Thrilled To Death (10 page)
Authors: Jennifer Apodaca
I think I was getting it. “Like a white-collar prince in the big city?”
Some kind of emotion, maybe guilt or regret, darkened her luminous eyes. “And maybe a career in acting. I wanted to be a game show hostess.”
She had the look for it. But beneath her words, I heard a bucket full of disillusionment and regret. “And now?”
She looked down at her coffee. “I just want what I had.”
“With Blaine?”
She nodded, her hair falling forward in a dark curtain of gentle waves.
“And you think signing on at Heart Mates will get him back?” I knew the parts of Blaine that he allowed me to know. Somehow, I didn't think her idea was going to work.
“It's all I can think of. When I got to town, I went to the garage he used to work for and found out that he's working here. I found out other stuff too.” She lifted her head, her face tight with some emotion. “Things have been bad for him.”
I knew that Blaine had a problem with cocaine, but it looked like that was news to Lola. But I wasn't going to discuss that with her. That was Blaine's business. He'd gotten clean and, as far as I knew, only had an occasional beer. But I wondered if losing Lola had done something to himâsomething painful enough to lead him to drugs. Blaine was such a strong-willed person that I'd always wondered how he'd gotten into drugs.
All of us have our breaking points.
Lola said, “Is he dating?”
I shrugged. “I don't know. I suppose he goes out, but I don't think he's serious about anyone. Except my car, he loves my car.” I smiled.
“Is that white T-bird in the parking lot yours?” Lola asked.
I nodded. “That's it. Blaine takes care of it for me.”
Her smile opened up like a flower. “He would love that car. He loves the classic muscle cars. Blaine has a magic with cars. I didn't understand that back then. I wanted to move up and on.”
I took a chance. “You didn't want to be married to a man like your father?”
She blinked in surprise. “It took me years to figure that out. My father worked in constructionâwhen there was work. And I guess I figured Blaine being a mechanic was too similar. But Blaine, he was never mean like my father. He was just flat-out a better man. I don't know why I couldn't understand what I had.”
I liked her. I was surprised by that, but there it was. I liked a woman who could own up to her mistakes and try to rectify them. “Lola, what if Blaine doesn't want you back? Ever?”
She took another sip of coffee and then sighed deeply. “I have to try. And it's not going to happen overnight. I just want him to start seeing who I am now. I want to sign on to your dating service so that I can come to your mixers and social events. I don't want to date. I plan to stay here in Elsinore now.”
“What about your job?”
“I have to get a new one. Shane has made it very clear that my job is over after this weekend.”
Stunned, I dropped both my hands to the table. “Shane? As in Shane Masters? He's your boss?”
She nodded. “I'm a magician's assistant. I just took the job to pay the bills until I got discovered. But now I just want to settle down and stay in one place. Find a job at an office or something. Or I could be a teacher's assistant. I'm good with kids.”
My head was spinning. How could this be a coincidence? I tried to think this out. Her motives for trying to get back with Blaine might not be as clear cut as I first thought. She could be desperate and looking for him to take care of her. She could be acting. “Lola, how long have you known Shane wanted to fire you?”
Her face hardened. “He's threatened for two months. But Monday night he told me this was my last gig. And he threatened me to keep my mouth shut.” She shuddered. “I don't want to cross him.”
I was desperately trying to catch up. I thought of Nikki, of all the magicians who were anxiously waiting to find out whose show Shane would be exposing. “I understand,” I said soothingly. “But you could help some magicians, Lola, and Shane would never have to know it was you. Do you know whose show Shane is featuring in his spoiler this weekend?”
She vehemently shook her head. “I signed an agreement. And even if I hadn't signed one, you don't know him. He'd know it was me and he'd . . . get even.” She shivered a little, then added, “I really don't know. We all rehearse our parts, and that's it until the final run-through on Thursday and Friday.”
She was really afraid. It hit me that I might have not only a potential client for Heart Mates in front of me but a suspect in the failed murder-for-hire plot against Shane Masters. I did the only thing I could think of. I signed her up for Heart Mates and had her sign the background check release. At least Gabe would have someplace to start to investigate her.
And her permission to do it.
I walked Lola out of the interview room. Blaine wasn't there. Gabe and Cal were repairing and spackling the walls. Painting would be next. Once Lola left, I turned around. “Gabe, where's Blaine?”
He set down the trowel thing and came over to me. “He went to get lunch.” Dropping his gaze to the papers in my hand, he added, “You didn't sign her on, did you?” A frown gathered between his winged brows over his dark eyes.
“I did. But I did it because she works for Shane Masters. And she has reason to be pissed at him.” I told him that Shane was planning to fire her for being too fat. “So I figured this way we'd have all the information, plus her permission, to do a background check and see what pops on her.”
The frown melted into sheer incredulousness. “Shane Masters thinks she's fat?”
Damn. I'd kind of hoped he'd be impressed with my quick thinking. Of course, his male brain was still on Lola's luscious curves. I was losing patience. “Apparently, he likes the leaner look. Now try to pay attention, stud. First off, Lola was not interested in you. So you can just keep your shirt on.” Umm, did that sound jealous?
Cal snickered.
I turned around. “Did you say something?”
His shoulders stopped shaking. “No. Just clearing my throat.”
I ignored him and focused on Gabe. “The point is that we can run a background check on Lola. Find out if there's any reason we might suspect her of hiring a hit man.” I waved the papers in front of him. “You do remember how to run background checks, right?”
Gabe grinned. “I think I can manage.”
Men.
“Fine. I'm going over to the stadium. My friend's brother works on the maintenance crew there, so I'm going to talk to him.”
“Fine. I'm going over to the stadium. My friend's brother works on the maintenance crew there, so I'm going to talk to him.”
Gabe took a step toward me. “Not alone.” Then his gaze rose from my face to behind me.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Who was behind me?
“Samantha, that was rude of you to leave Fletch alone at the house and run off.”
My mother!
Gabe's mouth twitched. Swear to God, if he laughed I was going to take off my shoe and whack him one. My shoulders tensed, and I turned around. “Mother, I have a business to run.” My mom was dressed to sell. She had on cream slacks with a pale green sweater accentuated with a silk scarf and an expensive-looking broach. Her tasteful jewelry, flawless make-up, and wedge-cut hairstyle supported her successful businesswoman image. She carried a slim purse. I knew she had an expensive leather briefcase in her car.
She tilted her head, smoothing out the slight wrinkles in her neck, and glared at me. “This?” She ran her gaze around her room. “This is more important than your grandfather?”
“I didn't say that.” I suddenly felt about thirteen. An invisible band formed and tightened around my forehead. I took a slow breath. “Mom, Grandpa is fine. He simply answered some questions for the police.”
“Samantha, Fletch told me that you are in danger. I want you to stop all this nonsense immediately.” She looked me over from head to foot. “And put a black blazer on, dear. Those shoes are not appropriate for office wear. Black pumps and stockings are the thing.”
Gabe leaned down and whispered, “I like your shoes.”
“Shut up.”
“Samantha!” My mother's tone had frosted to dry ice.
“I meant Gabe, Mom.” Gabe thought this was funny. He was so dead. “Mom, I am not in danger; I am doing my job.”
She wrinkled her nose. “This isn't a job. For heaven's sake, you don't even have professionals doing your renovations.” Her gaze went to Cal.
“That's Gabe's brother, Cal. He took time off from his job as a firefighter to help us.” I turned to Cal. “This is my mother, Kathryn.”
Cal nodded. “Nice to meet you. You have a lovely daughter.”
My mom nodded. “Thank you.” Then she turned back to me. “You can't possible afford all this.”
My stomach cramped, and the band around my head squeezed until I wanted to scream,
That's why I'm taking the job to find out which magician's show Shane is spoiling!
But instead, I said, “Mom, I have to go run an errand. I'll call you later.”
That's why I'm taking the job to find out which magician's show Shane is spoiling!
But instead, I said, “Mom, I have to go run an errand. I'll call you later.”
“Sam . . .” Gabe warned.
I turned around. “Back off, Pulizzi. I know what I'm doing.” He wasn't the only one feeling stressed and tired.
“Exactly what are you doing?” my mom asked.
Gabe answered, “She's going to talk to a groundskeeper at Storm Stadium about Shane Masters. Sam has a client who wants to know whose show Shane is spoiling on Saturday night.”
My mother turned her stare back to me. “A groundskeeper? Really Samantha, is that the best you can do? I know lots of important people. Come along, dear. I'm sure I can find out more than you could with your little groundskeeper.” She turned and strolled out with her Queen Mother walk.
I whirled around.
“Now Sam,” Gabe held up both his hands, “I was just trying to help.”
“Think you're funny, don't you?”
His face hardened. “I don't want you going there alone. At least with your mom, I know you'll be safe.”
“Safe? Are you nuts? Have you met my mother?” With all the buzzing fury in my head, it was hard to tell whether I was shrieking or not. “Or is this just your way of getting me off your hands? Is that it, Pulizzi? You thought you were going to have to do the job of babysitting me, but my mom came in and saved you?” When I stopped for a breath, I noticed Cal had disappeared. I'm sure he was on the phone now, explaining to his family that Gabe was dating a lunatic.
“Don't insult me, Sam.”
I opened my mouth, but a loud horn sounded. I looked out the window to see my mother idling her car in front of the door. I turned and stalked out of the office. I was going to get even with Gabe for this. I would find a way.
9
I
couldn't believe Gabe had manipulated me into going with my momâmy mom!âto the stadium to talk to Louis about Shane Masters. But since we were in my mom's car and pulling into the dirt lot across from the stadium, I had no choice but to deal with it.
couldn't believe Gabe had manipulated me into going with my momâmy mom!âto the stadium to talk to Louis about Shane Masters. But since we were in my mom's car and pulling into the dirt lot across from the stadium, I had no choice but to deal with it.
And get even with Gabe later.
We got out of the car and crossed the street to find the grounds maintenance crew working on the front of the stadium. It didn't take me long to find Louis. He wore a long-sleeved tan shirt with his name in blue sewn on the pocket. His wheat-colored hair was plastered to his head beneath a straw hat. “Louis, I'm Sam Shaw, a friend of your sister, Molly.”
He looked at me with blatant curiously. “Yeah?”
“Molly thought you could help me. I'm doing some research on Shane Masters. Have you been working here every day while his crew is setting up?”
He shook his head. “No. Just today. Wednesday is our regular day. And they are being real pains about it too.”
My mother shifted on her classic pumps and said, “Samantha, we should move along.”
I ignored her. “What do you mean, Louis?”
“His security is watching every move, questioning everywhere we go. They won't let us in the gates to do our work.” He shook his head. “Guess they had some trouble last night, but why would I care about a bunch of magician stuff?”
“Trouble?” My adrenaline kicked up. “What kind of trouble?”
He shrugged. “I guess someone tried to break into one of those trailers over in the main parking lot.” He waved toward the blacktop parking lot that led up to the ticket booths.
What did I ask? “Did you hear anything else?”
“Just that crazy magician screaming at the security guys. And they all stood there and took it from him. I'd have told him to shove it up his ass.” He blushed. “Sorry.”
Shane had to be the crazy magician. I patted his arm. “I know what you mean, Louis. Do you know what's in those trailers? Did you hear the magician say anything specific?”
He shook his head. “He called them incompetent and worse kinds of insults. I didn't hear nothin' else.” He glanced around and said, “Here comes another security dude. I gotta get back to work.”
I saw a large man dressed in a suit bearing down on us. I tried to think of a story. The man was large, built like a barrel with a heavy but solid-looking middle. His suit was rumpled, and his scowl looked like it had a lot of use today.
“Hi.” I walked up to greet him and held out my hand. “I'm Samantha Shaw.”
He ignored my hand. “What are you doing here?”
My mom moved up next to me and held out her card. “I'm Kathryn, a real estate agent, and I'm taking a look at the stadium for my clients. They are considering putting a bid into the city to purchase the property. We won't be in your way.”
Dang, my mom was good. The lie flowed out of her mouth effortlessly. And the city was trying to sell the stadium, so it was a somewhat plausible lie.
The man frowned at the business card, then handed it back to us with a warning glare. “Come back next week.”
“I don't think so, Mr. . . . what is your name? My client is a wealthy corporation. They don't wait.”
“I don't give a rat's ass who your client is. You need to leave or I'll have you escorted off the property. We have a contract on this property for the week. Get lost.”
My mom stood her ground. “I'd like to have a word with your boss.”
The goon pulled out his walkie-talkie. “I need some muscle to escort two broads off the property.”
“Two broads?” My mom turned to look at me. “Did he just call us broads?”
Her eyes glittered brown rage. “I believe he did.” I looked up to see two more goons heading our way. One was talking into a walkie-talkie, and the other was drinking a carton of milk. To my mom, I added, “They want to throw us off the property.”
My mom looked around. “Samantha, come here.” She turned and walked toward the sidewalk surrounding the property. I saw her open up her chic little bag and take something out. She stopped on the sidewalk and turned around.
I shrugged, went to stand next to her, and got out my own small canister of pepper spray. Not under the pain of death would I ever admit to Gabe that I thought he'd had a good idea in sending my mom with me. He had been right about one thingâmy mom knew how to take care of herself. And she might be able to criticize me, but she'd never allow anyone else to. I watched the first goon approach us, followed by two more sub-goons. The sub-goons were coatless and had their sleeves rolled up. They all wore matching scowls. Were scowls a job requirement?
The boss goon stopped in front of us, then turned to his flunkies. “Escort them to their car and get them the hell out of here. I don't want Masters to see unauthorized people around here.”
Both goons moved forward.
I kind of felt sorry for them. “You might want to think about it, guys. Umm, we're standing on the sidewalk now.” I glanced down to make sure my snazzy turquoise shoes were on the sidewalk. Yep. I looked up. “It's a public area. Now think real hardâ”
“Shut up, blondie,” the smaller goon with the carton of milk snarled, and grabbed my arm.
Sheesh, you try to warn a guy.
I heard the second goon roar out, “Shit! What . . . arrrg!”
“Let go,” I suggested to my milk-drinking goon.
He dropped my arm and turned to see his buddy on the ground, clawing at his eyes. He stood there frozen for a second as if he couldn't quite process what he saw.
Then he lifted his head to look at my mom. Unfreezing, he let out a roar. “You bitch!” He lunged at her, still clutching his carton of milk. He got his left hand around her arm and tried to shake her like a rug.
A red haze of fury swarmed in front of my eyes. No one attacked my mom! My vision narrowed down to the man who had a hold of my mom's arm, whipping her back and forth while holding his carton of milk out of the way. I took a big step and kicked the back of his knee as hard as I could. “Get your hands off my mother!”
“Ouch!” he yelled, and let go of my mom. His right knee buckled from the impact of my kick. He caught his balance while still holding his carton of milk like it was a fragile vase. “You kicked me!” he screamed, and started to turn toward me.
My mom raised her hand, and the stream of pepper spray splashed directly into his eyes before he could turn.
“Ahhh! My eyes!” He fell backward.
I saw the threat and tried to moved. But before I could get out of the way, one hundred and seventy pounds of goon landed on me. I slammed hard onto the concrete. My butt hit first, then my head landed in a pile of leaves and cracked through to the cement below. A ringing sound peeled in my brain while I lay stunned on the ground.
The man writhed around and managed to roll off me. Having sprayed myself once, I knew he was experiencing searing pain in his eyes. I ignored him and stared up at the sky, willing the ringing in my head to stop.
“Samantha, get up. Your underwear is showing.”
I shifted my gaze right to see my mother standing over me. She didn't even look winded.
“Lady, are you okay?”
The grounds maintenance guy, Louis, stood on my left. “I think so.” At least the ringing in my head was fading away.
He reached down and helped me to my feet.
I smoothed my skirt down over my black lace panties and then brushed the leaves and sticks out of my hair. I tried to look dignified, but I think I probably achieved comical. I forced a smile and said, “Thank you.”
Louis smiled back. “That was the best thing I've seen all week. Those guys are assholes. I should thank you.” He looked to my right.
My mom was giving the boss goon in the coat an earful. He had streams of sweat pouring down his face. He huffed in frustration and said, “Listen lady, we ran off a guy last night who was trying to break into one of Mr. Masters's trailers. We're a little edgy. It's our job to protect all that stuff!”
My mom asked calmly, “Did this burglar get into the trailers?”
Boss goon shook his head. “We have those trailers wired. Our silent alarm went off. We almost caught him, but he got away. The trailers are safe. But that magician, he's insane about the near break-in.”
My mother sighed and shook her head. “Was all this really worth risking going to jail for assaulting my daughter and me?”
“It's that . . . uh . . . Mr. Masters. He has us all a little jumpy. Look lady, just go away. Please. Don't call the cops.”
My mom turned to look at me. Then she turned back to the goon. “You'll pay for my daughter's skirt, of course.”
His hand shook when he reached inside his coat and pulled out a business card. “Sure, sure. Just leave. Call my office and I'll write you a check.”
What was wrong with my skirt? I looked down and saw a big blob of wet spreading on the front of my skirt. “Ewww! What is that?”
Louis bent over, picked up the carton off the ground, and held it up. “Milk.”
“Oh.” I stopped squirming. “I was kind of afraid that goon had peed on me.” I'd had milk spilt on me lots of times by the boys.
Louis burst out laughing.
“Oh, for heaven's sake, Samantha,” my mother said. “That's disgusting. Now let's go.”
I waved at Louis. “Thanks for everything.”
He grinned, leaned forward, and said, “Nice underwear.” Then he turned and tossed the empty milk carton in the pile of leaves.
I caught up to my mom at her car. “God, Mom, you are scary,” I said as I slid into the leather seat and pulled the door closed. I turned and looked at her. “But if you ever tell Gabe how much help you were to me, I swear I'll dress in my leather miniskirt and halter top and show up at your office when you have an important client.”
“That's a little extreme, dear.” My mom pulled the car out onto the road. “And I can't imagine why I'd be talking to Gabe in any case.”
“True.” I leaned my head back against the headrest. “But we did find out someone was trying to break into one of the trailers.”
“The hit man?” my mom suggested.
I couldn't imagine why. “I doubt it. Besides, Vance and Gabe both think that guy was an amateur.” Only one scenario made sense to me. “It's someone trying to find out whose show Shane is exposing this weekend.”
“Could be the same magician that tried to have Shane killed.” My mom looked over at me. “Who is your client?”
“Rosy Malone and her granddaughter.”
“Nikki? She's in town?”
“Yes.”
My mom drove in silence for a little while, then said, “You've been talking to Detective Vance? You said he didn't think the hit man was a pro.”
“We had lunch yesterday.”
“Really? He's a nice-looking man. And career cops have pensions and health insurance. They don't have great hours, but he's a detective. That's something.”
I rolled my head toward her on the headrest. “Mom!”
She sucked in her lips until there was just a thin coral slash. “Don't
Mom
me. You're going to outgrow Gabe. You need a stable man, a businessman who can provide for you and the boys. And you have to get out of that dreadful private investigating.”
Mom
me. You're going to outgrow Gabe. You need a stable man, a businessman who can provide for you and the boys. And you have to get out of that dreadful private investigating.”
“I like it.”
“It's not safe, Samantha.”
We rode in silence. We were just never going to see eye to eye. But after talking to Grandpa this morning, I understood a little more of the fear that drove my mom. She wasn't afraid of three goons, but she was afraid of men like Gabe.
It made me wonder about my father.
“Mom, are we ever going to talk about my father?”
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. “We've talked about him dozens of times.”
My head throbbed. She'd told me dozens of stories. Maybe one of them was true, maybe not. And maybe my mom had a horrible experience and I was wrong to force her to tell me. “No, we haven't. I'm not a child anymore. I just want the truth. I'd just like to know.”
She turned into Heart Mates and slid her car to a stop behind my T-bird. “Go home and change before the milk on your skirt sours and starts to smell.”
I lifted my head off the headrest and studied her face. It was tight with tension. Softly, I said, “I just want to know.”
“I'm late for a showing, Samantha.”
I got out and watched her pull away. I thought about going into Heart Mates just to yell at Gabe, but the milk had soaked through and my thighs were starting to chafe. I decided to run home and think about what I knew so far about Shane Masters, his show this Saturday, and the hit man.
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