The Borrowed and Blue Murders (The Zoe Hayes Mysteries)

by Merry Jones

  I was angry. I didn’t care about pleasing the FBI; I cared about protecting my family. I didn’t want whoever killed the FBI agent and mugged Tony to come back after him.

  “Nick, let me ask you something.” My voice was shaking. “Are you crazy? Or just phenomenally irresponsible?”

  He winced. “Neither. Are there other choices?”

  Tony was on his feet, wringing his hands.

  “Come on, Tony. Relax.” Nick put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “You won’t be alone. Agents are going to be watching us from now until you’re approached again.”

  “Really? Are they watching him now?” I had no faith in that promise, had seen one of those agents turned inside out.

  “They might very well be.” Nick seemed confident.

  “Really?” I wanted to smack him. Why was he so smarmy and calm? “Where are they?”

  “You won’t know they’re there unless you need them. They know how to be invisible.”

  “Invisible like Agent Harris?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “And by the way, Nick.” My face was hot. “What gave you the right to endanger Molly and Luke and all of us by agreeing to this plan?”

  “Zoe, I didn’t endanger anybody.” His eyes were steady and clear, and he emphasized the word I. He glanced over his shoulder, as if making sure that Anna and Molly wouldn’t hear. “Look. These people are here, whether we like it or not. They already said they’re coming back to see Tony. They’ll be back whether we have the drives or not. Whether the FBI is around or not. They promised they’d kill Tony if he didn’t give them what they wanted. Now, Tony can give them the drives, and maybe they won’t kill him or any of us. And maybe the FBI will be watching and catch them or tail them and arrest their bosses or whatever. That’s the plan. Our only chance, though, is to comply.”

  Our only chance? Or else what? We were dead?

  Tony was ashen and shaky, but he walked over and sat beside me on the sofa. “Nick’s right, Zoe. I hate to say it, but he’s right. They won’t harm us if I hand over what they want.”

  “And you believe them? You believe murdering thugs?”

  Tony paused, choosing his words. He put a gentle finger on Luke’s pudgy cheek. “I believe that if I don’t do what they want, they won’t hesitate to kill me or anyone close to me.”

  Great. “And if they notice the FBI skulking around? Then what?”

  Nick scoffed. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “How do you know? These people aren’t stupid.” I glared at him, furious. Blaming him for making decisions without consulting us. Blaming him for the whole situation. I knew I wasn’t being rational or fair, but I didn’t care. Blaming Nick was easier than accepting my own powerlessness.

  He took in my evil eye but seemed unfazed. “Sometimes, Zoe, you’ve simply got to trust. Look. It won’t hurt for Tony to keep those drives on his person.” Nick started upstairs. “Tony, take care of my bride for a few minutes. I’ve got to get ready for a wedding rehearsal.”

  Tony and I sat silently for a moment. A wedding rehearsal? We were proceeding as if nothing was wrong, no killers, no secret codes, nothing.

  “What he says makes sense.” Tony seemed to be reassuring himself as much as me. “They’re going to come back anyway. I might as well give them what they’re looking for.”

  More silence.

  “I mean all I have to do is carry them.”

  And more.

  “They might not even show up. But if they do, at least I’ll have what they want.”

  I didn’t have anything to say, so I didn’t say anything. I let Tony go on, rationalizing his predicament. Luke slept, didn’t move or yawn. Perfectly still, he looked like porcelain, like a doll.

  “Mom.” Molly bounced into the room. “Anna said we can get pizza later.”

  Anna followed Molly, checking her watch, reminding me that we had to leave in six minutes. Pressuring me because we might be running late. What did she expect me to do? Scream at Nick? Would that help? Actually, I wanted to scream at him, but I didn’t. I didn’t say anything. I sat and held Luke, vaguely wondering why he was sleeping so deeply and so long.

  “Mom?” Molly seemed bothered, as if waiting for something. “Can we?”

  Can she what? Oh—the pizza. “Sure, Molls. Of course.”

  Molly hung on my arm, toying with Luke’s fingers. “What’s taking Nick so long? I want to go—”

  “Don’t pester your mom; she’s already stressed out.” Anna clucked, pacing nervously. “We’ll go in exactly five minutes.”

  Apparently, with or without the groom.

  Anna reached for Luke. “Let me take him, Zoe. Go freshen up so we can leave the second your man comes down.”

  She swept Luke up and away. His eyes opened, then rolled closed again. And I stood obediently, not knowing exactly what I was supposed to freshen but eager to be alone for a minute. I wandered past the powder room to the kitchen and gazed out the window at passing pedestrians and cars. Were any of them FBI? A man in a suit lingered across the street. Was he an agent? A taxi pulled up, and the man got in. Clever ruse. Maybe the driver and the man were both agents. Or no, maybe the Gothic-looking woman, the one walking past the house, all in black except for the magenta streaks in her hair. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply, telling myself to stop worrying. Maybe a drink of water would help. I opened the cabinet to get a glass and knocked over a vial of pills. An open bottle of Benadryl. What? I hadn’t bought any Benadryl. The label warned that it might cause sleepiness. “Avoid driving or operating heavy machinery for eight to ten hours,” the directions said. Whose were these? Where had they come from?

  Oh God. Suddenly, I knew. And I knew why I’d practically passed out earlier, why I’d been loopy and slow to react all day. And why Luke was still sleeping so soundly. Anna had given me one of these pills. She’d drugged me. And, in drugging me, she’d drugged my milk, which drugged Luke. I had no doubts. I knew it was true. How dare she? My hands were fists; I was ready to fight.

  “Anna!” My voice was a shriek. “Anna—come here! Now.” I no longer cared about the rehearsal or the wedding she’d planned. The woman had slipped a drug to me and to my baby, and she was history. Out of here. I’d have her arrested. In jail.

  “Okay, let’s go—” Nick rushed down the hall, holding hands with Molly. Molly was giggling, skipping to keep up with him. “Zoe? Got your coat?”

  “Nick, I have to talk—”

  “Talk in the car—Anna’s going to thrash me if we’re late.” He lifted Molly and carried her out the door, Tony at his heels. Oliver tried to follow and I grabbed him, stopping him as Anna, Luke in her arms, herded the others, prodding them to keep moving. The parade filed past me, but I didn’t follow.

  “Anna.” I stopped her, Oliver yapping at my feet. “What’s this?” I held up the bottle.

  “Oh.” She bit her lip. “That?” She smiled sheepishly. “Well, you were exhausted.”

  “You mean you admit it? You admit that you drugged me?” I took Luke from her. I didn’t want her near him. I wanted her gone. “Anna. I’m afraid we won’t be needing—”

  “But you’ve been so tense, dear.” Her voice was soothing, maternal. “You needed the rest. It happens to a lot of my brides. Sometimes we all need a little help relaxing. The pill helped you. It gave you a day to rest before your wedding. And in your case, it was a double bonus—” She nodded at Luke. “Look at your angel, how well he’s sleeping. He’s not fussing or interfering, so you have time to prepare for your special day—”

  “Are you serious?” I was so angry, I couldn’t speak. I sputtered for a moment before making actual words. “Whatever you gave me was in my milk. You drugged my baby. Don’t you realize what could—” “Don’t worry, dear. This medicine won’t harm him, and it has no lasting effect. He’ll be himself in no time. But meantime, you can have your rehearsal and enjoy a nice leisurely dinner out.”

  “Are you crazy? You had no right. I sho
uld report this to the police—I should tell Nick.”

  “Tut-tut, dear.” She smiled. Why was she smiling? “Zoe. I promise you, when the wedding’s done, you’ll look back and you’ll thank me. Now hurry along. We’re running late.”

  I sputtered, too appalled to form words. The woman was un- apologetic, completely oblivious to what she’d done. And before I could articulate a sentence, Anna waltzed out the door, hurrying the prospective groom, best man and flower girl to the car.

  SIXTY-SIX

  MOLLY WAS WITH US, so I didn’t rail against Anna in the car, and when we got to the hotel the wedding party was waiting for us. The judge wanted to get started. He had another engagement and was in a bit of a rush, so I didn’t get a chance to talk to Nick before the rehearsal, either.

  The judge gathered us in a corner of the small ballroom where the ceremony would be, and Nick introduced him to everyone. Sam, an usher because he’d lost the coin toss to Tony, who’d won and was therefore the best man with jump drives packed in his pocket. Susan, the matron of honor, and Tim, her husband, who had brought my father, who’d worn his tuxedo, apparently thinking we were having a dress rehearsal, and, finally, Molly, the flower girl, and Luke, the tiny ring bearer. It was a small party, intimate. Anna would walk us through the procession, playing a CD of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons so that we could hear the rhythm and step to the music, and the judge would go over our parts and tells us a bit about the content of his talk.

  Angry and distracted, I watched from the back of the room as Tony and Nick strolled down the aisle. As Sam carried the tiny ring bearer along, my focus drifted. For the time being, anyway, Anna faded from my mind, replaced by Susan’s graceful form floating down the aisle, weepily dabbing her nose with a tissue. Then Molly, controlling her pace, counting out the beats as Anna had instructed, did a slow and deliberate hesitation step, pretending to sprinkle flowers along the way. Finally, Anna signaled my father.

  “Ready, Walter?”

  My father stood and graciously offered me his arm. “Shall we? Time to get married.” Tall and white-haired, even in his eighties he was disarmingly handsome, and his eyes glistened. Was he crying? “Zoe, kitten—”

  Kitten? He’d never called me that before. In fact, he’d rarely expressed affection at all.

  “Your mother would be so proud.”

  My mother? I saw in my mind’s eye the shadowy form of a woman who’d died when I was as young as Molly. “Thanks, Dad. That’s nice to hear.”

  “Truth is, I never thought I’d live to see this night. Not after that other guy.”

  Why? Did Dad think no one would ever marry me after Michael? I kissed his cheek, smelled his aftershave. And, instantly, the scent triggered another childhood memory: Dad, all dressed up, looking dapper and slick. Ready to go out? Quickly, the impression was gone, and Anna was cuing us to start down the aisle.

  “You’re the bride. Shouldn’t you have worn white?” Dad scowled at my outfit, a purple sweater, black pants.

  “That’s tomorrow, Dad.” My father had suffered a series of small strokes, and he tended to get confused. “This is the rehearsal.”

  He frowned. “The wedding’s not till tomorrow? Then what’s the fuss?” He started to sit down again, but I grabbed his arm.

  “We need to practice, Dad. This is the rehearsal.”

  “Then why are you giving me an argument?”

  He was still frowning as, very slowly, we made our way down the aisle toward the small group assembled at a silk- and lace-covered kiosk-like structure set up in the front of the room. Sam had surprised us with it; a chuppah, it was called. It symbolized a home and was an essential part of Jewish wedding ceremonies, and even though Nick and I were not having a religious ceremony, Sam had insisted that we have the chuppah, repeatedly explaining its significance to me, to the judge, to anyone who would listen, mentioning again and again that it had been his personal contribution.

  Now, as the chuppah waited for us, I held my father’s arm, felt how frail he was and led him along more than he led me. Molly, waiting to go for pizza, was clearly bored, shifting her weight from leg to leg, whispering to Tony, who whispered back. Sam stood at attention, watching the ceiling, inspecting the chuppah, checking out Susan, dutifully waiting for the rehearsal to end. Nick stood beside the judge, his gaze steady and grounding, watching us approach. And I walked slowly, meeting Nick’s eyes, holding on to my father’s arm. Thinking the whole way about firing Anna.

  Anna wasn’t just officious, not just pushy; she was actually dangerous. How had she given me the drugs? In my food? My coffee? And what if, not knowing about her pill, I’d taken one on my own? I’d have overdosed. We’d be having a funeral instead of a wedding.

  No, the woman had to go. And she had to go tonight. Molly and Luke would have to stay with us for the rehearsal dinner. Not a big deal. But then I remembered: What about the wedding? Anna had arranged everything—the musicians, reception, dinner, menu, drinks, flowers, photographer—I had no idea what was supposed to happen or when, had relied entirely on her.

  “Mother of God,” my father barked, wincing. “What are you trying to do, snap it off?”

  Oh dear. In my anger at Anna, I’d put a stranglehold on Dad’s arm. “Sorry.”

  The truth was, I might have to put up with Anna for another day. Meantime, we’d reached the end of the aisle. Kissing my father, I released his arm and stepped forward to take Nick’s, which was waiting. And then we stepped forward together, to practice taking our vows.

  SIXTY-SEVEN

  WHEN I FINALLY GOT a chance to talk to him, Nick seemed singularly undisturbed. “It’s okay, Zoe. One more day. Anna will be done with us and she’ll go on to torment some other poor bride.”

  We stood in the lobby of the Four Seasons; the rest of the wedding party had already been seated in the Swann Cafe for dinner. Molly and Anna sat on upholstered chairs, waiting to go out for pizza. But I wouldn’t let go of Luke; I was unwilling to entrust the children to Anna even for a few hours. With the baby in my arms, I took Nick aside to talk about firing her. But he seemed to think it was fine that the babysitter had drugged me.

  “Let’s just wait it out. She’ll be gone after the wedding.” He was unconcerned.

  “No. Not one more day. Not one more hour. Not with the kids. She’s dangerous, Nick.”

  “No, she’s not.”

  What?

  He held a hand against his forehead, drawing a breath. “Okay.”

  Okay?

  “Jig’s up. I confess.”

  “You confess?”

  “Look.” Nick avoided my eyes. “I was worried about you. You hadn’t slept all week.”

  Oh my God. I understood. “You did it? You drugged me?”

  He put an arm around my shoulder, sighing, half-smiling, rolling his eyes. “The doctor said Benadryl was okay, and he assured me that it wouldn’t affect the baby for longer than an extra nap.”

  “What doctor?”

  “The pediatrician—Dr. Tapper.”

  “Wait. You called the pediatrician about drugging me? What is this, a conspiracy?” I twisted my shoulder away from his hand.

  “No, I didn’t ask if I could drug you. I asked if it would hurt the baby if you took a sleeping—”

  “Who else is involved? Who else is figuring ways to get Zoe to calm down?” My voice was too high, shrieky.

  “Oh, cut it out, Zoe. Nobody else is involved.”

  “Not Susan? Not your brothers?”

  “No. Of course not. But what if they had been? It would only mean they cared about you. Face it, Zoe. You’ve been a wreck—”

  A wreck? “Thank you.”

  “It’s not your fault. You’ve been under tremendous stress—”

  “My stress is no one’s concern but my own.”

  “True.” He nodded, pausing. “Even so, I was trying to help you get through the week.”

  “Nick, we’ve been through this before.” We had. Early in our relationship, Nick had tr
ied too hard to protect me, overstepping boundaries, hiding facts, making decisions for me. Just as he was doing now. “You are not in charge of me.”

  He stuffed his hands in his pockets, studied his shoes, looking bashful and penitent. Bashful and penitent didn’t work on Nick. He was too rugged, too angular. He swayed from side to side like a nervous schoolboy.

  “You’re right. I know. But this time, there were extenuating circumstances.”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek, nostrils flaring. “Listen carefully. Unless I’m in a permanent vegetative state, there are no such things as extenuating circumstances. I make my own decisions.”

  He nodded, eyeing the carpet, his gaze making its way to mine. Exhaling slowly, he met my glare with a soft blue apologizing gaze. “Can I say I’m sorry? Can I admit I was wrong?”

  Oh God. His eyes were melting me. Thawing my freeze.

  “Zoe, you have every right to be furious with me.”

  And I was. But how was I supposed to stay furious with him if he apologized and agreed that he was wrong?

  “There’s no excuse for what I did. All I can say is that I had good intentions. With the agent’s killing and your friend Bryce getting run down, and you being worried about your patients being released, and then the threats to Tony and the wedding and everything, I could see effects on you. The strain. I heard you pacing all night every night. I thought some sleep would help you. That’s all. I was stupid. I messed up.”

  He had, yes.

  “But, to be fair, the fault is mine, not Anna’s. All she did was agree with me that you were tense. But the idea of the sleeping pill, the phone call to the doctor, the decision to give you a pill— that was all me.”

  Great. Nick, not Anna, had decided to drug me. Nick, my fiancé, the father of my son, had taken it upon himself to knock me out for the day. We stood silently, awkwardly, staring at each other in the middle of the lobby. People were beginning to notice; standing stiff and statue-like, our eyes exchanging lasers, we were becoming a spectacle. In my peripheral vision, I saw Molly fidgeting, swinging her legs, impatient to go for pizza. And in my arms, Luke stirred, finally waking up. He would need a new diaper and a meal.