No Hiding Behind the Potted Palms! A Dance with Danger Mystery #7 (34 page)

“She pumped him full of
drugs, tied him stark naked to a chair, and covered him in her own
feces. Then she took about five hundred video cassette tapes and
DVRs, piled them all around the chair, added several gallon jugs of
flammable chemicals to the mix, soaked some rags in turpentine, and
set it all on fire.”

“Oh, dear God.”

“There is a God. Warren
remained unconscious, even as he burned. But she didn’t just leave
it there. She had video cameras filming the whole thing, with a
live feed on her website, “Prude Art”. We found her laptop in her
car. No doubt it will be a “Me Watch” sensation before the night is
out.”

We drove the two hours back
to Arlington avoiding any meaningful conversation, each of us
battered by the events of the day. When Axel pulled up to the curb
in front of my building, he put the SUV in park. He leaned his head
briefly against the steering wheel before heaving a loud
sigh.

“Do you realize that in the
space of less than half a day, I nearly lost you three times? If we
had gotten to the gallery any earlier, Prudence might have killed
you, too. She’s out of her right mind, you know.”

“I had no idea Warren was
forcing her to have sex. She never said a word, not even a hint
that there was any kind of personal relationship.”

“You know, you told me your
boss was a bastard, but even you didn’t know how bad he really
was.”

“Why do you say
that?”

“She didn’t just kill him
because he was abusing her. She murdered him because she was being
replaced. Warren had a contract sitting on his computer, ready for
you to sign. That’s why the cops were so nervous about moving in
when they saw you two sitting there on the curb. They knew she was
planning to kill you, too, to punish you for taking Warren away
from her.”

Those words penetrated the
fog in my brain. I couldn’t imagine the meek, complacent Prudence
harboring murderous intent towards me. Perhaps Warren drove her
over the edge, with all his mind games and manipulation. And then a
terrible thought occurred to me.

“Where’s Bella? Where’s my
assistant? She should have been at the shop. And Walter should have
been there, too!”

“Call them,” he instructed
me. “Right now.”

I dialled as quickly as I
could. Bella answered on the second ring.

“Hey, Kelse. What’s up?”
Relief flooded over me. My heart slowed down to a more normal
pace.

“Are you okay?” I
asked.

“I’m fine,” she announced
cheerfully. “But Warren’s not so great. He cancelled the gallery
opening tonight. Didn’t he text you?” That must have been
Prudence’s handiwork, to prevent anyone from interrupting her
plot.

“Do you know where Walter
is?”

“Walter? He’s here with me.
We’re making pierogis. He’s teaching me his grandmother’s recipe.
Want to come over for dinner?” I could hear music playing in the
background.

“No, thanks. You two have
fun together. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay,” Bella giggled. “But
you’re missing a great meal.”

“Why didn’t you tell her?”
Axel wanted to know, after I ended the call. I leaned my head back
and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to sort out the surreal
details.

“You know what? This has
been a dreadful day. I have seen people do unspeakable things to
other human beings. Right now, Bella and Walter are in her
apartment, making his grandmother’s pierogi recipe. Tomorrow is
soon enough for them to learn the ghastly details of Warren’s fate.
Let them have tonight. Let them enjoy each other.”

“Now I just
know
I have to get to
know you better,” Axel said. “I finally found myself a woman who is
a true romantic”

“I don’t know,” I said with
a long sigh as we headed up to my seventh floor unit in the
elevator. “Romance is a lot more than just sentiment and
sex.”

“Oh? What else is romance?”
Axel’s lips were on the curve of my neck, leaving me tingling all
over and slightly breathless at the thought of his
touch.

“It’s like a dance between
two people. There’s a give-and-take rhythm that has you both moving
in synchronicity, as one. You have to be aware of your partner or
it doesn’t jive.”

“How would you like me to
show you my best dance moves?” Axel wiggled his eyebrows playfully
as he moved to take the key from my hand. In one short motion, he
inserted the key, turned the knob, and threw open the door. With
his arms around me, he twirled me over the threshold before dipping
me. “And you can show me yours.”

“Just as long as we’re not
talking about the Funky Chicken or the Bunny Hop.”

“Not even close,” he
whispered in my ear. “Not a chicken or a rabbit in
sight.”

“Oh,” I giggled. “That
sounds promising. I think I’m going to enjoy this.”

“Only one way to find out,”
he grinned.

Paso Doble with a Passionate
Python

Powerful men sometimes have
dark secrets that only become apparent over time, when the romance
and charm wear off. Women who are drawn into relationships with
these men often find it impossible to resist the seduction until
it’s too late, and then they must fight to survive. And when they
want to escape, to break free of their tormentors, there are
hazards that can remain hidden from view until the predators are
ready to strike!

Chapter One --

As I stood on the edge of
forever, the railing of the Beauty of the Seas was the only thing
keeping me from plunging into the deep, dark ocean. There was
nothing now to stop me from letting go of the ache, the anger, the
agony of what my heart had gone through. I was on a ship bound for
Bermuda, filled with people, and yet I had never felt lonelier than
I did at this moment. I felt myself teeter on the edge of despair,
and I wasn’t sure I could climb back to safety. The dark night
seemed to swallow me up, making me feel even smaller than before.
Soon I would cease to exist as Mariem Dufours.

I had been a widow for
exactly two years, four months, three days, and nine hours. On that
January day in 2010, my whole life had gone belly up. When I got
the call from the Miami-Dade Police, telling me my husband had been
lost in a boating accident, I thought I would never be able to take
another breath on my own without remembering all that came before
that one moment in time. The past remained in every cell of my
being, indelibly written on the invisible skin of my spirit. Henri
was the center of my universe and everything, good or bad, revolved
around him. When he died, the woman I was died with him.

“You’re not planning to leap
overboard, are you?” I jumped at the sudden interruption. A black
silhouette stepped out of the shadows. “I’d hate to have to follow
you into the water, especially at this time of night.”

“Excuse me?”

“He’s not worth it, no
matter what you might think.” The stranger stepped closer to me,
almost as if he was trying to anticipate my next move. Even now, I
still couldn’t see his face. But I heard concern in his
voice.

“I’m not suicidal, if that’s
what you’re thinking.”

“Right.” That was said with
some skepticism.

“It’s true. I’m getting
married in two weeks.”

“You sure looked like you
were considering doing a swan dive off the back of the ship,” said
the deep voice.

“Not a swan dive,” I said
forlornly. “I was planning on scattering my late husband’s ashes,
to say goodbye.”

“Prove it,” the man
demanded.

“I have Henri’s urn right
here,” I announced with a little bit of irritation creeping into my
voice. “Would you like to see it?”

“As a matter of fact, I
would.” A moment later, fingers grasped my wrist, pulling me
towards the hallway door, back inside the ship. I was dragged into
the light, where I finally saw my would-be rescuer.

“Well?” He was shy of six
feet by more than a few inches, with a head of dark hair turning
silver. His mahogany eyes were narrow, rimmed with dark lashes.
“Let’s see this so-called urn of yours.”

“Here.” I held out the
sphere that held Henri’s ashes.

“What’s that?” He seemed
reluctant to take it from me.

“My late husband’s urn,” I
told him. He seemed confused, so I explained. “Biodegradable. It’s
made of sand, with a binder that dissolves in water, so the ashes
are released.”

“I’m so sorry.” He shook his
head with disbelief. “I saw you there and I thought you were
distraught.”

“And you decided to play Sir
Galahad?” I demanded, suddenly feeling sullied by the accusation I
was contemplating suicide.

“It’s my job,” the stranger
confessed. “Ryan. Bob Ryan. Security for Ocean Magic Cruise
Lines.”

I looked down at the badge
he flashed at me. It looked official enough.

“Fine. You were just doing
your job,” I acknowledged.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I
felt his hand on my elbow, steering me towards the lounge down the
passageway.

“Are you in the habit of
buying supposedly suicidal widows liquor?” I snapped. I was mad
that I was still holding what remained of Henri in my hands. So
much for saying goodbye and finding closure. “I can’t have a drink.
I have to scatter Henri’s ashes.”

“Tell you what. Let’s go
back out there. I’ll stand quietly at your side while you do what
you have to do. You shouldn’t have to be alone when you’re doing
something this important.” He seemed sincere enough. What harm
could it do?

“I wanted to do it alone,” I
told him. “I wanted to say a private goodbye.”

“Fine. How about I stand
right here and just keep an eye out for you? I won’t interfere,” he
promised. “Scout’s honor. When you’re done, I’ll buy you a drink
and we’ll say a toast to the late Henri.”

“Okay,” I agreed, feeling
that catch in my throat as the sadness began to well up in my
throat. Maybe it would be better to have someone there for me when
I finally let go.

“Take your time. I’m not
going anywhere.” Bob held open the door for me and I stepped out on
the deck. The sea breeze kissed my cheek as a tear rolled down and
wrapped around my chin like a gentle embrace. It was as if the
heavens heard my plea and sent consolation on the wind. I took a
deep breath, my hands clutching the sandy sphere that contained
Henri’s remains. I stood by the rail once more, framing what I
wanted to say to the ghost of a man to whom I had been married for
nearly twenty years.

“Henri,” I began, “we’ve had
our share of differences over the years, our struggles, our
pain....”

A ghostly silence enfolded
me as I lingered at the railing. Below me, the waves splashed
against the side of the cruise ship rhythmically as the bow cut
through the ocean in the black night. There were no stars above,
only thick, heavy clouds. As I tried to once again compose myself
for the task that lay before me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that
there was a presence lurking in the darkness. A feeling of
foreboding filled me with apprehension. Was it my late husband
rising up in a final show of temper, lashing out one last time
before heading to the bottom of the Atlantic, to his final resting
place on the ocean floor? Was it a furtive movement of the human
kind or a slight atmospheric disturbance of the ethereal kind? I
shook it off, telling myself it was my imagination. Maybe it was
just the man from Ocean Magic, making sure I didn’t
jump.

“Henri,” I began again.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, I felt strong, determined hands wrap around
me like the tentacles of an octopus, lifting me up. My feet left
the deck, and were now dangling in mid-air. As swiftly as I
traveled through the darkness, my mind sought to process the
information. I was in danger. What was happening to me? My left
shoe hit the rail. Someone was tossing me overboard.

“Help!” I screamed. I had no
choice. I dropped Henri, ashes and all, into the sea. No loving
words. No forgiveness of sins. No final farewell. Just a big splash
and he was gone. I was too busy fighting for my life.

As I felt myself being
propelled forward toward the sea, I did the only thing I could
think to do. I grabbed the bottom of the railing for dear life as
determined hands shoved me this way and that, trying to pry my
desperate hands from their grip on the side of the ship. Suspended
upside down, I felt the blood rush to my head. One minute, I was
doing battle with an unknown, unseen foe, and the next, my
assailant stopped. The hands that had fastened themselves around my
wrists ceased pushing me towards the deep, dark depths of the
Atlantic. I took advantage of the lull to cling to every inch of
metal railing I could find. There were sounds of a scuffle a few
feet away as I managed to right myself, locking my arms around the
strength of the cold steel form. My legs dangled dangerously from
my precarious perch. I thought about pulling myself back up and
over the rail, but I was too terrified to try. And then, just as
suddenly, hands were grabbing me again. I tried to fight back. I
tried to evade those hard, pressing fingers.