by Sara Rosett
“Mr. Archer. Jorge talked you into blackmailing Mr. Archer. To keep Taylor off the closure list. And then after that, he had something to blackmail you with, too.”
She backed up a step. “No. No, it wasn’t like that. It was a loan.” Lena gripped my forearm again and fixed her gaze on me. Her eye-liner had smudged, leaving black streaks under her eyes. “It wasn’t like that at all.”
“What did you know that you could blackmail Mr. Archer with?”
“That doesn’t matter. You have to careful.” She squeezed my arm painfully, then released it and hurried back into the atrium.
I took a deep breath and leaned against the wall, trying to assimilate everything that had just happened. I didn’t know if I believed Lena about the blackmail being Jorge’s idea. She could easily have come up with it, and now that Jorge was dead she could say it was all his idea. He wasn’t around to contradict her, but I did believe her when she said those people were dangerous. She was genuinely scared. For me. I swallowed hard, rubbed my arm.
I made a decision right then to stop looking, poking around. It was too dangerous. I didn’t know who I could trust and I didn’t have the resources to sort it out. And all this emotion, the fear, the worry couldn’t be good for the baby. I had to consider that. I had to step away and trust the police. At least Summer was back and I knew she was okay. That was one less worry. As soon as I got back to the hotel I was going to call Detective Brown and tell him everything. Of course, that would mean telling Mitch everything, too, probably on the way to the hotel, but I needed to do it. I wasn’t looking forward to either encounter. In fact, I wasn’t sure which one I was dreading more.
“Ellie, where have you been?” It was Summer coming from the opposite end of the hall, her high heels clicking toward me. “I came back here, but you were gone.”
“You’re upset that you can’t find me after five minutes? This coming from someone who disappeared for a day?”
“Okay, you’ve got me there. I’m glad I finally found you, though.”
“You just missed Lena,” I said.
“Lena Stallings? She’s here?” Summer turned to look toward the doors into the atrium.
“Yes, she’s here and I just had a long conversation with her. Two conversations, in fact. She says she didn’t see anything on the platform—not who pushed Jorge or a woman with red hair. I’m going to call Detective Brown tonight and tell him everything that’s happened. Everything she said. She said to be careful, that there are dangerous people involved in Jorge’s death.” I yawned and it was one of those jaw-cracking yawns that I couldn’t hide.
“You don’t look too worried,” Summer said.
“I know. I’m drained. My tired phase is about to hit me. I can feel it.” I decided I’d better save my energy for talking with Mitch and Detective Brown.
“So, did you ask her about the check?” Summer asked and I nodded.
“What did she say?” Summer asked eagerly.
“She said it was a loan so he could start a business.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’m going to look for her.”
I summoned up enough energy to say firmly, “Summer, I asked her everything I could think of and I don’t think she’s going to talk about it anymore to us. It will probably be a different story when Detective Brown asks the questions.” I fought off another yawn. “Look, I’m not up to explaining everything right now, but I promise I’ll fill you in on everything tomorrow. I think we can deflect some of Detective Brown’s attention away from you onto Lena. You still have the check?”
“Of course.”
“Okay. That in itself should interest him. I’ll tell you the whole story tomorrow. And we still have to talk about Tony.”
“You’re mistaken about Tony,” Summer said flatly and then sighed. “But I can see that you’re beat. Anyway, I just got off the phone with one of my good friends. I’m on my way over to her place right after I pick up Chunky Monkey ice cream, a king-size Snickers, and some movies. Her boyfriend dumped her.”
“That’s terrible.” It was a great solution to my worries about Summer being alone. She’d be out of her apartment and her friend would keep her occupied. The Tony discussion would have to wait until tomorrow. Maybe by then I’d have figured out if he was really on our side or not. Stop, I reminded myself. I was leaving everything alone. No more involvement.
“She’s devastated. They’d been dating two years. So I’m out of here. I’ll probably stay overnight at her place.”
“Great. Call me tomorrow. And don’t talk to Tony. Or go near him.”
“Whatever you say,” Summer said in a humoring tone that I’d used with Livvy when she was getting cranky.
“Have you called Detective Brown?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said in the same patient tone. “He hasn’t called me back. Here’s Melanie’s number.” She handed me a slip of paper with a name and phone number. “I’ll have my cell phone, too, just in case. Now I’ve got to go check out with Ms. Archer, then I’m out of here.”
I walked with her back into the atrium and I had the strange feeling you get when you leave a movie theater. The fantasy is over and it’s back to reality. It seemed as if the intensity of the encounters with Tony and Lena had been a figment of my imagination. I also noticed that my shoes were pinching my toes, my calves ached, and my purse felt like it weighed twenty pounds. Now, if it had been the diaper bag, that would have been possible, but my tiny little clutch wouldn’t top out at more than five pounds. I braced my hand against the back of a nearby chair. I didn’t think I could walk around to the other side of the room again. It seemed as enormous as a football field and I didn’t want to make the trek.
I hid another yawn behind my hand. This was pathetic. It wasn’t even ten o’clock and I was yawning like a toddler. The buzz in the crowded room subsided as people moved around on the stage. Another presentation was about to begin.
I paused and watched Summer approach the Archers; then I scanned the room, looking for Mitch. He was still at the table where we’d had dinner. He saw me, said a few words to Jeff, and began working his way through the tables and people toward me.
Since he was on his way over here, I pulled out the chair and dropped into it, wiggled my feet out of my shoes, and let my gaze bob between Mitch’s progress and Summer’s interaction with the Archers.
I still couldn’t get over them as a couple. They didn’t go together at all. Vicki’s height, youth, and commanding presence contrasted with Alan’s squat, skinny form and shriveled face. I shook my head. He was barely taller than Summer and when he stood beside Vicki she looked like an Amazon. I just didn’t understand how some couples became couples. Summer finally got Vicki’s attention. Vicki’s stiff blond hair bobbed up and down as she nodded a few times and turned away, a dismissal. Summer said a few words to Mr. Archer and left.
Mitch finally reached me. “You look beat. Ready to go?”
“Yes.” I winced as I pushed my toes back into my shoes. Mitch noticed my expression and gave me a questioning look.
“I hate to admit it, but I’m going to have blisters tomorrow.”
He said, “We’ll get a taxi.”
That’s one reason I love him. He didn’t ask where I’d been or rub it in that I shouldn’t have worn new shoes. He took my hand, got us out of there, and into a taxi. I fell asleep on his shoulder on the ride back to the hotel.
Saturday
The next morning, I woke, taking in the sun pouring in the gap in the curtains, Mitch’s prone form beside me, and the time: nine-twenty. There was something I was supposed to do.
“Mitch.” I grabbed his bare shoulder. “You’re going to be late.”
There was an incoherent response from him as he rolled over.
“It’s after nine. What time did your class start today?”
“It’s Saturday. No class today,” he said, his arm circling my waist, pulling me close.
“Oh.” I fell back onto the pillow.
&n
bsp; We stayed that way for a while and I thought Mitch had gone back to sleep, but then he said. “Room service for breakfast?”
“Sounds great.” I reran the events of last night in my mind and realized I hadn’t talked to anyone yet. My stomach clenched. Suddenly breakfast didn’t sound so good.
Mitch released me, found the phone, and ordered pancakes, fruit, and a “good morning basket,” whatever that was.
“Muffins,” he explained as he pulled me close again. I didn’t stop him from turning in an order for me. After last night, I knew I needed to eat and I was going to make myself do it, just like I was going to tell Mitch everything and make that call to Detective Brown. Right after breakfast.
“We should get up since you ordered breakfast,” I said without moving.
“Yep,” he agreed, but didn’t move.
I watched the dust motes float in the shaft of sunlight filtering through the edge of the curtains, felt his breath on my shoulder blade. “I’m getting as bad as Livvy about sleeping in the car. I can’t seem to stay awake after about nine-thirty, if you put me in a moving vehicle. It’s something about the sound of the tires and the engine. Mesmerizing.”
“I’ll have to remember that. Could come in handy someday.” Mitch shifted around, propped his head up on his hand, “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on anytime soon?”
Chapter Twenty-five
“I’m busted, huh?”
“Totally busted,” he said. I tried to gauge his tone. He wasn’t angry, which was the reaction I’d expected and dreaded. He sounded curious. Of course, once he knew everything he might be mad, but I decided it would be better to tell him now when he was interested and neither one of us was about to fly off to class or a tour. “How do you know something’s up?”
“Because, my dear, you’ve had that same look on your face for the last couple of days that you get when you’re organizing a closet or a room and things aren’t working out like you’ve envisioned them. You’re puzzled that everything doesn’t fit and you’re determined to make it work.”
Did this man know me or what? Here I was thinking he was completely oblivious of everything that was going on and the whole time he’d been aware of my preoccupation. In the future, I had to remember he was much more perceptive than I gave him credit for.
I squirmed away a few inches. His undivided gaze was pretty intense. “Okay. Here’s the deal. I hate not telling you everything, but we’ve both been so busy. And I couldn’t just throw it out there when you were shaving and on your way to class. This hasn’t really been a vacation for either one of us, you know?”
“I know. I had no idea I’d be in class every day, all day, and then have a project on top of that. It used to be a pretty relaxed course. At least, that’s what Tommy told me. He did it a few years ago.”
“Well, things change. It’s still been great getting away just the two of us, but I’ve found out some things,” I paused, trying to decide where to start.
Mitch groaned and rolled away from me, onto his back, but he wasn’t upset. His tone was still teasing as he said, “You’ve found out some things! How do you do this?”
I shifted onto my elbow. “I don’t mean to. It just…happens. I see things, hear things, and put them together.”
I went back to Nadia’s photo and described how oddly Irene had acted. I glossed over why she’d been acting strange by saying it was “female stuff,” and he held up a hand. “Don’t want to know.”
“Good, because I wasn’t going to tell you. It’s private.” I went on to describe Wellesley’s side business. His good humor melted a bit there and he said, “Ellie, why are you so focused on this? Why not let the police do their job?”
“Because back at the beginning of the week, they were focused on Summer. They still are, actually. They think she’s guilty.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but I cut him off. “Detective Brown thinks I helped her get rid of Jorge.”
He studied my face, then said, “Go on.”
After I told him about Summer’s inquiries into a restraining order, he ran his hand over his forehead, then rubbed his eyes. “She didn’t want to tell me about it?”
“No, she didn’t. And earlier, I promised her I wouldn’t, but, well, I told her I was going to tell you. I think you should know. Things have gotten too complicated, too dangerous.”
“What else?”
“She found out Jorge’s address and we went by his house and talked to his neighbor.” I left out how we’d gotten the address. “Then she pulled her disappearing act.”
By now Mitch was sitting up, his back braced against the headboard, and I’d shifted around so that my head was at the foot of the bed and my feet were on my pillow. Mitch tossed me a pillow and I tucked it under my head. “The neighbor?” He pulled my foot over and began to rub it.
“No. Summer. That feels good. I promise I’m not ever breaking in new shoes at a fund-raising dinner again.” His hands stopped moving and I explained the mail Summer had taken and how she’d traced it to Lena Stallings. “So she took a shuttle to the airport and flew down to Georgia.”
Mitch closed his eyes, but he was rubbing my foot again, which I took to be a good sign. “Figures. That is just like her.”
I hurried on. “I didn’t want to call the police because it would make her look guilty, leaving town like that. So even though I knew she was okay and on her way back—she didn’t find Lena—I still had to wait until she was back before I called Detective Brown.”
“So you’re going to call Detective Brown?”
“Yes. As soon as we eat and I finish telling you what happened last night.”
“There’s more?”
I shrugged. “A little.” I described my encounters with Tony and Lena. He didn’t really pay close attention to the part about Lena. He kind of got stuck on the part about Tony. He dropped my foot and got off the bed.
“His name is Tony? Tony what?” He was tossing clothes around the room.
“Tony Zobart, but, Mitch, I’m okay and I’m going to tell Detective Brown everything.”
He ignored me as he slid open the closet door. It banged against the frame and I got out of bed, too. I wasn’t sure what Mitch was going to do. He pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket, then dropped back onto the bed as he dialed.
“Operator thirty-one, good morning.”
I sat back down on the bed. He was talking to a military base operator. I didn’t know which base, but I figured it was good that he was on the phone instead of running out the door to attack Tony. He asked to be patched through to a number I didn’t recognize.
There was a knock on the door and Mitch looked at me. “It’s room service.”
I’d forgotten about our breakfast. I threw on my robe and got the door. I rushed the man in. “Anywhere. Here, let me sign that,” I said and practically shoved him out the door.
I hurried and sat back down on the bed. Mitch had settled back against the headboard again. He tilted the phone away from his mouth and said to me, “I’m on hold.”
“For who?” I asked, but he snapped the phone back to his ear.
“Great…okay. Thanks.” Some of the tension eased out of his shoulders. He glanced at me as he spoke into the phone. “Yeah. I’ll try. You know how that goes.” He closed the phone. “Thistlewait says hello.”
“You called Thistlewait? On a Saturday?”
“He was working. Tony’s legit. Let’s have breakfast.”
“Wait. Tony’s really FBI? Thistlewait can check him out? That fast?” I had too many questions and Mitch was acting way too relaxed for me. Shouldn’t he still be upset?
He threw on a T-shirt and tossed his phone on the dresser. “Let’s eat. Yes, Thistlewait was able to verify that Tony’s with the FBI.”
“And you’re not upset about…everything?”
Mitch removed the covers from the plates, pushed on my shoulder so that I sat in one of the chairs, and waved a basket under my nose. “Muffin?�
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I shook my head and opted for orange juice. Maybe I needed sugar. Maybe I was hallucinating. Mitch plucked a blueberry muffin from the basket. He picked up his knife, slit the muffin, and buttered it. “Ellie, you got in the middle of an undercover investigation. What Tony did—well, I can’t blame him. He had to do something fast before you gave away any more information.”
I sat up straight. “He didn’t have to drag me into a closet.”
“Where else could he have gotten you alone, convinced you that he wasn’t a terrorist, and gotten the memory chip back without anyone else seeing?”
I cut into my pancakes and reluctantly said, “Okay. You’ve got a point.”
Mitch said, “I think the best thing for us to do today is check in with Summer. I’ll make sure she’s still with her friend and then we lay low.”
“What about MacInally? We’re supposed to meet him at the museum.” I had to call Debbie this afternoon, too, and tell her something. I’d put off calling her until I talked to MacInally one last time. At least, that was the excuse I was using to justify not calling her. I dreaded that conversation because I knew she wanted the truth and, deep down, I knew I was going to tell her the truth. As painful as it would be, that’s what she’d want.
Mitch chewed thoughtfully. “Do you think he’s involved?”
I thought about it as I swirled more butter onto my pancakes. “I don’t see how he could be. He wasn’t on the platform when Jorge was pushed. He was in the hospital. He does know Lena and she’s mixed up in this somehow. Although they just don’t seem to go together, as a couple, you know? And, speaking of that, did you see Alan and Vicki Archer? There’s a mismatch, if I ever saw one.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because she’s young and attractive and he’s old and shrunken,” I said.
“He must have that Henry Kissinger thing going for him. Power.”
“He’s barely taller than Summer.” I shook my head. “There’s no accounting for taste, is there?”