Woke Up Dead

by Tina Wainscott

  “I know. The punk could have been involved in something else entirely. Or we could have scared someone at the dinner table last night.”

  Fear tunneled through her. “So he has a gun.”

  “I’m going to call my friend and find out the details.”

  “I’ll call Armand and find out who owns a gun in his household.”

  Sam looked at her. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with that?”

  “Yes. I want to put an end to this.”

  “Whoever is behind this probably hasn’t advertised to the rest of the house that they have a gun. But it’s worth a try.”

  “I thought breaking off my engagement would also null and void the killer’s motivation. I guess I was wrong. Just my luck, someone who likes to follow through.”

  “He—or she—probably thinks we got more information from Floyd than we did. With him dead, we don’t have proof of anything, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find something if we’re looking in the right place. Or maybe he wants to make sure you don’t realize what an awful mistake you’ve made and run back to Armand.”

  “If only they knew…” She met his gaze. “how determined I am to make this break with Armand clean and forever. He wants to make it even more permanent.”

  The expression in his eyes turned to blue steel as he reached over and took her hand. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Maxine. I swear it.”

  “I know, Sam.” She tried to smile, drawing strength from the tight hold on her hand. Somewhere in the heat of his gaze, she knew he was trying to atone for not saving Jennie. She let out a breath as he started the car and headed out. It always came back to Jennie, it seemed. Maybe by solving this, he could exorcise her from his life.

  Sam watched Maxine pace as he talked with his friend, Dave, at the station. She wore a long-sleeved green dress that set off her hair and swished pleasantly around her ankles. More pleasantly, though, was the way it draped over her curves. He focused in on the conversation, chastising himself for getting distracted by her.

  “So you think this was a mob hit then?”

  “Don’t know. Gut instinct tells me it’s someone trying to make it look like a hit. This Floyd character was strictly small time, drug peddler mostly. He had opened a drawer full of ammo; the perp nailed him in the back of the head. But get this: we think he was shot with one of his own guns. He had a stash of them, the ID numbers all scratched off. I think the perp was pretending to buy the gun and decided to make sure it was lethal. What’s your interest in this Floyd character, anyway?”

  Sam told him the story, complete with the lack of evidence and their main suspect.

  “This why you were asking about Santini to begin with?”

  “Yep. At first I thought this was all the product of my ex-wife’s vivid imagination.” Maxine looked up at him, and he smiled at her. “When Floyd tried to run her over, it became all too real. But I had no evidence at all. Still don’t.”

  “Maybe you outta bring her in here being that whoever’s trying to do her in now has a gun.”

  “I’ll suggest it, but I don’t think she’ll go for it.”

  “Yeah, I know how that can be. I’m sure she’s in good hands. I’ll talk to this James guy, see what I can get out of him.”

  “I’ll keep you updated on anything I find.”

  Maxine walked up to the counter when he hung up. “Anything new?”

  “Santini’s story checks out. No one there has a gun registered to them, though it hardly matters. Whoever’s behind this took one of Floyd’s unregistered guns.”

  Her face paled. “That means…”

  He nodded. “Whoever tried to kill you, and did kill Floyd, intends to finish the job.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself, looking away for a moment before meeting his eyes. “Your friend wanted me to go in so they can protect me?”

  “Yep.”

  “And you told him I wouldn’t go for it.”

  “Yep. Though I’d feel a lot better if you did.”

  “I’ll bet you would. Then you’d be rid of me.”

  “Yep.” He tempered the word with a soft smile. “You’d be safer.”

  “No, I wouldn’t.”

  He kneaded his forehead, feeling the tension rising. Not only with this case, but with dinner at his parents’ looming ahead. He looked up to meet her concerned gaze. “You look nice.” Hell, she looked gorgeous, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Maxine had a way of getting a big head mighty quick.

  Except that she didn’t. Her expression brightened into something genuine and surprised. “Thanks.” She glanced down. “Okay to go to your parents?”

  “Since when do you ask my opinion of what you wear?”

  “Since now.”

  He used the excuse to let his gaze drop down over her dress again. “Looks fine to me.”

  Her smile faded as he held her gaze, turning to something else entirely. He cleared his throat and looked away. He had to find out who the wacko was and send Maxine on her way soon.

  “Are you ready?” he asked, grabbing his jacket. Romeo walked to the door, tail wagging expectantly. “Nah, you don’t want to go over to the Magees.” Romeo’s tail stopped wagging, and he made his way to his pillow and sat down on it. Sam looked up at her. “He knows better. So do I.”

  She touched his arm. “We can just say I’m not feeling well and skip it. Order a deep dish pizza in or something.”

  While that sounded appealing on several levels, it was for that reason he said, “We’d better go and get it over with. They’re expecting us.” Besides, she’d spend the evening with Sharee, and he could use some time away from her for a change. Maybe that’s what all this confusion was: overexposure. “Wait a minute. You actually don’t want to go somewhere that Sharee is? You two are worse than a couple of giggling teenagers when you’re together.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to giggle tonight.” She let out a small sigh. “All right. If that’s what you want.” Her coat obliterated the view of that dress and her curves.

  “That’s what’s best,” he said, trying to keep the grumble from his voice. He was going to have to do something about this case real soon.

  The Magees’ mansion had a magnificent view of the lake, which was reflecting the last rays of the sun as they pulled down the driveway. Maxine took the structure in, finding it difficult to reconcile this kind of wealth with Sam. He had dressed up tonight, which meant white pants and a nice striped shirt. That was as dressed up as she’d ever seen him.

  She chewed on her bottom lip as they approached the huge oak doors, hoping there weren’t too many people she was going to have to know. She was half expecting a butler to swing the door open, but a beautifully dressed woman stood there with a smile. Her skin was flawless, her blond hair pulled up in a swirling bun. She hugged Sam, then gave Maxine a hug, too. Maxine was instantly lost in a cloud of a rich, spicy perfume.

  “I’m so glad I could talk you into coming for dinner, Sam, though really, it shouldn’t take that much effort.” After sending an admonishing look at Sam, the woman turned to Maxine. “And it’s good to see you again, Maxine, though I must say it is strange to see you both together again. Nice, but strange.”

  She stepped aside to let them enter. Maxine tried not to look so awestruck, but it wasn’t easy. Dark green Italian marble, ornate wood trim framing the doors and ceilings, and miles of house weren’t easy to overlook. The rooms kept going, twisting and turning and making her want to explore them. Instead she followed Sam and his mother across the foyer, both women’s heels click-clacking on the marble and filling the twenty-foot high space with the noise.

  They took three steps down into a large study where she guessed Sam’s father, his brother Ned, and his wife—and Maxine’s friend—Sharee sat. Maxine glanced at the steps, noting that if she had been in a wheelchair, as Sam’s date for instance, she’d have had to be carried down those steps chair and all. Unfortunately, she was paying attention to those st
eps when she slammed right into Sam’s hard back.

  “Oops, sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize you’d stopped.” She left her hand on his waist, however, simply because it felt good there.

  Sam’s father was tall and lean, with Sam’s blue eyes and silvery blond hair. He wore a gray suit that his chest filled out nicely, but seemed awfully formal for dinner. He stood up from a high-backed gold chair and shook both Sam’s and her hands. He held onto hers for a moment. “Maxine, I hear you’ve hired Sam here to guard you. This is the real thing then?”

  She didn’t even know the man’s name, but she gave him a smile. “Oh yes, it’s real. One man is already dead because of me. Whoever tried to kill me the first time probably plans to finish the job.” She didn’t want to get into the details. “I’d rather not talk about it now, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course, dear, of course. How terribly upsetting,” Sam’s mother said, shaking her head.

  Sharee was a dark-haired beauty with matching eyes and creamy skin. Ned looked like a smaller version of Sam, without the longish hair and moustache. They sat together on a stiff-looking couch that matched the gold chair. Sharee stood up and walked across the deep, red carpet that was thankfully much quieter than the marble, giving her a hug and a cheek kiss.

  “Maxine, how awfully terrible that this is happening to you. It’s almost like one of those detective movies only worse because…well, because it’s for real. Come sweetheart, let’s talk.”

  Sharee led her back up those steps to the foyer, sitting down at a small sofa that looked more ornamental than practical. Definitely more than comfortable. Even though the space was high and open, the silk trees, flowered runner carpet and fancy wooden chest made the area seem cozier somehow.

  Sharee didn’t let go of her hand. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Well, as good as anyone can be when their life is in danger. The whole experience has been nerve racking.”

  “I’ll bet. You can’t imagine how surprised I was when I called you at Armand’s and he told me you were living with Sam.” She put her hand over her heart and rolled her eyes. “At first I thought you’d left Armand for Sam, which would have been really crazy, until he explained about the hit and run.” She smiled conspiratorially. “You know, it was strange to see you and Sam together again, walking in the room just like old times. Especially considering…well, you know.”

  Maxine nodded her head to coax the rest. Finally she said, “I know…what?”

  Sharee wiggled her fingers in front of Maxine’s face for a second. “The dreams, silly. Those erotic dreams you were having about Sam.”

  Maxine felt her fingers involuntarily tighten over Sharee’s. “Oh, those dreams.”

  “Are you still having them? Like the ones where you’re being held prisoner, and Sam saves you and makes love with you right there, untying the ropes with his teeth.”

  Maxine could hardly hide her laugh. “No, I haven’t had any of those dreams lately.” Gee, she wished she had. Maybe they would make her feel more comfortable than she was about that whole area. She looked at Sharee, knowing that some of her questions could be answered if she could word them right. “Maybe I subconsciously miss Sam’s and my sex life.”

  “Well, you used to say that he was the best you’d ever had. Especially after Armand.”

  “Shh,” Maxine said, looking around to make sure Sam wasn’t nearby. Maxine’s and Armand’s sex life could well remain one of life’s mysteries. “Did I say that? The best sex I’d ever had?” She grinned.

  “Unless you were making it up to make me jealous.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I wasn’t. What did I tell you, anyway?”

  “Just that he was everything you ever wanted in the sex department: the right size, the right stamina, concerned about your pleasure, and very, very romantic.” Sharee waved rapidly in front of her face, as if to cool herself.

  “Really?” Maxine felt her blood warming at the pictures she was conjuring up. “I mean, really it was truly…great.”

  Sharee leaned closer and whispered, “I wish he’d have a pep talk with Ned.” She let out a long sigh, looking in the direction of the living room. “I was very jealous.” Then she smiled. “Until you told me about Armand.” She crooked her pinky and wiggled it.

  “Forget Armand. That’s over.”

  Sharee’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious. You worked a long time to get his attention, hanging out in his clubs, learning about those dummies. You said besides in the bedroom, he had everything you could ever want.”

  “I’m in love with Sam,” she said.

  Sharee let out a soft squealing noise. “You’re kidding. What about having the right lifestyle, money, the cars?” She studied her friend, and her mouth dropped open. “You are in love with him, aren’t you?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “More obvious than a new Lamborghini. You know he’s not going to give you what you want, moneywise anyway. How can you think of giving all that up?”

  Sam’s laughter filtered out of the living room, wrapping around her heart. “How could I have ever given him up for anything? And it’s not the sex.” She didn’t know about that yet. “It’s everything else about him. He’s dedicated to what he does, and he enjoys it. You should see him when he finds a clue or wraps up a case. He glows.”

  Sharee placed her perfectly glossed nail to her perfectly glossed lips. They actually matched. “Ned used to be that way, early on. Now it’s just another case to him, another check.” She rubbed her hands together, smile glaring. “Except they’re big checks.”

  Sam’s mother came out to join them, followed by that warm, spicy scent. “There you two are, lurking in the foyer.” She placed a manicured hand on Maxine’s shoulder. “Are you sure you’re all right, dear?”

  “I’m good, considering.”

  “Good enough for a little shopping?” Maxine caught the conspiratorial look that passed between Sharee and Sam’s mother. “My friend at Lord and Taylor told me they’re getting their new collection in this weekend. What do you say the three of us make a day of it at the Center up in Skokie? We haven’t done that in a while. I love that place, and have been in the mood for those mimosas we had last time.”

  Maxine had never been a big shopper. Mostly because clothing racks were too close together, giving her claustrophobia as she wheeled between them. She couldn’t find the idea appealing even without that problem. And she didn’t even know what a mimosa was.

  “I can’t. I mean, Sam would have to go with me, and I’m sure he’d hate to go shopping with us.” Maxine forced a smile.

  “Oh, pooh,” his mother said. “Who’s paying his bill?”

  “Well, I am.” Though he hadn’t asked for more than her initial retainer.

  “See there. Drag him along. It’ll be good for him to see how much work shopping actually is. You know, they think it’s all fun.”

  Sharee rolled her eyes. “All that walking, the search for the perfect accessories, just the right color.” Her smile returned full force. “Let’s do it. We can make Sam give us his opinions. Men hate that.”

  Maxine watched the two women glow with the prospect of torturing poor Sam. “No, I don’t think so. Thank you for asking; maybe another time.”

  “Shoulda figured you all would be sitting out here talking about shopping,” Sam said, walking into the foyer. Maxine was glad he hadn’t come in any earlier when she and Sharee were talking about Maxine’s and Sam’s sex life. He must have heard their comments about dragging him shopping with them. He winked at her, as if thanking her for saving him that horror. “What do you want to drink?”

  “Red wine would be fine,” she said.

  He turned to a woman standing by the living room entrance. “Red wine, please.” He looked back at the three women. “I’ll mosey on back to the men. Never like to hang around too long when the conversation’s about shopping or babies.”

  Sharee nudged Maxine. “Well, are you going
to tell Abigail what you told me?”

  Maxine flipped through their list of subjects in her mind: sex, Armand, shopping. She turned to Sharee. “You mean about Sam?”

  “Of course, what else?”

  Well, they seemed to be a close family. Maybe too close. “You tell her.”

  “She’s in love with Sam,” Sharee said in a high-pitched voice she was trying to keep down in volume.

  Abigail looked surprised. “Is he giving up that agency of his?”

  “I won’t let him do that,” Maxine said.

  Abigail’s fine eyebrow lifted. “Then what is he promising you?”

  Maxine slumped against the seat. His own mother didn’t want him to follow his heart and keep his agency. Obviously, neither did Maxine-the-first. “He’s not promising me anything. He hasn’t agreed to a reconciliation yet.”

  Sharee’s mouth dropped open. “You mean he didn’t even beg you to come back to him? No plea bargaining? No hanging him on the line before giving him an answer?”

  “Afraid not.”

  Sharee’s hands went up in the air. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  Abigail touched her chin thoughtfully. “My dear, I find this rather out of character for you. I mean, I’m more than pleased to have you back in the family again, on an official basis, but I’m having a hard time understanding your motives. You want him back even though he’s still going to be a private detective, even though he lives in the city in that detestable warehouse he calls an apartment, even though he hasn’t even asked you to come back to him? What’s in this for you?”

  Maxine couldn’t believe this came from his own mother. Now she knew why he hardly ever spoke about his parents before. “Sam is in it for me,” she answered, standing to find him walking over with her glass of wine. She didn’t have to wonder what he’d heard, because the look on his face was a mixture of shock and pleasure. A warm flush rose from her chest to her forehead. “Thanks,” she said softly, walking back into the living room where his father and Ned were having a lively discussion about some case.