“It’s in my purse. Wait, I have to let Spooks inside first,” she added, hearing his frantic barking. The poodle wouldn’t leave David alone. Spooks snapped at his ankles and growled while they stood in the kitchen. “I can’t understand what’s gotten into him. Look, do you want to come with me to Stefano’s? I’d rather not go there alone.”
“Why are you going to see Barletti?” Muttering a curse, David kicked at Spooks until Marla scooped the pet into her arms.
Disturbed by his behavior, she hesitated. Men who kicked dogs didn’t belong on her list. Her hackles rose, and she couldn’t prevent her gaze from narrowing.
“I believe Stefano is Popeye Boodles’s heir,” she said in a frosty tone. “The man at the biomedical waste facility looked at some photos Cynthia had taken of the stuff that’s being dumped and said it’s most likely from a funeral home. Shark is Stefano’s son,” she explained, letting David weigh the implications. “Stefano recently applied for a loan at Darren’s bank, claiming an upcoming inheritance as collateral. I gather Cynthia’s message confirms all this.”
She’d forgotten about Vail. I’ll call him later, she determined, after I get the evidence he needs.
David gave her an appraising glance, his gaze shifting to her purse and back again to her animated face. “All right. It’s early yet. Let’s grab a bite to eat along the way.”
Fortifying herself with a meal seemed a good idea. “Okay, but I need to get changed before we go out.”
“I’ll wait here.” As though realizing he needed to appease her, he scratched Spooks behind the ears. “Sorry, sport. Didn’t mean to boot you in the butt, but you were being a pain. I’m just anxious to get this mess cleared up,” he said with a lame smile.
So am I, pal. Nonetheless, she urged him to wait outside while she got ready. Having him in the house made her uneasy. Maybe it was Spooks’ hostile reaction to him.
“I might go home while you’re getting your act together,” he said agreeably. “Would you mind picking me up on your way?”
“All right.” It was strange that he couldn’t wait a few minutes for her, but she didn’t mind driving. Besides, his house wasn’t far from where she lived.
At a quarter to eight, they approached the funeral home. The front lights blazed a friendly welcome, but the rest of the place seemed sheltered in darkness. Marla felt a moment’s trepidation as she locked her car. Maybe she should have called Vail, or at least phoned Cynthia to hear the rest of what her cousin had to say.
Well, she’d made her decision. She would face whatever Stefano had waiting for her.
Chapter Nineteen
When no one answered their summons at the funeral home’s main entrance, Marla twisted the doorknob. It opened easily, and she slipped inside, with David at her heels. They faced an empty corridor, eerily silent. The lights were burning, and she sniffed the faint scent of men’s cologne.
“Where is Stefano?” she whispered, hairs prickling on the nape of her neck.
“Barletti!” David yelled. “Where the hell are you?”
“His office is upstairs. Maybe he’s waiting for me up there.” Being in a funeral home at night gave her the willies. She wasn’t eager to go exploring, visions of the living dead entering her consciousness. I never did like horror movies.
“Why don’t you wait here? I’ll look for him.” David set his mouth in a grim line.
“Good idea.” Remaining near the front door seemed a wise option. From somewhere ahead, metal clanged against a hard surface. “What’s that?” Her heart rate accelerated.
“I’ll check. Do you know what’s beyond this corridor?”
She moistened her lips. “There are chapels on each side, plus an elevator and another set of doors. I’m not sure where they lead.” She didn’t necessarily want to find out, either. Why take risky chances? A shnook, she wasn’t.
Watching David scout the hallway made her restless. If Stefano was lurking somewhere in the back, then it should be safe for her to go upstairs and search the man’s office, right? Vail had claimed he needed proof. Now was her chance to get it for him. Besides, why let David have all the fun?
Her handbag strapped diagonally across her chest, she moved forward, glad she’d had the foresight to wear sturdy walking shoes. Too bad she hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella from the car to use as a defensive weapon.
The elevator rose slowly, creaking as though announcing her presence to the world. Would the lights be on upstairs if no one was in the office? Momentary panic assailed her at the notion of being left in the dark, but when the door slid open, overhead lights lit the spacious reception area.
Her pulse racing, she stepped onto the carpeted floor and glanced around. Except for a small kitchen off to the left, mostly closed doors met her gaze. She couldn’t remember which one Stefano had entered for their conference. They hadn’t gone past the kitchen, so his office must be in that corridor straight ahead. Those looked like larger spaces anyway, more suitable for the owner and his administrative staff.
She hesitated as an attack of nerves gripped her. Was she doing the right thing? Should she go back downstairs and wait for David?
A crashing noise sounded from below. Heavy footfalls followed, accompanied by male curses and loud thuds that brought forth unpleasant images.
Now, girl. Stefano is occupied. Without stopping to consider how she’d escape if David’s safety were compromised, she dashed across the reception area. To her right was a half-opened door to a darkened office. Wiping sweaty palms on her pants, she took a deep, steadying breath. Dalton needed evidence, and Cynthia was relying on her. If she hoped to put Stefano away and end the threat to Ocean Guard, she must get proof of the funeral director’s misdeeds.
Mustering her courage, Marla pushed open the door. Yawning blackness met her gaze. Her scalp prickled as she sensed another presence. Oh, God. She’d forgotten about Shark.
She fumbled for a light switch.
A hand clamped over hers, pinning her in place.
As she gasped in shock, something noxious sprayed her face just when she was inhaling. Her senses reeling, she sank to the floor.
****
She swam in a black void, a whirlpool sucking her into its depths. Struggling valiantly, she kicked toward the surface, her lungs burning until they would burst. She couldn’t take in a breath. Panic seized her when little Tammy floated by, her limp body pitching with the current. Marla tried to shove away the bloated corpse, but her leaden arms wouldn’t move. If she didn’t breathe soon, she’d die.
Twisting to her side, she felt something solid block her shoulder. Not hard. It had a soft feel, almost like a cushion.
Her eyes snapped open. As she drew in a labored breath, dry cloth stuck in her throat. She coughed, choking, her nostrils flaring. Air. It was possible to breathe through her nose. Carefully, she experimented, inhaling and trying to keep her throat closed to whatever covered her mouth.
Fearful that she might gag and choke on her vomit, she concentrated on assessing her surroundings. At first, her vision seemed blurry, but then she realized she couldn’t see because it was dark. She was bound at the wrists, hands in front.
Rolling onto her back, she ventured out a foot. An obstruction limited her efforts. Outlines became palpable until she realized with horror where she was lying.
Inside a casket. Lined, no doubt, with one of the less-expensive crepe interiors.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she forced herself to wonder what had happened to David that he hadn’t found her by now and freed her. Was it Shark who had attacked her, or had he been waiting below to waylay David? Supposedly, she’d been coming alone. Stefano must have been making sure she wouldn’t escape. Now she was trapped here, bound and gagged, lying in a coffin, although it appeared the lid was open. She’d reached up and met empty space.
Was this to be her final resting place?
Desperate cries emerged from her throat as she struggled to sit up. She realized her purse was still strappe
d on her shoulder. No evidence of her arrival would be left behind. What would they do with her car?
Her grunts must have caught someone’s attention, because she heard heavy footsteps approaching. Uh-oh. Should I play dead? Whoops, I mean unconscious.
She blinked, her eyes still stinging from the substance used to gas her. Stefano might seal the lid, and she wanted to get in a last accusing stare if nothing else.
Bright lights clicked on, and she squinted instantly.
“So, my dear, you’ve decided to stay for a while.” Stefano chuckled. “Didn’t I tell you to buy your funeral arrangements in advance?”
Muffled noises came from her attempt to speak. He stepped into her visual field, his narrow face looming overhead. Bulging dark eyes gloated at her helpless struggles.
“Allow me to make you more comfortable.” Grinning, he untied the cloth from her mouth. With his winged eyebrows and hollow cheeks, he looked like a Halloween death’s-head. “Is that better?” he asked when she drew in a shaky breath.
Her throat felt like sandpaper, but at least her air passages were clear.
“Why do you care?” she rasped, pushing up on her elbows. “Aren’t you planning to leave me in here permanently?”
He appeared horror-stricken. “Oh, no. You have a misconception. I only need to get you out of the way for a while. My inheritance, you know. Once I get Popeye’s estate, I’ll be home free. I already have a buyer for his property.”
“You’re going to sell the mangrove preserve?” While she was talking, she glanced around. Other coffins, lids raised, cluttered the room on display stands. Even if she were to somehow tumble over the edge of this casket and land on the floor, what then?
“The transfer papers are prepared. After signing, I’ll cash in the money from the sale of Popeye’s preserve and his estate, and I’ll go on the long vacation I’ve always dreamed about.” Folding his hands behind his back, he paced the room, seemingly eager to reveal his plans. “You’re so smart. Did you figure out how I’m related to the old bugger?”
“Why don’t you tell me?” Testing her bonds, she noted with dismay that the duct tape tightened with her movements, making painful grooves on her wrists. Inspiration hit, but she had to guard her expression. Inside her purse were the shears she’d stashed to cut Annie’s hair.
Stefano smirked. “Popeye was my uncle. His sister married into the Barletti family, much to the dismay of her snooty parents. Mother never ceased to remind me how much they’d hurt her and how she deserved better. When they didn’t come to her funeral, I vowed to get what was due me. I should have been Popeye’s direct heir, not Ocean Guard. I’m only taking what’s rightfully mine.”
“What about Shark? The rest of your family?”
“I’ll leave enough money for them to bail out the funeral homes, which Shark will manage. They’ll be okay. I’m tired of all this fuss and bother. It’s time to live the rest of my life as I please.”
No wonder Shark shirked responsibility. Look at his dad’s example. “So you want me out of your way until Popeye’s property passes to you, because after that it won’t matter what I know?”
His expression darkened, and he jabbed a finger at her. “You’ve been a nuisance. I told Shark to keep track of your movements. When he learned you were going to Nassau, I sent someone to the Bahamas after you, but the idiot didn’t succeed in getting you out of the way. I had to think of something more drastic. Obviously, you weren’t upset by that warning Shark left on your doorstep. Then you showed up on Thanksgiving night when I was making a dump. Oh, you’re so clever. How did you figure the medical waste was coming from a funeral home?”
Marla dragged her handbag onto her stomach. “I asked Cynthia to take photos, then I showed them to a man at the biomedical waste disposal company. He said bloody clothes often came from funeral homes.”
Stefano bared his teeth in an evil grin. “I thought I had you then, that night in the water, but you still escaped.”
“What are you going to do with me now?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll put a breathing apparatus in the casket so you won’t suffocate. Then I’ll ship you up north. I have friends who will watch over you until this is over.”
Dear Lord. He plans to seal me in this thing, alive. Nausea churned her stomach at the thought of the lid closing over her. Desperate to keep him talking until she could think of a plan, she went on: “What about Cynthia and Bruce? They’ve discovered your identity. They’ll tell the authorities what you’ve done. You’re responsible for the incidents with the chefs, aren’t you?”
“I figured I might throw the fund-raiser off track. I’m sure your cousins will keep silent if I promise to produce you unharmed after I inherit the property. Otherwise, I can always take Annie for leverage. Stupid, gullible girl. She hangs onto Shark like he’s the only man who will ever have eyes for her.”
Please, no. Leave Annie out of this.
“Why did you trash my house? Was that another attempt to scare me, so I’d resign from my position with Taste of the World? Did you really think my absence would crash the fund-raiser?”
A puzzled frown creased his forehead. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Didn’t you send Shark to break into my place?” When he shook his head, she considered another possibility. “Well, maybe it was that other goon who followed David and me to Nassau. You know, the same one who broke into Morton Riley’s house and killed him. I presume that same guy tried to shoot me at Crystal Cay on your orders.”
“I’d heard Morton Riley was dead.” He cocked his head, a glazed look in his eyes. “Same as Ben. Murdered.”
“Ben knew your name was on the trust agreement, didn’t he? Is that why you killed him, and later Morton Riley?”
“No, you don’t understand. It wasn’t—”
David lurched into the casket room. Taking in the situation at a glance, he launched himself at Stefano.
“Bastard!” David punched Stefano straight in the midsection. Stefano doubled over, clutching his stomach.
“David, thank goodness,” Marla cried. “Get me out of here!” She glanced fearfully at the open doorway. “Where’s Shark?”
“I beaned him with a lamp. Not as effective as a Samoan fire knife, but it’ll keep him out of the way while I deal with his father.” Growling, David gave Stefano a vicious chop on the neck. The shorter man hit the ground.
Still conscious, Stefano yanked David’s ankles, throwing him off balance. As David went down, Marla shrieked in terror. He was her only hope!
No, he wasn’t. Prying open her purse, she turned it upside-down so the contents spilled onto her lap. She’d never had the chance to use the shears on Annie’s hair. With infinite difficulty, she managed to turn them inward and cut the tape restraining her wrists. Two hundred and fifty dollars was a lot to pay for a pair of scissors, but they proved their mettle... er, metal.
Once freed, she crawled out of the casket. A white paper caught her eye that must have fallen from her purse. While the two men grunted and fought in a deadly struggle, curiosity compelled her to pick it up. David had asked her a few times about Mustafa’s phone number scrawled across this envelope. Was that really what interested him?
Come to think of it, how had David found out about the Samoan fire knife? Babs knew about it, too. Maybe a news report had described the murder weapon.
Oh, my God. What had David meant when he said the lamp wasn’t as effective as a Samoan fire knife in clunking Shark on the head?
Springing to his feet, David dragged Stefano up by the collar and socked him on the jaw. Marla was barely aware of the punches David rained on his opponent. Instead of being relieved that he’d gained the upper hand, she felt a chill of foreboding.
Withdrawing a letter from inside the envelope, she unfolded it and scanned the contents. It was from the group to whom Ocean Guard was obligated every year to give a donation under the terms of Popeye’s trust. Addressed to Morton Riley, it claimed the c
ontribution had not been made for the past three years. The responsibility for sending in the money was that of Ocean Guard’s accountant, David Newberg.
Apparently, Riley had sent this letter on to Ben Kline, expecting the attorney who was on Ocean Guard’s Board of Directors to deal with the matter. When had Ben accused David of stealing the money, before or after the meeting she’d attended with Cynthia? She imagined that had it been before, Ben might have brought up the subject in front of the other board members. Instead, he’d absentmindedly passed the envelope along to her after scribbling Mustafa’s name on top. It would have been easy for David to notice the return address.
Marla glanced up to see David’s eyes resting on her. Stefano lay limp on the floor.
“I didn’t mean to kill Ben,” David said quietly, a strange light in his eyes. “When he accused me of stealing sixty thousand dollars from Ocean Guard, I couldn’t help myself. He wouldn’t listen.”
As she backed away, edging up against another coffin, David stepped closer. Feeling like a trapped animal, Marla glanced at the door. Unfortunately, David’s massive body blocked the exit. His face had an oddly detached expression as he regarded her.
“Before you showed up at our board meeting, Ben said he was meeting with Riley that afternoon about an irregularity in Ocean Guard’s records. Ben called me later and asked if we could meet. I made an appointment with him at seven o’clock. No one else was at his office since it was after hours.”
Plowing his hand through his hair, David grimaced. “He accused me of stealing the money. I told Ben I knew nothing about it, but he didn’t believe me. No one accuses me of dishonesty, Marla. You know that from our brief acquaintance. Honor means a lot to me. I got angry when Ben wouldn’t listen and figured I’d knock some sense into him. There was this weapon on the wall, and I grabbed it. I only meant to threaten him, but he fought against me. I cracked the fire knife against his skull. It’s pretty heavy, you know, with a dull edge. Ben crumpled immediately.”
Hair Raiser Page 21
