We were at St. Mark’s. I started looking for a parking place. “What if he doesn’t come? What if they don’t?”
“Are you kidding me? The Foundation told me they’d do media promotion for the event. D’Onifrio would look like an ingrate if he didn’t attend. If he attends, I’ll bet the rest of them do, too.”
I pulled over to the curb, parked the car. “I’m impressed. I’ve been thinking about this for days and haven’t come up with anything. You work on it for a day and come up with something brilliant.”
She looked over at me. “Thank you.” Her expression said the compliment pleased her.
We talked about the details of making her plan work as we walked the block and a half to St. Mark’s. We found seats together in the back, continued talking.
“Oh, my God! Look at her,” Tory said, glancing at the entrance.
Chapter 39
Fish and Janet had just made their entrance, and what an entrance it was.
She had on a white silk blouse, open at the throat. The way the silk moved revealed that she wasn’t wearing anything under it. With it, she wore a short, short beige skirt. I wondered if she had anything on under that. I had a feeling that when she sat down, half the room would find out.
Fish had her on his arm, a shit-eating grin on his face. Maybe he already knew the answer. He had on a garish-looking Hawaiian shirt—lots of palm trees and hula girls—tan slacks, sandals.
“Can you believe how she’s dressed?” Tory whispered. “She might as well not be wearing any clothes.”
“I can’t believe how our boy is dressed. Where did that shirt come from?”
She winced. “From his place. I told him not to bring it. He insisted.”
“It’s got hula girls on it.”
“I know.”
“Someone worth ten million dollars wouldn’t wear a shirt with hula girls on it. Jimmy Buffett might. Warren Buffett wouldn’t.”
“Would it make any difference if I told you he has worse?”
“Impossible.”
She gave a throaty little laugh. “Believe me, it’s true. Nobody’s looking at him, though; they’re all looking at her.”
I looked around the room. She was right. Everyone was staring.
Our chubby moderator was aware of that, too. He stroked his beard nervously several times, cleared his throat loudly. “Everybody, please take seats. We’ll get going in just a minute.”
People began finding seats and the staring lessened. Within minutes, the meeting was in session, a steady procession of folks making their way to the podium to testify. As they droned on and on, I felt myself getting drowsy.
An elbow bought me back to reality. “This is winding up,” Tory said quietly. “Let’s beat the crowd.”
We got up and went out the door. “Good idea,” I told her as we walked to the car. “They don’t need to see us here and at the restaurant.”
Marina Jack’s was only a short drive away. Located right on the edge of town, surrounded by boats anchored in the Bay, it was particularly picturesque.
The host must have liked Tory. The table he took us to was perfect. On one side, we had a view of the marina. On the other, we had an unobstructed view of the room. No matter which table Fish and Janet had, we’d be able to observe them.
“Can I start you off with something to drink?” our waiter wanted to know.
“Glass of wine to celebrate your great idea?” I suggested to Tory.
She nodded. “Sounds good.” She looked at the waiter. “A white wine—something dry.”
“Make it two,” I added.
He left. I watched the door.
“Don’t worry. They should be right behind us.”
They weren’t.
Ten minutes passed. Twenty minutes passed. When half an hour had gone by, I decided they’d gone somewhere else.
“Relax. He said she wanted to come here,” Tory said although she was intently watching the door, too.
Forty-five minutes had gone by when the door opened and they walked in. Here, too, Janet’s outfit had people looking. I watched as the maitre d’ escorted them to a secluded table where she wouldn’t draw too much attention.
Once they were seated, I relaxed a little bit. Tory seemed more agitated.
“Something wrong?”
“No,” she said softly.
She could deny it, but something was bothering her. “Did I do something?”
She shook her head, seemed flustered. “It’s this restaurant.”
“Bad meal?”
“Bad memories. This is where I told my husband I wanted a divorce after I found out he was having an affair.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” I signaled for the waiter. “We’ll go.”
“No, she said quickly. “I’ll be fine. I didn’t think it would still bother me. Maybe it was all the waiting. Let’s just eat and get out of here.”
Fish seemed to be in a hurry, too. He asked for the check almost before Janet finished her meal and rushed her after dinner coffee. I had a feeling he was anxious to get to Janet’s place for dessert.
“I think they’re getting ready to depart,” I said.
“I’m ready if you are.”
I got our check, paid quickly in cash, and we left ahead of them. From the Saab, we watched them play kissy face in the parking lot on the way to Fish’s car. When they reached the car, Janet leaned languidly against the rear fender while Fish unlocked and opened her door for her. Instead of getting in, Janet put her arm around his neck and pulled him to her. Fish pressed his body hard against hers, did a few pelvic thrusts.
Tory saw it, too. “Good thing you didn’t lease him a Lincoln Town Car.”
The clinch broke, and she got in. Fish closed her door and walked around to the driver’s side. Even from where we were, we could see the bulge in his pants.
“The way she’s dressed, the way he’s acting, I have trouble thinking she’s going to be able to hold him off,” I said as I put the car in gear. I pulled out of the parking space, prepared to follow them.
“That’ll certainly make Frankie happy. When I talked to him about what they were doing tonight, all he wanted to talk about was the best way to get her into bed.”
They pulled out of the parking lot into traffic. I followed about six or seven car lengths back. We were only about twenty minutes from where she lived. At the speed Fish was driving, it didn’t take long. He was there in ten.
From a block away, we watched as he pulled into her drive, got out of the car, opened her door, and escorted her up the walk to the front door. She used her key and they went inside.
“Think they’re tearing each other’s clothes off in there?” Tory asked.
“Scary thought,” I said. Headlights illuminated the interior of the Saab. “Get down,” I ordered.
The car passed us, turned into Janet’s driveway, and parked next to Fish’s Mercedes. We sat back up.
“Who’s that?” Tory wanted to know.
The driver’s door opened, and a dark-haired man got out. “Nevitt.”
“What do you think he’s doing here?”
Nevitt looked at Fish’s Mercedes, strode quickly to the front door, rang the bell, and waited.
“My guess is he’s here to provide coitus interruptus.”
Nevitt rang the bell again. The door finally opened. Looked to me like Janet was wearing a robe. Nevitt stepped in and the door closed again.
“Now what?” Tory wanted to know.
I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t expected Nevitt to show up. Judging by the way he’d arrived right after they’d gone in the house, this had to be arranged, and it had to have a purpose other than keeping Fish from boinking Janet. I just couldn’t figure out a good reason for forcing a meeting like this.
“Now we wait,” I said.
We didn’t have to wait long. No more than five minutes passed before the front door opened and Fish strode angrily down the walk to his car. From the doorway, Janet waved good-bye.
Fish backed recklessly out of the driveway, gave her a quick wave, and sped down the street.
We followed him to the Sovereign, found him chugging a beer in the kitchen. He finished that one, chugged another, looked over at us, his eyes wild.
“Frankie, what happened?” Tory asked, obviously concerned.
“Hell if I know. She’s got her hand in my pants on the ride to her place. We get to her place, go inside, she takes off her blouse, starts rubbing up against me with those big breasts.” He threw up his hands. “The damn doorbell rings. I tell her to forget about it. But no, she puts on this robe that was on the sofa and answers it.”
“She just happened to have a robe right there?”
His jowls went down, his version of a frown. “She lets in this guy she introduces as her brother, Greg Nevitt. He congratulates me on the engagement, tells me he’s an attorney, wants to know if he can help. Help? The only help I need is for him to leave. I say no, everything’s wonderful, thanks for stopping by. He don’t take the hint. He says he knows paperwork can delay things and if there was any paperwork holding things up, he’d be glad to expedite it. Again I say no, everything’s wonderful, thanks for stopping by. Turns to Janet, says he needs to talk to her about some family matters. She gives me a peck on the cheek, tells me to be a dear and call her tomorrow. Instead of getting screwed, I get screwed over.”
“Frankie, remember? I told you tonight wasn’t going to be the night,” Tory said.
Fish’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, but she was telling me different. Then boom, she cuts me off, right at the balls.”
It was pretty obvious that this whole little encounter had been staged to smoke out whether Fish wanted a prenup. That had to be the paperwork Nevitt was referring to. “What date did you and Janet end up setting?”
“Friday. Next week.”
I’d expected him to say this Friday or Saturday. “She couldn’t do it this weekend?”
“I don’t know. I asked her for next Friday.”
“We talked about this Friday or Saturday,” Tory said, reminding him.
“That don’t matter. The boss told me the date is next Friday.”
“D’Onifrio told you?”
Fish nodded.
“Why then?” Tory wanted to know.
Fish shrugged.
I knew. D’Onifrio had timed the wedding for two days after Enrico’s arrival. I viewed it as confirmation of Raines’ theory that D’Onifrio had gone along with my wedding idea because it fit into his plans with Enrico. Which meant the other part of Raines’ theory might be accurate as well.
D’Onifrio was planning on grabbing me at the wedding.
Chapter 40
At nine the next day, Tory came to the tin can and worked the phone from desk three. Posing again as Oliva Lopez—mother of a child who had benefited from D’Onifrio’s help—she re-contacted the Foundation for Latina Speech and Hearing Services in Miami and spoke with Executive Director, Bill Perez.
While they talked, I wrote a document that detailed Joe’s theft, how long it had gone undetected, that it hadn’t been repaid. I made the document as sensational as possible. What I didn’t know or wasn’t quite sure about, I made up.
After a lengthy conversation with Perez, Tory hung up, looked over at me. “Good news and bad news. The bad news is they can’t do it next Thursday. They can’t quite put it together that fast, and even if they could, several of their key people have other commitments for that particular night.”
That was bad news. I was working on the assumption that D’Onifrio was going to grab me at the wedding, serve me up to Enrico. I wanted the awards ceremony before the wedding to preempt D’Onifrio and serve him to Enrico.
“Bill said Friday night would be the best for them. I know that’s the same day as the wedding, but here’s the good news. If it’s Friday, he can hold this at Asolo.”
I was impressed. The Asolo Theatre was a 500-seat turn-of-the-century opera house built in Dunfermline, Scotland, and reconstructed in the Ringling Museum. In season, it was home for a repertory company whose performances ranged from classics to new plays. “The Asolo’s a lot more upscale than a meeting room at the Holiday Inn.”
She smiled. “You know when I first mentioned the idea that D’Onifrio might accept the award if it was presented here in Sarasota, Bill jumped on it. He doesn’t think small. He has a Miami Spanish-speaking television station broadcasting the event and wants to do public service announcements in Tampa, Orlando, Miami, and Sarasota. Said he’d have something ready to air by tomorrow.”
“What time on Friday? Did he say?”
“Seven. The wedding should be over by then.”
Seven would work. I wasn’t concerned about the time of the wedding. No matter when it was, I wouldn’t be anywhere near it. “What did he say about contacting the guest of honor?”
She grinned. “You’ll love this. I told him D’Onifrio refused the award before because he didn’t want to seem immodest. I said he might tell them again he didn’t want it, but he really did. Bill said he could bring enough peer pressure on D’Onifrio that he wouldn’t refuse. He’s going to call him today, call me back when he has a confirmation.”
“Think Bill can get him there?”
“He sounded pretty confident. They’re planning on putting on the presentation whether D’Onifrio is there to accept his award in person or not. I gather when they broadcast something like this, donations go through the roof.” She looked over at my computer. “How’s the write-up coming?”
I printed it out for her. Let her read it over. We were making revisions when Rosemary said, “Bill Perez on line three for Oliva.”
Tory’s gaze met mine as she picked up the receiver, put it to her ear. “This is Oliva.” She listened for a moment, smiled. “I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon, Bill.” More listening. “He did.” She nodded her head. “Fantastic.” More listening. “Definitely. We’ll stay in touch.” More listening. “You know I’m more than willing to help. Thanks, Bill. ‘Bye.” She hung up. “He accepted. Didn’t protest a bit. Bill says he’s looking forward to it.”
What did that mean? This was contrary to the ruthless image he was trying to establish. He shouldn’t have agreed, much less so easily.
Tory’s cell rang. She reached in her black handbag, pulled it out, looked at the caller number. “Frankie,” she said to me. She put the phone to her ear. “This is Tory.”
Even across the trailer, I heard her phone emitting low foghorn rumblings.
“Tell her it’s coming.” More rumbling. “She’s messing with your mind, Frankie. You can’t demonstrate your love every minute of every day. We’ve got eight long days to go before the wedding.” More rumbling. “We’ll work on it. I’ll call you back.” She hung up, shook her head, smiled. “This woman is good. She’s got Frankie thinking she’s going to call off the marriage because he hasn’t given her a ring yet.”
“As soon as she gets the ring, she’ll want to know about the honeymoon. As soon as she knows about the honeymoon, she’ll want to know about the house. Every day until the wedding, it’ll be something, some demand,” I said.
“Disgusting.”
“I agree. But what else can we do?”
“What if we don’t do anything? Pitting Enrico and the nephews against D’Onifrio is the important thing. The wedding has become incidental.”
She tilted her head, frowned. “I don’t think it’s quite that simple. The wedding is the way D’Onifrio thinks he’s going to get his money back. If the wedding gets called off, or if Frankie feels like we’re not supporting him, D’Onifrio’s going to hear about it, and he’s going to come after you.” She shook her head. “The wedding has to happen.”
From the front of the trailer, Rosemary said, “I agree with Tory, Matt. If you change direction now, it’s going to look like you’re up to something. Better to lull them along.”
What they said made sense. Maybe instead of viewing Fish as a liabil
ity, I should be looking at him as an asset. He obviously talked to D’Onifrio from time to time. Maybe we could use him to gain and plant information. I looked at Tory. “I guess we need to come up with a ring.”
She smiled. “Yes, we do. And not just any ring. Remember, you set it up as Frankie’s sainted Mother’s ring.”
I nodded, remembering, “An antique ring.” I thumbed through my rolodex, found the number for Luis Santoro, dialed. One of the sales staff answered and I asked for Luis.
He came on the line. “Hello, my friend. How have you been?” His voice was soft, musical, with just a touch of an accent.
“I’m good, Luis. Thanks for asking. I’m calling with an unusual request.”
“Ah, I was hoping you were calling about playing golf.”
“Actually, I’m looking for an antique wedding ring.”
I heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “Congratulations, my friend. I had no idea. Of course, you were right to call me. I have the best, you know. Unfortunately, I must be away for an appraisal this afternoon. Will this keep until tomorrow? Or do you wish to meet me at the store this evening?”
“Tomorrow’s fine, Luis.”
“It would be my great pleasure. Your lady friend, she will be with you, yes?”
I looked over at Tory. “Yes, I believe she’ll be with me. What’s a good time to meet you, Luis?”
“Would two o’clock be acceptable?”
“Perfect.”
“What did you tell him?” Tory wanted to know as soon as I hung up.
“It’s what I didn’t tell him. He thinks the ring is for me.” I smiled. “I didn’t correct him because, well, it’s too complicated for one thing. For another, I’ll probably get a better deal this way.”
She eyed me skeptically. “What else?”
“He asked if my fiancé would be accompanying me.”
She got a smug look on her face. “And let me guess what lucky girl might get to play that part.”
“You win,” I said, smiling broadly.
“It’s the part of a lifetime, right?”
Jay Giles Page 19
