No Hiding Behind the Potted Palms! A Dance with Danger Mystery #7 (33 page)

“In that case,” I laughed,
“can you please take out those hideous contacts?”

Axel threw back his head.
Using his fingertips, he popped them out one by one and tossed them
into the trash.

“I won’t be needing those
any more,” he smiled as he looked at me, revealing those beautiful
ice blue eyes. “Better?”

“Much, much better,” I
grinned. “So, what made you follow me down here?”

“I thought you deserved a
better goodbye kiss than the one I gave you.”

“Oh?”

“Like this,” he said, giving
me a demonstration of the prowess of his mouth. Our lips were
hungry, demanding, as they locked together. I felt Axel penetrating
every cell of my body with his essence, as his tongue danced around
mine. My body tingled with excitement and exuberance, building a
pathway to desire. We clung to each other with the intensity of
drowning swimmers to the life raft. A discreet cough broke the
magic. We moved apart only enough to see the speaker.

“You’re all checked out. You
can go as soon as you’ve talked to the nurse,” said the patient
assistant, her eyes avoiding ours. She put down the pile of
paperwork, including the after-care instructions. “She’ll be right
in.”

We parted, tenderly,
reluctantly. I felt the memory of him remain with me, clinging to
me like a song I couldn’t get out of my head. A tall woman in a
hospital garb arrived in a rush, silenced her pager, and got down
to business. Even as the nurse explained the medications and wound
care procedures, I barely heard her. I was floating on a cloud,
weightless and free. As soon as she was gone, I felt Axel’s fingers
merge with mine.

“That kiss was definitely
better than the last one,” I admitted. “I feel like I’ve lived a
lifetime in less than a day. There’s something about almost dying
that makes you feel more alive.”

“This has been a hell of an
experience,” he sighed. “But I think I’ve had enough adventure to
last me for a good, long while. I’m looking forward to some quiet
time with you. No guns blazing. No bad guys. Just normal, ordinary
stuff, like you nagging me to take out the garbage and not leave my
smelly socks on the bathroom floor.”

“You leave your socks on the
bathroom floor?” He laughed as I feigned shock over his bad
domestic behavior.

Ten minutes later, one of
the detectives working the case swung by in his unmarked sedan and
drove us back to the parking lot of Lowe’s. Axel opened up his SUV,
rolled down the windows, and asked me to wait for him to finish up
with the scene. There was a walk-through of the crime scene with
the cops. He seemed to be explaining his movements. I could see
police tape all around Uncle Jack’s blue Camry, the doors still
wide open. There was blood on the seats and I wondered how I would
ever get it clean enough to sell. When Axel finally slid behind the
wheel of his Escape, he told me we could pick up Uncle Jack’s car
tomorrow. I told him about my concerns.

“I’ll be right back,” was
all he said before he disappeared into Lowe’s. I wondered what he
was doing. He emerged, triumphant, six minutes later, toting a
couple of bags. When he got behind the wheel, he gave me a
peek.

“Simple Green, a murderer’s
best friend, to get rid of the blood stains, a decent sponge, and
some upholstery cleaner, to take up any other stains on the fabric
or floor mats. We’ll get that car ready for top dollar.”

“Thanks, Axel.” I smiled,
feeling rather content. “You know, considering what I’ve been
through in the last thirty hours, I feel remarkably good. Maybe it
hasn’t all hit me yet.”

“Or maybe something good
came out of all that pain. After all, the chances of us meeting
would have been slim to none if you hadn’t picked up that
gecko.”

“I don’t know. I’d like to
think we have more than just a quarter of a million dollars worth
of heroin in common.” Axel pulled out of the parking lot and we
headed down 322 and then took Route 33, towards St. Michaels. As we
drove towards the late afternoon sun, I didn’t even seem to care
whether Warren fired me.

“I don’t know much about
you. Where did you grow up?”

“A small town up in New
Hampshire, Hampton Falls,” he told me.

“You’re kidding me. I grew
up in New Castle. Where did you go to college?”

“Providence. Baseball
scholarship.”

“Rhode Island School of
Design,” I laughed. “It’s like we’ve been living parallel lives all
this time. Only you worked in Virginia and I worked in New
York.”

“Actually, this isn’t my
first stint in New York,” Axel confessed. “And we lived in
Stamford.”

“Maybe we do belong
together.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, his eyes
on the road and a smile on his face. “Where are we
going?”

We headed up Talbot Street
and pulled into the parking lot behind the gallery. Axel put the
SUV in park, turned off the engine, and gave me his full
attention.

“Okay,” he patted my hand,
“what are you going to say to Warren if he gives you any
crap?”

“‘
Warren, you’re a complete
idiot for not appreciating me.’”

“And?”

“‘
And if you don’t treat me
the way I deserve to be treated, I’m going to find a boss who
will.’”

“That’s my girl,” he
grinned. “Smart, sassy, and sweet.”

“Am I?”

“What?” Axel responded,
feigning innocence.

“Your girl.”

“Maybe.” A little smile
played on his face, but his eyes were serious. I knew now that Axel
was a passionate man who kept his heart protected from harm while
hiding beneath a jovial faҫade.

“I should get going,” I
announced.

“I’ll be in as soon as I
make all my phone calls,” he promised. He already had his
smartphone out and I could see he was itching to get
started.

“Sure.”

I crossed the parking lot,
planning on entering Bliss Redux through the back door. I had my
key in my hand and was just about to slip it into the lock when I
realized the door was ajar. Opening the door slightly, I stuck my
head in and listened. Something wasn’t right. I thought I heard
sobbing. There was an odd odor wafting from the front of the
gallery. It smelled like turpentine and smoke.

Chapter Ten --

My first thought was that
the drug cartel had sent another killer to finish the job for
Hector. Carefully extracting myself from the doorway, I held the
door and did my best to quietly close it. Then I ran to Axel’s SUV,
my hands shaking, my heart pounding.

“Something’s wrong in the
gallery!” I told him breathlessly.

“You stay here,” he
insisted. “Don’t move.”

As I climbed up into the
passenger seat, Axel was already covering the distance to the back
door of the gallery. He reached under his pant leg and took out a
gun. I could see smoke pouring from the door as he opened it,
weapon drawn. Slowly, carefully, he backed up. His gun was aimed at
someone. Even as I watched, I could see the thick smoke part long
enough for Prudence, Warren’s former assistant, to emerge with her
hands in the air. My hands shook as I dialed the phone.

“There’s a fire at the Bliss
Redux Gallery on Talbot,” I said in a rush to the dispatcher who
answered. I managed to spit out the address before hurrying to
Axel’s side. Prudence was now sitting on the curb, her hands on her
head. Down the road, I could hear the bell pealing for the
volunteer firefighters.

“Keep her here. Don’t let
her leave. I’m going in,” he announced.

“I called the fire
department. They’re on their way, Axel. Don’t take any foolish
chances.”

The door bounced behind him
as he disappeared from view. I tried to imagine him going through
the narrow hallway to the front gallery. I had no idea what he
would find. It seemed to be taking him forever. And then the door
flew open and Axel came tearing out, like he was on fire, coughing
and choking on the thick, black smoke.

“Back, get back as far as
you can. Hurry up!” He dragged Prudence along roughly, even as she
resisted his efforts. When we were thirty feet from the building,
Axel ran to the street, hollering for people to clear the area. The
volunteer firefighters arrived just as there was a loud
explosion.

“Prudence,” I said, holding
onto her shoulder, “what happened in there? Are you
okay?”

“Kelsey, I’m so glad you’re
here.” She collapsed in a shower of tears. Her words seemed slurred
as she talked, and I thought I smelled scotch on her breath. “I
just couldn’t take it any more.”

“Couldn’t take what,
Pru?”

“Warren. He just bullied me
once too often. He shouldn’t have done that,” she said, to no one
in particular. “I didn’t deserve that. You know what his nickname
for me was? ‘Prude’.”

“What happened?” I prodded
her again. Now I was growing more and more concerned. “Warren told
me that he fired you.”

“Just like that. All because
I said no.”

“No to what?” I could see
the firemen working hard to clear the area. A couple of marked
police cruisers pulled into the lot and parked a short distance
from us. The officers engaged in a lengthy discussion with Axel. He
pointed to Prudence briefly and then turned his attention to the
conversation.

“What did you say no to,
Pru?”

“He told me if I wanted my
job back, I had to....”

“Had to what?”

“You know!” By now, Warren’s
assistant was beginning to lose her grip. The shock of what had
happened began to seep into what was left of her conscious mind.
“I’m not a whore, Kelsey! After all these years, I didn’t want to
keep doing it. I told him I wanted no part of that any longer. He
could go ahead and ruin me. I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to put my
mouth on that filthy, disgusting thing one more time!”

She shuddered at the memory
and then a loud, painful sob broke through. She began to wail. It
was the sound of human agony. I let her cry. I didn’t try to stop
her. I just kept rubbing her back, tracing a circle with my
fingers. When the moaning seemed to subside, I prompted the rest of
her story.

“What did he do that made
you so upset?” I asked gently.

“He told me I didn’t know
real art when I saw it. And then he showed me the sex tapes. Half
the time, I wasn’t even awake. Oh, the things he did to
me!”

“He wanted to humiliate
you.” I looked at this attractive young woman, huddled beside me. I
could smell the smoke now, mingling with the scent of barbecue. A
glance at Bliss Redux showed me that the fire was still burning hot
enough to keep the firefighters back. “What did you do?”

“I taught him not to mess
with me any more,” she announced. “He was a very bad man,
Kelsey.”

A feeling of dread came over
me as I sat on the curb with her. She was moving away from tragedy
and forward into triumph.

“Pru, where’s
Warren?”

“He was going to show the
videotapes at the gallery opening tonight. He was going to pretend
it was art! I couldn’t let him do that, Kelsey! I have a Ph.D in
art appreciation, for God’s sake!”

Four police officers
approached us cautiously, their hands on their holstered weapons.
Axel was right behind them.

“Prudence Generis, please
stand up,” said one of the officers.

“He deserved it, Kelsey. I
was just protecting myself.”

“Miss, stand up,” the
officer said again.

“Come on, Prudence,” I
encouraged her. “You need to go with these police officers. They
want to know what happened.”

“Please put your hands
behind your back,” another officer instructed her. She complied
willingly, almost eagerly, as he used plastic cable to fasten her
wrists together.

“Warren loved his
controversy,” she said. “Nothing he liked more than raw, human
drama, right? Well, people are going to remember his death for its
artistic value more than for the value of the man who died. He told
me I didn’t appreciate contemporary art, Kelsey, that I shied away
from the nitty gritty of real life. Well, I sure showed
him!”

By the time the police
officers loaded Prudence into the back of one of the cruisers, she
was gloating. I still had no idea what she had done, but one look
at Axel’s grim visage told me it wasn’t worthy of an exhibit at the
Hirshhorn.

“Come on,” he urged me,
grabbing my hand. “We’re getting the hell out of here before
something else happens.”

We got into the SUV and
drove out of the parking lot slowly, past the Hazmat team in their
spacesuits, the emergency responders, and the rubber-neckers
jockeying for a position in the viewing stands.

“Axel, what did happen to
Warren?” I saw his lips tighten.

“I have seen people do some
crazy ass things in my life,” he told me, “but this really takes
the cake.”

“What happened to Warren?” I
repeated my question, dreading the answer.