Family Jewels (Dix Dodd Mystery #2)

Chapter 17

The gals of the Goosebump Inn all gathered around when the police came to check on Lance’s rental. It was all there. All of it, even Harriet’s missing ring. And more.

Apparently, Big Eddie had been working and waiting for years, spying on his fellow Wildoh residents, gathering information on who owned what. Building confidences. Planning who to steal from, and who to set up. Frankie’s disappearance was just a convenience to him. When he had the plan ready, he called his nephew, Lance (oh poor boy; not aptly named) and put the plan into place. And it would have worked, had it not been for … me. A fact I told everyone who’d listen, and even some who wouldn’t. (Harriet Appleton held her hands over her ears in a very childish way.)

Later in the day, Mother had a talk with Frankie. It wasn’t that she’d run away from him back at the rec room. She’d run away from the moment. “Too much, Dix,” she explained. “Too much, too soon.” Well, it wasn’t much of a talk in that the communication was pretty much one way. Mother’s way. All the way.

“We’re through, Frankie Morrell.”

Frankie pleaded his case. He’d been lost. Disoriented. Wandering around in the swamp for days. Oh my word, he could hardly remember a thing! Frog amnesia, mother assured him. Frankie swore that had to be the case.

Deputy Almond, however, was putting his money on a different excuse for Frankie’s amnesia. Apparently an over-zealous dominatrix (aptly titled the Dark Intruder) had taken a session a little too far with a few select clientele. One of her leather-clad clients had gotten away and called the police. Whereupon the old dom had figured it was game over and released the remaining gentlemen before the police raid.

That case was still open, with numerous charges pending against the Dark Intruder (and surprisingly no more men coming to the fore to testify against her). Almond was anxious to talk to Frankie. Anxious to get him downtown to ask a few questions and get a few answers. Though I didn’t know how anxious Frankie would be to talk about these alleged dungeon days.

Deputy Almond told me this discreetly. Not within range of the prying ears of the Wildoh. He saved Mother that humiliation at least.

But I hated to have to tell these things about Frankie to Mother.

Turns out I didn’t have to. She was through with Frankie. Completely. Eternally. No, it wasn’t Cotton Carson. Nor really even Frankie’s disappearance (which was, after all, her frog-related doing). In fact this breakup had been a long time coming. That’s what they’d been fighting about before Frankie had even disappeared. That’s what the watch had been about. Not only did Frankie give her that expensive piece of jewelry to try to win her back, he’d had it engraved. That’s why mother had been so desperate to get it back. Not because of the expense of the gift, or soft sentiment toward the giver, but because of what Frankie had had engraved:

Katt Dodd, marry me?

It was a personal thing. A privacy thing. And now, a done thing.

“Are you going to call Cotton, Mom?” I asked her.

She smiled. “Maybe. Probably. He’s nice enough.”

“I think he’ll be your knight in shining armor,” Mrs. Presley suggested.

Katt Dodd smiled at her. Smiled at Dylan and me standing there in her living room. “Oh, I don’t need a knight in shining armor, Jane. I’ve got daughters.”

~*~

“I told you before, Katt,” Mona said. “I do not take charity.”

“Oh for Pete sake, Mona. How can it be charity? It’s your birthday. With everything going on, I didn’t get a chance to go out and buy you a present. The least you can do is let me take you out for a night on the town.”

Mrs. P was finally getting her wish. We — me, Dylan, Mom, Mrs. Presley — were all bingo bound. It was our last night in Florida. Our flights were booked for tomorrow — one way to Marport City. The BMW would stay with Mom. Least I could do. No, not quite. The least I could do was insist — finally insist — that my mother sell me the condo. I’d been there too long free of charge. She needed the funds. With business the way it was, I could easily now get the mortgage. Sure it would mean giving up some things — such as the new fancy-schmancy office in favor of going back to the old office (I heard the plastic aloe vera still rested in peace on the window sill), but that was fine.

Dylan had rented a Lexus to drive us around in style. I’d made reservations at the Maison Petite Colombe. And after dinner, we’d be playing at the biggest bingo hall in Florida. High-dollar bingo around the clock, satellite hookups to link the biggest games across the state, big screen TVs to display the numbers on, the whole shebang.

It didn’t take a hell of a lot of arm twisting to convince Mona to join us. Tish was having some decorators over and Mona didn’t really want to be there for that. (The papers weren’t even signed yet, and Tish was going in for the kill.) Plus despite Mona’s stiff upper lip, finding out about Big Eddie’s betrayal had to hurt. Mother had offered her a place to stay as long as she needed, but with a despair that frightened me, Mona refused.

But she would come out with us this night.

Mother was worried, too. I could tell. But it was an edged worry as we got ready. One that I could not place. She was more thoughtful than usual. Not lost in thought so much as working within thought. We dressed — dolled ourselves up for the evening. Mother wore the new watch I gave her. And lastly she put on the family jewel. The diamond ring Peter Dodd had given her.

“I’m worried about Mona, Mother,” I said. “Where will she go?” Dylan had done some checking, or rather some more checking on Mona Roberts. The granddaughter was well again. Cancer in remission. Getting stronger every day, thanks to Mona covering the hospital bills, which had depleted her own savings. But financially, Mona’s daughter was barely scraping by. There was not enough for the two of them, and Mona didn’t want to add to their burden.

Of course, Mom looked like a million bucks. Young. Full of life.

Mona came over around six, and despite the situation in her life, looked almost as wonderful as Mom did. She smiled best she could.

The doorbell rang shortly after her arrival.

“That’ll be Dylan,” Mrs. P said.

I knew it was. I caught myself then. The little tummy sucking anticipation, the smile that threatened to play. I knew it wasn’t a date. Even as I walked to the door, and swung it wide, I knew it wasn’t a date.

Oh shit.

It was a date.

Dylan looked like a million bucks, too, in his faded jeans, print shirt and navy Hugo Boss jacket. Casual but damned elegant. His hair was freshly washed and tamed, and his skin glowed. I’d bet the Manolo Blahnik mules (Mother’s) on my feet that he’d been to a barber for an old-fashioned straight razor shave. He looked, and smelled, good enough to eat.

Oh, and he was carrying flowers. Lots of them. And it was with school-boy charm that he pinned a corsage on Mona, Mrs. P and my mother. The ladies all giggled as they walked out to the car. The big bouquet of red roses could only be for me.

I smiled as Dylan handed them over.

“Thank you, Dylan.” I tipped onto my toes to kiss his cheek.

He smiled down at me. “What happened here … between us….” He glanced to the fold out couch where so recently we’d teased and tantalized each other. Where we’d gotten so close.

My heart lurched. Sent up that big red flag again. Because Dix Dodd didn’t do close. End of story. But somehow my mantra wasn’t doing for me what it was supposed to do.

“Don’t worry, Dylan,” I said. “What happens in Florida stays in Florida.”