by Gina LaManna
“Call it what you like. Now, put this hunk-of-stolen-junk in Park, and walk quickly down to your grandfather’s yacht. My partner is waiting for you there. I’ll be close behind, so don’t try anything stupid.”
I slid from the car, dragging my feet in the sand. Hoping against hope that someone, anyone, would notice my absence.
Chapter 31
“OOOOF! WATCH IT,” I snapped, as I swung one leg up onto the boat. “People once paid good money to cop that kinda feel.”
“If you wore baggier clothes, my “helping hand” wouldn’t feel so invasive.” Beefcake grunted with the effort of heaving me onboard. He shoved my rear end upward, and I was a little annoyed at how hard he seemed to be breathing while helping me onto the boat.
“Gah! Your thumb. The placement. Not okay,” I growled, tipping unceremoniously onto the deck of Carlos’s expansive yacht. I found it ironic that he’d specifically forbade me not to step foot on the boat. Yet here I was, forced against my will, to land on the boat in a heap of latex shorts and thigh-high boots.
“Welcome aboard, skipper.” Beefcake’s partner, the skinny trucker from the bar, pulled me the rest of the way on board, sitting on my legs as if I were the log ride at Camp Snoopy. He quickly re-snapped handcuffs around my wrists.
“Greoff,” I groaned. “Can’t breathe.”
The beefy escort hauled himself onboard and stood behind his partner. He looked down at me in disappointment. “Why you gotta be so uncooperative?”
“Because you’re kidnapping me!” I struggled to roll over. “I’m not supposed to help you.”
“We’re not kidnapping you,” the lean one said.
“Then what are you doing? You’re holding me against my will. I’m supposed to be watching my best friend, who’s on stage at karaoke kicking butt and taking names.”
“If you had just cooperated from the beginning, things would’ve gone much smoother,” Beefcake said. “Don’t know why you had to get involved.”
“From the beginning?” I asked. “What are you talking about?”
Beefcake rolled his eyes at his friend.
“What are we doing here?” A note of desperation seeped into my voice. “Tell me what you want from me. Money? I don’t have it. But I’ll give you my Lumina. There’s some boxed wine in the backseat. I’ll throw it in as a favor.”
“I don’t care about the boxed wine. Or that death trap on wheels.” Beefcake frowned. “My six-year-old cousin has a higher tech Barbie car.”
“Don’t knock it if it gets the job done,” I retorted.
Beefcake gave me a skeptical glance.
“Usually it gets the job done,” I grumbled, revising for accuracy.
“Enough small talk. Get her below deck,” the thin man instructed. “We don’t have time to waste.”
I protested as they brought me downstairs, but neither of them appeared to listen. I eventually fell silent, since it was clear they didn’t want to hear what I had to say. I distracted myself by taking the opportunity to bask in the beauty of Carlos’s extravagant yacht.
In a way, I was a tiny bit not sad that I’d been kidnapped; I would’ve never had the guts to disobey Carlos’s instructions and climb aboard his yacht against his will. But thanks to my two captors, I now had a legitimate excuse to take in the forbidden sight.
And what a sight it was. The interior must have been decorated by a designer; it didn’t contain the normal traces of Nora’s family photos, or the arrest warrants that lined the Hallway of Infamy, or even the warmth of her kitchen’s yellow walls and aged wooden picnic table. Instead, the furniture was modern: black, white, and sharp metallic shades all around.
Beautiful wood lined a bar counter along one wall, while the floors were covered with a luxurious layer of plush, white carpet. A small waterfall trickled behind the bar into a miniature fountain. The place oozed extravagance in the style of Carlos. I flinched, just wondering about the price tag.
“Take a seat.” Beefcake gestured for me to climb aboard a bar stool.
With a slightly awkward gait, I managed to scoot my butt onto the chair despite my hands being cuffed behind my back.
“I want information,” the lean kidnapper said, standing behind the bar, while I sat on the stool as if waiting to order a drink.
“Can I get a vodka soda?” I asked with a smile.
“Shut up,” Beefcake said. He stood close behind me. As if his presence wasn’t intimidating enough, I could sense the gun tucked somewhere on his person.
“If you answer everything honestly, we probably won’t hurt you.” The lean man rested his elbows on the bar and looked me in the eye.
“Probably?” I said wryly. “How comforting.”
“Depends on your answers, lady,” he said. “Don’t try to lie. We’ll know.”
“I’ll do what I can.” I managed a slight shrug. “But I’ll warn you, I have no idea what’s going on here. Or at all. This whole weekend, really.”
“Why did you have Facelli killed?” The lean man’s first question caught me off guard.
“What?”
“Facelli. Why’d you have him killed? And where were you going to get rid of him?” he asked.
Stunned, I opened and closed my mouth a few times. “What are you talking about? I’m the one who called the police when I found the body in my trunk.”
Lean man looked at Beefcake, and I saw the first sign of disbelief.
“Seriously,” I said without hesitation. “I have no idea what you mean. I went out to the car to get my pajamas. When I opened the trunk, I found Facelli face-planted in Meg’s leftover sour cream. Not a good way to go out, if you ask me.”
Lean kidnapper stared at me for a minute.
“What incentive do I have to lie to you?” I asked. “You have me locked away in a boat. If you want to get rid of me, it’d be very easy, as much as I hate to admit it.”
“But if you didn’t kill him, then who did? And why would they stash the body in your trunk?” Beefcake asked.
I shrugged, a bit of annoyance creeping into my voice. “That’s a great question. One I’ve been trying to figure out this whole weekend, as a matter of fact. I had never heard of Facelli in my life until after he died.”
“This doesn’t make sense,” the lean one said.
“Believe me, I know,” I said. “I came up here for a vacation. A weekend away with my girlfriend, which did not go according to plan. So oddly enough, I’m as frustrated as you. All I want is to be singing karaoke and sipping margaritas. Instead, I’m locked up here.”
“I don’t believe you have no idea who killed him.” Beefcake took a step closer to me. “How do you have no idea?”
“I don’t know!”
“But you had to be there,” he said.
“I don’t know when or where Facelli was killed. Maybe it was far away, and someone dumped him in my car. In fact, it’s unlikely he was killed at my grandfather’s place. It’d take someone pretty stupid to murder anybody on that property. Everyone in the area knows Carlos, I’m sure you do, too...”
After a brief hesitation, Beefcake gave a grudging nod.
“And Carlos’s reputation precedes him. It’d be a foolish move to commit a crime on his land. Frankly, it’s also foolish of you to kidnap me – my grandfather will not be happy when he finds out.”
I glanced up, noting the sliver of fear that seemed to have wedged its way into Beefcake’s eyes. He crossed his arms. “Suppose I believe you. Why would he be in your trunk if you didn’t kill him?”
“As I said, I don’t know anything about the man, so I have no idea.” I glanced between the two. “Who was he to you?”
Beefcake looked as if he didn’t want to say, but the man behind the bar nodded, and the big man spoke. “We hardly knew him. We work for...a business. Facelli was sent out for short term, uh...contract work.”
“You’re diamond runners. Facelli was helping you to try and get back into the boss’s good graces,” I translated. “Mor
e or less. Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”
The lean one gave a shrug that signaled I was relatively on target.
I shook my head, unable to fit the puzzle pieces together. “But I can’t seem to connect all the dots.”
A crash coming from upstairs interrupted my struggle. I glanced up, hoping against hope that it was someone coming for me, and not someone coming to make the situation worse.
“Don’t move,” Beefcake grunted. He pressed the gun, cold and hard, against my head for a moment before he disappeared upstairs, leaving me alone with the lean kidnapper. Even if I could come up with a plan to get away from him, it’d be near impossible to get off the boat. My hands were cuffed and Beefcake waited upstairs with his gun. And his muscles.
I chose to wait, listen, and see if the intruder was on my side – or theirs.
Chapter 32
“LACE? THAT YOU?” MEG called, descending the steps to the lower level. “I can’t see anything. It’s dark out, and I was staring straight into the disco ball for the past hour. I’m blind.”
“Look at that. She did come to check on you.” Beefcake appeared beside Meg. “Who would’ve thought?”
“Yes, it’s me, Meg.” I swiveled my bar stool to face the entryway.
“How did you find me?”
“Well, I knew something was wrong when you missed my personal rendition of your song. Nobody can sing Pour Some Sugar On Me like myself. I dedicated it to you, and you missed it. Now, I know you’d never miss a song I dedicated to you, seeing how we’re best friends and all.” Meg stood in the entryway, Beefcake close behind her, the gun even closer.
“Of course I wouldn’t miss that for the world,” I lied. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
“It’s okay.” Meg shook her head. “Even then though, it still didn’t click with me that something was really wrong. I thought maybe you’d eaten some bad food and got trapped in the restroom or something gnarly like that.”
I winced. “Nope. No stomach problems here.”
“Yeah, I figured that out when you missed our Baby Got Back duet. I know for a fact that you’d never miss the opportunity to shake your healthy Minnesota butt with me on stage.” Meg glanced around the cabin. “Anyway, nice place Carlos has here.”
“I’m sorry I missed your songs, Meg,” I said, meaning it. “Did you find someone to cover my part of the duet while I was busy being kidnapped by these party poopers?”
Beefcake frowned.
“Girl, I’d never replace my best friend.” Meg snapped her fingers as if the idea were blasphemy. “Well, not really. I sorta replaced you with myself.”
“You sang both parts to the duet?” Beefcake asked, his eyes widening. “That sounds tough.”
“It was tough.” Meg wiped away fake sweat from her brow. “It was a nasty-ass workout up on stage. Had to unzip one of my boots to get some airflow going to my calves. Did you know sweaty-feet syndrome is a real problem in heels? I was sliding all over the place.”
Beefcake’s mouth parted with unabashed interest in Meg’s story.
“Anyway, I sang a double solo. Also known as a solo duet. No offense Lace, but I really think I rocked it.” Meg glanced down. “I hope you don’t mind I took over.”
“I’m proud of you.” I tipped my chin upward. “And it’s incredible you came looking for me.”
“Well, that part was sort of an accident. See, I needed to use the restroom. And the restroom at Laurelei’s was closed down on account of some crazy chick locked herself in there, so I came back here. I saw your car out front and some footprints leading away from it.” Meg shook her head mournfully. “And I noticed they were coming right down to this here beauty of a boat.”
I smiled. “I knew you’d come for me.”
“Oh, I was coming for you.” Meg sounded angry. “I was ‘bout ready to ream you out, Lacey. I thought you’d abandoned me and my beautiful dedications to you for some private time with your man.” Meg’s cheeks turned pink. “I was about to lay into you if you’d missed our duet in order to come here and shake your healthy butt with Anthony.”
“I didn’t have plans to do anything of the sort.”
“That’s real good news,” Meg said. “In fact, I’m relieved to see you were kidnapped after all. At least that’s a legitimate excuse for missing my award-winning performances.”
“That’s so...oddly sweet.” I forced a smile.
Whether or not the gesture was sweet, I still wasn’t happy to see she’d been kidnapped with me. She didn’t deserve to be a part of this mess; she didn’t know about anything going on at the Luzzi cabin. She should be back where she belonged, safely tearing up the stage at Laurelei’s.
“You shouldn’t have come here and got wrapped up in this mess. It’s my fault you’re captured.” I turned to the lean kidnapper. “Please, if you guys will just let her go, I’ll do whatever I can to get you the information you need.”
“I’m a bit confused at what’s happening here.” Meg took turns looking between the guards. “Anyone feel like explaining?”
“I don’t have time for this.” The skinny one rolled his eyes and walked out from behind the bar, scanning the lounge area up and down, searching for something.
Eventually, he gestured for me to join him. Awkwardly squirming out of my stool, I walked with my hands still clasped behind my back, realizing what he was going to do far too late. Before I could take a step in the other direction, the kidnapper reached out and yanked me towards him.
I stumbled, bumping my knee against the ground. I refused to cry out, instead biting my lip as he roughly lifted me up until I could stand on my own two feet.
Beefcake, meanwhile, realized what his partner was up to and tossed the handcuff keys across the room. Meg reached for them a second too late, and I was too busy getting my face pressed against the wall to attempt much of an escape. Seconds later, my hands were un-cuffed and re-cuffed before I knew it. My arm, now firmly attached to the guard rail along the yacht’s hallway, was stuck. I leaned against my handcuffs, testing the strength of the rail, disheartened when it didn’t so much as budge.
“It’s sturdy,” my kidnapper guard said unnecessarily. “And it’s time for your friend to join you.”
The lean guard tossed the keys back to Beefcake, and I wondered how many sets of handcuffs they normally carried between them. We were already up to two, which was two more pairs than I had.
“Where you taking me?” Meg growled as they led her to the other side of the hallway. “Can’t you at least chain me next to my friend?”
“I’m afraid not.” The skinny guy shook his head. “The railing will hold against each of your body weights separately, but I’m not going to risk putting y’all together.”
“Are you calling Lacey fat?” Meg asked, her question punctuated by the cold clink of metal on metal. “Are you saying she’s the straw that’d break the camel’s back? The camel equals the railing, in case you don’t understand my proverbs. Anyway, you’re R-U-D-E!”
“Er...” Beefcake took a few test yanks against the rail. Satisfied Meg’s bindings would hold, he backed away.
“I’m going to take your grunts as a yes. I can’t believe you’re calling my best friend fat!” Meg’s eyes narrowed. Uh oh. Meg didn’t like people addressing body weight – mine, hers, or anyone else’s. In fact, she’d been fired for “telling someone off” about that once upon a time. With her fist.
“No, no, neither of you are overweight.” Beefcake’s face glowed red, the tips of his ears coloring to match his face. “I just meant—”
“I know what you meant,” Meg growled. “Just wait ’til I get out of these. Just you wait. And to think I ever thought you were cute...”
Beefcake looked surprised. “You thought, you thought I was...” He trailed off as his friend watched, jaw hanging open in disbelief.
“Never mind.” Beefcake took a step back, surveying Meg and me, both of us probably looking tied up and grumpy.
“Wh
at’s the point of this?” I broke up the flirtations. “Why are we locked up on my grandfather’s boat?”
“We’re going to check on some of your information,” Skinny Guy said. “If it checks out, we might be able to strike a deal with you.”
“I promise I’m not lying. I don’t know anything about Facelli!” I said, my voice bordering on desperation. “Trust me. I’ll help however I can.”
“You don’t gotta worry about me,” Meg said. “I don’t know nothin’ about nothin’.”
“That’s not true,” I said. “Everybody knows somethin’ about somethin’.”
“Real deep,” Beefcake said with a nod. “Amen.”
“Look, we’re aware she knows nothing,” Skinny Guy nodded towards Meg. “It’s just unfortunate she interfered.”
“Hey now,” Meg said. “You’re a real rude one. Didn’t your momma teach you any manners? Shame on you!”
Beefcake looked uncomfortable, as if he tended to agree with Meg.
“Let’s go, Luke,” Skinny Guy snapped. “Don’t you ladies move, or we’ll be back. And you won’t appreciate it.”
“Nice to meet you, Luke and...” Meg raised her eyebrows. “You gonna keep being rude, or you gonna tell us your name?”
“His name is Marvin,” Luke-the-Beefcake said. “Luke and Marvin.” Marvin did an eye roll that made me dizzy just watching.
“Idiot,” Marvin mumbled under his breath.
“You said his name first, Marv,” Meg pointed out. “So take a chill pill. Anyway, we’re locked up here. Not going anywhere, thanks to you. Say, on a similar note, what should we do if we get hungry? I don’t see any snack bowls around here. Bar nuts and the like. Oh, and the restroom? Remember my little issue? I haven’t used the bathroom yet.”
“Then we’ll hurry back,” Marvin said. “I don’t think Carlos would appreciate a mess on his yacht.”
“Which is why, when I let Meg punch you, we’ll make sure to get you off the carpet first,” I said as the two men turned to leave.
I took no small satisfaction in watching Marvin freeze, if only for a split second, before he disappeared from the yacht.
