“How’s the investigation going anyway?” He went on.
“Excellent. Listen to this.” I fished the tape recorder out of my purse, put it on the table, and hit play.
Nothing happened.
Craig smirked and held back the giant guffaw I knew was waiting to bust from his gut. “Well, Ms. Drew, maybe you need to read the instruction manual.”
How could I mess it up? Was it really that hard to press the record button?
“I spoke to Rachel-Ann and Brant.”
“The ones who were slapping nasties while you were in the closet?”
“Yeah. I think he’s the one. I’m going to check out a few things, but he gives off a real creepy vibe, and he had a motive.”
“Creepy vibes don’t convict people.”
“I know. I’ll have to prove the rest, but I’m off to a good start.”
“Let me guess, you’re going to get a confession out of him by stuffing him with teriyaki chicken Caesar wraps.”
“No, I’m taking this to my next appointment. I’m giving it to Ted Willig, the assistant to Montgomery Davis.”
As I was starting out the door, Craig followed me. “Hey, Nancy Drew, I need to ask you a favor. I’d ask Dennis, but he already helps out around here a lot, and I hate to ask him again. I was hoping you could come over Sunday and help me do a little clean-up on the place. I’d pay you for it, and dinner would be on me—Fortunato’s pizza—my treat?”
“Sausage, pepperoni, and extra cheese?” There were certain things I could resist. Sausage, pepperoni, and extra cheese weren’t three of them.
“Is there any other kind?”
I liked that Craig was a Fortunato’s freak, as well.
Chapter Twenty-One
Montgomery Davis’s office wasn’t too far from Le Bel Age. The great thing about downtown St Pete is that everything is all scrunched in together and right next to the water. Not only is it gorgeous, but it’s easy to be on time.
Ted had indeed left my name with the security guard on duty, and from there I got directions to the offices of Davis, Cochrane and Lambert. Until that morning, I’d had no idea who Montgomery Davis was. Now I was waiting at the receptionist’s desk to be taken back to the office of one of the biggest attorneys in the city. It was very exciting, or would have been if I only I hadn’t been anticipating the sound my guts would make if I heaved them onto the marbled office floors. I must’ve looked sick, too. Jennifer, the receptionist, kept looking at me between phone calls. She had one of those ear headsets that make people look like they’re talking to themselves.
“Ms. Summers, do you need some water while you wait?”
Before I could answer, Ted Willig made his entrance. He wasn’t what I was expecting. I based everything I knew about personal assistants on the only one I knew, Damon. Ted was no Damon McCormick.
Ted had a rather pleasant face. He looked like a pudgy Prince Harry. He had the same strawberry blond hair and freckles.
“Emily?” He took my hand and pumped it with enthusiasm. “Nice to meet you. Come back to the office with me.”
I followed him back to his desk. “Thanks so much for getting me in today. You really saved me.”
“No problem. Maybe one day you’ll be able to return the favor. We always need friends in the press.”
“It might be a while, I’m lucky they let me out of the office.” I reached into my purse and gave him the gift certificate. “I did get you this, though.”
He stopped and looked at the certificate. He seemed genuinely pleased by it. “Really? I love this place. There’s this band that plays there on the weekends, Strange Angels. The lead singer is so… well you’ve probably seen him. You know what he is.” He was practically swooning.
“Rasputin.” Oh, the bubble I could burst.
“Sit down for a second. I’ll tell Mr. Davis you’re here.” He leaned closer to me. “Do yourself a favor though. Don’t ask about his ex-wife. He’s still touchy about her.” He disappeared behind a closed door.
Great. The one thing I want to ask him about, although I understood why it might bother him. Watching your wife getting it on with your neighbor probably takes a long time to get over.
Ted came back and sat on his desk.
“Go on in, Emily. He’s ready to see you. But try to keep it quick.”
“You must be Emily Summers.” He grabbed my hand with both of his and then gestured for me to take the seat across from his desk.
Montgomery Davis had a big booming voice with a thick Southern accent. There was no doubt about it, the man had presence. He was nothing special to look at with his brawny body, short, receding peppered hair, and dark eyes, but he oozed charisma. I felt at ease with him immediately. Heck, I was so comfortable with him that I might just come out and ask him about Kaz and the tape. I’d have bet he was from Texas.
“So tell me about this story you want to write,” he asked, sitting in his chair.
“It’s more of a sidebar. The business section is trying to increase their readership by spicing things up with blurbs about local businessmen. It’s just a fun little interview—trivial stuff really.”
He leaned back. “And I’m your first subject?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s quite an honor. Go ahead, Emily, shoot. I’ll try to give you what you’re looking for.”
“Okay.” I reached into my bag and turned on my recorder. I made sure to hit the record button this time. I pulled out my reporter’s notebook and asked my first question. “Guavaween or Gasparilla?”
Guavaween is the annual Halloween Festival held in Ybor City on the first Saturday of the month of October. While there are fun activities for the kiddies during the day, at night it’s all adult, beginning with the Mamma Guava Stumble Parade at dusk. Mamma Guava leads her band of partiers down 7th Avenue, throwing candy and beads. Since Ybor City is closed off, shuttle services run to and from the stadium. Costumed party animals pack the streets. Bands play, liquor flows, inhibitions drop, and Girls Gone Wild usually shoots a video. It all makes for a good time. At least that’s what I hear; I’ve always been too intimidated to go.
Gasparilla, on the other hand, is a celebration of the legend of Jose Gaspar, a pirate who might or might not have existed. Legend has it that he raided the Florida gulf coast, plundering and pillaging before he and his crew were attacked by the USS Enterprise. His ship sinking, rather than be captured, Jose Gaspar chained the anchor around his waist, and jumped off the bow, preferring to die by his own hands than be taken prisoner. By all accounts, if he existed, he wasn’t a very nice man, but a hundred years later, who doesn’t love a pirate? Local businessmen formed Ye Mystic Krewe of Gasparilla in 1904 and created a Festival, a mini Mardi Gras, mini as in only four hundred thousand people attend. That’s a lot of people crammed on Bayshore Boulevard. On the last Saturday in January, pirates invade and take over the city from Tampa Bay, some arriving on a replica of a pirate ship. The Mayor hands over the key to the city; parades and parties ensue. Liquor flows, inhibitions drop, and Girls Gone Wild shoots another video.
Comparing Tampa’s Halloween Festival to the Pirate Festival was like comparing apples and apples.
“Guavaween.” Montgomery said. “It’s a little more intimate. There are more women in sexy costumes, and I still get to dress like a pirate. Which one do you like better?”
“Gasparilla wins by default. I’ve never been to Guavaween.”
“Shame on you, Emily. How can you be Lois Lane if you don’t experience all the local flavor?”
Peyton. Nancy Drew. Lois Lane. I was pretty good about being other people.
“I just get nervous. You know, all those pirates. They really weren’t fun like they are in the movies, and I don’t think they brushed their teeth either. That’s just gross.”
“Come on, Emily, they’re just boys looking for a little booty. You aren’t afraid of being plundered, are you?”
If he weren’t so Texan, that would have seemed a little lechy.
I moved on to my second question. “Favorite place to get a Cuban?”
“La Teresita. They also make a great pulled chicken sandwich, and if you’re nice, they’ll make it special for you. I like mine with just dark meat. Now, you’ve been there, haven’t you?”
“I have. Delicious sandwiches, I totally agree with you.”
“All right, good for you. I was a little worried after your Guavaween confession.”
“A reporter has to know where to get a good Cuban, right?” This wasn’t so hard; in fact it was kinda fun. I still had no idea how I was going to get any information about Kaz out of him, but so far things were working.
“Absolutely. Fire another one at me, Emily; this is fun.”
“If your home was burning, what would you run in and save?”
“Sawyer and Finn, my dogs. I love those boys, two big ole’ mutts. They’ve seen me through slumps, divorces, everything. It’s true what they say about dogs being man’s best friend. I’d appreciate it if you could work in something about Friends of Strays. That’s where I found the boys. It’s a good organization, and they can always use a little bit of press.”
“I’ll make sure to work them in as your favorite non-profit. How‘s that?”
His laugh filled the room. “That’ll work.”
“Done. So are your dogs named after Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn?”
“I love Mark Twain. You got a place for favorite books in there? Put those down.” He gestured toward my notebook.
There might not be an article, but I had to keep up appearances. My recorder was in there somewhere. I scribbled as he continued. “My Mama read me that book, too. She channeled Mae West for Becky Thatcher.”
“I bet Tom liked that.”
He chuckled.
“You mentioned divorces.” This was it; I was going in. “So you have to be one of the city’s most available bachelors.”
“Things are still a little fresh, so I don’t know if I’d call myself available, but I will be. Are you interested in taking me out to dinner, Emily?”
I didn’t like the way he was eyeing me. Years of invisibility had not prepared me for men looking right at me. I was used to them looking through me. I wasn’t sure what to think. Was he trying to be flirty because I was a reporter? Was he flirting to flirt, or was it because he was a pervert?
I dodged his question with my own. “When you are available, what’s the first thing you notice about a woman?”
“Her aura.”
“You can see auras? Don’t you need a special camera for that?”
“I’m gifted. You have a pretty yellow aura.”
“What does that mean?” Yellow aura; was he kidding me?
“It means you have a strong sense of inner joy. You’re a positive person. You don’t see many yellows these days. That makes you special.”
“Well, thank you.” Okay, I was dying to know what color auras other women had.
“Since we are talking about women, do you prefer a potential date to wear minis or maxis?”
He looked at me for a moment, his expression of confusion turning to amusement. “You can’t be talking about feminine hygiene products. I really think that’s a personal decision.”
I prayed for the chair to suck me into its cushions. I hadn’t meant to say that. Time for my true confession—I’d stolen a few of my questions from a seventies Teen Beat magazine interview.
“I meant mini skirts or maxi, well, longer skirts.”
He howled with laughter. “I feel like Shaun Cassidy.”
The interview I filched from was with David Cassidy, thank you very much.
“How about this? I don’t think skirt-length matters. An attractive woman is an attractive woman. You should know how that is.”
“It’s not so much me, as my yellow aura.”
He laughed again, “I like you, Emily. Shoot me another question.”
I still didn’t know what to make of Montgomery Davis. I knew he was doing his best to charm me. Being chubby gave me plenty of experience with those who try flattery to get something. Montgomery wanted a bit of free press and advertising. I knew how to recognize guys like that, but the thing is, Montgomery Davis was charming. His lechyness was somewhat endearing. I couldn’t help but wonder, if I’d met Jim under different circumstances, if he would have struck me the same way.
“Where’s the best place to take a first date?”
“Paris is always romantic.”
I giggled like the copy-girl-turned-reporter I was pretending to be. “I meant here, in Saint Petersburg, at least on the coast.”
“Easy. Sunken Gardens.”
I stared at him for a second. No way. Everyone knows Sunken Gardens sucks. “Come on, Sunken Gardens?” The displeasure had to register on my face.
“When was the last time you went?” he asked
“A field trip in the sixth grade.”
“You can’t judge a place by what you thought of it when you were in sixth grade. You were a little girl in braids, just starting to notice boys. You’re a grown woman now; you’ll appreciate things a little more.”
There was only one boy I’d noticed in sixth grade. I’ve mentioned him before. Timothy Driscoll, class jackass.
“Sixth graders should go to the Lowry Park Zoo, something with energy. Sunken Gardens is for lovers.” He put special emphasis on the word lovers.
I was skeptical. “It’s on Fourth Street. There’s nothing gardeny about Fourth Street. Didn’t they used to advertise they had the world’s largest gift shop? How many Sunken Gardens shot glasses and pot holders could they have really sold?”
“Okay, it’s very ‘old Florida’ but that’s not always a bad thing. Emily, use your imagination. Strolling hand in hand under the banyan trees, by the flamingo pool and the butterfly house, orchids and all sorts of flowers everywhere. A very nice place for a date. Give it a chance. Go back, use your grown-up eyes, and take your boyfriend.”
There was an ice cream parlor right next door to Sunken Gardens that served cake batter ice cream. I bet if I threw in the ice cream, I could close the deal and drag Rick there some day. “Well I guess it might be okay,” I conceded.
“See, you’re thinking of someone to take. You’ll love it. I guarantee it. Seriously, we live in a great city; you should get to know it a little better.”
“I’m beginning to realize that. Okay, what’s the bay’s best out-of-the-way place?”
“The Alibi. It doesn’t look like much on the outside, but it’s on the beach on Treasure Island. People rave about the lasagna, but I go there for the stuffed manicotti. They make them either with sausage or cheese filling. Both are delicious.”
My tummy jumped a little when he mentioned The Alibi. “I’ve been there. Once.” I met the man who was doing it with your wife, You know: Jim Alexander? You remember him, don’t you? His wife e-mailed you the video of them “adulterating” all over the place. Someone killed him, you know. I think it might’ve been your ex. Can you tell me where to find her?
“Did you like it?” he asked
“I was there on a date. It was a wonderful night.” It wasn’t a complete lie; part of it was a wonderful night. It was the Jim part that sucked. Montgomery probably understood what Jim suckage was all about.
He leaned forward, smiling at me. “Seems so. From the look on your face, I would say it was a very good date.”
“My face doesn’t lie.” The rest of me does, though. “Best place to hook up?”
“Oh honey, I’m a little old for ‘hooking up.’ That’s definitely a younger man’s game. But since you ask, I think the best way to meet someone is through friends. Take a bit of advice, Emily, from me to you. Your friends won’t steer you wrong. If they tell ya something, especially if it’s something you don’t want to hear, it’s because they see things you don’t want to.”
BINGO! I started to tremble like a Chihuahua. This had to be it: the scoop on Kaz. I tried my best to be cool. “Oh, well that’s interest
ing. Did someone warn you about something?”
“Someone. They warned me about someone. I was too stupid to listen to my friends, but thankfully I had the sense to listen to my lawyer. Pre-nups are a man’s best friend.”
“What about Sawyer and Finn? I thought they were your best friends.” Being ditzy had served me well thus far; I wasn’t going to give up now.
“Because of the pre-nup, Sawyer and Finn are still steppin’ high in kibble and chew toys.”
“Sounds like you went through a rough time.”
“Not too bad. She was my third wife. After Wives One and Two, I learned my lesson. Wife Three got nothing, not one red cent from me. Florida may be no-fault, but I’m not. I kept the money, and she’s working at Sears.”
“She’s working at Sears?”
“I hear she’s in housewares at the Clearwater Mall. It’s been a few years since she’s had to earn some money. I hope her commissions are up.” He seemed particularly proud of himself. “We’re on our last question, right?”
“Uh, yeah. What business advice would you give a novice?”
“It’s like this, Emily, run your life like you’re a corporation. Work hard, do the right thing, make a little time for play, and protect yourself.”
“In my line of business, there is always a lot of opportunity to play.” I didn’t feel it was necessary to add “with yourself.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
I wouldn’t recommend hanging out in the bathroom at Sears. It’s got a decayed quality that is unappealing. The light blue wallpaper with cream crushed velvet roses might appeal to a certain clientele, but I’m not part of it. Of course, I haven’t seen the softer side of Sears in a long time. In fact, I thought Sears only sold hardware these days.
I was working on my make-up. If I was going to get Kaz to tell me all about her affair, I had to be like Goldilocks’ porridge: just right. My mascara was under my eyes, and runny to make it look like I’d wiped away the mess in an attempt to look okay and failed desperately. I was no Rachel-Ann, but I was close. I rubbed my eyes until they were red and everything was properly smeared before I went up to housewares.
Phone Kitten: A Cozy, Romantic, and Highly Humorous Mystery Page 15
