Mouth of the Rat (A Samantha Jamison Mystery) (5 page)

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.