Crime Wave Page 2

  Arthur paused with his hand on the door and turned to look at me. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”

  With that, he walked out of my office. Obviously, he thought my last question didn’t warrant an answer. Whatever. I had a case now and that was all that mattered. I hurried over to the window and watched as Arthur climbed into his Lexus and drove off.

  I glanced at my watch. It was exactly ten a.m. Where was my assistant? The thought had barely floated from my mind when the front door opened wide. Dorothy rushed through with a giant white purse looped over her arm. We’d only met briefly since I’d arrived in Miami.

  Her gray hair was pulled up high and pinned into a prim bun at the back of her head. Her orange tropical-print skirt reached to her ankles, drawing even more attention to her spiffy silver-sequined canvas sneakers. A white linen blouse finished off her ensemble. Dorothy had a spry gleam in her blue eyes and the knobs of her cheeks were painted with bright pink blush.

  “I’m here now.” Dorothy waved her arm through the air as if all my troubles were now over.

  I jumped up from my desk, grabbing the file. “Dorothy, I’m glad you’re here. I have a case and I need to get started right away. You can stay and answer the phone for me, right?”

  We both knew that the chances of someone calling were slim, but it could happen and I wanted to be as professional as possible.

  Dorothy stopped in her tracks, placing her hands on her hips. She tilted her eyeglasses down on her little nose and her mouth dropped open. Finally, after gawking at me for several seconds she said, “You got a job? But it’s your first day.”

  “I know. Isn’t it great? I mean, it’s only a cheating spouse case, but hey, it’ll help pay the bills around here.” I waved the file through the air.

  Uncle Griffin had left me a small amount of money to keep the business afloat until I could get on my feet, but that money was running out fast.

  Her mouth twisted into a smile, then she said, “Well, that’s fabulous. You go ahead and I’ll somehow manage the phones.” She waved me off.

  Okay, now she was just mocking me. Dorothy had worked for my Uncle Griffin for several years, but other than that, I didn’t know much about her. In his will, he had insisted that she keep her job at the agency. In spite of her sometimes sarcastic tone, I liked her well enough.

  I grabbed my purse and gun and headed for the door. “I’ll have my cell phone if you need me.”

  “I’ll make sure to call you, dear.” She scoffed and waved me off again.

  I was sure she just wanted me gone so she could get to her knitting. Who was she knitting for anyway? We lived in Miami, for heaven’s sake. It was nine thousand degrees outside.

  I headed out the door and toward my little red Ford Focus. The smell of sea tickled my nostrils and a few hundred seagulls circled the area. Okay, maybe it wasn’t a few hundred, but I was pretty sure the birds were plotting to dive-bomb my head at any moment. Visions of that Alfred Hitchcock movie flashed through my head. I hurried to my car and jumped in, dumping my purse onto the passenger seat and securing my gun in the glove compartment.

  With the key in the ignition, I turned the engine, but nothing other than a loud cranking noise sounded. I tried again with the same result. Of all the damn times for my car to bite it. I hit the steering wheel with my fists, but that only made matters worse because now my hands were aching.

  I glanced out the window toward the sky and watched the birds as they continued to circle the area. What would I do now? Grabbing my gun and purse, I hopped out of the car and marched back to the office.

  Chapter Two

  Dorothy tossed her knitting needles on the floor and clutched her chest when I rushed through the door. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  “Sorry, the birds…” I gestured.

  She shook her head and frowned. “I promised I wouldn’t feed them anymore. As soon as they realize I’m not handing out food they’ll go away.”

  I waved my hand. “Never mind that. I think my car battery is dead and I need to use your Cadillac.”

  Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry, Maggie, but no one drives my car but me.”

  I gaped at her. “Are you serious?”

  She eased the knitting needles and yarn from the floor and stuffed them into her purse. “Dead serious.”

  I released a deep breath and ran my hand through my hair. This was not going as I’d envisioned it. “Okay, fine. You’ll have to drive me then.”

  “But who will answer the phones?” She pointed at the receiver with a smirk.

  “Oh, let’s be real. No one is going to call. I’ll just forward all calls to my cell phone. Now grab your purse and let’s go.” I motioned over my shoulder.

  Once inside her Cadillac, I had second thoughts about asking her to drive. Dorothy stood at about four foot ten. She had the seat pushed all the way to the front of the steering wheel and a huge pillow propped behind her back just so she could reach the gas pedal.

  “So you decided to get a Cadillac, huh?” I glanced over my shoulder and watched as her car came dangerously close to mine parked directly behind her.

  Why had she gotten such a huge car?

  “There’s more metal to protect me in case of a crash,” she offered.

  I fastened my seat belt and said a silent prayer. Dorothy punched the gas and my head lurched forward then slammed back onto the headrest.

  “Sorry about that. The pedal sticks sometimes,” she said as she steered the big wheel.

  “Not a problem,” I said, rubbing my neck.

  “Where are we headed?” she asked as she pulled out onto the highway.

  I opened up the file and searched the page for Allison Abbott’s home address. According to Arthur’s notes, she would be leaving for a yoga class soon. Or at least that was what she’d told him she was doing. If things went my way, I’d soon find out the truth.

  “We need to head over to Thirty-Sixth Street,” I said.

  Dorothy cut the wheel and I clutched the side of the door.

  She huffed. “Well, a little warning dear and I wouldn’t have to make such an abrupt turn.”

  “Why are you driving so fast?” I asked.

  “I’m not driving fast. Everyone else is driving too slowly,” she said.

  I glanced at my watch. “Well, as long as we don’t hit any traffic, I don’t think we need to be in that much of a hurry.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Whatever you say.”

  As soon as I was done for the day, I had to get the battery replaced in my car. There was no way I would ever ride with Dorothy again.

  “So who is this woman?” she asked as she whizzed through the streets of downtown Miami.

  For a moment I thought about keeping the information confidential, but I figured Dorothy would just snoop in the files anyway, so I might as well save her the trouble.

  “Her name is Allison Abbott. She’s married to Arthur Abbott. He’s a partner at some major law firm here,” I said.

  “Oh yes, I’ve heard of them. They have those huge billboards all over town. Ambulance chasers.” She waved her hands through the air and the car swerved.

  I grabbed the wheel just in time before she took out a side mirror on a parked car.

  I shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I didn’t ask and it’s really none of my business.”

  “So she is cheating on him?” She tut-tutted. “That’s a shame. I wonder who she’s cheating with.”

  “I guess we’ll find out.” I said, studying the papers and trying not to look up. The less I saw of her driving, the better off I’d be.

  “How do you plan on catching her?” she asked.

  “We’ll follow her,” I said.

  “You mean I have to tail someone?” Panic sounded in Dorothy’s voice.

  “You should have let me drive your car.”

  Dorothy patted the steering wheel. “Like I said, no one drives this baby.”

  After giving directions to Dorothy, I tried to coll
ect my thoughts. Coming up with a game plan would be essential to the successful outcome of this case. In spite of my best attempts though, my thoughts were continually interrupted by either Dorothy’s less than stellar driving or her rapid succession of questions.

  “Just don’t get yourself into trouble. I was constantly warning Griffin, but unfortunately it was the fried foods that got him.” She shook her head.

  “Well, I don’t like fried foods and I promise not to get into trouble,” I said.

  “You say that now…” She waved her finger.

  As we drove down Biscayne Boulevard, I glanced over at Dorothy. She had both hands on the steering wheel and a dangerous gleam in her eyes. I didn’t know much about Dorothy other than she liked to feed the birds, knit, and she was a terrible driver.

  “Do you have any children, Dorothy?” I asked.

  “I have a son who lives in New York. He comes to see me a couple times a year,” she said with a smile.

  “Oh, that’s nice. What about a husband?” I asked.

  She shook her head and kept her gaze focused on the road, which was a good thing. “He died about ten years ago. It’s just me now. I have my Bunco friends though.”

  I smiled softly. “That’s nice.”

  “You should play Bunco with us sometime.” Her face lit with a bright smile.

  I nodded even though I had no idea what Bunco was.

  “That’s the street right there,” I said, pointing to the road up ahead.

  Elegant homes lined the street. Palm trees flanked the pebble driveways and the sprinklers made the vegetation glisten.

  As I counted down the house numbers, I said, “The house is the fifth one down on the right. We should stop a couple houses ahead of that and just park on the road.”

  “Won’t she see us waiting for her?” Dorothy asked.

  “Well, I can’t exactly conceal your Cadillac behind a palm tree now can I?” I retorted.

  She wiggled her finger at me. “Don’t sass me. You’re just like your Uncle Griffin, always with the sassy tongue.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly.

  “That’s all right. But don’t let it happen again.”

  I tapped my fingers against the file folder and contemplated my next move. “We’ll have to sit here until she comes out. When she pulls out, wait a little bit, and then follow her.”

  “What if she knows we’re following her?” Dorothy asked.

  “I won’t even entertain that thought. We’ll just hope for the best.” I crossed my fingers.

  “What kind of car are we looking for?” Dorothy adjusted her eyeglasses.

  “A black Mercedes.”

  “Oh, fancy.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

  “The gate’s opening,” I whispered.

  She lowered her voice in return. “Why are you whispering?”

  I chuckled. “I have no idea.” I pointed toward the driveway as the sleek black Mercedes pulled out onto the street. “There she is. Once she starts down the road, pull out, but keep a few car lengths back. We don’t want her to figure out what’s going on.”

  Dorothy gave a little salute, then cranked the engine and put the car into drive. After a few seconds, she pulled out. My heart rate increased as adrenaline pumped through my body.

  “You’re not so bad at this private eye stuff after all,” I said with a smile.

  Dorothy had both hands tightly on the steering wheel. “We’ll see about that.”

  She navigated the big car out onto Biscayne Boulevard again, keeping a safe distance from the Mercedes. So far, so good. The yoga studio that Arthur said his wife went to in the mornings was only a couple miles away and we were nearing the street where we’d soon turn.

  “She’s turning,” I said.

  Dorothy swung the wheel hard to the left and I slid in the seat. “Hold on.”

  I blew the hair out of my eyes and straightened my body in the seat. “For the love of knitting, will you slow down?”

  As we sped down the road, trying to keep our distance, I searched the addresses on the buildings. When we reached the building with Yoga Studio written on the window, Allison Abbott kept driving.

  “She passed the place up. I wonder if she knows we’re following her,” I said.

  “Well, if she looked in her rearview mirror at all, she probably figured it out.” Dorothy’s voice had a sigh in it.

  Yeah, she probably thought a grandmother was stalking her. Now that I thought of it, Dorothy might be a good way to throw people off our tracks. I’d have to remember that for the future.

  “Keep following her and see where she goes.” I pointed.

  “How long do we follow her?” she asked.

  “Until one of us runs out of gas, I guess.” I glanced over at the gas gauge and saw that it was on full.

  Filling the tank up before I took off on a stakeout wasn’t something I’d thought about until now. If I ran out of gas, the end result would be disastrous. I’d have to be more careful in the future.

  “Don’t you worry. I always keep gas in my car. I never want to be stranded. When it gets on half full, I drive her right to the gas station.” She gestured, taking her hand off the wheel momentarily.

  After traveling a few more blocks, Allison turned the Mercedes into a pink Art Deco hotel parking lot. A blinking neon sign flashed vacancy under the words The Seagull Inn. The parking lot was mostly empty, which was a bad thing for us. Most people didn’t need a room in the middle of the day on a Tuesday, unless of course they were just meeting during their lunch break like these two lovebirds.

  “It looks like you just got your answer,” Dorothy said.

  The adrenaline was really pumping now. It looked as if Arthur Abbott was correct about his wife. Now it was up to me to provide him with the proof.

  “I have to get proof or it means nothing. Turn into the hotel and let’s see what she does now,” I said.

  Dorothy wheeled the Cadillac into the hotel parking lot. “She sure didn’t worry about finding the nicest hotel in town, did she? Where do we go now?”

  “Park the car between that white truck and the red car.” I pointed toward the vehicles at the back of the lot.

  Allison had parked her car in front of room twelve. She opened the door and climbed out from behind the wheel. She was dressed in a short white dress and wedge espadrille heels, definitely not yoga class apparel. She had a small clutch purse under her arm, but no overnight bag. It looked as if she wasn’t planning on staying long.

  I held my breath waiting for her to turn her attention on us, but she never looked our way. If she knew we were there, she certainly didn’t let on to the fact. How was I possibly going to get evidence that she was cheating. I wouldn’t be able to see what was going on behind closed doors. This whole thing was kind of creepy when you thought about it—spying on people in their most intimate moments.

  As she hurried over to the door, I pulled out my phone and readied it to snap pictures. My stomach was in knots waiting to see who would answer the door. Seconds after she knocked, the door opened. A man with salt-and-pepper hair opened the door. He wore dark-colored slacks and a blue polo shirt. They immediately embraced in a kiss. It was the shot that I had been waiting for.

  I snapped a rapid succession of photos. Then when they finally released their embrace, I snapped another few pictures of the man and then one of Allison’s face as she turned around and glanced out over the parking lot. Now she was worried about someone watching her? She’d already kissed him. It was too late. This would have to be enough evidence for her husband because there was no way I would snoop around their window and try to get a more detailed photo of their indoor actions.

  Dorothy started the car and shoved it into drive.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “You got your pictures, now we can leave.” She smiled.

  “No, we can’t leave yet. I have to wait until they’re done. Or they come out. Whatever you want to call it,” I said.


  She frowned. “I’d rather not call it anything. They could be in there for a long time.”

  I smirked. “I’m guessing it won’t take that long.”

  “He’s a middle-aged man. They pop those Viagra pills like candy. We could be here for hours.” She shook her head.

  I hadn’t thought of that and now I had a mental picture that I’d been trying to avoid all morning.

  “Well, regardless of how long their encounter lasts, I have to wait,” I said.

  “I’m getting overtime for this,” she warned with a wave of her index finger.

  I pulled out my binoculars and focused them on the hotel room. What I was looking for, I had no idea. I’d already gotten pictures, but nonetheless, it seemed like what any private investigator was supposed to do. Dorothy had been right, even though I hadn’t wanted to admit it. There was no telling how long we’d have to wait. This was the least glamorous part of my new job. I was still waiting for the glamorous part to show up. We might as well make ourselves comfortable. I’d have to remember to carry snacks for my next stakeout.

  A clacking noise grabbed my attention and I whipped around to look at Dorothy. She was moving her knitting needles at a frantic pace.

  “What in the heck are you doing?” I asked.

  “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m knitting. I always do this when I’m bored or nervous.” She continued clacking the needles together.

  “So which is it now? Bored or nervous?”

  She leaned her head down and peered at me over the top of her eyeglasses. “Both.”

  “We’re supposed to be watching the building and its surrounding.” I pointed at the hotel.

  “Do you think they’ll slip out the back window?” she said with a chuckle.

  “As a matter of fact, that could happen. I have to be prepared. I’m a professional,” I said, forcing confidence into my voice.

  She released a heavy sigh and placed the needles back in her purse. “There. Are you happy now?”

  “Thank you.”

  About twenty minutes passed and we sat in silence. Well, except for the sound of Dorothy anxiously tapping her fingers against the steering wheel. My arms were tired from holding up the binoculars. I took a break every few minutes, but I’d have to work out at the gym and build up my arm strength.