Chapter 17
Lillian
After snapping a pod of decaf into my Keurig, I pause at the window. Five stories below, delivery trucks clog the street. Motorists lean on their horns. Teenagers argue while a heavy bass drum thumps from a black Cadillac idling outside the corner bodega.
Mug in hand, I plop down at the kitchen table between Ruthie and my sister. “You guys should get some sleep. Dante says there’s nothing we can do.”
“How much longer?” Rebecca yawns, frowning at her phone.
“Sean might not be released until this afternoon. I’ll call you the moment he gets home. Okay?” Worried about my aging neighbor, I stand and head for the door, hoping she’ll take the hint.
Unlike her usual exuberant self, Ruthanne inches to her feet. “They will drop the charges, right?”
“The video was fake. Dante will prove it. Probably never go to court.” Nodding, I unlock the deadbolt, then tug on the handle.
Now at my side, my friend’s blue-veined, wrinkled hands pat mine. “I’m going to ask around the senior center. The police might not find that awful woman, but my friend, Mr. Antinori, has connections. He’ll make a suggestion the horrible grifter won’t be able to refuse.”
“Appreciate the offer, Ruthie. How about we leave him as a last resort?” Picturing a mob hit, I shake my head at my sister. I have no idea who this retired gangster is, but I’m guessing Sean’s grandmother should steer clear.
At the door, Becks embraces me. “Call me, okay?”
“I will. Bye.” As I wave them off, the elevator at the end of the hall opens.
“Morning, ladies. How about we head inside so we can talk?” Mason, AKA Mace, AKA deliciously handsome co-worker, steps out of the elevator, strolling right into my apartment.
Much like the Pied Piper of Hamelin, Ruthie and Becks follow.
Shit. So much for my catnap.
“What are you doing here?” Muttering under my breath, I brew some joe.
The grinning bodyguard snatches a cup from the dish drainer and shrugs. “Think of it as insurance, just in case.”
Introductions over, I sink into the navy-blue living room lounge chair. The two ladies choose the couch.
Mace grabs a kitchen chair, places it on the other side of the coffee table, then straddles it.
“Sooo… you work with Lillian?” Running her tongue over her lower lip, Rebecca eyes him from the top of his black curly hair to his sneakers. “What exactly do you do?”
“Whatever needs to be done.” Dante’s man tilts his head, his gaze lingering on her lips.
When Grams winks at me, confirming my fears, I jump up. “Brunch, anyone? Becks, how about you start some scrambled eggs? I’ll make toast. Ruthie? You should invite Mace to your art show.”
Soon, they’re both laughing uncontrollably. After they join us in the kitchen, Grams pulls out her phone, sharing some of her Suds and Draw favorites. As I’m about to suggest a polite game of Scrabble, the key rattles in the door.
“Down.” Lightning-fast, Mace snatches his weapon.
As he aims, Sean enters with his handsome friend Dante behind him. “For fuck’s sake, don’t shoot. It’s us.”
Circles under his eyes, favorite gray sweats covered in grime, my fiancé is everything I need. Racing into his open arms, I delight in his scent, sweaty clothes and all.
Ruthanne’s embrace is next, followed by a quick hug from Becks.
As she steps back, Dante nods at Mason. “Thanks. Keep an eye on the street. We got it from here.”
Snatching her huge purse, Sean’s grandmother waves. “Toodle-loo. I’m off to bed. Come along, Rebecca.” Her fingers snap. “The sexy man is gone.”
Rolling her eyes, my sister follows her into the elevator. The moment the death trap reaches the third floor, I heave out a heavy sigh. “Finally.”
Sean grins. “Want me to call them back?”
“Kill me now…” I turn toward our boss. “Tell me you found something, anything, to link that conniving grifter to our investigation.”