Mouth Of The Rat

A Samantha Jamison Mystery

Volume 5

by

Peggy A. Edelheit

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Mouth of the Rat: A Samantha Jamison Mystery, Volume 5

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Copyright © 2012 by Peggy A. Edelheit. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

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ISBN: 978-1-938701-67-2 (eBook)

Version 2014.01.18

Other Books by Peggy A. Edelheit

The Samantha Jamison Mystery Series

The Puzzle Volume 1

Without Any Warning Volume 2

86 Avenue du Goulet Volume 3

A Lethal Time Volume 4

Death Knell In The Alps Volume 6

A Samantha Jamison Detour

The Riviera is Burning Volume 5.5

Chase Your Dreams

& Remember,

Every Day is a Blessing

With Special Love to Bob

My biggest supporter and confidant

Marc, Aaron & Jonathan

A Special Thanks To My Editor

Winslow Eliot

Publisher

Telemachus Press

Steven & Claudia Jackson

Steven & Terri Himes

Acknowledgment

Jon Denz

Mouth Of The Rat

A Samantha Jamison Mystery

Volume 5

Chapter 1

A Change Up, But Nothing’s Changed

From the Boca Raton Historical Society

The meaning of the name Boca Raton has always aroused curiosity. Many people wrongly assume the name is simply Rat’s Mouth. The Spanish word boca, or mouth, often describes an inlet, while raton means, literally, mouse. The term Boca de Ratones or Boca Ratones was a navigational, referring to a rocky or jagged inlet, but the original location of Boca de Ratones was Biscayne Bay near present-day Miami Beach, according to eighteenth century maps. By the beginning of the nineteenth century, the term was mistakenly applied to the current Lake Boca Raton, whose inlet was closed throughout most of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The “s” and later the “e” were dropped from this title by the 1920s, yet the correct pronunciation remains Rah-tone.

Who was the rat with the kiss of death?

* * * * *

I was about to hit the button when the door whipped open. I stepped back in surprise, then smiled at my old friend Mona. My blonde hair was in a ponytail, but because I still had on multi-layered clothes from my trip I was sweating profusely in tropical Boca Raton, Florida.

Mona sighed in relief. “Sam, you came! If I sounded cryptic and panicky on the phone, I hope you’ll understand. This whole thing was so sudden and unexpected.”

I stood there, staring at my ample-figured, dark-haired, quirky and impulsive girlfriend. “Cryptic about sums you up …and cagey. As usual, you knew I’d fall for that dead part of your urgent phone message.”

Mona chuckled. “And maybe a potential mystery…”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “What amazes me is how I’ve managed to survive this long to keep writing another one.”

Come to think of it, so were my agent and editor.

She looked past me, grinning. “I see you’ve dumped your three crazy old sleuths back in Highlands.”

“You sounded desperate so I rushed here. They say hi.”

“Come on in.” She grabbed one of my bags and led me inside. “I’m still settling in from my move.”

Mona showed me around the spacious first floor condo overlooking the golf course in the gate-guarded enclave. It was a corner unit in a building that housed four in total. Her area was Mediterranean style with clay-barreled roofs. It looked pretty pricey to me, including expensive, high-end leather and wood furniture.

Where was she getting the bucks for this?

She smiled, as though reading my thoughts. “It was his.”

“Whose?” I asked, verbally lost, as usual with Mona.

“Marco’s.”

“But he’s dead. You said so yourself.”

“I know.”

“So what gives? How did you end up with it?”

“…He sort of bequeathed it to me.”

“I’m not getting the bequeathed part of that sentence.”

“It’s not what you think. It’s all perfectly legal.”

“What is?”

“Our marriage.”

I dropped down to the couch, shocked. “…Married?”

“Marco insisted.”

“Why?”

“So his car collection wouldn’t be stolen by his wife.”

“…He’s married?”

“Was.”

“What happened?”

“It’s complicated.”

Ha! Like she’s telling me something new, right?

Chapter 2

Sorting Through Clothes & The Truth

Mona left me to unpack and freshen up in the guest suite, promising to fill me in over drinks after she started dinner. My head was spinning from her news.

Married?

Who was this Marco? What car collection? What wife?

Like once before, Mona sounded like she had stepped into another potboiler of a mess. So what did she expect me to do? I was a novelist who wrote mysteries for a living, not a professional investigator. Why call me?

The two of us met at college, but then drifted apart. Several years later, after I had married Stephen, she vanished right after an abrupt and cryptic phone call to me. Then Stephen was killed in a suspicious car crash. After solving the mystery surrounding his death in Highlands, North Carolina, I fled to the beach at Ocean City, New Jersey to recoup and write in peace and quiet. But out of the blue Mona showed up at my door.

Mona’s mysterious reappearance back then soon had me caught up in nothing but lies and chaos. So you can see why I was kind of leery of this so-called emergency and what she was now saying about this Marco of hers.

Well, he wasn’t technically hers, was he? He was dead.

Would I regret allowing my curiosity to take over? With Mona, who was famous for stretching the truth and pushing the envelope, it was a constant guessing game.

But to tell you the truth, I still loved it.

I laughed, recalling how we dealt with threats, me with my baseball bat, and she with her umbrella, on her first night in Ocean City when an intruder invaded my rented beach house. After finally learning Mona had connections of her own, I assumed she was now carrying more than an umbrella for protection, especially after Marco died.

But how did Marco die? She conveniently pushed that off for later, leaving me with a meandering stream of questions. Was it accidental or murder? Could it involve the ex-wife? How did Mona get involved with Marco?

Mona was always about the comfort zone of having friends by her side when she was in trouble. And this certainly felt like trouble to me. The problem was how could I possibly help her if she was going to hand me her usual misdirection? Would she tell me the truth this time?

Would I let her know if I thought she was lying to me again? I sat down on the bed and gave that some thought. Why should I? She never did in the past with me. Then I grinned, realizing that in a bizarre way this was a gift. Why not play along and see where it took me?

Mona was right.

This could potentially be my next book.

Chapter 3

Much Ado About Marco

At first, we just sat there. Mona took a sip of wine, and then I took a sip. I knew by her look she was stalling for time. I still couldn’t believe I had rushed and traveled all those miles to sit there and wait.

But pressing her never worked, so I waited some more.

You know, I think she was actually enjoying this.

Once again I sipped my wine, but this time she gulped hers, a revealing gesture. She was on the verge of saying something. Why was the ever-talkative Mona suddenly acting restrained? Trust me, this wasn’t normal.

Hey, maybe she was in trouble.

She cleared her throat. “…It started with a phone call.”

“Okay, a phone call. What next?”

“They put Marco in the witness protection program.”

I swear I should have been a dentist. “…And?”

“I ended up getting caught in the middle.”

I sighed. “Can you be a little more specific?”

“The US Marshall’s office, DEA, and FBI were brought in for a special narcotics case and Marco’s protection.”

“For what?”

“He was a mother lode of drug network info, but in the process of being debriefed, something kept happening.”

“And what was that?”

“After a few weeks, he kept getting shot at.”

“What about all that protection?”

“No matter where he was relocated, it kept happening.”

“Sounds like he was used for target practice.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

“How many shooting incidents were there?”

“Guess?”

I sat there and shook my head, still playing catch up.

“Three before that fourth, then a fatal one after that.”

“Sounds like the fourth was different than the rest.”

“It was. That was when he shot himself.”

“Shot himself?”

“No one anticipated that happening, especially me.”

I eyed the wine bottle. She was talking in circles.

“Like I said, it was unanticipated,” she repeated.

“…Did he shoot himself accidentally?”

Mona gave a half smile. “…You might say that.”

By this time, I was pouring. I couldn’t keep up.

“One day I unexpectedly walked in on him.”

“Keep talking.”

“Startled, he dove for the gun on his table. It went off.”

“He wasn’t supposed to have a gun, was he?”

“He thought I was someone else walking in on him.”

I took a guess. “But the gun didn’t surprise you, did it?”

“Sam, how do I get mixed up with these losers?”

“Let me guess. You seem to have a gift for it?”

“…There’s more. That gun was mine.”

Chapter 4

A Complexity Of Perplexity

“How about giving me more background on this?”

She gave a sigh. “We met through some friends.”

I gave her an arched brow. “Friends?”

“…Who shall remain nameless at the moment. I was in the area, and, while visiting these friends, attended an art reception and was introduced to Marco.”

“Interesting, someone who was involved in narcotics and an art lover, too. Sounds perfectly compatible to me.”

“Hey, I had no idea at the time about the narcotics angle. He said he had a small art gallery in Boca and I should stop by someday to see it.”

“And a relationship developed?”

“A hot one, Sam, a strictly fast lane kind of thing.”

“What other kind of relationships have you ever had?”

“Hey, I do the best I can, considering.”

She was driving me crazy. “Considering what?”

“Considering I tend to get screwed in my relationships.”

“The error quotient never tipped in your favor, did it?”

“Hey, we all make mistakes.”

“You especially. So you didn’t see this coming?”

“No! After being glued to each other for a few weeks, we had a trust thing going on, or so I thought at the time. When Marco confided in me about his ex-wife and how dangerous she was, being connected and sending her thugs to threaten him because she found out he went to the Feds about her, he feared he’d never make it to trial.”

“But how did the gunshot-thing come into play?”

“After being relocated and getting shot at the second time, even I was concerned he’d never make it to trial.”

“And?”

“He became obsessed about his personal safety.”

“That’s not surprising.”

“Then he got shot at again. Since the Feds were having a difficult time covering his back, he thought there could be a possible leak, and I guess he reconsidered his options.”

“I’d reconsider mine, too.”

“I have a Florida permit to carry. When I forgot my gun one day, he grabbed it. The Feds had a field day with that. Afterward he felt he had to temporarily place his cars and condo with someone he could trust and I was that person.”

“You mean the ex found out about his cars?”

“Yes. An added incentive for knocking him off.”

“Sounds like she knew the what, but not the where. But that still doesn’t explain you marrying him.”

“To make it legal,” she said. “Hidden assets, alimony.”

What legalities ever stopped a mobster before? Uh-uh.

“…There’s something else you need help with, right?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Now, Mona. With you, there’s always more. You and I both know there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“…You’re right. That’s why I needed someone I trust.”

I was curious what she was after. Then it dawned on me what was conveniently missing from this equation.

“No one in the witness protection program knows about the cars, marriage arrangement, or condo yet, do they?”

She shrugged. “…Well, no, not really, not yet.”

I figured, I’d better get this over with.

“So what’s my part in all this supposed to be?”

“You have to help me find his Uncle Carlos.”

“His Uncle Carlos? What does he have to do with this?”

“That’s who Marco wanted me to sign over the condo and car collection to, should anything happen to him. It’s the least I can do for him. Then I’ll tell the authorities.”

“Didn’t you ask why he didn’t give it to him directly?”

“Blinded by love, my common sense was not in play.”

To tell you the truth, it was worse than I thought.

I forged ahead anyway. “You want me to find this Uncle Carlos so you don’t draw attention to yourself with the feds, his ex, or her thugs, am I correct in assuming that?”

“My plan should work, but there’s another snag.”

“Why am I not surprised? I won’t like this, will I?”

“No. I don’t know where the cars are either. I do know the bills of sale are in one of their glove compartments.”

“Are you serious? You are asking the impossible.”

“I know, but I’m desperate and you’re perfect for this.”

“Does the ex know about your marriage?”

“So far, no, but if she finds out, all bets are off.”

“Do you think she’d be upset if she found out?”

“Are you kidding? Wife or not, Marco said she’d kill for those cars. He said they’re worth a small fortune. I want out before she finds out about my connection to them. I’ll do what I can covertly at my end, but I need you to help me find his Uncle Carlos and those cars before I’m shot.”

An impossible mission, plus hormones and thugs!

Chapter 5

Getting Started, But Not Really

This scheme of Mona’s was wearing on me already. I tossed and turned all night long. Every creak and noise had me listening for an intruder; someone who would finish us both off and no one would know the reason why. I had to be insane to do this. Why had I finally agreed to help Mona find this Uncle Carlos? Oh, yeah, I think it had something to do with the two bottles of wine we polished off around midnight, laughing and reminiscing about old times.

Mona should have been in sales. Her specialty was explaining something away to make it sound like you had thought of it in the first place and the whole thing made perfect sense. It certainly felt that way last night, but in the glaring morning light I was having second thoughts.

Mona said Carlos belonged to the same country club community. All I had to do was find his name in the roster of members, right? Not that simple. Marco said his uncle changed his name to sound more American so he would fit in, but Marco died before he ever told Mona the new name.

At this point, I was thinking of changing mine.

I had absolutely no leads whatsoever in a sea of about two thousand members. The Boca Mesa Golf and Country Club boasted a spa, dining room, card rooms, golf course, tennis courts, book club, and who knew what else?

The main question was where do I start? I would be a thirty-something in a pool of seniors. As far as fitting in with the rest of them, I was a goner. I had already made a few calls and came up empty-handed.

Mona was no help whatsoever. She was still caught up answering the Fed’s questions in the follow-up on Marco’s death. Would they be watching me, too? It didn’t appear I had much time to round up this Uncle Carlos. I figured maybe a week at most before his ex connected the dots.

Great! Now I had a deadline and no leads.

I breathed in and stretched. I’d been typing up what sketchy notes I managed to squeeze out of Mona so far.

First off, Uncle Carlos was in his sixties to eighties.

Perfect. This was just what I needed, a useless clue.

That narrowed the field down to, let’s see, a possible thirty-year spread, anywhere from sixty to eighty-nine.

Why didn’t Marco at least give Mona a first name?

There was no clear description other than he was older and very talkative. That fit about 85% of the members. I pressed her for sports. No go. Mona didn’t know.

“How about his uncle’s hobbies?” I’d asked.

“He likes to eat, and eat early.”

She actually made this remark with a straight face.

Well that summed up a majority of the retirees living in the whole state of Florida. I was dead in the water. No way would I find this guy in under a week. There had to be another way of approaching this. I sat there, mulling it over, and then smiled. Why think logically? I grabbed my cell and dialed my own personal, 911, senior hotline.

I had met my own senior consultant, Martha, in Highlands after I opened an antiques shop there as a cover to mingle with the locals for the sole purpose of finding out who might have killed my husband. I had felt his history there would help me solve the mystery of his suspicious death. After hiring Martha as an employee, I was surprised to find she knew Stephen most of his life and so she became a major player in how I finally got my answers.

Through my last few books, she’s been both a hindrance and a godsend. In other words, she absolutely drove me crazy with her antics, but I still loved her to death in spite of that. I must also add she has an eccentric side.

That alone should have given me pause a long time ago, but I figured for a seventy-something woman with short spikey-white hair, a size four like me, who was shockingly fashion-challenged, crazier and sharper than a fox, but quite entertaining, I’d keep her around for a while. She was always reminding me that age had nothing to do with having a good time, and that living on the edge made all the difference. And believe me, with her I found myself living on the edge quite a lot.

But even after being at the edge more times than I care to recall, I still completely trusted her judgment and her take on the predicament I found myself in. This time her so-called expertise in the senior citizen arena could prove to be exactly what I needed to knock off another book.

That is hopefully before I got knocked off first.

Chapter 6

Mapping Out The Impossible

“Well,” said a sarcastic voice. “I guess it’ll have to do.”

I chuckled, knowing Martha was baiting me with that tone. I could tell she loved the place and the view of the golf course because she was grinning after stepping in.

“Need any help?” I asked, eyeing her five suitcases.

“No, I packed light this time. This shouldn’t take long.”

“Thanks for coming on such short notice.”

“I had a feeling you’d call me sooner or later.”

I dragged the heaviest of the five further in. “Oh, yeah?”

“I knew you’d be drowning in my specialty, retirees.”

I laughed. “I figured I had to bring in the big guns.”

She pulled me into a firm hug. “That’s my girl.”

Mona joined us. “Well, I guess it was inevitable.”

Martha gave her a skeptical look. “What was?”

“Once Sam explained the situation, you came running.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on, Martha, with all this dating potential here?”

“Didn’t give it a second thought. I’m here to help.”

“Yeah, and I’m one hundred and ten pounds.”

Martha snorted. “In your dreams, sister!”

I interceded. “How about we handle all this luggage?”

Mona finally gave Martha a hug, saying, “Ciao, baby.”

Martha jerked back. “Let’s stick to English.”

“My, you are touchy,” said Mona, innocently.

Then Martha whispered to me, “Keep an eye on her.”

I winked, chuckling. “Don’t I always?”

Mona pointed at the hallway. “Seek and ye shall find.”

“Some hostess you are,” said Martha, waving her off.

After dinner, we sat sipping wine, a favorite pastime of ours while we caught up on the latest gossip. But Mona was on the quiet side and I didn’t quite know what to make of it.

Looking straight at Mona, Martha brought up what was discussed at dinner. “What did you hope to accomplish once you found this Uncle Carlos?”

“I figured that I’d legally hand over the car collection and sign off on the condo, why?”

“Have you ever thought there might not be a Carlos?”

Mona shot her a look. “Hey, what are you suggesting?”

Martha and I glanced at each other.

Were we lied to in the past? Would we be lied to again?

Mona was clearly looking for encouragement and help.

“He probably was telling you the truth,” said Martha.

Mona slumped back in her chair. “I sure hope so.”

I smiled. “Now you’ve got us watching your back.”

“And several other thugs and one bitch,” she said.

Martha grinned. “We’re up to a challenge, right, Sam?”

I managed to give Mona a confident smile. “Sure.”

Oh, I was lying through my teeth!

Chapter 7

Senior Intel & Noteworthy Moments

As I headed out for a brief walk to think, I saw Mona’s neighbor who lived in the condo above her. I’d met Irving the day before. After sifting through his mail, he gave me a wave. A widower, Mona said Irving was overwhelmed with widows delivering dinners to his door nonstop.

She said no one cooked this food, they merely ordered from a chic restaurant and had it delivered. It sounded to me like a new genre of bereavement-meals-on-wheels. As for me, this senior learning curve was looking expensive.

After meeting Irving, and spending only one afternoon observing a bunch of widows lurking about, Martha wasn’t in a cheery mood. Competition. She said seniors had ESP with a widower. Word spread by osmosis.

Mr. Cohen nodded. “Nice to see you again, Samantha.”

I smiled. “Please, call me Sam.”

Irving appeared upset.

“Is everything okay?”

He frowned after looking down again at the mail in his hand. “You know, I get so frustrated with all this junk mail and phone calls asking for my wife, and then insisting on speaking to her. She’s dead, for God’s sake. Give it a rest!”

I felt sorry for him. “It must be very upsetting.”

“Oh, you have no idea. Why, just the other day, I got a phone call from a pushy salesman trying to sell my wife his product by phone, saying, ‘I’m from the Super Hearing Aid Company, and I’d like to speak to your wife, Esther.’ I tried to explain that my wife was dead and no longer here, but the salesman would not take no for an answer.”

“You’re kidding! How awful!”

“He wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to explain that my wife was deceased. So out of frustration, I said, ‘I keep trying to explain, but you won’t listen.’ All he did was become obnoxious, insisting I go get her. Again and again, he tried to set up an appointment. Finally, knowing Esther, I said ‘you want to meet with her that bad?’ He got real excited, saying, ‘Yes!’ So I said, ‘Then go to hell!’”

We were both still chuckling as we parted. I mentally filed that tidbit, wondering if I would still have a sense of humor after undergoing such an event as the death of a spouse. I had to warn Martha about the widows bringing him meals, which in his case would be a major mistake.

I stopped in place, turned back and watched Irving walk to his condo. No, that wasn’t Martha’s style. She wouldn’t do the food thing. She’d invite the guy out for drinks or drop by, bringing her own mixers and a shaker. I shook my head, just picturing the takedown. The poor guy wouldn’t know what hit him. Maybe I should’ve warned him about Mona’s new guest. I turned back, laughing.

No! Why spoil all the fun?

Chapter 8

Mona, Martha, Me, & Ma Ma Mia!

When I returned Mona said she was treating Martha and me to lunch at Mizner Square in downtown Boca. The spot used to be an old, failing, indoor mall, built back in the sixties. When Boca’s population exploded in the eighties, it was torn down and replaced by an upscale avenue.

Restaurants dotted the palm tree-lined boulevard, as well as stores. Above them were dozens of apartments. It was a popular spot with locals and tourists that included an outdoor concert area where evening shows took place.

We were eating at Villagio, one of the indoor/outdoor restaurants smack in the middle of all the activity. The weather was cooperating and after parking the car in one of the elevated car garages, we sat sipping our wine by the outdoor fountain, watching Bentleys, Porsches, Mercedes, and the occasional Rolls Royce drop off diners and be taken away by eager valets.

After orders were taken, Martha and Mona went to the ladies’ room. I sat there enjoying my wine and the scenery, while checking out the latest fashions and enhancements.

My breath caught when I dropped my linen napkin, reached for it, and then spotted two mean-looking guys at the next table with a fluffy-white poodle sitting with them on a chair. It wasn’t the pooch so much that had caught my attention, but the hardware on one of the guys’ hips.

His shirt had ridden up and exposed the small gun in the holster on his belt. I nonchalantly placed my napkin back on the table and tried to get a better look at them. It was impossible without being obvious, so I just sat there as they occasionally glanced my way.

I wasn’t exactly nervous, but I doubted these guys just happened to be sitting next to us with one, or, more likely, two of them carrying guns. The poodle wasn’t cutting it, either. If anything, it was a dead giveaway. These men looked like thugs. They had dangerous and deadly pissed-off looks plastered on their faces.

The one closest to me, who had slicked-back gray hair and a bodybuilder’s frame suddenly looked in my direction and nodded, just as I took a glance. Embarrassed, I quickly turned back, relieved to see Mona and Martha returning.

“You see that hunk notice us?” Martha asked Mona.

“Yeah, but he was eyeing that babe walking next to us.”

“I’m sure he saw right through all that silicone.”

“No, I think he was enjoying all that silicone.”

“Oh, please. You think he was that shallow?”

“Yes. Men like shapely-wrapped packages.”

I nudged them both under the table and was ignored.

“Wasn’t that woman pushing it with that skimpy skirt?”

“Martha, That’s the whole point, pushing it.”

“Hey!” I hissed.

They finally turned, then focused on me.

“What?” Martha asked, miffed at the interruption.

Noticing my expression, Mona said, “What’s wrong?”

“See those guys at the next table?” I whispered, and then looked over myself.

But they were gone and so was Puff Ball. Damn.

Chapter 9

Going To Town

“I’ll be right there,” I yelled to a foot-tapping Martha.

She was driving me crazy since she heard from Mona about Boca’s Town Center, a mall she said was a shopper’s dream. I personally figured you see one mall, you’ve pretty much seen them all, but I couldn’t let Martha go alone.

“Well, it’s about time,” said Martha, escorting me out. “I’m on a tight schedule to go see this mall and get back.”

I gave her a curious look. Not once had mall and a tight schedule ever escaped her lips in the same sentence before.

“What do you have to get back for?”

“Tennis date at the club.”

I stopped in place. “But you don’t play tennis…Who?”

She gave me a sly smile. “Why, Irving, of course.”

I laughed. “I’m amazed at how fast you work.”

“I have a way with the senior set, being so striking.”

I already had on my sunglasses to cut the glare from her outfit: red capris (a favorite color of hers), a bright yellow flowered top, a silver handbag, and sandals.

“Yup, striking is definitely the word that covers it.”

Grinning, she whipped out a blue scarf and wrapped it around her neck and posed. “What do you think?”

I bit my tongue to stop what would have come out first, waited a beat, and then said, “That about tops it off.”

“That’s exactly what I thought! Come on, let’s go!”

By the time we found a parking spot over by Saks, spent two hours roaming through Tori Birch, Louis Vuitton, Neiman Marcus, and a multitude of other stores I was dead.

“Look, Martha. I’m beat. You haven’t bought a thing.”

“Did you actually expect me to buy something here on my fixed income?”

“That’s what people normally do in a mall, isn’t it?”

“Not me. Plus, I haven’t finished looking yet.”

“I need to sit. My feet hurt.”

“You have no staying power, you know that?”

“Two hours are my limit. I need to start investigating.”

“Give me twenty minutes more,” she said running off.

After getting a Starbucks coffee at the kiosk, I found a bench, gave a sigh, kicked off my sandals, and whipped out my phone to check my emails. My friend and agent, Sandra, was eager to hear about my latest book, which I promptly lied about, saying it was exciting and coming along nicely. Ditto for my editor, who was anxious to get started on her bloodletting on another one of my books.

I was so into emails and texting, I didn’t notice someone had sat next to me until I felt fur rub against my arm. I glanced down in dismay as I recognized the poodle, which was making puppy noises at me. My eyes traveled up past the pooch and I stiffened. It was thug number one from Villagio. I tried holding off as long as I could, pretending I hadn’t noticed, but the pup was licking my arm big time and I finally had to acknowledge Cutesy and Mr. Thug.

Chapter 10

Taking The Plunge

I might be a newbie to crime, but wasn’t when it came to trouble. And this promised to be nothing but that. I slipped my phone in my purse and smiled at the pooch. My brain was frantically scrambling for something, anything, to say. Coming up blank, I patted the dog’s head instead.

Pooch’s dad said in a gravelly voice, “He’s been a great way to meet women.”

My hand paused mid-stroke, as my eyes slowly traveled up to the owner, whose pitted complexion, dark ominous eyes, and scarred lip gave me the willies.

“I bet,” I said, withdrawing my hand slowly. I looked down and counted my fingers. All five were still there.

A gold tooth glistened when Thug bared his teeth at me.

“You from around here?” he asked, still grinning.

My eyes darted about, searching for Martha. She was never around when I needed an excuse to make an exit. No sign of her. I turned back to him. Why was he asking that? His pick-up line had bad vibes written all over it.

I kept it vague. “I’m visiting.”

“Plan on staying long?”

“No. A short visit should do it for me.”

“Relatives?”

“Sort of.”

“Then cutting it short might be in your best interest.”

Two conversations were going on, one harmless, but beneath that, the other was a direct message I didn’t like.

I smiled, but was annoyed. “I was considering that.”

“Well, then I wish you good health for a speedy return.”

I’d had enough. “…That is, when I’m good and ready.”

“A smart person knows timing is everything.”

“That never was one of my strengths.”

“I think you’re smarter than you let on.”

“And I think you’re not, where it concerns me.”

His smile faded, as he leaned in close. Pooch growled.

“Watch it, or you’ll be in someone’s crosshairs, Sam.”

My armpits were feeling damp as I thought of a retort. I wasn’t surprised the guy knew my face. Unfortunately, my name being mentioned threw me and I drew another blank. Our mute standoff dragged on. I finally stood. He stood, still holding to that ball of cotton. I was suddenly afraid Martha would show up and realized I definitely didn’t want to involve her, placing her in danger, too.

I squared my shoulders. “I guess I know where I stand.”

He leaned in once again. “Just hope you’re still standing when this is all over.”

I blinked.

He didn’t.

Then he abruptly spun around and walked off.

I exhaled in relief.

Martha finally appeared. “That was exhausting.”

“I agree,” I whispered, no longer seeing Muscle Man.

Chapter 11

Playing Pool And Pooling Info

With Martha temporarily gone for tennis, I hit the pool area of Mona’s villas. Laptop under my arm, I crossed the street and entered the gated area, figuring I could start my book while waiting.

I was glued to my typing on a lounge chair when a voice spoke from my left. It was talking to me. I turned to look at who owned it. A bejeweled hand reached out. Attached to it was a redheaded woman, full makeup, and in pretty good shape, according to her bathing suit. She smiled.

“I’m Sylvie. I live right behind there. You new here?”

I shook her hand. “I’m visiting with my friend.”

“And where does she live?”

I pointed behind us. “I guess next to you, first floor.”

“And I’m right above Sylvie,” said a voice on my right.

I looked right. Number Two was eyeing my laptop.

“Hi, I’m Bunny,” said a rail-thin, bleached, silver-haired, wrinkle-free woman, holding out her hand to me.

I shook it. “Hi.” Nothing moved on her sculpted face.

Where did these two come from?

“So you’re the novelist that’s staying in that villa?”

“That’s right. I write mysteries.”

Both of them sat up straighter, coming close.

Sylvie spoke first. “We heard what happened to Marco.”

My ears perked up. I closed my laptop, ready to dish.

Had they seen something? Heard something?

“Yes,” said Bunny. “All those people running around.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Ambulance, police, even FBI!” whispered Sylvie.

Bunny bent closer. “What did your friend say?”

I had to be careful what I said, but wanted to hear what they might know. “She’s still pretty shaken up.”

“I would imagine so!” said Sylvie shaking her head.

Bunny tapped me. “Timing was suspicious though.”

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

“It happened right after the guards did their drive by.”

“Why? Do they keep a tight schedule around here?”

“They sure do,” said Sylvie. “That’s when I heard it.”

I looked from one to the other. “Heard what?”

“That popping noise, twice!” said, Sylvie.

“It was hard to ignore,” said Bunny.

“Are you sure?” I asked, skeptically.

Bunny nodded. “We watch a crime show or two.”

“Religiously,” said Sylvie, preening at their expertise.

I was dying to ask more, but they both leaned back.

I leaned back and shut my eyes, frustrated.

“There’s just one more thing,” Bunny finally said.

I opened one eye. “And what’s that?”

“It doesn’t explain that last popping noise I heard.”

Now both my eyes were open. “When was that?”

Bunny looked both ways. “After everyone had left.”

Chapter 12

Say What?

“Say what?” I asked, sitting upright again.

“That’s right,” said a nervous Bunny, fingering her hair.

“Are you sure you heard this?”

“It was a beautiful night,” said Bunny. “I had my patio doors wide open. I couldn’t help but hear it.”

I had to take advantage of this encounter and get some useful information, but Bunny drew back, reluctant to share more. So I focused on Sylvie instead.

“Did you happen to hear any conversations?”

But then Sylvie wore an odd look. “Well, I…”

Bunny lurched upright, glancing down at her watch.

“We have to go, Sylvie. We’re late for tennis.”

“Anything else that seemed unusual?” I asked, stalling.

They eyed each other. One blinked, the other didn’t.

What did they know, but weren’t telling?

“We’ll get together for drinks, okay?” offered Sylvie.

I turned to Bunny, but she was already at the pool gate.

“When? What about…” I asked, grabbing my laptop.

I was talking to no one. Angry, I stamped my foot.

Too hyper to sit and relax poolside, I packed up. I would have to wait until Mona returned to hear what she knew about those two women. In the meantime, Martha had her tennis date with Irving. Both encounters should prove interesting.

I was crossing the small, narrow street heading toward Mona’s driveway when I glanced further up the side street. Catching sight of Puff Ball and Thug One stopped me cold. How’d he get into this gate-guarded community?

Then it hit. Did he live here? That had me thinking about how safe this guarded club actually was. I wouldn’t be able to do a thing without him knowing my every move.

But I wouldn’t have to be the only one asking and probing. Martha, my so-called ‘senior’ agent, would, too. I kept walking, but stopped again. Thug One had already spotted her with Mona and me at Villagio. Wouldn’t work.

I sighed. So much for that brainstorm.

I unlocked the front door and set my laptop on the table and walked over for a better look through the glass sliders. Thug and his pooch were walking the curve on the edge of the golf course. He was reaching for something behind some large shrubs. It was a bike. He quickly placed the small pooch in the basket mounted on the handlebars.

Could he have gained entry that way? He probably rode through, like he belonged here and even waved to the guard as he did. I’d seen it done with someone else the day before as I drove through the gate. If you acted like you belonged here, and were not driving, maybe you could slip in.

I stood there watching him, getting a bad feeling about this as he rode off like he owned the place.

Was he attached to Marco’s ex or was he freelancing?

Chapter 13

A Matched Set

After finishing up my notes, I went back to look out at the golf course, trying to get a mental handle on my previous sighting. I jumped when I heard the doorbell start ringing insistently. I turned and hustled over, but then hesitated. Would Thug One have circled back? For what? More intimidation? I peeked through the blinds, breathed a sigh of relief, then unlocked and opened the door.

Martha stood there, looking ruffled around the edges, her face flushed and sweaty. “I forgot my key. I need water.”

“What happened to you?” I asked, as she hurried by.

“Tennis!”

I locked the door behind her. “What’s does that mean?”

“You know how I hate to lose at anything.”

“…And that applies to tennis, which you don’t play?”

“Exactly,” she said, gulping down some water.

“So what happened?”

“We beat them by a h-a-r-e!” she spelled. “Now, who the heck names their child, Bunny? Can you believe it?”

I couldn’t help it and started laughing.

Martha glared. “I know you’re not laughing at me.”

“Wouldn’t think of it. I believe I met the two women you played. Does this mean you met your match?”

“Very funny play on words. You know those two?”

“I met them a couple of hours ago by the pool.”

“I’m ruthless, but that was a life or death duel,” she said.

I told her how I met them and what they had to say about the night that Marco was shot. “They’re probably widows. It’s clear what they were fighting over: Irving’s attention. What they said and heard is disturbing.”

“You can say that again!”

“Yeah, but it’s not much to go on. And I’m not aware of any bullets being dug out of any walls.”

Martha eyed me. “Maybe they all hit their mark.”

We both thought of a dead Marco and paused.

“…But what about that last popping noise?” I asked her.

“Who else could’ve gotten shot at?” Martha asked.

“They insisted they heard it afterward, too,” I said.

Martha paced back and forth. “All we have to do is find who could have been in this condo after everyone left.”

We turned to each other, both saying, “…Mona?”

“I’ll start dinner,” I said. “We’ll grill fish, then Mona.”

“No!” said Martha.

“And why not?”

“Because we’re having dinner at the club.”

“Since when?”

“Since Irving invited us three for a special club buffet.”

Once more we eyed each other in silence.

“I figured we could mix and mingle,” explained Martha.

“And maybe pick up on some more clues?” I suggested.

She grinned. “Trust me, seniors don’t miss a thing.”

“I’m beginning to realize that more and more.”

Martha sized me up. “Stay away from the widowers.”

“Why?”

“With your looks? That’s the kiss of death for sure.”

Chapter 14

A Feast For The Eyes

Salivating was not exaggerating Martha’s reaction when she gaped at all the food stations with chefs.

“Whatever the occasion, I’m all for it,” she said.

Mona turned. “You referring to the food or the chefs?”

Martha smiled sweetly. “Look who’s talking!”

I stepped in between the two, whispering, “Cut it out.”

“Mona’s sniping is interfering with my mental energy.”

Mona threw Martha a look. “Never stopped you before.”

“Nothing’s stopped your appetite before either.”

“Are you referring to my size?” Mona hissed across me.

I had substituted a new problem for the two I left behind in Highlands, Hazel and Betty. “Keep it down, you two.”

Irving caught up to us after giving his member ID at the podium. We hastily transformed into a trio of good cheer.

Then I was abruptly left standing there while Martha and Mona each latched onto one of Irving’s arms as the hostess escorted us to a corner table overlooking the lake.

I quickly caught up, since I wanted to grab my usual seat with my back to the window. Martha quickly grabbed the one to my right at the other side of the corner. Mona gave us a look and reluctantly took one on my left, which gave her a partial view of the room. Irving, a gentleman, waited, then took the last seat.

I wanted a full view of who was there and what was going on. The place was packed. A full buffet always drew crowds of unlimited eaters. And after seeing that lobster on display on my way to the table, I figured the buffet probably also came with a hefty price tag.

Wine was served, we made a few toasts, and then the band began. Irving and Martha headed to the dance floor with several other couples. Women threw visual daggers at Martha’s mostly exposed back, as she elegantly tossed her head, laughing at something Irving was saying.

Mona turned back to me and said, “Hey, this is a rough crowd. Did you see those looks Martha’s getting?”

“You know, I think we are the youngest ones here.”

She eyed the tables. “We’re definitely in the minority.”

An elderly gentleman asked Mona to dance. Bored, she shrugged, meaning, why not? I let my eyes wander for a while, wondering how on earth I’d be able to find the mysterious Carlos in this crowd, but then decided to hit the ladies room. I had just shut the door on the stall when two women came in. I recognized their voices at once: Sylvie and Bunny.

I was about to shout out to them and unlock the door, but stopped when I heard Sylvie ask, “What are we going to do? I got another hang-up today.”

“So did I,” said Bunny.

“I don’t like it. Think someone saw us?” asked Sylvie.

I could hear Bunny pacing. “What do you think we should do?”

I was in the farthest stall; my feet now up on the toilet.

“Where have you hidden it?” asked Sylvie.

“It’s in my purse. Come on, someone’s coming in.”

Who saw them? Doing what? What was Bunny hiding?

Chapter 15

Unsavory Speculation

By the time I made it back to the table, Mona looked nervous and flustered, and quickly honed in on me, as I approached, obviously waiting for my return. I briefly glanced to the dance floor. Martha and Irving were still dancing. Martha was grinning. I knew she’d be pumping Irving for info and anything else that would help us.

I had no sooner sat down to tell Mona what I’d overheard, when she grabbed my arm.

“What?”

“You will never guess who that man was!” She was agitated, but trying to hide it.

I looked around. “Who? What man?”

“The one I danced with.”

“Is this relevant or just a gossip item I’m about to hear?”

She ignored my jab. “He was a friend of Marco.”

“But he looked like he’s in his seventies.”

“He probably is.”

“Marco was in his forties. How did they know each other? I heard the geriatric set down here can get cliquish.”

“Art. They met at his gallery, and that’s how Marco found out about this country club and bought his condo.”

“I wonder if he knows Marco’s Uncle Carlos?”

“I was thinking the same thing, so I mentioned it.”

“And?”

Mona frowned. “He said that Marco never mentioned having an uncle. Can you believe that?”

No, I couldn’t. Something wasn’t right.

I leaned in so no one else could hear me. “Either Marco deliberately kept that a secret, or that man was lying.”

“Why would Marco keep it a secret?”

“That could be a rat’s nest of scenarios.”

“Such as? I’m always curious how your mind works.”

“Yeah, I know. It scares me, too.”

“So? What do you think?”

“Is his Uncle Carlos legit?” I asked.

“The way Marco described him, it seemed he was.”

“Okay, then why didn’t Marco tell you his new name?”

“I guess he figured he still had time, but his ran out.”

“…Maybe something happened to Carlos, too.”

“I’m trying real hard to not go there.”

“Why?”

“Because that means I’m stuck with those damn cars.”

“Stuck is a bad thing? They’re worth a fortune, right?”

“What good is a fortune if I’m not alive to enjoy it?”

“Good point,” I said. “We have to find Uncle Carlos.”

“Why did he put me in this position?”

“That’s what I don’t get. If he cared, why?”

Mona looked away. “Don’t say it. Not yet, anyway.”

I felt her pain, knowing what she was thinking.

‘Was I used again?’

More to distract her than because I wanted to, I changed the subject: “Mona, I have to tell you about this thug I met…”

When I finished, she said, “They must think you’re more than just a visiting friend.”

I described him, then said, “Seen him at the club?”

“No.” She looked around. “I don’t see him here either.”

Now, why did I have a feeling he’d be back?

Chapter 16

Dancing With Danger

After dinner, people drifted to the dance floor. Irving snatched Martha for a few more dances before the widows latched onto him. They had been trying, but Martha kept them at bay. I think her tactics relieved Irving, who was obviously enjoying her company. Instead of being pursued by a flock of women, he was charmed by one. Martha had managed to keep him laughing all night long.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. An older gentleman asked me to dance. He looked familiar. Mona nudged me, and using her eyebrows and eyes to communicate, made me realize he was the same guy she had danced with earlier.

She nudged me again, smiling at me, then at the guy.

“Sidney, this is that author, Samantha, that I told you about, who is visiting me for a week. Sam, this is Sid.”

I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Sid.”

He grinned down at me. “Likewise, I’m sure.”

“Go ahead, Sam,” said Mona, nudging me again.

I figured, what the heck, I could learn something. “Well, I guess so.” I stood, but my heart sank. Sidney barely came up to my chest. I turned back. Mona was waving goodbye.

After a few minutes of dancing, he was still talking to my cleavage, while I replied to the balding top of his shiny scalp. I gently pushed him away for some breathing room so I could at least look down at his face. Besides, I was feeling a little claustrophobic and so was my chest.

“So how long have you lived here, Sid?”

“Exactly one year, two months, and six days.”

I gave him a look, laughing. “My, that’s pretty specific.”

His face grew pink. “That’s when my wife left me.”

Oh! Another widower. “Oh, Sid, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. She was a real bitch. I’m glad she’s gone.”

I pushed him further away. “Isn’t that a little harsh?”

“You didn’t know Mildred.”

“But she’s dead, Sid.”

He started laughing uncontrollably. “No, she left me.”

I finally got it and joined in his laughter. “Oh!”

In spite of our age difference, I began to enjoy myself.

“Let me ask you something, Samantha.”

“Go ahead, ask away.”

“I heard you investigate mysteries.”

I paused a beat, but then kept dancing. “On occasion.”

“Is this one of them?” he asked.

“Might be. I’m always on the lookout for a good one.”

He looked up at me. “Well, I’ve got one.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He nodded. “Interesting, too.”

“In what way? Not all are that interesting.”

“Oh, this one is,” he said.

“How?”

“It involves Marco’s death.”

Chapter 17

Stepping Around Anticipation

I stiffened. That is until Sid gently prodded me to keep dancing. The band was playing another slow number.

Sid’s eyes darted left to right self-consciously. Satisfied no one was within earshot, he ordered, “Dance closer.”

Reluctantly, I did, in addition to bending forward a little.

“I don’t want anyone to hear me,” he whispered.

What was I thinking letting Martha talk me into wearing this skimpy dress showing so much cleavage? She had joked that it would be more effective than one of those defibrillators at the airport. I could feel his hot breath and clean-shaven cheek as he leaned against it while we danced. I didn’t know who was more excited, me in anticipation of hearing what he had to say, or him getting a close-up of how I filled out my low-cut dress.

“What’s this about Marco’s death?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I’m no eavesdropper, but I was walking by the golf course that night when I heard arguing coming from Marco’s condo.”

“I bet it was cool out and Marco’s doors were open.”

“That’s right! I couldn’t help but hear them.”

“Who?” I asked, excitedly.

“It was two voices, but I’m not sure what sex.”

I stared down at him skeptically. “What do you mean?”

“Sometimes my hearing aid acts up and I hear muffled voices. The pitch ends up all wrong. I heard scattered words, but they were heated ones, that’s for sure!”

“Approximately when did you hear the arguing?”

That was when I noticed Sid was wiping his brow and loosening his collar. Maybe we were dancing too close. The excitement was too much for him. “Sid maybe…”

Suddenly he held my arm in a vice-grip. “…That scent.”

Out of nowhere, the lights flickered and went out. Sid let go of me. They promptly came back on, but I was on the crowed dance floor without my partner. Where was Sid? I heard a woman scream. I looked at her. She pointed at my shoes. Sid was sprawled out on the floor at my feet.

“What the…” I dove for him.

Was he dead?

I leaned in real close to see if he was breathing and if there was a pulse. Even with all the shoving and noise, I didn’t think so.

Then two upset officials of the club unceremoniously shoved me to the side and began performing CPR. In minutes medics were on the scene, loaded Sid onto a gurney, and whisked him away. I was still shaking as Mona escorted me to our table to sit down to drink some water.

Martha came over too, Irving in tow.

“What happened? Is he alright?” Mona asked.

I looked at Martha, then Mona. “I think he’s dead.”

With that, both Mona and Martha sank to their chairs.

“God almighty,” said Martha, momentarily removing her attention from Irving.

Mona looked uncomfortable. Why?

Martha then grabbed my hand. “This is bad.”

A bunch of widows circled around Irving and carried him off like a trophy.

Although in shock, rapid-fire questions came into play.

How did he die?

What did he mean about “that scent”? What scent?

Finally anger settled in.

Had something gone wrong?

Was I the intended victim?

Was intimidation in play and it backfired?

Who was behind it all?

Martha got into my line of vision. “What did he say?”

I shoved my mounting suspicions of Mona being more involved than she was letting on to the back burner temporarily, but I knew they wouldn’t stay there for long.

“Marco wasn’t alone that night. He had company.”

Martha turned to Mona. “Now, where were …you?”

Chapter 18

Nailing Some Truths

By the time we made it back to the condo, Mona headed straight for her bedroom. The lock clicked.

I marched right up to her door and started pounding on it, demanding some kind of explanation. Nothing. There was total silence. I stood there fuming, but then reluctantly retreated when I heard crying from the other side.

Martha was just as frustrated. “We’ll confront her tomorrow and demand some answers.”

“She has to confide in us sometime.”

I should have known better.

By the time we both got up the next morning, Mona’s bedroom door was open, but she wasn’t there or anywhere else in the condo. It wasn’t until I entered the kitchen that I spotted the note on the counter by the coffee pot.

‘Something’s come up. Catch you later. Mona.’

I felt breathing on my neck and jumped. It was Martha.

“So, she gave us the slip once again. She’s a slick one.”

“When it comes to being honest and straightforward with us, she is.” I dialed Mona’s cell, ended my call, and moaned. “It went straight to voicemail.”

“Now, why is that girl being so secretive?”

“She must know something and won’t tell us, or can’t.”

“It sure looks that way, doesn’t it?” said Martha.

I jumped again when Martha slapped the counter.

“I know just what we need to clear the cobwebs.”

I gave her a doubtful look. “What?”

“Isn’t it about time we checked out the spa at this club?”

“How can you possibly think of beauty treatments when I have to nail down some answers!”

Martha crossed her arms and winked at me, grinning.

A smile slowly worked its way across my lips. “…And what better place to start but at gossip central, right?”

“Hey,” said Martha, laughing. “You catch on fast.”

We were lucky to get two appointments, which were the only openings in the whole spa, manicures. Sitting side-by-side, the two women working on us were gossiping away, so we waited patiently for an opportunity to jump in. Apparently, Marco was still a hot topic.

Martha cut in. “I was so surprised to hear about his murder right here in this country club.”

“I still can’t believe it!” I added.

The two manicurists were no longer doing our nails.

Blondie leaned in. “Did you know he had a wife?”

Brunette countered, “You’re wrong! He had two!”

The two of us looked at Brunette. “No!” we said.

Was Mona’s secret out?

Brunette said, “Second’s a real looker, tall and thin.”

Confused, we both asked, “Who is she?”

Brunette said, “That’s all I overheard.”

Blondie whispered, “I heard the first one is dead.”

I turned to Martha who raised three fingers to her hair.

Well, what do you know! Mona was number three!

Then Martha gave me her famous arched brow.

…Did Blondie just say number one was dead?

Chapter 19

Counting On More Than Trouble

After learning nothing more, we left the spa. Then who did we bump into but Mona, the very person we were looking for. We almost knocked each other down rounding a corner. Caught off guard, she backed a step.

Martha quickly blocked her from leaving, saying, “This better be good because the way I look at it, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Mrs. Number Three.”

I moved to block her from the other direction. Mona’s eyes darted around. I knew she was trying to figure a way out, mentally and physically, but she was cornered.

“Uh-uh,” I said. “We need to talk, and talk now.”

Her eyes shot around once more. “Well, not here!”

“Okay, where?” asked Martha, not trusting her.

“Club patio for lunch. There are too many ears inside.”

Martha nodded. “That’s because seniors thrive on gossip and hearsay, that and the obituaries, glad their not listed.”

“You already know that firsthand, don’t you?”

“The diversion factor is sounding mighty loud today.”

I jumped between the two as we walked. “Not now!”

Once seated outside, I asked, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Tell you what?” Mona said, wide-eyed.

“Don’t start with that doubletalk,” said Martha.

“A dead first wife? What’s that all about?” I asked.

“Trust me, I was blindsided on this one.”

“Marco never told you about the first one?”

“I just found out!”

“How, at the spa, like us?” Martha asked.

Mona briefly glanced around. “I met my contact there.”

My ears perked up. “Contact? Like in FBI?”

“I was warned not to reveal too much to you two.”

Martha chuckled. “Why, do we have a rep?”

Mona laughed. “Yeah, one of far-reaching interference.”

“Look,” I said. “I’m here at your request, remember?”

Mona sighed again. “I know that, but they don’t!”

I figured as much. She just confirmed it. “I see.”

“I guess we’re your silent partners then,” said Martha.

I leaned in. “Do you know how the first wife died?”

“…Yes. And it was very disturbing to say the least.”

I swear I could hear the drum roll while we waited.

“…She was in a car accident. She was run over.”

“Well that doesn’t sound very sinister,” I said.

“Twice?”

Martha cleared her throat. “…Yup, that would do it.”

“How long ago?” I asked.

“…Four months ago.”

“How fast does this guy marry?” Martha asked.

“It seems he was married to both of them.”

“And neither knew about the other?” I asked.

“Apparently,” replied Mona. “Wife two was livid.”

Martha frowned. “Maybe we should start packing.”

“What’s the rush?” I said. “This is getting interesting.”

Chapter 20

Note Taking & Taken By Surprise

Note taking helped me catch up to figure out what was going on and what direction I should take for answers.

Was it possible both Sylvie and Bunny felt they were spotted poolside while talking to me and that’s why they cut it short? Did they see Thug One before I did? Possible.

The more I thought about it the more I played it out. Maybe he stood listening to what we were talking about by the pool wall where the iron fence portion was located and the two women both caught sight of him.

But if that was the case, how did they know him? I shook my head. That scenario didn’t make any sense. It had to be something or someone else, or maybe I was being hyper imaginative and they were only reacting to forgetting their tennis date at the club with Irving.

I was now in the questionable phase that always drove me crazy, starting to doubt motives and behavior that didn’t feel right. And none of this felt right. Something was off. And as usual I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

I heard a beep, beep. I leaned across the bed to retrieve my cell where I had tossed it earlier. Who was texting?

It was my friend and agent, Sandra.

I scrolled the short message.

“Where are the first few chapters you promised?”

I texted her back.

“Didn’t you get them?”

Then I turned my cell off, my stall tactic. I quickly got to work typing what Martha often refers to as convenient gibberish: Typing, but not saying much of anything pertaining to what was really going on. Sandra wouldn’t believe it anyway. Besides, it was still in the raw stages.

I was getting proficient at giving her short chapters and polished at cranking out a whole bunch of nothing with just enough necessary mystery and thriller jargon to stir her interest, but still not give away what I was really thinking about actually writing. I sat back, admiring my work.

I needed to placate and stall her for a week until I had something more substantial. I stopped typing. Someone was ringing the doorbell. As usual, Mona had disappeared. Martha was playing Bridge in the club card room to mix and mingle.

By the time I got to the door it was ringing again. Just as I opened it a crack, it jerked open. I lost my balance and promptly fell on my ass. As my eyes traveled upward, I took inventory: Sturdy gray walking shoes, blue polyester slacks… Then four familiar, heavily-ringed hands reached out to help me to my feet.

I laughed.

It was Hazel and Betty, the rest of my entourage.

“Isn’t this exciting? We’re on another case!” said Hazel.

“What are you doing on the floor?” Betty asked. The two of them pulled me upright.

“Why aren’t you two working at the bookstore?”

Betty shrugged. “It’s been closed for renovations.”

“Clay said it will take about a week,” said Betty.

Why would Clay close his store, The Bookworm, now?

Chapter 21

That Old Feeling

I sensed that old feeling floating around me, a fine mist of distrust. Was something up? Not that I was ungrateful for the extra seniors unexpectedly thrown my way. Any help in that department was much appreciated, but still…

I liked to think I always had the upper hand. Of course, I took it for granted that the scales leaned in my favor. But maybe that was Clay’s fault for continually letting me think I was the one coming up with all the doable plans to get out of whatever mess I always found myself in.

I just had this feeling that Clay was moving furniture behind the scenes again. Our sizzling on-again, off-again whatever-we-had-going-on, always left me doubtful. Plus, his background as a PI and associate of dubious agencies always left me guessing who was manipulating who?

“And whose idea was it to come down here?” I asked.

Tall and thin Betty patted at her gray hair bun. “Clay!”

Plump and curly, gray-haired Hazel said, “Martha!”

“Okay,” I asked skeptically. “Which one is it?”

Embarrassed, Betty recovered first. “Well, we…”

Then Hazel jumped in. “We thought that…”

Suspicious, I eyed the two spinsters. Neither one was looking me directly in the eye. I had that feeling…

“Come on. Out with it. Tell me the truth…now!”

Betty touched my arm. “We were going crazy up there.”

Hazel nodded. “Knowing Martha was working a case.”

“Working a case?”

“That’s the correct jargon, right, Betty?” Hazel asked.

Betty nodded. “Right on the mark and very apropos.”

I put my hands on my hips. “I know there’s more.”

“Well, Clay was worried about you,” said Hazel.

“And so were we,” added Betty.

I exhaled. “I appreciate the concern, but I can do this.”

Betty bit her lip. “We figured that, but…”

I cut her off. “Without anyone second-guessing me.”

Hazel looked crushed. “Does that include us, too?”

I smiled. “Considering your age, you guys can stay.”

Betty stifled a laugh. “In other words, you want to prove to Clay you can do this without his help just once, right?”

My face flushed. “Well, that too.”

“What do you mean, that too?” Hazel asked.

I sighed. “He’s a major distraction. There! I admit it!”

The two glanced at each other and burst out laughing, while I stood there trying to recoup, my face flushing pink.

Hazel patted me. “We’ve seen the sparks fly, dear.”

Betty laughed. “If I was just a tad younger, I’d…”

Hazel turned to her. “You’d what?”

Betty laughed again. “Give Sam a run for her money.”

I chuckled and relaxed. “Thanks, you two.”

Hazel moved closer, conspiratorially. “Now, fill us in.”

And so I did.

Chapter 22

And Then There Were Five

A short time later I realized I had one issue that needed resolving: sleeping arrangements. There were only three bedrooms and five of us. No, two issues. Martha and Mona had no clue who had arrived and they were due any minute.

This could get ugly.

I braced myself when I heard the door open. Martha and Mona barged in, arguing about something, as usual. Betty and Hazel were unpacking in my room. I didn’t relish breaking the news of their unexpected arrival, and then informing Martha that I’d be bunking with her. She would be extremely unhappy about that.

Martha had territorial issues. Come to think of it, she had issues with just about everything. After a while, I got used to it because she had a great perspective and a well-developed BS indicator. I guess it was a it took one to know one kind-of-thing.

Martha and Mona were still going at it and hadn’t noticed me sitting on the couch yet.

“How could you accuse me of that with a straight face?” said Mona, throwing up her hands. “That’s ridiculous!”

“Get a grip. You know it and I know it,” said Martha.

I stood up. “Know what?”

Martha clutched her chest. “God Almighty, Sam!”

Mona took a step back. “You can say that again.”

“You’re getting sneaky lately,” Martha said to me.

“No more sneaky than the two of you,” I shot back.

Mona grinned. “Was that a compliment? If so, thanks.”

“Me too, I think,” said the always-suspicious Martha.

“Now, tell me what’s so ridiculous?” I asked.

Mona threw her bag on the coffee table and then herself into a chair. “Martha thinks I’m not being, and I quote her, ‘forthright in what I know about this investigation,’ which is ridiculous. Why would I hold anything back when I need your help before something major happens?”

I wasn’t convinced either. “Well, are you?”

“Go ahead. Tell her,” ordered Martha.

I turned to a pissed-off Martha. “What’s this about?”

“I found a card that slipped out of Mona’s bag when she dropped it getting out of her car a few minutes ago.”

Mona threw her a look. “Slipped? Slipped? Ha! You grabbed my purse, put your hand in, and latched onto the first thing you could. You pickpocket, you!”

Martha smiled. “That’s your take. I was merely getting a better grip on that monstrosity and my hand slipped inside.”

I got between them. “Enough! Where is the card?”

Martha held it up triumphantly. “She fought me for it, too, which I also found extremely suspicious.”

Mona made a lunge for it again. “Hey, it’s mine, you…”

I snatched it. “Down Under Club? Mona, is this yours?”

“…No. I lifted it off that agent at the spa.”

Martha snorted. “And you’re complaining about me?”

Chapter 23

It’s Not That Bad, Is It?

“It says ‘supper club’,” said Mona, “but I don’t buy it.”

I checked out the scantily clad women on the card.

“Supper club is stretching it.”

“Did I hear supper club? I’m starved,” said Hazel.

Martha and Mona whipped around, gaping at her.

“Sounds like fun,” said Betty joining the group.

For a second Martha was speechless. Mona was not.

“What in hell are they doing here? One is bad enough, but now three? Are you kidding me? What’s going on?”

I turned to her. “They sort of showed up an hour ago.”

Mona was ticked off. “What do you mean, sort of?”

“Okay, so they’re here. They wanted to be a part of the action.” I threw Martha an accusing glare. “I think they might have heard what’s going on, but not the specifics.”

Mona turned on Martha. “Oh, yeah? How interesting…”

Martha took a step back. “Well, I may have bragged.”

Mona fell back into her chair, her face in her hands.

I put my hand on her shoulder. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“I am so screwed.”

“Isn’t that a little premature?” Martha asked. “Why, we haven’t done anything wrong, yet.”

Mona started to laugh hysterically.

“Maybe she’s gone into shock or something,” I said.

Martha looked at me. “Think I should slap her?”

“I’ll get some water,” offered Betty.

Hazel asked, “Has she been under pressure lately?”

Both Martha and I nodded.

Hazel bent beside Mona. “Does this involve guns?”

Mona looked up at her, replying, “Yes.”

Hazel grinned. “Good! We need a crime to sink our teeth into. The two of us were bored out of our skulls up in Highlands. This is just what we needed.”

Betty brought her water, and, as Mona sipped it, she said, “Well, I think we should help Mona share the burden of her stress and get to the bottom of this caper right away.”

Martha agreed. “Look at it this way, Mona. Now you’ve got three senior agents on the case, not just one.”

Mona shook her head. “I’m still screwed.”

“How so?” I asked.

“I can’t go. If you go to the club without them, they’ll get into trouble. Take them, they’ll get you into trouble.”

I scanned my crew. Martha had white, spiky-short hair, poking in all directions and she dressed like a neon sign, Betty was tall and thin; reading glasses hung from her neck, and she always wore her gray hair in a tight bun. Hazel was height-challenged, slightly pudgy, and had short, curly gray hair. They were a colorful, ill-assorted, AARP trio.

I slumped into the chair next to Mona.

“You’re right. You’re screwed.”

Martha harrumphed. “You two are neophytes!”

Mona glared. “What are you talking about?”

Chapter 24

Transformation & Transportation

“Another word choice is novices,” offered Hazel.

“Or in more plainer terms, amateurs,” added Betty.

Martha turned to Hazel and Betty, nodding. She then turned back to us and sighed at our stupidity.

“Okay, Einstein,” said Mona, impatiently. “Out with it.”

“Yeah, exactly what are you getting at?” I asked.

“It’s called camouflage. And the three of us would be willing to undergo the art of it so not to compromise the caper.” She turned back to Hazel and Betty. “Correct?”

They both nodded, obviously understanding instantly.

Mona shook her head, confused. “Speak in English.”

Martha looked us both up and down and frowned at our thirty-something, casual jean-clad legs and tee shirts, disapprovingly. We were too bland. “If you two altered our styles into your version of more suitable attire, maybe we could go as a group.” She turned back to the ladies again. “We promise to behave and accept all risks, right, ladies?”

Hazel and Betty nodded enthusiastically.

Mona turned to face me. “You know, it might work.”

I glared at her. “You don’t expect me to go all alone to that club with this bunch, do you? It would be like running herd on stampeding cattle without a horse!”

“But how could I go?” Mona said. “I’m trying to stay out of it. I can’t be seen fact-gathering with you guys.”

Martha laughed. “No problem.”

Mona and I both turned to her. “How?” we asked.

Martha marched out of the room. Betty and Hazel just stood there, but they were giggling now.

“I don’t get it,” I said.

“I think she’s gone off the deep end,” said Mona.

In a minute, Martha was back with a small flexible tote that she must have had inside her larger, check-in luggage. We all leaned forward as she slowly unzipped the bag. She reached her hand in, whipping out some kind of, what looked like, a red, stuffed animal…Maybe she was nuts.

“What the hell is that?” asked Mona, starting to laugh.

“What’s that furry thing got to do with this?” I asked.

“It’s a wig,” Martha said.

Looking closer, I realized it was. “That’s yours?”

“It’s for when I’m in a playful mood,” said Martha.

Mona said, “I’m not wearing that hideous, bright red…”

Martha grinned. “And why not? It’s my favorite color!”

The four of us silently looked at Mona, smiling.

“…No! No way! No how!” she said.

“Mona, it’s doable.” I said, realizing there would be another chaperone. Besides, she owned a gun and carried. After a dose of Thug One, I’d feel safer with her along.

She closed her eyes, leaned her head back, then finally said, “…On one condition. They must follow my orders.”

Martha smiled. “A piece of cake. No worries!”

I was already texting my insurance agent.

Chapter 25

Standing On The Corner…

By the time they had raided Mona’s closet and mine, night had fallen. Martha borrowed my black short skirt and Mona’s red leather boots. I fought her on the combo, but she insisted they matched her rose-tinged sunglasses.

Hazel and Betty wore Mona’s spike heels, black tights and beaded tops and caps to cover their gray hair, Betty’s clothes pinned, Hazel’s not, to complete their outfits. Mona’s oversized sunglasses topped it off. If they leaned close to each other to avoid wobbling, they’d pull it off.

Me? I had on skinny black jeans, a gray body-clinging top that came down to my hips and black heels. My purse was slung over my head and shoulder.

Mona had on light gray slacks, ballerina flats and a loose, black, short-sleeved wrap, camouflaging her gun. An understated look, until she put on that damn red wig. The whole purpose of this was to camouflage and blend in.

Mona entered the card’s address into her car’s GPS.

What was I getting into? I thought, as we drove off.

After stepping out of Mona’s car, I glanced around. This might have been a major mistake. No, this definitely was a major mistake. I now knew why Mona was wearing her gun: A small sign, painted door, bad neighborhood, girls in clusters, some leaning in cars, litter scattered about…

“Are you sure this is the right address?” Martha asked.

A few horns honked at our small group.

“Well! I never!” Hazel said, pulling at her outfit.

“Maybe we should go back home,” Betty suggested.

Hazel was a nervous wreck. “What is this place, Mona?”

“I’m trying for a better word than ‘sleazy.’ No can do.”

Hazel looked around warily. “What do you mean?”

“This area isn’t what I think it is, is it?” I asked.

“The dress code sure is different here,” said Martha.

Mona pointed. “That’s what this area is known for.”

A shocked Hazel looked over. “For ladies of the night?”

“Mona, where are we exactly?” Betty demanded.

“My GPS map said Dixie Highway in Fort Lauderdale.”

“It certainly doesn’t look like a supper club,” said Betty.

A restless Martha, tired of their comments said, “Hey, are we splitting up into teams, or what? I’m ready to roll.”

“We are not!” I said sharply, now seriously concerned.

Mona glanced at me. “We better break up. They should go in, then you and I, or we’d draw too much attention.”

I eyed her hair. “And you think that wig won’t?”

“Not after seeing this neighborhood,” said Martha.

Just then a car eased to the curb. The passenger window slid down. A voice said, “Hey, baby, you in the red boots!”

Martha pivoted. “Beat it, Buster.” She whipped out a can. “My temper and this mace have a hair trigger.”

He sped away cursing.

I set my cell to dial 911, my crew entered, and after a few minutes of arguing strategy, Mona and I entered.

Chapter 26

Fleshing Out More Than I Bargained For

Music thumping away hit us, then flashing multicolored lights. That’s when I noticed scantily clothed women slithering up and down poles on top of a bar that snaked in and out like their bodies, while waitstaff in skimpy outfits took drinks to tables behind a deserted wooden dance floor.

All the action was on the bar where the male patrons were literally drooling and salivating. I blinked, adjusting my vision to the gloomy interior, scanning for Martha, Hazel, and Betty in the small club. Where were they? Forget getting a table. I needed a visual. Not a good sign.

“I don’t see them anywhere, do you?” I asked Mona.

She made a cursory glance around and frowned. “No.”

“Maybe they are in the ladies’ room,” I said.

She laughed. “So soon? They just got here.”

“They’re older, remember?”

“Not mentally. I can tell you that,” she quipped.

I felt a tap and slumped in relief.

“Care to dance?” said a male voice from behind me.

Expecting Martha, I turned, startled by the unfamiliar voice. Standing there was Tall-and-Goodlooking.

Mona said directly into my ear, “Go ahead. You might learn something. I’ll check the ladies’ room.”

Before I could respond, I was whisked onto the dance floor and was momentarily speechless. Of course his looks might have had something to do with it. Though leery, I…

I wasn’t blind, okay?

“You’re not very talkative, are you?” he asked.

My eyes shot to his. “I’m saving up for a retort.”

“Then let me start. I assume you’re new here?”

“Yes, but don’t assume more than that.”

His eyes crinkled at the edges as he laughed, but they stayed glued to mine. Not even a ripple of loud comments from the bar drew them away.

Who was he?

He didn’t belong in this sleazy joint. He was casually dressed, wearing form-fitting jeans and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, with dark hair that brushed the collar. His toned body and elegant demeanor screamed elsewhere. He oozed testosterone.

A small droplet of perspiration slipped down my neck, even though the A/C blew from up above us. Reluctantly, I got back to reality and why we were there, figuring if I was going to start info gathering, I’d better start with him.

“My name is Samantha.”

“I think I’ll call you Sam.”

“But that’s not what I said it was.”

“I know, but I think that name suits you better.”

“You’re assuming again. Don’t.”

Chapter 27

Bar None & Bar Hopping

“What are you doing in a place like this?” he asked.

“I’m looking for someone. What’s your excuse?”

He laughed. “I hope it’s not your husband.”

“No, I’m unattached. And I’m dancing with…?”

He handed me a card and said, “It’s Nikko.”

Unable to read it in the dim light, I pocketed it.

He didn’t fit the seedy club’s profile.

“Why would someone like you be here?” I asked.

He smiled. “You saw right through me.”

“I did?”

“I’m looking for someone, too.”

“You are?”

“I guess I got lucky and hit the jackpot tonight.”

“Lucky, huh? That’s a strange reply.”

“No stranger than me meeting you here of all places.”

“Now, why is that so strange?”

“The woman you’re with is who I’m looking for.”

Caught off guard, I was no longer dancing, but managed to stay calm. I looked up at him. Had I heard correctly?

“I can see the who and what for in your eyes,” he said.

“And?”

“I was hired to find her for a certain individual.”

Those words still flew out. “Who? What for?”

“Someone who wishes to remain anonymous.”

“Can’t you come up with something better than that?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Not buying it. How’d you know we’d be here tonight?”

“Don’t you think you’re jumping to conclusions? I…”

“You’re way too slick. And this is all too convenient. Now, as far as being followed here…”

Loud hoots cut in from the bar area. We both turned to look, but Mona was in my line of sight right in my face.

“…We sort of have a situation here,” she said.

I shoved her to the side and double blinked, not sure of what I was seeing. I tilted my head sideways. Up on the bar were three all too familiar faces attached to bodies that were sliding up and down those poles on the bar.

“Holy Mother of God!” I gasped.

Mona grabbed my arm. “I swear, one minute they were playing a game of pool in the back and the next minute I came out of the ladies room and there they were gyrating to that sleazy music.”

As we edged closer, I saw money sticking out of their waistbands. The other dancers had stopped to watch them bring down the house, as cell phones recorded the highly unusual spectacle of a bunch of old ladies making moves.

I glanced back to Nikko. He had vanished. “Damn.”

“Let’s get them,” I ordered, “before they cause a riot.”

Picture a blur of arms, legs, then sirens and running…

On second thought, don’t. You might hurt yourself.

Chapter 28

The Morning After Pill Of Bitter Reality

I woke the next morning to find three bodies stretched out on Mona’s couches, arms dangling precariously, and icepacks resting on their foreheads. I heard a few moans escape their lips. I bypassed them and headed straight for Mona, who was in the kitchen. She poured me some coffee.

“Thanks. Any news? What’s their story?”

“Not much. From their sketchy account, I gathered they had a beer and were playing some pool with two guys for information, while a few other guys watched. Suddenly, they were seeing double and don’t recall a thing after that.”

“I can’t believe a beer would cause that behavior.”

“Maybe they were slipped Rohypnol.”

“What’s that?”

“Roofies.”

“Oh, right. The date rape drug. Mixed with alcohol, you lose inhibitions, pass out, and forget everything afterward.”

“That would explain why they passed out in the car.”

“Yeah, and combined with alcohol, it’s a miracle we made it out of there before something worse happened.”

“Like what?”

“Like them taking off their clothes.”

My mind flashed on the visuals of seeing them running naked back in New Hampshire. But that’s another story…

“It was probably done as a sick joke,” she said.

“How’d you talk them into getting into the car?”

Mona smiled. “I said we were going to another club.”

“And how did they get inside here?” I asked. “We left them garaged in the car overnight to sleep it off.”

“To tell you the truth, I haven’t figured that out yet.”

“You mean you found them on the couches?”

“Yes, when I woke up. Then I handed out icepacks.”

I glanced at the trio from the pass-through. “Unreal.”

“A psychiatrist would have a field day,” said Mona.

“I wonder if there will be any residual effects.”

“They all lean toward the crazy side anyway, right? So who would know the difference?”

I chuckled. “You are so bad.”

“I heard that,” came a weak voice from the living room.

We both heard some shuffling, then Martha appeared, gripping the wall as she rounded the corner. Mona and I reached out to help her.

She raised her hand to stop us. “I got this.” She slowly sat down at the table and rested her head in her hands.

“What happened?”

Mona and I, snagged two other chairs, sat and told her.

After listening, Martha perked up. “How much money?”

“Probably enough to replace the wig I lost dragging you out to the car before the cops arrived,” said Mona.

“Cops?”

“Yeah,” said Mona. “Because of that bar fight.”

Chapter 29

I Had To Do Something!

“What bar fight?” asked Betty, who had joined us.

Right behind her was frizzy-haired Hazel. “Bar fight?”

Mona started pouring coffee for everyone and began explaining the events of the evening. No one said a word for a full minute after she was finished.

“How did it all start if we were out of it?” Martha asked.

“I was helping you get off the bar,” Mona said, “when a drunk, wanting the show to go on, made a grab for you.”

A shocked Hazel said, “What did he do to her?”

“Nothing,” said Mona.

“How come?” Betty asked, sipping her coffee.

“Sam jumped him.”

All eyes turned admiringly to me.

“I had to do something,” I said modestly. “We had to get you guys out.”

“That still doesn’t explain the bar fight,” said Betty.

Mona just smiled at me. “Yeah, tell them, Sam.”

“When I jumped on his back, we hit two guys, who then knocked the drinks off the bar of some other guys, who I kicked so I could get…”

Mona started laughing. “Whoa, I’m the one who kicked that one. You kicked the guy still hanging on at the door.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right…” I said remembering.

All in all, at the end, they got the basics of the story.

I heard some nervous laughter, then silence after I finished, when the three realized how lucky they were.

“We barely made it to the car,” I added, “and could hear sirens approaching as we pulled away.”

“It’s a miracle we weren’t arrested,” Mona said.

“Tell us about the guys you met,” I asked, when nobody seemed inclined to ooh and aah at my heroics any longer.

Martha looked at Hazel and Betty. “My mind’s still fuzzy about afterward, but I think there were two of them.”

“I believe she’s right,” said Betty. “Two gentlemen.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say gentlemen,” added Hazel.

“Explain,” I said.

“I only recall they were on the rough side of seedy.”

“How’d you three meet them?” Mona asked.

“They challenged me to a game of pool,” said Martha.

I frowned at her. “Of course you couldn’t resist.”

“They knew the waitress, so I pegged them as regulars.”

“That’s when Martha took them up on it,” said Hazel.

“They sure were talkative,” added Betty.

“About what?” I asked her.

“They were real curious about the three of us.”

“Of course,” said Martha, “I kept trying to steer the conversation back to asking about Carlos.”

Mona shook her head. “You just blurted that out?”

“…The exact wordage I’m still sort of fuzzy on…”

“How about a description?” Mona asked.

Hazel shook her head. “Unsavory. The rest is hazy.”

“Gave me the willies,” said Betty.

“With that neighborhood? That’s a given,” Mona said.

“The rest of the night is a blur,” said Martha.

“Some earlier details are nagging at me,” said Betty.

“Me, too…” said Hazel, thinking. “…Wait! One had a gold tooth and there was a white poodle with them!”

Puff Ball and Thug One. Well, what do you know!

Chapter 30

Scuttlebutt

Before Mona left to meet the Feds, she asked if I’d grab her mail from her box across her small street next to her community pool. I was now pretty sure who drugged Martha, Hazel, and Betty. Those three were lucky that Mona and I were there. My luck? Nonexistent. And I was still frustrated. I needed some kind of break, anything.

After I closed the box and was locking it with the key, I heard from behind me, “Well, isn’t this a coincidence?”

Was it? They always materialized out of nowhere.

I turned. “Hi,” I greeted, happy to see them. I needed something hard and fast, something concrete.

“We were just talking about you,” said Sylvie.

“Did you hear about Sidney?” Bunny asked.

Okay… maybe this was my lucky day.

“He died, didn’t he? What was it, poison?”

Sylvie gaped. “Die? Who said anything about dying?”

“You mean he’s still alive?”

“Of course!” she said. “I heard he had a heart attack.”

“This sounds terrible, but thank goodness!” I said.

“You can say that again,” said Sylvie. “Otherwise we’d be short one more widower.”

“Yes,” said Bunny. “The ratio factor in this country club is skewed. I had no idea when I first bought here.”

“You know,” said Sylvie. “They should have it in those flashy brochures when you’re looking, so you know what you’re buying into. After all, this is quite an investment.”

“Anyway,” said Bunny, “seeing you like this worked out perfectly. I saw something that might be important.”

“Oh? And what was that?” I asked her skeptically.

“Who do you think I saw after my book club meeting?”

“Who?”

Bunny looked around and lowered her voice. “Marco’s girlfriend leaving the spa.”

Unaware of Mona’s marriage to Marco, Bunny probably spotted her when Martha and I trapped her outside the spa.

What was the big deal about that?

I still played it safe. “…And?”

“I never expected to see that redhead again.”

Mona’s a brunette, so where’d this one come from?

“What redhead?”

Sylvie was surprised. “You didn’t hear about that one?”

“Hear what?”

“She almost killed Marco, that’s why,” said Bunny.

“How?”

“I believe they referred to it as food poisoning.”

“Word spread like wildfire at our club,” said Sylvie.

“That this girlfriend tried to kill him,” added Bunny.

This whole thing was getting interesting. What did they expect me to say? “Maybe she was just a bad cook.”

Could she have killed Marco? Who was she?

Chapter 31

Killing Time

Rather than flood them with questions, I decided to hear what they had to say first. So I stood there waiting for them to continue. I could tell they were dying to say something more, but there seemed to be an underlying caginess as they kept looking around. I even looked myself.

“Want to go by the pool area to talk?” I asked.

Sylvie peered over the wall. We all did. It was vacant.

“Well, it might give us more privacy,” she admitted.

Bunny started walking toward the gate. “Come on.”

We stood by one of the round tables under an umbrella in a corner area. I kept a constant eye out for Thug One.

“I’ve been real nervous lately,” said Sylvie.

“I’ve felt a little skittish myself,” said Bunny.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” I asked, edging closer.

Sylvie lowered her voice. “We might have omitted some details about that night Marco was killed.”

“Yes,” said, Bunny. “We should have told you, but…”

“But…?”

“But nothing,” said Sylvie. “I insisted we had to tell you. The night Marco was shot, I ran into Bunny crossing the lawn at the exact same time I was walking out after hearing those two popping noises because of all the arguing earlier, but wasn’t sure about what was being said.”

“I heard it, too,” said Bunny, “and came down from my deck to sneak a look at what was going on over there.”

“We almost collided in the dark,” said Sylvie.

“Why didn’t you tell me before this at the pool?”

“Because,” said Sylvie, “I’m a little more jittery now.”

“Why?”

“Since I phoned Bunny to tell her I was getting calls.”

The ladies room conversation at their club I overheard.

“What calls?” I asked innocently.

“They were very disturbing,” said Sylvie.

“I started getting them too, right after Sylvie told me about hers,” said Bunny. “It’s alarming to say the least.”

The first thing I asked was, “Male or female?”

They glanced at each other, then back at me.

“Why ask that?” Sylvie asked.

“Because it might be important.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Bunny. “We don’t have a clue.”

“Why not?”

“No one spoke, that’s why.”

“What do you mean, no one spoke?”

“All they did was breathe heavily,” said Sylvie, “then they hung up while I was still asking who it was.”

“Did you see someone that night?”

“We didn’t see anyone, just each other,” said Bunny.

“But I found this,” said Sylvie, opening up her hand and giving me some kind of business card.

It was for the Down Under Club, the same as Mona’s.

Now that was curious.

Chapter 32

Flipping Over & Flipping Out

I turned the card over. An address was written on the back of it. I filed it to memory and handed it back to Sylvie.

“It should be easy for you to check out,” Sylvie added.

My brow raised in disbelief. “What do you mean, me?”

“Of the three of us, you’ve had more experience. How can you expect us to? We might get hurt! Besides, you’re the sleuth, right? It might be an important clue.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Well…”

Sylvie pointed at the card. “It could’ve been dropped by whoever shot Marco. We’re afraid to be linked to this.”

“It’s also possible they saw you two.”

Both of them took a step back from me.

Sylvie’s hand flew to her throat. “You think so?”

“Sam’s right,” said Bunny. “Maybe they’re watching.”

Sylvie quickly glanced around. “You mean, right now?”

“Hey, relax,” I said. “I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“Look,” said Sylvie. “A guy was shot in cold blood right next door, FBI, the police, and God knows who else were walking through here, and now we’re getting phone calls most likely because they think we know something…”

“…Or saw something,” I said.

“Why did they write that address down?” Sylvie asked.

“Maybe that’s who hired them,” said Bunny.

“That’s a stretch,” I said. “Could be a million reasons. But if the killer did come back, no one would know with all the spectators milling about, would they? The killer could even have been someone walking a dog to blend in.”

“Do you think they’ll come back again?” Sylvie asked.

“Only if you gave them a reason to,” I said.

Neither spoke. I had a feeling there was something more they weren’t telling me.

“…What?”

“There’s one more thing,” said Bunny.

I knew it! “And what’s that?”

“I now carry it with me so it won’t get stolen,” she said.

Sylvie nudged Bunny. “This might be important, go ahead and show her what you said you found that night. It could be evidence of who else was out here: the killer.”

Bunny handed me a tube of lipstick, saying, “I realize I ruined the fingerprints on it, but it was dark, and after stepping on it… Well, go on, open it and read the label.”

I opened it. It was blood red. “The Kiss of Death.”

“That shade’s popular. Even Sylvie uses it,” said Bunny.

“It’s a creepy calling card,” said Sylvie. “Like they’re telling us they are the one with the kiss of death.”

“I bet his redheaded girlfriend came back,” said Bunny.

“To make sure he died this time,” Sylvie added.

Bunny put it back in her purse. “You’ll let us know?”

“Sure,” I said, but that depended on what I found out.

“Be careful,” said Bunny. “There’s a killer out there.”

Could that be a decoy to deflect the killer’s gender?

Chapter 33

Driving Toward The Truth?

My trio stood dressed from head to toe in black even though it was a humid eighty degrees outside.

“Uh-uh,” I said, shaking my head no.

“What do you mean, no?” Martha said, frowning.

“You heard me. No! I will not take the responsibility of having to worry about the three of you hurting yourselves.”

“An element of risk is exhilarating,” Betty countered.

“That’s not why you three are here. You’re seniors, for God’s sake! I will not put your life at risk. You are here to strictly mix and mingle with the other seniors for info.”

“But that isn’t any fun,” said Hazel, crossing her arms.

“Well, on my watch, murder and fun don’t have much in common, do they?” I said, dismissing their disappointment.

Martha knew me. “You gonna tell Mona about this?”

“I don’t think Mona would intentionally lead us into harm’s way, but Mona is Mona. If it moves her agenda forward, she’s all for it, regardless. So the answer is no.”

“Then you going it alone isn’t smart either, is it?”

Got me! “Okay,” I said, “but understand the three of you have to stay close. Don’t veer from our goal for tonight.”

“…Which is?” Martha asked, now smiling.

“To get a license plate number, nothing more, okay?”

“Did you find out where this is?” I asked, pointing to the address on the card Sylvie reluctantly gave back to me.

“I already mapped the address,” said Martha, smiling.

“It’s over by the Intracoastal Waterway,” added Hazel, “in a development called Boca Bay Colony.”

Reading my mind, Martha nodded. “And no gate.”

“And with no gate,” said Betty, “easier access.”

Hazel held up plastic gloves for us. “No fingerprints.”

Betty held up her iPhone. “For evidence and notes.”

Martha held out her key chain with its mini light.

And I said a silent prayer we didn’t screw up.

“We’ll do a drive-by to check out the place. I’ll drop you off, hopefully behind some bushes, park a block away then walk back. No one, and I repeat, no one is to wander off on their own. Is everyone on board with this?”

“Do we have a choice?” asked Martha sarcastically.

I was adamant. “Take it or leave it, ladies.”

Betty headed for the garage. “My goodness, she sucked the air right out of what could’ve been a great adventure.”

“Sounds like her way or the highway,” muttered Hazel.

“I’m taking my iPod so I won’t get bored,” said Martha.

“Complaining won’t change my mind either,” I added.

Betty turned back to the other two. “You know, I just read an article on the net about false fingerprints…”

“You mean the kind that peel off?” asked Hazel.

“How about that one on tripping retinal scanners using false lenses?” Martha added. “They’d come in real handy.”

What made me suddenly think this was a mistake?

Chapter 34

Sneaking Up & Sneaking Off

I crept up behind the bushes where I left them and came up short. As I expected, Martha was swaying, listening to her iPod, but there was a major problem. She was alone.

I ripped one earphone out. “Where are they?”

She jerked back and fell to the grass. “Good God!”

I pulled her back up. “Well?”

She broke away from my grip. “Why’d you do that?”

“Where are they?” I asked, sick with worry.

She whipped around when my words sunk in. “Uh-oh.”

“What happened? I asked you three to stay put.”

“They saw something and told me to wait here for you.”

“I had to park further away than I thought.”

“I’m not surprised. The street is lit up like a runway. We were going crazy waiting. Where’d you park?”

I pointed down the street. “Down toward the church.”

“It sure took you long enough.”

I scanned the dark, shadowy areas in the moonlight.

“Where could they possibly be?”

“You can’t tell with those two,” said Martha. “Hey, don’t you think it’s odd this property is so dark inside and out? Think it’s so you can’t see who is coming and going?”

“Maybe, but it’s perfect for playing to our advantage.”

“How so?”

“Because we’re going to have to sneak up there and look around for Sherlock Holmes and Watson, that’s why!”

“Whatever you do, don’t sneak up on those two like me or you’ll be waking up the dead with all their yelling.”

“That’s all I need,” I said, shoving off toward the house.

We quickly darted around hedges, checking the front.

“Nothing!” Martha said. “Think they’re out back?”

We were staring up at a seven-foot stucco wall.

“I need a rope, ladder, something,” I said frustrated.

“Why not use the gate?” Martha said, walking right in.

I caught up to her at the edge of the patio.

She whispered, “Look at that swimming pool! And get a load of that large boat tied to the deep-water dock!”

As we stood there, admiring it, I realized we still hadn’t found Hazel and Betty. I pivoted, searching for shadows.

Martha resumed walking. “Where the heck are they?”

As we edged along the pool, Martha jolted forward.

“What’s the matter?” I whispered, catching her.

“Call 911! …I think I’m having chest palpitations.”

“Our phones are on vibrate, remember?”

“For a second I thought my ticker was going.”

“Answer it,” I whispered. “It might be them.”

She pulled it out of her shirt, hit talk, and listened.

“Exactly where?” she asked, then hung up.

I jerked her to me; paranoid something awful happened to those sweet old ladies. “Please tell me they’re safe!”

“Of course. They’re inside the house, waiting for us.”

Now, why didn’t I think of that?

Chapter 35

Step By Step & Then Some

I followed Martha in the moonlight along the pool. As we neared the house, we heard crunching underfoot.

I stopped walking. “Sounds like broken glass.”

“Betty said to expect that.”

“Why?”

“That’s how those two got in, via a missing window.”

This was worse than I thought.

Martha flicked on her mini light.

Curtains were fluttering about. “Where’s the window?”

She aimed the light down at the shards of glass, and then into the pool. The window frame and more glass were at the bottom. She then flicked the light back onto the house.

“Someone chiseled it out and dumped it in the pool.”

“That’s one very determined burglar.”

Martha whispered back, “A professional hit?”

“Who knew there was no alarm on and no one home?”

As we climbed in, Martha said, “Smell that perfume?”

“It’s an odd scent, isn’t it?” I said, putting on my gloves.

A voice from the dark said, “What took you so long?”

Expecting them, I still jumped and Martha back stepped.

“Good Lord!” Martha snapped. “I’m too old for this!”

“It’s payback. You scare us on a daily basis,” said Betty.

I was still upset. “I asked you not to wander off.”

We stood in a cluster. I looked around. In the glow of Martha’s mini light, all I could see was a stone fireplace, cypress on the walls, beams on the ceiling, and traditional furniture: a family room. Not your typical Florida setup.

“We thought we saw something we wanted to check out,” said Hazel, “and the garage had windows low enough to see through. We whispered to Martha. She was into her iPod and nodded, so we took off. In the moonlight, it was easy to see it was empty. So we kept going, inspecting the rest of the property. That’s when we found the unlocked gate, the missing window, and climbed right through.”

“Elementary at best,” said Martha grudgingly.

“Why, thank you!” Betty said, smiling.

Hazel chuckled at Martha. “You’re jealous. I can tell.”

Martha eyed me. “Someone was busy parking their car.”

“Hey, I didn’t want it spotted,” I said defensively.

“Forget that. We found something,” said Hazel.

“What?” I asked.

Betty cleared her throat. “You need to see this yourself.”

“It’s evidence that’s very disturbing,” said Hazel.

I shrugged. “Since we’ve already trespassed, why not?”

Hazel led the way. “It’s in an office on the first floor.”

Beyond the Mexican tiled kitchen, we entered an office. Martha flashed her mini light on a metal desk, wooden chair and cheap lamp, then honed in on Betty’s hands.

Already wearing gloves, Betty handed me some photos.

I couldn’t believe it. “Hey! That’s me!” What the…

Chapter 36

Sounding The Alarm

The others came closer as I flipped through the photos.

“Obviously, they were taken without my knowledge.”

Several were of me in and around the club, then one of Sylvie, Bunny, and me, and finally one of Martha and me.

“Look!” Betty said, pointing. “They caught Martha, too.”

“Will you just look at my hair in that one!” Martha said frowning. “The humidity here is just killing me.”

The three of us turned to Martha in the dim light.

“I’m hearing vanity in this conversation,” said Hazel.

“Well, it’s true. I look awful! I should tear it up.”

“Trust me, this was not a photo shoot,” Betty shot back.

“Someone is tracking Sam’s activities,” said Hazel.

Martha leaned closer. “Sure looks like it, doesn’t it?”

“See anything else when you two checked the house?”

“We made a quick, but thorough search,” said Hazel.

“No personal items,” said Betty. “It’s probably a rental.”

“I checked the upstairs closets,” added Hazel. “There’s men’s casual clothes in one. I’m guessing a forty regular.”

“You sure?” I asked. “That was a pretty accurate guess.”

“I used to do alterations. The labels were off-the-rack.”

“Oh yeah, back when you had that shop,” said Martha.

“You had a shop in Highlands?” I asked surprised.

“I dabbled in an enterprise or two when I was younger.”

I didn’t like it. “Why would this man be shadowing me? And who is the woman that wore that odd perfume?”

“Maybe it’s Marco’s ex,” said Hazel.

“But why break in here?” Betty posed.

“To see what this guy was up to?” Martha asked.

“This is crazy. Who is spying on who?” said Hazel.

“Let’s leave the photos. If this guy is watching me, why clue him in that I know what he’s been doing?”

“The question is who is he?” Martha asked.

“Betty and I could call real estate firms for rental info,” said Hazel. “We could suggest this neighborhood.”

I grinned. “Great idea. Martha, see if you can find out who owns this place. That might help, too.”

A dog barked in the distance, putting me on alert. “Let’s get out of here before we’re blamed for this break-in.”

We were headed out through the kitchen when Martha said, “Hey, did anyone check where that door leads to?”

Hazel shook her head. “We were about to when you two came in through the missing window opening.”

“I’ll go check it out and join you outside,” she said.

Betty was the last to exit when a blaring alarm sounded.

Martha flew past almost knocking us all over.

“Guess what? Windows aren’t wired, but the doors sure are. Every man for themselves!”

So we all ran, but slammed into her at the gate. She was yanking and pulling. “The damn thing won’t open!”

Walled in, we ran to the water, kicking off our shoes.

About to jump, Hazel said, “Whoa! Aren’t those fins?”

Chapter 37

Rewriting Our Exit

“My gracious!” Betty said afterward, sipping wine. “I don’t know how we made it out of there without falling in.”

“Sam, your idea of stepping around the ledge of that sea wall was brilliant,” said Hazel. “Dangerous, but brilliant.”

“Luckily the neighbor wasn’t home,” I said.

“Well, I wasn’t about to jump in that inlet,” said Martha. “I like to see what I’m swimming with. I’m a pool girl”

“Are you sure those were shark fins?” Hazel asked.

I grabbed the wine. “Who’d want to take that chance?”

“I read up on these waterways,” explained Betty, “and they do spot sharks. Did you want to end up an appetizer?”

“I didn’t argue, did I?” Martha said, chuckling. “I’ve seen my share of sharks, especially ones without fins.”

I poured another round of wine. We were waiting for Mona to come home, having no idea where she was off to. Everyone had voiced their opinion, from out on a date to cozying up to the Feds to further her agenda.

Then the door slammed and an upset Mona marched in.

“I swear, what good is a lie if you can’t use it properly?”

No one said a thing as she grabbed my full glass of wine and drank the whole thing down in one gulp.

“Help yourself,” I said.

She handed the empty glass back and said, “Refill.”

The ladies and I looked at one another.

Trouble.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Betty asked.

“Not right now. I need to think this through.”

I refilled the glass, she said thank you, then stomped off to her room with it and slammed the door behind her.

“Well,” I said. “That cross-examination went well.”

“What do you suppose that was all about?” Betty asked.

Martha shook her head. “I think maybe she bit off more than she can chew this time.”

“Who knows what she’s told Sam is true?” said Hazel.

“Sam, do you think there is a Carlos?” Betty asked.

I gazed at Mona’s closed door. “She seemed so sincere when pleading her case, so this time I really thought she was telling me the truth. Now I’m not so sure.”

Martha gave a slight chuckle. We all turned to her.

“Now just suppose something entirely different is going on here and we are just pawns being used for distraction?”

“And what do you think that might be?” asked Betty.

I smiled at Martha. “That’s what we have to find out.”

“How do you propose we go about that?” asked Hazel.

Betty started giggling. “Don’t tell us we should start following her to find out where she is going all the time.”

Martha eyes met mine and we smiled once again.

I nodded. “Been there, seen it, done it, right?”

“But first we need a plan, don’t we?” said Martha.

Sometimes the best laid plans…

Chapter 38

A Nightmare Rears Its Ugly Head

I stared down at my laptop and typed in a frenzy. Anger seemed to be driving me. The only thing keeping me from drowning were my words as I treaded in a sea of lies to stay alive before it was too late. For what?

What more could my dead husband shock me with? He took so much from me I couldn’t distinguish what phrases or adjectives described my life. It was unrecognizable, reduced to nothing more than a whisper of its former self.

If it wasn’t for my writing, I don’t know what I would do and didn’t want to think of the alternative because it was such a dark place, that empty pit that was just waiting…

I… I couldn’t breathe. I was smothering. I needed air…

I bolted upright, breathing heavily. Sweat was dripping down my temple and neck. I glanced over, thankful Martha was still asleep with her earplugs and eye mask in place. These temporary sleeping arrangements in Mona’s condo were a little tight, but we made it work for this short visit.

I quietly slipped out of the king bed we shared and made my way to the bathroom, threw some cold water on my face, and leaned against the sink with my eyes closed to catch my breath and recover. That old nightmare now and then still haunted me ever since my husband, Stephen, died.

That was then, Sam. Leave it there.

I finally opened my eyes. I loved my new life, but every once in a while my old fears and insecurities crept back. Maybe that was a good thing. It made me appreciate what I had now and how hard I fought to put my life back together when I realized solving mysteries was something I was good at and vowed to move on.

I heard a light tap at the door and opened it.

Martha stood there. “You had another one, right?”

I nodded, fingering my damp hair back in place. “Yes.”

She hugged me. “I’ve got my share, too.”

I sighed. “It’s like a snake rearing its ugly head.”

“Just don’t let it bite you in the ass,” she said.

I finally smiled. “Thanks. I’ll have to remember that.”

She turned to go. “You okay? I need my beauty sleep.”

I nodded. “I’m fine now,” I said, reaching for the light.

“Look on the bright side. No one’s shot at you yet.”

I chuckled. “There’s always tomorrow.”

“Then I’ve got something to look forward to, don’t I?”

And I’ve got to figure this thing out, don’t I?

Chapter 39

Researching & Dialing Dead-ends

Nikko was next on my list. We had some unfinished business to discuss. I went online and researched his name on the card he gave me at the club, Down Under, and wasn’t surprised when nothing came up. Was he bogus? Sure seemed like it. Then I looked up his address and pulled another blank, another dead-end.

Finally, I called the number listed on it and was caught off guard when he actually answered. He readily agreed to meet at Vic Angelo’s in Delray Beach for lunch.

So there I was, sitting at a sidewalk table in the Italian restaurant, sipping wine and making idle chitchat. After a few minutes, I soon realized Nikko might not be the easy mark I was hoping he’d be. He was sharp and on guard.

He made a toast. “To lost and founds.”

“Appropriate for you, but not so for me.”

“Maybe I can help you find what you’re looking for.”

“First tell me why someone was looking for Mona.”

He set his glass down. “She’s Marco’s widow, right?”

“One question down and a dozen more to go.”

He laughed. “She also has connections.”

“He passes go and maybe collects his money.”

“She’s been using you.”

Now, I set my glass down. “Says who?”

“Someone who wants to remain anonymous.”

“Can’t you do any better than that?”

“She has something a lot of people want.”

“Old news. I already know that.”

“It’s not what you think. It’s more complicated.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“But that’s not all. There’s more,” he said, smiling.

I paused. “What do you mean, more?”

Just then his phone rang. He frowned as he looked at it.

“Ignore it,” I said. “They’ll leave a message.”

“I’m sorry, but I must take this. I’ll be right back. I promise. If you will excuse me,” he said, walking away.

I sat there waiting …and waiting …and waiting. He never came back. After a half an hour of twisting around in my chair looking, I paid the tab and stomped out. I was ticked off. I marched down the sidewalk, crossed the tracks, and headed down the side street where I had left my car.

It was no longer there. “Damn.”

Where could it be? I walked around for several minutes thinking maybe I was confused and had left it elsewhere, but kept coming back to where I knew I had initially left it.

I dialed 911, the real one.

What was going on?

None of this made any sense.

Was someone playing mind games with me?

Sure looked like it.

Why would they be doing that?

Maybe it’s a not so subtle message they were watching.

Chapter 40

Pacing & Pondering

I was pacing back and forth. “Talk about bizarre!”

Martha was still shaking her head. “Why return it?”

I stopped. “I still can’t believe someone stole my car, then it shows up, of all places, at the car rental parking lot.”

“It does sound a little odd, dear,” said Betty.

“I probably sounded like a complete idiot when they called and asked why I left my car rental in their parking lot. Was it my intention to return it early? Then it dawned on me to stop babbling because they might not let me go down there to take it back.”

“It’s a good thing,” said Hazel, “you said Martha called saying she returned it for you, thinking you wouldn’t need it when you made up with your boyfriend at the restaurant.”

I laughed. “I didn’t know what else to say.”

“I guess thinking fast on your feet worked,” said Betty.

Hazel eyed Martha. “Of course, dealing with her…”

Martha cut in. “Keeps you two ladies on your toes.”

“So now what?” I asked, ignoring their banter.

Martha looked up at me. “It’s time to confront Mona.”

“You’re right. She’s the key to this whole thing.”

“It all leads back to her, doesn’t it?” Betty asked.

“She’s holding back,” said Hazel.

“I agree,” said Martha. “The question is why?”

“She called me to come here. Now she’s acting cryptic.”

“Has she been lying to us the whole time?” Betty asked.

I knew we were all thinking the same thing, but were hoping for a different outcome. It wasn’t there, just Mona.

Martha checked her watch. “Did you get Mona’s mail?”

“Oh, I forgot!” I said, heading for the door.

“Wait up,” said Martha. “I’ll walk with you.”

I grabbed the key in the basket by the door.

“That girl doesn’t even have time to pick up her own mail,” griped Martha. “What does she do all day?”

“Kind of suspicious,” called Betty from the living room.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, ladies,” said Hazel.

I turned back, countering, “We’ve got reason to.”

Once there, Martha hit her keychain light for more light.

Annoyed at Mona’s constant absence, I roughly plunged my hand into the large box. Something stuck to my upper arm in the process. “Hey, shine your light up there.”

Martha and I leaned low as she aimed the key light.

She whistled softly. “Will you look at that!”

Something was attached to the upper part of the mailbox with gray duct tape, the same color as the metal interior.

“I wonder how long that’s been there?”

“What do you suppose it is?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, “but we’re about to find out.”

I stuck my arm in the mailbox and started peeling away at the gray tape. It held something folded and pressed flat.

“Hurry Sam, before someone sees what we’re doing.”

I unfolded a piece of paper. “It has an address on it.”

Chapter 41

Unfolding Some Truths

Back inside, they looked over my shoulder as I typed the address into my laptop’s search engine. A company name popped up. I clicked on it. Nobody said anything as we all gaped at the screen stunned we may have hit the jackpot.

I finally said, “…It’s a storage/warehouse facility.”

“…For large and small items,” added Martha.

“Even a house full of furniture, too,” read Hazel.

Betty added what we were thinking. “And maybe cars?”

The door slammed shut and we all turned to look.

Mona entered and stopped short. “…What?”

“Well, if it isn’t Miss MIA herself,” said Martha.

Mona’s eyes challenged. “And what does that mean?”

By this time we had walked over to her as a group.

“We need to talk Mona because we found something.”

She hesitated. “…By that look, I’m afraid to ask what?”

“We may have found the cars,” I said.

“How? Where are they?”

Betty held up her hand. “Hold on. First things first.”

“We don’t know the unit’s size yet,” I said. “We could be wrong.” I showed her the paper we found taped to the mailbox, then the website and location of the facility.

“That’s out on 441,” Mona said, becoming excited.

“Hold your horses,” said Martha. “Didn’t you read the small print on that website? You’d need a key to fit in the lockbox on the door to your storage unit.”

Mona fell to the nearest chair. “And I don’t have one.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” I said, sitting down, too.

Mona read the note. “It’s Marco’s handwriting. He must have taped it there when potshots were taken at him.”

“He didn’t tell anyone, not even you,” noted Martha.

Mona turned to her. “I know and that hurts.”

“Maybe he left it there for someone else,” Martha said.

“Why not just tell them, then?” Betty asked.

“Good point,” said Hazel.

“So that leaves us where?” I asked.

“Back to that location, but no key to get in it.”

I caught Mona fingering a necklace charm between her fingers. “A good luck gift from Marco,” she said, smiling.

“Some good luck you’ve been having lately,” I said.

I leaned back, staring up at the ceiling, thinking.

Could it be? I turned back to Mona and zeroed in on that charm. I jumped out of my seat, grinning.

“Well, I’ll be damned. That’s just too simple.”

Mona looked up at me. “What?”

The other three were watching me intently. They knew how my mind worked and were waiting for the unexpected.

I grabbed that key charm, yanking it and Mona forward.

“Hey, easy does it. This means a lot to me,” she said.

I turned it over and started laughing. “Number seven.”

“Marco said it was his lucky number,” she said.

I laughed again. “Now it’s yours.”

Chapter 42

Keying In On More Answers

“…Are you saying this could be the storage number?”

“That’s exactly what I’m guessing,” I said.

“Now, how did you figure that one out?” Betty asked.

“I was thinking and looking up at the ceiling, staring at those old dark keys Mona has hanging from each of her fans in the condo, admiring that offbeat decorating touch.”

Mona looked up at the keys, and then back at me.

“They were already here when I moved in. I remarked about the same thing to Marco. He said it was his idea, thinking they were great conversation pieces, like art.”

“Well,” said Betty. “He was right, wasn’t he?”

Martha suddenly looked up, eyeing those keys.

“Bingo! It’s been right in front of us the whole time, Mona. I bet the real key is up there,” she said, pointing.

Mona jumped up and gave Martha a big hug. “You’ve just moved up a few notches in my book, old lady.”

Martha merely nodded at her unexpected compliment.

“Do you have a ladder?” I asked Mona.

“I think there’s one in the garage,” she said leaving us.

Hazel looked up again. “You think it’s possible?”

I smiled. “Hey, what have we got to lose trying?”

“How about Hazel and I go and start looking in the bedrooms?” suggested Betty. “We can stand on the beds.”

Martha headed for the kitchen. “I’ll stand on a chair.”

No one realized exactly how many keys were dangling overhead until we had to actually check each and every one for a newer key shape. We met in the living room.

I shrugged. “Only one room left. Mona’s.”

Everyone turned in that direction and headed over there.

Mona and I climbed up on her bed and began fingering our way through the bunch of old keys, praying for a break. My hand paused on a particular key. I swung it up and away from the other keys for Mona to see and smiled.

“You think?” she said, now smiling herself.

“It’s brown like the others, but it looks like it’s a newer shape and was painted brown to blend in with them.”

She unhooked the chain and pulled the key loose, then reattached the chain to the fan. We both jumped to the floor as the others gathered around. She held it up to the light.

Seven was engraved on the back.

We high-fived like we had all won the lottery.

Hazel brought us back to reality. “Now what?”

“We can’t march in there without a plan,” said Betty.

Martha frowned. “They’re right. Plus there’s a guard.”

Mona sighed. “I’m screwed. I can’t make a stink about getting in there and I shouldn’t be seen with you guys.”

I said to Martha, “Get the wig replacement you bought.”

Mona threw up her hands. “You know this is trouble.”

Martha laughed. “Hey, all we’re doing is taking a look.”

Mona gave her the eye. “Just a look, huh?”

Yup, that’s about all it took to get us into trouble.

Chapter 43

If Cows Had B… They’d Be Bulls

Boundary lines were blurred when it came to how far I’d go to solve a mystery with this group. It was the thrill of the ride as far as they were concerned. Me? I was the one who got hung up about guns being pointed in my direction.

I was heading out with three risk-taking seniors and one problematic thirty-something woman, the same age as me. So far, I’d learned to adapt with this bunch. And I had no intention on pushing the limits. And because of that, I was highly attuned to the fact that none of us were immortal.

Marco sure wasn’t.

Twenty minutes later the storage facility gate came into view. Mona slowed down and pulled to the side of the road.

“You sure going in cold will work?” Mona asked me.

“Look, just drive up to the gate, like you own it.”

She shook her head. “Just. Like. That.”

I smiled, nodding. “Do you have another game plan?”

“Here goes.” Mona turned straight ahead, stepped on the gas then came to a stop by the guard at the gate.

He bent down and smiled. “And how are you, ladies?”

We all smiled back, but didn’t say a word.

“What can I help you with today?” he asked.

Mona finally spoke up. “…I’d like to get into my unit.”

“And which one is that?” he asked, still smiling.

“…Number seven,” she said, gripping the wheel.

Before stepping to his computer, he said, “ID, please?”

Mona took a deep breath and silently handed him hers.

All eyes were glued on the guard, who checked it out.

He looked at his computer, smiled then frowned. He stepped back to Mona, looked at her license once more, then at her and frowned again. “It’s in your name, but…”

Initially relieved, she became nervous. “…But what?”

“It’s so bright red. You look so…different.”

“That’s the last straw! I’m suing my salon.”

He shook his head, looking at her hair. “I would too.”

Mona finger-tapped the steering wheel, silently waiting.

“I still don’t know about this,” he said shaking his head.

Mona looked at me, then the others, and then turned to the guard. “Oh, what the hell. So I get spotted,” she mumbled, tearing off the wig and sunglasses. “Satisfied?”

He hit a remote. “Welcome to 441 Storage, ladies.”

Everyone gave a collective sigh as he handed back her ID and Mona drove through. When she remained silent, not cheering like the rest of us, we looked over to see why.

Teary-eyed, she whispered, “Marco put it in my name.”

That trust factor meant a lot. “I’m not surprised,” I said.

Betty patted her on the shoulder. “How sweet.”

“What a perfect gesture of trust,” added Hazel.

Martha laughed. “Hope we don’t find any dead bodies.”

Hazel glared. “You have a way of killing the moment.”

“As long as that’s the only thing killed, I’m good to go.”

And the sooner we solved this I was too.

Chapter 44

And Behind This Door?

Mona pulled out the key. Unit seven was cinderblock, like all the others in the complex and surrounded by barbed wire, chain-link fencing. The facility covered several acres.

“This unit is big enough, isn’t it?” she asked.

I eyed the sliding door. “A car would fit through, too.”

“It’s pretty sizable, alright,” said Betty.

“You think he paid in advance?” Hazel asked.

“Odds are, being a target, he did,” said Martha.

Mona shoved back the large door, flicking on the lights.

Martha whistled loudly, stepping in. “Holy mackerel!”

“It’s air conditioned,” said Betty, as she hastily shut the door once we all were inside the space.

Hazel ran over to one vehicle. “It’s a vintage Bugatti!”

“And look at that old Mercedes,” said Betty, leaving us.

“How about that antique roadster?” Martha said.

Mona and I wandered around in awe, admiring the beauty of the collection, including four classic Rolls.

“Sam, I told you he was successful. Believe me now?”

I turned to her, smiling. “We found it, didn’t we?”

She started laughing. “Looks like it, doesn’t it?”

“What do you think is the collection’s value?” I asked.

She surveyed the cars. “I did some online research to be prepared for something like this. Well, into the millions.”

It was my turn to whistle, as I watched the other three moving from one car to another, overwhelmed. “Wow!”

Mona turned to me. “Now do you understand why the ex was so interested? Who told her initially, I don’t know, but Marco was adamant she shouldn’t get it, just his uncle.”

“Which brings us back to why I’m here, to find Carlos.”

Dreamy-eyed, she scanned the cars. “That’s right.”

I nudged her gently. “You’re not getting any ideas about reneging on your promise to Marco, are you?”

Shaking her head, she tore her eyes from the cars. “No.”

“Good, because they are nothing but trouble.”

She sighed. “Of course, you’re right, but it was exciting there for a second, dreaming about the what ifs.”

“What ifs are a waste if you’re not here to enjoy them.”

“You’re right. Let’s take inventory.”

“Hey, everybody,” I said. “Get your phones out and start taking pictures. Mona and I will look for the documents.”

We spent the next two hours comparing the cars with receipts. When the last picture was taken, we took one last look back, turned lights off, and secured the lock in place.

“When are you notifying the authorities?” I asked Mona.

“Not until I legally hand these cars over to Uncle Carlos, lock, stock, and barrel. You’re right. The sooner I get rid of them, the better. I do not want a target on my back.”

I understood where she was coming from. I wasn’t sure I agreed with her logic though because if Marco could get killed in the process of being protected, why not her, too?

Now, where was this elusive Uncle Carlos?

Chapter 45

Pausing For Possibilities

We sat around the kitchen table, comparing notes with Mona who, by some small miracle, was sitting in on our session. No disappearing act this time. I think since we found those cars she had a renewed interest in finding Marco’s Uncle Carlos to transfer the cars into his name.

I filled her in on what happened with Nikko. Then I explained about Sylvie and Bunny, what they said and found, including the lipstick and that address on the club card. Taking notes on her iPad, Mona was amazed we found so much in such a short time, plus locating the house in Boca Bay Colony, but upset we checked it out alone.

“I don’t like hearing about those pictures,” said Mona.

I turned to Martha. “What about that house? Anything?”

She smiled. “Well, the three of us got to work checking public records and online. It looks like it’s owned by someone legitimate, but the renters are a company called NB Inc. I checked them out and, surprise, surprise, there is no paper trail on them, at least not in any searches I made.”

Knowing Martha’s hacking abilities, no one said zip.

“I’ll see what I come up with at my end,” said Mona.

Hazel leaned in. “Do you think it’s a safe-house?”

Martha chuckled. “For who? The FBI?”

Betty started laughing. “It does sound absurd, right?”

“Well, who’s taking pictures of Sam?” Hazel asked.

Betty threw out, “The ex?”

Again, no one said a word, absorbing that one.

Mona suddenly shoved back from the table. “Well, I think I’ll make a few calls and go see some people who might have a better idea what’s going on here.”

“I presume you won’t tell us who?” Betty asked.

Mona gave her a grin. “You presume right.”

We watched her grab her car keys and leave.

Martha’s hand hit the table. “I’m just not buying it.”

“Her calling or her FBI involvement?” Hazel asked.

Martha looked back at Hazel. “Most likely both.”

I looked at the three of them. “Think she’s involved?”

Martha frowned. “I have a feeling there’s more to this.”

“More what?” Betty asked.

“More to come,” she said.

I leaned back. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

With Mona involved, there was always something more, something around the next corner you didn’t expect. Was she really trying to get out from under all this, or was she using us as a diversion to get what she really wanted?

The question was what did she want? Find Uncle Carlos and get rid of the cars? Find out who killed Marco? Did she really love him or was it all an act to use us as pawns so who was responsible would watch us and not her? What drove her? Was she working for the authorities, or was this merely about getting revenge for Marco’s murder?

Anger was a force to be dealt with, Mona included.

Chapter 46

Feeling The Pinch

I was feeling the pinch of time constraints, knowing the ex, plus Thug One and Two, who were obviously keeping tabs on us would be closing in on Mona. Even though we spent twenty minutes riding around, making sure we weren’t being followed that day, I was still edgy.

Who else might know about this warehouse? The ones taking those pictures? The people Mona was reporting to? Would all of them let this play out? Since no one had swooped in while we were at the warehouse, I thought the latter. Maybe they were looking for Uncle Carlos, too.

Where was the ex? Where were those thugs? They were conspicuously absent in the last two days. Maybe they were watching and waiting behind the scenes like everyone else. I had a bad feeling that Uncle Carlos was more than an uncle. I could be looking for someone who didn’t want to be found and would be extremely upset if I did find him.

Who was looking for whom, and why?

I sat at my laptop, looking over what I had written. I typed in another quick chapter to placate my agent. My turning off the phone and ignoring her text messages and emails was wearing thin. She wanted something with meat. Well, I gave it to her, throwing in a thug or two until I could do a rewrite and give her the real thing. I hit send, figuring I’d deal with the aftermath of that later. Knowing her, there would be aftermath.

But then when I thought about it, she (like Martha would say) was a piece of cake. My editor was the stickler. I could see the red ink and comments now.

Who and what are you referring to? Be specific. Don’t leave your readers hanging out there. Keep them with you and let them know what you’re thinking or you’re going to lose them. Once you’ve lost them, they aren’t coming back.

She was right. To tell you the truth, I was having a real hard time keeping up myself, but would solve this thing before I headed back home or I would never hear the end of it from my senior backups. They would be busting my chops for weeks, like some fishing fiasco, needling me about the first big one that got away.

Sylvie and Bunny knew more than they shared. I had to go back to try and find out exactly what it was. Nikko did a disappearing act on me, which made me more determined to go back to him. But first, I thought I’d pay a visit to Sidney in the hospital. I heard he would be released soon and my questions needed answers. They couldn’t wait.

I would also keep a close eye on Mona’s whereabouts via my senior consultants, who had rented a car of their own, which I thought was a great idea. My instructions? Covert surveillance from afar. Keep a low profile like me.

Martha considered that an oxymoron and laughed.

Chapter 47

Patience With The Patient

Because he was doing much better, there were no restrictions on Sid’s visitors. I hustled down the hall toward number fifteen. I was rounding a corner when I spotted someone exiting his room: Sylvie. Wariness hit me and I hung back, hiding behind an overflowing supply cart. Was there something going on between them or was she just a friend? I resumed walking once she disappeared going down another hallway.

I tapped lightly on his door.

“Come in,” he replied.

When I peered around the door his face lit up.

“My dance partner. What a nice surprise, Sam!”

I moved toward his bed. “What an attention getter!”

“I always make great exits,” Sid said, chuckling.

“I’ll say. You brought the house down with that one.”

He made himself comfortable. “Did I miss anything?”

“After your exit, the rest of the evening was a dud.”

He chuckled again. “So I heard.”

I wondered if I should mention seeing Sylvie leaving, but then decided not to. I had to figure out what was going on first, if there was something going on.

“Remember our little talk while we were dancing?”

He gave me a blank look.

“You were explaining to me about that night Marco was murdered. Your last words to me were about a scent.”

He gave me another blank look, then glanced away for a second, thinking. “A scent? I don’t recall much else about the evening. I read that’s normal after a heart attack, even a mild one.” He frowned. “All the tests. I’m feeling so old.”

“You must keep busy at the club with hobbies, right?”

“Rarely, I’m too busy supplementing my retirement.”

“Doing what? Anything interesting?”

“Nothing notable, but it’s a great little moneymaker.”

“Now you have me interested. I love moneymakers.”

He smiled. “I own a storage/warehouse facility on 441.”

I stiffened, then barely got out, “…Called?”

“It’s not very original, it’s called 441 Storage.”

“…Tell me about it.”

“What’s to tell about storage?” he asked, amused.

“Any unusual renters? I bet you get all kinds.”

“Sure do. And one’s that don’t pay, too.”

“How about the unusual ones?”

“I used to wonder what they stored in there.”

“You mean you don’t anymore?”

“Or care. It’s the money I’m interested in.”

“But aren’t you the least bit interested if it’s legal?”

“As long as they pay up front, I couldn’t care less.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why the blasé attitude?”

He chuckled. “Once I checked an air-conditioned space. I walked in. The guy had it set up like a bedroom and…”

I was still laughing later. Imagine walking in on…

Chapter 48

Nikko Was Next

Nikko called me first. I complained. He said he was sorry. I vented. He apologized profusely. Somewhere in between, a dinner date was arranged. I wondered how that happened in less than five minutes after hanging up.

This time, I arranged for us to meet inside Mona’s clubhouse lobby. She had put me on her club card guest list. I’d have home advantage. If he disappeared and my rental car got stolen again, I could walk home.

I left my car with valet parking. Nikko was waiting.

“This better be good,” I said, brushing by him.

He caught up to me saying, “Still a little ticked off?”

Glancing at him, I kept walking to the hostess. “Yup.”

I gave the name and we were escorted to a corner table.

Waiting until he sat across from me, I asked “…So?”

“Do I have to spend the whole evening apologizing?”

“That might not be long enough.”

“It was unavoidable,” he said. “An agent was killed.”

I was about to sip my water, but set the glass down.

“Exactly who are you?”

“I think I’d better start at the beginning.”

I leaned back, crossing my arms. “That works for me.”

“Mona reported to my agency. Then she disappeared.”

So that’s how he knew about Mona’s connections!

Feeling my way, I asked, “So what’s the deal now?”

“I’m on a special FBI task force for Marco’s drug case.”

Interrupted for drinks, we both ordered a glass of wine, while my mind raced with possible theories. “Go on.”

“We’ve been watching Marco for a while.”

I nodded. “And suddenly, you found an ‘in’ when Mona reemerged in the company of Marco, am I right?”

He smiled. “I guess it’s not true about blondes.”

“Watch it. I’ve got the temper of a redhead.”

“Duly noted,” he said, as our wine was delivered.

Suspicion lingered. Why was this guy confiding in me?

So I asked, “Why are you confiding in me?”

“You seem to have people confiding in you more than any of us, including Mona. You’re perfect.”

“Whoa. Are you suggesting I should continue?”

“Why not?”

“Why not? Because I have a thing about getting shot at.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry, we have you covered.”

“Just like Marco? Oh, I’m so relieved to hear that.”

“Ouch! Okay, we dropped the ball on him.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“We didn’t expect a wife coming out of left field.”

“Which one?”

He laughed again. “Oh, you’re good.”

“I know.”

“We also know about Mona.”

“Old news. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Those two thugs with the pooch are FBI.”

Chapter 49

More Food For Thought

When he showed me his ID, ordering dinner went south.

“I thought otherwise.”

“Good. That’s what we wanted you to think.”

“But he challenged me in the mall.”

“We wanted you to stick around.”

“…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.

But after coming up with blanks, plus dead-end phone calls by Mona to her anonymous contacts, we unanimously called it quits. Evening was closing in. It was time.

“I don’t think I should let this go any further, ladies.”

I felt bad. She wanted out of this. “Sorry, we all tried.”

“Like looking for a needle in a haystack,” said Martha.

“Would’ve stumped even Sherlock Holmes,” said Betty.

“…And CSI,” added Hazel.

Martha threw her a puzzled look. “CSI?”

“Lack of substantial forensic evidence on this one.”

“Hacking skills weren’t enough either,” added Martha.

Mona stood. “Let me get my cell. Those goons might steal that collection tonight.”

“And Nikko’s the wild card,” I said.

Mona was halfway to her purse when the doorbell rang. No one said a word, as she motioned with a finger to her lips for silence. She tiptoed to the door and peeked through the blinds, then relaxed. “It’s Irving from upstairs.”

“At this hour?” Martha asked, primping.

I looked at my watch. “It’s almost dark. If he really knew who was following him he’d freak out. Let him in.”

“I’ll call as soon as we get rid of him,” said Mona.

When he was seated, Mona gave him some wine. He sipped and relaxed. “If those widows could see me now!”

Martha raised her glass to him and tried to smile.

Irving looked around at us. “What’s wrong?”

Mona sighed. “Oh hell. What’s one more? Sam?”

After getting her nod of approval, I told him the whole story, from when I first arrived right up to the night before and how we were still missing that elusive Uncle Carlos.

“The odds were against us from the beginning,” I said.

“We’ve used every resource available,” said Betty.

Martha laughed. “And even ones that weren’t.”

Hazel coughed. “You didn’t hear that from me, Irving.”

“I thought you were just visiting. That’s some story.”

I moaned. “And one with no happy ending in sight.”

“Not necessarily. You can still celebrate,” he said.

Mona looked at him in disbelief. “Why?”

Irving smiled. “You haven’t looked on the bright side.”

“Are you one of those the-glass-is-half-full types?”

“Irv, we’re commiserating. Don’t ruin it,” said Martha.

“But you found the cars. At least celebrate that,” he said.

“Irv, you don’t celebrate a lost case!” Martha snapped.

“Who said celebrate a loss? I’m him. I’m Uncle Carlos.”

Chapter 55

Silence Is Not Golden

No one said a word. We were too busy gawking.

Then Martha pulled herself together.

“Why didn’t you say something before?”

“I didn’t know what all of you were up to.”

“How about when Marco died, weren’t you outraged?”

“With FBI and thugs around, I kept a low profile.”

“Why?” Hazel asked. “Don’t you have a green card?”

Martha turned to her. “That was a good one, Hazel.”

He whipped out his wallet. “I’m a U.S. citizen,” he said.

His Florida license and voting card said Carlos Santiago.

“That’s the same last name as Marco,” said Mona.

“Well, I’ll be,” said Martha, now smiling once again.

Mona was dumbfounded. “You were right upstairs.”

“Marco discovered his silent investor in his art gallery was his ex, so he bought my condo, moved me here, and gave me a new name for safety. Me being a widower was a cover story. Marco said he hid his legit cash from her, but then was shot before he could tell me where it was hidden.”

“Clever. Cars,” I said. “So, who is the infamous ex?”

“I don’t know. He never told me or described her.”

“The FBI can’t find her,” said Mona. “She vanished.”

“Probably still looking for those cars,” added Martha.

“I should show you what Marco left you,” said Mona.

Irving shook his head. “Cars! I still can’t believe this.”

“Why didn’t Marco tell you sooner?” I asked.

“To keep me safe, I guess, in case pressure was put on me. You can’t spill what you don’t know, can you?”

I nodded. “Sounds reasonable.”

“I have a drawn document for you to sign,” said Mona, “to legally hand over all the cars once you’ve seen them.” She looked at the rest of us and smirked. “I certainly have enough reputable witnesses present, don’t I?”

Martha laughed. “Ha! Another oxymoron!”

Mona was elated. “I can’t wait to get rid of those cars.”

“Then what will you do for excitement?” Hazel asked.

Mona chuckled. “I’ll blend into obscurity for a change.”

I watched her leave us to go get that document.

“Blend in?” laughed Betty. “Not that one.”

“Not with her size,” cracked Martha.

“I heard that,” said a voice from the master bedroom.

“If I didn’t know better, I swear this room was bugged,” said Martha. “She’s got ears like an elephant.”

“I heard that, too,” Mona said, as we broke up laughing.

Then we decided to go to 441 Storage. Once Carlos saw the cars, signed the document, taking full responsibility for the cars, Mona would notify her contacts at the FBI.

No side streets or detours. We were there in no time at all. I think Mona was anxious to get them out of her hair. We all were. The risks on this one were closing in too fast.

We got through security and stood at the door.

“Let’s hope they are still in there,” said Martha.

Chapter 56

A Sight To See & Then Some

“Will you get a load of those babies!” exclaimed Carlos.

“You can drop the New York accent,” said Martha.

He looked at her, puzzled. “Why should I?”

“We now know who you are, that’s why.”

“But I’m from New York. I drove a cab for a living.”

She eyed the collection. “Then you just hit the jackpot.”

“I’m retired now, for sure,” he said, hugging her.

We walked Carlos around, showing him the collection while Mona rattled off the approximate value of each. By the time we came to the last car and a total, he was stunned.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he said.

We encircled Carlos, taking turns congratulating him.

That’s when it happened.

“Take a step back everyone, real slow,” said a voice.

We all turned. Sidney stood there, aiming his gun at us.

“Sidney? …When did you get out?” Mona stammered.

“Mona? Sam? It was an arrhythmia, not a heart attack. After additional tests, they finally discharged me.”

“Now that salutations are over,” said Martha, “what the Sam Hill is going on here? Would someone explain?”

To everyone’s relief, Sidney then lowered his gun and leaned against the nearest car to wipe his forehead in relief. We walked over to him, waiting for an explanation.

“I was locking up when I saw this door ajar and the light on in here, thinking it’s a theft, or worse yet, another sex orgy.” He looked around, suddenly realizing what he was leaning on and whistled. “Where did all these come from?”

“Long story,” said Mona.

Sidney smiled. “I’m retired. I’ve got plenty of time.”

She told him a shortened version, but he got the gist of it. He shook hands with Irving/Carlos and gave him a hug.

“That’s some story,” he said.

“Sidney, are you okay?” said a breathless Sylvie, fixing her hair and dress as she hurried through the door. She stopped dead at the sight of us standing there. “…Oh!”

“Why, Sidney, you rascal, you!” said Martha, laughing.

Embarrassed, Sylvie’s hands froze. “Well, I…”

Sidney waved her over. “Sylvie’s my bride-to-be.”

Now it was their turn to be congratulated. It was the second surprise of the evening, another secret in the open.

“Will someone explain what’s going on?” Sylvie asked.

Mona briefed Sylvie, ending with finding Irving/Carlos.

A familiar scent settled in and stopped me cold. …Her?

“That’s some story!” said a shocked Sylvie.

“It sure is,” said a voice from the warehouse door.

“Now what?” Martha said, turning. “Holy mackerel!”

“You can say that again,” said Mona raising her hands.

My pieces then fit. “Hi, Bunny, what took you so long?”

“People underestimate us blondes, don’t they?” she said.

“What is she referring to?” Mona asked, turning to me.

“Meet both Marco’s wives, his silent investor, the ex.”

Chapter 57

Not Again!

A startled Sidney said, “That scent! It was hers!”

“I know. She’s the one who killed Marco,” I said.

From me, they looked back to Bunny, amazed.

Irving started to move. I held him back.

Her gun screamed bullets, real ones, loud and clear.

“This is convenient, everyone in one place,” she said.

“Haven’t we heard this plot before?” Hazel asked.

“Including the guns,” said Betty. “Not very original.”

“I can’t believe it, my best friend, Bunny,” cried Sylvie.

“That frozen-faced mummy’s no friend,” Martha said.

Bunny sneered. “A big fire should wipe off that smirk.”

Hazel pulled her hands down, annoyed. “Another fire?”

Betty turned. “Not imaginative, is it? Hazel, hands up.”

“Having bumped off a few already, you’d think she’d try something unique with us, a little flashier,” said Martha.

Briefly thrown by their unexpected banter, Bunny threw me a look of disbelief. “And these nuts are your friends?”

Pleased with their delay tactic, I winked at them. “Yup!”

Right then I noticed the wheeled suitcase behind her.

Curious about it, I asked, “Going on a trip, Bunny?”

She glanced back at it. “That? It’s holding the gasoline.”

I heard a collective sucking in of air at her intentions.

Sidney began edging back slowly.

He still had his gun! And so did Mona!

But the rest of us were in between them both. Not good.

Bunny called on her phone, saying, “It’s all clear.”

Another figure appeared at the door, the next piece to fit. Nikko, Bunny’s rogue FBI leak, entered holding a gun. When he reached her side, she said, “Get these cars out and put in the worthless ones. I’m going to enjoy this one, an unfortunate storage warehouse fire with people trapped inside. They didn’t realize they shouldn’t be smoking with all this flammable material around, and in this heat, too.”

We all saw the visuals playing out. No one retorted.

If I had a gun I’d…Maybe Sid or Mona could distract her. I could run for help. “Where are the damn guards?”

Bunny’s eyes shot to mine. She smiled. I didn’t realize I’d spoken the last words out loud until everyone turned.

“They are tied up at the moment, right, Nikko?”

Mona hissed, “Rotten scum like Nikko should be shot.”

He ignored Mona’s remark, nodding at Bunny. “Yes.”

“We should add the guards to the group. Go get them.”

“Good idea. No loose ends,” he said, turning away.

I side-glanced those cars, thinking. Of course! Why not?

“It was more than just the cars, right, Bunny?”

“Very good, Sam. Those large cars with their sizeable panels and compartments are perfect for shipping drugs. Then after delivery, I sell it all overseas, a double bonus.”

I edged closer. Maybe I could knock her on her ass.

She took a step back, aiming. “Don’t even consider it.”

Then again, maybe not.

Chapter 58

And Then There Was…

“It was you, who dropped the lipstick that night, wasn’t it?” I said, stalling. “You tried to implicate Sylvie.”

“I thought you were my friend,” said a distraught Sylvie.

Bunny laughed. “Well, I guess you thought wrong.”

“Then you threw suspicion on Marco’s girlfriend,” I added. “That redhead? I bet you made her up, didn’t you?”

Bunny laughed. “As a matter of fact, I didn’t. I was Marco’s redheaded girlfriend. Then we married. I was his silent gallery investor, but he didn’t know that at the time. When he found out, he actually had the nerve to threaten me with going to the Feds because of my mob contacts.”

“Before he disappeared, I had to kill him and take over his gallery for a front for my money laundering. But I didn’t use enough poison in his dinner. When he realized what had happened, he went nuts and ran to the Feds. Now, that really pissed me off! So I had my surgery and waited.”

“Yeah, waited to pounce,” I said, eyeing her steadily.

“Then I spread gossip about the first wife getting hit.”

“But then you heard rumors he’d bought antique cars.”

“That’s right. When I found him I bought that condo.”

“And you showed up completely transformed with a little surgery, now a flawless bleached blonde, right?”

Bunny nodded. “Keeping my distance, Marco never got a close look and his old man had never met me, so I was safe, moving around the club, and befriending Sylvie.”

Seething, Sylvie stepped forward. “You…”

“Back off, bitch,” said Bunny. “I shoot for sport.”

“Well, I never!” Hazel huffed. “The language!”

“Once a hussy, always a hussy!” added Betty.

Sylvie was furious. “You coldhearted killer!”

“Now, Sylvie, I’m feeling real generous. I’m not going to shoot you right off and let you bleed to death. Why no, I’m just going to let you burn to death instead.”

“Talk about evil incarnate,” Martha whispered.

“Watch it, you old broad,” Bunny said to Martha.

I squeezed Martha’s wrist, warning her not to retaliate.

Bunny’s eyes flashed my way. “Who knows, maybe you’ll break out of this windowless, cinderblock prison unit before too many of you burn to death. I’ll be long gone. The cars will be loaded onto containers out the port of Miami, and then shipped overseas in no time.”

It suddenly dawned on me that Nikko hadn’t returned and I glanced at the exit. Out of nowhere I caught sight of a white shadow and blinked. It was Puff Ball and he was racing right toward me. No one else followed.

Was Thug One here for the purpose of finishing us off?

Bunny’s gun wavered slightly, then steadied when she saw what it was. She relaxed, and then focused back on us.

“I hate dogs. Where the hell did that mutt come from?”

“I don’t know,” I said, reaching down to pet him.

“We can burn him just as well, dammit.”

Now that statement didn’t gel. Wasn’t Thug one of hers?

A note clung to the dog’s collar. I slipped it off and into my hand, and then stood. When Bunny checked her watch, and then her phone, I snuck a look at the note.

“Don’t move, no matter what. Tony.” He’s a good guy?

I stood still, barely breathing.

Tony materialized and stepped behind Bunny. “Drop it.”

Bunny stiffened. “What the…? Where’s Nikko?”

I heard Tony snicker. “Couldn’t make it. He’s tied up.”

The guards entered with Thug Two who nodded to me.

“You’ve got the rest of her mob?” I asked him.

“Being rounded up. We knew Nikko and Bunny were having an affair. And when Nikko fled with her tonight, it confirmed our leak. Tony held back to catch them both.”

I grinned at Tony. “That rental in Boca Bay Colony was Nikko’s, right? When he disappeared, you broke in to see what they were up to. They didn’t know you had already bugged it to find the FBI leak. We showed up after that.”

Tony merely gave a nod and smiled before he and Thug Two headed out with Bunny, who was now handcuffed.

Betty tapped my arm. “I think you broke your record.”

Hazel chuckled. “Solved it in a week.”

Everyone started to file outside.

“This was a good one,” said Betty. “A real whodunit.”

Hazel nodded. “We should team up with Mona again.”

Thug One/Tony turned back to me, laughing. “Just got a text from Clay. He said to dust off your passport and skis.”

I stopped in my tracks. “…Clay said what?”

Martha grabbed my arm all excited. “Did I ever tell you about that time I tried out for the Olympic Ski Team?”

Mona started cracking up. “For what country?”

This ends Mouth of the Rat.

For a preview of the next book in the Samantha Jamison Mystery Series, Volume 5.5, The Riviera Is Burning, Entr’acte, please continue reading right after this:

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Please read on for the preview excerpt of next book in the Samantha Jamison Mystery Series, Volume 5.5, The Riviera Is Burning, Entr’acte

The Riviera Is Burning

Entr’acte

A Samantha Jamison Detour

Volume 5.5

A True Story

by

Peggy A. Edleheit

Copyright © 2013 Peggy A Edelheit

Chapter 1

Looking Back

The French term, Entr'acte means between the acts. In this case, it is a pause in my series, a brief intermission, so to speak, for a personal memoir of mine.

I remember my father telling me I could smell the damp earth as it traveled on the winds of time and that was how I was able to predict when it was going to rain. Being very young, I was intrigued. I guess that was his simple way of explaining to a small child why I knew when rain was approaching. He said it was my keen sense of smell for mother nature: a part of my being, a special gift.

To this day I ask to blank stares, “Did you smell that?”

Whenever I’d pick up a scent, my father’s simple explanation that captured my young imagination always came to mind. His words left no doubt whatsoever. I’d always be forewarned by instinct. No problem. I’d have plenty of warning, or so I thought.

This story begins on a summer day many years later in France at my old villa on the Cote d’Azur. It was a place where predictable and ordinary quickly turned on a dime to become unpredictable and extraordinary. Disturbing and alarming are significant understatements in what was about to happen. And remember my ‘special’ instincts? Well, that was unexpected, too, because…

This time I smelled trouble.

The day started out ordinary enough, with the crickets chirping away as the sun rose. Just another sizzling summer morning, better suited to an iced coffee than a steamy hot one. Like watching the surf incessantly splash against the rocks on the beach, I stared in silence. But then the deadly possibilities looming out there began to unsettle me.

How could this be?

I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. My typical day was falling apart right before my eyes with every minute that ticked by. Just when I thought I’d seen the worst of what could happen, my vulnerability became a reality with my family’s safety hanging in the balance.

This account is from my point of view only and how I experienced it. I don’t want to bore you with statistics, just relate how my family and I got caught up in an incident that escalated into something unthinkable.

Those memories are so vivid that sometimes it feels like it was yesterday, especially that sinking feeling of dread that swept through me and how intense fear, then panic, took hold. To this day, it has left an indelible mark on my psyche, a dent in my usual resilient armor against the unexpected, and a very real and permanent fear of fire…

Chapter 2

The Landscape

To imagine the French Riviera is to picture a coast that is breathtaking, with its jagged rocks edging its pebble-strewn beaches, market-filled villages, hillside residences and harbors. The terrain, often steep, has rugged mountain ranges that are reddish, intensely stark, yet striking.

To give you a feel for the setting, let me describe it from my point of view, my house, and my terrace, which was my vantage point in this excerpt from my third mystery in my Samantha Jamison mystery series: 86 Avenue du Goulet.

The coastal residential area and town of Les Issambres has villas and houses that sit among a warren of small little streets that meander in and out of the mountainous terrain. Yachts and jet skis crisscrossed far below, as the sun reflected off the sea’s surface.

To my left, in the distance, were the beaches of St. Raphaël jutting out into the water and the magnificent Esterel mountain ranges beyond. Off to my right, in the distance, was the town of St. Maxine, and bay of St. Tropez.

As I looked downward, the small manicured lawn off the living room directly below was shaped in a half circle, just like the upper terrace where I stood. A stone wall, three feet high, bordered it to protect people from falling below. Part of that curved wall dropped about two stories to the neighbor’s house and their pool, and then it curved around to my villa’s side gardens. Red bougainvillea spilled over it and trailed to the bottom. If you didn’t know where the wall was, it appeared as a lush carpet of red, and although beautiful to the eye, to the veteran, it concealed lengthy thorns, as sharp and painful as miniature daggers.

The wall continued from the back to along the side of the villa where stone arches ran parallel, wrapping around to the front entrance. I looked far to the right where an expansive stone stairway descended from the kitchen patio to a mosaic, tiled fountain.

At the bottom of those steps, a maze of pathways cut from the same stone sloped downward along the lower gardens that contained benches and flower-filled urns. If I leaned out further, I could catch sight of one shaded corner where a cement table and chairs sat under a magnolia tree.

The rest of the 1950’s villa property terraced uphill with more gardens, steps, some statues, and a level area further up, ending at the governmental forest preserve at the top.

I had a great vantage point to see what transpired that day, including the curved coastal road that bordered the Mediterranean Sea as it, too, snaked in and out. Like I said, initially, it was a typically hot summer day, which meant intense heat, tourist traffic, and mouthwatering fresh produce and pastries for sale at the outdoor markets. I was sitting at my laptop, writing on the terrace when I stopped typing and sniffed the air.

I smelled smoke…

Chapter 3

A Normal Summer?

I stiffened in my chair and looked up, my eyes scanning the horizon. Everything appeared okay. Nothing was out of the ordinary. As far as I could see, it was crystal clear. A little uneasy, but relaxing once again, I went back to typing.

We had had several skirmishes off and on that summer with wildfires, which were commonplace with so many campers in the RV parks. On dry and windy days, the flying embers from campfires caused multiple brushfires that would spread, but were quickly extinguished by planes carrying water from the Mediterranean. Those fires often got out of hand when the Mistral, a strong northerly wind that could reach well over 80 kilometers an hour, would swoop down from the mountains inland, and then out toward the sea.

After several minutes writing, my head jerked up again.

There! I smelled it! Something was definitely burning.

It was stronger now. I stood to get a better view of down below. Was a neighbor burning rubbish? They wouldn’t, not with the warning of the Mistral forecasted.

Making my way across the curved terrace, something came roaring in low overhead. I ducked in reflex from the sound and looked up. It was a sizeable plane for carrying water heading out toward the sea. I stood there watching as the pilot skimmed the sea’s surface, filled up, took off, veered right, and sharply turned inland. I’d seen this done many times before in the past, but was still curious.

Where was he going? What was burning this time?

Standing at the terrace’s edge, I visually followed the plane carrying its weight in gold: precious water. It aimed to my left and disappeared behind the tree-line and the mountains. Another camper must have been careless. After a few minutes, I began walking back to my laptop, but heard another roar and looked up in time to see the same plane come back to make another run for more water.

I stood there, watching him repeat the same procedure with a feather touch to the sea as he arced back off to the left and out of sight once again. Even though I had seen this happen that summer and others, it always unsettled me until I no longer saw planes flying toward the sea.

I walked into the house to touch base with my husband in his office and my son who was visiting us. They had both gotten used to this coming and going of the planes and gave it little thought. It was that time of year. With so many people there, and accompanied by the extremely bone-dry weather, and now this Mistral, it was expected.

Reassured, I returned to my laptop and sat down with one eye on the horizon, just in case. I’d seen the effects of wildfires in the United States and knew the devastation nature, campers, or worse, what arsonists could inflict.

I began typing away and lost track of time until the wind shifted. I looked up and my gaze focused in disbelief toward St. Raphaël.

Smoke! The Esterel mountain range was engulfed in it.

Chapter 4

Where There’s Smoke There’s…

My chair fell backward as I jumped up to get my son, my husband, and the binoculars to have a better look. By the time we got back to the terrace, the smoke was already drifting toward St. Raphaël’s beaches. An ominous feeling about this took hold and I turned to my husband.

“I know we’re at a safe distance, but I’m still concerned. I’ve never seen so much smoke over there before.”

He slowly scanned the Esterels that were swirling with smoke, then passed the binoculars to me, frowning.

“Take a closer look at those mountains.”

I saw flaring patches of bright orange. “It’s on fire!”

My son pointed. “Look! The water planes are there.”

“That should handle it,” said my husband, relaxing.

The scent of smoke was drifting everywhere now.

“For the moment,” I countered. “But what about these winds? Maybe we should call Martine and Jean.”

We didn’t have to. They were already out on their patio below with their own binoculars. Martine called up to us.

“You have seen the fires, yes?” she asked.

We leaned on our terrace railing looking down at them next door. Their golden Labrador woofed at the sight of our Miniature Schnauzer perched at the bottom of our railing, who in turn, barked to her French canine friend, Sonia.

“Yes,” said my husband. “What do you think?”

“Maybe they will get it under control. We will see.”

“What is the news by word of mouth?” I asked.

“They think it is from campers and their fires. It is spreading rapidly because it is the dry season. The Mistral is making it worse. We will let you know as soon as we hear anything more, okay?”

“Of course!” said my husband. “Please keep us posted.”

We pushed off from the railing and took one last look at the burning mountains before turning to go inside. I would work from there. At least with our air conditioner turned on, the air would be somewhat filtered for the time being.

I returned to my laptop, but repeatedly kept walking back to the glass sliders to look out at the distant, curved coast, St. Raphaël’s beaches, and the Esterels stretched out in the distance. The planes were working nonstop, still at it.

As much as I tried, I couldn’t concentrate with such a threat looming out there. As far as I was concerned, it was too close for comfort. The coastal towns were overflowing with tourists. Plus, it was high season: late summer. It felt like all of Europe was on the Riviera, and with the crowd-filled markets, packed campgrounds, the narrow roads a constant gridlock of traffic… You get the picture.

What would we do if the fires got closer?

Chapter 5

Time Was Ticking…

We scanned the TV for bulletins, checked the terrace, and touched base off and on with Martine and Jean a dozen times. I kept a close watch on the fires as they crept closer and closer. From the sight of leaves and debris that were now wildly swirling about in spirals and accumulating in mounds throughout our courtyards, it was obvious the Mistral had increased in strength.

Then something baffling diverted my attention. A gauzy haze, an amber hue, shrouded everything. No sooner had that visually registered when, one by one, dark shadows began blocking out the sun’s rays overhead.

How could that be? It rarely rained this time of year.

I ran to the upper terrace and leaned against the railing, facing myself away from the sea to look over our roofline toward the sun and upper forested area behind our house. Dark clouds, black plums of smoke, were billowing behind our mountains.

How did it get behind us so quickly?

My first thought was to protect my family and property. The large fabric awning over our arched glass foyer door would most likely burn. I had to crank it closed. The debris outside had to be swept, the gardens…

Luckily the exterior of our villa was all stone with a clay-barreled roof. The patio was stone on the ground level, and on the second floor, the bedroom level, the terrace that faced the Mediterranean Sea had clay tiles. Even the garage roof had a stone-covered patio.

As I watched those dark, rising clouds bolstered by winds drift high over our house, it finally hit why no one could get the fires under control. This threat was different.

The tipping point? An unexpected heat wave sweeping across Europe. People were dying of heatstroke and fleeing the scorching cities. Now add the hoards of people already on the Riviera coast in late summer. With the mix of the gusty Mistral, unusually overwhelming heat, large crowds, and spreading fires, they all shared one deadly common denominator: a greater potential for chaos and panic.

And perfect for one or more arsonists to spread it.

Everyone escaped to the sea, regardless of their income. Every overheard conversation included complaints about the unbearable, searing heatwave. Roads were congested night and day. A several minute drive to St. Maxime to eat was one to two hours. So we dined locally for a few weeks.

I’d never felt such intense heat. I’m used to Florida’s heat, but usually tropical breezes accompanied it. My fair skin burned easily anyway, and this bone-dry intense heat sucked the energy right out of me.

The bad news? The A8, a super highway, was on the other side of those burning mountains behind us. We could end up being trapped between the flames and sea…

With no escape route to drive out of there, then what?

~~~~

Other Books by Peggy A. Edelheit

The Samantha Jamison Mystery Series

The Puzzle Volume 1

Without Any Warning Volume 2

86 Avenue du Goulet Volume 3

A Lethal Time Volume 4

Death Knell In The Alps Volume 6

A Samantha Jamison Detour

The Riviera is Burning Volume 5.5

About the Author

Peggy A. Edelheit has three sons, lives with her husband, Miniature Schnauzer & spends time between Bucks County, PA and South Florida.

Visit the author’s website: http://www.samanthajamison.com

or

Twitter: @samanthajamison

I am so grateful to all my readers for all your wonderful

feedback and support. Thank you, Peggy