Sleeping With Anemone Part 18

Vex number two: It was possible that Nils Raand could be found guilty of conspiracy-proven by evidence collected by the police-and sentenced to prison. That would be a good thing. On the other hand, Raand could be found innocent, also proven by evidence. That would be the justice system working as it was supposed to-unless the detectives didn't renew their search for the real conspirator afterward.

And then there was another possibility, that the prosecutor would ignore evidence that didn't lead to the outcome he wanted, which was to get Raand convicted-something he'd been known to do. That would basically suck air, because then Raand would be punished for a crime he didn't commit, the true criminal would be loose, and I could still be a target.

All the more reason for searching for Charlotte Bebe's sister. But how could I get Marco to agree with me?

"Abigail," Mom said, shaking me out of my gloomy thoughts, "what do you think of the latest batch?" She was beaming as Grace set out a mirrored tray and placed her brooches on it. "They came out very well, didn't they?"

"Lovely," Grace said.

"You've outdone yourself once again, Mom," I said, gazing at the tray of heart-shaped red leaves with their yellow spadix in the centers. My niece's original a.s.sessment was right. The brooches did look like . . . well, whatev. "The only problem is, after Valentine's Day, sometimes gift items like these brooches don't sell well. Just so you understand."

"Thanks for the warning, honey, but considering how quickly the last one was snapped up, I have every hope these will move fast, too. Do you mind if I hang on to the original, though? I want to show it to your aunt Corrine at the country club Friday night. I thought she might want me to make some brooches for her women's club benefit raffle."

"No problem. Keep it as long as you like." To be honest, I didn't care if I ever saw another anthurium brooch again, even if mine had brought out the blush in my cheeks. Makeup worked for me. But dinner at the country club? Not so much.

I hated trying to figure out which water gla.s.s was mine, how to keep my napkin from sliding off my knees, and how to get a bad piece of meat out of my mouth without anyone noticing, but I dutifully attended our weekly family dinners there because they were important to Mom. In her eyes, belonging to a country club was the epitome of cla.s.s.

Thanks to my genius brothers, Jonathan and Jordan, who had joined the club as soon as they'd finished their medical residencies and established practices, Mom's dream had been partially realized, even though she and Dad couldn't afford the fees on his police salary, and Mom wasn't a member herself. Every Friday evening she gathered the Knight clan at the club to show off her highly skilled surgeon sons and her highly, um, freckled daughter.

"Abigail?" Mom asked, jerking me into the present. "Did you hear a word I said? Will you be bringing Marco to the country club with you on Friday night?"

Right. Last time we went, my family and Marco's family, whom my mom had secretly invited, threw us a surprise engagement party. The problem was that we weren't engaged. My aunt had seen me in a jewelry shop and a.s.sumed I was picking out a ring instead of what I'd actually been doing-investigating a murder.

Unfortunately, our families wouldn't believe us, so Marco and I had ended up promising to announce our engagement soon. They were still waiting, and not patiently. Which reminded me that Marco and I hadn't had that discussion yet.

First things first. Knowing Marco was within hearing distance, I took Mom's arm and walked her toward the door. "Unfortunately, Marco won't be able to make it. He took on a new PI case and will probably have to work straight through the weekend." Exaggerations did not count as lies.

"Can't he make an exception for one evening?" Mom asked.

"I'll ask, but don't count on it."

"Would you like me to ask him?"

Dear G.o.d, no. Marco wouldn't turn down an invitation from my mother for fear of offending my family. "I'm not sure I'll be able to make it, either, sadly. I'm way behind on my work here at the shop. I'll probably have to put in a few late evenings to catch up." Probably didn't count as a lie, either.

Mom looked appalled. "I'm so sorry, honey. I know how you love our get-togethers."

I shrugged, trying to look dejected. "That's the price a business owner pays, Mom. So, what time do you have to be back at school?"

She checked her watch. "Oh, phooey! I've got ten minutes to get back. Let me know what Marco says, okay?" She blew me a kiss, waved at Grace, and left.

"You won't be able to hold off taking Marco to the family dinner forever," Grace said.

"I don't need forever, only until Marco and I figure out our future."

Presuming, of course, I had one.

I headed into the workroom, where Marco was doing some research on the computer for his PI case. Draping my arms around his neck, I watched the monitor over his shoulder. "I was just thinking."

"It's never good when you start a sentence that way."

"If the DA is successful in getting Raand convicted, but Raand isn't the mastermind behind the kidnappings, the true culprit will still be out there and may come after me."

"Your point being?"

"That we should make a concerted effort to find out what the DA's evidence is. As Grace always says, 'Forewarned is forearmed.' "

"Abby."

"It wouldn't do any harm for me to call Morgan again, would it?"

"You've already trolled that pond. Morgan's not going to cooperate."

"Don't be such a pessimist. I have ways of making him talk."

Marco muttered something about me needing to have patience, but I had no time for that conversation. Leaving him to his computer work, I used the kitchen phone to dial the prosecutor's office, only to learn Morgan was in conference with the prosecutor.

"How long will he be?" I asked his secretary. "It's important I talk to him."

"It'll be a while," she said. "He and the prosecutor will be going straight into a meeting with Attorney Knowles."

"Knowles, of Chinn, Knowles, and Brown?"

"That's correct."

"Attorney Knowles represents Nils Raand, right?"

"That's correct, as well."

I had a strong hunch what that meeting was about. "Okay, thanks. I'll talk to him another time." A time when Morgan would be fully informed and ripe for the brain picking.

I hung up and quickly phoned Nikki, catching her before she left for work. "Hey, Nik, are you going to be seeing Greg this weekend?"

"We're having dinner together Friday night. Why?"

"Tell me you're not going to the country club again."

"Not for a long time. I'm still having nightmares about my close brush with the kidnappers. We're going to the new Greek restaurant instead."

Moussaka but no Mom. Perfect. "Want to double date?"

I caught movement from the corner of my eye and turned to see Marco leaning against the doorjamb, shaking his head slowly.

"Hold on, Nik." I covered the phone. "What?"

"If you have any ideas of pumping Morgan for information over dinner, forget it."

"How do you know that's what I had planned?" I whispered.

"I heard you call the prosecutor's office."

Make that overheard. Giving Marco a scowl, I said into the receiver, "Hold on another minute, Nikki."

I covered the phone again and whispered, "With Dave out of the picture, and with your ban on asking Reilly to help, Morgan is our best resource."

"So you're going to pump your best friend's boyfriend over dinner on a double date? That's kind of tacky, not to mention that you can barely tolerate Morgan."

"I think I should learn to like him, though, for Nikki's sake."

"You don't have a problem with taking advantage of Nikki's friendship?"

"It's what girlfriends do for each other, Marco."

He tweaked my nose. "You're cute when you're desperate."

"So, we're on with Nikki and Morgan for tomorrow night?"

"As long as you're not going to quiz Morgan."

I sighed in frustration. "Do you have a better plan?" "Are you going to keep Nikki waiting?"

"Hey, Nik? Do you mind holding?" I listened a moment, then said to Marco, "Go ahead."

"She's going to hold?"

"No, she hung up." I replaced the receiver. "How do you propose I get the information?"

Marco shoved away from the doorjamb and headed into the workroom. "You already know my answer to that."

And wasn't accepting it. All I could see was more days of being confined to the shop or having a sitter at my apartment. More days of having to negotiate to drive my own car. More days of waking to Nikki's screams.

Wait. An idea was forming.

We had flowers to deliver to Peter Chinn at the hospital, and Marco hated hospitals. If I could convince Marco to let Lottie drive me there, I could arrange a quick stop at the prosecutor's office afterward. Plus, as long as I would be seeing Peter, I might be able to persuade him to push through my door and ramp projects.

And my mom thought her sons were the geniuses of the family.

"Lottie, are those arrangements ready to go?" I asked, returning to the workroom.

"They will be in about five minutes, sweetie."

"Hey, Marco," I said, draping my arms around his neck, "since I know you hate hospitals, how about if I help Lottie deliver flowers there today?"

"How about if I help her instead?" he asked, his eyes on the monitor.

"But I love making deliveries. I miss that."

"Okay. Then you and I can make the deliveries."

Rats. That wouldn't work.

"Lottie, dear," Grace said, coming through the curtain with a tea tray, "didn't you say earlier that you wanted to stop by the nursery to see Paula's new baby?"

Lottie and I stared at Grace in befuddlement. I had no idea who Paula was, and by the look of it, Lottie didn't, either. Then I caught a mischievous gleam in Grace's eye and understood. There was no Paula. Grace knew in that uncanny way of hers that I needed to get away from Marco for a while and was doing what she could to help.

"Oh, that's right!" I chimed in. "Paula had her baby."

Lottie caught on. "Then we'll have to stop by the nursery to see the little darlin'. I'll take real good care of our gal here, Marco. We'll pull right up to the hospital's lower level entrance so we can unload our deliveries right where the guard is. Abby can even sit in the back of the van where no one can see her. We'll be back in less than an hour."

That was called teamwork.

"What do you say?" I asked Marco.

He gave me a look that said he wasn't completely buying it. "You really want to go?"

I nodded. "I really want to go."

"You're not nervous about leaving the safety of the building?"

Well, of course I was nervous. I wasn't a total moron. Still, in a show of bravery, I shook my head. My desire to be free from whoever had initiated the kidnappings was stronger than my fear of being kidnapped.

"Okay," he said with great reluctance.

I wanted to high-five my girls, but that would have been too obvious. Instead, Lottie and I waited until he'd gone back to his Internet search; then we huddled inside the walk-in cooler, ostensibly to gather the arrangements, but really to giggle together like naughty schoolmates.

"I don't know this Paula person," Lottie whispered, "but maybe we should take flowers to her anyway." She slapped her knee, chortling. "Poor Marco. He doesn't have a clue, does he?"

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

Ten minutes later, I was riding shotgun in the rented minivan we used for deliveries, drawing vertical lines in the condensation that had formed on the gla.s.s. Seated behind the wheel was Marco, who, as it turned out, had a clue after all.

"So what was your plan?" Marco asked, pulling out of the alley. "Make your hospital run, then get Lottie to stop at the courthouse afterward so you could talk to Morgan?"

I drew crosshatches through my lines, tic-tac-toe style. "Possibly."

He reached over to run his thumb under my chin. "Sunshine, don't you trust me to get the job done?"

"Yes. But you hate hospitals, so I thought-"

"Are you sure you trust me?"

I heard the hurt in his voice and turned to rea.s.sure him. "Of course I trust you. Haven't I always relied on you to get the job done?"