Sleeping with Anemone (28 page)

“What else?”

“Upstairs in one of the bedrooms, we found men’s clothing in one closet, but the other closet was empty. In the bathroom, we saw men’s toiletries but not women’s, and two drawers had been cleaned out.”

“There was a Valentine in the woman’s nightstand,” Rafe added, “signed by someone named Tom.”

“It has to be Harding,” I said.

“Anything else?” Marco asked.

I thought about it for a moment, then shook my head.

Marco folded his arms. “You two had quite an evening.”

“I’m sorry we interrupted your PI job, Marco,” I said. “I hated having to ask Reilly to get us out of jail, and I know I shouldn’t have gone without letting you know. But I did it, so yell if you want. I’m okay with that, although I think we’ve had enough punishment.”

He raised an eyebrow inquiringly. “Are you done?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Good. Now do you want to hear what I found out?” he asked.

I glanced at Rafe in disbelief. To Marco I said, “Is that it? No lecture?”

“I don’t see any reason for it. I’m betting the cops scared the living daylights out of you.”

“Duh,” Rafe said. “We had to chill at the police station for ninety-two freakin’ minutes. They treated us like criminals.”

“We entered someone’s home illegally, Rafe,” I said. “We
are
criminals.”

“From now on I’m following your orders, bro, no matter how much the Abster begs.”

I turned on Rafe with a glare. “I did not beg. I never beg, only suggest. And you are
so
not using my car tomorrow night.”

“Hey,” Marco said. “Let’s move on. Do you want to hear what I found out? Good. First of all, the town house is listed as belonging to Tom Harding and H. Bebe, otherwise known as Honey B. Haven, as joint tenants in common.”

“Honey B. Haven’s real name is Honey Bebe?” I asked.

“That’s how it appears,” Marco said. “I couldn’t find any record of a marriage to a Haven or Harding, but I did learn that Honey and Charlotte are sisters.”

“Honey B. Haven,” Rafe said, chortling. “I just got that.”

“When did you have time to dig up all this information?” I asked Marco.

“After Reilly phoned to tell me where you were and why.”

I felt my face turning red. “Sorry about that.”

“I found it a little difficult to focus after that call.”

“I’m sure you did.”

Rafe yawned, obviously not feeling any guilt. “I’m not needed here, am I? Would you mind if I relax for a while?”

We vacated the sofa and headed for the dinette table. Rafe immediately stretched out and flipped on the TV.

“After Reilly’s call,” Marco said, picking up our conversation, “I dropped by the hospital and had a chat with Nikki. When she told me what was in Harding’s chart, I went back to his hospital room to get a better look at his injuries.”

Marco sat back, extending his long legs. “It was obvious the man took a severe beating, so I called Reilly back and asked if a police or accident report had been made on Harding. He found out that snowmobilers had found Harding in the woods late Wednesday night, barely clinging to life. He’d apparently been out there for some time. Since his wallet was taken, they’re calling it a robbery, so whether it has anything to do with the kidnappings remains to be seen. But the Bebe connection makes me suspect it does.

“Here’s something else I discovered,” he said, pulling out his notebook and flipping up the cover. “Honey Bebe boarded a plane for France at eight thirty this evening. She bought a one-way ticket an hour and fifty minutes before the plane departed, so this wasn’t a trip she’d planned in advance. That, along with your report that her clothes and makeup were gone, says she’s on the run. The question is, who is she running from?”

“Maybe the detectives asked Honey to come down for an interview, and she was afraid they were going to link her with the kidnappings.”

“I thought of that, so I called Detective Valderas and told him what I’d found out about Charlotte’s sister. He didn’t know what I was talking about.”

“Are you telling me they haven’t been looking for her sister?”

“They weren’t aware she had a sister,” Marco said in disgust. “And after I talked to Valderas, all he’d say was that they’d check into it.”

“Will they?”

Marco lifted one shoulder, his classic Italian shrug. Having been a police officer, Marco loathed to speak ill about fellow cops, but I could see the frustration in his tightly clenched jaw.

“So what do we do now?” I asked.

“We stop waiting for them to solve this case.”

I wanted to stand up and cheer. Finally, we were back on the same page.

“Let’s review what you saw at the town house,” Marco said. He was so sexy when he was intense. “You said the front door was unlocked. Was it standing open?”

Oh no! Was it?

“No,” Rafe called. “Remember, Abby? You tried the knob and the door opened.”

“Right,” I said, ignoring Marco’s skeptical glance. “And what are the odds that a woman would leave her front door unlocked, especially after dark? It wouldn’t happen.”

“Was the garage attached to the town house?” Marco asked.

“Yes, accessible through a door in the kitchen.”

Marco rubbed his jaw. “So I’m picturing Honey eating in the kitchen, hearing her front door open, then running out to the garage and taking off in her car.”

“With her luggage already in the trunk,” I added. “I’ll bet you any money that after she got to the hospital and saw what happened to Harding, she decided to leave the country.”

“But someone or something spooked her,” Marco said, “causing her to leave sooner than she’d expected.”

I sat back with a frustrated sigh. “With Honey out of the country, there’s no one to say whether Raand is involved.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. First we need to find out whether Honey’s departure and Harding’s beating are related to the kidnappings, because if they aren’t, we’re wasting our time. We know it wasn’t Raand who went after Honey because he’s in police custody.”

“He could have hired someone to go after Harding and Honey, maybe the same person who killed Hudge.”

“But again, someone botched the job. Harding didn’t die and Honey got away. And would Raand take that risk, considering the investigation is focused on him?”

“Maybe he was desperate.”

Marco tapped his fingers on the table. “We need to know what evidence the DA has on Raand.”

“Are you going to ask Reilly to help?”

“Nope.” He closed his notebook and stood up.

“Who else is there? You nixed my grilling Morgan at dinner tomorrow.”

Marco raised me up and pulled me into his arms. “I’m officially un-nixing you.”

“Really?”

“Abby, I’m counting on you to do what you do best.”

Awesome. “So”—I gave him a flirtatious glance—“you’re not angry about Rafe and me going up to New Buffalo?”

“Don’t push your luck,” he said with a little quirk of his mouth. “But the next time you decide to take a road trip, would you please let me know? I hate hearing it from Reilly.”

“I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

Marco shook his head. “It’s a good thing I like incorrigible women.”

“Excuse me? You mean
woman
, don’t you?”

“I mean
you
.” He dipped his head and our lips met, gently at first and then passionately, our bodies melding, soft curves meeting hard muscle, making me forget everything but the man against me. He sure knew how to kiss.

A few moments later, a key turned in the lock and then Nikki called, “Hello?”

Reluctantly, I broke away. “In here, Nikki. Marco and Rafe are here, too.” I glanced at Marco and shrugged. “Sorry. Bad timing.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Marco said, reaching for his jacket. “Now that Nikki’s home, I’ll run Rafe back to my place.” He kissed me on the tip of my nose and went to rouse his brother, calling back, “You need to hit the sack, Sunshine. It’s after midnight.”

Ugh. He was right. I had to be up in less than six hours.

Nikki peered around the corner. “So,” she said in a whisper, “everything okay?”

I knew she meant Marco and me. “We’re fine. I’ll tell you more tomorrow.”

“Hey, Nik, thanks for your help today,” Marco said, pushing Rafe toward the door. “Dinner is on me tomorrow.”

“About that,” Nikki said. “We’ll have to take a rain check. Greg has the flu. He left a message on my cell phone about an hour ago.”

Didn’t it figure that the one time I had Marco’s permission to be nosy, I couldn’t?

Wait. Yes, I could.

I
woke up the next morning filled with all kinds of energy. I had a plan to get the information we needed from Morgan and it involved chicken soup. My mom always kept homemade soup in her freezer. I’d just stop on my way to work to pick it up.

When I came out of the bedroom, Marco was already shaved, his sheets folded neatly on the end of the sofa. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, doing push-ups on the living room carpet.

“Oatmeal this morning?” I asked.

“Sure. Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty . . . I’ll be in to help in a moment.”

“That’s okay. Keep working those biceps, Salvare. The Irish chef is on duty.” I was in a generous mood. It felt great knowing Marco and I were a team again. Holmes and Watson. Batman and Robin. Marco and Abby. We were unstoppable.

Marco’s cell phone rang as I was pouring a packet of oatmeal in the bowl. “Would you get that, babe?” he called in between counts. “Phone’s on the table.”

And Nikki was sleeping, which he’d apparently forgotten. I dashed for the phone, glanced quickly at the screen, saw OUT OF AREA, and had an instant feeling of trepidation. “Hello?”

“Who is this?” a woman with a slight Italian accent demanded.

Yikes. Just as I feared, it was Francesca Salvare. “Um, just a minute, please,” I said, hurrying into the living room. “Your mom!” I whispered, shoving the phone at Marco. “Don’t tell her I’m here.”

“But you answered,” Marco whispered back.

“The last time I spoke with her, she quizzed me on my bowel habits!” I whispered. “And the time before that—”

“Hi, Mama. Yes, that was Abby. Because I was busy. Doing push-ups, Mama. I don’t think she recognized your voice, either. I don’t know why Rafe isn’t answering his phone. I’m not at home. Yes, I know what time it is. I slept here. Why? Do I need a reason?” Marco held the phone away to draw a deep breath. “Did you want something, Mama? Yes, I gave her the pattern book. She’s thinking about it.”

Ye gods. How was I going to get out of that one without hurting her feelings?

Marco put a hand over the phone to whisper, “She wants to talk to you.”

“No!” I whispered in alarm. “Tell her I’m leaving right now to go to work. Wait. Tell her I’m running late and have lots to do today. No, that’s no good. Tell her—”

“She can’t talk now, Mama. I’m sure she’ll let you know when she makes up her mind. Okay, I’ll have Rafe phone you later. Sure. Bye.

“Did you catch the gist of that?” Marco asked.

“Yes, and she’s not going to make my gown.” I headed into the kitchen, muttering, “I’m wearing jeans and a white blouse. End of discussion.”

I had just stirred hot water into the oats when I heard, “Abby, you need to see this.”

I put the bowls on a tray with spoons, napkins, and cups of coffee, and carried it to the living room. Marco had tuned in to the local cable TV station’s morning newscast, where a reporter was talking about a press conference. I put the tray on the coffee table, sat beside Marco on the sofa, and picked up my bowl.

Marco turned up the volume, catching the reporter in midsentence. “—head of operations at the Uniworld Distribution Center gave this statement yesterday.”

Head of operations? “Is this about Nils Raand?” I asked, spooning a bite of creamy oatmeal into my mouth.

“Yep. Raand bonded out yesterday afternoon,” Marco said.

“He did? Then maybe Raand
is
who Honey ran from.”

“It’s possible.”

A prerecorded clip showed a shot of the New Chapel courthouse, where microphones had been set up at the top of the steps. I watched as Nils Raand took his place in front of the mics, where a good half dozen reporters had gathered. Beside Raand was attorney Nathan Knowles in the standard-issue black wool dress coat. Raand sported a chic tan suede bomber jacket, brown pants, and shiny brown leather shoes.

“My arrest was a mistake,” Raand said, “and in no way reflects on the good name of Uniworld Food Corporation. Uniworld remains one of the premier corporations in this country, dedicated to providing quality food products for everyone.”

I nearly choked at that remark. “Food products laced with hormones, that is!”

“Will you be suing the police for false arrest?” a reporter called.