by Dana Dratch
“At this point, nothing. I need more information.”
“Exactly. So far, the only thing you’ve proved is that Ethel’s not the only suspect. And the police obviously agree because she’s coming home tonight.”
“She has a stable address, a regular schedule, a good lawyer, and a small dog with a tiny bladder. Just because she’s not a flight risk doesn’t mean she’s off the suspect list.”
“Do you really think Dennis or Geoffrey killed Leslie? Gut instinct?”
“No. But I’ve been wrong before. Really wrong.”
“You’ve also been right a lot. Keep following your gut.”
He stopped and took a sip of his drink—some kind of orange and pineapple juice combo.
“Well, look who the cat dragged in! This is turning into a big-time reunion!”
If I hadn’t known the voice, I’d never have recognized her. In a red straw hat with a huge brim, oversized sunglasses, and a white silk scarf around her face, Gabby was unrecognizable. But not exactly invisible. A diaphanous white cover-up barely hid her glamorous red maillot. And sky-high white sandals made the most of her long, tanned legs.
If Nick did run into her, he was toast.
Trip stood and gave her a quick hug.
“Lookin’ good!” she teased him. “You enjoying the sights and sounds of Miami?”
“Right now, the sights and sounds of Oceanside are more than enough,” he admitted.
“I told him about our little excursions,” I said. “Strictly on the q.t.”
“Got it, sugar,” she said, pulling out a chair. “I’ve been keeping a low profile myself. But I didn’t see Nicky here, so I figured I’d chance it.”
“So what ever happened to Leslie’s bump key?” Trip asked.
“We left it in her apartment,” I said. “I’m guessing the cops have it now.”
“Complete with your fingerprints?” he asked.
“Gloves,” I said, wiggling my fingers in the air. “We’re not a complete bunch of amateurs.”
“Besides, I wouldn’t give one of those bump keys houseroom,” Gabby said decisively.
“Why not?” Trip and I asked in unison.
“No finesse,” Gabby said. “And if you don’t know what you’re doing, you can hurt the locks.”
“Hurt them how, exactly?” I asked.
“Well, you’re not coaxing them to turn. You’re using brute force. That can make it hard to open the lock later with a key. Sometimes permanently.”
“Sometimes permanently?” I asked quickly. “Meaning sometimes the damage isn’t permanent?”
“Right, sugar. Sometimes you turn the key a few times, everything falls back into place. Other times, stuff gets bent. And that’s when you have to call the locksmith. The thingamabobbies I use are better. But you have to learn how to use them.”
My mind was spinning.
The night of the party. Leslie’s lengthy absence. Annie struggling with the front door key. And Lucy.
“Oh geez, Leslie was in Annie’s condo,” I breathed.
“What do you mean?” Trip asked, suddenly sitting forward.
I told them what was buzzing through my head.
“That poor little puppy,” Gabby said. “She must have been so scared to see that harpy flying through the door.”
“Why would Leslie have risked it? She knew you guys had a dog, right?”
“She was desperate,” I said. “She wanted Annie’s endorsement. It would have been the icing on her campaign cake. And Annie, being Annie, was politely declining. I watched her do it at the party when Leslie confronted her. So I guess Leslie decided it was time to get a little extra electronic help.”
“But Annie’s never here,” Trip said. “Leslie could have come in anytime.”
“That’s what I’d have thought, too. But it turns out my sister is always lending her place out to friends and models. There was no telling when someone would show up. At all hours, from all parts of the world. And you talk about not keeping a regular schedule. But suddenly, the only two people staying in that condo were right there at Leslie’s own party. It must have seemed like a gift from heaven. Even with the possibility of a dog. So she took a chance. And, give Leslie credit, Lucy loves everyone. At least, she did until that night.”
I described the short-sleeved red silk dress Leslie had worn, and how she’d slipped on a navy blazer when she reappeared for her speech.
“I assumed she wanted to look more presidential,” I said, feeling like a total dolt.
“She was trying to cover that bite in a hurry,” Trip concluded.
“Leslie’s right-handed,” I mumbled, remembering her handshake with my sister—and our encounter by the elevators earlier that same day.
“Along with ninety percent of the population,” Trip said. “What of it?”
“At the end of her campaign speech, she pumped her arm in the air. Her left arm.”
“Because if she put the other one up, her sleeve might fall down. And a bite mark invites a lot of questions. It also explains how Lucy got out that night.”
I nodded.
“But my baby’s not a biter,” Gabby protested. “She’s never bitten anyone. Even when I first found her. She just tried to run under that smelly old dumpster and hide.”
“Leslie was a bully,” I explained. “And she had a volcanic temper, according to Marilyn Doyle. I’m guessing she probably screamed at Lucy. Took a swing at her, or maybe grabbed her by the collar. So Lucy bit her and ran out the open door.”
“That’s self-defense, open-and-shut,” Gabby declared.
“Well, yeah,” I agreed.
“Do we need to get the little girl out of town?” she asked. “You know, before the cops get wise?”
“Well, I’m not planning on telling them. As far as they know, Lucy’s been with us every minute or locked inside the condo.”
Trip nodded in agreement. “Which raises another salient question: Did Leslie take the time to plant anything special before she left?”
CHAPTER 64
Annie took the news as well as could be expected.
“That vicious, rotten, conniving little witch!” she spat. “I’m telling you, Alex, if she wasn’t al . . .”
“‘Oh, what a beautiful moooo-ooorning,’” I sang loudly off-key.
“If she has a partner, someone might still be monitoring the bug—if there is a bug,” Trip explained.
At the word “bug,” Baba roused herself from where she’d been napping next to him on the sofa, rolled up the magazine in her lap, and assumed a batter’s stance. “Where is bug? Where?”
“Not that kind of bug,” Annie explained. “A neighbor of ours might have planted a listening device. Here in the apartment.”
“Just like old country,” Baba said, shaking her head sadly. Then she stalked off to the kitchen.
“So what do we do now, folks?” Nick asked.
“Well, either we stop talking entirely or we’re going to have to have this place swept for bugs,” I said. “Or, we could open the outlets and see if we can find them ourselves.”
“Like ‘you’ did at Ethel’s?” he asked, using air quotes.
“Uh, why do you say it like that?”
“I’m not a kid. Gabby and I are over. You don’t have to hide her. Or edit her out of your stories.”
“What gave me away?” I asked sheepishly.
“You can’t even work Annie’s coffeemaker, and I’m supposed to believe you’re suddenly breaking into apartments, cracking open walls, and extracting bugs? Plus, those ads for the Total Testosterone Tour are everywhere.”
“I’d have electrocuted myself if she hadn’t cut the power first,” I admitted. “And actually removed the thing. Basically, I just took off the wall plate and watched.”
“See, that’s the technophobe I know and love,” he said, punching my shoulder.
“I’m not technophobic. I’m just techno-reluctant. Besides, I just didn’t want to see you get hurt.”
CHAPTER 65
Gabby was happy to help. “But, sugar, I have to pick up a few little goodies first,” she explained. “I didn’t exactly pack for this.”
Nice to know that there was at least one gadget that didn’t live permanently in her oversized designer bag.
She promised she’d stop by in a few hours. In the meantime, Annie’s house had gotten very quiet.
Baba was busying herself in the kitchen. Nick had taken Lucy for her evening walk. And Annie, determined to keep things as normal as possible, had gone to the gym. She was also going to stop in and see Ethel on the way.
“You don’t have to stay for this,” I said to Trip, as we sat on the sofa and watched the last of the sunlight fade from the wide blue sky.
“Funny, I said the same thing to Nick. Offered to trade places with him for the duration. Oddly, he declined.”
“Geez, you don’t think he wants to see her?” I asked, as the fist in my gut tightened like a noose.
“I think he wants to face something, instead of running from it. You know, like an adult.”
“Yeah, everybody seems just fine with it. But I had a front row seat to the last crash-and-burn, and I just want to crawl under the sofa.”
“You did not cause this,” Trip enunciated carefully. “Nick came here of his own free will. He’s staying here of his own free will. We’ll be polite. We’ll get through it.”
“If worse comes to worst, when it’s over, I’ll go downstairs and blackmail Dennis for some Cheetos and ice cream.”
“See, that’s my girl.”
* * *
Annie, Nick, and Lucy had just arrived back at the penthouse when there was a telltale knock at the door.
Lucy bolted toward it.
I looked at Nick. He gave a little smile.
“Hey, Gabby, come on in,” Annie said, opening the door.
Lucy danced around her legs, overjoyed.
“Sure thing,” Gabby said, giving a little wave to the room. “Hey, everybody. And how’s the little girl?” she said, bending to give Lucy some love.
Gabby was still Gabby, but she was a little more subdued. In appearance, if not mood. Her hair—or, knowing her, the latest wig—was wavy, long and blond, tied back with a scarf. This afternoon’s 1940s bombshell bathing suit had been replaced by a plain pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. But, Gabby being Gabby, they still fit like a second skin.
“She’s doing great,” Nick replied. “Turns out she needed that spa visit more than any of us knew. I guess you heard what happened?”
“That woman is a stone-cold witch,” Gabby said, bending to stroke Lucy while the pup sniffed her shoes.
For a moment, it was as if the three of them were the only living beings in the room. The rest of us were frozen in space and time.
Then Trip came clattering out of the kitchen with a tray of coffee and Baba toddled after him with a platter of sliced cake, as Annie cleared the living room table.
And just like that, the spell was broken. Normal life returned.
Soon we were all talking, laughing, chattering, and passing the platter, plates, sugar, and creamer around the big table.
Lucy had wedged herself onto the sofa between Gabby and Nick—and was basking in the attention from both of them.
I looked over at Baba, wondering—not for the first time—what she was making of all this.
She met my gaze and nodded, a twinkle in her catlike dark brown eyes.
After the cake and coffee were gone, Gabby pulled up another oversized designer purse—yellow this time—and dropped it on the table with a thunk.
“OK, time to get this show on the road,” she said.
“Do you want me to shut off the power?” I asked.
“No need,” she said cheerily. “At least, not yet. First we find out if there are any of the little suckers. And where they’re hiding.”
She opened her handbag and pulled out something that looked like a walkie-talkie with a cord attached.
“This thing is top-of-the-line—it’ll sing out if you’ve got microphones or cameras,” she said, pressing a couple of buttons on the device. “OK, sugar, we’re good to go.”
For the next half hour, Gabby walked each room twice, first around the walls, then doubling back to check features in the room itself—overhead lights, smoke detectors, electrical equipment, and even the air vents.
“Can’t be too careful, sugar,” she said, by way of explanation.
The rest of us followed her in a little cluster. Watching and waiting.
“What’s that smell?” Gabby asked me quietly when I stepped up to help her move the barstools in front of the breakfast bar.
“Goulash,” I said softly. “The whole bug thing has Baba a little upset.”
“Gotcha.”
When she got to the kitchen counter—and my tea box—she ran it over the thing twice. She pressed a button on her little machine, and it emitted a loud, fast electronic beep.
“He didn’t,” I said, exasperated.
“He didn’t,” Gabby said, winking. “Your brother’s idea of a joke.”
“Not funny, Nick,” I said.
“Hey, I was laughing.”
“You nearly had another Boston Tea Party on your hands,” I said. “Only instead of a harbor in Massachusetts, it would have been a condo pool in Miami.”
“Might kill that bleach smell,” Trip said softly to no one in particular.
Finally, after we’d circled back, she checked the hall bathroom. Then Gabby shut off her handheld gizmo and tucked it carefully into her purse.
“Clean as a whistle, guys,” she said happily. “Whatever else that little gremlin did up here, she didn’t plant any bugs.”
CHAPTER 66
The next morning I got up early. After a long walk with Lucy, a stop at the doughnut shop, and two cups of coffee to strengthen my resolve, I was finally ready to call Ian.
My younger brother had demonstrated—once again—what class looked like. I wanted to follow his example. While it was fresh in my mind.
I didn’t have to look up the number. I still knew it by heart.
“Cotswolds Inn, Ian Sterling speaking.”
My heart did that little fluttery thing. Uh-oh.
Ian’s Victorian inn had a landline on the desk. An old-fashioned model, no caller ID.
Even though he took reservations on an electronic tablet, it disappeared discreetly under the antique desk when not in use. So as not to spoil the ambiance.
“Hi, Ian, it’s Alex.”
“Alex, how are you—and how’s Miami?” He sounded genuinely delighted. Then again, he could just be happy that I wasn’t a bill collector.
“The family’s great. Miami’s great. Sunny and hot.”
Sheeesh, ten seconds in, and I’d already devolved into talking about the weather. “So how are you guys?” I added quickly.
“Fantastic,” he said. “Dad and Daisy are house hunting. I know they want a little space of their own, but I confess I’m really going to miss having them here.”
“With any luck, they’ll find something nearby. Have they checked out Mr. Rasmussen’s place?”
“Yes, I think my father was rather taken with that one. He keeps using the phrase ‘move-in ready.’ And Daisy favors the garden.”
I pictured Lucy and Alistair romping back and forth between my backyard and the one behind it.
“They’d be my neighbors, too,” I said. “That would be so cool.”
He went quiet and, for a few beats, neither of us said anything.
Suddenly there was a strange noise. As if someone sat on a goose. And the goose was none too pleased.
“What’s that sound?” I asked.
“We’re hosting a wedding later today. The bride is from Glasgow. The groom is from Mobile. They had their hearts set on having a
piper at the wedding, and Daisy was able to procure a musician. I must say, you haven’t lived until you’ve heard ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ on the bagpipes.”
I giggled. And I could picture the scene. The piper. The inn. The wedding. And him.
“I wanted to thank you for the present,” I said. “It’s lovely. And I can’t wait to try it.”
And maybe someday I’ll tell you the story of how Nick guarded it with his life during a twenty-hour train ride.
“I’m so glad you like it,” he said warmly. “Things haven’t quite been the same around here since you left. You and your family,” he added quickly. “So is your grandmother enjoying South Beach?”
“She is—but she worries about all of us, no matter where she is,” I said, noticing that the goulash was still simmering gently on the back of Annie’s state-of-the-art stove. My sister was going to need an industrial cleaning crew to get the smell out of the walls once we left. Baba’s goulash had a half-life.
“Well, give Alistair a hug for me,” I said, as Lucy turned and gazed up into my face. As if she could see into my soul.
“Please give my best to everyone,” Ian said. “And have a safe trip home. I’ll look forward to seeing you around the neighborhood.”
“You too,” I said. And, at that moment, I realized just how much I truly meant it.
CHAPTER 67
“Oh man, doughnuts,” Nick said. “And I don’t even have to make them.”
“Not itching to get back to the bakery, then?” I asked, as I topped off my coffee and poured a cup for him.
“Actually, I am. But just the bakery. I’m still not ready to dive into the renovation thing. You OK with taking a break from it for a little while longer? I just want to focus on the baking side of things.”
“I’d be OK with taking a break from it forever, if you want. We’ll do the kitchen when you’re ready. Or when Ian marries Lydia and finally throws you out of the inn for good. Whichever comes first.”
“You called him, didn’t you?”
“First thing this morning.”
“Annnnd?”
“And nothing. I said ‘thank you.’ He said ‘you’re welcome. ’ No biggie.”