No Hiding Behind the Potted Palms! A Dance with Danger Mystery #7 (13 page)

“The kind of idiot we’ve
got,” the fire chief growled.

It took the police three
minutes to take Ralph and Gloria into custody. On seeing so many
uniformed officers pouring into Dynamic Productions, Ralph threw
his hands up in the air. Gloria, however, went kicking and
screaming, calling Ralph every vile name under the sun. It reminded
me of Tatiana Stevanovich’s behavior, and when I mentioned it to
one of the detectives, he made a point of checking out Gloria’s
identification. Like daughter, like mother. It turned out Gloria’s
real name was Galina Stevanovich and she was working in concert
with her daughter and son-in-law. They had extensive ties to an
organized crime money-laundering service based in Brighton Beach,
also called Little Odessa by the Ukrainian immigrants who came by
the droves in the nineties. Suddenly, it made sense that Ralph
spent his time at casinos and racetracks with his lady
love.

It turned out that Ralph
left a surly wife for an even surlier mistress. Gloria got a deal
when she rolled over on Ralph, Tati, and Gregory Wink, whose real
name was actually Yury Petrovich, hence the alias of George
Peterson. The United States Attorney decided Galina was a whole lot
more important than a washed-up old philanderer like Ralph, since
she had the ability to give up names of people in the business of
cleaning cash and transferring it back to the old country, where it
was influencing politics and organized crime.

It turned out that Ralph was
using our money to keep the company afloat and he couldn’t afford
to give it back. He never had any intention of buying our shares.
It was all part of the set-up. He hadn’t just intended to burn down
Dynamic Productions. There was also a Thermos of coffee with a
healthy dollop of Ketamine in Ralph’s van. The plan was to set fire
to Bosco’s apartment, killing him in the process, and take me
captive. Once I was disoriented and confused, Ralph would drop me
at the side of the road, far from the scene of the murderous fire,
after planting evidence on me. He would kill two birds with one
stone, getting rid of Bosco as a forensic investigator and getting
rid of me as a junior partner and investor. He thought he would be
rich once Gloria’s friends bought into the company. It turned out
they planned to kill Ralph, once Gloria married him. Ralph, it
seems, had been separated from his wife for the better part of a
year, and he was just months away from receiving his final divorce
decree. The scope of betrayal all around was numbing.

Once Bosco and his
colleagues at Honshield Walker put together an in-depth report on
the financial state of the production company, right down to the
fraudulent bills and the misuse of investor funds, Ralph agreed to
release the full amount of the money owed us. His lawyers realized
just how much evidence we had gathered and encouraged him to make
us whole, financially, because they wanted Ralph to take a plea
deal as the result of diminished capacity. His lawyers claimed that
Ralph’s mental state was affected by the drugs he was taking to
maintain his lifestyle with his mistress. The Viagra supposedly
caused Ralph to experience transient global amnesia, anxiety, and
depression, which his defense team claimed resulted in his bad
behavior. The need for Ralph to appear remorseful outweighed the
lawyers’ need to be paid, so they encouraged him to liquidate
assets, including the boat and the condo. The stolen Dynamic
Productions equipment showed up at a resale shop in New York, and
we took it back. The insurance company wasn’t responsible for the
damage caused by the fire when Galina ignited the blaze with her
firecracker, so we lost the facility and everything that was
damaged by smoke or water. Still, we got most of our money back
from Ralph, and Stan, our insurance agent, was more than thrilled
to present us with a check, once the police investigation
ended.

We chose to put much of the
money towards a new home. There was talk of rebuilding on the old
lot, but in the end, we chose to give our marriage a fresh start.
We sold the land where we raised our son. Bosco still had almost
six months to go on his lease, so we decided we would take our time
before we started looking for a new place. It would be part of the
process of rediscovering ourselves. In the meantime, we would live
in Bosco’s apartment. I was growing fond of that cozy
space.

Two weeks after Ralph,
Galina, and the others were arrested, Bosco and I got to work
pushing for a settlement in Kevin’s death. We presented the many
cards and letters from friends and relatives of the drunk driver
who killed our son to the insurance company, as evidence of
negligence and reckless endangerment. Bosco had taken the letters
with him when he moved out, keeping them in a shoebox on the top
shelf of the closet of the second bedroom. We informed the
insurance company that we planned to share our story publicly,
including giving reporters the opportunity to interview those who
expressed regrets. We finally agreed to a settlement out of court.
It was a compromise, but it still felt a little like some small
sense of justice for Kevin. It was acknowledgment that people could
have and should have prevented the driver from getting behind the
wheel.

I was officially out of
work, as were my colleagues, thanks to Ralph and the fraudulent
Gloria. We regrouped, rented space, and bought more equipment,
determined to serve our clients. Most were very supportive, having
heard the lurid tales in the media. Dom, Tony, and Kendall were
happy to be employed again, and once again, Bosco and I invested in
the new company. We were a smaller production house, with a lot
less overhead, but a lot more creativity. Within a month, we were
producing decent commercials, even without all the fancy bells and
whistles of the Dynamic Productions facilities.

On the third Sunday after
the fire, I came back from the apartment pool in the late
afternoon, wearing a caftan and carrying my towel and my paperback,
only to find my overnight case packed and waiting by the front
door.

“Bosco?” I called him, but
there was no answer. I was confused. Was he kicking me out? I went
into the bedroom, only to find my closet empty. The rest of my
clothes were in plastic bins, also packed and ready to go. What was
going on?

“Hey, babe,” Bosco greeted
me, coming through the front door. “How was the pool?”

“Great,” I managed to say as
calmly as I could. “What’s up with the suitcase? Are you kicking me
out?”

“Hell, no. The owner of the
complex showed up last week, asking me if we would mind switching
apartments, and he offered us a great price break, since we only
have a little more than five months left on the lease. It turns out
there’s a plan to renovate each of the units as condos. He needs
this one for the new model, since it’s on the ground floor. We’re
heading upstairs to the corner unit. We’re penthouse people now,
Dori. Wait till you see the place. It’s fantastic.” I gazed around
the living room, realizing the walls were bare and some of the
furniture was missing.

“And you didn’t think to
mention it to me?” I stood watching him, hands on my hips, feeling
relieved and yet annoyed.

“Nope. I wanted it to be a
surprise. If I told you, it wouldn’t be one.”

“Did it ever occur to you
that I might not like the place, Bosco?”

“Only one way to find out.
Come take a look.” He picked up my overnight case and a lamp. We
took the elevator up to the fourth floor. A short jaunt down the
hallway led us to 4C. Inserting the key into the lock, Bosco gave
the knob a turn and opened the door to a large, sunny unit, nearly
twice the size of the one downstairs. The large kitchen was open to
the dining area and living room, sporting new quartz counters and
stainless steel appliances. Off the living room I could see the
roof deck, with a distant city view. Bosco and I had talked about
how lovely it must be to live on the top floor, with such a great
outdoor space.

Bosco was pleased to show me
around, leading me down the hallway to a larger second bedroom he
said would make a good home office and guest room. A full bath was
located next to it, along with a laundry closet. We went through to
the master bedroom, with its ensuite bathroom, newly tiled, and
large walk-in closet. The sliding glass doors faced the roof deck.
Bosco took my hand, leading me outside. A small patio table was
flanked by two matching chairs along the deck railing. A white
tablecloth fluttered in the wind, topped by a small vase with a
single red rose and a bottle of Champagne sitting in an ice bucket,
accompanied by a pair of wine flutes. Through the air, I could hear
the sound of Stan Getz on the saxophone.

“What do you think?” he
asked. I could hear the hope in his voice.

“Well, it’s very nice, but
don’t you think we should have discussed it first?”

“No. We have something much
more important to discuss.”

“We do?” I glanced at him as
he popped the cork.

“Champagne?”

“Do we have something to
celebrate?” I inquired. A slight smile played on Bosco’s face, and
I knew he was up to something.

“That depends.” He took an
envelope out of his pocket and slid it across the table. I saw the
airline logo and my heart started to beat a little faster. Flipping
open the flap, I removed the pair of tickets to Rio de Janeiro. As
I stared down, I caught sight of the date.

“Why did you pick this
date?” My heart was pounding inside my chest and I found it almost
impossible to catch my breath.

“You know why,” he smiled at
me. There was a trembling, an electrical charge that jumped the
distance between us and fused us together as our fingers met. Bosco
was excited. “We can explore. We can listen to good jazz and dance.
We can get married again....”

“In Brazil?”

“Why not? Just the two of
us.”

“But shouldn’t we do it in
front of family and friends?”

“We did that the first time
around. This time, it’s just us. We’ll find a couple of witnesses,
people we don’t know, and we’ll pledge to never to squander our
love for each other.”

“How long have you been
planning this?” I wanted to know.

“Is that a yes?”

“Just answer the question,”
I laughed.

“Since the day I signed the
divorce papers. I drove after you, you know. I wanted to catch you.
But you didn’t go home. I know, because I waited for four hours
outside the house. I was convinced you had gone off to
celebrate.”

“No,” I shook my head in
response. “I went to my parents’ house and bawled my eyes out. I
was miserable that you actually let me go.”

“Well,” he replied, taking
my hand in his and bringing it to his lips, “I intend to make it up
to you.”

“You do?” I gave him a
bright smile, thinking how much more I loved him, now that I
understood him better. “How do you plan to start?”

“Like this,” he told me,
lifting me to my feet. With one hand firmly on my back and the
other holding my hand, he pressed his cheek to mine and whirled me
around. And as our bodies melted together, moving as one across the
roof deck, Frank Sinatra crooned “Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars”. My
heart lifted as my feet flew across the deck, held tightly in the
arms I loved best. This really was the place I wanted to be, until
the final flicker of life’s ember, with Bosco.

Foxtrot with a Furtive
Fox

Do we really know the men in
our lives? Do we really see them for what they are? Kim thinks she
knows her boyhood friend, Mac, and her ex-boyfriend, Tom. Boy, is
she in for a rude awakening! Some men are worthy of trust and some
aren’t, but women should always go into relationships with their
eyes wide open....

Chapter One --

“Do this for me and I’ll
make it worth your while. Please. Don’t make me beg, Kimmy.” His
voice was low, but confident. The eyes were as brown as I
remembered them. As he leaned closer, I detected the faint, musky
scent of his after-shave. It reminded me of the islands, with just
enough spice to perk up my senses.

If it had been anyone else,
I would have said no instantly. I would have wished the guy all the
best and walked as fast as I could to the door. But this was
MacDonald Tweedie, the boy who accidentally tripped me on the
playground in first grade and knocked out my front tooth, the same
guy who gave me my first kiss on the roof of his grandmother’s
porch when I was ten. I had known him forever. When I needed a date
for the senior prom after Bobby Roddick dumped me at the last
minute for Monica Zellman, it was Mac who rented a tux and escorted
me, even though he was dating a cheerleader at NYU. Was I letting
my childhood loyalty get in the way of my good sense?

“What do you have in mind?”
I asked. So much for moving south to restart my life.

“It’s pretty simple,” he
told me. The more he talked about what he needed, the more I saw my
well-made plans slipping through my fingers. He couldn’t just leave
his mother alone, not when he was headed for Bahrain as the new
Manager of Middle East Operations for KLPG Finance. “You know how
much Mae adores you. She thinks of you as family.”

“I don’t know,” I sighed.
Our mothers were best friends, sisters in spirit, if not by blood.
I thought of Mac as the closest thing to the brother I never had.
But did I really want to commit myself to taking care of Mae for a
year? Sure, she was healthy enough at the moment, and I would be
there to make sure she stayed as healthy as possible. But I was
hoping to do some traveling.