Wine, Dine and Christmas Crimes, Maria Swan [best short novels of all time .TXT] 📗

I nodded.

The Fiat inched ahead. My hands trembled so much I had trouble driving, and the beeping of the seatbelt alarm was driving me mad. I made a slow U-turn and headed up toward the gate. Dry sobs shook my chest, and then a large shadow darkened the entrance to the underground garage.

A black car. OMG! I recognized Dale Wolf’s Maserati. So did Walter. He slid low in his seat.

“Keep going,” he hissed.

I couldn’t. This was my only chance. I stared at the black sedan moving forward. I stared with all my might, summoning Dale Wolf to look my way. I might or might not have succeeded. It didn’t matter.

Gold Buttons had slipped down below the cramped space between seats and pressed his hand on my foot resting on the gas. The Fiat leapt at full speed toward the exit, just as the Maserati slowed down as it approached my car. I turned the steering wheel in one sharp motion, and the right front bumper of my car hit the passenger side of the Maserati with the force of a falling boulder. Then spun out of control. The air bags exploded, blowing powder everywhere, and we slammed into something so jarring, I thought my little car might just disintegrate around me. We stopped...dead.

TWENTY-THREE

I SAT IN the lobby of The Nest, next to Dale Wolf, answering questions—to the media— wishing I could disappear forever.

I couldn’t.

I kept one eye on the police activity and the other outside where both my Fiat and Dale’s Maserati were being towed away. And this was not a scene from a movie or a TV show.

I had managed to wreck two Italian automobiles in one move. And no one had been hurt. At least not physically. My heart was a whole different story. Dale Wolf didn’t seem a bit concerned about his car, too busy recounting for the hundredth time how my “fearless and impromptu maneuver had saved my life and that of Kay Lewis.”

The man knew how to spin a tale and how to offer his best side to the cameras. We even posed together for one of the local channels, like old chums. Wasn’t sure how I was ever going to live that one down around Desert Homes Real Estate.

In spite of my assumptions and fears, Kay wasn’t harmed. Apparently Walter was already in the elevator when she got on it, and like me, she assumed he was one of the utilities techs—at least until he started to fight for her purse and she’d fainted to land on top of the purse just as the elevator’s door opened where I stood waiting. She was now at the hospital being checked out as a precaution.

The cops had dragged away a weeping Walter in cuffs. That was such a pathetic sight, this grown man crying and shouting he never meant to hurt Ana. How could he? He loved her. His hard hat removed, he looked like a cartoonish creature with his curly greyish hair all stuck to his scalp and the bruises on his face from when he’d huddled down in the seat and the safety bags blew up.

That was probably one of the scariest experiences of my life. Totally unexpected and it nearly knocked me out. And now there I was, half of my face swollen, no more Fiat, no signed contract for the condo, and I’d missed both my hair and nails appointments.

Dale Wolf made sure my swollen side didn’t show in the photos we took together for the media. You could say that he took charge of the situation, and to his credit he was doing a superb job at including both his company and Desert Homes when he told, once again, how the lucky ending went down.

And now that the slippery doorman was in custody, it appeared that the electric problems had been resolved. I had no clue where my phone was or if it was working. Some helpful person had collected my belongings from the Fiat and put them in a large plastic bag similar to the ones they gave you after a hospital stay. All that happened after I made it clear I wasn’t going to any hospital, no siree.

The EMI checked my vitals and declared I would be sore for a week or two, but I was good to go. Go where? It was past lunchtime, and neither Dale Wolf nor myself had been given the green light to leave the premises.

The lobby of The Nest was abuzz with activity. No doubt each and every resident and any relative or friend who lived near was walking around ogling us, the outsiders who saved the day. We were the attraction of the day. Come one, come all, free peek.

Okay, that was my opinion. I had no clue what they all thought.

As I began to calm down, reality took hold of my mind, and my dinner date with Tristan brought a whole new level of angst into the picture. So much for all my plans. No hair, no nails, and half my face the size of a cantaloupe. Yep, it would be an evening to remember, for sure.

And suddenly it dawned on me that no one had shown up or called to ask about my well-being. Dale had received at least a dozen phone calls, and his significant other had called twice. I wanted to go home. I needed to go home. How? Certainly Bob Clarke had heard by now, and I hoped he told Brenda. Oh, I never did pick up her Christmas present either, and now I was without a car.

Breathe, Monica, breathe. My anxiety must have been hard to miss because Dale Wolf reached over and patted my arm. “Don’t get yourself too stressed out, Monica. It will all work out. Kay had the contract with her and made sure it got to your office on time.”

Huh? He thought I was worried about the contract?

“Out of curiosity, what are