Worst Week Ever (A Long Road to Love) (26 page)

“You ate one?”

“No, just a
nibble on the foot.

“Who made
these turtles?”

“Me.”

“And what
illegal ingredient did you use?” Tall asked with the patience of a saint.

“I don’t know.
It had to be the chocolate.” She paused. “Unless they tampered with the whole wheat
flour or sugar.”

“We’re outside
your door and the man doesn’t wish to let us in…Oops, well Tiny’s in. I’m stuck
outside.”

“Pass me over
to him.”

“I hope you
mean the man and not Tiny because he’s probably halfway upstairs by now.”

Mr. Bergerman
spoke hesitantly on the phone.

“Mr.
Bergerman, please allow my very tall friend to enter. He’s going to help me set
the furniture to right.”

“What happened
to the man who went up with you?”

“He’s not
being terribly helpful.”

“We’re coming
up too,” the old man stated and hung up on her.

Tall called
her back. “We’re now waiting for the elevator.”

Carrie turned
and saw the elevator doors had closed on her side. “Either Jack has hidden in
the elevator or I’ve lost him. He’s rather crazed, Harmon. Please be careful.”

Tall chuckled.
“You should see Tiny when he goes on a binge. Now he’s a fright.” She heard him
suggest the others stand back. “Carrie believes a deranged fellow eating a bag
of turtles may reside within.”

A
heart-rending scream tore through the phone. Then pleading sobs to give him
back his turtles. A moment later, Harmon spoke. “Turtles have disappeared and
we are headed up. What floor?”

“Fifth.”

She heard Jack
plead, “I’ll give you whatever you want. Just give me back my turtles. They
make everything beautiful.”

Mr. Bergerman
scolded him to behave. When the elevator doors opened, Mr. Bergerman and his
two helpers hurried out. Tall followed, assisting Jack from the elevator. Tiny
came out of nowhere and kicked Tall in the shin. With a mighty leap into the
air, he wiped the chocolate from the side of Jack’s mouth and plunged his hand
into his mouth as he landed.

Tiny’s eyes
widened and a smile formed on his face. A minute later, he removed his fingers
from his mouth. He studied Jack then glanced at Carrie. “When did he eat his
first turtle?”

“About twenty
minutes ago.”

“How many did
he eat?”

“I don’t
know,” Carrie replied.

“Well, we
should get the bag and count what’s left.”

The elevator
door opened and Officer Pascal entered. His hand went to his gun.

“Carrie, you
okay?” His eyes scanned the group, focusing on Tall and Jack.

“Yes, but I
think Jack needs to go to the hospital.” She pointed to Jack swatting at the
air while Tall held him by the back of his T-shirt.

Officer Pascal
studied him a moment. “What’s he on?”

Tiny tried to
make another swipe at the chocolate on Jack’s face, causing him to jump back in
a panic.

“I’d say
something like Europa, but faster acting,” Tiny declared.

Pascal’s stern
glare refocused on her. “Carrie, you want to tell me what’s going on here?”

“I made Jack
some chocolate caramel turtles. Do you know what those are?”

He nodded,
never taking his eyes off Jack or Tall.

“Evidently,
the chocolate I used had some contaminant in it and now I’ve got half the town
hooked.”

He frowned. “By
half the town, who do you mean exactly?”

“Jack, of course,
but Tiny tasted the residual chocolate on Jack’s mouth and is acting weird
now.”

“No weirder
than normal,” Tall assured the policeman.

Carrie hit her
forehead. “Oh God, Mars ate a whole turtle.”

“Mars, Master
Trent’s butler?”

She nodded.

“Shit!” He opened
his phone and called someone. “Get Mars to the hospital now. He’s ingested a
narcotic.”

“Improved
Europa,” Tiny yelled out and leapt against the wall. “Rosebud.”

Jack howled
the same.

“Tiny, stop,”
Tall ordered. When he quieted, Tall continued, “Are you positive it’s Europa?”

Tiny eyed
Tall. “No, but if you let me eat a turtle I can be.”

Tall pulled
Jack to Pascal. “Hold him for a minute.” He picked up Tiny and brought him to
Carrie. “Hold tight to both of his hands.”

Before she
could get them, Tiny threw his arms around her waist. She did the same to him.

Tall motioned
for Joey to follow him into the elevator and she nodded for Joey to do so.
After a brief moment of reluctance, Pascal pulled Jack into the elevator and
the three men disappeared.

A heavy sigh
of relief came from Mr. Bergerman and his two Spanish workers, whom Carrie
suspected might not be entirely legal.

“I am so sorry
to drag you into my week from hell.”

The old man
chuckled then frowned at Tiny glued to her chest. “You want me to get him off
you.”

She patted
Tiny’s head and smiled. “No, he’s fine.”

Mr. Bergerman
eyed Tiny with displeasure and took in a deep breath. “Then we should be
going.”

“Do you need
me to sign anything?”

“No, but you
should come down and verify the work is to your satisfaction.”

“I have
absolute faith it is.” She glanced around the destroyed office. “I have to
clean this up before tomorrow morning.”

“By yourself?”
Mr. Bergerman exclaimed.

“I’m sure Tiny
will help once he sobers up. And when Tall returns, he’ll put the desks
upright…if he’s still talking to me after I doped Tiny.”

The old man
shook his head. “I got this granddaughter, always getting into trouble, and
I’ve told her a hundred times ‘trouble finds those looking for it,’ but you’re
a nice lady and I’ve never seen anyone find more trouble in two days than you.”

She nodded in
agreement. “This is hands down the worst week of my life, but it could have
been worse.”

“How?”

“Well, I could
be dead twice-over, or rotting in jail for scaring people off the sidewalk by
yelling bomb. Or, I could have not yelled bomb and let them be crushed by
falling file cabinets and have to live with the guilt for the rest of my life.
Or, some policeman other than nice Mr. Pascal could have arrived and arrested
me for making illicit turtles.”

One minute
Carrie had firm hold of Tiny, the next the little guy fell backwards and rolled
in laughter. He then humped his back in a rather good impersonation of a turtle
and tried to solicit the two Spanish guys. They stepped away from him and
complained to Mr. Bergerman in Spanish.

Mr. Bergerman
came to their rescue. “Stop it, little man. They don’t think you’re funny at
all.” He glared at Tiny and then huffed. “Well, I’m not leaving you alone with
him, so let’s get to work and set this mess to rights.”

His offer
overwhelmed her. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do. If
my granddaughter had fallen into this mess, I’d expect someone to help her out
and not leave her alone with some drug-crazed midget.”

Those final
words lessoned her warm fuzzy feeling toward the old man. “Tiny’s not a midget,
he’s just small. He’s not even that small. He’s almost my height.”

To prove the
point, Tiny stood beside her on the tips of his toes, which made him just a few
inches shorter.

The old man
shook his head. “Let’s just get this place cleaned up so we can all go home.”

Fifteen
minutes later, Tall returned and flipped the desks as if they weighed nothing.

Mr. Bergerman
brought some plywood from his van and covered the broken windows. “We do
windows, too.”

“You do?
You’re hired.”

“Don’t you
want to know my price first?”

She sighed. “I
can’t imagine a man as kind as you would overcharge me on windows. But
honestly, you really should add the hours of work you’ve put in tonight onto
the price of fixing the doors.”

A smile
finally found its way onto his disgruntled face. “You are so much like my
granddaughter. Doesn’t have a lick of sense but I love her to death.”

Carrie didn’t
care for his compliment, but before she could assure him she had plenty of good
sense, Sam stormed out of the elevator and into the office area. “Oh great, the
circus is in town!”

“Sam, stop
being rude. This is Tall and Tiny, friends of mine who came to help when you
wouldn’t.”

“Let’s go.
Trent has yet to realize you aren’t sound asleep in his bed.”

All eyebrows,
except for the Spanish guys’, rose two inches. “He’s just my boss. We are not
having sex.” She returned Sam’s glare. “My day has been bad enough! I don’t
need you dragging my reputation through the mud, nor do I need you to drive me
two freakin’ blocks. I have feet. I can walk.”

Sam matched
her fury. “Fine! Erase my number from your phone and don’t call me for help
anymore,” he yelled and stormed to the elevator.

“I’m doing it
right now.” She pulled up his number and glared at it. She was so angry, she
couldn’t remember how to delete a number.

Tiny took it
from her, poked it a bit, and returned it to her with a smile. “He’s gone.”

Leaning down,
she kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” She looked at Tall then Mr. Bergerman.
“Thank you all.” She repeated her comment in Spanish for the two workers.

She looked
around at the amazing job they’d done. “Let’s all go home. Job well done.”

After they
walked out of the perfectly behaving sliding door, and she'd locked it shut,
all her helpers insisted on escorting her to the door of the penthouse.

Two Spanish
guys, an old Jew, a seven-foot giant, and two little people, neither of whom
were midgets, somehow managed to frighten hard core New Yorkers to the other
side of the street. Thank God, they only had two blocks to go. When they
arrived at Trent’s lobby, she hugged everyone goodbye and hurried upstairs
alone.

Finally, her
horrid day had ended, and as she told Mr. Bergerman, it could have been a lot
worse. She sighed with relief. Everything would be fine. Mars would be fine and
someday he’d forgive her for feeding him ‘improved Europa’—whatever that was.
Sometime far in the future, she’d forgive Sam for making her feel like a whore
in front of her friends and an old Jewish man with traditional views on such
matters. Then, someday even further in the future, Jack would forgive her for
turning him to a life of drugs, but only after they got him rehab. Until then,
he wouldn’t remember her at all.

At least the madness had ended. She sighed in relief. Maybe
she could draw herself another soothing bath if Trent would explain the purpose
of all those levers on the Jacuzzi.

Then the elevator doors opened into the penthouse and all
hell broke loose.

“Carrie, how
did you get outside?” Trent stormed toward her the moment she stepped into his
penthouse. “I thought you went to the bedroom to work on getting my business running.
God! Has everyone who works for me gone mad?”

Mad? Oh, she
was getting there. Really fast. How dare he lump her in with his horrible employees!
“I went to the office, to ensure the front door got fixed, and to get everything
ready for employees to return to work tomorrow.”

Trent gripped
her sweatshirt, pulling her close to his lowered, angry face with a taped but
very straight nose. “Can you not see the policeman sitting on the couch?
Breaking their tape and entering a crime scene is against the law, you idiot!”

The policeman
would’ve heard Trent’s outraged ‘whisper’ even had he remained on the couch.
Unfortunately, Detective Pascal perceived Trent’s angry, charging-bull approach
as threatening and rose to intervene.

“He’s not
hurting me!” Carrie yelled out. “I’m fine.”

Trent stared
at her in horror. “My God, you’ve been drugged, as well.” He lifted her into
his arms. “I’m taking you to the hospital. Mars!”

“Is Mars
here?” she asked in shock.

“No. He’s at
the hospital.” He turned and glared at Pascal. “You have to take us to the
hospital now. Carrie’s gone mad.”

“Put her down,”
Pascal ordered in a stern, authoritative voice.

Trent countered
by raising his voice. “But she’s lost her mind. We need to go to the hospital.
I need her with her mind intact.”

Pascal widened
his stance as his hand went to his gun and he barked, “Put. Her. Down. Now!”

Carrie thanked
God Trent didn’t drop her to the floor. If matters had been reversed, she might
have…except she couldn’t have picked Trent up in the first place.

Once Trent set
her down, Pascal motioned for her to come to him. When she did, he pried her
eyes open to twice their normal size.

“Not really enjoying
this,” she muttered.

“Are you
satisfied? Will you get off your lazy ass and take us to the hospital now?”
Trent bellowed.

Pascal ignored
him and focused on her. “Can you tell me what you’ve been doing the past few
hours?”

She frowned at
him. “You know this. I tried to get those turtles away from Jack.”

Trent threw
his arms into the air. “Now are you satisfied? She’s hallucinating turtles.
Take us to the hospital
now
!”

Instead of
taking them anywhere, he smiled and chucked her beneath her chin. “You saved
his life by doing so. Had he eaten much more he might have died of an
overdose.”

I almost
killed Jack?

God, this day
just kept getting worse. She didn’t think it possible, but…

Her legs gave
out and only Pascal’s swift reflexes prevented her from crumbling to the floor.

“You see!”
Trent bellowed and attempted to pull her from Pascal’s arms. “I told you to
take us to the hospital. But would you do your job? No! Instead, you waste
valuable time flirting with my deranged assistant. Now give her to me!”

While they
fought over who would carry her, she passed out, only waking when the sirens
screamed. Trent whispered in her ear, “Don’t die. Please don’t die.”

“I won’t.
We’ve got too much to do,” she replied before falling back into a sleep of
exhaustion, happy Trent had stopped yelling at her.

Her sleep
ended when someone decided to burn her retinas with a bright penlight. Pushing
the excruciating light away, she growled, “Stop it.”

“Sounds a bit
like you.” The teasing voice sounded slightly familiar but she couldn’t place
it.

A moment
later, a familiar tantalizing scent filled her nostrils and large, strong hands
gripped her left hand. “Carrie, speak to me, so I know you’re all there.”

Carrie opened
her eyes to her very worried boss and a white walled hospital room. “You need a
better test. All of your employees can speak and some of them are clearly not
all there.”

Dr. Lenard,
Trent’s physician, moved in front of him. “She has an excellent point.”

“Which means
she’s fine, or she couldn’t have impressed you.” Trent smiled and stepped back
so the doctor could work.

Dr. Lenard sat
on the edge of her bed. “How are you feeling?”

She gave the
matter some thought. “Fine.”

“Better than
before?”

“Before my days
of hell?”

“During this
day of hell,” the doctor replied.

She frowned as
she considered his question. That depended on how much harm she’d done to
others. “How’s Jack and Mars?”

“Who cares?”
Trent demanded. “We want to know about you. How do
you
feel?”

She glared at
him. “Sick with worry, until I know I didn’t murder or permanently damage
anyone with those turtles.”

Trent opened
his mouth, but Dr. Lenard silenced him by giving him an open palm gesture.
Shockingly, her boss fell quiet.

Carrie would
have to try the doctor’s technique. He made it look so simple.

“One more
outburst and I’m sending you to the waiting room,” Dr. Lenard warned.

Trent threw
himself into a corner chair like a petulant child in time-out.

Dr. Lenard
refocused on her. “Both gentlemen are recovering nicely.”

“Will they
suffer any after-effects?”

The doctor
paused. “We aren’t certain. This designer drug appears to metabolize
differently than the original Europa.”

The door
opened and Detective Pascal entered the room. “Ah, she’s finally awake.”

The doctor
stood up and faced Pascal. “We ran the blood panel your people provided. She
shows no trace of the drug in her system. However, she suffers from dehydration
and undernourishment. Add extreme exhaustion and stress, and I believe we have
the cause of her fainting.”

“And
discovering I’d almost killed Jack,” she muttered. She met Officer Pascal’s
stern gaze. “I’m going to prison for this, aren’t I?”

“The hell she
is!” Trent yelled and stormed from the room.

Lenard
chuckled. “I made him check his phone at the nurse’s stand so you could sleep
peacefully. He’s no doubt out there demanding its return so he can call his
lawyer. I’ll leave you to your interview.” Still chuckling, he left the room.

She
appreciated Trent’s reaction more than the doctor’s. If she had to serve hard
time for making turtles, at least he could refrain from laughing.

Pascal tilted
his head as he touched her hand. “I would love to know what crossed your mind
right then.”

Her eyes
started to water. “How many years am I going to serve?”

“Did you
knowingly give Mars and Jack a designer drug?”

“No!” How
could he even think such a thing?

“Then you
committed no crime. The one going down for this is the chef, Ivan Stanak. Any
chance you know how long he’s worked for Master Trent? Your boss claims to have
no idea.”

“The chef’s
quite new. During the month I spent in Taiwan, Trent fired one chef and another
quit, so maybe a week or two.” She grimaced at her inability to provide a more
precise answer. “Mars has a very well laid out office. I’m sure he has the
employment papers for the man somewhere in his beautiful cherry wood cabinets.”

He wrote in
his little notebook, then his brow furrowed. “And how did you take the
chocolate without Ivan seeing and stopping you?”

“He had the
day off. However, Mars let me know taking ingredients purchased for the cook’s
meal equated to a capital offense and had the chef known, he would have quit.
But since I’d already melted and applied the chocolate to my turtles, Mars said
he’d buy some more so Ivan wouldn’t know.”

She frowned,
regretting she’d ever seen those chocolate bars. “Fortunately, he said he’d
have time to replace it since the cook wouldn’t need the chocolate until later
on in the week. Evidently, the cook plans his meals weeks in advance. Since
Mars didn’t seem concerned about replacing it, I’m pretty sure he knew where to
buy more.”

Pascal wrote
furiously in his notepad. “This is more information than I got from your boss
and, unfortunately, Mars remains in Iraq.”

Guilt
overwhelmed her. “He’ll be okay though, right?”

Pascal frowned.
“Not sure.”

Mars had only
eaten one, while Jack had eaten half a bag full. “What about Jack? He ate so
many…” Carrie asked, trembling in fear of his reply.

Pascal gripped
her hand. “He may have eaten more turtles, but evidently the drug was unevenly
distributed in the chocolate. The lab tech suspects you never stirred the
chocolate.”

“I didn’t. I
just melted it and scooped out a spoonful at a time.”

“Which was a
good thing for both of them. Otherwise, they would’ve overdosed before they
ever made it to the hospital. This is a new designer drug targeted at the high-stressed
wealthy crowd. The initial high comes twenty minutes after ingestion and by
capsulizing the Europa crystals in varying thicknesses, the drug releases into
the blood stream at different times. Thus, a user can enjoy continual highs for
up to two days. That means, after a hard, long week, for two thousand dollars, a
stressed stockbroker can enjoy a small chocolate wafer and have a two-day
vacation from reality with no after effect, no addiction, no depressions, not
even nausea.” He snorted. “At least that’s the sales pitch.”

“You said Mars
was in Iraq. That doesn’t sound like a vacation.”

Pascal shook
his head and frowned. “No, he’s reliving the worst days of his life.”

“Why?”

“Well, people
react to stimulants differently. But, in this case, Mar’s spoonful of chocolate
had a much higher percentage of the long-lasting crystals than Jack’s. The
experts have never seen this variant before, so they have no idea how this is
going to play out. We just have to wait and see.”

Tears flowed
down her cheeks. All she’d wanted was an expense reimbursement form. Why would
fate think that required the death of two wonderful people?

Pascal dabbed
her eyes with a tissue. “This isn’t your fault.”

“I’m the ones
who made the turtles.”

“True, but if
you insist on going down that road, then you have to give yourself credit for
not stirring the chocolate. That allowed most of the crystals to sink to the
bottom of the pan where the heat level was higher and degraded its potency.”

She smiled at
his words. She’d done something
—
or
not done something
—
which
might save Jack and Mars’ lives. “Thank you for sharing that. I do feel better
now.”

Pascal matched
her smile. “Good. Any chance you know if Mars actually reordered the
chocolate?”

“He didn’t in
my presence, but he’s so efficient—”

“In his normal
state, yes. Not so much tonight.”

“But he still
seemed rational when I left the penthouse. If he ordered it, I’m sure you’ll
find the paperwork in his office.”

He rolled his
eyes. “Unfortunately, Master Trent has denied our request to search the
penthouse. Did you use all the chocolate?”

“No, I used six
of the twelve bars.”

“Hopefully we
can get a search warrant before Ivan returns. Do you know if the place has a
back entrance?”

“Sam might
know.”

Pascal
grimaced and sighed. “He’s not speaking to me right now. Any chance your boss
would know?’

“I’d be
surprised if he did.” Trent seemed oblivious of matters not affecting him
directly.

Pascal
chuckled and put up his notebook. “I strongly recommend you don’t return to the
penthouse tonight. We believe Ivan’s part of the Russian mafia and he won’t be
happy to discover someone’s taken, according to the analysis of your turtles, a
half million in drugs from him.”

A half
million!

Her day just
keeps sinking further into hell.

Dr. Lenard had
evidently returned sometime in their discussion but neither she nor Pascal had
noticed him standing by the door. He now moved to the other side of her bed and
patted her hand as he focused on Pascal. “I’ll tell Trent she needs to stay
overnight for observation. Are you finished with your interview?”

Pascal nodded.

“Good, because
I have my own to conduct.” He frowned at Carrie. “When did you eat last?”

“I nibbled on
a turtle leg.”

“Doesn’t count
as nutrition.’

She struggled
to remember. This day had been so long. She worked her way back and finally
recalled a meal. “Detective Pascal bought me a delicious turkey and avocado on
whole grain. Oh, and I had popcorn.”

“When did she
eat the turkey sandwich?” the doctor asked Pascal.

“Around 2 p.m.
yesterday
, and she only ate five small bites.”

Dr. Lenard’s
glare returned to her. “Young lady, if you insist on nibbling at your meals
instead of eating them, then you require five or six meals a day.”

“But I’m
small. I only weigh eighty pounds.”

Pascal shook
his head.

“Okay, if
compared to Tiny, I’m not small, but generally speaking—”

Pascal
interrupted her. “You’re not eighty pounds. My pack in the army weighed eighty
pounds.”

“Well. maybe
it put on weight due to the stress of being in a war. Maybe sand blew inside
it. However, I assure you, I’m eighty pounds. My weight hasn’t changed since I
turned twenty.”

He turned to
Dr. Lenard. “She weighs about seventy...maybe less.”

Dr. Lenard
insisted on feeling her ribs beneath the gown. He then pushed the nurse call
button.

When a harried
woman entered, the doctor sighed. “What’s wrong now?”

“Mr. Lancaster
insists the phone I returned is not his. But it’s the phone he gave me.”

“I think it’s
mine. I have his. They’re the same model,” Carrie explained.

Pascal
coughed, trying to stifle a laugh. They all turned their attention to him.
“Sorry. Master Trent tossed
your
phone out my car window because you didn’t
call him when you left the building. Therefore, he concluded you didn’t need a
phone.”