Dead in the Water (7 page)

I held up one finger to signal her I'd do that after I answered.

It was Alex, and this time he was hotter than a bed of ancho chilies.

“
Don't hang up on me, or let that guy hang up on me. I need some answers, and I need them now, Eve.”

I mouthed, “It's Alex,” to Frida.

She grabbed the phone out of my hand. “She was rear-ended, a guy tried to kill her, and an Indian came to her rescue.”

Alex said something else, to which Frida replied that I was fine.

I lunged for the cell. “I am not all right. They put this ugly thing around my neck and said I have to wear it for a week. And my car is ruined. And my uncle is dead.”

“
You're not making any sense. I'm calling Grandy. She'll take care of this.”

“
Don't, please. She doesn't know about Uncle Winston's murder yet.”

“
He was murdered?”

I could almost feel him shaking his head. “I'm so sorry about your uncle, Eve, but not
again
. Not again with a murder.”

“
Again? It's not like my relatives get killed every day.”

“
No, but it seems like people who associate with you do.”

“
One person. Last year. I hardly knew her, so how can that count?”

There was silence for a moment.

“
Put Frida back on,” he said.

I knew when I was beat. With Frida, Alex, and probably Madeleine savvy to what I had done to find the killer and correct in thinking I'd do more, there was no way I'd be able to find out who did in Uncle Winston.

Someone pulled back the curtain. Yep, here she was, Madeleine, her round blue eyes filled with concern, and of course, anger.

“
I thought you were dropping me off and then going home. What have you done now?”

I held the phone out to her. “Something came up. Here. Try to talk some sense into Alex. You can see I'm fine, except for the wardrobe they gave me here.”

She took it, but didn't allow Alex to say much. “You'd better get back here. The Indian is gorgeous.”

The score was now Frida, Alex and Madeleine, 3; Eve,1. Would Grandy side with me? Maybe. She had a real sense of adventure and justice. She'd want Winston's killer found, and although she respected Frida, she wouldn't trust anyone other than family to do the job right.

Madeleine handed the phone to me. “There's another caller on the line. I disconnected from Alex. He was using a lot of words with a minimum of syllables.”

I slid off the table and walked to the other side of the room for some privacy. “Hello?”

“
I heard something about an uncle and some stolen mob money. Can I help?”

“
Mr. Napolitani. Of course you can help.”

F
rida and Madeleine tried to take the phone back from me, but I held it above my head, the advantage of being almost six feet tall, even without my stilettos.

Nappi Napolitani's voice, smooth as cannoli cream, came through my cell. Thank heaven for mobsters. “I just happen to be at my condo in West Palm. I could run up to see you today if you'd like.”

Oh, yes. I would like
. Now I had someone who was on my side. I ended the call after arranging to meet Nappi at the Burnt Biscuit Bar and Grill, the place where we'd first gotten acquainted a year ago. I gave Madeleine and Frida a defiant look.

“
I think we pushed her too far.” Madeleine's mouth curved in a smile of apology, but Frida shook her head and stalked out of the cubicle.

“
I'm going home. Where are my clothes?”

Madeleine pointed to the chair. I struggled into my clothes and shoes, then grabbed my purse, slid the curtain back and walked smack dab into Darlene. Oh gosh. I'd forgotten all about Darlene. This couldn't be what everyone meant by my being irresponsible in the face of murder, could it?

“
How are you doing?” I tried to fill my voice with concern, but I know I failed.

“
Not well, thanks to you. I've been trying to reach your house. They released me an hour ago. I need a ride to get all my stuff. And Winston's too.” She blew her nose vigorously on a tissue.

“
Sorry. I assumed the hospital would keep you overnight. I guess we should talk about Winston's funeral.”

“
All taken care of. I called the funeral home in West Palm. He'll be cremated as soon as they're finished with the autopsy and release the body. And services will follow the day after.”

I was a little taken aback by the speed with which she'd arranged everything, but then, she was his partner.

“
What happened to you?” Darlene indicated my collar.

As I started to explain, she interrupted me. “Can we leave now? I'm tired, and I have a long drive back home.”

Sammy returned to the cubicle and came up behind me. “There's a nurse coming to check on you. How are you going to get home if they release you, Eve?”

“
I'll take them.” Madeleine jingled her keys at me. “I'll wait for you in the car. Maybe you should check with the desk to be certain you can go.”

“
I'm not checking with anyone. I'm out of here.”

A nurse approached us as I started down the hallway.

“
The doctor clear you to go?”

“
Yup.” I gave her my most winning smile and strode by the emergency room desk, Darlene struggling to keep up with me.

At the doorway, I turned to find that Sammy was right behind us.

“
I can follow you home to make certain you're safe, if you'd like.” Sammy's dark eyes conveyed his concern for me

I almost took him up on his offer—looking into those chocolate eyes nearly melted my cynical heart—but somewhere in the back of my head I heard Alex's voice cautioning me about men I'd just met and did not know well. Alex should know. He was one of those when we met.

I turned to him and placed my hand on his arm, his muscular arm, my gesture a peace offering for my snappish words. “We do need to talk.” My tone was almost a purr, and I saw Madeleine give me a questioning look. “I'll be in touch. And thanks for the offer of a ride.” I was sending mixed messages to the man and I knew it, but he made my toes curl.

He looked confused for a moment, then smiled and shook his head. “Later then.”

In the car Madeleine helped Darlene into the back seat and left me to struggle into the passenger's seat. The collar got in the way of everything.

She adjusted the rearview mirror and started the engine. “I'm so sorry about Winston.”

I smiled forgiveness at her earlier anger at me. “You already said that.”

“
I'm not talking to you, Eve. I'm talking to Darlene.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but let it go. Probably murder trumped attempted murder in the social concern rule book. Madeleine would know that.

We drove in silence for a few minutes.

“
And I'm sorry for what you had to go through today, Eve. I'm relieved you're fine,” Madeleine said.

I was about to give her a snarky “thank you,” but she interrupted.

“
How do you think Alex is going to feel about Sammy?”

I should have given her some of my sass after all. “Why should he feel anything about him?” Gosh, there were a lot of rules about relationships I didn't understand.

Darlene leaned forward. “Oh, you mean that hunky Indian who was in the hallway? He sure was handsome.”

“
Right. We're all agreed he is handsome. I don't want to have this conversation,” I said.

“
You were off in the swamp playing detective when you should have been contacting Grandy and Alex and checking up on Darlene. You can be so irresponsible when it comes to murder.”

There it was again. The mention of my irresponsible streak.

“
I don't intend to be judgmental, but I worry about your sense of adventure, Eve, especially your tendency to go off on your own in dangerous situations. You're going to get yourself into trouble you can't get out of.” There was no anger in Madeleine's tone now, only worry.

“
You mean she's done this before?” Darlene asked.

“
You don't want to know. And she gets others in on the action. Like mob bosses.”

I heard Darlene gasp. “You're connected, too, like your uncle?”

It wasn't worth denying, then explaining, so I simply nodded.

Madeleine had gone home, and Darlene had packed everything and headed for West Palm and the condo she shared with my uncle. I mixed myself a Scotch and water without the water and used my cell to connect to Grandy.

The front door banged open. Grandy. The light from the street lamps illuminated her white hair, and she appeared to be bathed in some heavenly fire. I looked at the Scotch bottle. Nope. The level of liquor indicated only my one drink. I wasn't drunk. It was just my Grandy's way of appearing in my life when I needed her most. She was better than a guardian angel. She'd been my guiding star since my parents died.

“
Grandy. What are you doing here? I mean, who called you?”

“
I got calls from everyone. Alex, Madeleine, even Frida. They told me about Winston. I wondered why you didn't call, but I figured you got yourself into some kind of mess. Are you okay?” Grandy dropped the overnight bag she was holding, strode over to the couch and enveloped me in her arms.

“
What's this?” She touched my cervical collar.

“
Well, it's not a fashion statement. They told me I had to wear it for a week.” I burst into tears.

“
Honey, it doesn't look that bad.”

But I knew it wasn't just the collar. “Winston's dead. And, how could he? How could he get involved with the mob?”

She sighed and sank back into the couch. “I know he seemed perfect to you, but Winston always had shady contacts. That was the way he led his life. I worried he'd get in over his head, but he assured me he only worked as a bag man. No hits.”

“
Instead he gets hit. But I'm sure he delivered the money.” I told her about his swamp walk, then my accident. “Frida's certain the two are connected, and because of Winston's mob job, she's thinking they're mob connected.”

“
It doesn't make sense. We need someone who knows more about this than we do.” She picked up her cell.

“
Are you going to call Max?”

She shook her head. “Max only knows boats.”

“
Alex?”

“
He's a law and order freak.”

“
If you're contacting Nappi, he's already on his way here. It seems the mob telegraph is up and running. He called me.” I looked at my watch. “It's time we set out to meet him, unless you'd like to stay here?”

She rolled her eyes and pulled me off the couch.

“
Now, about your Indian ….” Grandy and I were sitting in the Burnt Biscuit at a table in the back corner. On the small stage in the opposite corner a cowboy strummed his guitar and sang about some gal who'd done him wrong. Cowboys seemed to have the worst luck with women.

Before I could tell her anything about Sammy and his grandfather, we were joined by Mr. Napolitani. Tonight he was dressed in a most unusual manner—well, odd for him. A black cowboy hat with a silver band sat on his head. The rest of him matched the hat: blue shirt with cowboy yoke, tight jeans, and boots made of some kind of lizard.

He reached out for Grandy's hand and bent over it, his lips not quite touching her fingers, Poirot style.

I jumped out of my seat and threw my arms around him. “You fit right in.”

It was a lie, of course. No matter how the man dressed, his style was always head and shoulders above the rest. His clothes screamed money and taste. No tacky shiny polyester-blend suits for this mob guy.

He kissed me on both cheeks and smiled, allowing me the little fib, pleased I would notice his attempt at dressing the part of heehaw in the wilds of Florida.

“
My two favorite women.” He sat down and signaled to the waitress. “A Scotch for me and the ladies will have …?”

The waitress bought our drinks in record time. Nappi got great service no matter where he dined.

“
How did you hear about Uncle Winston?” I asked. “It couldn't have hit the news. It happened only today, early afternoon.”

“
There's news, and then there are contacts who know the news. I use the latter.”

Well of course he did. That's why he was here, because of what he knew and what we didn't.

“
There's a ‘family' in Boston who's not very happy with your uncle.”

“
What do you mean?” I tied my plastic swizzle stick into knots and chewed it into shreds.

“
This family sent him here for one last job. He didn't deliver. The money never showed up and now they're angry.”