Mouth of the Rat (A Samantha Jamison Mystery) (12 page)

“…And you knew I would if he told me to leave.”

“Exactly.”

I thought of Clay, my on-again off-again sizzling PI.

“Have you hired any freelance consultants lately?”

He smiled. “All the time.”

He wouldn’t dare horn in on this, would he? Ridiculous!

“Does Mona know about this?”

“She does, and is back in the game, cooperating.”

I didn’t want to get into the inner workings of the FBI. Heck, I didn’t understand my own inner workings.

“So you know exactly what Mona now knows, right?”

“We do.”

“And 441 Storage?”

He merely smiled. “…We followed you.”

All that driving around. What a waste.

“We didn’t want you to know then.”

“And now? Why the about-face?”

“One of our phony thugs following you was killed.”

I thought of thug number one and his pooch. “Who?”

“Not Tony, but the one who wouldn’t handle the dog.”

“So Thug One and Puff Ball are FBI…”

Nikko laughed. “I’ll pass those names along to Tony.”

“Is Tony his real name?”

“On this case it is. And it’s getting dangerous.”

“Then he’ll remain Thug One to me.”

“Suit yourself.”

“So what’s your plan?”

“Depends.”

“On what?” I asked.

“How much you find out for us.”

“What do you mean ‘
for us
.’ I’m doing this for Mona.”

“We can’t watch everybody.”

“Including one of your own?” I asked, incredulously.

“She went rogue, and not for the first time, I might add.”

“I know. She’s sort of unpredictable.”

“That’s been a problem and why she was on leave.”

“But not really on leave at the moment, right?”

“Not completely. We’ll see how this one goes.”

“So you’re hedging your bets on me.”

“Like I said, you’d be helping everyone out, Mona too.”

I sighed. “Okay, I’ll cooperate with one stipulation.”

“And what’s that?” Nikko asked.

“You watch my senior backup like hawks on this.”

“We’re professionals. The FBI protects the innocent.”

“Forget the slogan, just do it or I’m outta here.”

Chapter 50

Salutations & Evaluations?

I hung up the phone breathing a sigh of relief, having just survived an unexpected call from my agent, Sandra. Both she and my editor hadn’t bought those questionable chapters. She had to verify I was working on my next book and demanded a coherent, verbal synopsis. No excuses!

Sandra is my agent/friend.
Now that’s an oxymoron.

She didn’t trust me emailing, mailing, or texting another word. I should have been offended over her distrust of my previous behavior. But to tell you the truth, if I were in her place, I would have felt the same way, so I capitulated.

Skype was a great way to verify if someone was telling the truth, so she insisted on that venue. She had to see me to decide if I was giving her a bunch of nothing. Now I ask, where was the trust between an agent and writer?

Okay, so maybe I kind of pushed the envelope a little, embellishing to get me through dry spells. On the other hand, there weren’t many of those recently. Martha always said that with me it’s been nothing but skid marks lately.

After more sighs of disbelief on Sandra’s part, I caved and finally told her the truth. By the time I got to the bar incident at the Down Under, she had her head in her hands. I finished up with my dinner at Mona’s club with Nikko. I thought I nailed it perfectly. “It’s some book, huh?”

She looked up. “And you expect me to believe all this?”

“But it’s the truth,” I insisted. “I swear!”

“Since when have you ever told me the truth smack in the middle of you writing one of your books?”

I sat back, thinking that over and chose to remain silent.

“That’s what I thought. I can’t believe I just sat through this thinking we were making headway here.”

“But we were, weren’t we?”

Sandra eyed me. “Now, I’m not admitting I’m buying
all
of this, but some of it sounds rather intriguing.”

I gave her my best, earnest look.

She sighed again, thinking. “…It is fiction after all.”

I grinned. “Exactly my point. Who cares?”

“Even if true, it wouldn’t sell as nonfiction anyway.”

“Good point. I totally agree,” I said smiling.

She half-smiled.

We were almost on the same page.

We were both making good money on my books and she didn’t want to blow it with the publisher. It
had
to sell.

“You’re right,” I said. “It’s more believable as fiction.”

“Hmm…”

I knew she was thinking how to pitch the publisher.

“But I swear, it really is true.”

She gave me another doubtful look. “Okay, finish it!”

And then, in a blink of an eye, she clicked off.

I stared at the blank screen, grinning. “She loved it!”

Okay, so maybe that’s a little premature.

Chapter 51

Unnerving Irving

I was picking up Mona’s mail when an arm grabbed me and swung me around. It was Irving. I was jumpy to begin with and his sudden gesture threw me.

“A simple Samantha or Sam would have done it.”

He looked around. “Come with me.”

I was firmly escorted to the gated pool area, which was deserted in the dusky light. I sat when he gestured I do so.

“What is this all about? Is something wrong?”

“I think I’m being watched, Sam.”

I figured it was the FBI keeping an eye on everyone I was in contact with, including Irving. How could I tell him that without explaining all the facts? Not only would he think I was nuts, but I don’t think the FBI would appreciate it. My brain went into overdrive on how to handle this.

“Did you actually see anyone in particular?” I asked.

“Well no, but haven’t you ever had that strong feeling?”

I had the urge to tell him
all the time
, but stopped short.

“Now, Irving, who would be following you?”

“I don’t know, but I’m certain I’m being watched.”

I patted his hand. “Look, that murder has us all upset.”

“I keep having nightmares about that.”

It dawned on me I hadn’t asked Irving about that night when Marco was knocked off. Could he have heard something? He was acting real nervous, more than was normal. What was he really afraid of?

“Irving, is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“…No,” he said, nodding slightly.

His body language was in direct contrast to his answer.

“Do you trust me, Irving?”

He looked startled by the question. “…Yes.”

“Why?”

“You’re the only one who hasn’t brought me a dinner.”

He finally relaxed when I broke up laughing.

“Trust me on this. You’re safer here than you think.”

He nodded. “We do pay a hefty price for security…”

“You see? You should relax.”

“Then how did someone kill that Marco fellow?”

I shrugged, rather than say the wrong thing.

He leaned closer. “It had to be an inside job.”

“What do you mean?”

“Either a guest, but probably a club member, did it.”

“Why do you say that?”

“There was no forced entry. Marco knew who it was.”

“And let them in?”

He nodded. “He must’ve known the killer.”

“Where were you at the time?”

“Upstairs sleeping.”

“Maybe you heard something?” I asked.

“Earplugs. I’m a light sleeper and need them.”

I knew there was more. “And…”

He looked at me unsmiling. “Maybe I saw something.”

Chapter 52

Now You See It, Now You Don’t

Now, I came closer. “Run that by me again, please.”

“You’re not that dumb. You heard me the first time.”

I searched his eyes for truth. “Something or someone?”

“Caught that didn’t you?”

“…So? Which is it?”

“Both actually. I
heard
something and
saw
someone.”

How could he with his earplugs in?
“Explain, please.”

“It was dark.”

“It usually is at night.”

“Like I said, it was dark, I couldn’t sleep, so I pulled out my earplugs and walked over to my screened patio for air.”

I nodded, saying, “The one directly over Marco’s.”

He laughed. “You don’t miss a thing, do you?”

“Was that a blonde joke?”

He laughed again. “So I stood there looking out, when I heard voices arguing from down below.”

“But you couldn’t tell whether it was male or female.”

“Why wouldn’t I know the difference?”

“You mean you’re not hard of hearing?”

“That’s what the earplugs are for, to
not
hear anything.”

“Oh, right.”
That was Sid who said that, wasn’t it?

“Who’s the detective here?” he asked.

“Obviously not me,” I said, shaking my head.

“Like I said, they were arguing.”

“Who?”

“How would I know? A man’s and a woman’s voice.”

“Okay, now tell me what you saw.”

“You remembered! At least your memory isn’t going.”

“Not yet,” I said laughing. “…So?”

“Apparently, this female left by the patio door.”

“…So she wouldn’t be seen using the front one,” I said.

“Ah, the detective is back in business.”

“Well, did you get a good look?”

“I think she was wearing a top, slacks, maybe sandals.”

“Color hair?”

“With only the streetlights, it was too dark, but…”

“But what?”

“I saw her bend down to the ground, then walk away.”

“Whatever for?”

“Same thing I was thinking. Whatever for?”

“Did you look the next day?”

“There was a little thing called crime scene tape.”

“Yeah, they are sort of sticklers about crossing it.”

“I knew you’d understand. …Your book covers.”

I smiled. “You’ve read my books?”

“Martha brags. That’s why I’m confiding in you.”

“What do my books have to do with this?”

“I’ll be in this one, won’t I? I can’t wait to read it.”

“Read what?”

“The surprise ending you always come up with.”

Chapter 53

Just Talking

Okay, so maybe a reader or two may have figured out via gossip that there might be some element of truth in my mysteries. But like I’ve said before, ever since my life read like fiction anyway, why not just put it down on paper?

So far, that’s worked for me. What’s not worked for me is getting stuck with no ending in sight. I wanted out before something bad happened, not that Marco’s death wasn’t bad enough; I meant bad to me,
like as in shot?

I like to stick to the facts. And the facts on this one were confusing. There was an awful lot of unexplained behavior connecting suspicious incidents. So where was that one thing that usually clicked for me and tied all of it together?

I slammed my laptop shut in frustration and went for some iced tea. At that same moment, everyone had returned from a shopping spree I had opted out of. I needed to collect my thoughts to try and figure out where Uncle Carlos was. I was at a dead end and frustrated.

But now, as usual, I could use their input.

“You will never guess who we saw bike-riding through the gate as we drove in,” said Martha.

“Who?”

“Those two thugs and their pooch that you described!”

Two?
My heart stilled. I fell to the couch, breathless.

Betty came and sat next to me. “Sam, are you all right?”

What was going on?
I turned to her. “Huh?”

Hazel sat on the other side of me. “Mona, get water.”

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” said Martha.

Mona rushed over with the water. “What’s going on?”

“That’s what we’re hoping she’ll tell us,” said Betty.

I slowly looked at all four. “But he’s dead.”

Hazel patted my hand gently. “Who is, dear?”

“Take a deep breath,” said Betty.

“Thug two,” I barely got out, realizing the implications.

“I’ll get the wine,” said Martha.

“I’ll get the glasses,” said Mona.

“This may take some time,” said Betty shaking her head.

A half an hour and one glass later, I had finished telling them about my lunch with Nikko. “He lied.”

Mona was pacing back and forth. “He said he was FBI?”

“I saw his ID. Plus, he knew so much.”

“I didn’t recognize him at that club, Down Under. There are so many old and new agents…”

“Could he be leaking info to the mob?” Betty asked.

They all turned back to me. “What?” I asked.

Mona came real close. “Did you give anything away?”

I was sick to my stomach. “…Like what?”

“Like where that antique car collection is located.”

“He said he followed us there and …I confirmed it.”

“Who said 441 Storage first?” she asked nervously.

“…I did.”

“He put two and two together and got four,” said Hazel
.

Chapter 54

Twenty-Four Hours

Mona didn’t want to jump the gun just yet. If she couldn’t find Carlos in the next few hours,
then
she would notify her FBI contacts and tell them about Nikko and let them figure it out. Meanwhile, security cameras were in place at the facility, plus there were two guards on duty.