Trouble In Spades (26 page)

"My family is crazy," I said.

"My aunt Renee runs a halfway house."

"So?"

"For squirrels."

I smiled. "My cousin Rocco swears he can communicate with stuffed animals."

He laughed. "Well, my uncle Joe is a cross-dresser. He gives flamenco lessons out of his basement studio."

"Could we get lessons?"

"Name the day," he said softly.

I backed up again. "I just don't know," I said, trying to be as honest as I could. Well, kind of. If I were being really honest, I'd admit to thoughts that would make Ana blush. My cell phone buzzed. "I'm sorry," I said to him, pulling it out of my pocket and looking at the caller screen. My mother. I tucked it back into my pocket. There was only so much I could handle.

"Just think about it, Nina. Okay?" He leaned in again, and I felt myself meeting him halfway.

The door opened, pushing Bobby into my arms, nearly knocking us both over. Maria looked between the two of us, saying nothing. She held out her phone. I took it, and she turned and walked away. "Hello?" I said.

"Nina Colette Ceceri! How dare you screen
my
calls?"

"Hi Mom." She must have called Maria after not reaching me.

"Don't you 'Hi Mom' me. Aunt Carlotta and Uncle Giuseppe are at the airport waiting for you to pick them up. Why aren't you there? You knew you were supposed to meet them. What will they think of me? What kind of hostess leaves her guests stranded?"

"Mom, I told you I had to wor—"

"I know you're not making excuses to your ma-ma!" She launched into a long string of French. I was beyond glad that I had no idea what she was saying. "Tonio," she called out. A series of bells toned as I sighed. Kids' voices in the halls filtered into the office. Bobby came around me and started to rub my shoulders. "Nina."

"Yes, Daddy?" I tried not to moan as Bobby's fingers pressed into that sensitive area at the nape of my neck. "You're mother is on the edge, and she's driving me so crazy that I'm tempted to push her over. Be a good girl. Just. Do. What. She. Says."

Ducking out of Bobby's reach, I tensed as Dad hung up. I clenched Maria's phone so tight my knuckles turned white.

"Nothing serious, I hope," MacKenna said.

"Life or death as far as my mother is concerned. Namely my death if I don't do what she wants. I better go." I paused in the doorway, looked back at him. "I—"

"Just think about it," he murmured. Nodding, I closed the door behind me.

I took I-75 south to 275 west/south, a route that looped around the city, by dipping into the corner of Indiana and curving through northern Kentucky. Taking I-75 through the city to get to the airport would have been faster—if there wasn't any traffic, which wasn't likely considering the construction going on.

While I was in MacKenna's office, school had let out, and Riley managed to spot Ana and Maria in the office and bum a ride home. Anything to avoid the bus.

Unfortunately, I didn't dare take the time to drop off Riley—or Ana—so they were coming for the ride. Maria hadn't had a choice. If
I
had to pick up Aunt Carlotta and Uncle Giuseppe, then so did
she
.

"You know, Nina," Ana said, "how are Uncle Giuseppe and Aunt Carlotta gonna fit in here?"

I drove fast, too fast probably (which was rather easy to do in Maria's Mercedes), but I just wanted to get to the airport, gather my wayward relatives, and go home. I seriously needed a date with the bathtub and a roll of cookie dough. "Yeah, Nina," Maria chimed in. "Uncle Giuseppe isn't the slimmest of guys."

I hadn't thought about getting them home. Hadn't thought about much except getting to the airport before my mother imploded.

I frowned. "I don't know." The trunk was probably out of the question.

"Maybe you can put them in a taxi?" Riley suggested.

I imagined my mother's reaction to that. "Maybe I should put Ana and Maria in a taxi—"

"This is
my
car!" Maria cried.

"How about," Riley said to me, "I put you, Ana, and Maria in a taxi, and I'll drive Uncle Giuseppe and Aunt Carlotta home?"

"No!" we all said at once.

"Hmmph." Riley glared. "I
am
getting my permit soon."

"No!" we all said again.

In the rearview mirror I saw Riley fold his arms and stare out the window. It was amazing. He and Maria shared no blood, yet they pouted exactly the same. "We'll figure something out," I said.

"Well," Maria snapped, "I'm not sitting on Giuseppe's lap. He always smells like sausage."

Personally, I didn't think Giuseppe had a lap.

Maria and Ana lapsed into a discussion about body odors that I did my best to tune out. I-275 west turned into I-275 south and merged with I-74 west. We were about half an hour from the Greater Cincinnati airport, which was located in, of all places, northern Kentucky.

My mind spun as I tried desperately not to listen to the B.O. conversation. Little snippets made their way through, though. When I heard catfish and curry in the same sentence, I let myself think about Nate.

How was he involved in Claire's murder? Or Brian Thatcher's? Not to mention Fran, the blue-haired FBI lady. And what about the bullet holes in his car? He'd said on the phone that he was hurt, but had he been shot? If he was shot, who'd pulled the trigger? Claire? Roz?

Fighting a growing headache, I tried to separate every thing I knew. Three people were dead. Why?

Had Stella/Fran died because someone found out she was FBI? Had she found out the truth about what was going on? The truth of what, though?

Of what happened to Brian? Claire? Nate?

But wait. Ian/Leo had said that Nate called the FBI saying he had something they'd be very interested in. The pictures and the guest list, I'd assumed.

The pictures were obvious enough, but I still didn't understand the guest list . . . According to the day-planner in his office, Nate had been double-checking the gala guest list on the day he disappeared. Did this all have something to do with those invitations that had come back? I just didn't know.

Indiana welcomed us. In another ten minutes we'd be in Kentucky. I drove past the Lawrenceburg exit, the one that led to the Kalypso. Nate would have driven this route every day. He was familiar with this area. Very familiar. He could be anywhere.

My mind flitted to the Kalypso, and the pull of the casino called to my inner gambler, especially now that I was so stressed.

I sighed, almost in withdrawal. It was almost like I could hear the bells, the whistles, the
shush
of the cards. The bells . . . the whistles.

With a jerk of the steering wheel, I swerved left, into the breakdown lane.

Conversation about cabbage and garlic broke off. "Nina? You okay?" Ana asked.

"Bells," I said.

"As in you're hearing them?" Maria asked. "Have you been into my Dramamine?"

Bells. When I'd talked to Nate the first time, I'd heard bells in the background.

I'd heard them before! The monorail tones at the Odyssey, the hotel next to the Kalypso.

Ohmygod! "I know where Nate is!"

"What!?" Maria shrieked.

Riley leaned forward. "Where?"

"Are you sure?" Ana asked.

"No! I'm not. I need to call Ian."

"Ian?" Maria asked.

"FBI," Ana said.

"You know an FBI agent?" Riley asked.

"He works for me," I said, fumbling with my cell phone.

Riley's eyes went wide. "Sweet."

Cars zoomed past as I reached Ian, who was still at the Fryes' house. I told him what I suspected, and hung up with his promise that the Odyssey would be crawling with FBI agents as soon as possible.

I avoided looking at Maria, knowing my throat would clog if I did. My conversation with Ian was the first she'd heard of Nate's injuries—and that I'd been in touch with him over the past couple of days. She was probably royally ticked at me.

I couldn't help myself—I peeked over at her. It just wasn't like her to be so quiet, especially when she was mad. Instead of finding her angry, though, she simply looked lost. I had to do something. Anything.

Shifting into drive, I said, "Let's go find Nate."

Maria's head snapped up. "Then what are we waiting for, slowpoke?"

At her cranky tone, I smiled. Bracing myself, I jerked hard left and bumped over the median. Horns blared as I swerved into westbound traffic.

"Sweet," Riley shouted. "Will you teach me how to do that when I get my license?"

"No!" we all said at once.

We had beat the FBI to the Odyssey, so we took matters into our own hands and started asking everyone and anyone if they'd seen a man fitting Nate's description. Ana had even roped S. Larue, Security, into helping as well.

When FBI agents started arriving, however, all we could do was stand back and wait while they conducted a room by room search.

An hour later we were still waiting.

Onlookers milled around, not sure what was going on, but curious anyway.

Ana had one of Maria's hands, and I held the other while we waited. And waited.

Just when I thought I'd been totally wrong, Ian came striding up to us. "Ms. Ceceri?" he said to Maria.

Her lower lip trembled. "Yes?"

"We found him in a janitor's closet on the second floor. He's unconscious, but he's alive. We're airlifting him to the hospital; there's not enough room on the helicopter, but we thought you might want a ride with one of our agents . . ." My stomach was in my throat when Maria turned to me, looking scared and lost. "Go!" I said hoarsely.

She took Ian's hand and they sprinted away.

On one hand I was thrilled Nate was found, on the other, Ian had looked grim. Nate must be in bad shape. With a heavy heart, I called my mother. I suffered through ten seconds of complaints about Giuseppe and Carlotta (who had given up on me and taken a cab) before I was able to get a word in edgewise. Finally, I took a deep breath and filled her in.

"Oh dear," my mother said before hanging up.

"We should go," I told Ana. "There's nothing we can do now but wait."

She gathered up her purse, looked around. "Where's Riley?"

Great. I'd finally gone and lost him. Ana and I split up to look for him.

Ten minutes later I found him in the casino, near the Big Bang. The whole Nate thing had severely tested my will not to gamble, and I tugged on his arm before I ended up plunking down all the money I had on a blackjack table. "Let's go," I said.

"I need this car," he said. "Look at it."

I looked. I drooled. It was the same car that had been there a few days ago. A red BMW convertible.

Sighing, I tugged on his arm. "Let's go."

"Please! One pull?"

"You're underage!"

"You can do it for me, right?"

I'm sure there was some law against it, but I felt the adrenaline kick in. One pull. What could it hurt? It wasn't like he was going to win. And it would go a little bit toward helping us bond. Right? "Please?"

I wavered. It would be so easy to fish in my backpack for a five dollar bill and feed it into the machine. After that drunken night eight years ago and that trip to the Chapel of Forever After, I'd made a commandment never to gamble again. So far I'd stuck to it. I couldn't break it now. The old woman behind us tapped her foot. "You going or not?"

I pulled Riley out of the line. "Go ahead," I said to her.

"Oh man," Riley whined.

As we walked away, a loud siren whooped. We turned to find the woman jumping up and down. Three BMWs were aligned on the screen.

Ack!

Riley looked at me, mouth open, an accusation in his eyes.

"Don't say it," I warned.

"But—"

I shot him a look. He closed his mouth. "Besides," I said, "if I had won it, I would have kept it."

"You would not have!"

"Would have."

"Life's not fair!"

"Nope. Come on," I told him. "Let's go find Ana."

He was still brooding, but managed a smile. "That could take a while. There are lots of single guys here."

Ack. And hotel rooms. We broke into a run.

"So, he said, "you'll buy me a car when I get my license, right?"

I shot him a look. "Keep dreaming, kid."

If the puddle that appeared on the floor was any indication, Gracie was very happy to see me. I bent down, rubbed her smooth head. She snuffled and raced around in circles, before bouncing into a wall and diving back under the couch.

Riley hadn't bothered to come in—he'd made a beeline toward the path in the woods, no doubt to tell Katie all the latest news.

In the kitchen, I grabbed a box of Nilla wafers and checked my messages. I had one from Mr. Cabrera that said he'd heard the Colonel had been picked up in Cleveland. I didn't doubt it was true. Mr. Cabrera was usually quite reliable when it concerned gossip.

There was a message from my father telling me that Nate was in surgery and it was touch and go. He hadn't regained consciousness yet, so no one knew what, exactly, had happened to him. He'd call back when he heard something. I had a message from Bobby MacKenna too. "I hope you're thinking."

I smiled in spite of myself. I had mixed feelings where the good vice principal was concerned. Oh, I liked him. A lot. But I still loved Kevin.

And I didn't know what to do about it.

I stuffed a wafer in my mouth, sat on the counter. All I wanted to do was go to bed.

I checked the cat clock that hung on the kitchen wall. It was only seven. Not even dark out.

Beyond that, I was expecting my uncle Giuseppe and aunt Carlotta to show up at the door any minute now, once they realized my parents weren't home.