Mark looked over at me with wide eyes. I shrugged. What could I say? She'd caught me in a weak moment.
"Yes, ma'am," Dan said with a grin. "Whatcha doin' with the wallpaper, hon?"
"I'm bear hunting!" she growled. "Gotta problem with it?"
"No, ma'am, never could stand those stupid bears. Dang things always smiling at you." Dan walked over and grabbed a handful of lose wallpaper and gave a mighty tug. In an instant half the wallpaper was gone.
To my eye, the room was looking better already.
"Nice shot, sweetie," Ashley said, beaming.
Mark leaned over and gave me a nudge. "So, this is what married life is like?"
"Can't wait, huh?" I giggled and turned to him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I have to admit that I almost enjoyed babysitting. Almost. Not sure I could say the same about Mark. We were cleaning the kitchen and waiting impatiently for his phone to ring.
"You can't have another cookie, Tiffany," Mark said. "You're going to get a tummy ache."
Tiffany, five going on thirty-five, replied, "That doesn't make sense, Uncle Mark. I eat cookies all the time and don't get tummy aches."
Mark looked over at me.
Well, she was right. I tried another approach. "Tiff, we don't want you hopped up on sugar like a junkie on crack. We want you to be able to go to sleep at bedtime. Got it?"
She did a twirl for no apparent reason. "Okey-dokey, Aunt Di."
Mark rolled his eyes. "Guess I'm no match for a five-year old."
Max and Sally marched into the kitchen. "What do you two want?" I pointed a dishtowel at them.
Sally wagged her tail with a loud thump. Max gave a yip that indicated we humans had screwed something up.
"Have they been fed?" Mark asked. Max yipped louder, and Sally started doing a happy dance.
"Boys!" I yelled into the living room where Justin and Josh were world building in Minecraft. "Did you feed the dogs yet?"
"No, Aunt Di," they said in unison, never taking their eyes from the screen.
"Then hippitty-ho!" They reluctantly paused their game and called the dogs to the back porch. Sally made a dive for the door. Max gave her a run for her money despite his short legs.
Mark shook his head and put the last dish away. "Done! Let's have a glass of wine and watch the sunset out back."
"That's a good one." Poor, delusional man.
"What?"
"There's no wine, there's a dead animal hung in front of that wonderful sunset, and it's bath time."
"I have wine in the car, we can walk to the edge of the field, and bath time can wait." Mark leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. "Got any more problems you want me to solve?"
I was impressed. He was still delusional, but I think it was rubbing off on me. "Just one. This spot right here's been bothering me." I pointed to my lips.
Mark drew me close and pressed his lips to mine. "Is that better?"
I nodded.
"Sure there's not another spot bothering you?" His hands crept down from my waist and cupped my rear, pulling me against him.
"Ewww!" Justin yelled.
"That's just gross, Uncle Mark," Jason remarked from the doorway.
Mark dropped his hands from my rear, and we turned to face our spectators. "Hey, I'm allowed. Can't you read?" Mark pointed to the "Kiss the Cook" plaque on the wall.
Jason, the lawyer-in-training, replied, "Yeah, but it don't say nothin' about grabbing heinies."
Justin laughed uproariously at the mention of "heinies."
Mark held up his hands and stepped away. "You got me there. We're taking a walk. You two are in charge."
"Where's your sister?" I asked.
"Right here," called a sweet little voice from in front of the couch.
"Keep an eye on her, boys."
"Okay," they both said and went back to their game.
"I'm not sure this is a good idea." I looked at Mark who had two plastic cups in one hand and a cork screw in the other. "But I'm willing to give it a try."
The dead animal was gone, but Mark had decided to grab a couple of portable chairs he'd found in the trunk of Carol's car and head behind the barn. We had an unobstructed view of the horizon. Just acres and acres of wide open farmland and the sun sinking into the ground.
"Fall sunsets are the best." I took a plastic cup of wine from Mark and leaned my head against his shoulder.
"Yep. Now this is livin'. I can see why they like it out here."
I would've bet my sister had never seen this side of her barn, but I let Mark have his delusions. Maybe I should mention this to her. Put a little more romance into her marriage. Then a picture of Dan with a shotgun by his chair, waiting for a deer to walk across the field, flashed across my mind.
Our moment with nature and wine was cut short by the screams of children. We jumped up and raced across the lawn. The kids were outside in bare feet, chasing Sally whose head was covered by a large kitchen trash can. Max was running alongside Sally, barking and snapping at the can.
"Sally got her head stuck in the trash can again," Justin yelled as he tried to tackle the careening dog, ending up with a face full of mud instead.
It was Josh's turn next. He whistled loudly, causing the dog to stop and lift her head in his direction. The can fell further down her neck. Sally let out a howl and started running in circles again.
"YouTube gold," Mark said as he filmed the scene on his phone.
I glared at him and stalked off to the kitchen to retrieve the broom. I walked out into the middle of the lawn, waited for Sally to rush past me, and hit the trashcan with a wild swing of the broom. The can flew through the air and landed with a thud a few feet away.
"Awesome!" the kids screamed and cheered.
Sally, her head finally freed, took in her surroundings. Her tail wagged furiously when she saw me. Uh-oh.
"No! NO! Sally!" Umph! I was flat on my back with a Lab on my chest. A Lab whose face had just been stuffed inside a trash can. Yuck!
Mark walked over to me, still filming. "Now this is YouTube gold."
* * *
It took two hours to clean everyone up. The kids missed their bedtime by a mile. And I barely spoke to Mark while we worked. Okay, I get that it was funny. But is that how it's going to be if we have kids someday? I'm chasing the dog with the trash can on its head while he films it? No way.
Finally, at ten o'clock, with everything done, I flopped down on the toy-littered couch and flipped on the TV. The remnants of the wine bottle were sitting in a glass next to me.
I settled on an old Rock Hudson movie. I liked the old-fashioned hijinks and clean jokes. Mark was on the phone. He had raced out onto the porch when the call came in, so he wouldn't wake the kids. I couldn't pay attention to the movie. I wanted this all over with. Please let the call be good news.
I heard the screen door close and saw Mark's shadow in the kitchen. I jumped up to face him.
"Well?"
"They got him, Diana! Sal Bonanno admitted to putting the bomb on the boat and to being The Spider. He gave a full confession." Mark's voice was choked with emotion.
I raced around the couch and threw myself into his arms. "Are they sure? Is it really over, Mark?" I sobbed into his shoulder.
"They're still tying up loose ends, but you're safe now." He pulled back and brushed the hair from my eyes.
Tears of relief were streaming down my face. "Thank you for everything."
He kissed me, whispering, "Don't thank me. It was my fault. You should've never even crossed paths with that nut, Tyrell. I've been worried sick and trying not to show it." Mark had tears in his eyes.
I laughed. "You put up a good front."
Hand in hand we walked over to the couch. "So give me details," I said, tucking a leg under and curling up next to him.
"The masked pirates and the electrician who tampered with the amp all fingered Bonanno in a line-up as their contact. Investigators also found wire transfer numbers i
n Bonanno's condo that matched the account Tyrell gave you. Bonanno's also been doing a lot of traveling lately. His itinerary matches your tour dates like a glove."
"So he was actually rigging all the accidents?"
Mark shook his head. "Looks like he did a lot of free-lance hiring. The officers that interviewed Bonanno said he let the lawyer do most of the talking until they mentioned you. Said he went nuts, ranting and raving about you escaping The Spider."
"Me and my dumb luck."
"Sounds like you were driving the guy crazy. The agents asked why he didn't just shoot you. You know, why all the elaborate Wile E. Coyote traps?" Mark was chuckling.
"And?"
"The lawyer had him back under control at that point and refused to comment."
"What about the scrapbook pages? Any idea who's been sending those?" I asked.
Mark looked thoughtful. "I asked about that; the agents said Bonanno seemed surprised but didn't say a word."
"I thought The Spider had been doing hits since the '70s. This guy isn't old enough, is he?" I just couldn't relax and believe this was finally over. "Something just doesn't feel right, Mark."
Mark ran a hand through his hair. "The investigators are going on the working theory that The Spider is a position within the assassin hierarchy and not an actual person. Bonanno is the current Spider. His predecessor probably retired or died a few years back." Mark leaned over and hugged me. "Look, I know we still have some unanswered questions, but they have the guy who tried to grab Ashley, planted the bomb, and hired the electrician in custody. You're safe, Diana.
We heard the rumble of Dan's truck coming up the driveway. "Safe from a hitman and relieved from baby-sitting duty. What more could a girl ask for? Only one thing. "Now all we need is a call saying they've found Andre and Marsha alive and well on Gilligan's Island.”
Mark held my gaze. “It's coming, Diana. It's only a matter of time.”"
* * *
I woke the next morning snuggled up against Mark in a Barbie pink princess room. The twin bed made snuggling a necessity, not that I was complaining. I was feeling warm, loved, and safe. A heady combination.
I leaned over and kissed Mark gently on his stubbly cheek. Another thought warmed me. I could go home. To my condo. Right now!
I gave Mark an elbow. He grumbled. "Mark." I gave him a shake. "Wake up. We can go home now. We can have monkey bread from Shack's Bakery for breakfast!"
Mark opened one eye and shook his head. "Hate to burst your bubble, but you're forgetting that the paparazzi are still stalking you. You think Mrs. Kester is pissed when the dog poops in her flower beds, wait 'til some guy with a camera starts snapping pictures through her front window."
Actually I knew the answer to that one. "She'll turn a garden hose on him."
"Yeah, I could see that." Mark nodded.
"So let's get going!" I jumped out of bed and pulled on my jeans. "Come on, lazy bones."
"Did you also forget you promised your sister you'd redo her kitchen today? You guys watched that kitchen design show until midnight and had a whole list of crap for Dan to pick up this morning."
Oh, yeah. I had forgotten about that. We'd even ripped down more wallpaper last night. "I was drunk on wine and high from outwitting The Spider. I didn't know what I was promising last night."
"Nice try. I bet Dan's already on his way to Lowe's to pick up the supplies before he has to go to work."
I threw a pillow at Mark. He was right, but I wasn't happy about it. I guessed another day here wouldn't kill me.
"Fine, but you're painting all the trim." I left him laughing under the covers.
In the kitchen my sister was like a general with a new battle plan. "Oh, there you are. Finally! We've got work to do." She handed me a cup of coffee. "Dan should be back any minute with the supplies. We need to scrape these walls off a little more so they're ready for primer."
"Aye, aye, Cap'n." I saluted her. How did I get myself into these things? "You know I could be going home right now."
"Hey, just because a hitman isn't after you anymore, doesn't mean you're getting out of this." Her hands went directly to her hips. "It's your fault my kitchen's all ripped up."
I did a double-take. "How's that? I seem to remember you attacking the bears with a carving knife."
"Because you drove me to it," Ashley insisted.
"They were stupid looking."
"Ahh, sisterly love. So wonderful to see it first thing in the morning," Mark said as he poured himself a cup of coffee.
We both glared at him.
"Fine," I said. "I'll help today, but tomorrow we're heading back to Annapolis. Paparazzi or no paparazzi."
"Deal," Ashley replied. "Now let's get moving. I want to pick up new curtains while the primer dries. Mark can watch Tiffany while we're gone."
"I thought I was doing trim work?" Mark complained.
Ashley smiled sweetly at him. "Trim work and babysitting? Wow! You're going to make such a wonderful brother-in-law."
"Thought I wasn't the marrying kind?" Mark gave her a wry look.
"I think you've shown some potential, and besides," she added with a twinkle in her eye, "practice makes perfect."
"I'd have to have apprenticed on a funny farm to get the right kind of practice for this family," Mark grumbled.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
We were browsing through the household department at Macy's, looking at aisle after aisle of flowery curtains. We'd picked an earth tone color scheme with cranberry as an accent for the kitchen. My sister was determined to find curtains with actual cranberries on them.
"You don't need cranberries on your curtains."
"But it would really tie the theme together," Ashley insisted.
"No, the theme is not cranberries. The color scheme has a cranberry accent. You start putting cranberries all over the place, and you might as well have just left the stupid bears up." Did I mention shopping for anything other than food was not my thing? Shopping with my sister took it to a whole new level of pain.
I tried a different tactic. "Did you see any themes involving cranberries or any other fruits on the kitchen makeover show?"
Ashley paused. "No. They didn't have any fruits."
"Exactly. Remember it needs to be simple and sophisticated."
Ashley nodded and stared off into to the distance. Probably had cranberries dancing before her eyes.
I snapped my fingers in front of her face. "Earth to Ashley."
"Isn't that Andre and Marsha?" She pointed a finger across the aisle at the electronics department. On at least fifty big screen TVs, the image of Andre and Marsha, hands clasped together and wearing towels and not much else, blared.
Speechless, we walked into the electronics department and stood in front of a TV.
The reporter said, "We're going live to our affiliate in Bermuda with this incredible story. This couple, believed dead after a boat explosion, has just been found on a small island off the coast of Bermuda. Steve, have you had a chance to speak to the survivors?"
A toothy, tan reporter wearing a Hawaiian shirt and holding a microphone responded. "The couple isn't talking much, but the authorities have identified them as CIA Agent, Marsha Kincaid, and private bodyguard, Andre Beauregard. You'll remember first reports indicated it was singer/songwriter Diana Hudson and her boyfriend, Mark Greene, who were on the boat. There's been a lot of speculation regarding the whereabouts of Ms. Hudson. Even some wild reports that she was in hiding from an assassin."
Ashley and I jumped up and down and exchanged high-fives. Ashley started to speak, but I hushed her so I could here the TV.
The camera flashed back to the anchorman in the studio. "Amazing story, Steve. Something out of a movie really. And now, a couple stranded on a deserted island." The anchorman shook his head in wonder.
Steve flashed another toothy smile. "You said it, Chuck. Quite a story. The only new info we have from the couple is that they were snorkeling when the boat exploded. They heade
d to the nearest island and waited to be rescued."
The picture flashed again to Andre and Marsha. With a smarmy smile, Steve added, "I bet the real story is what happened on that island over the last forty-eight hours. Back to you, Chuck."
Ashley looked over at me. "Yeah, I wonder what happened on that island. Did you see they were holding hands?"
I rolled my eyes. "They're safe, Ashley. What happened on the island is between them." I didn't really mean that. I couldn't wait to grill Andre on what happened, but I was taking the high road in front of Ashley.
"Let's pick these curtains and get out of here. I want to get back and see if Mark's talked to Marsha yet."
For once, Ashley didn't argue. She grabbed a cranberry and beige curtain without a cranberry on it and rushed to find a cashier. "Yep. This story's going to be better than an episode of Jersey Shore."
* * *
Mark was on the phone with Marsha when we got back to Ashley's house.
I mouthed, "Can I talk to Andre?"
Mark nodded, saying to Marsha, "So, no warning at all? Engine didn't give you problems? The bomb must've been on a timer then." His face was grim. "Can't believe you two were out snorkeling. How'd he talk you into that?"
I couldn't hear her reply, but I saw Mark smile. "I knew it. Is Andre there? Diana wants to talk to him. Good to hear your voice, partner. Here she is."
I took the phone. "Andre?"
"Alive and well." He sounded pretty chipper for a man who had almost been blown up and had spent the last two days on an island with no food.
"God, I thought you were gone." A sob caught in my throat. "And it was my fault. I am so glad you're okay."
"Just crazy luck we were out there snorkeling when the boat went up. One minute we're staring down at clown fish and then—boom! Debris everywhere. And it took thirty minutes of swimming to reach the island."
"You sound good."
"We're fine. Just some sunburn. We covered ourselves with mud and tried to stay out of the sun, but it was tough. Not a lot of shade on the island." His voice was cheerful. Like someone who just got back from a vacation.
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