“No,” Goober said. “I meant, where are we going? If you plan on taking us back to Winky’s, you should’ve turned right and gotten over onto Fifth.”
“Oh. Sorry. You’re right. It completely slipped my mind.”
WHEN WE PULLED UP IN front of Winky’s place, I was surprised to see that the old Minnie Winnie’s guts were no longer spread out from here to kingdom come.
Tiny was bent over the garden hose, washing his hands. When he saw us, he straightened his enormous girth and waved a huge hand at us.
“Got her runnin’!” he yelled.
“I knew you could!” Winky hollered from the backseat.
“So, we good until tomorrow?” Goober asked me.
“Yeah. I guess so. We’ve got the footprints solved. I’ll tell Tom tonight. Now I think we should do like Finkerman suggested and follow the money trail.”
“Hey, Goober!” Tiny hollered.
I looked up to see gigantic Tiny waving a large, red pair of women’s pumps.
“Found these on the floorboard,” he said in the worst women’s falsetto I’d ever heard. “Mind if I borrow ‘em? I got a hot date tonight.”
“Keep your mitts off those,” Goober yelled back. “They’re my lucky shoes!”
“Nice one,” I said sourly.
Goober shot me a look. “What?” he asked. “Those are orthopedic. A real lifesaver when you’re on your feet teasing hair all day.”
“Val, you goin’ to that luau tonight at Nancy’s?” Winky asked.
“Yeah. I don’t have much choice. To tell you the truth, I’m not looking forward to sinking my teeth into Laverne’s pet pig. You coming?”
“Naw,” Winky said. “I couldn’t stomach it myself.”
Goober laughed and I punched him on the arm.
“I’ll see you two at Caddy’s tomorrow, then. Hopefully Amsel will show up and bring Dimson with him. If he does, Goober, you’ve got to pretend to be Tom.”
“Why?” Goober climbed out of the car. “No one saw me except the bombshell receptionist.”
“Exactly. That means Amsel won’t know you’re not Tom. That’ll come in handy tomorrow night...if all goes to plan.”
“What plan?” Goober asked.
“I’ll fill you in tomorrow.”
“Okay. What time should we meet?”
“My place at six.”
I shifted Maggie into reverse.
I ought to be able to come up with a plan by then....
Chapter Thirty-Eight
I peeked through a slit in the living room blinds and shook my head. I could barely make out the hazy, yellow glow of Nancy’s front-porch light through the gray wall of rain.
“I think it’s a monsoon,” I said.
“Nancy sure knows how to put out the Welkommen mat,” Tom quipped.
I grinned. “I’m going to let her know we’re not coming.”
“Unless you’ve got a kayak hidden away in the garage.”
“Not even then.”
I grabbed my cellphone from the kitchen counter and punched in her number.
“Nancy?”
“Ja.”
“I think we’re going to have to take a raincheck on the luau.”
“Don’t joke,” she said. “The barbeque pit is a swimming pool. What will I do with all these flowers?”
Like a true Southerner, I felt the need to apologize – even for the weather.
“I’m sorry.” Guilt compelled me to add, “We’re having a party at Caddy’s tomorrow night. It’s to celebrate the return of Goober, an old friend. Why don’t you come along?”
I waited a beat while Nancy recovered from what sounded like a near-death strangling.
“Really?” she asked.
“Sure. Why not?”
“Okay. I will come,” she said stiffly. “Dank...thank you.”
“Sure. See you around seven at Caddy’s.”
I clicked off the phone and sighed with relief. I looked over at Tom. He appeared even more pleased than I was at the sudden freeing-up of our evening’s obligations.
“Looks like you’re going to get your quiet evening alone with me after all,” I said coyly.
He took me in his arms and gently swept the hair from my forehead. As his lips brushed against mine, he whispered, “Who said anything about quiet?”
SATURDAY MORNING, IT was still raining. Perfect weather for lying in bed with a hot, steamy...
...cappuccino.
“I wish we could start every day like this,” I said to Tom as he slid into bed next to me.
“Me, too. We make a good team, don’t you think?”
I nearly choked on my cappuccino.
“Uh...speaking of team, I’ve got some news I need to share with you.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Hold on. I want to show you something.”
Tom grinned seductively at me. “Let me put down my cappuccino first.”
“Ha ha. I’m serious. It’s about the case you’re working on. I’ll be right back.”
I padded into the kitchen and came back with the ad for the Mega Shoe Universe Emporium.
“Look at this.” I handed the ad to Tom.
“Geeze!” Tom said as I crawled back into bed. “Don’t you women ever stop thinking about shoes?”
I jabbed him with my elbow. “Har har. See the treads on those new Birkenstocks? Do they look familiar?”
Tom squinted at the paper.
“Here, use these.” I handed him the pair of pink cheater glasses from my nightstand.
He scowled at them playfully, then popped them onto his nose.
“Whoa! These look like the same shoe impressions as the ones on the beach.”
“I thought so, too.”
“That’s really good, Val.”
“Thanks. But that’s not all. I know who was wearing them.”
“What?” Tom sat up on one elbow and studied me through the pink bifocals. “Who?”
“Norma Jeen and Darlene Dimson.”
“How do you know that?”
“I asked the clerk at the store. He told me he’d only gotten in two pairs of size tens, and he remembered who bought them.”
“He knew them by name?”
“Yes and no. He said he thought one was a man, but turned out to be a woman. He checked her credit card because he thought it was a guy committing fraud. He remembered her name because it was like a movie star.”
“Norma Jeen.”
“Yes.”
“And the other one?”
“Well, see that corner of a pocketbook on the counter?”
Tom squinted at the newspaper clipping. “Yes.”
“Darlene Dimson has one just like it. You know, I hate to think of Norma as capable of this. But she and Dimson are in this together with Amsel. They’ve gotta be.”
“That’s unbelievable.” Tom shook his head.
“Don’t be angry, Tom. I only did all that because you said you couldn’t go after Amsel and –”
“I’m not angry,” Tom said. “I’m impressed. I think you really might have what it takes to be a detective, Val. Or should I call you Valliant Stranger?”
“Let’s just keep it at Val. I’m tired of being a stranger.”
Tom smiled. “Okay. But I do have one question. Why didn’t you tell me all this earlier?”
“I just found out myself yesterday. I was going to tell you last night, but I didn’t want to ruin, you know, the mood.”
Tom shot me his boyish grin. “I appreciate that. You know, what you’ve got here is still all circumstantial evidence, but it’s good. It gives us something more to go on.”
“Are you going to call the office with it?”
“I’d like to confirm everything myself first. Is there anything else you want to tell me? About the case, I mean.”
“Only suspicions. Dimson forged my deposition for Langsbury. So I’m thinking, what would stop her from forging the sale papers for Caddy’s, too?”
/> “Good reasoning. I wondered that myself. So, I had Parson’s signature on the sales contract compared against samples of his known signature. It checked out, Val.”
“Then I don’t get it. Why in the world would they get rid of Greg? They wouldn’t need to...unless there was some death stipulation in the sale contract. You know, like the one you told me about in Boca Raton.”
“Yeah. But I read the contract myself. Parsons wasn’t holding the note for Amsel. As far as I know, there weren’t any addendums added afterward, either. But there could have been.”
“So, why would they have to get rid of Greg?”
“I don’t know. Maybe what you said the other day. About Norma being in Greg’s will?”
“It was just an idea.”
“But your ideas are good, Val. I’m proud of you.”
I winced. “Uh...thanks.”
Tom eyed me dubiously. “I know that look. What are you not telling me?”
“Uh...just that...well...tonight, at the party? Goober might pretend to be you.”
Tom’s smile disappeared. “What? Why?”
“We’re going to try and get a confession out of Amsel. You see, yesterday, I sort of lent Goober your sport jacket so he could deliver a box of cigars to Amsel and invite him to Caddy’s tonight.”
“Why would you do that?”
“It was just a spur-of-the-moment idea...part of a plan I hadn’t thought through yet. I figured if we could get Amsel to Caddy’s tonight, maybe we could find a way to get a confession out of him before it was too late.”
“But why did you have Goober tell Amsel he was me?”
“I didn’t! You see...Goober found your business card inside a pocket of your sport coat and...well, it’s all a big misunderstanding. I’m sorry, Tom.”
“Geeze, Val! Were you really going to let me go to Caddy’s not knowing about this?”
“I...I’m telling you now. And it’s not too late. If you’re up for it, tonight we could work on this thing together, as a team.”
“This thing? Val, I’m a police officer. We have rules to follow.”
“I know. But you see, Amsel wasn’t in the office yesterday. He never saw Goober. You could take his place as...you know...yourself.”
“So let me get this straight. You’re saying I could be me tonight?”
“Uh...yes.”
“Thanks.”
“Well...that is, as long as you don’t mind also being the president of the St. Pete Cigar Lovers’ Club.”
“Really Val? I don’t know what to say. I’m speechless.”
“Then don’t say anything. Just come along for the ride and let Goober do the talking.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know. I was trying to be funny.”
“We went way past funny a long time ago.”
“Okay, Tom. You’re right. I get that. But you told me that being a team means we shouldn’t hold anything back. I just want you to know that that’s it. You now know my entire Plan A.”
“Good. Wait a minute. Does this mean there’s a Plan B?”
“Eeh...yes and no. I thought it might be wise to have a backup strategy.”
“Do I want to know about it?”
I gritted my teeth and shook my head. “Probably not, as I haven’t got it all worked out yet myself.”
I LET TOM STEW IN HIS own juices until lunch time. He emerged from the bedroom looking a little less angry – more like Robocop than The Incredible Hulk.
“I’ve had time to process this,” he said as he emerged from the bedroom. “And from now on, we need to hold nothing back. If we have a problem, we need to share it, Val. We need to be brutally honest with each other to the bitter end, or you and I are never going to work.”
“Is this the bitter end?”
Tom’s face registered surprise. “No. Not even close.”
My gut relaxed with relief. “Thank you. In that case, I have another confession to make.”
Tom winced and closed his eyes. “What?”
“I hate broccoli.”
A sea-green eye peeped open.
“You do?”
“I abhor it.”
“So do I!”
“Then why on earth did you make a giant batch of broccoli salad for dinner the other night?”
Tom burst into a stupid grin. “So we could eat healthy. I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“No way. You gotta die of something. Might as well die fat and happy.”
“If you hate broccoli as much as I do, then why did you eat it?”
“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“See? That’s what happens when we keep secrets from each other.”
“What?”
“We both end up miserable for no good reason.”
“So what do you want to do about lunch?” I asked. “It’s still raining cats and dogs. I hate to put a poor takeout delivery guy through this.”
“The weather’s not supposed to clear up until this afternoon,” Tom said. “We could defrost the giant bag of Brussels sprouts in the freezer.”
“Yuck.”
“What have you got against Brussels sprouts?”
“Hopefully anything except my tongue. As far as I’m concerned, sprouts should remain a verb, not a noun.”
Tom grinned. “That’s funny.” He looked down, bit his lip and blew out a breath. “Well, since we’re being totally honest with each other....”
“What?”
Tom walked over to the freezer and pulled out the bag of sprouts.
My upper lip met my nose. “I told you –”
“Hold on a second.” He set the sprouts on the counter and reached into the freezer again. When he pulled his hand out, it was holding a pint-sized carton of ice cream.
“You’ve been holding out on me!” I screeched.
Tom laughed. “My secret hiding place. I knew you wouldn’t touch that bag of sprouts. What would you say to just putting on some sweatpants and eating ice cream for lunch?”
“I’d say I never loved you more than this very moment.”
Tom grinned. “So, I can take that as a ‘yes’?”
“Most definitely. All I ask is one small favor.”
“What’s that?” Tom’s handsome face shone with an adoring expression I hoped one day to live up to.
“When I’m old and gray and big as a whale?” I said.
“Yes?”
“If I lapse into a coma, promise me you won’t pull the plug until I’m a size four.”
Tom grinned. “I promise.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“I hope there’s a break in the rain soon,” I said, and let go of the bedroom blinds. “I’m supposed to meet the guys at Caddy’s in an hour...you know, to go over the plan.”
“Is that Plan A or Plan B?” Tom quipped.
“Plan A, as far as you know.”
“I thought I was part of the team.”
“You are.” I opened the bedroom closet. “So tell me, detective, which of my outfits would be best for Operation Take Down Amsel?”
“You may want to wear your rubber wading boots.”
“You’re right. It may never stop raining.”
“Rain wasn’t exactly what I was implying. You really know how to step in it, Val.”
“Ha ha, Tom.”
He had a point. I looked in my closet for some rubber-soled shoes that would go with the red sundress I’d pulled out. “Well, I’m going, come hell or high water. It’s the last chance the gang has to be together at Caddy’s.”
“I’m surprised they’re still serving food,” Tom said.
“They’re not. It’s alcohol only. And BYOB – as in, bring your own barbeque. Everybody’s bringing something.”
“We’ve got the rest of that big broccoli salad....”
“These are our friends, Tom. I’d like to keep it that way. Besides, our contribution is the pig. Jake saved it from drowning in the pit yesterday, and was sup
posed to be roasting it in his oven today.”
“Sounds good.” Tom’s face dropped suddenly. “Oh, geeze, Val! What about Laverne? Do you know what Salmonella Sally’s bringing? How are we going to switch it out?”
“We don’t have to worry about that anymore.” I tugged on the sundress. “Zip me?”
“Sure.”
“I discovered Laverne’s secret ingredient that was giving everyone the squirts. Turns out she was using Krassco in everything.”
“Krassco? As in WWII lard?”
“That would be it. Apparently, she’d somehow secured an almost-lifetime supply of it.”
“I wonder how many lifetimes she’s taken with it.”
I smirked at Tom. “Come on, it wasn’t that bad.”
“Val, in Vietnam, we used to leave tins of that stuff behind to disable our enemies.”
“Well, whatever. It’s all used up now.”
“Wait a minute. I thought you said you’d told me everything.”
“We’ve been together a few years now, Tom. There’s bound to be a bit of a backlog I’ll need to clear out. You’ll have to give me a few mulligans.”
Tom grinned. “Okay. As long as they don’t contain Krassco.”
I laughed and peeked through the blinds again.
“Hey, looks like there’s a break in the rain. You ready to go?”
“Sure. But you look much too beautiful for a simple stakeout.” Tom slipped his hands around my waist. “Are you sure you don’t have anything else planned?”
“I promise. I guess I just wanted to look my best for our last dance at Caddy’s.”
“Well, my lady, mission accomplished.”
JUST AS TOM PULLED into a parking spot at Caddy’s, J.D. pulled up beside us in his white Mercedes. I watched as diminutive J.D. scooted around and opened the door for Laverne. Statuesque in her gold high heels, she towered over J.D. like Godzilla over Tokyo.
“Why don’t you do that for me?” I asked Tom.
“What? Come up to your waist?”
“Ha ha. No. Open the door for me.”
“I thought you didn’t like it.”
“I never complain when someone’s polite.”
Cloud Nine- When Pigs Fly Page 19
