Maddie walked over and sat down next to me on the edge of the bed. “Make time for him,” she said. “Don’t let something that delicious get away.”
“I see what you’re doing.”
“Which is?” she said.
“You know I can’t let anything distract me right now, not until—”
Giovanni tapped on the door a few times and then came in.
“Would you ladies care for some breakfast?” he said.
“You bet,” Maddie said.
He looked in my direction.
“Sloane?”
“I don’t want you to put yourself out,” I said.
He made a face that reminded me of a disgruntled employee so I tried again.
“I’m starved,” I said. “Thank you.”
He smiled and said, “It will be ready in ten,” and then he turned and shut the door behind him.
Once he left Maddie prodded me in the arm with two of her fingers.
“What was that for?” I said.
“If you don’t stop acting like that the guy is going to think you’d rather get with some over-the-hill senior citizen than with him.”
“Oh stop it,” I said. “He understands. Have you examined the bodies from last night?”
She nodded and said, “Strange, don’t you think?”
“Because he used a gun?” I said.
“Yeah—I mean, what’s up with that?”
“He’s angry,” I said. “I shot him and ruined his plans, and because of that he was forced to clean up the mess he made, which started with Trisha. My guess is that he planned to kill her before she got the chance to talk.”
“And the other guy?”
“Sal? Wrong place, wrong time, maybe.”
“So why not you? He must have had a clear shot at some point, but he didn’t even try for you.”
“It’s like he skipped over me on purpose. Think about it, Maddie. He set this whole scheme up, framed someone for murder, and paid someone to help him do it. There has to be a driving force behind an action like that. He wants something.”
“Not something—someone,” she said. “You.”
“And a guy like that won’t stop until he gets what he wants.”
CHAPTER 40
After breakfast Maddie left and I showered and got ready—for what, I didn’t know. I was in the middle of towel drying my hair when a sound emanated from my phone.
“How are you?” I said.
“Why?” Nick said. “It’s not like you care.”
“Of course I do.”
“Why?”
“Where are you?” I said.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Are you coming back?”
“Would it make a difference if I did?”
“I still care about you,” I said.
He laughed into the phone.
“Right. You care. From what I hear, you have someone else to look out for you now. I have to say, I knew it would happen, but not that fast.”
“It’s not what you think,” I said.
“Isn’t it? You slept at his house last night. That tells me all I need to know.”
Damn Coop, and damn his big mouth. I was sure he was the one who let that information slip out.
“Nick, why did you call me?” I said.
“You know what, I don’t know.”
And the line went dead.
I wrapped my bath towel around me and fell back on the bed and closed my eyes. I tried to muster up some tears, but they didn’t come, and I didn’t know why. After all, we’d had a long relationship and I’d loved him—hadn’t I? I thought back to what memories I had in my life where I remembered shedding tears of any kind. I could count them on one and a half hands. It wasn’t that I lacked feeling or emotion—I just didn’t have the ability to express my feelings like most other people. My life felt more in control this way, and when I was in charge of my emotions, I could manage my life. I’d never understood how most women could cry as easily as the rain falling from a wispy cloud on a dark and dreary day. How did they do that?
It was moments like this when I was all alone in a room with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company that I needed to be careful. I had to watch the bottle I’d set out to sea to make sure it didn’t come loose or worse—pop off and spray my emotions in the air for all the world to see.
During our relationship Nick prompted me to get some counseling, and all I could think about was how it would feel to be shrink-wrapped by some head case in a stuffy office painted in depressed shades of beige and decorated with knock off leather office furniture that squeaked every time my butt shifted a couple of inches. He said I needed to go in order to get past my sister. But there was no getting past Gabrielle; for me, there was but one option—closure. And no shrink could provide that. That was something I had to do for myself.
“Where are you off to today then?”
The sound of Giovanni’s voice entering the room thrust me back into the world again. I pulled my towel until it was tight and twisted the corner into a thick point and shoved it into my cleavage and sat up.
“I need to get Boo,” I said. “He’s my—”
“Westie, yes I know.”
“I’m sure he’s confused about why he was left all alone last night.”
“That might not be entirely true,” he said.
Giovanni pressed a button on the wall box in my room. A few seconds later Lord Berkeley bounded into my room and hopped up on the bed with me. His tail wagged like a jogger on a treadmill at full speed. I grabbed his snowy ball of fur and held him tight to me. Behind him a woman entered the room that I hadn’t seen in some time, and I wished more than ever that I had taken the time to get dressed when I had the chance.
“It’s good to see you,” she said.
“And you, Daniela. I didn’t know you lived here.”
She shook her head.
“I’m just in town to pester my dear brother,” she said with a wink in his direction, “but I can see he’s found plenty of other things to occupy his time.” She looked at Giovanni. “Sloane will be staying for dinner, right?”
“That’s up to her.”
She looked at me with a gleam of hope.
“You must,” she said. “We need to catch up.”
I’d never known her to be so friendly, but then again, the last time we met had been under different circumstances, and now there was no threat to her life. That threat was now six feet under.
“Sure,” I said. “I’d love to.”
“Well, see you both later then. I’ve got some shopping to do.”
Daniela turned and darted out the door.
“What now?” Giovanni said.
I had no idea. I looked at Giovanni and then to Lord Berkeley who was asleep in my lap. Everything that seemed important to me in that moment was right there with me in that room.
It didn’t take much for Giovanni to convince me to make my stay an extended one. I thought I’d want to cry out in protest, but when he made the offer I accepted without much consideration.
My cell phone rang again, and this time I was dressed and ready. The name on the screen said The Pretty Pen.
“Hi Robert,” I said. “How are you?”
“Sorry it took so long to get back to you,” he said. “I have some news, but I’m afraid it will be of little use to you.”
“I’ll take whatever you can give me.”
“That paper you gave me isn’t manufactured anymore, and it hasn’t been for some time.”
“How long has it been discontinued—do you know?” I said.
“Twenty years, maybe more.”
I couldn’t believe it.
“Do you have any idea what it was used for?” I said.
“It wasn’t very popular, and since it was such a long time ago, none of my distributors have any records that will tell you who they sold it to.”
“So how did you know it hasn’t been made for so long?” I said.