by Sharon Sala
“I’m going to get my hair done,” she said.
Charlie checked out her appearance. It was perfect, as always.
“You already look good,” he said.
Tiny beamed and threw her arms around Charles Bartlett’s neck.
“I do love you, Charlie Bartlett.”
He pulled her down on his lap and kissed her thoroughly, just to remind himself that there was more to life than business.
Tiny was giggling as she left him to his work, unaware that Charles Bartlett’s expression had turned into a frown. He didn’t want to go to Moira Blake’s, but turning her down was not an option. She and Tiny were best friends, so that was that. However, sitting down to dinner with Silk DeMarco was the last thing he wanted to do. They’d come from the same side of town, and while they’d both done well for themselves, Charles did not like to be reminded of his past. There were too many skeletons in that closet for him to ever want them disturbed.
It was two minutes past two when the doorbell rang again, and Tony was already moving toward it. He’d seen the old car coming up the driveway and recognized it from before.
“Maury, you made good time,” Tony said, as the tiny, stoop-shouldered man walked into the foyer.
“Drove all night,” Maury said, eyeing the house and the furnishings; then he looked at Tony and grinned. “Nice digs, Silk.”
At that point Sarah came into the room. Maury looked past Tony to the woman and added, “Nice view, too.”
“Ease up, Maury, she’s not only off-limits, she’s out of your league.”
Sarah resisted the urge to shudder. The man wasn’t at all what she’d expected. His manner was almost disrespectful, and his appearance was absolutely disgusting.
Tony saw the look on Sarah’s face and knew what she was thinking. Truthfully, he’d thought the same thing the first time they’d been introduced, but Maury Overstreet was a genius at what he did, and because of that trait alone, Tony used him and nobody else.
Maury grinned at Sarah, then shrugged. “Can’t blame a man for trying, now can you, doll?”
Sarah’s eyebrows arched halfway to her hairline.
“Doll? Doll?” She looked at Tony. “Where did you find him? The Twilight Zone?”
Maury slapped his leg and laughed out loud.
“Damn, Silk…I’m thinking this one might be more than you can handle.”
“You let me worry about that,” Tony said. “Just be nice, you hear? She’s had a week of hell and doesn’t deserve any more grief.”
Almost immediately, the too-familiar leer on the little man’s face disappeared.
“I’m real sorry, lady,” he said. “Didn’t mean no disrespect.”
“None taken,” Sarah said, and then looked to Tony. “There’s fresh coffee. Do you want—”
“Thank you, Sarah, but you do not wait on me, understand?”
“I’ve got to do something or go nuts,” Sarah said. “Understand? So do you want coffee or not?”
Tony grinned. “Absolutely, and while you’re at it, bring a couple of those apple cinnamon muffins you made this morning. Maury has a sweet tooth.”
Maury’s beady eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he looked from Sarah to Tony. He started grinning at Tony as Sarah left the room.
“She’s cooking for you an’ everything, huh?”
Tony pointed a finger in Maury’s face. “Don’t start with me, Maury. Hang your coat on the hall tree and then follow me. I’ll give you everything we know.”
Suddenly Maury was all business. He took off his coat and began fidgeting with the collar of his business suit, which was almost thirty years old and a midnight-blue polyester, as he followed Tony into the library.
By the time Sarah came in with a tray of coffee and muffins, the little man was in his shirtsleeves and taking notes as efficiently as the most proficient secretary.
“Have a seat,” Tony said, and then handed Sarah’s cup of coffee to her. “Maury has some questions he needs to ask.”
Sarah nodded.
“I know you were a kid when this all went down,” Maury said. “Still, kids always know more than they think, okay?”
“Okay,” Sarah said.
“First…I need to know that you didn’t bring none of this with you. You got any baggage back in New Orleans that you ain’t mentioned?”
Sarah stared at the man as if he’d just lost his mind.
“Excuse me?”
Tony resisted the urge to laugh. “He’s just covering all the bases, honey. What he means is, did you have trouble in New Orleans previous to coming here? Was someone hassling you there?”
“Absolutely not,” Sarah said, indignation rich in her voice. “I’m a responsible person, Mr. Overstreet. I own a successful business. I pay my taxes and go to church every Sunday.”
“Yeah…so did John Gotti…didn’t mean he was no saint,” Maury said.
Sarah hid a smile. She was beginning to see what Tony saw in the fellow. He was as persistent as a bulldog, even if his delivery left something to be desired.
“Okay, point taken,” she said. “And I’m sorry. Ask anything. I will answer as truthfully and honestly as I know how.”
Maury took a bite of one of the muffins as he made a couple of notes, then looked up at Sarah, swallowed and groaned.
“Man alive, lady, you sure can cook. You say you run a restaurant?”
“Yes.”
Maury looked at Tony. “Don’t let this one get away, Silk. Even if she loses her looks and figure, you’ll always have the food to make up for it.”
Sarah’s mouth dropped. For a moment she didn’t know what to say—until she looked at Tony. He appeared to be alternating between the urge to throttle Maury and laugh. Enjoying his discomfort, she couldn’t help adding, “Yeah, Silk…even if I go to hell physically, I’ll make sure you always get fed real good.”
Tony glared at them both as his cheeks turned bright red.
“Shut up. Both of you.”
Sarah grinned. Maury took another bite of muffin and rolled his eyes in ecstasy.
“Ask the damn question,” Tony said.
Maury dusted the cinnamon sugar from his fingers and picked up his pen.
“Yeah, right. Okay…uh…so we’re assuming the trouble started when your old man’s bones was found in the lake?”
Sarah flinched. It was the truth, no matter how crudely put.
“Yes, that and the fact that I said I wasn’t leaving until the person who killed my father was found.”
Maury’s eyes widened with new appreciation.
“Damn, Silk…she’s more like you than I—”
“Maury, so help me God…if you don’t stuff the commentary, you’re going to find yourself working this blind.”
Maury nodded quickly. He hated working a cold case worse than anything, and Tony knew.
“Didn’t mean nothing by it,” he said, and polished off the muffin, washing it down with a big gulp of coffee, then rechecked his notes.
“So, you were ten when the money disappeared from the bank, right?”
Sarah nodded.
“Your mother…what did she say to you about it? What did she do when your old man didn’t come home?”
Sarah stiffened noticeably. This was no longer fun.
“She said Daddy was innocent, then, about two months later, she cut her wrists, crawled into bed and bled to death.”
Tony flinched at the cold, expressionless tone in her voice. Even Maury was affected as he tried to imagine a ten-year-old kid finding something like that. He made a couple of notes and quickly moved on without comment.
“About this calendar,” he said, and picked up the calendar the deputy had returned that morning. “What can you tell me about your father’s whereabouts during this time?”
“Nothing,” she said. “I was ten. He was my daddy. He went to work at the bank. He came home around five. My world was home and school and the block where I lived. I was unaware of any meetings he might or
might not have had during the day. However, I do know that his meetings at the Moose Lodge were always at night, so the references to Moose at 1:00 p.m. make no sense to me.”
“No prob,” he said. “I’ll find out what it means.”
Sarah stared at him. “Just like that? Twenty years and no earthly idea as to where to start first, and you think you can find out?”
Maury shrugged. “It’s what I do.”
“Now you see why he works for me,” Tony said.
Maury nodded, while eyeing the last muffin. “Anybody gonna eat that last muffin?”
“Help yourself,” Tony said.
And the interview proceeded.
About an hour later, Maury left, but not before he’d tried making one last pass at Sarah. Maury was out the door and heading down the driveway before Sarah found her voice.
“My God, Tony! Where did you find him?”
“Jail.”
She stared at him for a moment, then held up her hands.
“Information overload,” she muttered.
“You asked.”
“Sorry. Next time, remind me to curb my curiosity.”
“And when I do, remember it was at your request.”
Sarah grinned, then punched Tony on the arm. He grabbed her before she could move, swung her off her feet and kissed her soundly.
“Remember that, too,” Tony said, then put her down. “I know this is exhausting for you, baby, but let me help. Don’t shut me out.”
Sarah stood for a moment, trying to find the right words. Finally she just blurted out what she was thinking.
“We’ve done this all so fast,” she said.
“Are you sorry?”
She hesitated briefly. “No. How could I be sorry for the most beautiful, passionate night of my life?”
“It wasn’t about sex,” Tony said. “Not for me.”
“That’s just it,” Sarah said. “How could it be anything else? No one falls in love in less than a week.”
“Who said?” Tony asked. “Besides, I think I’ve been falling in love with you forever. You were quite a knockout at ten, remember?”
She grinned. “You are so full of it. I remember looking in the mirror and thinking that my eyes were too big, and my hair was too straight.”
“I’ve always been partial to owls.”
She laughed aloud and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Lord help me, how can I resist such a sweet-talking man?”
“Don’t try,” Tony said. “And don’t think about how long we’ve been together. Think about how many years we have left.”
Sarah shook her head. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, and trust me, when this is all over, you’ll thank me, scurry back to Chicago and forget you ever knew me.”
The smile died in Tony’s eyes. “That’s never going to happen.”
Before she could respond, the phone rang. Tony brushed the back of his hand against her cheek and went to answer it, leaving her with both the touch and the taste of him on her skin.
Moments later, he was calling her name,
“Sarah, it’s your aunt for you.”
Sarah raced to the phone. “Aunt Lorett! Where are you? Are you already here?”
“No, ma chère, I will not be coming until tomorrow.”
Sarah tried not to let the disappointment show in her voice, but it was hard.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
“No. Michelle was in a car accident. She was bruised only slightly, but she’s very shaken. I am with her until Francois arrives.”
“Oh no! I am so sorry,” Sarah said. “Please give her my love and tell her I’ll pray for her swift recovery.”
“Oui, I will tell her that,” Lorett said. She added, “You are okay?”
“Oh yes, I’m fine, Aunt Lorett. Don’t worry about me. Tony has hired bodyguards and extra security for the grounds, as well as put a private investigator on the case. Actually, I’m sorry I asked you to come. You should stay there and be with your daughter.”
“You, too, are my daughter, Sarah Jane. I will be there tomorrow. Know that.”
Sarah’s eyes filled, but with joy, not sadness.
“Thank you, Aunt Lorett. You are so precious to me.”
“As precious as that pretty man who stands beside you?”
Sarah blinked. Even though she was used to her aunt’s unusual skills, she was still surprised from time to time.
“How do you know what he looks like?”
Lorett laughed abruptly. “I looked him up on the Internet. There was an article on him and his nightclub in some fancy magazine. I suspect the picture did not do him justice.”
Sarah laughed. “You are such a wretch.”
“I have been called worse. Now stay beside that man and do not venture out alone.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I will see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Do not mock me, Sarah Jane. You are never too old to scold.”
Sarah smiled. “I would never mock you, Aunt Lorett. You might turn me into a toad.”
Lorett Boudreaux’s laugh came through the phone line loud and clear, and then she hung up.
“Something wrong?” Tony asked.
“Aunt Lorett’s youngest daughter, Michelle, was in an accident. She’s not hurt seriously, but pretty shaken up. Aunt Lorett is staying with Michelle until her husband, Francois returns.”
“Where is he?”
“Probably on a plane somewhere between New York and Los Angeles.”
“What does he do?”
“Plays professional football for the New Orleans Saints. But he’s supposed to be home sometime today. As soon as he gets there, Aunt Lorett will leave to come here.”
“Are you disappointed?”
Sarah was a little surprised by his perception.
“I thought I was going to be, until she told me why she couldn’t come. Tragedy always puts everything into perspective.” Then she added, “Besides, Aunt Lorett says to stay close to you.”
Interest spread quickly across his face. “What else did she say about me?”
“Well…she called you a pretty boy.”
He almost blushed. “Damn. Can she tell what someone looks like just from listening to their voice?”
“No. She did a little investigating on her own. Looked you up on the Internet.”
“The hell you say,” Tony muttered. “I didn’t even know I was there.”
“Something about some article on you and your nightclub.”
“I’ll be damned,” Tony said, and grinned. “She’s a pistol, isn’t she?”
“Oh, you have no idea…but you’re going to find out.”
“Should I be worried?”
Sarah looked up at him, studying the face that was coming to mean so much to her.
“I don’t know. Should you?”
Tony touched her face, then her hair. “As long as she doesn’t get between me and what I feel for you, we’ll get along fine.”
Even as Sarah was lifting her face for his kiss, she knew she should be keeping an emotional distance, at least until the drama of her life settled down. She’d been taught from an early age to say no to drugs and smoking, to drinking and driving. But no one had ever taught her how to say no to a man like Silk.
Thirteen
The bodyguards and the men who would be in charge of security on the property arrived around four. Sarah got a quick introduction to two very large, beefy bodyguards with big chests and no necks who went by the names of Dunn and Farley. Privately she thought their names sounded like a law office and realized that, unlike Maury Overstreet, they saw her as nothing but a job to be done. The security guards spoke briefly to Tony and then disappeared into the woods as Tony showed Dunn and Farley to a room downstairs. It had a sitting area, a television that they probably wouldn’t be watching, and a couple of beds. From the way they settled in, Sarah suspected they’d done this countless
times before. She also found out that nothing was expected of her except to go about her business as if they were invisible. It seemed an impossible task, considering the fact that they weighed a good five hundred pounds plus between them, but she was willing to give it a try.
When Tony and Sarah started over to Moira Blake’s for dinner that night, she got the giggles, picturing the expressions on the guests’ faces when they arrived with Frick and Frack in tow.
Tony let her joke about the men behind them in a second car, because he would rather she see the humor in the situation than the danger that really existed.
“I can’t imagine what she’s going to say,” Sarah said, as they pulled up in front of Moira’s house.
“Probably nothing. She’s quite a lady. I’d expect her to welcome them in without a hitch, although I’d give a lot to know what she’s thinking as she does.”
Sarah smiled. “Yes, imagine trying to fill up two men their size.”
“They’re on duty. They won’t be eating,” Tony said.
“That seems mean,” Sarah said.
“Trust me. They probably wouldn’t eat what she’s serving, anyway.”
“Why?”
“Because except for the steroids I’m pretty sure they’re on, they’re both health-food fanatics.”
“Really?” Sarah said, intrigued in spite of herself, as Dunn opened the car door for her, while Farley stood watch, searching the tree line beyond the Blake yard.
When they turned around, Moira was in the doorway. Although she was a bit taken aback by the presence of two human behemoths, she welcomed them graciously.
“I’m sorry your aunt was delayed. However, I’m so glad you could come. As you can tell by the array of vehicles outside, everyone else is here, anxiously awaiting your arrival.”
“These gentlemen will not be dining with us,” Tony said, and stifled a grin when a very relieved expression spread across Moira’s face.
“I hope we’re not late,” Sarah said, as Dunn and Farley made themselves scarce. “You did say eight?”
Moira put her arm around Sarah’s shoulders as she led her to the living room, where the guests were having cocktails.
“You’re right on time,” she said. “The others are regulars at my dinner parties, and I secretly suspect they like my appetizers better than my entrées.”
