"Wow!" Tim said. "Do you have any idea where the brothers are now?"
"They said they had some business to take care of, but they threatened to come back before dark to dispose of me,"
Amanda said. "They talked about how easy it would be for an old lady like me to have some kind of an accident."
"Oh my God!" Ruth said. "Hurry, Tim! What if they come back before the police get here? I mean the real police this time, not this crooked dead one."
"Be quiet a second," Tim whispered. "I think I hear someone." He had finally released Mrs. Musgrove’s hands and she was trying to untie her own feet. Tim stepped over the dead man and stood behind the bedroom door with the knife raised over his head, but the voices grew louder and he recognized them. Patrick and Scott barged through the door, followed by Artie who was panting up the stairs behind the two younger men. All three of them carried large knives.
"Who’s minding the store?" Ruth asked as Artie and Scott made quick work of cutting off the last of her bonds.
"James is setting up for dinner and Jake should be along soon," Artie said. "There weren’t any customers at the bar, anyway. If anyone comes in before we get back they’ll just have to wait."
"Can you both walk?" Tim asked the ladies as Scott and Patrick helped them to their feet.
"I think so," Ruth said.
"I think we’ll have to," Amanda Musgrove agreed. "Let’s get out of here and leave this dead man to the legitimate police."
They stepped over and around the body of Captain O’Sullivan as they filed out of the crowded confines of the room.
Sirens grew louder as they descended the stairs. By the time they reached the gate three police cars and an ambulance pulled up in front of the building.
Peter Parker was the first officer to step out of the leading car. Ruth stopped him. "Peter, if you want to catch the Molino brothers, I suggest you get these police cars out of sight or you’ll scare them away. Amanda heard them say they’d be back before dark. You might have to wait a while, but your best chance of nabbing them would be by hiding inside, don’t you think?"
"We’ve already got them in custody, Miss Taylor," Peter announced. "We nailed them at their new meth lab down by China Basin. They won’t bother you or anyone else for a long time."
"Well, I don’t think we’ll need the ambulance, young man," Amanda Musgrove said to Peter. She turned toward the paramedics and added, "There’s someone on the top floor who is far beyond any help you could give him, but that stretcher might come in handy."
"Peter," Ruth said. "It’s Captain O’Sullivan. Dianne shot him before he could tie her up, too. He was involved with the Molino brothers and their drug business all along."
Peter stepped back as if he’d been punched with a hard blow to the stomach. "I had no idea."
"I never thought you did for a minute," Ruth said. She looked around to make sure that Artie, Scott, and especially Patrick were out of earshot before she went on. They’d all headed back to the restaurant. "You see those refrigerators on the sidewalk? They match the one in the photograph that was sent to my apartment. I didn’t have the nerve to look inside, but one of your people will have to."
"I understand," Peter said. "We’ll take care of it."
"We’ll be at the bar," Amanda Musgrove announced.
"I’m sure you’ll have questions for all of us when you’re finished with your work here, but in the meanwhile I, for one, could certainly use a stiff drink."
Ruth took Amanda by the arm and said, "I’m sure Artie won’t mind if I step behind the bar and make you one of my delicious Rye Manhattans."
As Tim and Ruth and Amanda came in from the back through the kitchen, Arturo arrived through the front door of Arts. "What in the world is going on today?"
"Long story, dear. Did you come here straight from home?" Artie asked.
Arturo nodded. "When I saw Dianne, I knew something must be up. I didn’t know she was out of the hospital until I saw her tossing her suitcases and hatboxes into the trunk of that big town car like she was in a race of some kind. She even got the new boys from the second floor apartment to help her out. I thought she was supposed to be sick, but I’ve never seen a sick person move so fast. Teresa and I just stood there and watched and shook our heads. Then Dianne drove off and she didn’t even say good-bye."
"She barely had time to say good-bye to me, Arturo,"
Ruth said. "But she did put three bullets through our captor. I guess that was her way of saying thank you or good-bye or something. I still can’t believe I raised that girl from a newborn and she turned out the way she is. And as much as I hate guns, I have to admit… well… who knew she’d be carrying one in her purse?"
Artie put an arm around Ruth’s shoulder and said, "It takes all kinds, you know… it takes all kinds."
Later that evening, after a dinner of Arturo’s pot roast, Nick leaned across the table and took Tim’s hand. "Well, Snowman, I guess Fleur de Lys will have to wait again, but I don’t mind if you don’t."
"Hey, this is a step up from our midnight breakfasts at Orphan Andy’s, anyway. At least we could get a drink and a bottle of decent wine here, and Sam’s paying for the wine. He must be in a very good mood. You can take me someplace expensive another time."
Ruth insisted that she and Sam sit at a table where she could keep an eye on the bar, just in case Artie needed any help.
He insisted that his back was fine and not to worry, but the place was filling up and he was busy. "I’m not sure that Artie is ready to be back at work full time," she told Sam. "And where’s Scott?
He must be late. He was here earlier."
"I’m sure Artie will let someone know if he needs anything, dear. Relax. Here’s Scott now. He must have been in the office." Sam leaned across the table and took Ruth’s hand in his. Then he looked into her eyes and smiled. "Meanwhile… I wondered if you’d do something for me, my darling Ruth." He slipped a ring on her finger and watched as her eyes lit up and sparkled along with the diamonds. "Marry me?"
"Oh, Sam… of course I will." Ruth grinned and they both leaned all the way forward across the table for a kiss. "I’d be honored to be your wife."
"There’s just one thing you need to know, though…"
"What’s that?"
"Well, with the truth about Dianne coming to light, your family has grown a bit smaller while mine is somewhat larger than you’ve been led to believe. Besides Jane and Ben and the grandkids, I also have—"
"A son?" Ruth interrupted.
"How did you guess?"
"I should have figured it out when we met Adam in the airport in Paris last winter. The way you two greeted each other was so sweet, far more than like old friends. And he’s so handsome… just like his father."
Sam squeezed Ruth’s hand, but she didn’t pause long enough to let him speak. "…and then, the other day, when I was on the phone with Cindy in Boston… Dianne’s birth mother…"
"Yes?"
Ruth took a sip of her Martini. "You know, Sam… I don’t have a psychic bone in my body. Tim inherited all of that from my mother… his grandmother… but sometimes I can figure things out and I just have to chalk it up to women’s intuition, I guess."
"Yes?" Sam sat back in his chair, but kept hold of one of Ruth’s hands while she went on. "My old friend Cindy has a son named Adam, too. I was lost in thought and doodling on a slip of paper while we talked on the phone and it came to me again, almost subconsciously. I wrote down the name Adam, along with the names of her other children and just about everyone else’s name I could think of… though I wasn’t really thinking, you know… just doodling… and then those moments at the airport in Paris came back to me and I realized that your Adam…
simply had to be…"
"Ruth, I want you to know that Delia… Adam’s mother… and I were only together that one time. It was just after my wife died. Delia had always run the house and she was a great comfort to me, especially then, but our relationship was never a romant
ic one. I would say that night was all a big mistake, but I’ve never regretted having Adam as a son. Delia married Frank within a year after he was born. Adam was still in diapers when they met and—"
"Sam," Ruth interrupted, "you don’t need to explain a thing to me. I’m looking forward to getting to know Adam better, and Alexandra, too. He and Tim will be almost like cousins and I think that’s wonderful."
"And you’ll be in charge of that house from now on, Ruth… once we’re married, you’ll be the queen of the manor."
"Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I said I’d marry you, but I wouldn’t think of getting in Delia’s way. She does a fine job and I have no desire to take over as the head of housekeeping." Ruth laughed. "I wouldn’t mind making dinner for the two of us now and then, but no more than maybe once a week. Between Delia and Arturo I might even learn how to cook fish. But there’ll be plenty of time to talk about all that later."
"Plenty of time," Sam agreed.
"And please, Sam… don’t call me the queen of anything.
We have plenty of queens around here as it is, and I wouldn’t want to get in the way of any of them, either."
Sam and Ruth both had a laugh and looked around the restaurant. The only one who wasn’t happy at the moment was Teresa. As the others sat down to eat, she stayed at the bar, ordered her fourth Martini from Scott and complained, "Gay men, married men, police men… they’re all the same—no good!"
"What happened to Peter Parker?" Artie asked.
Ruth looked up from the table and said, "I thought you two were getting along so well. Don’t get discouraged. Every relationship has its ups and downs, you know."
"Just like the bathroom scale," Artie added. "Except in my case it’s been all ups lately. I’ve gained twelve pounds since last Christmas and it’s all because I threw my back out. I’ll never get back in my old gowns by Pride Week at this rate! All I want to do when I’m on Vicodin is eat!"
"Did you and Officer Parker have a falling-out, dear?"
Ruth asked.
"No, not exactly… not at all! But he told me he wouldn’t be coming by later—not tonight, not tomorrow, not next week.
He’s moving away! He’s taking a job with a private security firm in Vegas. It’s a big increase in salary and he can be closer to his ex-wife and kids. Who knew he had kids? His little boy smashed up his bicycle today and broke his leg in two places. He’ll be alright, but Peter was so upset he’s flying down there tonight!"
"I’m so sorry, Teresa," Ruth said.
Scott had already chilled a fresh stemmed glass. Now he scooped ice into the shaker to make Teresa another drink, "He sounds like a good daddy, anyway."
"That one’s on the house, Scott" Artie reached over and patted Teresa’s free hand.
"I’m giving up men, I swear! They’re more trouble than they’re worth! I should have been a lesbian all along. I’ll bet I’d make a good one, don’t ya think? Don’t be skimpy with the gin there, Scotty old boy…"
It was well past midnight when Nick and Tim curled up together in Tim’s bed on Hancock Street. They were just about to drift off to sleep when more sirens wailed through the neighborhood.
Tim remembered his dream from the other night and realized that this must be the fire he saw in it. Some of his dreams were only dreams. Others recalled an important event from his past, but in this case his dream had predicted the future. As impressive as this fire was, it was also cleansing. It left a black gap in that block of Hartford Street where a new building would soon take its place. And it helped erase the horror of the scene where Patrick’s friend Darryl met his death and where Tim’s Aunt Ruth and Nick’s grandmother nearly met theirs. Tim didn’t care so much about what happened to his cousin Dianne, even though he had to admit she’d saved the day.
Some of the crowd on Castro Street that night, those who were moving from bar to bar, witnessed the fire engines come from all directions and then head east, both on 18th and 19th Streets. The red ambulances and the hook and ladder trucks turned onto Hartford Street from both ends and met in the middle. No one ever knew what started the fire and nothing much was left to investigate afterward. Volatile chemicals had seeped into the floors, ensuring that the old wooden building behind Arts went up like a torch. There was little the firemen could do but concentrate their efforts on keeping the restaurant safe and hosing down the houses on either side, especially the one that was only inches away.
"You know something? Tim asked. "Sometimes I get tired of listening to all these sirens. You must hardly ever hear them in Monte Rio, I’ll bet."
"Only when you’re around, Snowman," Nick answered sleepily, pressing his lips to the back of Tim’s ear and flicking at the lobe with his tongue. "When you’re around I hear sirens and fireworks and sometimes violins… and I feel earthquakes all the time."
Tim let out a satisfied moan and shrugged his shoulders.
"I was thinking a while back about taking a long drive down the coast. I thought I might even go as far as L.A. and look up some old friends of Jason’s down there… or maybe not. Maybe I’ll just keep driving until I get tired of it. Stop when I feel like it, rest a while."
"That sounds nice."
"Wanna come with me?"
"I’ve got about three weeks before I need to get started on that new winery project."
"We could take turns driving and there are some great beaches all along the way."
"We can get lots of sun and eat steaks and tons of fresh seafood and at night we could check into one of those little seaside cabins or sleep in motel rooms with beds where you drop a quarter into the slot and get the magic fingers and—"
"I’ll show you some magic fingers, stud," Tim said, laughing. "Do you mean it? Can you really come with me? I was going to forget the whole thing, but I’ve been thinking about starting back to work at Arts in a couple of weeks and it would be great to get out of town first. If you could come with me it would really be fun."
"I’ll go anywhere with you, Snowman. We could keep right on driving all the way down the coast to Mexico. You could stretch two weeks into three and I could stretch three weeks into four, but then I really have to get back to work. How does a month sound? We haven’t had a honeymoon in a long time."
"Mmmm…" Tim moaned. "Sounds good to me."
A sneak peek at
Chapter 1
from
Mark Abramson’s
Wedding Season
Book 5 of the Beach Reading series
he ceremony was about to start when Tim Snow looked around and saw dozens, maybe hundreds of smiling T faces. He knew every one of them and all of them were dressed to the nines. Organ music groaned through the sanctified air and crescendoed like waves of a crashing sea. He thought he must be inside the Castro Theatre. They have a massive pipe organ there, but no center aisle for a bride to enter on the arm of her father and stroll out on the arm of her new husband. And the lighting was too bright for the Castro Theatre.
Sunlight sent yellow shafts through stained glass windows lighting the faces of women in flowered hats. Most of the men wore suits and ties. Tim had been looking forward to this day for a long time, his Aunt Ruth’s wedding to Sam Connor.
The music changed, the organ stop was reset to sound a one-note trumpet fanfare and a lone bridesmaid appeared in the aisle. The room was so cavernous that Tim wondered if this was Grace Cathedral. Now he watched from the front where he stood beside Sam’s son Adam, the handsome black fashion model from Chicago.
The bridesmaid limped a few steps closer and staggered.
She grabbed the arm of a pew and tried to right herself, but reeled and fell. A middle-aged man in a blue suit stood and tried to help her, but she spat at him and pushed him away. Tim recognized his own mother, blind drunk, but he was as helpless as anyone else. She dropped her bouquet and crawled toward the altar, drooling like a rabid dog. Her foot caught on the flowers, tearing them apart and leaving a trail of petals down the aisle.
Tim turned red with rage. Everyone must wonder why this pathetic woman was there. Someone would figure out that the bride, Ruth Taylor, only had one sister and therefore, since Ruth was Tim’s aunt that could only mean the woman must be… Tim would never admit it! He would deny that he knew her, that he’d ever laid eyes on her before!
Now he turned his anger toward his Aunt Ruth, who hadn’t yet appeared. She should have known better. She should have warned Tim that his mother was invited. She should have known full well how her drunken sister would make a fool of herself and ruin an otherwise perfect day.
"Hey! Wake up, Tim, are you okay, babe?" It was Nick looking down at him, shaking him.
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