Jay Giles

by Blindsided (A Thriller)

  I heard a little gasp at her end, then she said, “I’m afraid I’ve got more bad news, too. Frankie fell off the wagon last night.”

  Chapter 36

  “I just got off the phone with him. He is really hung over. Apparently, he had a couple of beers before he met her because he was nervous. A couple more while they were eating, a couple more while they were dancing.”

  “How many is a couple of couples?”

  “I asked him that. He thinks he may have had fifteen or sixteen beers. He really doesn’t remember.”

  I groaned. “He’s supposed to have chronic liver damage. He can’t drink like that.”

  “Well, he did.”

  I tried to think. My head felt like mush with a lump of pain behind my eyes. “Can you call him back? Tell him to stay in the condo, not take any calls or make any calls to Janet. Maybe we can turn this to our advantage.”

  “How?”

  “By pretending he’s deathly ill. That’s going to take a plan. Could we get together over lunch, put something together.”

  “Where?”

  “The Pier Grille is easy. Quarter to twelve?”

  “See you there.”

  I hung up and dialed Julian’s number. “He’s taking a deposition,” Amanda said. “Can I help you?”

  “I need to fill him in on some late-breaking developments. Have him call me as soon as he can, will you, Amanda.”

  “Sure.”

  “Oh, and tell him to call my cell number. The office burned down.”

  “What?”

  “One of those late-breaking developments I need to talk to him about.”

  “I’ll definitely have him call you.”

  I poured my fourth cup of coffee, looked at it, dumped it in the sink. I set the timer on the oven to go off at quarter after eleven, went into the living room, and stretched out on the sofa.

  Brang, brang, brang brought me back to reality. The damned oven timer. Still groggy, I jumped up, shut it off, went to the bathroom, splashed some water on my face, brushed my teeth, tried to feel human.

  It wasn’t working. Looking back at me in the mirror was a drawn and haggard face. I didn’t dwell on it; I had more to worry about than my appearance.

  Tory was waiting in a booth, iced tea in front of her. Her hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing a Day-Glo orange tee-shirt. I slid into the other side of the booth.

  She made an exaggerated face. “You do look like hell.”

  “And just think, I look better than I feel.”

  Our waitress arrived and handed me a menu. Tory already had one. I handed it right back to her. “Cheeseburger and a Diet Coke.”

  “Want fries with that?”

  I shook my head.

  “You, ma’am?”

  “Cobb salad, please.” She watched the waitress leave with our orders, then turned to me. “What happened?”

  I started with my meeting with Paul Raines, moved to the evening’s abduction on the beach, finished with my conversation in the police cruiser with Jack Fines.

  She laughed at the last. “Nevitt is going to be pissed.”

  That made me laugh, too. “I hope so. I hope they haul him down to headquarters, work him over with rubber hoses.”

  Our food arrived. We ate in silence for a few minutes, then I asked, “Were you able to get Fish to stay inside and not answer the phone?”

  She finished a bite of salad. “Yeah, he didn’t care. Said he’d stay in and watch the tube. What are you thinking?”

  I swallowed a bite of hamburger. “For a guy who wasn’t supposed to drink, he put away a lot of beer last night. If he were sick, he’d have had a reaction to all that beer. I’m thinking that we make it look like he spent the day at the hospital.”

  “How are we going to do that?”

  “We need just a few trappings to draw the picture—a hospital bracelet around his wrist, a home health nurse at the condo.”

  “I’m not sure I see where you’re headed with this.”

  I took a drink of my Diet Coke. “We need to accelerate the marriage. D’Onifrio torched my building to let me know he was serious about not waiting any longer.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “Absolutely sure. It’s what Raines warned me about. D’Onifrio’s turning up the heat as the meeting with Enrico gets closer. I’m also sure his next hurry-up message will be something worse. I’m thinking we use Fish’s drinking and the resulting illness as a way of letting Janet know he could die at any time.”

  “You think that will hurry her up?”

  “Can’t hurt. If she thinks she might lose a big score, she might move things along faster. Especially if Fish dangles some money in front of her.”

  “Like a big diamond ring?”

  I took a bite of burger, chewed, thought. “A ring feels like rushing things. Maybe we have him start looking at really expensive houses. Maybe he tells her his condo is only temporary, he’s looking to buy a place, but he wants to know if she’ll share it with him.”

  “Back into a proposal. That might work.”

  “If she thinks she’s picking out a million-dollar house—”

  Tory nodded a couple of times, digesting what we’d just talked about. “When are you thinking all this is going to happen—her seeing him sick and all?”

  I swallowed the last of my hamburger, pushed my plate aside. “I’m hoping when she can’t reach him today she’ll wonder what’s going on. When he finally answers the phone—or better yet, when the home health care person answers it—I’m betting she’ll want to come over and see how sick he really is.”

  “So you’re thinking tonight?”

  I wanted to do as much as I could as fast as I could. “It would be good if it happened tonight. If it did, we could do the real estate tomorrow.”

  Tory finished her salad, took a drink of tea. “You want me to hire a nurse, prep Frankie and the condo?”

  I nodded. “That’d be great. I’ll arrange for a realtor who can take them to some expensive houses tomorrow.”

  “What time do you want him to start taking calls again?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Seven?” I looked at the check, left money on the table. I slid out of the booth. “I’ve got to go check on my new digs.”

  She stood. “I’ll call you when I’ve got it lined up.”

  I thanked her as we headed out to the cars.

  From the Pier Grille to the office was a thirty-minute drive. I talked on the phone the entire way. By the time I turned onto Palm and got my first look at the trailer, I had a realtor friend clearing her schedule for the next day.

  I pulled the Saab to the curb and parked. The trailer was larger than I’d expected, probably thirty feet long. It took up the entire length of our little parking garden. Rosemary was standing in the doorway. She waved when she saw me pull up, walked down the three steps, and headed my way.

  I met her half way. “It’s bigger than I expected.”

  “It’s not half bad inside, though right now it’s hotter than blue blazes. They’re working to hook up the air conditioning. The man who will hook up the computers said he’d come back when we’ve got air. It’s too hot for computers now; he said they’d fry.”

  I nodded. “How about phones?”

  “He was a real man, not afraid of the heat. They’re hooked up.”

  I looked over at the burned-out building, roped off with yellow accident-scene tape. “Anybody here about the building?”

  She made a face. “A gentleman from the building inspector’s office was here. He looked at it from his car, condemned the place. Said it’d have to be bulldozed.” Dislike was evident in her voice.

  “How about Shelby?”

  “He’s been here all morning. You just missed him.”

  “Many client calls?”

  “A good many. Everyone calling to say how shocked they were to hear the place burned. A lot offered help.”

  “Any business?”

  “A b
it. I didn’t know when I’d see you, so I had your friend in Detroit handle the trades.”

  A flatbed truck carrying a port-a-potty pulled up. The driver leaned out the window. “Anybody know where they want this?” He said gruffly.

  I pointed to the far side of the trailer. “Put it over there. Thanks.”

  Rosemary shook her head. “A loo. He thinks of everything, that Shelby.”

  “Well, I’m going to see if the fireproof safe really was.” I stepped over the yellow tape, around the debris in the yard. Inside the shell of the building, the smells of burned wood and wet plaster were almost overpowering. I made my way to what had been my office. There wasn’t much of it left. The sofa and chairs had been thrown outside the night before. Some charred wood was probably what was left of my desk and credenza. Surprisingly, several of the photos that had been on the wall above the credenza were still there. Grimy, soot covered, glass broken, but still hanging.

  I made my way to the closet. The door was gone. The safe had fallen part way through the floor, but it looked intact. I unlocked the top drawer, pulled it open. The computer backup disks weren’t discolored from the heat. I took a handful, carried them back to the trailer.

  “It worked,” I told Rosemary as I dumped them on one of the desks. “Best five hundred dollars we ever spent.” By the time I had the contents of the safe transferred to our new workspace, the air conditioning was working, the technician had hooked up the market feed on my computer and was working on Rosemary’s.

  I sat at my desk and took stock of my new domain. It had all the ambience of a tin can, was noisy as hell, and smelled of industrial cleaner. I was thrilled to have it.

  Chapter 37

  I spent what remained of the afternoon calling clients, reassuring them. By six-thirty, I’d talked or left voice mail for everyone on our client list. I told Rosemary to call it a day, locked the place up, and headed home for a much-needed shower and dinner.

  As I drove, my cell phone rang. “You want to come over to Frankie’s and see how we’ve set things up?” Tory asked. “I think it looks pretty convincing.”

  “I’ll swing by. Has Janet called?”

  “Eight times so far. I think she’s calling every half hour or so now. Wait until you hear the messages she’s left. They’re hilarious.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like ‘Poor Frankie baby, I’m so worried about you. I can’t bear our being apart all this time.’“

  “Really?”

  “Would I make up stuff like that?”

  “No, but I’m sure she didn’t say it in the baby-talk voice you used.”

  “Baby talk, smooches, the whole nine yards.”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I’m driving through St. Armand’s Circle now.” I negotiated the day’s maze of tourists, crossed New Pass Bridge, and drove down Gulf of Mexico Drive. In ten minutes—record time—I pressed the intercom buzzer at Fish’s condo.

  “C’mon up,” he said, and the door buzzed.

  I took the elevator up. Tory met me at the door. “Janet just called again, left another icky message.”

  I smiled. “By icky, do you mean smarmy?” I asked as we walked into the condo’s living room.

  “The concern in her voice is so fake.”

  “Oh, she’s concerned. About his money.”

  Tory led me to the kitchen. “I want you to meet Helen; she’s our home health nurse.”

  Helen was a slightly plump older woman with short gray hair and a round face. She wore a white uniform. “Good to meet you, Matt,” she said as we shook hands.

  “Good to meet you, Helen. Thanks for doing this, especially on such short notice.”

  “Glad to help. I had an uncle who got involved with a sweet young thing like this. He didn’t have much.” Her smile turned to a frown. “But what he had, she took.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It was his own fault. Everybody warned him. He wouldn’t listen to any of us.” The smile returned. “I know my part. Want to quiz me?”

  “Sure. Who are you and why are you here?”

  “I’m Helen Montgomery, a home heath care nurse. Mr. Ford didn’t want to be admitted to the hospital, so Dr. Clark asked me to watch him today.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “I really shouldn’t say. You should talk with Mr. Ford or Dr. Clark.” She looked over at Tory. “How was that?”

  “Perfect,” Tory told her. “Make her pull every bit of information out of you.”

  “Right, but when she finally pulls it out of you what are you going to tell her?” I asked.

  “That he’s suffering from acute liver damage, recently inflamed by alcohol poisoning. He could die if he drinks more—”

  “Die when?”

  “In days,” she said with a sad shake of her head.

  Pretty convincing. You just didn’t expect this kindly older lady to be scamming you. “You’re wonderful, Helen.” She beamed. “Where’s your patient?”

  “In here,” a male voice called from the den.

  I went in and found Fish wearing a white bathrobe, sitting in a recliner with his feet up. He clicked off the television before I could see what he was watching. Wrestling, probably. He fixed me with an unhappy stare. “How do you expect me to get any nookie with that woman out there?”

  “You’re ill, Fish, very ill. Tonight’s not nookie night. Tonight’s sympathy night, the perfect set-up to make tomorrow nookie night.”

  “Well, I guess that’s all right,” he grumbled.

  “Wait a minute. What’s that I smell?” I asked, sniffing the air.

  “Nothing.”

  “It’s beer,” I told him accusingly. “You’ve got beer in here.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  I looked around his chair. Sure enough, two Bud cans on the floor. “Tory,” I called. “Get all the beer out of the refrigerator and throw it down the garbage chute.”

  I picked up the two empties. “If she smells beer on your breath, everything’s ruined.”

  “She won’t smell anything, trust me,” he groused.

  “Why wouldn’t she? I did.”

  He sighed heavily, got up from his chair, walked out of the room, and returned carrying a large bottle of Scope. He screwed off the top, chugged a couple of swallows, came over, and exhaled in my face. “How’s that?”

  “Better. In fact, minty fresh. Keep it that way.”

  “You worry too much. It’s going fine.” He sat back down in the recliner. “When will nurse Ratchet out there start taking calls?”

  I looked at my watch. “Let’s start the festivities at eight. You know the plan for tomorrow?”

  “House hunting, yeah. Am I well enough to do something tomorrow evening?”

  “Dinner and a movie. How’s that sound?”

  “Boring. I was thinking of asking her back here to see my etchings.”

  “Go for it,” I said. Must have surprised him. His eyebrows shot up. “Tomorrow evening, over dinner or after sex, I don’t care which, you need to tell her you love her and don’t want to live without her.”

  His brows fell, knit together in concentration. “You want me to pop the question?”

  “No, don’t mention marriage. Just tell her you want to live with her—in one of those million-dollar-plus houses the two of you just looked at. Dangle that out there, see if she doesn’t bring up the subject of marriage. Okay?”

  He nodded.

  “Anything else you need before I go?”

  He shook his head, clicked the TV back on. This time I got a look. Happy Days. No wonder he’d clicked it off so fast.

  I found Helen and Tory talking in the living room, joined them.

  “What time do you want Helen to start answering the phone?” Tory asked.

  “Eight o’clock. When Janet leaves, after her visit, give her fifteen minutes then you can leave, too.” To Tory, I added, “Could we talk for a few minutes?”

  She looked at me
quizzically. “Sure.”

  “You folks run along. We’ll be fine,” Helen told us in her motherly voice.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, find out how it went,” Tory said as we left.

  We rode the elevator down to the lobby. I looked out on the pool deck. It was deserted. “Want to talk out by the pool?”

  “That’s fine.”

  I opened the door, held it for her.

  “What’s this about?” she asked as she passed by.

  “Second thoughts.”

  “Oh.”

  We took seats at a table with an umbrella. She eyed me expectantly.

  “I’m worried about D’Onifrio’s next hurry-up message. He’s already burned my business. His next threat was to hurt one of my friends. I don’t want that to be you. I’m thinking the best thing for us to do is part ways. I’ll give you a check for the fee we set. That should give you enough money to get away from here for a while.”

  Surprise showed on her face. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure, exactly. I’m going to try to use Joe’s missing money as a way to get D’Onifrio in trouble. Remember how Raines said Menendez would be upset about that?”

  She nodded.

  “I just need to come up with a way of getting the problem in front of Enrico.”

  “When are you going to do all this?”

  “According to Raines I’ve got a little under two weeks.”

  She nodded. Didn’t say any more.

  I waited, uncertain what to say next.

  She looked directly at me, searching my face. “Why are you telling me this now?”

  “I told you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Why? I’m a hired gun. What do you care if I get hurt?”

  “I just do,” I said softly, meeting her gaze.

  She didn’t say anything after that, but I sensed something changed. Her attitude was different. “If this is two weeks off, I don’t have to go yet. I can help you a little longer.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I can take care of myself, remember. When the time comes to leave, I’ll leave. Until then, what do you want me to do?”

  I sat back in my chair. “We need to know more about D’Onifrio. There has to be a chink in his armor somewhere. Something we can use to stir things up.”