I spent most of the night on the living room couch alert to any sound from next door. At 6:00 a.m. a car drove onto the Surfside driveway and stopped, leaving the motor running. I peeked through the blinds in time to see a weary AudreyAnn stepping out of a Yellow Cab. I opened my door.
She greeted me with a nod but no smile. “He’s going to be all right,” she said, and without another word, walked into her condo and slammed the door.
Back to normal.
No.
She’s
just
exhausted
, I told myself, closing my own door and heading for the shower. I wanted to believe her devotion to Chip would continue, that she had meant every loving word. Of course if she really had gotten over Donny, that killed my crime-of-passion theory, at least as far as AudreyAnn was concerned.
As for Chip, his suicide attempt revealed one thing—that teddy bear exterior hid a heart of fire. Although I didn’t want to go there, he had proven he was capable of murder. After all, he had nearly murdered himself.
I stepped into the shower and turned the cold water on high. The icy spray gave me goose bumps and woke me up with a vengeance, driving all negative thoughts out of my head. I toweled off the chill and dressed quickly. Lee and I had to get to the shop. There was work to do.
But when I finally got deep into Francesco’s presentation boards, the shop phone rang and rang, destroying my concentration. I looked up from the drafting table, wondering why Lee didn’t answer.
Oh
. She’d gone to Starbucks to get a mocha frappuccino for herself and a cup of black dynamite for me. Neither of us had slept much last night. We needed an extra jolt of caffeine to get through the day.
But the phone. Couldn’t the caller leave a message? I flung down my pen, hurried across the shop to the
bureau
plat
and grabbed the receiver on the eighth or ninth ring.
“Good morning,” I purred, kitty sweet, phony as hell. “Deva Dunne Interiors.”
“I want to kiss you all over,” Rossi said.
“Who’s calling, please?”
“Very funny. And then I want to—”
“Are we having phone sex?”
He laughed. “I don’t know. I’m a virgin in that department.”
“Where are you?” I knew he wouldn’t be so open on a Naples PD line.
“At home. I’m going in a little later today. Worked most of the night.”
“You heard about Chip?”
“Yes. The hospital faxed the report to the station. I would have called but I thought I might wake you.”
“You wouldn’t have, actually, but the big news is he’s okay.”
“Or will be after some therapy. We don’t want an act two.”
“No, but I think AudreyAnn has seen the light.”
“If that’s what he wants.”
“She had a few secrets to share, but I’d rather tell you in person.”
“What say I pick you up after work? We’ll go to my place. I’ll grill a couple of steaks. Then I’ll think of something else.”
“Sounds heavenly, but no need to sweeten the pie, Rossi. I’ll be there even if you have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”
“Are we back to phone sex again?”
“Now who’s being funny? See you at five. I’d better go. I’m trying to finish a project.”
“Wait, don’t hang up. I got to the bank yesterday and transferred some funds. If you ask Lee when she wants to leave, I’ll buy her a plane ticket. And can you find out if she has a checking account? If not, I’ll open one in her name and make a deposit to it. Once she stops by and provides her signature, the money’ll be available when she needs it.”
“That’s wonderful, Rossi. I had a solution in mind, too, but you’ve solved the problem before I could. Lee will be beyond thrilled. Do you want to tell her the good news or should I?”
“Good Lord, you tell her.” A typical guy, avoiding an emotional scene at all costs.
“As soon as she returns.”
“Great. Pick you up at five.”
At least I think that’s what he said. A great screeching of brakes echoed up and down the alley. Outside the shop window a familiar black limo lurched to a halt, started up again, rolled a few more feet then came to another stop so suddenly, the driver lunged over the steering wheel, his head barely missing the windshield.
Francesco.
“Rossi, I have to go. Someone’s here. See you at five,” I said, hanging up before he could protest.
As I peered through the window, Francesco barged out of the limo, leaving the ignition running and the driver’s side door wide open. He thumped his way into the shop with what looked like triumph on his face.
“Nothing to it,” he said by way of greeting.
“You mean driving?” I asked.
“Yeah, a piece of cake.”
“Francesco, not to be irreverent or anything, but you want another death in the family?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means do you have a driver’s license?”
“No. That’ll take weeks.”
“A learner’s permit?”
“I guess you’re not listening. You know I lost Donny.” A shadow darkened his face.
“Yes, and I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks. I miss the guy big time. But until I get another driver, what am I gonna do?”
“Get arrested?”
“Don’t take that attitude, Deva. I’m not looking for trouble. I’m a businessman. But I gotta get around.”
“Hire another driver.”
“I am. Jewels’s brother up in Rhode Island. He’s taking driving lessons even as we speak. As soon as he gets his license, he comes down, and my problems are over.”
“Are you sure you want to wait that long?”
“Hiring a stranger’s not the answer. The job’s delicate. I don’t want just anybody knowing my business.”
I heaved a sigh. “I don’t have that problem, Francesco. I
want
people to know about my business. But right now, with your car clogging the alley, nobody can get to me.”
He peered out at the block-long limo...a Bentley? “Oh yeah. I’ll move it, but where the hell do you park around here?”
“Tell you what. Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll move it? There’s a parking lot in back of this building. When I return, after shutting off the motor, removing the key and locking the door, you can tell me what brings you here today.”
“Sarcasm ain’t ladylike,” he said, slumping onto the zebra settee.
“Ha!”
“Hurry back. We gotta talk business. The wrecking crew gutted the kitchen and the baths. And that painter you sent over with the movie star name?”
“It’s spelled differently.”
“Whatever. He’s through with the ceilings and the priming. Now we’re waiting on you.”
Guilt surged through me. My proposal should have been presented to Francesco days ago. My only excuse was murder. Literally. Well, I’d also had a lovelorn bride to deal with. An attempted suicide. And my own personal life.
Not a single valid excuse in the lot. Not for a professional.
“Be right back,” I said, hurrying out to the alley.
Driving the Bentley proved more complicated than I expected. After a few lurchy fits and starts, I rolled the beast around to the rear of the building, parked and went back inside. Lee had arrived with my Starbucks lifesaver.
“They gave me a giant black Sumatra, but only charged me for a large.” She handed me a tall cup. “I think the boy behind the counter was just being nice.”
“Not surprising.” Francesco eyed her appreciatively as I handed him his keys.
The cornflower blue dress matched her eyes. In blue with her blond hair cascading over her shoulders and a face like a Botticelli Venus, she would be a sensation in Paris. I could hardly wait to tell her what Rossi had wrought. But first Francesco.
“I’ll split my coffee with you,” I told him, hoping he’d refuse.
“Deal! Jewels didn’t make any this morning. Makes her gag.”
“Morning sickness?”
“Yeah, poor kid. But she don’t complain. She’s got the right name.”
I nodded and poured half my Sumatra blend into a plastic cup and gave it to him. We sipped in amiable silence for a few minutes and then I said, “Let’s get started, shall we?”
“That’s what I’m here for. I want to get this house stuff settled.” Again that cloud across his face. “As soon as they release Donny, Jewels and I are heading for Providence with his body. We’re laying him next to our
nonno
. It’s what they’d both want.” His eyes filmed over, but to my relief no tears leaked out.
“Lieutenant Rossi’s one of the best detectives in the world,” I said. “If anybody can find out who...ah—”
“—stiffed Donny,” Francesco finished.
“Yes, well, Rossi can,” I ended somewhat lamely. How did anybody talk to this guy? I had to change the subject. “Have you ever heard of Zuber wallpaper?”
He shook his head. “No. What’s it like?”
“Expensive.”
“Good. I don’t like cheap.”
I guess he wasn’t so hard to talk to after all, and as Lee took off for the post office, I wasted no further time getting down to business.
All was go, go, go. I had seldom had a client who grasped design concepts as quickly as Francesco did. He adored the Zuber murals and understood the wisdom of neutral surfaces in the living room and a vivid effect in the dining room. He agreed that the new case goods—primarily chairs and sofas—should be comfortable but minimalist. He even okayed a glass coffee table, realizing it wouldn’t vie for visual space with his antiques.
He was a dream client.
The ashes of roses toile paper for his baby daughter’s bedroom with a rose and green silk canopy over the crib fascinated him. Ditto for the nautical-themed cobalt blue and taupe scheme for little Frannie’s room. He even laughed, delighted at the idea of spelling out Frannie’s name with semaphore flags and hanging them over his crib. Every detail of the children’s rooms he approved, right down to the custom-designed carpeting by Stark.
“I like your spin on the preppy colors for the kids’ rooms,” he said. “No Pepto-Bismol pink and no wimpy blue. So far terrific. Now what about the workshop?”
“The workshop? I don’t rem—oh...the master bedroom suite.”
“Yeah, where Jewels and me hang out together.”
“In there you need both yin and yang,” I said, sliding another presentation board across the drafting table.
His brow furrowed. “Who the hell are they?”
“The male-female principles.”
He grinned. “Sounds about right.”
Ignoring the grin, I soldiered on in my best starchy Boston manner. “I envisioned your private suite as serene.”
His eyes narrowed. I guess serene isn’t the word normally applied to his workshop. “I see it as largely monochromatic,” I added.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I mean yes.
You
supply the color with the force of your, ah, personality.”
“Got it!”
No question, he had mentally substituted the word
sex
for color, but whatever works.
“So in keeping with a serene atmosphere, I see the bedroom wall treatments in a pale shade of almond.”
As if a switch had been thrown, Francesco’s mood changed. “Almond, huh?” he said, frowning. “You know Donny was poisoned?”
I nodded. “The lieutenant told me what happened.”
“Cyanide. I got a whiff of it when I bent over Donny. At least it smelled like almonds to me.”
Uh
-
oh
.
“So I got a favor to ask. Call that bedroom color beige or something. Anything but almond.”
“Of course. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”
“You’re not insensitive. You’re just not up on your poisons.” He took a linen handkerchief from a back pocket and wiped his eyes. “Poisoned. In my own house. My own kitchen. He ate my shrimp. So what does that tell you?”
“That he died by mistake?” I whispered. “Somebody wanted to kill you?”
Francesco ran the handkerchief over his eyes. “Yeah. Looks like somebody got the wrong boy.”
“Why would anyone want to kill
you
?”
He shrugged. “Like I told the lieutenant, I got no enemies. But Donny, yeah, he made a few. All’s I know is I’m never getting over it. Donny was family.”
“Time helps, Francesco. It really does. I know that from personal experience. And now you have a new family.”
He smiled and put away the hanky. “I do and I don’t. Jewels is scared to death. When we get to Rhode Island, she wants to stay there with Frannie until this business is settled. I don’t want her to but she can’t eat, she can’t sleep.”
“Well, for a while that might be best.”
He nodded and pointed to the presentation board. “Let’s hear the rest of this yin and yang stuff. I gotta get home and make some phone calls.”
