by Amy Vansant
“The other ones want to come in,” Ashley called into the house.
“That’s fine.”
The behemoth stepped aside and Declan and the girls entered Jackie’s house. Inside, Seamus stood next to Jackie, his arm around her shoulders. She appeared upset but unharmed.
“This is Rocky,” she said, motioning to the tall man.
“Rocky Conrad.” He thrust a gangly arm towards Seamus. “You’ve probably heard of me.”
Seamus remained motionless except to raise the corner of his upper lip and utter, “No.”
Rocky dropped his untouched hand and cleared his throat. “Eh, I think we started off on the wrong foot. Let me start by saying I apologize for scaring the lady. I can be a little rough around the edges sometimes.” He chuckled to himself as if he’d just told a joke.
Declan squinted at Rocky, wondering why the noodle-nerd talked like some tough guy from a cheesy gangster film, but looked like the runt from a litter of Vikings. His blond hair was slicked back from his forehead and matching gold chains encircled his neck and his wrist. But for the stubble on his jaw and the crinkles around his eyes that put his age at about thirty, Declan would have guessed he was a teenager dressed as a gangster for Halloween.
“He scared me a little so I called you,” said Jackie. “He’s missing a box.”
“A box?” said Declan and Charlotte in unison.
“A box?” echoed Stephanie a second later in a breathy purr.
Rocky’s gaze locked on her and she stared back at him as if he were a cookie she’d been dying to eat. She binked at him and his face spasmed as if it had considered bolting from his skull but then decided to stay.
“Hello, I don’t think we’ve met,” he said. “I’m Rocky.”
Stephanie shook his hand. “Stephanie. Is that your car out front?”
“The Mercedes? Yes…”
Seamus pointed at the tennis goon who had followed them inside and now stood guarding the exit. “Who’s the guy who ate John McEnroe over there?”
“Ashley? He’s my…uh…driver… er… bodyguard.”
“Yeah. I’m his driver slash bodyguard,” said Ashley, looking as though he was trying not to laugh.
“You must be awfully important to have a bodyguard…” said Stephanie.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” mumbled Declan.
Rocky blushed. “No. I mean, yeah…I mean, I don’t get my hands dirty, if you know what I mean.”
Stephanie reached into her purse and pulled out a business card. “I’m a criminal lawyer. If you ever need anything…”
“Alright,” said Seamus, snatching the card out of her hand and tearing it in half. “Enough of this nonsense. Can we get on with it?”
Rocky frowned as the pieces of Stephanie’s card fluttered to the ground. “What’s that? Oh. The box.” He scowled at Seamus, which made his glasses slide down his nose. He adjusted them and tried scowling again with his head slightly tilted back. “I… I want the box now before things get ugly.”
“Oh shut up,” said Jackie.
Rocky blanched.
Stephanie pulled a second card and Rocky took it, thrusting it in his pocket before turning to Seamus with a self-satisfied grin. “I came for the box. I told her all about it.” He threw a finger in Jackie’s direction.
“What kind of box?” Seamus glowered at him. “Tell me.”
Rocky tilted his head and nodded. “Okay. Sure. It’s rosewood, about so big.” He held his hands about a foot apart. “It has a wooden flower embedded in the lid. A lily.”
“Do you have it, Jackie?”
“I don’t. I did, but I sold it at a yard sale. He brought a clipping.”
Jackie handed Seamus a square piece of newspaper and Declan leaned in to see it. It was a photo of Jackie, smiling and standing behind a table full of knickknacks, while another woman perused her wares. On the table sat a box with a flower in the center of the lid. The caption said, Pineapple Port’s yard sale offered a treasure trove of items.
“That’s how he knew I had it, but I sold it that day. That was weeks ago. I don’t remember who bought it.”
Seamus turned to Rocky. “So there you go. She doesn’t have the box. Be off with you.”
“I’m afraid that’s unacceptable.” Rocky looked at Stephanie, a grin curling at the corner of his mouth when he found her watching him. He straightened to his full height and pushed his glasses up his nose again. “Ay, oh…I’m a nice guy, but my father is a very powerful man. Things could get bad for you if you don’t find me that box.”
“Enough with the mobster accent. You sound about as Italian as I do,” said Seamus.
Rocky looked crestfallen. “I’m half Italian on my father’s side!” His accent had disappeared.
“What was your mother? A giraffe?”
“Look here—”
“No you look here. Are you threatening us?” Seamus’ voice boomed.
Rocky took a tiny step toward Ashley who seemed in no hurry to help him. “Just get me the box and I’ll be out of your hair.”
“And if we don’t?”
“I can’t be responsible for what happens. Like I said, I’m just doing a favor for my father. Who is one hundred percent Italian I might add and a direct descendent of some very scary people if you know what I’m saying.”
“You’ve really got a death grip on that insulting Italian stereotype,” said Charlotte.
“What? No, I mean, like, real gangsters. Really real. I come from a long line of real gangsters. I do!”
“Who?”
“Dad won’t tell me,” he mumbled. “But we had to change our last name, I can tell you that.”
“I’d like to meet your father,” said Seamus.
“That won’t be possible. He’s a busy man.”
“I’m a busy man.”
“It’s okay, Seamus. I’ll find it,” said Jackie, placing her hand on Seamus’ arm.
“You’ve got twenty-four hours,” said Rocky.
“That’s no time at all!” said Charlotte.
“Okay, a week. Let’s say a week. I can…uh…keep my father at bay that long.”
Jackie nodded. “I’ll figure it out. I’ll get the box.”
Seamus looked at her. “You’ve got to be kidding me. These guys can’t just come in here and—”
“I’ll find the box,” said Jackie in a low, strained hiss.
Seamus huffed. “Fine. Where should we take it?”
“Just give me a call,” said Rocky, pulling out his wallet and handing Seamus a card. He made a big show of sliding Stephanie’s card in his wallet and she lipped the words call me to him. “You’ve got a week,” he added, before Ashley led the way from the house, Rocky tight on his heels, his eyes never leaving Seamus.
“I’m going to break that stickman,” muttered Seamus as the door shut. “Break him, build a fire out of him, and burn him down.”
“Oh he’s a kid with delusions,” said Jackie. “I realized it about two seconds after I called you.”
“Maybe,” said Seamus. “But we haven’t met his dad.”
“So you remembered who bought the box?” asked Charlotte.
“No,” admitted Jackie.
Seamus sat down beside her, wringing his hands in his lap. Declan turned and spotted Stephanie standing just outside the door, waving good-bye to Rocky. He glanced at Charlotte and found she, too, was staring at Stephanie, her lip slightly curled.
“Did she become a lawyer to date criminals?” she asked.
He stared at the ceiling and shook his head with disbelief. “I hadn’t considered that, but she certainly threw herself at him like he was a dart board, didn’t she?”
“You seem like an odd choice for her. Do you have a dark secret you want to share?”
He chuckled. “I’m an idiot.”
“That’s no secret,” mumbled Seamus with a wink.
Chapter Fourteen
“This is ridiculous,” said Charlotte sitting on Jackie’s
comfy chair. “They can’t just come in here and threaten you.”
“Should we call Frank?” asked Jackie.
“I don’t know. What could he do? He can’t arrest them for asking us to find a box. The threat was vague and it’s he-said-she-said stuff anyway. He could offer us protection…maybe talk to them…it might be easier to find the box if you think there’s any hope. Do you have any idea who bought it?”
“No…no…” Jackie closed her eyes and squinted. “I’m trying to remember. I know it was towards the end of the sale, but by then I was getting into my Margaritas… I’m pretty sure it was a woman…maybe with blonde hair? Like a bob cut? Maybe a little upscale. Had a big wedding ring, I remember that.”
“What is the box?” Seamus asked her. “Why is it important?”
Jackie sighed. “I have no idea. It was just an empty wooden box when I got it.”
“Probably drugs,” said Stephanie reentering the room. Everyone looked at her and she shrugged. “What? It’s always drugs.”
“Who is this girl?” asked Jackie.
Seamus rested a hand on Jackie’s knee and shook his head with his eyes closed, the international symbol for we’ll talk later. “Was there something in the box?”
“No. I mean, nothing I didn’t put it in myself. Jack gave it to me for my birthday not long before he died.”
“Your husband’s name was Jack?”
She nodded.
“So you were Jack and Jackie? That’s adorable.”
“Don’t even start, Seamus.”
“So it was empty when he gave it to you…” mumbled Charlotte standing to pace. She tried to picture the box in her mind and imagine ways it could be useful. “There must have been something in it at some point. It doesn’t make any sense why Rocky’s dad would want it. Unless maybe it’s some sort of rare antique?”
“It didn’t look like much. Jack said it was for my jewelry, but it had no hooks inside for keeping jewelry straight. I told him if I put jewelry in it I’d end up with a giant gold and silver nest and he said, whatever, it’s your damn box.”
“Sounds like a sweetie.”
“Tell me about it.”
“He never said where he got it?”
“No… Honestly, it looked like a kid made it. I figured Jack made an emergency stop at a rummage sale when he remembered it was my birthday. I considered myself lucky that I didn’t get a gas station rose.”
“And now Rocky is threatening to kill you for it,” muttered Charlotte under her breath.
“I don’t think Rocky would hurt a fly,” said Stephanie. “I mean, I don’t know, but that’s the vibe I get from him. I know criminals. I think he’s a puppy dog.”
“I agree we need to be less worried about Rocky and more worried about his father,” said Charlotte.
Stephanie offered her a smirk as if to show she’d won that point and Charlotte made a mental note to never agree with her again.
“Surely, Rocky has to know if there was something in the box, it’s long gone.”
“Hmm…” Stephanie tilted back her head and looked at the ceiling. “If the box is empty, then it must be the box itself that’s important, right?”
“Makes sense,” said Seamus.
Stephanie tilted her head and glanced at Charlotte from the corner of her eye.
Charlotte felt her lip twitch and tried to remember if she’d ever hit a girl before.
“The box is made out of cocaine,” said Stephanie.
“It was made out of wood,” said Jackie. She looked at Seamus. “Seriously, why is she here again?”
“How could you make a box out of cocaine?” said Charlotte finding herself first annoyed and then intrigued by the notion. “Maybe…if you mixed it in with paper mâché…”
“Rocky said it was wood,” Declan reminded her.
“Maybe that was to throw us off track,” suggested Stephanie.
“‘He’s not that bright,” said Charlotte with a glare she hoped implied that Stephanie wasn’t either. “The cocaine box theory is full of holes. Literally. I mean, it would crumble one way or another, right? Maybe it was carved by a master craftsman or some famous artist?”
“It looked more like it was made in a high school wood shop,” said Jackie. “Besides, even if it was made out of cocaine the street value would only be about four grand. That’s not enough for a gangster to get riled up.”
“How the heck do you know that?”
Jackie shrugged and exchanged a glance with Seamus. “I’m old. Who knows how I know half the things bouncing around in my head?”
“I need to be somewhere,” said Stephanie looking at her watch before taking a step towards Declan and placing her hand on his arm. “Take me back to the store to get my car?”
Jackie looked at Charlotte, who rolled her eyes.
Declan brushed away Stephanie’s hand and took a step back. His look of disgust telegraphed that no ride would be forthcoming.
“I’ll take you back,” said Seamus. Stephanie smiled, batting her eyelids at him.
Jackie frowned. “You will? Someone threatens to kill me and you’re starting a taxi service for…for…” Jackie threw her hand in Stephanie’s direction. “For that?”
Seamus nodded. “I have things to do. I want to look into Rocky’s dad. Find out what we’re up against.”
“In the meantime I’ll see if I can track down who bought the box,” said Charlotte. “Okay boss? Put me on the internship clock.”
“Done,” said Seamus. He planted a kiss on Jackie’s forehead.
“Be careful,” she said.
“They’re not coming after me.”
“I didn’t mean the gangly gangster,” she mumbled, glaring at Stephanie.
Seamus chuckled and headed for the door. Stephanie turned to Declan but before she could hug him goodbye, he made a cross with his fingers as if to ward off a vampire. She shot Charlotte a sideward glance, betraying no emotion, and followed Seamus outside.
Once she’d gone, Declan visibly relaxed.
“I need to get back to the shop. You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?” he asked Charlotte.
“No. There’s a license plate in this photo.” She held up the newspaper and pointed to where a car sat parked on the corner, license plate in full view. “I’ll go see Frank. Maybe I can talk him into pulling it for me and, who knows, I might get lucky.”
Declan nodded. “Okay. I’ll catch up with you later. Jackie, you take it easy. We’ll figure this out.” He paused and looked at Charlotte. “And thank you again for being so understanding about…” He crinkled his nose as if a foul odor had filled the room. “You know. Her.”
Charlotte nodded and offered a lackluster smile.
As soon as Declan left the room, Jackie grabbed Charlotte’s hand.
“You are going to have a talk with him about that witch, aren’t you?”
Charlotte raised her brows and tilted her head. “Totally.”
“Good. She’s trouble on a stick.”
“Don’t worry about me. What about you? Are you okay?”
“Yes. Nice gift, huh? Nice then, and nice now. It’s the gift that keeps on giving.”
“Can you think of any reason someone would want that box so badly?”
“No. But who knows with Jack? It might have been filled with money or jewels or anything before he gave it to me. Nothing worth anything made it to me, though, I can promise you that.”
“That’s what has me worried. Say we bring back the box and it’s what was in the box that he really wanted.”
“So you’re saying we could kill ourselves trying to find it and still end up dead.”
“Oh jeeze, I hope not! We’ll get it all worked out. Can you think of anything else that might help? What does the box look like exactly? This photo is a bit too grainy to tell.”
“It’s rosewood like Rocky said, sort of pinkish with lines of different shades, as if it was made from a lot of small layered pieces glued together.”
“Hm. Maybe there’s cocaine in the glue…”
“Now you think it is a box made of cocaine?”
“No. Sorry. Mind wandering. And he said it had a lily in the center?”
“Inlaid in the lid.”
She sighed.
“What is it?”
“I don’t even like lilies. They make me think of funerals. And now they’re making me think of mine.”
“Oh don’t be silly. No one is going to die. We’ll find the box and give it back and that will be the end of it.”
Charlotte held up the newspaper article. “Do you mind if I take this?”
“No. But promise me you’ll never get married.”
“That seems like a lot to promise in exchange for a piece of newspaper.”
“No, I mean it isn’t worth it!” She flopped back into her sofa. “Declan seems like a wonderful guy, but they turn on you. I’m telling you. One day you’re in love and the next day he’s setting you up to be killed by a gangster.”
“What about Seamus? Are you saying you’ll never marry him?”
“That man…” Jackie turned her head in a failed attempt to hide a growing smile. “I have a feeling he’ll be the death of me either way.”
Charlotte headed for the door. She needed to touch base with Gloria and check if Frank could help her with the license plate. As she reached for the latch of Jackie’s storm door, she noticed a crumpled pile of fabric near the entrance. Something about it was familiar. She stooped and held it aloft for a better view, then realized it was the drinking parrot flag from outside Gloria’s door.
“Is this your flag?” she asked.
“Yes. I had one with flip flops after everyone had their things switched. I found mine down the street, so I switched them.”
“That was Darla and Mariska.”
“No…I think it was Gloria’s house.”
“No, I mean it was Darla and Mariska who switched everything.”
“What? Why would they do that?”
“To give me a case to work on.”
“Aw…that’s kind of cute. But you’ve got a real case now.”
“I’ve got a few…but this flag has me wondering if they’re the same case.”
“What do you mean?”
“Gloria received a threatening note demanding she return an unmentioned item—”