Roger sure loved his duct tape.
Dannie freed the bag, crawling backward out of the cabin. Guy helped her to her feet.
They tore open the bag to reveal two slender red journals.
Dannie exhaled. “Wow.”
Guy opened one of the books and skimmed the contents. “Jackpot.”
THEY WALKED INTO Wiser-Crenshaw, the books in a big pink beach bag slung over Dannie’s shoulder.
Monique looked up from the reception desk, giving Dannie an exasperated little smile. “Hello, Mrs. Treat.”
“Hello, Monique. I’d like to see Ben Wiser, please.”
“Mr. Wiser?” Droll amusement steeped her cultured tone.
“Yes, Mr. Wiser.”
“Mrs. Treat, I’m terribly sorry, but you’re on the list.”
“The list?”
Monique nodded. “The list of people who have been banned from the premises. After what you pulled last time, forcing your way into Mr. Goody’s office…”
“I didn’t hear about that one,” Guy said to Dannie.
“Slipped my mind,” Dannie said. She turned her attention back to Monique. “Listen, Jersey girl. Just call Wiser and tell him I have something he might be interested in. Something that will make some very interesting reading.”
Monique shook her head. She opened her mouth, but Dannie put up a hand. “So help me God, Monique, if you don’t call him right now, I’m going to kick your nonexistent ass.”
Monique’s mouth snapped shut. She picked up the phone and savagely punched a button.
“Liliana, yes. Listen, Roger Treat’s wife is here. She’s insisting she speak with Mr. Wiser. Yes, I told her she’s on the list. But she says she has something Mr. Wiser would be very interested in.”
Monique hung up and gave Dannie a hostile look. “She’s sending an escort. Just so you don’t pull any stunts.”
Dannie was about to say something smart when her phone rang.
“Dannie, where are you, dear?” It was Roger’s mother. “Are you back in Pennsylvania?”
“As a matter of fact, I am,” Dannie said. “My plane just got in a couple of hours ago. I’m taking care of a couple of errands, and then I’ll be by to pick up the kids.”
“Oh, I wish I had known! Some nice men stopped by earlier, asking for you.”
A frisson of fear ran down Dannie’s spine. “What nice men?”
“They didn’t say their names, actually. They were looking for a book Roger had borrowed.”
“Oh God, Elizabeth. What did they say, exactly?”
“Umm, well. Let me see. They said Roger borrowed a book from their friend Jimmy. And that Jimmy was hoping to get it back. I told them I didn’t know anything about it, but maybe you did.”
“Yeah? And then what?”
“Well, they said they’d have to ask you. And then they said that if I talked to you first, to tell you that you have beautiful children.”
The phone slipped from Dannie’s hand. Guy quickly picked it up and handed it back to her.
“Elizabeth, don’t let them back in the house,” Dannie said. “Listen to me. Just lock all the doors and pretend you’re not home. Better yet, take the kids out somewhere.”
“Dannie, you’re scaring me.” Elizabeth’s voice was shaky. “What’s going on?”
“Don’t panic—I’ll explain everything later. There’s just been a mix-up. But just do what I’m telling you, okay?”
“Okay. Okay…”
“Elizabeth, everything will be fine. I’m taking care of it.”
“Yes.”
Dannie could hear her mother-in-law breathing heavily over the phone.
“Go. I’ll call you soon,” Dannie said.
Just then the elevator door slid open, and Liliana, Ben Wiser’s secretary, emerged with a security guard.
Dannie grabbed Guy’s arm and ran with him out of the building.
“What are you doing?” he asked as they jogged down the sidewalk. “Are you crazy?”
Dannie’s heart squeezed in her chest. “Can you get in touch with Jimmy Duke?”
GUY HAD PUT IN A CALL to Duke’s “assistant,” and he and Dannie were now waiting at the diner, Myrna’s, where they’d first met, sitting at a booth in front of one of those functional framed windows. Waiting for a Criminal to Call.
“Where could he be?” Dannie sucked down her third Coke as she twisted the straw paper between her fingers.
“Hard to say,” Guy answered. “He has a house in the Poconos, a suite at a casino in Atlantic City and he owns a piece of a hotel in the Adirondacks.”
“Great. We could be here for hours.” She waved the waitress over. “Can I get a hot fudge sundae, please?”
“You’re kidding. It’s eleven o’clock in the morning. Do you really want a sundae?” Guy said.
“Desperately. I’ve had two hours of sleep in the last thirty-six hours. I need sugar.”
“How about a muffin or some oatmeal?”
“Sorry. They don’t serve oatmeal in my amusement park.”
The waitress ignored Dannie and stared at Guy. Dannie snapped her fingers in front of the woman’s face. “Hey. My sundae?”
“Oh, right.” She hustled away.
Dannie rolled her eyes.
Guy tapped his cell phone on the table. “Come on. Ring.”
“That’s good. That’ll work,” Dannie said sarcastically.
The phone rang.
Guy gave her a triumphant grin and flipped the phone open.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m trying to get Jimmy. I have a friend who has something he may be interested in. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Right.” He flipped the phone shut.
“So?”
“That was Francis, Jimmy’s assistant.”
“And?”
“Jimmy’s at Philadelphia Park.”
“The racetrack?”
“Apparently he owns a piece of a racehorse that’s running there today.”
“Yeah?”
“He wants us to meet him there, in his box, at noon.”
Dannie’s stomach turned. “Oh.”
The waitress returned with Dannie’s sundae. But for the first time in her life, hot fudge didn’t seem like a cure for everything.
She pushed it away. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Twenty-One
CARS HAD JUST BEGUN to trickle into the parking lot of Philadelphia Park, filling up the empty spaces like grains of sand in a giant hourglass.
Dannie grabbed the pink canvas beach bag she’d taken with her to Wiser-Crenshaw. She got out of the car and slung it over her arm, taking a deep breath.
The smell of exhaust fumes from Street Road mingled with the scents of horse and parking-lot dust.
Dannie and Guy entered through the main entrance into a spacious marble-tiled hall, soon passing through an area with stacks of simulcast TVs and rows of wagering terminals. A few men gathered at a table in the handicapping lounge, drinking beer from plastic cups, their racing forms spread out on the table.
Dannie and Guy took the escalator up to the mezzanine level, where rows of window tellers and self-service betting terminals lined the walls.
Several dozen people stood in line at the teller booths waiting to place bets before the post time of the first race. A clock above the terminal showed the time as 11:50 a.m.
“Which way to the box seats?” Guy asked a security guard in a too-tight blue uniform standing beside a bank of betting terminals.
“Next ta da Derby Dining Room.” He jabbed a chubby finger in the general direction.
Dannie grabbed Guy’s hand to slow him down. “Wait. I have to find a ladies’ room.”
He nodded in understanding, as if he knew the thought of facing Jimmy Duke could scare the pee out of anyone.
They located the restrooms and Dannie ducked inside. Of course, there was a line.
“Why is there always a line at every ladies’ room on the planet?” she asked the woman in front of her. “Rig
ht now there’s a line at a ladies’ room in the Gobi Desert. You know there is.”
Dannie danced from foot to foot.
The woman gave her a hostile look. “I’m not letting you in front of me.”
The rules of sisterhood didn’t apply in restrooms or singles bars.
Dannie concentrated on what she was going to do when this mess was over. She was going to pick up her kids and take them straight to Pizza Pete’s, where they would gorge themselves on junk food, play arcade games and ride those little quarter rides until they all threw up.
Then she was going to pick up her big oaf of a dog from Cecilia’s, and they were all going to go home and clean up the house and live happily ever after. The End.
A woman stepped into line behind Dannie, rubbing her pregnant belly. “Can you believe this line? I have to go so-o-o bad.”
Dannie gave her a sympathetic look. “I feel your pain.”
Then a stall opened up, and Dannie sprinted for it.
THE BOX SEATING AREA afforded a spectacular view of the racetrack, the winner’s circle and the lakes on the infield. Naturally, Jimmy Duke’s box was located front and center.
But even if it were in a less obtrusive location, Jimmy Duke himself would have been hard to miss. Even though Duke was sitting, Dannie could tell he was a tall man. And a large one, too.
Everything about him was large. His shoulders, his hands, his nose. Even the cowboy hat he wore was big. Forget ten gallons. The thing was fifteen, at least.
“Who wears a cowboy hat to a Philadelphia racetrack?” Dannie whispered to Guy as they approached Duke’s box.
“Are you kidding? I think he wears it to bed,” Guy whispered back. “Somebody told me it’s stuffed with money.”
“Guy Loughran!” Duke boomed. “How’s the spa business?”
“I wouldn’t know yet,” Guy said, shaking Duke’s hand.
“I know. We have to talk about that sometime soon.” Duke gave Guy a look full of meaning. “Now, who’s this pretty little lady?”
Dannie extended her hand, but instead of shaking it, Duke kissed it.
“I’m Dannie. Dannie Treat.”
Duke held on to her hand, even as he motioned with his other one, dismissing the posse of pro-wrestling types who surrounded him. “Well, well. Mrs. Treat. Would you happen to be related to Roger Treat?”
“He was my husband.”
“Was, or is?”
“I’m not sure I understand the question. My husband passed away in February.”
“Not according to an acquaintance of ours. A Mr. Lyle Faraday?”
“Sadly, I’ve heard Mr. Faraday is mentally ill,” Dannie said.
“I can confirm that,” Guy said.
Duke looked at Guy with raised eyebrows. “Just how do you and this little lady know each other?”
“Let’s just say Lisa and Roger were…close friends,” Guy said.
Duke squinted at him. “I see. Well, have a seat, both of you. My horse is running in the first race. It’ll be post time in just a few minutes.”
“You own a racehorse?” Dannie said.
“Not a whole one. Just the ass end.” Duke laughed, a big, booming, throaty laugh.
Guy and Dannie exchanged nervous glances.
Duke motioned to a small television positioned unobtrusively in the corner of the box. “If you don’t want to watch the race live on the track, you can see it on this little bitty TV here. You can also place a bet, if you want.”
“What’s the name of your horse?” Guy asked.
Duke grinned. “Money Pit. Kinda like that spa of yours, huh?”
Guy’s jaw tensed, but he said nothing. Dannie brushed his lower back with her hand, just to remind him she was there.
They both took seats behind Duke, watching as the track staff prepared for the first race, checking the surface for foreign objects, testing the timers at the gate.
After the condition of the track was approved, handlers led the horses for the first race into the gates. The animals were spectacular, their coats shining in the sunlight.
In gate number four, Money Pit, a chestnut filly showing purple and yellow colors, sidestepped and tossed her mane.
Duke rubbed his hands together. “Here we go. Here we go!”
Duke’s men materialized, filing into the seats around Dannie and Guy. Dannie wasn’t sure if they were there to watch the race or to make sure she and Guy watched the race.
An androgynous voice announced that the betting windows were closed.
After several tense seconds when time seemed to stand still, a loud bell, not unlike the one that had signaled the end of the day at Dannie’s old high school, rang out over the track.
The horses shot out of the gate, streaking past the grandstand windows and rounding the turn at the bottom of the track. Dust plumed up behind them, forming whirling dervishes that danced in their wakes.
Money Pit came out of the gate slowly, but caught up to the rest of the runners before the first turn. Duke leaned forward, pumping his fist. “Come on, baby. Come on!”
The horse picked up speed on the far stretch, the jockey riding high on the saddle. Money Pit pulled ahead of the leader.
Duke hefted his considerable frame out of his chair, swiped the hat from his head and slapped it against his thigh.
The horse accelerated and seemed an easy winner until she stumbled fifteen yards from the finish line. She recovered her footing, but managed to garner only a third-place finish.
Duke lurched backward and sank into his seat, mashing his hat back onto his head. “Well, what’re you gonna do? It was only her fourth race. Not bad, right?”
“Absolutely, boss,” said the man beside Dannie. “She’ll do better next time.”
The other goons muttered their agreement.
Duke flipped open a cell phone and murmured into it before turning his attention back to Dannie and Guy.
“So, Mrs. Treat. Tell me what I can do for you. Or better yet, what you can do for me.”
Dannie gripped the handles of the canvas bag sitting at her feet, taking a few seconds to bolster her nerve. She knew she had to approach this thing the right way if she was going to get what she wanted. She could not show fear.
She looked Duke squarely in the eye. “I think I have something you’ve been looking for.”
“Really? What’s that?”
“Are you going to play coy with me, Mr. Duke?”
He laughed. “I’ve been looking for some records your husband may have…misplaced.”
“Your men tore my house apart,” she said. “That wasn’t nice.”
“Those records are very important to me, little lady,” Duke said, his face serious this time.
“My home is important to me.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
She pulled one of the books out of the canvas bag and handed it to Duke.
Duke removed the elastic bands holding it together, and leafed through the pages. “This is it?”
She shook her head. “There’s one more. I don’t have it with me, but you’ll get it after we settle on the terms of our deal.”
Guy gave her a questioning look.
“The terms?” Duke’s face turned red. “Little lady, you got some nerve.”
“I don’t want anything more than what I’m entitled to,” Dannie said. “I want to be safe, and I want to be able to take care of my kids.”
Duke regarded her in silence for a minute. “Okay, then. What are your terms?”
“I want this to be the end of the unexpected visits to my home, and my in-laws’ home.”
Duke nodded. “Of course. There will be no need to keep in touch.”
“I want a check from Wiser-Crenshaw for Roger’s shares of stock.”
“You’ll have to take that up with Wiser-Crenshaw,” Duke said.
Dannie shook her head. “They won’t listen to me, but for some reason I think they’ll listen to you.”
Duke shrugged. He pulled his
cell phone out of his pocket and dialed. “Ben? Jimmy. I have a little lady here says you owe her a check. Her name’s Dannie Treat. Pay her, Ben. Today.”
Jimmy snapped his cell phone closed. “Done. Now, what about the money your husband stole from me?”
“The money your men took from the hot-dog box in my freezer should cover some of that. And the painting they stole, too. Maybe we can just call the rest my finder’s fee.”
Dannie held her breath. If Duke called her on the fact that the money was counterfeit, she could play dumb. Pretend she had no idea.
A voice announcing the start of the second race filtered over the intercom above their heads. A waiter came, handing Duke a bourbon on the rocks.
When the waiter had gone, Duke focused his attention back on Dannie. “Anything else?”
Dannie nearly melted with relief. “Just one more thing. I want you to get out of the spa business. Permanently.”
Duke broke out into a grin, and looked at Guy. “Well, well. Seems you got yourself a bodyguard, Mr. Loughran.”
“Dannie—” Guy said.
“I just don’t want to see a friend get into something over his head,” Dannie interrupted.
“Don’t think I can help you with that one,” Duke said. “You see, our friend here owes me a lot of money. I can’t just forget about that now, can I?”
“You’ll get your money. As soon as the spa is running and Guy can pay you back, he will. Every cent, plus interest. But you have to agree you’ll never become a partner, and you have to take him out of those books.”
Duke took off his hat and scratched his head. “And if I don’t let Mr. Loughran here out of our arrangement?”
Dannie shrugged. “Then I guess our deal is off. I’ll just have to take the other journal to the proper authorities.”
Duke shook his head. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Mrs. Treat.”
“It’s not a game, Mr. Duke. I give you my word you’ll get exactly what I’ve promised if you agree to my terms. What have you got to lose? A partnership in a spa?”
Duke said nothing.
The bell signaling the start of the second race rang. The announcer’s spiel flowed from the intercom as the horses stormed past below the grandstand’s windows. Duke stood framed against the track. Silhouette of a Gambling Man.
A Widow in Paradise & Suburban Secrets Page 17
