spitting cobra. “Grow up,” she told herself, and picked up the phone.
“Got news,” Greg said.
Mel couldn’t breathe and her legs felt like rubber. “Okay.”
“You should probably sit.”
Right. She fell into her chair. “Sitting. Go.”
“The deed Bo Black has in his possession is legit.”
Dimi burst into the office, took one look at Mel’s face, and sank to a chair.
“Sally deeded North Beach,” Greg continued. “And all its possessions, except for what’s in the individually rented hangars, to Eddie Black. When Eddie Black died, everything he owned went to his sole beneficiary-Bo Black.”
“How long ago?” Mel asked.
“Ten years.”
She’d been working for Bo for ten years. Worse, Sally had known all this time…Every time she’d called, she’d known. Every time she’d drained the accounts, she’d known. Every time she’d asked Mel how things were, she’d known…“How did you find out?” she asked hoarsely.
“City records. Not that hard to find, actually. In fact, anyone could look this sort of thing up and get answers.”
Mel thought of the e-mail note and the letter she’d received. “Can anyone figure out that I went looking?”
“These days, with computer trails and such, yes.”
Mel nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her. “Thanks,” she managed, hung up, and thunked her head to the desk. “My God.”
“There has to be a reason,” Dimi said. “He threatened her. Something.”
“Maybe.”
“Definitely.”
Bo was still away on his flight, but Mel knew she’d have to face him eventually. Knowing it felt like torture. For the next few hours, her pulse beat unevenly, and she kept breaking out into a sweat.
The deed was legit.
Life as she knew it had changed forever, but she was nothing if not a survivor. She had plenty of smiles in her arsenal, and she pulled them out now, pasting on the “I’m Fine” smile for everyone who looked her way. And she’d leave it there until she knew for sure what the hell had happened, and why.
The next e-mail came in just before closing. Mel stared at it: BackOffOrElse. As before, the body of the e-mail was blank, but this time there was a subject line.
I mean it.
Mel felt the tingle go down her spine and knew she was getting close. To what, she had no clue.
Chapter 13
Mel waited for Bo until 5:30, then couldn’t handle it anymore. She grabbed her things and left her office. Dimi was gone, she’d left much earlier, without a word, making Mel’s chest tighten with worry. Mel had loved Sally, but Dimi had positively worshipped the woman, and so for her, this would be harder.
Mel’s brain had been racing since Greg’s call, pounding with what if’s-if Bo hadn’t gone into the military, if he’d gone through his father’s things sooner, if, if, if…
In any of those scenarios, she and everyone here would have been gone years ago.
The implications of that staggered her. All this time she’d never been in charge, not of her life, not of this place…
Ernest was in the parking lot, and as she came out he looked at his watch. “You’re punching out early.”
“It’s five thirty.”
“Early for you.”
“I wasn’t the one who wasted two hours this afternoon napping in the storage closet.”
“Maybe you’ve been napping with your eyes open.”
A more real truth had never been spoken. “You ever trace that e-mail?”
He took off his cap, scratched his greasy head, then narrowed his beady eyes on her. “I told you I was working on it. Why?”
“I got another one.”
“Hmmm.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m glad I’m not you,” he said.
“Can you trace it or not?”
“I’ll look,” he said, and hitching up his pants, moved toward the building. “But it’d be helpful if you stopped doing whatever you’re doing to get them mad in the first place.”
Yeah, she’d just stop what she was doing-except she didn’t know what that was.
Then it hit her-she did know. It was that she was tracing the deed-looking for Sally.
Feeling more fragile than fine china, she got into her car. She picked up a pizza, then drove to Dimi’s.
Dimi opened her door, took one look at the box, and blew out a breath. “You know how I feel about carbs.”
“It’s thin crust.”
“Well, all right, then.” She made a show of looking around Mel. “At least you didn’t bring him.”
“Who?”
“Him. You know, bastard Bo.”
“Dimi-”
“Sorry.” But she didn’t sound like it.
Dimi wore a pale, pale yellow sundress that revealed her willowy lean form. They sat on the beach, bare toes in the sand, watching the waves pound the surf while they consumed the pizza and a beer each.
Light for Dimi.
Not light for Mel.
Dimi daintily sipped her beer as if this was high tea, the bracelets on her wrists jangling, a frown on her mouth. She brushed the nonexistent crumbs from her fingers. “Well. The evening is still young. I’ve got to go live it.”
“We should talk about it, Dimi.”
“Why?”
“It’d be the mature thing to do.”
“Damn. I hate it when you’re grown-up.” She played her toes in the sand. “I don’t get it, Mel. Why would she do this to us and never say a word about it? Why would she let us think everything was status quo?” Her voice thickened with tears. “Hell, we were sending her money. Money that wasn’t even hers.”
Mel shook her head. She felt sick about it, too.
“The only thing I can think is, she somehow lost the deed to him in an unfair bet or something, and by letting us send her money, she was trying to get back what Eddie had stolen from her.” Dimi looked up at her, hopeful once more. “That has to be it, Mel.”
“Then why didn’t she return my call? Why did she change her number?”
Dimi closed her eyes, shook her head stubbornly. “Something’s wrong.”
“I’m afraid so, yes.”
“We have to help her.”
Mel made a pained sound. Help Sally? She’d have loved to. Only Sally didn’t want their help and they both knew it. “Dimi-”
“Don’t say it.”
“She crossed the line. She stole money. She had us steal money.”
“But there’s a reason.” Her voice shook. “I know it.”
Mel reached for Dimi’s hand. “Listen to me. I don’t know what’s going on. Like you, I want to believe there’s
