Braking for Bodies (15 page)

“I'm your mother first, dear; I'm involved and have been for thirty-four years, and if there's no question, then where's the fun? And as for upholding the law or breaking it, that's always a gray line, take it from a lawyer. Besides, Angelo is inside having drinks with Luka, and I know they want to get rid of me and talk shop. Spill it.”

I pointed to the wagon fading into the night. “I'm following another suspect in the Peep Show, but we can't keep up and we're going to lose them in the dark and. . . . Shakespeare! Just what we need.”

“If you say so, dear, but I never did get
Othello
. How does Shakespeare figure into this?”

“Horse.” I ran over to Shakespeare, tied casually to a post by the back entrance of the hotel 'cause no one would be stupid enough to take the sheriff's horse. I gave Shakespeare a pat, put my foot in the stirrup and shimmied up. I slid my leg over the saddle, very unladylike considering I had on a dress, hiking the thing up to my thighs. Thank heavens for the dark, and I never thought I'd be glad I had on pantyhose.

Mother held out her hand to me.

“Uh, this is horse stealing; no gray lines, just a big black one in law books everywhere.”

“They have to catch us first.”

“I think that's what Bonnie said to Clyde.” I grabbed
Mother's hand and she slid up behind me with her dress cascading over her legs. Mother always knew how to dress for the occasion. I flipped the reins. “Giddyup.”

Shakespeare didn't budge. He flicked his tail and snorted and tossed his head.

“Giddyup, you handsome gorgeous stud,” Mother said in a sweet sexy voice, and Shakespeare trotted off at a fast clip. “Sometimes it's not so much about the facts but how you present them.”

Mother held on to me and I held on to the saddle, both of us bobbing along; we weren't exactly a proficient equestrian mother/daughter team. “Who are we tailing?” Mother asked, her voice bouncy with the horse's trot as we passed under a canopy of trees leading into the woods.

“Penelope. She's a desk clerk at the Grand. Peep was blackmailing her and I wanted to find out why. Everything she does at the hotel seems normal, so I thought I'd check out her life away from the place.” I pulled on the reins to slow Shakespeare so as not to get too close to the taxi. “We don't want to be conspicuous.”

“We're in evening dresses riding the sheriff's stolen horse,” Mother said with a laugh. “The conspicuous ship has sailed, dear, probably to Fiji by now, knowing how fast the gossip mill is here on the island. The best we can hope for is that this Penelope person doesn't catch on.”

The taxi took the turnoff to Mission Point Condos, where the long stretch of buildings was outlined against
the night sky in the distance. I guided Shakespeare into the trees. More likely he went there on his own when he spotted a patch of nice grass. “That's Penelope, in the red jacket getting off,” I whispered, as the night quiet closed in around us.

Mother and I slid to the ground, our feet crunching the leaves. Penelope started down the lit brick sidewalk. Mother and I tiptoed after her as Shakespeare trotted off in the other direction, back to the Grand. “I guess I should have put him in park and turned off the engine,” I said. “Now what?”

“Now we walk back and hope we find something juicy here to justify ruining really expensive shoes.”

Penelope opened the door to a condo that had a view of the woods out the front and the lake out the back. We slunk across the neatly mowed grass, kept to the shadows, climbed up on a decorative urn and held on to a window box. We peeked in at Penelope and the forty-something hotel manager guy from the Grand playing a rousing game of tonsil hockey with a little Twister thrown in just for sport.

“Whoa. So that's what they're up to.” I staggered and fell backward into the bushes, knocking over one of the urns when I landed. The porch light flipped on and Mother and I squished down behind the bushes as the door flew open. I froze; Mother was dead still beside me as forty-something grumped, “Blasted deer.” He slammed the door.

I started to run for the woods and Mother took hold
of my hand. “Running draws attention. If we walk nice and slow we're just two lovely ladies out for an evening stroll.”

“Do you think they saw us?” I asked as we strolled. I spit out a leaf and picked bark off my blue dress, which was probably ruined.

“They saw something, and there are deer around here.” Mother looked as if she just walked out of a Macy's ad. “You know, these are really expensive condos out here. They have porches and crushed-stone paths, nice views, custom doors and windows, good curb appeal, perfectly maintained. I'd say they go for a half mil and up. In my book that's kind of steep for a desk clerk. Maybe the guy's the one with the money?”

“He's a hotel manager. They do okay but not this okay. Maybe one of them inherited money? But then why work at the Grand?”

“We're on to something, Evie, and I smell a rat.” Mother's eyes twinkled. “Make that two rats, and whatever they're doing it's paying off very well indeed. And Peep caught them at it or at least figured out what they were up to. I wonder how he found out so fast? What did Peep do that we haven't done? Something between the time he checked in and taking a swan dive off the porch.”

“That's about three hours. He and Zo took the carriage to the hotel, then probably had dinner. It's a long trip from L.A. to the island, so they were probably tired. My guess is they never left the hotel.”

“Okay, so whatever Penelope and her honey have
going on, it definitely involves the Grand. We got that much, but right now it's the least of our concerns, dear.”

“Because deep down you really think Fiona's guilty of knocking Peep off?”

“Because there's a murderer on the loose, and when Shakespeare shows up and we don't, the chief of police and a certain retired Italian tough guy are going to go berserk wondering where we are.” Mother nodded up ahead. “And guess who's headed our way right now.”

Terrific. My scrapes were worn raw under my panty hose, and my behind situation had not improved thanks to our recent horse bouncing. Sutter would be pissed and I wasn't in the mood. “We should tell those two that we don't need them worrying about us, we don't need being saved and we're doing just fine on our own except for walking in heels.”

Mother laughed. “You really think all that advancing testosterone is going to buy that line? And then there's the little fact of stealing a horse to deal with.” Mother paused, a grin still on her lovely face. “You know, I had a case once where a woman stole her boyfriend's Mercedes. She didn't get the car, but she didn't go to jail either. I have an idea, dear, just follow my lead. Like I said before, it's all in how you present the
facts.”

“Y
ou found Shakespeare!” Mother gushed as Angelo and Sutter drew up beside us. “That's just wonderful. Evie and I were so worried, weren't we, dear? We heard he was missing and we've been searching all over for him, the sweet little darling.”

Angelo looked from Mother to me. “And did you hear that two dames in fancy dresses rode off on him heading this way?”

“We did.” Mother gasped and hooked her arm through Angelo's. “They took that nice horse for a joyride, of all the nerve.”

“Nerve you got in spades, I'll give you that.” Angelo shook his head and kissed Mother on the cheek.

“It's late and I'm tired,” Sutter grumbled. “And somebody left me standing in the middle of the dance
floor. So if all the BS is out of the way, what were you two looking for up here? And it wasn't my horse.”

“Of course it was, and it's a nice night for a stroll.” I waved my hand toward the woods speckled in moonlight, the sounds of crickets all around us.

Sutter put his hands on my shoulders. “Do you know what they do to horse thieves in this state?”

“It wasn't a theft, it was a borrow, a short borrow, not even a long one,” I sighed. I hated just handing info over to Sutter like this, but it might get him to focus on someone besides Fiona. “Penelope, that clerk at the Grand, and the hotel manager have a condo around here. They're up to something shady at the Grand, making good money at it, and Peep found out about it.”

“And like any astute businessman this Peep guy wanted a piece of the action,” Angelo chimed in as the five of us started for the Grand. “Then Penelope iced him to shut him up.” Angelo held up his hands in surrender. “Not that I would know about such things, you understand; I'm just doing a little speculating here, is all.”

“And what about Idle Summers,” I added, facing Sutter. “What did you find out talking to her tonight? There's more to her than singing at the Cupola Bar. She and Fiona are friends, but she's the one hiding something, and Peep knew what it was. Like Angelo said, Peep wanted part of the action.”

Looking concerned, Sutter rubbed his chin as we walked along, the gravel crunching under our feet and moonlight playing hide-and-seek in the treetops over
our heads. “I didn't talk to Idle about the case; I wanted to see if she'd sing at Mother's wedding. They've gotten to be friends over this dress thing.”

Sutter glanced at his watch. “It's after midnight and today's her wedding day. Idle said she'd sing and get some of the guys to play, at least till nine when she has her show at the Grand. So now we have music but that's all we have. There's still no minister, or venue, flowers or a dress or food. Mom's really happy about marrying Rudy, and they'll get married later on, but today was the day she had circled on her calendar. I've let her down; I should have been able to pull this off.”

Angelo stopped walking. “Have you looked around this place? Are you seeing what I'm seeing? We got ourselves an island full of pretty little posies. Not that I'm suggesting anything, I'm just speculating, is all. A few flowers from here, a few from there, what's to be missed?”

Mother yawned as we all started walking again. “I got one of those online certificates last year from Mother Earth Ministries. I can do weddings.”

We all stopped dead in our tracks. “Hey,” she said. “I had six divorces in a row and got tired of tearing lives apart. I married the two janitors in our building right there in the boiler room where they met. The whole maintenance staff came; they served boilermakers and the best pulled pork I ever ate.”

“Least they had a place to get married,” Sutter continued as we started walking again. “Everywhere on the island is booked, and we can't ask the Stang or the
Village Inn to shut down and host the wedding on one of the busiest weeks of the year just because we're all friends.”

“And we don't have a cake or food or the dress,” I added when we pulled up to the Grand, where the last of the night crowd was lingering on the porch or catching taxis. “There's nothing we can do now except reschedule for later in the summer when things settle down. I'm really sorry,” I said to Sutter. “I have no idea how to fix this for Irma and Rudy.”

*   *   *

“The Blarney Scone
has tablecloths and napkins, and the courthouse has folding chairs for the overflow crowd at the town council meetings,” Sutter said, jarring me awake as he hauled bikes into my bedroom, leaning them against the dresser. “This will work, I've done more with less. I mean some people have. Give Martha Stewart scissors, paper and a glue gun and she'd put together the Taj Mahal.”

“We don't need no Taj Mahal here,” Angelo said right behind Sutter, dropping the Sesame Street bike at the end of my bed, making me jump and Cleveland and Bambino dive under the covers.

Angelo took out his cell phone and did the
I'm looking for bars
stretch. “Luka's got a guy, the booze is covered, I'm checking now, should be on the next ferry. That Luka is something else, I tell ya. Rosetta's making the ziti that'll bring tears to your eyes, mostly 'cause of the garlic, not that I'm ever telling Rosetta
'bout the garlic if I wanna live to see my next birthday, and why are you sitting there in bed?” Angelo said, facing me, as Sutter headed back down the steps. “We got to get going.” He gave me a double take. “Scary hair, doll face. You might want to do something with that. You're never going to snag Nate with hair like that.”

“What? Who says I want to snag Nate Sutter?”

“Everybody.” Angelo's face split with a wide grin. “Fact is we have a pool thing going on. I got Friday night, three-to-one odds, not too shabby. Keep it in mind.”

“I'm not snagging anyone.” I grabbed Sheldon off the nightstand and Angelo headed out of my room. “It's six AM,” I yelled after him. “There are bikes in my bedroom and Sutter referenced Martha Stewart, and not about her prison days. How does he know who Martha Stewart is, and doesn't anyone sleep on this blasted island?”

Mother stumbled in. “We can sleep when we're dead, dear.” She dumped a garbage bag on my bed, and pink, white and purple lilacs tumbled out around me. “Right now we have a wedding to get together, and these flowers need water right away. Where are your vases?”

“In the east wing next to the silver candelabra. This is a bike shop. So, you mean the wedding's on, and where'd you get these?” I held up a lovely purple stem, the aroma straight from heaven as Sutter brought in Baby Ruth and Batman.

“The gardeners at the Grand were trimming the bushes and I took the off-falls. Aren't these amazing
off-falls!” Mother slid pruning shears in her pocket and winked at Sutter. He groaned and hustled down the steps, and Mother turned to me. “You've got cake.”

“Chocolate? For breakfast?”

“Wedding. You're in charge of getting it here by five. We'll do a small ceremony on the back deck overlooking the lake at sunset, then have an open house reception so everyone can visit after they close their shops and get off work. That gives Rudy and Irma a chance to visit with their friends. Booze goes on the workbench, food in the kitchen, dancing on the deck. This is all Angelo's idea. He got the brainstorm about four this morning when he couldn't sleep, meaning I couldn't sleep, so he made us cocoa. He's a pro at this sort of thing and he's been handing out orders for the last hour.”

“Angelo puts together weddings?”

“He says it's like arranging a sit-down but with a better outcome.” Mother held up her hands. “I don't know what a sit-down is, but it's working and I say we just go with it. Now about that cake, got any ideas, and you really do need to do something with that hair, dear. Oh, and I have four-to-one odds for tonight. You are the maid of honor and he is the best man. I think I'm going to win.”

“Mother!”

“Just a suggestion, dear, just a suggestion.”

Ten minutes later I parked a repaired Sherlock by the back kitchen door to the Blarney Scone and knocked. I needed a cake ASAP, and a cake was just a giant scone
with icing on top, right? And if Irish Donna said one word about what odds she had on me and Sutter, I'd wring her neck.

“How do you feel about making a wedding cake?” I asked Irish Donna when she opened the door and the amazing aroma of things baking drifted out.

“How you be feeling about riding that bike of yours no-handed with a blindfold on?”

“That scary, huh? What if I tell you it's for Irma?”

Donna's green eyes danced and she clapped her hands together, making a little white cloud of flour puff out around her. “Blessed be Saint Patrick, now you're talkin', me dear. Come on in, we'll give it our best shot. I'll get in some extra help to mind the shop so Shamus and I can get cracking. That husband of mine, old goat that he is, does a buttercream icing guaranteed to put a smile on your face and an inch on your waist.”

I helped Donna hunt cake pans stuffed back in a cupboard as Shamus rooted through recipes in an old Red Wing shoebox. When I measured out a tablespoon of salt instead of a teaspoon, they tossed me out of the Blarney Scone just as Sutter was heading in.

“We got a cake,” I told Sutter; the two of us were standing on the back wood stoop as yelling spilled out from the kitchen window. “Well, maybe we have a cake. How's it going on your end?”

“Bikes are stored in your upstairs, over at the fudge shop and in your mom's office. Mother and Angelo are painting Rudy's Rides; hope you like honeysuckle yellow. I'm here to beg table linens from Donna. Last
time I checked on Mom, she was hyperventilating and Rudy was fanning her with a copy of the
Crier
.”

“Think we'll make it.”

“I've been through worse. You should have seen MarySue Hollingsworth and the Rose Room at the Hilton and the swan ice sculpture that melted into a big dick . . . ens of a mess. Spread the word that the wedding's on and it's potluck like we do for the Christmas bazaar.” Sutter headed inside with me staring after him.

I got the potluck part, and spreading the word was a done deal with Irish Donna onboard, but my brain was still back at MarySue and the Rose Room. What happened at the Rose Room? I would have liked to see that ice sculpture, and that Sutter even knew the Hilton had a Rose Room boggled my brain. Was it a shoot-out to end all shoot-outs, and was that what happened to Sutter's leg?

“Buongiorno, Evie,” Molly yelped as she ran up to me. “The Grand Hotel just called and they got a guest swilling vodka, dancing on the tables and singing ‘Heartbreak Hotel.' I tried to figure out how to say all that in Italian, but I don't have enough time. Anyway, she's giving the place a bad name; it's the
Grand
Hotel, not the Heartbreak, and people don't pay the big bucks up there to hear about getting dumped. Nate's knee-deep in getting that wedding together and I got to mind the office. This gal says she knows you and keeps yelling things to the waiters like
just do it
,
I'm lovin' it
and
good to the last drop
. That last one she used when
polishing off the vodka and demanding more. I got to go, I have four slow cookers brewing up Italian wedding soup for tonight and I got to keep an eye on it.
Arrivederci.
Oh, and just so you know, I have next Monday at five-to-one odds, so you and Nate can take your time getting it on.” She kissed me on both cheeks and hurried off.

I couldn't talk. I could barely stand and it wasn't because of the odds thing going on. Only one person I knew would rattle off ad slogans like casual conversation. Abigail? Here now? Except the Abigail I knew never did alcohol; she said it clouded her creativity and impeded her work ethic. I knew I'd have to face Abigail sooner or later, but deep down I'd hoped some urgent work would keep her in Chicago and she'd send an office staff person to the wedding in her place.

I could ignore Abigail, let the Grand fend for themselves, but she'd find me sooner or later, and maybe I could even convince her to go home! I climbed on Sherlock and pedaled for the Grand. It was a lovely day for a wedding. Not too hot and a slight breeze off the lake, and I had to admit that as much as I hated Abigail being here, Rudy would love it. I needed to suck it up and forget that Abigail was the boss from hell. Besides, this was different; she wasn't my boss. She couldn't drive me nuts and maybe she'd just be one of the girls, right?

I'd done the snatch-and-grab version of getting dressed and my hair looked more rat's nest than coiffure, so I made for the back entrance. The big refrigerator
had been picked up for recycle, leaving more room to park bikes. I headed up the stairs and stepped around the long reception desk, festooned this morning with vases of pink and purple lilacs. They were nice but not as nice as the ones Mother had brought home. Did the woman know how to pick flowers or what? When I got to the lobby I could hear someone bellowing—no way could this be labeled singing—“My Kind of Town.”

“For the love of God, do something,” Penelope pleaded as she raced up beside me. She clutched my arm tight and propelled me toward the dining room with its white tablecloths, elegant green and white striped chairs, vases of lilacs everywhere and the crazy lady on top of the center table using a saltshaker as a microphone.

“People are arriving for the wedding on the porch and reception in the Terrace Room, we need to get things ready for the lunch crowd, the busboys are going nuts and this is gearing up to be one of our busiest days of the year. Get rid of her! We're in the hotel business, and that means renting rooms and making money, and who in the heck is this person? She says she knows you from your days in Chicago and that you're besties.”

Penelope seemed her usual self this morning; the two of us were bonding against the crazies who invaded the island. There were no incriminating looks my way or suspicious stares. Maybe she'd bought the dropped bagel story I dished out yesterday morning when she found me in the employee room? Maybe she really did
think it was a deer in the bushes outside the condo? And maybe pigs fly. Penelope wasn't that stupid, and she had something going on that brought in cash, lots of it. This morning she was playing it cool to try to cover her tracks? Heck, that was what I would do too.