Betting on Grace

by Salonen, Debra

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THE NEXT MORNING, Grace awoke from a fitful night’s sleep. Before leaving Romantique, she’d finally confided in Kate about her interlude with Nikolai. She couldn’t bring herself to talk about Charles or his claim about their father. She could only deal with one catastrophe at a time.

  Kate had lectured her about communicable diseases and advised her to see her doctor the next day.

  “But what if this was supposed to happen, Kate?” Grace had asked, letting the stillness of the empty kitchen calm her. She and her sister often had their best talks at two in the morning. “You and Ian took precautions, and Maya found a way past them.”

  “My daughter has defied odds all her life. According to Mom, Maya picked the time, place and parents she wanted. Why? Considering all that’s happened, I have no idea.”

  Grace knew. Kate was a great mother—loving and creative. She’d learned from the best. The only other person—in Grace’s opinion—who came close to being as devoted to her children was MaryAnn. Which, Grace thought, was why—after hours of tossing and turning—she’d decided to talk to her cousin’s wife. She was absolutely certain MaryAnn wouldn’t want to continue working for Charles once she learned the truth about his involvement in her father’s death.

  She pulled on a ball cap so the wind didn’t wreak havoc with her hair. Her Lycra Capri’s, sports bra and loose T-shirt were all black, like her mood. But her hot-pink socks matched her running shoes.

  Today was going to be warm, she realized as she made a show of stretching—just in case Nikolai was next door watching. But last night, she’d seen on the Weather Channel that a big storm was headed their way, thanks to a low-pressure area in Baja.

  In the desert, that usually meant flash floods, an anomaly of nature that Grace and her father had loved to experience together. She still got weepy on stormy days, missing Ernst.

  After making a purposeful loop around the neighborhood, she arrived at MaryAnn and Gregor’s baby-blue ranch-style home—similar to the ones on either side of it, except their house still retained its original roofing material—coarse white rock.

  The place had changed very little since MaryAnn and Gregor had taken it over from MaryAnn’s mother. Grace had never cared for MaryAnn’s mother, who now lived in Hawaii. She didn’t understand how any grandmother could stand to live so far away from her grandchildren and never make any attempt to visit.

  Nor had the woman ever invited MaryAnn and her family to come see her.

  Grace was positive that kind of rejection had to hurt, but MaryAnn always defended her mother by saying, “It’s her way.”

  As she knocked on the door, she observed MaryAnn’s faded Toyota sedan parked beside the overflowing garbage cans. Gregor’s car was gone. That was odd. Normally, Greg didn’t go to work until much later in the day.

  She looked around. Weathered boxes of junk were lined up along the concrete wall that separated the younger family’s yard from Claude’s. Broken toys. Dog-food dishes—even though their beautiful but ancient cocker spaniel had recently died, after a long, costly illness.

  She’d considered organizing a communal work detail to spruce the place up, but when she mentioned the idea to her sisters, Liz had told her to mind her own business.

  “MaryAnn?” she called, knocking again. Maybe she walked Luca and Gemilla to The Dancing Hippo.

  She’d just turned to leave when the lock clicked and the door opened a crack. “Grace? What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to catch you before you left for work. What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

  The door opened all the way. MaryAnn’s rumpled nightshirt came to the middle of her shins. Her hair was matted down on one side of her head. “No. Today is Charles’s monthly breakfast meeting at the Insurance Center. I don’t go in until noon. Gregor must have taken the kids to school, then gone out for breakfast,” she said, yawning. “Want some coffee?”

  MaryAnn turned and walked into the kitchen.

  “No thanks, but a drink of water would be nice.” Grace had wrestled with how much to tell her cousin and his wife about her father’s involvement with Charles and had come to the conclusion that Ernst would have wanted her to warn Gregor and MaryAnn about how deceitful and cruel Charles could be.

  “Actually, I’m here to talk about Charles.”

  MaryAnn took a can of Folgers from the cupboard. “You mean about your plans for the new restaurant?”

  “No. I mean blackmail.”

  The can clattered loudly against the countertop. “What?”

  “MaryAnn, Charles has threatened to expose some past indiscretion of my father’s if I don’t give him the money in my trust account. He doesn’t plan to use it to remodel the coffee shop. He says he needs it for something else. He also claims the money is rightfully his because of some agreement between him and Dad.”

  After a slight hesitation, MaryAnn finished measuring the ground coffee into the filter, added a carafe of water then turned on the switch. Only then did she look at Grace and say, “Did Charles tell you what he needed the money for?”

  “No. And I really don’t care. He was horrible, MaryAnn. He said he’d ruin Dad’s reputation and prove once and for all that the Romani are nothing more than liars and thieves.”

  “Like he’s some kind of saint,” MaryAnn murmured. “What are you going to do?”

  Grace sat down on the white vinyl stool. “I…I’m thinking about going to the police.” She held up a hand, anticipating MaryAnn’s response. “I know. I know. Dad didn’t trust them, but I’m not going to let Charles extort money from me, no matter what happened in the past. It’s just not right.”

  “But Grace, Charles has a lot of connections. I…I wouldn’t cross him, if I were you.”

  The slight wobble in MaryAnn’s voice caught Grace’s attention. “You didn’t know about this, did you? Charles didn’t brag about getting gullible me to hand over my trust fund?”

  “No, of course not. Charles doesn’t confide in me. I’m just his secretary. I make sure he’s at court on time and I referee his arguments with his partners. Other than that, I’m practically invisible.”

  Grace heard the bitterness in MaryAnn’s tone and was confused. In the past, MaryAnn had bragged about what a great boss Charles was. “What about Gregor?”

  “Do you mean is he close to Charles? Don’t be ridiculous. First off, Charles isn’t close to anybody, but if he were, he wouldn’t pick Gregor. Haven’t you noticed that Charles only hires the Romani for low-level jobs?”

  Grace had never given it any thought. “What about Uncle Claude? He doesn’t sweep floors.”

  “Of course not. Why work for a living when you can get paid for making up lies?” Her tone was laced with barely concealed spite.

  “MaryAnn,” Grace exclaimed in shock. “What’s going on? This doesn’t sound like you.”

  Her cousin-in-law’s eyes narrowed to an unfriendly squint Grace had never seen before. “How would you know, Grace? You’re a princess. I’m just one of the peasants, remember?”

  Grace was too stunned to speak. Where was the sweet, kindhearted, wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly woman she thought she knew?

  “The truth hurts, doesn’t it, Grace?” MaryAnn asked with a laugh. The brittle sound drove a shiver up Grace’s spine. With it came an odd tingling, like déjà vu, but she was positive nothing like this exchange had ever taken place.

  Grace shook her head. “The truth? Have you looked at my life, lately, MaryAnn? My oldest sister just got out of the hospital. Liz is hanging on to her house by a thread. Kate and I are working our butts off to keep the restaurant going. Does that constitute royalty in your book?”

  MaryAnn poured herself a cup of coffee. “It beats playing dumb while the man you work for exploits the poor, the lazy and the greedy to feather his own, twisted bed by making up bogus accident claims.”

  Grace’s pulse jumped erratically. “What are you talking about? I thought his insurance operation was completely pro
bono.”

  MaryAnn made a rude sound of contempt. “Of course you did. That’s what he wants people to think. But I saw a file on his desk one day. Less than half of the claims are legit. People like Claude recruit suckers who need money. This is Vegas. They’re easy enough to find. He and Greg help them stage accidents. Charles gets a kickback from his referrals to a couple of doctors and chiropractors, including the one Liz works for.”

  Liz? Oh, God, no. She can’t be involved.

  “Plus,” MaryAnn went on, “if any of the claims go to court, he winds up hauling in big money.”

  “If you know this, why haven’t you told anyone?”

  MaryAnn shrugged. “Because Charles is too clever to get caught. If I called the police, you know who would wind up in jail—patsies like Gregor and Claude. Not Charles,” she said with conviction. “People like him never pay for their crimes.”

  MaryAnn despised Charles, Grace realized. Deeply. Passionately. But why? “There’s something else you’re not telling me. Have you been involved with him? Romantically?”

  MaryAnn made a gagging sound. “Of course not. He’s a freak. I wouldn’t let him come near me.” Her look of revulsion convinced Grace she was telling the truth.

  “So why do you hate him? Does it have something to do with his past? If you know something, we could go to the police—”

  Coffee sloshed over the rim of MaryAnn’s cup. “No. Forget it. Charles is untouchable. Give him what he wants, Grace. Before it’s too late.”

  “Cave in to his blackmail? No way. He thinks this information he has about my dad can hurt us, but he’s wrong. We’ve weathered worse as a family. We’ll survive this, too.”

  “He won’t stop at ruining your dad’s reputation. He’ll find a way to ruin you, too. And your mother, your sisters, even me and my family. I knew someone who threatened to cross Charles. She didn’t live very long after that.”

  Murder? Charles was capable of murder? Grace didn’t believe it. MaryAnn was clearly overwrought.

  “If that’s true, why do you still work for him?”

  MaryAnn wiped up the spill, never meeting Grace’s eyes. “Better to keep a snake where you can see him than wonder where he might strike next. Your father taught us that, remember? Ernst was always spouting little bits of wisdom.”

  Her sunny “MaryAnn” smile returned, but Grace didn’t buy the quick turnaround. Her intuition told her MaryAnn was keeping something from her.

  Grace stood up abruptly. “I have to go. Mom needs me to drive her to Liz’s. Catch you later.”

  Grace had no idea where her mother was. Nor had Yetta asked Grace to play chauffeur. But the voice in her head said Yetta was the person she needed to talk to. She had to hope her mother’s visions wouldn’t fail them this time.

  “MOM,” GRACE SAID, dashing into her mother’s bedroom. “You won’t believe what just happened. I can’t make sense—” She stopped speaking to stare at her mother, who was wearing her best suit and skirt…with heels. “You’re all dressed up.”

  “I have some shopping to do, then I’m meeting someone for lunch.” Yetta was seated at her vanity. The gold velvet upholstered stool had always reminded Grace of a small, regal throne. As a child, Grace had sat on it to give her royal speeches. Yetta’s cosmetic jars and perfume bottles had served as her loyal subjects.

  “With Liz?”

  “No, Elizabeth is going to the bank over her lunch hour to see about refinancing her house.”

  Grace sat down on the bed and hunched forward, still breathing hard from her sprint. Liz was refinancing? Grace hadn’t heard that. Of course, she wasn’t terribly surprised. Liz was the secret-keeper in the family. “I hope she gets it. She’s been pinching pennies more than usual, lately.”

  Yetta gave her French twist hairdo a shot of styling spray then swiveled to face Grace. “Elizabeth will be fine. But you are in trouble. I can tell.”

  Grace took a deep breath. “Actually, we might all be in trouble. As much as it pains me to say this, I think we need to call the police.”

  Yetta sat back. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I just left MaryAnn’s. I went there to tell her that Charles tried to extort my trust-fund money from me. She wasn’t surprised. In fact, she told me that his insurance operation is basically a scam. Some of our family members might be involved. I know this is gaujo business, but I think it could hurt us, as well. If Dad were alive…” Grace watched her mother’s facial expression change from concern to resignation.

  “Grace, dear, I have something to tell you. You aren’t going to like it.”

  Grace’s breath caught in her throat. “What?”

  “I contacted the authorities several weeks ago because of a disturbing dream I’d had. It was Jurek’s idea. He suggested I call someone he knew. Someone we could trust to uncover the truth from the inside.”

  Dream? Jurek? Inside? A sick feeling swept upward from her belly. “Mom? What are you trying to say?”

  “Nikolai is a policeman in Detroit. He came here to assist the Metro police to find out why Charles was suddenly so interested in you and your inheritance. It was the only way to keep my family from being devoured by the serpent.”

  The truth hit on several levels at once. She might have fallen if she hadn’t been sitting down. Nikolai wasn’t an ex-con, he was a cop. Working undercover. Using her family to get to Charles. He was a cop.

  “Oh, my God,” she said, fighting tears that closed off her windpipe. “He lied to me. You lied.”

  Yetta reached out and squeezed Grace’s knee. “He had to keep his identity a secret, Grace. And you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone. Even your sisters. If word gets out, his life will be in jeopardy.”

  “It already is,” Grace seethed. “Because I’m going to kill him.” He’d made love to her as one man when he really was another. “Mother, how could you? Because he has a few drops of Romani blood, you welcomed a cop into our midst without talking to anyone? My God, Mom, what would Dad think?”

  “Grace, I was—”

  Grace was too angry to listen. “It’s bad enough that you gave all of Dad’s insurance money to Ian, but this is crazy. You’re Puri Dye. You’re supposed to see into the future, not to reshape it by involving gaujo police in Romani business.”

  Yetta shot to her feet. “Stop it right now. I’m through apologizing for the mistakes I made after Ernst died. I wasn’t myself then. My sight hasn’t returned fully. It might never come back, which is why I have to try to interpret my dreams. But I saw Charles. He was a snake and he was slowly devouring this family. I had to find a way to stop him.”

  “And the only way you could do that was to invite a cop into the compound?”

  “He’s not just a cop. He’s Romani. He’s Jurek’s son.”

  Grace stood up, too. “Oh, really? Well, maybe somebody should have told him that because he thinks his family is back in Detroit. If anyone has an ax to grind with the Romani, it’s Nikolai Sarna. Or should I say, Nick Lightner. That’s his real name, you know.”

  “I do. I also know that you’re upset about being kept in the dark about this, but Nikolai’s boss—the person I’m meeting for lunch today—insisted on secrecy. He felt Nikolai would be accepted more easily by the men in the family if he had a criminal record.”

  Grace stared at her mother, still not completely able to comprehend that Yetta had gone behind their backs like this. “I can understand you trying to help, Mom, but how could you not tell us the truth? What if one of us was involved in something shady? You might have sent your own child to jail.”

  “That wouldn’t happen. I know my daughters.”

  Grace shook her head sadly. “But even Puri Dye miss things. You thought you knew your husband, too. Didn’t you?”

  Before Grace could take back the punishing question, a voice called from the hallway. “Anybody home?” Liz. “You’ll never believe what happened at DesertWay this morning. We were raided.”

  THE RAID WENT exactly as
planned. Almost.

  Nick had taken tremendous satisfaction in showing his badge to Charles. “Busted,” he’d said, savoring the moment.

  Charles had cooperated without much of a fuss. In the end, fifteen people were taken into custody at the insurance center, including Gregor and Claude Radonovic.

  The only snag arrived when a second team descended on Charles’s office at the casino and discovered MaryAnn missing.

  When asked about his wife’s whereabouts, Gregor had seemed genuinely baffled. “I haven’t seen her since this morning. Maybe one of the kids got sick. Did you check at home?”

  “Of course,” Nick lied. It hadn’t occurred to him to send a car to the house. An oversight. Proof that he’d lost his edge. Something that never happened to Nick Lightner but seemed to be chronic for Nikolai Sarna.

  He’d gotten too close to the people he was supposed to be investigating. Shared meals. Basketball games on television. He and Claude had laughed and cussed. Nick and Greg had shared many a beer together.

  Claude had remained his jovial self throughout the booking process. “Been here, done this,” he’d said when an officer loaded him into the back of a patrol car. “Don’t forget to feed the cat when you get home, Nikolai.”

  That comment had earned Nick a sharp look from Zeke. In their haste to plan the raid around Charles’s monthly breakfast meeting, they’d neglected to make any changes in Nick’s living arrangements.

  While Zeke accompanied the suspects back to the department for questioning, Nick went to the casino to interview Charles’s staff and secure videotapes and computers. He went through MaryAnn’s desk, where he found handwritten notes indicating MaryAnn was fully aware of what Charles was doing in his bogus insurance operation.

  Unfortunately, Charles had protected himself quite cleverly. Taken at face value, one might think Claude was the mastermind behind the scheme. Nick knew that wasn’t possible, but proving it was something only MaryAnn could do.