Mouth of the Rat (A Samantha Jamison Mystery) (3 page)

Martha grinned. “We’re up to a challenge, right, Sam?”

I managed to give Mona a confident smile. “Sure.”

Oh, I was lying through my teeth!

Chapter 7

Senior Intel & Noteworthy Moments

As I headed out for a brief walk to think, I saw Mona’s neighbor who lived in the condo above her. I’d met Irving the day before. After sifting through his mail, he gave me a wave. A widower, Mona said Irving was overwhelmed with widows delivering dinners to his door nonstop.

She said no one cooked this food, they merely ordered from a chic restaurant and had it delivered. It sounded to me like a new genre of bereavement-meals-on-wheels. As for me, this senior learning curve was looking expensive.

After meeting Irving, and spending only one afternoon observing a bunch of widows lurking about, Martha wasn’t in a cheery mood.
Competition.
She said seniors had ESP with a widower. Word spread by osmosis.

Mr. Cohen nodded. “Nice to see you again, Samantha.”

I smiled. “Please, call me Sam.”

Irving appeared upset.

“Is everything okay?”

He frowned after looking down again at the mail in his hand. “You know, I get so frustrated with all this junk mail and phone calls asking for my wife, and then insisting on speaking to her. She’s dead, for God’s sake. Give it a rest!”

I felt sorry for him. “It must be very upsetting.”

“Oh, you have no idea. Why, just the other day, I got a phone call from a pushy salesman trying to sell my wife his product by phone, saying, ‘I’m from the Super Hearing Aid Company, and I’d like to speak to your wife, Esther.’ I tried to explain that my wife was dead and no longer here, but the salesman would not take no for an answer.”

“You’re kidding! How awful!”

“He wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to explain that my wife was deceased. So out of frustration, I said, ‘I keep trying to explain, but you won’t listen.’ All he did was become obnoxious, insisting I go get her. Again and again, he tried to set up an appointment. Finally, knowing Esther, I said ‘you want to meet with her that bad?’ He got real excited, saying, ‘Yes!’ So I said, ‘Then go to hell!’”

We were both still chuckling as we parted. I mentally filed that tidbit, wondering if I would still have a sense of humor after undergoing such an event as the death of a spouse. I had to warn Martha about the widows bringing him meals, which in his case would be a major mistake.

I stopped in place, turned back and watched Irving walk to his condo. No, that wasn’t Martha’s style. She wouldn’t do the food thing. She’d invite the guy out for drinks or drop by, bringing her own mixers and a shaker. I shook my head, just picturing the takedown. The poor guy wouldn’t know what hit him. Maybe I should’ve warned him about Mona’s new guest. I turned back, laughing.

No! Why spoil all the fun?

Chapter 8

Mona, Martha, Me, & Ma Ma Mia!

When I returned Mona said she was treating Martha and me to lunch at Mizner Square in downtown Boca. The spot used to be an old, failing, indoor mall, built back in the sixties. When Boca’s population exploded in the eighties, it was torn down and replaced by an upscale avenue.

Restaurants dotted the palm tree-lined boulevard, as well as stores. Above them were dozens of apartments. It was a popular spot with locals and tourists that included an outdoor concert area where evening shows took place.

We were eating at Villagio, one of the indoor/outdoor restaurants smack in the middle of all the activity. The weather was cooperating and after parking the car in one of the elevated car garages, we sat sipping our wine by the outdoor fountain, watching Bentleys, Porsches, Mercedes, and the occasional Rolls Royce drop off diners and be taken away by eager valets.

After orders were taken, Martha and Mona went to the ladies’ room. I sat there enjoying my wine and the scenery, while checking out the latest fashions and
enhancements
.

My breath caught when I dropped my linen napkin, reached for it, and then spotted two mean-looking guys at the next table with a fluffy-white poodle sitting with them on a chair. It wasn’t the pooch so much that had caught my attention, but the hardware on one of the guys’ hips.

His shirt had ridden up and exposed the small gun in the holster on his belt. I nonchalantly placed my napkin back on the table and tried to get a better look at them. It was impossible without being obvious, so I just sat there as they occasionally glanced my way.

I wasn’t exactly nervous, but I doubted these guys just happened to be sitting next to us with one, or, more likely, two of them carrying guns. The poodle wasn’t cutting it, either. If anything, it was a dead giveaway. These men looked like thugs. They had dangerous and deadly pissed-off looks plastered on their faces.

The one closest to me, who had slicked-back gray hair and a bodybuilder’s frame suddenly looked in my direction and nodded, just as I took a glance. Embarrassed, I quickly turned back, relieved to see Mona and Martha returning.

“You see that hunk notice us?” Martha asked Mona.

“Yeah, but he was eyeing that babe walking next to us.”

“I’m sure he saw right through all that silicone.”

“No, I think he was
enjoying
all that silicone.”

“Oh, please. You think he was that shallow?”

“Yes. Men like shapely-wrapped packages.”

I nudged them both under the table and was ignored.

“Wasn’t that woman pushing it with that skimpy skirt?”

“Martha, That’s the whole point, pushing it.”

“Hey!” I hissed.

They finally turned, then focused on me.

“What?” Martha asked, miffed at the interruption.

Noticing my expression, Mona said, “What’s wrong?”

“See those guys at the next table?” I whispered, and then looked over myself.

But they were gone and so was Puff Ball
. Damn.

Chapter 9

Going To Town

“I’ll be right there,” I yelled to a foot-tapping Martha.

She was driving me crazy since she heard from Mona about Boca’s Town Center, a mall she said was a shopper’s dream. I personally figured you see one mall, you’ve pretty much seen them all, but I couldn’t let Martha go alone.

“Well, it’s about time,” said Martha, escorting me out. “I’m on a tight schedule to go see this mall and get back.”

I gave her a curious look. Not once had mall and a tight schedule ever escaped her lips in the same sentence before.

“What do you have to get back for?”

“Tennis date at the club.”

I stopped in place. “But you don’t play tennis…Who?”

She gave me a sly smile. “Why, Irving, of course.”

I laughed. “I’m amazed at how fast you work.”

“I have a way with the senior set, being so striking.”

I already had on my sunglasses to cut the glare from her outfit: red capris (a favorite color of hers), a bright yellow flowered top, a silver handbag, and sandals.

“Yup, striking is definitely the word that covers it.”

Grinning, she whipped out a blue scarf and wrapped it around her neck and posed. “What do you think?”

I bit my tongue to stop what would have come out first, waited a beat, and then said, “That about tops it off.”

“That’s exactly what I thought! Come on, let’s go!”

By the time we found a parking spot over by Saks, spent two hours roaming through Tori Birch, Louis Vuitton, Neiman Marcus, and a multitude of other stores I was dead.

“Look, Martha. I’m beat. You haven’t bought a thing.”

“Did you actually expect me to buy something here on my fixed income?”

“That’s what people normally do in a mall, isn’t it?”

“Not me. Plus, I haven’t finished looking yet.”

“I need to sit. My feet hurt.”

“You have no staying power, you know that?”

“Two hours are my limit. I need to start investigating.”

“Give me twenty minutes more,” she said running off.

After getting a Starbucks coffee at the kiosk, I found a bench, gave a sigh, kicked off my sandals, and whipped out my phone to check my emails. My friend and agent, Sandra, was eager to hear about my latest book, which I promptly lied about, saying it was exciting and coming along nicely. Ditto for my editor, who was anxious to get started on her bloodletting on another one of my books.

I was so into emails and texting, I didn’t notice someone had sat next to me until I felt fur rub against my arm. I glanced down in dismay as I recognized the poodle, which was making puppy noises at me. My eyes traveled up past the pooch and I stiffened. It was thug number one from Villagio. I tried holding off as long as I could, pretending I hadn’t noticed, but the pup was licking my arm big time and I finally had to acknowledge Cutesy and Mr. Thug.

Chapter 10

Taking The Plunge

I might be a newbie to crime, but wasn’t when it came to trouble. And this promised to be nothing but that. I slipped my phone in my purse and smiled at the pooch. My brain was frantically scrambling for something,
anything
, to say. Coming up blank, I patted the dog’s head instead.

Pooch’s dad said in a gravelly voice, “He’s been a great way to meet women.”

My hand paused mid-stroke, as my eyes slowly traveled up to the owner, whose pitted complexion, dark ominous eyes, and scarred lip gave me the willies.

“I bet,” I said, withdrawing my hand slowly. I looked down and counted my fingers. All five were still there.

A gold tooth glistened when Thug bared his teeth at me.

“You from around here?” he asked, still grinning.

My eyes darted about, searching for Martha. She was never around when I needed an excuse to make an exit. No sign of her. I turned back to him. Why was he asking that? His pick-up line had bad vibes written all over it.

I kept it vague. “I’m visiting.”

“Plan on staying long?”

“No. A short visit should do it for me.”

“Relatives?”

“Sort of.”

“Then cutting it short might be in your best interest.”

Two conversations were going on, one harmless, but beneath that, the other was a direct message I didn’t like.

I smiled, but was annoyed. “I
was
considering that.”

“Well, then I wish you good health for a speedy return.”

I’d had enough. “…That is, when I’m good and ready.”

“A smart person knows timing is everything.”

“That never was one of my strengths.”

“I think you’re smarter than you let on.”

“And I think you’re not, where it concerns me.”

His smile faded, as he leaned in close. Pooch growled.

“Watch it, or you’ll be in someone’s crosshairs, Sam.”

My armpits were feeling damp as I thought of a retort. I wasn’t surprised the guy knew my face. Unfortunately, my name being mentioned threw me and I drew another blank. Our mute standoff dragged on. I finally stood. He stood, still holding to that ball of cotton. I was suddenly afraid Martha would show up and realized I definitely didn’t want to involve her, placing her in danger, too.

I squared my shoulders. “I guess I know where I stand.”

He leaned in once again. “Just hope you’re still standing when this is all over.”

I blinked.

He didn’t.

Then he abruptly spun around and walked off.

I exhaled in relief.

Martha finally appeared. “That was exhausting.”

“I agree,” I whispered, no longer seeing Muscle Man.

Chapter 11

Playing Pool And Pooling Info

With Martha temporarily gone for tennis, I hit the pool area of Mona’s villas. Laptop under my arm, I crossed the street and entered the gated area, figuring I could start my book while waiting.

I was glued to my typing on a lounge chair when a voice spoke from my left. It was talking to me. I turned to look at who owned it. A bejeweled hand reached out. Attached to it was a redheaded woman, full makeup, and in pretty good shape, according to her bathing suit. She smiled.

“I’m Sylvie. I live right behind there. You new here?”

I shook her hand. “I’m visiting with my friend.”

“And where does she live?”

I pointed behind us. “I guess next to you, first floor.”

“And I’m right above Sylvie,” said a voice on my right.

I looked right. Number Two was eyeing my laptop.

“Hi, I’m Bunny,” said a rail-thin, bleached, silver-haired, wrinkle-free woman, holding out her hand to me.

I shook it. “Hi.” Nothing moved on her sculpted face.

Where did these two come from?

“So you’re the novelist that’s staying in
that
villa?”

“That’s right. I write mysteries.”

Both of them sat up straighter, coming close.

Sylvie spoke first. “We heard what happened to Marco.”

My ears perked up. I closed my laptop, ready to dish.

Had they seen something? Heard something?

“Yes,” said Bunny. “All those people running around.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Ambulance, police, even FBI!” whispered Sylvie.

Bunny bent closer. “What did your friend say?”

I had to be careful what I said, but wanted to hear what they might know. “She’s still pretty shaken up.”

“I would imagine so!” said Sylvie shaking her head.

Bunny tapped me. “Timing was suspicious though.”

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

“It happened right after the guards did their drive by.”