Escape Route (Murder Off-Screen Book 1) (13 page)

“Yeah. Well, you should’ve called an ambulance, Jaqie Shanahan.”

A black ball cap flew through the hatch and slid across the twelve layers of polyurethane on the wood floor. The cap with white stitching read
Dumford’s Marina.
The one I’d left in Ed’s cubicle.

“Dianne?”

“Dianne
Mabry
, to you.” She twisted this way and that, trying to get herself and her twins down the narrow passage, but that was like threading a needle with Moby Dick.

“I’ll come up. You’re in no condition.”

“You’d better get up here, you—you
nose wrecker
.”

Doofus tilted his head, waiting for my response. “She’s sorta right,” I said. “Stay.”

Dianne backed up so I could squeeze into the cockpit. I held my hands out. It was automatic. I thought I could help her hold her stomach.

“Ed told me it was
you
that hit him.” She took a swipe at me, but it was useless. Her center mass made her as agile as a hippo in quick sand. “Twice!” She lobbed another pointless jab.

“You’re right. Absolutely right. I am very sorry. You’ve every reason to be upset.”

Third time was a charm because I thought she was done. She clipped my nose but centrifugal force pushed her through the turn. I jogged beside her like a square dance partner so I could catch her if she toppled forward. When she’d gone full circle, she sneered. “How did
you
like getting smacked in the nose?”

I was so stunned, I just stood there while she pulled her arm back for another go round.

“Dianne, that’s enough. Get in the car.” A voice from the parking lot.

Car. That’s right. There’d been a car. Her mother had stepped out and stood by the open driver’s-side door. Below decks, I heard Doofus’s nails tap-dancing across Uncle Frank’s handcrafted, wood parquet floor.

“I’m not
done
yet, Mommy!”

I could’ve pointed out to Dianne
Mabry
that Ed left me for her, and that if there were any bones to be picked around here, more than likely they belonged to me.

That’s when it hit me. I no longer wanted bones to pick. I was totally over Ed. Way over Ed.

“Dianne, this can’t be good for the babies,” I said. “You’ve got to calm down.”

Another car pulled in the lot. It had a lit sign on the roof like a slice of pizza with orange circles of pepperoni. The delivery guy stepped out of his car with my dinner, nice and hot and fresh inside its insulated bag. “Pizza for,” he checked his order stub, “Shanahan?”

“Go away, pizza boy,” Dianne shouted. “Shanahan isn’t going to have any teeth—”

That’s when her water broke.

“Mommeeeee! Jaqie broke my water!”

The two of us stared in amazement at the puddle sluicing toward the hatchway.

That’s when the pizza guy left, taking my insulated dinner with him.

Fortunately, Dianne’s mother fainted in the direction of her front seat.

“Don’t move,” I said. “Dianne, don’t move. I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

I raced to the marina’s main building while Dianne wailed behind me. “Mommeeee, wake up!”

The keys to the Jeep were still on the counter where I’d left them. I ran back out to the parking lot, leaped into the Jeep and ground Reverse and First to nubs before I finally pulled as close to
Brother
as I could without going in the drink.

Dianne’s mother was still out cold, but Mrs. Flynn was relatively young for a soon-to-be grandmother. She’d be fine. I’d call Aunt B on the way to the hospital to come out and check on her.

Call.

I had to get my phone. No problem. I also had to off-load Dianne from the boat, and give Doofus his instructions. José was on his own.

“Give me your hand.”

“I won’t.”

“Dianne, give me your hand.”

“No.”

“Gimme.” I grabbed her hand and her elbow and stepped her through the tidal pool sloshing around her feet and got her to the dock. “Don’t move.” I put her hand on a piling.

I jumped from the dock to the deck to the cabin, barely missing Doofus, who was dying to know what was going on. I grabbed my phone and patted the mattress. “Up. Come on. Up you go.”

He did that. I grabbed a handful of kibble and put it in front of him. “You stay. Mommy will be back. Stay.”

“The babies are coming! Mommeee! Babieeees!”

“Oh, no they’re not!” I clambered up the steps. Dianne was where I’d left her, trying to squat.

“Don’t you push! Don’t you do it! Breathe.” I huffed and puffed. “Like you’re trying to whistle.”

She grabbed onto my arm and let me lead her the ten-feet to the Jeep. I flopped the passenger seat as far back as it would go and inserted her in the car. From the corner of my eye, I saw her mother’s foot move. She was a trooper.

I got behind the steering wheel and did some breathing of my own. No clutch grinding. No jerking. A nice smooth pull away. I did not want babies landing on the filthy floorboards.

“Breathe, Dianne. Breathe!”

“Mommeeee!”

Four nurses stood waiting on us outside the ER, wheelchair at the ready.

“Patient’s name?”

“Dianne Mabry.”

“Friend or family.”

“No.”

“You
found
her?” This nurse was obviously new in town.

We were through both sets of sliding doors. Three of the nurses continued on with Dianne, shouting at her not to push. The new nurse and I stopped at the check-in desk.

“Her husband is down there,” I said. “Behind curtain number three.”

“Hello, dear.” Mrs. Dross passed by, carrying a cup of coffee and a danish on a tray.

“What do you mean, curtain number three?”

Perhaps this girl was a temp. Clearly, she was not seeing the big picture. “Dianne Mabry’s husband—my ex-husband, by the way—is down the hall with a broken nose. Her mother is stretched across the front seat of a car at Dell Dumford’s marina. My Aunt B took her some smelling salts.

“My dog, Doofus, and his best friend, José, the gecko, are alone on my boat—actually, my uncle’s boat, hiding out because some truly bad men had a truly bad day. And I really need to leave. Mrs. Dross can fill in any missing pieces.”

Mrs. Dross lifted her danish high. “Brava, dear. Brava.”

“Thank you, and good-night.”

~~^~~

“Hey, lady!”

Rats.

“How’s Rex?”

I knew it was Jimmy, but the voice wasn’t the happy, care-free voice I’d heard at the gas station. I turned around and saw him alone at the vending machine.

“Hey, Jimmy. What are you doing here? Where’s your dad?” I really wanted Joe’s permission to tell Jimmy the dog was good to go. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t called the Cuthbarts. He’d already decided the dog had a new home.

“How’s Rex?”

“He’s fine. Been asking about you.”

His face lit up. “Really?”

“Well, sure. You know how much he likes you.”

There was a shallow counter bolted to the wall next to the machine with a half-dozen stools for worried family members to pass the time, eating corn chips and drinking diet this or regular that.

“Come sit with me.” I pulled out two stools. I couldn’t wait to tell him he was about to become the proud owner of one slap-happy dog. We’d also have the “responsibility talk.” But I’d have to clear it with Joe. There was no getting around that.

“You want a bag o’ chips, lady? Hey, what’s your name, anyway?”

“Jaqie. Jaqster. Jaq. You pick one.”

“Cool. I pick Jaq.” He pushed a dollar into the slot, pressed a button and fished a bag out of the dispenser. “We’ll share.”

We ate a couple of chips and stared out the window. It was late. I knew he was thinking about Doofus. So was I. But a boy and his dog—I could live with that.

“Jimmy … ”

“Jaq … ”

I said, “You first.”

He rubbed his nose on the sleeve of his jacket and turned sideways on the stool, studying the floor tile. “Can you keep Rex for me? For a while?”

“Uh— Well— Sure. Is that what you want me to do, Jimmy?”

He nodded, but didn’t try to speak.

“I can do that. What does your dad say?”

Jimmy pointed to the swinging doors that led to the patient care side of the ER, with the corridor of blue-curtained cubicles. “Dad’s in there with a broken arm. My uncle’s here to drive us home, and Dad says Rex can’t come. Says that black spot on his ear makes him no good. Dumb dog, anyways. Dad says someday he’ll get me a pup. Like
that
will ever happen.” One miserable tear fell and hit the toe of his sneaker.

I was about to shed some miserable tears of my own. “He might change his mind. Don’t you think? It’s a possibility.” I pulled out my cell and opened the memo app. “Can you type?”

He nodded and blinked hard before he looked up. “Why?”

“I want you to type your name and address for me. That way Rex can send you pictures.” I set the phone on the table. “Just tap the buttons on the keyboard, and we’ll put some in the mail tomorrow. How’s that?”

“That’s good.” He rubbed his eyes, then began typing while I sat there and tried to swallow potato chips. I knew how it felt to lose your best friend.

“How did your dad break his arm?”

Jimmy stopped typing and gazed out the window at nothing in particular. He shrugged and looked up at me with very old eyes. “I don’t know. Said he got mugged, but I don’t know. They usually call the cops when you get mugged, but he wouldn’t.” He pressed a few more buttons on the keyboard. “Here.” He slid the phone to me.

“Oh, and I’ve got good news for you,” I said. This boy was breaking my heart. “Your gecko is fine, and guess who his best bud is?”

Finally, a gleam in his eye. “Rex?”

“They are the best. But, Jimmy, if you want to take your gecko home, I can be back here in a jiff.”

He lifted his chin and squared his jaw. “Nope. Rex needs a best friend.”

“Guess what Rex calls him.”

“What? That dumb ol’ dog gave a lizard a name?” He laughed.

“Wait for it.” I did a drum roll on the edge of the counter. “José Gecko.” I shook jazz hands.

“José. I like it.”

Well, it was before his time, and mine, but I appreciated the joke, even if it was Ed’s idea.

The ER door swung open. It was the new nurse. “Jimmy, your dad’s asking for you.” She leaned against the door to hold it open and gave me the hairy eyeball.

He slid me the bag of chips. “Give some to Rex?”

“I’ll give him one every day and tell him because you said. Deal?”

I stood up to walk him to Nurse Ratchet when he threw his arms around me.

“Thanks, lady.”

He let go just as fast, ran to the door and through it, without looking back.

I wished he’d looked back.

~~^~~

Aunt B held Dianne’s mother upright by the arm, helping her across the parking lot. Uncle Frank pulled in the slot next to Mrs. Flynn’s car, to drive Aunt B home, but didn’t get out. “Women things” of any nature was strictly need-to-know with him.

“You broke her water?” Aunt B’s tone was cross, but she rolled her eyes so that I knew she knew better.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Flynn. Any minute now,” I said, but she refused to look at me.

“I put your dinner on the boat. It’s in the microwave so you-know-who wouldn’t eat it.” She pulled her earlobe. “Utensils in the sink.”

“What do you think of
him
?” I toggled my ear like Carol Burnett. I guess this was our new code for
Doofus.

“He looks taller in person. Doesn’t bark. Your uncle says it’s the right thing to do. He slobbers.”

I got that she meant the dog, not my uncle. “Didn’t happen to bring the phone charger … ?”

“Ham. I brought you ham. Go eat.” The two former mothers-in-law toddled toward the main door of the ER.

Uncle Frank zipped down the window. “How’s
Brother
? Comfy? Do you remember where the hidey-holes are?”

“The Easter bunny doesn’t come until next month.”

The four, magic hidey-holes. He built them into
Brother’s
design to stash valuables when we docked in a new port. At Easter, eggs and peeps were the valuables.

“How could I forget the hidey-holes?”

Uncle Frank. Unsentimental, gruff Uncle Frank. His eyes misted over for a millisecond.

“
Brother’s
perfect.” I puckered my lips through the window and kissed his cheek. “Dianne’s due any second if you—”

“No no no no no. Nope.” He shook his head, waggled his index finger, zipped up the window, then pretended to read his newspaper in the dark, so I went straight to the Jeep.

I’d just snapped the seat belt when the phone rang. Stubby’s name lit up the screen.

“Detective. How’s it going?”

“You know interesting people on both coasts,” he said. “I like your LA connections better.”

Stubby never minced his words.

“Tell me.”

“Your pals, the Cuthbarts, are an odd mix. The mister was a pretty boy fundraiser for one of Francine’s charities. She liked the looks of him, married him, and started his political career before the rose petals hit the ground.”

“Interesting.” He was an attractive man, no doubt. A plus for politicians. “There’s more to this, isn’t there?”

“She has the money. Generations of it that bleed out from dozens of sources, but—and this is just quick research—some are less than legit. A few might be downright nefarious, to use your Hollywood lingo. Francine Pelley Cuthbart has some shady connections. The lady has her eye on the White House.

“She’s a bulldozer, Jaqie. I’d stay out of her way.”

“Thanks, Stubby. You know me—sometimes I jump to conclusions.”

“Hey, you were right about Baltimore. She grew up there.”

“Had a feeling.” Exhaustion was winning over starvation. “You’re such a good friend. Now, go home and eat dinner. It’s nine o’clock out there, right?”

“Almost. I still have some calls out. One of my drinking buddies from the old days is with the Baltimore PD. One year from retiring. Said he’d get back to me. I’ll let you know if anything else turns up. You going to be okay?”

“Eight hours of sleep and one ham dinner from now, I’ll be fine.”