High Tide (9 page)

“What did you say? I couldn't hear you.” He cupped his hand to his ear.

“I said that you had no right to treat me as though I were a child. You could have told me what was going on,” she said loudly.

“Right. Before or after you went into shock over finding a bleeding corpse on top of you?”

At that Fiona pushed her now-empty plate away. “So what now? Where are we, by the way?”

“This house belongs to a friend of mine. It's my getaway when he's not here and I've had too much of …” When he paused, Fiona got the impression that he didn't want to reveal too much about himself. “Anyway, no one in Florida knows about this place, so we won't be found here. I called my brother to find out what he can about Eric and your Roy Hudson.”

“
My
Roy Hudson?” She almost exploded. “What is that supposed to mean? At least you met him before when you hit him up for money for that bird farm of yours.”

“No,” Ace said thoughtfully, “I hadn't met him, and I never asked him for money. Oddly enough he came to me. I received a badly typed, misspelled letter saying that he thought he was about to come into some money and he wanted to give some to Kendrick Park. He said that if this was all right with me, we'd meet at the park and leave from there to go on a fishing trip; then he gave a date and time.”

He looked back down at his huge stack of pancakes. “I
didn't know anything about you until the day we left. Even then I was only told your name.”

“Okay, so now what do we do? Or am I not to ask that? You seem to like the caveman role, where all women just obey and don't ask too many questions.”

“You have a sharp tongue on you,” he said, looking at her from across the counter.

“Some men like my tongue,” she snapped back, then regretted her words.

He didn't reply to that but kept his head down for a moment before looking back at her. “I want to wait until I see what my brother can find on Eric and Roy. There has to be a motive. Unless Eric just likes to kill for the fun of it, which I doubt.”

“Why? Why doubt something like that? Lots of people kill just because they enjoy it.”

Ace picked up her plate and his, then walked with them to the sink. “I don't know. It's just a feeling I have. I think this thing was planned, and I think it has something to do with you.”

“Me?” Fiona said, then started to defend herself but stopped. “I don't know anything or anyone involved in this.”

“Even if the police dig deeply,” he said softly, “they won't find something that could be construed as a motive?”

“You mean like he had photos of me naked and he would have published them on the Internet if I didn't pay him, what was it you said?: ‘Everything you have, everything you will earn, and for what you plan to leave your children.' Is that about right?”

“You have some memory on you. So?”

“So what?” she asked, staring at him.

“Do you have those photos or not?”

“Very funny. No, I don't have any nudes of myself, and where have you been for the last decade? It's fashionable to be photographed naked. But it doesn't matter anyway. I haven't done anything that anyone could blackmail me for.”

“Surely you have some secrets.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Not that I would tell you and not that Roy Hudson could know.” Her voice rose before he could speak. “Any secrets I have might cause me embarrassment, but there's not much that couldn't be printed in the church bulletin. What about you?”

“Me?” he asked as though he were a bystander and not part of this.

“Yes, you! That newspaper said that you were my accomplice.”

“Oh that,” he said in dismissal as he put the dishes in the dishwasher. “I'm sure that was an afterthought. What I want to know is who beat up Eric? Was that part of the plan, or did he anger someone else?”

“Maybe he beat himself up.”

“Saw that on TV, did you?” he said, obviously laughing at her.

At that Fiona got up and went into the living room. She really didn't like his attitude of flippancy. He was treating all of this as some great joke and just as soon as his brother sent a fax, all would be cleared up. She heard him doing whatever it is that people do in a kitchen, and when he finally returned to the living room, he didn't seem in the least perturbed. “Doesn't any of this bother you?” she snapped. “Don't you want to get back to your birds?”

At that he turned to glare down at her. “You think I want
to stay cooped up inside this place? You think I want to be here with someone who has made my life a living hell since she stepped off a plane? No, I don't. But, unlike you, I'm trying to make the best of it. I'm trying to save us some time in jail, because that's where they'd put us until this thing is figured out. So, if you don't mind, I'd like a little appreciation, if not thanks.”

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“I didn't hear you.”

“I apologize,” she shouted. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes, and I'm sure the neighbors did too,” he said. She watched as he opened a desk drawer and took out a cell phone.

“Who are you going to call?” she asked suspiciously.

“Not that it's any of your business, but I plan to call my fiancée. I'm sure she's worried sick.”

“But the police—”

“Won't be trying to trace calls from this phone—it belongs to the owner of this house.”

“Well, I'll just …” she said, and nodded toward the bathroom. But the truth was that she had no intention of getting out of earshot of him and his call. Was his fiancée the perky little blonde in the photo she'd found under his bed? And, for that matter, what was the photo doing under his bed?

Fiona stepped into the bathroom and turned on the water, but she left the door open. Miss Perky must have been sitting by the phone because she answered it instantly.

“Yes, honey, I'm fine,” Ace said in a voice she'd never before heard from him. It was an almost fatherly voice, very tender and soothing. “Yes, yes. I know. I saw the papers. No, of course none of it's true. It was just a misunderstanding, that's all.”

At that Fiona made a sound in her throat that caused Ace to get up and walk around the corner where he could see her.

Close the door, Fiona thought, but she couldn't make herself do it. This man's private conversation was none of her business, but, still, she couldn't seem to work up the command to close the door.

“Yes, she's here with me,” Ace said softly into the receiver.

After that remark, Fiona knew that she'd die before she moved an inch.

Ace laughed in a seductive way, then said, “Very tall, very skinny,” then paused. “Oh, that. Flat.” He held the telephone an inch away from his mouth. “Lisa wants to know how old you are.”

“Thirty-two,” Fiona said before she thought.

“See, I told you,” Ace said. “Now stop worrying. Mike has Frank working on this. By this evening we'll know everything there is to know about both of them, especially
why
Eric killed Roy. That's the key to everything. And after we find out the reason, then Miss Burkenhalter and I will go to the police and it'll all be over with.”

Pausing as he listened, Fiona watched him in the mirror. He had the softest, sweetest smile on his face, as though he were ice cream sitting in the sun.

“Come on, now, sweetheart, stop crying. I'm fine. No, I can't tell you where I am, and you can't visit me.” He smiled broader. “Yes, I know she's here, but she's also been accused of murder. No, of course she didn't kill anyone.” “Yes. You can tell the police I said so. Look, why don't you take a couple of pills and go to bed? There's nothing you can do to help me.”

He paused for several long moments, then turned his
back so Fiona couldn't see his face. “Yes, me too,” she heard him say, then, “Okay, I'll call you when I can”; then he turned the phone off and handed it to Fiona without making a comment on her eavesdropping.

“You want to call someone, do,” he said over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen.

Jeremy, was Fiona's first thought. He must be frantic with worry over her. Quickly she pushed the buttons for his number as she walked into the living room.

Like Lisa, Jeremy must have been waiting for her call.

“Where the hell are you?” he exploded. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in? Fiona, I don't know if I can get you out of this. You
must
turn yourself in and
immediately.”

“Ace has some relatives looking into why Eric killed Roy, and—”

“Fiona, are you out of your mind? Are you insane? As far as I can tell, this guy Eric is in the hospital with a battered face and a ruptured spleen. He says that you and this guy Ace beat him after you killed Roy.”

“Oh,” Fiona said, and her body began to tremble. “I haven't really heard all of it. We didn't see the papers, and—”

“It seems to me that you didn't really think about anything. Do you know how your case is going to look when you're reported as flaunting your flight in front of a diner full of people? They say that you and that man nearly ran down a busload of children in your wild escape.”

“We did no such thing. Jeremy, do you think I'm too skinny? And old?”

“Merciful heavens, Fiona, have you lost your mind? Wait, wait, later I can testify that you were in shock and incoherent.”

Maybe he was trying to be helpful and maybe she should be grateful that he was thinking like a lawyer, but she didn't like being called “incoherent,” for any reason, and she wanted to get him back. “Did you see the photo in the paper of Ace?” she practically purred. “He's really quite beautiful. I never saw such thick hair in my life, and—”

“Fiona,” Jeremy said coldly, “if this is an attempt to make me jealous, I don't think this is the time or place, do you?”

When Fiona heard a step by the doorway into the living room, she mumbled, “I gotta go,” then hung up on Jeremy's loud protests. She didn't want to be chastised by Jeremy—even if she did deserve his anger at her ingratitude.

Ace entered the room with a tall glass of iced tea. “He upset about the mess you're in?”

“Oh, yes,” Fiona said as lightly as she could manage. “He was very worried about me. He always worries about me. And your girlfriend? Lena?”

“Lisa. Fiancée. The wedding date is set for three weeks from now. You want something to drink?”

“No thanks. So, you told her I'm tall and skinny and old, not to mention …” She glanced down at her chest. It was true that she wasn't going to win a wet T-shirt contest, but clothes hung better on her than on …

Oh, hell, what did she care what this man's girlfriend thought of her?

“Sorry about that,” Ace said, his mouth full. “She thinks that every woman I meet is after me, so I have to tell her that all of them are real dogs.”

“Sounds like a mature relationship.”

“It works. And you? Boyfriend missing you?”

“Sure.” She tried to give a smile of insouciance. “And he's terribly jealous of you, too. So at last we have something in common. I think I'll call my office and just see what's going on.”

Before he could reply, she had dialed the number of her office. Gerald answered.

“Fiona, darling, where in the world are you? No, don't tell me. If I know, I'll have to tell the police. They've been here all morning. It's been awful.”

Not as awful as finding a dead man on top of you, Fiona thought but didn't say. “Any problems at work?” she asked, trying to get her current situation out of her mind.

“Well,” Gerald said, “I had to change Kimberly just a tiny bit, but the launch this morning was a great success.”

Fiona could feel hysteria rising in her throat. “You launched Kimberly early? Without
me?”

“Considering what was going on with you, Garrett thought we should go ahead and get her out there, and besides, he said that since you'd killed Roy, our chances of getting the
Raphael
franchise were now greatly reduced, so we need everything we can get from Kimberly.”

Fiona was sputtering. “I—did—not—kill—anyone.”

“Oh, sure. I know that. And in the pool, I bet on your side.”

“Pool.” Her voice was flat, emotionless.

“Oh, Fee, by the way, the maps in the trunks look divine. Listen I gotta go.
Soooo
much to do. If the police call again, what should I tell them?”

“That Kimberly and I are—Oh, the hell with it,” she snapped, then hung up.

Fiona tossed the phone onto the top of her backpack and plopped down onto the black leather chair. If possible, she
felt worse than she had. When was this nightmare going to be over? She had to get back to work before that treacherous Gerald did something dreadful to Kimberly.

“If you don't mind my asking,” Ace said, “who is Kimberly?”

“Mine, mine, mine!” Fiona half shouted. “And if that little pink-eared swivel-hipped Gerald thinks he can take her from me, he'd better be prepared to fight to the death.”

Ace blinked at her for a moment. “You want a drink? How about a little TV? Maybe something on the Disney Channel?”

Fiona was smoldering, furious, as she glared at him. “You think this place has any paper in it? And a pen? Or a pencil?”

Immediately, Ace stood up, left the room, and moments later returned with a legal pad in a plastic folder and a roller-ball pen. “Best I could do. Will it be okay?”

“Fine.” She snatched the pad and pen from him.

Minutes later they had both settled down to do the only thing they could do: wait. Ace watched TV while Fiona drew. A couple of times she looked up at him, and each time she marveled that the man could find so many bird shows on TV.

Phrases from the TV show came to her.