Jay Giles (23 page)
I spent what remained of the afternoon calling clients, reassuring them. By six-thirty, I’d talked or left voice mail for everyone on our client list. I told Rosemary to call it a day, locked the place up, and headed home for a much-needed shower and dinner.
As I drove, my cell phone rang. “You want to come over to Frankie’s and see how we’ve set things up?” Tory asked. “I think it looks pretty convincing.”
“I’ll swing by. Has Janet called?”
“Eight times so far. I think she’s calling every half hour or so now. Wait until you hear the messages she’s left. They’re hilarious.”
“Like what?”
“Like ‘Poor Frankie baby, I’m so worried about you. I can’t bear our being apart all this time.’“
“Really?”
“Would I make up stuff like that?”
“No, but I’m sure she didn’t say it in the baby-talk voice you used.”
“Baby talk, smooches, the whole nine yards.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I’m driving through St. Armand’s Circle now.” I negotiated the day’s maze of tourists, crossed
New
Pass
Bridge
, and drove down
Gulf of Mexico Drive
. In ten minutes—record time—I pressed the intercom buzzer at Fish’s condo.
“C’mon up,” he said, and the door buzzed.
I took the elevator up. Tory met me at the door. “Janet just called again, left another icky message.”
I smiled. “By icky, do you mean smarmy?” I asked as we walked into the condo’s living room.
“The concern in her voice is so fake.”
“Oh, she’s concerned. About his money.”
Tory led me to the kitchen. “I want you to meet Helen; she’s our home health nurse.”
Helen was a slightly plump older woman with short gray hair and a round face. She wore a white uniform. “Good to meet you, Matt,” she said as we shook hands.
“Good to meet you, Helen. Thanks for doing this, especially on such short notice.”
“Glad to help. I had an uncle who got involved with a sweet young thing like this. He didn’t have much.” Her smile turned to a frown. “But what he had, she took.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was his own fault. Everybody warned him. He wouldn’t listen to any of us.” The smile returned. “I know my part. Want to quiz me?”
“Sure. Who are you and why are you here?”
“I’m Helen Montgomery, a home heath care nurse. Mr. Ford didn’t want to be admitted to the hospital, so Dr. Clark asked me to watch him today.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“I really shouldn’t say. You should talk with Mr. Ford or Dr. Clark.” She looked over at Tory. “How was that?”
“Perfect,” Tory told her. “Make her pull every bit of information out of you.”
“Right, but when she finally pulls it out of you what are you going to tell her?” I asked.
“That he’s suffering from acute liver damage, recently inflamed by alcohol poisoning. He could die if he drinks more—”
“Die when?”
“In days,” she said with a sad shake of her head.
Pretty convincing. You just didn’t expect this kindly older lady to be scamming you. “You’re wonderful, Helen.” She beamed. “Where’s your patient?”
“In here,” a male voice called from the den.
I went in and found Fish wearing a white bathrobe, sitting in a recliner with his feet up. He clicked off the television before I could see what he was watching. Wrestling, probably. He fixed me with an unhappy stare. “How do you expect me to get any nookie with that woman out there?”
“You’re ill, Fish, very ill. Tonight’s not nookie night. Tonight’s sympathy night, the perfect set-up to make tomorrow nookie night.”
“Well, I guess that’s all right,” he grumbled.
“Wait a minute. What’s that I smell?” I asked, sniffing the air.
“Nothing.”
“It’s beer,” I told him accusingly. “You’ve got beer in here.”
“No, I don’t.”
I looked around his chair. Sure enough, two Bud cans on the floor. “Tory,” I called. “Get all the beer out of the refrigerator and throw it down the garbage chute.”
I picked up the two empties. “If she smells beer on your breath, everything’s ruined.”
“She won’t smell anything, trust me,” he groused.
“Why wouldn’t she? I did.”
He sighed heavily, got up from his chair, walked out of the room, and returned carrying a large bottle of Scope. He screwed off the top, chugged a couple of swallows, came over, and exhaled in my face. “How’s that?”
“Better. In fact, minty fresh. Keep it that way.”
“You worry too much. It’s going fine.” He sat back down in the recliner. “When will nurse Ratchet out there start taking calls?”
I looked at my watch. “Let’s start the festivities at eight. You know the plan for tomorrow?”
“House hunting, yeah. Am I well enough to do something tomorrow evening?”
“Dinner and a movie. How’s that sound?”
“Boring. I was thinking of asking her back here to see my etchings.”
“Go for it,” I said. Must have surprised him. His eyebrows shot up. “Tomorrow evening, over dinner or after sex, I don’t care which, you need to tell her you love her and don’t want to live without her.”
His brows fell, knit together in concentration. “You want me to pop the question?”
“No, don’t mention marriage. Just tell her you want to live with her—in one of those million-dollar-plus houses the two of you just looked at. Dangle that out there, see if she doesn’t bring up the subject of marriage. Okay?”
He nodded.
“Anything else you need before I go?”
He shook his head, clicked the TV back on. This time I got a look. Happy Days. No wonder he’d clicked it off so fast.
I found Helen and Tory talking in the living room, joined them.
“What time do you want Helen to start answering the phone?” Tory asked.
“Eight o’clock. When Janet leaves, after her visit, give her fifteen minutes then you can leave, too.” To Tory, I added, “Could we talk for a few minutes?”
She looked at me quizzically. “Sure.”
“You folks run along. We’ll be fine,” Helen told us in her motherly voice.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, find out how it went,” Tory said as we left.
We rode the elevator down to the lobby. I looked out on the pool deck. It was deserted. “Want to talk out by the pool?”
“That’s fine.”
I opened the door, held it for her.
“What’s this about?” she asked as she passed by.
“Second thoughts.”
“Oh.”
We took seats at a table with an umbrella. She eyed me expectantly.
“I’m worried about D’Onifrio’s next hurry-up message. He’s already burned my business. His next threat was to hurt one of my friends. I don’t want that to be you. I’m thinking the best thing for us to do is part ways. I’ll give you a check for the fee we set. That should give you enough money to get away from here for a while.”
Surprise showed on her face. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure, exactly. I’m going to try to use Joe’s missing money as a way to get D’Onifrio in trouble. Remember how Raines said Menendez would be upset about that?”
She nodded.
“I just need to come up with a way of getting the problem in front of Enrico.”
“When are you going to do all this?”
“According to Raines I’ve got a little under two weeks.”
She nodded. Didn’t say any more.
I waited, uncertain what to say next.
She looked directly at me, searching my face. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“I told you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Why? I’m a hired gun. What do you care if I get hurt?”
“I just do,” I said softly, meeting her gaze.
She didn’t say anything after that, but I sensed something changed. Her attitude was different. “If this is two weeks off, I don’t have to go yet. I can help you a little longer.”
“You’re sure?”
“I can take care of myself, remember. When the time comes to leave, I’ll leave. Until then, what do you want me to do?”
I sat back in my chair. “We need to know more about D’Onifrio. There has to be a chink in his armor somewhere. Something we can use to stir things up.”
She smiled. “Penetrating armor is my specialty.”
“Thanks. We probably ought to get out of here. I don’t want to bump into Janet in the lobby.”
We didn’t.
I drove back to my condo, had a late bite, tried to read for a little bit. Couldn’t concentrate enough to get through a single page. Gave up. Went down to the gym and worked out. If there was going to be a confrontation, I wanted to be in shape. After an hour on the machines, an hour running, I’d had enough. I went back upstairs, took a shower, went to bed. If my alarm went off in the morning, I didn’t hear it.
Bright Florida sunlight streaming in the window roused me. The bedside clock said eight-forty.
