Sandra Hill - [Jinx] (19 page)

“I’ll do it, but how do I know you’ll keep your end of the bargain?” Frank asked Rosa, not Guido.

Rosa reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a silver object—a ladies’ switchblade. Laying her white-skinned arm on the table, palm up, she made a light slit across her wrist, then motioned with her head for Frank to do the same. Incredibly, he did. Once they both had thin red lines on their wrists, Rosa pressed hers against his, melding their life fluids. “Blood brother and blood sister we are now. There will be no betrayal.”

All of them on the Pink Project side of the table and those standing by the range gaped at the spectacle they’d just witnessed, then released the breaths they’d been holding.

“Now,” Rosa said, standing, “what is that wonderful smell?”

“Crab étouffée.” Tante Lulu handed her a damp paper towel to wipe her wrist.

“Wonderful! Tony, bring some of that wine I brought with me today,” Rosa said, then turned to Tante Lulu. “What can I do to help? I could make some garlic bread.”

Unbelievable! The Godfather—rather, Godmother—one minute, and Betty Crocker the next.

As everyone got up and shuffled out to do their various jobs related to the next dive, Frank stopped midway up the steps. “One more thing, Rosa. Anything else you haven’t told me?”

Rosa’s olive complexion turned red. “Well, there is this itty-bitty thing. It’s about those pink diamonds I mentioned. They happen to be set in my grandmother’s heirloom necklace. It’s gold, heavy gold, and its rare pink diamonds are arranged around a large center stone with decreasingly smaller gems on each side. The Pink Teardrop Necklace it is a called. And . . .”

Oh, shit! A necklace with a name. That surely spells big trouble,
Jake thought.

“And what?” Frank prodded.

“It once belonged to Queen Isabella of Spain, the one who sent Columbus on his journey.”

Big, big trouble!

“Which means it’s worth a fortune,” Flossie, their eBay expert, said; although, he didn’t imagine they got much Queen Isabella crap on eBay. But then, who knew! If they could sell a grilled cheese sandwich with the Blessed Mother imprint on it, why not ol’ Isabella’s bling-bling?

Frank put his face in his hands.

Jake saw a gleam of maniacal menopause madness in Flossie’s eyes and elbowed Frank as a warning not to criticize Flossie’s eBay passion right now. It would take only one jab by Frank to set her off. In that schizo mood, she could probably take down the whole Mafia mob herself.

“It’s worth more than a fortune to my family, and don’t be telling me it has historical importance and therefore belongs to the government. It was honestly my great-grandmother’s property, passed down through the generations by a Lambini ancestor who did a favor for the royal family of Spain.”

Probably offed some enemy of the queen.

“I can prove it with photographs.” Rosa whipped out a sepia-toned photograph that showed a dour-faced Italian woman—
she was probably in the throes of menopause
—staring at the camera. On her neck was a heavy necklace with a pigload of diamonds, just as Rosa had described.

“What else?” Frank demanded.

“Five Fabergé eggs and an antique snuffbox collection; although they may not have survived underwater all these years, even if they are in protective cases.”

Flossie started to say something about eBay and Fabergé eggs, but Frank cut her off, still glowering at Rosa. “And?”

“That’s all.” Rosa beamed.

Frank, who rarely drank hard liquor, said, “I need a shot . . . or five.”

“I have some tequila in my duffel bag,” Jake announced.

Ronnie practically got whiplash as her head jerked in his direction.

He winked at her.

“And I need a good lawyer,” Frank added.

Ronnie and Guido raised their hands at the same time—a match made in heaven.

The best-laid plans . . .

That afternoon, Frank looked around the
Sweet Jinx
deck at all the carefully choreographed professional treasure-hunting activity going on around him related to the dive, and he was pleased.

“Well, Frank, everything going according to plan?” Flossie asked him in a tone dripping with sarcasm. She was lying on a lounge chair in the shade of the wheelhouse overhang, reading a romance novel, something about virile Norse Vikings.

Hah! He could show her a thing or two about virile Polish Vikings. Especially if this dive was successful today. Man, there was nothing better than adrenaline sex, even better than makeup sex, in his opinion. He must have grinned because Flossie made that tsking sound women throughout time have perfected. Eve probably tsked at Adam the same way.

“Yes, honey, everything is going according to plan,” he replied after deciding to ignore her sarcasm. “Looks like we’re going to recover some treasure. I’ve got my granddaughter on the boat, and she’s excited about the project, really excited. I think I’m gonna be able to convince her to stay on with Jinx, Inc., even after the Pink Project is completed. And, best of all, she and Jake are together again . . . or they will be once the two of them realize they can’t live without each other.”

Flossie laughed. “You can’t interfere in people’s lives like this. It’s going to come back and bite you in the butt.”

“Why are you being such a Negative Nelly? Be a little more positive here, sweetie. Just think, three months from now, you and I could very well be on the first leg of our trip around the world.”

“I hope that’s the case, but you need to be realistic. Ronnie is going to find out that you tricked her, and all hell is going to break loose then.”

Tante Lulu, who had been sleeping, in fact, snoring, on the lounge chair next to Flossie, sat up abruptly and almost fell off the chair. Once she righted herself, she said, “What you needs is a love plan.”

Frank wet a new cigar with his lips, cut off the tip, and lit it. He inhaled deeply and exhaled with a sigh of satisfaction and a cloud of smoke. Then he addressed the old lady—not that he wasn’t an old man, but it was hard not to regard her that way. “A love plan? I like the sound of that.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Flossie scoffed, but she was all ears, too.

“I’m all for plans,” he said, giving Flossie a knowing leer.

“I would like to see Jake and Ronnie back together, too,” Flossie explained to Tante Lulu. “But I think we should all stay out of it and let things happen naturally.”

Tante Lulu reached for a glass of iced “sweet tea” sitting in the built-in cup holder on the arm of her lounge chair. She’d made a pitcher of the Southern beverage for them all after lunch. Then she asked Flossie, “How’s that workin’ for you so far?”

God bless her. She’s a regular Dr. Phil. And, man, she thinks the same way I do.

Flossie’s shoulders sank with resignation. “What can we do?”

“In my family, we have a tradition of all the family members ganging up on the couple to get them together in the end, iffen they caint manage to get together themselves. Once, we all dressed up like the Village People and did a Cajun version of them. Once, Remy got up on stage at the Women’s Club banquet in his air force uniform and pretended like he was Richard Gere carryin’ off Debra Winger in that movie
An Officer and a Gentleman.
Once, Rusty rode down the streets of Houma on his horse and carried Charmaine off with him. And once we held a surprise wedding.”

Frank’s jaw dropped, and Flossie said, “Are you for real?”

“‘Course I’m for real. We Cajuns got a good imagination. And our men are romantical—once we give ’em a good shove in the be-hind.”

“I just can’t picture myself dressing up like a cowboy or a construction worker and shaking my ass around, unless the band was playing a polka.” Frank grinned to himself at the image.

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t mind you pretending to be Richard Gere and carrying me off to have your way with me.” Flossie giggled, batting her eyelashes at him.

He loved when he could make Flossie giggle like a schoolgirl. “Maybe tonight . . . or when we’re back home. I can get out my old Navy uniform and—”

“Would you mind?” Tante Lulu interrupted. “We were talkin’ about getting Jake and your granddaughter together. Here’s what I think. I already suggested to someone—caint recall who; my memory slips sometimes; guess I gotta get me some of that ginkgo stuff. Anyways, I suggested that we lock them up someplace alone together for a few days. Naked. That would do the trick, guaranteed.”

He and Flossie exchanged smiles.

“I like the way you think,” he told Tante Lulu.

“I do, too,” Flossie surprised him by saying.

Hallelujah! She must be loosening up about my plans.

“Hmmm. The problem is, where could they be locked up? I mean, some desert island would be good, but there’s no way I could get the two of them there; maybe Jake, but Ronnie’s too suspicious.” Frank puffed on his cigar a bit, thinking. “It has to be someplace where they couldn’t get out right away.”

“I know, I know.” Flossie was practically jumping up and down in her chair. “The boat.” She tossed her hands out to indicate the boat they were on.

“Yer a genius,” Tante Lulu said. “Are you sure you ain’t Cajun?”

At first, Frank didn’t understand, but then, little by little, he saw the possibilities. “After the project is over, we lure them out to this boat, maybe even at this site. Then we have Brenda tinker with the engine and the radio. And somehow we take their clothes. And, ta da, two naked people on a boat in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do but . . . whoo-ee!”

“More like whoopie,” Tante Lulu quipped.

They all nodded their agreement to the plan.

“We better remember sunscreen,” Flossie joked.

“We’ll make a list,” Tante Lulu suggested. “Lotsa food, mebbe some wine, no books—we doan want them doin’ any readin’ fer entertainment—and music.”

Tante Lulu and Flossie looked at each other and said at the same time, “No polkas!”

He was in a generous mood, so he agreed, but he might slip a polka or two in, anyway.

“Jake loves Sting and the Police. Ronnie likes some country,” Flossie informed them. “I’ll take care of the music.”

“Can I play?” Rosa asked tentatively, peeking around the corner.

Frank hadn’t spoken to Rosa since the big discovery and her subtle coercion to get them to continue. But he wasn’t really mad at her. “Sure, come sit down.”

Rosa had changed from her dress and high heels and was now wearing white sneakers, black slacks, and a white short-sleeved T-shirt that said, “You Gotta Love an Italian.”

“Hey, I gots a T-shirt jist like that.” Tante Lulu motioned for Rosa to sit down next to her. “’Cept mine says, ‘You Gotta Love a Cajun.’” They smiled at each other like old friends.

Good Gawd!

“I love matchmaking,” Rosa began, “and I’m thinking that you will have trouble keeping them on this boat and getting them naked. I have some little knockout pills—”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Frank interjected quickly.
Of course the Mafia has knockout pills. Knockout for good, most likely.

“Oh, you!” Rosa swatted him on the arm playfully. “These aren’t illegal drugs or anything. These are just pills that make a person real sleepy, and they last only a short time. Once they wake up, they won’t know what happened to them.” She smiled brightly as if she’d just discovered spaghetti or something.

“I have herbs that’ll do the same thing. No problem.” That came from Tante Lulu, of course.

“And candles. We should have lots of candles for atmosphere,” Rosa said.

“Good idea,” Flossie said. “I can get a good deal on eBay for dozens of scented candles.”

Frank was about to say “eBay again!” but he’d learned his lesson. Flossie hadn’t had a menopausal maniac mood swing in a couple hours. He wasn’t about to trigger another one by criticizing her buying habits.

“Of course we gotta involve St. Jude,” Tante Lulu added. “Mebbe we should save him fer later. Like after they’s together again, ask him to make sure they doan go separatin’ again.”

“We might not have to do all this. Maybe they’ll get together on their own.” Flossie was ever the hopeful one.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Frank said.

The four of them reached their right hands out and made one fist to seal the plan.

They had no chance to discuss more because Peach and LeDeux were coming up from the second dive. And they didn’t look happy.

Chapter
19

Where’s a safecracker when you need one . . . ?

Veronica’s stomach roiled with nausea.

It wasn’t her old sea phobia coming back. More likely, this seasickness was caused by this project’s seesaw action, up one minute, down the next. But she popped several Peptos, just to make sure.

“What’s the problem now?” she asked John and Caleb as they came up onto the deck. Their negative expressions were bellwethers that told everyone gathered that bad news was coming.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” John said, once he got his breathing under control. “There’s a safe down there the size of a Volkswagen. It resembles those old-time bank safes. Must weigh five hundred pounds.”

“The problem is,” Caleb picked up where John left off, “under normal circumstances, we would use a water-resistant blowtorch to open the sucker, then remove whatever’s inside. I do it all the time in underwater construction work, like bridge abutments.”

“I thought you SEALs could do anything,” Jake remarked. “Cracking a safe should be child’s play.”

“Fuck you,” Caleb retorted.

“No, thanks.”

“Okay, okay now.” Frank stepped between the two men. “Everyone’s nerves are on edge. Let’s cool it.”

John stepped between the two of them as well. “We can’t use a blowtorch or anything else to open the safe down there. First, it would take too long, probably an hour, and our air supply would be depleted. More important, it would be obvious to authorities who examine the site later that we removed something from the safe.”

“Can we lift the safe up?” Frank asked.

“Sure we can,” Brenda said. “We’ll bring a crane out here and hoist the bugger up. A cinch, if handled properly.”

“But won’t the authorities notice a space in the wreck where the safe had been?” Rosa wanted to know.

“That might not be a problem.” Frank was tapping his chin and puffing on a cigar as he pondered this latest development. “A heavy storm is heading in tonight, and it could very well make some changes in the ocean floor. Besides that, the sand churned even in normal ocean currents is quick to cover whatever lands on the bottom.”

As everyone talked at once, offering their opinions on how to handle the retrieval, the only thing Veronica could think of was,
a heavy storm?
Her head jerked up, and she peered into the distance where, yep, dark clouds were forming. Now, it was one thing for her to have adjusted her physical reactions to the open waters on temperate days, but the middle of the ocean during a storm? No way!

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’re back on land.” Jake put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed her against him.

How did he know what I was thinking?
she thought. Then,
How does he always know what I’m thinking? He’s an expert at reading people. He’s an expert at reading me. Why wouldn’t he be? We’ve been married, like, forever.
“Thanks. I’m sure everyone will want to go onto dry land, at least till the storm runs its course.”

Just to make sure, Jake said in a loud voice, “Hey, Frank, how about we take this rust bucket into Barnegat for the night. No one wants to be out in a storm.” Frank was about to protest, but Jake continued, in a steely voice now, “You and Brenda can pick up a crane tomorrow. Those chemical toilets can be emptied. All of us could do some laundry and take more than a one-minute shower.”

“Plus, I need to get on my home computer to—” Flossie started to say.

But Frank drew himself to his full height—six foot two of burly man—and towered over Flossie. “I’ve had it up to my eyeballs with your eBay crap.”

Flossie, to everyone’s surprise, did not burst into tears. Instead, she rose up on the tiptoes of her sequined shoes and jabbed a forefinger into his chest. “Know what I’ve had up to my eyeballs? Your stupid polkas. And your equally stupid suspenders. And your snoring. And your constant criticism. And those smelly cigars.” With those words and Frank’s slack jaw, she stomped away and slammed the door leading down to the galley.

Frank shook his head to clear it. “Must be the menopause,” he said to everyone standing around, gaping at him.

Flossie poked her head out the door then and added, “And by the way, I was going to check my stocks on my home computer, but now I definitely will be going on eBay. Hold on to your wallet, big boy.” She slammed the door again.

After that, everyone began to make preparations for the return trip.

Frank stayed behind and asked Veronica, “Will you be coming back?” He obviously feared that once on land, she would hotfoot it back to Boston and her law practice.

That should have been her plan, but what she said was, “I’ll see this project through to the end. But then I’m done.”

He smiled so brightly that you’d have thought she handed him the moon—or a new polka CD.

“That was nice,” Jake said, coming up to her side. He’d already donned a sweatshirt, and he handed her his Windbreaker, which had “World Texas Hold ’Em Poker Tournament” on the back. She hadn’t realized that the wind was already picking up.

“I wasn’t being nice. I was being truthful. I’m not a quitter.”

He winced at her jab but remained surprisingly silent. The old Jake would have said something equally snide back. He stared at her for a long time, saying nothing. It wasn’t “the look”; it was something else.

“What?” she finally asked.

“Will you go out to dinner with me tonight?”

That was a shocker. “Are you asking me on a date?”

He blushed, which was kind of cute. Jake rarely blushed. “Yeah. A date.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no? No, not tonight? Or no, not ever?”

She should have said “not ever,” but a part of her wasn’t ready to be that emphatic. “Brenda and I are going out tonight . . . dancing.”

Jake smiled with relief.

Brenda, who was winding some rope in front of them, turned to face them. “We are?”

“Yep. You can stay overnight with me in my room at the Starlight Motel. I know this little place where they have great food and live music. Dirty Doug’s.”

Jake snorted his opinion of her going to a place with that name, then smirked.

She ignored his snort, and his smirk.

“The place where Adam took you to dinner?” Brenda asked.

“Yes.”

Jake was no longer smirking. His face went stiff. In fact, he looked hurt, even though he had no right to be. They weren’t married anymore. “You went on a date with Fabio?”

“Fabio?” she asked, even though she knew who he meant.

“Yeah, the Cuban cover boy.”

“So what? You go on dates. And, hello! You’re engaged.”

“I am not engaged anymore. Did you have a date with the Amish commando, too?”

Veronica smiled at his choice of words, and Brenda snickered behind Jake. He didn’t seem to notice, or care.

“No, I didn’t have a date with Caleb,” she said; but then, just because she had a mean streak in her somewhere, she added, “But I kissed him.”

“You did?” Jake and Brenda said at the same time.

“Yeah, and it was really hot. So, Mr. Poker Man, what do you have to say about that?”

Jake stared at her for a moment. She knew the instant he moved that she’d miscalculated.

He pulled her into his arms, then gave an additional yank so she was on her tiptoes, aligning her tight against him, breast to chest, belly to belly. No question how much he still wanted her. Then he kissed her, and he kissed her good. There was tongue involved, but she wasn’t sure if it was hers or his.

Just as quickly as he’d pulled her into his arms, he set her away from him. “You and I are not finished, babe, not by a Vegas long shot.” Then he walked away.

She realized belatedly that there was complete silence on the boat. Everyone had just witnessed the kiss.

Beware of men with plans . . .

Jake was sitting on the aft deck of the boat, arms around upraised knees, watching the storm clouds chase them on the return trip to Barnegat. In his headset, Sting blasted out “Roxanne,” the epic Police song, but today, even that couldn’t soothe his soul.

The kiss shared with Ronnie less than an hour ago had shattered something inside him. He was afraid of what he might do or say next, so fragile were his emotions. In fact, he kept clenching and unclenching his fists to settle himself down, to no avail.

So, of course, Ronnie came up and sank down beside him. For what seemed like an eternity, she just stared forward, as he’d been doing.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “The waves are getting kind of rough.”

“My stomach’s queasy, but I took a couple of Peptos. I should be all right.” She was still avoiding eye contact with him. “Is that ‘Roxanne’ I hear?”

He nodded and removed the headset, clicking the
OFF
button on the CD player.

“Remember the time, back at college, when you played that song for me? You couldn’t believe I wasn’t a Sting fan; you thought the whole world should be, even back then.” She smiled wistfully. “We were on that grassy knoll by the river, and—”

“I remember,” he cut her off, more abruptly than he’d intended. Then, more softly, he said, “That was probably the day I first realized that I loved you.”

“Oh, Jake.” Out of his side vision, he could see that she still stared ahead, but he could also see that there were tears in her eyes.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I’m not crying. That was a good memory.”

He turned his head and looked at her directly. “Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?”

They were both quiet for a while.

“That was some kiss,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“What are we gonna do about it?”

“Nothing.”

His heart sank like a rock.

“That’s why I came to talk to you. Jake, we’re killing each other with these on-again, off-again relationships. It’s got to stop.”

“I thought I had stopped. I made myself go out with other women. I got myself engaged, for chrissake. And see what happened? One second in your company and I was back to step one.”

She nodded. “I’ve dated some . . . not nearly as much as you, I’m sure.”

Don’t be too sure.

“But in the back of my mind, I don’t think I have really let go. That’s why I’ve been thinking about dating Caleb.”

“Caleb?” he growled. “Why him? Why not the Cuban Fabio?”

“I had one date with Adam and knew he was not my type.”

“But Peachey? Shit! He’s not your style, either.”

She grinned at him, knowing there wasn’t any man whom he would consider her style. “I think I’m going to try finding out for myself.”

Jake’s hands fisted and unfisted reflexively.
I am not going to picture her naked with that steroid stud. I can’t let myself. I just can’t.
“Maybe we could find a way to make it work this time. That’s why I came back. I had to try.”

“Nothing’s changed, Jake.”

“Yes, it has. I don’t play nearly as much as I used to. I’m financially secure. You wouldn’t have to worry.” Suddenly, he remembered his “grand gesture” and dug deep in his pocket, pulling out a check and placing it in her hands. “See. That’s how much I’ve changed. Take that and put it in a separate account with your name only. Never to be touched for gambling. Ever. It’s proof that my gambling won’t ever be a problem for us again.”

Ronnie stared down at the paper in her hands. He could tell she was surprised. “One million dollars? You’re giving me one million dollars?” Then, surprise changing into anger, she stood abruptly and stared down at him.

He stood, too.

Then she ripped the check into tiny shreds and let them blow out to sea. There were more than tears in her eyes now. “You jackass! You don’t know me at all if you think our marriages failed because of money.”

“I know that. Dammit! This was supposed to be a grand . . . gesture.”

“I give up. You are insane.” Shaking her head with a lack of appreciation for his grand gesture, she left.

She probably thinks I’m going to give up now. Hah! I just rattled her big-time. She doesn’t know it, but the odds are in my favor. Plan B, here I come.

As he put his headphones on and sank back down to the deck, he smiled.
So she thinks I’m insane. Well, I’m not. I was insane when we got married the last time . . . we both were. But this time we’re going to be clearheaded, no rush to the altar. Hold on to your briefcase, my lawyer wife. The jury is still out on us.

He closed his eyes then, and while Sting crooned “Don’t Stand So Close to Me,” he remembered.