“You certainly are, but listen, I’m going on a business trip next week, and I can’t imagine going two weeks without seeing you again.”
Agatha looked at Henrick with arched eyebrows. He nodded.
“Advise here Moe, what do I do when faced with begging?”
He laughed again. “If I weren’t the one on the phone, I’d say hang up. Since you’re obviously needing guidance, I advise you to agree to a second date.”
“I do seem to need help. I suppose I’d be delighted to spend more time with you.”
“Have you had lunch?”
Agatha’s heart raced at the prospect of seeing Moe again so soon. She looked to Henrick, who nodded. “Actually, I am a bit hungry.”
“Wonderful. I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes for a late lunch.”
A shiver of dread mingled with anticipation. Henrick scribbled on a sticky note and rotated the note toward her. Where are you going?
“Agatha?” Moe asked in the pause.
“Isn’t it proper etiquette for you to tell me where we’ll be going?”
“I was thinking of a picnic.”
“Oh?” Agatha said. “Where?”
“Mount Rainier.”
Henrick shook his head no. Agatha wondered if Moe was trying to get access to her house again. “Sounds marvelous, but that’s a four-hour drive.”
“A whole day of your loveliness would suit me fine.”
“How about the Nalley boardwalk? We can take a walk. There are Japanese gardens on the east end.” Henrick smiled his approval.
“Sounds good. When can you be ready?”
“Are you bringing the picnic?”
“Yes.”
Agatha shrugged and looked at Henrick. He mouthed thirty minutes, and Agatha repeated. “Thirty minutes?”
“Thirty minutes is fine,” Moe said.
Chapter 9
Ben drove Helen to Hot Diggitys. He needed to make a dozen phone calls, and had an angry client to appease, but instead of returning to Helen’s house and his laptop, Ben parked his car and took a stroll on the boardwalk. Until his trip to Nalley, his life had centered around his law practice. His job, once a security blanket, felt suffocating.
He wanted to spend more time with Theo. Plus, Helen was worried sick over Theo’s future, and Ben wondered if he could make a difference. Ben returned to his car and headed to his hotel, knowing he’d pay a steep price for blowing off work.
At his hotel room door, Ben heard muffled voices coming from inside.
He knocked and a minute later the door swung open. “Hey,” Theo said, and slapped his hand into Ben’s palm for a sloppy handshake. “Come on in.”
Ben followed him inside to where Emma sat on the edge of the bed.
“Hi Ben.” Emma stood. “I guess I’ll talk to you later, Theo. Are you still going to my sister’s party?”
“Sure.”
“’Kay.” Emma grabbed her jacket and her purse.
“Don’t leave because of me,” Ben protested.
“I’m not. I have stuff to do anyway. Besides, Theo wants to work on his car.” The way she said car, like it was a disease, made Ben think they’d been arguing.
Theo walked Emma to the door, giving her a peck on the lips before she left.
“Things okay between you two?” Ben asked.
“Sure.”
“Can we talk for a minute?”
“Sure.” Theo plopped into a chair facing the television, so Ben sat at the desk across from him.
“I was hoping we could discuss plans for your future.”
Panic crossed Theo’s face, before he averted his gaze. “Mom wants me to go to college somewhere. She’s been saying so my whole life.”
“You don’t want to go?”
Theo studied the toe of his Converse shoe. “I’m not very good at school. Besides…” the word drifted off.
Ben recalled Helen telling him Theo had been tutored throughout school. Even so, Theo was bright. He’d invented a hot dog maker and rebuilt an engine. Perhaps he had a learning disability and could be helped if he were diagnosed properly.
“Besides?” Ben asked.
“Nothing.”
“Besides what?”
“Nothing,” Theo said more firmly.
“Didn’t you tell told you’d like to own a vintage car shop?” Ben asked.
Theo looked up and smiled. “Wouldn’t that be cool?”
“How would you make money?”
Theo splayed his arms wide. “Sell the cars.”
“To whom?”
“Lot’s of people buy vintage cars. I see them sold on the internet all the time.”
Ben nodded. Theo wanted this more than he let on. “Let’s think about this,” Ben said. “How would you sell the cars?”
“I’d sell them on eBay and on my website. I could do cross-country delivery.”
Theo’s answer confirmed what Ben thought: Theo had a dream, but lacked confidence and money. “Do you know of any other businesses doing it?”
Theo nodded. “A few.”
“Are they making money?”
“One sells between four and five cars a month. The other, two or three. They must make twenty- to thirty- thousand dollars a car.”
“Sounds like you’ve thought a lot about it.”
Theo seemed to check his growing enthusiasm. “Once in a while.”
“How would you prepare yourself to run this type of business?”
Theo’s features pinched like saying the words aloud hurt. “I’m sure a business degree wouldn’t hurt, but what I really need is engineering. Maybe I could improve the cars, increase power, decrease fuel consumption. Of course, there are those purists who wouldn’t buy them altered. Others might appreciate an upgrade.”
“Are there a schools specializing in what you’re talking about?”
“There’s an auto engineering school in Detroit.”
Jackpot. Ben cheered inwardly. “I’d be happy to pay the tuition.”
Theo looked wary. “No.”
It seemed they were back to Theo’s discomfort with school. “Has a doctor evaluated why learning is hard for you?”
“I learn fast enough, but I’m a slow reader.” Theo’s face reddened. “Give me something to do with my hands and I’m fine.”
“Maybe the problem is your vision. Have you been tested for dyslexia?”
“Can we drop this conversation?”
Ben didn’t want to drop the topic; he wanted to march Theo into a doctor’s office. Theo’s discomfort made him back off. Ben decided to do some research and broach the topic another time.
“You ready to work on Matty?”
“Sure, but I’ll need to leave about five for Emma’s sister’s party. She’s turning fourteen.” Theo rolled his eyes.
Ben smiled. “Sounds like fun.”
****
At three in the afternoon, usually prime downtime for Hot Diggitys, when they cleaned the lunch mess and prepped for dinner, a line ran down the boardwalk. Helen and two employees had been filling orders nonstop. Added to the strangeness, was the number of people getting food and leaving rather than enjoying the ocean and sun.
Exhaustion bearing down on her, Helen slid an order to a group of college-aged girls seated along the counter.
“Hey pretty lady,” someone said, and Helen jerked her gaze up. Seth stood feet away, his intense gaze drinking her in.
Helen squirmed under his scrutiny, and tried to greet him warmly. “Hi Seth.”
“You ready for tomorrow?” Seth asked.
“Tomorrow?”
“Our jump.”
Helen tensed. She’d conveniently forgotten their damned wager. When she’d agreed to it, she’d thought Seth was joking. The deal had come after he’d asked her out for the umpteenth time. She’d pointed out he had many lovers and becoming one of a harem was not appealing. Seth had offered to give them all up for a month for one date.
‘Whatever,” she’d quipped. Eager to st
rike a deal, Seth set the terms. He’d be celibate thirty days, at the end Helen would go skydiving with him. Not believing he could give up women, Helen had agreed in jest. She couldn’t go back on her word, although the thought of skydiving terrified her.
“Oh, that,” Helen said.
“The flight’s set for eight. You want to drive together?”
Helen glanced at the line. “Can we talk later?”
“I’ll pick you up at 6:30 in the morning, okay?”
Helen sighed. She ought to get it over with. “Fine. Fine. Do you want to order anything?”
He did. Helen filled his order, then the next, then the next. If anything, the line had grown longer. Helen had worked through her lunch break, and her stomach grumbled. Time seemed to melt when they were busy, and soon the sun was dipping low in the sky. Helen turned from the register, and slammed into Ben. She bounced off, and he caught her arm and steadied her.
“Sorry,” Ben said.
She was grateful he was in a work uniform. “It was my fault. Is Theo with you?”
“He had plans with Emma, I told him I’d cover his shift. What can I do to help?”
Superman couldn’t catch them up. “Fill a couple of orders and then start bussing.”
****
Agatha had spent the afternoon lounging on a blanket with Moe and munching the cheese, crackers, and fresh fruit he’d brought. They’d people watched and talked while a vision of Jeremy hovered in her conscience, pleading with her to pay the man. Even with the mental distraction, Moe entertained Agatha by fabricating lies. She wondered if he knew a certain vein in his forehead bulged when he spoke untruths.
While they’d carried on banal conversations, Agatha had gathered bits and pieces of his life, useful information she’d use later. At dusk, Agatha announced it was time he took her home. She’d planted cameras throughout her house, hoping to gather hard evidence. She planned to lure Moe inside, the trick would be getting him to admit his guilt on film.
Moe drove her home, and gentleman that he was, he walked her to her door. “Would you like to come in for a nightcap?” Agatha asked.
An impish grin on his face, Moe said, “I would enjoy that.”
“Very good.” Agatha slid her key into the lock. The key turned too easily, and her stomach churned. She hesitated a moment, trying to decide whether she’d left the door unlocked. She hadn’t, she decided and pushed the door open, stepped inside, and flicked on the light.
Puffs of white furniture filling, papers, and broken dishes were strewn throughout. A shard of light coming off the living room floor caught her attention.
Moe spoke, “What in the—”
“Stop.” She held her palm toward him. Agatha struggled to steady her nerves as she entered the living room. Her settee lay on its side with gashes through the fabric. Her prized mirror that had been in her family for three generations was in pieces scattered across the floor.
Agatha clenched her teeth. At least the perpetrators would have been caught on film. She wanted to catch the big fish, she wanted to take Moe out. She pivoted and faced him. He stood in the entryway, looking like a kid who’d been caught snatching candy.
“This is—”
Agatha cut him off with the slice of her hand. She stepped closer, grasped his hand, and pulled him into the living room, in full view of the cameras.
“This is terrible.” Moe got the sentence out.
“It looks like I had a visit. From your friends perhaps?” She looked up at him.
“My friends?”
“Can we cut the baloney.” Agatha said.
“What are you talking about?”
“Clever Moe. I’m impressed with your acting,” Agatha answered.
Moe outstretched his massive hands, palm up, and shrugged.
“Uh huh. What was your motive? Obviously, Jeremy isn’t hiding in the mirror. Why’d your hooligans break my mirror?”
A reluctant smile quivered on Moe’s lips. His amusement overwhelmed his acting skills. “Hooligans?” he asked. Apparently, her word choice had him tickled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re enjoying this,” she accused.
“What? You think I had something to do with this?” Moe sounded incredulous. “I think you ought to call the police.”
Agatha knelt and picked a piece of mirror off the floor. “For your information, this was a family heirloom.”
“I’m sorry for your bad luck and that Jeremy has planted such crazy ideas in your head about me.”
Agatha narrowed her eyes. “I admire your consistent denial, but I know all about your illegal behavior and your thugs.”
“You think I have thugs?” Moe stared as if incredulous. “Agatha, the evening’s been delightful, but I must tell you, this is a side of you I don’t appreciate. Perhaps, I should leave.” He turned away.
Agatha pulled a Colt .45 from her purse. Using both hands, she aimed at his back. Damn. She’d have to edit the tapes.
“Don’t go yet, Terence. Or shall I call you Seamus or maybe you prefer the name Judas?” Agatha rattled off a few of Moe’s aliases. “Personally I prefer Moe,” she added. “It has a nice ring to it.”
Moe spun, eyed the gun, and took a step back.
“Careful now,” Agatha said.
“How do you know all this?”
“Are we ready to talk business?” Agatha cocked her head to the side. She had waited years for this moment. Men like Moe preyed on the weakest of the weak and had extracted obscene amounts of money from her family.
“What ‘business’ are you talking about?”
“I have evidence you’re doing commerce with Hector Juarez. Evidence that will be in the hands of the police should anything happen to me.” Doing her best to channel Clint Eastwood, she added, “That’s just the beginning.” The threat was empty, but a little bluffing never hurt.
Moe stepped toward her, and Agatha inched back. “Careful, you’re on camera.”
“How’d you—”
“Technology is wonderful. And if you don’t want to end up in prison for the rest of your life, I think you’d better cooperate.”
“You’re—threatening me?” Moe’s shocked expression was so fulfilling, glee, like carbonated water, bubbled inside her, and Agatha threw back her head and laughed.
When something smashed into her hands knocking the gun across the room, Agatha’s gaze snapped down just in time to see Moe’s hand span the width of her face. With his palm over her nose and eyes, he placed his thumb on one temple and his pinky on the other. Agatha’s confusion was short lived because Moe squeezed and everything went black.
****
Agatha floated in an abyss dreaming when a deep, aching pain in her shoulders demanded her attention. She tried to shift position, but couldn’t move. She guided her dream in another direction, but the pain refused to stop and her mouth refused to open when she wanted to yell for help.
She wriggled. It seemed her wrists and ankles were bound. The dream had taken on a nightmarish quality. Agatha forced herself awake.
She was lying on the settee with her arms bound behind her back so tightly that her shoulder blades nearly touched. Tape covered her mouth, and her legs were tied at the ankles.
Confusion set in until her memory took hold. Damning her costly mistake, Agatha chided herself for taking her eye off her target. Her only consolation was the memory of Moe’s eyes splayed wide in shock when she’d turned the tables on him. The floor had been swept, the shattered mirror cleaned up, and the furniture set upright. At least Moe was a courteous thug.
What a pickle she was in. How long would she lay tied up before someone found her? Aware her breathing had sped up, Agatha forced herself to relax. She needed a clear head. She’d lost the battle, but she wouldn’t lose the war.
****
Helen’s feet ached, and a film of dirt covered her skin. Closing time was near, and she had little doubt they’d obliterated Hot Diggitys’ sales record hours ear
lier. An abnormally large older man, wearing a suit, stepped up to order. Even fatigued, Helen noticed his handsome features.
“How can I help you?” she asked.
“What do you recommend?”
“Our DerFoodle Dog is our best seller.”
“Give me two. No make that three and a couple of drinks.”
“Coke?” she asked.
“Yeah, fine.”
“Would you like the large size?”
“Yeah, whatever.”
As Helen entered the order, she asked, “Would you like any sides? We have fries, coleslaw, fruit cups, salad, corn—”
“Two fries,” he cut her off.
“The large?”
“Fine.”
“Would you like a dessert? We have cookies, apple pie—”
“Do you have chocolate chip cookies?”
“Yes.”
“Two of those.”
“Would you like anything else?”
“No.”
“Your total is $21.67.”
The gentleman handed her a fifty. “Keep the change.”
Helen cocked an eyebrow. “You sure?”
He nodded.
After making change, Helen stuffed the dollars into the collective-tip jar. A dizzy spell overtook her, so Helen excused herself from the register, went to the sink in the back of the building, and splashed cold water on her face.
Her hands shook and her insides felt as if electricity was zinging about like a horde of wasps. The day had been hectic, and she hadn’t monitored her diet. She’d been stupidly lax, but years had passed since her last diabetic episode, and she tended to forget the possible consequences. With twenty-five minutes until closing, she decided to wait. After drying her face and hands, she returned to the register.
While taking the next order, Helen saw Theo walking toward Hot Diggitys. His tense posture and frown made her worry. When she waved, he nodded once in response.
Helen greeted the next customer who ordered two DerFoodles Dogs to go.
“Everything okay?” Helen called to Theo when he entered the back door.
“Yeah.” Theo washed his hands and then went to counter to fill orders.
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