Chapter Twenty-Eight

Not another car adventure. I couldn’t even watch if my life flashed before my eyes. I was too busy watching the road. I jerked the car hard toward the left, pointing toward the hillside, away from the cliff. The tires skidded, but the car carried me around the bend with a heart-stopping screech. Centering the wheel on the road, I let the car continue down without my foot on the gas.

It picked up speed and I pumped the brakes, waiting to get an indication they worked. Nothing. I swung around another curve and as I tried to remember how many turns lay ahead, I nearly blew the next one. Then something popped into my head from driving lessons with my dad.

If anything happens to your brakes, use the emergency brake.

I yanked it up and the Volvo slowed so quickly I had to fight for control. I kept a hold on the brake until the hill evened out to a straightaway. With shaking fingers, I glided the car to the edge of the pavement, let it crunch over the gravel and stop at the edge of a grassy field.

The scent of burning rubber overwhelmed me. My breath was coming in deep gasps and my heart pounded like a drum against my chest.

Fearing I might throw up, I opened the door and stumbled out, falling to my hands and knees. Nausea invaded my stomach and fear sent shivers up my spine. Had the brakes been tampered with? Was someone after me?

Who? And why?

Did Jennifer want the shop all to herself?

Was Carl afraid I might go after him?

What about Bobbi the Bimbo?

A nameless, fuzzy face danced in a tantalizing ghostly outline.

Had Paula or someone back at the Dominguez house been responsible?

The pain of pebbles stinging my palms and scraping into my knees reached my brain with a crescendo about the time I caught my reflection in the chrome wheel wells. God, I looked ghastly.

A gasping laugh escaped me. Here I was, about to die and all I could think of was that my mascara was smudged and my hair hung like a limp black curtain. With a shaky effort, I pulled myself to my feet. The day was still, except for a gentle ocean breeze that stirred the grass. It felt good on my clammy skin. I inhaled a welcoming breath of fresh air. The odor of rubber was gone, and I could smell the faint scent of Eucalyptus trees that lined the road a few yards away.

My phone buzzed as I slid into the car. My unsteady hands fumbled with it before I could put it to my ear.

“Hey, gal, where are you?”

Sam’s voice was such a relief I wanted to cry. I bit hard on my lip, unaccustomed to the emotion. “I’m fine...”

“That wasn’t my question, but what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said, fighting to erase panic from my voice. “Where are you?”

“Just finished with Edwards. Very interesting. How about if I buy you lunch to make up for being a jackass this morning? How’s the shopping?”

Our argument seemed so long ago. A sob choked me and I held the phone away from me so he couldn’t hear it. As I pulled the phone back toward me, I heard the sound of an engine and jerked my head toward the road. A black limousine rounded the curve, barely made it around my vehicle and slid to a stop.

Fear skittered up my spine and my fingers shook so violently I dropped the phone on the gravel. It bounced, hit the edge of the pavement and plastic flew in all directions.

The front door of the limo opened and Senor Zapato stepped out, huge and imposing as a boulder.

“You okay, lady?”

I stared at him in terror. Had he cut my brake lines and followed me to make certain the job was completed? Was that paralyzed old man thing of El Patron’s a trick? Well, I wasn’t going down without a fight. Without answering, I pulled off my shoes and looked around. My only escape route was to run across the field, through the orchard to Pacific Coast Highway.

Hiking up my skirt, I turned and ran. Maybe Zapato’s bulk would slow him. I had a head start and stamina on my side. Not to mention the fear that propelled me. I might have escaped except I stepped into a hole and suddenly I was falling to the grass and tumbling like a gymnast.

Winded and scared, I lay on my back staring up at a clear blue sky. Was that the last thing I would see, or would it be a gun barrel? Footsteps approached and I stared up at Senor Zapato’s dark round face.

His gap-toothed smile surprised me. “What’s wrong? Why did you run?” He lifted me to my feet as easily as I might lift a piece of jewelry. When he touched my shoulder, I started to jerk away, but realized he was brushing the dust from my suit.

“You don’t look hurt.” He leaned down directly in front of my face. “Can you hear me?”

Drawing a deep breath I nodded and pushed away from him. “I’m fine. My car ran off the road.” Despite my effort to be brave, my voice wavered. “I think someone tried to kill me.”

“Que?” His head jerked back toward my car.

“My brakes went out.” Suddenly the sob I’d been fighting exploded and I began to cry. Horrified I was doing it in front of this giant, I turned away.

His meaty hand rested my shoulder and he patted me gently. “You’re okay. Esta bien. No se preocupe. Estoy aqui.”

Maybe I should tell him I worried because he was there. Slowly common sense took hold and I recognized the lack of threat in his gentle taps. He took hold of my arm and squeezed it as though he could transfer some of his immense strength into my own shaky frame. As I calmed, he handed me a handkerchief and I used it to dry my tears and wipe my face. I’d looked bad earlier. That ghastly appearance had probably increased ten-fold.

“Can you walk?” he asked. “Let’s look at your car.”

I took a step, wincing as my bare foot hit a patch of rocks.

“I can carry you,” he offered.

“I’m fine.”

He put his arm around me and supported me as we walked back toward the cars, not releasing me until we were beside the Volvo. As I shifted to move away something hard near his chest rubbed against my side. He had a damn gun under that suit! I recoiled, but he moved away, leaning over to poke his head under my rear bumper.

“You say the brakes went out?”

“They went to the floor as I came down the hill. I was afraid I wouldn’t make it to the bottom.”

“You shoulda tried your emergency brake,” he said, head emerging. His smile was wide, genuine, brown eyes soft and paternal.

“That was what I did.”

“Smart girl,” he said with an approving nod as he smacked his hands together to clean off the dust. “Did you call someone?”

“No.”

“I saw you on the phone when I came around the corner. I thought you were calling for help. Do you need a ride down the hill? I can have someone tow your car to a garage. I got a friend who can tell you what’s wrong.”

“Thanks.” I retrieved my purse and followed him to the limo.

He opened the back door for me, but I shook my head. “Can I ride in front with you?”

“Sure.” He moved to the front door and opened it.

I slid into the luxurious car and breathed a sigh of relief, until I realized no one knew where I was. Noting a car phone as he slid in from the other side, I fingered it. I hadn’t seen a car phone in ages. Did it work?

“Do you mind if I make a call? My cell phone broke.”

“Go ahead.” He handed it to me and I dialed Sam.

He answered on the first ring. “What the hell happened?”

“I dropped my phone and broke it. The offer for lunch sounds good. Do you know where Geneva is on the Pacific Coast Highway? I’ll pay cab fare.”

“I’m gonna have to take a rain check. My doctor just called and wants me to come in, so Hank insists on taking me today.”

My stomach plunged like a falling elevator. Had something happened? He was looking so alert, so alive. Could our argument have triggered another attack? “Are you all right?”

His rich laugh soothed me. “Fit as a fucking fiddle. I’ll call you later.”

I hung up and realized I had not told him where I was or about my companion. If Senor Shoe wanted to kill me with his meaty hands and dump my body off a cliff, no one would know.

“Should I drop you at Geneva?” he asked.

Given my thoughts, I jumped at the sound of his soft voice. “Sure.”

Geneva was nearby and it would take time to get my car checked. I eyed Senor Zapato across the interior of the car. Could I trust him?

“Were you going to call someone to get my car?”

He picked up the phone and conducted the call in rapid Spanish. He told the man where the car was and to take it to his garage to check.

“He’ll find out what’s wrong,” he said when he hung up. “I’ll drop you at the restaurant and finish my errands. I can drive you to the shop when it’s ready or take you home.”

His smile was so benign I wondered why I’d been afraid. He was acting more like an older brother than a tough guy.

“Why do they call you Senor Zapato?”

He gave me his gap-toothed grin and lifted his foot off the gas. “I used to kick a lot.”

“Kick?”

His smile faded into a grim look and he shook his head. “A pretty lady like you don’t wanna hear about it. I don’t kick no more. My sister takes care of the house for La Senora and I drive El Patron and run errands.”

Errands, huh? If the old man still took bets, Senor Shoe probably picked them up and applied a little heavy footed pressure to those who didn’t pay on time. Whatever his real job, he might be helpful.

“How long have you worked for Mr. Dominguez?”

“Twenty years. He’s a good man.” He pounded the left side of his chest. “Un corazon muy grande.”

“I’ve heard he had mob ties.”

The man’s smile never lessened. “He grows wine now. Big vineyards up around Santa Barbara.”

I’d been thinking bookie or customer. “That was how he knew Rick.”

“Rick?”

“Wells Fine Wines?”

His thick, black hair danced as he nodded. “Ah, Senor Wells. He set up wine tasting parties for El Patron. Someone killed him, huh?”

How much could he tell me about the old man’s connection to Rick? Before I could phrase a question, he continued.

“I don’t know why they’d kill him. He was everyone’s buddy at the parties.”

“He and Paula were close...” It was a test, a hunch.

His brown face swung toward me, startled but troubled. “Who said that?”

The concerned reaction confirmed my theory. “I’ve heard rumors…”

His hair flew from side to side as he shook his head. “Uh-uh. She’s married.”

“I don’t think that mattered to Rick.”

He said nothing at first, wide mouth tightening. Finally, he lifted a massive shoulder in a shrug. “Who can blame her with that husband?”

“Wait, her husband is Ken Gardner, the actor.”

“Si. A mean one. Muy loco.” He tapped the side of his head.

Damn, I was a lousy detective. Ken Gardner was on my list from the service. Another connection I hadn’t made because I hadn’t seen him with Paula. Wait a minute! Gardner had been in trouble with police because of his temper. Did that add up to something? Maybe he gave Rick a smack to the head for screwing his wife. I needed to continue this conversation.

“May I buy you lunch?” I asked. “Since you’re helping with my car, it’s the least I can do.” Entering Geneva with this man as an escort might be helpful if that rat Toby was working.

His dark skin colored at my invitation. “I can’t. El Senor expects me back soon.”

Oh, well. The visit to the Dominguez house had paid off. It eliminated one suspect, but opened the door for two others. Paula and her husband were moving higher on my board when I got home. I might even put them in red!

He dropped me at Geneva and I walked into the bar. I didn’t see Toby. Felipe, the regular bartender, was pouring liquor into an ice-filled glass. I claimed a seat near the windows.

Felipe, a slim man with a thin mustache that might have been the envy of Ronald Colman, came over immediately. “Is Delia joining you?”

“She’s in South America, but I’ll take a martini. I need one after the morning I’ve had.”

While he mixed the drink, I pulled a notebook from my purse and wrote down everything I remembered about Paula and Ken Gardner. I was considering any ties to Rick when Felipe brought my drink.

I took a quick sip and smiled as the icy liquor zoomed down my throat. “Perfect. Toby’s are good, but they’ll never compare to yours.”

“You won’t be getting any more of Toby’s. He’s not workin’ here no more.”

My heart did a quick summersault. Was I off the hook? “What happened?”

“He quit the other night. No notice, nothing. He didn’t show up. He called later to say he’d hit the jackpot and didn’t need to work. Stupid kids.”