The Borrowed and Blue Murders (The Zoe Hayes Mysteries)

by Merry Jones

  “Right.” She slurped up a glass. “But Luke deserves to celebrate, too. One glass won’t hurt.”

  “Mom, look. Willie Wonka’s on.”

  “Great, Molls.”

  Actually, I ached for a drink. For several. “I’ll pass.” I glanced through the partition and saw the driver’s eyes reflected in his rearview mirror, watching us.

  “Everything okay, ladies?” His voice came over a microphone.

  “Fine. We’re fine, thank you,” Susan sang, and slugged her drink.

  “Where is the rest of your wedding party? Are they taking a separate car?”

  Now he was chatting with us.

  “They’re at the hotel already. We have a couple of suites.”

  “Got a big crowd coming?”

  Again, Susan answered. They conversed, but for the rest of the ride to the hotel I didn’t say a word. I merely tried to stay calm. Molly munched, raptly watching the television. Luke slept. And Susan chattered and chattered with the driver like a blissful canary, putting away almost half a bottle of champagne.

  EIGHTY-NINE

  TONY’S COMPLEXION WAS A pale waxy green when he met us at the main entrance to the Four Seasons. While the limo driver unloaded our bags, I took Tony aside.

  “Well.” He glanced around. “This is it.”

  I wasn’t sure if he meant the wedding or the day the thugs were going to come for the jump drives.

  “Any sign of anybody yet?”

  Instinctively, he touched his pockets, feeling for the jump drives with trembling fingers. “Nothing. I’ve been hanging around the lobby and the bar all day. Nobody even asked me what time it was. I’m thinking they may suspect something’s up. They might not come.”

  I looked around the lobby, scanning strangers, looking for people who might want jump drives. An elegant middle-aged couple occupied a sofa, sharing a magazine and pair of reading glasses. A man in expensive pinstripes paced, checking his watch, looking out at the carport. Nobody looked suspicious. Our limo driver had finished unloading and hung around near the door. Oh dear—was I supposed to tip him? No, of course not. He wasn’t a cabdriver. He’d get paid in full for the night at the end of the evening. Lord, I missed Anna. I had no idea what arrangements had been made or which transactions were still pending.

  “How long are you supposed to wait?” Tony didn’t look like he could last much longer. “What’s the plan exactly?”

  “The plan?” he scoffed. “The plan is for me to get beaten to a pulp again, it seems to me. Anyhow, I need a break. I’ll go up with you guys and hang with Nick for a while.” Tony looked around the lobby. “Maybe nobody’s coming.”

  I shifted Luke to the other shoulder; he cuddled close and began sucking my cheek. He had a passion for sucking any part of me—arm, finger, face, neck. But if I didn’t stop him, at the ceremony I’d have a hickey on my face. Gently, I detached his lips and repositioned him again as we started for the elevator. Suddenly, someone put a hand on my shoulder. I spun around.

  “Anything else?” I hadn’t seen the limo driver approach.

  “Anything else?” I didn’t understand.

  “Before midnight, I mean?”

  Midnight? What would I need at midnight? Wait. I remembered: Anna had arranged for the limo to take my father home and to deliver Anna and the children back to our house. Except, now the kids would be staying here with us and Anna wouldn’t need a ride. But the driver could still take my father back.

  “Midnight’s fine. Actually, a little earlier.” My dad was, after all, in his eighties; I didn’t know how late he’d want to party.

  “Okay, then. See you at eleven thirty?” The driver tipped his cap, watching us walk toward the elevator.

  Molly and Susan waited there, having explored the lobby, Susan gaily commenting on the drama of floral arrangements and fountains. The bellman was there, too, ready to guide us and our belongings to the bridal suite, which, he advised us, was conveniently located adjacent to the groom’s suite. When the elevator doors opened, as if on cue, Luke opened his mouth, depositing a generous blob of curdled milk onto my sweatshirt. And, as they closed, I stared into the lobby, still searching for a suspicious face.

  NINETY

  THE SUITE WAS ELEGANT, lushly carpeted and lavishly upholstered. Karen was already there. She’d been at the hotel all day, filling in for Anna, doing whatever a wedding planner had to do on the day of the ceremony. She’d opened the mini-bar, had an array of bottles and snacks set up on the small dining table. I couldn’t think of swallowing. When I glanced at a wad of melting Brie, my stomach cringed spasmodically

  “Wait till you see your bouquet, Zoe,” Karen greeted us, flushed and jittery. You’d think the wedding was hers. “It’s exquisite.”

  “What about my flowers?” Molly pulled urgently at my arm. “I need to pull the petals off and put them in a basket—”

  “It’s all done.” Karen chuckled, took Molly’s hand. “Flower girls don’t have to pluck the petals; they have it done for them. But your basket’s beautiful, all decorated in ribbons. Come see.”

  Karen took Molly off to inspect her basket while Susan poured drinks. I set Luke down in his portable rocking chair, calculating how to time his feedings so he wouldn’t interrupt the ceremony, deciding whether to get him or Molly dressed first, wondering if he could manage not to throw up on his too-adorable-for-words tiny dress shirt.

  “Scotch?” Susan held out a glass. “Take it, just this once. It’ll take away the jitters.”

  “I don’t have jitters—”

  “Zoe. You’re shaking. Look at your hands.”

  I held them out. They shook. I tightened them into fists and put one behind me.

  “Zoe. Believe me. One shot on one day is not going to harm your baby, but it will do you tons of good.” She brought it to me, waited for me to take it, refusing to let me decline. “Take it.”

  I took it from her, telling myself that I could just pretend to sip it. If I held it to my mouth, Susan would leave me alone.

  “Here’s to my best friend.” She held her glass up, chin wobbling. “Husbands can come and go, but best friends are forever.” She wiped away a tear and gulped her drink down, and as I held the Scotch to my lips, it occurred to me that she and Tim might be having problems.

  “What’s that mean, Susan? Husbands come and go—”

  “Nothing. Just, you know. First Michael. Now Nick.”

  What was she insinuating? That I couldn’t stay married? “Nick is permanent.”

  “Of course he is.” Susan sounded tipsy. As far as I could see, she’d been drinking steadily for two days. But I couldn’t think about Susan’s drinking now. I had to stay on track, think about getting ready. I set my glass down, and while Susan and Karen took Molly into the bedroom to get ready I fed Luke so I wouldn’t have to worry about feeding him for a while. Then I took my dress out of the garment bag. Marveling again at its simple lines, delicate lace, shimmering silk, glowing pearls, intricate embroidery, I tried not to remember Ivy preening in it and told myself that the dress did not smell of her perfume. Still, I aired the dress out, leaving it hanging on the closet door.

  “Mom, look at me!” Molly twirled out of the bedroom, dazzling and aglow. “Can I go show Nick?”

  I supposed she could; there was no rule that I knew of forbidding the flower girl and groom from seeing each other on the wedding day.

  “Not by yourself.”

  “I’ll take her.” Karen took Molly’s hand. “Then we’ll go show Davinder. She’s all alone downstairs coping with the florist and the photographer and the musicians and the chef. She probably could use some company.”

  My friends were saints. “Karen, how can I thank you guys? You and Davinder and Susan have really rescued us—”

  “Zoe, please. Your wedding planner died the day before your wedding. What kind of friends would we be if we didn’t help? We all love you.” Blowing a kiss, she led Molly out the door. “Back in a few.”

&nb
sp; When they left, the room was suddenly quiet. Luke slept, and I thought that I’d finally have a little time to myself.

  But just then, Susan called from the bedroom, “Zoe, I have the borrowed and blue stuff. Come here and decide what you want—”

  “In a minute.” I dashed into the bathroom, not ready to try on a borrowed necklace or blue earrings or a borrowed blue garter or whatever blue borrowed things she’d chosen, bless her. I needed to be alone.

  Breathe, I told myself. Take air in and let it out. I stood against the bathroom door, eyes closed, trying to calm down. Maybe we should have postponed the wedding. Too much, far too much, was interfering. Our babysitter was in the burn center; our wedding planner was dead; I’d just shot a former patient, and not only that. Tony might get mugged at any moment by persons unknown. The jump drives were still in his possession, and he was a mess waiting for someone to show up for them.

  Visions of espionage, secret codes, death and pain were not what were supposed to fill a bride’s head before the ceremony. I needed to center myself. To focus on the commitment Nick and I were about to make. To focus on Nick. But when I thought of Nick, I saw him as he’d been the night before, blitheringly drunk, unconscious and snoring. I told myself to forget that, to think of Nick the way he was when Luke was born, steady and misty-eyed beside me, coaching me through the worst of the contractions. Or to think of him the first time I saw him, to remember how I couldn’t think straight once our eyes met, how his aftershave drugged me, how the texture of his jacket sleeve seduced my arm. Nick. Remembering him made my chest hurt. I missed him, needed to talk to him, needed to hear him reassure me not just about what had happened last night and last week but also about what was about to happen this night and afterward.

  Stop being so wimpy, I told myself. Get a grip. Slowly, I opened my eyes, turning to the mirror. And gaped at the face that gaped back at me. I hadn’t looked at myself since I’d had my makeup done in the salon. The cheeks were heavily rouged, the nose and chin caked with base so thick that it would crack if I smiled. The eyelids were painted a startling shade of kelly green that clashed with the shocking pink heavily outlining my glossed lips. Oh God. How could Susan have let me leave the salon looking like this? I’d paid a week’s worth of grocery money to get my makeup done, and I looked grotesque and cartoonish. Where was a washcloth? I grabbed one and dampened it, pawed my face with it. I’d have to take it all off and start from bare skin. But where was my makeup case? My hands were trembling, and the white washcloth became mottled with stains of vermilion, forest green and burnt orange. Somehow, I gathered my own sack of makeup, reapplied a light base, a hint of natural blush, a subtle blend of violet and rose shadow, a little mascara, a deep flesh-toned lip gloss. Yes. At least I looked like myself again. And, I realized, the simple process of applying my makeup had grounded me. For the first time in days, I felt in charge. I stood at the mirror, pleased with myself, admiring the dark hair swept loosely back into a simple chignon, elegant wisps framing my face, a few strands of gray adding drama. I looked almost like a bride.

  Molly was dressed, but I still needed to put myself into my gown. And I needed to find out whether Tim had arrived yet with my father. Checking myself in the mirror one final time, I stepped out of the bathroom, swathed in the hotel’s thick terry cloth robe. Little Luke still slept in his chair, just as I’d left him, but Susan was sitting stiffly on the love seat, gawking at something near the door. At what? Puzzled, I started into the room. Susan noticed me and, too late, I saw her shake her head no. Why?

  Moving into the sitting room, I saw Eli.

  “Eli—you’re here.” A stupid greeting, but I was grinning, happy to see him.

  He had come to the wedding, just as he’d said he would, and standing beside the bar, dashing in a black tuxedo, Eli was so striking, so commanding, that at first I didn’t notice anything else, not even the limo driver standing right behind him.

  NINETY-ONE

  As I approached, Eli smiled. “I told you I’d be here.”

  My arms opened for a hug, but Susan gasped, “Zoe, don’t,” and the driver stepped forward, warning, “I don’t think so.” His voice was hushed, his eyes menacing. “Nobody touches this guy until he gives me what I came for.”

  I stopped, my arms embracing empty air, and glared at the limo driver. So. I’d been right about the sneakers. There had been something wrong about him. Probably, he was the guy who was supposed to get the jump drives from Tony. Probably, like everybody else, he’d gotten the brothers confused. But now, somehow, we had to steer him to Tony.

  “Where are they? Hand them over.” His mouth was against Eli’s ear.

  “No, you’ve made a mistake. See, he isn’t—” I’d been about to say that he wasn’t Tony. To explain that Tony, not Eli, was the brother with the jump drives. Mid-sentence, though, it occurred to me that I shouldn’t do that. Nobody but Tony was supposed to know about the jump drives. If I said anything about them I put us all in jeopardy and ruined the FBI’s whole plan. What was I thinking?

  “He isn’t what?” The driver revealed the gun he’d been pointing at Eli’s back. It had a long, awkward muzzle, probably a silencer. Oh dear.

  “He isn’t…” I struggled to think of an end to that sentence. “…very healthy. He’s just getting over brain surgery.” Eli looked surprised, but I kept babbling. “He wasn’t even supposed to be here. He said he might not make it.”

  “Where are they?” The driver had stopped listening and turned his attention back to Eli. “Hand ‘em over.”

  “Does anyone know what he’s talking about?” Eli looked at me; his eyes were violet.

  Of course I did. But I shrugged, shook my head. Susan watched me, confused and suspicious.

  “Cut the crap, dude. You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

  Eli blinked at him.

  “Shit, man. What the hell’s wrong with you? I called you yesterday told you to bring them. What are you up to? I could kill you right now.”

  The driver had no idea that Eli wasn’t Tony. And Eli had no clue what was going on.

  “Okay, look. I won’t hesitate. I’ll kill them.” He pointed his weapon at Susan and then at me. Eyes burning, Susan glowered on the love seat like a cornered wildcat.

  “No, you won’t. Because, if you even try, I’ll never give you what you’re looking for. And also, while you’re firing the first shot, I’ll break your neck.”

  Beads of sweat were pearling on the driver’s forehead. “Just give me the damned drives, pal. Nobody gets hurt. We all go on with our day.”

  I stared at Eli. How could I let him know about the jump drives that Tony had, or that the FBI wanted Tony to give them to the guy?

  “Come on,” I tried. “Stop messing around and give them to him, will you? Where are they? In your room?” I nodded toward Nick’s suite. “Did you leave them next door?”

  Eli didn’t even blink. He got it. “What the hell, Zoe. Way to give me up.”

  “Your room’s next door?” The driver jabbed the gun at Eli. “Shit. Let’s go have a look.”

  “Not so fast.” Eli turned to face him. His face was composed, his voice calm. “I’ll give you what you want, but if you harm anyone, the women or anyone else, I’ll find you. And while you’re still alive, you can watch me feed your nuts to my dog. Got it?”

  The limo driver opened, then closed his mouth, attempting a sneer. The gun seemed unsteady in his hand. Obviously, he hadn’t been prepared for Eli the assassin; he’d expected to deal with Tony the computer geek. “Look, man. I got a job to do. I’m supposed to collect and deliver. That’s all. Let me do it and we’ll all be happy.”

  “Fine.” Eli’s eyes remained on the driver’s. “Let’s go.”

  The driver looked at Susan. “Wait. I can’t just leave them here.” He dug in his pockets, pulled out a coil of plastic rope. “Here. Tie them up. Together—I only got the one rope.” .

  Without hesitation, Eli took the rope and tied us back
-to-back on the floor. Then, with a gun pointed at his back, he led the limo driver away, and the door closed behind them.

  NINETY-TWO

  “THAT WAS ELI? HE’S hot. But he could be Tony’s twin.” Susan began talking the second the door clicked shut. She tried to move her arm, yanking the rope against my rib cage. Reflexively, I pulled back. Susan cursed. “Dammit, Zoe. Stop moving; just hold still and tell me what’s going on. What is he here for?”

  “Hang on, Susan.” I tested, trying to move my arms, my hands. To squirm or wriggle. I couldn’t. Eli had tied us too tight.

  “Zoe. Stop pulling on the rope. You’re killing me.”

  It was no use. Eli had left almost no slack. Why not? Whose side was he on? Finally, I gave up, beginning to panic. “He’s here for those jump drives. The ones I told you about.”

  “Did you ever find out what’s on them?” She was panting. Trying to have a discussion.

  “No. Not yet. The feds won’t say.” I was grunting. “But I knew something was wrong with that driver.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  What? “I most certainly did—”

  “Why didn’t you say something—”

  “Well, how was I supposed to know he had a gun?”

  Her butt pressed against mine. We lay there, arguing, spine-to- spine, cheek-to-cheek.

  “If I’d have been able to talk to Nick, he’d have found the gun. But someone wouldn’t let me talk to Nick.”

  “So you’re saying it’s my fault that some lunatic was driving your limo? You’re the one who thought he was so odd; why didn’t you do something?”

  Oh my God, we sounded like bickering hens. In his little chair, still sleeping, Luke let out a deep sigh.

  “Susan, forget all that—they’ve gone to Nick’s suite.”

  “Why? What do they have in there?”

  “It’s a long story. Now we need to get help.”

  “So, what do we do? Scream?”

  “We could try.”