Marco drove me around the square to the tan brick building on Indiana Street that housed the sheriff’s department. It was located next to the New Chapel Savings Bank and across from the entrance to the courthouse. Once inside the building, we went through security; then I was taken to a room no wider than a hallway, where I sat in front of a one-way glass mirror, Detective Maroni beside me.
“Any questions before we start?” he asked.
I nodded eagerly. “Did Dwayne Hudge confess to the kidnapping?”
“I meant questions about the lineup.”
“Oh, I understand how that works. What I need to know is whether Hudge was operating independently or hired to do the job.”
The detective gave me a look of disbelief.
“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “As I mentioned in my interview, I’ve helped with investigations before, and after all, this is my case, too, so I’d appreciate it if you’d brief me.”
He rose and said into an intercom, “We’re ready.”
Fine. I’d get my information somewhere else.
Six men, all of similar height, weight, coloring, and clothing, down to their hooded sweatshirts, filed into the room on the other side of the glass, then turned to face the glass. Behind them, height markings were painted on the wall.
“Take your time,” Detective Maroni told me. “If you want to hear a voice or have them say a phrase, let me know. Mainly, we need to know if you’ve seen any of these men in your shop or outside your shop, or otherwise near your person.”
I studied the men for several minutes. “I’ve seen number three before. His face is very familiar.”
“Okay. Anyone else?”
I took a long look at each one. “Just number three.”
He stood up. “Well, then, thanks for your time.”
“Is the third man Dwayne Hudge?”
“No, he’s one of my deputies.”
No wonder he looked familiar. Number three was the cop who’d threatened to arrest me if I led the protesters onto Uniworld property.
Okay, then. Feeling a bit foolish, I left the room and found Tara waiting outside with her mom. Tara seemed relieved to see me and gave me a fierce hug. “Was it scary?”
“Not at all,” I told her. “They can’t see you behind the glass. You can only see them.”
The detective called her in then, allowing Kathy to accompany her. I sat down on a bench against the wall just as Marco strode up the hallway toward me. He radiated such virility, confidence, strength, and genuine concern for me, I couldn’t help thinking that I’d made a mistake starting a minus column. I’d delete it the moment I got back to the shop.
He sat down beside me. “How did it go?”
“I wasn’t much help. I picked a cop out of the lineup.”
“Don’t sweat it. That happens. People see cops around town in uniform, but don’t recognize them in regular street clothes.”
“That was probably it.”
“Ready to go back to the flower shop?”
“Tara’s in there now. I’d like to wait to see how she does.”
“No problem.”
I leaned back against the wall. “I tried to find out if Hudge had confessed, but Detective Maroni didn’t want to share that information with me.”
“Did you really expect him to?”
“Abby. Hi!” Jillian cried, sailing toward me. She was bundled into a stylishly short white faux fur coat and warm Ugg boots, with a jaunty new beret on her head. “You’ll never guess why I’m here.”
“For a lineup,” I said as Jillian eyed the bench, trying to decide if it was clean enough for her posterior.
“For a lineup,” she said one second behind me. “Wait. How did you know? Is that why you’re here? Not you, Marco. I know why you’re here. I heard about your-wink, wink-bodyguard duties.”
Marco had his arms folded across his chest and was staring up the hallway in the opposite direction, pretending not to be there.
Jillian wedged herself in between us, causing Marco to sidle to the far end of the bench. Then she nudged my boot with the toe of her Ugg. “Kind of a sneaky way to move in together, isn’t it, Abs? I mean, why not just get married and be done with it? That’s what Claymore and I did. You have to step off the cliff one of these days. Right, Marco?”
I grabbed her boot at the ankle and tried to wrestle it off her foot, while she held on to the bench to keep from sliding onto the floor. “Jillian, if you say one more word about us getting married-”
“Let go of my Ugg!”
“-I’ll tell Claymore you’ve decided you’re ready to have babies. Lots of them.”
It was merely a guess that Claymore had broached that subject, but it had the effect I wanted. My cousin sucked in her breath in horror. “You wouldn’t!”
I released her boot. “Try me.”
She glared at me as she tugged the boot in place, but when I merely glared back, she finally said grudgingly to Marco, who was now standing a few feet away trying to be invisible, “I’m sorry. I take it all back.”
Marco gave her a nod, and went back to not being there.
Jillian decided to remedy that. “Seriously, Marco, if you and Abby want to live together, it’s cool with me. I won’t say another word about it.” She winked at me.
“That’s it,” I said, pulling out my phone.
The door opened and the detective ushered Tara and Kathy out. “You did an excellent job,” the detective said to Tara. He saw Jillian and wiggled his finger at her. “You’re next.”
As though she’d been called to the stage to accept an award, Jillian smoothed back her hair, moistened her lips, and followed the detective into the room.
As soon as the door closed behind them, I hopped up from the bench and went over to Tara. “How did it go?”
“She was very brave,” Kathy said, stroking Tara’s hair. “Weren’t you, honey?”
“I identified the kidnapper,” Tara told me, her voice a bit shaky from the ordeal. “The scuzzball was number five in the line.”
“Are you sure it was him?” Marco asked.
Tara nodded. “I didn’t recognize him until the detective asked him to put up his hood and turn to the side. Then I was pretty sure it was him, because I could see his profile whenever he was talking to Blondie. But just to be sure, I asked the detective to have him say what I heard him tell Blondie right before I got away. Then I knew it was him.”
“What did he say?” I asked.
“ ‘You’re a dead woman.’ He kind of screamed it at her.”
“Did you hear any more of their argument?” Marco asked.
Tara nodded again. “The scuzzball called Blondie a doublecrosser and accused her sister of turning Blondie against him. Then Blondie called him crazy and stupid, and then he yelled back that she was a dead woman. But the detective said that was too much to have him repeat, so instead he asked him to say only the last part-about her being a dead woman.”
Tara turned to me. “Did you know Blondie died? Mom said they found her body outside one of those garage doors at Uniworld, and that maybe a semitruck crushed her, but I’ll bet the scuzzball ran her down.” At a buzzing noise, she pulled a cell phone from her pocket. “Is it okay if I text now?” she asked her mom.
“I guess so,” Kathy said.
While Tara sat on the bench, tapping out her message, I said to my sister-in-law, “Did the detective mention anything about the evidence they found?”
“Only that they were analyzing it. Detective Maroni said he’d let me know when he had any updates.”
“Would you let me know if he calls you?” I asked.
“Sure.”
Tara put away her phone. “Can we go home now? My stomach feels funny.”
I glanced at the door where Jillian would emerge shortly and said, “Mine, too. We’ll walk out with you.”
As we headed back to Bloomers, I mulled over Tara’s revelations, trying to fit them into the puzzle. “Marco, what do you think Dwayne Hudge might have meant when he accused Blondie-I mean Charlotte Bebe-of double-crossing him?”
“That Hudge was afraid Charlotte’s sister had convinced her to cut him out of whatever their deal was.”
“Do you remember Tara saying that they were arguing about where to take her? Charlotte wanted to go somewhere they couldn’t be heard, remember?”
“Sure. That’s why we thought their intent was to kill Tara-you.”
“But if Charlotte was planning to double-cross Hudge, maybe her true intent was to kill him. And if Hudge suspected that’s what Charlotte’s intentions were, that would give him a motive for running her down.”
“True.”
Terrific. We were on the same page again. “I wish we could sit in on Hudge’s interview. I really want to know about those two pieces of evidence that tie Raand to Hudge and Charlotte.”
“What two pieces of evidence?”
“I forgot to tell you I called Greg Morgan today. So much is going on, I can’t remember who I told what.”
“Morgan talked to you about the evidence?”
“Sort of. Anyway, he said the cops had recovered two pieces of evidence that linked Raand to the kidnappers-a note and flowers. I got it out of him that the note was from Raand, but he wouldn’t say who the recipient was or how flowers fit into the picture, so maybe Reilly can help there.”
“We can’t keep asking Reilly to divulge information from the police files, Abby. He’s taken too many chances for us.”
“Not on this case.”
Marco gave me a frown. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Go there. Leave Reilly alone.”
Our page numbers were not lining up now. “Then what do you suggest we do to get more information?”
“Why do we have to do anything?”
“For my peace of mind.”
Marco glanced at me. “You’re going to work this like a dog with a bone, aren’t you?”
“Can you blame me?”
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Okay, here’s an idea. I’d be highly surprised if Hudge had enough money to hire private counsel, so he’ll ask for a public defender. And who is the county’s public defender for major crimes? Your old boss, Dave Hammond.”
“And of course Dave will need to hire an investigator, and that will be you.”
“Now you’re getting the picture.”
“Then you’ll need an assistant, and that will be me. So let’s get moving on this. I should have some free time this afternoon to…”
Marco frowned.
“What now?” I asked in exasperation, as we pulled up in front of Bloomers.
“Let’s not jump the gun. Hudge has to have his initial hearing first. Then if he qualifies for a public defender, we can get moving on it.”
“Are you kidding me? We’re talking a week, at least, and I’m really tired of checking the roof for snipers.”
“Snipers?”
“All I’m saying is that I want to know now who I’m dealing with and whether I’m still in danger. I don’t think that’s an unreasonable request.”
“I didn’t say it was unreasonable.”
“Think of it this way. If we can prove that I’m no longer in danger, you’ll be off the hook as a bodyguard. You’ll be able to resume your normal duties at Down the Hatch instead of hanging around Bloomers, bored out of your mind.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“What? No. Of course not.”
The corners of Marco’s mouth curved up in a sexy grin. “You’re sure about that?”
I leaned across the console to gaze into his eyes. “Not on your life would I want to get of you, Salvare.”
“You mean your life, don’t you”-he leaned toward me for a kiss-“Fireball?”
Marco had started using that nickname on our romantic getaway, and it still had the power to heat up my blood. “You want to see fire?”
“Do you need to ask?” He met my lips in a passionate kiss that swept me back to that dreamy, steamy weekend we spent in Key West only a month before. Then, nibbling a trail along my jaw, he murmured, “I don’t want you to worry about Hudge and Bebe. You take care of your flower shop, let me take care of protecting you, and let the cops handle the investigation.”
“Mmm,” I replied, my eyes still closed, my thoughts taking a leisurely stroll along the white sands of Smathers Beach.
“If Dave Hammond gets the case,” he whispered in my ear, “then we’ll talk about getting involved. In the meantime, I have to head down to the bar to see if my new bartender showed up today. I’ll give you a call in a bit to see how everything is, okay?”
“Mmm.” The warm sand massaged my bare feet; a tropical breeze lifted my hair…
He straightened, all business now. “And remember, if you have to go out for any reason, call me. I’ll take you. Not a problem. And make sure the ladies don’t leave you alone for even a minute. You’ve got your cell phone on, right? You’re carrying it with you at all times?”
Great. We were back to the warnings again. Visions of the tropics faded to the stark white snowy backdrop of New Chapel. “Yes to everything. Don’t worry. I’ll be here working away.”
I could tell Marco was about to add another instruction, so I unbuckled my seat belt and got out. “See you later.”
Inside Bloomers, Grace was working alone because Lottie had been asked to come to the station and view the lineup, too. When Lottie returned a short time later, she reported that she had picked out the phony UPS man who, it turned out, was none other than Dwayne Hudge.
When we had a few minutes between customers, I filled my assistants in on what Tara had revealed about the kidnappers’ argument, and how it had most likely led to Charlotte’s death.
“I knew that phony deliveryman was up to no good,” Lottie told us. “I never suspected he was a killer, though. We can breathe a little easier now that Hudge is in custody.”
“But we shan’t let down our guard until we know who hired him,” Grace added. “As Confucius said, ‘Better be despised for too anxious apprehensions, than ruined by too confident security.’ ”
“Good one,” Lottie said, applauding.
When I finally made it back to my workroom, I discovered that none of the orders I’d finished that morning had been delivered because there’d been no one available to deliver them.
Yowzers! We had to get them out! The only problem was that Lottie had begun helping a young couple select flowers from a wedding catalog, and Grace was waiting on three tables full of women downing scones and cups of espresso. I hated to butt in on a job Lottie had started, and I still couldn’t operate the espresso machine, so no way was I going to take over in the parlor. That left asking Marco to come back, so I quickly called the bar.
Gert, a longtime waitress, answered in her gravelly voice, “Down the Hatch.”
“Hi, Gert. It’s Abby. Is Marco busy?”
“He sure is, hon. Just went into a meeting. Want him to call you back when he’s finished? Should be an hour or so… unless this is an emergency or something.”
An hour? The shop would close in two hours. I couldn’t afford to wait that long, but I also didn’t want to pull Marco away from something important. “Never mind, Gert. I’ll see him later.”
Damn! It was so frustrating not being able to leave on my own… unless I wasn’t the one leaving.