Hot Rocks (21 page)

fifty-two

The rest of the
day was uneventful. I checked in at the bar and discovered that Bob and Dot were catching up on their sleep. Sounded like a good idea so I went home, crawled into bed, and did the same. After all, I needed to be fresh for David. I refused to consider he might have to spend the night at the hospital.

He didn’t. His patient’s condition improved, and I discovered a whole new level of highs. Compared to my previous experiences with men, I may as well have been a virgin. My last thought before falling asleep in David’s arms was that I had to find some way to keep him. I knew he couldn’t be as perfect as he seemed, but I was more than willing to take the chance on imperfections. Besides, Mom would love him. After all, he was a doctor.

_____

I woke at five thirty a.m. when David’s alarm went off, and he got out of bed. “Don’t go,” I said. “It’s such a big, lonely world without you.”

He kissed me on the forehead. “Sorry, but the Hippocratic oath has to come first. I have hospital rounds, then a day filled with appointments. You stay out of trouble, don’t get hurt, and be back here promptly at six p.m. I have special plans for this evening.” He flipped back the covers. “Very special plans.”

I watched him walk into the bathroom, then rolled over, smiling so wide I could feel new creases in my forehead. I don’t remember his leaving the house.

I woke, a shudder flooding through me. I lay there, a feeling of déjà vu overwhelming me. Same as yesterday, same feeling, same everything. Then I remembered, different bed, different room, different world. David’s bedroom, perfect bedroom, perfect world. I wanted to stretch and luxuriate, but an ominous dread drained me. Whatever snapped me awake was internal, something inside me. Not a noise, not an outside threat. What kind of kooky dreams could I be having that would hit me twice on successive days?

Although I told myself there was no danger, I went for Bruce’s M9. I hadn’t told David I was packing, but it was now a fixture in my purse. My goal was to bolster my confidence. The Beretta had the effect I wanted. With the gun in hand, it was time to decipher the subconscious clue I had received.

As I concentrated, I released the magazine, then slammed it home. That felt good, so I did it again, and a third time. After beating the magazine up, I pulled back the slide until I saw brass, then let it go forward. So reassuring. Thanks, Bruce, I thought. Nice gun.

That’s when I realized what woke me. Bruce. No, not the physical Bruce, but a mental image of him that formed while I slept. He had appeared to me in a dream, a dream important or fearful enough to snap me into wakefulness. What had it been?

I needed mental clarity so I headed for the kitchen, dangling the Beretta in my right hand. I didn’t realize it was there until I opened the cabinet door. The weapon felt as natural as a trip to my hairdresser. David had brewed a pot of coffee, and it was still hot. There was also a note. I smiled as I read it.

If this is what a one-night stand feels like, I should have started a long time ago. Feels more like a one-lifetime stand. The day will be loooooong before I’m with you again.

My emotions surged and tears came to my eyes. What a precious man. How had I gotten so lucky? But I had to steel myself, set aside my feelings, and return to my Beth-the-Avenger status. The bums who framed me were still out there. And my at-sleep mind had tried to tell me something. I couldn’t allow anything to interrupt my brain-dump.

After pouring a cup of coffee, I sat at the table and concentrated, searching for the dream. It had to be something I already knew. I didn’t believe in premonitions. Those I left to Mom.

It came to me, at first in dribs and drabs, then in a rush. Tomasco said he had Bruce following his courier, Benjamin Jacobs. What was it Tomasco said? Something like
the best way to keep people honest is watch them.
He also told me Bruce’s job was to make sure Jacobs kept his appointment. Then he accused me of being responsible for Jacobs’ death and the loss of the briefcase because I came between Bruce and Jacobs.

I rummaged in the kitchen drawers until I found a pad of paper and a pen, then sat down and began to make notes. Once I caught up with my thoughts, I let my pen drift. Three stick figures
appeared, one with a briefcase, followed by one in a skirt, followed by one holding a gun. Bruce following me while I followed Jacobs.

That was it. If Bruce was watching both Jacobs and me, he had to see me enter that hotel room and, contrary to what he said, know what happened next. That’s what my dream had told me—my newfound friend Bruce might not have shared everything he knew. Then I remembered I cut off that part of his story, told him to concentrate on Tomasco.

I slapped my forehead. What an idiot. So now one of my questions was, had Bruce cooperated with me to divert Tomasco from tracking the diamonds? Was it to divert me while he monopolized the chase? Of course it was. Not only that, but the son of a bitch was probably hot on the trail of the briefcase right now.

I shook my head. The bastard snookered his boss by using me. And in so doing, he snookered me. However, Mom always said, she who snookers last, snookers best. And I planned to snooker Bruce last.

My coffee cup was empty, so I refilled it and settled at the table, mulling over my newfound memory. David’s kitchen clock read eight a.m. Time to hit the shower, then get moving. Bruce had no idea what was about to hit him. I would turn him every way but loose until I squeezed every morsel of information from him. He’d think twice before he held out on the next woman.

I spent half a moment considering whether to bring Dot in for her own enjoyment, then trashed the idea. He was mine, all mine.

_____

After showering, dressing, making the bed, and leaving a love note on David’s pillow, I headed for home to get ready for the day. The clothes I’d worn out with David the previous evening were not what I had in mind for nailing Bruce to the proverbial wall.

Once I changed into my usual jeans, casual shirt, and sneakers, I dug Bruce’s business card out of my purse. No address, only a phone number. I dialed and listened to a recording tell me I’d reached Langston Security Services and, if I left a brief reason for my call, someone would get back to me. Reassuring, but misleading. I figured if Bruce didn’t like what he heard, he would ignore it. What a great idea though. I might copy it to keep from talking to the nuts who called my number. It was no pleasure hearing their disappointment when I told them I didn’t pursue lost iguanas.

“Bruce. It’s Beth Bowman. Something hot has come up. I need to meet with you. Phone me.” I hesitated, then added as if an afterthought, “There’s money to be made—for both of us.” If I had figured Bruce right, that should earn me a call as soon as he heard the message.

fifty-three

I wanted Bruce on
my team again, but I wasn’t about to put all my eggs in that leaky basket. I figured even ostrich eggs could tumble through those holes. I’d track Bob and fill him in. If I was going up against Bruce, Gerald, and Lodo, I needed an edge. Bob and his homeless contacts might be able to provide it.

As I walked to the car, I considered whether to let the police in on my suspicions. Common sense said I should. They were the authorities, and I was onto multiple violations of the law. However, they’d pretty well told me to dig a dry hole in the beach. Every lead I gave them met with derision. Was it worth my while to bother them? I decided not—well, not until I had incontrovertible evidence to lay on them.

In case things did not go well though, I needed to let someone in on my suspicions, someone whose word would be trusted. While I believed Bob and his friends to be honest, I was probably number one on a very short list of so-called reputable people who trusted them. If it came down to their word against Bruce and company, Bruce would win.

I knew one man who fit my needs—Sylvester Bergstrom, my dear lawyer-friend-boss. Flipping open my cell phone, I called his office and asked Donna to grant me a few minutes. She was ever the loyal secretary who protected her boss like a pit bull, especially when he’d given absolute instructions for no interruptions. Even my high standing with her and Sly almost didn’t carry the day. I had to add the promise of a box of chocolates before she forgot his orders.

“Sly, it’s Beth. I need to talk with you.”

“Didn’t Donna tell you I was not to be disturbed? You can be a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Of course. But you still think I’m cute. And this cute chick needs to come in and steal some of your time.”

“I’m preparing for an important court appearance. Can’t it wait a few days?”

“It can’t wait a few hours. Even minutes are important. There are things you need to know in case I disappear. There are some really nasty people who don’t find me as fascinating as you do.”

Sly sighed, and I knew I’d won. He was a great trial lawyer, but putty in the hands of a whining woman.

“Okay. How soon can you get here? The clock starts the moment you walk through my door. Fifteen minutes maximum. Then you’re out of here, and I get back to work.”

“See you in ten minutes. And, in case I forget to use any of my precious time to tell you, you’re a doll.”

“Oh, shut up, and get in here.”

_____

Sly and I sat at his conference table, each nursing a soft drink. “That’s about it,” I said after catching him up on everything that had happened over the past several days. Everything except the details of what I did to Tomasco. Didn’t want to watch Sly squirm. Men are so sensitive about their private parts. The proof of that is the paucity of Lorena Bobbit jokes originated by men. Of course, women will keep her alive forever.

I hadn’t kept an eye on my watch, but figured I’d used about twenty of the fifteen minutes he promised me. “Those are the players. Bruce Langston and his goons, Tomasco, and the homeless folks who helped me. I’m convinced that Langston knows who conked me on the head, killed Jacobs, and stole the diamonds. Until I find the gems and bring the killers to justice, I won’t rest. I suspect Langston is on their trail, ready to take the diamonds for his own. That’s the only explanation I can come up with for why he cooperated and helped me.”

Sly gave me a skeptical look. “How about the torture session you put him through?”

“That’s what I thought at first. But it doesn’t add up. He could have told me anything, even the truth, and I’d have quit. He didn’t have to neutralize Tomasco’s guards and alarms. He didn’t have to switch sides. No, he had a reason other than my charming personality. And that has to be the jewels. His motive was to have me get Tomasco out of the picture. He probably thought I’d kill him.” I hesitated, thinking through what I’d said. “That’s my summation. You’re the jury. What do you think?”

“Woman, you’re impossible. You’re up to your pretty little neck in trouble and still digging. What you say might make sense, but it doesn’t matter. You’re just Jane Citizen. That PI badge gives you no special privileges in something like this. What can I say to convince you to turn this over to the police?”

“What police?” I said. “Whose jurisdiction? And who’s going to believe me? I have no proof, no credible witnesses to bring forward. Do you really think the authorities will mobilize because I ask them to? Do you think they’ll even bother to interview Bob, Dot, and the other homeless people? I think not. I just wanted you to know in case things don’t work out. That’s my only objective in coming here.” I pushed back from the table and stood. “Thanks for listening to me. I know you’re busy, so I’ll get out of here.” It wasn’t fair, but Sly’s comment about the police irritated me. They had done nothing, and I had no hopes they would.

“Hold it.” Sly rubbed his hand over his face. “Let me give this some thought. So much for spending my afternoon in trial preparation. This is not easy, you know.”

“Sly, you’re all I’ve got. If you don’t—”

“Dammit, you act like I don’t care. I do, but you made your decision, and you won’t change your mind. Thus, I’m stuck with it.” He hesitated and mixed in a sigh. “Before you go, I’d like you to tell your story to Donna so she can record and transcribe it. I don’t know what will happen, but at least we’ll have something to give to the cops who discover your body.”

He smiled, but it appeared forced, then rose and came around the table. “The hell of it is I respect your opinions. You’re a strong-willed woman who cuts her own path. I suspect you’ll pull it off. In a few days or a few weeks, you’ll walk in here with a shit-eating grin on your face and say, ‘It’s over.’ And I’ll say, ‘Glad you made it, now let’s get back to work.’” He hugged me, then stepped away. “From what you say, this Langston is tough. Be careful. Don’t let your ego lead you in over your head. I’d hate to have to send a wreath to your funeral.”

fifty-four

After dictating my story
to Donna, I left Sly’s building wondering if I was headed down a route I shouldn’t travel. Common sense sided with Sly—turn everything over to the police. But that went against my grain, against my
get-the-bastards
mentality. They had hurt and embarrassed me, and I didn’t like the feeling. Sly was wrong. I was right. Besides, the authorities had accomplished nothing and, worse, treated me like a naïve rookie.

Of course, that meant finding Bruce. Not only finding him but somehow gaining his cooperation. That was the quickest way I could think of to locate the bums who framed me. I dialed Bruce’s number again, got the same recording, and left another voice mail. I had no idea how often he checked his messages but hoped it would be soon. I was ready for the next step.

In the meantime, I sat in my car with the air conditioner running, nothing but time on my hands. David was at work, Bob didn’t need me involving him any deeper, and if I went home, Mom might call. Sounded like the perfect time to go shopping.

I headed for the Coral Lakes Mall. It had several anchor stores, Penney’s being one of them. If I couldn’t find anything interesting on sale there, I could hit Sears, Macy’s, and Dillard’s. And, if the big chains had nothing that caught my eye, there were about a hundred other places where I could kill time. I couldn’t remember ever returning to my car empty-handed. There was always something I convinced myself I had to have.

I parked near a Penney’s entrance and headed toward the door. My cell phone played its ditty before I’d taken ten steps. Flipping it open, I saw an unfamiliar number from an unknown area code.

“Hello.” I waited, hoping it was Bruce, but fearing it was another telemarketer.

“Beth. You called and mentioned one of my favorite words. Tell me about the money.”

It was Bruce. My teaser worked. “We need to meet. I have an idea that will pay off for both of us.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Uh-uh. Not something I want to spread across the air waves. Face to face. That’s the only way it’s happening.” I held my breath, hoping greed won the day.

The line stayed wordless, but I could hear his breathing on the other end. I figured he was doing what I’d be doing—evaluating, sniffing for trickery, trying to find the trap in my words. “Where are you?”

“Coral Lakes Mall. Is it important?”

“Perhaps. You’ve got ten minutes. I’ll meet you at El Toro’s. Take a sidewalk table, sit facing the street, order a beer for me, and wait until I decide to show myself. I’ll have a Dos Equis dark. If I see any of your friends in the area, I won’t be there, and you can have my beer. Understand?”

“I would if I knew where the restaurant is. Want to give me a hint?”

Bruce chuckled. “I thought you knew everything. Just over the line in Palm Beach County on four-forty-one. Find it.” He clicked off.

I headed for my vehicle at a quick pace, knowing his ten-minute deadline would be tough to meet. Bruce did what I hoped I would do were the situation reversed. He gave me a tight schedule, knowing I wouldn’t have time to rally anyone to provide surveillance. What he didn’t know was it made no difference. Bob was not in my plans at this time. Maybe later, but not now.

Traffic lights were my nemesis, one at almost every intersection. I nudged a few reds, but knew I risked a ticket. The state had recently authorized cameras to cut down on the number of accidents caused by crashers. Of course, the
anti
-crowd whined that it was only to produce revenue. I didn’t care. I felt safer. Yellows—no problem. Everyone knew they were invitations to drive on.

In ten minutes, I parked in front of El Toro’s. During the twelfth minute, I took a seat at an outside table—or that’s the way I clocked it. All I could do now was see if my timeliness pleased Bruce. While waiting, I studied the area. There were few diners outside. I didn’t blame them. If I were there for lunch, I’d be inside with the air conditioning. However, Bruce’s instructions were explicit. Take an outside table and wait. The sun was brutal, but the umbrella provided a modicum of shade.

A waitress approached with the line used everywhere. “Hi, my name is Monica. I’ll be taking care of you today. Can I get you something to drink?” Her voice and tone told me she’d used it so many times, she had no idea the words she spoke. Her poised pen said she was ready for an order.

“Two Dos Equis darks and two waters. I’m waiting for someone.”

She gave me a look that said she’d like to change places with me. Her take must have been that I was waiting for a handsome man who was my afternoon delight. Handsome? Yes. Afternoon delight? No. David was the only
delight
that interested me.

The beers arrived with frosted glasses and a promise of the waters to follow. I poured mine and took small sips. Bruce’s glass melted away, creating a small puddle beside his beer. He had either seen something, or he chose to keep me waiting. To hell with him, I decided. The next time Monica ventured from the air conditioning, I flagged her over and asked for a taco platter. Breakfast at my house had been a Rice Krispies bar.

When I ordered, she gave me her deep-sympathy look. She obviously thought my man had stood me up. I could only hope she was wrong. While sipping and waiting, I began to think of other ways to track Bruce. Maybe if I spent enough time on the Internet, I’d find him. After all, privacy in our country was a thing of the past. In today’s world, everybody knew everybody’s business and posted it.

I was far enough into my beer to wonder if I should order another when I felt a presence behind me.

“My glass is defrosted,” Bruce said. “Forget the marriage proposal. Any woman who doesn’t take care of a man’s beer can’t be a wife of mine.”

“Oh, my heart is broken,” I said. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Watching you.” He took out his cell phone. “Before we go any farther, there’s something you need to hear.” He dialed. “Gerald, are you in position?” He waited, then said, “Okay, tell her.” He handed the phone to me.

“Yes,” I said.

“Ms. Bowman? This is Gerald. I want you to know I really like that necklace you’re wearing. That’s a B in the center of the pendant, isn’t it? It makes a perfect aiming point. Head shots are risky. The wind gusts, or the target turns to speak to someone, and it’s a miss. Chest shots are better. They don’t move around so much. I hope I don’t have to shoot you. Now give the phone to Bruce.”