Jingle of Coins (27 page)

“No, thanks. I’m a big girl; I can do it by myself. Besides, there’s nothing you can do. The damage is already done, and the cops will be here any minute.”

He hugged her one last time and set off for the parking lot. The police arrived a few minutes later. Emily was surprised to see the same detectives from the night before.

She surveyed the wreckage that used to be her tidy apartment. “I don’t think so. I mean, my television and stereo are still here. Want me to check the bedroom?”

“Yeah, but don’t touch anything. We’ll probably dust for prints.”

Her computer was still in the bedroom, as well as her clothes. “This is really weird,” she announced when she returned. “Nothing’s missing. It looks like someone got mad and tore up the place. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Could they have been looking for something?” Agent Curtis suggested.

She held out her hands in a silent plea. “What? I don’t have anything of value.” She stared at Kate’s apartment for a second, then clapped her hand to her chest when a thought occurred to her. “Do you think whoever did this mistook my apartment for Kate’s?” she asked. “I’ve only been in her apartment a couple of times, but I know she owned some very expensive antiques.” She studied the cops for a moment, then continued, “Maybe whoever killed her decided to come back and burglarize her apartment.”

“Unfortunately we’ll need a search warrant before we can go inside.” Walgren scratched his head as Emily moved to the window and stared through the gaps in Kate’s curtains.

“Her apartment looks worse than mine.”

Walgren peered through the window, then motioned to his partner. The two of them spoke for a moment, then Detective Monroe walked away.

Emily remained outside as the fingerprint crew dusted for prints. After they’d worked for an hour, she joined Detective Walgren. “Did they find anything?”

He nodded. “A few prints. We’re going to run them and see if we get any hits.”

“Can I clean up after they’re done?”

“Yeah. They’re almost through. It looks like this was a professional job, so don’t get your hopes up about finding out who did it any time soon,” he advised.

“Thanks. I appreciate your honesty.”

“Sorry we couldn’t be more help.”

The apartment felt strangely empty once the police left. Emily fixed herself a cup of instant coffee, then called her insurance agent and arranged to have an adjuster review the damage. Since there was nothing she could do until after he finished his inspection, she decided to go on to work. She paused at the doorway to pick up a handful of CDs and shoved them into her purse. The calming music would help ease her frazzled nerves as she drove the short distance to the shop.

Sara was busy with customers when she arrived, so Emily grabbed the list of orders off the spindle and moved into the workroom. Thankfully, the arrangements were small enough to keep her busy, but not overly so. She settled down to work.

“Was the murder I heard about on the radio in your complex?” Sara asked a few minutes later. “I thought I recognized the address.”

Emily nodded, but kept on working. “It was my neighbor.”

“Oh my God! That gorgeous woman who came in and bought the arrangements? She’s dead? Oh my God. That’s horrible. What did you do? Tell me all about it,” Sara begged. “Don’t you dare leave out anything. I want all the gory details.”

“There’s not much to tell. Somebody knocked on the door, and when I opened it, my neighbor fell to the floor and died.”

“Holy shit! You didn’t sleep there last night, did you? I know I couldn’t stay in an apartment where somebody died.” Sara shuddered. “Too creepy.”

“Damn,” Sara whined. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ve got to hear the rest of this.” She eased off her chair to wait on the customer and returned a few minutes later. “There’s somebody here to see you,” she said in a voice that wobbled.

Emily looked up. “What’s wrong?” she asked, noting the sudden pallor of Sara’s complexion.

Sara moved closer. “It’s that man. You know—the one who’s a gangster.”

Chapter Thirty

Emily’s mouth felt as dry as the sand in the desert. Stu! “Did...did he say want he wanted?”

“No, but he doesn’t look happy,” Sara whispered. “Want me to call security?”

She shook her head. Her first impulse had been to call the cops, but common sense told her that bringing in security might worsen the situation. Stu wasn’t stupid. He’d know she was the one who’d instigated the call. Would he make a scene if she asked him to leave? Or worse, would he accost her in the parking lot after work? Emily decided she couldn’t chance pissing him off.

“Don’t call them yet. I’ll try to get rid of him. Maybe he just wants to order another arrangement.”

“Yeah, right,” Sara retorted. “You going out there?”

“Somebody has to.” Emily stepped past the edge of the worktable, then backtracked and grabbed a pair of pruning shears. The metal scissors felt heavy in her smock, but she didn’t care. At least she wouldn’t be defenseless when she faced Stu.

“You’re not going to stab him, are you?” Sara asked in a hushed voice.

“Of course not. I just feel better knowing they’re there.” Emily patted the bulge. “Stay here. If it sounds like things are getting out of hand, call security.”

Sara inched closer to the phone. “Okay. Be careful.”

Emily moved to the doorway and tried to summon a smile. Talking to an alleged mobster was the last thing she felt like doing. She took a quick breath and walked hesitantly toward him, keeping the counter between them. Sara wasn’t kidding. The man looked like something out of a forties gangster movie—big, muscled, and threatening.

Stu narrowed his eyes and scowled at her approach. “Took you long enough. Where the hell were you?” he demanded.

“You wanted to speak to me?”

He twisted toward her, and she noticed a conspicuous lump under his jacket. Her throat constricted. Shit! The situation was getting worse by the minute.

“What took you so long?”

She ignored his question and tried to think of a way to get rid of him. Her glance darted nervously around the shop. The flowers...of course! “I’m afraid we won’t have any irises for a couple of weeks. Supplier problems.”

“I’m here to talk about Kate.”

“Kate?” Emily licked dry lips. “She...she died last night.”

Stu’s hand snaked out and clamped around her left forearm. “My boss wants to make sure whoever murdered her gets what’s coming to him.”

Her stomach churned as she struggled to free her arm. “Let go of me.”

“What do you know about it?” Stu demanded, tightening his grip.

“I don’t know anything. Let go of my wrist or I’ll scream.” Emily raised her voice an octave, hoping Sara would hear and make the call. The front of her smock ‘clunked’ against the counter, and she reached for the pruning shears. Her arm came up, holding the shears.

As quickly as she moved, Stu was faster. His free hand lashed out and slammed her wrist against the countertop. The impact freed the shears, and they slid off the counter.

“Don’t piss me off.” He increased the pressure on her hand, and an agonizing wave of pain shot up her arm. “You won’t like the consequences.”

Realizing he was in control, Emily lowered her gaze and stopped struggling.

Stu snorted derisively, then let go. Using his free hand, he unbuttoned his jacket and revealed the gun tucked into his waistband.

Crap! Now what was she going to do? Where the hell was security? Surely Sara had made the call by now. “Can’t we talk about this?” she pleaded.

Stu grabbed her wrist and twisted. Emily scrunched her eyes tight and clenched her teeth to keep from revealing how much pain he was inflicting. Stu jerked her arm again, this time less painfully. Frightened, she opened her eyes, lifted her gaze to his, and then immediately wished she hadn’t. His dark eyes glittered, reminding her of a cobra ready to strike. She tried to look away, but couldn’t. Mesmerized by those soulless, shining orbs, all she could do was wait helplessly for the killing blow.

Stu blinked, snapping the link. “One last time,” he threatened. “What did you tell the cops?”

Emily struggled to overcome her panic and told herself she could do this. It was her arm he held captive, not her voice. Besides, there was still Sara to think about. What would happen to her if she made Stu so mad he exploded?

Stu squeezed harder.

“Okay, all right. I’ll tell you.” Her breath came in painful gasps, and her heart thumped so loud she was sure he could hear it. “Last night I heard somebody pounding on my door. When I opened it, Kate collapsed. She didn’t even say anything before she died. I called the cops, and they got there right after the paramedics. That’s it. I swear.”

The burning pain in her left arm intensified as Stu considered her explanation. Unable to bear the agony, Emily sagged against the counter. “Please. Let go of my arm. You’re hurting me. I’ve told you everything I know. Just let go,” she begged.

Stu flashed her a twisted smile, patted the butt of his gun, then loosened his grip.

It took a moment for her brain to register that she was free. When it did, Emily jerked upright and staggered backward. Cradling her injured arm tight against her ribcage, she massaged the screaming muscles.

“You remember anything else, you call me first. Understand?”

“Yes.” Emily’s voice came out a hoarse whisper. The front bell chimed as two security guards approached the counter. One of them had a pistol strapped to his hip and had loosened the top of the holster. His fingers brushed the butt of his weapon as he walked toward them.

Afraid to speak, she sent the two men a frantic look.

“Don’t even think about it,” Stu advised, wrapping his fingers around the butt of his weapon. He tugged the front of his jacket across his hand and twisted so that the barrel pointed directly at the guards.

Nodding, she lowered her arms and clung to the underside of counter. A horrific image of the guards, crumpled on the floor with blood pouring from gunshot wounds shot across her mind, and she knew that unless she lied, that image would become a reality. Their fate was in her hands. Her glance flickered toward Stu.

“Yes.” Had she sounded normal enough to fool them? She’d never been much of a liar, and she prayed that, for once, she could put on a convincing act. They had to believe her—they just had to!

Instead of leaving, the guards stayed put. Emily could feel their eyes burning a hole in her. Please, please leave, she chanted under her breath. Just when she thought she was going to scream, a call came in on one of the guard’s radio about a problem in the casino.

Emily’s knees threatened to buckle as the door slid shut behind them. She’d done it! She’d kept Stu from shooting! She looked over at Stu, and her elation died as quickly as it had been born. The guards might be out of danger, but she wasn’t. Her hands started to shake, and she pushed her fingernails into her palms to keep them still.

He fished a business card out of his shirt pocket and rammed it into her hand. “Don’t forget. You remember anything, call me first.”

Too frightened to speak, she nodded.

He glared at her for several terse moments, and Emily moved backward until her spine pressed against the wall. Was this how insects felt when, trapped in a spider web, they watched the spider creeping toward them, knowing their life was about to end? She shivered. Stu wasn’t a spider or a snake. He was ten times more menacing and ten times more deadly. Her nerves stretched past their breaking point as he pinned her to the wall with his gaze. Then, as abruptly as he’d appeared, he spun on his heel and walked out.

“Why did you tell the guards everything was okay?” Sara demanded as she burst out of the workroom.

Emily’s vision blurred, and she cupped her hands around her nose and took several short breaths. “Because he had a gun.” Her knees buckled, and she slid to the floor.

Emily jerked her arm free. “No—you can’t do that! What are you trying to do, get me killed? The man already brought a weapon into the shop and threatened me with it. What do you think he’ll do if I drag the cops into this? He’ll kill me for sure. I know he will.” She grabbed Sara’s arm. “You can’t call the cops, Sara. Please. Promise you won’t call them. I’ll take care of it,” she promised. “Just don’t call the cops.” Emily’s stomach rolled, and the acid taste of bile splashed against the back of her mouth. Ignoring Sara’s protests, she hurried into the workroom and leaned against the sink. Sara followed close behind, but her tirade was cut short by the arrival of another customer.