No Hiding Behind the Potted Palms! A Dance with Danger Mystery #7 (31 page)

“Not buying it,” I said,
shaking my head. “You’re full of crap.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s just say
that we should have never gotten married. We were too
different.”

“Was she a stay-at-home
mom?”

“Apparently not, given the
fact that she ran away with Roger.”

“Oh,” I giggled.

“No, they actually ran away.
They went to Fiji for three months. I think they figured I’d come
after them if they didn’t go far enough away. By the time they got
back, I was so mad that Marga deserted our son, I didn’t want to
have anything to do with her.”

“Understandable,” I decided.
“But how does a mother just up and leave her child that
way?”

“After all these years, I’ve
come to the conclusion that some women just aren’t cut out to be
mothers. Marga’s good at what she does, but it requires her to be
ruthless and self-absorbed.”

“What does she do?” I
asked.

“She’s chief lobbyist for
Save Our Seniors.”

“Marga Lidecker? She’s on
the news all the time.” I was surprised. Marga was constantly suing
this group and that group, appearing in interviews and at press
conferences all the time. “Very high profile.”

“Well, appearance is
everything to her. Substance, not so much.” There was a lot of pain
behind those words.

“Didn’t she just hook up
with Roger Thurman, the former running back for the Barracudas?” I
remembered the photo I had just seen in the society section of the
Washington Post.

“Thanks for reminding me.”
It was clearly a sticking point for Axel.

“What does he do
now?”

“He’s a lobbyist for
ESPN.”

“Oh.”

“Oh what?” Axel
demanded.

“I was just thinking how
much we have in common. We both got dumped by idiot spouses who
were having affairs behind our backs. What are the chances?” I gave
him a cheerful smile.

Chapter Eight
--

“I don’t get you, Dunham.
Why does that make you happy?” Axel had a puzzled expression on his
face.

“All this time,” I confided,
“I thought there was something wrong with me. I thought I did
something wrong. Maybe I didn’t love Tark enough, or maybe I didn’t
give him what he needed.”

“So what
changed?”

“Marga dumped
you.”

“And you feel the need to
point this out because...?”

“There’s nothing really
wrong with you, other than you sometimes step over the line of good
taste.”

“Name me one time I went
over the line!” he shot back. “I’m the epitome of good
taste!”

“Just one?” I raised an
eyebrow and Axel chuckled.

“There’s nothing wrong with
you either, Kelsey. Other than you’re strong-minded and determined
to put me in my place. Too bad you don’t want to put me in
your
place!”

“See? You just proved my
point,” I laughed. “You’re incorrigible!”

“Guilty as charged. How
about some lunch?” he suggested. We ordered a couple of Italian
chicken melts and light caramel coolers. As the next hour passed,
we seemed to get past that invisible barrier and out into the open
with our conversation. It was as if we shared so much in common
that neither of us had anything to fear from the other. For the
first time since my divorce, I actually felt comfortable teasing a
man.

“You’re a lot cuter when you
smile,” Axel informed me.

“Is that right?”

“Otherwise,” he replied,
taking a long sip on his straw, “you come across as really
uptight.”

“
I haven’t had a lot to
smile about,” I acknowledged.

“I can see how the new
baby’s got your panties in a bunch. I’d be pretty upset about that
if I were in your shoes,” he decided.

“It’s not just that. My boss
is a horse’s ass.” I went into detail about Warren’s penchant for
deal-making and bridge-burning.

“You should start your own
business,” Axel decided. “Why not do for others what you’re doing
for Fripp?”

“Are you kidding? Warren’s a
mean son of a bitch. He’ll chew me up and spit me out. All he has
to do is suggest my work is less than stellar and people will think
I’m trying to pass off fakes as the real thing.”

“How in the world did you
get hooked up with that guy?” he wondered. I explained about Warren
and Bliss Redux, about how everything changed when Mathilda left
Dockersby.

“It doesn’t sound like it’s
a job worth saving.”

“It’s not really, but I
can’t afford to get on Warren’s bad side.”

“You could always move to
New York, Kelsey. Start your life over again. There are plenty of
galleries there.”

“Warren has a rather long
reach,” I said sadly. “He’d find a way to sabotage my career. You
should see what he’s done to other people who tried to
leave.”

“Sounds like we should stick
you in the Witness Protection Program,” he joked. “We’ll give you a
new identity, get you hooked up with a new job.”

“If we don’t solve this drug
cartel mess, I might just take you up on that.”

Twenty minutes later, as the
employees of Caribou Coffee were giving us the eye for taking up
space, Axel’s smartphone buzzed. It took about thirty seconds for
him to complete the call. I could tell from his comments that
things went well.

“Right...fantastic...absolutely...clockwork...roger that.” He
gave me a big grin. “Well, Kelsey Durham, you’re a free woman. They
retrieved the heroin from the trunk of your car. They took it to
their waiting van, tested it, and decided it hadn’t been tampered
with, so you’re off the hook. They put the gecko in your trunk. You
can head out to St. Michaels.”

“Great,” I forced myself to
say. A wave of sadness rolled over me and threatened to take me out
with the current. “I should go to the ladies room before I hit the
road.”

“Right.”

Five minutes later, Axel and
I stood outside my car. I was reluctant to make my farewell. He
didn’t seem to be in any rush either.

“Listen,” he said, “if you
ever decide you’re ready for a change, look me up in New York. Just
tell them you worked a case with me.”

“Sure,” I agreed. My chest
felt tight, like I had swallowed a new heartache.

“We’ll always have Paris,
kiddo,” he grinned, taking my face in his hands and kissing me on
the lips, lightly at first and then with a deep, delicious hunger.
I returned the passion, surprising myself with the intensity of my
kisses. When we finally parted, we were both breathless.

“Damn!” Axel cursed, burying
his face in his hands. “This is so wrong!”

“Why? I thought you liked
me!” I felt as if I had been slapped across the face. Were my
cheeks red with the fire of shame? “We’re both adults!”

“No, Kelsey! I don’t want
you to go!”

“You don’t?”

“Are you kidding? I’m trying
to figure out how we’re going to make this work. I have to be in
New York next Wednesday. All my worldly goods are on their way to
Jersey City.”

“Jersey City?”

“That’s where my new condo
is. I bought a place at Port Liberté. Ten minutes to Manhattan and
I’ve got a dock for my boat.”

“You have a
boat?”

“Arne likes to waterski,” he
explained. “And I like to fish. It’s not a big boat.”

“It’s okay. I like boats,” I
laughed. “And I like to fish.”

“Now I know we have to get
together. Maybe I can call you once I’m settled, and you can come
up for a weekend. We’ll go into the city. We could see a
show.”

“I’d like that,” I agreed.
“But leave the brown contacts home. I like your real
eyes.”

“Heck, with my new job I
won’t be wearing any more disguises. I’ll be sitting at a
desk.”

“Nice,” I
grinned.

“I should let you go. I
wouldn’t want Warren to split a gut.”

“Nor would I.” Our fingers
entwined, each of us reluctant to let go of the other. For a long
minute, I studied him, trying to memorize every line, every crease
etched into his handsome face, afraid I might forget.

“You drive safely,” he
instructed me. “Don’t take any foolish chances.”

“I promise.”

“I’ll call you when I
settled in my new place.”

“I’m looking forward to it,”
I smiled, tracing his lips one last time with my fingertips. He
opened my car door and stepped aside to let me slide in behind the
wheel. My hands shook as I put the key into the ignition and turned
the engine over. I backed out of the space as he leaned against his
SUV. With a final wave, I drove away.

I got onto I-95, heading
towards Annapolis, brushing away stray tears. A part of me was sad
to be leaving Axel behind, but as I drove, my heart seemed lighter.
It was as if I had finally let go of the past and I began to
embrace the future, a future that included the hope of spending
time with Axel. By the time I crossed the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and
made it to Kent Narrows, I was singing with the radio. Just past
Chester, my cell phone rang. I pulled over and answered. My
assistant, Bella, wanted to know how close I was. She was in need
of 100-pound picture hooks, wire, and bumpers. I promised her I
would stop at Lowe’s on my way through Easton.

I pulled into the parking
lot just off of Route 322. Grabbing my purse, I hurried into the
store. If I didn’t waste time, I might still be able to get to St.
Michaels before Warren lost what was left of his mind.

I headed down the aisles,
picking up the items, and used the self-checkout. Pulling out my
credit card, I paid, took my receipt, and grabbed my bag. Once
through the automatic doors, the bright sun hit me full in the
face. I crossed the pavement, wondering where Axel was at this very
minute. Then I found myself trying to imagine what his new condo
was like. I couldn’t wait to see it. I popped the remote button and
unlocked Uncle Jack’s Camry.

“Chica, how nice to see you
again.” I heard Hector’s voice behind me. As I turned, he flashed a
knife, the long, cruel blade shining in the sunlight. “Get
in.”

One look at his determined
face told me that I probably was not going to survive whatever he
had planned for me. I was desperate to find an out, an opportunity
to escape, but Hector moved in closer. I could see the sweat
bubbles forming on his upper lip. He was already imagining his
moves, one by one, and salivating at his prospects.

“Don’t force me to say it
again. Get in the car. We’re going for a ride.” Hector held the
door open, waiting for me to comply. With a heavy sigh borne of
disbelief and surrender, I inched my way past him and got behind
the wheel. “Not there. Move over. I’ll drive.”

I lifted my bottom over the
console and pulled my legs up to my chest before swinging them onto
the floor mat. Hector, meanwhile, pushed back Uncle Jack’s seat,
settling his large belly in front of the steering wheel.

“Keys!” he demanded. With
great reluctance, I placed them in his outstretched right hand,
mindful that his left still held the ever-present knife. He slipped
the key into the ignition and turned it. The car groaned, misfired,
and sputtered. Another turn of the key brought the same
result.

“What did you do to it?”
Hector bellowed at me. “What is wrong with the car?”

“I don’t know! It was
working fine.”

“Show me!” he insisted. He
slid out of the seat and waved me into it. “Hurry up!”

I was about to begin the
process all over again when I caught sight of a movement in the
rearview mirror. I thought someone was crouching there.

“Don’t even think about
opening that door!” Hector sneered. “I’ll slit your throat before
you’re out of the car. Don’t you know who I am?”

There was something in his
voice that compelled me to ask. I didn’t want to know the answer,
but I knew I needed it.

“Who are you?”

“El cuchillo de caza. People
call me ‘The Hunting Knife’. You see, chica, I am a professional
assassin. I kill for a living. That is why you should be afraid of
me. I know more than a hundred ways to take your life, and almost
all of them are painful. How I kill you will depend on how much you
please me now.”

“You want me to please you?”
I couldn’t begin to imagine what that might consist of, but I knew
I wasn’t going to like it.

“No, chica. You want to
please me. No matter what you do, I will find my pleasure in how
you die.”

A cold terror formed in the
pit of my stomach, like the hard knot of a bony fist dipped in ice
water. I felt it punch its way up to my throat and I wanted to
expel it, but it would not release. It remained where it was,
choking off my air. Gasping, my hands trembling, I took my place in
the driver’s seat and turned the key. The engine coughed and
sputtered, but did not recover. I tried it again, but the result
was the same.