PICKED OFF

by Linda Lovely

  I laughed. “Don’t blame him. I’d give any old excuse to avoid that bony hyena. How did she take the rebuff?”

  “Not well. The sheriff walked outside to personally deliver the message. A lot of huffing and puffing ensued before Kate stomped out of sight. Her exit coaxed a smile out of Zack. No love lost there. But whatever he doesn’t like about her he kept to himself.”

  I made the turn into Phil’s neighborhood, a lakeside community with gorgeous homes set on large, mostly manicured lots. Nonetheless, I was pleased to see a plump, gray-haired lady in dirty overalls working a raised-bed garden. Unlike the mountain resort where I almost died last spring, this neighborhood appeared to welcome residents who didn’t mind getting their hands dirty planting whatever trees and shrubs struck their fancy.

  I slowed to a crawl to make sure I turned into the right driveway. Phil’s description of a large brick abode wasn’t exactly a foolproof clue. All the houses seemed to include brick in their design, though stone and wood trim, stately columns and bump-outs were different enough to help owners ID their own homes even at night if they were a bit tipsy.

  As we inched past a driveway, movement snagged my attention. A tall woman. Platinum hair. Dressed in skin-tight white pants and a loose, lacy top. A firm, tanned body played peek-a-boo through the lace. She walked down the driveway toward a car that had just disgorged two musclemen. Though I only saw their backs, their shapes set off an alarm.

  “Look, Eva. Could those guys be our prime B&E suspects? I can’t see their faces, but how many men in Ardon are built like sumo wrestlers?”

  “It’s them all right,” Eva answered. “I can see their faces now. Black Beard is one of them.”

  “Is that Sala Lemmon with them?”

  Not sure why I whispered. Our windows were rolled up and we were too far away for the woman or her security thugs to hear.

  Even minus her stilettoes, Sala was tall enough to be eyeball to eyeball with Black Beard. Her white-blonde hair fluttered in the breeze.

  “Never met the woman, but I’ve seen her on TV. Kinda looks like her mug.” Eva’s voice was matter-of-fact, so it startled me when she reached over and clamped her hand around my arm. “You think those two creeps are here to get new orders from their boss?”

  “Maybe. Should we pull in the driveway? Confront them?”

  Eva shook her head. “No. That’s Phil’s house next door. Just park behind the other cars. Let’s not give ourselves away. Knowing Phil, he chats up his neighbors every time he takes his dog out for a whiz. Bet he can tell us all about his next-door neighbor and how come Sala’s a houseguest.”

  My aunt pulled a scrap of paper from her purse. “At least I can give Sheriff Mason the license plate on the car those cockroaches are driving. Got the number. That tag’s a rental. Hand me your phone and I’ll call the sheriff. Dang it. They’re driving away. I’d hoped Mason could send a car over and nab them while they were chewing the fat.”

  I parked my Prius in the circular drive. It was the fourth car in. Clearly we weren’t the first arrivals. Before we exited, Eva advised the sheriff she’d spotted the men who’d braced her. She gave Mason their tag number, and the location they were last seen. She also informed him they were reporting to Sala Lemmon.

  Eva sighed. “Guess that’s all we can do. Let’s head inside.”

  Phil opened the front door before we could knock, gave Eva a big hug, and, after a slight pause, hugged me, too.

  “Come in, come in. Make yourself at home. You already know everyone.”

  Know seemed a slight exaggeration. I’d met everyone at ARGH meetings, but only knew the basics one gets with quick handshakes. The ARGH meetings focused on the business at hand, not socializing.

  “The first thing I need to greet is the powder room,” Eva said.

  Okay, I was on my own. Rex and Harriet Billings, who’d inherited a large timberland tract, waved me over. In under a minute, Harriet pointed to a mega-mansion visible from Phil’s picture window and told me it was their point-lot home.

  I quickly excused myself and strolled over to say hi to Howie Lemcke, a Yankee transplant. Listening to Howie’s Boston accent was always a treat. The Army veteran sported a sleek, ultra-modern metal prosthesis and made no attempt to hide it with clothing or fake skin. He’d lost his left leg just below the knee.

  “How are things going at your retreat?” I asked. Howie had bought twenty acres of woodland and built several cabins for guests. He was dedicated to helping other wounded veterans adjust to altered realities.

  Howie grinned. “We graduated two men last week. Nothing makes me happier.”

  Phil offered me wine or sweet tea. While I prefer my tea unadulterated, I accepted the sugar-saturated Southern version rather than trouble our host for a glass of water.

  When Eva returned from the loo, she instantly became the center of attention, fielding questions about Zack’s condition and the search for the missing gubernatorial candidate.

  Fancy munchies were set out on tables near floor-to-ceiling windows and I edged over to see if there were any vegan snacks. I nibbled on vegetable sticks while Eva provided updates.

  Since Phil’s window wall offered an excellent sightline to the neighbor’s backyard, I sneaked frequent glances for any sign of activity. I wasn’t disappointed. It wasn’t long before two women walked outside and claimed lounge chairs. Though November was only days away, a bright sun and no wind had boosted the temperature into the high seventies, prompting the women to do some end-of-season work on maintaining their tans.

  Both women were stunners. Sala now wore a tiny white bikini. A great bod for a forty-five-year-old. Heck a great bod for a twenty-year-old. The woman on the adjacent lounge chair could pass for Sala’s twin, except her bikini was red and her hair was auburn.

  When there was a break in the conversation, I tapped Phil’s arm and motioned toward the neighbors’ endless horizon swimming pool. “I love to swim. That pool looks so inviting. But why don’t your neighbors simply dive off their dock and swim in the lake?”

  Phil chuckled. “The neighbor lady’s afraid of snakes. Dorothy, she’s the one in the red swimsuit, saw one in the lake and refused to dip so much as a toe in the water. Demanded a swimming pool as a condition for buying the house.”

  “Doesn’t she know snakes aren’t picky? I doubt chlorine would discourage them from visiting a pool.”

  “Yeah, I had the same thought. But Dr. Lofland dotes on Dorothy. They’re newlyweds. Dorothy wants a pool, she gets a pool.”

  “What kind of doctor is your neighbor?” Eva asked. Peering out the window, I didn’t even realize my aunt had joined me.

  “Aren’t you happy with Dr. Bowman?” Phil teased. “Should I tell him you’re shopping for a new doc? Or are you just being nosy?”

  “Yeah, I’m nosy,” Eva said. “Just answer the question.”

  Phil barked a laugh. “He’s a plastic surgeon. Neither of you need his services. Besides he doesn’t practice here. Went to Clemson as an undergraduate and wanted a second house near the school for football season. He has another vacation house in the Caribbean. His main practice is in Vegas.”

  Ah ha. That explained the connection. Sala and her late husband had probably hobnobbed in the same social set as the doc and his wife. Who knew? Maybe Dorothy was another dancer who’d snared a mature man with an even more mature bank account.

  We sat down to lunch and the talk turned to conservation, land management, and politics. The group expressed a collective fear that Carol’s election chances were doomed.

  Howie sat beside me at lunch and quizzed me about my work as a chef. He clapped his hands together when I told him I hoped to open a B&B that catered to vegans and vegetarians.

  “Would you consider giving cooking lessons at my retreat?” Howie sounded practically giddy. “Most of our wounded vets are single and never learned to cook
anything beyond hot dogs and burgers. They eat whatever comes in a can. They really need to eat healthier.”

  I smiled. This was exactly the type of activity I enjoyed. “I’d love to. But my plate’s kind of full at the moment. Maybe after Thanksgiving?”

  Howie nodded. “Of course. You have the farm to run and a guest. Sounds like Zack may need help to manage with that broken collarbone. I’ve enjoyed watching him play football. Be happy to help with rehab while he’s in Ardon. I’m a licensed physical therapist.”

  “Great, thanks for the offer,” I answered. His mention of rehab made me wonder how long Zack might stay with us. A week, a month? His recovery wasn’t the only factor. If Carol was found unharmed, he’d move back with his mother.

  It wasn’t quite two o’clock when the luncheon broke up. Eva checked her usual inclination to stage a footrace to be first out the door. She lingered, making sure we were the last to leave.

  Phil walked us to our car. Eva nodded toward the neighboring property. “Phil, we noticed your neighbor has a houseguest. Did you know Sala Lemmon is staying there?”

  “Of course,” he answered. “It’s a small, nosy community. You’d fit right in, Eva. Sala is Dorothy’s sister. She’s visited the Loflands before. The doc told me Sala flew in as soon as she heard about Zack. Wanted to make sure he received the best possible medical care and security.”

  Phil’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Hey, has Sala contacted you about security now that Zack will be staying with you? What with Carol missing, you could use extra protection. I know you have guard dogs, but it might be prudent to let the Aces pay for some gun-toting guards.”

  Eva smiled. “Appreciate your concern but we’ll be fine. I doubt Sala even knows Zack will be a houseguest. We just found out ourselves. Maybe you can introduce us and we can share the news?”

  “Sure, why not? Now’s as good a time as any if you’re not in a rush to get back to Udderly.”

  Holy Swiss Cheese. What was Eva up to? Were we walking into the lion’s, make that lioness’s, den?

  TWENTY-THREE

  Phil rang his neighbors’ doorbell as Eva and I skulked behind him. My cheeks (both sets) clenched. The upper ones faked a smile; the lower ones responded to ye old danger-pucker instinct. What kind of welcome could we expect with Sala giving seek-and-destroy orders to the thugs we’d seen in her driveway?

  It took a couple minutes for the door to open. No surprise since we’d seen the ladies lounging out back by the pool. Of course, given the Loflands’ apparent wealth, the couple could have employed a maid, a butler, or both to perform door-opening duties.

  However, it was Dorothy who swung the carved and polished mahogany door wide. She’d slipped a cover-up over her red bikini. Sister Sala looked on, standing a few paces behind the lady of the house. Sala had donned the lacy see-through top she’d worn while conversing with our B&E suspects. No tight white capris, though. Just long, tanned legs.

  Dorothy smiled when she saw Phil. “Hi, neighbor. Noticed all the cars at your place. Wondered what the occasion might be and why I wasn’t invited,” she teased.

  Phil smiled in return, enjoying his neighbor’s flirtation. “You know you’re welcome anytime. We’ve been celebrating Eva Hooker’s decision to place a conservation easement on a portion of her dairy farm. You may not realize it, but Eva, here”—he nodded at my aunt—“is a good friend of the Strongs. In fact, when Zack leaves the hospital tomorrow, he’ll be staying at her farm. I know your sister is concerned about Zack, so I figured Sala would want to meet Zack’s new housemates, Eva, and her niece Brie.”

  I watched Sala’s face during Phil’s rambling intro. No sign of shock or hostility. Her smile seemed genuinely warm. Huh?

  “Well, come on in. Glad to meet you.” Dorothy waved us into the mansion’s three-story chandeliered atrium. “Sala, I’ll let you introduce yourself.”

  The Aces owner rushed forward. “I’m delighted you stopped by.” She ignored Eva’s outstretched hand and enveloped my aunt in an embrace that might have been a full-body grapple in a wrestling match. Or maybe she was using the hug as a ruse to check Eva for concealed weapons. The lady was no shrinking violet.

  “And you’re Brie.” She released Eva and turned to size me up. “Glad to meet you.”

  She started laughing, the kind of braying glee that includes snorts. “Good heavens, you’re the mystery mermaid caught in those unfortunate videos following Zack’s attack. A new picture of you just surfaced. You were in the crowd sans wig and mask when they loaded Zack in the ambulance. The Internet can be a real pain in the bee-hind. Bet you’re glad nobody posted your name.”

  I glanced over at Phil, whose jaw had dropped. Wasn’t sure if it was in response to Sala’s raucous laughter or Eva’s and my deer-in-the-headlights response.

  Once Sala got her hee-haws under control, she turned back to Eva. “I saw you with Carol at the hospital but didn’t want to intrude. Can’t tell you how happy I am that Zack’s awake, on the mend, and making a jailbreak from the hospital. All those shoes squeaking on linoleum and hushed tones creep me out. But I was horrified to hear about his mother’s disappearance. What a mystery. Come sit down. Tell me how I can help.”

  When Sala paused for breath, Phil saw his opening. “I’ll leave you ladies to get acquainted,” he said. “Need to get home. Promised Helen I’d take care of some chores.”

  While Phil made his fast getaway, Eva and I found ourselves voluntarily trapped in a posh cage. We followed the sisters into a living room twice the size of our homey Udderly cabin. Sala led us to a grouping of love seats and chairs that’s dubbed a conversation area by decorators. The arrangement offered just enough room to cross my legs without kicking the person seated across from me yet promised to let me pick up on every whispered comment.

  Not that Sala was a whisperer. Her exuberant greeting and seeming bonhomie had me flummoxed. Had the merry widow been tipping a few? Was she suffering from sunstroke? Had it slipped her mind that the thugs she employed recently tried to intimidate Eva and were the prime candidates for Ardon County ransacker-of-the-year awards?

  Sala was definitely an Oscar-worthy actress. Then another possibility snuck into my mind. What if she hadn’t sanctioned her employees’ strong-arm tactics? Was it possible she didn’t know about her starring role in the video that made Zack’s cell phone a top prize?

  Eva and I sank into the deep suede cushions of a love seat. I scooted forward to avoid being swallowed and immobilized by the fanny-eating, pitcher-plant furniture.

  “So you knew Zack was checking out of the hospital?” Eva asked. “Was it on the news? We’ve been tied up with Phil’s luncheon and haven’t heard the latest. Any late-breaking developments?”

  Sala shook her head. “No announcements. Gunter and Vince, two of our team’s security guards, stopped by a couple hours ago to tell me Zack would be released. I’m concerned the attack on Zack was intended to hurt our team’s chances of making the Super Bowl. I’m hoping there isn’t some looney out there with a hard-on for the Aces—someone who might go after more of our players. Sheriff Mason promised to call if there was any progress in finding out who attacked Zack. The phone hasn’t rung.”

  “So you don’t think the assault was personal?” Eva probed.

  Sala shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. I can’t ignore the possibility that someone’s out to hurt the team. That’s why I beefed up security for all our players.”

  “But if the attack wasn’t personal, why is Zack’s mother missing?” I sputtered. “Seems like an awfully big, scary coincidence.”

  “I’m not a big believer in coincidences either.” Sala nodded. “But Dorothy tells me Zack’s mom is a controversial figure around these parts. Maybe the attack on Zack encouraged some crazy to think he could go after Zack’s mother and get away with it in all the confusion.”

  I glanced at Eva. Her frown said she wasn’t
buying some multiple villain conspiracy theory. I was dying to ask Sala why everyone wanted Zack’s phone, but I didn’t know if Eva would approve opening that can of worms.

  My aunt cleared her throat. “We met your stepdaughter last night.”

  Okay, Eva was baiting the hook and casting her line. Worms ahoy.

  “Kate Lemmon came to our cabin to demand Zack’s cell phone. Claimed it was team property. Fortunately, the sheriff arrived and took possession, said he hoped the phone might deliver clues about the attacker’s identity.”

  Sala’s neck and cheeks turned red, the shade of rage. Was she angry with Eva for bringing up the phone with its neckid images or at her stepdaughter for trying to outfox her?

  “That spoiled little maggot.”

  Guess we had a partial answer.

  “’Course I knew Kate had come to Ardon County, but I haven’t been able to figure out what kind of game she’s playing. Why on earth would she want Zack’s phone? I can’t imagine how she’d think it would help in her war with me. The way she treated Ray—and me—it’s a wonder her dad left Kate anything.”

  “So you’re not concerned the sheriff has Zack’s phone?” I asked.

  Sala’s eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. “No, why should I be?”

  I snuck a glance at Eva and took her small nod as a go-ahead.

  “A video stored in the phone’s memory apparently shows you, uh, sexually engaged with a young man.”

  “What?” Sala yelled. “You saw this?”

  “Uh, no. But after we found the phone, some of Zack’s friends searched it for clues that might shed light on the attack. They started with unopened texts and found the video. They were certain you were in it.”

  “Son of a—” Sala stopped mid-curse and lasered me with a lightning-bolt stare. “And just who was my partner?”