You Don't Know Jack (26 page)

Their voices trailed off as they split for three different sections of the book store.

My face burned. Duke chuckled. "You've got your hands full with those three."

Like I didn't know that. "You said you wanted to speak to me? It is Apollo?" I started to dig for my phone, worrying I'd missed a call from my mother.

He placed a hand on my arm, stilling me, thrilling me. "I just spoke to the hospital. No change."

My stomach stopped twisting. My breath evened. Sort of. It wasn't good news, but it wasn't worse news. "Then what?"

He stepped closer, dipped his head toward mine, still touching my arm. Even his breath smelled sexy. My pulse skittered and my body sang, "Hallelujah" anticipating an end to the sexual drought. He said, "I still don't have your account of what happened at the nightclub the night your ex-husband was murdered, remember?"

What? He wanted a statement? Not foreplay? Not sex? Not afterglow? "I'm sorry. The deposition dropped off my priority list when Apollo was—"

"I know, and maybe we don't need an official deposition until he's doing better, but I would like to hear your account of events up to when you discovered Lars' body. Perhaps we could do it tonight?"

Do it tonight
. I had to remind myself he was talking about taking my testimony, not taking my celibacy. "Tonight?"

"If you're free for dinner."

I hesitated and he hurried on. "If you don't want to go out, I could make us something to eat at my loft."

Oh my god, he
could
cook.

"Told you so." Lars said, finally showing up after days of silence following our argument at the hospital. "Watch out for that shark. He'll gobble you up with those pearly whites."

I shook my head, hoping to clear out the ghost of husband past. The Golden Oldies were pushing me toward Duke, Lars warning me against him. The emotional tug-of-war made it impossible to hear my own heart. I stalled. Stone's orders didn't include who should accompany me everywhere, but my own version of safety in numbers did. Two was too few. Though that was hardly the issue.

How could I keep my vow of abstinence with my body clamoring for carnal release and Duke fixing me dinner? I pictured him naked, only an apron between himself and my desire. My mouth watered. How could I trust I wouldn't be swept up by his masculine charms? And what if I came to my senses just in time and then ran out of his place to keep from falling into his bed?

I'd be alone then. No safety in the number one.

"We could do it here and now," he said, meaning the deposition, but the double entendre flushed more heat to my nether regions. He seemed unaware. He waved toward the café. "I thought while your companions were book shopping..."

"Sorry, I don't have time right now, but Aunt Abby is fixing homemade stew and biscuits. Why don't you join us for dinner tonight? Around seven? I could give you a statement after we eat." Before I head to the hospital.

"It's a date."

"No. It's just dinner and a chat. I'm spending the night with Apollo."

"I can't be upset about that." But he looked disappointed.

I felt an adverse flutter of pleasure... and a stab of disloyalty. Why? So what if he was Stone's brother? I owed Stone nothing. I needed to stop thinking about men and sex and concentrate on solving Lars' murder. Maybe that was what Duke had been doing? "By any chance did your business have something to do with Patricia Pepper?"

"Can't discuss my business."

Just like his brother. Stonewalling me. "Can you at least tell me if she's a client of yours?"

He hesitated. "I wouldn't if she were. But she's not."

"Another 'statement'?" I glanced pointedly at his briefcase.

He said nothing, but his smile said, "Aren't you clever for figuring that out?"

"Did she tell you she was stalking Lars? That he'd applied for a restraining order?"

"Really?"

I nodded. "In my opinion, she's certifiably cuckoo enough to be dangerous."

"The police and courts require proof. Do you have anything solid against her?"

"Not yet. That's why I really want to get into her office or her house. Say, were you in her office? Did you spot anything that might make her a serious suspect? Anything that could be used to cast doubt on Apollo's guilt?"

"Whoa, one question at a time." Duke was nearly laughing. "We did meet in her office, but that's all I can tell you."

"You might want to do some digging into her relationship with Lars."

"Thanks for the heads up."

"If she killed Lars and framed Apollo I
will
prove it." I caught sight of the store clock. "Oh, no. I'm going to be late if I don't gather my troops and leave now."

"Sounds important. More investigating?"

I could have said I can't discuss it, but I didn't. I didn't mention the florist shop, though. None of his business how I proved Apollo's innocence. "I have an appointment with an editor who is helping me edit my manuscript. She lives on the island. Teri Steele."

"Sounds interesting. I'd love to hear about your book sometime. Maybe tonight at dinner?"

"Okay." That warm feeling flushed through me again. Stone never asked about my books. "See you tonight around seven."

Duke hurried off. I spun around in search of my senior gang. Peppermint Patty stepped into my path. I froze, eyes widening, heart tripping. How long had she been lurking behind the stack of books? Eavesdropping? How much had she overheard? Heat and cold tangled through me producing an icy sweat on my brow.

I took a step to go around her. She countered the move, cutting me off again, drilling me with that insane killer stare. The same creepy sensation — like standing too close to evil — that I'd felt in the nightclub the night Lars was murdered skittered across my skin.

Had she thrust the knife through his heart?

Put the black carnation in my bathtub?

If so, how was I going to prove it? She took a step toward me. I backed up, unable to stifle a shiver.

Golden Oldies to the rescue. Sophie caught my elbow, whispering. "Geeze, Jack B, did you forget we're on a mission?"

The bell over the flower shop door greeted Madam Zee's bracelets like long lost relatives newly reunited. Clashing floral fragrances assaulted my nose, reminding me again of Lars' funeral, and the black carnation floating in my tub. Who'd put it there? Who had been in my bathroom and why —
if it was the killer
— hadn't he, or she, drowned me?

The thought started my stomach churning. I wouldn't feel better until I was back on the ferry, headed home.

The Golden Oldies seemed to have again forgotten our objective in appreciation of their new surroundings.

"Eve's Apple Garden," Sophie gushed. "Cute name."

"Cute shop." Madam Zee agreed.

"Cute schmute!" Ida thumped her cane. "Check out the stock!"

"Lovely," Sophie said.

"These hydrangea," Madam Zee said.

"These bonsai," Sophie said.

"The spathiphyllum and Dieffenbachia!" Ida brayed.

My ears glazed over at the names of the displayed plants and flowers. The only thing I recognized was ivy. Make-up, I know. Flora, no clue. When it comes to plants I have a black thumb.

I spotted Eve at the counter and signaled Sophie to go talk to her. I turned my back, pretending to consider a basket overflowing with greenery and red blooms. I didn't want Eve hustling over to help me. My disguise was back in place, but up-close would fool no one. If I had to come here again, I was wearing a camouflage suit with branches pinned to it.

I should have stayed on the sidewalk. Or in the car with the guns. Yeah, like guns locked in a glove box would make me bullet proof. What I needed was a Kevlar bodysuit.

I shook off the thought. The Golden Oldies were still ogling the displays. Sophie hadn't made a move toward Eve. She was listening to Ida reel off biological plant names. Had she just said, "lipstick plant"? There was a plant named Lipstick?

The bell over the entrance sounded. I glanced around to see a familiar face coming through the door. Not Frankie, but the last person I expected. Carter Hawks, Lars' literary agent. My mouth dropped open, delaying a quick, turn-away reaction.

Hawks, however, barely glanced in my direction. He walked with purpose, long direct strides, straight to Eve Steele, an air of confidence wafting off him like scent from a perfume counter. What the hell? This was not the man of shadows I'd observed at his office. Not the man who could blend with walls.

That wasn't a clip holding his designer tie in place. It was a billboard: Big Dog in the Yard. This was the powerhouse agent persona, the underappreciated, underestimated guy who'd dragged Lars from the slush pile and strong-armed him onto the best-seller lists.

This was every writer's dream agent.

I peered between the leaves of a lofty plant, gaze glued to the counter, ears straining. Eve's eyes lighted as she welcomed Hawks, but the Golden Oldies chatter drowned the exchange between Frankie's sister and Lars' agent, and I couldn't read lips.

Was there a class to learn that?

Eve disappeared into the back room, returning a minute later wearing her coat, and followed by a middle aged woman in a green apron. Eve and Carter Hawks left, chatting. I waited a moment and hurried after them without my "Golden" entourage.

Outside, curiosity kept me from feeling the cold, but did nothing to ease the sudden sense of vulnerability that swept over me like a foreboding wind. The sidewalk was awash with pedestrians rushing to get indoors and out of the nasty weather. Anyone of them might be the killer. Watching me. Waiting to get me alone. To bump into me, jab a knife between my ribs.

My pulse roared in my ears. I forced myself to a normal, unhurried pace, knowing I'd had no choice exiting the florist shop without my sisters in crime. I couldn't risk the bray of a ninety-year-old, or the clamorous jewelry of a senior fortuneteller drawing unwanted attention in my direction as I stalked Hawks and Eve. The situation called for covert action, for a one-woman surveillance.

I had to figure out what was going on between these two. I was too far away to overhear their conversation, but if I closed the gap too swiftly, I might be caught out. I swallowed my frustration, settling for longer strides.

Eve and Carter turned into a restaurant half a block ahead. I hustled forward, then waited a beat of ten. Customer chatter, taped piano music, and fragrant seafood aromas hit me as I stepped inside. Beyond the reception desk, the interior was wide open spaces with lofty exposed beams, antique tables sporting mismatched chairs on scuffed wood flooring. Tall green plants and a fireplace added warmth.

From across the room I spied a tall red headed man stand and wave to Eve and Carter. Frankie. I froze, ducked back, my brain trying to connect dots that seemed ever more disconnected. It was all I could do not to grab a tray and bring water to their table, anything that would get me near enough to catch some of the conversation.

No. I couldn't risk it, but I had to do something.

"Table for one?" the hostess asked. I glanced at her, then back at the room. None of the tables near my suspects was available. "Ma'am?"

Moment of truth. "No, that's okay. I-I forgot something. In my car." I pointed toward the door, shuffled back a step, grimacing, my face contorted and hot. Outside, a blast of cold air greeted me, kicking salt into the wounds of my disappointment and frustration. Damn. I had no idea how to find out what was going on between my suspects. Nor any idea what common ground a florist, a bartender, and a literary agent shared.

All I could do was retrieve my elderly bodyguards and head to the second leg of today's mission.

"Jack B!" the shout came as though cued. The Golden Oldies tottered toward me.

"We've been looking all over for you, dear." It was difficult to feel reprimanded by Sophie, whose face twinkled when she spoke. "Like my Hermie always said, 'look in the most obvious place.' We did and here you are."

Bless Hermie, I thought. They arrived breathless. I apologized for scaring them. Privately, I hoped they hadn't returned to the car for their weapons when they'd discovered me gone.

"We have much to tell you," Madam Zee said, grabbing my arm with a clatter of jewelry and steering me into the very restaurant that I'd just sneaked out of. "Over drinks."

"Table for four!" Ida brayed before I hustle them back outside.

"The waitress parked us across the room from my trio of suspects whose heads were bent close like crooks studying the blueprint of a bank they were about to rob.

As much as I wanted to walk past that table, to eye the document they were perusing, I sat instead with my back to the trio, Ida beside me, Sophie across from her and Madam Zee across from me. I cautioned, "Ladies, we need to keep our voices low."

Madam Zee ordered tea for all of us. I hate tea. I changed my order to venti breve caramel macchiato. I needed bracing. Something tall and strong. Like my men.

As soon as we were alone, Madam Zee leaned toward me like she might over a crystal ball, eyes wide, her voice spooky. "You know the clerk at the florist shop?"