"Get lost, Cin." His former, lighthearted tone was now tinged with irritation. His hand released mine and went around my waist, pulling me tightly against him. Then he leaned down and kissed my neck. "I've never seen such a clumsy dancer before. Something tells me that your talents must lie elsewhere."
His hand went toward my chest, and my instinctive reaction was to shriek and smack it away. My engagement ring caught his lip, and blood immediately began to gush from it. David let out a groan and brought a hand to his mouth.
"Ow! What the hell, Sugar!" A string of four-letter swear words popped out from between his blood-covered lips as he fell heavily back onto the couch. He grabbed a cocktail napkin and brought it to his mouth then lunged forward, his eyes dark and dangerous as they settled on me. He grabbed me tightly around the wrist, and I yelped in pain. "You're going to pay for that, you little tease."
In desperation, I fought to free myself as he shoved me to the floor and wrenched my arm behind my back. My voice was muffled as he pushed my face into the thick, foul-smelling carpeting. I struggled, but it was to no avail—the man was too strong for me. Josie let out a bloodcurdling yell like Tarzan, and David responded with an oof, releasing his hold on me. I rose from the floor in time to see David throw Josie off his back. Someone pounded on the door, and we all froze in response.
"Police. We're coming in." The voice sounded like it belonged to Adam.
David looked from me to Josie and muttered an expletive under his breath. "This was a setup." Without saying anything further, he picked up a chair and hurled it at the window. The glass shattered into a hundred pieces as he quickly grabbed a blanket off the couch and hoisted his almost naked body through the window frame. Josie and I each caught him around a bare, hairy leg.
"Get in here!" Josie screeched at Adam.
"You must have locked it when you came in," I said to her as we struggled. There was no time to unlock the door while we both tried to avoid being kicked in the face by gorilla man.
A loud thud sounded behind us, and the door flew open. Brian and Adam both entered the room with their guns drawn. "Freeze!" Adam said.
"He has the same tattoo on his wrist that Mike described—the cobra." I panted, still breathing heavy from my exertion.
Brian reached forward and, with one swift movement, jerked David out of the window and onto the floor. Before David could even attempt to move, Brian had cuffed his hands behind his back and Adam had started to read him his rights.
"What the hell's going on here? This club is legit. I pay for my drinks and the entertainment. Why are you arresting me?"
"Anything you say can and will be held against you." Adam put special emphasis on the word.
David ignored him and glowered at Josie and me. "These two should be arrested for impersonating strippers. Sugar here can't even dance without falling over."
Brian's mouth twitched slightly at the corners as he pulled David to his feet. "We're arresting you for armed robbery at the Colwestern Mini-Mart on March 23rd and the murder of Trevor Parks."
David cursed angrily under his breath. "I didn't shoot him. I didn't kill anyone. Honest."
His words stopped me cold. I remembered Mike saying that the shorter guy had been the one to shoot Trevor. I crouched next to him on the floor. "Did you shoot my husband?" I had to see his face as I asked the question.
"Sally." Brian held up a hand and gestured for me to move away. "Don't worry. We'll take it from here."
I continued to stare at David. Eyes that had been ogling me only minutes before now avoided me like the plague. "Answer me," I hissed.
"Come on, sweetheart." Josie wrapped an arm around me. "Brian will take care of this lowlife."
"I said I didn't kill anyone." David wouldn't look at me.
"Weren't you listening?" Adam asked sharply. "I just read you your rights." Without another word he lifted David to his feet and shoved him toward the main room of the bar.
Josie pointed at David's clothes on the couch. "He might get cold without those, Adam."
Adam draped the jacket around David's shoulders and picked up the rest of his clothes. A crowd of curious onlookers, Stony included, were elbowing each other at the bar for a peek into the private room.
"I'll put him in the car," Adam called over his shoulder to Brian. "Will you be long?"
Brian shook his head. "Give me a minute." He looked at me and then seemed to really see me for the very first time—or at least my outfit. His eyes narrowed as he took in the short, sheer skirt and my now cropped T-shirt then jerked his head up to meet my gaze. His cheeks were tinged a bright red. "What the hell have you got on?" he asked, sounding like my father.
The words made me even more self-conscious. In desperation, I reached for the leopard-striped throw blanket on the back of the matching couch and wrapped it around me before I could think twice about it. Maybe some women could carry this outfit off, like my mother, but I wasn't one of them.
Josie seemed to be enjoying this. "David Webb liked Sal," she told Brian. "He was dying for a lap dance."
"If you breathe a word of this to Mike, you're dead," I warned.
"At least we didn't have to wear the used G-strings," Josie said thoughtfully.
Brian looked at her like she had corn growing out of her ears, and then his eyes lowered to the short shorts she had on. He cleared his throat and stared at the television screen. Another mistake. A new porn flick had just come on. He quickly found the remote and, thankfully, shut it off. "I'm not sure how you ladies managed to get yourself into this mess, but then again, nothing surprises me where either of you are concerned."
"Aw, Brian," Josie teased. "What a lovely thing to say."
A muscle ticked in Brian's jaw. "Didn't you stop to think when you followed that guy in here that it might lead to something you weren't prepared to deal with? You both happen to be very attractive, and this is an entertainment venue—sort of. Women dance topless on the stage out there. Where did you think you were going—to a bake sale?"
Josie started to laugh hysterically while I nudged her in the side. Brian was still the law, and we were probably only one step away from being placed in handcuffs ourselves.
"We got a lead from Laura Pusatere—the woman Trevor helped build the house for," I explained. "She told me that a man named David Webb sold them the house and that he had mentioned another one he was building on Fairlawn Avenue."
"Sal and I drove over, and we saw a man who fit David's description showing a house—a for sale by owner," Josie continued. "When he got into his car, we decided to follow him. That's when I called you. We certainly didn't know he was coming here, Brian."
"You should have left it up to the police," Brian said.
I bit into my lower lip, trying to control my temper. "But you didn't even act like it was an emergency on the phone. And I was not going to risk losing this guy. I think I have an idea why he or his partner killed Trevor. Trevor must have been sitting on some money, and David's not leaving town until he gets his share."
"But why kill the guy if you don't even know where the money is?" Josie asked.
Brian broke in. "Well, he won't be setting foot in here again for a long time. If those fingerprints we lifted from the mini-mart match his, he's going to be spending a lot of quality years in a jail cell."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Since Josie and I were not allowed to be present while the police questioned David, I dropped her off at her house. Brian had promised to call me tonight and relay everything that happened, if I promised not to show up at the police station. Brian would not break the rules, even for me, and I certainly didn't expect him to. It was still sad to think about his leaving town, but if I asked him to reconsider, he might interpret it the wrong way.
When I arrived home, Grandma Rosa was putting supper on the table. The house smelled wonderful. She'd fixed a marvelous garden salad with balsamic dressing, a large platter of antipasto, homemade bread, pasta fagioli, and tiramisu for dessert.
Grandma Rosa rolled her eyes at me as I pecked her on the cheek. "Your husband is in the spare bedroom. He said he is doing some paperwork."
Uh-oh. I knew what he was really doing. With apprehension, I opened the door and peeked in. He was sitting at the desk, his ledger in front of him along with a pile of receipts. He was wearing jeans and nothing else. He even made an arm sling look sexy. His dark blue eyes bore into mine and didn't look happy. "I was wondering where you went," he said.
This wasn't the best time to tell him that I'd been temporarily employed at Bottoms Up for the afternoon and came close to being attacked by the Hulk himself. I'd save it for another time—maybe. I wrapped an arm around him and ran my fingers through his dark, unruly hair. "Sweetheart, you shouldn't be out of bed."
"That is what I told him," Grandma Rosa said from behind me. "He is a stubborn one. Dinner is ready when you two get done talking. Unless Mike would like to have his in bed."
He shook his head. "No thanks, Rosa. I can't take this lying down bit anymore."
Eight weeks of no work. I blew out a sigh. He was going to go crazy and probably drive me nuts in the process as well.
After Grandma Rosa had returned to the kitchen, Mike looked up at me, his jaw set in a determined lock. "I searched through all my records. From what I can figure, my so-called friend Trevor ripped us off for about fifty grand, including the money I got paid for the renovation job. This is going to hurt us big-time, Sal."
It was worse than I'd imagined, but I tried not to show my concern and pecked him softly on the lips. "Don't beat yourself up over this. It could have happened to anyone."
Mike banged his good hand down on the top of the desk with such force it made me jump. "I trusted that SOB," Mike said between gritted teeth. "There are very few people in this world I trust and look what it got me. Look what it's done for both of us."
"But it's not your fault," I protested.
He shook his head in disgust. "The way I figure—it must have all started when I was so consumed with getting that damned foundation done for the mansion before the first snowfall back in December. Remember?"
I nodded, recalling how on Christmas Eve he'd gotten home later than usual. I'd planned a romantic dinner for us with candles and hoped we'd enjoy a roaring fire, open our gifts, and spend the rest of the night in each other's arms. Mike had fallen asleep on the couch before any of that could take place.
"You were working around the clock. You can't keep track of everything." I'd offered to help him with the paperwork back then, but he'd assured me he was fine. Mike knew I had a lot going on as well, since Christmas was always a busy time for the bakery.
Mike closed his eyes. "I was stupid. I needed someone to rely on and wanted it to be Trevor. He arranged for deliveries to the sites and ordered parts for his personal use. Now that I look back, I remember scanning one invoice and thinking there was too much sheetrock. Then I got distracted with something else and forgot about it." He clenched his teeth in anger. "That jerk was padding my jobs."
My brow wrinkled. "I don't understand."
"He needed five pieces of sheetrock for that job," Mike explained. "I asked him about it, and he said it was a misprint—five, not fifty pieces. But I see now that I was charged for the fifty. He was helping himself to the extra and using it for his home sale projects with his buddy." He crumpled the sheet into a ball and threw it across the room. "Damn it. I should have been more careful."
It broke my heart to see him blame himself, but there was nothing I could do. My phone pinged from my back jeans pocket. I drew it out and glanced at the screen then sucked in a deep breath.
"More good news?" Mike asked.
"Actually, yes. The guy who shot you—his name is David Webb—was picked up this afternoon by the police. Brian texted me and said that they found a gun in his glove compartment. It matches the one used at the market."
"The guy with the cobra tattoo? Muscular build? How did they find him?" He stared up at me with suspicion etched into his face. My own must have been readable because he sighed. "You had something to do with it, didn't you?"
"Sort of." There was no way I was going to tell him about David Webb and his attempts to manhandle me. Even with one good arm, he'd be out of the chair and down to the police station in minutes. "Josie and I tailed him from another house that he's trying to sell."
"You mean another house that our money paid for," Mike said bitterly. "What about the little guy who killed Trevor? The one with the squeaky voice?"
"We don't know who or where he is yet. Hopefully David will make a full confession to Brian."
Mike slumped forward heavily in the chair. "I was stupid, Sal. So stupid. You married an idiot."
"Stop it!" I said angrily. "You're not stupid. You're hardworking, kind, and a beautiful man. I won't have you doing this to yourself. Trevor took advantage of us, and there were others too. He even stole money from his own sister."
"That son of a—" Mike stopped when he saw my grandmother standing in the doorway.
"Enough of this," she said sharply. "Dinner is getting cold. You need to get your strength back, and Sally must eat too. Things will work out, so do not spend time worrying. There is no sense in crying over spilled coffee."
A slow smile spread across Mike's face. "I think you mean milk, Rosa."
"That is good too. Now come."
With a sigh, Mike got out of the chair and stuck his left arm into the sleeve of a gray flannel shirt. I was ready to support him, but he didn't need my help. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and we made our way to the dinner table. My stomach rumbled when I looked at all the food. It was good to have an appetite again, and Grandma Rosa was right. Things would get better soon—I was confident of that.
"Cara mia," my grandmother said after we'd all sat down. "While you were out this afternoon, that crazy television anchor came by and asked for you. He is the one who interviewed your father, remember? The man named Jerry Moron."
I almost choked on a piece of bread. "His name is Jerry Maroon, Grandma."
"Whatever. He wanted to know if Mike would be up to an interview tomorrow morning. He left his card but said you had one already. He said to call him anytime and that he would only need about an hour's notice."
"I'll bet he does," Mike muttered. "All those guys care about is building the ratings for their shows."
I placed my hand on top of his. "We might be able to work this to our advantage."
Grandma Rosa poured some espresso into a demitasse cup. She offered us one, but we both shook our heads. The coffee was strong—stronger than what I usually drank. "He said that he could get a cameraman and do the interview live in your living room. It would be like the one he did for your papa. Nutsy cookie," she mumbled.
Mike laughed. "Who? Jerry or Domenic?"
"Both," she muttered.
"Oh, man." I put a hand to my mouth. "I forgot to watch Dad's interview. He's going to be upset."
"Do not worry," Grandma Rosa assured me. "He had it recorded and plans to show it at the book signing. When are you going to have Mike's birthday dinner?"
"I thought we could do it Sunday night, a day after the signing. As long as it works for everyone."
Mike stared down into his half-eaten bowl of soup. "I'm really not in the mood for a party, Sal."
I touched his hand. "It's not only for you. I think I need a little pick-me-up too."
He looked up, and the sorrow in his eyes saddened me. "I'm sorry, baby. As usual, I was only thinking about myself."
"You're not," I protested. "I thought it might help lighten the mood a bit."
"I will make the dinner this time," Grandma Rosa announced. "Cara mia, you need to get some rest. Both of you are exhausted."
She was right. We were tired—Mike from pain and medication and me from the blows that life had been dealing us.
"Okay, fine, maybe you're right," Mike conceded. "With any luck, the other guy will be in custody by then too."
Th
e doorbell rang, and I held up a hand to Grandma Rosa. "I'll get it."
Spike trotted over to the front door with me. I glanced through the small window and saw Brian standing there.
"Come on in." I held the door open wide. "Would you like to join us for dinner?"
"No thanks. I've already eaten." He shut the door behind him and reached down to pet Spike. "I was going to text you again, but since I was nearby, I figured it would be just as easy to stop by and talk to Mike as well."
Mike stood, and Brian gestured for him to sit back down. "Don't get up on my account. How are you feeling?"
"I'd feel a lot better if you told me both of those two scumbags were now in custody." Mike's eyes searched his face for confirmation.
Brian sat in the one empty chair opposite me. "I wish it was that simple. First off, David Webb's real name is Benjamin Silvers, and he's originally from Virginia."
Mike nodded at me. "That's the guy who gave Trevor a reference. All part of the setup, I guess."
"Did Trevor actually work for him?" I asked.
"Not quite," Brian said smoothly. "We ran a check on Benjamin and found he's wanted in Virginia for embezzlement and theft. It seems that he's also quite the computer hacker. He stole the identity of a David Webb from Saratoga, New York. The real David Webb is a licensed real estate attorney."
"That was certainly convenient for their so-called business," I muttered.
"The guy did his homework," Brian agreed. "This way, when he sold a house, he could offer proof that he was also an attorney if anyone asked to see his credentials. From the sound of things, David was only dealing with buyers who brought cash to the table so that there was no need to involve a bank. The inspections all checked out since the construction was good, the buyers got a discount, and he gave the agents a larger commission than usual. Plus, he had the certificate of occupancy and building permit, which is all the buyers and agent cared about besides the inspections."
Sprinkled in Malice Page 15
