Elaine Orr - Jolie Gentil 04 - Any Port in a Storm (23 page)

“I knew he really liked you,” she said. “He’s always asking me what you’re up to.”

“Why didn’t he ask me?
It’s not like seventh grade.”

“You probably forget,” she said, dryly, “that you were usually mad at him for putting your picture in the paper.
Like the time he dug up that old wedding photo of you and Robby and put it in an article after you found…”

“George did that?
I asked him and he said his editor found it.”

“Maybe I heard him wrong,” she said, apparently trying to be diplomatic.

“Yeah, right.”

“Are you guys serious?” she asked.

“You’re joking, right? We have our first actual date Saturday night.” I didn’t mention that we’d spent much of Wednesday night together. Running from Ricardo Bruno was not a date.

“But you know each other pretty well,” she said.
“That makes it more like, I don’t know, the tenth date.”

I laughed.
“For sure we aren’t ‘serious.’ Anyway,” I felt my stomach start to knot, “it was only a year ago that I was sitting with Robby in court when he pled guilty to embezzlement. The ink on my divorce is not too dry.”

“That’s true,” she said in a sympathetic tone.
“I guess I’m just happy for you.”

WE PULLED INTO Matawan’s small commercial area ten minutes early, and I parked near the law office, which was at the edge of the small downtown. Ramona was going to walk through the antique and gift shops, and I figured I’d join her in less than half an hour. Then on to crab soup, hopefully able to celebrate the end of the legal drama associated with Hayden’s death.

I stood in the hallway outside Suite 202, which bore the law office name in bold gold lettering.
I assumed people were supposed to feel intimidated, or maybe impressed. I reminded myself that Mr. and Mrs. Grosso had lost a son, and even if he was a total jerk who wanted to get in Alicia’s pants, they would be very sad and I would be very polite.

The receptionist was a woman about my age with beautiful black hair that looked as if it could be in a hair color commercial.
Except I figured it was her real color.

“Good afternoon, Miss Gentil.”
She reached across the desk and shook my hand. “The Grossos should be here any minute. Can I bring you coffee, tea, a soft drink?”

“Water would be great.”
The reception area was quite small, and I sat in one of the three upholstered chairs and picked up a travel magazine on the end table.
Probably they tell their clients they’ll win them a lot of money and they can take a big trip.

“I’m so rude.
I didn’t tell you my name. It’s Ruth. I’ve been with Mr. Hardin for almost ten years.” She handed me a glass with ice and what looked like pinkish water. “I put some of that new flavoring in it.” She gave me a big smile and returned to her desk.

I had really wanted plain water, but it was a pleasant taste, strawberry, I thought.
I glanced at my phone again. The Grossos were ten minutes late. They lived very close to the office, so I was mildly irritated. And very sleepy.

It was another two or three minutes before I realized that I was more than tired.
My eyes were out of focus. “I think, I think I better…” I stood and then quickly sat back down.

Ruth got up and walked toward me.
Her friendly smile was replaced by a very menacing look. Or maybe two looks. It was hard to tell.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?” she said, in a strident tone.

It took a great deal of effort to say, “No.”

“Thanks to you, I don’t have any idea where my brother Joe is.”

Crud. Joe Pedone’s sister.
“Are you, are you Mary Something?” I asked.

“Oh yes.
Mary Jo. Joe Pedone’s twin sister. And you and I are going to have a long talk.” She walked back to her desk and fiddled with the phone for a moment.

It was very hard to think.
I couldn’t imagine that she would hurt me. Unless she was as screwy as her brother, who was not a nice man at all. I thought about Ramona. She knew what building I was in, but she had no idea of the suite. Not that it was a big building, but I wish someone knew where I was.

“Up you go.”
Mary Jo put her hand under my arm and helped me stand. “We’re going into Mr. Hardin’s office.” She guided me to a chair that had a soft seat and upholstered arms, and picked up a roll of duct tape from the nearby desk and started to wrap it around my wrists, securing them to the arms of the chair.

This is not good.
I just could not get my brain and limbs to cooperate.
What did she give me?

“You’re going to hear me out, and then you’re going to tell the police that you were very, very wrong about my brother.”
She pulled a chair toward me and sat facing me.

Mary Jo’s face was contorted in anger.
“My Joe is a good man. He sent my mother a check every month. A good check. Now she has to live on Social Security and whatever I can give her, and it’s not much. And I’m stuck working in this stupid office, watching the lawyers win tons of money for their clients. Do I get any kind of bonus when they win a big case? Not hardly.”

She went on and on.
My eyes had closed and then there was a loud whack and my head jerked back.
She slapped me!

“You stay awake and listen to me!”

Her face was inches from mine, and I could see the spittle at the corners of her mouth.
“What do you…what do you want?” The slap had made my neck hurt again.

“You
are
going to listen to me!” She was practically screeching now.

I realized she had probably picked five-thirty because the lawyers would have left, and maybe everyone else on this floor.
My head wobbled, but I tried to look at her. I didn’t want another slap.

“…and you’re going to tell my mother you were wrong about Joe.
Broke her heart, you did.” She kept going. “I said listen to me!”

I was vaguely aware that her arm was raised, and I steeled myself for another slap.

“Ow! Let go of me!” Mary Jo yelled.

Someone had come into the room and shoved Mary Jo hard enough that she fell to her knees.
And then Ramona was on Mary Jo’s back and shoved her face into the carpet. And someone was screaming. I was pretty sure it wasn’t me.

I heard a police siren, and then it stopped abruptly.
Someone much bigger than Ramona and I ran into the office and he started shouting, too.
If only these people would shut up.

Ramona was trying to unwrap the duct tape.
“Jolie, Jolie! What did she give you?”

Really, I didn’t feel that bad.
It would be a lot better if I could lie down for a bit.

I WOKE UP WONDERING if I was lying on the beach. The sun was directly overhead. I looked around. No beach. What I thought was the sun was a fluorescent light above me.

“Jolie!”
Some of Ramona’s always perfectly styled hair was hanging loose on one side, and she had tears on her cheeks.

“I’m okay.
Really.” But I was thirsty. “Are we in a hospital?”

A man in scrubs came in, followed by a female police officer.
Thank God it’s not Morehouse
.

“How do you feel?” the man asked.

“Not too bad. What happened…oh, Mary Jo.” I looked around quickly, and winced at the pain in my neck. “Ramona. You tackled her.”

She smiled.
“I do yoga, you know. I’m tough.”

The man, I hoped a doctor, bent over and gently probed the back of my head and my neck.
“Did you fall?”

“No, car accident a few weeks ago.”
I thought for a couple seconds. “That woman slapped me, hard.”

“Aha,” the doctor said.
He shone a pen light in my eyes and I felt the stupid blood pressure cuff start to blow up.

“We don’t have the toxicology report yet, but I suspect you were given a few Valium or something like that.”
He looked at Ramona. “Her pulse and blood pressure are a little low, but her pulse is strong.” He patted me on the shoulder. “I expect you’ll be fine.”

He left and I had my eyes shut, but I knew it was Ramona who had moved closer to me.
I opened my eyes. She was smiling at me. “Do you know how many times you’ve been in an emergency room in the last year?”

“I’m not counting.”

“Ms., um Gentle.”

“Gentil,” Ramona and I said together.

“You don’t pronounce the L,” Ramona added, “and the i is more like an ee sound.”

“Can you talk to me for a couple minutes?” the officer asked.
“We aren’t exactly sure why you were there with her.”

“I told you…” Ramona began.

“I need to talk to her,” the officer said. She was firm, but not overbearing.

Ramona moved away a few feet, and the officer pulled up a chair and sat, apparently so she could look me in the eye.

“Why were you there?” she asked.

“I thought I had a meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Grosso.
She, Mary Jo, set it up.”

“There are two lawyers in that practice.
Neither of them had arranged any meeting for you. With anyone.”

I thought about this for a second.
“I don’t think that woman likes me.”

“You think?” Ramona said.

The officer almost smiled. “Your friend said that…” she looked at a piece of paper, “Mrs. Patterson, Mary Jo, was the sister of a Mr. Joe Pedone, and that you were responsible for his arrest.”

“He was responsible.
I was just the person he was mad at. Well, one of them.” I swallowed. “Could I have some water?”

Ramona went out and came back with a cup.
“They say ice chips until they figure out exactly what she gave you.” She put some on a spoon, and most of them made it to my mouth.

“She said her mother was very upset, and, um, she didn’t have enough money.
Because her son used to send her…some.” I didn’t think I was making a lot of sense, and couldn’t imagine the officer was following me.

“I called the Ocean Alley Police,” the officer began.

“Oh, crud,” I said.

“Uh-oh,” said Ramona.

The officer stiffened. “Why do you say that?” she asked.

“Oh we’re not in trouble.
Not that kind of trouble, I mean,” Ramona said.

“Sergeant Morehouse gets kind of…irritated sometimes,” I said.

As if on cue the door to my little corner of the emergency room opened, and Sgt. Morehouse glared at me. “With good damn reason,” he said.

“I didn’t do anything.
I was coming to a stupid meeting.”

“Meetings, stupid or not, do not put you in the hospital.”
He said this in his usual rough voice, but when I opened one eye he didn’t really look too mad.

“Jolie got a letter from the lawyers,” Ramona said.

“I thought it was from them,” I added.

It took about ten minutes, but Ramona and I finally explained the letter I’d received and Mary Jo’s advice about how I could save some legal fees by coming alone, because Mr. and Mrs. Grosso just wanted to talk to me, and planned to drop the wrongful death lawsuit.

“And when I realized it had been more than half an hour, I thought I’d walk up there. It was cool, and I didn’t have a sweater,” Ramona explained. “I figured I could sit in their office.”

“And you found Ms. Gentil tied to a chair?” the female officer asked.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Stevens, Officer Rosemary Stevens.
I guess you were still out of it when I told you.”

“Okay.”
I looked at Morehouse. “The drink made me like a zombie, and she walked me into the lawyer’s office, I guess that’s what it was, and put duct tape on my arms.”

“Did she have a weapon?” Morehouse asked.

I saw Officer Stevens stiffen a bit, but she didn’t say anything. I figured she saw Morehouse’s question as stepping on her toes.

“I didn’t see one.
She said she just wanted me to listen.”

Morehouse looked at Officer Stevens.
“There’s times I thought about tying her to a chair to get her to listen.”

ODDLY, AUNT MADGE WAS way less angry than George. “I’m sure you thought you were doing a smart thing,” was the gist of what she said. The fact that Ramona went with me had convinced her I thought I was going to a simple meeting. If I’d been with George or Scoobie she probably wouldn’t have looked at it that way.

They kept me overnight at the hospital, since Mary Jo had given me four times the normal dose of Valium.
That and the fact that I couldn’t even sit up in the bed. They had me hooked up to an IV that flowed really fast, to ‘flush my system.’ I had to pee every twenty minutes, which was not fun on a bedpan. That’s the only thing that got George and Scoobie and Ramona to go to a nearby motel for the night.