Snagged Page 15

  “Forget it, Nick. You’re going to have a good time today. Just be yourself. You’re the host! He’s not going to tie up everyone’s attention the whole time.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Let’s get out of here and buy a stereo that’s going to make this place rock!”

  “Okay. Now, how much do you think I’m going to have to spend?” he asked as the door closed behind them.

  JUDD GREEN SAT in the phone booth out by the pool bar. The bar was closed and there were only a couple of bathers sunning themselves at the other end of the pool. It was still early.

  “You poured it! You saw the door was blocked! You saw him through the window! How was I supposed to know somebody was going to take a jog in the boonies late at night?”

  He played with his mirror sunglasses as he listened. “I know how bad it is. I know you’re getting the pressure. Believe me, I wish this job was finished. Although it should have been taken care of a long time ago . . . Listen, the funeral convention ends early this afternoon. I know what we can do. We’ll need a legitimate-looking business van. Get two of the guys in workers’ uniforms . . .”

  Someone tapped on the window of the phone booth. “Are you going to be finished soon?” a woman in a skirted bathing suit asked.

  Judd turned to her and opened the door. Trying to keep his tone civil, he said, “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  Hurriedly he explained the rest of his plan as the bather wandered off. “I tell you, it’s going to work. We’ll go straight to the dock. At the party, I’ll concentrate on the old guy. You take care of Regan Reilly.”

  IT WAS NOT just a gray haze of smoke that hung in the air of the Calla-Lily suite. The atmosphere was thick with the kind of tension you could cut with a knife.

  “This waiting is killing me!” Ruth screamed as she puffed her twenty-seventh cigarette of the day.

  The Calla-Lily board members sat on the couches looking glum. They had all arrived at 7 A.M., at the precise time that the cowpoke was spotted in the wilds of Colorado. While he was jetting back across the country, they were made to sit and discuss with Ruth, if “discuss” was the right word, Calla-Lily’s final decision on purchasing the Birdie Panty Hose.

  “To buy, or not to buy, that is the question,” one of them had made the mistake of joking as he held up a glazed doughnut in the air for emphasis. The force of Ruth’s reaction had startled him so much that he dropped the doughnut in his cup of coffee.

  The doorbell rang. Ethel, back in the salt mines, answered the door.

  It was Irving Franklin. Late as usual.

  “I don’t know how he gets away with it,” one of the board members muttered as he bit into a crumb bun that broke apart, dusting his suit with confectioners sugar.

  “Good morning, everyone.”

  “Would you like some coffee?” Ethel asked.

  “Thank you, Ethel. Yes, I would. Black.”

  Like Ruth’s mood, Ethel thought. Easy to remember.

  Irving sat down. He looked over at Ruth and smiled. “Good morning, Ruth.”

  “What’s the deal, Irving?” she responded.

  Ethel placed a coffee cup in front of Irving. “Ruth?” she asked.

  “Is it important, Ethel?” Ruth demanded to know.

  “I was just thinking that I’d run downstairs and get those papers you wanted photocopied . . .” Her voice trailed off. Before this place explodes, she wanted to add.

  “Go.”

  “Thank you.”

  Irving sipped his drink. “Good coffee.” He cleared his throat. “I guess you can tell that I did not come in here jumping with joy. I was up all night determined to find something wrong with that panty hose. I cooked it, beat it, washed it, stomped on it. I’m sorry. It seems to be just perfect.”

  An animal-like moan emanated from Ruth’s throat.

  “We’ve got to buy it! That idiot better get back here soon and sign his consent!”

  The board members shook their heads, agreeing that indeed the best thing was to fork over the money.

  Three minutes later the door to the suite flung open. Ethel was back, the papers in her hand yet to be copied. She could tell that the news from Irving had not been good. And now she had more bad news that she couldn’t wait to tell Ruth.

  “I thought you’d want to know . . . I was just down in the manager’s office. The buzz is that Dayton Rotter is coming to the cocktail party. He’s very interested in buying the Birdie Panty Hose . . .”

  The last thing Ruth saw before she fainted was the vision of Grandpa pointing his finger at her, shouting, “You ruined my company!”

  AT TABLES SET around the poolside in the backyard of the home of the Durkin family’s good friends, Dina and Sean Clancy, fourteen women had gathered for Maura’s bridesmaids’ brunch. Regan and Nora joined the five other bridesmaids, Maura, Bridget, Dina, and a handful of other female relatives of Maura’s and John’s for the traditional hen party.

  Colorful floral centerpieces adorned the tables, which were shaded by large yellow umbrellas. Small boxes with pale-pink wrapping and gold bows were waiting at the places assigned to the bridesmaids. A bouquet of balloons was tied to the buffet table, which would soon be filled with quiches and salads.

  “What’s John doing today?” Regan asked Maura as she sipped a tall glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice.

  “Golfing. He figured he could get in eighteen holes before he took care of some minor last-minute errands like picking up the rings, the marriage license, and his tux.”

  “At least he’s not the nervous type.”

  “He said I’ve been doing enough worrying for both of us lately.”

  “Just think, Maura, tomorrow night you’ll be on your way, and everything will be all behind you.”

  “I hope so, Regan.” Maura’s look turned serious. “After what happened last night with Richie, I feel so sure that something else bad is going to happen.”

  Regan tried to conceal her worry. “If Richie manages to sell his panty hose this afternoon, he’ll be the happiest guy in Florida.”

  “I hope so. He’s had so many of these inventions before that have never worked out. We thought it was more a hobby for him than anything. But now everyone seems to think he’s come across something that will really fly. Which could be dangerous. Do you know how many people have been paid to keep their inventions off the market?”

  “I’ve heard of a few.”

  “Well, could it be that whoever blocked Richie in that factory last night didn’t want to have to write the check?”

  “I don’t know, Maura. But we’re keeping an eye on Richie today, and hopefully after the fashion show the panty hose will be someone else’s worry.”

  “I wish I could come to that, Regan, but I’m not completely packed and we have the rehearsal dinner tonight . . .”

  “Don’t worry about it. We’re going to see you later anyway.”

  “Will everyone please help themselves?” Dina urged the group as she carried out two large dishes of quiche, fresh from the oven.

  After dessert and coffee, Regan thanked Maura again for the pearl-and-sapphire earrings the bridesmaids would all be wearing the next day, and she and Nora hurried back to the Watergreen.

  LIKE AN OLD pro, Nadine wandered up and down the aisles of Dobb’s Stereo Store studying the CD players. Nick was close at her heels, looking slightly baffled.

  “I want one that looks really good,” he insisted.

  Nadine held her finger to her lip and tapped it. “Right. Now, the woofers and the tweeters . . .”

  “The what?” Nick asked.

  “The woofers and the tweeters. Don’t you know what they are?”

  “Oh, sure, yeah, the woofers and the tweeters. Of course.”

  Nadine stopped and smiled at him. “What are they then?”

  Nick gestured with his hand. “Parts of the stereo.”

  “The loudspeakers, Nick.” Nadine started to move on. “You know, you don’t have to pre
tend so much.”

  “Do you think I do that?” Nick asked quickly.

  “Uh-huh,” Nadine said as she checked a price tag. “You’re too anxious, too worried about what people think. And people are going to think what they’re going to think, so there’s no use trying to control it.”

  “I don’t do that,” Nick protested.

  “Yes, you do. Why else would you be agonizing about whether or not to wear that flowered shirt today?”

  “I just asked your opinion.”

  “Three times. Wear what you want to wear and forget everybody else if they can’t take a joke.”

  Nick followed her into the next aisle. “You think there’s something wrong with me?”

  “No. But I wish you would chill out and just let things happen. I get the feeling that impressing the models today is the most important thing in the world to you.”

  “I’m proud of the Watergreen Hotel and want to restore it to its former glory as the spot to be in Miami.”

  “No, you don’t. You just want to date the models. Here we go,” Nadine said. “For what you want to spend, this stereo here is the best buy. It looks good, has great sound, has an AM/FM radio and a tape deck besides a CD player, and it’s in your price range. What do you say?”

  “Fine.”

  “And we’ll get you some of those woofers and tweeters for your bedroom too.”

  “Sounds kinky.”

  ’There you go. Now let’s find someone who can get this order moving.”

  After they had packed the car with the stereo boxes, Nick and Nadine hurried into the music store to pick up the CDs Regan had requested for the fashion show. Nadine bought a few extra ones for Joey and, after less deliberation than usual, Nick made a purchase that was the official start of his CD collection.

  “Well, what do you know,” Nadine said as they got back into the car and pulled out of the parking lot. “It’s almost show time.”

  WHEN REGAN AND Nora got to Nick Fargus’s suite, they stepped into a flurry of activity. Room-service waiters were setting up the bar and the hors d’oeuvres. A maid was retouching the windows, making sure that they sparkled. Flowers were being delivered.

  Nadine stepped out of the bedroom, holding a hammer. “Hi, Regan!”

  “Hi, Nadine. This is my mother—”

  “Mrs. Reilly, I love your books. Regan, you didn’t tell me your mother was the one who wrote those books that keep me up all night.”

  Nora laughed. “As long as they don’t put you to sleep.”

  “No way. When I was reading the last one I got so scared that I got out of bed to make double sure the door was locked. The next day at work I had to go out to my car at lunchtime to take a nap.”

  “Hi, everybody,” Nick said, emerging from the bathroom in his flowered shirt. He was feeling proud of himself, having left out for the models everything he thought they might need, including his new skin cream.

  “All set?” Regan asked.

  “Nadine’s in charge. She’s got the stereo all set up. We were just going to put in our first CD.” He laughed. “She also told me to put a sign on the bathroom door telling people that there’s another bathroom one flight down in the health club.”

  Nadine said matter-of-factly, “You’ve got over a hundred people in here drinking and one bathroom? The one in your bedroom will be off limits because the models will be in and out of there. People come for one drink and they stay for another and before you know it you’ve got a line.”

  “I’ll get out my Magic Marker,” Nick promised.

  “Speaking of that, Regan, we’d better write up the rest of the name tags for the people who just called in,” Nora said.

  “Hello, hello, hello,” Richie called as he led the Fourth Quarter contingent into the suite.

  “This is a good place for a party,” Flo remarked.

  “Beautiful,” Lucille murmured.

  Nick went over and shook Richie’s hand. “Good to see you, Richie. And who do we have here?”

  “The models!”

  When Nick tried to speak, his voice had a croaky quality. “The models?”

  “Yes. Say hello to Flo and Bessie and Pearl and—”

  “We’ve been doing nothing but practicing our strut,” Pearl reported.

  “Great,” Nick forced himself to say. “I thought you were from South Beach.”

  “We are, honey,” Flo said as she walked past him to check out the view.

  Nick hoped his disappointment didn’t show, then realized Nadine was watching him. You’re too anxious. Just let things happen. “Well, you all look terrific,” he said heartily.

  Nadine winked at him.

  “We do have a few spring chickens coming up from one of the agencies,” Richie explained. “They should be here in a few minutes.”

  Nick’s spirits brightened. I don’t have to feel guilty that I’m glad, he thought.

  LUKE RUBBED HIS eyes. It had been a long morning, but the business end of the convention was coming to a close. All in all, it had been worthwhile. He had met with suppliers, gone to some of the seminars, hooked up with old friends from the business, and given a successful speech.

  Now it was past noon and people were heading to lunch dates or out to the pool to take advantage of the beautiful weather. But Luke wanted to take one more look at the coffin display. He’d seen a few models that were interesting. They cost less and he could pass on those savings to his customers.

  He walked down the carpeted hallway toward the display room. Everything was quiet. The large room was off the beaten path, away from the hubbub of the hotel lobby. He pulled open the door and stepped inside, alone in the room with rows of coffins. No matter how long I last in this business, he thought, I don’t think I’ll ever get totally immune to the sight of these things.

  After jotting down the information he needed about several different makes, he put his pen away and looked around one final time. They’ll be coming sometime this afternoon to haul these out of here, he thought. But after the problems of bringing them in the other day, the only way the management was going to let them be carried out was via the rear exit.

  Back in the hotel lobby he headed toward the main bar. He was meeting Ed for a quick sandwich and then they were going upstairs to meet Nora and Bridget at the fashion show. And after that, he thought, who knows? Hopefully a little time to relax.

  THE CALLA-LILY private jet touched down at Miami International Airport. When it finally came to a stop, the door was opened and Preston Landers was greeted with a blast of hot, sticky air.

  “Now damn it!” he mumbled. “Where I just came from, the air was nice and cool.” The flight attendant looked at him sympathetically.

  “Have a good day, sir,” she said as he stepped off the plane.

  “I doubt it,” he replied.

  Down on the tarmac a limousine was waiting to whisk him to the Watergreen Hotel.

  “We have to hurry, sir,” the driver said as he held the door open for him. “They’re waiting for you at the hotel. They’ve called several times to see if you’d landed yet.”

  Preston kicked some mud off his cowboy boots. “I guess they’ll just have to wait a little longer.”

  “Yes, sir.” The driver shut the door behind Preston, ran around the side of the car, jumped in and screeched off.

  Ruth was propped on a couch in the Calla-Lily suite. She was furious at herself for fainting in front of this bunch. It was just that the news about Dayton Rotter had been such a mortal blow. It made her all the more convinced that they had to get the check into that Richie Blossom’s hands, and get it there soon. Thanks to Nora Regan Reilly, the cocktail party and fashion show had become a hot topic. See if I ever buy another one of her books, Ruth thought.

  “WHERE IS THAT IDIOT?” she screamed.

  “Ruth, calm yourself,” Ethel urged.

  “Calm myself? How can I calm myself? My whole life is passing before my eyes and you tell me to calm myself!”

  “He�
��s on his way.”

  “What is he doing, riding a pony in from the airport?”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Thank God!” Ruth screamed and ran to answer it. She yanked it open to find Barney Freize staring her in the face.

  “I’ve come to pick up my check.”

  Ruth turned away, dismissing him. “I can’t worry about that right now!”

  “Well, Ruthy Wuthy, I think you’d better.”

  Irving fired a glance at Ruth before she flung back around.

  “I think I’d like to come in and perhaps have a cup of tea,” Barney said.

  Irving jumped up. “I’m Irving Franklin, the engineer.” He gestured for Barney to sit next to him as the other board members watched in astonishment. “Please join us. Won’t you?” He smiled at Ruth, who for the first time in her life was left speechless.

  Nora stood at the doorway greeting members of the National Panty-Hose Association. Some of them had indeed brought books for her to sign, and as she was busy writing “Happy Birthday” or “Best Wishes,” she was aware of Richie pacing around nervously.

  “You ought to write a book about a panty-hose convention,” one of the guests told her.

  “Maybe I will,” Nora laughed.

  “We’ve got some good stories,” the woman chuckled. “Give me a call if you ever need any material.”

  As the guests floated in they accepted drinks and hors d’oeuvres from the passing waiters. A few wandered out on the terrace to appreciate the view fully.

  All the models were waiting in the bedroom, dressed in their panty hose, ready to go. Nick was busy playing host, running in and out with drink orders. Nadine had the stereo going, playing lively energetic music, but at Nora’s request kept it at a low-enough level so that people could hear each other talk.

  Judd Green came up in the elevator with several other people, and when they stopped to get their name tags, he was happy to see that there were some blank tags left on the table for guests to fill in. For us bad guys, he thought as he wrote LOWELL EVANS in block letters.