“Sure, Brad. What can I do to help?”
“Just pick up the disposables and put them in the bin over there. Put the lid on tight. Raccoons have been menacing the neighborhood lately.”
Dwayne cleared up the napkins, plastic glasses, and bottles. He bundled them in the heavy paper tablecloth and carried them to the side of the house, speculating on how Brad was planning to broach the subject of his daughter’s honor.
“Look, Brad, let’s cut to the chase. I’m very fond of Marla and we’re having a great time together. I’d never do anything to deliberately hurt her. I consider myself a fortunate man that she’s even interested in me. So don’t…”
Brad put up a hand. “Understood. That’s not what I wanted to talk about.”
“It isn’t?”
“No, I wanted an update on what your ex-wife’s been up to and ask if there’s anything I could do. My partners and I have used the services of a very good private investigator for some insurance fraud claims. I’d be happy to put you in touch with her.”
He clapped Brad on the shoulder and laughed.
They were halfway to Marla’s house when she asked, “So was it terribly embarrassing when Dadley laid down the law about his daughter?”
He glanced at her and grinned. “No. I hate to break it to you, but he’s not the least bit interested in your chastity. He wanted to offer me the services of a private dick that does investigations for his firm.”
“You mean all the agonizing I did this afternoon was for nothing?”
The fact she wanted to spare him embarrassment warmed his heart. He laid his hand on her knee. “He as good as turned on the green light, Danaher.”
“He did?”
“We’re good to go.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Friday afternoon, Marla waved to Dwayne and Jack when they pulled the big trailer off her lot. They got out of the way just before the pavers arrived to begin work to resurface the parking lot. She breathed a sigh of relief that her project would be fully completed in less than a week.
“Buenos días, señora.” A burly Hispanic man approached her carrying a clipboard. “We ready for begin.” He reached over and petted Skipper on the head. “Yo quiero Taco Bell?” He winked and guffawed at his own joke then wiped his eyes with a large red bandanna.
She giggled and hugged Skip then walked through the job with the man and pointed out the areas she was particularly concerned with. “The landscape contractor is scheduled to begin next Tuesday. Will there be any problem with him parking here? Will that be long enough for the surface to…um, be ready?”
His face broke into a dazzling grin. “No problema, we gone tomorrow sundown. Plenty time, okay?”
She returned his smile. “Okay.” Nodding, she went inside the building to do a final check of Miss Emmaline’s apartment. It had to look perfect for the old woman she’d come to love.
Before entering the elevator, she checked to make sure all the shiny new mailboxes in the lobby had keys in the locks. As soon as the elevator doors opened on the second floor, Skipper trotted down the hall and stood waiting for her at Emmaline’s door. “You’re a smart doggie, Skippy.”
She took her time. Adjusted a picture frame here, moved a lamp there. Kneeling, she ran her hand over the new, short-pile carpeting. “Look, Skip, isn’t this nice?” She was amazed at what a good job Dwayne had done putting the place back together just the way Emmaline had it. “She’ll love her new home.”
Lifting Skipper, she slid her purse over her shoulder and opened the front door. She jumped back and gasped at the man standing in the hall blocking her exit. Skip barked and bared his teeth in a low, menacing growl.
“Who are you? What do you want?” Momentarily paralyzed with indecision, she held her keychain with the apartment key gripped firmly between her fingers in case she needed to use it as a stabbing weapon.
“Mean little bastard, ain’t he?” The wiry, unshaven man with dead black eyes stared back. A faded rattlesnake tattoo wound around his ropy neck.
She had no idea who he was. “Get out of here, whoever you are. You have no business in this building.” She prayed the pulse pounding in her throat wasn’t betraying her fear.
“I came to tell you to keep your nose outta my wife’s business. You’re asking for trouble.”
What in the name of all that’s holy was this thug talking about? “I don’t know you, and I’m sure I don’t know your wife. Now, please leave.”
“You’re the bitch fuckin’ Dempsey, aren’t ya?”
A blow to her stomach wouldn’t have robbed her of her breath as much as this evil man’s evil words. Unable to breathe or speak, a cold wave of nausea built in her throat, sweat bloomed on her forehead.
He sneered with satisfaction. “I see we understand each other.” He turned on his heel, his retreating steps snapping loudly on the hard surface under battered, black cowboy boots.
Tears of raw shock flooded Marla’s eyes. She sucked in a ragged breath, backed into the apartment, and flipped the lock. Leaning her back against the door, she slid down and landed on the carpet with a thump, dislodging Skipper from her arms.
He whimpered and stared into her eyes, silently imploring her. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.” But was it?
She rose and crept to the window overlooking the parking lot. No sign of him, but he wouldn’t have parked where the paving crew was working. She moved to the corner window with a view of the street and spotted an old, battered blue car disappearing down the road.
Hadn’t Dwayne or one of his brothers said something about a blue car the night Francine showed up on her dad’s birthday? The man must be her husband, Luke Henry, the convict. A cold chill raced down her back and she hugged herself for warmth.
Should she call Dwayne? Marla paced and nuzzled her dog for comfort. “What should I do, Skippy? I
