Old Bones Never Die

by Lesley A. Diehl

  For the next few minutes, he concentrated on the road. I was curious about how Nappi found the pawnshop owner, but knew better than to ask. What I didn’t know I couldn’t tell anyone. That included Frida or a jury, should I be asked to testify in court if Nappi was brought to trial for kidnapping or miscalculating the impact of his hard look on a terrified man’s heart.

  “There’s the turnoff to the golf course,” I said.

  He slowed as we searched for the unmarked dirt road.

  Sammy spotted it. “Right there.”

  As we passed the drive leading to the ranch, the road got smaller and ruttier. Soon it appeared to be nothing more than two tracks, water on either side. A weak light shone up ahead. Nappi turned off his headlamps and stopped the car.

  “We go the rest of the way on foot. I hope you wore sensible shoes, Eve.”

  Everyone laughed at that comment, including me. When did I ever wear anything but the most outrageous designer footwear, always with at least a three-inch heel? Tonight was no exception.

  “I’ll just have to clean them when I get home.”

  “More like, you’ll have to throw them out when you get home.” Sammy looked at my boots and shook his head.

  We couldn’t see much in front of us and would have lost our way if the light up ahead were extinguished. I stepped into knee-high water.

  “Oh, crap.” There go my patent leather ankle-high boots.

  “Hah,” said Sammy. He grabbed me up in his arms, and we continued to wade through the water. Several hundred feet from the cabin, we hit dry land and Sammy put me down. My boots made squishing sounds as we continued.

  “Can’t you be any quieter?” Nappi asked. “We want to sneak up on the guy, not announce he’s getting visitors.”

  Suddenly the light went off.

  Nappi whispered to Sammy, something I could not hear, and Sammy disappeared into the darkness.

  “It’s Nappi Napolitani. I need to talk with you,” Nappi called out. He extracted a flashlight from his pocket and shone it on the building in front of us.

  No sound came from within, so Nappi stepped onto a small rickety porch and knocked on the door. No one answered.

  “Well, hell,” said Nappi. He turned the knob and shoved the door inward, shining his light around the one room inside. No one was there, and there was no place to hide—we saw only a tiny table, three mismatched chairs, a wood stove, and a bedroll on the floor in the corner.

  “He was here,” I said. I pointed to the pot of soup on the stove, the flame beneath it still lit. “We missed him. I ruined my boots for nothing.”

  Chapter 15

  I sank down into onto one of the chairs and examined my footwear. My shoes had suffered too many times before and always when I was in hot pursuit of a criminal or was being pursued by one. Maybe I should rethink how I dressed for these missions.

  Nappi lit the kerosene lantern on the table, looked around the shabby room, and laughed. I heard a ruckus outside, yelling followed by a thud, as if someone had been thrown against the building. The floor shook from the impact, and the back door was flung open. Sammy stood in the doorway, holding Eddie by his collar. He looked like a large dog with his chew toy.

  “Back Door Eddie,” said Nappi. “I figured you’d try that again, so I sent my friend here to help you reconsider your flight plans.”

  Eddie looked up at Sammy, terror emanating from his bugged-out eyes. “Don’t let him hurt me!” he said.

  Sammy shoved him to the table and into the chair across from mine.

  “We need to have a talk.” Nappi spun the other chair around and straddled it.

  Eddie’s gaze traveled from Nappi to Sammy and back again. Then he looked at me, but apparently found no sympathy in my face as I snarled at him, brandishing my boot.

  “You owe me a new pair of boots, you little rat.”

  “Anything, anything. Just don’t let them hurt me.” He reached across the table, but Sammy slapped his hand away.

  “Don’t touch her.” Sammy’s voice was menacing. I knew he was putting on more threat than he felt, but I decided it couldn’t hurt to follow through with a bit more of the same.

  “You’d better cooperate with Nappi or I’ll have my Indian friend here give you a haircut.”

  Eddie looked puzzled at first, then got what I really meant by haircut when I added, “He likes to cut it real short.” Sammy grabbed Eddie by the hair. I saw his eyes roll back, and I was certain he was going to faint. Or just die of fear.

  I sneaked a peek at Nappi. His face registered only cold threat, but I caught a twinkle in his eye and knew he was enjoying the way Sammy and I were handling Eddie, kind of softening him up for Nappi’s go at him.

  “I knew you’d find me and do to me what you did to Connie.” Eddie struggled in Sammy’s hold then went limp, as if resigned to whatever horrible fate awaited him.

  “What are you talking about?” asked Nappi.

  “I heard what happened to Connie. You put a bullet in the back of his head like you mob bosses always do. I don’t get why. Connie was always a good soldier for the mob. He’s always kept his mouth shut. You know that.”

  Sammy, Nappi, and I exchanged looks. What was Eddie talking about?

  “I didn’t do in your cousin, believe me,” said Nappi.

  “Well, I don’t. Why do you think I’m holed up in this godforsaken dump, trying to lie low until I can get out of here and move someplace where you won’t find me?”

  “But we did find you, Eddie. So you’d better level with us. Nappi is my friend, and if he says he had nothing to do with Connie’s murder, then he didn’t. Some other mobster must have taken him out. Maybe someone he recently did work for until he took what wasn’t his to take,” I hinted.

  “You mean that watch? That damn thing has been more trouble than it’s worth. I mean it was a great watch, but not if it meant Connie’s death.”

  Eddie sat in his chair for a minute, staring into the flames in the wood stove. We let the silence fall, giving him the opportunity to rethink his situation.

  “If you weren’t responsible for hitting him, then who was?” he finally asked.

  “You tell us,” Nappi insisted.

  “I don’t know.” Tears filled Eddie’s eyes. “I really don’t.”

  “Why don’t you tell us what Connie was up to in the days before he brought the watch in to you? Maybe we can figure out who killed him. He must have been working for some mob boss. Maybe one out of Miami?”

  Eddie shook his head. “Nope. Connie said he didn’t want to do any more mob stuff. It made him nervous. But when he died the way he did I assumed you had something to do with it. You came into my shop and all, looking for that watch. I just assumed it was yours and you were pissed he had taken it.”

  “If you believed he wasn’t doing mob work, why did you think Nappi was after him?” I asked.

  “I knew he didn’t want to have anything to do with the mob, any mob, but I figured someone coerced him. Like you.” He nodded at Nappi. After a pause, he added, “It’s funny though, now that I think about it. He told me when he brought the watch to me that he was working for some construction company, and that he’d made so much on that job he wouldn’t need to work for a while.”

  My heart did a backward flip in my chest. “What construction company? What was the name of it?”

  “Don’t know that. He didn’t say.”

  It was clear we weren’t going to get anything else out of Eddie, no matter how we threatened him. He’d told us all he knew. I called Frida on my cell and told her we’d found the pawn shop owner. After determining our location, Frida dispatched a police SUV to pick up Eddie for more questioning.

  “I don’t think he’ll have anything to say to you, but he did tell us something interesting about Connie Russo’s most recent job.”

  Frida gave an interested “Hmmm?” on the phone.

  “Some construction company, no name available.”

  “That could be an
y company, Eve.” She paused, then said, “But it can’t hurt to look into Gator Way’s work on that sportsmen’s resort where Walter indicated to Sammy he found the watch. Maybe the foreman saw Walter take the watch and alerted his bosses.”

  “Alerted them about what? The foremen called in the bones, and they were the only real threat to the project going forward that we know about, so no one was trying to hide the fact they had been uncovered.”

  “You forget that the issue with the bones is if they are Indian, indicating a burial ground,” Frida said. “That would put the entire project on hold, but since we can’t find them to determine if they are, a judge could give the go-ahead for continued construction.”

  “There’s something we’re both forgetting,” I said. “The bones could be from a body someone didn’t want to be found. If found, they might tell us foul play was involved.”

  Frida was silent.

  “Are you still there?” I asked. “Are you grinding your teeth? I think I hear frustrated grinding noises.” I wouldn’t have blamed her if she was. I’d have joined her if I thought it would do any good.

  “I wish I could find those damn bones. Or find out who took them. I know it doesn’t make sense, but they’re the answer to this whole thing: Walter’s hit-and-run, the watch, Connie Russo’s murder. Why won’t the pieces come together? I must be looking at them wrong.”

  “Listen, sweetie, if you can’t see the picture, neither can we.”

  “Yep. I’ll get back to you.” Frida disconnected.

  Oh damn. I’d forgotten to tell Frida what I found out from the detective in San Diego. Oh well. I could tell her tomorrow, but I needed to fill Sammy in on my thoughts about his father not being responsible for the theft of the watch. Then there was another lead I needed to follow up on. Maybe Sammy’s father wasn’t the person who pawned the watch at Renfro’s shop. I was about to talk with him when we heard a car approaching from the rear of the house.

  “Your ride’s here, Eddie,” said Nappi.

  Eddie looked relieved to see the two officers who cuffed him and led him to the car. I guess he was worried Nappi and Sammy might decide his lack of information merited some kind of punishment.

  “Let’s get out of here,” said Nappi. “You two up for a drink or a quick bite to eat? Interrogating is hard work.”

  We both shook our heads. “I think we’ll just go back to Eve’s place and sack out for the night.”

  Nappi gave him a knowing smile.

  Later, in my king-sized bed—after a session of getting reacquainted—I had turned off my cellphone and taken the land line off the hook.

  Sammy turned on the bedside lamp. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you, my love.” The look on his face was serious. His mouth quivered at the corners, as if he was trying to prevent himself from yelling at me. “Miccosukees do not scalp people.”

  “But they did once from what I’ve read.”

  “White folks’ history. Who knows if it’s true? Anyway, we don’t do it now.”

  “But Eddie didn’t know that.”

  The quivering of Sammy’s mouth finally gave way to laughter. “True that.”

  I punched him in the arm. “I thought you were really mad at me. You scared me.”

  “I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.” He moved toward me and kissed my hair, face, mouth, neck … then abruptly stopped.

  “Don’t stop there,” I said.

  “Are you sure?”

  I grabbed a handful of his thick black hair and pulled him on top of me. “I’m sure.”

  He reached for the lamp.

  “Leave it on,” I said.

  As his muscular arms encircled my body, the part of my brain that was still functioning rationally sent a message that there was something important I was going to tell Sammy. Something about the watch and Sammy’s father. The message was ignored.

  The next day was Saturday, and I had promised the boys I would host a sleepover. I had a feeling only Sammy and I would be sleeping. Maybe I should include Grandfather so someone could keep an eye on the children.

  Madeleine was in the shop for the day—David having baby duty at home—and Grandy and I headed to the coast with the RV. The flea market there closed around three in the afternoon. Assuming traffic cooperated, we should be back in Sabal Bay in time for supper. Grandy and Max planned to leave for Key Largo and spend the night on their boat after we ate. The man captaining it for them had booked Sunday morning and afternoon fishing charters. Max was feeling fit enough to take a day of charter work. I know he was raring to get back on his boat, and both Grandy and I were thrilled he appeared to be recovering from his heart attack several months ago.

  “You look a little exhausted,” Grandy observed on our way down the road to Stuart. “But you also look happy, and I’m happy for you.”

  “Oh, gosh.” I could feel a flush working its way up my neck. I looked at Grandy in embarrassment. “Were Sammy and I too loud last night?”

  “Eyes on the road, Eve. We don’t want to drive this thing into the ditch. Max sleeps without his hearing aids, and when the noise from your room got too much, I simply turned on the little fan by my bedside. It drowns out most noises.”

  I yanked the wheel to the left, barely avoiding the feral pig someone else had hit on the side of the road. The vultures that had been enjoying the carrion for a late breakfast flew off and circled for a minute. When I glanced in my rearview mirror, I saw them settle back on the carcass.

  “Nature’s sanitation engineers,” I remarked.

  “That’s enough to put me off barbecued ribs at the Biscuit for a month,” Grandy said.

  “Well, I assume you’ll be dining on freshly caught Florida pink shrimp tomorrow,” I said. “I wish Sammy and I could get away for a weekend in the Keys. He’s lived all these years in Florida and never been there.”

  “We’ll set a date for the two of you to spend with us on the boat.”

  I chewed on my lower lip. I knew Max wanted to move back onto the boat soon, but I would miss having Grandy and Max with me full time. “When do you think the two of you will return to the charter business?”

  “Maybe never, if I had my way,” she said. “It’s hard work, and the pay isn’t great because our boat doesn’t have the amenities other newer vessels have, like gourmet meals and fancy linens, a mixologist. We just give ’em burgers and beer. That used to be enough for someone wanting to fish the waters off Key Largo. Now they want someone to bait their hooks, reel in the fish, and serve them cocktails in crystal glasses.”

  “I assume you’ve not shared your feelings about resuming the charters with Max.”

  Grandy spit out a laugh. “Are you kidding? I know better than that. I’ll let him find out for himself. And he will.”

  “Before or after his next heart attack?” I asked.

  “That’s what I worry about too. The old goat.” Grandy folded her arms across her chest. “But some things can’t be rushed.”

  I knew she was right. I’d been rushing things since I lost my parents. Pushy, snoopy, impatient Eve. I had no time to just let things be. I had to make them happen. Control. I had to be in control of my world.

  As if reading my mind, Grandy said, putting on a Southern accent, “I’m not like you, darlin’. You might could learn something about taking your time.”

  Now where did my Connecticut born and raised grandmother start talking like the locals? “Might could learn?” What was that about? Maybe I should get her back to the Keys or she’d be saying things like “Get ’er done.”

  Me? I did not like taking my time, or letting things happen. Not ever. I liked to run things. I liked to do it at my own hurried pace. The world would just have to adjust. I was “get ’er done in a hurry Eve Appel.”

  As we pulled into the flea market, I saw a black SUV behind us and recognized the driver. Parking our rig in the designated spot, I got out to set up our sign. The SUV pulled in alongside us.

  “Hi, Nappi. Are you here looking
for bargains?”

  “I’m meeting Jerry to pick up some fresh fish at the market. How would you like it if I brought some by tonight? I could cook them up the Italian way.”

  I didn’t know what the “Italian way” was, but if Nappi was the chef, it had to be good.

  “Sure. You and Jerry can stay for the slumber party.”

  Nappi looked puzzled, then I explained about Walter’s boys staying at my place for an overnight. I also told him Grandy and Max were leaving after dinner for Key Largo.

  “Will the boys like fish?” Nappi asked. “All the kids in my family did, but what about them?”

  “They’ll love it, and you’ll love them. They are the sweetest boys.”

  “Hi, Evie,” said a voice from behind me.

  It was my ex-husband Jerry calling me by the name I hated. As usual. I turned and gave him a stern look.

  “Sorry,” he said. “So we’re dining at your place. Will Sammy be there? Grandfather Egret, too?

  I wished I could find some way to exclude Jerry from our gathering, but my heart softened when I looked into his sad brown eyes. I reminded myself that Jerry wasn’t so bad if you weren’t married to him. I wasn’t, and he was good with kids.

  As Nappi and Jerry left for the fish market, I yelled after them, “Is it okay if I call Madeleine and David to come also or will that be too many?”

  Nappi stopped and looked at me. “My dear girl. Of course. I’m used to cooking for a big family.”

  I waved at him and turned my attention to business as several women entered the rig and began to look around.

  Everyone loved Nappi’s Italian fish with basil, tomato sauce, and fennel, baked in the oven until the smells coming from my kitchen almost made me sob with culinary joy. Nappi encouraged the three boys to help him prepare the dinner, and he quickly became “Uncle Nappi.” He shooed the rest of us into my living room to drink the fine Chianti he’d bought in Stuart. Grandfather and Sammy rarely drank anything other than an occasional beer, but they each had a glass of wine. They laughingly pronounced it really fine “firewater” and drank a second glass with dinner. Everyone helped clean up. Grandy and Max were on their way south by nine and the others left shortly thereafter—except for Grandfather, who retreated to my front porch to smoke his pipe and think whatever deep thoughts he liked to think. It was just Sammy and me and the three boys. We played a few board games, but after our activities of the night before and working all afternoon at the flea market, I knew I’d find it difficult to keep my eyes open much longer. Sammy looked like he was asleep on his feet. Grandfather shooed Sammy and me off to bed, whispering in my ear, “They’ll be asleep in less than an hour.” We had agreed the boys could watch television as late as they wanted. The three of them each curled up in their sleeping bags with Grandfather in the lounger nearby. He was right. He looked wide awake, but the boys’ eyes were drooping, especially Jeremy’s.