Perilously Fun Fiction: A Bundle, Pauline Jones [top 100 novels of all time .txt] 📗

would Dante be looking so hard? He was so close, so very close.

“Such a lovely day,” he heard Miss Weena say in that breathless way of hers. He peered around the crypt and saw, with satisfaction, that all three of the old ladies were walking into his trap. All he had to do was close the door.

Mickey didn’t get to lie down. He faxed the mug shot and was heading down the hall to the lounge when Delaney intercepted him, his face grim. Cold fear started a slow creep through his body.

“The old ladies took a walk this afternoon and haven’t been seen since. Louise got worried and gave a note to one of our watchers.”

Mickey cursed and rubbed his face in hopes it would clear his head and not just his vision. “Well, we wanted Maxwell to make his move. He smelled the trap and decided to have the money come to him.”

Delaney looked frustrated. “We should have told them what we were planning. Warned them—”

Not to tell them had been the captain’s decision. He’d be sweating this one out, big time, Mickey decided, but they’d all be in the hot seat if the old ladies got hurt.

Fear quit creeping and started a stampede. “We should go over there—”

Delaney shook his head. “Captain wants us to stay here for now and keep working.”

“APB?” Mickey asked, following him down the hall.

“Being treated as a kidnapping.” Delaney dropped into his chair. “Be interesting to see how Maxwell makes contact, since there’s no phone.”

“Did he say how Luci was taking it?” Mickey asked.

“She’s not home yet. Old ladies sent her out to run some errands—”

“What? Is she—”

“With a uniform,” Delaney said, a faint grin lightening his expression. “She’ll be back soon. I understand it was a long list.”

Dante knew the police were tailing him, but he wasn’t worried. They could follow him home if they wanted to waste their time and the taxpayers’ money. He missed Max but was too annoyed about Artie smoking him to do anything about it. He brooded all the way to his Garden District mansion. He’d do something about Artie when he found him. And Luci, who he was sure had set him up. It made the trip seem fast, despite the rush hour traffic slowing everything to a crawl.

When the limo swept around the curving drive in front of his house, he saw Cloris peering out the window, watching for him. It was enough out of character to stir up a mild interest.

Inside, she waited until the butler had taken his briefcase and handed him a drink before pulling him into the parlor and shutting the door. She was wringing her hands like a heroine in a melodrama and there was wildness to her eyes that sharpened his suspicions to a needlepoint.

“What’s going on?” He stopped her from turning away from him. “What’s happened?”

“He called me.”

This was just what he wanted to hear. Dante let her go and smiled. “Really? And what did he say?”

“He wants to meet—”

Dante grabbed her again. “Where?”

“Promise you won’t hurt him!”

“Of course.” The promise came easy. He could work out a story later.

“I mean it. He wants to come back to me. He misses me.” Pink flushed her cheeks. Dante wasn’t surprised she couldn’t look at him. He could hardly look at her. Did she believe him? Did it matter? Not really, he decided. He smiled more and patted her shoulder. “Of course he does. He was a fool to leave you.” He hesitated. “Did he mention your money?”

The pink turned red in her sallow cheeks. “He’s giving it all back. He only meant to borrow it until a deal came through for him.”

Sure he did. It was going to be a pleasure popping the bastard.

“What time is the meet?” Dante asked.

“At eleven tomorrow night,” she said. “In the Metairie cemetery. It was his idea,” she added, as if she expected Dante to object. “And I’m going.”

Dante gave a mental snort. It was a perfect meeting place. He made a mental note to put Cain and Abel on alert. They could quit watching the Seymour house, which was, of course, what Maxwell wanted. Get them in place at the cemetery well before Maxwell would be watching. Might as well let Maxwell have a clear field to move the money. When it was over, he’d tell them where he took it. He’d tell them everything before he died. When they were through, Cloris would pull the trigger herself.

22

The sound of a big truck accelerating away brought Mickey out of a sleep plagued with nightmares of being tortured on the rack. When he opened his eyes, he realized why. He’d fallen asleep in a chair. Now it felt like a drill was boring its way up his spine to the base of his head. When the Captain had sent them back to the Seymour house, he’d picked the chair for its discomfort factor, hoping it would keep him awake. He’d over-estimated the chair and under-estimated how tired he was.

Inch by painful inch, Mickey straightened out his spine, then took a breather before trying to stand. He heard a snore and discovered Delaney sprawled on a Victorian sofa across from him, his head bent at an angle that would soon make him wish he’d never been born. Another gentle snore issued from his slack jaw. Mickey rubbed his face and discovered a deep sleep crease running the length of one side that would probably take all day to fade.

“Delaney.” When Delaney didn’t move, Mickey kicked him, then wished he hadn’t moved, let alone kicked.

“Huh?” With some snorts and groans, Delaney came awake, revealing an interesting paisley pattern adorning one whole side of his face from the pillow he’d been resting on.

It was going to be a long day.

When they’d sorted themselves out, shaved bristling jaw lines and tried without success to rub away the creases, they joined Luci in the dining room.

She was sitting in Miss Theo’s place