Woke Up Dead

by Tina Wainscott

  “I know, you were married to me for five years,” she finished for him, getting the feeling that wasn’t going to be an easy block to chip away.

  “Well, as fun as this has been, I think you’d better get some rest at home. You probably shouldn’t drive for a day or two, and you shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

  Home. She hadn’t thought about home. Was the address on Maxine’s driver’s license correct? The first place that popped into her mind was the apartment Jennie shared with Gabrielle, but that wasn’t her home anymore. Gabrielle had probably found another roommate by now. The place was set up for someone in a wheelchair. Maxine smiled. That wasn’t her anymore.

  “Maybe I should go home with you,” she suggested quietly. “Just for tonight.”

  “I don’t think your fiancé would be too hip on that.”

  Her mouth dropped open, but she clamped it shut again. Oh geez, she hadn’t thought about Maxine having anyone in her life. She’d been so intent on just starting a new life in between her old one and Maxine’s. What about children? Friends? Job? Maxine had a life, and now Jennie would have to deal with it. The fiancé was the immediate concern.

  Sam smiled, taking her hand for a moment. Just when she thought he might do something romantic like kiss it, he held it up so she could see the huge diamond ring on her third finger.

  “You didn’t think I knew about that, eh? Of course, you couldn’t have expected me not to find out when it was announced in the paper a month back. What’s his name? Armando? No, Armand…Santini. The guy who owns the nightclubs all over the city. That’s how I knew you hadn’t changed. Some older, rich studmuffin is exactly who I’d figured you’d hook up with. That’s what you wanted all along.” He let go of her hand.

  Maxine swallowed a dry lump in her throat. No, no, I wanted you all along, Sam. You.

  “Hey, don’t feel bad about it,” Sam said, smiling. “I’m happy for you, I really am. I’ve never seen this guy, but he sounds sophisticated and foreign. You always did get hot for an accent. I hope it works out for you.”

  He meant it. Damn. Not a speck of longing or regret lingered in his eyes. Maxine could walk right back out of his life, and he wouldn’t care one bit. Except now, Maxine had Jennie’s soul in her, and she was going to make him care a lot more than a bit. First, she had to get rid of this exotic-sounding fiancé of hers. She’d always wanted a ring on her finger, but not this way. Not this big either.

  “I’d take you to his place, but I know how you feel about driving around in my rattle-trap, as you used to call my Chevelle. So, you want to call this guy, or do you want me to?”

  She didn’t want to go anywhere with some stranger.

  He walked back around to the other side of the desk and lifted the phone. “What’s his number?”

  “I don’t remember it.” She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “My head hurts too much.”

  “Maybe you’d better go to the hospital then.”

  “No, it’s not that bad. I just don’t remember all of the numbers. He…usually calls me, so I don’t use it that often.”

  Sam pulled out the phone book and riffled through the pages. Then he called information. He gave her a terse look across the desk. “Okay, thanks anyway.”

  “Unlisted, huh?” she asked, starting to feel hopeful again.

  “I figured he was.” Then he turned to his computer and started tapping keys. “Lakeview Heights. I should have figured.”

  “You found him,” she said, trying not to sound dismal. Of course—Sam could find anyone.

  He turned on the speaker and dialed the number. A man answered, “Santini residence.” The man’s British accent made her think butler.

  Sam looked at her, but her voice wouldn’t cooperate. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  “Can I speak with Armand, please?” Sam finally said when the man repeated the words.

  “And may I inquire as to who is calling?”

  Again Sam looked at her, and she forced the words out. “This is…Maxine.”

  The butler’s voice changed. “Maxy, what’s going on? Why did some man ask for me?” The accent was now slightly Italian.

  “Armand?”

  “Yes, darling. Why do you sound different?”

  “I…I’m on a speaker phone.” Did she sound different? “I need you to come pick me up. I…had an accident.”

  “Oh my gosh, huggy buggy! Are you all right?”

  She couldn’t help but look at Sam, not surprised to find a smirk on his lips at the pet phrase. She tried awfully hard not to cringe. “I’m fine. I guess, but I probably shouldn’t drive. Or be alone tonight in case I faint or something. But if you’re busy—”

  “Of course, I’m not busy, darling. Where else would you stay, but here at home? Where are you? I’ll be right there.”

  Oh, geez. She lived with him. “I’m at Sam’s Private Eye.” She reluctantly recited the address.

  Silence hovered on the line for a moment. “Your ex-husband’s?” Armand finally said.

  “Well, yes.” The word ex-husband sounded so strange to her. She’d never even been married, much less thought about having an ex. “It’s a long story. I’ll explain later.”

  Another pause. “Well, okay, I suppose. I’ll be right over. But you’re all right?”

  “I’ll live,” she said, so grateful for that. “Goodbye.”

  Sam disconnected. “Your fiancé pretends to be his own butler?”

  She could only shrug. “Maybe the butler’s out sick today.” She fiddled with the little brass knobs on the arm of her chair. “So, you really think sh—I’m marrying Armand for the money?”

  “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t have to.” She looked down at her legs, then crossed them. Most women sat with their legs crossed, and she had envied them that. She glanced back up at Sam, who was watching her with curiosity. In a way, she wanted to share these triumphs with him, but she had made her decision, and for better or worse, she was sticking to it. “I didn’t marry you for your money,” she said, knowing that had to be true.

  “Sure you did.”

  Maxine’s mouth dropped open. Sam had money? He’d never let on, the skunk.

  “Oh, stop looking so shocked and insulted. I think you liked me well enough; enough to stick it out for five years hoping with a little fertilizer I’d grow up to be like my father.” He propped his head against his hand. “Ah, I don’t blame you. Once you saw my parents’ place, and Ned and Sharee’s place, you wanted the same. Human nature, I guess. You were the last woman I ever took over there. What? What’s that expression for?”

  Maxine had been absorbing his words with a tilted head, but she had no idea what her expression had been. Working with Sam day in and out, she thought she knew him pretty well. How much else didn’t she know about him? She straightened. “I was wrong.”

  “What?”

  “It was wrong to try to change you, Sam. How could I have thought such a thing?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “You do have some brain injury. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say anything close to the words, ‘I was wrong,’ before.”

  “Well, I’m saying it now. It’s so obvious that this is where you belong, that you’re comfortable here. How could anyone try to change who you are?”

  “I wondered that myself. It started with my parents and ended with you.” He just sat there looking at her. After a minute he said, “Don’t worry. You’ll feel back to yourself after a good night’s rest. So, you live with him already, huh?”

  “Ah, I guess I do.” She didn’t want to live with Armand. Even if he was rich, tall and handsome and obviously in love with Maxine-the-first. She wanted the man who was not in love with her. What else was new?

  “Are you finally going to settle down and have babies?” Sam asked.

  If only she could detect even a trace of jealousy, regret, longing. Nothing. Then she realized what he’d said. “I don’t have any babies?” Thank goodness. No
t that she didn’t want them, but right at that moment, they would have made everything much more complicated than it already was. “I mean, I don’t have any babies yet, and I don’t know—” Her eyes widened, and a warm rush filled her. Because of her particular injuries, having babies had been out of the question. Now…her hand went to her stomach. Now, maybe she could. Her eyes watered as she looked up at Sam. She wanted to have his babies, little Sammies and Sammettes running around.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, leaning forward. “Geez, I didn’t mean to pry or anything.”

  “No,” she breathed. “I’m fine, really.” She smiled. “I’m really fine.” Of course, there was still a chance Maxine-the-first had been fixed so she couldn’t have babies, or was incapable of conceiving. Now she had real hope. She leaned forward, facing him over the desk. “Oh Sam, I want to have babies.”

  Their eyes locked for a moment, and a slight flush crept up his face. He cleared his throat and moved back as if propelled. “That’s probably something you should take up with Armand. I’m sure he’ll be very happy.”

  “What about you, Sam? Don’t you want children?”

  “Well, first I figured I’d find the lady, then worry about the rug rats later.”

  “Didn’t we ever, you know, talk about having children?”

  “Not really. And why are you asking me? You were there, too.”

  She glanced down at her hands, still flat on the desk. “I know that, but I don’t remember if we had that conversation.”

  “Our marriage was pretty forgettable, wasn’t it?” he asked with a grin.

  “No, don’t say that.” She hoped he wouldn’t test her. “There were some good things about it, weren’t there?”

  “Oh, a few.”

  Romeo’s soft whining brought their attention to where he sat next to her. He was still looking at her. Maxine patted the edge of the chair, and Romeo put his paws up.

  “What’s the matter, Romeo?” Can you see that it’s me?

  “I’ve never seen him like this before. I mean, he’s been…sad since Jennie…left. But this is weird. Wait a minute. I know what was bugging me before. How did you know Romeo’s name?” Sam asked. “When you came into the office, you called him by his name. You’ve never seen him before.”

  “I, ah…you told me. Yeah, you told me once. You said how this lady had hired you to find out who was stealing her prize puppies, and how it was really her husband trying to pay off his gambling debts. When the guy knew he was going to get caught, he took everything from their bank accounts and left, and she couldn’t pay you except with one of her bloodhound puppies. And you said a detective ought to have a sniffer dog, so you took the deal.”

  That was right after she was hired. At the time, she wondered if he took in strays and hired out of pity. She realized later that Sam had hired her because he believed in her. That had made her believe in herself, too.

  He gave her that skeptical look again. “Why would I tell you about my dog? You don’t even like dogs.”

  Romeo tilted his head at her, those droopy eyes taking her in. His tail wagged as she continued petting him. His soft fur felt like silk, and she leaned slowly forward and put her cheek against the top of his head. Funny, she’d thought he’d grow into the floppy skin the way he grew into his huge feet. The wrinkles stayed…well, wrinkled.

  “I like dogs plenty now,” she said, relishing the feel of Romeo’s warmth. When she glanced up, Sam’s face was pale, and his eyes looked haunted. “What’s wrong?”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m…” She realized it was something she’d always done. Something Jennie had done. “I wasn’t thinking about it, actually. I told you, I like dogs now.”

  The color slowly returned to Sam’s face, but the haunted look remained. “I guess you do. I still don’t remember telling you about him.”

  “Well, if you didn’t, how did I know all that, then?”

  He seemed to consider that for a moment. “You got me on that one. I guess I did.”

  She smiled triumphantly and gave Romeo another rub with her cheek. He smelled like dog shampoo, and she pictured Sam kneeling beside the tub giving Romeo a bath. Then she closed her eyes and pictured Sam rubbing his fingers through her lathered hair. That’s a girl his voice soothed in her mind. Doesn’t that feel good? Could even Heaven be much better than that?

  And then, We’ll get rid of those nasty fleas. Her eyes snapped open, and it was her turn to blush as she caught sight of Sam watching her. She gave him an awkward smile. “Daydreaming.”

  “Hello?” an Italian voice called from the front room a short while later.

  Oh, no. The dreaded fiancé. Romeo woofed softly and ambled out to see who was there. Maxine slowly stood and followed Sam, who waited to make sure she wasn’t going to fall on her face. They stopped when they saw the man standing by her desk.

  “Armand?” they both said simultaneously, then looked at each other.

  She had pictured an Italian Stallion. So had Sam, obviously. In actuality, Armand was more like an Italian…mouse. He was a bit shorter than Maxine (and a lot shorter than Sam), with thin, dark hair that receded from a wide, pale forehead. He wore wire-rimmed, round glasses and a Mickey Mouse bow tie with his dark jacket.

  The man’s concerned expression was on Maxine as he stepped forward and extended his hand to Sam. “Yes, I am Armand. You must be Sam. I have heard much about you.” Then he walked over to Maxine and took her hands in his, studying her with worried gray eyes. “And you, my kissums. What happened? Are you okay?”

  In trying to hide her astounded and amused expression, she wore an overly concerned one. “I…I don’t remember what happened, exactly. I have a gash on my forehead.” She lifted her hair and Armand made a hissing noise. When she glanced over at Sam, she saw that he wasn’t trying a bit to hide his grin. Darn it, how was she supposed to look serious when he was standing there grinning? Even if it was rather funny in a strange way.

  “It looks so big,” Armand was saying, staring at her bandage.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Did this happen at home? Perhaps in the greenhouse?”

  “Why do you say that?” Sam asked, stepping closer.

  Armand took a step back. “Because the flower box that was mounted beneath a window over the entrance of the greenhouse came loose and fell through the glass to the walkway below. When I returned from the city—”

  “Returned?” Sam asked.

  “Yes, from a meeting at one of my clubs. Apparently someone had taken down the wrong time. There was no meeting. When I returned, I saw the flower box on the floor, and my Maxine was gone. No one was even around to ask what had happened. The blood worried me the most. I called the hospitals, but there was no one that fit your description.” He took her hands and buried his face against them. “I was so scared.”

  She looked up at Sam, who was watching the display with that same degree of amusement. He replaced the smile with his investigator’s look again.

  “Armand, did you look at the mounting of the flower box?”

  Armand stopped smothering his face in her hands. “No, I didn’t look. Why do you ask that? Are you suggesting someone dropped the box on my huggy buggy on purpose?”

  Sam’s mustache twitched, but the threatening smile didn’t break loose. “I’m not suggesting anything. Just asking.” He shrugged. “It’s sort of ingrained in me to get the details.”

  “No one would hurt my Maxine. I just can’t imagine it.”

  She could only shrug when both men looked at her. “I don’t remember what happened.”

  “The only reason I’m questioning it is because Maxine came here right after the accident. Armand, I can assure you that she doesn’t just pop in like this normally, and I’m just wondering why she wanted to talk to me about it, if that’s what she came here for.” Sam flicked the button on an answering machine she’d never seen before, then slipped into his coat. “I’d like to take a look at it, if yo
u don’t mind.” He smiled. “For my own peace of mind.”

  Maxine let out an audible sigh of relief. Sam was going with them. “I’ll feel better if you do,” she said to cover.

  Armand took her hands in his. “Whatever makes you feel better, kissums. You know that.”

  She slid her feet into the pumps by the door, testing out their solidness before putting her weight on them.

  “Did you drive your car, Maxine?” Sam asked as they headed out, Romeo jingling behind them.

  “I, uh, don’t know.” Did she have a car?

  “I saw it out there when I arrived,” Armand said much to Maxine’s comfort.

  Sam paused at the landing of the stairs, his knuckles white as he gripped the railing. Armand was already walking down the first step, but Maxine hesitated, too. The only time she’d gone down those stairs was backwards. She hadn’t walked down any stairs in twelve years. Armand stopped and looked at both of them.

  “Is there something wrong with these stairs?” he asked, looking down the rest of the way with caution.

  Sam turned abruptly. “I’ll meet you at the entrance. I’m taking the elevator.”

  Maxine watched him walk away, then looked down the stairs again. Something burned deep inside her as she watched his back retreat to the end of the hallway. Those terrible moments flashed through her mind when she’d fallen down, when he’d tried to catch her hand.

  “Sam!”

  “Jennie, no!”

  The words echoed in her mind.

  “Would somebody please tell me what the big deal is with these stairs?” Armand said, stamping his foot.

  “Someone died here,” she said softly, her mind filled with the images of pain and screams. And Sam holding her. “Jennie died here.” She blinked, bringing herself back to the present. “She’s dead now. For good.”

  Armand’s arched eyebrows knitted together. “People who die usually are gone for good. That’s the way it works. Do you want to take the elevator?”

  She heard the doors slide open. “Wait!” She balanced herself with the railing, but her legs carried her swiftly down the corridor where Sam held the door open. Armand followed right behind her.