“You and Deegan?”
She flopped back onto her stool. “The last few days especially…” She frowned at Mollie’s egg. “You’re eating that dry?”
“I put pepper on it.”
“A hard-boiled egg with pepper. Mollie, that gives me the willies.”
She smiled. “Tell me about Deegan.”
“He’s been remote lately.” Her eyes shifted, and she picked at a red-polished nail. Today’s sundress was a shock of red and purple flowers. Her dark curls hung down her back. “Usually he’s so much fun, sarcastic, witty, just a great guy, you know? I never expected our relationship to last, but I’m sorrier than I thought I’d to be now that it’s falling apart.”
“I’m sorry, Griffen.”
“Yeah, yeah. What about you and Jeremiah Tabak? Any hope there?” She squinted at Mollie, then laughed. “My God, you’re blushing! We must be talking fast and furious then, huh?”
Mollie bit into her egg and toast, noticing Griffen’s involuntary shudder of disapproval, as if she couldn’t help herself. “I just came from the hospital. It doesn’t seem right to be fretting about my love life right now.”
“It’s human nature, Mollie. Don’t beat yourself up over it. Some of us know the real thing when we see it, and we find it right out of the chute. Others of us-” She sighed, obviously meaning herself. “Others of us either don’t know it or just have to keep trying. If I find the right guy before I’m forty, I’ll be happy. Heck, after I’m forty.”
“Ever the optimist, right, Griffen?”
She grinned. “You got it. So, does Tabak think his buddy Croc is the jewel thief?”
“I don’t know, we haven’t talked outside the presence of the police.”
“But you doubt it,” Griffen said.
“Maybe…I’m trying to keep an open mind.” Her egg finished, she rinsed her hands in the sink. Her mind was racing, impulsivity rearing its head. She looked around at her friend. “Griffen, why don’t I have a party?”
“A party? Mollie, what the hell-”
“Tomorrow night. Are you free? I can hire you to cater. We’ll make it spontaneous and fun, real informal. It’s supposed to be nice weather. We can have it out by the pool.”
Griffen was eyeing her dubiously. “What, are you trying to set a trap for the real jewel thief?”
“I would if I could-if he’s not already in the hospital with his jaw broken. No, I just want to assert some control over my life. A spontaneous cocktail party could be my statement about the attack on me the other night, my relationship with Leonardo, my intentions here in south Florida. I’m my own person, and I make my own decisions.”
“And you won’t be driven off by a nasty phone call and a nasty thief.”
She nodded. “Right.”
Griffen mused a moment, the sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window, the curtains billowing in a pleasant breeze. “It could be a fun, gutsy thing to do. I expect it doesn’t hurt to assert your independence with a guy like Jeremiah Tabak, either.” She clapped her hands together, grinning. “I’m getting to like this nutty idea better and better.”
“Is tomorrow night too soon?”
“Of course, but that’s what makes it perfect. It won’t conflict with any of the big parties this week, and Leonardo doesn’t do parties, so people are already curious about this place. We can capitalize on that. And, of course, they’re yakking about you a mile a minute, and now we’ve got this jewel thief in the hospital and a sexy investigative reporter…” She drummed the counter with her red nails, musing. “Oh, this definitely could work!”
“People will come?”
“Everyone will come.” She slid smoothly to her feet, tucked thick curls behind her ear. “I’ll put together a menu and guest list and stop back by this afternoon. We’ll have to move on this thing if we’re going to pull it off. Deegan can help-I’ll see if I can track him down. Guess it’s a good thing we came in separate cars.”
After Griffen left, Mollie wandered aimlessly around the apartment before she came to grips with what she had to do. Take a shower, get dressed, put out any fires that needed putting out in her office, and check back in at the hospital. Maybe the police would have more information. Maybe Jeremiah would. Either way, hanging around inside Leonardo’s gates would only drive her crazy.
Jeremiah drove out to the stretch of relatively isolated beach and marsh where Croc was found, then to the police station to see the necklace and talk to the officers first on the scene, not that they had much to offer. Croc still wasn’t in any condition to give a statement, but he’d managed, apparently, to indicate that he hadn’t recognized his attacker and couldn’t provide a detailed description. The police had no reason to believe there was more than one attacker.
Mollie had already gone home. Frank had driven her himself, and he was still steamed at Jeremiah. “You’re holding back on me, aren’t you, Tabak?”
Jeremiah debated, then gave him the rest. “Mollie Lavender is what got me into this thing.” He tried to sound detached, professional. “Croc found out she’s been at every event we know the thief hit.”
“How’d he know?”
“How does he know anything? He must have been snooping around, had access to guest lists-I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me.”
Frank appraised him with cop skepticism. “It’s a bitch having that kind of missing link. What about you and this Lavender woman?”
“What about us?”
“You came up from Miami in the same car.”
“That we did.”
The conversation ended there because Frank had all he needed without Jeremiah explaining the nitty-gritty of his and Mollie’s relationship. Hell, he didn’t know it himself. He’d fallen for her ten years ago, and he was falling for her again. Simple.
“Any luck on running down Croc’s real name?” Jeremiah asked.
“No, but when we find out, we’ll track you down right away, Tabak, and let you know, especially seeing how forthcoming you’ve been with us.”
“Hey, I made Mollie call you about her threatening phone call.”
Frank just scowled, and Jeremiah, who prided himself on knowing when a well was dry, headed back to the hospital. He barely noticed the crush of snowbirds out enjoying the perfect winter day, just drove the winding, pretty streets of Palm Beach with his mind focused on the task at hand. Croc, jewels, Mollie. The lies Croc had told him, the dozen different ways Mollie might fit into them. He didn’t speculate, didn’t let his thoughts get ahead of him, just articulated the questions and the facts with cold precision.
He was walking past the information desk when he heard a hoarse, familiar voice. “Tabak-thank God.” He turned, and there was Helen Samuel in a pink ladies-who-lunch suit that made her look like a wizened Loretta Young. He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t think he’d ever seen her outside of the Miami Tribune building, maybe not even in the parking lot. She grinned at him. “They won’t let me smoke in here. Nazis. Two more minutes and I’m having a seizure.”
“What’re you going to do when you get sick, Helen?”
“I’m never getting sick. I’m going to fall over dead at my goddamned computer, you wait and see. If I don’t, drag my ass out of the hospital, sit me at my desk, and put a bullet in my head. Okay? You’ll do that for me?”
He frowned at her. “You have been without nicotine too long.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Look, I heard about Weasel getting beat up-”
“Croc.”
“What?”
“His nickname’s Croc, not Weasel.”
“Oh. I knew it was some disgusting animal. Well, I figured maybe there’s a connection-maybe not, either-but you could look into it-” She made a face. “Damnit, I’m not making any sense. What’s one goddamned cigarette? You think the building’d blow?”
Fatigue gnawed at Jeremiah. “Look into what, Helen?”