Slay it with Flowers (29 page)

I hung up and dialed Punch’s number. The phone rang three times, then disconnected. I tried again with the same results. Was the phone out of range or had someone ended the call? I waited a moment, then called Jillian’s line again. “Did anyone’s phone ring?”

“Not out here, but Ursula and Onora went into Burberry’s.”

“Sabina is with you?”

“Right.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll let you know before I try again.” I’d have to call her when the other two girls were with her.

I stepped into Bloomers and found Lottie getting ready to make a flower delivery. “I’ll take it,” I told her. “I have an errand to run anyway.”

I placed the wrapped bundle on the seat beside me and took off. The delivery was to a home on the east side of Concord Avenue, not far from the hair salon. I dropped it off, thrilled with the elderly woman’s surprised reaction, then hopped back in the Vette and drove to the salon.

“Come with me,” Carrie said, and led me through the busy salon into the pedicure room, closed the door, and took a white envelope from her smock pocket. “This was shoved under our door sometime before Judy opened this morning. I didn’t come in until noon or I would have called you sooner.”

I peeked inside the envelope and saw photos. Three of them, to be exact. I pulled them out to take a look and went cold all over. They were all of me. One in my car. One walking into my shop. One coming out of my apartment building. I was being stalked.

I felt light-headed and decided I should sit down before I ended up out cold on the floor. I sat with my head between my knees while Carrie ran to get me something to drink. She returned with a cup filled with dark coffee. I took a sip and shuddered. It was dark, all right—about five-hours-old dark.

“What’s going on?” Carrie asked, nodding toward the photos.

“Someone is watching me and wants me to know it.”

“Why were they left here? Why didn’t they send them to you?”

“Good question.”

Her face paled. “It’s because you took pictures for me. This is a warning to both of us. I’m so sorry, Abby. I never meant to drag you into it.”

“Don’t be sorry. I offered to help.”

Carrie’s eyes widened as something occurred to her. “Maybe they gave the pictures to me to lure you here.”

I gasped in alarm. “My Vette!”

With Carrie on my heels, I dashed through her shop and out to the parking lot. It wouldn’t have been the first time my car was a target for someone with a bone to pick.

The Corvette was sitting between a minivan and an Audi, facing the Emperor’s Spa parking lot, which was empty, as usual. I checked inside the car, under the hood, and in the trunk, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Carrie cast a nervous glance at the old house next door. “I think we’d both better keep our distance from the spa.”

I was thinking along those same lines myself. I told Carrie to be careful, then I tucked the photos in my purse and slid into the Vette. My phone rang and I fished it out. “Hello,” I said, keeping an eye on the spa.

“Remember those Chinese symbols written on your bedroom window?” Marco asked. “I got the translation back.”

“You’re going to tell me it’s not a good-luck wish, aren’t you?”

“How did you guess?”

I spotted a wrinkled face staring at me from a corner of the spa window, just as before. “Marco, are you at the bar?”

“Yep.”

“Stay there. I have something to show you.”

 

Without saying a word, Marco took the envelope from me and went to sit at his desk. He put up his feet and pulled out the photos to study them, tossing each one in turn onto the top. Then he leaned back and rubbed his eyes, in pondering mode.

While his brain was otherwise occupied, I pulled the pictures toward me and lined them up along the edge like little soldiers. An Abby army. “You know, all things considered, I don’t look half-bad.”

His eyes opened into slits as he glared at me.

“No need to lecture,” I told him. “I know I shouldn’t have gotten involved.”

“A little late for that, isn’t it?” He swung his feet down and pulled his chair forward. “The problem is how to get you uninvolved. How do we let this stalker know you’re out of it?”

“By staying away from the spa?”

He studied me, his fingers drumming the desk. “I can’t think of anything else to do, other than hiring a bodyguard.”

Marco could guard my body any day. But Marco wasn’t in that business, and I couldn’t afford to hire a real one. “I’ll just be very careful.”

He snorted. “I’ve heard that one before.”

“Here’s what else I found out today.” I told him about the camera case, the squashed newspaper story, the new information from Morgan, and calling Punch’s number. “Someone has that phone, Marco, and that person may be the killer.”

“Before you get arrested for making harassing calls to that number, talk to Reilly. Find out where they are on the investigation.”

A waitress tapped on the doorframe. “Telephone, Marco. About your car.”

“Thanks.”

I scooped up the photos and rose.“Did something happen to your Jeep?”

“I sold it. Too many of them on the street. I wanted something different.”

I smiled, imagining myself seated beside him, hair flying as we sped past throngs of envious women in a hot red sports car. “What did you buy?”

“Dark green Impala. Previously owned. Perfect for PI work.”

My fantasy dissolved. “Are you going to drive this dream car when you go with me to the Luck o’ the Irish bar tonight?”

“Are you going to dress like that?” He nodded toward my short skirt and black top.

“Didn’t we have this conversation already? The one where you tell me my outfit is too churchy?”

“That’s not the word I was going to use today.”

“Square. Dowdy. Fashion mistake.”

“Sexy.”

I would never figure that man out. “You think I’m sexy?”

“Come down here after work and we’ll take my car.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He got up and came around the desk, fixing me with a look that made me quiver like a jellyfish. He took my hands in his big, strong ones, then he pulled me to my feet and straight into his arms. Or maybe I propelled myself there.

Nevertheless, we were standing knee-to-knee and he was gazing down at me with an expression that said,
Cara Mia
—men always speak in foreign languages in my fantasies—
I find you utterly and totally desirable. In fact, I’ve never met anyone as alluring as you, so let’s run away tonight and get married.

What he actually said was, “Yes.”

A man of few words.

“What are you going to do about it?” I asked, hoping for a kiss.

“Go with you to the Luck o’ the Irish bar to make sure no one lays a hand on that skirt.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

He glanced at his wristwatch. “See you in four hours.”

 

I had just finished an arrangement of a dozen red roses for a walk-in customer needing a quick fix for a marital spat when the phone rang. Grace answered it in the front and in a moment poked her head through the curtain. “Phone call, dear. Someone named Maria Mendoza.”

The hotel housekeeper. Maybe my bouquet had paid off after all. I took the call at my desk. “Maria? This is Abby Knight. How are you?”

Obviously not in the mood for friendly chitchat, judging by her brusque tone. “You asked me if I saw a woman with the guy that got killed. I didn’t exactly tell the truth.”

I nearly jumped up and down with excitement. “Can you describe her?”

“She had long black hair and a tight red dress. She was kind of skinny.”

Bingo! That fit Onora to a T. “Was her face kind of frozen-looking, like a mask?”

“She didn’t have no mask on.”

“What I mean is, did it look like she couldn’t smile or frown?”

“Are you trying to ask me if she was Chinese? ’Cause that’s what she was. Chinese.”

P
unch’s mystery date was Chinese? I was stupefied. “Are you sure about her race, or was she just wearing an Oriental-style of dress?”

“Look, lady, I’ve worked in hotels all my life. I know Russian from Polish. I know Spanish from Argentine. I know Korean from Thai. I know Japanese from Chinese. I’m telling you, this woman was Chinese.”

“Was this the woman you saw naked?”

“How did you know about that?” she asked warily.

“Todd mentioned it.”

“That
pendejo
! It was his fault.”

I was afraid to ask what
pendejo
meant, so I just let her rant.

“He told me room four twenty was out of towels, so I took up towels. I knocked on the door and no one answered, so I opened it and went in and this Chinese girl came running out of the bedroom screaming at me, holding a red dress in front of her.”

Room four twenty was Punch’s room. “What time was this?”

“Maybe six thirty.”

“Could she have been a masseuse?”

“How would I know?”

“Do you remember anything else about her? Did she leave with the guy in the room?”

“She left the room by herself but there was an old man waiting for her outside the hotel. That’s all I remember. Now I gotta go.”

I sat there with the phone in my hand, thinking about her surprising revelations, until Lottie came by, took the handset, and set it in the cradle. “Everything all right, sweetie?”

“Just fine.” Right. More like upside down, sideways, and inside out. Questions were piling up so fast my head spun. Was the young Chinese woman Punch’s mystery girlfriend or a masseuse from the Emperor’s Spa, or both? Had Onora found out she’d been to see Punch? Had Onora been so overwrought with jealousy that she’d lured Punch to the dunes and killed him?

Given Onora’s temper, it was the best theory I’d come up with so far, and it would explain her sexy outfit.

I reined in my spinning thoughts. Before I could pin the murder on Onora I had to eliminate the others. I glanced at the spindle to see how many more orders needed to be finished and saw that it was empty.

“Lottie, would you mind if I stepped out for fifteen minutes or so?”

“You go right ahead, sweetie. Are you sure you’re all right? You seem jumpy.”

“You’re not putting yourself in harm’s way, are you, dear?” Grace said from the other side of the curtain.

“Certainly not. I’m fine. Everything is fine. Fine and dandy.” I picked up my purse, slipped through the curtain, and aimed for the door, but I didn’t move quickly enough. Grace struck her pose and began to quote the bard.

“ ‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks.’ ”

I hate when I do that.

I did a quick walk to the jail, asked for Matron Patty, then did a little begging. All I could say was thank goodness my father had made so many friends.

It took over ten minutes for the prison guard to bring Flip down. When Flip saw me he hesitated, and for a moment I thought he was going to ask to be taken back to his cell. But he finally sat, though he continued to gaze at me with suspicion.

I decided to get right to the point. “You knew Punch had been seeing a young Chinese woman, didn’t you?”

Flip’s upper lip curled slightly. “
Seeing
isn’t quite the word I would use to describe it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

“Because her identity had no meaning in Punch’s world. One woman was the same as another.”

I couldn’t believe he had withheld the information. It was almost as if he wanted to be found guilty. “Was she with him when he met you at the dunes?”

“No.”

“But that’s who he was meeting?”

“I assume so.”

“Did Onora know Punch had arranged this meeting?”

Flip shrugged. “I have no idea what Onora knew.”

I knew he wouldn’t like my next question, but I had to ask it, so I braced myself for his reaction. If I touched a nerve, he’d be angry. If I was completely wrong about him, he’d be even angrier. “Did Punch threaten to expose you, Flip?”

He abruptly stood and turned to pound on the door. “I’m done in here.”

“Flip!” I called through the speaker, deciding to take the full plunge, “I know you loved Punch. I understand how it feels to be betrayed by someone you care for.” Or, in my case, someone I
thought
I cared for.

Flip turned to give me an incredulous stare. “You understand how I feel? Give me a break. So your wedding was called off. Big deal.”

“It was a big deal to me. I was, and am, terribly humiliated.”

“Then imagine your humiliation if Pryce had posted naked photos of you on the Web for the whole world to see.”

My mouth nearly fell open. “Punch did that?”

Tears filled Flip’s eyes. He quickly swiped them with the back of his hand. “He said it was time I came out of the closet and found myself a
proper
boyfriend. Do you still think you understand how I feel?”