A Cut Above (22 page)

I roll my eyes. “I get it. But you have to figure I don’t have much more to tell you after all this.” No response from the man. “Once more, with feeling, then. Max and I walked into Laura’s room and found the man beating on Mr. Cruz. Max went for the guy to help Mr. Cruz. The creep shoved Mr. Cruz, who bashed his head on the corner of the bed. Of course, I went to see about him. The creep told me to shut up—in Spanish. I pushed the panic button, and then the guy left before the nurses arrived—after he’d thoroughly punished Max.”

“How ’bout you describe him to me one more time?”

“What’s to say? I already told you about his black pants, black T-shirt, black cap, and full black beard. There’s not a whole lot I saw other than a blur of black.”

The chief gave me a disgusted look. “Tell me about
him
. Was he short, tall, thin, fat? His eyes? Did you get a good look at ’em?”

I point at Max. “He got real close and personal with the guy. Why don’t you ask him?”

Max glares. “I got
too
close and personal. I didn’t get much of a chance to look at him. I think he was shorter than me—”

“It doesn’t take much for that, Mr. Long Tall Drink of Water,” I say. “The guy was shorter than Max, and he looked pretty muscular under the T-shirt. But I didn’t even come close to seeing his eyes.”

“Dark,” Max says. “They were so dark, they looked black.” “So neither one of you can tell me much.” Chief Clark scratches his chin while he mulls over what we’ve said. “Doesn’t it hit you strange-like that that man hushed you in Spanish?”

I sigh. “Of course. It’s been itching my mind pretty much since it all happened. What do you think?”

He crosses his arms. “Seems to me, Miss Andie, I just asked you that, didn’t I?”

“Tell you what.” I stand, grab my purse, and turn to go. “You get the guy, lock him up, and then we can both ask him what’s up with that. Right now, I’m worried stupid about Laura, and I’m in desperate need of coffee.” I turn to Max. “You with me?”

He fights a grin. “Chief, I think Andie’s right. We don’t have anything more to tell you. You’ll just have to wait for the results of the toxicology tests, just like everyone else. Maybe once you know what the man gave Laura you’ll have more to go on. And we can hope the fingerprint guys can match up the ones you lifted.”

My law enforcement nemesis sighs. “I suppose you might could be right, but nothing says I have to like the circumstances. Remember, I have me a little girl and her daddy, pretty near to dead.” He skewers me with his piercing stare. “From where I’m sitting, it looks the same all over again. Here Miss Andie goes out of town to some foreign place, and next thing you know—”

“Don’t you dare!” I stomp to the elevator at the end of the hall. The men’s footsteps follow close behind. “I had nothing to do with this creep. Or any of Creepella’s other goons.”

As I blurt, I realize the can of worms I’ve opened.

“Creepella?” the cop asks. “Who’re you calling Creepella?” Max and I look at each other. “Oh, just a nasty woman we met in Colombia. No one you need to worry about, I’m sure.” But even as I say it, it doesn’t ring right.

Clearly, it doesn’t to the chief either. “A nasty woman in Colombia, you say.” He rubs an index finger along the length of his nose, skepticism smeared all over his face. “Let’s see if I’ve got this right. A Colombian girl’s poisoned in my suburban Louisville hospital. Her Colombian daddy lands in critical with a cracked-open head fighting off the guy who poisoned her. And you and Mr. Max spend some time fighting off the man what caused all the other ills. And that’s the man who shushed you in Spanish.”

I refuse to look at him.

His eyes keep boring into me, regardless. “You’re wanting me to think that nasty woman in Colombia isn’t connected? I think, Miss Andie”—his easygoing voice gets just a hair tighter—“you and I need to have us another little chat. But I agree. We do need to get some sleep before we can do any more chatting.” He slaps his notebook shut. “I’ll be seeing you in the morning.”

That’s more threat than promise. “Gee,” I mutter under my breath as he saunters off. “I can’t wait.”

Max takes my hand and gives it a healthy squeeze. “Watch your mouth, Andi-ana Jones. It’s almost as hazardous to your health as the guy in the black ski hat.”

“Yeah, okay. Fine. But why should the chief think we— I—know more about the nutcase who came to kill Laura than what we already told him? Does he really think we’d lie about it?”

“We were the last men standing, so to speak. We’re the only witnesses. Who else is he going to hit up for info?”

“Oh, stop being so rational, willya?” I blow a frustrated gust of breath. “All I want is for Laura to recover. And her dad.” “Who are you kidding, Andrea Adams?” He shakes his head. “It’s me, Max. I know you know you want to know what’s really going on here.”

His gaze goes deep. The guy has come to know me too well.

“Yeah, but—”

“Then let the chief do his best. He doesn’t have too bad a record going in, you know.”

As I step into the elevator, I slant him a look. “You were there. You know I’ve had to give him a nudge or two.”

He tightens his grip on my fingers. “Not this time.”

“Not this time. I’m out of the figuring-out-whodunnit business.”

“And I’m going to make sure you stay out of it.”

I head for the parking lot instead of the cafeteria, suddenly swamped with exhaustion no river of coffee’s going to help. “I won’t do Laura any good if I don’t get some real sleep,” I say when Max asks me where I’m going. “I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”

“I’ll be here.” He looks as though he wants to say something more, but then he shrugs.

“G’night, Max.”

“Good night, Andie.”

As I head for the car, I can’t shake the sense of something missing, something left unsaid. Something important.

I cast a look over my shoulder. Max hasn’t budged. He’s still under the awning right by the hospital door, his gaze glued to me, a hard-to-figure expression on his face.

Oh yeah. There’s a whole lot left unsaid. And I don’t think it has much to do with either Laura or Rodolfo Cruz.

It won’t be just Chief Clark I’ll be having a tête-à-tête with soon. And with every day that goes by, I’m less and less chicken about it.

About him.

Could Chief Clark be right?

Could
I
be right?

The idea has taken permanent residence ever since the moment I woke up, and now, on my way to the hospital to meet Aunt Weeby, Miss Mona, and Max, I’m in the same place in my head. I know Doña Rosario wanted those emeralds, not just any emeralds, the spectacular ones Miss Mona bought. She still does, I’m sure. And I also know Rodolfo Cruz didn’t do business with her—not that I’m sure she wanted to actually
do
business in the first place. I got the feeling she wanted the emeralds just because, payment optional. After all, she did say she didn’t like leftovers. And I did buy Rodolfo’s absolute best.

Besides that, you and I and the fly on the wall know Ro-dolfo’s attacker spoke Spanish.

Is that enough to go ahead and connect the dots? Did Doña Rosario send a man to . . . to what? Kill the Cruzes? To scare them? To shake the emeralds out of them? All of the above, and then some?

If that’s the case, is she going to send him after me too? I’m not sure she believed the results of her search. I got the sense she
knew
, not just thought, I had the stones all along.

A shudder shakes me. Can’t say I want another face-off with Creepella. Or her creep.

As far as Chief Clark goes . . . well, I don’t want him to grill me again, but I guess I don’t get a choice there. I want the man who did this caught and behind bars. So I’ll deal.

I pull into the hospital parking lot, lock up the car, take a big breath, and head upstairs. Aunt Weeby and Miss Mona are already in the Intensive Care Unit waiting room, excitement on their faces.

“Guess what!” my aunt squeals as she hugs me.

Since I’m smarter than the average fence post, and we are where we are, and since they both look livelier than a string of Christmas tree lights . . . you get my drift. “Laura’s doing better.”

Instead of congratulating me, they both look disappointed. “How’d you guess?” Aunt Weeby says.

I roll my eyes and laugh. “It doesn’t take a genius, you two. We’ve all been worried silly about her. But that’s great news, no matter what. Now, how about Rodolfo?”

Aunt Weeby’s cheer melts away. “He’s not doing so hot, sugarplum. No change, and he was in pretty sorry shape last night, you know.”

“I’m sorry. I was hoping for better news about him too. Poor Laura. It’s great that she’s better, but I’d hate for her to be worrying over her daddy. That won’t help her one bit.”

“It sure won’t,” Max says as he walks in. “Good morning, ladies. I stopped by the nurse’s station and learned they’re moving Laura back to her regular room. She regained consciousness during the night and her breathing’s fine now, even though she’ll have to keep doing breathing exercises for a few days. We’ll have to make sure she does them. Then, too, her heart doesn’t seem to have been damaged.”

Miss Mona offers her cheek for his kiss. “Looks like you used all those sweet-talking charms of yours to get the nurses to tell you what they wouldn’t tell us, son.”

Max frowns. “I thought when I walked in I heard Andie say Laura was better. They talked to you.”

I give him a crooked grin. “I did say that, but that’s all I could get the nurses to tell me. Nothing about moving her back to her regular room, breathing exercises, or about her heart being okay.”

“Maybe they had nothing to say when you asked. Maybe they were waiting for test results or doctor’s orders or something.”

“Five minutes before you walked in? Don’t think so.”

Miss Mona and Aunt Weeby tease him about his effect on women, while I bite my bottom lip. Nobody needs to tell me about it. I’m living proof of his abilities. What’s worse, he knows how he affects women . . . certainly this woman.

When the orderly wheels out Laura’s bed, we all gather around to escort her back to her regular room. While we’re all thrilled she’s doing so well, our concern for her father becomes a sixth entity in that room. Then a seventh shows up.

Of course, it’s Chief Clark, back to drum me with even more questions. He leads me to the waiting room, and then wastes no time firing away. “Mind telling me who that Creepella woman you were talking ’bout might be, Miss Andie?”

I wince. “You’re really serious, aren’t you? You think she’s involved. Even though she’s back in Colombia. It wasn’t just my hyperactive imagination going to town on me, then.”

The chief leans against the wall, crosses his arms, shrugs and makes a face. “Dunno about her being back in Colombia. Last I checked, you’ve had plenty of crazy folks come chasing after you and those fancy foreign stones you sell. And I only have one way to find out what’s what. I gotta focus on doing plain, old-fashioned police work. So how ’bout it, Miss Andie? You going to tell me about that woman?”

Max walks up as I consider my options—none I can see. “Can I join you?” he asks.

The chief shrugs. “You might could help, even.” He looks my way again. “So, Miss Andie. How ’bout it?”

I tell the chief everything I can remember about our encounters with Doña Rosario. I describe her as best I can, with Max adding a detail or two as I go along. We even do what we can to come up with decent descriptions of her men.

When there’s nothing more to tell, we all stay quiet. I can see the wheels cranking in Chief Clark’s head—not really, but I can tell he’s dissecting everything I’ve told him, filing bits and pieces together with whatever data he’s received from Colombian authorities.

How do I know he’s been in contact with Colombian authorities?

Easy. I’ve been down this road before. And I’m getting mighty sick of it. At least, by the grace of God, no one’s dead this time.

Rodolfo’s image forms behind my eyelids.

No one’s dead this time—yet.

I pray it stays that way.
Please, Lord?

“Dunno if I can agree with something you said before, Miss Andie,” the chief says. “Or maybe you didn’t rightly say it, but you sure were doubting the possibility. I’m pretty near sure that Rosie-woman is behind all this. Just as you know she was behind you being kidnapped and all.”

I draw a deep sigh. “And all because of a bunch of rocks.” “Hmm . . .” Max says. “Am I hearing things? Is that the one and only Andi-ana Jones calling gemstones rocks? The woman I once saw run into a burning house to save her rock collection? The same woman who, just to see where rubies come from, went burrowing underground into a mine that wound up caving?”

“Guess it’s called growing up, Max.” I slant him a glance, a wink, and a grin. “Can you deal?”

He leans back into his armchair and crosses his arms. “Oh, Andie, Andie, Andie. I can deal. I absolutely can deal.”

A shimmy of excitement runs through me. I meet his gaze, and find myself caught in the intensity there. Am I deluding myself or do I see a responding excitement, anticipation, caring and warmth and—
Don’t get ahead of yourself, Andie. That’s the quickest way
to that broken heart.