Part 14 (1/2)
”Gisela, with all due respect, I can't imagine why anyone would have a problem with me seeing Mari Tirado. I didn't even meet her through Marco Padilla. She's the woman we looked up last spring who was doing community service for felony littering.”
If her burst of laughter was any indication, she didn't have a problem at all. ”You sure can pick 'em.”
”I'll have you know she picked me.”
Her jovial smile faded. ”Which is all the more reason for us to talk about this.”
”You don't think Mari's using me to influence you?” As much as I hated the thought, it sure cast Pepe's insistence I come along on the yacht in a whole new light. At least Mari's words and actions had settled any questions about her feelings for me.
”Surely not, but I want you to be aware in case it ever comes up that such an arrangement is out of the question. If she asks to speak to you about the foundation's investments, just tell her it's off limits.”
That night on the yacht, I'd been so impressed with Pepe's business ethics because of the way he'd shunned Michael's millions over a difference in values. Not only had he flip-flopped on that, he'd clearly stepped over a line by approaching Gisela for the foundation's investments. I didn't want to think he was acting sleazy, but when it quacks like a pato...
Over the past few weeks, I'd enjoyed so many wonderful things about this Magic City with Mari that I'd totally forgotten just how much I hate it!
My rude reminder came courtesy of Bird Road Auto Center.
From the privacy of my bathroom, I glared at my angry reflection in the mirror, amazed that Carlos the Mechanic hadn't been the least bit intimidated by this look. ”Did I not specifically ask him if a new fuel pump was covered under the two hundred dollars?”
Carlos had called his ten-year-old son over to explain in English how the pump itself was what he said was under two hundred dollars, and I'd agreed for him to go ahead and get the part. The labor, he said, was another one-eighty and the towing an extra fifty. Obviously, it was my fault I couldn't understand his atrocious English, and also that I now had the equivalent of two months' of groceries floating on my credit card at eighteen percent interest.
It was easily the worst day I'd had in months. Years, actually, since Emily's leaving had been a blessing in disguise. I was even a little glad Mari was seeing a client in Ft. Lauderdale tonight because she didn't deserve to be subjected to my bad mood. Besides the issue with my car, I had stewed all afternoon over Gisela's news about Pepe's business proposition, wondering if I should say something to Mari to get Pepe to back off. I wouldn't want to see either of them embarra.s.sed, and a request from the chairman for Pepe's resignation could have that effect. But then just before I left for the day, Gisela came back into my office to say she'd called him and explained the difficulties, and he'd a.s.sured her he understood.
”At least one thing went right today.”
What I needed now was a long soak in a hot tub with a trashy book. In absence of such a book, I settled for a copy of Edith's AARP magazine, which she'd given me because of a story on senior volunteering. From there, I was drawn to a depressing article about how much a single woman needed to save for retirement. At the rate I was saving, I'd have to work till I was ninety.
A booming voice from the intercom speaker in the hallway startled me so much I dropped the magazine in the tepid water. Whatever Javier said was entirely in Spanish-abbadabba...abbadabba-probably another scolding for someone to move their car out of the circle before it was towed. Edith was right about needing a rule to limit intercom use to emergencies, especially at night.
I dressed in baggy cargo shorts and a T-s.h.i.+rt so I could sit out on the balcony for a while before turning in, hoping there was a breeze to keep the mosquitoes away. When I slid the door open, I was. .h.i.t by the unmistakable smell of something burning.
”What the-”
Several floors down, directly below Edith and Mordy's apartment, thick black smoke poured from the balcony. Two enormous fire trucks, horns blasting and lights flas.h.i.+ng, converged on the street below from opposite directions, scattering those who had already run from the building.
That's when it struck me what Javier had said. Abbadabba fuego...fire! The building was burning down around us and it never occurred to him to have someone make the announcement in English so we Americans could get out.
I banged on the Osterhoffs' door until Mordy appeared. ”There's a fire on one of the floors right under us. We have to get out now!”
”Zayin b'ayin!” His favorite Hebrew phrase, something about a d.i.c.k in your eye.
With me carrying their indifferent cat Marvin, we headed for the stairwell and found it gray with smoke. I pulled my T-s.h.i.+rt up over my face and tucked Marvin underneath next to my bare stomach so we wouldn't keel over from smoke inhalation.
One floor below, we ran into Ronaldo Garcia, who apparently had returned to his apartment to retrieve a pouch. ”Medicina para Isabel.” Medicine for the baby. He took Edith's arm and walked with her the rest of the way. The Perfect Man.
Hundreds of people from our building and those nearby had gathered on the street to watch as the fire crews brought the blaze under control. Edith chatted with some of her friends from the pool and came back to report that a woman had left a candle unattended and it was caught by billowing drapes.
”Idiot,” Mordy grumbled. ”She could have killed us all.”
I was still fuming about the fact that Javier had warned everyone only in Spanish. If I'd been listening carefully, I might have caught enough of what he said to know there was a problem, especially since I noticed the sign by the elevator every single day-En caso de fuego...in case of fire...no use el ascensor...do not use the elevator. But it was unconscionable we didn't even have a system for emergencies that all of us could understand, and from the grumbling of the other residents, I wasn't the only one who thought so. Our homeowners a.s.sociation would have to remedy that.
When the fire marshal finally cleared us to go back inside, the elevator on our wing was so packed I offered to take Marvin up by the stairs. He got heavier at every floor but at least he remained true to his nature, calm and compliant. Mordy would have said he was too lazy to squirm.
To my delight, their door was propped open when I reached the hall and I dropped my furry load inside, where he immediately collapsed as though exhausted from being carried up fifteen flights of stairs. My arms and legs were burning with fatigue.
”I'm glad this day's almost over,” I groaned. ”It started out horrible and stayed that way.”
Mordy chortled. ”You think you had a bad day, you should ask Edith about hers.”
”Mordecai Osterhoff! We agreed we wouldn't tell anyone.”
”You agreed. Besides, this is Daphne. We've got no secrets from her.”
As much as I wished that weren't the case, it was essentially true, thanks to our adjoining balconies and their penchant for arguing outside.
”Edith had a little run-in with the boys in blue today.”
”It was a misunderstanding!”
”I'll say.” Now that he'd opened the can of worms, he took his usual seat on the couch, smirking at Edith's discomfort.
”I went over to Target this morning. Marvin won't eat anything but Fancy Feast and they have it cheaper than anybody in town. Mordy said he was going to the pool.”
”Which I did,” he interjected.
”Except on my way home from the store, I saw him leaving in a car with another woman. I got so mad...”
I instantly regretted giving Edith back her gun, even though I'd watched her remove all the bullets. ”Please tell me you didn't-”
”I yelled at them but they wouldn't stop, so I followed them up Biscayne all the way to the stoplight by Walgreen's. I swear it was just a little tap on the b.u.mper.”
”You rammed their car?” Obviously, I had underestimated her ability to surprise.
”Just a little scratch...but when they got out I saw it wasn't Mordy after all.”
Mordy hooted hysterically. ”That's what you get, you crazy woman!”
”Edith! What did you do?”
”What do you think I did? I lied. I told the policeman it was just an accident...that a bee flew in the car. I wrote the woman a check for four hundred dollars right there on the spot and he let me off with a warning. Four hundred dollars for a stupid little scratch!”
”With intent to maim,” Mordy added. ”You're lucky you aren't in jail.”
At Edith's urging, I followed her out to the balcony where we could talk privately.