Barbara Silkstone - Wendy Darlin 02 - London Broil (7 page)

Darcy strode to the door, kicking my trash-bag luggage out of her way. “What the bloody hell?”

She bent down reaching for it. I distracted her using the only thing I could think of… I laughed. “Cleaning again? Stick around and you can help Roger tidy up this place.”

Darcy stood and dropped my bag. “I’ll be back at five. I’ll give you this time with Roger to say goodbye. Then clear out! Ciao!”

She paused before making her exit, her pale blue eyes in sharp contrast to her tan skin and laser-white teeth. “Riddle me this … Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been?” she said, then stroked her face as if she were a cat pulling on her whiskers. “I’ve been to London to visit the Queen…”

“You
are
off your onion,” I said.

She turned and left, not closing the door behind her. I walked over and slammed it.

Roger stepped out of his study. “Is she gone?”

“Nice hiding job, jerk. What – have you got a friggin’ female assistant in every port?”

“She’s an archaeologist.”

“Don’t
you
start!”

“Darcy has an addiction problem.”

“And what might that be? Surely not diet pills?”

Roger looked helpless. There was very little he could say to keep me. I was not about to get scorched by his old flame.

He shrugged. “She’s addicted to me.”

“Oh get off yourself! I’ll not take part in an English farce,” I said.

He rubbed his hand over his face in a Three Stooges motion, “Okay… here’s the truth. Darcy’s gone over to the dark side. She turned professional antiquities thief.”

Wrinkling my nose, I shot him my best
you gotta be kidding
look
.

“Remember when I told you the thief Charlie Hook hired was clever and she’d taken one of the Lost Boys for herself? That thief is Darcy. She’s hidden it somewhere in London.”

“That nasty cow stole one of the most valuable antiquities to ever come from Egypt and now she’s playing hide and seek with it?”

“Darcy’s pulling my chain. The theft is all about getting me to try to catch her. She’s played this sick cat and mouse game since grad school. We accidentally lived together for two years.”

“How do you accidentally live together?” I put a hand on my hip adding oomph to my sarcasm.

“Things started showing up in my closet. Little by little, everything she owned was in my flat.”

“And now? She still has a key?”

“Darcy knows I care deeply for you.”

“Well, I am
no
threat to her!” I walked two steps to the front door and turned. “Why don’t you just find the damn thing, return it, and get it over with?”

“Don’t you think I would if I could? She’s hidden it somewhere in public. Anyone could find it she said. That makes me even crazier. What if some kid finds that thirteenth Lost Boy and adds it to his
Star Wars
collection? We’ll never find it because of her stupid game.”

“Is she the reason Benny disappeared? Could she have killed him because he discovered where she hid it?”

“Umm… She’s crazy. She once shredded the front door to my house with her bare hands.”

“Then she’s dangerous.”

“Well… door-dangerous. She’s holding out on Thirteen until I promise to join her in finding Cleopatra’s grave.”

I folded my arms across my chest and pushed my nose in his face. “So why don’t you just go back to Egypt?”

“Darcy wasn’t the reason I was there. I was working on another case.”

“Yeah… right. Why would she stick so close to you if you weren’t leading her on?”

Roger was standing next to a support column. He deliberately banged his head on it. “I was in Cairo on a special assignment for the Egyptian government.”

“And I’ll bet it’s a big secret and you can’t talk about it.” I threw up my arms forgetting I was carrying my bag-o-clothes. “Think! Benny’s missing. Maybe Darcy killed him so you won’t get the reward at all.” I felt like the Queen of Snark as I spoke.

“I’m sure Benny’s okay. I haven’t been able to reach him yet, but you’re overreacting. Darcy would never kill Benny. She likes him. He was always kind to her. That’s how she pulled off the theft for Hook. She took advantage of her relationship with him.”

I shook my head in disgust. “That big blonde is some sort of super thief? Don’t think so. Super thieves are slinky. They wear black cat-suits and hang by wires from ceilings.”

“You’ve seen too many movies.”

“Why would she take the risk?”

“She told me what Hook paid her for the original theft. It was enough to disappear and live in luxury for the rest of her life. She’s still hanging around because she’s all about the game. And she’s schizophrenic. She’s on medication but at times it doesn’t help. I never know who she’s going to surface as, but I feel I need to protect her from herself.”

Shaking my head, I walked to the door. “By the way, how does Algy Green fit into the equation?”

“Algy Green is here?”

“It would be hard to pull a name like that out of the air. Scrawny little guy, cockney accent, wonky teeth, ears popped out from his head like a taxi with both doors open. He was mincing about in Benny’s backyard this morning.”

“That’s him. If it turns out Benny is missing, which I doubt, that little scumball could be behind it. I have shoes with a higher IQ and better morals.” Roger followed me to the door.

I smiled. “You’re not including those ugly brown wingtips.” He laughed and pulled me to him then pushed me away. For a minute, I thought we were jitterbugging.

“Both ears were wide out and catching the breeze? Not good. He usually keeps those lobes super-glued to his noggin. The heat must be melting the glue. The little dude becomes dangerous when his ears are loose.”

Roger scratched his head in a thinking motion. “Algy can’t be in this alone. The man is irretrievably dumb. A total nutter.”

Again I turned to leave.

“Am I forgiven?” he asked.

I reached in my purse and took out a one-hundred dollar bill. “Swap this out for British money. I’m taking a cab back to the Hyde Park Hotel. I need British bucks. I’m going to get cleaned up, spend the night at the hotel at your expense, and in the morning return to Miami. You play games with the lady with the inflatable boobs. I’m gone.”

“But, Wendy…” Roger reached for my hand.

“Don’t!” I said. And he knew I meant it.

With British money in my pocket, I went outside, flagged a black cab and head held high, exited Doctor Roger Jolley’s life.

***

I cried in business class until we were halfway over the Atlantic, then I mopped my tears and ordered a glass of champagne. “Keep them coming,” I said to the flight attendant.

He had a kind smile. “Broken heart?”

“Close call.”

Chapter 16

I
t was dinnertime when I rented a car at the airport and headed for my home, carrying a feeling of loss. Hitting the China Bucket drive-through, I grabbed some fried wontons and shrimp with lobster sauce.

Roger Jolley and his double life… He wasn’t the first man to disappoint me. And I was kidding myself if I thought he would be the last. But for now, I was returning to people who really needed me. Little kids like Treanna who were straight up, straight forward, and never played dirty tricks.

I wondered if the police had anything on my car. I missed Goldie just because she was a piece of my life here in Miami. And I felt stupid for being duped so easily. The guy handed me a dry cleaners ticket! And Roger handed me a line of bull!

It was sunset when I got to my condo. Every afternoon the plastic princesses left their high-rise apartments, trotted out our gates, and sauntered down the boulevard toward the outdoor cafés, tugging their pups on rhinestone leashes as they trolled for men and swilled wine. The pathetic part of the urban myth was that stats supported it. A dog on a string will get a man on a ring ninety-percent of the time.

My place was on the ground-floor corner of a beachfront high-rise. I waved to José, the daytime guard, as he raised the gate. I pulled into my garage, unloaded the plastic trash-bag luggage from the rental car, and greeted my apartment. It wasn’t as hot as London inside, but it ran a close second. The only thing that gets mustier faster than a closed-up beachfront apartment is a relationship.

When I left for London, I’d set the thermostat to eighty degrees so as not to waste the air conditioning while I was away on my big adventure with Dr. Roger Jolley. Talk about hot air. I slid the button to sixty and hoped for a quick cool-down. I nibbled on fried wontons while I listened to my home phone messages. Four were from my sales agents needing help with contracts and seven were from Grandma Matty.

Her voice was trembling when she picked up, “Can you take Treanna? She’s pining and hasn’t eaten a thing since you left. Well, maybe a nibble.”

I let Matty blather on without mentioning my talk with Elana or that I knew about the granny’s little bolita business. “Can you come see us tomorrow? Mr. Smith is coming to visit. I’d feel better if you were here.”

“Who is Mr. Smith?”

“I owe him some money. The man frightens me. I would just feel better if you were here.”

“What time is he coming?”

“Eleven tomorrow.”

“I’ll get there at ten. We can talk.”

Chapter 17

N
ext morning, Treanna greeted me at the door, grabbing me around the legs and hanging on as if I would fly away. “You’re back! You’re back!”

“Sweetie, I’ve only been away a few days. It’s not even time for our regular Saturday visit.”

Matty patted Tre on the head. “Chile… go play quietly in your room. We got us some grown-up talking to do.”

Treanna groaned but trotted off to her bedroom.

I took a seat on the plastic-covered sofa while Matty brought me an iced tea. It was laced with artificial sweetener. I took one sip and hid a shudder. Tinkerbelle jumped into my lap and drooled dog spit all over my neck. Germs.

“Well…” Matty sighed. “Thank you for coming, Wendy. I think I got me more than I can handle. I need some business advice.”

My mind was two steps ahead of her.

“I run a little home-based business,” she said.

“Bolita?”

“Why, yes.” She looked surprised and relieved. “A while back, I was forced to extend credit to my nephew Leon for his bets. Nothing big at first, but pretty soon he wasn’t paying his gambling debts. He was hanging around here all the time… acting like a vulture waiting for a carcass.”

She smoothed her apron and resettled in her recliner, “Three weeks ago, I was expecting the usual cash pickup. It had been an above average, good week. I went into one of my dozes for a few minutes. When I woke up, the money was gone. So was Leon.”

I dabbed at the dripping glass with a tiny paper napkin, my eyes never leaving Matty’s face. “How much?”

“It started at $5,200. The interest is added on daily.”

“How much is it now?”

Yesterday it was $22,250. It’s growing like a fire fed on gasoline. Now Mr. Smith, the guy I owe the money, says he’ll put a mortgage on my house so I can pay him off gradual.”

“That doesn’t compute. That’s a trillion percent interest!”

“That’s why I’m asking you to look at the mortgage paperwork he’s bringing me to sign. You know about such stuff. I paid for this house long before my fiftieth birthday. It has no mortgage, and it pains me to think I’d set myself back again.”

“When he gets here, don’t reach for those papers. I’ll take them with me. One more day of his wild-ass interest won’t hurt.”

A hard rap on the back door sent us both jumping. Matty eased out of her plastic-wrapped recliner with a smacking sound. “It’s him!” The fear in her eyes made me mad.

I heard her at the back door. “Mr. Smith, come in. I got me a friend visiting. This way…”

The numbers dude strode in like he already owned the house. He was carrying a walking stick with a duck on the head. He looked like a young Sammy Davis Jr., or a skinny hamster. Smith shot me an amused look.

He was about five-nine, thin, and wearing a ton of pomade on his rippling hair. His Armani suit was a chocolate color that exactly matched his skin. He was tone on tone except for a bright white shirt and a robin’s egg blue necktie. He was followed by a three-hundred pound bruiser in a tan suit with a grey polo.

Tinkerbelle jumped on the dapper dude’s leg, her nails dragging over the silken threads of his trousers.

“Get that white rat off this here expensive suit before I’m forced to sue you!” He turned to the bruiser. “Ox… get this here animal off me!”

Ox stammered, “Mr. Smith, sir? I got a thing about small dogs. They’re like crazy teeth on short legs. The little ones, they bite… they got no fear like the big dogs.”

Matty grabbed Tink who managed one more snap at the visitors.

I stood from the sofa with an embarrassing peeling sound. The skinny guy extended his hand, honey dripping from his fangs. “Mr. Smith.”

Giving as hard as I got, I squeezed his hand in return. “Your first name?”

“Mister.”

“Ah… of course. Wendy Darlin,” I said.

“Darlin Realty? You’re in the wrong part of town, Miss Darlin. Ain’t no mansions here.”

The bruiser attempted a steroid laugh. It came out a burpy growl.

“I’m here as Matty’s friend. I have no real estate interest in this,” I said.

“Suit yourself.” He sat on the far end of the sofa. “Matty owes me money. Guess she told you. She’s agreed to give me a mortgage on her house in return for the debt.”

Matty snapped out of her trance. “I didn’t agree… yet.”

He kept his eyes on me as he spoke to her. “You ain’t got a lot of choices, Miss Matty.”

“Mr. Smith, are you a mortgage broker? Do you have a card?” I leaned back, acting as if I were in control of the situation.

“I’m in personal finance.” He handed me a crime-scene yellow card with black letters.

“Let me see the papers.” I was taking more of a dislike to hamster-man as the clock ticked. He passed a wad of documents to me. A quick scan told me all I needed to know. “We’ll get back with you tomorrow.”