Vanilla Beaned (12 page)

They all stared at her but no one spoke, giving Angie the answer she needed.

“Tate!” she screamed.

It was a cry so full of anguish that Mel felt her heart stutter in her chest. Her own panic at the thought that her best friend could be injured or worse almost leveled her but she refused to let it. Tate was okay. He had to be.

She wrapped her arms about Angie and held her tight, keeping her from running outside.

“Getting yourself killed won't help him,” she said.

Manny uncovered Holly, checking her over as he rose to his feet.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I'm fine,” Holly said. Her voice was shaky and so were her hands. “I'm sorry. I didn't know you were a friend.”

“It's cool,” he said. “I think you may have saved my life.”

He gestured for everyone to go into the hallway, where they couldn't be seen from outside. He and the security guard whose name badge read
DAVE
stood at either end of the group, protecting them.

“We'll go outside,” Manny said. “You all wait here.”

Marty looked like he was going to protest, but Manny shook his head. “No.”

He paused beside Angie. “I'll find Tate.”

Mel noticed that he didn't say he was sure Tate was all right. Manny knew better. He squeezed Angie's hand before he and Dave slipped out the back door.

As soon as they were gone, Angie moved in the opposite direction. Marty stepped in her way and shook his head. Oz was right behind him doing the same thing.

“Move over, Dynamic Duo,” Angie said.

“If you go out there, Manny or the other guy might think you're the shooter and shoot you,” Oz said. “You can't go. T-man will be all right.”

And that was the difference between an eighteen-year-old chef school student and a veteran police detective. Oz hadn't learned that sometimes the good guys didn't win and that you don't make promises you're not sure you can keep.

“I will give them five minutes and then I'm going to look for him,” Angie said. Then she started pacing. The rest of them hugged the wall and let her stride back and forth like a human pendulum, working off her anxiety while she checked her watch every ten steps.

Mel was with her. She didn't think she could take much more waiting, either. On the plus side, there hadn't been any more gunshots so perhaps the shooter had left.

Just as Angie looked like she was going to run from the hallway, they heard a shout coming from the back of the house. Mel recognized Manny's voice and she began to run.

The glass French doors that led to the pool were shut and locked. Angie passed Mel, reached the door first, and unfastened the deadbolt. Manny and Dave had Tate's arms over their shoulders and they were hauling him in. His head was hanging low but his eyes were open.

“Tate, oh my god, are you all right?” Angie asked. “Where did you find him? What were you doing outside?”

“It's okay, I'm okay,” Tate said as Manny and Dave lowered him to the couch. Angie started checking him over as if she was looking for bullet holes.

“He has a knot on his head, but he roused pretty easily,” Manny said. “He should probably have his injury checked out, however.”

“I'll get some ice,” Holly said and she hurried to the kitchen.

“Angie, breathe,” Tate said. He grabbed her hands and pulled her into his arms. “I'm okay.”

Angie burst into tears and buried her face in his chest. “I can't lose you. I just can't.”

Her voice was so raw that Mel felt her throat get tight. A quick glance at the men around her and she saw them all looking in different directions as if a magical portal
taking them away from the emotional female might open up and they didn't want to miss it.

“Come on, let's give them a minute,” Mel said.

She took her two Elvises by the arms and led them from the room, leaving Manny and Dave to follow. Holly handed off a bag of frozen peas to Angie and then followed them out of the room.

Once back in the kitchen, Holly drew the blinds over the large windows, preventing anyone from seeing into the room from outside. Then she tended Dave's cut and told Manny and Oz to help themselves to anything in the kitchen. They did not need to be told twice.

“Mel, can I talk to you a minute?” Manny asked.

“Sure,” she said.

They left the kitchen and went down the hall to a small study off the main floor. Manny went in first to switch on the light and check it out and Mel followed.

Once they were in the room, he shut the door. Mel blew out a breath. The study had two wing chairs and a fireplace; a small desk sat in the corner in front of a wall of books. It was a cozy room, made even cozier by the amount of space the detective seemed to take up.

“Where did you find him?” Mel asked. She sat in one chair and Manny took the other.

“He was on the side of the house,” Manny said. “Facedown in the shrubbery.”

“He wasn't supposed to go outside.”

“We're lucky he did. It could be that the shooter saw him and got spooked.”

“But he could have been killed.”

“I don't think that was the plan. Judging by the scene, Tate got hit on the head by a flowerpot that was shot off of the balcony with the precision of a sharpshooter.”

“What are you saying?” Mel asked. She sat forward and propped her head in her hands. Suddenly, she was so tired.

“I think this was a scare tactic,” Manny said. “Or at least, that's what it feels like.”

“You know, when I spoke to you earlier this evening, you didn't mention you were coming for a visit,” she said.

“The beauty of flying from Phoenix to Vegas is you're up and down in an hour,” he said. “I found Marty and Oz at the hotel, working their Elvis magic, and then we stopped at the Casablanca to find out where Holly Hartzmark lived.”

“And they told you? Isn't that a violation of privacy?”

“I think introducing myself as Detective Martinez helped. It doesn't always, but today it did. Well, that and a fifty spot.”

Mel reached across the space between their chairs and took his hand in hers. “I'm really glad you're here.”

They stared at each other and Mel felt as if there was a mountain of words between them that would never be said. She and Manny had been through a lot. If it weren't for the fact that she was in love with Joe, well, there was no way of knowing what might have been.

“Joe sends his regards,” Manny said. It was almost as if he was reading her mind. Uncanny.

“Joe?”

“I called him after you and I spoke. We're both concerned that what is happening stems from his case.”

“Wait a minute.” Mel let go of his hand. “Are you telling me that Joe
sent
you to babysit me?”

“No, it wasn't like that.”

“Oh, please, that's what it's always like,” Mel said. “Joe can't ever be there for me, so he sends you, his trusty detective buddy.”

Manny leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He was grinning.

“What?” she asked.

“The thought of Joe and I being buddies. That's funny. But you are giving me hope,” he said.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“If you're getting tired of Joe or more specifically the lack of Joe, maybe there's hope for me,” he said with a careless shrug.

“Or maybe I'll just join a convent,” she said.

Manny looked alarmed.

“And you can tell Joe I said that, too.” She rose from her seat and strode across the room. “I'm going to check on Tate.”

“Mel,” Manny called after her before she slipped through the door.

“What?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Stay away from the windows.”

Mel slammed the door so hard, it rattled.

“Why do I get the feeling you wish that was someone's head?” Marty asked.

Mel glanced up and saw Oz and Marty, or rather, the Elvis wannabes approaching.

“Or something even more delicate,” Oz added.

Mel glared at them. “Why are you here? Why are you dressed like Elvis?”

Marty and Oz exchanged sheepish expressions. It appeared they were trying to outlast each other in confession mode. Mel was lacking patience.

“Out. With. It.”

The Elvises jumped in fright.

“We were trying to blend,” Marty said. “The biggest Elvis impersonator conference in the world is going on in our hotel and we figured as long as we're here . . .”

“Oh, no. You're not competing, are you?” Mel asked.

“No!” Marty protested. Then he gave her a sidelong look. “Unless you think I should.”

Mel smacked her forehead with her palm.

“We're here because we were worried about you,” Oz said. “I baked enough to hold the shop for a few days and filled all of our special orders. We got your mom and her friend Ginny to watch the bakery, which they were happy to do when they heard about the explosion.”

“You told my mother?” Mel asked.

“Yeah,” Marty said. “And she called Joe.”

“Who then called Manny,” Mel said. She sighed as she leaned against the wall. “It's all coming into focus now.”

“On the upside—” Oz began.

“There's an upside?” Mel asked.

“None of the brothers know about the car collision, except
for Joe,” Oz said. “You could have Dom, Ray, Sal, Tony, Paulie, and Al following you around as well.”

Mel just stared at him. Suddenly she was tired all the way down to her toenails.

“I'll just hug that pillow of comfort to my chest when I fall asleep tonight,” she said. “Come on, I think we need to get out of here.”

Mel joined Holly and the security guard in the kitchen. He was taking a report and she was plying him with cupcakes. A small smile tipped the corner of Mel's mouth. Holly was using a maneuver she had employed on many an occasion herself. She had to respect that.

“I think we need to get out of here,” Mel said. “I'm going to talk to Tate but I want all of us to stay together in a place with higher security.” She glanced at Dave. “No offense.”

“None taken,” he said. “The police are on their way, and once they've taken statements, I'd bug out, too, if I were you. Whoever shot out those windows was not messing around.”

Mel glanced at Holly and saw her shiver.

“We'll figure it out. I promise,” she said, hoping she wasn't telling a big, fat lie.

“How many bedrooms are in the penthouse?” Mel asked.

“Six,” Tate said. He handed over his black Amex card, and Mel felt like it was the old days when Tate was rolling
in money and bankrolled some seriously luxurious digs for them.

“But there are seven of us,” she said.

“Angie and I are bunkies.”

“Oh, yeah, duh.”

“Unless you were hoping to shack up with Manny,” he said. He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“Stop,” she said.

Tate turned so they were facing each other. His nostrils were flared and his lips were compressed. This was the expression he always wore when he had to say something he was pretty sure his listener did not want to hear.

“Manny's here,” he said. “Joe isn't.”

Mel looked at him. She didn't know what to say.

“I'm just observing a pattern,” Tate said. “I know how Joe feels about you, but I also know that he will always choose his career first. So I'm looking out for my best friend. I want you to be happy. You deserve that.”

“Thanks but Manny and I are just friends. Period. Maybe you need to lie down and let Angie tend that concussion of yours,” Mel said.

“I am feeling a little woozy,” he said.

Mel took the room keys from the desk clerk and thanked her. She was feeling a little woozy herself from what Tate had just said and she knew she was in no place to process her emotions right now.

She glanced over her shoulder at their bedraggled group. After an hour and a half of answering the police officer's questions, it was now the wee hours of the morning and no one was looking their best. If it hadn't been for
Manny cutting through the red tape, they'd probably still be at the house recounting the events of the evening.