Barbara Silkstone - Wendy Darlin 02 - London Broil

by Barbara Silkstone

  I pushed the memory button on my home phone. The last number called was the Miami Police. I hit a redial on the number just before it… The voice was similar to but younger than Matty’s.

  I hesitantly said, “Hello.”

  “Is this miss hot-shot-go-to-London and leave my little niece alone with that sleeping fool?”

  I gasped into the phone. “Treanna’s with you?” I collapsed into an armchair.

  “Of course she’s here. Where else would the poor child go? She called her Auntie Lillian and I come and got her.”

  “Don’t you know there’s an Amber Alert posted for Treanna? Put her on the phone.”

  I heard her call Tre. “It’s that white woman. Guess she finally got to missing you.”

  “Hi, Wendy. Are you worried about me?” Treanna chirped.

  “We’ll talk at your house. Grandma is very upset. Tinkerbelle is crying for you. My friend Roger and Grandma will come for you; there will be some police officers with them. They’re nice people, so don’t be afraid. I’ll see you at your house.”

  “I’m glad you’re back, Wendy. I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Put Auntie Lillian back on the phone.”

  “What you want?” Lillian was as warm and cuddly as a rabid Rottweiler.

  I’d had run-ins with Lillian before. She was a companion, to put it politely, to a different drug dealer every week. She’d never been busted because she didn’t deal, just provided comfort in their time of need. She thought she was hot stuff. To me, she was, phonetically, a common garden tool. And she hated that Tre had bonded with me. I hoped Lillian would see the inside of a jail for taking Tre without permission and causing an expensive, time-consuming search. Then we’d see if one of her pimpmobile boyfriends would come up with the bail.

  “The police will be there shortly to get Treanna and take her home.”

  “I can’t stop the heat for coming here, but don’t you be bringing that damn Matty here. She ain’t welcome!”

  “You need to worry about your butt rather than Matty. You’ll probably go down for kidnapping.”

  “Kidnapping? The child called me. Told me you’d left her alone in Sea Shell Towers. A friend of mine used to do some business there. So I go rescue her. She’ll be here, but I won’t. I’ll be in my lawyer’s office waiting for the police to call.” She slammed the phone down.

  I called Roger with the info. “You and Matty have to go with the police. Treanna might be scared.”

  Roger had a catch in his voice when he spoke. “Treanna’s never met me.”

  “One look at your big brown eyes and she’ll be yours forever. I’ll head to Matty’s house right now.”

  ***

  By the time Tinkerbelle and I arrived at Matty’s, they were already back. Treanna was kneeling on the plastic-wrapped sofa, her arms around Roger’s neck. The little stinker was wearing a bumblebee suit. “Hi, Wendy!” She waved without moving from her cozy position next to my Indiana Jones. Puffing out her chest, she showed off her outfit, “Auntie Lillian got me this for Halloween. I’m going to wear it every day till then.”

  “Three months is a long time to be a bumblebee,” I said. Maybe Auntie Lillian would be wearing an orange jumpsuit for Halloween, unable to make bail.

  Tears rimmed Roger’s eyes. He grimaced trying to hold them back.

  I mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

  He shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. I wanted to hug him and tell him it was all going to be okay. But that was for later.

  Matty sat in her La-Z-Boy, appearing more alert than I had ever seen her. “At Lillian’s highfalutin condo, the police told Treanna how bad she was and how many people was scared for her. They said something like that to Lillian, too. The detective gave us a ride in his car. The difference bein’ – we was brought here, and last I saw of Lillian, she was in the back of a cage car goin’ downtown.”

  A small, satisfied smile fleeted across her face… and mine.

  Tink wiggled out of my arms and into Tre’s lap, slobbering her with kisses.

  “Look how Tinkerbelle missed you,” I said to Treanna. “How could you have left her?”

  Treanna whipped out her oversized sunglasses and popped them on, “She’s all right. Aren’t you dog? Poor dog.”

  “This is not funny. Stop the play acting.” I waggled my finger at her.

  “Auntie Lillian told me she’s ‘lergic to dogs and Tinkerbelle would mess up her white carpet. I didn’t want to leave her, but I didn’t have any place else to go. If I stayed at your house, you’d never come back.”

  “Bullshit!” Matty said smacking her knee. “Somehow Treanna know that my stepdaughter Lillian – and I’m shamed to call her and won’t speak to her – is the only person in the world dumb enough to listen to a six year old and then hide her, to boot. Not to mention she hate me and like to cause me grief.”

  I sat next to the bumblebee. “You realize what you did was very, very wrong. Big Brothers might say we can’t see each other again. We have to wait and see what happens.” I would need Elana’s help to continue being Treanna’s Big Sister.

  She took off her sunglasses and gave me a sorrowful look. “I wasn’t lost. I knew where I was all the time. You only pay attention to people who need help.”

  “This was not the way to get my attention. You know you’re always in my heart. How did you know Auntie Lillian’s phone number?”

  “I keep all my important phone numbers in my backpack – yours, Grandma Matty, Auntie Lillian and…” She elbowed Roger. “Maybe I can get his? Can we keep Roger? I’ll take good care of him.”

  Chapter 49

  Roger and I were back at my condo by six. I was tired of trying to be all things to all people. It was time to concentrate on one person. I curled next to him on my sofa. We were in a zone of silence, savoring the moment and letting our adrenalin get back to normal.

  My cell phone rang. “Wendy Darlin? Burger here.”

  I spun through my mental files… Oh yeah… Officer Burger. What the…

  “We found your Jag.”

  A shot of electricity zinged through me. My beautiful Goldie. “Is she okay? I mean it. Is it okay?”

  “Aside from the ash tray being full of cigarette butts. The auto theft task force recovered it right before it was going to be loaded into a container and shipped to Venezuela.”

  I covered the phone and whispered to Roger. “They found Goldie!”

  “The good news for you is,” Burger said, “they don’t need to hold your car as evidence, and it’s not going to be covered in fingerprint powder which is a b… bear to get off.”

  “To what do I owe my good fortune?”

  “Damned if I know. I think it might be part of some kind of super-secret undercover deal nobody’s talking about. I suggest you take your good luck and run. You can pick the car up tomorrow. Call me an hour or so in advance, and I’ll meet you at our impound lot.”

  Cigarette butts were disgusting. But Goldie was back. Miracles happen for a reason. And as I hung up, I knew what the reason was.

  I dug in my tote for the neon yellow business card Mr. Smith had handed me.

  “What you want?” the hamster man snapped. “I ain’t got that kid. Police already been here. I don’t appreciate you dropping blame on me. I’m not gonna mess with no kid. I’m quality. Quality don’t do that. Now get lost!”

  “Talk nice to me, Smitty. I can burn you for gambling, loan sharking, and racketeering.”

  “You ain’t got nothing on me, woman. And nobody calls me Smitty!”

  “I do, and if you call me woman again, you’re going to be covered up in cops who’d love to max you out for trying to force a widowed grandmother into a deal where you steal her house through your crooked mortgage business. And that’s before we even get into the loan sharking and racketeering.”

  “You recording this here conversation?”

  “I don’t need to. I have your bogus mortgages, records that show how you la
under your money, info on your bolita operation, and a lot more.”

  He sighed before he spoke. “So what’s on your mind? Or did you just call to irritate me enough to send Ox over to pay you a little visit?”

  “You don’t get it do you, Smitty? I move real estate for some heavy, heavy hitters. These are people with connections to find out anything. How do you think I know so much about you? I’m very valuable to these people. If you ever think of causing me problems, you and Ox will be taking a cross-country vacation of sorts. Pieces of you will be found in ten or fifteen states.”

  “So what you want?” His voice sounded weaker.

  I’m going to offer you a sweet deal, Smitty, because I want you out of Matty’s hair and I don’t want to talk to my friends about it. I’m a non-violent type… as long as I get what I want.”

  “I’m listening,” his voice was down to faint.

  “My Jaguar is in mint condition. I’ll title the car over to you in payment for any and all of Matty’s debts, real or imagined, then you stay the hell out of Matty’s life forever. Hear me?”

  His voice was back to normal when the greedy little hamster tried for more. “Since you’re so hot to get me out of Matty’s life, I think I need something besides your Jag. Woman, you need to be putting some cash on the table.”

  “Man, you need to be shutting up. You’re one step away from sharing the intimate details of your life with more than one law enforcement agency… before you go to pieces.”

  He was barely audible when he said, “Got it.”

  “Smitty, get your skinny ass over here to sign an agreement. Then I’ll call one of my cop friends. You can pick up the car from him tomorrow.”

  Officer Burger was going to wonder what the heck I was up to, but that was my business. And best of all, I wouldn’t have to touch the thief-cooties.

  “Meet me in front of the guard booth at the Sea Shell Towers on Miami Beach in an hour.” That location added one more element of protection. I wasn’t about to meet the hamster man on a city street, even with Roger along for muscle.

  Sitting at my computer, I typed up an agreement transferring the car ownership to Smith in return for no further contact or communication with Matty Madison, her family, or property. I pulled the car title papers out of my safe and put both documents into a big white envelope.

  Roger paced the condo until I finished. “There’s nothing to stop the blighter from reneging on the deal. He could still come after Matty in some other way. Besides the math doesn’t make sense. He’s gaining a lot more than he claims he’s owed.”

  “The extra money is an investment in my peace of mind. He’s got to be stopped, today. Besides, Goldie has cooties.”

  “Where did you get all that evidence against him?”

  I smiled.

  He laughed. “I knew you were bluffing about the heavy hitters, but you had me convinced about the evidence. Remind me never to play poker with you.”

  “Not to worry. I don’t know how to play cards.”

  Chapter 50

  My archaeologist and I stood in front of the guard gate at my condo. Smith was punctual. Ox lumbered behind him. They made an odd couple, a hyper-hamster and a doped-out bull.

  The little scammer signed the papers and Roger witnessed. I handed over the title and Officer Burger’s card. Smith smirked. He felt he’d bested me. I flashed on a visual of poor Goldie wearing spinner hubcaps, with four antennas protruding from her trunk. We all have to make sacrifices, even champagne-colored Jags.

  “No harm, no harassment, no nothing to Matty or her family. She’s getting out of the bolita business.”

  “What makes you think I’ll keep my word? I thought about it driving over here. I think I fell for a bluff. You don’t have any heavy hitters,” he said flashing a gold front tooth.

  Just then, the pooch brigade trotted round the building on their evening walk. There were six plastic princesses following six tiny canines on strings. The dogs took one look at the hamster man and Ox and howled. They tugged and struggled, climbing on one another’s backs to get at the strangers. The yipping increased in volume. They were a pack of jaws ready to rip.

  In a rush to escape, the big goon tripped over Smitty. They crashed to the pavement as a pack of pompoms with teeth jumped their bones nipping at any available flesh. Ox screamed in terror as a tiny Poodle chewed on his ankle. Smith cried like a baby, begging us to pluck the dogs off.

  Pressing the camera button on my phone, I filmed the carnage. Mitzi Cohen, a Chihuahua with attitude, took a piece out of Smith’s ear. He whimpered and rolled on the ground, his Armani suit picking up poop here and there. It was an action scene worthy of Quentin Tarantino.

  I looked at the princesses. “Either of these choice male specimens appeal to you?” They shot me snotty looks and wrinkled their noses.

  The ladies brought their dogs under control and headed off to the doggie park, wearing their shorts, five-inch heels, and twenty pounds of gold jewelry. Roger and I leaned back against the guard booth sharing our laughter with the security man.

  Smith and Ox scrambled to their feet, looking as if they’d been attacked by giant moths – holes in their trousers and shreds of cloth at their ankles. Smith clutched his ear, blood dripping down his collar. Roger spun away looking back at the building.

  “I’ll sue you and this place and those broads!” Smitty screamed.

  I chuckled. “No you won’t.”

  Ox furrowed his brow, looking like an angry outhouse. “He won’t?”

  “I got both of you on film. I just emailed it to my computer. You do anything to anyone, including Matty, and you’ll find your whimpering butts on YouTube. I’m positive it will go viral.

  Smith tugged on Ox. “Let’s get out of here. I had enough.”

  Chapter 51

  Roger and I walked back to my condo, laughing and reliving the last scenes with Ox crawling away from dogs half the size of his meaty hands and Smith begging for mercy from a Chihuahua.

  “I do believe that is the last we’ll see of those two clowns.” I looped my arm in his. “Guess what? I figured a way for Matty to make a living. It never occurred to me before.”

  “It’s good to see you smile again,” he leaned over and kissed my cheek.

  “Darlin Realty is a sponsor of the Women of Haiti. The group helps mothers on the island set up in-home businesses, mostly making crafts for export. I think I can get Matty a job as a junior administrator in Miami. It wouldn’t take a lot of skills, just patience. She can learn the rest as she goes along.”

  “Brilliant!”

  “It was Benny who planted the seed of the idea. He said something about teaching her how to fish. Maybe knowing she’s helping others will keep her awake and help her earn a living.”

  When we entered my condo, the only sound I heard was the roll of the ocean waves.

  Roger looked around. “We’re alone!”

  I smiled. “We are, aren’t we?”

  He slipped his arms around me. “I love being with you. You lift me up and keep me afloat.”

  “What you’re saying is I’m your pool noodle.”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes I don’t get your humor,” he said as he spun me around to face my bedroom. “Shall we investigate that suspicious looking room?”

  His cell rang as we walked into the room. He answered it, listened, and then clicked off.

  “Darcy’s escaped from the asylum.”

  “You should go back to London—”

  Roger pitched his phone onto the sofa and closed the bedroom door behind us. “Frankly, Wendy, I don’t give a damn.”

  The End

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for taking the time to read London Broil. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling a friend. There’s no better way for an author to find new readers than by word of mouth, one friend telling another. If you are inclined to write a review that would be wonderful! See you early next year – 2014 - in Miami Mummies - Book Four in the Wend
y Darlin series.

  Follow Wendy’s adventures in her Facebook journal:

  Wendy Darlin Tomb Raider

  Wendy and the Lost Boys – Book One in the Wendy Darlin Comedy Mystery series

  (Book Two in the Fractured Fairy Tales series)

  Not really the life I envisioned when I promised to look after the criminal miscreant Charlie Hook. When Hook held me, my friend Kit, and archaeologist Roger Jolley hostage on his mega-yacht, I had no choice but to help him recover his ill-gotten treasure as we cruised to Nevis Island in search of the Lost Boys.

  Amazon Kindle link:

  http://viewbook.at/B005FKHKTE

  London Broil – Book Two in the Wendy Darlin Comedy Mystery series

  Curry was bubbling on the stove and blood was spilled on the kitchen floor. I kept the London Eye over my shoulder as I ran from Benny Hannah’s London townhouse fearing Idi Amin’s henchmen. The clock was ticking as Roger Jolley and I raced to find the last Lost Boy during a killer heat wave in London.

  Amazon Kindle link:

  http://viewbook.at/B006IH6LHA

  Cairo Caper – Book Three in the Wendy Darlin Comedy Mystery series

  Hot on the trail of Cleopatra’s grave all we had to do was get from Cairo to the Temple at Taporisis. Morning sunlight glared from the muddy surface of the Nile. Six floors down a body in white sprawled in a splat of blood. My first official kill as a tomb raider and it was an ashtray-rubout. How embarrassing.

  Professor Roger Jolley and I were in the first trimester of our third archaeological case. The adrenalin high of tomb raiding had become an addiction. As we sat in the Smiling Camel Café I noticed Roger was wearing two left shoes. Brown wingtips. We were definitely starting off on the wrong foot.

  Amazon Kindle link:

  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EMJTUOC

  Books by Barbara Silkstone: