On Tour (20 page)

I sprayed her with my tester bottle of a new Victoria Secret fragrance.

"Hey," she cried, "I've already got perfume on."

"Yeah, and you smell like my Mammaw."

"It's Estée Lauder," she said.

"Circa 1980 maybe," I replied.

Carol rolled her eyes. Not a good move with all that eye makeup. It made her look like a rabid raccoon.

I turned her towards me so I could get a better look. "Not bad, if I do say so myself."

"Really?" Carol asked hopefully.

"Yeah." I nodded. "Enough for a trial run anyway."

Carol squinted at the mirror. "I like my hair, but I'm not sure about the eye makeup. Don't you think it's kind of heavy?"

"Well it's dark in the bar, so nobody will notice. But if they do, they'll just think you're tired or that you had a rough day." Really rough.

Carol nodded. "Okay, world, here I come." She stood up with a big smile. I noticed some lipstick had smeared on her teeth, so I handed her a tissue.

She stared at the tissue. "I don't have to blow my nose."

"No, your teeth." I pointed to her mouth. "You have lipstick on your teeth."

Carol dapped at her teeth with the tissue. She smiled again.

"Now you have tissue stuck between your teeth." I sighed.

She turned towards the mirror and dug around with a piece of dental floss she'd found in her purse. "How about now?" she asked.

I shook my head at her buttoned up suit. "Teeth are fine, but the jacket's gotta go." I also had her unbutton the first two buttons on her caramel silk blouse. She had an angular, but trim, figure. Not bad.

I held open the bathroom door, and she walked out in front of me and right into a man carrying a big speaker. The man fell backwards, clattered into a drum kit, and dropped the speaker to the floor. Carol careened forward and landed on top of his chest.

I covered my eyes.

Carol called, "I'm okay, I'm okay!"

Mark bent down and helped Carol to her feet. The man she'd run into sat up and looked dazedly around. He had graying hair, a friendly tan face, and looked to be about fifty. He wore a white shirt, khaki shorts, and leather flip-flops.

Carol knelt down to him while Mark picked up the speaker. "Are you okay?" she asked bending over him.

"Oh, I'm fine. Just about knocked my block off, though," he laughed. "Not sure about my speaker."

"These things are pretty tough. I have a similar model. I once dropped it off a six foot stage and still used it that night," I said.

He glanced up at me. "You're Diana Hudson."

I nodded.

"Why you're a music legend around these parts now."

I laughed. "I don't know about that."

"Sure you are. Your success has been a real motivator. Especially for the young people. For old guys like me this here's more of a hobby."

"I'm so sorry," Carol said, leaning down inches from his face to get a better look. "I just didn't see you."

He waved his hand and got to his feet. "Don't worry about a thing, Miss. I'm sure it was my fault—left my glasses at home tonight and can't see a thing."

"You don't say? My name's Carol," she said, putting out a hand.

"Ted Griffin. Nice to meet you." I could see him getting a closer look at Carol and liking what he saw. He must have really strong glasses. "You going to stay for the first set? I start at 8:30."

"Of course," she said brightly. "We wouldn't miss it."

Mark groaned a little at the 'we,' but I wanted to hear Ted play. Ted thanked us and went to finish setting up.

I gave Mark a smooch. "Let's eat dinner here and listen to a couple of songs. Look how excited Carol is."

Carol was holding her glasses in front of her face like she was at the opera to watch Ted set up on stage. "He's cute," she murmured. "Hi, Mark. Sorry about the entrance."

"I'm used to it."

I elbowed him. "What do you think of Carol's makeover?

Mark started when Carol turned to give him a good look at herself. She didn't look that bad. Especially at a distance. "Looks like it worked," he said recovering. "Ted seemed interested."

"He did, didn't he?" Carol said, holding her glasses up and looking back at the stage again. "I'm ready for a drink."

"What the heck did you do to her?" Mark whispered as we followed Carol to the bar.

"I think she looks good. It's just her eye makeup got smudged, that's all."

"She looks like Rocky Raccoon. And why isn't she wearing her glasses?" he asked.

I sighed. Men didn't understand anything.

Woody did a double-take when Carol ordered another drink, but wisely said nothing. We ordered sandwiches and chatted about Mark's new project and the renovations at the building complex where Greene's was housed.

"Do we have a move date yet for Greene's?" Carol asked. "I don't know when I'm supposed to find the time to go looking for a temporary location, let alone pack and move."

"Late November or early December. I'm still waiting on permits from the city. Good news is we signed Hunter Jack's to a long-term lease right before I headed down to see Diana in Florida."

Carol gasped. "I love that store! How cool is that Diana? We're going to be neighbors with Hunter Jack's."

I wasn't a huge fan of the over-priced specialty store, but I was proud of Mark. Renovating the downtown waterfront block that housed Greene's Staffing and was owned by his Uncle Ed Greene, was the largest redevelopment project he'd managed. Unfortunately, the project meant temporarily relocating Greene's Staffing for six months or longer.

"I think we need to hire a local realtor and put the move in the hands of an expert. We just don't have the time right now."

Mark nodded. "Got to let go of some of the details, Carol."

"I'll call Nancy at Annapolis Realty on Monday. She always uses us when she needs an office temp. I'm just worried about being able to find something we can afford downtown," Carol fretted.

Just then Ted did a mike check and broke into Blake Shelton's "Sure Be Cool If You Did" about a guy running into a girl at a bar.

I glanced over at Mark. He raised his eyebrows.

"Carol," I leaned over and whispered, "he's singing this song to you."

"Oh, no," she said dismissively. "Not a chance."

Each time he sang about "falling," I giggled. Mark started laughing too. "Guy's got a sense of humor."

"Hush you two. I'm trying to listen."

"Yeah, good thing her ears are working 'cause she can't see a thing." Mark laughed into his beer, spraying foam everywhere.

The song ended, and the small audience clapped wildly. "This song is for the lovely lady who knocked me to my knees over by the bathroom." He pointed towards the bar.

The audience hooted. I yelled, "Woohoo!"

Carol blushed. "If I'd known a little makeup could have this effect on men, I'd have been wearing it years ago."

She turned toward me, and I got a good look at her smeared eye makeup. Yikes! "Uh-maybe we should do a little touch up before Ted takes a break."

*  *  *

We ended up staying to see most of Ted's show. I had limited success with Carol's eye makeup, but Ted didn't seem to notice. He bought her a drink and chatted about his former life as the owner of an Eastern Shore residential trash company. He'd sold his fleet of ten trucks that serviced six thousand customers for enough to retire at fifty and play music.

"Who would've thought that the trash business would be such a good investment," Carol said dreamily.

Ted shrugged. "It wasn't. Don't get me wrong; I made a decent living, but there's no way I could've retired like this. One day out of the blue I got a call from a big corporate guy with an offer to buy everything. They were expanding their market share and wanted my route."

"Amazing," she said, and I swear I saw her bat her eyes at him.

"Just goes to show that life's full of surprises. You never know what or who—" He smiled at Carol. "—is around the corner."

Mark rolled his eyes at that one and gave me a nudge.

It was close to eleven as we walked back to my condo. It was a good fifteen minute walk at a brisk pace, but the night was so crisp and quiet that we took our time holding hands and talking amicably.

As we turned up my walk, I pointed out Max looking down from my window. His fluffy white tail wagged when he saw us.

"He never wags his tail," I said. "Must be you he's wagging at."

"At least my presence is appreciated by someone."

"It's because you feed him bacon."

"Probably right about that."

We glanced back up at the window.

And this time saw two faces staring down at us.

Andre and Marsha met us at my door.

"You know your neighbor is crazy, right?" Marsha asked as soon as we walked in.

"Hadn't noticed," I said. "What are you two doing here?"

Marsha hooked a long red talon at Andre. "His bright idea. We're being hounded by the press, and he's worried about you." The red talon pointed in my direction.

Mrs. Kester's door opened. "I'm going to call the police if you don't keep it down up there," she shouted.

Max barked at her.

Marsha leaned out the door. "Don't make me come back down there, old woman. It's not going to be pretty," she yelled back like a fishmonger's wife.

"Like that harlot hair of yours!" Mrs. Kester shouted back.

I giggled. For once I was feeling very neighborly. Andre pulled Marsha away from the doorway.

"Have you heard of a thing called a phone?" Mark asked, shutting the door behind us.

"I wanted to call from the airport, but Marsha's paranoia has gone nuclear." Andre said.

She glared at him. Her face was tanned to a golden brown with light freckles. Even being marooned on an island looked good on her. We all moved into the living room. Marsha sat down in my recliner.

"I didn't want to take any chances and lead them right to your doorstep." She addressed Mark. So far, she'd barely acknowledged my presence. Max had wormed his way onto her lap and was enjoying the stroking of her sharp talons. Traitor.

"But why come here?" I turned to Andre.

"We're going to head up the coast for a few days. Marsha has a job to check on, and I'm going to tag along and see the sights. We just wanted to make sure you're doing alright." I could tell Andre was beating around the bush.

"You break into my house unannounced at eleven at night. That doesn't sound like a social visit to me."

Marsha jumped in, "Look, I think there may be more than one Spider out there."

"What!" I gasped.

"Frankly, I don't see it," Andre added. "They've got a confession and solid evidence that puts Sal Bonanno on the scene of a couple of the attempts."

"What's bothering you, Marsha?" Mark asked seriously.

She shrugged. "I don't know. Pretty much everything. It's just too neat. And what about the scrapbook notes? We still don't know where those came from."

Mark nodded. "One thing that's bothered me from the start was that the detective noted Bonanno never mentioned the messages. When he was confronted with them, he acted confused."

"Maybe they're from someone on the inside of the organization trying to help me," I interjected.

"Sounds like a nice idea, but highly improbable. These kinds of people don't help people," Marsha replied. She glanced over at me. "Got any red wine?"

Like I was a servant. I glared at her and pointed to the kitchen counter. She sighed—
guess you can't get good help these days
, her face said—and flounced off to the kitchen. She waved the bottle in our direction. "Any takers?"

We all said no. She shrugged and carried the bottle back with her.

Andre nodded. "So you've had no problems since getting back?"

"Nothing," I said. "I've finally stopped looking over my shoulder. Until now."

Mark patted my leg, saying, "I don't think you have anything to worry about anymore from The Spider at least. But he obviously had more help. I still think there had to be someone on the road crew involved. It's going to take some time to track everyone down. We have to stay vigilant until then."

I wasn't feeling 100% better, but I was confident that if Mark really thought I was in danger, he'd be hauling me to a safe house right now.

"I agree," added Andre. "There are more layers to this. You need to keep an eye out until they find out who was sending the scrapbook letters."

I had been staring at the empty fireplace, thinking about what Marsha had said about these not being the kind of people who would send me a warning. Unless…

"What if someone was trying to make The Spider look bad? Foil the hit so he fails?" I blurted out.

Everyone stared at me. Mark pointed his finger at me. "Now there's a theory."

"But why?" Andre asked, leaning over and taking a sip of Marsha's wine. A move that I thought very intimate.

Marsha snatched her glass back. "Professional rivalry among hitmen? I'll buy that." She waved her wine glass and pointed at me. "You're better at this spy stuff than I gave you credit for, and you've got the damnedest luck. You avoid three attempts on your life—that we know of—and as soon as I body double for you I almost get blown up."

Wow, compliments from Marsha. It must've been the wine talking.

"A little bomb never scared you before, Marsha," Mark teased

Marsha glared at him. "Shut up, Mark. You're the reason I almost got blown up. I believe you called me for help, remember?"

Andre held up a hand, saying in a grim voice, "I hope you're wrong, Diana. Because that could mean the rival will pick up where Sal Bonanno left off."

Mark and Marsha nodded in unison. "I think I'll have that wine now," I said with a catch in my voice.

Mark gave me a reassuring smile. "I'll pass the theory along and see what the investigators think. Let's not panic yet."

Marsha had made quick work of the bottle of red, so I opened a bottle of Pinot Grigio and brought out a couple of additional wine glasses and bowl of trail mix. I took a calming gulp of wine and decided to change the subject. "So what really happened on that island?" I asked, looking over at Andre.