Nursing a Grudge is Murder (A Maternal Instincts Mystery) (19 page)

He handed me my cell phone.

I gasped. “Oh! I forgot about it. I dropped it—”

“When you were all in a hurry to go and bleed all over my crime scene?”

“No, I…” I tried to take the phone from him, but he pulled his hand back toward his chest. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

My brain went into overload and I suddenly felt like a petulant teenager. To my embarrassment I even stomped my foot when I said, “Give it.”

His eyes narrowed. “There is something!”

“Well, I’m not hiding it! But it just occurred to me.”

“Spit it out.”

“The guy that was following my friend Jill, he also followed Melanie and yesterday he followed me…”

“Right. You left me a voicemail with the guy’s license plate number.”

“Exactly!” I said. “Who is he? Is he another P.I.?”

McNearny reddened. “You know I can’t give you that information!”

“Why not? You were going to give it to Galigani.” As soon as I said it, I regretted it. Galigani and McNearny were like brothers. They’d been on the police force together,
there was an undeniable bond, but despite all that they still pretended they weren’t sharing confidential information.

And if anyone were to suggest that it was, they were asking for trouble.

His eyes blazed with anger and he leaned into me.

I’m ashamed to admit that I actually held Whiskers a bit higher as if for protection from McNearny’s fierceness.

“I was
not
going to give Galigani anything,” he said, and then to spite me he added, “Least of all would I give him a broken ankle!”

He spun around in a fury, but before he could get out of earshot, Whiskers hissed.

Chapter Twenty

I clutched Whiskers to my chest. “Already a little ally, huh?”

He purred.

When I got into my car, Whiskers’ claws came out and he clung to my lap.

“It’s okay, little guy. We don’t have far to go.”

He meowed loudly when I tried to pull him from my lap and put him into the passenger seat.

“Okay, you can ride just like this,” I said, revving the engine.

Was it even legal to transport a cat without a carrier?

I had no idea and it seemed that the laws in San Francisco were constantly changing, each time taking a piece of our liberty.

I figured my best hope to avoid an infraction was to get home as quickly as possible.

But first, I wanted to call Jill and give her the news about Melanie. I shuffled Whiskers on my lap and pressed at my phone.

Nothing happened.

Darnit!

My phone was completely out. Broken. Kaput!

If I hadn’t had a warm kitten on my lap to cuddle, I might have cried. As it was I decided to bury my face into his fur.

<><><>

When I got home, Laurie was sitting on a blanket in the middle of my living room. She was propped up with her Boppy pillow and Kenny was serenading her with the trombone.

Whiskers romped into my house, and raced under the couch.

“Ah, cute kitty!” Kenny said, putting down his trombone.

“Yeah, he’s only temporary. Don’t get too attached.”

Whiskers peeked out from under the couch and ran right to Laurie who flapped at him and cooed. He sniffed up at her.

Laurie absolutely adored him, squealing and grabbing at him.

“I’m nervous he’s going to scratch her,” I said, picking up the kitten and handing him to Kenny.

Kenny stroked the kitty’s chin. “He doesn’t look particularly fierce.”

I picked up Laurie. “Well, she could pull his tail or something.”

“Where’d you get him?” Kenny asked.

I flopped onto the couch and proceeded to fill Kenny in on Melanie’s demise, V.D.’s prime suspect and McNearny’s refusal to share any information on skull cap man with me.

Kenny made a face. “Pfft. I’m sure I can hack it. What’s the license plate number?”

I gave him the information and he settled into my office to try to produce some magical results. Although I have no doubt that a 17-year-old musical prodigy can probably hack into quite a few systems, I still wasn’t expecting much.

I grabbed my home phone and dialed Jill while I nursed Laurie. I was dreading telling her about Melanie, but figured it would be easier to hear from me rather than SFPD.

Unfortunately, I got her voicemail. I left an urgent message for her to call me at home instead of my cell, since that was now
“out of order”
.

While I fixed lunch, Kenny fiddled on the computer. After a few minutes, I heard him singing a victory song.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Registered vehicle is a Prius?”

“Yes!” I said, coming into the office.

Kenny wiggled his eyebrows at me. “Mark Zloky lives at Gate 5, Liberty Dock in Sausalito.”

I frowned. “What kind of address is that?”

“Houseboat,” Kenny tapped himself a drumroll on my desk. “By the name of”— tap, tap, tap—“Shady Lady!”

<><><>

As I drove across the Golden Gate Bridge, I noticed a few clouds hovering above Alcatraz. It was a breezy day, and only a few sailboats were visible out on the bay. A gust of wind hit, and I could easily feel the sway of the suspension bridge. I remembered being afraid to cross it when I was little.

Today I was afraid of different things, like what Jim, Galigani or McNearny would say to me for running off half-cocked to investigate a houseboat in Sausalito.

Fortunately, Kenny was able to babysit Laurie a while longer, and if I hurried I would probably be home before Jim got back. If I returned home empty-handed, no one would even need to know about my trip. If I returned home with some worthwhile information, well then, the trip would be justified.

I took the first Sausalito exit, one of my all-time favorites. A cute little strip of shops lined the waterfront, selling everything from magic tricks to souvenirs to antiques.

I parked in the harbor lot and walked toward the docks across the short storefront strip.

There was a gelato store on the corner.

Mmmm. Gelato seemed to be screaming out my name.

Did it matter that I’d just had lunch? After all, lots of people had lattes and cappuccinos after lunch, right? Either that or they loaded their coffees down with sugar and cream. And what was gelato, except sugar and cream? So, I’d have a black coffee to go with it and call it good.

Hey, I’m a nursing mom. If we aren’t entitled to these leaps of logic, then who is?

I bought the gelato and coffee, then walked through the harbor eating my ice cream on the short walk to Liberty Dock. I settled onto a bench in front of several boats and watched some sea gulls fight for crumbs.

There was a smattering of boats parked in the harbor. I spotted The Shady Lady. It was the third boat on the right.

A couple peeled off one of the boats. She was in her sixties and dressed optimistically in bright clothes; he was dapper, in dark clothes and a hat.

They were chatting as they passed me. She had a sweet, southern accent— tourists on holiday to see the Bay Area.

I suddenly thought of my mom and made a mental note not to mention anything about seniors on a boating holiday to her. Knowing her, she’d be ready to sign herself up for a steamboat cruise on the Mississippi.

I watched The Shady Lady for a few minutes, trying to figure out what I’d ask Mark if he were home. Who was he? Why had he followed Jill, Melanie and me? Did he have a connection with Mr. or Mrs. Miles?

The best way to get answers was to ask.

However, there didn’t seem to be any movement on board or any sign of an inhabitant.

I walked the slick dock toward The Shady Lady, missing Galigani fiercely and wishing he were here to give me guidance.

“Mark?” I called out as I reached the boat.

When there was no answer, I climbed aboard.

It was a small vessel with an interior cabin below. I called out again. When no answer came, I peeked down the staircase to the cabin. There was a small door, but it was unlocked.

I called out again, “Anyone on board?”

When it was clear that I was alone, I wasted no time. I had no idea how long he would be gone and needed to find
something
, anything that could shed some light on why the guy had been following us.

The living quarters were down a short staircase. There was a small living room with a kitchen attached and a bedroom at the stern of the boat. I searched the main cabin, rummaging through every cabinet and cubby I could find, then went into the master bedroom and searched there. In the bedroom were a TV and a guitar. I searched the lone set of drawers and found nothing of interest.

The only thing I learned was that he wore a lot of dark t-shirts and jeans—which I’d already deduced from the few times I’d seen him. I didn’t see any computer.

How could he not have a computer in this day and age?

With my luck, he had a laptop and it was with him.

Impatience bubbled up inside me, but I stuffed it down. There was no way I was leaving empty-handed. I sat on the bed, deflated.

When I sat on the bed I felt a small shift and noticed that a corner of the plywood the mattress rested on peaked out. I stood and centered the mattress. The bed was a captain’s style bed. There was probably storage underneath. I yanked up on the plywood and it sprang open on hydraulic hinges, revealing a storage space large enough to hide a body.

I cringed at the thought!

Thankfully, there was no body there, only a cardboard box and…

Bingo! Inside the hidden storage was a laptop. I fumbled through the rest, some old clothes and stack of DVDs, then took the laptop and slammed shut the plywood. The bed looked a bit disheveled, so I straightened it up a bit and exited the bedroom into the living area. The boat rocked as I walked and suddenly it jolted hard to the right.

I heard footsteps overhead.

Damn! Someone was on board. Skull cap man!

How could I explain that I was rummaging through the guy’s stuff?

I hurried back to the bedroom and did the only thing I could think of.

Hide!

I yanked up the mattress and climbed into the storage compartment under the bed. Then I pulled the plywood down over my head.

In the darkness I wondered about the sanity of that choice.

What the hell had I been thinking? Why was I hiding? What was I afraid of?

My subconscious served up the image of Melanie’s bruised, lifeless face.

Oh, God! I have to get out of here.

But how? What if skull cap man was in for the day? Or, what if he decided to take a nap? Fortunately the plywood wasn’t flush, and a sliver of light shattered the complete black that otherwise could have been suffocating.

I listened as skull cap shuffled around the room. There seemed to be quite a bit of rummaging. My heart was beating so fast and loud, I was sure he could hear it.

He was looking for something. I hoped he didn’t decide whatever he was looking for was under the bed. I waited for him to get whatever he needed and get out. After all, it was a sunny day; didn’t he want to be out and about?

What if he decided to take the boat out?

The movement around me seemed to come to a halt as the rummaging stopped. Suddenly the plywood above me creaked and the cracks where the light had been filtering in closed. He was sitting above me.

Great.

After a moment he got up and then…

Oh no.

Please don’t open the…

Was there a way to hide myself further?

Where was my self-defense pen? I was so squished I couldn’t even reach my back pocket!

A creak, then a flood of light. A silhouette of a man hovered over me for an instant.

I must not give him the upper hand. I threw the laptop in his face and jumped out of the storage compartment, slammed directly into his chest.

He fell back, stunned, screaming, “What the—?”

I lunged towards the bedroom door and grabbed the handle. I yanked, but it was locked. I realized I was screaming, too.

The man was yelling, too: “Kate! Kate!”

My heart was racing and I couldn’t slow down enough to coordinate my fingers around the lock.

How did he know my name?

A hand reached out and grabbed my shoulder. I spun and kicked at the same time, missing his groin, but landing a kick square in his gut. He doubled over and I realized it wasn’t skull cap man after all.

It was Vicente Domingo.

“Why are you…ugh…” He collapsed onto the floor. “Why are you fighting me? We’re on the same side.”

On the same side?

Relief flooded me. I put a hand on my chest, trying to slow my wildly beating heart, but with the other hand I still fumbled at the door. “What side are you on?” I asked.

“The side of justice. That’s the same side you’re on, right?” V.D. cocked an eyebrow. “Unless you want to tell me something?”

“I’m on my client’s side.” I blurted, although I didn’t even technically have a client. “What are you doing here? Do you work with skull cap man?”

“Of course I don’t work with him.” V.D. lifted himself to one knee, one hand was still gripping his stomach, but with the other he reached for the laptop.

Damn.

“What are you doing here?” he squinted at me and then at the laptop.

I held my hand out for the laptop. “Give it here,” I said.

“You kicked me hard,” he said. His voice was filled with something more than a bruised ego. He looked at me, challenging me.

I said, “Give me the laptop. I was here first. It’s mine.”

He laughed cynically. “It’s not yours,” V.D. fired back. “And I have rights to this because I'm the one holding it and I'm the one who will walk out with it.”

“It's illegal to steal someone else's property,” I said, lamely.

“I'm not stealing it,” he said. “I'm borrowing it.”

We did a mini struggle. I pulled the laptop. He pulled it back and glared at me.

“Maybe we can work together,” he said.

“No,” I said, and with my increasing frustration I blurted out the inevitable, “You stole my client.”

“What?” he asked. “You were planning on getting Brent to hire you?”