I thought about what Sylvia, the nail salon owner, said about the Righettis and how people were selling after strange things happened, like fires and disappearances. I had enough time to check out one more property, Twenty-four Ocean Avenue. It appeared in the police beat several times for break-ins. Many valuable things were stolen and there was extensive property damage.
My list of properties revealed that Righetti Brothers had owned twenty-five other properties. I wondered where they got all the money to purchase all those properties. The numbers ranged from One through Fifty, both odd and even. On Google Earth, it seemed that the properties being bought led right up to the amusement park that already existed.
I put down my laptop and went to the bathroom sink to wash my face. I was concerned about the rest of the people who lived there, who hadn’t sold yet. But more so, I was concerned about my own well-being. Thoughts were racing in my mind. The image of Mr. Craft’s dead body appeared in my head. I went back to my computer and typed in Eugene Craft. His address appeared on the screen before my eyes—Twenty-six Ocean Avenue. A chill ran down my spine.
I searched for information on that the missing couple that I read about in the newspaper too. They lived at Number Fourteen. The beach club was located at Number Two Ocean Avenue.
I double-checked that all the windows and doors in my house were locked. My baseball bat was under my bed where I could reach it in seconds. I armed the alarm and loaded my gun. I allowed Snickers to sleep outside of his crate. I doubted that anyone was coming after me tonight, but I wasn’t taking any chances. All my security measurers didn’t help me relax. Sleep wasn’t going to come for me that night. I tossed and turned until daylight broke. I left for work in the morning like a zombie.
I stopped by Take Ten and ordered a double espresso to go. From there, I drove to work and pulled in the parking lot. I looked in my rear view mirror to see how bad my dark circles looked. They were bad. I added some extra powder makeup to them and headed on inside. Bonnie had arrived before me. I passed by her desk and gave her a little wave as I took a sip of my coffee. In return, she rolled her eyes. I gave her that look, like what? She nodded toward Dingo’s office. I glanced in. He was sitting at his desk, picking toe jam out of his left foot. I looked back at Bonnie with a facial expression like, eww, then continued on my way. I didn’t have many dealings with Dingo, but from what I had seen of him so far, I didn’t like him much. He was a weirdo.
I spent the rest of the morning keeping busy with paperwork, while I intently watched the clock. I couldn’t wait for noon to roll around so I could go somewhere else and get some more coffee with caffeine in it. To my grave disappointment, those in charge of ordering coffee for the municipal building were only stocking decaf this week.
My phone rang. It was an interoffice call, except I didn’t recognize the extension.
“Hello.” I said.
“Nero alert!” Bonnie said.
“What? Where are you calling from?”
“The conference room. I can see Nero coming into the building from the parking lot. Run for your life!”
“Gotcha!” I said as I hung up the phone.
I darted out of my office and into the ladies’ room. I waited a few minutes and wondered how long I’d have to wait until the coast was clear. I might as well use the latrine while I’m in here, I thought. I entered the stall, lined the seat with a disposable seat protector, and sat down to do my thing. My tush no sooner hit the seat when I heard his voice.
“Hello? Chelsey? Hello?”
You have got to be kidding me! I thought as the blood boiled up through my veins.
“Chelsey? Are you in there?” I heard as the door began to crack open.
“Seriously? Seriously?” I screamed. I certainly can’t pee now, knowing that jerk is trying to come in here!
“Chelsey, it’s me. Mike Nero.”
“I know who the heck it is, and if you don’t get the eff out of here, I swear I’m going to march right down to the police department and have them lock you up for being a Peeping Tom!”
“All right, geez, calm down. You must be PMSing.”
That was the last straw. I pulled up my pants, slammed open the stall door and marched out of the bathroom, grabbing Nero by the ear and pulling him straight out of the building. I was fuming mad. The man was psycho. I couldn’t even pee in peace with him around. It was my breaking point, and I had had enough.
“Nero, I’m warning you, I am going to slap you with a restraining order, then I’m going to go to all the newspapers and tell them that you are a stalker. I imagine that won’t be too good for business.”
“Did you wash your hands in there? I didn’t hear the water running.”
“Nero! Concentrate! I…want…you…to…leave…me…alone!”
“Please,” Nero pleaded. “I have something important I wanted to tell you.”
“Save it for someone who cares, Nero. I don’t want to hear any more!” I yelled.
“But wait! Please! I can help you.”
“What on Earth do you think you can possibly help me with?”
“I’ve been watching you.”
“No crap, really? I hadn’t noticed. Get out of here, Nero. What don’t you understand about me not wanting to have anything to do with you?”
“Seriously, please, let me finish. I’ve seen the way Marc yells at you. What if I told you that I could dig up some dirt about him? Enough dirt so that he would have to resign?”
I scrunched down my eyebrows in a confused expression. After a long pause, I said, “I’m listening.”
“I have ways of finding things about people. I mean, I’m no private investigator, and some of my ways might border on the illegal, so it probably wouldn’t be anything where I could send him to jail or anything, but…”
“Get to the point, Nero.”
“But, what if I could dig up something that was embarrassing? Something that got out to the public. Something that would make him want to leave public office?”
Nero had my curiosity. I wondered what he knew or what he thought he knew about Marc. I didn’t take Nero for someone to be involved in politics, so I didn’t know how he’d be able to find any dirt on anyone. I doubted Nero had many friends, with the way he acted and all.
“Exactly what do you know about Marc?” I asked.
“I don’t know anything…yet.”
“What do you mean? What are you going to do?”
“I’d rather not involve you in the details of it. I wouldn’t want you to be an accomplice or anything…in case.”
“Nero, you are freaking me out.”
“Have one cup of coffee with me, just one.”
“No,” I said sternly.
“No? But what if I could get Marc to quit?”
“If you are actually able find something out about Marc that makes him quit, and if you also add Winifred into the equation, then I’ll have coffee with you.”
“Deal!” Nero said, excited like a little kid, almost jumping up and down. His eyes lit up, his smile engulfed his face, and he bounced off to his car without saying another word. I went back into the building. I saw Bonnie was watching us.
“What did he say?” she asked.
“I’ll tell you all about it later,” I told her.
I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Nero doing anything for me—especially something illegal. Especially something that might make me owe him. I didn’t want to encourage him. But at the same time, I didn’t know what Bonnie’s uncle was doing with those pictures, if anything. I thought if Nero could drum up some more information, perhaps I could send that to Bonnie’s uncle as well. It was a long shot, but I took the gamble.
* * *
I went back to my desk and realized I hadn’t heard from Babs in a while. Perhaps I should check on her, given the fact that she wasn’t as off her rocker as I had once thought and also because she was scared the last time I talked to her. I found her number in my old-fashioned Rolodex, picked up t
he receiver on the phone, then dialed. The number was disconnected. I immediately started worrying. I wasn’t really friendly enough with any of the police officers or even the police chief where I felt comfortable calling and asking what happened when I reported that she thought the Iceman was going to kill her. And now that I knew the Iceman was a real person—Cal Zamboni, Gino Righetti’s shadow—I was even more concerned for Babs.
I headed out for lunch and drove right to Babs’ house. I knocked loudly on her front door. No answer. I knocked again. Still no answer. I knocked a third time. Nothing. I went to the next door over. Maybe someone knew something.
“Hi. I’m so sorry to bother you. I was looking for Babs Todaro; she lives next door to you. I had an appointment with her, but she doesn’t seem to be answering,” I said to the young woman with dark hair who answered the door. I heard her baby screaming in the background.
“Um, I don’t know. I have my hands full here. I didn’t have time to pay much mind to neighbors today. Maybe check two townhouses down. Mr. Banks lives there. I think he might know. They are friendly.”
I thanked her, then walked down to see Mr. Banks. Mr. Banks was a little old man, appearing to be in his eighties. He stood around five feet, three inches tall, mostly bald with a few white hairs left and he wore reading glasses. He told me that Babs had been moved to a nursing facility. He said her daughter didn’t feel like Babs could take care of herself any longer and they would be putting Babs’ townhouse up for sale. Mr. Banks didn’t seem to know which facility Babs was taken to. I was immediately sorry I hadn’t knocked on Babs’ door the night I had my nails done. At least I could have checked to make sure if she was okay that night. I felt bad and I continued to be worried. I left, wondering if she was really okay.
I returned to work after my lunch break and started making all the arrangements for the special board meeting for tomorrow night. I emailed the board members and asked them if they would like the meeting moved to the theatre, where there would be more room.
Marc replied with a “no.” Nothing more, nothing less. Just no. I decided that short and sweet was a good thing.
Winifred replied with, “These things aren’t your decision to make. Try not thinking so much.” I decided she was a little twit. She clearly hadn’t read my email asking them what they wanted. I hadn’t made a decision about anything. I was really beginning to hate that old bag. Well, not exactly beginning to…already did was more like it!
Aspen and Jamie said they didn’t have a preference and John never responded. I sent another email out to Aspen, Jamie, and John stating that Marc had made the decision to leave the meeting location the same as usual—in the boardroom. I neglected to add my opinion into the email by omitting the word “poor” before the word “decision.”
I left a detailed message for the police chief, asking that extra police offers be placed on duty at the board meeting due to the unusually hefty number of residents I expected to attend. Then I made extra copies of the agenda. I hoped one hundred copies would be plenty. I thought the official room capacity was somewhere around fifty to seventy-five people. More than that amount would be surpassing the fire code limits and the police would likely make the extras, if there were any, wait outside.
Toward the end of the day, my cell phone rang. Butterflies swarmed in my belly as I saw the name Kristof Beck scroll across the screen.
“Hey!” I answered the phone.
“Hey yourself,” the sexy Kris said over the phone. “I was wondering if you were free this weekend?”
“Sure,” I said, perhaps a little too anxiously.
“How about a movie on Friday night?”
I graciously agreed. Kris said he’d pick me up at eight on Friday. I think what I liked the most about Kris was that he was able to put a smile on my face, no matter how stressed I was, and no matter how crazy of a day I was having at work. My stress faded into the background when I heard his dreamy voice. I thought about his gorgeous eyes and his boyish smile and I grinned. I couldn’t wait to see him on Friday.
Chapter 14
“What did you find?” Gino asked.
“I looked everywhere. I completely tore apart the office, looking for some law, some loophole where we can condemn those properties quicker. I couldn’t find anything,” Marc said as he hung his head low.
“That’s not what I wanted to hear.”
“I know, I know. I tried, I really did. If you want me to check with the village attorneys…”
“I don’t think I want the attorneys involved right now,” Gino said.
“Please tell me what else I can do. I don’t want any trouble,” Marc said with a speck of worry in his voice.
“You just sit tight, Marc. There are people in high places that aren’t going to be happy with this, so it’s on to Plan B.”
“What is Plan B?”
“You just let the big boys worry about Plan B, Marc, and I don’t think I need to remind you to keep your trap shut.”
Gino abruptly left the room. Marc collapsed in his seat, shaking his head. He feared the worst was yet to come.
* * *
I arrived at work at the same time as Bonnie the next morning. We walked in the office together, making small talk. I quickly told her I had another date lined up with Kris. She so eloquently reminded me that I needed to be a kitten, in a way only Bonnie could. I rolled my eyes.
“Well, my uncle called,” Bonnie said.
“He did? What did he say?” I said with anticipation.
“He said we have a couple of pictures of a guy cashing in his lottery chips.”
“No? Really?” I said sarcastically.
“I told him the same thing, except my words were more ‘flowery,’ so to speak.”
“I imagine they were.”
“I guess you were right; we really needed a photo of Gino handing Marc the envelope full of cash. And without our testimony…”
“Yeah, we do not want to testify. And even if we did, it would be our word against his. No proof,” I said with a frown.
“Yeah. We need proof. But how do we get it?”
“Nero.”
“Nero? That little turd? What are you talking about?”
“I kind of have him working for me.”
“Working for you? What? Doing what? Are you paying him?”
“No, but I guess I’m going to owe him.”
“Owe him what? Or shouldn’t I ask.”
“Coffee or something. I think.”
“Oh my. I don’t think I even want to know what you are up to. You are never going to be able to get rid of him now.”
We parted ways at the entrance to our offices, and I headed toward my desk. “Good morning, Bryce,” I said.
“Good morning, Chelsey,” he replied.
I sat down and booted up my computer. I took a sip of my coffee and suddenly heard laughing. “Who’s laughing?” I asked Bryce.
“I don’t know, sounds like a party in the next office.”
“I guess we weren’t invited!”
I heard some hooting and hollering.
“Geez,” Bryce said. “Sounds like a bunch of animals.”
I tried to ignore the noise, and I turned my attention to my computer, which finally seemed to come alive. I went to click on the mail icon, when suddenly, a box opened up. Much to my shock, it was a video of Winifred, in all her wrinkled glory, doing some weird shimmy, sans clothing. I heard Bonnie screaming from the next office over. “Ah! My eyes! My eyes! I can’t watch this!”
It was like watching a train wreck. I couldn’t take my eyes off the computer, watching the horrific scene unfolding before my eyes. Winifred grabbed a scarf and ran it back and forth between her legs. I made a face and said, “Eww!” I heard Bryce say, “What the heck?” Then I heard him laughing hysterically.
Bonnie came busting into my office. “I’m scarred for life!” she exclaimed. “How the heck did that video get in here?”
I turned my head slowly to look at Bon
nie.
“Nero,” we both said at the same time.
“Do you really think he did this?” Bonnie asked.
“I know he did,” I said.
“There’s got to be something illegal about this. Are you going to tell on him?”
“No.”
“Why the heck not? This is your chance to get rid of him for a while. All he does is harass you.”
“I think I’d like to keep Nero around for a little while longer.”
“Seriously?”
“I know,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “But what choice do I have? He’s an expert with computers; you can see what he did with this video. I can only hope he can catch Marc doing something as well.”
“And if he does? How is that going to hold up in court? I think videotaping someone without their knowledge is illegal or at least getting them on audio without their knowledge is. I’m not sure.”
“I haven’t exactly figured all of that out yet.”
Bonnie gave me a look.
“Trust me,” I said to her.
“Ooookaaayyy,” she said with a raised eyebrow.
We both glanced back at my computer. Someone else was entering the picture…a man…shaking his manhood like he had someone to impress.
“Ugh! That’s freaking gross…that’s John Paparazzo!” Bonnie declared. “Ah! This is a scarier rendition of Sigmund and the Sea Monster!” she continued. “She is such a sea hag! And, I’ve never seen a smaller penis in my life! I think I’ll start calling him ‘Shorty’ from now on. Shorty and the Sea Hag. The Sea Hag takes Shorty. I’m scarred for life!”
In an effort to get Bonnie off her rant, I said, “I guess she’s cheating on her husband.”
“And I guess he’s cheating on his wife! Yet another example of the stupidity brought on by dangling participles!”
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