Jay Giles (25 page)

     
“I’m sorry,” she said, softly

     
“No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I don’t usually get this maudlin. Forgive me. This isn’t what we’re here for tonight.” Fortunately, the doorbell rang. “That should be Edith.”

     
It was. She had three wigs. Two blonde—one curly, one straight. One redhead. After I introduced the two ladies, Edith had Tory try on all three wigs. I would have chosen the redhead. Surprisingly, the blond curly one fit best, looked best. Edith fiddled with it while I went to change clothes, put on my disguise.

     
When I returned, Tory wore the wig and a doubtful expression. “What do you think?”

     
“You look like a completely different person.”

     
Edith took that to mean mission accomplished. She beamed. “Well, you children have fun. I’ve got to be going.”

     
I walked her to the door. “Thanks, Edith.”

     
She gave me a motherly pat on the cheek. “I like your friend, Matt.”

     
I’m sure I blushed.

     
Once Edith was gone, Tory said, “We need to be going, too.”

     
I looked at my watch. Twenty ‘til. We’d just get there for the start of the meeting. I grabbed my car keys. “I’m ready.”

     
On the elevator ride down, she took papers from her black shoulder bag. “We’ve got some things to talk about. I got more information on D’Onifrio.”

     
We walked to the Saab. I held her door for her, got in my side, started the engine, and drove out of the complex.

     
“I’ve been looking into the companies he’s bought to launder money,” she said as we drove. “Trying to see if there were irregularities that would allow us to call in the authorities, create a stink in the press.” She had a stack of papers, held together by a big metal clip. “You’d probably be better looking at this stuff than I am.”

     
I looked over at her. “Good idea. I’ll go over them tonight.”

     
“I’ve also been looking for a disgruntled worker at Shore, someone with whistleblower potential.”

     
“Let me guess—there aren’t any to be found.”

     
“You’re right. For a bank, Shore has a very high accident rate—some even fatal. But if we could find someone—”

     
I shook my head. “It’s a good idea, but I don’t think it’s going to pan out.”

     
She turned in her seat. “Here’s the one I like best,” she said excitedly. “Remember Raines told us D’Onifrio was to receive an award for helping deaf children?”

     
I nodded.

     
“I found the organization. It’s the Foundation for Latina Speech and Hearing Services, headquartered in
Miami
. And guess what? They’d still like to present it to him. They’d even be willing to come to
Sarasota
.”

     
She was right. This was the best of all. A humanitarian award D’Onifrio had actually earned, not something trumped up, and the Foundation would do all the work. “Perfect.”

     
She smiled broadly. “I’m thinking we give them a list of the people—D’Onifrio, Enrico, the whole bunch—that should be invited to the award ceremony. When they arrive, we use the opportunity to get information about Joe’s money to Enrico, Little Ernie, and Eduardo. Maybe we disguise it to look like a program.”

     
We were at St. Mark’s. I started looking for a parking place. “What if he doesn’t come? What if they don’t?”
 

     
“Are you kidding me? The Foundation told me they’d do media promotion for the event. D’Onifrio would look like an ingrate if he didn’t attend. If he attends, I’ll bet the rest of them do, too.”

     
I pulled over to the curb, parked the car. “I’m impressed. I’ve been thinking about this for days and haven’t come up with anything. You work on it for a day and come up with something brilliant.”

     
She looked over at me. “Thank you.” Her expression said the compliment pleased her.

     
We talked about the details of making her plan work as we walked the block and a half to St. Mark’s. We found seats together in the back, continued talking.

     
“Oh, my God! Look at her,” Tory said, glancing at the entrance.

Chapter 39

Fish and Janet had just made their entrance, and what an entrance it was.

     
She had on a white silk blouse, open at the throat. The way the silk moved revealed that she wasn’t wearing anything under it. With it, she wore a short, short beige skirt. I wondered if she had anything on under that. I had a feeling that when she sat down, half the room would find out.

     
Fish had her on his arm, a shit-eating grin on his face. Maybe he already knew the answer. He had on a garish-looking Hawaiian shirt—lots of palm trees and hula girls—tan slacks, sandals.

     
“Can you believe how she’s dressed?” Tory whispered. “She might as well not be wearing any clothes.”

     
“I can’t believe how our boy is dressed. Where did that shirt come from?”

     
She winced. “From his place. I told him not to bring it. He insisted.”

     
“It’s got hula girls on it.”

     
“I know.”

     
“Someone worth ten million dollars wouldn’t wear a shirt with hula girls on it. Jimmy Buffett might. Warren Buffett wouldn’t.”

     
“Would it make any difference if I told you he has worse?”

     
“Impossible.”

     
She gave a throaty little laugh. “Believe me, it’s true. Nobody’s looking at him, though; they’re all looking at her.”

     
I looked around the room. She was right. Everyone was staring.

     
Our chubby moderator was aware of that, too. He stroked his beard nervously several times, cleared his throat loudly. “Everybody, please take seats. We’ll get going in just a minute.”

     
People began finding seats and the staring lessened. Within minutes, the meeting was in session, a steady procession of folks making their way to the podium to testify. As they droned on and on, I felt myself getting drowsy.

     
An elbow bought me back to reality. “This is winding up,” Tory said quietly. “Let’s beat the crowd.”

     
We got up and went out the door. “Good idea,” I told her as we walked to the car. “They don’t need to see us here and at the restaurant.”

     
Marina Jack’s was only a short drive away. Located right on the edge of town, surrounded by boats anchored in the Bay, it was particularly picturesque.

     
The host must have liked Tory. The table he took us to was perfect. On one side, we had a view of the marina. On the other, we had an unobstructed view of the room. No matter which table Fish and Janet had, we’d be able to observe them.

     
“Can I start you off with something to drink?” our waiter wanted to know.

     
“Glass of wine to celebrate your great idea?” I suggested to Tory.

     
She nodded. “Sounds good.” She looked at the waiter. “A white wine—something dry.”

     
“Make it two,” I added.

     
He left. I watched the door.

     
“Don’t worry. They should be right behind us.”

     
They weren’t.

     
Ten minutes passed. Twenty minutes passed. When half an hour had gone by, I decided they’d gone somewhere else.

     
“Relax. He said she wanted to come here,” Tory said although she was intently watching the door, too.

     
Forty-five minutes had gone by when the door opened and they walked in. Here, too, Janet’s outfit had people looking. I watched as the maitre d’ escorted them to a secluded table where she wouldn’t draw too much attention.

     
Once they were seated, I relaxed a little bit. Tory seemed more agitated.

     
“Something wrong?”

     
“No,” she said softly.

     
She could deny it, but something was bothering her. “Did I do something?”

     
She shook her head, seemed flustered. “It’s this restaurant.”

     
“Bad meal?”

     
“Bad memories. This is where I told my husband I wanted a divorce after I found out he was having an affair.”

     
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” I signaled for the waiter. “We’ll go.”

     
“No, she said quickly. “I’ll be fine. I didn’t think it would still bother me. Maybe it was all the waiting. Let’s just eat and get out of here.”
           

     
Fish seemed to be in a hurry, too. He asked for the check almost before Janet finished her meal and rushed her after dinner coffee. I had a feeling he was anxious to get to Janet’s place for dessert.

     
“I think they’re getting ready to depart,” I said.

     
“I’m ready if you are.”

     
I got our check, paid quickly in cash, and we left ahead of them. From the Saab, we watched them play kissy face in the parking lot on the way to Fish’s car. When they reached the car, Janet leaned languidly against the rear fender while Fish unlocked and opened her door for her. Instead of getting in, Janet put her arm around his neck and pulled him to her. Fish pressed his body hard against hers, did a few pelvic thrusts.

     
Tory saw it, too. “Good thing you didn’t lease him a Lincoln Town Car.”

     
The clinch broke, and she got in. Fish closed her door and walked around to the driver’s side. Even from where we were, we could see the bulge in his pants.

     
“The way she’s dressed, the way he’s acting, I have trouble thinking she’s going to be able to hold him off,” I said as I put the car in gear. I pulled out of the parking space, prepared to follow them.

     
“That’ll certainly make Frankie happy. When I talked to him about what they were doing tonight, all he wanted to talk about was the best way to get her into bed.”

     
They pulled out of the parking lot into traffic. I followed about six or seven car lengths back. We were only about twenty minutes from where she lived. At the speed Fish was driving, it didn’t take long. He was there in ten.

     
From a block away, we watched as he pulled into her drive, got out of the car, opened her door, and escorted her up the walk to the front door. She used her key and they went inside.

     
“Think they’re tearing each other’s clothes off in there?” Tory asked.

     
“Scary thought,” I said. Headlights illuminated the interior of the Saab. “Get down,” I ordered.

     
The car passed us, turned into Janet’s driveway, and parked next to Fish’s Mercedes. We sat back up.

     
“Who’s that?” Tory wanted to know.

     
The driver’s door opened, and a dark-haired man got out. “Nevitt.”

     
“What do you think he’s doing here?”

     
Nevitt looked at Fish’s Mercedes, strode quickly to the front door, rang the bell, and waited.

     
“My guess is he’s here to provide coitus interruptus.”

     
Nevitt rang the bell again. The door finally opened. Looked to me like Janet was wearing a robe. Nevitt stepped in and the door closed again.

     
“Now what?” Tory wanted to know.

     
I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t expected Nevitt to show up. Judging by the way he’d arrived right after they’d gone in the house, this had to be arranged, and it had to have a purpose other than keeping Fish from boinking Janet. I just couldn’t figure out a good reason for forcing a meeting like this.

     
“Now we wait,” I said.

     
We didn’t have to wait long. No more than five minutes passed before the front door opened and Fish strode angrily down the walk to his car. From the doorway, Janet waved good-bye.

     
Fish backed recklessly out of the driveway, gave her a quick wave, and sped down the street.

     
We followed him to the Sovereign, found him chugging a beer in the kitchen. He finished that one, chugged another, looked over at us, his eyes wild.

     
“Frankie, what happened?” Tory asked, obviously concerned.

     
“Hell if I know. She’s got her hand in my pants on the ride to her place. We get to her place, go inside, she takes off her blouse, starts rubbing up against me with those big breasts.” He threw up his hands. “The damn doorbell rings. I tell her to forget about it. But no, she puts on this robe that was on the sofa and answers it.”

     
“She just happened to have a robe right there?”

     
His jowls went down, his version of a frown. “She lets in this guy she introduces as her brother, Greg Nevitt. He congratulates me on the engagement, tells me he’s an attorney, wants to know if he can help. Help? The only help I need is for him to leave. I say no, everything’s wonderful, thanks for stopping by. He don’t take the hint. He says he knows paperwork can delay things and if there was any paperwork holding things up, he’d be glad to expedite it. Again I say no, everything’s wonderful, thanks for stopping by. Turns to Janet, says he needs to talk to her about some family matters. She gives me a peck on the cheek, tells me to be a dear and call her tomorrow. Instead of getting screwed, I get screwed over.”

     
“Frankie, remember? I told you tonight wasn’t going to be the night,” Tory said.

     
Fish’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, but she was telling me different. Then boom, she cuts me off, right at the balls.”

     
It was pretty obvious that this whole little encounter had been staged to smoke out whether Fish wanted a prenup. That had to be the paperwork Nevitt was referring to. “What date did you and Janet end up setting?”

     
“Friday. Next week.”

     
I’d expected him to say this Friday or Saturday. “She couldn’t do it this weekend?”

     
“I don’t know. I asked her for next Friday.”

     
“We talked about this Friday or Saturday,” Tory said, reminding him.

     
“That don’t matter. The boss told me the date is next Friday.”

     
“D’Onifrio told you?”

     
Fish nodded.

     
“Why then?” Tory wanted to know.

     
Fish shrugged.

     
I knew. D’Onifrio had timed the wedding for two days after Enrico’s arrival. I viewed it as confirmation of Raines’ theory that D’Onifrio had gone along with my wedding idea because it fit into his plans with Enrico. Which meant the other part of Raines’ theory might be accurate as well.

     
D’Onifrio was planning on grabbing me at the wedding.