Jingle of Coins

by C. D. Ledbetter

  Unsure of what to do next, she hurried to the safety of the parking lot’s overhead lights. What she needed was some kind of diversion. She surveyed the cars, then grinned. A car alarm! That would make a big enough ruckus to wake half the complex and force Stu to leave.

  Keeping low, she moved down the row and pushed down on the fender of car after car until she set off first one alarm, then another. A steady stream of tenants exited their apartments to check on their vehicles. She joined the grumpy onlookers and waited for them to return to their apartments. By the time she returned to the walkway, every light in the courtyard was on, and Stu wasn’t anywhere in sight. She strolled over to the pool area to check, then walked back to her apartment. He had either left or found a better place to hide.

  Her first instinct was to call Kate, but instead of dialing the number, Emily found herself staring at the receiver. Did she really want to get involved in Kate’s problems? Besides—what would she say? Sorry to have to tell you this, Kate, but the man you’re afraid of is watching your front door? Yeah, right. That ought to go over real well. Nothing like frightening your neighbor to death with a telephone call.

  She decided to ask Kate if she’d seen anybody lurking in the bushes and mention that she’d seen somebody skulking around the courtyard on her way back from Glen’s apartment. Keeping her fingers crossed that she was doing the right thing, Emily punched in Kate’s number.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s Emily. Sorry to bother you. I just have one question. You didn’t, by any chance, notice any strangers hanging around the pool tonight, did you?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I walked past the pool a few minutes ago, and it looked like there was somebody hiding in the bushes, watching our apartments. I thought I’d check to see if you’d noticed anything before I called the cops.”

  “I came in a little while ago, and I didn’t see anybody. It was probably your imagination.”

  Emily paused, wondering what to say next. “Well, since you didn’t see anything, maybe I won’t call the cops. I’d hate to bring them out on a false alarm. Sorry to bother you.”

  “No problem.”

  The phone clicked off, and she stared at the receiver buzzing in her hand. What on Earth was going on? Kate’s words had sounded off-hand, but the fear in her voice certainly wasn’t. For whatever reason, Kate was scared. Big time, wet your pants scared.

  So much for noble intentions. It was obvious Kate didn’t want to talk about what was bothering her. And to be honest, she didn’t want any part of Kate’s problem to spill over into her life—or her apartment. Right now she had enough worries of her own.

  Emily decided to err on the side of caution, just in case Stu was casing their apartments. She dug her old baseball bat out of the front closet and laid it on the floor by her nightstand. After changing into pajamas, she checked the deadbolt one last time, then headed for bed. Her mind refused to shut down, so she reached down and patted the wooden handle of the bat, smiling as her fingers felt familiar grooves in the foam tape that had been wrapped around the handle. It didn’t look like much, but it would sure cause one heck of a headache if she ever had to use it in self-defense.

  Sitting in a chair near the bedroom window, Kate watched the first glimmer of light appear on the horizon. Emily’s phone call sent her into a panic, and she spent the entire night at the window, watching for any sign of movement. It had to have been Stu outside; nobody else she knew would be dumb enough to hide where they could be seen. No wonder the Feds were after Mike.

  She didn’t think he’d been there when she’d left to make her calls. She’d checked to make sure the coast was clear before sneaking out, and no one had followed her out of the parking lot. He must have started tailing her once she’d left the other apartment.

  The clock chimed seven thirty, and she realized it was time to leave. Kate picked up her suitcase and cast one last look around. Her fingers tightened around the handle as she kept her eyes peeled for Stu. The moment she reached the car, she flung the calfskin case onto the back seat and slid behind the wheel.

  So far, so good. She drove toward the Mercedes dealer, wondering how long it would it take Dozer’s mechanic to rig her car with the recorder. A black limo pulled in behind her and followed her to the service bays. The driver waved, then pulled over to one side.

  A young man with dark hair walked up to her window. “You Ms. Avrill?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll be servicing your car today,” he announced, holding out his hand.

  Kate took one look at the day old stubble on his chin, rumpled overalls, and oil soaked shoes, and decided that it might be wise to check with the limo driver before handing over her keys. “The service desk hasn’t written up my paperwork yet.” She opened the door and edged toward the limo.

  “I already have it.” He lowered his voice. “It’s okay, Ms. Avrill. Agent Dozer sent me.” He pulled a work order out of his pocket. “Your stereo’s out of order, right?” he stated in a loud voice as a mechanic walked into the first open bay.

  Kate nodded. “Yes.”

  The mechanic stuffed the paper back into his pocket. “If you’ll give me your key, I’ll get right on it.”

  She nodded, then pointed to the car. “The keys are on the console. I’ll be at the Silver Palace all afternoon. Leave a message at the front desk.”

  “Sure thing, Ms. Avrill. I’ll have this done in a jiffy.”

  Kate walked over to the limo, then waited patiently for the driver to open the door. A few minutes after they pulled out of the dealership, the partition that separated the driver and passenger slid down.

  “I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Agent Green,” the driver announced in a cheerful voice.

  Kate ignored his friendly overture and stared out the side window. As they neared the hotel, she reached for the bottle of champagne chilling in the ice bucket. “I don’t know about you,” she murmured as she closed the panel between them, “but I need a drink.”

  Dozer snapped his cell phone shut and turned to face the agents sitting at the makeshift worktable. “Okay guys,” he began. “Kate’s on her way.” He pointed to the masses of wires and electronic equipment strewn across the room. “Finish up what you’re doing. Once Kate gets here, everything better be ready.”

  “Almost done,” one of the agents replied. “I’ve got about another ten minutes or so and it will be done.”

  “Good.” Dozer pointed to two CDs on a nearby dresser. “Are those the ones she’s going to use in her car?”

  Another agent nodded. “Yeah. I’ve pre-recorded the music she wanted on a master copy and made a second one we use here.”

  Dozer nodded. “Good. Anything else?”

  “Nope, that’s it.”

  Dozer watched them for a minute, then walked to the rear of the suite to gaze at the busy street below. So much depended on Kate getting the bug inside Mike’s villa and starting the recorder. He sighed softly, wishing that there was an alternative, any alternative, to his current predicament, but realized he had no other choice. Not if he wanted to nail Mike on the disappearance of the three agents. It was either Kate’s way or no way.

  He strolled back into the foyer and watched his men work feverishly to complete the assembly of the recording device. Another few minutes and their part of the plan would be finished. Now all he could do was wait and hope that Kate could complete hers.

  Chapter Twenty

  “What do you mean, it’s sold?” Emily stared at the empty spot where she’d placed Stu’s second arrangement the night before. “Who the hell did they sell it to? I specifically told them not to sell either arrangement. What are they, deaf?”

  “Hey, don’t yell at me,” Sara protested. “I didn’t do it. When I came in, there was a note taped to the register that said they sold one of the arrangements by mistake.”

  “Son of a bitch. You wait until I see those two; I’m gonna strangle them.” Emily stomped into the wor
kroom, grabbed an empty vase, and a square of floral foam. “Sara, would you—”

  “Already got ‘em,” Sara replied from the doorway. She set two buckets of flowers onto the worktable. “I figured you’d want to get to work right away.”

  “Thanks.” Emily picked up a knife and whacked off bits of green foam to mold the three-inch thick square into the shape of the rectangular vase. She paused for a moment, knife in hand, and looked up. “There’s one more thing. Would you please check the Smythe wedding order? I think I had one more corsage to make, and the wedding’s scheduled for ten.” She waved the knife toward the glass cooler and bits of wet foam flew in every direction. “The order form should be in the box with the rest of the stuff.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” Sara watched the knife arc. “Don’t chop off a finger just because you’re ticked off,” she warned. “I’d hate to have to explain how part of your thumb got mixed up in the order.” Two chunks of wet foam sailed toward her. “All right, I’m going,” she laughed. “Just be careful with that knife. My sewing skills aren’t the best.”

  Ten minutes before the arrangements were due to be picked up, Emily stuck the last flower into the vase. She stepped back to admire her handiwork, adjusted a few pieces of greenery, then sighed. “Come take a look,” she called.

  Sara stuck her head into the doorway. “Not bad. It’s not as good as the other one, but it’s okay.”

  “Thanks.”

  The bell signaling a customer entering the store jingled, and Emily hurried to stuff a few pieces of Styrofoam into the delivery box, then gently lowered the arrangement into position.

  “Tommie’s here,” Sara announced. “Are you ready?”

  “Yeah. Could you grab the other arrangement out of the case?” Emily carried the oversized box to Tommie’s delivery trolley and handed him the ticket. “Make sure you deliver this order first. When you get there, ring the bell and wait for the guard. They said you’d need an escort.”

  He looked at the address for a moment, then let out a low whistle. “Holy shit. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure these get delivered pronto.” He glanced at the two women behind the counter. “Do you know whose house this is?”

  Emily shook her head. “No. Some man came in yesterday and placed the order. What’s the big deal?”

  “What did he look like?”

  “He was big, tall, and scary,” Sara chimed in. “Why? Is he a crook?”

  Tommie ran a hand through his gray hair. “That was probably Stu Bogrand, Mike’s second in command.” He laughed and swung his head from side to side. “I can’t believe you two took an order from him. Don’t you read the papers? Mike Dragonisi lives there.”

  “Who’s he?” Emily asked.

  “Geeze, Emily. How long have you lived here? Mike’s a big time drug dealer. I’ve been in this town for twenty-five years, and I thought I’d seen it all until he showed up. He’s like a plague, destroying everything he comes in contact with. Even the other crooks don’t cross him.”

  Tommie leaned closer and rested his bony elbows on the counter. “I can’t believe you didn’t know who Stu was. Both he and Mike have had their pictures plastered across the newspapers for the last three months. The Feds are trying to connect them to those missing agents.” He lowered his voice. “I’d lay odds that Mike killed them and had their bodies dumped. Rumor has it that he even does his own dirty work ‘cause he likes snuffing folks. And…if Mike did kill them, you can bet Stu was in on it. He follows Mike around like a shadow. Course there ain’t nobody living who’ll swear to that.”

  Emily clung to the register for support. “Oh my God. If I’d known sooner, I would’ve made up some excuse not to take the order.”

  “Well, now you know.” Tommie straightened, checked the boxes, and rolled his cart toward the hallway. “If I were you, the next time Stu comes around, I’d put the ‘closed’ sign on the door.”

  “Don’t worry, we will,” Emily promised. She remained silent as Tommy disappeared into the throng of people in the hallway.

  “Holy crap, Emily. How do you know this guy?” Sara asked in a shocked voice.

  “I don’t. I only saw him once, at a restaurant. He bumped into our table, and the woman I was with told me his name,” Emily lied. “Just remember Tommie’s advice. If Stu ever comes in again, please, please, tell him I’m out. Okay?”

  “Don’t worry. The next time I see him coming, I’ll lock the door in record time.”

  Emily’s legs felt threatened to collapse as she wandered into the workroom and leaned against the worktable. Maybe she ought to think about moving back to California. At least she’d be safe there. No wonder Kate didn’t want to talk about her relationship with Stu—the man was a fricking murderer!

  She wondered if she ought to tell the Secret Service agent she’d met about the floral order, but decided that he probably already knew about it if they were keeping tabs on the two men. Had the Feds been there last night? If so, they must have been well hidden, because she hadn’t seen them when she’d crept out to the parking lot and set off the car alarms.

  Suddenly her cozy little apartment didn’t seem so safe and warm. She thought about the baseball bat she’d placed next to the bed and shivered. A bat wouldn’t do much good against bullets. Before she got married she used to keep a loaded Smith & Wesson revolver in the nightstand by her bed. Maybe it was time to think about getting another one.

  Kate stepped from the limo and found herself immersed in a throng of tourists hurrying through the front doors to view the hotel’s world-famous atrium. She ignored the urge to stop and gaze at the towering expanse of tropical greenery and continued toward a bank of elevators.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Averill,” Micheal greeted her as he led the way down a private hall to a single elevator. He punched in a series of numbers on a wall panel, and seconds later the doors parted to reveal an opulent elevator car paneled with Indian marble.

  Kate slipped a hundred dollar bill into his breast pocket. “Good afternoon, Micheal. I believe I’m expected?”

  He stepped into the car and punched in another code. “Yes, ma’am. The gentlemen are in the Roman Suite.”

  “Thank you. Please make sure we’re not disturbed.” She tucked another hundred into his hand when the doors opened a second time.

  He nodded. “No problem, Ms. Averill. Shall I send up a tray?”

  “Yes, but add an extra bottle of Dom Perignon.”

  “Would you like anything else?”

  Kate shook her head. “No, that’s it.” She waited until the doors whooshed shut, then strode forward. Only one suite occupied this floor, and the only access points were the elevator and private stairwell, which locked from the inside.

  She continued down the long hallway and paused in front of two massive oak doors. The door swung open as she reached for the lion’s head knocker, and a hand motioned her inside. It belonged to a man she hadn’t seen before.

  He must be one of Dozer’s underlings, she thought, gazing at his close-cropped hair, white shirt, and dark pants. Although younger than the other agents she’d met, he still had it—that telltale cloak of seriousness Dozer’s men wore like a second skin. She wondered if he was a tekkie or regular agent, then decided it didn’t matter. She was here for one purpose, to practice starting the microphone.

  He stared at her for a moment. “Kate, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Flarrety. Follow me.”

  She took a few steps forward, then stopped. The hotel room that had once been stately and elegant now resembled an overcrowded office cubicle. Every flat surface was crammed with laptops, wires, metal prongs, monitors, and gadgets. Newspaper covered the marble coffee table, and the remains of what looked to be an iris arrangement sat in the center. Some of the flowers sat in glasses of every size and shape. Others lay on the table, dissected into petals, leaves, and stems.

  Dozer drifted in from the rear of the suite. “You’re here. Good. Any trouble?”

>   “No,” she replied, shocked by the mess.

  “Take a seat. We’ll have the device ready in a minute.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Did I remember to tell you to take special precautions with your car once we install the recorder?”

  “No. Why?”

  “The unit we’re putting in cost about a million dollars to develop. Not only that, the CD we’re giving you is also very costly. It might look like a regular one, but believe me, it’s not. You could buy a ton of CDs for what that one cost. My guys had a heck of a time making it partially pre-recorded. I don’t want either item lost or damaged.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “How does it work? I can’t rush back to my car and start the CD player every time I think Mike and his guest might be having a meeting.”

  “You don’t have to worry about starting the recorder. The unit has its own power source and is voice activated. It stays on stand-by mode until somebody starts talking for more than five seconds, then it kicks in and keeps recording until conversation stops. After that, it switches back into stand-by until another conversation starts. We can record for several hours because it’s a two-thousand megabyte unit.”

  She shook her head. “That’s way too complicated for me. You better make sure all I have to do is stick the CD into the player. Did you copy the Chopin CD I told you about?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. The lab guys duplicated the label and the first two tracks. Since our CD looks exactly like a normal one, we’ve put it into a colored jewel case so you don’t get it mixed up. Make sure you keep it separate.”

  She waved a hand. “Whatever.” She moved toward the window, where jackets had been tossed onto an overstuffed chair. “What happened to the sofa?”

  Dozer thumbed over his shoulder. “It’s in the bedroom.”