Stella, Get Your Man. Nancy Bartholomew
and the Lord taketh away!” She sniffed. “And I don’t think profanity amuses him. It’s not exactly like you’re on God’s A-list, anyway. When was the last time you made confession?”
The conversation was definitely taking a dangerous turn for the worse.
“How do you like the shore?” Jake asked, attempting to rescue me.
Aunt Lucy didn’t seem especially thrilled to see him, either.
“What are you doing out of bed?”
“Surfside Isle has some great fishing,” he added, completely ignoring the question.
“Surfside Isle has mobsters, too,” she retorted. “It’s cold. The wind blows in off the ocean and you can feel it in your bones.”
Lloyd barked once, a short yip that seemed to mean something to Aunt Lucy. She cocked her head, smiled and said, “Well now, you’re right. That was nice.”
Lloyd moaned and padded over to investigate the trash can under my desk.
“I suppose,” she said, then turned back to us humans. “Your uncle likes to surf fish. Maybe the blues are running.” Then she frowned at us. “Of course, you won’t have much time for fishing if you’re trying to find someone’s brother.”
Busted. Aunt Lucy, Nina and Spike had obviously overheard every heated morsel of our conversation, not that we were trying to hide anything. I looked over my aunt’s shoulder and saw the other two hanging just behind her, obviously curious.
“Okay,” I said. “We’d better talk.” I looked at Nina. “I think this time it might be a good idea to have a plan.”
“We could start by naming ourselves,” Nina said. Then she stopped, her forehead creased in thought. “Well, actually, I think we might want to do some team-building exercises first. Maybe a trust walk.”
“A trust walk?” Aunt Lucy echoed. “How’s about we start with a place to stay? I have a friend who’s got a house in Surfside Isle, just one block off the ocean. Why don’t we start by asking her if the place is open? Trust walk!”
Nina bristled. “We blindfold partners and walk them around, you know, so they develop a trusting relationship and confidence in their partner’s ability to keep them safe.”
Spike was standing by the window in the office staring down at the street. She seemed so absorbed in the cars below that I was surprised when she roused herself to speak.
“Well,” she began, in her clear, crisp attorney tone, “I think there are more important issues to be addressed first.”
The room fell silent.
“Like what?” Nina asked.
Spike glanced out the window again. “Well, we could start with the four men in the car across the street. They’ve been watching the building for about five minutes, but now another car is pulling up behind them and everyone’s getting out and heading our way, and just so you know, I think they all have guns under their overcoats.”
The entire room exploded into quick, silent action. There wasn’t time for team building, mission statements, or a corporate name that reflected our unique abilities and talents. It was showtime.
Chapter 4
“Wait!” Spike commanded. “Stella, look at this!”
Jake moved with me, taking the side of the window opposite Spike while I stood and watched over Spike’s shoulder. We stood where we wouldn’t be seen from the street, hidden by the thick, dust-covered velvet drapes that had once been elegant accessories to someone’s bedroom.
Below us, on the busy small-town street, stood six men, all wearing overcoats and looking like movie extras in Scarface. They were prevented from crossing to our side by what can only be described as a parade float, a flatbed truck covered in thousands of roses sculpted to look like a garden scene. The trailer slowly inched down the main street of Glenn Ford, its loudspeakers blaring “Let Me Call You Sweetheart,” as a figure wearing a groundhoglike headpiece and a tuxedo held on to a microphone and swayed in time to the music.
“Okay, okay, okay!” Jake barked. “Let’s move it!”
“What is that?” I asked.
Spike met my eyes. “Beats me. Looks like a one-man parade.”
“Bring it on!” Nina yelled. “I’m ready to rumble!”
We all jumped, startled. Nina stood in the doorway, her eyes wild with adrenaline, a Bic lighter in one hand and the can of air freshener in the other.
She turned away from us, faced the open waiting-room door and screamed, “I got somethin’ for ya! Do you feel lucky?”
“Oh, Jesus,” I moaned. “Why me?”
“Nina, come on. There’s a time to kick ass and this ain’t it. Follow Jake!” I slid my hand behind my back and pulled the Glock out of my waistband. “I’m the tail on this one,” I called to Jake. “Get them out of here!”
I wanted to say, “See, I told you so!” but, of course, this was definitely not the time for that. We had six men with guns looking to have a close encounter and the only thing standing between us and annihilation was a one-man parade. I looked back out at the street. The song was ending and the groundhog seemed to be signaling the driver to stop. Who in the hell was this guy? Was it Joey Smack in a new costume or what?
As the truck shuddered to a halt, the groundhog in black tie looked up at the office window and began to speak.
“Lucy, darling, I know you’re in there! Let me see your sweet face at yon window!”
He threw his arm up and out toward our office, almost reeling off balance with the force of his movement. I shrank back against the drapes and watched as Joey Smack’s boys stared in helpless frustration. A crowd of onlookers was beginning to gather, not a good omen for your run-of-the-mill mafia retaliatory hit. The mob, on the whole, and Joey, aka “Santa” Smack, in particular, liked anonymity when they killed people.
I felt some of the tension begin to ease out of my neck and shoulders and a smile began to play across my lips. This wasn’t Joey Smack, but who in the world was it and how did he know Aunt Lucy was in my office?
“Lucy, dear, I have loved you from afar, and now I come searching for some sweet remembrance of you, some token I might carry close to my heart until you accept me as your soul mate!”
I turned and stared back at Jake. He was herding the others toward the back exit, the door that led downstairs to the employee parking lot. We might not have a mission statement, but we, by God, had an emergency exit to the first floor.
The music started up again outside, accompanied by a chorus of car horns as the trapped motorists voiced their irritation at the prolonged delay.
“Lucy dearest, I must bid you adieu for now. Parting is such sweet sorrow!” the lovesick groundhog cried.
The truck jerked into gear and lurched forward as the quivering flatbed began inching once again down Lancaster Avenue.
“’Tis a far, far better thing I do…” I heard the guy yell, “than I have ever… Oh, dear!”
The microphone clattered to the floor of the truck as its holder grasped frantically at a rose-covered jukebox for balance. Joey Smack’s men seemed momentarily undecided about pursuing their mission, and I decided to err on the side of caution. I jumped in front of the window, threw it open and leaned out as far as I could.
“Help! Police! Those men have guns!” I yelled. “I think they’re going to rob the bank! Call 911!”
The disbursing crowd stopped, frozen by the new drama.
“Over there!” I yelled, pointing to Joey Smack’s elves. “Call the police!”
If