Woke Up Dead

by Tina Wainscott

“I got him,” he said. “You’re not going to believe how I did it.”

  Maxine pulled one of the sitting chairs behind her desk and blew off no less than half an inch of dust covering the surface of the desk. Sam’s laughter filled the room with the same potency as the coffee, and just as comforting. She closed her eyes, feeling her eyes tingle with threatening tears. This was her life, sitting here listening to Sam’s deep laugh and wishing. But no more wishing. The listening part was fine, though.

  She got up and walked around the office, then spotted the answering machine. Might as well check the messages. She jotted them down. Some were new jobs, some were clients checking on their current cases. Two were from a Suzanne. Hmm. Maxine had the feeling that Sam didn’t give out his home number to these women; they seemed to hunt him down wherever they could find him.

  When the phone rang, she picked it up and answered cheerfully, “Good morning, Sam’s Private Eye.”

  “Hi, this is Suzanne. Is Sam there? I really need to talk to him.”

  “Why yes, he is here, Suzanne.” Maxine tapped her fingernails on the desk top. “But I’m afraid he’s busy, and getting him between phone calls is tough.” She put on her sweetest voice. “Can I help you with something? Anything at all?”

  “Well…you’re a woman, right?”

  “Er, last time I checked.”

  “Sam and I met a few weeks ago at the Hound Dog. He looked kinda sad, you know, so I went up and talked to him and we hit it off. Or I thought we did, but he never called me. Is he, you know, seeing someone?”

  Maxine smiled. “As a matter of fact, he is.” Then Sam walked in, tilting his head at her conversation. She tried to wave him away, but he wouldn’t go. “Very seriously.”

  “Oh. Well, is he gonna marry her or something?”

  “He’s investigating that right now. You know, licenses, that kind of thing. He’s not taking on anyone else right now. Yep, he’s finished with that business. Well, thank you for calling. Goodbye.” She turned to meet Sam’s curious gaze, trying hard not to give her grin away.

  “Are you sending my clients away?” he asked.

  “You are going out of business, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe I am, but still…”

  She chewed on her lower lip for a second. “You were excited when you nabbed that schmuck today, weren’t you?”

  He smiled. “I always am.”

  “You should have seen your face, Sam. You were glowing. How could you give this up?”

  He looked at her, shaking his head. “I’d really be glowing if I could figure out how you changed so much.”

  “Ooh, would I like to make you glow. Er, what I mean is, time has changed me. Facing death has changed me.”

  He walked over and picked up the mug she’d bought him, the hound dog one. He looked at it, tracing the grooves with his finger. Slowly he filled it up and turned to her again.

  “It’s strange to see someone else sitting there. Jennie was the only woman to ever sit at that desk. Almost feels like I’m betraying her somehow.”

  “You’re not. She’d be happy to know someone else is helping you. Now give me a bill or something to type, will you?” Bossman, she wanted to say. Oh, how she longed to hear him call her kiddo again.

  Well, she got the bills anyway, a whole stack of them. Candy Dulfer’s saxophone drifted in from Sam’s office as he made phone calls and dictated reports. She let out a long sigh. Back in business. Now all she had to worry about was staying alive and making Sam fall in love with her. Shoot, no problem.

  It was later in the day when Sam walked out of the office and propped himself on the edge of her desk. When he crossed his arms over his chest, he reminded her of a hulking football player again. He’d just gotten a call from someone named Sparky.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked when she saw his serious expression.

  “One of my informants just called me. I talked to him last night before you showed up, asked him to nose around about any hired hits. We may have found the guy. His name is Floyd, small time hood in the area. I’m going to talk to him about his little job, but I doubt he’ll come clean. Maybe I can get something out of him, like male or female. That’ll narrow it down. Sparky says this guy hangs out at some sleazy club called the Pig’s Tail. We’ll hit it on the way over to Santini’s, although I’d rather not have you in a place like that.”

  “I’d rather be in there with you than somewhere else without you.”

  He seemed to weigh her statement, then shook his head. “No way. You’ll be safe in the car, and I’ll make damned sure nobody follows us there. Besides, if this guy really was hired to take you out, don’t you think he’s going to recognize you the moment you walk in the place? No, it’s out of the question.”

  He had a point. “Okay, you win. I’ll stay in the car.”

  He’d opened his mouth to further argue, then closed it when she acquiesced. “Really? That easily?”

  “I admit I’ve been a little stubborn about all this. Okay, a lot stubborn. You just don’t realize how important this is to me.”

  “Well, staying alive is important to most folks.”

  “It’s a lot more than that. We’d better get going,” she added, not wanting him to ask what she’d meant by the first statement.

  “What time’s dinner?”

  “Six-thirty.”

  “Great. I can’t wait.”

  The Pig’s Tail was pretty sleazy, though Maxine could hardly grade it on any scale. After all, she’d limited her club experiences to the Hound Dog and…well, that was about it. A neon beer sign flickered in the large window that was painted black. Once the building had probably sported stores that attracted mothers with their children. Now it wasn’t even fit for a street-wise man. Especially one as warm and wonderful as Sam, who made sure she locked the doors before walking across the street to disappear inside. A puff of smoke snuck out the door and tainted the cold night air just before Sam pulled it closed. Worry gnawed at her insides. Her gaze only left that door long enough to take in the sign above it, with the name of the bar spelled out in a long neon pink pig’s tail. Bet the owner thought he was clever on that one.

  Unfortunately the pig’s tail only distracted her for a second before she returned her gaze to the door again. Sam was in there because of her. What if something happened to him? She reached for the door, but only curled her fingers around the handle. Even if he didn’t have confidence in himself anymore, she still believed in him. If only she didn’t have this feeling of dread that something was going to happen to him

  CHAPTER 8

  WHEN THE DOOR finally swung open, Maxine lurched forward. It wasn’t Sam. A young man walked quickly through the darkness, his hands shoved in his pockets. Sam walked out right after him, watching the man for a second before looking at her. She waved, feeling relief sweep over her. He headed over to the car and got in when she unlocked the doors. She resisted the urge to hug him, instead pushing herself against the door behind her.

  “Well?”

  He smelled like smoke, but somehow it didn’t offend her nose.

  “The guy who walked out in front of me—he’s the one who tried to run you over.”

  She sucked in a breath. “Did he admit that?”

  “Not in any manner that we could snag him with.” Sam pulled the beeper she hadn’t noticed off his belt and pressed a button that made a rewinding tape sound. Then he hit another button and statically music filled the car. “That’s what I was afraid of. Floyd was sitting right next to the speakers.” He listened, but the voices on the tape were nearly obliterated by the squawking of the music.

  “Basically I told him the cops were onto him; I thought he might like to know about it. Of course, nobody does anything around here for nothing, so he asked me what I wanted for the generous tip off. I told him I wanted to know who was behind it. He said someone hired him over the phone, left half the money and your picture and information in a designated place. He was to follow you around yesterda
y and take care of you however he deemed applicable. Swears he’s never done anything like this before, but he couldn’t turn the money down. Fifty-thousand dollars.”

  A chill ran through her, reviving that trembling. “That’s what my life was worth? Fifty grand?”

  “People have been killed for less.”

  “I know, but it’s never been so close.” She wrapped her arms around herself and looked at him. “Did he say whether it was a man or a woman?”

  “Oh, he was a big help there. He said it sounded like a woman trying to sound like a man. Then again, it could have been a man trying to sound like a woman. He didn’t have anything to do with the flower box incident. I think he was telling the truth. If my instincts are on.”

  “Darn, that’s no help. If we could only narrow it down. I’m pretty sure it’s James.”

  “The person called him this morning; they knew he hadn’t done his job. Floyd said he was pretty freaked about the whole thing, trying to run you down and all. He put the money back and told the person to shove their job.”

  She let out a long sigh. “Thank goodness.”

  “Don’t even think of relaxing yet. They could easily find someone else to finish the job, someone more, er, qualified. Everyone in the Santini household is still a suspect, though I would wonder where Aida would get that kind of money.” He put the key in and started the car. “Let’s go shake up the suspects.”

  As they drove through the city, she watched the buildings around them, the cars passing. Anyone could be watching her, waiting for the right moment. And if they had a gun—she shivered. It could be over in an instant.

  Sam’s hand on her leg startled her. “Maxine, are you all right? You look spooked over there.”

  “I am spooked. Everywhere I look, I imagine someone waiting in the shadows trying to kill me. It could be over, just like that. I’m not ready to die.” I just got here. Sure, she’d gotten a second chance, but there were no guarantees. She could still die without telling him how she felt. Her cautious side warned against pushing too hard. A desperation grew inside her, but she quelled it.

  He stopped at a light and lifted the hand on her thigh to her chin, turning her face toward him. “I’ll do my best to protect you, but if you want to hire someone more qualified, I’ll understand.”

  She saw both determination and fear in his eyes. “I want you, Sam.” She took his hand in hers and pressed it to her heart. “Only you.”

  He looked at her, his gaze holding her captive until someone behind them pounded on their horn. Sam pulled out, staring straight ahead. Had he felt her heart speed up?

  He didn’t want her in his life, didn’t want this job. She had forced both. It struck her as ironic that as Jennie, she had tried so hard not to be a bother to anyone. With her disability, she was trouble enough. Even if it meant not having the one thing she wanted most: Sam’s love. As Maxine, she wasn’t as concerned with bothering people to get what she wanted. How much of her life had she denied simply because she hadn’t wanted to put anyone out? If Sam had cared about her, maybe she was worthy of a little bother after all.

  “No dog, I see,” Armand said as he let Maxine and Sam into the house. He would have probably preferred the dog to Sam.

  “No, he had a previous engagement,” Sam said, hanging his coat on a white rack by the door. “But he sends his regards.”

  “The dog had a previous engagement?”

  Sam shrugged. “He’s old enough to date. But I don’t allow sleepovers. I think it’s important to instill morals in them, don’t you think?”

  Sam looked so serious, and Armand so dumfounded, Maxine had to stifle a giggle.

  “I, ah…you’re weird, you know that?” Armand turned away from Sam and pulled her into his arms to give her a life-threatening hug. “I’ve missed you,” he said softly.

  She saw Sam tilt his head her way.

  “I, ah…how are you doing?”

  “I think you know.”

  The hurt in Armand’s eyes tore into her conscience. But she was marrying you for your money. You wouldn’t have been happy with her. You would have probably driven her bonkers in the process. This is better, don’t you see? But he wouldn’t, not ever. How could she explain something like this? Sam hadn’t been open to it, though comparing the two men’s reactions was like comparing a tiger to a mole.

  Sam looked around as if he were cataloging everything. Armand watched him, scratching at his eyebrow as he shot a look of irritation at him. “Does he have to sit at the table with us?” he asked in that same low voice.

  “What are we going to do, put a plate on the floor in the kitchen or something? Armand, he’s protecting my life. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  Guilt racked his expression, along with a few interesting wrinkle lines. “I know, but being apart from you is driving me crazy.” He jerked her against his body. “Can’t you feel how much I want you?”

  Well, actually, she couldn’t. That was a good thing.

  Sam walked over, and she moved away from Armand and silently thanked Sam for his timing. He still smelled faintly of smoke, reviving that feeling of dread she’d felt when he was in the Pig’s Tail.

  At the dinner table, she felt strange sitting next to Armand while Sam sat on the other side next to Sally. She kept stealing furtive glances at him, which Maxine knew he was wholly aware of. James was regarding him as more of a nuisance or intrusion.

  He paused, resting his arms on the table. “Do you really think this body-guarding thing is necessary?”

  “If you’d seen the car coming at her, you’d think so,” Sam answered.

  “Okay, but don’t you think it’s inappropriate to have her ex-husband doing the job? I mean, isn’t there some kind of conflict of interest or family thing?”

  “I wanted him for the job,” Maxine said, drawing James’s sullen gaze to her. “He’s good. Besides, if I’m going to be spending twenty-four hours a day with someone, it might as well be someone I know.”

  James regarded her for a moment before turning to Armand. “Dad, don’t you see what’s going on here? She’s probably boinking her ex and laughing behind your back.”

  Armand’s face went white. “James, we’ve been through this before. Please don’t bring it up at the dinner table.”

  “Really,” Sally said, rolling up her eyes. “It’s so unappetizing.”

  So, James was working on his father while Maxine was out of the picture. If he thought he had a chance of convincing Armand to dump her, why was he having her run over? Sam was sitting back in his chair watching everyone.

  “Dad, don’t you see what she’s doing?” James persisted. “She probably put this whole thing together to get you so worried, you’d forget about that prenuptial contract I’ve been talking to you about. She probably hired the guy to almost run her over and rigged up something so the flower box would come down on her. Heck, she probably cut her forehead herself.”

  Armand’s face now reddened, but it was Sam’s voice Maxine heard from across from her.

  “Maxine wouldn’t do something like that.”

  “And you know her so well,” Armand bit out. “Well, I guess you’ve had plenty of time to catch up lately.”

  Maxine glared at James. “You’re just trying to accuse me to cover your own tracks.”

  Sally pushed her plate away with an exaggerated sigh.

  “Are you planning on having Maxine sign a prenuptial agreement?” Sam asked Armand.

  “We had talked about it. She agreed, but she wasn’t happy about it. It’s a moot point, because once I marry her I’m not going to let her go.” He lifted his chin, as if to challenge Sam.

  Sam didn’t quite pick up on that challenge. “You can have her, but first I need to find out who hired the guy to run her over last night. Who had access to twenty-five thousand dollars in cash?”

  “We all could,” Armand said. “James picks up the money from all the clubs every day and gives it to Sally to post and deposit.”
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  “I don’t,” Aida said, bringing James another Coke. When everyone looked at her, she said, “Er, excuse me,” and returned to the kitchen where she’d obviously been listening to their bizarre conversation.

  “You mean someone actually paid some thug twenty-five thousand dollars to run over my kissums?” Armand asked, reaching for her hand.

  “That was only the first half. He was due to get the second half after the deed was done.”

  “If that wasn’t the deed itself,” James added.

  “Fifty thousand dollars,” Armand was saying to no one in particular, shaking his head.

  “You’re crazy,” Maxine said to James. Would Maxine-the-first do such a thing? Sam didn’t think so, and he knew her better than she did. Gosh, she hoped he was right. How would Maxine have rigged that box to fall on her, though, and who had wiped away those drops? No, it couldn’t be Maxine. Still, the thought lingered.

  “It’s amazing what people will do to get their hands on a load of money,” James said, gritting his teeth at her.

  Sam spoke in an even tone. “Doesn’t anyone think it’s rather strange that the first Mrs. Santini died in a similar manner?”

  All conversation instantly ceased, and James’s fork dropped to his plate and then to the white tile floor with a clatter. Everyone was staring at Sam, and he was shifting his gaze to each and every one of them.

  “You’ve obviously been checking us out,” James said in a sober voice.

  “It’s my job. Tell me about your mother.”

  Sally spoke. “She was a wonderful woman. We were devastated.”

  Armand’s fingers tightened around Maxine’s until she wrenched free of them.

  “You can’t possibly think that whoever killed my first wife is behind the attempts on Maxine’s life? There was nothing to be gained by her death. She had no money of her own. No enemies. I refuse to believe there is any connection.”

  “Maybe it’s just a coincidence then,” Sam said.

  Sally leaned toward Sam. “If you know there was a man hired to run Maxine over for fifty-thousand dollars, then you must have talked with him.”