"Will do, and I'm glad you called. Something happened. You can forget about Salerno and Cavelli. They were involved in a shoot-out last night. Salerno is dead, and Cavelli is barely holding on."
"I can't believe it. Damn!"
"Cavelli had a sudden pang of conscience. Started talking about Heaven and Hell, asked for a priest, the whole works. He said Ruby never approached him to kill her husband. Apparently, Al had her hand deliver their payments, while he waited in the car."
"I know, she told me, but why did they make that up?"
"Cavelli was hoping she'd get arrested so she'd be out of the way, then he and his pal could swoop down on the restaurants. He also swears he and Salerno had nothing to do with Al's murder. He claims Al wanted to go into business with them and the argument was about the split."
"Do you believe him?"
"Sure do. He's afraid if he doesn't come clean, he'll be living in fire and brimstone."
"So we're back to square one."
"Yep. Al used to entertain the restaurant managers at the house. They'd know their way around. Maybe one of them got ambitious."
"All three will be here, tomorrow afternoon," Patrick said thoughtfully.
"A guy like Al Rogan could have any number of people with a grudge. Could even be a jealous husband. I doubt he was the faithful sort."
"But, Earl, what about the scarlet stiletto?"
"Yeah, that's a mystery, and I almost think it holds the key. How's Ruby doing?"
"Good, but there's a lot to sort through. She's in the kitchen with her neighbor, Rhoda."
"I need to talk to Rhoda again. Maybe she'll remember more, if I press harder. I'm going to start digging into Rogan's private life, and I'll send someone over to get into that safe, tomorrow."
"Thanks for the good news. If I—" But before he could finish, the line went dead.
A bolt of lightning crackled through the sky. Assuming the storm had downed the telephone lines, he hung up the receiver then let the flood of relief wash over him. His lovely Ruby was off the hook.
Pushing himself up from the enveloping chair, he wandered across to the wall to take a closer look at the pictures. Amongst them was a rare color photograph, and though it wasn't very clear, Ruby looked resplendent in a low-cut red dress. Her blonde hair was swept up, and a black and red beaded choker graced her neck. The gown flowed out from her hips to just below her knees, and as Patrick's eye traveled down to her feet, he spied the scarlet stilettos. Based on Ruby's statement that Al hated the shoes, Patrick assumed it must have been early in their relationship. Moving his eye to the couple next to them, he saw an attractive, well-dressed man. The woman wasn't unattractive, but wearing an olive-green suit, she looked dowdy compared to Ruby, and she certainly didn't look very happy, not that Patrick could blame her. Standing with a handsome man and being overshadowed by a glamorous blonde couldn't have been much fun.
"Why do I know you?" he muttered, squinting to study her face.
Sending his eyes back to her man beside her, like a bolt from the blue, it hit him. The couple was Rhoda and Harry Greenberg!
Chapter 13
Sitting at the kitchen table opposite Rhoda, enjoying some leftover cake from the day before, Ruby was becoming concerned. While she was used to Rhoda being chatty, the woman was talking nonstop. She was complaining about men, which was nothing new, but she was constantly using the phrase, my cheating bastard, Harry. Even more worrying was Rhoda's behavior. She kept fidgeting, her eyes were darting around the room, and she kept insisting Ruby drink her coffee.
"I do appreciate that you made your special blend," Ruby said gratefully. "But I've already had two cups this morning, and if I drink any more, my heart will race."
"Add some cream."
"Maybe in a few minutes, and I really should get back to packing up Al's clothes."
"Al. That big galoot. I'll bet Al had more women than a zebra has stripes. I'll bet he was with all those busty waitresses he hired for his restaurants. I'll bet that's why he hired them and the dancing girls, of course. You were a dancing girl, weren't you, Ruby? Isn't that how you got your hooks into such a wealthy man, all that dancing and prancing about."
"Rhoda, are you feeling all right?"
"Me? Me? Fine, never felt better, right as rain, and haven't we had a ton of rain? Look at it pouring out there, more rain than my cheating bastard, Harry, had women, but you know that, don't you? You know he had women up the kazoo! Everybody knew, except me. That private detective, Patrick McGuire, the one who's pretending to be your brother, he claimed he never saw Harry with another woman, but he was just covering up. Men, they stick together. My cheating bastard, Harry, had more than one, I know it, but McGuire covered for him. I wish he was here. I'd tell him to his face."
"Rhoda, I doubt a professional detective like Patrick would lie to you."
"Lie to me? All men are liars. All of them," she shrilled. "But you're just as bad! You and your blonder than blonde hair!"
"Rhoda, what on earth's the matter with you? Is Harry home? Maybe I should call him, you seem—"
"My cheating bastard, Harry, is gone."
"Gone? You mean he left you?"
"Yeah, he left me, all right. He's gone."
"No wonder you're so upset. When did this happen?"
"A few days back."
"What a terrible time we've had. Your Harry takes off, and I find Al dead."
"The police any closer to catching the killer?"
"I'm not sure. I hope so."
"What about you?" Rhoda asked, leaning across the table, her eyes scarily wide. "Were you the one who clobbered him? I wouldn't blame you."
"No, Rhoda, of course not. I came home and found him."
"I think you're going to swing for it," she hissed. "I think a big thick rope will be slipped around that long goose neck of yours, and you'll drop like a bag of cement, then snap!"
As she'd barked the word, she'd abruptly shot her hand across the table and clicked her fingers in front of Ruby's face. Startled, Ruby jumped from her chair.
"R-Rhoda, I th-think it's time you left."
"Me, oh, no, Miss Ruby Red Lips, I'm not going anywhere, but, you, you're going to join your bastard husband and my cheating bastard, Harry. You can all have a reunion in Hell. That's where you belong. In Hell!"
"What are you saying? What's wrong with you?"
"Wrong with me?" Rhoda muttered as she reached into her bag. "There's nothing wrong with me. I know all about you and Harry."
"Know what?"
"The minute he saw you, you and those trampy shoes…" Rhoda growled, staring at Ruby with one hand buried in her bag. "And I saw how you looked at him. You and your big breasts, your big red lips, your big blonde hair. I've been putting up with you two carrying on, for five whole years."
"Rhoda, I don't—"
"Enough!" Rhoda shouted, and to Ruby's horror, Rhoda dramatically produced the missing red shoe and slammed it down on the table. "How stupid do you think I am? Married to Al, that big galoot, you had to find your—what do they call it? Oh, yeah, satisfaction! You had to find your satisfaction somewhere, and I know my cheating bastard, Harry, was a looker. All the girls thought he was a looker. Hah! They can't look at him anymore, and he can't look at them."
"Rhoda—what have you done? What do you mean? Is Harry dead?"
"Of course, he's dead, and you will be, too. The police will figure out you killed your husband and stabbed him in the eye with one of the shoes he hated."
"It was you? But why? And how? How could you get the better of a big guy like Al?"
"If you'd drunk your goddamned coffee, Miss Ruby Red Lips, you'd understand, I don't have to worry about you the way I had to worry about that big galoot and my cheating bastard, Harry!"
"I don't understand."
"Then you're stupider than I thought," Rhoda declared, reaching back into her bag. "Why do you think, dumb blondie?"
"You drugged them?"
"That took you long eno
ugh! I'm not stupid. How else would I get the better of them? You should have seen your big galoot, when he realized. He careened around, arms flying everywhere, knocking things over, trying to reach me. I was laughing so hard, my stomach hurt. He looked like some overweight ugly octopus. I didn't use enough, though. It took too long. I was going to smash in his head after he'd passed out, but I had to do it early. It felt good, though, it felt really good."
"My God, you're completely insane."
"No, Miss Ruby Red Lips, you're the one who's crazy, thinking I didn't know what was going on. No matter, you're going to kill yourself," she sneered as she pulled a small handgun from her bag. "You can't live with murdering your husband, didn't you know that? Now, sit down and drink the coffee. I'm not a great shot, and I need to shoot you in the side of the head and put the gun in your hand. How the hell can I do that, if you're wide awake. Drink the coffee!"
Ruby's head began to spin. If she screamed for Patrick, Rhoda might shoot them both. Should she lunge at Rhoda and try to grab the gun or play along and sit down, then spill the coffee? But what would happen then? The woman was completely out of her mind.
"I said, sit down and drink the Goddamned coffee!"
Ruby suddenly knew what she had to do. It was risky, but it was all she had.
"Fine, fine, okay," she agreed, moving to the chair. "Just stop shouting."
"Stupid big-lipped cow," Rhoda muttered. "You should be thanking me. I wasn't sure what I'd do when I came over here, let you swing from a noose, or send you off to join Harry and Al. This is better. I don't want to wait around for you to die. I'll sob at your funeral; I'll sob and sob."
Ruby moved to the side of her chair, and darting her eyes past Rhoda's shoulder towards the window that overlooked the backyard, she whispered, "Patrick, thank God."
Chapter 14
Down the hall, in Al's office, Patrick's eyes were locked on the photograph; Rhoda, dowdy and glowering, standing next to her handsome husband. Ruby, stunning in a red dress and the scarlet stilettos, on the other side of him.
The eternal triangle?
Was it possible?
A sudden chill rippled through his body.
Ruby and Rhoda were in the kitchen.
Ruby would have told Rhoda he wasn't there.
He bolted from the room.
Patrick wasn't a man given to bouts of panic, but that's what he was feeling; panic! Racing down the hall, he moved swiftly through the dining room and burst into the kitchen. To his horror, he found Ruby lunging towards Rhoda, who appeared to be wet and sputtering, her arm wildly flailing with a gun in her hand. As Ruby slammed into Rhoda, both women tumbled to the floor, and as he dashed towards them, he saw the gun fly from Rhoda's hand and clatter across the linoleum. Grabbing it, he stuffed it into the back of his trousers then tried to help Ruby, who was now on top of Rhoda, but Rhoda's fists were flying, connecting against Ruby's body and face at an alarming rate.
"Ruby, get off her," he shouted, managing to put his hands under Ruby's arms.
Ruby's head spun around; her wide eyes gazed up at him, and with a cry, she tried to stand but completely off balance, she staggered against him.
"You stinking whore," Rhoda wailed as she scrambled backwards then jumped to her feet. "You bastard! I'll kill you both."
As he tried to get Ruby back to the table, Rhoda darted outside, slamming the door behind her. He wanted to race after her, but Ruby needed him. She was gasping and shaking, and her face was showing evidence of Rhoda's fists.
"G-go after her," she stammered as she collapsed into a chair. "I'm f-fine, g-go. P-please!"
He hated to leave her, but he knew she was right, and with a roar of thunder exploding overhead, he bolted out the back door, only to be met with torrential rain.
Standing under the meager awning, squinting as he sought out the runaway madwoman, he spotted a large brown lump sprawled across the lawn. She had slipped on the wet grass. He was about to run to her, when the sweet song of sirens filled the air and half-a-dozen police cars emerged from the gloom, stopping outside her house and in her driveway. Not caring what had sent them, he hurried back inside to Ruby. It was only then, he spied the broken crockery on the floor and the red stiletto sitting on the table.
"It's okay, the cavalry has arrived," he declared, pulling a chair next to her and engulfing her in his arms. "It's over. Deep breaths, slow deep breaths."
"The cavalry?"
"I don't know how they figured it out, but the police just arrived. I'm sure Earl will be ringing the doorbell, any minute. Let's get you into the other room, in front of the fire. You're shaking like a leaf."
"How did you know?"
"Doesn't matter. Come on. I'll get you a brandy."
Helping her to her feet, he walked her from the kitchen and down the hall to the lounge. The fire was crackling its warmth, and as he settled her on the couch, the doorbell chimed. Moving swiftly to the drinks cabinet, he poured some brandy into a snifter, carried it back to her then walked briskly to the front door.
"Earl, come in. How the hell did you know it was Rhoda Greenberg?"
"Are you two okay?" the detective asked as he pulled off his dripping coat and removed his hat.
"Ruby got a bit banged up, but yeah, we're okay, though it was touch and go, for a minute."
"I was worried sick. I tried to call but the storm knocked the lines down. What was touch and go?"
"This should answer your question," Patrick replied, pulling Rhoda's pistol from the back of his trousers.
"Rhoda's? Damn," Earl muttered, taking the gun with his handkerchief and dropping into his pocket. "I wasn't expecting that."
"You want a drink?"
"I wouldn't say no to a whisky, if you've got it," he said as they walked into the living room. "Ruby? What happened to your face?" he asked, sitting next to her. "Do you need an ambulance?"
"N-no, I just wish I could stop trembling. Look," she stammered, lifting her hand.
"You just need to catch your breath for a minute."
"Here's your drink," Patrick said, handing him a heavy crystal tumbler. "How did you—"
"Figure out it was Rhoda Greenberg?" Earl interrupted. "You know how things snowball? One thing happens then, suddenly, more things happen, like dominoes falling in a line. Rhoda was the person who called us, so I decided to see if we had anything on her. Routine, you remember how that goes. Blow me down, if I didn't discover she'd been arrested for shoplifting, and get this, she'd been brought in several times for causing a ruckus in various department stores. She's got quite the temper, apparently."
"She's crazy," Ruby interjected. "I mean, really crazy. Detective, she didn't just kill Al, she murdered Harry, her husband."
"She told you that? She actually told you that?"
"She did. Sorry, Patrick, I should've told you."
"You haven't had the chance; everything happened so fast, but damn, poor Harry."
"I was worried I might hear something like that," Earl said solemnly. "We got a call from Harry Greenberg's sister. It was her birthday, two days ago. Harry always shows up on her doorstep with flowers and a present. When he didn't, she knew something was wrong, but Rhoda kept telling her he'd gone out of town then started slamming the door in her face and hanging up when she called."
"How did you piece that together with Al?" Patrick asked. "Or did you? Regardless, how did you know Rhoda was behind Al's murder?"
"It was that paper bag!" he declared. "Ruby, that was a stroke of genius. Because Rhoda has been arrested, we had her prints on file. They were all over that paper bag."
"Thank God! She had the other stiletto with her. It's sitting on the kitchen table. I guess she was going to place it in my hand. She was going to shoot me and make it look like suicide."
"I don't understand," Earl said with a deep frown. "She killed her husband and Al and wanted to kill you? Why? Oh, wait. I think I'm getting the picture. She thought you and Harry…"
"Yes, it was ridiculous."
"But why Al?"
"She wanted me to hang for Al's murder, and she hated him."
"Patrick, we were right," Earl said grimly. "Ruby was in danger, just not from the people we thought."
"I have to wonder if there are more victims in Rhoda's past," Patrick remarked. "I doubt she turned into Jacqueline the Ripper, overnight."
"I'm so relieved Al wasn't killed by a gangster," Ruby mumbled. "I feel so much safer."
"About that," Earl said, rising to his feet and walking over to Patrick. "How would you feel about being Robert Rogan a little while longer? You know Salerno and Cavelli were part of a crime family. They'll still want in on Al's restaurants."
"But I want to sell them," Ruby declared.
"Hmm. That would still work. Patrick could say he's acting on your behalf as your brother-in-law. He'll be in the perfect position to get the lowdown on the potential buyers and poke around the restaurants, see what's what."
"As long as he's not in any danger!" Ruby said vehemently. "I won't have it!"
"He'll be in less danger helping you sell the restaurants than pretending he's going to take over the business."
"I'll tell you what I'll do," Patrick said, moving to the couch and sitting next to Ruby. "I'll continue to be Robert Rogan and oversee the sale for Ruby, and I'll keep my eyes and ears open, but I won't poke my nose anywhere that looks iffy. I'll report it, but I won't act."
"Fair enough," Earl agreed. Glancing at the beautiful woman, he added, "I'd make the same decision in your shoes, and speaking of shoes, I'd better collect that scarlet stiletto."
"I forgot to tell you," Ruby said, cutting him off. "Rhoda drugged Al, that's how she got the better of him, and she tried to drug me."
"That explains a lot," Earl said thoughtfully. "You'll need to come down to the station and give us a full statement, but you can do that tomorrow. Patrick, you want to show me where the kitchen is?"
"Ruby, baby, you okay? Can I leave you for a minute?"
"Only a minute," she said softly. "I need my hero next to me."
Hero Undercover: 25 Breathtaking Bad Boys Page 21