Hustled To The Altar

by Dani Collins

  The glass door was open and the vertical blinds rippled in the breeze.

  “He was loading something in that car,” Con added, pointing to a rusty yellow hatchback. “If he doesn’t come out soon, go up to the door and talk him into coming out. Walk him far enough away that I can go in.”

  “Oh, right. Piece of cake. Any suggestions on how—?” She stopped talking. Con was already jogging away, disappearing around the corner of the building.

  She sighed and started thinking up ways to approach Felix.

  * * *

  Felix always kept his blinds closed so he didn’t have to see the parking lot that was his view. Money had been tight when he had arrived in Deception Springs and all he’d wanted was a quiet place to hole up while he finished healing from his surgery. He had taken this corner condo because it was cheap and had in-house dry cleaning. He’d stayed because he hadn’t found anything else on the ground floor. He’d learned early in his career that a second exit from his living quarters was a practical feature for a man in his line of work. That, and the good sense to know when to use an exit, had kept him alive more than once.

  He was well into his exit today, figuring the brunette who had spotted him had likely reported him to the police by now.

  There wasn’t much he needed to take. The lounge furniture was leased, so he didn’t mind walking away from the chocolate-colored leather suite and flat screen. He’d never hung a picture on the beige walls, thrown a doily on the glass-and-chrome table or bought expensive bedding for the inexpensive mattress.

  He had most of his stuff in the car already but took a break to call his orthodontist. He had an appointment in a week and might not make it. Since the bastard charged him twenty bucks for a no-show, he would have to cancel.

  While he was on hold, he emptied the drawer beside the phone and leafed through the take-out menus and business cards for a scrap of paper where he did some quick math, calculating how far the fifty grand would take him.

  “Thank you for holding,” a woman said.

  “Hi, Cecile. It’s Felix. I may not make my appointment next week. I’ll call back to reschedule.”

  “Sure, hon. Hey, listen. People have been calling about you.”

  “What people?”

  “I don’t know. Paula said she took a few calls, too.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “I didn’t tell them anything.”

  “What about Paula?”

  “She says she didn’t.”

  But Paula had taken a couple of fifties from him in exchange for some letterhead, a photocopy of a completed insurance form and a blank one. Fraud artists weren’t called artists for nothing. With some creative forgery, he had recovered forty percent of what he’d paid to the clinic.

  So the other receptionist, Paula, might have talked to someone about him. Any number of people could be looking for him, but Tyrone Verona was the most likely. It wasn’t a crisis. The clinic had a fake address for him and, even if Ty had the resources to find him through this unlisted number, Felix planned to be gone today.

  “Thanks, Cecile.” When he got off the phone, he set out a Zero Halliburton briefcase, one he’d lifted off a widower from the Bronx. It was understated enough not to attract too much attention but classy enough to open in front of a bank manager, should he decide to move offshore. He opened it, wanting to air out the stale smell of cigarettes until he was ready to collect his cash from the locker where he’d stashed it.

  He decided he’d better stock up on some of the face food he’d discovered here in town, too. Most of them were near empty. He fetched the botanicals and anti-oxidants from the bathroom so he could read the labels. He liked the moisturizer with the placental enzymes, too. His list of scrubs and peels and sunscreen grew.

  When he was done, he took as many as would fit in a wine box to his car, dreaming of the Caddy he’d buy a few days from now. Maybe he should consider a convertible. Nah, it would mess up his hair and his skin couldn’t take the sun. But a Caddy for sure. It would be a hell of a lot roomier than this oil-burning hatchback.

  He wangled the box of cosmetics into the space in front of the passenger seat and straightened, pleased that he was progressing so swiftly.

  When he stood, the brunette was right beside him.

  * * *

  Renny had watched Felix come out of his apartment and followed him to his car. Now she stepped back from the aggressive hostility in his gaze.

  He adjusted his expression quickly, smoothed it into a bland inquiry, but still didn’t look friendly.

  Hitching her weight onto her hip, she looked beyond Felix and saw Con slip into the open glass doors of the ground-floor apartment. Okay. All she had to do was keep Felix out here while Con searched for the evidence they needed. A confession from Felix that he had sold something to Mona would be unlikely, but she’d try anyway.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” she said, smiling. “I tried to speak to you at the Tea House, but you left before I could and I’ve been wandering around hoping to spot you since. You’re busy?”

  “Very,” he confirmed, moving to the driver’s door and opening it. His hands went to his pockets, his gaze went to his apartment and his lips went flat.

  “Forgot your keys?” She shifted, putting herself between him and his apartment. “I won’t keep you long, it’s just that I was wondering . . . . You sold some health insurance to a lady I met here last weekend. Is it for seniors only or am I eligible?”

  Felix pulled his plucked brows together and one of his well-polished shoes slid backward, so he could better look her up and down. His gaze inventoried her jewelry before he said, “You must have me confused with someone else.”

  He spoke with a speech impediment. Not a lisp. More like a slur. He wasn’t much taller than she was and he only briefly met her eyes before looking again into the distance. Perhaps he thought she had brought the police.

  She did her best to appear rich, stupid, and somewhat ill. “That’s a shame. See, I have this condition and I haven’t been able to get coverage.” She tried a dry cough.

  That got his attention.

  He studied the jewelry again. For a classy-looking man, he betrayed himself with such obvious greed. She felt threatened, but it also told her he was open to opportunities for easy money. Show him the prize, her mother would have said. Sometimes it was a mish roll—newspaper sandwiched between genuine bills to look like a wad of cash—and sometimes it was Mom herself. The mark had to think there was something in it for him, so she bore the discomfort of Felix’s appraisal.

  Finally, his gaze returned to her face. It was more calculating now. “You look very healthy to me. I’d think the only danger you ought to worry about is a mugging for the lovely jewelry you’re wearing. I assume it’s real?”

  “Absolutely. When I heard about this amazing coverage, I went home and got it. They’re all I have left from my mother, but I don’t think she’d mind my trading them for medical coverage, do you?”

  “I’m sure she would approve,” he said, with an undertaker’s gentle tone and a grifter’s twinkling eye for opportunity.

  She coughed again, touched her chest and winced as though the cough had hurt.

  “I’ve heard good things about the health mine,” she said. She had learned last weekend that locals viewed the mine as faith healing and visitors to it as gullible.

  Amusement curled the corner of his mouth. Okay, the hook was baited; now to see if he would bite. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time. You just look so much like the man I saw last weekend. You wouldn’t happen to know him, would you?”

  Felix hated to perspire and this broad was making him shed sweat like a frigging garden snail. If she was telling the truth, she hadn’t reported him to the police and he was free to keep operating here in Deception, but he hadn’t come this far without developing a highly trained sense of self-protection. His instinct was telling him to get the hell out of town. Temptation kept him standing in front of her.<
br />
  Giving her a single peek at his forged documents would net him several thousand in jewels. He didn’t want to touch his fifty grand buffer and those stones could get him to Florida and keep him there for a long while. For that matter, they’d be a nice present for Tyrone, if the need arose. Ty wore enough gold to anchor a cruise ship and would chill right out with that much ice in his hands.

  Felix decided to explore the prospect. Cautiously. “I’ll be honest with you . . . ?”

  “Renny,” she supplied.

  “Renny. Lovely name.”

  “Short for Renatta.”

  “Even lovelier.” He flashed his perfect smile.

  She seemed taken aback by it, dazzled even. Oh, yes, the jaw surgery had been money well spent.

  “I don’t know if I spoke to your friend last week, but I have many business interests, including health coverage. However, I’m pressed for time right this minute. Would you like to meet later?” Letting a mark out of sight was a risk, but one he was willing to take. He wanted to buy time to think this through. He should finish getting his apartment emptied regardless. Moving along was a sensible precaution.

  “We can’t talk about it now? I was planning to go to the health mine soon and I don’t know how long I’ll be there.” Her brows came together above her wide green eyes.

  “I could meet you there at three o’clock,” he suggested.

  “Perfect.” She smiled and started to walk away, calling back, “See you later!”

  1:22 p.m.

  When Con had heard Renny’s overloud “See you later,” he had quickly done what he could to slow Felix down before slipping out the inside door of the condo.

  Judging from the to-do list he had stolen from Felix, he guessed Felix would remain in town a few hours at the most, so Con didn’t wait for Renny. She would turn up at the suite in her own time and he had calls to make before deciding his next move.

  Thankfully Jacob wasn’t in the suite when he arrived. If he had walked in on another game of “this little piggy,” he didn’t know how he would have reacted. That troubled him. Con laughed everything off, most especially pain, but he hadn’t been laughing when he had kicked in the bedroom door. Under other circumstances, he might have seen the humor in the expressions on Renny’s and Jacob’s faces, might have seen how ridiculous his near-hysterical reaction had been, but it wasn’t funny. He was scared.

  Fortunately, he excelled at playing emotional defense. As soon as he had realized he had overreacted, he had buried his feelings by focusing on the need to stop Felix.

  He brushed aside his turmoil again by checking the suite. It was empty and Jake had left an information booklet on the town, opened to the advertisement for the private airfield, on the table beside the sofa. Good. If he was collecting Spencer, he ought to be gone a while. Con went into the bedroom and sat on the bed, habitually taking precautions against his mobile number displaying on anyone’s phone. Gran was the only person who even knew he had one.

  Con dialed the first number on the list he had retrieved from Felix’s call display.

  “Belle Clinic. Paula speaking,” a woman answered.

  “Hi, my cousin Felix recommended I call you. Have I got the right clinic?”

  “Felix Adams?”

  Adams? What happened to Newman? Con made a note of the name. “Yeah, you did his, uh . . . ?”

  “Surgery.”

  “Right. Listen, I’ve got a similar problem. Can you give me an idea what I’m in for?”

  “Which problem?”

  “The most recent one.”

  “You can’t talk through your retainer?”

  Con rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Where was Renny when he needed her? “You’re a dental clinic?”

  “We have a full staff of reconstructive and cosmetic surgeons.”

  “Oh. How much work has Felix had?”

  “If you’re his cousin, I would think he would have discussed it with you.”

  Con ground his teeth. “Okay, darling, this is what I’m after. What have you done for Felix and how much is he into you for?”

  Dead silence.

  “Too blunt?” he asked.

  Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I told you I would call if I had any other information, but I don’t. Please quit calling. My job is on the line.”

  Bingo. “I don’t know who you spoke to, but I can get them off your back if you give me their number.”

  A significant pause and then a professional, “Just a moment, please.”

  He listened to an instrumental of a Beatles tune until she came back and recited a number. “Please, no more calls.”

  Con hung up and dialed the number she’d given him.

  “Ty’s Auto Parts,” a woman said.

  “I want to talk about Felix Adams.”

  A surprised silence. “Tyrone is out of town. May I have your number? I’ll have him contact you.”

  Con gave her the hotel and room number and hung up.

  He pondered his next move, but was distracted when his gaze strayed to the broken bedroom door. Using the superlative intelligence that had built a multi-million-dollar company around strategic games, he deduced that if Renny wasn’t sleeping in his bed every night, she could sleep in someone else’s. He was an only child. Sharing was beyond his experience. He was lousy at it. That’s why her relationship with Jacob bugged him, he told himself.

  He indulged himself for a moment by considering the numerous ways to dispose of a man’s body. Too bad he didn’t have time for it. He’d have to settle for calling the number on Jacob’s business card.

  The telephone number didn’t connect to a florist in Detroit, but it wasn’t a mutual funds company, either. It was an answering machine that repeated the number in a mechanical voice and beeped.

  Con hung up and called Susan, his former assistant. Technically, she worked for the new CEO at Performance Games, but she agreed to get a number for Jacob’s mutual fund company. “I’ll do anything to liven up my day. This place is no fun without you.”

  “Hey, if you’re looking for interesting, see what you can dig up on Ty’s Auto Parts in Los Angeles.”

  “Sure.”

  Four minutes later, she called back. “I’ll need more time on the auto parts. The mutual fund company doesn’t exist.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Okay. Email me if you learn something today.”

  “You bet.” She hung up.

  Once he was no longer surrounded by people with mobile phones, he’d realized his grandmother needed a way to reach him and had broken down and got one. He had let Renny continue to believe he didn’t own one so she would go into Shakey’s and he could flatten Jake’s tires. Now he had the means to flatten the man.

  He hadn’t had this much fun in months.

  1:47 p.m.

  Felix felt as though his day was turning around until he walked back into his apartment to collect the last of his things and found his Zero Halliburton full of desquamation gel. Friggin’ girly-shaped bottle must have tipped over.

  Twenty-five minutes of cleaning later, he realized he would have to buy a replacement briefcase along with the cosmetics he intended to stock up on, but he couldn’t see his shopping list among the papers next to the phone.

  He lifted the briefcase to look underneath, set it down, scattered the papers and got down on his knees to look on the floor to see whether the list had fallen.

  Ducking down saved his ass.

  He heard a noise at the glass door and froze. The quality of light changed with the flick of his blinds. A voice said, “No one here, Ty,” and a shoe scuffed.

  Felix crawled around the counter, saw the bulky shadow of a man against his closed blinds and silently slipped out the hall door of his apartment.

  Okay, he thought, when he stood on Main Street catching his breath. Ty had found him. Not a big deal. Deception was a small town, but there were a thousand places to hide. He would duck into the mineral
baths, where he could relax and consider his options.

  1:38 p.m.

  Laila left Murphy in town, circulating Felix’s description and looking for leads, while she chased a hunch by going out to the health mine. Unfortunately, she got sidetracked by a guy in a broken-down Jaguar.

  As much as she wanted to zoom past him and get to the health mine, she had owned rust-buckets for so long, and been helped by enough kind strangers, that she felt it was only good karma to stop and offer help.

  “Need me to call someone?” she asked as she pulled alongside him.

  “Someone going that way—” he thumbed back toward town “—already stopped and said he would arrange a mechanic for me. He should be on his way.” He glanced at the sky as it filled with the rumble of a helicopter. “But I’m supposed to meet that pilot.”

  They both watched the bird drop behind the screen of trees. Laila widened her eyes as she saw the logo of Performance Games painted on the underside of the ’copter.

  “Any chance you could drive over and let him know he should call a taxi? Tell him we’re at the Juniper Hotel. I’ll be going back with the mechanic.”

  “Sure,” she said, because there wasn’t anything else she could say. She should have listened to her mother’s warnings about talking to strangers.

  Don’t let it be him, don’t let it be him, she prayed as she drove the twisting road to the airfield. It couldn’t be Conroy Burke. He was already in town. But if she was forced to talk to him, she really didn’t know what she would do.

  She arrived in time to see the pilot giving instructions to a man in an orange jumpsuit and relaxed as the coffee-and-cream tone of the pilot’s skin told her he couldn’t be Con. When he raised his head, though, lifting the brim of his hat so she could really see his face, shock ran through her like a flash burn. Conroy Burke wasn’t flying that helicopter, but she knew the man who was.