They were hiding something, something I needed to know.
“They lived here for how long?”
“Since Eleanor was in high school. I don’t have any idea where they moved here from. Maybe the school records would say.”
“I’d sure like to see those records, but I’d be the last person the principal would show them to.” I looked imploringly at Mrs. Falco, who understood what I wasn’t saying.
“You think it’s that important?” she asked.
“I’m sure it is.”
She crumpled up her sandwich wrappings and rose to her feet. “Well, then, I guess I’ll have to have a talk with the principal’s secretary, Mrs. Dorren, about making certain his office door isn’t left unlocked the way it is in the late afternoon when he walks the halls checking the classrooms.”
“A wise precaution,” I said.
“Mrs. Dorren agrees with me. She thinks the principal is a bit of a pill also. We can trust her.”
We walked to the park entrance and stopped there. I spotted Nappi’s car parked around the corner. Mrs. Falco assured me she’d get in touch tomorrow evening. She turned to walk down the sidewalk, while I started to step off the curb to cross the street. I waved to Nappi, a spring in my step. With those school records, I might be able to track down Eleanor’s past, a past she had been reluctant to talk about. I heard the squeal of tires on the pavement and spotted a blur of black as a car careened around the corner from my left. I heard Mrs. Falco cry out and then felt someone grab my arm and pull me back onto the curb. I stumbled and fell as the car roared past me.
“That driver tried to run you down,” said Mrs. Falco, helping me to my feet. “Are you hurt?”
I looked down and saw a ripped knee in my jeans and one of my classy red stiletto-heel shoes lying crushed in the gutter. Some blood trickled down my elbow from where I’d scraped it on the pavement.
Nappi rushed up to me, saw the look on my face, and followed my mournful glance as I assessed my mangled shoe.
“That could have been you,” he said.
Chapter 9
“You know this man?” asked Mrs. Falco, giving Nappi a stern look.
“He’s my associate.” The close call with the car was beginning to sink in, and I felt an attack of the jitters coming on. “I think I’d better sit down.” I collapsed on the curb and tucked my head between my knees. Damn. This fainting thing was getting too familiar.
“I’ll call the police,” said Mrs. Falco, extracting her cellphone from her purse.
The spinning sensation stopped, and I lifted my head, noting Nappi’s discomfort at the prospect of Mrs. Falco calling the police.
“A bad driver. He took the corner too fast, that’s all,” said Nappi.
“No he didn’t. It was deliberate.” Mrs. Falco turned away to complete her call while Nappi and I exchanged knowing looks. Someone didn’t like all the questions we were asking and had decided to let us know that. Did the driver intend to run me down or just frighten me?
“I’ll be fine. I just need to lie down for a bit.” It seemed I was doing a lot of lying down today. I hoped it wouldn’t become a habit or I’d be the only PI who investigated crime from her bed.
A police car pulled up, and Chief Raleigh jumped out of the passenger seat. The look he gave me was filled with concern for my wellbeing, but his wrinkled brow also expressed something else. Suspicion.
“It seems as if you’re having a bad day in our little town. First a visit to my office and you faint, and now someone tries to run you down. Or more likely, they were aiming for your associate here.” His glance took in Nappi.
“What?” I said. “He was in his car over there, not here.”
“Perhaps your hit-and-run driver targeted you as a warning to pick better associates.”
“Now wait a minute, Chief. This man is both my friend and my associate. We’ve been acquainted for years and—”
“Not your uncle?” he said with an edge of sarcasm. “I assume you’re aware of his connections?” Confronting Nappi, he added, “I thought I recognized you. You were one of the people arrested several years ago in connection with a crime syndicate in the Boston area.”
“I was released,” Nappi said. “No charges were filed.”
“I know all about Nappi,” I said. Well, really I didn’t. In fact, I’d made a point of not knowing about Nappi. I knew his generosity and his sense of loyalty to his friends. Other than that, I stayed out of his business.
The chief gave me a long stare. “Okay. We’ll let it go for now. Did anyone get a license number of the car?”
We all shook our heads.
“Can you describe the vehicle?”
“It was black, or dark blue, I think,” said Mrs. Falco.
Nappi stepped forward. “It was a black SUV, much like mine.” He gestured toward his Escalade. “I didn’t see the driver’s face.”
“And you’re sure it was intentionally trying to run down Ms. Appel?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Falco.
“It seemed that way,” said Nappi.
The chief looked at me. I was still sitting on the curb, gazing sadly at my ruined shoe. “What do you have to say about all of this, Ms. Appel?”
I gazed up at him, too tired and nauseated to be of any help. “I just want to lie down.”
The chief’s face softened for a moment. “You need a doctor?”
“No, I’m just a little disgusted with how people drive in your town,” I said. “All in all, this hasn’t been a good day for me.”
The chief held out his hand and helped me to my feet. “I can assure you that most of our citizens don’t target visitors for a hit-and-run. I’ll put out an APB for the SUV. It was an SUV, Ms. Appel?”
“I didn’t see it. I was busy kissing the curb.” Well, at least my sense of humor had returned. “Nappi, could you take me back to the motel now?”
The chief got back in the police car and left with a backward look that said he’d prefer we finish our business here and leave town as soon as possible.
“The chief doesn’t like you,” said Mrs. Falco to Nappi. “He’s worried you’ve come here to cause trouble. Have you?”
“No. I’m here to help my friend, and that’s all.”
I saw Mrs. Falco think about what he said for a minute, and I worried I’d lost the chance to get those school records on Eleanor.
“If she trusts you, I guess that’s good enough for me.”
“I’ll drive you back to the school,” offered Nappi.
Mrs. Falco shook her head. “I think it would be better for me not to be seen with you. No offense.”
“No offense taken. You’re being smart,” said Nappi.
“And you’ll be of more use in my investigation if you fly under the radar,” I said.
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Falco agreed. From the barely suppressed delight in her voice, I realized Mrs. Falco was having a fine time being witness to a crime and an undercover informant to my investigation.
“Do you know Betsy Morelli?” asked Nappi.
“The real estate agent. Of course,” answered Mrs. Falco. “Why do you ask?”
“I was thinking we all might like to get together tonight at the Dancing Bear Inn. I hear the food is quite good. I would be delighted to have yet another lovely lady join us for dinner if you’re free.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the look on Mrs. Falco’s face. It was the usual response Nappi got when he turned on the charm. Her smile was so broad, I worried the corners of her mouth would be permanently fixed in a silly grin.
“You’re something, you are,” she said. I was certain I heard her giggle. Nappi had that effect on women, and he never engaged in false flattery to win their affection. Mrs. Falco, with her gray curls and dignified way of carrying herself, was indeed “lovely.” She agreed to dinner.
Nappi wanted to drive me to the emergency room, but I was adamant. I was fine, just a little tired. He walked me to my motel room and let me know he ha
d other errands in town to attend to. I told him to go ahead and didn’t inquire what he meant by “errands.” I knew he’d tell me after he did whatever he was going to do. I hoped it didn’t involve breaking any laws. With the police chief already suspicious about us, any crime around here, including jaywalking, was likely to be laid at our feet. If Nappi acted menacing while extracting information from a source, that might land him in jail. Of course, Nappi’s menacing usually took the form of a smile so cold it could reverse global warming.
I assured him I felt fine, and I did. Well, I was a little shaky, but anyone would be after almost being run down. And my stomach continued to jump around. I grabbed a coke from the minibar to settle it.
I sipped my soda and felt better. Now that the chief had identified Nappi, I figured our information-gathering in town was almost at an end. The chief of police wanted us gone, and the principal hadn’t liked me from the start.
I thought about Mrs. Falco and the real estate agent. I was anxious to get those school records. I hadn’t had the opportunity to talk with Nappi about what he might have gleaned from his meeting with Ms. Morelli, the agent, but dinner tonight should prove interesting. A little food and a good bottle of wine plus Nappi’s charm could loosen any woman’s tongue.
I called Grandy and Sammy to see how things were going back home. They had nothing new to report about Sammy’s father, but were anxious to hear how Nappi and I were faring. I knew better than to mention the hit-and-run incident. Grandy would have been on the first plane up here, accompanied by Sammy, and they would have hauled my butt back to Sabal Bay.
“How’s Eleanor?” I asked Grandy. “I wish I’d had more time to talk with her before Nappi and I headed up here.”
“She and Jerry seem to have gotten very close,” Grandy replied.
I groaned inwardly, but tried to put the best spin on it I could. “Maybe Eleanor has confided more about her past and family to him.”
“Do you want me to have a talk with him?” Grandy asked.
“No. I’ll give him a call and see what I can find out.”
Sammy sounded hopeful that his father might walk out of the swamps any day as he had done before. “I take the canoe out each night after I close down the airboat business, in case he wants to make contact with me out in the swamps. So far there’s been no sign of him.”
“I don’t think he trusts anyone, certainly not white people, and he may feel you’ve been corrupted by white culture.” When I said “white people,” I meant me. I heard Sammy sigh at my remark.
“You’re right.”
“I’ve got an idea,” I said. “Call your mother in Las Vegas. She might have some ideas on how to approach him.” I had meant to get in touch with Renata, but hadn’t had time before Nappi and I left for New York. Having Sammy call her might make him feel as if he was helping his father. It was a long shot. Sammy’s father and mother had been married for a short time before he took his long trip to the swamps. I’d met her once, and found her to be a savvy woman. We had to use all the resources we could think of.
My suggestion met with silence.
“She’s white, too. If Dad got wind of my talking with her and asking all kinds of questions, it might drive him away from me.”
How Mr. Egret might find out about Sammy contacting his mother, I couldn’t imagine, but it wasn’t worth running the risk of alienating him.
“You’re right,” I said. If I thought she might provide us with any insights into Lionel Egret, I could still make the call.
In the background, I heard the boys clamoring for a chance to talk with me. Sammy gave up the phone to them, and we talked about school and the upcoming junior rodeo that all three boys were taking part in. They had been practicing riding and calf-roping at their cousins’ ranch over on the Brighton Seminole reservation.
“You’ll be back to see us ride, won’t you, Mommy?” said my youngest. This would be the first year he could take part in real rodeo events. In past years he had been too young and could only enter the “mutton busters” competition at the annual rodeo. The year before last, he’d won by riding the sheep for several seconds beyond the buzzer. He slid onto the sheep’s underside halfway through the ride, but he hung on to the belly until they pulled him off. Determined little guy. This year he saw his previous victory as “kids’ stuff,” and announced he was ready to take on the grownup events.
I promised I would be at the rodeo, and then made smacky-kissy sounds on the phone when we said goodbye. Sammy took over again and told me he loved me. I said the same and asked him to tell Grandfather hello.
“He’s worried about you, Eve. He thinks something bad might happen to you.”
I forced a laugh, guaranteed him I would be fine, and said I would call tomorrow. Disconnecting, I looked across the room at my shoes lying on the floor, one of them smashed flat. Maybe Grandfather had a right to be worried.
I decided to check with Jerry to make certain he had gotten the DNA analysis rolling.
There was a note of caution in his voice when he answered my call.
“I know I’m not your favorite person, Jerry, but something’s up. What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me. I can always tell.”
“Eleanor’s right here. Do you want to talk to her?”
“No, I want you to tell me what’s going on.”
“Just a minute.”
I heard noise in the background and then Jerry’s voice. “I had to step outside for better reception.”
“Okay. What is it you don’t want Eleanor to hear?”
“I didn’t do that DNA thing.”
I sighed. “You’re testing my patience, Jerry. I ask you to do one little thing and you refuse?’
“I told you. I’m trying to be a better person, and Eleanor thinks I am an okay guy. I’m not going to go behind her back.”
“Now is one heck of a time to decide to improve your character.”
“Gotta go, Eve.”
“Jerry!”
He was gone.
I heard a light tap at my door. “Are you awake?” It was Nappi. I got out of bed, noting how stiff I was, and opened the door to let him in.
“Did you manage to sleep any?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I talked to Grandy, Sammy, and the boys.”
“You look angry. What’s up?
“I talked with Jerry, and he was his usual annoying self.” I waved my arm. “It was nothing.” I’d find another way to get DNA from Eleanor.
Nappi hesitated, waiting for me to explain further, but I shook my head and gave him a smile of encouragement.
“I stopped by the police station to talk again with Chief Raleigh,” Nappi said and confirmed what I had guessed the chief was thinking about the two of us. Nappi continued, “He thinks the attempt to run you down was a warning meant for me. He’d prefer we move on. He’ll investigate the incident, of course, but he’s certain whoever was involved had to be my enemy. His reasoning is that it was my presence that provoked the incident. An old vendetta against me is his take on it. According to his theory, if we leave, we’ll take my connections with me, and his town will be safe.”
“Could he be correct about someone wanting to pay you back for something?” I asked.
“We both know whoever tried to run you down did it because we’re snooping into Mr. Montrose’s murder. It has nothing to do with my ‘Family’ connections.”
“It was a long shot, but you tried to talk with him.”
“He’s just protecting his town. I understand. I stopped by to see how you’re doing. Your color is better.”
“I feel just fine except for a little stiffness. Don’t you have an appointment this afternoon with the real estate agent?”
He nodded.
“I want to come along.”
“Are you sure?”
“You’re not leaving me out of that meeting. It is my investigation. You’re along for support. You’re not supposed to be doi
ng most of the work.”
He gave a heavy sigh. “Somehow I knew you’d say that.”
“Good. I’ll grab another pair of shoes and meet you downstairs.”
He left with a wave. I picked up my ruined stiletto heels, gave them a final sad look, and tossed them into the garbage.
Nappi had gotten the Montroses’ home address from Betsy Morelli, who arranged to meet us at the house with the key. We found the address on a street lined with small houses built after World War II. Most of them were well kept, yards mowed and flowerbeds starting to show the colors of blooming hydrangea, iris, and recently planted petunias. We parked out front until Ms. Morelli pulled in behind us. The Montroses’ house was one of the small bungalows, but unlike its neighbors, it was in need of paint. One of the front window shutters hung at an angle, waiting for a strong wind to tear it off. All three of us stood for a moment looking at the house. Nappi introduced me to Betsy, then we headed up a broken concrete sidewalk for the front door. It was ajar.
Nappi stepped in front of Betsy and motioned me back. “Wait here, and if you hear anything or I don’t come back out, call the cops.” He entered the house, and we waited.
In several minutes Nappi appeared, signaling us to enter.
“Oh, my heavens,” said Betsy. “Someone’s been here and—”
“They searched the house. Every room is like this.” Nappi gestured toward the living room. All the furniture had been turned upside down, the upholstery ripped open, books in the bookcase taken out and opened, then tossed on the floor.
“The office is worse,” Nappi said. “All the desk drawers were pulled out, the file cabinet there gone through. Anywhere something could be hidden has been examined. A very thorough search. When was the last time you checked the house?”
Betsy pulled her organizer out of her briefcase. “I was in the house a week ago Saturday. I picked up the mail. They don’t get much. Mostly bills. I put them on the kitchen table.” She walked into the kitchen. “They’re gone.”
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