Blind Date. Cheryl Porter Anne
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both are. I think Uncle Maury’s letting his imagination get the best of him.”
Meg pulled back. “But he always talks about the mob.”
“Yeah, but this is going a bit too far.” Aware of his elderly uncle hanging on the line, Joe spoke quickly to Meg. “You see, there’s a legend in our family that someone, at some time in the past, was in the Mafia. Uncle Maury decided he was that person and we’ve always gone along with it. It gave him stature. But he’s never made phone calls like this saying the mob is after him or anyone else. This is new.”
Concern shadowed her expression. “Maybe he didn’t take his medicines. Or maybe he took too many. I knew we shouldn’t have left him alone. Joe, tell him not to do anything. That we’re on our way home right now.”
Joe nodded and put the phone to his ear. “Uncle Maury? Meg says just sit tight, okay? We’re on our way home.”
Blinking, Joe jerked the phone away from his ear and said to Meg, “Whoa. He’s cussing like crazy. Listen.” He put the phone to her ear, saw her eyes widen, then pulled it away.
“Tell him we won’t come home, if that’s what he wants.”
“Sure, why not. Let’s go back to the car.” He grasped Meg’s arm to guide her and again spoke to his uncle. “Uncle Maury, listen to me—No, we’re not coming home…. Yes, calm down. It’s okay. No, I’m not lying. What? Shoot at us?” Joe’s knees locked, stopping him and Meg in their tracks, and he shook his head in disbelief.
“Shoot at us?” Meg parroted. “Who’s going to shoot at us?”
Joe held Meg’s fear-widened gaze as he talked. “Now, Uncle Maury, why would anyone be shooting at us?” He paused. “They want the keys? To what, the car? Uncle Maury, if anyone wants the keys to this car, trust me, I’ll hand them over long before they have to start shooting. Not the car keys? But don’t give them up, either? Well, what else would I have keys to, that some—How much money?”
Joe covered the phone and whispered to Meg. “He says the keys are worth a fortune.”
“Forget that. I want to know who’s going to shoot at us.”
“Apparently the mob.”
“Okay, Joe, this is beyond bizarre. And a little scary, I have to say.”
“Tell me about it. But such is life with Maury Seeger.”
“Well, what do we do? Do we believe him or not?”
“I don’t know. Something’s wrong, I’ll give him that much. Something definitely set him off.”
“Yeah, and it could be nothing more than some poor pizza delivery guy at his door.”
“True. And Maury could shoot him.”
Meg’s eyebrows rose. “Maury has a gun?”
“Yes.”
“Dear God.”
“Amen.”
“Joe?”
“What?”
She pointed to the phone in his hand. “Talk to Maury.”
“Oh, hell.” He put the phone to his ear. “Hey, Uncle—What?” He listened another moment and then pulled the phone away from his ear and hit the end button. “He said he thinks they’re trying to get inside and he has to go. Then the line went dead.”
“Ohmigod,” she breathed. “Joe, could it really be the Mafia?”
“I think Uncle Maury is harmless, but sometimes the way he gets caught up in his stories worries me—” Joe’s phone rang again. He exchanged a look with Meg and answered it on the second ring. “Uncle Maury? Is that you?” He nodded at Meg to let her know it was.
She looked so concerned, waiting to find out what Maury would say next, that Joe couldn’t resist putting an arm around her and pulling her close. He wasn’t sorry when the action squeezed her breast against his side.
“Really, Uncle Maury, did you have to hang up a minute ago? Are you okay? Your voice sounds funny…. You’re in the men’s room at the pool house? Why? What are you—Of course, you’re hiding. Look, stay there where you feel safe. Uncle Maury? Hello? You just dropped the phone? Why’d you drop the phone?”
He listened and then said to Meg, “Because he thought the mobsters were shooting at him, but it turned out to be a car backfiring.”
Meg leaned into him. “I might need to sit down, Joe.”
He took her arm to steady her and returned his attention to his great-uncle. “Is anyone else in there with you, Uncle Maury? Hell, no, I wasn’t suggesting you and another man—Yes, I do know how it would look for two guys to exit a one-holer bathroom together. Look, just sit tight and—”
Joe pulled the phone away from his ear. “Son of a—The line went dead again. When we get to his place, Meg, I swear I’m going to kick his ass. I don’t care if he is in his eighties and only five feet tall. I’m still going to kick his bowlegged, Mr.-T-gold-wearing, toupee-headed ass. Come on, let’s go see about my great-uncle, the nutcase.”
THEY WERE IN THE CAR with its front-mounted vanity plate that read “The Stogie” and on the way back to Meg’s apartment complex when she first became aware that she and Joe were being followed. Or, at least, she thought they were.
“Joe? Do you see—”
“Yes.”
Meg’s breath caught. “Oh my God, we are being followed.”
“I don’t really think so. Try not to let my crazy uncle, with all his mobster talk, get to you, okay?”
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