No Such Thing as a Secret: A Brandy Alexander Mystery (No Such Thing As...A Brandy Alexander Mystery) (17 page)

“Your father,” I started. “Does he know? We have to call him.”

“He knows. Sweetie,” he soothed, taking my hand in his, “calm down. I was able to get through to my dad last night.”

“Last night? Oh.” Suddenly, my concern turned to fury. I yanked my hand away from his. “Why didn’t you call me, you little shit? Do you have any idea how devastated I was?” The dam burst and I was crying my heart out. Tears of joy and anger and mostly relief streamed down my face onto my shirt. He waited a few minutes while I went into the bathroom for some tissue. I came back with a handful of wadded up toilet paper and sat down again, dabbing at my nose.

“Are you done?” he inquired.

“I think so.”

“Y’know
it’s so typical of you, Brandy. I’m almost blown to smithereens, and you make it all about you!”

“Well, I didn’t have the easiest night either, y’know. Somebody tried to kill me too.”

“Get out!”

I nodded. “With a hatchet.”

“Wow.” He lay back on the bed, contemplating this. I lay back too and gazed up at the ceiling.

“I wonder if it was the same guy who blew up the boat.”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” I shrugged. “I seem to be pissing off a lot of people lately.”

Bobby wasn’t too thrilled with me when he left tonight, but he wasn’t high on my list of suspects. An image of Raoul flashed though my mind, and I wondered if he could be my night stalker. They were about the same height, and he did have a penchant for sharp, shiny objects. Then there was whoever was after Johnny. Maybe they decided to make me a target too. John and I continued to lie on the bed, staring into space.

It was a mere stroke of hypochondria that saved John from being blown to bits. After I’d dropped him off at the Marina on Saturday, John and Joel got ready to set sail. But at the last minute John realized he didn’t have his Dramamine, plus he had a headache and he was too cold, he’d forgotten to bring a heavy jacket. Joel was justifiably annoyed, so to placate him John offered to let Joel take the boat out by himself. An avid sailor, Joel jumped at the chance, and they agreed to meet back at the Marina later on. John got off the boat and wandered around the Marina for a while. He tried to call me to have me pick him up, but his cell phone chose that moment to perform the death rattle. He had his camera with him, so he figured he’d just use the opportunity to cruise around on his own a bit, taking pictures of the boats on the water.

“I was adjusting the lens when all of a sudden my boat goes up in flames. I was completely freaked out; I didn’t know what to do. And that’s when I saw this guy, standing over on the pilings, staring out to sea. He looked familiar, like I should know him, but I didn’t. He had this look on his face. It was bizarre. Like he was getting off on the explosion. I kind of shrank back against some fencing and watched him. After a few minutes, he walked off towards the parking lot and got in a black Ford Explorer and drove away. I swear to God, Brandy, it was the same car that’s been following me around, and I knew then and there that the explosion was no accident.”

“Did you get a picture of the guy?”

John shook his head. “I didn’t think of it until it was too late.”

“Well, why did you take off? You could’ve waited for me, or found a phone, or—”

“Brandy, honey, do you really think I was thinking rationally at that point? I didn’t know if that guy had friends. I had to get away fast, before anyone recognized me.”

“You must have been so scared,” I said, quietly. And suddenly, I was crying again.

“I called you as soon as I could, you know.” John stood up and stretched. “Listen, I’ll tell you the rest a little later. Right now, I could really use a shower and some clean clothes.” He walked over and examined the splintered bedroom door. “Oh my God, you weren’t kidding about the hatchet, were you?”

“Take your shower. I have a feeling this is going to be a long night.”

My dad had some old sweat pants in the back of his closet. I pulled them out, along with a thermal undershirt. They were about three sizes too big for John, and definitely not his preferred mode of dress, but it was either that or my mom’s flannel nightgown. When he came out of the bathroom, he looked more refreshed and didn’t smell like cherry tobacco anymore.

We sat in the kitchen and drank peppermint tea while I caught him up on everything that had happened. Then it was John’s turn. He’d taken a cab to the boardwalk and bought himself some cheap sunglasses and a baseball cap. Then he holed up in one of the lesser-known casino hotels and waited it out. He figured if enough time elapsed he could sneak back to town and let us know he was safe.

“There were a couple of hang ups on my message machine.”

“That was me. I didn’t want to talk. I just wanted to make sure you were home so I could come by. I was working on complete paranoia, thinking they’d tapped your phone. That, by the way, is how I figure they knew I’d be taking my boat out on Saturday. Remember I told you I’d been hearing weird clicks on my line? I’m sure it was tapped.”

“So, how did you get back here?”

John rolled his eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh. “I think that was the most harrowing part of all,” he announced, dramatically. “I took the gray panther special.” I choked back a laugh as he continued. “Two hours trapped on a bus with people discussing their bowel movements like it was the State of the Union Address.”

I laughed out loud at that. I couldn’t help it.

We stayed up half the night, talking. Images of exploding boats and hatchet wielding maniacs haunted me, rendering me too terrified to close my eyes. And to top it off, the cops didn’t believe me. I’d grown up thinking the police were our friends, and rationally I knew we were only talking about a handful of bad apples. But this wasn’t a rational world I was living in, these days. All I knew was the people who were supposed to be there to protect and serve me did neither. And there was a good chance they were the very people I needed protecting from.

John let out a deep sigh. “If I hadn’t told Joel to take the boat, he’d still be alive.”

“And if Daniel had never been born he wouldn’t have had a thirtieth birthday party, and this whole stinking mess never would have happened. Don’t go there, John. What happened to Joel is not your fault.”

We focused instead on what we should do next. Did we dare tell any of our friends that he was back from the grave? Of course he’d told his dad. But what about Paul and the rest of our friends? “If you tell one, you might as well tell them all,” I reminded him. “You know there’s no such thing as a secret in this crowd. Besides, they all love you. They need to know you’re okay.”

John gave me a blank look. “Does that include Bobby?”

I considered this. “Yeah,” I said, finally. “It does.” Bobby would be over the moon to know John was alive, and God knows he could use some good news. I believed Bobby when he said he wasn’t into any illegal activities, and I know he finally believed me about there being dirty cops on the force. Hell, he’d admitted he had his own suspicions. I just didn’t know how ready he was to keep secrets from his superior officers. Was he willing to risk his career, or worse to help me find out the truth? One thing was for sure though—I was going to investigate, with or without Bobby, and in order to do that, I had to look the part.

“I need to toughen up my image,” I said. “Maybe I should start carrying a gun.”

“I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for the most asinine statement you’ve ever made, but it eludes me right now,” John yawned.

I made two fists and began shadow boxing all around his head.

“Hey, cut it out.”

“If I’m going to be working undercover, I’ve got to get in shape.” I threw a right punch over his shoulder.

He ducked and rolled off the bed. “You’re really enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

I held up my hand, pinching the thumb and index finger together. “
A little bit
. Look, I started out with the purest of intentions, but now that I know you’re okay, I don’t have to feel guilty about thinking this is
the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever done in my life!”
I jumped on the bed and did a little victory dance on the mattress.

“You’re a sick woman, Alexander.”

At eight a.m. the doorbell rang. We’d just crawled into bed at around five, and I’d barely had time to go through a REM cycle, when the ringing turned to pounding at the door. I nudged John off the bed and he groaned some creative curses at me. “Just get in the bathroom,” I hissed, grabbing his arm and pulling him down the hall.

I peeked out the spy hole and slowly opened the door. “This is getting to be a regular habit with you, DiCarlo.” He didn’t wait for an invitation. He walked right into the house and headed straight for the kitchen. “Hey. Where do you think you’re going?”

“You have any coffee?” He began opening and closing cupboards.

I reached up and pulled some Folgers from a shelf. I set it down on the counter and began measuring out some scoops. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“I was.” He pulled the pot off of the base and filled it with water.

“So then why are you here?” I began scrounging around the kitchen for something to serve with the coffee. My mother would be appalled if I didn’t offer him a snack. My thoughts wandered to the fruitcake.

“I was worried about you. When I got to work this morning some of the guys were just getting off shift, and they were talking about a call that came in last night. Seems some whacked out sugar junkie had a fight with her boyfriend and started making noises that an ax murderer was trying to kill her.”

“So you automatically assumed it was me?”

“It was the part about the fruitcake that gave it away. Always the best part of an Alexander Christmas.”

I sat down on a chair, elbows on the table, chin in hands and cursed softly. “Great. So now I’m the talk of the precinct.”

Bobby pulled out the chair next to me and sat down. He threw a comforting arm around my shoulder. “You want to tell me what happened?”

I did want to. I wanted to tell him every scary thing and have him scoop me up in his arms and hold me and never let me go. “Believe it or not, there’s something more pressing we have to discuss.” I got up from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

Two minutes later I was downstairs again, with Johnny in tow. Bobby did a double take, and then he whooped for joy and lifted John in a huge bear hug. There was much backslapping and a lot of “Jesus Christs” and then for the next hour we talked. Bobby wanted to know everything, down to the minutest detail. He asked for a description of the guy who had come to see John and had taken the pictures. John did the best he could, but it didn’t ring any bells for Bobby. They went over and over the scant information, but they kept coming up empty. I broke down and told Bobby about having copies of the infamous pictures. Predictably, Bobby wanted me to hand over the pictures to him and bow out of the investigation.

“This is not up for discussion, sweetheart. There are two men dead already, and you and John are on the short list.”

“But why would I be a target? It doesn’t make sense.”

Bobby’s blue eyes contracted under a deep scowl. “All the more reason for you to stay out of this. Maybe you asked the wrong questions to the wrong people and somebody got wind of it. I don’t know. But you obviously pissed off somebody enough that they came after you with an ax.”

“Actually, it was a hatchet.” He gave me a look that said he’d like to take a hatchet to me. I really had to stop doing that.

“Whatever. Listen, I can understand you not trusting the police. Until we know who’s dirty, no one is beyond suspicion. But that doesn’t mean you can start nosing around on your own. You’re not a professional, and you could get yourself killed.”

“Look,” I said, trying to reassure him. “What are you getting so worked up about? I’m just asking a few questions, is all.”

Bobby’s face began to flush under his tan. I knew this look and it did not bode well for me. “What do I need to do to get through to you?” he asked in a tightly controlled voice. “This isn’t a fucking game.” He turned his back to me and addressed John. “Talk some sense into her, will you? She sure as hell won’t listen to me.”

“And what makes you think she’ll listen to me?” John asked. “Once she gets the bit in her teeth, she’s like a pit bull hanging on for dear life.”

I shot John a murderous look.
“Hello
, I’m still in the room. You don’t have to talk about me as if I’m not here.” I sat back, pouting.

Bobby pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. A look of impassivity settled on his face. Immediately I was on my feet as well, refusing to allow him the dominant position. John shifted his gaze from Bobby to me, enjoying this test of wills.

“Brandy,” Bobby said with infuriating calm, “I’m afraid you leave me with no choice. Either butt out of this investigation or I’ll arrest you for withholding evidence. I swear to God I will.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” I stood, facing him, hands on my hips, defying him to keep his word. In one deft move Bobby grabbed my arms and swung them behind my back. In a flash, he reached into his back pocket with his free hand, pulled out a pair of handcuffs and slapped them onto my wrists.

“You have the right to remain silent.” Johnny’s jaw dropped in utter amazement.

“Let me go, you jerk! Oh, you are
so
going to pay for this, DiCarlo.” I began twisting back and forth, which only made him tighten his hold on me.

“Do I have to add threatening a peace officer to these charges?” he asked.

I wrenched around to get a good look at his face. It was almost a blank slate, but I thought I detected the barest hint of a smile. In a blaze of fury I stretched my leg back and kicked him in the shin. Unfortunately I was barefoot, so he hardly felt it at all, but it really hurt my big toe.

“You’re just racking up the points, sweetheart. Assaulting an officer. Nice one.” He began hauling me towards the front door, with me kicking and screaming all the way.

“This should give Mrs. Gentile something juicy to talk about over coffee cake,” he said, pleasantly.