by Norma Lehr
“Okay then.” He pursed his lips. “I’m off. If all goes as planned, I’ll bring agent guy back with me. I’ll take him to my place over at the Caliente and call when I get there. I’d like you to meet him and get your opinion of what he has to say. That work for you?”
Abby sighed and slumped in her seat. “Hopefully, by the time you return, I’ll have some good news to report. Then we’ll be able to let this whole thing go.”
Blade’s face softened, changing from serious detective to concerned boyfriend mode. He reached over and gently held her chin in his palm. “Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.”
Abby stepped out. Blade revved the motor and pulled away.
Abby entered the bungalow and wandered down the hall. “Ginny. Where are you?” Her aunt was in the back room sitting on a stepstool next to a wall of mirrors. The gold-painted room was filled with hair extensions, glitzy costumes, and jars of makeup.
Ginny appeared intent as she worked on brushing a brunette hairpiece. Deep worry lines etched her brow. “I called your aunt Dorie in Missouri. She’s flying out tonight. Got emergency family leave from her gig in Branson.” She kept on brushing. “You don’t mind sharing the guestroom with her, do you?”
Abby knelt beside her aunt and picked up a hair comb with a sparkly green ribbon attached. She smoothed the fabric with her fingers. “Of course I don’t mind sharing, but it might get too crowded for Aunt Dorie. You do realize we haven’t really been in touch. She might object to having a roomie. I can always get a place where Blade is staying.”
Ginny reached for Abby’s hand. “I don’t want you to leave, honey. Really, I don’t.” For a moment her face perked up and the worry lines smoothed. “Between the three of us Malones, we’ll be able to piece this whole damn puzzle together. We’ll find the missing part.” She struggled to stand. When Abby jumped up to help, Ginny shook her head. “Nope. I can do it. I’m planning on performing on the Follies stage next weekend. Not dancing—I leave those moves up to you—but I can stand long enough without my cane to sing with your aunt Dorie and hopefully your mother. If she shows up. If not, I’ll do a duet with Dorie.” A faraway look shrouded her eyes. “It could be just like old times.”
She grabbed her cane hooked on the door handle and left the gold room, limping down the hall toward the living room. “Come on, honey. We’ve got calls to make and people to see.”
First, Abby needed to ask a few questions about her mother’s past. The secrets seemed to be mounting.
“The mob?” Ginny laughed. “Is that what Blade said? He thinks my sister was a gun-moll?”
It was a relief to hear her aunt laugh. She appeared to get such a kick out of the question. Abby persisted. She told Ginny about Trish’s memoir and the literary agent’s warning to Blade. She also told Ginny where Blade was headed. Explained how he planned to bring this agent, one of the poker players, back to Palm Springs later this evening.
“So, who is this agent? Trish never mentioned him. You’d think she’d have told me she was writing this—what did you call it—a memoir?” Ginny hesitated and the worry lines appeared again. “Good Lord. That should never happen. I don’t want our dirty linen out there.” Anger took over as she struggled to stand without her cane. “Takes some nerve, now doesn’t it?” She glared at Abby. “There’re some things should never be talked about, let alone written for all the world to read.” She reached around the arm of the chair for her cane and pounded it twice on the tile floor.
Abby seized the opportunity. “Does that also go for my past and the name of my biological father? I’ve been trying to get that information from the family for years.” She crossed her arms and stared at her aunt.
Ginny plopped back down and her voice lowered. “That’s a story of another kind. If I could help you with that one, I would.” She shook her head sadly. “I don’t know the answer to the sixty-four thousand dollar question, honey.” Her sad eyes cleared and her lips tightened. “Maybe Trish will reveal his identity in her book.”
The two women sat in silence, lost in thought for several long minutes. Then the phone rang. “Abby, can you get it? Might be Dorie.”
Abby hoped it would be Dawson with good news. Instead, Logan Stamm came across loud and clear.
“Where are you calling from?”
“I’m at the police station, waiting for Dawson to return. He wants to hear my story again. I’ve told him everything I know. Now he wants more details of what happened Friday night after the doctor collapsed. I decided to wait for him here and get this over with. Looks like all of us players aren’t only persons of interest regarding the good surgeon’s demise, but we could also be responsible for Trish’s disappearance.” A long pause. “What’s your take on any of this? Do you think it’s connected? Have you talked to the dentist yet? I think he’s next on Dawson’s list. Shit, Abby. Pardon the swearing, but I haven’t even asked if you’ve heard from your mother.”
“I ….” She glanced over at Ginny, waiting on the edge of her chair. “We haven’t heard from Trish. I haven’t spoken to Preston Reynolds yet, but I plan to go over to his villa and see if I can get it taken care of before this night’s over. And yes, the doctor’s death and Trish missing do seem connected now, don’t they? I appreciate your call, Logan. After Dawson gets back to you, please keep in touch. You can always try my cell. If you can’t get through, leave a message on this landline.”
“Can we meet for lunch or dinner tomorrow? Get caught up?”
“Maybe. I can’t plan that far ahead right now.” Abby had an inkling of what he wanted to discuss, but that discussion wasn’t on her priority list right now. In fact, she’d thought of discussing the matter of Sterling Stamm—Top Forty Man, celebrity DJ, Trish’s lover—with Ginny. Since Dorie, the oldest aunt, was due soon to enter this murky cloud, Abby decided to put it off until later. Hopefully by then Trish would return and the four of them could sit down calmly. Perhaps invite Logan over to tell his story.
If Trish returned. There was a strong possibility her mother had taken off to parts unknown. Especially if she’d been warned she might be on a list. A mob hit list. Abby knew from the past her mother was a survivor. Ginny said it and Abby agreed. Trish was a tough broad. The question now? Would she be tough enough?
Abby got Ginny caught up with Logan’s message. Then she explained her plan of going to Reynolds’ villa to find out what he knew. With luck, she might get a clue to where Trish was hiding. Or the worst case scenario. Who he thought might have absconded with her.
“I’ve got to stay here and wait for Dorie’s call, or I’d go with you.”
“No. No. It’s okay. Both of us asking questions might be too intimidating. He might be grieving over the death of his friend at his poker table. And now, if he knows Trish is missing as well, he’s going through hell. I’ll try to keep it cool and not get him upset.”
“Be careful, Abby. Don’t stay out too late. I worry about you out there alone.” She pursed her lips. “Take a sweater. When it gets dark, that little bug of mine gets a cool breeze blowing through.” She made her way to the kitchen to boil water for tea. “Call me after you leave the villa, will you?”
“If Blade calls, find out what time he’ll be back in town.” She checked the clock on the kitchen wall. “It’s five now. Tell him I’ll call him at eight. Should give me plenty of time to speak to Reynolds then drive back over to the Caliente.”
For almost two hours, Abby tried to get through the security gate of Del Oro Villa. No luck. She had the dentist’s cul-de-sac address but not the gate code. Three times she’d followed close behind women when they punched in their codes, but each time, as the gate swung open and she sped up to follow, they braked and eyed her suspiciously through rearview mirrors.
Reluctantly, she backed up and parked under a tall palm close to the curb. She waited and watched for Reynolds to enter. Would she recognize him? She’d only seen his picture a couple of times: once in the local paper and again in his office waiting room. Sh
e could only hope for the best. When no male showed up to enter the gate, she rummaged through her purse for her phone and the dentist’s card. She reached a recording made by his receptionist, the young brunette with the green-rimmed glasses. Feeling totally frustrated, she could drive away from here now, but she really needed to talk to him. He must know something. Even information that was trivial to him might be important to her family. Anything regarding Friday night would be appreciated. Any tidbit she could relay back to Ginny. She eyed the descending sun as afternoon edged into evening. Beneath the shadow of a tall palm tree, she devised a plan to get inside the gate on her own.
By seven, Abby was busy at the Bud & Bloom. She bought two bunches of bright pink and yellow long-stemmed flowers cut and set in tall aluminum cans. She gave the woman at the florist counter—a tiny person not much taller than the cash register—extra cash for the cans. On the wall behind the counter, a brightly painted banner with bold letters said Bud & Bloom. She offered ten dollars for it. The woman reluctantly agreed, but only after Abby raised the price to fifteen.
“Can’t imagine what you want with that thing.” The woman climbed on a stool and carefully removed the tacks holding it in place. “It’s old.” She cocked her head and sniffed at the heavy paper as she brought it down.
Abby smiled admiringly. “It’s the sunflowers across the top. The artist did a smashup job. I’ll pin this on the wall in my auntie’s garden. She’s from Kansas. These beautiful yellows are the state flower.”
While the woman rolled and fastened the banner with a rubber band, Abby strolled around admiring dozens of mums and hothouse roses. “You have a roll of thick tape I could buy? I’d like to surprise Auntie and hang it on her patio before she sees it.”
“I’m getting ready to close.” The clerk covered her yawn. She brushed past Abby to turn the sign on the door. “I suppose there’s tape in the back. Will a couple of long strips do? Can’t sell you a roll. You’d have to get it at the hardware.”
Minutes later, Abby crossed the street to the car wearing a B&B yellow sun visor picked up in the discount basket on her way out. Careful to balance both tall cans holding flowers, she kept the rolled banner securely under her arm and the tape strips draped across her open palm.
At the parked GEM, she emptied most of the water from the flower containers on a grassy mound. Rearranging the blooms nicely, Abby set the tall cans on the floor of the passenger side. She waited until the clerk put up the closed sign and left the store. It was then she unrolled the poster, tore off pieces of the tape and attached it to the front bumper of the GEM, making sure it was in plain sight. Careful not to tip the flower containers, she carefully drove back to Oro Ridge.
She tailed the first woman she spotted getting ready to enter the security gate. She flashed a congenial smile then a worried look while she pointed to the banner taped on the car bumper. When the woman rolled down her window, Abby called out she was running late for a baby shower delivery and she’d forgotten to bring the code. The resident eyed the banner and checked out Abby’s yellow B&B visor. Abby held her breath while the bright colored flowers trembled in their metal holders. Finally the woman nodded for Abby to follow her in.
Once inside the gate, Abby turned right and followed the curved street around the perimeter of the development until she found the right cul-de-sac and the correct house number. Not good. The front door to the dentist’s place was cordoned off with yellow tape. She stopped abruptly, causing the little car to lurch. Reynolds must have moved out since Dawson started his investigation. Could mean she might never find him. For sure, his receptionist wouldn’t give up his whereabouts. She’d made it clear earlier the dentist wouldn’t be in the office until Wednesday. Two days from now.
If she couldn’t talk to Reynolds today, she could still get into his place and look around. Once inside, she might spot something, any scrap of paper, some small important thing Dawson’s team might have overlooked that could lead to her mother’s whereabouts. Frustrated, she yanked off her visor and slapped it against the steering wheel. If she left now, she’d never get back in. Searching through her purse, she pulled out her smartphone to call Ginny and found a message from Blade.
His voice came across clear and somewhat loud. “Hey, good-looking, I’m on my way back to the Springs. Be at the Caliente in about forty-five minutes with someone you gotta meet. We’ll be out by the pool.”
Forty-five minutes from when? She checked her missed call list. Only twenty minutes to meet him. Blade had made it clear earlier she needed to hear what Trish’s agent had to say. She looked at her watch and sighed deeply. A lot of work and planning to get in here and now she had to leave. At least, she told herself, she’d been able to find the scene of the poker game. The last place Trish had been seen by the players before she called the police. She had to get inside that dentist’s home. As she headed reluctantly for the gate, she vowed to dig around and ask questions until she found a way.
CHAPTER 8
Abby spotted Blade’s rental VW parked outside a ground-floor unit as she whipped the GEM around the horseshoe parking area of the Caliente Tropics Resort. By now, the evening light had deepened. Tall tiki torches lit up the pool area, giving the old place—if one squinted just right—a Tahitian atmosphere.
She parked, straightened the flowers in the cans and removed the B&B banner from the front of the car. She was exhausted and hungry. She strolled over and opened the metal gate. Blade lounged by the pool in chinos and a bright blue T-shirt. Next to Blade, a sleek, silver-haired man with striking features, dark skin, and expensive golf clothes held a beer bottle and lounged in a deck chair with his legs crossed.
“Whoa ho.” Blade struggled to sit up. “You made it.” He looked at his watch. “Where have you been?” He offered his Coke. “Looks like you could use a pick-me-up.”
Abby waved him off. “You wouldn’t believe where I’ve been.” She glanced at the man she supposed was her mother’s agent. “Long story.”
“You working for a florist now?” Blade motioned toward the GEM as he picked a large pink petal from her blouse. “A delivery gal?” He struggled to suppress a laugh.
“Not funny.” She scowled and turned her attention to the GQ guy checking her out.
“Sorry, Abby. You’ve had a tough day.” Blade got up and offered his lounge chair. “Meet Michael Heath, Trish’s agent, the man I told you about. Sit, and I’ll massage your shoulders.”
The agent stood and offered his hand. “Nice to meet you, Abby.” His voice was low and gravelly. “Your mother speaks of you and her grandchildren often.” He gave a fatherly smile and nodded. “Family. Most important. Right?”
Was it her imagination or did she detect a trace of Brooklyn accent? Forgoing any niceties, she put it right on the line. “Do you know where Trish is?” Without waiting for his reply, she plopped down on Blade’s lounge. For the first time in hours, exhaustion overtook her. And hunger. She took the can of Coke Blade offered and drained what was left.
Heath appeared concerned. “I dunno where Trish is. Haven’t seen her since we played poker, but I’ve gotta find her, and soon.”
Abby handed the empty can back to Blade. “Yeah. Why is that?”
“Business. Papers to look over. Some to sign.”
“Real estate or literary?”
He spread his hands dramatically. “I know nothing about her real estate business.” His mouth twisted. “Believe me. Our business involves entertainment, and more recently, her writing.”
“Where do you live? In Yucca Valley?”
“No. A small town south of Santa Barbara.” He glanced knowingly at Blade. He had intentionally left out the name of the town. “I was in Yucca looking for Trish. We had a meeting scheduled at her office today. I made the appointment with her last Friday. She knows I need papers signed before I drive back to the coast.”
A waiter dressed in a sleeveless white shirt and a colorful red and green sarong appeared from behind a bamboo fence that separ
ated the pool from the tiki bar. He carried a tray of steaming food.
“I ordered a couple of snacks to hold us over.” Blade gave the server his room number before he pointed to the first platter. “Rumaki.” He closed his eyes and breathed in the aroma. “Water chestnuts and chicken livers wrapped in bacon. And this, my friends,” he picked up a large barbecued shrimp and wiggled it between two fingers, “is a favorite on the Hollywood Strip. Shrimp with ginger and lime served on a bed of greens.” He bowed and smiled. “Hope the food is to your liking, my lady.” He turned to Heath and motioned to a fancy drink. “The rum special’s for you.”
The three reached for napkins and dug in.
Abby smiled. “I’m starving. Thanks, Blade.” When the tray was almost empty, Abby knew it was time to get on with why she was here and zeroed in on Heath. “You were one of the players at the poker game last Friday night, right?”
“Sure. Sure. But like I told your friend here, I know nothing of your mother’s whereabouts after she left the dentist’s.”
Abby’s eyes narrowed. “What were you to Trish? I mean, what was your relationship, past or present? Are you a recent friend or one of the oldies my aunt Ginny told me about?”
“Hey, I don’t know what Ginny’s story is, but I’ve known your mother since I was a teen back in the sixties.” He hesitated a moment. “Seventeen, to be exact.” Heath smiled. “She was a knockout. Still is. I remember the first time I set eyes on her in Atlantic City. Standing there on the Boardwalk. Wrapped in fur. Waiting for me to pick her up in the black limo.” He stuffed a paper napkin into the neck of his golf shirt and tore off a corner of a seeded roll. After he dipped it into a pineapple-shaped dish filled with creamy sauce, he popped it into his mouth and leaned back.
Abby waited until he’d swallowed his second big bite. “The Malone Sisters performed there in the sixties. Is that how you met her?”
