Читать онлайн книгу «Mistaken for the Mob» автора Ginny Aiken
Mistaken for the Mob
Ginny Aiken
Mistaken for the Mob
Ginny Aiken
For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to give you hope and a futureand [I] will bring you back from captivity.
Jeremiah 29:11, 14
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Mary Margaret Muldoon was terminated.
As were Helmut Rheinemann, Toby Matthias and Muriel Harper. J.Z. Prophet held the death certificates of the well-to-do seniors in his left hand. On a neat pile before him sat autopsy reports that identified the cause of death as natural in all four cases. But the papers in his right hand belied those certificates.
E-mail, he muttered to his partner, Dan Maddox. What self-respecting mobster orders hits through e-mail? But here they are: Terminate Mary Margaret Muldoon, and Terminate Helmut Rheinemann.
J.Z. could have read the others, too. But why? They said the same thing. And the same woman had sent them all: Maryanne Wellborn.
He flung the pages onto his desk and rose from his chair. He went for his coffeepot, which hed brought to the office when he got tired of FBI sludge, and poured himself his fourth cup of the morning. It was only seven oclock.
After another hit of caffeine, he asked, What kind of librarian would order a bunch of hits?
Dan, an easygoing guy, shifted in his chair and shrugged. Hey, its a great coverif they were hits.
Okay. It is. But I want to know how shes offing them. Pathology found no evidence of foul play. The causes of death are listed as asphyxiation from emphysema, congestive heart failure, liver cancer and pneumonia. We might be able to pin the asphyxiation on her, but howd she kill the others?
I think its our job to find that out.
Its our job to get the evidence thatll lock her up.
Hmma librarian. Maryanne Wellborn, you say?
Shes behind these hits.
Sure of yourself, arent you? And letting it get personal.
The accusation slugged J.Z. in the gut. Not at all. This is business. The others past history. He set his coffee mug on the corner of his desk, then jabbed a finger toward Dan. Dont forget. You were right at my side the last six months. You helped me track the Verdis and their mob pals as they scammed their way through these ritzy retirement homes. You counted the bodies they left behind, just as I did, and looked just as hard as I did for something to stick on them
Something stuck. Joey-Os behind bars.
Not for this. He shot Carlo Papparelli. Aside from those shaky connections to Joey-O and Tony the Toe Verdiscum, if ever there was scumwe didnt come up with a single solid thing to nail the deaths of the old people on them. But I know their game. And this perp in New Camden is just the latest in the string of killers weve been after. The only difference is that this one made a mistake. She left us these e-mails. How generous of her.
His partners hands went up in surrender. Okay, okay. Lay off the lecture. It was just a friendly warning I gave you. Cant let your old mans troubles mess with your mind on a case. My futures in your hands.
J.Z. snorted. Last time I looked, there was a line of ladies wanting to take it in theirs.
Dan winked. A mans gotta do what a mans gotta do.
This mans J.Z. tapped Dans chest then glanced at the papers on the desk got a job to do. He cant be thinking about his next date, and do it right.
You complaining about my work?
Warning you against dropping your guard.
Thats uncalled for, Dan countered, his voice tight.
Just put your social life on ice while were on this one. J.Z. knew he was out of line but couldnt back down. Dans reminder of the skeletons in the Prophet family closet rankled. Its clear Wellborns got brains and more guts than most. Takes a cocky crook to send this kind of message out for the world to read.
Weeeell, Dan drawled, e-mails not exactly out there for everyone to read.
We got copies, didnt we?
Sure, but it took Zeldacomputer geek extraordinairedays to track them down. Its not as if Wellborn posted them to a bulletin board or announced them in a chat room.
J.Z. rolled his eyes. Dont give me that Internet junk. If we can get the stuff, anyone can. Maryanne-the-library-anne is one arrogant cookie. Its time to wrap up months of paper trails, bank-and account-hopping fortunes that then disappear without a trace, if youll remember. We did interviews, surveillance and pored over autopsy reports that coughed up nothing concrete. We even planted an agent at the nursing home in New Jersey. The patterns the same at Peaceful Meadowscushy retirement home, dead seniors, buckets of money. Wellborns in the thick of it, ordering hits, and Im going to bring her down.
Paperwork in hand, he stood. Come on. We have to get a judge to sign the permits so we can bug her office and tap her home phone. Then we can head out to New Camden.
Ill have Zelda come with usyou know, for the computer stuff. Well probably get more from that than the other.
J.Z. grimaced. That Internet stuff is garbage. This is going to take the usual: surveillance, taping, interviewing witnesses. Not that e-mail business.
Still an Internet-phobe, huh?
And proud of it.
Have it your way, but I want Zeldas magic fingers on our side. From the looks of it, were going to need all the help and evidence we can get.
J.Z. crossed to his office door. Do whatever you want. Bottom line, Im going to nail Wellborn. Whod figure a librarian as a mobster, putting out hits on old people in a nursing home? And for moneyAs if her breedmobsters, not librariansdoesnt have enough of the bloody kind already. Organized crimes the worst form of scum, but this womans taken their usual a notch lower.
Dans arm lay heavy on J.Z.s shoulders. Dont let it get personal, okay? I know this is about the Verdis, but the past is past, and your old mans locked up. Hes going nowhere.
J.Z. shrugged off his partners arm and ground his teeth. That was uncalled for. I wasnt thinking of him. Wellborns the one whos out there. In New Camden. With a bunch of seniors who cant help themselves. Just like the ones who couldnt help themselves and wound up dead. You know it, I know it, the department knows it. Disgusting scam.
Lets go see what we can do.
They strode down the hall and into a large room full of cluttered metal desks, the hub of the FBIs Philadelphia organized-crime unit. On their way to the elevator, an unmistakable pair of high heels clicked toward them.
Special Agent Prophet. In my office. Now.
J.Z. groaned. Once upon a time, Eliza Roberts had voiced his name in sweet, loving tones. Not anymore. Hed never felt the truth of the old chestnut about women scorned until he broke up with her after she demanded more than he was ready to offer.
He shook his head and caught the glee in Dans brown eyes as he entered his superior officers cubicle. Eliza had clawed her way up to the position he turned down just before their breakup. The way he figured, she did it to spite him. But it didnt bother him. He had turned it down first. Pushing papers appealed to him as much as a case of Montezumas revenge during a worldwide Imodium shortage.
When Eliza closed her office door, J.Z. gave up hope of a neutral encounter. She was out for bear. He might as well have Smokey, Yogi or Boo-boo written across his chest.
He couldnt wait to get away. Whats up?
Eliza rounded her desk then sat in her expensive and very new leather chair. The Bureau didnt provide that kind of luxury. She must have bought it to make it look as if shed wormed the perk from the higher-ups. J.Z. was glad hed noticed her less appealing attributes and cleared out of their relationship before he wound up with heel marks down his backand heart.
Well? he prodded.
She handed him three pieces of paper. Another nursing home hit.
Great. As he scanned the pages, a familiar name jumped out. Carlo Papparelli? As in Laundromat Jr.? Mat, the mob moneyman?
The one and only.
No way. The Gemmellis had him gunned down a week ago. The Philly P.D. got Joey-O behind bars for it, too. Didnt they?
Read em and weep.
He didread the papers, that ished never waste a tear on a mobster. I dont get it. I heard the familyd shipped the body back to the old country for burial.
Read on.
He did. And frowned. What is this? Papparelli was only fifty or so. What was he doing in an old folks home? Oh, who cares? What really went down?
That, J.Z., is the most intriguing detail. She pointed to the paper in his left hand. Theres Maryanne Wellborns e-mail ordering the hit. In your right hand, you have his death certificatebut not for a week ago. He died day before yesterday. And the cause of death is a stroke, not the bullets we know about. No autopsy. The family refused.
This clinches it. Shes as dirty as they come. Shes mixed up with either the Gemmellis or the Verdis and took out the Laundromat. But howd Mat slither into the nursing home when he was supposed to be dead? How can this librarian get away with all this? Does she have doctors on the take? Is the coroner in on the kill-the-rich-old-folks-for-their-bucks scam, too?
Eliza smirked. Dont you think finding those answers is a field agents job? Your much-loved field job. You knowwhat youre paid to do.
Something in her voice made him ask, Do you doubt I can do it?
She waved. Of course notordinarily.
Ordinarily? His stomach plummeted. What do you mean?
The back of J.Z.s neck prickled at the gleam in her blue eyes. When she pursed her lips and tapped her polished nails on the desktop, his gut churned. When she stood and leaned toward him over her desk, his survival instinct compelled him to run.
But he couldnt.
There is one tiny thing, J.Z., his Supervising Special Agent said. You know that problem you have with rules?
Since hed yet to meet the rule he wouldnt get around for the sake of justice, J.Z. shrugged. He always got the job done. Nothing else mattered.
Well, Eliza went on, were going to do things my way this time. This case will be investigated by the book. You got that?
Whats that supposed to mean?
That since you recently went off like a half-cocked shotgunagainand this case involves your preferred targetthe mobI will yank your badge and gun if you pull one of your stunts on my watch.
Come again?
Her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned. I mean it, J.Z. Youre off the case if you cross the line. And if youre half as smart as you like to think, youll believe me. I have the power now.
Blood roared in his ears. Shed known just how to hit him.
How could he ever have found her attractive? These days, he only saw the spite in her glare; he only heard the gloating in her voice.
So you want a pound of my flesh.
She looked away. Something like that.
He turned and opened the door, his rage barely leashed. Id be careful if I were you. Blue-eyed redheads dont look good with pea-green skin.
Her voice, low and nasty, made him pause. One toe over the line, J.Z., and youre out. Got it?
Loud and clear, boss.
He made for the bank of elevators where Dan slouched against the wall, busy charming the new girl from the secretarial pool.
J.Z. asked, The permits?
Dan patted his jacketed chest. All set. He then arched an eyebrow. Your mood took a different turn. Its safe to say you didnt kiss and make up with the dragon lady.
J.Z. ignored the comment. Need to pack?
Dan pushed the elevator call button. You know I keep a bag in the trunk of my car.
Lets go. J.Z. followed Dan into the elevator. As the silver doors closed out the disappointed young woman, Dan faced J.Z.
J.Z. held up a hand; with the other, he punched the button. Dont say it.
I did warn you before you started dating her. You can be as charming and kind as you want, but you cant get involved with coworkers. Itll smack you in the face sooner or later. Keep business and pleasure far, far apart, I say.
Exhaustion hit all of a sudden. Just drop it.
Dan stepped out of the elevator. Its just that when you make a mistake, Prophet, you really make a doozy.
J.Z. followed the younger man to the street. Dans words continued to mock him. The Prophet family was known for their mistakes. And as Dan had put it, whenever they made one, it was of the doozy variety. J.Z. was determined to stop making mistakes.
He would have to take extra care this time, if for nothing else than to avoid Elizas payback. Because, without a doubt, he was going to nail Maryanne Wellborn for the murders.
Even if it killed him. And it might. If Eliza grounded him, the failure would do him in.
Happy Birthday, dear StanleyHappy Birthday to you!
As the residents of New Camdens Peaceful Meadows Residence and Nursing Center sang to her father, the guilt Maryanne Wellborn had carried for months began to lessen. Maybe Dad had been right to insist on the move into the multilevel care facility.
I want to be where the action is, Cookie, hed argued, roguish grin in full bloom. All the he winked dudes and babes are there, the ones old enough to speak my language, that is.
Maryanne had wanted to care for her only surviving parent at homehis home. But Stan Wellborns obstinacy rivaled a mules, and hed insisted on putting the family home up for sale. It had sold distressingly soon.
Shed known how much attention he needed. An insulin-dependent diabetic and recent amputee, his blood-sugar levels needed constant monitoring, as did his blood pressure and diet. Not to mention, his penchant for merriment and trouble. Hed been lonely and bored at home while Maryanne worked. Boredom had led to nutty amusements, which then mushroomed into mischief. Mischief had invited risk along, and both had courted danger.
She couldnt discount the friendships hed made since he moved in. He wasnt bored anymore.
Hey, Stan! called a bald-headed fellow of her fathers vintage. Whatcha waiting for? Blow out them candles already. We want some of that cake.
Murmured agreement broke out.
Her dad winked. Im making my wish, dont you know?
Ha! What do you need more wishes for? This gent leaned on a cane. The ladies here have made them all come true since you moved in.
The birthday boy grinned, closed his eyes and then blew out the eight candlesseven fat ones for the decades and a thin one for his additional yearon the large blue-blossomed cake. Youre just jealous of my irresistible charm, Hughie.
The residents howled at the banter, no one louder than Maryannes dad. For a moment, she wished her mother were still alive to share his pleasure. Then she realized how silly her wish was. Mother would have frowned upon the whole scenario. Quiet and unassuming, Martha Wellborn would have been mortified by her impulsive, happy-go-lucky husbands lack of restraint.
Propriety had been Mothers underpinning, and shed drilled its need into her daughters psyche from the moment Maryanne could understand.
What she never did understand was how two such disparate souls had made a match in the first place, but shed never questioned her parents love for each other. Marthas death two years ago had plunged Stan into a depression deeper than Maryanne had expected in such an upbeat man.
The depression vanished once he moved into the home.
She shook off her dark thoughts, stepped closer to her father and kissed his high forehead. I brought you something.
His hazel eyes twinkled. What are you waiting for?
With a nod to the nursing homes activities coordinator, Maryanne smiled back. Let me help Sherri bring it in.
The two women lugged in a stack of cartons and set up the stereo. Tears gleamed in his eyes.
Oh, Cookie. I oughta say you shouldnt have, but Im tickled you did.
Blinking her own mistiness away, Maryanne said, I knew how much you missed your music, and your old record player was useless. Enjoy this one, okay?
You know I will. Cmere. He patted his blanketed thigh. Let your old man give you a hug and kiss.
Maryanne perched on her dads lap and hugged him tight. She loved the old scamp, and she meant to keep him as healthy and happy as possible for as long as she could.
I love you, Dad.
Love you always, baby.
Harrumph! offered the bald man. Youre getting too mushy for a party. Lets try out that stereo.
With a final pat to his daughters back, Stan gave a whoop. Go for it, Charlie. We need music to make this a real party.
Under cover of the hubbub, Maryanne said, Youre really happy here, arent you?
Yes, Cookie, I really am. He winked. Now its your turn to find some action. Of the young, male, falling-in-love kind, that is. Its not Gods plan for a beautiful young woman to spend her life buried in a library or visiting a bunch of geezers.
Youre not a geezer, and I love books.
You need aaOh, yeah! A chunk to show you whats what, girl.
Maryanne rose to hide her blush and stifle a nervous giggle. Im too busy, and Id rather spend my free time with you.
Stan shook his finger and grinned. Mark my words, girl. When that lovebug bites, youre gonna fall hard.
Hey, I use bug spray by the gallon. Its my favorite fragrance. But Id better go help Sherrilook at that mob of cake-starved partiers around her.
While she doled out cake, Maryanne watched her father from the vantage point of the activities hall stage. The stack of small gifts from his friends thrilled him. Then, after theyd finished eating, with his favorite Glenn Miller, Guy Lombardo and Jimmy Dorsey tunes on the new stereo, he drew each ambulatory lady near and twirled her around his wheelchair.
I told you not to worry, Sherri Armstrong told Maryanne as she tied off another bag of trash. He practically begged you to move him here.
I know. But it was hard.
Hes busy, and hes happy. And he wants you to build a life for yourself. Thats your next assignment, you understand?
Not you, too. First Dad, now you.
Sherri, happily married mother of two, nodded. We know what were talking about.
Well see. Maryanne gathered the empty punch bowl and headed for the kitchen. Right now, we have a mess to clean.
No sooner did she enter the vast, equipment-filled white room, than Dean Ross, Peaceful Meadows director, called her name. Her middle knotted. The busy man rarely found time to discuss the library cart she brought twice a week to the home. She doubted hed come for the birthday party.
How are you, Dean?
He grimaced. Same as always. Youre going to have to cancel Audrey Whites library privileges.
Oh, no. I missed her at Dads party and meant to stop by her room to see how she liked the last historical novel I suggested.
The ambulance just took her to the hospital. She slipped into a coma a little while ago, and she wont be back.
Are you sure?
As sure as I can be. You saw how weak she was when you brought her books.
Youre right. She couldnt even sit up when I camewas it day before yesterday? The day before, maybe. Rosie, Audreys nurse, was getting the other bed in the room ready for a new patient. I helped herI had to push the meds stand out of the way to get to Audreys side of the room. And Audrey mentioned she was headed to another floor.
She was. Intensive care. And the new patient did no better.
Maryanne winced. Audrey didnt say a thing. Nowcant they do anything more?
Cancer at that stage is merciless. Morphine for the pain is the best we have. Nature helps and lets the patient enter a coma toward the end, but Im afraid Audrey
I understand, Maryanne said around the lump in her throat. Ill take care of her library card.
Shes not the only one.
She bit her lip. Who else?
I dont think you had a chance to meet him. Mr. Papparelli, the patient who moved into Audreys old room. He passed on, too.
Youre right. I never did meet him. His death wouldnt hit her as hard as Audreys decline. I set up his privileges as soon as I got word he was comingI never knew he was the one moving into the bed I helped make. Then day before yesterday Marlene in Admissions called to say hed gone into cardiac arrest and wouldnt need books. He wasnt dead yet, but close. I terminated him right away.
Dean sighed. Its never easy, you know.
Maryanne nodded and again tried to swallow the knot in her throat. I know, and Id better say good-night to Dad. I have to be at work early tomorrow.
She fought more tearsthese hot and painful by comparison to her earlier tender oneson her way back to the activities hall. As usual, a bevy of aged belles surrounded her fathers wheelchair, smiling and chatting with the unrepentant flirt. Maryanne sighed in relief. It was foolish to need the reassurance just because a sweet woman she had befriended was near the end. And yet, she did.
She donned a bright smile and made her way through his admirers. Im going home now, you party animal. Some of us have to work.
You work too much, he countered. But I wont keep you. You need your rest. Thanks for everything, Cookie. Just dont worry about me. Im in my element.
Feminine laughter tittered around them. Maryanne swooped down for her good-night hug and kiss. Then, before she broke down and cried for real, she rushed from the building and into her car.
She was going to miss Audrey. Just as she missed Mary Margaret Muldoon and her love of mysteries, Helmut Rheinemanns armchair travels and Toby Matthiass penchant for art books. She loved to serve the nursing home residents. She felt called to bring the joy of books into their often lonely and frequently pain-filled days. If only she could learn the art of detachment. Each loss broke her heart.
Tomorrow she would order Audreys termination. Then she would work surrounded by sadness. And she counted on the Lord to see her through the day she had to terminate her own dad.
Maryanne wiped her eyes with a tissue and then typed the curt e-mail first thing the next day. Terminate Audrey White. She expected a visit once Sandy Rodriguez, the card privilege clerk, downloaded that morning. The young man had learned that each message was written with a fresh batch of tears.
She clicked the Send icon and received the message sent confirmation. Before she signed off, however, the screen went blank. Rats.
The system was down. Again. The glitch, no matter how short-lived, would only make what had started out as a crummy day even worse. Since the county library system joined the information superhighway a couple of years earlier, it had become close to impossible to operate without the computers.
She set her sad thoughts aside and reached across the desk for her correspondence folder. She might as well wade through it while the equipment stayed down. Who knew how long it would take to get things up and humming again.
A short while later her door swung inward and two men in jeans, white shirts and navy ties, brass nameplates over their pocket, stepped in.
Hi, said the shorter of the two, his brown eyes as warm as his smile. Were from Uni-Comp. Im Dan Maddox, and this he glared at his companion is J.Z. Prophet. Were here to fix the system and check the machines.
Surprised by that odd look, Maryanne took note of the names on the plates and stood. Be my guests. I cant do a thing until you do yours.
Dan Maddox went right to her desk, but the other man, J.Z. Prophet, stayed in the doorway, his gray eyes fixed on her.
Maryanne Wellborn? he asked in a deep voice.
Yes, and if youll excuse me, Ill leave you to your work.
Maryanne stepped out to the hall. What an intense man. His eyesso cold. She shivered. With a deep breath, she regained her composure.
But from the other side of the not-quite-closed door, she heard Maddox say, Im waiting for that modem card.
J.Z. muttered a response she didnt quite catch.
Maryannes curiosity got the better of her and she pressed up against the door frame. Holding her breath, she peered through the crack into her office.
Long seconds crawled by, minutescenturies. No one moved.
Maddox turned to his partner, who still stood, statue-like, by the equipment case. Come on, J.Z. Before the librarian gets back.
Gray eyes speared to the door. Maryanne froze under the impact of that icy stare. She suddenly wanted to run, take cover.
J.Z. Prophet, a complete stranger, really, really didnt like her.
Why?
TWO
Whatever you say, Trudy Talbot. Maryanne tucked her work-loosened brown-and-white gingham blouse into the waistband of her dirndl skirt. But you should have seen the look in his eyes. So tell me. What would make a computer geek look soso scary? So disgusted? So angry?
The classy, prematurely gray director of the Childrens Collection shrugged. Beats me. Maybe his wife served him eggs for breakfast when he wanted Frootie Tooties instead. Or maybe his cat presented him with a dead mousejust before he swallowed the eggs. The adult male is beyond my comprehension. Thats why I stick to those under the age of twelve.
Last time I checked, Ron Talbot was a quite adult thirty-five.
Trudy slicked on a coat of soft plum lip gloss and dropped the tube into her tailored black leather purse. That doesnt mean my husbands any easier to understand than others of his kind.
Maryanne tucked her lip balm in the side pocket of her tote. You dont fool me. You two have been married thirteen years, you share a mortgage, car and minivan, a dog, four cats and two kids. You must have figured him out at least a little.
Three.
Three? Three what?
Trudys fair skin bloomed a delicate rose. Three kids.
Huh? Maryanne glanced at her friends flat middle. Oh! Really?
Trudys smile lit up the dingy bathroom in the basement of the New Camden Public Library. Mm-hmm.
The two women hugged, then Maryanne held her friend at arms length. Thats wonderful! And you look wonderful, too. When are you due?
Sometime in mid-November.
A Thanksgiving babyhow perfect.
It is a perfect time to give thanks for all my blessings. Trudy eyed Maryanne. So much so that you ought to give it a try. Marriage and motherhood, that is.
Are you crazy? You just finished telling me men are impossible to understand, and now you want me to hook up with one of them?
I said theyre impossible to understand, not impossible to love and live with. Trudy hitched the strap of her purse onto her shoulder. Come on. I have to get back. The Thursday story-hour kids are about to get here, and we dont want them on the loose.
And I have to go see what those guys got done on my computer.
The two women went upstairs to the librarys main level. Trudy gave Maryanne a sideways glance. You know Uni-Comps people are always great. You never know whats going on in peoples lives. Maybe that one guy had a fight with his wife.
Maybebut he still gave me the creeps.
How so?
Cold gray eyes popped into Maryannes mind. So did the flat slash of lips, the rigid line of shoulder, the direct and deliberate gait. He made me feel like the deer in a hunters crosshairs.
That makes no sense. You dont know him, do you?
Trust me. Id remember if Id seen him before.
In the warm oak-paneled-and-floored lobby, Trudy placed gentle hands on Maryannes shoulders and met her gaze. Now dont get mad at me, okay?
Maryanne went to speak, but Trudy shook her head.
Listen. Please. Do you think maybe you imagined the guys anger because your emotions were already in a tangle over your friend at the nursing home?
Maryannes urge to deny the possibility felt right, but because Trudy was so perceptive, she gave her earlier state of mind careful consideration. She thought back to when she first saw J.Z. Prophet, to that last look in his eyes, to the way hed made her feel.
Theres always that chance, she said, but I dont think so. Id prayed through my tears by the time those two showed up. Id come to peace by then, and was even bored since theres so little I can do while the systems down.
Trudy looked skeptical, but then, she hadnt seen the man. Maryanne hugged her massive tote bag and added, I cant begin to imagine why someone would look at me with so muchoh, I dont know. I cant really describe what that Prophet guy gave off.
Another frown lined Trudys brow. This isnt good. Dont you think someone should do something about it? Someone official, that is.
What do you want them to do? And who would you have me tell?
Maybe you should speak with Mr. Dougherty.
Why? I dont think the library systems director knows much about Uni-Comp or its employees. The IT department handles that service contract.
Well, then, talk to Morty. He runs IT.
What do you want me to say? That a tech from Uni-Comp gave me a weird look? Sure, and then he can call the guys in the white suits to come get me.
Trudy bit her lower lip. Youre probably right. All you have is a funny feeling, and thats nothing to go on. Just be careful. Dont let the guy catch you alone in your office or anything, okay?
That wont happen. Not even if I have to spend the rest of the day in the bathroom downstairs. If worse comes to worst, Ill grab what little paperwork I have left and do just that.
Thats nuts. You dont have to go to extremes, you know. You can always head over to the staff lounge or hang out with me and my munchkins.
Oh, right. Ill get a whole lot of work done then.
Make up your mind, will you? You said you were bored earlier and didnt have much to do while the system was down. I can always use a hand with the incoming zoo inmates.
Ha! Your Mark is in that crowd, isnt he?
When Trudy blushed, Maryanne went on. Figures. You just want me to watch your son so that you can be the serious librarian.
Trudy raised her hands in surrender. Okay. You outed me. But do you blame me?
Who can forget his first story hour? You reminded me of Make Way For Ducklings. The seventeen of them looked awfully cute following you around and calling you Mrs. Mommy.
They chuckled, but then Maryanne squared her shoulders and smoothed a hand over the waist of her shin-length beige skirt. I really do have to get back to my officeif for no other reason than to see if the Uni-Comps finished their shtick, and my computers up again.
I still think your imagination ran away with you, but please be careful. You never know what kind of kooks are on the loose.
If you get a chance, keep me in your prayers.
You know Ill do that.
Maryanne approached her glorified cubicle at the rear of the Research Department with apprehension. Were the two men still there?
At her office door, she paused and studied her name in gold letters on the black plaque. If that Prophet man wanted to hurt her he not only knew where she worked, but he also knew her name. With so many search sites on the Web, hed have her address in no time. Then again, maybe he and his wife had argued earlier in the day. But Maryanne couldnt imagine a woman whod put up with him.
Oh, Lord, help me, please, she prayed then turned the knob.
The room was empty. A couple of pages covered with computer test gobbledygook in her trash can gave the only testimony of the mens earlier presence. Maryanne experienced a momentary letdown.
Weird, since she hadnt wanted to face hiswas it anger?again.
To be honest, she had to admit that the puzzling J.Z. Prophet had sparked her interestin a crazy, scary sort of way. Hed kicked up her curiosity, and hed even revved something inside her. Excitement? Maybe. Inquisitiveness? Definitely.
Maryanne sat behind her desk and braced her forehead on the heels of her hands. Argh!
She had to be partway to certifiable. No sane woman would be interested in some stranger whod looked at her funny. A sane woman wouldnt try to figure out why hed done it.
It didnt make senseshe didnt make sense.
So was Trudy right? Had she imagined J.Z.s instant dislike?
Now that the Uni-Comp men had left and she was alone, Maryanne began to question her earlier take on the incident. A stranger would have no reason for anger, not toward her.
Oh, well. Trudy probably was right. It wouldnt be the first time Maryanne let her imagination run wild.
After all, J.Z. Prophet was an attractive man, of the rugged, dark and brooding sort. He would catch her eye, no matter whatany womans at that. But of course he wasnt the kind of man shed want to get to know. He was not her type at all. Still, no seeing woman would call him nondescript.
Steel-colored eyes above angular cheekbones pierced deep. And the dark hair that tumbled over his forehead revealed a lack of self-absorption. Although J.Z. Prophets hair shone with health and cleanliness, as did his pristine white shirt and faded jeans, he wasnt the blow-dried, manicured, crease-pressed new-jean type, a trend she found disconcerting.
If he hadnt fixed those stormy eyes on her, she might have been attracted to him.
Good grief, Maryanne, she muttered as her computer booted up. There you go again. No sooner do you decide the guy couldnt possibly have given you an angry look, than you make a U-turn and think the opposite one more time.
She sighed. It was time to get back to work. Time to put the enigmatic J.Z. Prophet out of her mind.
The next two hours proved productive. At around three oclock, when Maryanne felt the urge for her usual cup of tea, she stood, walked around her desk and crossed the room.
At the doorway, she stopped.
A weird feeling crept up her backhair-raising was the only way to describe it. Someone was watching her.
Maryanne looked up and down the hall, but saw no one, found nothing unusual. Then the door across the hall came to a complete close with a soft, automatic swish.
She stared. The mens room. Had someone been watching her?
Had that someonethe one she was sure had watched herjust gone in there?
Had J.Z. Prophet spooked her so much that she saw boogeymen all around? Had some innocent guy done nothing more than walk by her office door to use the restroom instead? And shed let herself freak out.
Or had he been watching her? J.Zs face materialized in her mind. Why? Why would he want to watch her?
Maryannes knees gave. She fell back against her office door. She began to shiver, but refused to give in to fear. She closed her eyes and turned to God.
Why, why, why was she so shaken?
Your strength is sufficient for me, she prayed. Over and over again, she whispered the words until the tremors subsided.
But no matter how long she prayed, and no matter how hard she worked, Maryanne failed to erase the memory of J.Z.s stare.
Trudy was right about at least one thing. Should Maryanne ever see him again, she wouldnt hesitate to call the cops. Although she preferred to avoid clichs, she felt she was living one right then.
If looks could kill.
The rest of the afternoon crawled by in a blur of stress. By the time five oclock rolled around, Maryannes shoulders had frozen rigid and her temples pounded a vicious beat. Shed accomplished precious little in that time, since no matter how hard she tried, the image of J.Z. Prophet slammed into her thoughts every few minutes.
She couldnt concentrate on anything she read, and hadnt been able to type up her notes for the report due next Tuesday. Her fingers shook like leaves in a gale. Even simple filing became a challenge of inordinate proportion.
Ibuprofen did nothing to alleviate her headacheshe doubted anything would until the memory of J.Z. Prophets intensity melted away on its own. She hoped she never had to set eyes on him again.
In the library parking lot, she waved goodbye to Trudy and Sarah Myers, who worked with the rare collections. Then, because shed fed Shakespeare the last of his food and the kitty litter was also running low, she drove straight to the grocery store. The ride served to soothe her raw nerves. Her favorite radio station had on a Darlene Zschech special. Maryanne liked the Aussies contemporary style of worship music.
At the store, she grabbed feline supplies, romaine lettuce, fresh chicken breasts and an Idaho potato the size of the state where it grew. Dinner would be a simple matter of shredding greens and nuking stuffabout all she could face today.
At the register, Joe Moore, a retiree who augmented his social security with part-time cashier duty, smiled when he saw her. Hows old Stan doing these days?
Maryanne arched an eyebrow. Old? Dads two years younger than you.
The scanner beeped as Joe ran her purchases before the screen. Age is just a matter of the mind, honey bun.
Oh, and Dads matured beyond his mischievous adolescent mental age in the last twenty-four hours?
A man can always hope.
They shared a good-natured chuckle, and the pounding in Maryannes head began to ease.
Hows Amelia? she asked.
Sore and crotchety, but the doc says the hip replacement went even better than hed expectedthank the Lord.
You two have been married how long?
Joe puffed out his chest. Fifty-three years and still going strong, honey bun. You oughta try it, you know.
Maryanne grabbed the bag of groceries and made for the door. Dont you get started. Its bad enough with Dad and Trudy and a couple of others badgering me right and left. You know how I feel. If Gods got a man for me, well then, its up to Him to find me the guy.
And howre you going to see this gift from heaven if all you do is hide behind books at the library or hang out with the oldsters at the retirement home?
Im not hiding, Maryanne said, her chin tipped a hair higher. Im serving where the Lords planted me. Im sure Hell lead me where He wants me if He wants me to go elsewhere.
Whoa, girl! Thats a mouthful there. Joe shook his head and scanned his next customers laundry detergent. Strikes me youre a mite defensive on the subject. I suggest you pray a little on it, and see if Im not right.
Maryanne sighed. As if she didnt already pray her way through each and every day. Ill do that, Joe. Give my love to Amelia, will you?
Of course, honey bun. And you tell that crazy daddy of yours to stay out of trouble at that country club place where he lives nowadays.
I will. Why dont you stop by and see him sometime soon? Hell get a kick out of it.
With a nod and a wink, Joe turned his full attention to the young mother of three little girls under the age of six. Maryanne left the store, and then popped open her Escorts trunk. She balanced the groceries against the bag of sand she always stored there for just in case. When she shut the trunk, a car crawled down the row behind her.
Her neck prickled as it had earlier that day.
She spun, but saw nothing other than the mom and her three girls walk away from the stores automatic doorand the unremarkable gray car braked ten cars down beyond her. Although she couldnt make out the drivers facial features, something about him slammed fear right back into her gut.
She felt just as she had when J.Z. Prophet had glared at her.
A chill ran through her and she shivered. If the stormy computer tech was at the wheel, then she wanted to get as far from him as fast as she could. And if he wasnt, then she also wanted to leave that parking lot just as fast. Just because.
Frustrated by her shaky hands failure to get the button on her automatic keychain to work, Maryanne took a deep breath, clenched her fist around the plastic rectangle, and then prayed a blunt Help!
She unfurled her fingers and with deliberation, aimed the gadget straight at the lock. It popped. She slid behind the wheel, flicked the locks back on, and then started the car. As she pulled out, she kept the gray car in sight out the corner of her eye. She sighed in relief when it took the spot shed vacated.
The adrenaline drain left her even shakier than before, and she had no idea how she drove home without hitting anything on the way. She had to get her imagination under much better control. She couldnt freak out at even the tiniest thing. That driver had just wanted her parking space.
Later that evening, she watched her favorite home decorating show before she decided an early bedtime would work wonders on her frazzled nerves. Tomorrow would be a better dayit had to be.
She hoped.
And Friday was better. By noon, shed settled back into her normal routine. With a clear head, she ate a sandwich for lunch at her desk, determined to make up for yesterdays lack of productivity. By five, shed caught up and only had the report to do. Shed finish it tomorrow afternoon on her home computer.
Trudy stuck her head in the office.
Come on in, Maryanne said.
No, Im on my way home. Are you still coming tonight?
Maryanne logged out of her word processing program and shut down her machine. Its my turn with the youth groups sixth graders this month. I wouldnt miss the scavenger hunt for the world. I had a blast when I helped out last year.
Good. Davids been looking forward to special attention from his honorary aunt.
She slung the sturdy straps of her large tote bag over one shoulder, flicked off the lights and closed the office door. Hed better rethink that plan. Im not about to show your darling son any favoritism. Im just there to count noses and make sure no one gets left behind in a store at the mall.
Thats what I told him, Trudy said with a chuckle. Somehow, though, I think youre going to have to work hard to avoid his charm. That boys going placessomeday.
Maryanne nodded. Its a good thing you and Ron have channeled that energy and appeal in positive directions. Otherwise, who knows where hed end up?
Thanks. Your opinion means a great deal. And youre right. David is a handful. Its hard to walk that fine line between guiding and stifling a child.
You and Ron are terrific parents, Trudy. You teach by example, and I think thats the best thing for kids. Maryanne thought back on her earlier years. Mother and Dad were great, even though they had such different personalities.
I miss your mom, you know?
How could I not? You and I grew up in each others homes. Besides, Mother pretty much liked you better than she liked me.
Trudy pushed on the massive, revolving library door. You know thats not trueeven though you did give her some pretty good headaches now and then.
On the sidewalk, Maryanne paused and sighed. Its that goofy side of me, the Dad part, that always got me in trouble. But Mother did have a point. When I finally surrendered and did things her way, my life went much smoother. As it has ever since.
Trudy studied Maryanne. Maybe its been easier, but I wonder if it hasnt been a lot more boring, too.
She jolted as if Trudy had pricked her with a pin. My lifes not boring. Not at all. Its full and rich and satisfying. I have a great joba career. And I love my church family. My calendars full of wonderful activities, and I even have a fabulous cat. I love my life just the way it is.
Trudy resumed the walk to the parking lot. Whens the last time you did something on the spur of the moment? Something unexpected and fun?
Maryanne scoffed. Thats what I mean. Mother taught me well. Dads nuttiness creates chaos, and I dont want that in my life. Well thought-out choices and prudent decisions up front make much more sense than to struggle to fix things after youve made a mess of them.
Trudy shook her head and her silver bob swung in a smooth arc. Thats boring.
No way. I dont want to climb a rock face, travel to strange places where Ill wind up with malaria or put myself in situations where I might meet people who could do me harm. Even you warned me against the computer clown yesterday.
Trudy reached the drivers side of her cherry-red Sunbird parked alongside Maryannes tan Escort. She looked over the roof and said, Read my lips: boooooooring!
As she unlocked her car, Maryanne gave her friend one last disgusted look. Nope. Not at all. Just safe, secure, familiar and comfortable. See you later at church.
She started the ignition and shook her head. Shed had her fill of spur-of-the-moment living, thanks to Dad. What kind of woman would want a steady diet of madness?
J.Z. snapped his cell phone shut. Joey-Os not talking.
Dan looked up from the file folder hed just picked up. Did you think he would?
His kind usually doesto point the finger at someone else, of course. Especially if it means they can save their sorry skin.
Is he denying that he killed Mat? Or has he just zipped his lip?
David says no one can get a word out of him.
Dans gaze turned thoughtful. Lathams good at getting perps to talk. So if Joeys not talking, then hes more scared of what might come his way from the outside than by staying in foroh, say a hundred years or so.
I want to know how Joey got word to Wellborn so she could finish the job. Hes been in the slammer since minutes after he emptied his gun into the Laundromat.
Im telling you, youre barking up the wrong tree with the librarian, J.Z. Theres nothing, nothing here Dan waved the papers from the file that even hints at her involvement. Even her bank records are cleanyouve read it in black-and-white, same as I have. Look at them again.
Dan held the pages out to J.Z., but J.Z. did know what they saidand didnt say. He shook his head.
His partner wasnt ready to quit. Not a dollar goes into her account that doesnt come from her paycheck, J.Z. So what would she have to gain? Why would she kill for the mob? Whats her motive?
Remember the e-mails. Theyre pretty clear. Terminate Carlo Papparelli. J.Z. ran a hand through his hair. He felt the answers he needed were just on the other side of his grasp. Shes got to keep her stash somewhere. Maybe Mat did the laundering for her dollars, and didnt want to cough them back up. We just have to dig deeper than we have.
It doesnt fit, Dan argued. Shes clean if you ignore those e-mails. So wheres the connection? A librarian doesnt just hook up with the mob out of the blue.
J.Z. shrugged. That retirement homes an awfully cushy place for a librarians salary to afford. Maybe she saw the chance to get the dough thatd keep her dad there.
Sure, but how would she turn to the mob?
Thats what you and I are going to find out.
Dan stared straight at J.Z. A wriggle of discomfort wound through him. I think theres nothing for us to find. And theres a lot of valuable time to waste, time we cant afford to waste. Your personal bias against the mob in general and the Verdis in particular might just cost us six long months worth of work.
The image of his fathers stony face at the defendants table came back to haunt J.Z. The good ones always look that clean. Only a fool will let himself get caught up in their smokescreen. I fell for my fathers lies when I was too young to know better. I wont do it again.
Just make sure you dont lose yourself in a fun-house mirror and leave reality behind. Dont miss the obvious for looking so hard through the filter of your past.
J.Z. gritted his teeth. He knew what was what.
Maryanne Wellborns days as a free woman were numbered.
She was going down.
Maryanne gasped. Her heart began to pound and her stomach twisted.
That same, creepy someones-looking-at-me feeling hit her again. She looked around, and she went cold.
A familiar male figure was walking in the direction opposite from where she stood in the malls food court. Something about the dark hair, the set of wide shoulders, the taut fluid walk
Could it be?
But she could only see the man from the back. She couldnt be sure it wasor wasntJ.Z. Prophet.
Coincidence?
She doubted it. Mother always said she only believed in God-incidence. But if that was the case, then what did God have to do with the computer tech? His anger wasnt the kind of emotion the Lord encouraged. It certainly didnt dispose her to approach the man. Besides, she couldnt see herself as a missionary to crazy computer techs.
Shed thought herself safe by going straight to church, joining in the potluck supper then taking her charges on their scavenger hunt. Shed sat at a table in the food court and made sure the teams understood they had to check in with her every thirty minuteschurch rules.
The kids were great. And she enjoyed the time their pursuit gave her to work on her needlepoint project. At least, she had until a couple of seconds ago.
That itchy discomfort that seemed to strike so often since shed met J.Z. Prophet had crept up the back of her neck again. When she turned in the direction of the lingerie store across the way, shed spotted the dark-haired man propped against a pillar. But because his face had been hidden by shadows, she couldnt be sure it was J.Z.
If it was him, what could he possibly want?
She didnt know, but she did know one thing: shed never felt like a hunted animal until he showed up at her work. She crammed her needlework into the tapestry sewing bag, grabbed that bag together with her tote bag and then slung the handles of both over her shoulder. A quick glance at her watch told her the kids should be back any moment now.
Shed have to get them out of the mall before that madman decided to hurt her, much less them.
There you are, Trudy said at her side.
Maryanne yelped. Dont you ever skulk up like that again! You just cost me ten years of my life.
Her friend gaped. What is wrong with you? Ive never heard you speak like that before.
Maryannes tremors grew so great that she collapsed back into her chair. The bags slid down her arm and fell to the floor.
I think hes here, she whispered.
Whos here?
She saw concern in Trudys eyes. The Uni-Comp tech with the icy-cold eyesthat J.Z. Prophet guy.
You really think so?
Maryanne nodded, unable to say more.
Where did you see him? Did you call security? What are you going to do?
I dont know what Im going to do. I cant even think straight. And of course I didnt get a chance to call security. I just saw him a moment ago, right before you came up.
Show me. Where is he?
With her eyes shut tight, Maryanne pointed in the direction of the lingerie store, reluctant to again feel J.Z. Prophets anger. But when Trudy didnt say a thing, Maryanne looked up at her friend.
With worried brown eyes, Trudy looked from the lingerie store to Maryanne and back again. Are you sure youre okay? she asked. Ive never known you to be so paranoid.
Aside from that guy scaring me half out of my wits, of course, Im fine.
Trudy kept silent for long moments. Maryanne looked up at her friend. A frown on her forehead, Trudy said, Theres no one there.
Maryanne stood, used the table for support and slowly turned to look across the expanse. As Trudy had said, no one stood by the window draped in frivolous, pastel-lace frills; no one leaned in that distinctive way against the pillar at its side; no one glared at her right then.
Hes gone, she said, not reassured. For now.
What do you mean?
Maryanne met her friends worried gaze. Everywhere I go, I feel someone watching me. I cant shake the feeling. And somehow, Im sure Im going to see him again. I just dont know when or where. Or why.
THREE
Youre nuts, Dan told J.Z.
Why? Because I know shes pulling a fast one?
No. Because, man, youve taken a long walk down the diving board and gone off the deep end this time. Youve let something personal get in the way of your work. Will you just look at her? I doubt shes ever even killed a fly.
J.Z. looked at Maryanne Wellborn as she smiled at and hugged other worshippers on her way down the church steps.
That, he said to his partner, is what she wants us to believe. Ill admit shes goodvery good.
When J.Z. had first seen the librarian, shed worn a boring baggy tan skirt and brown-and-white checked shirt. The next time, shed sported garments in a gloomy shade of gray. Today, for Sunday School and the worship service, she had on a dingy-taupe dress that hung to about an inch above her ankles. A narrow brown belt caught the shapeless thing at her waist.
Even if you cant, he added, I can see right through her.
Dan tapped J.Z.s shoulder with a fist. Then you must have X-ray vision. I dont think theres anything here. Ive a feeling shes just what she looks like, a serious librarian with more on her mind than the latest fashions.
After a pause, Dan went on. Dont take it wrong, okay? Im worried about you. Youre not yourself. I mean, you almost blew it at the library, and then at the mall. All that after you promised youd be careful.
J.Z. went to argue, but Dan held up a hand.
Shes not dumb, you know. You shouldnt have talked Zelda into letting you take her place. You have to keep a professional distance.
You forget Im the senior agent here.
But youre acting like a rookie with a bone to pick. Unless you want to blow a case weve worked for months, youd better get a hold of yourself.
So what do you have to say about the lab findings? Those were her fingerprints on Laundromats IV-fluids stand. They match the ones we lifted from her desk.
Dan shrugged. Shes in and out of that nursing home with her library cart and to visit her father all the time. Who knows when she might have touched the thing? For an innocent reason, I mean.
J.Z. snorted. They have sick people there, Dan. All that equipment is cleaned and disinfected and sanitizedall the time. Itd be pretty hard for fingerprints to survive that kind of scouring.
Hey, theres always a first time for everything.
So as not to continue the argument, J.Z. ground his teeth. He followed Maryannes progress toward her plain little Ford, and took note of how she patted the tight bun at the back of her neck.
He didnt buy the story she was selling. No woman would choose to hide her hair like that without a reason.
Many years ago, his father had mastered the art of the innocuous appearance. The plain black suits, black ties, white shirts and black shoes hed worn were the male equivalent of Maryannes dowdy wardrobe. Her bun was the perfect counterpart to Obadiahs unremarkable barbershop cut.
He had to give the devil his, or in this case her, dueMaryanne Wellborn had her cover down pat, just like his father had. But J.Z. wasnt about to let the illusion of respectability get in the way of his mission. He hadnt gone over the edge; he just knew the difference between a trick and reality.
Everywhere the librarian went hed be sure to follow. He would keep the pressure on her until she cracked. Sooner or later, shed talk. And then hed bust her, Olive Oyl disguise notwithstanding.
Maryanne ran into her fathers suite, out of breath. Im so sorry Im late. The Sunday School Council meeting after the service dragged on forever.
Gimme a hug, Stan said. And in about an hour Ill be the one griping about endless meetings. The Residents Senate has an agenda fatter than the Federal budget for todays meeting.
Oh. She plopped onto his bed. Well, then, I guess Id better be going. Ill come back latermaybe after dinner.
Stan caught her fingers. Dont you dare leave me to the mercy of that bunch of geezers.
Dad! How can you call them something so ugly? Besides, youre one of them, arent you?
Yup. And thats why I can call us anything I please. Were geezers, all right. Just you come and listen to us. I know youll agree before the pecking partys over.
Since her father rarely asked of anything, Maryanne didnt have the heart to turn him down. Okay. Ill stay. But only if you promise I wont fall asleep during this senate thing.
Stan winked and pushed the forward button on his wheelchair. I can promise you fireworks, Cookie. Besides, I still have some of my birthday cake in the fridge. Come back here with me after the shoot-outs over, and we can make a serious dent in it.
Maryanne frowned. Hows your blood sugar?
Bah! Stan waved and rolled ahead. Im sick and tired of all that poking and bleeding. Cant a man have himself a piece of cake without it turning into a big deal?
Oh, Daddy. She hated the part of party pooper. I wish I could tell you its no big deal, but youre in that wheelchair because of the diabetes. The amputation was no joke, and we have to take care of your heart.
Irritation flared in Stan Wellborns blue eyes, but he stifled it almost as soon as she saw it. Dont mind me, Cookie. I just get testy when I cant have my way. I know the Lords blessed me with a bunch more days to hang around this side of life, and I cant dishonor His gift by misbehaving. But I wont deny Id sure like to every once in a while.
Before she could respond, he opened the apartment door, and waited for her to join him. He locked up, then propelled his wheelchair toward the elevator at the end of the long interior balcony that served as a hall.
They made their way down in silence, consumed by private thoughts. Once the elevator pinged at the mezzanine level, they waited for the doors to open. Maryanne followed her father to the activities hall. His friends greeted her with affection, a fondness she returned. Soon, however, petite Mitzi Steinbrom tottered on her stiletto heels to the podium.
Yikes! Maryanne leaned closer to Stan. Has Mrs. Steinbrom ever fallen from those spikes?
Alls I know is that she says they give her a regal bearing. I guess if you translate from Mitzish to English, that means she feels a need to make up for her lack of height.
Maryanne glanced forward again, but the plucky widow had disappeared. Where
Watch, her father answered. She had maintenance build her a set of steps. Otherwise, wed never see her over that dumb stand she insists she needs to run these goofy gatherings. She likes to follow Roberts Rules, but no one else heres willing to waste time on those kinds of things.
Sure enough, the tangerine curls popped up over the lectern and Mrs. Steinbrom tapped the microphone. The woodpecker beat self-destructed into a wicked screech. From the control room at the back of the hall, a man hollered, Sorry about that.
Mrs. Steinbrom smiled magnanimously. Were used to it, Reggie. Well wait until youve fixed it.
Hey, Mitzi! A bald gentleman waved a cane from the far right bank of chairs. We heard Reggie, so its fixed. Get on with your dog-and-pony show. I want to catch my before-dinner nap.
An eleven-type fold appeared between Mitzis penciled-in brown brows. She smiled, clearly comfortable with the noblesse oblige she felt the position of chairwoman required.
Very well, Roger. Well bring this meeting to order.
Ahgive it a rest, will ya, Mitz? another man called out, this one seated near the back door and garbed in a blue polo and pants. Just get on with the stuff you wanna talk about and forget all this other junk. Were all too old to sit around and wait.
Mitzi pursed her orange-coated lips. Its best if we do things properly, Charlie. Have some patience.
Its best, Maryannes father offered, if were efficient, Mitzi, so why dont you start with number one?
The chairwomans cheeks blazed red. Fine, she said in a curt voice. What do we think about cats?
Litterbox stink! a lady Maryanne didnt know yelped.
That ones neighbor to the left added, They yowl.
Are you going to pick up my garbage when they go dig for stuff? the impatient Charlie asked, his jaw in a pugnacious jut.
Someone up front offered, Im allergic.
Those clawsthey scratch everything, came from the right.
A frail wisp of a woman stood with difficulty, aided by her aluminum walker. Theyre a great comfort when ones all alone.
The room silenced at the dignified tone.
Eloise has a point, Maryannes dad said. None of us has too much company at night. Its worth giving that some thought.
Eloise nodded, and abundant waves of white hair rippled at her temples. I think we can tolerate some inconvenience if a pet helps another of us during a time of need. I vote for the cats.
But no dogs! Charlie bellowed, arms crossed.
Mitzi smiled in what looked like relief. Lets discuss the canines, then.
Roger stood. See this cane?
Everyone nodded.
It means, he went on, that I cant walk so good anymore. Howm I gonna stay on my feet when a mutt jumps all over me?
Obedience classes, suggested a woman who didnt look old enough to meet the communitys fifty-five-year minimum-age requirement. Those are fun. My late husband and I had a wonderful time training our dogs.
Charlie snorted. More work. I retired for a reasonIm tired and old.
The young-looking senior arched a brow. No one says you have to own or train a dog, Charlie.
An uncomfortable silence descended. Then Mitzi gave a smart crack of the gavel against the lectern. I think weve reached an agreement. Cats will be allowed, but dogs wont. Sorry, Connie.
The woman whod suggested the obedience classes stood. I dont think anyones agreed to anything about the dogsat least not yet. We need to discuss it some more.
Okay, Charlie ventured. Lets talk. I dont want to step on any when I go for my walks every morning.
A portly blonde in the front row turned to glare at Charlie. Everyone must clean up for him or herself, she said. Its only reasonable that those who want dogs take care of it.
Whats your plan? Charlie asked. Have management hand out official pooper-scoopers with our lease agreements?
Maryanne swallowed a laugh. She could just envision the scenea battalion of geriatrics armed with long-handled double shovels and baggies, all leashed to members of a motley crew of canines.
That would work, the blonde said.
Baloney, Charlie countered.
Mitzi banged again. Her compatriots ignored her and clamored over each others comments.
They shed all over, and then theres the drool.
Petting ones been proven to reduce blood pressure.
They can be rambunctious. Thats dangerous
Seizure dogs are true lifesavers.
Leashes can cause accidents.
Theyd have puppies
They bite!
Fleas
When are we going to get to the liver? Charlie demanded.
Eloise smashed her walker against the metal chair in front of her. The residents turned toward the source of the din, and when they spotted her, fell into a stunned stupor.
I didnt think when I moved here my address would be the Tower of Babel, the slight woman said, her voice distinct and determined. But this bickering certainly sounds like it.
Maryanne noticed more than one red face in the group.
It also strikes me, Eloise went on, that a fair amount of selfishness has taken root among us. I want no part of that. The Lord created animals and left them in our trust. He also urged us to do unto others as we would others do unto us. So Id like to see us show some forbearance in our small community.
A chair squealed in the back of the room. Clothes rustled to Maryannes left. Someone cleared his throat to her far right.
No one ventured a remark.
Eloise stepped her walker forward. We can determine a safe size for dogssay about twenty pounds and under. Of course, well enact leash laws. And Connies right. The owner must be responsible for the petsahproduction.
A nervous chuckle began near the side door and soon gathered strength. Before long, everyone was laughing, even Roger and Charlie. Everyone but Mitzi.
Her elevenses deepened and furrows lined her lily-white forehead. She pursed her bright lips and looked ready to stomp and cry at her loss of controland her lost battle against dogs.
Silence! the diminutive chairwoman yelled.
No one listened.
She banged her gavel to no avail, so she banged some more, and banged yet again, this time, however, with a bit too much force. The gavel broke.
Oooh! she cried. Just look what you made me do!
Her wail penetrated the good-natured chatter. Everyone faced forward, and more than one chuckle had to be smothered.
Come on, Mitzi, Maryannes father called out. Were done. The place has gone to the dogs, and I want to go home.
Butbut we havent discussed the liver, she said with a shuffle of paper. Or the steamed spinach. I cant abide them.
Hear, hear, Charlie cheered.
Roger stood. Aw, give it up. Its nap time.
Mitzi ran her fingers through her bright hair, spiking it into a ridge of exclamation marks. Oh, and we havent even touched on the fountain outside. Its an absolute disgrace. Who evers heard of pink flamingos in Pennsylvania?
Thats it! Stan Wellborn said as he spun his wheelchair toward the rear of the room. Im gone. Those flamingos are just about the funniest thing around here. Go rent a sense of humor, Mitzi.
Maryanne hurried to open the door for him.
They stay, he said. They stay, and they stay pink.
As they waited for the elevator, Maryanne kept quiet. Behind them, other residents poured out of the common area. Each voiced an opinion. At her side, her dad tapped his fingers on the wheelchairs control panel, a sure sign of annoyance.
The elevator doors opened. Father and daughter stepped inside. No one else joined them, and the conveyance soon glided upward. Just before they reached the sixth floor, Stan chuckled.
What did I tell you, Cookie? he said. Fireworks, right?
She gave him a wary look. Were you just fanning the flames?
Nah. Mitzis gone too far with her chairwoman thing. Those who want cats should have their cats, and those who want dogs should have them, too. Just dont mess with my liver and onions, and leave my pink flamingos alone.
When the elevator stopped, he flashed her a grin and winked. Welcome to the loony bin, Cookie. And thanks for listening to me. Im right where I belong.
Just like that, Maryannes last qualms about her fathers move to Peaceful Meadows vanished. Stan Wellborn had found a home.
Her guilt lifted, she relaxed and the afternoon went by fast, full of laughter, good conversation, a killer game of checkers and a serving of her dads birthday cake.
All in all, it was a perfect Sunday afternoon.
Good night, Cookie.
Good night, Dad.
She hadnt meant to stay so late, but Maryanne hadnt wanted to leave her father. Shed had a great time, even though liver and onions was not her favorite dish. Dad had wanted her company at dinner, and since all that awaited her back home was an uppity cat and the report shed written yesterday afternoon, shed stayed. She could proofread the whole thing in no time once she got home.
The rain started around sunset, typical for a late spring evening in South Central Pennsylvania. Now, on her way out, she lowered her head, covered it with her tote bag, and ran into the night. In her hurry to reach the car, she didnt watch her step, and her shoe hit a puddle. She slipped, yelped and dropped.
Muscular arms broke her fall.
Thanks, she said and then looked up. NO!
She froze in the circle of J.Z. Prophets clasp, tight against his chest, close to his warmth and clean scent. Not the smartest thing to do, but until she could breathe again, she couldnt move. To gather her wits, she tried to think of somethinganythingother than those intense gray eyes.
You should be more careful, he said, his voice deep.
She fought for breath, and this time, gulped in a lungful of fresh-washed air. What are you doing here?
Taking care of business.
His tone spoke volumes, but she didnt understand a thing. Still, she had no intention of carrying on a conversation with the miserable creature. Certainly not while she remained in such a vulnerable positionat his mercy.
She shoved against his chest, and to her surprise, he let her go. She almost fell again, but she summoned her strength and stood upright. She tugged down her belt from where it had slid way up on her ribs; she straightened her skirt; she ignored the rain.
I dont know what you think youre doing, she said. For good measure, she tipped up her chin. But I do want to know why youve been following me.
Something sparked in his eyes, but he still didnt speak.
Fine. She stepped toward her car. You can play Mount Rushmore all you want, especially in the rain. Just remember, if I see you again where you dont belong but I do, Ill call the cops.
Go ahead.
The rain sluiced over his dark hair, plastered it to his head like a robbers skullcap. It did nothing to endear him to her.
If you want to convince me the law doesnt bother you, then try something new. Quit following me and really mind your business. No sane man would dog an ordinary woman. Theres nothing interesting about me. Im a librarian with an elderly, disabled dad.
He shrugged, that incomprehensible intensity as always in his eyes. I am minding my business, and Im good at it.
A shiver racked Maryanne. It had nothing to do with the rain and everything with the man. Stalkings a crime, you know, she said, steps from her Escortand safety. They can lock you up for a long time, so quit before they do.
She fumbled with her keychain, but to her dismay, she dropped it. With the last of her courage, she said, Go crawl back under the rock from whence you came.
As she went for her keys, his hand shot out and grabbed them. Fear churned her gut, and she prayed he wasnt like a dog, able to scent it on her.
With a click, he unlocked her car door then handed her the keys. In silence, he strode into the dark. Maryanne collapsed against the fender and just stood there, drenched in rain and sweat. For long moments she just breathed and shook, thankful she could still do both.
Lord God, thank you forforwhatever. Just help me.
When she could move again, she opened the door and sat. Long minutes later, she turned on the ignition. The drive home was a numb hazeanother mindless drive under her belt. If she kept this up, shed soon qualify as a homing pigeon, functioning on some instinctual plane.
That, and shed have a couple of centuries of thanks and praise to offer her Lord.
In the garage, Maryanne sat back and tried to relax her shoulder muscles. She failed. Miserably.
The memory of J.Z. Prophet returned with the vengeance of hurricane-spurred ocean waves. What did the man want with her?
Because, without a shadow of a doubt, Maryanne knew J.Z. had come to Peaceful Meadows to keep tabs on her. What she didnt know was why?
And shed better figure it out soonbefore it was too late.
For her.
At ten the next morning, Maryanne called the cell phone rep Trudy had recommended. In a few minutes time, shed agreed to stop by the kiosk at the mall and sign a contract for a years worth of service. Next time J.Z. Prophet showed his face, shed be ready. Her new phone came with preprogrammable automatic dialing.
The first number shed record would be 911.
The day went by in the same kind of blur as when she drove home last night. By five, she didnt remember much of what shed done. Well, she turned in the report, but other than thatmush.
Determined to regain some semblance of sanity if not control, she concentrated on the drive to the mall. She even sang along with Rebecca St. Jamess latest on the radio. She parked, locked the car, ran through the ongoing rain to the food-court entrance and made a beeline for the cell phone and safety.
The young man had the papers ready for her. All Maryanne had to do was sign her name and give him a check. After a handful of directions, she felt confident enough to head home with the gadget and its instruction manual. On her way back to the car, she detoured by the frozen yogurt counter. She didnt often indulge, but today she ordered a swirl cone. She didnt want to choose between chocolate and vanilla.
Because of the rain, she opted to finish her treat at one of the food courts small tables. Then, on her way to the great outdoors and the deluge, she tossed away her napkin and saw the man watching her from the sandwich shop line. She came to a halt.
J.Z. Prophet wasnt besting her again.
Maryanne marched up to him. I told you Id call the cops the next time I saw you. She pulled out her phone. Watch me.
He covered the gadget and her hand with his much larger one, his clasp gentler than she would have imagined. It wont do you any good. I know what you are
What are you doing, J.Z.? asked the other Uni-Comp clown, a bag redolent of corned beef in his hand. Youre worse than a kid. You cant leave well enough alone, can you? Do you want Eliza to charge out here and tear a strip off your hide
He stopped just when things were about to get interesting, when Maryanne might have learned something about the probably psychotic J.Z. But the two men glared at each other, and if it werent for the minor matter of her captured hand, she would have taken her leave. Instead, she looked from one to the other, only too aware of J.Z.s warm clasp.
Ahem, she said.
The men turned.
Would one of you please tell me which episode of the Twilight Zone youre rerunning here?
Let her go, J.Z.s partner said.
J.Z. captured her gaze just as firmly as he held her hand.
Who are you guys? Maryannes fear fired up again. What do you want with me? And dont even mention computers. I know youve been following me.
Come on, J.Z. Lets go.
Maryanne smiled her gratitude at the blond man who didnt work for Uni-Compshe wasnt dumb.
Yes, J.Z. Let me go. Ill go my way and you can go yours, and never the twain shall meet. Okay?
Let her go, her palDon? Dan? Yeah, Dan Somethingrepeated.
J.Z. acceded, but a strange look she couldnt read, not the anger shed seen, maybe frustration, filled his eyes. Watch yourself, he said. One mistake, and Ill make my move.
Who are you? she asked yet again.
Tell her, J.Z. Youve blown this out of the water, so you may as well tell her now.
Maryannes eyes ping-ponged from one man to the other.
Dan muttered something else, this time nothing Maryanne could make out. He thrust his sandwich bag at J.Z. and rummaged in his back pocket. But instead of the wallet shed expected, he extended a small leather card case toward her.
What?
Open it, he said gently.
She did. Four words jumped out at her: Federal Bureau of Investigations.
Her head spun. Ice replaced her blood. The world tipped under her feet. Why?
Youre under investigation, J.Z. said in clipped tones. Youre good, but Im better. Im going to get you and your mob pals, so say goodbye to freedom, your frozen yogurt and your little phone.
Everything went black.
FOUR
Are you satisfied now? Dan glared up at J.Z.
J.Z. frowned down at the woman sprawled flat on the malls food-court floor. Come on, lady. We arent playing games here
Take her pulse, will ya?
Dans expression gave him no alternative, so J.Z. went down on one knee, took the librarians wrist in his hand, and pressed to check for her heartbeat. To his surprise, it was weak and unsteadyjust what one expected in a person whod fainted.
He shook his head. I told you she was good. Ive never known someone who could faint on demand. I guess theres always a first time for everything.
Dans look of disgust hit him like a slap.
Your compassion underwhelms me, his partner said. If you wont help her, then at least give me a hand and keep this mob from crushing us.
Only then did J.Z. notice the crowd that had gathered around them. Two sandwich-shop employees flapped their aprons in an obvious attempt to circulate air around Maryanne. A quartet of mall-walkers, senior citizens who exercised in the shelter of the covered mall, whispered among themselves, curiosity and pity in their lined faces. A maintenance guy stood to their right, both hands clasped around the mops wooden handle, the bucket-on-wheels contraption where it sat in danger of rolling and leaving him without support.
Heat rushed up J.Z.s cheeks. Okay, folks. We have it under control. Please move on so that we can take care of her.
The onlookers dispersed, their backward glances full of reluctance, his sudden relief at their departure surprisingly strong. Did Dan have a point? Was he overreacting to everything about this woman?
Think those weird guys there are some of them white slavers in the news? asked a white-haired lady in lime-green sweats, her voice scissors-sharp as she resumed her laps around the shopping center.
J.Z. groaned. Thats all we need.
What? For someone to report you for manhandling a helpless female? Thats probably what it looked like you were doing.
Look. Im not going to drop the pressure on her. Sooner or later shell crack
Either that, or shell crack up from your intimidation. Chill, man. You dont even know shes involved.
He snorted. Did you bother to read the profile we got last month? Im telling you, the description fits her perfectly.
It also fits about fifty percent of the female population. That doesnt mean theyre all mobsters, does it?
Dont give me that. That fifty percent doesnt have her kind of access to an old folks home where a bunch of seniors died after one of that fifty percent ordered their termination. And dont forget the Laundromats demise.
Maryannes eyelids gave a twitch. Good. She was coming to. But before he could say anything, Dan spoke.
Ill admit those e-mails look pretty bad, but any hacker can get into her account to cast suspicion on her.
Fine. Lets assume thats what happened. J.Z. ran a hand through his hair. Wheres the hacker who fits the profile? Who else has access? Who else is the typical neighbor-next-door type who wont raise suspicion? Who else does the dowdy, harmless librarian routine as well as Maryanne Wellborn?
Dans ministrations were having results on Maryanne. Color seeped into her cheeks. With a split-second glance at J.Z., he asked, Have you bothered to stake out the place?
Why would I need to? J.Z. let his breath out in a gust. We have the e-mails, the wealthy, dead seniors, the very deadthis timeLaundromat, and finally, her fingerprints on the IV stand. And shes there, all the time, in and out to see her dador so she says. Doesnt that stink rotten to you?
Im going to tell you one more time, Dan said through gritted teeth. Appearances can be deceiving. Theres a reason why clichs become clichs. They have a bunch of truth to them, and her appearance, because it reminds you of your past, may be deceiving you.
So you want me to believe even the fingerprints are a coincidence.
Dan shrugged, his attention on the librarian. She could have moved the stand for a nursefor Mat, himself. You cant be sure what happened. You werent there.
J.Z. belabored his point. Give me a break. What are the chances all these deathsespecially a mobstersare unrelated and unconnected to the librarian who sends killer e-mails?
Maryanne blinked.
J.Z. crossed his arms. Well?
Dan muttered, Not now.
Its as good a time as any, J.Z countered. Theres no such thing as coincidence. If something stinks like a skunk, looks like a skunk and skulks like a skunk, then more than likely its a skunk.
When Dan ignored him, J.Z. bulldozed ahead. That phony librarian look doesnt fool me. Ive spent my entire adult life smoking out mob scum. Im going to bust her.
Almost more for him than for his partner, he added, Just because my father chose a life of crime doesnt mean Im going to ignore whats staring me in the face. Ive chosen to sop up crime, and thats what Im going to do. Im going to bring her in.
Maryanne blinked. Male voices caught her attention.
skunkmobcrime
What was going on? And why was she lying down?
Im going to bring her in.
Her head swam. Her stomach lurched. She had no idea where she wasWait! Shed gone to the mall to pick up her phone, and there shed found
You! she cried when her eyes focused on the maniac who stood, Mr. Clean-style, over her. What did you do to me?
The boy-next-door blond one who hung around with the nutcase wrapped an arm around her shoulders and helped her sit.
He didnt do anything to you, Dan said with a lethal glare for J.Z. Prophet. That is, he didnt do anything to hurt you. He has been pretty busy acting like an idiot, though, so I can see where youd think he had.
Maryanne shook off his arm. Thank you, but I can get up on my own.
She stood, and again the height difference between her five foot five and J.Z.s six foot something threatened to intimidate her. As did the memory of Dans FBI badge.
Everything rushed back. Okay. Lets say you guys really are Feds and not some loony fakes.
J.Z.s scowl deepened. Maryanne ignored the urge to step back. She tried again. Lets just say youre what you say you are. Why are you wasting your time on me? What real, live G-man would try to make a case out of a librarian, so-called mob pals, frozen yogurt and a new cell phone?
Great, J.Z. said. Shes even got the diversionary tactics down pat. He met her gaze. Playing dumb and going for the funny bone wont get you anywhere.
Maryanne gave him a pointed up-and-down look. I see you speak from experience. You wouldnt know funny if it ran up and bit you, plus you do a great dumb.
Look lady. We have evidence. And we have the corpses to go with it.
Maryanne squinched her eyes shut. She shook her head to try and clear it, to try to make sense of what hed said. She blinked a couple of times, looked from J.Z. to the mortified Dan and back at J.Z. again. She shook her head one more time.
It still made no sense. Could you explain the corpses part a little better?
He ran a hand through his dark hair, a gesture shed seen him do on a couple of occasions, like when hed stared at the box of computer stuff in total frustration.
Fine, he said after long minutes. I guess youre pretty good at dumb, too. Do the names Helmut Rheinemann, Toby Matthias, Muriel Harper, Audrey White, Carlo Papparelli and others ring a bell?
With each name, Maryannes queasiness grew. A momentary sadness swept over her, but she couldnt afford to let emotions cloud her thoughts. She had to keep a clear head.
Yes, of course, the names ring a bell. They were all patients at the same nursing and retirement community where my father lives, and you know it, too. Theythey all passed away recently. But why would you come after me?
.
.
, (https://www.litres.ru/ginny-aiken/mistaken-for-the-mob-39921866/) .
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Ginny Aiken
Mistaken for the Mob
Ginny Aiken
For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to give you hope and a futureand [I] will bring you back from captivity.
Jeremiah 29:11, 14
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Mary Margaret Muldoon was terminated.
As were Helmut Rheinemann, Toby Matthias and Muriel Harper. J.Z. Prophet held the death certificates of the well-to-do seniors in his left hand. On a neat pile before him sat autopsy reports that identified the cause of death as natural in all four cases. But the papers in his right hand belied those certificates.
E-mail, he muttered to his partner, Dan Maddox. What self-respecting mobster orders hits through e-mail? But here they are: Terminate Mary Margaret Muldoon, and Terminate Helmut Rheinemann.
J.Z. could have read the others, too. But why? They said the same thing. And the same woman had sent them all: Maryanne Wellborn.
He flung the pages onto his desk and rose from his chair. He went for his coffeepot, which hed brought to the office when he got tired of FBI sludge, and poured himself his fourth cup of the morning. It was only seven oclock.
After another hit of caffeine, he asked, What kind of librarian would order a bunch of hits?
Dan, an easygoing guy, shifted in his chair and shrugged. Hey, its a great coverif they were hits.
Okay. It is. But I want to know how shes offing them. Pathology found no evidence of foul play. The causes of death are listed as asphyxiation from emphysema, congestive heart failure, liver cancer and pneumonia. We might be able to pin the asphyxiation on her, but howd she kill the others?
I think its our job to find that out.
Its our job to get the evidence thatll lock her up.
Hmma librarian. Maryanne Wellborn, you say?
Shes behind these hits.
Sure of yourself, arent you? And letting it get personal.
The accusation slugged J.Z. in the gut. Not at all. This is business. The others past history. He set his coffee mug on the corner of his desk, then jabbed a finger toward Dan. Dont forget. You were right at my side the last six months. You helped me track the Verdis and their mob pals as they scammed their way through these ritzy retirement homes. You counted the bodies they left behind, just as I did, and looked just as hard as I did for something to stick on them
Something stuck. Joey-Os behind bars.
Not for this. He shot Carlo Papparelli. Aside from those shaky connections to Joey-O and Tony the Toe Verdiscum, if ever there was scumwe didnt come up with a single solid thing to nail the deaths of the old people on them. But I know their game. And this perp in New Camden is just the latest in the string of killers weve been after. The only difference is that this one made a mistake. She left us these e-mails. How generous of her.
His partners hands went up in surrender. Okay, okay. Lay off the lecture. It was just a friendly warning I gave you. Cant let your old mans troubles mess with your mind on a case. My futures in your hands.
J.Z. snorted. Last time I looked, there was a line of ladies wanting to take it in theirs.
Dan winked. A mans gotta do what a mans gotta do.
This mans J.Z. tapped Dans chest then glanced at the papers on the desk got a job to do. He cant be thinking about his next date, and do it right.
You complaining about my work?
Warning you against dropping your guard.
Thats uncalled for, Dan countered, his voice tight.
Just put your social life on ice while were on this one. J.Z. knew he was out of line but couldnt back down. Dans reminder of the skeletons in the Prophet family closet rankled. Its clear Wellborns got brains and more guts than most. Takes a cocky crook to send this kind of message out for the world to read.
Weeeell, Dan drawled, e-mails not exactly out there for everyone to read.
We got copies, didnt we?
Sure, but it took Zeldacomputer geek extraordinairedays to track them down. Its not as if Wellborn posted them to a bulletin board or announced them in a chat room.
J.Z. rolled his eyes. Dont give me that Internet junk. If we can get the stuff, anyone can. Maryanne-the-library-anne is one arrogant cookie. Its time to wrap up months of paper trails, bank-and account-hopping fortunes that then disappear without a trace, if youll remember. We did interviews, surveillance and pored over autopsy reports that coughed up nothing concrete. We even planted an agent at the nursing home in New Jersey. The patterns the same at Peaceful Meadowscushy retirement home, dead seniors, buckets of money. Wellborns in the thick of it, ordering hits, and Im going to bring her down.
Paperwork in hand, he stood. Come on. We have to get a judge to sign the permits so we can bug her office and tap her home phone. Then we can head out to New Camden.
Ill have Zelda come with usyou know, for the computer stuff. Well probably get more from that than the other.
J.Z. grimaced. That Internet stuff is garbage. This is going to take the usual: surveillance, taping, interviewing witnesses. Not that e-mail business.
Still an Internet-phobe, huh?
And proud of it.
Have it your way, but I want Zeldas magic fingers on our side. From the looks of it, were going to need all the help and evidence we can get.
J.Z. crossed to his office door. Do whatever you want. Bottom line, Im going to nail Wellborn. Whod figure a librarian as a mobster, putting out hits on old people in a nursing home? And for moneyAs if her breedmobsters, not librariansdoesnt have enough of the bloody kind already. Organized crimes the worst form of scum, but this womans taken their usual a notch lower.
Dans arm lay heavy on J.Z.s shoulders. Dont let it get personal, okay? I know this is about the Verdis, but the past is past, and your old mans locked up. Hes going nowhere.
J.Z. shrugged off his partners arm and ground his teeth. That was uncalled for. I wasnt thinking of him. Wellborns the one whos out there. In New Camden. With a bunch of seniors who cant help themselves. Just like the ones who couldnt help themselves and wound up dead. You know it, I know it, the department knows it. Disgusting scam.
Lets go see what we can do.
They strode down the hall and into a large room full of cluttered metal desks, the hub of the FBIs Philadelphia organized-crime unit. On their way to the elevator, an unmistakable pair of high heels clicked toward them.
Special Agent Prophet. In my office. Now.
J.Z. groaned. Once upon a time, Eliza Roberts had voiced his name in sweet, loving tones. Not anymore. Hed never felt the truth of the old chestnut about women scorned until he broke up with her after she demanded more than he was ready to offer.
He shook his head and caught the glee in Dans brown eyes as he entered his superior officers cubicle. Eliza had clawed her way up to the position he turned down just before their breakup. The way he figured, she did it to spite him. But it didnt bother him. He had turned it down first. Pushing papers appealed to him as much as a case of Montezumas revenge during a worldwide Imodium shortage.
When Eliza closed her office door, J.Z. gave up hope of a neutral encounter. She was out for bear. He might as well have Smokey, Yogi or Boo-boo written across his chest.
He couldnt wait to get away. Whats up?
Eliza rounded her desk then sat in her expensive and very new leather chair. The Bureau didnt provide that kind of luxury. She must have bought it to make it look as if shed wormed the perk from the higher-ups. J.Z. was glad hed noticed her less appealing attributes and cleared out of their relationship before he wound up with heel marks down his backand heart.
Well? he prodded.
She handed him three pieces of paper. Another nursing home hit.
Great. As he scanned the pages, a familiar name jumped out. Carlo Papparelli? As in Laundromat Jr.? Mat, the mob moneyman?
The one and only.
No way. The Gemmellis had him gunned down a week ago. The Philly P.D. got Joey-O behind bars for it, too. Didnt they?
Read em and weep.
He didread the papers, that ished never waste a tear on a mobster. I dont get it. I heard the familyd shipped the body back to the old country for burial.
Read on.
He did. And frowned. What is this? Papparelli was only fifty or so. What was he doing in an old folks home? Oh, who cares? What really went down?
That, J.Z., is the most intriguing detail. She pointed to the paper in his left hand. Theres Maryanne Wellborns e-mail ordering the hit. In your right hand, you have his death certificatebut not for a week ago. He died day before yesterday. And the cause of death is a stroke, not the bullets we know about. No autopsy. The family refused.
This clinches it. Shes as dirty as they come. Shes mixed up with either the Gemmellis or the Verdis and took out the Laundromat. But howd Mat slither into the nursing home when he was supposed to be dead? How can this librarian get away with all this? Does she have doctors on the take? Is the coroner in on the kill-the-rich-old-folks-for-their-bucks scam, too?
Eliza smirked. Dont you think finding those answers is a field agents job? Your much-loved field job. You knowwhat youre paid to do.
Something in her voice made him ask, Do you doubt I can do it?
She waved. Of course notordinarily.
Ordinarily? His stomach plummeted. What do you mean?
The back of J.Z.s neck prickled at the gleam in her blue eyes. When she pursed her lips and tapped her polished nails on the desktop, his gut churned. When she stood and leaned toward him over her desk, his survival instinct compelled him to run.
But he couldnt.
There is one tiny thing, J.Z., his Supervising Special Agent said. You know that problem you have with rules?
Since hed yet to meet the rule he wouldnt get around for the sake of justice, J.Z. shrugged. He always got the job done. Nothing else mattered.
Well, Eliza went on, were going to do things my way this time. This case will be investigated by the book. You got that?
Whats that supposed to mean?
That since you recently went off like a half-cocked shotgunagainand this case involves your preferred targetthe mobI will yank your badge and gun if you pull one of your stunts on my watch.
Come again?
Her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned. I mean it, J.Z. Youre off the case if you cross the line. And if youre half as smart as you like to think, youll believe me. I have the power now.
Blood roared in his ears. Shed known just how to hit him.
How could he ever have found her attractive? These days, he only saw the spite in her glare; he only heard the gloating in her voice.
So you want a pound of my flesh.
She looked away. Something like that.
He turned and opened the door, his rage barely leashed. Id be careful if I were you. Blue-eyed redheads dont look good with pea-green skin.
Her voice, low and nasty, made him pause. One toe over the line, J.Z., and youre out. Got it?
Loud and clear, boss.
He made for the bank of elevators where Dan slouched against the wall, busy charming the new girl from the secretarial pool.
J.Z. asked, The permits?
Dan patted his jacketed chest. All set. He then arched an eyebrow. Your mood took a different turn. Its safe to say you didnt kiss and make up with the dragon lady.
J.Z. ignored the comment. Need to pack?
Dan pushed the elevator call button. You know I keep a bag in the trunk of my car.
Lets go. J.Z. followed Dan into the elevator. As the silver doors closed out the disappointed young woman, Dan faced J.Z.
J.Z. held up a hand; with the other, he punched the button. Dont say it.
I did warn you before you started dating her. You can be as charming and kind as you want, but you cant get involved with coworkers. Itll smack you in the face sooner or later. Keep business and pleasure far, far apart, I say.
Exhaustion hit all of a sudden. Just drop it.
Dan stepped out of the elevator. Its just that when you make a mistake, Prophet, you really make a doozy.
J.Z. followed the younger man to the street. Dans words continued to mock him. The Prophet family was known for their mistakes. And as Dan had put it, whenever they made one, it was of the doozy variety. J.Z. was determined to stop making mistakes.
He would have to take extra care this time, if for nothing else than to avoid Elizas payback. Because, without a doubt, he was going to nail Maryanne Wellborn for the murders.
Even if it killed him. And it might. If Eliza grounded him, the failure would do him in.
Happy Birthday, dear StanleyHappy Birthday to you!
As the residents of New Camdens Peaceful Meadows Residence and Nursing Center sang to her father, the guilt Maryanne Wellborn had carried for months began to lessen. Maybe Dad had been right to insist on the move into the multilevel care facility.
I want to be where the action is, Cookie, hed argued, roguish grin in full bloom. All the he winked dudes and babes are there, the ones old enough to speak my language, that is.
Maryanne had wanted to care for her only surviving parent at homehis home. But Stan Wellborns obstinacy rivaled a mules, and hed insisted on putting the family home up for sale. It had sold distressingly soon.
Shed known how much attention he needed. An insulin-dependent diabetic and recent amputee, his blood-sugar levels needed constant monitoring, as did his blood pressure and diet. Not to mention, his penchant for merriment and trouble. Hed been lonely and bored at home while Maryanne worked. Boredom had led to nutty amusements, which then mushroomed into mischief. Mischief had invited risk along, and both had courted danger.
She couldnt discount the friendships hed made since he moved in. He wasnt bored anymore.
Hey, Stan! called a bald-headed fellow of her fathers vintage. Whatcha waiting for? Blow out them candles already. We want some of that cake.
Murmured agreement broke out.
Her dad winked. Im making my wish, dont you know?
Ha! What do you need more wishes for? This gent leaned on a cane. The ladies here have made them all come true since you moved in.
The birthday boy grinned, closed his eyes and then blew out the eight candlesseven fat ones for the decades and a thin one for his additional yearon the large blue-blossomed cake. Youre just jealous of my irresistible charm, Hughie.
The residents howled at the banter, no one louder than Maryannes dad. For a moment, she wished her mother were still alive to share his pleasure. Then she realized how silly her wish was. Mother would have frowned upon the whole scenario. Quiet and unassuming, Martha Wellborn would have been mortified by her impulsive, happy-go-lucky husbands lack of restraint.
Propriety had been Mothers underpinning, and shed drilled its need into her daughters psyche from the moment Maryanne could understand.
What she never did understand was how two such disparate souls had made a match in the first place, but shed never questioned her parents love for each other. Marthas death two years ago had plunged Stan into a depression deeper than Maryanne had expected in such an upbeat man.
The depression vanished once he moved into the home.
She shook off her dark thoughts, stepped closer to her father and kissed his high forehead. I brought you something.
His hazel eyes twinkled. What are you waiting for?
With a nod to the nursing homes activities coordinator, Maryanne smiled back. Let me help Sherri bring it in.
The two women lugged in a stack of cartons and set up the stereo. Tears gleamed in his eyes.
Oh, Cookie. I oughta say you shouldnt have, but Im tickled you did.
Blinking her own mistiness away, Maryanne said, I knew how much you missed your music, and your old record player was useless. Enjoy this one, okay?
You know I will. Cmere. He patted his blanketed thigh. Let your old man give you a hug and kiss.
Maryanne perched on her dads lap and hugged him tight. She loved the old scamp, and she meant to keep him as healthy and happy as possible for as long as she could.
I love you, Dad.
Love you always, baby.
Harrumph! offered the bald man. Youre getting too mushy for a party. Lets try out that stereo.
With a final pat to his daughters back, Stan gave a whoop. Go for it, Charlie. We need music to make this a real party.
Under cover of the hubbub, Maryanne said, Youre really happy here, arent you?
Yes, Cookie, I really am. He winked. Now its your turn to find some action. Of the young, male, falling-in-love kind, that is. Its not Gods plan for a beautiful young woman to spend her life buried in a library or visiting a bunch of geezers.
Youre not a geezer, and I love books.
You need aaOh, yeah! A chunk to show you whats what, girl.
Maryanne rose to hide her blush and stifle a nervous giggle. Im too busy, and Id rather spend my free time with you.
Stan shook his finger and grinned. Mark my words, girl. When that lovebug bites, youre gonna fall hard.
Hey, I use bug spray by the gallon. Its my favorite fragrance. But Id better go help Sherrilook at that mob of cake-starved partiers around her.
While she doled out cake, Maryanne watched her father from the vantage point of the activities hall stage. The stack of small gifts from his friends thrilled him. Then, after theyd finished eating, with his favorite Glenn Miller, Guy Lombardo and Jimmy Dorsey tunes on the new stereo, he drew each ambulatory lady near and twirled her around his wheelchair.
I told you not to worry, Sherri Armstrong told Maryanne as she tied off another bag of trash. He practically begged you to move him here.
I know. But it was hard.
Hes busy, and hes happy. And he wants you to build a life for yourself. Thats your next assignment, you understand?
Not you, too. First Dad, now you.
Sherri, happily married mother of two, nodded. We know what were talking about.
Well see. Maryanne gathered the empty punch bowl and headed for the kitchen. Right now, we have a mess to clean.
No sooner did she enter the vast, equipment-filled white room, than Dean Ross, Peaceful Meadows director, called her name. Her middle knotted. The busy man rarely found time to discuss the library cart she brought twice a week to the home. She doubted hed come for the birthday party.
How are you, Dean?
He grimaced. Same as always. Youre going to have to cancel Audrey Whites library privileges.
Oh, no. I missed her at Dads party and meant to stop by her room to see how she liked the last historical novel I suggested.
The ambulance just took her to the hospital. She slipped into a coma a little while ago, and she wont be back.
Are you sure?
As sure as I can be. You saw how weak she was when you brought her books.
Youre right. She couldnt even sit up when I camewas it day before yesterday? The day before, maybe. Rosie, Audreys nurse, was getting the other bed in the room ready for a new patient. I helped herI had to push the meds stand out of the way to get to Audreys side of the room. And Audrey mentioned she was headed to another floor.
She was. Intensive care. And the new patient did no better.
Maryanne winced. Audrey didnt say a thing. Nowcant they do anything more?
Cancer at that stage is merciless. Morphine for the pain is the best we have. Nature helps and lets the patient enter a coma toward the end, but Im afraid Audrey
I understand, Maryanne said around the lump in her throat. Ill take care of her library card.
Shes not the only one.
She bit her lip. Who else?
I dont think you had a chance to meet him. Mr. Papparelli, the patient who moved into Audreys old room. He passed on, too.
Youre right. I never did meet him. His death wouldnt hit her as hard as Audreys decline. I set up his privileges as soon as I got word he was comingI never knew he was the one moving into the bed I helped make. Then day before yesterday Marlene in Admissions called to say hed gone into cardiac arrest and wouldnt need books. He wasnt dead yet, but close. I terminated him right away.
Dean sighed. Its never easy, you know.
Maryanne nodded and again tried to swallow the knot in her throat. I know, and Id better say good-night to Dad. I have to be at work early tomorrow.
She fought more tearsthese hot and painful by comparison to her earlier tender oneson her way back to the activities hall. As usual, a bevy of aged belles surrounded her fathers wheelchair, smiling and chatting with the unrepentant flirt. Maryanne sighed in relief. It was foolish to need the reassurance just because a sweet woman she had befriended was near the end. And yet, she did.
She donned a bright smile and made her way through his admirers. Im going home now, you party animal. Some of us have to work.
You work too much, he countered. But I wont keep you. You need your rest. Thanks for everything, Cookie. Just dont worry about me. Im in my element.
Feminine laughter tittered around them. Maryanne swooped down for her good-night hug and kiss. Then, before she broke down and cried for real, she rushed from the building and into her car.
She was going to miss Audrey. Just as she missed Mary Margaret Muldoon and her love of mysteries, Helmut Rheinemanns armchair travels and Toby Matthiass penchant for art books. She loved to serve the nursing home residents. She felt called to bring the joy of books into their often lonely and frequently pain-filled days. If only she could learn the art of detachment. Each loss broke her heart.
Tomorrow she would order Audreys termination. Then she would work surrounded by sadness. And she counted on the Lord to see her through the day she had to terminate her own dad.
Maryanne wiped her eyes with a tissue and then typed the curt e-mail first thing the next day. Terminate Audrey White. She expected a visit once Sandy Rodriguez, the card privilege clerk, downloaded that morning. The young man had learned that each message was written with a fresh batch of tears.
She clicked the Send icon and received the message sent confirmation. Before she signed off, however, the screen went blank. Rats.
The system was down. Again. The glitch, no matter how short-lived, would only make what had started out as a crummy day even worse. Since the county library system joined the information superhighway a couple of years earlier, it had become close to impossible to operate without the computers.
She set her sad thoughts aside and reached across the desk for her correspondence folder. She might as well wade through it while the equipment stayed down. Who knew how long it would take to get things up and humming again.
A short while later her door swung inward and two men in jeans, white shirts and navy ties, brass nameplates over their pocket, stepped in.
Hi, said the shorter of the two, his brown eyes as warm as his smile. Were from Uni-Comp. Im Dan Maddox, and this he glared at his companion is J.Z. Prophet. Were here to fix the system and check the machines.
Surprised by that odd look, Maryanne took note of the names on the plates and stood. Be my guests. I cant do a thing until you do yours.
Dan Maddox went right to her desk, but the other man, J.Z. Prophet, stayed in the doorway, his gray eyes fixed on her.
Maryanne Wellborn? he asked in a deep voice.
Yes, and if youll excuse me, Ill leave you to your work.
Maryanne stepped out to the hall. What an intense man. His eyesso cold. She shivered. With a deep breath, she regained her composure.
But from the other side of the not-quite-closed door, she heard Maddox say, Im waiting for that modem card.
J.Z. muttered a response she didnt quite catch.
Maryannes curiosity got the better of her and she pressed up against the door frame. Holding her breath, she peered through the crack into her office.
Long seconds crawled by, minutescenturies. No one moved.
Maddox turned to his partner, who still stood, statue-like, by the equipment case. Come on, J.Z. Before the librarian gets back.
Gray eyes speared to the door. Maryanne froze under the impact of that icy stare. She suddenly wanted to run, take cover.
J.Z. Prophet, a complete stranger, really, really didnt like her.
Why?
TWO
Whatever you say, Trudy Talbot. Maryanne tucked her work-loosened brown-and-white gingham blouse into the waistband of her dirndl skirt. But you should have seen the look in his eyes. So tell me. What would make a computer geek look soso scary? So disgusted? So angry?
The classy, prematurely gray director of the Childrens Collection shrugged. Beats me. Maybe his wife served him eggs for breakfast when he wanted Frootie Tooties instead. Or maybe his cat presented him with a dead mousejust before he swallowed the eggs. The adult male is beyond my comprehension. Thats why I stick to those under the age of twelve.
Last time I checked, Ron Talbot was a quite adult thirty-five.
Trudy slicked on a coat of soft plum lip gloss and dropped the tube into her tailored black leather purse. That doesnt mean my husbands any easier to understand than others of his kind.
Maryanne tucked her lip balm in the side pocket of her tote. You dont fool me. You two have been married thirteen years, you share a mortgage, car and minivan, a dog, four cats and two kids. You must have figured him out at least a little.
Three.
Three? Three what?
Trudys fair skin bloomed a delicate rose. Three kids.
Huh? Maryanne glanced at her friends flat middle. Oh! Really?
Trudys smile lit up the dingy bathroom in the basement of the New Camden Public Library. Mm-hmm.
The two women hugged, then Maryanne held her friend at arms length. Thats wonderful! And you look wonderful, too. When are you due?
Sometime in mid-November.
A Thanksgiving babyhow perfect.
It is a perfect time to give thanks for all my blessings. Trudy eyed Maryanne. So much so that you ought to give it a try. Marriage and motherhood, that is.
Are you crazy? You just finished telling me men are impossible to understand, and now you want me to hook up with one of them?
I said theyre impossible to understand, not impossible to love and live with. Trudy hitched the strap of her purse onto her shoulder. Come on. I have to get back. The Thursday story-hour kids are about to get here, and we dont want them on the loose.
And I have to go see what those guys got done on my computer.
The two women went upstairs to the librarys main level. Trudy gave Maryanne a sideways glance. You know Uni-Comps people are always great. You never know whats going on in peoples lives. Maybe that one guy had a fight with his wife.
Maybebut he still gave me the creeps.
How so?
Cold gray eyes popped into Maryannes mind. So did the flat slash of lips, the rigid line of shoulder, the direct and deliberate gait. He made me feel like the deer in a hunters crosshairs.
That makes no sense. You dont know him, do you?
Trust me. Id remember if Id seen him before.
In the warm oak-paneled-and-floored lobby, Trudy placed gentle hands on Maryannes shoulders and met her gaze. Now dont get mad at me, okay?
Maryanne went to speak, but Trudy shook her head.
Listen. Please. Do you think maybe you imagined the guys anger because your emotions were already in a tangle over your friend at the nursing home?
Maryannes urge to deny the possibility felt right, but because Trudy was so perceptive, she gave her earlier state of mind careful consideration. She thought back to when she first saw J.Z. Prophet, to that last look in his eyes, to the way hed made her feel.
Theres always that chance, she said, but I dont think so. Id prayed through my tears by the time those two showed up. Id come to peace by then, and was even bored since theres so little I can do while the systems down.
Trudy looked skeptical, but then, she hadnt seen the man. Maryanne hugged her massive tote bag and added, I cant begin to imagine why someone would look at me with so muchoh, I dont know. I cant really describe what that Prophet guy gave off.
Another frown lined Trudys brow. This isnt good. Dont you think someone should do something about it? Someone official, that is.
What do you want them to do? And who would you have me tell?
Maybe you should speak with Mr. Dougherty.
Why? I dont think the library systems director knows much about Uni-Comp or its employees. The IT department handles that service contract.
Well, then, talk to Morty. He runs IT.
What do you want me to say? That a tech from Uni-Comp gave me a weird look? Sure, and then he can call the guys in the white suits to come get me.
Trudy bit her lower lip. Youre probably right. All you have is a funny feeling, and thats nothing to go on. Just be careful. Dont let the guy catch you alone in your office or anything, okay?
That wont happen. Not even if I have to spend the rest of the day in the bathroom downstairs. If worse comes to worst, Ill grab what little paperwork I have left and do just that.
Thats nuts. You dont have to go to extremes, you know. You can always head over to the staff lounge or hang out with me and my munchkins.
Oh, right. Ill get a whole lot of work done then.
Make up your mind, will you? You said you were bored earlier and didnt have much to do while the system was down. I can always use a hand with the incoming zoo inmates.
Ha! Your Mark is in that crowd, isnt he?
When Trudy blushed, Maryanne went on. Figures. You just want me to watch your son so that you can be the serious librarian.
Trudy raised her hands in surrender. Okay. You outed me. But do you blame me?
Who can forget his first story hour? You reminded me of Make Way For Ducklings. The seventeen of them looked awfully cute following you around and calling you Mrs. Mommy.
They chuckled, but then Maryanne squared her shoulders and smoothed a hand over the waist of her shin-length beige skirt. I really do have to get back to my officeif for no other reason than to see if the Uni-Comps finished their shtick, and my computers up again.
I still think your imagination ran away with you, but please be careful. You never know what kind of kooks are on the loose.
If you get a chance, keep me in your prayers.
You know Ill do that.
Maryanne approached her glorified cubicle at the rear of the Research Department with apprehension. Were the two men still there?
At her office door, she paused and studied her name in gold letters on the black plaque. If that Prophet man wanted to hurt her he not only knew where she worked, but he also knew her name. With so many search sites on the Web, hed have her address in no time. Then again, maybe he and his wife had argued earlier in the day. But Maryanne couldnt imagine a woman whod put up with him.
Oh, Lord, help me, please, she prayed then turned the knob.
The room was empty. A couple of pages covered with computer test gobbledygook in her trash can gave the only testimony of the mens earlier presence. Maryanne experienced a momentary letdown.
Weird, since she hadnt wanted to face hiswas it anger?again.
To be honest, she had to admit that the puzzling J.Z. Prophet had sparked her interestin a crazy, scary sort of way. Hed kicked up her curiosity, and hed even revved something inside her. Excitement? Maybe. Inquisitiveness? Definitely.
Maryanne sat behind her desk and braced her forehead on the heels of her hands. Argh!
She had to be partway to certifiable. No sane woman would be interested in some stranger whod looked at her funny. A sane woman wouldnt try to figure out why hed done it.
It didnt make senseshe didnt make sense.
So was Trudy right? Had she imagined J.Z.s instant dislike?
Now that the Uni-Comp men had left and she was alone, Maryanne began to question her earlier take on the incident. A stranger would have no reason for anger, not toward her.
Oh, well. Trudy probably was right. It wouldnt be the first time Maryanne let her imagination run wild.
After all, J.Z. Prophet was an attractive man, of the rugged, dark and brooding sort. He would catch her eye, no matter whatany womans at that. But of course he wasnt the kind of man shed want to get to know. He was not her type at all. Still, no seeing woman would call him nondescript.
Steel-colored eyes above angular cheekbones pierced deep. And the dark hair that tumbled over his forehead revealed a lack of self-absorption. Although J.Z. Prophets hair shone with health and cleanliness, as did his pristine white shirt and faded jeans, he wasnt the blow-dried, manicured, crease-pressed new-jean type, a trend she found disconcerting.
If he hadnt fixed those stormy eyes on her, she might have been attracted to him.
Good grief, Maryanne, she muttered as her computer booted up. There you go again. No sooner do you decide the guy couldnt possibly have given you an angry look, than you make a U-turn and think the opposite one more time.
She sighed. It was time to get back to work. Time to put the enigmatic J.Z. Prophet out of her mind.
The next two hours proved productive. At around three oclock, when Maryanne felt the urge for her usual cup of tea, she stood, walked around her desk and crossed the room.
At the doorway, she stopped.
A weird feeling crept up her backhair-raising was the only way to describe it. Someone was watching her.
Maryanne looked up and down the hall, but saw no one, found nothing unusual. Then the door across the hall came to a complete close with a soft, automatic swish.
She stared. The mens room. Had someone been watching her?
Had that someonethe one she was sure had watched herjust gone in there?
Had J.Z. Prophet spooked her so much that she saw boogeymen all around? Had some innocent guy done nothing more than walk by her office door to use the restroom instead? And shed let herself freak out.
Or had he been watching her? J.Zs face materialized in her mind. Why? Why would he want to watch her?
Maryannes knees gave. She fell back against her office door. She began to shiver, but refused to give in to fear. She closed her eyes and turned to God.
Why, why, why was she so shaken?
Your strength is sufficient for me, she prayed. Over and over again, she whispered the words until the tremors subsided.
But no matter how long she prayed, and no matter how hard she worked, Maryanne failed to erase the memory of J.Z.s stare.
Trudy was right about at least one thing. Should Maryanne ever see him again, she wouldnt hesitate to call the cops. Although she preferred to avoid clichs, she felt she was living one right then.
If looks could kill.
The rest of the afternoon crawled by in a blur of stress. By the time five oclock rolled around, Maryannes shoulders had frozen rigid and her temples pounded a vicious beat. Shed accomplished precious little in that time, since no matter how hard she tried, the image of J.Z. Prophet slammed into her thoughts every few minutes.
She couldnt concentrate on anything she read, and hadnt been able to type up her notes for the report due next Tuesday. Her fingers shook like leaves in a gale. Even simple filing became a challenge of inordinate proportion.
Ibuprofen did nothing to alleviate her headacheshe doubted anything would until the memory of J.Z. Prophets intensity melted away on its own. She hoped she never had to set eyes on him again.
In the library parking lot, she waved goodbye to Trudy and Sarah Myers, who worked with the rare collections. Then, because shed fed Shakespeare the last of his food and the kitty litter was also running low, she drove straight to the grocery store. The ride served to soothe her raw nerves. Her favorite radio station had on a Darlene Zschech special. Maryanne liked the Aussies contemporary style of worship music.
At the store, she grabbed feline supplies, romaine lettuce, fresh chicken breasts and an Idaho potato the size of the state where it grew. Dinner would be a simple matter of shredding greens and nuking stuffabout all she could face today.
At the register, Joe Moore, a retiree who augmented his social security with part-time cashier duty, smiled when he saw her. Hows old Stan doing these days?
Maryanne arched an eyebrow. Old? Dads two years younger than you.
The scanner beeped as Joe ran her purchases before the screen. Age is just a matter of the mind, honey bun.
Oh, and Dads matured beyond his mischievous adolescent mental age in the last twenty-four hours?
A man can always hope.
They shared a good-natured chuckle, and the pounding in Maryannes head began to ease.
Hows Amelia? she asked.
Sore and crotchety, but the doc says the hip replacement went even better than hed expectedthank the Lord.
You two have been married how long?
Joe puffed out his chest. Fifty-three years and still going strong, honey bun. You oughta try it, you know.
Maryanne grabbed the bag of groceries and made for the door. Dont you get started. Its bad enough with Dad and Trudy and a couple of others badgering me right and left. You know how I feel. If Gods got a man for me, well then, its up to Him to find me the guy.
And howre you going to see this gift from heaven if all you do is hide behind books at the library or hang out with the oldsters at the retirement home?
Im not hiding, Maryanne said, her chin tipped a hair higher. Im serving where the Lords planted me. Im sure Hell lead me where He wants me if He wants me to go elsewhere.
Whoa, girl! Thats a mouthful there. Joe shook his head and scanned his next customers laundry detergent. Strikes me youre a mite defensive on the subject. I suggest you pray a little on it, and see if Im not right.
Maryanne sighed. As if she didnt already pray her way through each and every day. Ill do that, Joe. Give my love to Amelia, will you?
Of course, honey bun. And you tell that crazy daddy of yours to stay out of trouble at that country club place where he lives nowadays.
I will. Why dont you stop by and see him sometime soon? Hell get a kick out of it.
With a nod and a wink, Joe turned his full attention to the young mother of three little girls under the age of six. Maryanne left the store, and then popped open her Escorts trunk. She balanced the groceries against the bag of sand she always stored there for just in case. When she shut the trunk, a car crawled down the row behind her.
Her neck prickled as it had earlier that day.
She spun, but saw nothing other than the mom and her three girls walk away from the stores automatic doorand the unremarkable gray car braked ten cars down beyond her. Although she couldnt make out the drivers facial features, something about him slammed fear right back into her gut.
She felt just as she had when J.Z. Prophet had glared at her.
A chill ran through her and she shivered. If the stormy computer tech was at the wheel, then she wanted to get as far from him as fast as she could. And if he wasnt, then she also wanted to leave that parking lot just as fast. Just because.
Frustrated by her shaky hands failure to get the button on her automatic keychain to work, Maryanne took a deep breath, clenched her fist around the plastic rectangle, and then prayed a blunt Help!
She unfurled her fingers and with deliberation, aimed the gadget straight at the lock. It popped. She slid behind the wheel, flicked the locks back on, and then started the car. As she pulled out, she kept the gray car in sight out the corner of her eye. She sighed in relief when it took the spot shed vacated.
The adrenaline drain left her even shakier than before, and she had no idea how she drove home without hitting anything on the way. She had to get her imagination under much better control. She couldnt freak out at even the tiniest thing. That driver had just wanted her parking space.
Later that evening, she watched her favorite home decorating show before she decided an early bedtime would work wonders on her frazzled nerves. Tomorrow would be a better dayit had to be.
She hoped.
And Friday was better. By noon, shed settled back into her normal routine. With a clear head, she ate a sandwich for lunch at her desk, determined to make up for yesterdays lack of productivity. By five, shed caught up and only had the report to do. Shed finish it tomorrow afternoon on her home computer.
Trudy stuck her head in the office.
Come on in, Maryanne said.
No, Im on my way home. Are you still coming tonight?
Maryanne logged out of her word processing program and shut down her machine. Its my turn with the youth groups sixth graders this month. I wouldnt miss the scavenger hunt for the world. I had a blast when I helped out last year.
Good. Davids been looking forward to special attention from his honorary aunt.
She slung the sturdy straps of her large tote bag over one shoulder, flicked off the lights and closed the office door. Hed better rethink that plan. Im not about to show your darling son any favoritism. Im just there to count noses and make sure no one gets left behind in a store at the mall.
Thats what I told him, Trudy said with a chuckle. Somehow, though, I think youre going to have to work hard to avoid his charm. That boys going placessomeday.
Maryanne nodded. Its a good thing you and Ron have channeled that energy and appeal in positive directions. Otherwise, who knows where hed end up?
Thanks. Your opinion means a great deal. And youre right. David is a handful. Its hard to walk that fine line between guiding and stifling a child.
You and Ron are terrific parents, Trudy. You teach by example, and I think thats the best thing for kids. Maryanne thought back on her earlier years. Mother and Dad were great, even though they had such different personalities.
I miss your mom, you know?
How could I not? You and I grew up in each others homes. Besides, Mother pretty much liked you better than she liked me.
Trudy pushed on the massive, revolving library door. You know thats not trueeven though you did give her some pretty good headaches now and then.
On the sidewalk, Maryanne paused and sighed. Its that goofy side of me, the Dad part, that always got me in trouble. But Mother did have a point. When I finally surrendered and did things her way, my life went much smoother. As it has ever since.
Trudy studied Maryanne. Maybe its been easier, but I wonder if it hasnt been a lot more boring, too.
She jolted as if Trudy had pricked her with a pin. My lifes not boring. Not at all. Its full and rich and satisfying. I have a great joba career. And I love my church family. My calendars full of wonderful activities, and I even have a fabulous cat. I love my life just the way it is.
Trudy resumed the walk to the parking lot. Whens the last time you did something on the spur of the moment? Something unexpected and fun?
Maryanne scoffed. Thats what I mean. Mother taught me well. Dads nuttiness creates chaos, and I dont want that in my life. Well thought-out choices and prudent decisions up front make much more sense than to struggle to fix things after youve made a mess of them.
Trudy shook her head and her silver bob swung in a smooth arc. Thats boring.
No way. I dont want to climb a rock face, travel to strange places where Ill wind up with malaria or put myself in situations where I might meet people who could do me harm. Even you warned me against the computer clown yesterday.
Trudy reached the drivers side of her cherry-red Sunbird parked alongside Maryannes tan Escort. She looked over the roof and said, Read my lips: boooooooring!
As she unlocked her car, Maryanne gave her friend one last disgusted look. Nope. Not at all. Just safe, secure, familiar and comfortable. See you later at church.
She started the ignition and shook her head. Shed had her fill of spur-of-the-moment living, thanks to Dad. What kind of woman would want a steady diet of madness?
J.Z. snapped his cell phone shut. Joey-Os not talking.
Dan looked up from the file folder hed just picked up. Did you think he would?
His kind usually doesto point the finger at someone else, of course. Especially if it means they can save their sorry skin.
Is he denying that he killed Mat? Or has he just zipped his lip?
David says no one can get a word out of him.
Dans gaze turned thoughtful. Lathams good at getting perps to talk. So if Joeys not talking, then hes more scared of what might come his way from the outside than by staying in foroh, say a hundred years or so.
I want to know how Joey got word to Wellborn so she could finish the job. Hes been in the slammer since minutes after he emptied his gun into the Laundromat.
Im telling you, youre barking up the wrong tree with the librarian, J.Z. Theres nothing, nothing here Dan waved the papers from the file that even hints at her involvement. Even her bank records are cleanyouve read it in black-and-white, same as I have. Look at them again.
Dan held the pages out to J.Z., but J.Z. did know what they saidand didnt say. He shook his head.
His partner wasnt ready to quit. Not a dollar goes into her account that doesnt come from her paycheck, J.Z. So what would she have to gain? Why would she kill for the mob? Whats her motive?
Remember the e-mails. Theyre pretty clear. Terminate Carlo Papparelli. J.Z. ran a hand through his hair. He felt the answers he needed were just on the other side of his grasp. Shes got to keep her stash somewhere. Maybe Mat did the laundering for her dollars, and didnt want to cough them back up. We just have to dig deeper than we have.
It doesnt fit, Dan argued. Shes clean if you ignore those e-mails. So wheres the connection? A librarian doesnt just hook up with the mob out of the blue.
J.Z. shrugged. That retirement homes an awfully cushy place for a librarians salary to afford. Maybe she saw the chance to get the dough thatd keep her dad there.
Sure, but how would she turn to the mob?
Thats what you and I are going to find out.
Dan stared straight at J.Z. A wriggle of discomfort wound through him. I think theres nothing for us to find. And theres a lot of valuable time to waste, time we cant afford to waste. Your personal bias against the mob in general and the Verdis in particular might just cost us six long months worth of work.
The image of his fathers stony face at the defendants table came back to haunt J.Z. The good ones always look that clean. Only a fool will let himself get caught up in their smokescreen. I fell for my fathers lies when I was too young to know better. I wont do it again.
Just make sure you dont lose yourself in a fun-house mirror and leave reality behind. Dont miss the obvious for looking so hard through the filter of your past.
J.Z. gritted his teeth. He knew what was what.
Maryanne Wellborns days as a free woman were numbered.
She was going down.
Maryanne gasped. Her heart began to pound and her stomach twisted.
That same, creepy someones-looking-at-me feeling hit her again. She looked around, and she went cold.
A familiar male figure was walking in the direction opposite from where she stood in the malls food court. Something about the dark hair, the set of wide shoulders, the taut fluid walk
Could it be?
But she could only see the man from the back. She couldnt be sure it wasor wasntJ.Z. Prophet.
Coincidence?
She doubted it. Mother always said she only believed in God-incidence. But if that was the case, then what did God have to do with the computer tech? His anger wasnt the kind of emotion the Lord encouraged. It certainly didnt dispose her to approach the man. Besides, she couldnt see herself as a missionary to crazy computer techs.
Shed thought herself safe by going straight to church, joining in the potluck supper then taking her charges on their scavenger hunt. Shed sat at a table in the food court and made sure the teams understood they had to check in with her every thirty minuteschurch rules.
The kids were great. And she enjoyed the time their pursuit gave her to work on her needlepoint project. At least, she had until a couple of seconds ago.
That itchy discomfort that seemed to strike so often since shed met J.Z. Prophet had crept up the back of her neck again. When she turned in the direction of the lingerie store across the way, shed spotted the dark-haired man propped against a pillar. But because his face had been hidden by shadows, she couldnt be sure it was J.Z.
If it was him, what could he possibly want?
She didnt know, but she did know one thing: shed never felt like a hunted animal until he showed up at her work. She crammed her needlework into the tapestry sewing bag, grabbed that bag together with her tote bag and then slung the handles of both over her shoulder. A quick glance at her watch told her the kids should be back any moment now.
Shed have to get them out of the mall before that madman decided to hurt her, much less them.
There you are, Trudy said at her side.
Maryanne yelped. Dont you ever skulk up like that again! You just cost me ten years of my life.
Her friend gaped. What is wrong with you? Ive never heard you speak like that before.
Maryannes tremors grew so great that she collapsed back into her chair. The bags slid down her arm and fell to the floor.
I think hes here, she whispered.
Whos here?
She saw concern in Trudys eyes. The Uni-Comp tech with the icy-cold eyesthat J.Z. Prophet guy.
You really think so?
Maryanne nodded, unable to say more.
Where did you see him? Did you call security? What are you going to do?
I dont know what Im going to do. I cant even think straight. And of course I didnt get a chance to call security. I just saw him a moment ago, right before you came up.
Show me. Where is he?
With her eyes shut tight, Maryanne pointed in the direction of the lingerie store, reluctant to again feel J.Z. Prophets anger. But when Trudy didnt say a thing, Maryanne looked up at her friend.
With worried brown eyes, Trudy looked from the lingerie store to Maryanne and back again. Are you sure youre okay? she asked. Ive never known you to be so paranoid.
Aside from that guy scaring me half out of my wits, of course, Im fine.
Trudy kept silent for long moments. Maryanne looked up at her friend. A frown on her forehead, Trudy said, Theres no one there.
Maryanne stood, used the table for support and slowly turned to look across the expanse. As Trudy had said, no one stood by the window draped in frivolous, pastel-lace frills; no one leaned in that distinctive way against the pillar at its side; no one glared at her right then.
Hes gone, she said, not reassured. For now.
What do you mean?
Maryanne met her friends worried gaze. Everywhere I go, I feel someone watching me. I cant shake the feeling. And somehow, Im sure Im going to see him again. I just dont know when or where. Or why.
THREE
Youre nuts, Dan told J.Z.
Why? Because I know shes pulling a fast one?
No. Because, man, youve taken a long walk down the diving board and gone off the deep end this time. Youve let something personal get in the way of your work. Will you just look at her? I doubt shes ever even killed a fly.
J.Z. looked at Maryanne Wellborn as she smiled at and hugged other worshippers on her way down the church steps.
That, he said to his partner, is what she wants us to believe. Ill admit shes goodvery good.
When J.Z. had first seen the librarian, shed worn a boring baggy tan skirt and brown-and-white checked shirt. The next time, shed sported garments in a gloomy shade of gray. Today, for Sunday School and the worship service, she had on a dingy-taupe dress that hung to about an inch above her ankles. A narrow brown belt caught the shapeless thing at her waist.
Even if you cant, he added, I can see right through her.
Dan tapped J.Z.s shoulder with a fist. Then you must have X-ray vision. I dont think theres anything here. Ive a feeling shes just what she looks like, a serious librarian with more on her mind than the latest fashions.
After a pause, Dan went on. Dont take it wrong, okay? Im worried about you. Youre not yourself. I mean, you almost blew it at the library, and then at the mall. All that after you promised youd be careful.
J.Z. went to argue, but Dan held up a hand.
Shes not dumb, you know. You shouldnt have talked Zelda into letting you take her place. You have to keep a professional distance.
You forget Im the senior agent here.
But youre acting like a rookie with a bone to pick. Unless you want to blow a case weve worked for months, youd better get a hold of yourself.
So what do you have to say about the lab findings? Those were her fingerprints on Laundromats IV-fluids stand. They match the ones we lifted from her desk.
Dan shrugged. Shes in and out of that nursing home with her library cart and to visit her father all the time. Who knows when she might have touched the thing? For an innocent reason, I mean.
J.Z. snorted. They have sick people there, Dan. All that equipment is cleaned and disinfected and sanitizedall the time. Itd be pretty hard for fingerprints to survive that kind of scouring.
Hey, theres always a first time for everything.
So as not to continue the argument, J.Z. ground his teeth. He followed Maryannes progress toward her plain little Ford, and took note of how she patted the tight bun at the back of her neck.
He didnt buy the story she was selling. No woman would choose to hide her hair like that without a reason.
Many years ago, his father had mastered the art of the innocuous appearance. The plain black suits, black ties, white shirts and black shoes hed worn were the male equivalent of Maryannes dowdy wardrobe. Her bun was the perfect counterpart to Obadiahs unremarkable barbershop cut.
He had to give the devil his, or in this case her, dueMaryanne Wellborn had her cover down pat, just like his father had. But J.Z. wasnt about to let the illusion of respectability get in the way of his mission. He hadnt gone over the edge; he just knew the difference between a trick and reality.
Everywhere the librarian went hed be sure to follow. He would keep the pressure on her until she cracked. Sooner or later, shed talk. And then hed bust her, Olive Oyl disguise notwithstanding.
Maryanne ran into her fathers suite, out of breath. Im so sorry Im late. The Sunday School Council meeting after the service dragged on forever.
Gimme a hug, Stan said. And in about an hour Ill be the one griping about endless meetings. The Residents Senate has an agenda fatter than the Federal budget for todays meeting.
Oh. She plopped onto his bed. Well, then, I guess Id better be going. Ill come back latermaybe after dinner.
Stan caught her fingers. Dont you dare leave me to the mercy of that bunch of geezers.
Dad! How can you call them something so ugly? Besides, youre one of them, arent you?
Yup. And thats why I can call us anything I please. Were geezers, all right. Just you come and listen to us. I know youll agree before the pecking partys over.
Since her father rarely asked of anything, Maryanne didnt have the heart to turn him down. Okay. Ill stay. But only if you promise I wont fall asleep during this senate thing.
Stan winked and pushed the forward button on his wheelchair. I can promise you fireworks, Cookie. Besides, I still have some of my birthday cake in the fridge. Come back here with me after the shoot-outs over, and we can make a serious dent in it.
Maryanne frowned. Hows your blood sugar?
Bah! Stan waved and rolled ahead. Im sick and tired of all that poking and bleeding. Cant a man have himself a piece of cake without it turning into a big deal?
Oh, Daddy. She hated the part of party pooper. I wish I could tell you its no big deal, but youre in that wheelchair because of the diabetes. The amputation was no joke, and we have to take care of your heart.
Irritation flared in Stan Wellborns blue eyes, but he stifled it almost as soon as she saw it. Dont mind me, Cookie. I just get testy when I cant have my way. I know the Lords blessed me with a bunch more days to hang around this side of life, and I cant dishonor His gift by misbehaving. But I wont deny Id sure like to every once in a while.
Before she could respond, he opened the apartment door, and waited for her to join him. He locked up, then propelled his wheelchair toward the elevator at the end of the long interior balcony that served as a hall.
They made their way down in silence, consumed by private thoughts. Once the elevator pinged at the mezzanine level, they waited for the doors to open. Maryanne followed her father to the activities hall. His friends greeted her with affection, a fondness she returned. Soon, however, petite Mitzi Steinbrom tottered on her stiletto heels to the podium.
Yikes! Maryanne leaned closer to Stan. Has Mrs. Steinbrom ever fallen from those spikes?
Alls I know is that she says they give her a regal bearing. I guess if you translate from Mitzish to English, that means she feels a need to make up for her lack of height.
Maryanne glanced forward again, but the plucky widow had disappeared. Where
Watch, her father answered. She had maintenance build her a set of steps. Otherwise, wed never see her over that dumb stand she insists she needs to run these goofy gatherings. She likes to follow Roberts Rules, but no one else heres willing to waste time on those kinds of things.
Sure enough, the tangerine curls popped up over the lectern and Mrs. Steinbrom tapped the microphone. The woodpecker beat self-destructed into a wicked screech. From the control room at the back of the hall, a man hollered, Sorry about that.
Mrs. Steinbrom smiled magnanimously. Were used to it, Reggie. Well wait until youve fixed it.
Hey, Mitzi! A bald gentleman waved a cane from the far right bank of chairs. We heard Reggie, so its fixed. Get on with your dog-and-pony show. I want to catch my before-dinner nap.
An eleven-type fold appeared between Mitzis penciled-in brown brows. She smiled, clearly comfortable with the noblesse oblige she felt the position of chairwoman required.
Very well, Roger. Well bring this meeting to order.
Ahgive it a rest, will ya, Mitz? another man called out, this one seated near the back door and garbed in a blue polo and pants. Just get on with the stuff you wanna talk about and forget all this other junk. Were all too old to sit around and wait.
Mitzi pursed her orange-coated lips. Its best if we do things properly, Charlie. Have some patience.
Its best, Maryannes father offered, if were efficient, Mitzi, so why dont you start with number one?
The chairwomans cheeks blazed red. Fine, she said in a curt voice. What do we think about cats?
Litterbox stink! a lady Maryanne didnt know yelped.
That ones neighbor to the left added, They yowl.
Are you going to pick up my garbage when they go dig for stuff? the impatient Charlie asked, his jaw in a pugnacious jut.
Someone up front offered, Im allergic.
Those clawsthey scratch everything, came from the right.
A frail wisp of a woman stood with difficulty, aided by her aluminum walker. Theyre a great comfort when ones all alone.
The room silenced at the dignified tone.
Eloise has a point, Maryannes dad said. None of us has too much company at night. Its worth giving that some thought.
Eloise nodded, and abundant waves of white hair rippled at her temples. I think we can tolerate some inconvenience if a pet helps another of us during a time of need. I vote for the cats.
But no dogs! Charlie bellowed, arms crossed.
Mitzi smiled in what looked like relief. Lets discuss the canines, then.
Roger stood. See this cane?
Everyone nodded.
It means, he went on, that I cant walk so good anymore. Howm I gonna stay on my feet when a mutt jumps all over me?
Obedience classes, suggested a woman who didnt look old enough to meet the communitys fifty-five-year minimum-age requirement. Those are fun. My late husband and I had a wonderful time training our dogs.
Charlie snorted. More work. I retired for a reasonIm tired and old.
The young-looking senior arched a brow. No one says you have to own or train a dog, Charlie.
An uncomfortable silence descended. Then Mitzi gave a smart crack of the gavel against the lectern. I think weve reached an agreement. Cats will be allowed, but dogs wont. Sorry, Connie.
The woman whod suggested the obedience classes stood. I dont think anyones agreed to anything about the dogsat least not yet. We need to discuss it some more.
Okay, Charlie ventured. Lets talk. I dont want to step on any when I go for my walks every morning.
A portly blonde in the front row turned to glare at Charlie. Everyone must clean up for him or herself, she said. Its only reasonable that those who want dogs take care of it.
Whats your plan? Charlie asked. Have management hand out official pooper-scoopers with our lease agreements?
Maryanne swallowed a laugh. She could just envision the scenea battalion of geriatrics armed with long-handled double shovels and baggies, all leashed to members of a motley crew of canines.
That would work, the blonde said.
Baloney, Charlie countered.
Mitzi banged again. Her compatriots ignored her and clamored over each others comments.
They shed all over, and then theres the drool.
Petting ones been proven to reduce blood pressure.
They can be rambunctious. Thats dangerous
Seizure dogs are true lifesavers.
Leashes can cause accidents.
Theyd have puppies
They bite!
Fleas
When are we going to get to the liver? Charlie demanded.
Eloise smashed her walker against the metal chair in front of her. The residents turned toward the source of the din, and when they spotted her, fell into a stunned stupor.
I didnt think when I moved here my address would be the Tower of Babel, the slight woman said, her voice distinct and determined. But this bickering certainly sounds like it.
Maryanne noticed more than one red face in the group.
It also strikes me, Eloise went on, that a fair amount of selfishness has taken root among us. I want no part of that. The Lord created animals and left them in our trust. He also urged us to do unto others as we would others do unto us. So Id like to see us show some forbearance in our small community.
A chair squealed in the back of the room. Clothes rustled to Maryannes left. Someone cleared his throat to her far right.
No one ventured a remark.
Eloise stepped her walker forward. We can determine a safe size for dogssay about twenty pounds and under. Of course, well enact leash laws. And Connies right. The owner must be responsible for the petsahproduction.
A nervous chuckle began near the side door and soon gathered strength. Before long, everyone was laughing, even Roger and Charlie. Everyone but Mitzi.
Her elevenses deepened and furrows lined her lily-white forehead. She pursed her bright lips and looked ready to stomp and cry at her loss of controland her lost battle against dogs.
Silence! the diminutive chairwoman yelled.
No one listened.
She banged her gavel to no avail, so she banged some more, and banged yet again, this time, however, with a bit too much force. The gavel broke.
Oooh! she cried. Just look what you made me do!
Her wail penetrated the good-natured chatter. Everyone faced forward, and more than one chuckle had to be smothered.
Come on, Mitzi, Maryannes father called out. Were done. The place has gone to the dogs, and I want to go home.
Butbut we havent discussed the liver, she said with a shuffle of paper. Or the steamed spinach. I cant abide them.
Hear, hear, Charlie cheered.
Roger stood. Aw, give it up. Its nap time.
Mitzi ran her fingers through her bright hair, spiking it into a ridge of exclamation marks. Oh, and we havent even touched on the fountain outside. Its an absolute disgrace. Who evers heard of pink flamingos in Pennsylvania?
Thats it! Stan Wellborn said as he spun his wheelchair toward the rear of the room. Im gone. Those flamingos are just about the funniest thing around here. Go rent a sense of humor, Mitzi.
Maryanne hurried to open the door for him.
They stay, he said. They stay, and they stay pink.
As they waited for the elevator, Maryanne kept quiet. Behind them, other residents poured out of the common area. Each voiced an opinion. At her side, her dad tapped his fingers on the wheelchairs control panel, a sure sign of annoyance.
The elevator doors opened. Father and daughter stepped inside. No one else joined them, and the conveyance soon glided upward. Just before they reached the sixth floor, Stan chuckled.
What did I tell you, Cookie? he said. Fireworks, right?
She gave him a wary look. Were you just fanning the flames?
Nah. Mitzis gone too far with her chairwoman thing. Those who want cats should have their cats, and those who want dogs should have them, too. Just dont mess with my liver and onions, and leave my pink flamingos alone.
When the elevator stopped, he flashed her a grin and winked. Welcome to the loony bin, Cookie. And thanks for listening to me. Im right where I belong.
Just like that, Maryannes last qualms about her fathers move to Peaceful Meadows vanished. Stan Wellborn had found a home.
Her guilt lifted, she relaxed and the afternoon went by fast, full of laughter, good conversation, a killer game of checkers and a serving of her dads birthday cake.
All in all, it was a perfect Sunday afternoon.
Good night, Cookie.
Good night, Dad.
She hadnt meant to stay so late, but Maryanne hadnt wanted to leave her father. Shed had a great time, even though liver and onions was not her favorite dish. Dad had wanted her company at dinner, and since all that awaited her back home was an uppity cat and the report shed written yesterday afternoon, shed stayed. She could proofread the whole thing in no time once she got home.
The rain started around sunset, typical for a late spring evening in South Central Pennsylvania. Now, on her way out, she lowered her head, covered it with her tote bag, and ran into the night. In her hurry to reach the car, she didnt watch her step, and her shoe hit a puddle. She slipped, yelped and dropped.
Muscular arms broke her fall.
Thanks, she said and then looked up. NO!
She froze in the circle of J.Z. Prophets clasp, tight against his chest, close to his warmth and clean scent. Not the smartest thing to do, but until she could breathe again, she couldnt move. To gather her wits, she tried to think of somethinganythingother than those intense gray eyes.
You should be more careful, he said, his voice deep.
She fought for breath, and this time, gulped in a lungful of fresh-washed air. What are you doing here?
Taking care of business.
His tone spoke volumes, but she didnt understand a thing. Still, she had no intention of carrying on a conversation with the miserable creature. Certainly not while she remained in such a vulnerable positionat his mercy.
She shoved against his chest, and to her surprise, he let her go. She almost fell again, but she summoned her strength and stood upright. She tugged down her belt from where it had slid way up on her ribs; she straightened her skirt; she ignored the rain.
I dont know what you think youre doing, she said. For good measure, she tipped up her chin. But I do want to know why youve been following me.
Something sparked in his eyes, but he still didnt speak.
Fine. She stepped toward her car. You can play Mount Rushmore all you want, especially in the rain. Just remember, if I see you again where you dont belong but I do, Ill call the cops.
Go ahead.
The rain sluiced over his dark hair, plastered it to his head like a robbers skullcap. It did nothing to endear him to her.
If you want to convince me the law doesnt bother you, then try something new. Quit following me and really mind your business. No sane man would dog an ordinary woman. Theres nothing interesting about me. Im a librarian with an elderly, disabled dad.
He shrugged, that incomprehensible intensity as always in his eyes. I am minding my business, and Im good at it.
A shiver racked Maryanne. It had nothing to do with the rain and everything with the man. Stalkings a crime, you know, she said, steps from her Escortand safety. They can lock you up for a long time, so quit before they do.
She fumbled with her keychain, but to her dismay, she dropped it. With the last of her courage, she said, Go crawl back under the rock from whence you came.
As she went for her keys, his hand shot out and grabbed them. Fear churned her gut, and she prayed he wasnt like a dog, able to scent it on her.
With a click, he unlocked her car door then handed her the keys. In silence, he strode into the dark. Maryanne collapsed against the fender and just stood there, drenched in rain and sweat. For long moments she just breathed and shook, thankful she could still do both.
Lord God, thank you forforwhatever. Just help me.
When she could move again, she opened the door and sat. Long minutes later, she turned on the ignition. The drive home was a numb hazeanother mindless drive under her belt. If she kept this up, shed soon qualify as a homing pigeon, functioning on some instinctual plane.
That, and shed have a couple of centuries of thanks and praise to offer her Lord.
In the garage, Maryanne sat back and tried to relax her shoulder muscles. She failed. Miserably.
The memory of J.Z. Prophet returned with the vengeance of hurricane-spurred ocean waves. What did the man want with her?
Because, without a shadow of a doubt, Maryanne knew J.Z. had come to Peaceful Meadows to keep tabs on her. What she didnt know was why?
And shed better figure it out soonbefore it was too late.
For her.
At ten the next morning, Maryanne called the cell phone rep Trudy had recommended. In a few minutes time, shed agreed to stop by the kiosk at the mall and sign a contract for a years worth of service. Next time J.Z. Prophet showed his face, shed be ready. Her new phone came with preprogrammable automatic dialing.
The first number shed record would be 911.
The day went by in the same kind of blur as when she drove home last night. By five, she didnt remember much of what shed done. Well, she turned in the report, but other than thatmush.
Determined to regain some semblance of sanity if not control, she concentrated on the drive to the mall. She even sang along with Rebecca St. Jamess latest on the radio. She parked, locked the car, ran through the ongoing rain to the food-court entrance and made a beeline for the cell phone and safety.
The young man had the papers ready for her. All Maryanne had to do was sign her name and give him a check. After a handful of directions, she felt confident enough to head home with the gadget and its instruction manual. On her way back to the car, she detoured by the frozen yogurt counter. She didnt often indulge, but today she ordered a swirl cone. She didnt want to choose between chocolate and vanilla.
Because of the rain, she opted to finish her treat at one of the food courts small tables. Then, on her way to the great outdoors and the deluge, she tossed away her napkin and saw the man watching her from the sandwich shop line. She came to a halt.
J.Z. Prophet wasnt besting her again.
Maryanne marched up to him. I told you Id call the cops the next time I saw you. She pulled out her phone. Watch me.
He covered the gadget and her hand with his much larger one, his clasp gentler than she would have imagined. It wont do you any good. I know what you are
What are you doing, J.Z.? asked the other Uni-Comp clown, a bag redolent of corned beef in his hand. Youre worse than a kid. You cant leave well enough alone, can you? Do you want Eliza to charge out here and tear a strip off your hide
He stopped just when things were about to get interesting, when Maryanne might have learned something about the probably psychotic J.Z. But the two men glared at each other, and if it werent for the minor matter of her captured hand, she would have taken her leave. Instead, she looked from one to the other, only too aware of J.Z.s warm clasp.
Ahem, she said.
The men turned.
Would one of you please tell me which episode of the Twilight Zone youre rerunning here?
Let her go, J.Z.s partner said.
J.Z. captured her gaze just as firmly as he held her hand.
Who are you guys? Maryannes fear fired up again. What do you want with me? And dont even mention computers. I know youve been following me.
Come on, J.Z. Lets go.
Maryanne smiled her gratitude at the blond man who didnt work for Uni-Compshe wasnt dumb.
Yes, J.Z. Let me go. Ill go my way and you can go yours, and never the twain shall meet. Okay?
Let her go, her palDon? Dan? Yeah, Dan Somethingrepeated.
J.Z. acceded, but a strange look she couldnt read, not the anger shed seen, maybe frustration, filled his eyes. Watch yourself, he said. One mistake, and Ill make my move.
Who are you? she asked yet again.
Tell her, J.Z. Youve blown this out of the water, so you may as well tell her now.
Maryannes eyes ping-ponged from one man to the other.
Dan muttered something else, this time nothing Maryanne could make out. He thrust his sandwich bag at J.Z. and rummaged in his back pocket. But instead of the wallet shed expected, he extended a small leather card case toward her.
What?
Open it, he said gently.
She did. Four words jumped out at her: Federal Bureau of Investigations.
Her head spun. Ice replaced her blood. The world tipped under her feet. Why?
Youre under investigation, J.Z. said in clipped tones. Youre good, but Im better. Im going to get you and your mob pals, so say goodbye to freedom, your frozen yogurt and your little phone.
Everything went black.
FOUR
Are you satisfied now? Dan glared up at J.Z.
J.Z. frowned down at the woman sprawled flat on the malls food-court floor. Come on, lady. We arent playing games here
Take her pulse, will ya?
Dans expression gave him no alternative, so J.Z. went down on one knee, took the librarians wrist in his hand, and pressed to check for her heartbeat. To his surprise, it was weak and unsteadyjust what one expected in a person whod fainted.
He shook his head. I told you she was good. Ive never known someone who could faint on demand. I guess theres always a first time for everything.
Dans look of disgust hit him like a slap.
Your compassion underwhelms me, his partner said. If you wont help her, then at least give me a hand and keep this mob from crushing us.
Only then did J.Z. notice the crowd that had gathered around them. Two sandwich-shop employees flapped their aprons in an obvious attempt to circulate air around Maryanne. A quartet of mall-walkers, senior citizens who exercised in the shelter of the covered mall, whispered among themselves, curiosity and pity in their lined faces. A maintenance guy stood to their right, both hands clasped around the mops wooden handle, the bucket-on-wheels contraption where it sat in danger of rolling and leaving him without support.
Heat rushed up J.Z.s cheeks. Okay, folks. We have it under control. Please move on so that we can take care of her.
The onlookers dispersed, their backward glances full of reluctance, his sudden relief at their departure surprisingly strong. Did Dan have a point? Was he overreacting to everything about this woman?
Think those weird guys there are some of them white slavers in the news? asked a white-haired lady in lime-green sweats, her voice scissors-sharp as she resumed her laps around the shopping center.
J.Z. groaned. Thats all we need.
What? For someone to report you for manhandling a helpless female? Thats probably what it looked like you were doing.
Look. Im not going to drop the pressure on her. Sooner or later shell crack
Either that, or shell crack up from your intimidation. Chill, man. You dont even know shes involved.
He snorted. Did you bother to read the profile we got last month? Im telling you, the description fits her perfectly.
It also fits about fifty percent of the female population. That doesnt mean theyre all mobsters, does it?
Dont give me that. That fifty percent doesnt have her kind of access to an old folks home where a bunch of seniors died after one of that fifty percent ordered their termination. And dont forget the Laundromats demise.
Maryannes eyelids gave a twitch. Good. She was coming to. But before he could say anything, Dan spoke.
Ill admit those e-mails look pretty bad, but any hacker can get into her account to cast suspicion on her.
Fine. Lets assume thats what happened. J.Z. ran a hand through his hair. Wheres the hacker who fits the profile? Who else has access? Who else is the typical neighbor-next-door type who wont raise suspicion? Who else does the dowdy, harmless librarian routine as well as Maryanne Wellborn?
Dans ministrations were having results on Maryanne. Color seeped into her cheeks. With a split-second glance at J.Z., he asked, Have you bothered to stake out the place?
Why would I need to? J.Z. let his breath out in a gust. We have the e-mails, the wealthy, dead seniors, the very deadthis timeLaundromat, and finally, her fingerprints on the IV stand. And shes there, all the time, in and out to see her dador so she says. Doesnt that stink rotten to you?
Im going to tell you one more time, Dan said through gritted teeth. Appearances can be deceiving. Theres a reason why clichs become clichs. They have a bunch of truth to them, and her appearance, because it reminds you of your past, may be deceiving you.
So you want me to believe even the fingerprints are a coincidence.
Dan shrugged, his attention on the librarian. She could have moved the stand for a nursefor Mat, himself. You cant be sure what happened. You werent there.
J.Z. belabored his point. Give me a break. What are the chances all these deathsespecially a mobstersare unrelated and unconnected to the librarian who sends killer e-mails?
Maryanne blinked.
J.Z. crossed his arms. Well?
Dan muttered, Not now.
Its as good a time as any, J.Z countered. Theres no such thing as coincidence. If something stinks like a skunk, looks like a skunk and skulks like a skunk, then more than likely its a skunk.
When Dan ignored him, J.Z. bulldozed ahead. That phony librarian look doesnt fool me. Ive spent my entire adult life smoking out mob scum. Im going to bust her.
Almost more for him than for his partner, he added, Just because my father chose a life of crime doesnt mean Im going to ignore whats staring me in the face. Ive chosen to sop up crime, and thats what Im going to do. Im going to bring her in.
Maryanne blinked. Male voices caught her attention.
skunkmobcrime
What was going on? And why was she lying down?
Im going to bring her in.
Her head swam. Her stomach lurched. She had no idea where she wasWait! Shed gone to the mall to pick up her phone, and there shed found
You! she cried when her eyes focused on the maniac who stood, Mr. Clean-style, over her. What did you do to me?
The boy-next-door blond one who hung around with the nutcase wrapped an arm around her shoulders and helped her sit.
He didnt do anything to you, Dan said with a lethal glare for J.Z. Prophet. That is, he didnt do anything to hurt you. He has been pretty busy acting like an idiot, though, so I can see where youd think he had.
Maryanne shook off his arm. Thank you, but I can get up on my own.
She stood, and again the height difference between her five foot five and J.Z.s six foot something threatened to intimidate her. As did the memory of Dans FBI badge.
Everything rushed back. Okay. Lets say you guys really are Feds and not some loony fakes.
J.Z.s scowl deepened. Maryanne ignored the urge to step back. She tried again. Lets just say youre what you say you are. Why are you wasting your time on me? What real, live G-man would try to make a case out of a librarian, so-called mob pals, frozen yogurt and a new cell phone?
Great, J.Z. said. Shes even got the diversionary tactics down pat. He met her gaze. Playing dumb and going for the funny bone wont get you anywhere.
Maryanne gave him a pointed up-and-down look. I see you speak from experience. You wouldnt know funny if it ran up and bit you, plus you do a great dumb.
Look lady. We have evidence. And we have the corpses to go with it.
Maryanne squinched her eyes shut. She shook her head to try and clear it, to try to make sense of what hed said. She blinked a couple of times, looked from J.Z. to the mortified Dan and back at J.Z. again. She shook her head one more time.
It still made no sense. Could you explain the corpses part a little better?
He ran a hand through his dark hair, a gesture shed seen him do on a couple of occasions, like when hed stared at the box of computer stuff in total frustration.
Fine, he said after long minutes. I guess youre pretty good at dumb, too. Do the names Helmut Rheinemann, Toby Matthias, Muriel Harper, Audrey White, Carlo Papparelli and others ring a bell?
With each name, Maryannes queasiness grew. A momentary sadness swept over her, but she couldnt afford to let emotions cloud her thoughts. She had to keep a clear head.
Yes, of course, the names ring a bell. They were all patients at the same nursing and retirement community where my father lives, and you know it, too. Theythey all passed away recently. But why would you come after me?
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