“No, I know it wasn’t in the historic district. She said it was somewhere south of that. What’s wrong?”
I bit my lip. “Nothing, I just wondered what time she’d be back.” I glanced at my watch. “I guess she didn’t say, did she?”
“Afraid not.” A little flicker of fear crossed Lark’s face; she’d picked up on the distress signals in my voice. “Why didn’t I ask her? What was I thinking? I never should have let her drive to Miami alone.”
“Hey, Lark, don’t be silly.” I forced a little chuckle into my voice. “Why should you sit on a folding chair for three hours while Mom waits her turn to say four lines? That’s usually how these things turn out. She’s probably on her way home by now, anyway.” But Lola hadn’t called and left a message here at the condo. She always lets us know if she’s going to be home for dinner, so what was different about today? “She probably got tied up in traffic on A1A coming back from the studio. That’s always a possibility. “
“The audition wasn’t in a studio,” Lark said slowly. “I think she said it was in a warehouse.”
A warehouse? Okay, now I was in full-throttle panic mode. A tangle of fear and anxiety gripped my mind and I drew in a deep breath.
Lark gave me the briefest of sideways glances. “Do you think we should call Rafe?”
I nodded. “You read my mind.”
I had my cell phone with me, out on the balcony. I flipped it open and at that very moment, it gave a shrill ring. I was so startled I nearly dropped it.
“Maggie, thank God I reached you!” It was Mom, clearly on the edge of hysteria, her voice coming in ragged gasps.
“Where are you?” I was already on my feet. “Are you all right?” A silly question. She was clearly not all right. Pugsley began running in nervous circles around my ankles. Even he sensed the tension in the air and he gave a series of nervous yips, his eyes bulging.
“Yes. No. I don’t know; I’m not making sense, am I?” She gave a high-pitched laugh that ended in a sob. She sounded as though she was on the brink of hysteria.
“Mom, calm down. Take a deep breath.” I forced my own voice down an octave, like I used to do with my patients when they were in crisis. I walked into the living room and grabbed a notepad. “Just give me an address and I’ll be there. Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m okay,” she said, her voice quavering. “But it’s a miracle I’m still alive. I was nearly killed today.”
“Nearly killed?”
“Maggie, someone shot at me! I was just lucky they missed. Why would anyone do that to me?” The question ended in another gut-wrenching sob and my heart went out to her.
“Tell me exactly where you are, and I’ll tell you what to do,” I said grimly. With a trembling hand, I copied down the address she gave me. It was in south Miami. My worst fears had come true. Whoever had told me to “back off” clearly meant business. This was no prank. My heart felt like I’d just completed the last leg of a triathlon and my palms were slick.
I forced myself to take another deep breath and put down the phone while I clicked on Google satellite maps. I found Lola’s location immediately. I didn’t like the looks of the area. She needed to get to a safe location—fast.
“Mom, this is what I want you to do.” I ordered her to lock her car doors and told her to drive three miles north. That would bring her back into the southernmost edge of the historic district where there would be plenty of people. “You’re pretty close to Dolce Vita; remember that gelato place we went to?”
“Yes, I remember.” Her voice was still strained, but she seemed a little calmer.
“I’ll meet you there. I’m leaving now and I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
“Maggie, this is silly. I think I’m probably okay to drive home—”
I cut her off. “Drive back home? No way. It’s too far and you’re going to have to be available when the police check out the warehouse.” I paused, thinking . . . “Mom, the main thing right now is for you to be safe. I want you to get away from the warehouse, do you understand me?”
In a little-girl voice, she assured me that she would do exactly as I asked her. Lola, who prided herself on being a “tough old broad,” sounded frightened, and more than a little vulnerable.
I guess being shot at will have that effect on you.
I whirled around to Lark, who was standing in the doorway to the balcony, looking stunned. “What happened? What can I do? Do you want me to go with you?”
“I’ll explain it all later, but right now I need you to stay here. Call Rafe, and give him this information.” I scribbled the address for Dolce Vita and grabbed my car keys. Goggle maps was still up on the screen. “Tell him to meet us at the gelato place and to alert the Miami Police to go there.” I pointed to the computer. “I’ll call you as soon as I get there.”
“I feel terrible,” she began. “This is all my fault.”
“Lark, don’t be silly.” I smiled with more confidence than I felt. “Lola will be fine, but make that call now, okay?”
Chapter 29
I took a gamble and decided I-95 was the quickest way to get to Miami. For once, the traffic gods were with me—it seemed everyone was driving north out of the city at four thirty in the afternoon, and I made good time.
I zipped along in the left lane, with the radio tuned to an oldies station, concentrating on the words to a Robert Palmer song and willing myself to be calm. Addicted to love, addicted to love. I was repeating the lyrics over and over, softly under my breath, like a mantra. This was no time to fall apart, and I wished I’d learned some of Lark’s meditation techniques. She swears meditation “calms the mind” but she’s had years of practice. It’s not something you can just call on in a crisis and expect instant nirvana.
Stay cool, Maggie. I knew I had to be in control of my jangled nerves and I had no idea what was waiting for me in South Beach.
When I walked into Dolce Vita, my pulse jumped for a second—and then I saw her. A big whoosh of relief poured out of me. I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding my breath.
Lola was sitting at a back booth facing the door, looking pale and tired, but otherwise unscathed by her adventure. At least there were no obvious scrapes or bruises. She gave a wobbly smile when she saw me and managed a brave little wave. I hurried past the customers lining up for rainbow-colored gelato and pulled her close to me for a tight hug.
A wave of emotion body-slammed me.
“Thank God you’re all right,” I murmured. I slid into the booth, sitting across from her, my eyes focused on her face. Now that I was close to her, I saw that her blue eyes were red rimmed as if she’d been crying and she was clutching a wadded-up tissue in her hand. “Rafe is going to meet us here any minute. But in the meantime, tell me everything that happened. Lark said someone called you about an audition?”
“Yes, that’s how it all started.” She paused to dab at her eyes. “Well, what a surprise, there wasn’t any audition.” Her voice was a little shaky and she swallowed a couple of times. “I was such an idiot, Maggie. This guy called me out of the blue. He said he was a Hollywood producer, and you know me, I thought it was my big break.”
I couldn’t help but smile. It’s true. Lola thinks everything is going to be her big break.
“And he lured you to this—warehouse? Tell me exactly what he said.”
Lola nodded. “He said they were auditioning actresses for speaking roles in an indie film, a horror flick. He told me it was a lot like Death Watch and that I’d be a shoo-in for a major role.”
“He said that?” I was half listening, watching the street outside for any sign of Rafe. Something was nagging at the edges of my brain but I couldn’t quite bring it into focus.
“Yes, he did. He said he was planning on shooting in south Florida even though his company is based out in L.A. He made it sound like I’d be up for other parts, maybe even the lead role, in future productions. But it was very important that I come in today, because they had to make a dec
ision by tonight. And he didn’t want to go through Edgar. He was quite insistent about that.”
Okay, now I knew what was wrong. “Wait a minute. Back up. Why didn’t he want to go through Edgar?”
She looked puzzled, biting her lower lip. “I don’t know. He said that everything with Edgar was a big deal, that he was too slow to close a deal. Now that you mention it, it does seem a little strange.”
“It’s more than strange. It’s very suspicious.”
“Yes, you’re right; I should have picked up on that.” She shook her head, her eyes starting to tear up a little. “The timing was perfect. Hank told me this afternoon that he’d probably wind up filming in Cypress Grove in a day or two, so I figured it would be good to get another job lined up as soon as possible. And I can only rely on Edgar to do so much. He’s got over a hundred clients, so he can’t spend every minute thinking about me or my acting career.”
She paused while I ordered a couple of coffees from a waitress who’d materialized next to us.
“It makes sense to me, Mom. I can see why you fell for it.”
I glanced at my watch, wishing Rafe would show up and hoping he’d have the entire Miami PD with him. Or maybe a SWAT team.
I still didn’t have any concrete information about what happened to Mom, but I knew Rafe would ask all the right questions. We needed to get back to that warehouse, but we didn’t dare set foot in that place without the cops.
“No, really, what I did was inexcusable. It was incredibly stupid of me, wasn’t it?” Mom broke into my thoughts. “I can’t believe I didn’t take the time to check it out.”
“Well, you thought it was legit. You can’t blame yourself; you’re not psychic.”
“I was an idiot, Maggie.” She gave a derisive little snort. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it; I know I messed up.”
“Well, you’re okay; that’s the main thing.” I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. She looked haggard and washed-out under the harsh fluorescent lighting. “That’s what we should focus on, because that’s the only thing that matters. I know how excited you get when you hear about an audition.” I smiled at her. “You used to be the first one in line at those cattle calls, back in New York.”
It was true. And she used to drag me along with her. Funny, I vowed never to go after a career in show business and yet here I was, a talk show host at a tiny south Florida radio station. The bottom rung of the entertainment ladder, but I was still in show business, when all was said and done.
Maybe you can’t fight genetics, after all.
Lola gave a wistful smile. “Cattle calls. That’s exactly what they were. We were all young and hopeful, jammed together into a big room, waiting to do a three-minute reading for a producer. All of us were convinced this would be our big break, our entry into show business. Sometimes I wonder why I did it. Those were some crazy times.”
Mom seemed calmer, and I figured it was time to redirect her to the present before she tripped down memory lane. If you give her a chance, Mom will start talking about Woodstock and the Summer of Love and how she nearly met Jerry Garcia. (Then she’ll catch herself and tell you she was a toddler at the time.) “I bet you never ran into anything like this, though.”
“Oh, never. Absolutely not.” She rested her chin on her hand and looked lost in thought for a moment. Was she thinking about tie-dyes and flower children? Or was she reliving the scene in the warehouse?
On the phone, Mom had said that someone had tried to shoot her. That’s pretty black-and-white, not the kind of thing she would invent. But could she have been mistaken?
I wanted to hear about what happened in the warehouse, but I knew Mom needed to tell me in her own good time. There was no sense in rushing her; she’d been traumatized by the event and she needed time to process it.
“I wonder if I’ve gotten more careless lately?” She gave a wry little laugh. “All those years ago back in Manhattan”—she gave an impatient little flip of her hand—“I never would have fallen for something like this. This is the kind of mistake that only a newbie would make. Somebody really green and naive. So what does this say about me?” she asked ruefully. “That I’m not as smart and streetwise as I used to be? I hope I’m not getting old and foolish.”
“Old and foolish? Never.”
She grinned to let me know she didn’t believe it, either. “Well, maybe old and foolish is too harsh. How about ‘in her prime and ready for anything’?”
“Works for me,” I told her. Especially the part about being ready for anything.
“You’ll have to take the coffee with you,” a familiar male voice said. “We need to get moving right now and head back to the warehouse.”
Rafe. My heart did a grateful little flip-flop when I saw him. He was standing next to the booth, jiggling his car keys in his hand, tight-lipped, his expression grim. He had his cop face on, I decided, taking in his dark eyes and the muscle jumping in his tense jaw.
He looked poised like a panther, ready to spring. I realized I still hadn’t gotten any details from Mom, but now that Rafe was here, he could take over. I felt a surge of relief, knowing he could handle everything from here on in, dealing with the Miami police and checking out the warehouse. It was all in his hands.
“Are you okay, Lola?” His tone was brusque but I knew from the look on his face that he was concerned about her.
“I’m fine. I don’t know how I get myself into these things.”
“Did you get the guy’s name? It’s probably an alias, but we can check it out.”
“I’ll write it down for you.” She scribbled something on a napkin and handed it to him. Her face flushed with embarrassment. She was all set to launch into a major apology, but I stood up and grabbed my purse, signaling it was time to go.
“I have my car right outside, Rafe. I’ll take Mom with me and we can follow you.”
“Good, the Miami PD is already over there. That was smart to give the address from Lark. They sent a couple of patrol cars to the warehouse right away so they’ve probably had a chance to check things out. Let’s go and see what turned up. It should be interesting.”
“I can’t believe we’re going back there.” Mom gave a little shudder, and shot me an imploring look as we got into my Honda.
“If you want, you can stay in the car, but I really think Rafe needs you inside, okay? You’re going to have to tell him exactly what happened. Especially the part about being shot at. Just saying the word “shot” made me wince. “Do you think you’ll be able to do that?”
She bit her lip and fastened her seat belt. “I’ll do my best. This is no time to wuss out.”
Mom and I followed Rafe, and a few minutes later, we pulled up outside a boxy structure with a filthy gray facade and a flat cement roof. It looked like an abandoned chop shop and I raised my eyebrows. I couldn’t believe Mom actually had gone in here. What was she thinking?
“This is it?” I asked incredulously.
There were four windows facing the street. They were covered with years of grime, and like many buildings in that part of town, they had black security grilles over them. Security grilles? How could there be anything in there worth stealing? The place looked like it had been deserted for years. A broken cement sidewalk snaked up to the battered front door and the dusty front yard was littered with beer bottles and debris.
I spotted an empty Miami PD black-and-white pulled up at the curb and saw two cops coming out of the building. I wondered if I should get the okay from Rafe before getting out of my car.
“Mom, it looks like a crack house.”
“It looks a little better inside.” She cast me a sideways glance, her tone defensive.
“I’m not even sure we should go inside,” I muttered. “I can’t believe you went in there alone.” I’d warned myself not to sound judgmental, but it was hard not to, after seeing the place.
“Maggie, I’ve been to loads of auditions in bad areas. I figured it must be a low-budget outfit, that’s
all. It didn’t look dangerous to me, just run-down.”
I bit my tongue; there was no point in lecturing her. I was shocked, though. No one in their right mind would go into a place like this, even in the daytime.
Then I spotted Rafe talking to a couple of uniformed officers who were pointing and shaking their heads. I got out slowly, wondering what to do next when Rafe saw me and signaled me to join him. He introduced us to the two officers, Jiminez and Conrad, who stared at us with frank curiosity. I wondered what Rafe had told them about the situation.
“Okay, here’s the thing,” Rafe began. “They’ve already checked out the building and didn’t find anything. Lola, how about if you and I do a walk-through and you tell me exactly what happened?”
The three of us headed inside, with the Miami officers trailing along behind us. One of them was talking into a mike on his shoulder and I had the feeling they were winding things up, getting ready to leave.
The building looked deserted. The main room had a concrete floor and was nearly empty, containing only a couple of battered desks and an old file cabinet. There was a dingy hallway off to the right. It was paneled in some cheap imitation-wood material and the floor was covered with dirty linoleum.
“What’s down there?” Rafe asked, pointing to the hallway.
“The john,” Officer Jiminez said, making a face. “Believe me, you don’t want to go in there.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“A back door?”
“Yeah, but it’s double locked from the inside. It looks like it hasn’t been opened in years.” Jiminez took a quick peek at his watch. From the look on his face, he was dying to get out of here and get back to some real police work. Or maybe he just wanted to get a burger at Big Pink on Collins Avenue.
Rafe was right; there was nothing here. Had they even dusted for fingerprints? The whole place was so filthy it was hard to tell. I didn’t see any telltale white powder sprinkled anywhere. I glanced at Jiminez and Conrad, who were talking in low voices—it was obvious they’d given up on doing any real investigation here. There was no crime scene tape in place and none of those little cones they use on CSI to mark evidence.
Reel Murder Page 23
