Feliz Naughty Dog - Roxanne St. Claire Page 0,38

her astray, right? This wasn’t the dumbest thing she’d ever done, was it?

Because Aldo sure seemed…nice.

“He’s right there,” Finnie said, turning to point and aiming directly at Agnes. “Oh, lass. ’Tis you.”

“He was there,” Agnes said. “But I’m sure he’s gone by now.”

The big man looked past her. “No, he’s there.”

He was? She spun around, surprised to see Aldo still sitting at the table, leaning back, his arms crossed, a smug smile on his face. “I thought he’d run.”

Good Lord, had she misjudged him?

“Is Aldo a friend of yours, ma’am?” the other man—Sammy, if she recalled correctly—asked.

A friend? He could have been, she thought, tearing her gaze from his. “Not really. I suppose he’s tired of running from you guys.”

Sammy let out a frustrated sigh. “Look, Big Mike and I can be awfully persistent, but we’re not getting anywhere with him at all. Maybe you could help us out?”

Finnie gasped softly. “’Tisn’t likely we’ll get in the middle of this.” She slipped her arm around Agnes’s. “Come on, before we get shot.”

“Shot?” Sammy snorted a laugh. “We’re not that determined to get the business, ma’am.”

Finnie was pulling her away, but Agnes stood firm, turning to him. “To get the business? Is that a code word for bringing in a wanted criminal?”

The two men stared at her, then at each other, then at her again. “Pardon me?” they asked in perfect unison.

Another little thread of discomfort pulled at her heart. “A wanted criminal,” she said, a little louder this time. “You’re with the FBI, and he’s…” She glanced over her shoulder, and sure enough, he was still there, folding a piece of paper as he watched her, that semi-amused smile still pulling at his lips.

“He’s what?” one of them asked.

He’s…handsome, she thought glumly. Agnes pushed the thought away and turned back. “He’s a wanted criminal, right? You found a corpse? I assume he’s responsible.”

Sammy’s face suddenly tightened like he was trying to hold himself back from saying something. Of course an FBI agent wouldn’t want to give anything away.

“Actually, I think one of his sons is the culprit,” the other man said. “We’ve been looking for the corpse for a long time.”

Agnes shook her head, the words sickening to her. “This is not a family I want to get involved with. Come on, Finnie.”

But this time, Finnie was the one standing her ground. She looked from one man to the other, then back at Aldo, who hadn’t moved. “What exactly is he guilty of?” she asked.

“Guilty?” Big Mike looked confused. “It’s not exactly a crime.”

“Murder isn’t a crime?” Agnes demanded. “Since when?”

Once again, the two men shared a look, and the only thing Sammy was holding back now was laughter, which came bubbling out of him.

“Murder?” Big Mike asked, barely able to choke out the word.

“And isn’t that a gun in your jacket pocket?” Agnes said, her voice rising with tension.

Next to her, Finnie squeezed her arm. “Um, Agnes, I’m starting to think…”

“You really think Aldo Fiore could kill a guy?” Sammy asked, laughing so hard he had to wipe a tear from his eye. “Did you hear that, Mike?”

But Mike just shook his head, also laughing.

“Agnes, maybe we jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

Without answering Finnie, Agnes turned for another look at Aldo. He was leaning forward now, his chin resting on his knuckles, staring at her. The smile had faded, and his expression was just wistful. Maybe sad.

“So…” Agnes turned to the men. “You’re not with the FBI, and that’s not a gun in your pocket, and there isn’t a corpse?”

Mike threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh. “We are with FBI,” he said. “But not the FBI…”

Sammy reached into his pocket, and both women drew back a little, but he only produced a business card, handing it to Agnes.

“Sam Robinson, owner of Flowers and Blooms, Incorporated. It’s a small nursery, trying to grow. I’ve been after the Fiore & Sons landscaping business for a long time. They buy the most product and could really help our bottom line.”

Oh dear. Agnes stared at him. Finnie let out a soft moan.

“And this?” Mike reached into the bulky pocket and pulled out a container wrapped in tissue, which he peeled back to reveal a small white flower unlike anything Agnes had ever seen. “This is a ghost orchid, one of the rarest blooms in the world.”

“Pretty,” Finnie said.

“We’re the only nursery in five hundred miles that can grow it.” Sammy beamed with pride. “Aldo’s son, Tony, who does want