onto a plate and handed it to me.
“No, really. I don’t eat breakfast.”
“If you’re going to stake out a varmint’s nest, you need to keep your stomach from growling or they’ll hear you and run off.” Grandpa gave forth a throaty chuckle.
“I’m hoping the, er, varmints won’t be home.” I ate the egg with gusto.
“If you’re saying we should be careful, I know that, Grandpa. I’m always careful. You raised me to be.” Sammy stood and offered me his hand.
“We haven’t agreed upon your fee.”
Both men exchanged looks.
“Never mind. Whatever you charge is fine. With me.”
“Because you’ve got money, right?”
Sammy glanced at his grandfather and then back at me. “Smoke signals. Indian telegraph.”
“I’m not that stupid. How did you find out about the will?”
“Voices came in on the wind last night.” Grandpa gave me a sly look. However they found out, it was clear they wanted to keep their sources to themselves.
“Speaking of wind, it’s sure kicked up since sunrise.” We were in Sammy’s airboat speeding down the Rim Canal toward the Hardy’s Swamp Tours.
Sammy looked at the whirling clouds overhead. “Let’s get this done fast. Weather’s coming in. There’s a tropical storm brewing in the gulf.”
“Will that be a problem?”
“Not if we beat it back, but it can get treacherous on the water if the wind starts shifting around on us.”
Sammy roared past the Hardy landing, then made a sharp turn. The boat slipped sideways in the water, and we headed back the way we’d come. “I just wanted to come in with these reeds as cover in case someone was around the place. I don’t think you’re going to find anything, Eve.”
“Maybe not, but I can’t believe the Hardy brothers were at Uncle Winston’s funeral to pay their respects. It wasn’t mere curiosity that made them search through the condo. They were looking for something, and I don’t mean the silver and crystal. They were looking for the same thing I was.”
“And that would be?”
“Winston’s money or some of it. He was carrying two satchels. One he certainly left on land when he got out of the boat in the swamp. The other had to be somewhere on the boat or near the landing. Or someone took it. Perhaps Darlene secreted it in that huge purse of hers.”
“Fits.”
“It does?”
“Sure. The Hardy brothers took over their airboat operation about a year ago. From what I’ve seen, they know little about the swamp and aren’t interested in learning. They seem like displaced city boys to me.”
“Why do you say that? What have you seen?”
“Nothing much, except they like to go out in the airboat at night. I thought they might be poaching gators, but I’ve watched them. They come back with an empty boat, no sign of hunting. I know most of the people around here who buy alligators and the Hardys aren’t selling to them.” Sammy pulled up to the landing.
Dead in the Water Page 8