“You have a good eye,” I told him.
“You have nice stuff, Mrs. Dunne.”
“Deva.”
He nodded and sneaked a peek at his watch. I knew what he was thinking. Where was she? On the days Lee worked at the shop, she’d never been late. So why late today?
At three, I went out to the kitchen to rescue the roast. Simon followed me with our empty glasses and poured more wine while I transferred the meat to a platter to rest before carving. To keep it warm, I covered it with a sheet of aluminum foil. I was about to skim the pan drippings and start the Yorkshire pudding when the kitchen phone rang. Busy at the stove, I asked, “Would you get that, Simon?”
He answered. A second later, he asked, “What? Where are you? Are you at home?” At the edge in his voice, I looked up, alarmed. “Where are you?” he repeated, listening for a long moment before slowly lowering the receiver onto the cradle. “She screamed, then the phone went dead.”
“Who?” I asked, knowing.
“That was Lee, wasn’t it?” Paulo suddenly appeared in the kitchen, an empty Coke can crushed in his hand.
“Yes,” Simon said. “She was crying. I think someone snatched the phone away from her. She said, ‘Don’t do that.’ Next thing the receiver slammed down.”
I turned off the stove. We wouldn’t be eating dinner anytime soon. “Where is she?”
“She didn’t have a chance to say, only that she’s not at home.”
“Someone’s hurting her.” Paulo looked like his world had shattered into a million pieces. “We have to do something.”
“I’ll call the police,” I said, reaching for the phone.
“It’s Christmas Day.” Paulo raised his arms then dropped them to his sides. “They’ll think she’s partying or something.”
“True.” Simon blew out a breath. “It takes at least twenty-four hours for any action on a missing person. And we’re not even sure she’s missing…though she did say she wasn’t at home.” He paced around my small kitchen. That’s when I knew he was as upset as Paulo.
“There is one other thing we can do,” I said.
“What?” they asked in unison.
“Call Lieutenant Rossi.”
Paulo looked at me with wide, scared eyes. “The lieutenant who questioned everybody at the Alexanders?”
“Yes.”
“He’s a homicide detective.” Paulo looked ready to weep.
“Don’t jump to conclusions, son,” Simon said. “Lee’s very much alive.”
“Call him.” Paulo’s voice broke. “Call him now.”
“I have his home phone number,” I said. Ignoring Simon’s raised eyebrow, I dug the slip of paper Rossi had given me out of my purse and dialed his number, hoping to God he’d answer.
He picked up on the first ring.
“Lieutenant Rossi, this is Deva Dunne.”
“I’ve been thinking about you, too,” he said.
“This is serious, Lieutenant.”
“You wouldn’t have called otherwise, Mrs. D,” he said, unflappable as ever, giving nothing away.
“I need your help.”
When I finished telling him about Lee’s call, he asked, “Have you notified the station?”
“No. Just you.”
A pause. I knew detectives weren’t first responders. This was a violation of protocol. He could well refuse to get involved, especially after his chief had warned him about even a hint of impropriety. But all he said was, “I’ll take my pizza out of the oven and be right over.”
While we waited for Rossi, the three of us huddled in the kitchen, staring at the phone, willing it to ring again, but it didn’t. Simon and I slumped in the chairs by the table. Paulo stood at the kitchen sliders looking out at the palm trees waving in the bright Christmas sun. For once, I felt sure his keen artist’s eyes were seeing nothing. Only Lee’s face streaked with tears. And fear.
When the chimes sounded, we all hurried into the living room. Rossi nodded but wasted no time in greetings. “Tell me what you know about the girl. For starters, where does she live?”
“In a room on Third Avenue South,” I said.
“She said she wasn’t there,” Simon told him.
“Any boyfriends?”
“No,” Paulo said. “No boyfriends.” His firm tone left no room for argument.
Rossi shot him a keen look. “How about enemies?”
“Absolutely not. If you’d met her-”
“She’s afraid of her father, though,” I said.
Rossi switched his attention from Paulo to me.
“He works for Gro Green Gardeners. Merle Skimp’s his name. He was working outside the Alexander house the day I contacted 911.”
“I’ve talked to Merle,” Rossi said, his jaw tightening.
“Merle?” Paulo exclaimed. “I know him. I’ve seen him there. He’s Lee’s father? Oh God.” Paulo sank onto Nana’s couch. “He hates me.”
We all turned to him. “Why?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“You’re acquainted with Skimp’s daughter?” Rossi asked.
Paulo nodded then stared down at his hands clenched in his lap.
“Has her father seen you together?”
“I don’t know. It’s possible. She works at the Irish Pub, and lately I’ve been walking her home when her shift ends. It’s late for her to be out alone.”
Simon looked across at me. Our glances tangled, caught up in the same thought.
“Since she told you she wasn’t home, we’ll start with the father,” Rossi said. “I’m going out to use the car radio. I’ll be back.”
We waited without speaking. I was worried sick about Lee, but my heart went out to Paulo, too. He sat on the sofa, his shoulders sagging, his hands dangling between his knees. I knew without being told that Merle’s unearned hatred wasn’t the first ill will Paulo had encountered in his young life.
After a few minutes that felt like an age, Rossi strode back in. “I have the address of a Merle Skimp in East Naples, off Rattlesnake Road. I’m officially off duty, but I’ll be happy to pay a friendly social call on Mr. Skimp. If the girl’s not there, we’ll make a formal report at the station. But in light of what you told me, Mrs. D, this is worth a try.” He met Paulo’s panic-stricken eyes. “You want to ride with me?”
Paulo leaped off the couch.
“I’m coming, too,” I said.
“Deva and I will follow you, Lieutenant,” Simon told him.
Rossi darted a hooded glance my way, then nodded. “Let’s go.”
Christmas Day traffic was light, and within twenty minutes, we were outside a barrackslike condominium building that must have held a couple of hundred units. In the parking lot, Simon parked his BMW next to Rossi’s beat-up Mustang.
“He’s on the first floor,” Rossi said. “On the end. Don’t stand in front of the door,” he warned as we reached Skimp’s unit.
Pressing hard, Rossi ground his thumb on the bell. Shrill and clear, a buzzer pierced the air. No answer. He lifted off his thumb and pressed a second time. Still no answer. Using the flat of his hand, he pounded on the door.
“Open up, police.”
Again he buzzed. Nothing. His hand was raised, ready to attack the door again when it squeaked open as far as the safety chain allowed. Merle Skimp’s thin, worn face peered through the slit.
“What’s all this noise?”
“Lieutenant Rossi. Naples Police.” Off duty or not, Rossi flashed his badge. “We’re looking for a Miss Lee Skimp.”
Merle squinted at the badge. “What do you want with her? She’s done no wrong.”
“Can we come in and talk to you?”
“I’ve got nothing to say to the police.” Merle broke the word into two syllables-po-lice.
“I have a few questions, Mr. Skimp. A short while ago, your daughter placed a distress call. We have reason to believe she may have been kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped?” Merle snorted. “
You can’t kidnap your own kin.”
“She’s here, then?” Paulo asked, his voice rising.
Merle peered at him through the narrow opening. “What’s it to you?”
“Remember me, Merle?” Paulo asked. “From the Alexanders? The big place on Gordon Drive?”
“Yeah, I remember you, all right. Stay away from my gal, you hear. I don’t want her consortin’ with the likes of you.”
“Where is she, Merle?”
“None of your business, Blackie.”
Ignoring his warning, Paulo shoved his foot in the opening and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Lee! Lee, are you in there?”
“I’m here, Paulo. I’m in here!” Lee’s voice, muffled but unmistakable.
Before Merle could react, Paulo leaned on the door and, pressing against it with the flat of both hands, he raised his knee then slammed his foot forward. The safety chain snapped like a broken thread. The door banged open, knocking Merle to the floor.
In a flash, Paulo dashed inside. “Lee, where are you?”
“Here! I’m in here.”
He raced to the sound of her voice. Tossing aside a chair that had been shoved under a bedroom doorknob, he twisted the handle, and she ran out, straight into his arms. He wrapped her in an embrace that said she was the one gift he’d always longed to have-for Christmas and every day. As they clung together, he bent down to brush a kiss on her hair.
“Get your hands off her,” Merle shouted, scrambling to his feet. “She’s not for the likes of you.” Swift as a ferret, he darted forward and grasped Lee around the waist, his surprise move wrenching her out of Paulo’s arms. “Your granddaddy’s from Alabama. And his granddaddy fought for the Rebs. What would they say, seein’ you so shameless, in the arms of this n-”
“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare!” Lee shouted, raising her voice to her daddy for what I suspected was the first time in her life.
“This is my home, gal. You remember that.” Merle waved an accusing finger at each of us in turn. “Breakin’ and enterin’ without a search warrant. That’s a criminal offense. I intend to prosecute all of you. That includes you, lady.” His finger lingered in front of my face. “This ain’t the first time we’ve tangled. As for you,” he said, a finger under Rossi’s nose, “I’m reportin’ you. I’ll have your badge.”
“You’re within your rights, Mr. Skimp,” Rossi said coolly, not a single one of his feathers ruffled. He turned and smiled at Lee. “I’m glad we found you well, Miss Skimp. Would you care for a ride back to town?”
Clinging to Paulo’s arm, Lee nodded.
“Before we leave, I have something to say to you, Mr. Skimp.” Silent until now, Simon stepped forward. At the quiet control in his voice, Merle took a hasty step backward. “I happen to be an attorney as well as a witness to this…ah…incident. Lieutenant Rossi did not break in. When this man,” Simon nodded at Paulo, “heard the victim cry for help, he came to her rescue. If necessary, I will testify to that in any court in the land. So pursue this beyond today and your ass is mine. Not that I want it, Merle,” he added dryly.
“You got no right-” Merle began.
“Daddy,” Lee said, tears running down her face, but before she could utter another word, sobs overtook her.
“I wouldn’t hurt you, gal. You know that,” Merle said, not looking as if he understood how much he already had. His pinched, sun-baked face bore the signs of a lifetime of hard work, yet glancing about the neat but shabby condo, I realized he hadn’t profited much from his labors. I would have felt sorry for the guy, except for the sight of Lee leaning against the kitchen sink, sobbing into her hands, her shoulders shuddering. Paulo hovered close by, ready to catch her should she fall, but plainly not knowing what else to do other than sweep her back into his arms.
I found a tissue packet in my purse, pulled out five or six and pressed them into her fingers. She wiped her eyes, her sobs subsiding into quiet tears.
“I’m so ashamed, Daddy. And on Christmas Day. Momma wouldn’t have wanted this.”
“Your momma was a good, pure woman. She wouldn’t have wanted you keepin’ company with that!” He pointed a finger at Paulo.
Her tears dried up in that instant, and I could see her spine stiffen. “You’re my father, and the Bible says to honor you. But you surely make it hard for me, Daddy.” Her eyes luminous with tears, she looked up at Paulo. “I want to leave now.”
“Stay away from your daughter, Mr. Skimp,” Rossi ordered. “When she’s ready, she’ll get in touch with you. Don’t contact her before then. If I hear there’s a problem, I’ll nail you. Understood?”
Merle nodded, the sag of defeat in his lowered shoulders.
“I’ll call you, Daddy,” Lee said softly. “I promise. But I won’t come out here ever again.”
His glance focused on the linoleum floor, Merle didn’t respond as she hurried past him.
In the parking lot, I called to Rossi as he was about to get into the Mustang. “Did you eat that pizza?”
“No, it’s waiting patiently for me, Mrs. D.”
“How many have you had this week?”
He shrugged. “I lost count.”
“That’s what I thought. Well, this is a holiday and you’re off duty-after performing an act of mercy.”
He had a quizzical expression on his face like he didn’t know where this was heading.
“So…you think the chief would mind if you joined us for Christmas dinner? Prime rib. Yorkshire pudding. Two kinds of pie. Brandy sauce.”
“What chief?” he said, grinning from ear to ear.
Chapter Ten
Back at Surfside, striving for a little holiday atmosphere, I lit my Christmas candles and poured drinks for the men. A beer for Rossi, a Coke for Paulo, a glass of the Pinot Grigio for Simon.
Lee brought a cheese tray and a bowl of cold shrimp into the living room, set them on the coffee table, then joined me in the kitchen while I surveyed my wreck of a dinner. I told myself that in the nearly two hours since we’d been gone, the roast hadn’t morphed from a Julia Child centerfold to roadkill. But looking at the meat sitting in its congealing juices, I had trouble staying positive about it.
Okay, Plan B.
“I’m bagging the Yorkshire pudding,” I said to Lee. “Too fussy. Too time consuming. You like potatoes?” I peered at her, standing there pale and deeply troubled in her FGCU T-shirt and jeans.
“Sometimes.” She sounded unsure. About potatoes, probably. About her future, for a certainty.
I opened the fridge and removed some Idahos from the vegetable bin. “If you want to tell me what happened,” I said, “I can listen while I cook. I’ll scrub these, nuke them for six minutes then put them in the oven with the roast.”
“No potato for me, Deva, if y’all don’t mind.”
“Not for me, either,” I said staring at the roast with distaste. “Maybe we should just have pie.”
She gave me a halfhearted smile and sank onto a chair at the kitchen table. “It all started out just fine. Daddy picked me up yesterday so we could spend Christmas Eve together. I cooked supper for us and all, and we talked about my momma, how much we miss her. Then I made a mistake.”
The Idahos scrubbed clean, I popped them in the micro and set the timer. “What did you do?”
“I told him how I felt about Paulo.”
“Oh, I see.” I wiped my hands on a kitchen towel and poured us both a glass of wine. Lee was about to refuse but I said, “Consider it medicinal. Under the circumstances.”
She treated me to another wobbly smile and took a sip. “Nice.”
“So you told Daddy…”
“He went crazy, Deva. Plumb crazy. Started raving like a madman. I calmed him down by saying nothing had happened.” Lee’s pale face turned pink. “Nothing has,” she murmured with a quick glance out to the living room. “So the rest of the night was fine. Then today when I said I had to leave to come here, he started up again. That’s when I called y’all, but he grab
bed the phone and forced me into the bedroom. I was about to climb out the window when I heard Paulo’s voice.”
Thoughts of my own father, of how pleased he had been when I told him about Jack, flooded my mind. What a shame Lee wouldn’t have a similar happy memory. “Your daddy needs to understand you’re a grown woman now,” I said as gently as I could.
Lee placed her glass on the table. Twirling the stem between her fingers, she stared at it as she spoke. “I’m not sure he ever will. Until he does, I have no Daddy.” She sipped the wine. “It’ll be better that way,” she added, but from the pain in her eyes I could tell she didn’t mean it.
“Be careful at night walking home from work.”
She nodded. “When Paulo can’t meet me, I’ll get a ride home with Brad, the pub manager.”
“Good.” I doubted Merle would try messing with Brad again.
I lifted the meat off the platter and put it back into the roaster. No question, it would be overdone, but overdone would be better than room temperature. Though not by much. When the Idahos were nuked, I tucked them in the oven along with the meat and a foil-wrapped loaf of garlic bread. The tomatoes and asparagus would have to take their turn in the micro. Plan B had its flaws.
Simon sauntered into the kitchen. “I’m going upstairs for another bottle of the Pinot. Won’t be a minute.” He glanced from Lee to me then back again. “Girl talk?”
I nodded.
“Rossi wants another beer. I’ll get it for him,” Simon opened my fridge like he owned it, removed a can of Bud and disappeared from the kitchen.
“The food’s under control for now. Let’s join the men,” I said.
“Gracious, I’m forgetting all the manners Momma taught me,” Lee said, jumping up and following me into the living room.
I was eager to get back to Rossi. To see if he’d discuss the case. At least I told myself that was the reason. When we entered the living room, Paulo leaped to his feet, his eyes shining on Lee. Rossi? He remained sprawled at his ease in a club chair, looking perfectly at home. He raised his beer can in a silent salute but didn’t say a word about the case. Or anything else, for that matter. Which, to tell the truth, was about what I expected.
The Monet Murders Page 8
