Date: 2016-11-12 05:00:00+00:00
Publisher: MKS Books

Schooled in Murder

by

Kim Smith

Schooled in Murder

Copyright © Kim Smith, 2016

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This book would not be possible without thanking a whole bunch of people. Thanks to Sarah Jacobs for her excellent editing advice, and being a wonderful teacher. You are nothing like my depiction in this book.

Thanks to Sam Jacobs for his insight on cover art. You are the best graphic artist in the universe, and I mean that most sincerely. You can draw anything and make it look real.

Thanks to Allan Smith for just being there. Writing is a lonely life sometimes, and you are always my rock when I need to have something else to do.

Thanks to my writing group, the Authors Unplugged women of wonder.

You all know I love you.

Dedication

I would like to dedicate this book to other writers out there who strive to turn out their first, second, or third book. You know – it’s a hard thing. But it can totally be done. You can do this!

Fear, like beauty, is only in the eye of the beholder. You are the fear. —Kim Smith

Chapter One

The fear of poverty sat on me like a screaming black cat digging its claws into my guts. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

I was a college graduate. I had a degree in English.

I should have been a teacher with a retirement account slowly building itself a future. But God has a sense of humor and none of that had happened. If a boatload of green didn’t arrive on the horizon pretty soon none of my meager accomplishments would be of any consequence. I would be living back at home with my aunties. And thanks to the current economy where everyone was looking for jobs—flinging hamburgers didn’t look very promising.

My aunties, Tillie and Nancy, had been giving me money and food ever since my boyfriend/boss had been murdered a few months back. Might be they felt sorry for me but more likely they just loved me and wanted me to eat, drink, and be merry. Problem was, I kept finding myself situated where dead bodies turned up and people close to me were affected. I need a life, seriously.

My lawyer friend from college, James “Jimmy” Adams, and I were seated at the House of Q consuming unhealthy portions of hot pit barbeque slathered in coleslaw and Tabasco while plotting a possible job for Video Angels and thereby, for me.

Well, he was plotting. I was too unnerved to say much.

“It’s just to cement their testimony and won’t take very long,” Jimmy said. “I finally got the court to agree to a filmed copy of the contents of their house. I know you like that stuff these days, so that’s why I called you.”

“Well, yeah, but dang, Jimmy, it’s Miss Lunsford. She taught me in high school. It’d be like pillaging her desk to snoop for the grade book.”

He licked sauce off his fingertips. “It’s actually Mrs. Denaldo since she got married, hence why I need your services. They’re getting divorced. I need some way to exhibit all of their stuff before one of them ditches something of value. My thought was to tape the contents of the house.”

I wiped at drops of baked bean juice in front of my plate and thought about it. “Don’t they have to fill out forms or something declaring their ownership of stuff so the court can decide who gets what?”

“Are you talking about interrogatories? Sure. But if a form paints a thousand words, a video’ll paint a million, right?”

“Now I know why Dwayne handed the phone to me when you called. This wouldn’t be a job for him. He can’t stand seeing other people’s stuff all jumbled up and mismatched. If you were to let him inside someone’s closet, he’d be spouting tidbits from one of those fashion shows he watches, and believe me, it wouldn’t be pretty. I guess that means the old bat’s dilemma sits in my lap.”

I didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh, but my issues with Mrs. Thelma Lunsford Denaldo surfaced like a smelly, dead fish. She never liked me much while I was in school and since leaving those hallowed halls, I’d returned the favor. She ranked at the top of my least liked list.

“Hey! Don’t be disrespectful. She’s been a teacher in this community for at least twenty years,” he said.

“And she remembers each one of us and all our youthful mistakes from every year she’s taught. In tenth grade, she caught me passing notes to Katie Henderson, my best friend, and made me answer for it by forcing me to read it aloud in front of the entire class.”

He made a face like he had swallowed vinegar.

I continued. “My reputation as Shannon Wallace, last known high school virgin, had been somewhat sullied after that incident. She even reminded me of my shortcomings two years later as I walked across the stage in the gym to accept my diploma.”

“I see,” he said with a shrug. “Well, it’s a thought. If you want to make some quick money—”

“Why are they divorcing?” I interrupted. “Seems to me a pillar of society like her would be an unlikely candidate for irreconcilable differences. Cruelty, maybe.”

“No, not irreconcilable differences. Not cruelty either. Try adultery.”

“What? You’re kidding!”

He shook his head. “Nope. Something about making a video that ended up in her husband’s possession. But other than that, I can’t tell you anymore. Let your imagination run the gamut, you’d be right in the end.”

“Welcome to the digital age, huh?” I tapped my front tooth with my index finger and thought about what he’d said. Had she kept a hidden camera going while she played stuff the sausage with her lover? More than likely, her husband was a better snoop than she thought. He might have placed hidden cameras around their house. I bet she never knew she’d played into his plan.

The world of videography had come to me via a similar avenue, and I worried endlessly my faux pas in the home movie industry would announce itself in mainstream South Lake life. Even the idea someone might innocently discover I had done such a thing made my stomach hurt.

Now, the one person in this two-dog town who could reduce me to a quaking, shivering mass of slobber had fallen victim to something similar. I tried to sound nonchalant. “Sexy videos, huh? Maybe they were fakes? You can do a lot with video editing these days.”

“I don’t know and don’t really want to know. Suffice it to say, she was caught from every angle thanks to fancy video work. Although I bet you’re more of an authority on that than me, eh? Maybe I’ll use you in court as a professional analyzer. At any rate, I’m working for her estranged and unhappy hubby. He’s convinced she’s guilty as charged.”

I shoved my Styrofoam plate away and dug in my tote bag for a small container of Tums. The thought of being on a witness stand discussing the technical aspects of videography when it surrounds bedroom activities gave me instant indigestion. I placed the tablet on my tongue and let it dissolve a moment before chewing. Some fruity flavor that they wanted us to think was cherry. It wasn’t even close

“No, thanks,” I replied around the chalky tablet. “I don’t want to be in a court of law ever, and especially not on the opposite side of her.”

Jimmy slurped sweet tea, rubbed his barbeque stained hands on a moist paper towel, and sat back with a satisfied sigh, oblivious to my discomfiture. “Suit yourself,” he said. “I’m just doing my job and thinking of ways to do it best. Speaking of jobs, what about my offer to film the house?”

I glanced at him and gave it some thought. My lack of funds at the moment certainly clouded better judgment, but what else could I do? I had to have money, and he was willing to pay me.

“How much?”

“Two grand.”

“Two grand? For shooting household items?” My voice rose as the insanity of his offer hit me. “Whoa. Adams, Butler, and Cook must be doing well to be able to hand out cash in that size.”

He shrugged a bit too innocently for my taste. His firm touted themselves as the A, B, C of attorneys and handled all manner of cases. Even ones like this where a couple was out to get everything they could by digging in and hurting as much as possible. It made the law firm seem on the low-life side, but who was keeping score?

“Sure could use the money,” I added, chewing another of the chalky antacid tablets. “Dwayne would be totally happy.”

“Well, I’ll just tell you, if our poor old teacher-lady hopes to get any alimony or other spousal support out of Mr. Denaldo, she’d better think of some new ways to say “please”. He intends to get the whole tamale and cut her out of everything if she so much as blinks. She’d be a fool to refuse to allow you to come in with a camera.”

I straightened the napkins lying on the plastic-topped table. “What would I have to do exactly?”

His smile said he smelled victory. “First off, you would need to go over and talk to her, tell her what you do, get her comfortable. And while you’re there, get her to sign these forms giving you permission to do the shoot.” He reached down, pulled papers out of his brown briefcase, and waved them at me.  “All you need to know about the case is right here.”

“Why can’t you go over and do this? I’m totally against doing it. I mean, what might happen when my old teacher and I meet again? My reputation in South Lake society would be at stake if I make her mad. And being a party of the second part to her husband’s lawyer and their plan to strip her of everything would certainly not make her happy.”

“Um. I think her reputation is more at stake than yours, and I can’t do it. I have court.” He grinned and shoved the papers across the table toward me. “Your check for two thousand dollars is just waiting to be written out by the way. Get the job done and the money is yours.”

“Talk about presumption! You already knew I’d do this?” I gaped at the neatly typed pages and thought about a check made out to Video Angels.

Damn.

Two thousand dollars was a wealth of money. There was a lot of wiggle room if we plunked two thousand dollars in the Video Angels’s bank account.

“You can do this, Shannon,” he added, “All you have to do is to get friendly with her before you film her worldly goods.”

Friendly? Whatever!

I stood, snatched the papers up, and flipped my tote off the back of my chair with the flick of my index finger. “Fine. But just so you know, no matter what else happens, I tried to get out of this. It’s on your head if I’m ruined because of it.”

He was still frowning at that as I flounced out of the barbeque place to face the suffocating June heat.

###

With the broiling sun on my back, the ten steps up to the front of Video Angels felt like a hundred. Dwayne looked up from his desk. He’d been holding down the fort while I bandied about town, conspiring and perspiring.

Dwayne Brown is my friend, business partner, and oftentimes, avenging angel. He knows a lot of my secrets, and he still lets me hang out with him. We started Video Angels together after receiving video equipment for a steal thanks to a murdering douchebag named Levi Green. He’d tried to kill me. I returned the favor. Now Dee and I made a living from his former bounty. Although right now, the living we were making was more like barely getting by.

I dumped a white bag, shiny with grease spots, onto his uncluttered desk. “Jumbo ‘que, extra sauce, Tabasco on the side, fries, slaw, and beans. Just like you like it.”

“You ain’t bribin’ me, Wall-ass. Teachers need love too,” he said, judgmental glare smiting me. He sat behind his oak-veneered desk, arms crossed, bald head gleaming in the light from the window behind him.

“Did I say anything about them lacking love?”

“No, but you and that sleaze-ball Adams have been cookin’ up somethin’. He told me some of the story, and now you prance in here all excited. I see it in the glimmer of your eyes.”

I headed for my office. “That’s not a glimmer, that’s sweat from the heat. And I’ll have a check for you to deposit as soon as—” I drew to a quick halt before going full-tilt into Katie Henderson who rounded the corner at the same time.

Katie and I had been friends since high school. She also knew every one of my escapades and still wanted to hang out. What a gal! And she was so pretty, I liked being around her. Guys seemed to just light up when she entered a room.

Today, she wore tight black Capri pants and a Harley tee with frayed sleeves. It fit her latest trend of being a motorcycle mama. Her petite height and tiny waist made her look like some sort of blonde Barbie playing dress-up. I worried for her safety on the back of the throaty beast she rode, dreading a phone call in the middle of the night. Having no qualms, she pooh-poohed my neuroses.

“Whoa, Nellie!” I said, thrusting my hand out to keep from mowing her down.

“Well, hey yourself!” She side-stepped me and waited for me to proceed forward before following me to my desk. “You almost missed me. I was just about to head over to the mall.”

“What’re you buying?” I asked, nestling the Denaldo papers on one corner.

“I’m looking to buy a pair of speakers. Figured I could find something at that new electronics place. So. What’s Dwayne all in a tizzy about?” She tilted her head toward his office. “He’s been on a tear ever since I got here.”

“Oh, he’s out to right the wrongs of the world. Don’t mind him.”

“He said you’re filming a divorce?”

I exhaled loudly and gave her my best Meryl Streep imitation. “Not exactly. The job concerns one Thelma Denaldo, formerly Lunsford. Remember her and a certain note that got passed in fourth period English class?”

Her eyes bulged. “Oh shotzky. I do remember that. You’re not going to tug on old Witchy-poo’s wig, are you? She’s mean as a rattlesnake.”

“Tell that to Dwayne.” I stifled a laugh. It had been years since I’d even thought about our nickname for Denaldo. “Witchy-poo. That’s good, isn’t it? Wonder if it still fits?”

Static electricity fused together a few of the pages of the stapled grouping Jimmy had given me and while I separated them, Katie came closer to read along with me.

“Sued for adultery? You’re kidding me? Who’d want her?” she asked, disgust lining her voice.

“Ha, ha, ha.” Laughing, I moved over to a metal file cabinet to pull out a manila folder. I slid the papers inside and then shoved it all back inside my tote purse. “Per the love guru, Dwayne Brown, even old witches who terrorize their young impressionable students need love.”

“Right. I’ll bet it was one of her students,” Katie mused and crossed her arms. “Some young stud, probably, on a dare from the football team.”

“I hope not. That’s just gross. At any rate, I have to go over and talk to her later, and good grief, I just dread it. She’s going to remember every bad thing I did in school and remind me of it.”

Katie hitched one hip onto the corner of the desk as I slid my chair around and gave me a pearly white grin. “Maybe she’ll remember something really good. Something you’ve forgotten about.”

“God. Thanks for the thought.”

“You don’t have to call me God,” she said, waggling her eyebrows. Then she lowered her voice almost to a whisper and stared at me. “Is this a paying job? It’d better be. Dwayne was muttering about the utility bill.”

My heart sank even further. He’d seen the bill? Jim’s offer looked better and better. I needed that money in a large way.

Seeing my chagrin, she said, “Don’t fret over old Lungsfull. She can’t be holding grudges against anyone if she’s been a bad old biddy, now can she?”

I shrugged. “Who knows what a middle-aged woman sampling the wares outside of her marital vows will do when the event is brought to light, especially by one of her more or less memorable former students. But if I succeed, we’ll have money in the bank, utility bills paid, and breathing room again, so I guess I have no choice. I’ve agreed to do it.”

She gave me an analytical gaze. “You look too worried for my tastes. You want me to go with you? I don’t care what she remembers about me.”

I thought about it. Katie was one tough cookie. Maybe she could rein in the woman’s meaner side. Glancing over the side of the desk at her solid leather boots, I revised that thought. In that getup, Denaldo would never even answer the door.

Before I could decline her offer, Dwayne sidled in like a slinky panther, stopping in front of my desk with his arms crossed. “If anybody goes with you, it’s me. That poor woman needs a protector from mean gals like y’all. She’s just misunderstood. She’s gotten a bad rap. Most teachers do. I watched that movie about the teacher helping kids from the hood. There’s a lot to be said for them.”

“Okay. Sure Dwayne, you can go. Just remember, we’re there to get her cooperation. Jim wants her comfortable with us and therefore easy breezy with the plan, which is to film the contents of her house. Or the marital domain as he called it.”

He clicked his tongue at me. “Jim Adams is one of those hustlers hidin’ in a lawyer’s coat. I can’t believe you associate with that creature.

Ignoring his opinionated commentary on the man who was about to pay our bills, I turned back to Katie. “Guess we won’t need your assistance, Missy. Keep your phone on. You’re the Marines.” Then, catching Dwayne’s offended look, I added, “But I’m certain we won’t.”

Katie slid off the desk and walked to one of my client chairs to collect her helmet and gear. In my opinion, the thing she called a helmet was hardly worth wearing. It barely covered her head. No way that thing would protect something as sensitive as a brain.

She tucked it under her arm and shouldered her bike saddlebags before heading for the door. Cheerily she called back to me, “Call me later. I want to hear every word. And don’t leave anything out.”

Dwayne went toward his office muttering something at her back about jealousy and teacher’s pets as she let herself out. He returned with a camcorder and his keys dangling from one finger. “I’m drivin’.”

Chapter Two

Lilies, roses, and daisies filled large clay urns amid the flowerbeds outside of the new City Hall building. The gardeners for the area had also planted assorted sun-loving plants along the sidewalks, and I wanted to leap out to sniff their perfumed petals, but refrained. At least physically. Mentally, I was lying out in the freshly-turned earth, inhaling summer.

Inside Dwayne’s new car, the scent wasn’t too bad either. But then again, I’m partial to new car smell. In my opinion, anyone fortunate enough to have a new car should appreciate the pleasure of that distinctive smell. Too bad it doesn’t last the life of the car.

Dwayne picked up a black Toyota Camry for cheap at a sale at the big Ford dealership on the corner of Greenman and Highway 78 after Raphael Ramirez borrowed his old Mustang and forgot to bring it back. “Forgot” on purpose, more like it. Why on earth Dee would allow such a travesty to occur kept me up at night. What sort of deal did those two have anyway?

He had never really given a sufficient reason for allowing Rafe to abscond with the ‘Stang, but it wasn’t from my lack of trying to pry it out of him. I had asked questions off and on for a matter of weeks. Even our mutual cop friend, Sal Ramirez didn’t know. Or else the men were doing that man thing where they keep each other’s most dark secret. Either way, I wasn’t privy to the info.

In the end, Dwayne’s grandmother, who always kept him in line with threats of coming down from her place in Illinois to smack him with her Bible, sent him money to put down on the car.  He acted obnoxiously proud of it, and I responded equally with jealousy.

My old Betsy, an antique Mercury Cougar, was on her last legs and screamed as though in pain whenever the steering wheel turned. Probably the power steering going out, I’d been advised. Power steering issues sounded like either a lengthy visit to the repair shop or an expensive one, and either way, it was not in the cards. I kept a can of power steering fluid in my backseat, but kept forgetting to add some until turning the wheel got out of hand. Something would have to be done soon though, as I was developing massive biceps from the effort.

I pulled out the manila folder I’d gotten from Jimmy and checked the address again before laying it on the console between us. Dwayne slowed to a crawl as we approached Ashton Heights which was Thelma’s neighborhood.

Ashton Heights was all brick, all brag, and all budget-busting housing on the newer side of South Lake. No home in the subdivision sold for less than three hundred thousand and had nice garages and manicured lawns.

“Huh. Quit droolin’, Wall-ass. Ain’t no way you can ever live here,” Dwayne announced, glancing over at me.

“Don’t call me that, and I can still dream, can’t I?” I grumped. He had been calling me Wall-ass forever, why was it bothering me today? I resisted the urge to pull out my phone calendar and check it for my monthly reminder to buy tampons. That would be just all I needed.

He drove into the quiet cove, up the winding driveway, and over bits of tree limbs and leaves probably fallen from the last thunderstorm. Gazing at the big oaks shadowing our passage, I figured keeping the drive swept would be a fulltime job. It would either be pine needles or oak leaves and either way local kids were probably making bank on sweeping for the lazy folks.

He parked in front of the house in the middle of the driveway.

“Hang back here until I signal for you. If she’s not cooperative with our visit, we’ll just have to get back in the car. Hate to lose all the cool air.” I slid from the car, careful not to slam the door. He got mighty touchy about the doors being slammed. They didn’t really slam anyway. More like they made a dull thud.

The walkway meandered to the front steps, bordered on each side by squatty flowers with four petals. They smiled up at me in every color imaginable. Immediately, I wished to know their names because my aunts would love to have the prolific little plants in their front flowerbeds. Note to self: use the landscaping as an ice-breaker.

I stepped up the single step to the front of the house and rapped on the white wrought-iron door. While I waited for an answer, I ran my finger over the elaborate scrollwork. It smacked of wealth and made me wonder what Mr. Denaldo did for a living. Teacher pay wasn’t this good, was it? Had I been missing out on the good life? All it took was corralling a few kids for the bulk of the day, right?

Looking around, I noticed the front porch’s fake potted ferns, and white wicker patio furniture. Très quaint. People worked hard to get this kind of southern ambiance. Sorrow touched me for my former teacher and her soon-to-be destroyed home. Broken marriages were like broken pottery; you might glue it back together, but you couldn’t ever feel the same about it.

I knocked again. No answer.

The window overlooking the porch sported closed mini-blinds, and no one moved them aside to peer out. She must be somewhere in the house unable to hear my knock. I rang the doorbell and waited.

No answer. What the hell?

Retracing my steps, I walked across the front of the house, eyeballing Dwayne as he drummed his fingers on the dashboard to the tune of a muffled song. When I stood on tiptoe and looked inside the double garage, a maroon Subaru greeted me along with an empty slot for another car.

I walked back to the Toyota and climbed in. “She’s not answering, but a car’s here.”

“What? Did Dude call her and tell her you were comin’ over? You think the car’s hers?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t know. He seemed like he expected her to be here, so the car most likely is hers. I don’t think she wants to see us.”

“You got a number in that file?” He pointed at the manila folder, exasperated. “Call her up. I got a life to lead. Ain’t wastin’ no more time on this shit for Jerk Adams.”

I dug out my new pearl white cell phone and swiped it open. The dialing of the digits sounded like a calligraphy pen scratching on paper. Dwayne leaned over to check out the weird noise then shook his head in disgust.

He just wasn’t a “think outside the box” kind of guy today.

Four rings, five. No answer. I disconnected. “Call the substitute. This teacher’s out.”

We sat silently for a few moments contemplating our next move. I decided to call Jimmy’s office and leave a message. Maybe he would get it and call me back with a new plan.

Surprisingly, Jim answered on the second ring. “Hello.”

“Hey, it’s Shannon. Where are you?”

“Just got out of court. What’s up?”

“Can’t locate Mrs. Denaldo. No one’s home.”

“You went over there, huh? Hmm. This doesn’t sound good. I spoke to her last night. She said she’d be there all day.”

“One car in the garage, red Subaru. Is that hers? There’s no answer when I knock.”

“Sounds like her car, all right. I guess she’s gone out somewhere.” He paused a moment before adding, “Well, thanks for trying.”

“Or she doesn’t want to have this conversation right now,” I added. “Listen, I’ll keep on trying if you can tell me where to try next.”

“Can’t help you with that. She’s been vehement about staying at the domicile. She wants it as bad as my client does.”

“I thought possession was nine tenths of the law?” I said, thinking I had quoted the saying wrong. Not that I blamed her. It was sweet digs.

“Depends on what state you live in. Mississippi law says he may have actually lost the damn house and all its belongings by allowing her to stay there while he is elsewhere.”

“So that’s why you came up with the plan to videotape the interior and all the belongings?”

“Yeah. I mean, it will make things easier to divide, if it comes to that.”

“Good to know if I ever find myself in such a position,” I said. “Anyway, just in case she stepped out for a walk or something, I’ll hang out a while. Maybe she’ll turn up.”

“Yeah, good thinking. Let me know if she shows. If she doesn’t, don’t waste a lot of time there. It’s probably just not going to happen today. I’m having one of those days.”

We disconnected, and I looked at Dwayne, who, singing a song by Pink under his breath, annoyed me to no end. “Must you do that?”

“What?” he asked.

“Sing.”

He gasped like I had struck him. “You mean you don’t like my singin’?”

I shook my head and climbed out of the car again. “I’m going to look around. Maybe she’s out back.”

He hauled out of the Toyota at my words. “More like, she’s probably holed up in there and doesn’t want to talk to you. You’re comin’ from the enemy camp, Wall-ass. You’re probably goin’ to give her a heart attack. That and a divorce will probably kill her.”

Ignoring him, I went to the gate leading into the backyard. He followed along behind me, muttering about poor old teachers until I wanted to scream. The gate connected a chain link fence on one side to the garage on the other.

I shook the fence. “Think they have a big slobbery dog?”

He shook it harder, making it rattle and creak. “Nope. No dog back there or else he’d have come runnin’, ready to eat us.”

“Good. No dog. No Thelma either, else she’d be over here to find out who was messing with her fence.”

I checked the lock on the gate. Old-fashioned keyed lock. No way to break that without a pair of clips. And why would I even do that? She wasn’t home. She wasn’t home. Why was I even contemplating the backyard?

Sometimes I wish I could pay attention when my better judgement spoke to me.

Pulling a ponytail holder from around my wrist, I twisted my hair back, checked my front pocket to make sure the check was still in place, grasped the sturdy post of the gate with both hands, and started to climb over.

“Wait!” Dwayne grabbed me around the waist and pulled me down again. “What’re you doin? What if the dog’s hard of hearin’? What if the teacher is in and armed?”

“She’s not back there, Dwayne. And you just said no dogs. You better be right!” I returned to the gate and scratched my way to the top, paused for one second to look at the ground

“Thank you so much for beneath me on the other side and jumped, landing with a grunt.

“Are you coming or what?” I asked when no sound came from Dwayne.

It took a second before he answered, and his words forced a sliver of fear through me. waitin’ on me, Wall-ass. I guess you don’t need my help. You know I’m not all about that climbin’ shit. When you find the teacher, or get inside, or figure out somethin’ let me in the front door like normal people.”

“Fine. But, don’t you dare go anywhere. You stay right here.” I punctuated my words with a finger stabbing the air, although I didn’t think he could see me through the wooden slats of the gate. “I’ll be right back.”

Braving the backyard, I halfway expected some hairy beast to come charging me even with all Dwayne’s sage words. Such a disaster was all too normal for me. Thankfully, no such event occurred. It was a huge yard too, just aching for a pet.

A small boy of about four or five stood at the fence along the back, chubby fingers gripping the chain link, watching me. I hoped he wouldn’t tell anyone about the lady who slunk around Mrs. Denaldo’s backyard. I eased onto the back patio under the metal awning overhang, careful not to disturb the crepe myrtle edging it. The poor bush was inundated with a heavy dose of honeysuckle, which smelled heavenly, though I steered far away from it. Bees love honeysuckle like I love Ben and Jerry’s.

The patio bore leaves and old grass clippings, and the grill had a thick layer of dust. No fancy backyard parties at the Denaldo residence lately, apparently. Maybe never again, thanks to the intricacies of divorce. I stepped up to the plain Jane screen door protecting the interior wooden one. It was ajar like the catch had been sprung.

Bells rang in my head, and my vision blurred. The last time I waltzed in a partially opened door, my friend Joe ended up being on the floor, dead. What if something was wrong with Thelma? What if she was sick? Jim said she was supposed to be here, all nice and tidy and ready to be visited. Her car was even in the garage…

Oh Em Gee.

I turned sharply and hurried back to Dwayne who was lounging against the fence. “Go to the car, get that folder, drop it over here, and then get your ass back here pronto! We have a situation,” I said, voice full of fear and trepidation. He griped a lot, but he did as I asked without question. The gate climbing did nothing to improve his attitude, either. He landed in front of me with the camera securely affixed around his neck by a strap.

“You think of everything!” I said.

He plopped it into my hands while I blubbered on and on about killers and dead bodies. For once he didn’t say anything smart-alecky. I guess our history spoke for itself. I tucked the folder under my arm and anchored myself tight onto his heels. He eased open the screen door with the toe of his Nike, and I think we both held our breath. He knocked twice on the interior door, but Thelma didn’t answer.

“Do you think it’s unlocked, too?” I asked in a hushed whisper, pointing.

Using the edge of his tee shirt to turn the knob of the door, he tried it. It opened silently like doors do in horror movies.

“Damn it, girl!” he said, jumping backwards. The sudden reversal made me drop the folder and all of its contents in order to maintain my grip on the camera. I slung the camera strap around my neck, held the little machine one-handed, and bent over to collect the fallen papers.

“Watch out, Dee.” I told him moving his foot so I could pull a small card out from where it had lodged. I scooped up the folder, put everything together, and tucked it back under my arm.

“What now?” I asked, hot and scared. “She’s not answering. The door is open. She’s in there, I just know it. But why isn’t she answering?”

He gave me a look full of chagrin. “Shit, Shannon. Here we go again.”

“We can’t leave her.”

“We can’t go runnin’ in there!”

“What if she’s hurt?”

“What if she’s dead?”

“What if she is? We have to do something!”

“Call Sal.”

“Dude. No. What if she’s not in there? What if we call him for nothing? He’ll be all nasty-nice about it, and I’ll have to endure that. I can’t. I won’t. We have to go in to find out if she is or isn’t in there. If she isn’t, we could film the house inside and still earn that two grand Jim promised us. Papers or not.” I indicated the folder.

“Two grand? Two grand!” His eyes grew to the size of half-dollars.

“Yes, two grand. The check’s in the mail, sort of.”

“Well, shit. I guess we’re goin’ in.”

He got the screen door open again with his shoe, and used a pen to push open the wooden door. I stayed right on his heels, camcorder strap around my neck, and camera at the ready. Directly in front of us, a small bathroom stood dark and silent. Using his pen, he flipped on the light in there and looked behind the door. “Fake Monet,” he said, backing out.

“How can you think of artwork at a time like this?” I hissed.

“She decorated the room with fake Monet. I didn’t think of it first. But while we’re talkin’ about what I’m thinkin’, I’d sure as hell rather not think about what you want me to think about.”

While I tried to understand that logic, he moved away and I followed. My mind wouldn’t leave me alone either. Why couldn’t I just wait for him in the bathroom with the faux artwork? I’d be nice and quiet, knocking knees together, lips sealed.

He yelled for Mrs. Denaldo in a deep voice I didn’t know he possessed. It made the hair on my neck stand up. There was no answer.

We turned off to the right. The kitchen area nestled in front of large bright windows covered in cream-colored mini-blinds. Sunlight glinted inside the partially opened slits and bounced off the glass tabletop and the glasswork on the beautiful flame mahogany breakfront.

I took this moment to breathe. I set the folder on the table, and wiped sweat from my brow. The rest of the house stood as silent as a cave.

“Don’t touch anything,” Dwayne said. “She’s either dead, or not here, and either way, we ain’t stayin’.”

We followed the hall around to a short set of wooden stairs leading down. You could see the soft blue carpet of the room beyond through the stairs.

“Go or stay?” Dwayne asked.

“Go. We have to be sure.” I hated the resignation in my voice.

“I knew you were gonna say that.”

With a one-handed grip on the camera, I tried not to touch the rail for balance. Close to the last stair, Dwayne jerked to a sudden halt and whipped his gun out, elbowing me in the gut.

“Well,” Dwayne announced, voice shaking. “Guess who’s not comin’ for dinner?”

I peered over his shoulder and saw a body lying face down.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod…” Hysteria didn’t sound good coming out of my mouth.

“I knew this was going to happen. Didn’t I tell you this was going to happen? Shit, shit, shit,” he said, glaring at me from over his shoulder.

“W-Who is it?”

“Ain’t no Mrs. Denaldo, that’s for sure.” He took the last few steps, looked around the room quickly, even behind the couch and potted palm. Finally, he shoved his gun back into the holster hidden under his shirt and moved closer to the body. “Ewww. Something heavy upside the head. This is bad, Shan. Very bad. Call 9-1-1, girl.”

My eyes didn’t want to see anything gory, but my curious streak felt deprived. My legs didn’t want to go to where Dee knelt, but for some reason my feet didn’t listen to my legs. When I arrived, my entire being learned what sorry felt like.

The scream erupted along with scalding tears of regret. “Oh my God!”

Dwayne twisted around and grabbed me. “What are you lookin’ for? You ain’t supposed to be over here lookin’, Shannon! I said call—”

“It’s Dan! It’s Dan Justice!”

“Yes, damn it. Jesus, Jewel, and Madonna, it’s Dan!”

The whole room whirled like a Ferris wheel at the Mid-South Fair. Nausea did a dance to the tip-top of my stomach and swallowing became gulping.

“Back up, Wall-ass. This is a crime scene. Somebody done took somethin’ and thumped him one. He ain’t goin’ nowhere, you understand me? We gotta get outta here.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice to scram. I flew up the stairs, the camcorder flopping heavily against my chest. Once in the bathroom with the fake Monet, I yanked the camera from around my neck, plunked it onto the vanity, and threw up in the toilet.

Chapter Three

Salvador Ramirez, homicide cop extraordinaire, would not be the one to question me this time. His comrades and friends would not even allow him access to the house. Dan Justice had been his partner for a few years. Obviously, they didn’t trust him to keep his cool when viewing the body on this case.

From the window, I saw them stop his exit from his car. His face went from concerned to confused to crushed in a few seconds flat. He struggled against strong arms holding him back, and tried to rush for the door, but the officers insisted with brute force. Or maybe he was too weak with grief? At any rate, he staggered under the news and I let the curtain fall. It hurt to watch him. I knew exactly what that feeling was like.

My weak stomach had kept Dwayne and I from making an anonymous call to South Lake Police, which is what we wanted to do. But since my fingerprints danced everywhere in the bathroom from the wall light switch to the marbled sink, to the granite floor, there was no way to hide my being there. And as my sucky luck would have it, I was in the system, thanks to prior incidents.

We had to tell them who we were and what we had found.

Dwayne had done a cursory search to make sure Thelma Denaldo wasn’t also lying somewhere in the same condition. We didn’t find her, but we found her purse, a Dooney and Bourke done in the finest leather, lying agape on the formal dining room floor. That led us to a mini-argument.

“She’s been taken against her will,” I said, pointing at the bag.

“Why? What’s her purse prove?”

“No woman leaves without her purse. Especially one like that.”

“What? No way. She dropped it there in her hurry to get outta Dodge. Hell, she probably did the deed. You said she was a mean old crow. Maybe it was an accident, but it freaked her out and she ran off. She wasn’t in her right mind.”

“Oh, so now you’re going to come over to the dark side? Weren’t you defending her earlier? No, Dee. I’m serious. She left her purse. That purse.” I pointed at it. “No woman, regardless of her mind being right or not, would leave an expensive bag like that behind. Look at it. It’s all spilled out.”

“A cop’s all spilled out in the other room, too. You think she’s worryin’ about her purse? Come on. I don’t think so. She’s worried about what’s lyin’ on her floor.” He waved toward the family room.

“We have to call the cops,” I told him. “And I bet you right now, she’s going to be a kidnap victim. I just hope they find her before she ends up dead, too.”

When the cops arrived, blue lights swirling and sirens screaming, someone took Dwayne to a different part of the house to get his side of the story. My interrogator, a hefty young cop with a red face and eyeglasses that had to be constantly pushed up the bridge of his rather straight nose, took me to the guest bedroom. He sat on a ladder-back chair with his notepad across his lap. I glanced around the room trying to focus on something besides the seriousness of the situation. Thelma’s choice of brass bed, valances, mountain art and other things was assessed and dismissed inside my head as the cop and I sort of did this ‘you go first’ dance.

“Miss Wallace, tell me everything you know about the deceased.”

His voice, deadpan, chilled me, convinced me this was real. It was happening for real. I fiddled with the bedspread, a tufted thing of lace and avoided his eyes. He waited with pen poised, intensely interested in my answer.

“I don’t know anything about the deceased that your department doesn’t know. He was a cop. A friend of a friend, maybe even a friend of yours. You know more than I do probably.”

“Tell me what you can. State how you knew him, at least for the report. We should keep this thing official and perfect. Detective Ramirez said, you know, no mess ups.”

If I knew anything, I knew the officers working this case would get it right. Sal wanted it done to the letter and they would comply. Dan had been a straight up guy and likely had a lot of friend on the force. They would nail this killer’s butt to a wall quickly.

Okay. I would follow orders.

“He was a cop, Sal’s partner. He worked in Sal’s office, homicide. He, um, was a nice guy.” I brushed the tears away, giving up on trying to stop the flow. “Now he’s dead. Ah, damn.”

“What were you doing here?” He pointed at the camera still sitting in my lap. “What were you filming?”

“Oh, that. Um. I came over to talk to the woman who owns the place about a video.”

“And where is she?”

“Not at home.”

“Obviously.” He wrote on his pad. “What exactly is your business with her?”

“Can you legally ask me that?”

He tilted his head and gave me one of those ‘are you kidding?’ looks.

“It’s a private matter, dude. I don’t want to tell you.”

“Are you asking for a lawyer to be present?”

He didn’t know the half of it.

“No, I just can’t tell you, not that I won’t tell you if you make me. I mean I don’t want to go to jail. God, give me a break. Poor Sal! This is hard enough on a good day, but it’s Dan, damn it.” I sniffed and wiped my nose with a corner of my shirt.

“Okay. We’ll let that go for now,” he said, taking a deep breath as he reached over to the nightstand to hand me tissues. While I blew, and sniffed, he made notes. Then finally, after giving me enough time to regain composure, he asked, “If she was not at home, how did you get inside?”

“The back door was open.”

“You were invited in?” This question was asked as he fiddled with his notebook, not looking directly at me.

“Well, no, but I was expected. I just figured she was in the back of the house and didn’t hear us, so I let us in.”

“You did or Mr. Brown did?”

Uh oh. Maybe a little white lie was in order.

“Don’t remember who pushed the door, dude. It was open, okay? When she didn’t answer the front door, we started snooping around, looking for her. I mean, she’s…um…something I can’t talk about with you. It’s a legal thing. I don’t need a lawyer, but a lawyer is involved.”

Was that me? Was I truly babbling like that?

“You need to call James Adams of Adams, Butler, and Cook. It’s his case,” I added with a loud sniff.

He stopped writing, set his pen aside, and pinched the bridge of his nose before venturing another look at me. “Detective Ramirez sort of said you might be like this.”

I grimaced.

“Can this Adams person vouch for you because this is technically B and E, ma’am.”

“B and E? Breaking and entering? No way. James Adams asked me to come over and talk to the lady who lives here.” My voice sounded petulant and I hated it when that happened. He was getting on my last nerve. “I’m supposed to film her. I didn’t B and E anything. Look in my bag over there and there will be a manila folder with a form for her to sign giving me consent. I’m totally legit, dude.”

“Where is she then?”

“I don’t know.” And what was worse, I didn’t care anymore. I wanted to go to Sal, or Dwayne, or both. And better yet, I wanted my aunties.

“Will Adams know?”

“He might. It’s his case. It’s all a big mystery to me.” No point in trying to make him understand how Jimmy didn’t know her whereabouts either

He sighed, tucked his pad and pen in his shirt pocket, rose from his seat, and strode over to where my tote bag sat. His mother must have trained him well, because he lifted it with one finger and brought it to me. “Get that folder for me, would you?”

I complied.

He glanced over it, tucked it under his arm, and gave me a look that reminded me of Sal. “That’ll be all for now, I guess. We’ve got to get this Adams guy on the phone.”

I remained mute.

“You need to leave the camera contents with us, as a part of this investigation. In fact, we’ll just keep the camera too, just in case. We’ll get it back to you as soon as possible.”

“We never got around to even turning it on,” I told him as I handed the camera over. He stood, tucked his notebook under his arm, and got a better grip on the camcorder before disappearing amidst the depths of the house.

Dwayne would be livid. He loved that camera, in particular. If anything happened to it, he would sue the city as fast as a judge’s gavel could slam. I wandered back to the window. When I lifted the curtain to see what the activity outside looked like now, the most obvious thing was Sal’s absence. His friends had taken him away, promising him they would handle it fine without his presence. I was equally sure he was not very happy to go. I sure wouldn’t be.

Crowds had gathered on the sidewalk. Gawkers, my aunt called them. Those people who are drawn by police light bars and crime scene vans. Drawn to tragedy like flies to a piece of pecan pie. They stood behind a barrier the cops had erected, arms crossed, talking quietly to one another, supposing what they thought might have happened. It was obviously a death. The forensics people had arrived. And there were a lot of cops. I figured Dan being the victim, a lot of his friends wanted to be in on getting the person responsible for killing him.

But then again, cops were a special brotherhood. They always came to the aid of a fallen officer. It was like an unforgivable sin to not respond to the officer down call.

The wandering about of police personnel and the crowd sent my thoughts to recent events in my own sordid life over the last year. Sal had been the epitome of kindness and concern over my recovery from a shoulder injury back in the spring when I’d encountered danger.

These days he made no secret about wanting to date me, but the problem with dating a cop was more than simple scheduling. It was a matter of my freedom and how it would be somewhat curtailed if we were in a relationship. Right now, we were friends, and in this time in space, I really wanted to go to him.

Freedom be damned.

But the thought of how to handle someone else’s tragedy again so soon after Dwayne’s friend, Bubba, had been killed filled me with dread. I hated my life.

###

When Dwayne and I finally left the Denaldo residence, our shoulders were slumped in exhaustion. Flashes erupted from cameras pointed our way as we walked down the driveway. Someone called out, “Is the head dead yet?” from a Don Henley song, and a chill stroked my neck at the meaning. There is nothing like a cold-hearted public who cares nothing about the victim, only the sensational aspect of a murder. If whoever had said it had an inkling of a clue as to what they were scoffing at, they would shut up tighter than one of my aunts’ plastic food containers.

At the edge of the police’s perimeter were some of the Denaldo’s neighbors, including Jerry Alexander. Jerry had graduated with Katie and me, but looked a lot older and more tired. He still had slicked back blond hair, and a thin model’s body. He wore a long-sleeved tee shirt rolled up to his elbows.

“Hey Shannon,” he said, voice soft as a feather over the noise of the crowd around us. “You okay?”

I nodded as Dwayne took my elbow, and led me away. Safely inside his car, I asked if he knew Jerry.

“Not me. Why?”

“Just wondered. I think he’s gay.”

Dwayne waved his hand to indicate Jerry was of little consequence. “That’s the last thing I want to think about. My brain may never be the same. I need a cold beer, and a hot plate.” He pulled away from the crowd and took off.

“And I’d like a side of some answers,” I snarled, whipping out my cell phone to dial Jim’s number. After barely allowing him to say hello, I blathered on about confidentially, murder, and filming a teacher I desperately wanted to avoid. That last was a low blow but I was excited and angry.

“Shannon? Shannon, slow down,” he finally managed to get in. “Start again. What happened?”

“D-e-a-d,” I spelled out. “We found a body in her house, Jim.”

“A body? Who was it? Thelma?”

“For crying out loud. No! Didn’t you hear anything I said?”

“Very little. You sound hysterical. How did you get in the Denaldo house? Was Thelma there after all?”

“No. No sign of her.”

He paused before saying, “What the hell?”

I glanced over at Dwayne, whose ears positively swiveled to listen in. “We, um, the back door was open, and we let ourselves in.”

Dwayne settled back against the driver’s door. I went on. “We got concerned when we found the door open. We wanted to make sure nothing was amiss. I figured if she wasn’t in there, then we could film the contents and beat feet, nothing lost. But when we got in, we found a dead guy, a cop, on the floor in the family room.” I took a deep breath. “We made a call to the PD, and they kept us forever, asking questions.”

“A cop? Oh, wow. Who was it?”

Quickly, I answered. “I don’t think I should say anymore. I couldn’t tell them about you, and now I can’t tell you about the investigation. But you’ll be hearing from them soon. God, what a day!”

Adams paused, turning the information over. “No Thelma and no video I guess, huh?”

“Well, duh. The only footage would have been of the bathroom while I was in there being sick,” I answered. “But I might as well tell you now, the cops took the camera and the contents and your permission form and all the papers.”

Dwayne shot me an angry glare, and I mouthed “sorry” at him. He looked forward, but the unmistakable jut of his lower lip spoke volumes.

A bell sounded in the background on Jimmy’s end. “What? Oh wow. Guess that’s the cops at my door now. I’ll call you back.”

He disconnected, and I did my best to sink deep into the car seat. An eruption from Dwayne was forthcoming, and I imagined it would rival a volcano with lava spew.

When he finally spoke, his voice surprised me. He sounded more incredulous than angry. “They took it? How could you let them take my camera?”

Well, technically, it was our camera, but I couldn’t point that out just yet. “Yep, they sure did. Officer Whatsit said he’d try to get it back to us as soon as possible. It’s evidence if there’s anything on the digital media that they need, which there won’t be because I didn’t shoot anything. But they weren’t much for listening to what I had to say on that matter. They were all about going by the book.”

He softened at that revelation. “Yeah. I guess so. But still, damn it, that’s a good camera. I hope they take care of it. I ain’t sued nobody lately.”

Mentally buttoning my lips, I thought back on the whole affair we’d just endured. It occurred to me that we could have taped the house interior while we waited for the cops to arrive. It wasn’t necessary to have Mrs. Denaldo’s permission in my opinion, but then again, if we had done such a thing, the cops would have gotten their paws on the camera, and thereby the tape, effectively cutting us out of the use of it.

“Ah, hell,” I said out loud.

“What now?” Dwayne asked, giving me a quizzical look.

“I was just thinking we could have taped the house while we waited on the cops to show up. How sick am I? How could I even think such a thing? Dan Justice was a good man. Now, he’s gone.” Tears welled up again. I wasn’t thinking clearly.

“Yeah, we’re a society that ignores everything that occurs around us. A man’s lost life means nothing. No horror factor. But damn, Wall-ass, you never think like that. You’re the fount of generosity.”

“Not today, I guess.” I sniffed loudly. “You got any tissues in this rust bucket?”

He pointed down at the console box between us. “There.”

I pulled out a couple of tissues from a soft pack and blew my nose. My head had begun to pound in earnest.

“Where to, Miss Daisy?” Dwayne asked.

“Home, I guess.”

“What you got to eat over there?”

“Not much.”

“How ‘bout Wangs and Thangs?” He rubbed his belly like such culinary delights appeased some beast within as he mentioned the little grocery he frequented.

Wangs and Thangs, aside from having cheap, watered-down gasoline, housed a small deli, usually overflowing with barbeque and fried chicken pieces. Occasionally, they would have baked beans and biscuits to round out the Styrofoam boats.

“Sure, sounds good,” I agreed. He left me in the car, motor and air conditioning running. I struggled to recall the interior of the Denaldo house. Clues probably abounded there, but all I could think about at the time was the recently deceased remains sprawled in the vicinity with me.

Poor Dan.

What the hell was he doing at the Denaldo’s and who was dumb enough to kill a cop? And why? And why the hell did Thelma run off without her purse? It was bugging me. No matter what Dwayne said, I knew that purse held meaning. It was taken as evidence too. I wished I had thought to dig around in it. Not that old lady’s purses ever held much interest for anyone They probably held mints, tissues, and an old worn out wallet with pictures of someone else’s kids.

The face of the little boy at the fence behind the Denaldo’s house returned to my mind. Had he seen the killer? That kid probably knew as much as anyone at this point. I decided to call Sal about the kid. If I forgot to mention it on the front end it would somehow come back to haunt me later. It’d be my luck that the kid would be the key to Dan’s murder.

While waiting for someone in Homicide to answer the phone, I wondered if they were all at the crime scene. Maybe it was a bad time to call.

Then, a click and a familiar voice. “Ramirez.”

My heart thudded in my chest. “Sal? It’s Shannon.”

“Hi there.” He sounded either completely exhausted, or totally wiped out with grief. Either way, I would keep it short.

“I forgot to tell the cops about something.”

“Uh-huh.”

“There’s a kid who lives behind the Denaldos. He was out in his yard playing when we were over there. You might want to talk to his mama about anything they saw. He might have been outside all the time.”

“I’ll pass it along.”

Silence.

“Are you okay? Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to come over?”

“I’m still at the office. Another time, perhaps?”

“Sure. You name it.”

“Will do.” And he disconnected.

Cradling the phone, I nursed an image of embracing Sal in his time of need. It ended when Dwayne shuffled up with his arms full of food. He gave me a curious look, but no lip to go along with it. It felt like my world had tilted. This was one of the worst days in my history.

###

Seated at my kitchen table, our greasy fingers smeared paper napkins and our smacking lips and grunts were the only sounds. The smell of fried food filled my little place and made me remember times in my childhood at my aunts’ restaurant. I would have to call them soon and give them a heads up about the murder. They liked Dan. He was one of their customers at Aunt Tillie’s eatery.

Contemplating Dan’s murder and what had happened to Mrs. Denaldo kept us in silence. In fact, my thoughts about the whole ordeal were so deep that I nearly dropped a can of soda when my cell phone vibrated from the depths of the pocket on my denim shorts.

Dwayne laughed at my fumbling. “Nervous much?”

I scowled at him and swiped my phone open, ignoring the number that appeared. “Yeah?” I said gruffly.

“Shannon. It’s Jim. The cops just left. I think I may have more questions. You home?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Come on over.”

I clicked the off button on the side of my phone and slid it onto the tabletop. “Jim’s coming over.”

Dee crushed his can and did a slam-dunk, thanks to my swing top garbage can. “Good time for me to take off. I don’t wanna be around and listen to his tripe.”

“Why are you so hateful about him? He’s a pretty nice guy, and you’ll be glad you know him if someone sues us. And don’t you think they won’t, either. Plenty of brides have become Bridezilla. I know you watch those television shows, and you’ve seen them. Besides, he has to make a living doing what he knows how to do. Is it his fault he actually takes an active role in pursuing clients?”

Dwayne laughed all the way to the front door. “Thanks, Shannon. Really. I needed a good laugh.”

To remind him about the two grand would be fruitless at this point, since the cops had the contract, and we still hadn’t gotten permission to film the house. I waved goodbye and he let himself out.

The act of clearing away our mess kept me occupied for a while. I stacked it all on the table by the garbage can so that it would be easy to just swoop it over into the trash and haul it outside.

Then, with as much diplomacy as possible, I called my aunts to tell them about Dan. Aunt Nancy put me on speakerphone so Aunt Tillie could hear.

“Oh, no!” they both exclaimed.

“Sorry to be the bearer of more bad news.”

“Honey, are you okay?” Tillie asked. I could picture her standing by the phone, chewing her fingernail. A habit I had formed in early childhood. It must be genetic.

“Yes, ma’am. Dee and I have already told all we knew to the cops and had dinner in fact, I am just about to clear it away.” I stared at the pile of paper dishware and crumpled napkins.

“Do you need to talk?” Aunt Nancy asked. She was my rock. The closest thing I had to a dad. “We can come over.”

“Nope. I’m good. I’m waiting on a lawyer friend to make a stopover. He and I have some business.”

“Legal troubles?” Nancy asked.

“Oh, no, it’s a video job actually.”

“I see. That’s a shame about Dan Justice. Is there anything that you can share about it?”

“Not really. I don’t know much. But if I hear of anything, I’ll let you know.” I wouldn’t, but I had to lie. I didn’t want her to share anything out of it with her boyfriend, Herbert Magnum, who was a reporter.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Aunt Nancy sounded grieved to insist. Tillie must have punched her to make her ask. Tillie worried about my mental state after all the murders and deaths that had followed me around of late.

“Shannon dear. You must call that therapist. I don’t want you to have nightmares.” Aunt Tillie said, finally.

“Thanks, Aunt Till. I will.” I wouldn’t, but again, I had to lie. I didn’t believe in therapy visits. I’d been through all that as a child when my aunts thought I needed help coping with my parents’ deaths.

“Listen, sugar, not to change the subject, but, if you have a little time soon, we need for you to come by the house and chat with us for a minute,” Aunt Nancy said, sounding a little hesitant for her normal forward-speaking self. “We need to plan your…um… birthday.”

I could hear Aunt Tillie fussing at her.

“Shush, Tillie. She’s got to have a birthday, doesn’t she?”

I laughed. Maybe Tillie wanted it to be a surprise. “Okay, loveys. I will be over soon. I promise.” My birthday was a little over a month away. I guessed they wanted to be early-birds.

They muffled the phone and made a lot of noise before saying goodbye. I sat there a moment contemplating what they might be cooking up. One could never tell with them. I hoped it included some homemade potato salad and ambrosia. Tillie’s ambrosia was divine.

I took the garbage bag out to the big blue Dumpster in the parking lot. The summertime heat and humidity smote me like stepping into a sauna. Beads of sweat rolled down my forehead, and I swiped at it with my forearm. The smell of rotting food, old baby diapers, and something even worse slid up my nasal passages as I approached the garbage bin. With one hand, I heaved the bag over the side and held my nose with the other. How long had that stuff been in there?

I promised myself to speak to the resident manager about our pickup schedule. That smell would hurt his chances of rentals in the future if he didn’t get it under control soon. Not to mention the rats that would be harvesting anything left over to eat. I observed just such a creature as it tenderly peered out from around the back of the Dumpster. It was huge. I shook my head in revulsion.

As I started back toward the building, a funky blue Spark wheeled around the corner. I pulled up short in order not to be hit. The windows were tinted too dark to see the driver, who when he or she realized that I was an almost-victim of being hit, sped off again around the other side.

I released the breath I’d been holding and counted to three before resuming my trek inside. I had been through a few personal attacks before and anything in the realm of ‘almost’ bothered me. It was an almost that made me need that therapist Aunt Tillie spoke of. I stopped with my hand on the door. Had it been close to a year ago already? I yanked the door open and continued inside, my thoughts black with memories.

Once I was safely back in my apartment, I glanced at the clock in my kitchen.

It was nearing 8 PM.

The sun was just now lowering in the sky as it did during the warm months. I sighed and went to put a new liner in the kitchen garbage can.

Just as I wondered what had happened to Jimmy Adams, a knock sounded on the door.

“Hey,” I greeted him, opening the door wide. “I was about to send out the dogs.”

He muttered something, entered my kitchen, pulled out a chair, and plopped down. I followed him in and sat at the table.

“Want something to drink?”

“No, thanks. There’s something very dirty in Denmark,” he said, mopping his brow with a napkin. Splotches of red showed in his cheeks. Either he was angry or hot or both.

“What does that mean exactly?”

“Denmark being our situation here.” He ticked off reasons on his fingers. “There’s a dead cop in Denaldo’s house, his wife is missing, and he won’t tell me, his attorney, if he knows anything about the situation.”

“Hm. Not good. Maybe he’s afraid to tell you since you’re a lawyer?”

He slapped the napkin onto the table. “Ridiculous. I’m his lawyer. He pays me. He’s able to tell me stuff off the record. Under law, I’m obligated to keep his confidences.”

Okay. He was angry with his client. The ‘why’ was unsure, the ‘what’ would be easier to assess. I chose which questions to ask very carefully. No need to set him off on a rampage. I’d seen one of those and prayed never for a repeat.

“What’re you going to do about it?” I asked.

“I came here to ask you what you thought. Is his wife responsible for the murder?”

“Now, Jim. You know damn good and well I have no idea. She’s missing, silly. Missing, as in, not here? How would I know if she was involved in this whole debacle?”

He shrugged. “Supposing. Wishful thinking, maybe? At the very least, your woman’s intuition. In other words, I’d hoped you could fill in the empty spots for me. Like, if she was guilty, or an accomplice, or what.”

“I don’t know. I can only tell you that she’s missing. It seems to me like she’s a victim taken against her will.”

“What makes you think that?”

“As I told everyone else, her purse got left behind. It wasn’t just stuck behind the sofa, either. It was lying right out in front of God and everyone, spilled out a little, and to me that just smacks of someone taken against their will. Not to mention it is an expensive bag. I can picture her being snatched and dragged along by her arm, making her spill her purse and not being allowed to scoop it back up again.”

“That would be very bad.” He rubbed his chin, gazing at the door as though he expected the missing woman to waltz in.

I gaped at him. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t mean that like it sounds?”

“You always were a smart girl, Shannon.”

“You mean it would be bad for her, but good for her husband, don’t you?”

“It’s the unspoken things that count, isn’t it? At any rate, I’m on my way over to talk to Rob in person. Maybe I’ll see something in his facial expressions. I can usually spot a lie long before the lie detector does. I’d like to be there when the cops arrive to ask whether he knows anything about this mess. He’d likely call me to do so anyway.”

I swiped at a water drop. “Oh, yeah. They’ll suspect him first, of course. He’s still married to the missing woman. They’ll grill him like a skewer of shrimp. They always think the ones closest are the guilty ones.”

He stood to go. “Guess I should get over there. You know as much as me, or even less. No offense.”

“None taken.” I walked him to the door. “Is there anything I can do? I’d be glad to go with you or whatever. That money is calling my name. I need it like yesterday. Although now, I’m totally unsure I’ll be able to fulfill my duty to get it. The permission form never was signed, and then the cops took it all, including my contract.”

He thrust a hand onto his hip. “If I come up with something, I’ll holler. Don’t lose any sleep over the contract and all, I made copies.”

“Oh?” Relief made me slump. “Well, I sure hope they find Mrs. Denaldo. She’s the answer to the whole mystery, I just know it.”

He patted my shoulder. “Look at it this way: if Thelma doesn’t come home, and we can get the old man’s permission to film, then we can proceed without her, so don’t fret about the money. Besides, I’m sure there’ll be more where that came from. If she remains missing, he’ll probably move back in.”

His words soaked in. Our thoughts became one. “That sort of gives him motive to want her to remain missing, doesn’t it?”

He opened the door. “No comment.”

He took off disappearing down the stairs. His words like a fog left hanging in the air. My mind raced. What if Mr. Denaldo was behind Thelma’s disappearance? Could he have killed Dan? The money Jim wanted to pay me weighed on my mind. Money meant something when you had a certain lack. But this time, it seemed wrong somehow, sort of like capitalizing on Dan’s death, or on Thelma Denaldo’s disappearance. Either way, it felt wrong and worry didn’t feel good soaking up all that bad food in my gut.

I wandered through my kitchen trying to make sense of what all had happened. Just as I yawned and stretched my way through cleaning the counters, my cell buzzed from where it had slipped between couch cushions.

I wandered over and picked it up. My bestie’s face beamed from the screen as I lifted it to see who was calling. I swiped it to answer.

“Katie Henderson. The world’s fastest woman,” I said.

“Hm. That could be taken the wrong way.”

“Ain’t nothing but love on this side of the phone.”

“Ahem. To the matter of this call,” she said, giggling. “Did you take care of that business you were trying to handle earlier?”

A sense of guilt wafted over me. “Oh, man. I’m sorry. I forgot to call you.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“It’s a long story, you got time?”

“I’ve got nothing but.”

I went through the whole ordeal, and she asked if I wanted her to come over.

“No, I guess not. I mean, I think I’m going to go to bed. I hope I can sleep.” The vision of Dan’s brutalized body returned to my mind and my dinner scrambled around in my gut.

“Well, I am on a bout of insomnia, so if you need me, call.”

“Thanks, girl. I appreciate it.”

“Lock your doors. You don’t know what or who is out there.”

“If you are trying to calm my fears, it isn’t working.”

“Just remember you have a cop on speed dial.”

“Whatever.”

“Later.”

We disconnected, and I headed for bed. It took binaural beats on my music app and a lot of tossing before I finally drifted off.

Chapter Four

The next day, Monday, I stayed dressed in my comfy fairy princess sleep pants and baggy tee shirt longer than usual. I was going to be a little late. I had been through a murder, for craps sake. Anybody who wanted video services before ten would have to leave a message. Guilt smote me as I remembered our need for money, then disappeared as I grumped to myself that a couple of hours wasn’t going to make that much difference.

Curled up with the latest gossip magazine, I watched the cable news station and listened to the reported details of the murder. The reporter failed to mention the Denaldos as the homeowners.

The way the stern newscaster told the story it seemed like the deceased met his untimely demise in his own living room, instead of being a South Lake policeman, felled by some unknown assailant in a local teacher’s residence. But then again, maybe I was just hypersensitive about the whole thing. It made sense that SLPD wouldn’t want the world to know it was a cop until they had to. Sal’s department likely demanded it be kept under wraps if possible Which would likely last until the five o’clock news.

My heart twisted at the thought of Dan’s murder. Once again, the dead person was someone in my acquaintance, and once again, I was unable to do anything about it. I comforted myself with the knowledge that SLPD was damn good at what they did even when the citizens of South Lake were hog-tied.

The cops could trace all of Dan’s moves by his notes on his cases. That set me to thinking about what he had been working on before his death. The details would be slow in being released, if ever. Sometimes such information didn’t come out until a trial. But surely something would break the case from Dan’s own police work?

Flashes of how Sal’s face had looked when he’d gotten the bad news mentally returned. What a crappy thing to have to be told. Now that I had money coming my way, maybe I could buy some roses to cheer him up, or a bottle of Oakley Five Reds wine for him to drown his sorrows in. What other things did guys like to assuage their hurts?

Oh, yeah. Well, that might not happen. Own

While contemplating the best way to bring a smile to his face without compromising myself, I made a pot of my favorite Colombian brew. Then while it dripped, I got on my stair-climber, a new purchase from my aunts.

After I’d spent a few days in the hospital with my shoulder injury a few months back, they’d insisted on physical therapy a bit more strenuous than shuffling from couch to kitchen in my rabbit fur house shoes. The stair-climber had arrived and now I was utterly addicted to it.

When my allotted time ended, I mopped off the sweat, took a quick shower, donned pink floral walking shorts and a tee shirt, and decided to go by the Denaldo house to find out if Thelma had returned. As far as I knew, no one would be blowing up my phone if she returned to her house. Following with the original plan could still take place although the contract would have to be signed later. I could just swing by, note her car in the drive, and head to the office to snag a camera to go back with.

If not, I could camp out by the house and watch for a while to see who came and went. The fact that she left her house without her purse still rankled me. I needed to know things when they didn’t fall in line. I guess I have some weird form of obsessive-compulsive disorder. Things out of sync just sent me into orbit.

I was also a terrible snoop (until I needed to be—then, I fell short at every mark). At any rate, SLPD couldn’t afford to have their forces just sitting in front of a house waiting for someone to roll through. I could do it for free and calm my nosey nature at the same time.

In my mind, surveillance might uncover something contradictory to what everyone thought had happened, also. And wouldn’t they love it if I found out something that they didn’t know?

Satisfied with my plan, I headed out, chomping on a protein breakfast bar that tasted like chopped cardboard. Oh, the things I did to keep my girlish figure!

I finished it off while waiting for the June heat to disperse from old Betsy’s interior.

Turning Betsy’s air conditioner to deep freeze made her engine wheeze and grind. She’d turned over a hundred thousand on her speedometer and now it seemed as if everything was making noises. Her body parts, as rusted and squeaky as a dog toy, always sounded like the Tin Man asking for oil. I hoped she lasted long enough for me to rub a few pennies together to get her in shape. I hated the thought of her ending up on the junk heap.

Traffic on Greenman Road was tolerable and while my stereo blasted the latest in rock tunes (partly to mask all the rattling my car was doing), I tapped my fingers along with the beat. How the rest of the morning went depended on Thelma being at home, unfettered by lingering policemen, or other elements of crime-busting that South Lake prided itself on. With any luck, she would be alone, fussing over the blood on her family room floor, baking cookies, and working on some poor dumb student’s grades.

If nothing happened at the Denaldos, and nothing came of my whiling away the hours there, I could certainly stop in and visit my aunts at their restaurant, Tillie’s Home Cookin’–IT’S GOOOOD! They were always available for a free meal, and sometimes for free advice. No matter what life threw at me, they had an answer for it.

They were the only real family I had left since my mom and dad met Jesus in a tornado over in Kansas. I had been living with them or been ordered about by them since I was a kid. They were the sweetest old ladies in the world, at least unless you messed with their beloved niece. Then things could get dicey.

The first thing I saw once I turned Betsy toward the Denaldo house was a battered green Taurus parked out front.

Damn. Sal Ramirez was on the job. What was he doing here? I blew out an exasperated breath. He should have let someone else do this. But no, he was a dedicated cop. He’d never rest until he had his time with the case, pouring over the evidence and letting the details gel inside his brilliant detective gray matter.

After parking in the driveway down close to the street, I walked up the steep drive. The underground sprinkler system whizzed out water spraying me every occasionally. As it made a new revolution, I raced toward the brick walk to avoid getting spritzed again. Finally, standing on the front door stoop, I pondered what to do. What if now was a bad time to visit? Maybe Mrs. Denaldo was in there, being asked a multitude of questions by Sal. Would he be upset if I interrupted?

He would be livid.

Would Thelma care?

Perish the thought, Wallace.

If she suffered at the mercy of Interrogator Sal, she would probably be thankful for an interruption. She might even be grateful enough to allow me to film sometime later today, and then I would be officially worthy of the money from Jim.

I took a quick look at myself in the front window glass, and passed inspection. My hair wasn’t too ratty, and my makeup seemed barely there, but satisfactory. Maybe I would get a moment to offer to take Sal to dinner, too. The idea of a date with him, brought about by his tragic loss, and my sudden desire to be his friend made my mouth go dry.

Geez Shannon.

Shaking off my fears, I gave a quick rap before losing my nerve entirely, and after a few moments of nobody answering, rang the doorbell. It echoed softly within. Sal yanked the interior door open and startled me. I took a quick step back.

My face must have registered the shock because the hard edge to his face softened. I tried giving him my most winning smile while he fumbled with the inside latch. He certainly hadn’t expected to see me here. That feeling was at least mutual.

“Shannon,” he said, opening the door. “How can I help you?”

“I came by to find out if Mrs. Denaldo has come home.”

“No, she hasn’t.” He stepped out onto the porch, one hand on the door. He had on latex gloves. “She wouldn’t be allowed in here anyway, not yet.”

“Oh.” A blush heated my cheeks. He was obviously working the crime scene, and I was not interrupting an interrogation, I was interrupting a murder case. The bluish tinge under his eyes showed his total exhaustion.

“You shouldn’t be doing this, Sal. Dan would understand if you let others work his case. In fact, he’d be mad if your relationship with him caused something to be mishandled. What on earth are you doing here?”

His shoulders straightened a little. “So I’ve been told.”

I looked down at my feet. “I didn’t mean to fuss. I know you’re doing what you have to do, but damn, Sal…”

“No problem, chica. What did you want?”

I gazed up at him. “I still have a job to do too, Sal. I haven’t gotten to talk to the lady of this house yet, and I need to--in the worst way. Has she checked in, called, spoken to anyone? The news carried the story about the murder and showed a picture of the house with the crime tape. I figured she would come running back to check it out.”

Or maybe to collect her purse.

He shook his head. “Not that I know of. Seems kind of odd to me, too. If there was a murder at my house, and I saw it on the news, I would make sure somebody knew it wasn’t my handiwork that…” He swallowed hard. “You know…Killed him.”

I wanted to hug him. Instead, I clasped my hands in front of me, not trusting my emotions. “Yeah. Me, too.”

The silence grew uncomfortable, like being between heaven and hell.

He finally broke it. “I’ve got to go back inside, Shannon. It’s kind of important. If you want to call my office later today, or tomorrow, I’ll keep you posted.” His voice sounded sincerely apologetic and it brought home the way it felt to be filled with grief.

This time, I reached out and patted his arm, making solid eye contact. “Is there anything…?”

He swiped at his hairline with his other wrist, and looked away for a moment. “I don’t know, honestly. I will keep your kind offer in mind, though.”

I nodded, understanding his need to be strong right now. He turned back inside the house, and closed the door.

Damn.

I had sucky luck and bad timing.

Heading back to the car--I cursed the sprinkler as it sprayed at me--and then slammed my door, thankful to be out of the way. I sat there trying to figure out where Thelma Denaldo had gone and why she wasn’t worried about a body found in her house.

That very same beloved house she wanted so badly she would fight her estranged husband over it. This just didn’t make sense—unless you considered how maybe she was a victim, too.

I gave the house one final glance, hoping to catch a glimpse of Sal moving around in there, but there was nothing to see. Before I pulled away, I called Dwayne to see if he was in the office yet. He said he was and there was absolutely nothing going on there.

“Can I like come in late?” I asked.

“You are late.”

“Later, then?”

“I’ll call you if something happens, but as of this minute? There ain’t shit to do here, Shan.”

“Cool.”

###

I headed to aunt Tillie’s restaurant. There was nothing else to take my mind off my dilemma. Dan was dead and so was the video business.

The eatery had the usual noontime crowd of business people and harried mothers of toddlers. Parking was at a premium, and in frustration, I parked in an area not designed for parking. Let them tow Betsy, if they dared. Better than the scrap heap. I slammed her door. It slammed properly, not some deep-throated thud like Dwayne’s import.

I entered the cool interior letting my eyes adjust. The smell of brewed coffee and fried fish sauntered up my olfactory. Meatloaf was usually the special of the day on Mondays, but maybe they got an extra shipment of catfish this week. Who was complaining?

Connie, my favorite waitress, idled behind the counter. The television was on the headline news station and the news of the hour was some robber dressed like in an Uncle Sam getup. Not funny, not funny at all.

Connie hailed me with a wave and a smile. “Hey, Shannon. You here to eat?”

“Yeah, starved.” I turned left, and rolled toward the non-smoking area. She scooped up a menu and followed.

Seated in the raised area of tables in front of the western windows, Katie Henderson sat reading the local newspaper and sipping coffee.

“Hey you,” I said, loud enough to interrupt her reading. “You want company?”

“Shannon! Come over here, you sluggard.” She moved the paper aside and her cup out of danger. Connie set the menu before me, and added silverware and a glass of water. “I’ll be back with some sweet tea. You want lemons?”

“Not today. I’m sour enough.”

“That makes two of us,” she agreed with a grin before padding off to get my drink.

Katie, from years of experience, didn’t bother asking what that interaction meant. Instead, she nailed it straight away. “My crystal ball says it’s a man.”

“We’ve been friends for too long.”

“Hmm. Not Dwayne, either.”

“Right again.”

She sipped her coffee and squinted at me over the rim of her white porcelain cup. “Is it Sal?”

I shrugged.

“What did he do this time? I swear you two can’t get it together to save your lives. You so should have slept with him in college. Then you wouldn’t be wondering what he would be like in bed right now.”

I half-gasped, half-laughed. “I am not thinking of his bedroom prowess.”

“What is it then? I think I can tell when a woman is suffering from the anti-sex thing.”

“I am not anti-sex.” My voice cracked from trying to keep it low. “There just hasn’t been a right time for us. Maybe there never will be. Certainly, not while his partner’s murder is being investigated.”

She made a derisive sound something akin to Dwayne’s noise when he was totally unconvinced.

“Anyway,” I said, trying to change the subject. “Let’s talk about you. My life is taboo.”

“Your life is just all wrong right now. If he showed up at your door with roses and champagne, would you let him visit your bedroom?”

I couldn’t contain the laughter any longer. “Honey, if Frankenstein showed up at my door with roses and champagne, I’d even let him in.”

“Oh, this is going to be fuuuuun.” She smiled evilly.

“Don’t you even think about it, Katie Henderson; I mean it. Leave that man alone. He’s grieving right now and if I so much as blink in his direction he’s going to end up putting me in handcuffs.”

She rubbed her hands together and grinned. “Now you’re talking!”

I slapped at her. “Stop!”

Connie came back with my tea and stood poised to take our orders. “What y’all having today? We have a new dish, something with beef steak.”

Katie looked up quizzically. “Did you say, beefcake?”

We both guffawed until we cried.

###

Later, after we had stuffed ourselves and discussed the potential of marriageable men in South Lake, Aunt Nancy showed up and pulled out a chair. “What’s shaking?”

“Me. In fear.” I shoved my plate away.

“Lord child, you’ve spent your whole life in fear of something. What is it now?”

My aunts have witnessed my innermost failings, and my impulsive nature at its worst. I decided not to tell her that there were no decent men left. She’d harangue me for hours.

“I’m in serious need of money from a client and can’t finish the job, and now I’m afraid I’ll never get the money, and I need it and—”

“Hold on, Shannon Marie. There’s a story somewhere in here.”

I paused.

“What job?” she asked in a slow determined way.

“Oh nothing much. You remember, I told you about the video job for that lawyer? Just filming the contents of a marital domicile about to be rendered asunder, I believe it’s known as.”

“Why didn’t you get it done?”

“The woman was not available.”

Where the hell did she go anyway without a purse? Without credit cards? My mind worried the facts like a fish going after a worm.

“Can you reschedule?”

“She’s sort of missing.”

“Kiss that money goodbye.”

I blinked.

She went on with a shake of her head. “Listen, there are too many ways to take that equipment of yours and make it produce money. Forget this job and move on.”

She pulled a piece of paper out of her apron pocket. “Here call this lady. She has a daughter getting married and she needs a videographer.” She rose to leave. “I’ve got to go. I’m going to get ready for a date tonight with Herbert.”

“Thanks, Aunt Nan. I love you.”

She paused. “Uh, don’t forget about coming by the house. We need to discuss some stuff, you know, about your…uh…birthday.”

I nodded, smiling. She seemed a little rattled about it. This made me wonder even more what Aunt Tillie was planning.

She pecked each of our cheeks and took off. The name on the paper written out in her scrawling hand looked familiar.

“April Crachett,” I read.

“Crachett?”

“Yeah. Sounds familiar.”

“It should. It’s from A Christmas Carol. You know, Bob Crachett.”

I didn’t reply, instead just stuffed the paper in my pocket and lifted my tote bag from the chair back. “Want to tag along? I could introduce you as my assistant or something.”

“Sure! I’m taking vacation this week, so I have nothing better to do.” Her job at the Sportsman’s Delight in Memphis was iffy on a good week. She never held regular hours.

We paid our bills and headed to the parking lot.

“Can we take your car?” I asked. “I’d like to make a good impression. Betsy’s under the weather right now.”  I peeked over at my car still where I’d left it. The towing guy probably didn’t even want to be seen with it.

She giggled and waved me over to her shiny black Bronco. How the girl kept car notes, rent, and other assorted bills paid with her sketchy employment schedule was beyond me. Not that I had any room to talk.

We drove to Memphis via the old highway, and I called up the Crachett woman’s number. She agreed to meet us at Starbucks on the east side of town. After disconnecting, I commented on my lack of preparedness for this meeting. “No business cards, no brochure, no nothing.”

Without raising her eyes from the road, Katie pulled some papers out of her visor. “Here.”

One of my brochures and it had a business card stapled to it. “Damn! You are my assistant, aren’t you?”

She laughed. “Don’t let Brown hear you say that. He’ll shoot us both.”

I hoped I nailed this job. Dwayne would be less likely to gripe at me for losing out on the money from Jimmy. Maybe I wouldn’t miss it if I had money and work to replace the loss. If Thelma Denaldo ever returned from whence she had gone, and if the couple was still in the divorce stage, maybe I would get the job done. That two grand would be so sweet.

Chapter Five

Katie and I parked near the front door of a coffee chain place and I noticed the clouds rolling in. Maybe it would cool the air enough to make it tolerable. We hurried inside before the air conditioner effects wore off. Katie wore lime-green short shorts and a matching tank top, and her muscled legs and ample bosom made the table of college-aged guys set down their paper cups.

“Oh wow,” Katie said, ignoring the looks. “They have French presses on sale.”

The guys snickered and I knew the words “French” and “pressed” gave them ideas. I craned my neck over the display to look for a lone woman waiting at a table.

A thin red-haired woman sat half-hidden around the corner from the counter. She was dressed in a flowing dress made of some gauzy looking material and sat sipping at a drink.

“I’ll bet that’s her,” I told Katie. “Will you get me something? I’ll pay.” I handed her my debit card.

“What’ll it be, Magee?” she asked me, smiling all the while at the nearest guy, who, although young, was a total hottie. He looked as though she’d asked him the question.

“Get me something yummy. Surprise me.” I started to walk away, but thought about it and turned back. “And quit flirting with them. I don’t want to have to bail you out of jail again today.”

The guys did a double take, and I walked away, confident I had busted someone’s bubble. I worked my way over to April Crachett’s table and introduced myself.

“Mrs. Crachett.” I held out my hand. “I’m Shannon Wallace.”

“Oh, hi.” She shook my hand and motioned for me to take the chair across from her.

“My assistant is over getting us something to drink, and will be here in a moment. So, how do you know my Aunt Nancy?”

“Oh, Nan and I go way back. We were in a church play together.”

“And your daughter is getting married, I understand?”

“Yes, in August. August tenth. She has been so bad about getting arrangements done, too, and when Nancy told me you were in the wedding video business, well, I jumped on the chance.”

“August? My, that is cutting it short.”

“Are you available? Your aunt sort of hinted you might be.”

I handed the brochure with business card to her. “To be honest, I don’t have a clue. I can check my online calendar in a moment though. Is she planning a big wedding?”

“Well, I really don’t know what a big wedding is. They all seem big to me if they’re held in church. So, I suppose yes, it is a big wedding. I think her guest list is somewhere around two hundred.”

Katie showed up about that time, drinks in hand. I introduced them and they chatted briefly looking at the brochure while I skimmed my online calendar from my cell phone. When I got off, I assured Mrs. Crachett we had the date open.

“Wonderful! I’ll get on the phone with Sissy and have her call you to make an appointment to see some of your work. Your advertisement sounds perfect.”

I smiled and patted her hand. “We’ll take good care of her, Mrs. Crachett.”

She returned the smile and we all sat there savoring our drinks. Then I saw the shiny white Escalade roll past the window with Thelma Lunsford Denaldo leaning forward in the passenger seat.

The man in the driver’s seat threw napkins at her, obviously displeased. Her terrified look spoke volumes. She was not enjoying this little jaunt in the fast lane. His rude actions and her fearful reaction made me gasp with surprise, and when I did, I sucked in some of the iced coffee I’d been slurping.

Pounding me on my back, Katie told me to lift my arms over my head. I complied, but still hacked and coughed until my eyes watered and snot ran like sugar maple sap. Staggering to my feet, I hauled out of the shop toward the drive-thru, Katie on my heels.

“It’s that Denaldo woman!” I finally managed to croak.

“Where?”

I looked at each car, but the Escalade had vanished. “Nowhere now. She’s gone.”

“Are you sure it was her?”

“Oh yeah, and she was with someone and they were not friendly.”

Dejected, we went back inside, and collected our purses from Mrs. Crachett’s table. She seemed curious about the hubbub.

“It was a client I have been trying to catch up to for a few days. I can’t believe I missed her again.”

She made soft murmurs of apologies on behalf of my misfortune. I shook her hand and we left.

Once safely in the Bronco, I exclaimed, “Damn shit, hell and damn.”

“Can you call somebody? Jim?”

“Yeah. I will when I get back. She’s gone now, nothing to do for it. Damn.” I continued cursing my bad luck for a few minutes.

Katie never said anything to me about my attitude, unlike Dwayne, who would have laughed at me until I sulked.

###

After Katie dropped me off at my car, I went back to the office and called Jim.

“Hello?” he answered, sounding happy.

“Jim, it’s Shannon. I need to talk to you. Your client, Mrs. Denaldo was just up in Memphis at the coffee shop on Germantown. Saw her in the drive-thru, in a white SUV as a passenger. ‘Course, she split before I could even get to the car.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Did you make out the driver?”

“No. Not really. I was so shocked to see her that the driver paled in importance. It was a man though. I feel like a complete failure and wouldn’t blame you if you fired me.”

He laughed. “You’re not fired.”

“Do you know a man she would be with?” I asked.

“Aside from her lover? Not really. But then again, I’m not working for her, either.”

“Oh, yeah.” So, maybe the man was her lover? This was getting good. I recalled he was bald.

Jim didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “She must have decided to leave the house. Maybe she gave up? My client will be thrilled.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. This man she was with, I wouldn’t exactly say they were friendly. He threw napkins at her and she looked pretty frightened.”

He let out a loud breath. “Uh oh. That sounds bad. Maybe I’ll try Rob Denaldo again and ask if he knows of anyone she might be driving around with. This is getting weirder and weirder.”

“Did you get the contract back?”

“Not yet, but I will. Or I can give you a copy I have, and I’ll try to get a check to you today. You’ll earn it eventually never fear. I always get my man.”

“Or woman?”

“Yeah. Talk to you soon.”

I placed the phone gently on its cradle and sat back. Sheesh. I guess the money was mine. Well, ours. Video Angels and I and my partner were like one

Dwayne slammed the front door to the office as he rolled in laden with bags and boxes from a chain chicken joint.

“Hungry?” he asked, plopping them down on my desk.

“Starved.”

He pulled out containers of potatoes, gravy, and cole slaw. “You’ve been missin’ a lot lately. Hangin’ with Katie?”

“Yes. And trying to drum up business. And trying to finish unfinished business.”

He unwrapped plastic forks and napkins. “Oh really? Good. I was hopin’ you wasn’t plannin’ on leavin’ me for some skirt and heels job with that Adams dude.”

I stopped in the middle of opening the biscuit container. “What? Dwayne Brown. You didn’t really think that?”

He shrugged and went to get cups from our small closet that housed a coffee pot and supplies. When he returned, I stood up and went to him, patting him on the back. “Dude. I am so sorry. You know I would never do that. We’re partners you know, Shaft and Shadow. I’m in this for the long haul.”

He gave me his million-dollar smile and nodded. “Awright, awright. It’s cool.”

I walked over to the credenza, pulled out the company checkbook and tore off a deposit ticket, laying it in front on him. “That is for the two grand we are getting for the job with Jim. He considers it a retainer fee, and promises we will earn it even if we never get to work with Mrs. Denaldo, which by the way, I saw her today. She seemed like an unwilling passenger in a monster-sized truck. If you ask me, she’s in trouble. It looked like she was really scared of the guy driving. Lord, I don’t know what I’ve gotten us wrapped in this time.”

“You still think she’s been kidnapped?” The deposit slip disappeared into his pocket and he resumed serving our dinner.

“Or something. I’m going to talk to Sal about it. Maybe do some more digging. Something is making my hair fuzzy on this one.”

“Did they see you?” He stopped mid-air with the container of mashed potatoes.

“I don’t think so. I was inside the coffee hut place up on Germantown and they were in the drive-thru.”

“Well, that’s a relief. Maybe your fuzzy hair is a natural occurrence for once? Nothin’ a beauty shop can’t fix.”

I ignored him. “Anyway, I also spoke to a woman today whose daughter is getting married in August. She needs a videographer and is going to give our info to her for her to call us. Her name is Crachett.”

He raised his eyebrows. “No shit?”

I smiled and stuck out my hand for the plate he had just made. “No sheet.”

###

About seven o’clock, we called it a day. There had been no calls, and we were both tired of looking at computer screens. I had finally taught myself how to compress video and create a format that made viewing it on the web easier. It would be ideal for our website if we ever got one put together that we could both agree on.

“Wanna come over and watch a movie?” Dwayne asked as we walked to our cars where they sat next to each other in front of the building.

“What’re you going to watch?”

“True Lies.”

I laughed. “I’ve seen that one. Several times. Arnie isn’t too shabby-looking in it.”

“I’m sayin’ he ain’t! Maybe I have worn that one out. You got any new ones?”

“Nope, but I got that streaming service, so....”

He sighed. “I need a man.”

I did not want to hear about the needs of gay men. I made a motion like locking my mouth and threw away the key, climbed in Betsy and tried to start her up. Nothing happened.

“Uh oh.”

Dwayne had just closed his car door, so I jumped out to rap hard on his passenger side window. He rolled it down.

“Car won’t start.”

“Shit.”

“Damn, Dee. What do I do?”

He sighed and got out. “Besides shootin’ it and puttin’ it outta its misery? Pop the hood.”

I pulled the lever under the dash and waited while he tinkered. He went back and forth from his car to mine, hooking up battery cables, and starting engines. Soon, he lifted his head and frowned at me. “I think it’s the battery.”

I sighed. “Okay, so now what?”

“I’ll take it to that all night auto place and have them check it. If it’s dead, you owe me some bucks for a new one. I can take it out of the money we’re puttin’ in the bank from Adams. We don’t have many auto expenses.”

Relief washed over me. “Great. Thanks, Dee.”

“Might as well go on back in the office though, and wait on me to call you. It’s gonna be a minute.”

“Okay.” I tossed my tote bag over my shoulder and headed back to the office. He was putting my battery in his trunk when I closed the door. Just because I’m paranoid, especially after hours, I locked the door and double-checked it. The phone rang as I walked to my office and I hurried to answer it, hoping it would be the Crachett girl calling about her wedding videography needs. I would have to do the best I could to answer her questions, but I really wished Dwayne was there to cover me. Selling was not my strong suit.

“Video Angels,” I answered, sitting down.

“Leave Thelma Denaldo alone. Don’t go to her house, don’t try to find her. Your involvement might get you dead.”

I looked at the now silent phone incredulously before replacing it in its holder. Then my mind kicked in. A man’s voice. A man who knew I was looking for my old teacher. Frightening and interesting all at the same time. How the hell did he get my work number? Cold chills covered my arms and quickly became chill bumps.

Picking up the phone again, I dialed James Adams, lawyer extraordinaire. He barely said hello before I jumped on him. “Jimmy! Some man just called me here at the office and warned me off finding Mrs. Denaldo. Who the hell knows about that besides you, Dwayne, the cops and Mr. Denaldo?”

“Nobody that I know of. When you say warned you off, what do you mean?”

“Warned me to leave her alone. Don’t try to find her, don’t go to her house. He told me my involvement might get me dead.”

“What? That’s crazy, Shannon. I’ve been trying to call Rob Denaldo, but he isn’t answering his number, and to be honest, this is sort of out of my league. I mean I don’t usually get this involved with a case. I do civil junk, not criminal, and this is sounding more like the latter. If you’re being threatened, well, I say let’s drop this one and leave it for the cops.”

“No way, Jimmy. Hell, no. I’m mad now. Meaner boys than that one has tried to kill me. I’m not scared.” I lied through my teeth, but I sounded convincing. “Now it’s personal.”

“Well, why don’t you call up your buddies at the PD and let them know about this anyway. I think you’re over your head, and maybe we ought to take the caller’s advice. It’s not worth you getting hurt over.”

I scratched my chin and thought it over. I wasn’t too excited about taking this threat to Sal. He had enough on his plate. But I did want to tell him about seeing Thelma at the coffee shop.

“I’ll be careful, Jim.”

We disconnected and I wandered to the front door to look for Dwayne. He wasn’t back yet, so I pulled my cell out of my bag and called him.

He answered right away. “Damn it, Wall-ass, I told you it would be a minute.”

“I’m not calling about the car.”

“Well, what now? Did the coffeepot quit, too?”

I sniffed. “Not that I know of. But I answered a scary call from someone who doesn’t want me to find Mrs. Denaldo. The word ‘dead’ came up.”

He emitted a low whistle. “Damn it. I knew it! I knew you were barterin’ trouble when you agreed to work for that connivin’ con artist law man.”

I rolled my eyes heavenward and waited out his storm.

“Okay, let me think. Are you okay to stay there alone?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m locked up tight.”

“Good. Let me finish this battery business and get back there. Don’t you go anywhere either, Wall-ass. I mean it. And keep that damn cell phone out and ready. Where’s your little friend?”

He called all firearms, little friends. That said a lot about what he and I had gone through together. “Here, at the place.”

“Good, keep it handy, too.”

I agreed and we disconnected. He worried as much as I did. I strolled back toward my desk and was about to make a pot of coffee, when someone rapped on the front glass door hard enough to rattle the glass.

Chapter Six

Video Angels’ windows and glass front door sported the latest in mini-blinds, done in a sort of flesh tone. When they were closed, the ability to see a caller outside was hard to do. I hoped it was likewise for anyone trying to see in.

Slinking to the front part of the reception area, I pulled my .38 out of the middle drawer in the pseudo front desk where we hoped to seat a receptionist someday, if, and when, business allowed it. Dwayne didn’t like the fact I kept my gun there, but I wasn’t going to humor him.

Being a target did things to your self-confidence.

He still thought I would end up shooting off my foot, or a body part belonging to an innocent victim, even though he was the guru who helped me to obtain it. At any rate, I would only shoot if out of other options.

I moved to the left of the doorknob and peered between the plastic blind slats just a hair.

It was Sal.

I snatched the door open before he could rap again.

“Oh, thank God!” I said in a huff as I pulled him inside by his shirtfront. His face brightened, as we stood nose to nose. He wrapped an arm around me logistically to keep us both on our feet. His body heat made my nerve endings jump.

When he saw the gun, his cop-face fell like a mask. “What’s up?”

I pulled away, shoved the gun back where it had been. “You go first.”

“I came to check if you were in here, the lights were on. It’s later than you and Brown usually hang out, and I saw your car here, but not Brown’s. I didn’t know if you were here alone, or what, when I saw someone moving around. What can I say? I’m a cop. Your turn.”

“Betsy wouldn’t start, and Dee took her battery to find out if it was dead. I came up here to wait for him to get back and got spooked.”

“Something in here spooky?” He looked around.

“A telephone call. Someone threatened me.”

He strode to my office, and I trailed behind. He checked the caller I.D. on my desk phone, but it came up all zeros.

“Blocked?” he asked.

“Or something.”

“What did the caller say exactly?”

“Wants me to quit looking for Thelma Denaldo or else.”

I rubbed my arms with both hands and noted I was now shivering. The air conditioner had kicked in or I was more frightened than I thought.

“Wonder why your caller cared? And how he found out so fast?” He tapped the phone with one finger. “Any ideas?”

I shrugged and moved to the closet to make some java in our old reliable pot. “No. None. Except…I mean…I saw Mrs. Denaldo today in a big Escalade up in Memphis. She didn’t look like she was joyriding, either. I was so shocked to see her that I didn’t get a good look at the driver, other than his being male and bald,” I paused. “I don’t think either of them saw me.”

“Make enough coffee for three,” he said, sticking his head around the corner of the door. “I’m staying until Brown gets back. Are you sure they didn’t see you?” He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

“No. It’s really strange, Sal. The caller was a man, but no men know about my affiliation with Mrs. Denaldo aside from you, Dwayne, Jim Adams, and Mr. Denaldo. None of which would want to threaten me over all this mess.”

“Maybe this caller is protecting her for some reason? Maybe it was your Escalade driver? If they saw you…”

“I don’t think so, we never interacted. And how did he know to call the office? But listen, it seemed like Thelma needed protecting from him, though. He threw something at her, napkins, I think, and although I wasn’t watching him really, I saw her face get all twisted like she was scared witless. She threw her arms up like she was warding off a fist or something.”

“Natural reaction to things flying at you,” he said, thoughtfully. “Do you think she’s being held against her will?”

“Yes, I do. Her purse was left behind. I guess you heard? No woman does that, Sal. I tried to tell Dee, but he wouldn’t listen. Her spilled purse is like a big red flashing sign to me. And if she isn’t being held against her will, why is she hiding? There was a murder at her house.”

He uncrossed his arms and his emotions played over his face. The reminder of Dan was unwelcome. He finally spoke, voice depressed and sad. “Your caller could be someone who followed the news story. It’s breaking pretty good now.”

“Oh.” I nodded, dropping my gaze. He had a good point. Our faces were photographed. I remembered the flashes.

He paced for a few moments before pausing to give me a look of haunted thoughts. “This is the worst day I’ve ever lived. It was Dan. Dammit. My partner. Not some random person that I can just walk away from, or work from afar and not think about. Not like I can slip the case in a drawer and forget about it,” he said, voice rough. “I owe him.” Then, “Ah, damn. Can we just have a cup of coffee and make small talk for a while? I feel sort of stressed right now.”

Tears welled, blurring my vision, and I wiped them away. “Oh God. I’m so sorry, Sal. I know this has to be hard.”

He nodded and he’d never looked more vulnerable. I wanted to pull his head to my chest to comfort him like I would a small child. Shaken at such tender thoughts, I shut the lid on the coffeemaker and moved to go around him. He put out an arm and pulled me close. Tender thoughts must paint themselves on my face like makeup.

“Shannon, we’ve let too much time go by between a night in college, a few goodnight kisses, and now. When are you going to relent and let me get to know you again?”

I made my worst mistake right then by looking at those deep soul-sucking brown eyes. He lowered his head to kiss me, and God help me, I would have let him, but Dwayne’s knack for worst timing than mine showed up.

He shoved the door open, and the moment disappeared. I pulled away.

“Dude,” he said, rushing over to Sal, battery dangling from one hand. “Man, I am so sorry about Justice. Are you okay?”

Sal shouldered the responsibility for this exchange and they shook hands, and did the semi-hug thing that guys do, albeit awkwardly with the battery coming between them. Sal assured Dee that he was managing, and offered to help get my car fixed. They turned and went out to the parking lot, leaving me wondering what would have transpired between Sal and I if things had happened differently.

Treading these thoughts like swirling water, I wandered out onto the balcony of the building to watch. The evening air was humid, promising a hot day tomorrow. I looked out over the tree tops and noted stars coming out like a sprinkling of salt across the sky.

When my gaze came to rest on the guys out in the lot, Sal and Dwayne walked around looking at shadows. The parking lot had a few places illuminated from spotlights, but there were more places without lights. Places where someone could hide. My two friends had thought of this before it came to me, obviously. Chilled, I opted to wait inside close to a telephone and my gun.

When Betsy’s engine coughed, and caught, and the coffee was ready and poured, the guys trudged back to the office and we all sat down for a cup and a chat. I tried hard to keep the tone light, and steer away from the murder, but Dwayne kept picking at it like a scab.

“So, do you think it was a man who did this?” he asked Sal.

“Too early to say, really.”

“Some freak called Dingleberry, here,” Dee said, pointing at me. “Did you tell him?”

I nodded and tried to shake my head at the same time hoping he would drop it. If I could have reached his bony knee, I would have kicked it.

“Who’s botherin’ to make a call to her?” he persisted.

Sal sipped coffee and measured his words like he’d been thinking about it. “The news story has broken. Maybe the caller found out who you two are, what you do. Maybe he thought you had a camera in the house and filmed something that might implicate him. You two have scared someone. Again.” He let that last word hit home.

Dwayne, cup halfway to his lips, stopped and stared as if Sal had told him his face was green.

“Probably not,” I interjected. “That phone call was probably just one of ole Thelma’s students. One who likes the teacher. Maybe she has a pet? Although I cannot imagine why,” I tittered. It sounded horrible, but I was nervous trying to convince Sal that there was just no reason to assume anyone had it in for us yet.

“He decided to threaten me to leave her alone, hoping to keep her from going to jail. It’s a small town. Surely she has some fans. They could find Video Angels number in the book. Let’s talk about something else.”

Two sets of eyes bore into mine.

“The department’s being very careful about releasing any information to the news just yet,” Sal said. “I don’t recall anyone stating that two videographers were the ones to find the body. But as you say, your number is accessible to the general population. It’s not a stretch to find out who Shannon Wallace or Dwayne Brown is after the news splash you made with Fine’s case. Or Thames.”

Bubba Thames had been a friend of Dwayne’s who’d ended up stuffed in his own floral cooler a few months ago. The reminder of how we’d been targets thanks to two previous other cases made me wish the caller had not called.

“Yeah, um, nobody knows about us, about videographers being there, yet.” Dwayne let his gaze drop to his feet. “I’m pretty sure.”

That was not a good sign—if I knew anything about Dwayne at all—but I remained mute hoping he would spill his guts to me later.

An uncomfortable silence ensued until I cleared my throat and said, “How about them Redbirds, huh?”

Chapter Seven

Later, Sal bid us goodbye, encouraged us to keep an eye out, and left. I walked him to the stairs, and suggested he get some tall boys, and find a good reality show. He smiled and gave my lips a long look that told me there was something else he wanted even more. The warmth of that suggestion in his eyes stayed with me as I returned to the office.

“I’m ready to head to the house,” I told Dwayne.

He followed me home, and went inside with me to make sure I was safe. Then he dropped his bombshell.  “First, it wasn’t your battery that was dead. Someone tinkered with the cables. The dude up at AutoZone helped me figure it out. I bought new cables along with a battery. When Sal heard someone done been nasty with the car, we had to traipse around the lot checkin’ things out.”

“I suspected as much. Sent me right back inside the office, too,” I said, grimacing.

“Second, Charlotte Dillon was hangin’ out at the crime scene. She’s probably done a story that will hit the airwaves on the morning news, and that’s where your caller got his dope. Could have been eavesdroppin’ her filmin’.”

“Why didn’t you tell Sal all this?”

“I don’t believe in showin’ my hand early in the poker game. Charlotte Dillon is a damn ambulance chaser. She’ll get about half the story right and make up the rest. If someone was standing around listening to her tellin’ her shit on camera, then Bob’s your uncle.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, and since there’s no love lost between you two, maybe she put someone up to—”

“To scaring me?”

“Yeah, maybe. If she thought it would get you movin’, joggin’ stuff around, allowin’ her to focus her attention on the guts of the case, why not? Especially since the cops ain’t talkin’.”

“Well, for one thing, it’s not ethical.”

“Who said she ever cared?”

“More importantly, she’s a reporter. She wouldn’t want people to be looking at me like I have the Holy Grail, when the real news is somewhere else.”

“Oh yeah she would, girl. While everyone is lookin’ at you, and me too, probably, she’ll be hot on the trail of the real story. If she gets everyone includin’ all the other local channels lookin’ in the opposite direction, it’s all gravy for her. A real shell game.”

“Wow. I guess I’m too worried about other things to even ponder such a possibility.”

He placed his hand on his hip and waggled a finger at me. “To be forewarned is to be forearmed, my granny always says. Now be careful, you hear me? If the caller is lurkin’ out there waitin’ on you to do something stupid, you don’t need to go givin’ him no thrills. You got that?

I sat down hard on my sofa. “Oh. Right.”

“You gotta think first on all sides, Shan. Otherwise, you’re just a perfect victim.”

I tried to play it off. “Well, obviously, you and Sal are way more worried about this telephone call than I am. I mean it isn’t like anyone has tried anything, have they?”

But while I said it, I remembered a funky blue Spark whirling by me in the apartment parking lot. That might not be an accidental-almost-accident after all.

“He ain’t had time to do anything yet!” Dwayne’s voice rose two octaves. “Listen, Wall-ass, you gotta be careful. And I do mean careful. What if that caller wasn’t tipped off by Dillon? Maybe it’s the killer? You gotta be scared to be safe. I ain’t goin’ to no more funerals for friends, you hear me?”

We looked at each other, brown eyes piercing blue. He knew of all things he could say, that one would get me. We’d both been battered by death. Now Sal was on the verge of joining this sick club of ours and neither of us wanted to repeat the experience or admit new members.

“It’s okay, Dee. I’m not going to die, nor am I going to do anything to make you worry that I might die.”

He sat down on the other end of the sofa, took a deep breath, and turned on his signature charm. “Good. Now let’s discuss why you ain’t givin’ Sal no love.”

“No. Let’s don’t and say we did.”

“Fine. Then let’s talk about what we know about Dan the Man, a teacher who’s absent, and a kooky coffee drive-by.”

“Nothing to discuss that hasn’t been discussed. Dan is dead, Thelma is missing and left her purse behind, and someone is driving her around and being mean to her while doing it.”

“You think the driver is involved in all this?”

“Yes.”

“You think he killed Dan the Man?”

“Maybe.”

“You think she’s been kidnapped?”

“Yes. Again. For the ninth time.”

“How’re you gonna find out for sure?”

“I don’t know yet. It’ll come to me tonight in my dreams. Speaking of which, are you staying or going? I need my beauty sleep.”

He yawned. “Goin’.”

He left after making me check all my windows and lock the door behind him. Depressed, I made a beeline for the refrigerator. Food: the best method for working out my troubles. I put together my idea of a healthy sandwich, including peanut butter and sliced Granny Smith apples, and poured a tall glass of milk.

I took it all to the living room, turned on the television and watched a half hour of a crime drama. The characters were good-looking men and tough women, and I thought I’d like to be just like them when I grew up. It just seemed so strange for them to be able to solve their cases in an hour when in the real world it took a whole lot longer. The reality of police life made me sigh.

The fictional case featured a man who had formerly been missing then turned up dead and they had to follow the clues to apprehend his killer. I wished desperately I could have a few clues so I could get on the trail of my missing person. Then I remembered my mystery caller and changed my mind. I didn’t want to find her. The caller had told me that finding her might get me dead. Who was I to argue?

###

Tuesday morning dawned overcast and dreary and the humidity was turned up a notch as we all waited for the coming rain. The tree leaves turned their underbellies out waiting to catch a drop of water to quench their thirst.

I called the Mamas bright and early, whining about needing a new car and how my battery had died and been replaced, but I still didn’t trust the car to get me anywhere. It was totally true. Betsy needed to sit idly by until I could get someone to look at her innards.

When I trudged out of the apartment, Aunt Nan’s shiny Nissan sat out front. She’d left it for me before tootling off with Tillie to the restaurant.

We all had spare keys to everyone’s cars, so I never even had to scramble to get in. After a quick shower, and tossing on green-striped capris and a scoop-necked shirt, I headed over to the restaurant. I could drop her car, beg a bite of breakfast off them, and walk it off by taking a footpath to the office.

“Hey darling!” Aunt Tillie wore a bright yellow tee shirt and had her hair piled on top of her head. Those sparkling blue eyes danced, and I wondered what she had up her sleeve. “Have you seen the paper?”

Uh oh. When she asked me that, I knew she was about to dump the news on me no matter whether I had read about it or not, and I hadn’t stopped to pick one up either.

I smiled. “No, not yet. What has Nancy’s sweetie written about today?”

Herbert, the Times-Tribune reporter, was always dredging up good tidbits.

“Not Herb this time,” she said, strolling over to the bench by the checkout register. She returned with the latest edition of the South Lake paper.

“Apparently, someone took your picture again.” She tried to make it sound like I was a celebrity or something, but I grimaced remembering what Dwayne had said about Charlotte Dillon. She loved to dig up dirt about me, as I was not a fan of her or her boyfriend, Charles Fine. She worked for both the newspaper in South Lake and a small news station in Memphis, which kept her busier than most news hounds.

On the bottom of the front page, there was a small picture of Dwayne and I walking down the Denaldo’s driveway to the car, yellow police tape being moved aside to allow our passage. The caption read, “Local videographers at scene of murder.”

Oops. Now they’d done it. Well, that explained how the caller knew who I was. Maybe he had overheard her story being recorded.

I chewed my lower lip. Aunt Tillie would be all over this one. She’d stayed on me for a long time after I hurt my shoulder at Scott’s Funeral Home trying to help Dwayne find Bubba’s killer.

I waited for the explosion, but she never said a word, only sat in the chair next to me. “Shannon,” she began, quite calmly. “Dear, you must quit this line of work.”

I frowned. “Quit? I can’t quit, Aunt Till. I’ve got to work. I’m not rich, you know.”

“Well, you keep finding…dead people. I think there’s something wrong with your lifestyle, or your job, or your choice of friends, or something. Why does this keep happening to you?”

I shrugged. “Lucky, I guess.

She pursed her lips and allowed her eyes to do all the talking. “All I’m saying is that Nancy and I will always be here to help you financially. You don’t have to work doing something that will keep this,” she indicated the paper, “going on.”

That smarted. She knew I hated asking them for money. Forcing a smile, I said, “Thanks, really, but I’m fine. I don’t plan for this to happen. It’s accidental. Usually.”

She stood. “Accidents can be dangerous, honey. And when they happen close to home, doubly so. Remember that, and be careful.”

I nodded.

She gave me a look through lowered lids. “Maybe Nancy is right and you need to come by the house for a visit. We should plan your birthday celebration. You have some…um…presents you need to look at.”

“Presents?” I perked up. “What kind of presents?”

She cleared her throat. “I am not at liberty to say any more, but Nancy really wasn’t kidding about your needing to visit us.”

“Okay, wait. Something is dreadful in Denver here. What’s going on?”

She shook her head. “Not for public consumption, my darling. Just plan on visiting soon, okay?”

I nodded again, now thoroughly aggravated. What on earth was going on?

She patted my shoulder before walking away. My hunger abated somewhat with that conversation, and I pulled the paper closer to read the article. Hopefully, the news people knew more than I did. Damn Thelma Lunsford Denaldo anyway.

Charlotte Dillon told the gory details of the murder as if she were talking about having her hair colored. The cops, playing it close to their hip, gave only minimal details. But she knew somehow Dwayne and I had been involved in the case, and ad-libbed the bits about a local teacher being sought for murder. I guess that news would get out sooner or later. I only prayed Sal didn’t read the paper with his morning coffee.

But why did Dee and I have to be lumped in with the Denaldos? Now I would be on every nasty list in town. Shannon Wallace, the person who knew something about the murder case whereby a beloved member of South Lake society stood accused with the worst crime possible. Great.

I left Aunt Nancy’s keys with Connie, one of the waitresses who’d been with the place since the first day it opened, and slinked out of the restaurant. Muttering all the way across the back streets past the co-op to the office, my vanity punctured. By the time I’d arrived, I was just plain old mad.

Katie lounged at the receptionist desk and asked what had me so red-faced. I proceeded to fill her in.

She could only say, “Good grief.”

Dwayne came out of his office in the middle of my recital of the newspaper story and when I finished, he put two and two together rather quickly. “We gotta find that Denaldo woman and fast.”

“Ya think?” I stomped to my office and slapped my tote bag on my desk.

Katie wandered in and plopped down on a chair. “She’s been missing long enough now for somebody to call in a missing person’s report, right? Has anyone done that?”

We gaped at each other.

I found my voice first. “Well, damn.”

Dwayne grinned, his white teeth gleaming. “Katie Henderson, you’re all right for a porcelain princess.”

She did the Queen of England wave and I grabbed the phone on my desk to call Sal. When he got on the line, I pounced. “Has Thelma’s husband put out a missing person’s report on her yet?”

He drawled, “No, it’s next door to City Hall. Oh, thank you for asking. Are you enjoying our weather in sunny South Lake?”

“Sal, don’t be an ass. It’s going to pour buckets any minute. It’s been long enough for Thelma to be considered a missing person, hasn’t it? If her husband hasn’t asked for a report to be filed, I am. I have a vested interest.” I anchored a hip on the edge of the desk.

“You’ll need to make an appearance in my office, ma’am. Yes, I understand you’re sorry to have to shelter here during this heat wave.”

Uh oh. That was Sal-speak for, “There is someone in my office (probably a higher up) and I cannot talk to you about this now.”

“Okay, Sal, I get it. I’ll make Dwayne bring me right over.”

“Good bye,” he said softly.

I replaced the desk phone in its cradle. “Yeah, hasta la vista to you, too.” I sighed, swinging my feet against the side of the desk, fixing my two friends with a snooty stare.

Dwayne stood and dug in his pocket for his keys. “I knew this would happen. How come I always end up bein’ the lookout in the car when you have to go over to the police station?”

“Because you always have the wheels. Besides, if we can get a report going on Thelma, maybe the cops will be more cooperative.”

Katie laughed out loud. “Shannon, you’re living in a dream world. I think Ramirez is just baiting you, in hopes you’ll bring those cute legs by and give him a big ole eye-full.”

“What? No way. Our relationship is totally platonic,” I told her, slipping my tote bag onto my shoulder as I followed Dwayne out. Her laughter followed me down the stairs.

Chapter Eight

The South Lake Police Department housed itself in an old Baptist church with white columns on a quiet side street near the high school. The close proximity to the school usually gave rowdy kids the idea they should toe the line on their violence, else the blue lights would roar onto the school lot and take them away.

It worked in theory anyway.

When Dwayne rolled up and parked under a scrubby oak facing the side of the building, I tried to collect my thoughts as to what I wanted to say. “Are you going in with me?” I asked.

“Naw, girl. I’m like that document solution place. I’m here when you need me. But while you’re in there, ask about my damn camera, will you?”

Whiny thoughts floated inside my head, but I refrained from verbalizing them. Instead, I opened the car door and stepped out. “Fine, Mr. Brown. I’ll handle this myself. I can do all this and more.”

The heat of the day had started in earnest and my hair frizzed appropriately. I could feel sweat beading underneath my arms and along my ribs before I even made it to the door of the PD. The dull aluminum door handle singed my hand when I pulled on it and made me even grouchier.

I had to allow my eyes to situate themselves once inside, and the smells in the place left me wishing I could cover my nose. Scents akin to body odor and urine washed over me. And something I couldn’t put a name to. Probably the scent of fear, and I just didn’t recognize it. Not on anyone other than myself anyway. I eased up to the security window and a surly black woman opened it to speak to me. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Yes, I’m here to visit Detective Ramirez.”

“May I see some identification, please?”

Hm. She must be new.

Everyone else knew me and my bad luck and the PD’s involvement. I showed her my driver’s license and after a brief perusal, she dialed a number, uttered a few words, and told me to have a seat. I plopped onto the hard plastic seat, ogling the wanted posters tacked on an opposite wall. The FBI wanted a lot of folks. Two guys were up for parental abduction and unlawful flight, several mugs were international terrorists, and one pretty brunette had been missing for a long time.

A shiver went over me, and I rubbed my arms.

What if some people got listed as missing because they just got tired of their lives and wanted to start a new one? Maybe that girl was just peeved at her parents and ran away from home? Well, she’d been missing for a long time, so maybe not.

Before drawing any conclusions to those questions, Sal bounded down the stairs behind me and opened the door to let me in. He smelled of some spicy cologne and the tightness of the stairwell allowed it to linger like a soft caress.

We climbed to the second floor and walked down a hallway to his office where he shared room with his partner. A new man sat at the desk and I gulped hard, remembering poor Dan, now a former partner.

The man had a blond crew cut and when he looked up, I gasped with surprise. “Officer Blalock!”

This poor cop had been at my mercy on several occasions in the past when my boss/boyfriend had been murdered.

Recognition spread over his face, too. He stood and came around his desk to shake my hand. “Oh, call me John, ma’am. And…Miss Wallace, isn’t it? How are you?”

“Yes, thank you for remembering me. And please call me Shannon. Wow, this is a bit of a shock. Not a great way to get a promotion, huh?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. But I’ve been on the list for a while, so I would’ve ended up scaling the heights at some point, I guess. But sure, hate it to be like this.”

“What happened to your life as a patrolman? What got you interested in this?” I waved around me.

“Well, you did, sort of. I got interested in the other aspects of police work after all that weird stuff happened to you a while back.” He looked down at his feet as if saying this would offend me.

“It was wild, wasn’t it?” I finally murmured.

Sal cleared his throat from behind me signaling his readiness to get down to business. Giving John a small smile and a finger wave, I allowed him to go back to his desk and whatever he had been focused on. I drew a chair closer to the front of Sal’s cluttered work area where the newspaper lay stretched out.

Drat. I’d hoped he hadn’t seen that yet.

“Now, Miss Wallace,” he said, sitting. “What can I help you with?”

His formal cop air always unnerved me, but he was just doing his job. I guess maybe I approached clients the same way when they came by inquiring for help with video needs.

“I’d like to file a missing person report on Thelma Denaldo, if that hasn’t been done yet.”

He flipped his tie out from where it hung in front of him, wedged between his chest and desk. “Do you know what is involved in filing such a report?”

“Um. No.” A finger of worry crept up my spine. What did he mean by involved?

He folded his hands together in front of him and gave me a direct look. “Let me explain. A missing person is considered missing when they are supposed or expected to be somewhere and they aren’t, and they meet certain other criteria like being a danger to themselves or someone else, or if there is evidence to prove they were taken without permission like an abduction, or if they are a minor.”

“Oh, well she surely wasn’t where she was supposed to be and by leaving her purse behind I’m sure she has been abducted.”

“Yes, well, her car was there, but she was not, that’s true, but the purse being left behind is inconclusive. There are forms that must be filled out by family as well, Shannon. Unfortunately, you do not qualify to file such a report.”

He tilted sideways as though to throw something away, but I knew he was checking out my legs. Katie was right.

“Was there something else I can help you with?” he asked, upright again.

How did he manage to look innocent with his big brown smiling eyes and make me want to clobber him all at the same time?

“Salvador Ramirez. You knew all this before I came over here. Why didn’t you say something when we were on the phone?” I didn’t try to disguise the aggravation tainting my voice. “I would have stayed where I was.”

“Just offering information you needed on a subject you didn’t know anything about. Sometimes it’s better if we don’t talk about some subjects over a phone. I had company in here.”

I tapped my fingers on the edge of the desk and considered what to do. “So, are you just accepting that Thelma went off on a trip, without her purse, without leaving any word to anyone at the same time a murdered man appeared in her living room?”

His face darkened at the reminder that his friend and partner was the man I spoke of so flippantly. “He died when the coroner says he died. She may never have even been there. But it could have happened that way, yes. I suspect it didn’t. I believe the results of the autopsy will show he died at a time which would eliminate her as a suspect.”

“Why? I can assure you she was there before Dwayne and I arrived. I have on good terms that from Jim Adams.”

He shrugged. “She’s hardly the model for such activity, Shannon. I believe, as you do, she is as much victim as Dan. Her purse doesn’t worry me, but the car being left behind does.”

I was speechless. He believed me? My theory was the same as his? “So…so what now?”

“Now, I don’t know, now. I’m using my resources to look for Mrs. Denaldo, putting out feelers, trying to find where she’s gone. At first I thought she was involved, maybe even the best suspect, now I do not.”

“You don’t? So, did you find prints or something? Personally, I think she dropped the purse and wasn’t allowed to retrieve it. I think she was hurried out of there with no time to get it.”

He looked at his watch. “Speaking of time, it’s getting late. As for what has been found or uncovered, no comment. Don’t you owe me lunch? I think I want to collect.”

“Late? It’s eleven thirty, Detective. I won’t be taking lunch until later this afternoon, if you want to collect. But you may have to come to the office to get it. I’ll most probably be at my desk when I take lunch. Now, stop stalling. What can I do to help find Mrs. Denaldo?”

“Wait. That’s it. Just wait, and hope she turns up.”

“She did. In Memphis, remember?”

He blinked at me, arms crossed, face blank.

Apparently, there was nothing more forthcoming, as usual. Why didn’t I know this would happen?

I sighed loudly. “News about her driving around the city like that isn’t as important to your case since it came from me, I guess? Or maybe it was, but now you’ve got Memphis PD working my lead?”

He averted his gaze.

I couldn’t resist reminding him of the times he had left me out of important leads.

“What are you going to do if I find her and call you? Because I think you’re going to stick me in the backseat, again. I still have business with her.”

“Your business with Mrs. Denaldo would take a backseat to our investigation that is true.”

“No way. I don’t think so, Buster.”

John choked on his coffee at my explosion. I wanted to swivel around and glare at him, but refrained.

Men. Always in cahoots.

I rose to my feet and sashayed toward the door. Let him get an eyeful.

Sal followed. “I could arrest you for withholding information if you don’t call me, you know that, right?”

“But you won’t because you have people looking all over for her. I’ll bet Memphis PD is out there scouring the city even as we speak.”

I made a wave motion with my hand, my anger rising. “My little run-ins with her won’t even happen again, I’ll bet.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” He put out a hand to halt my rush for the door. “You have a knack for finding people, or for them to find you, as it were. Have you seen the paper?”

I gave him my best sneer. “Is that what this is all about? Well, yeah. I have. And thanks. Really.”

“I don’t suppose you’d agree to that backseat idea if I let you tag along when I get a call from Memphis?”

“Not on your life, Ramirez.” I yanked open the door and he took a step back in my wake.

It was the second time today I had to endure laughter as I went down a stairway.

###

When I got back to the car, Dwayne wouldn’t turn over the motor until I told him all. When I finished, he laughed and cranked the Toyota.

“Quit laughing, you hyena. It’s not funny.”

“Yeah, it is, girl. That man wants you bad, but he wants Dan the Man’s killer more.  And you just keep dangling your carrots under his nose making him have to choose.”

I turned the air conditioner up. “I have dangled nothing anywhere near his nose.”

He snickered all the way down the street. When it didn’t get the required reaction, he tried a different approach. “So since you were so busy flirting with our police friend, you forgot about my camera, didn’t you?”

I winced. “Damn it, yes.”

He muttered something under his breath and said, “Next order of business. We need to get Betsy all fixed up. I don’t suppose there’s any use in tellin’ you to trade that old rust bucket in on something reliable, is there?”

“I can’t afford a car note, Dee.

“Before you say that, why don’t we go look? There’s some decent lookin’ cars on the back lot over at Melton Skelton Ford. They sell for like four thou give or take.”

Ever the shopper, how could I say no? It surely couldn’t hurt to window shop.

While he maneuvered around the early afternoon traffic to the dealership, I took a call from Sissy Cratchett. She wanted four cameras, and reception coverage. I told her to come by the office at six o’clock after she got off work and we would show her a demo.

“She’s sold,” I said, grinning in Dwayne’s direction.

“Good. Her deposit will be your down payment. Look at that baby!” He pulled into the car lot, turned left onto the last row and parked in front of a shiny red Eclipse.

“Mitsubishis have a bad rating with Consumer Reports,” I told him as we peeled ourselves out of the car. “And before you spend money we don’t have, remember I told you I can’t afford to buy a car.”

I immediately missed the air conditioner, and heard thunder in the distance. “It’s going to rain, Dwayne. Let’s make it snappy.”

He walked down the row, looking at every offering. A salesman in a dove gray suit hurried over to check out our buying temperature. I smiled at him and hoped the rain hurried along. I couldn’t bear pushy salesmen and he just had the look. Expectant. Florid face, bright knowing (or hoping) eyes. Avoiding such encounters was just another good reason to keep my old clunker.

While Dwayne discussed what was under the hood of a sky blue late-model Honda with the sales weenie, I wandered down the row, absently looking around. The sales floor and showroom sported all glass sides, to better display the shiny, oh-my-God-expensive vehicles inside.

I could make them out from where I stood ogling. My gaze roamed over the gleaming cars and trucks directly in front of me, up to the entrance of dealership, and settled on people going in, or, not going in, as it were.

Considering my impoverished situation made me sad. I should investigate taking on a part time job. The idea crept up my backbone, appealing in a way it hadn’t since my boss and boyfriend had been killed.

As I stood there contemplating life and money, a white Escalade eased through the lot, sunlight glinting off shiny chrome, drawing my eye to it like a streak of lightning crossing the darkening sky.

My heart raced. No way. How many of those expensive monsters were registered in South Lake, Mississippi? This had to be some freak of coincidence. Or not. Just in case, I ducked behind a fancy new coupe. Creeping forward, rising only to take a quick peek to place the vehicle, I watched as it cruised down the aisle where we had parked. The driver paused, looking around.

Had we been followed to the car lot? How did we miss that huge piece of metal in the mirror? Dee couldn’t talk too much about my being a perfect victim when he drove us around with a possible killer on our rear.

I stayed hidden beside the coupe until the front end of the Escalade was almost even with me. Then, I stepped out in the middle of the aisle, playing chicken with him. He saw me at the last moment and stepped heavily on his brakes to keep from hitting me.

I grinned as the driver peered at me from behind a dream catcher hanging over his dashboard. The blue and white feathers couldn’t hide the face gaping at me.

The same face belonged to the guy who had smacked Thelma with napkins at Starbucks.

Chapter Nine

His eyes widened in shock and his mouth dropped open. This allowed me enough time to rush to the passenger door, pull up on the handle, and realize it was locked. When we were practically nose-to-nose with nothing but glass to separate us, he decided it was time to take off.  Stomping on the gas, he shot down the back lot nearly ripping my hand and wrist from my arm. The motion sent shockwaves up to my recently injured shoulder and I hissed at the pain.

Holding my arm, I watched as he whipped around the corner, and zoomed off the lot. This was a new development. For once, I had the advantage.

“I saw you, creep, and I can identify you.” My hands shook as I pulled my cell out and dialed Jimmy. The driver had been older with gray hair, a double chin, and wide blue eyes. He also had too much knowledge about me to be able to hunt me down so easily.

While the number rang in my ear it occurred to me that if I had managed to get that door opened, he might have pulled out a gun and shot me. All manner of things could have transpired. None of it felt good to my terrified mind, and my knees joined my hands on their journey to Tremble City. I looked around for a curb to sit on, settling for leaning onto a bumper.

Jim answered with a friendly hello and I heard loud noises in the background that sounded too much like a restaurant. I told him what had happened.

“Whoa. Okay. I’m pulling the plug on this one. If they want to play these stupid games, then let them. I say we let her old man worry about it. This case is not worth your life, Shannon.”

“Unfortunately, you can’t just write this off. I am in this up to my ears now. A man was found dead in that house. A cop no less, and someone knows I’m interested in the details of the case and finding the homeowner. Maybe even this creep today. If Mr. Denaldo has been cleared of the murder, then that only leaves his wife to answer questions and well, maybe this guy who’s driving her around. Who knows? After this encounter, I sort of think he’s involved, don’t you?”

“Why do you care? That’s what we pay policemen for.”

“True, but don’t you find this weird? I mean, what if she’s being held against her will? What if this guy is the killer and he’s got her?”

“More reason to ditch this whole thing! What if Thelma’s talked to the cops by now, and cleared herself? Then we’re talking about a complete accident with this guy at the car place. Maybe you’re worrying about nothing.”

“Already checked with my contacts over at the PD, Jimmy. She hasn’t called or come in yet. And now this? It just has to be related some way.”

He didn’t reply.

“I’ll be in touch.” I disconnected.

Dwayne and the salesman walked toward me. “You wanna go on a test ride?” Dee asked.

I shook my head, rubbing my twisted wrist. The thunder rumbled deep in the throat of the sky, and big fat drops fell. “We have to get going, sorry.”

The salesman passed us white business cards with the dealership’s information and his name embossed on it before hurrying away to the security of the dry showroom.

“I thought you wanted to check out cars?” Dwayne asked, stuffing the card away in his pocket as he yanked open the driver’s door.

“Didn’t you see that white SUV?”

He pulled off the lot. “The ‘Lade?”

“Yes the ‘Lade. Did you notice as I tried to open his door and got yanked off my feet for the effort? I could have been killed.”

“What the hell you doin’ that for? Was it somebody you know or somethin’?”

“No! It was Thelma’s tormentor from Starbuck’s.”

“No shit? How do you know it was the same dude?”

“I recognized him, sort of. Could be the same guy.  He took off like his tail was on fire, so I guess he sort of recognized me too.”

“That’s a little much for coincidence, Shan.”

“Probably. Maybe he’s been following us around? What if he saw us coming from the police station? What if he thinks we know something about the murder?”

“That could be problematic.”

“Understatement, Dee. Now, Jim wants to get off this case and drop it. He’s not much for all the confrontational stuff. Didn’t like this new development at all.”

I swiped at loose strands of hair, twirling one around a finger. “Figures. Mr. Evasion himself. I mean have you ever watched him in court? He represented my cousin, Clareta one time and—” Something in the way he said evasion, struck a nerve.

“No wonder you don’t like him. But you’ll need to tell me about it another time. Right now, take me back to Sal’s office.”

“What for?” His eyebrows shot up.

“Never mind. It’s personal.”

“You have a change of heart? Gonna get nice with ole Sombrero Sal?”

“Don’t you think it’s time he and I got on the same page and worked together? We could be a good team.”

He made the imaginary motions of locking his mouth and throwing the key out the window. Sometimes he can be a very smart dude.

###

Two hours later, I had a headache throbbing behind my eyes from looking at the stack of pictures Sal had given me. All possible men to match the Escalade driver, but I found nothing. He was none too thrilled when I admitted I had been close enough to touch the vehicle but still got no license number, or anything else.

“I’m sorry,” I told him, for the third time. “I was too shocked to get the plate number. He got away before it occurred to me and my shoulder hurt like hell from being yanked like that.”

He waved a hand like this was of no consequence, but I could see his frustration by the set of his shoulders. I picked up my tote, draped it over my good arm, and eased the metal folding chair under the table. “I think I’m done here. I have a headache and I need a rest. We have a client coming over really soon. Maybe I can come back later.”

He sat heavily in his maroon leather executive chair and it groaned from the abuse. “Fine. If you remember anything else, don’t hesitate to call.”

“I will.”

His phone rang as I moved toward the door. He answered it, and immediately the timbre of his voice changed. I shamelessly eavesdropped as I turned the knob.

“No kidding? I’ll be right there.”

I didn’t turn around. I didn’t have to. He slammed the phone down and scraped his chair back. “Wait, Shannon, wait up.”

“What?”

“Your Escalade man. They just stopped him for speeding down Highway 78. I put a BOLO in place just in case. Good thing, apparently. You can ride with me.”

Although I’d carried on about being left in the backseat previously, when news came of the arrest of the Escalade man, being hidden away suddenly appealed to me. I wanted to remain as anonymous as possible until his business was made clear.

Dwayne wrinkled his nose from his situated position in the car when I told him. “What? Me? Ride along with the PD? Um. No. I think I’ll just go on back to the office and meet our Mrs. Crachett and her kid. Weddings are a lot safer. You call me when you have something to report, okay?”

“I will. Sorry about the client thing,” I said, patting his arm where it rested in the opened window of the car. He didn’t look at me when he took off and I said a silent prayer that he wasn’t too mad.

We arrived at the scene within ten minutes. Two cruisers, blue lights flashing wildly, parked behind the Escalade and we pulled in behind them. They’d placed the driver in the back of one of the cruisers. His head appeared in silhouette. Sal walked over to get the whole story while I huddled in his Taurus.

Eventually, they opened the back door of the cruiser, assisted the guy out, walked him toward me, where the headlights shined in his face, turned him sideways and front-wise, and then returned him to his seat.

When Sal opened my door to inquire, I was definite.  “Yep. That’s the guy.”

He took a beat to decipher the situation, his eyes searching my face. “Interesting.”

“What is?”

“That man is Mrs. Denaldo’s brother, David Lunsford.”

He shut the door before I could reply.

###

Later, back at the PD, I ditched Sal, who was swamped with the case, interrogation, and paperwork, and wandered to the evidence area to collect Dwayne’s camera.

Sal told me they had gotten word from Thelma’s family (who showed up to file a missing person report shortly after I left the first time) that her youngest brother was also missing.

David Lunsford drove a white Escalade, which told Sal all he needed to know to put two and two together.  In other words, the case was having its strings snipped and tied, and I was, as usual, on the outside looking in.  No matter what situation I found myself in lately, I had no way to get the real story because Sal wouldn’t help me out. Not even when my boss had been killed, not even when Dwayne’s friend died.

I called Dwayne, who griped at how long he had been waiting on news. He chortled about how he had handled our client alone; single-handedly booking her wedding. Another successful sales job, again, without me and without my input.

Sometimes my life sucked. And sometimes it really, truly, sucked.

Chapter Ten

Dwayne picked me up at the PD and I filled him in on all the happenings as he drove us back to the office.

“They think David Lunsford will sing like a bird about Thelma’s whereabouts and that will be that.”

“Why don’t you sound happy?”

“Something is being overlooked. I can feel it in my bones. I mean, they will have their chat with him and he may or may not tell them where she is. They may bring her in, but without evidence to prove one of them killed Dan Justice, they will let them go again.”

“Why do you think they don’t have evidence? Cops always have somethin’. So what’s being overlooked?”

“The whys. Why were they hiding out? And more importantly, why were they following us?”

He clamped his lips together and remained mute. I hate when that happens. It usually means he has ideas that are right on the money, but he isn’t going to share them.

###

Back at the office, Dwayne tinkered under Betsy’s hood in attempts to thwart further ailments. I borrowed his car rattling off my need to buy groceries as an excuse. It wasn’t much of a lie. I really did need food in my house.

I drove over to Thelma’s house, figuring she would return to it as soon as the cops finished with her, or as soon as the heat let up, whichever occurred first.  Filming the contents of her house consumed me, and that was what I intended to do. Let Jimmy figure out the legalities of it. My conscience would be assuaged at any rate.

If I parked down the street, tiptoed up to the house, and quietly let myself in, then maybe I could nose around and hopefully catch her.  And I had come prepared this time.  I’d found my bump key, which Dee and I had forgotten about. It scooted out from under the couch when I vacuumed. Right along with the fake dog pile it had been a part of.

Sometimes my genius scares even me.

Dwayne’s trunk sported his camera bag with his camera now nestled safely inside where I had collected it from the PD. He’d been mighty happy about that. The folder with all the info from Jimmy peeked out from the camera bag too, and I removed it to the trunk for safekeeping. I slung the bag over my shoulder like a purse. If anyone happened to be looking, it would appear like one of Thelma’s friends was house sitting.

Of course, if anyone recognized me, I was sunk, but I refused to think that way right now.  Like Scarlett O’Hara, I rationalized my motives in strange ways and this was no exception. I’d come here once before looking to film the damn place. Not my fault a murder had occurred.

I swallowed and said a hasty prayer at such flippant disregard for the victim. Poor Dan. God rest his soul. Visions of his body returned to swamp my brain, which would only complicate things. I shook it off, attempted to focus on the job at hand.

I would earn my money or at least give it a supreme effort.

It only took a minute to get the key to work its magic. Dusk sent long shadows stretching across the windows, but once inside, my eyes quickly adjusted to the dimness. I shoved onward, closing the door behind me. Women spend an enormous amount of time in the kitchen so that is where I started.

Thelma’s kitchen only had a small space between sink and stove and fridge. Two people wouldn’t fit in there at the same time. Light oak cabinets and stainless steel sinks gleamed in the half-light. On one wall was a medium-sized buffet filled with wineglasses and miscellaneous dishware. I turned on my camera light, and filmed it all.

The fridge had three shelves and all of them sported covered dishes from meals cooked and leftovers preserved for future use. She obviously planned on eating at home. I was sure they all needed to be tossed. What a waste. My stomach growled in grief.

Wandering through the living room, I appraised a formal living room with white provincial furnishings and built-in bookcases on either side of a nice fireplace. A twinge of jealousy started as I panned the camera, breezed past the living room and went to the hallway.

The first two bedrooms were standard guest room affairs. Hardly even a speck of dust littered the tops of the dressers. Thelma was neat if nothing else. Bric-a-brac, or dust catchers, as my Aunt Tillie called them, sat around everywhere littering the tops of the furniture.  I filmed and moved on.

The master bedroom’s appearance produced more interesting fare, one of controlled haste. Clothes were piled on the bed, scattered across the cedar chest, and draped over the dresser. Someone had been packing and had only wanted to take necessities.

Books lay dumped by the side of the bed as though the reader had tossed them off the nightstand in a hunt for something. I set the camera down to get a better look. Down on all fours, I peered under the bed. My efforts netted dust bunnies and a flat plastic under-the-bed box.

Using as little of my finger as I could muster, I pulled it out and tried to pry it open. It didn’t take long to realize this would require at least two fingers, but I didn’t care. I would wipe the prints. Inside, I found mementoes of a wedding including candles, ribbons and cards from the event. Had to be the Denaldo’s. Maybe she’d been looking through them in a twinge of nostalgia. Or maybe she planned an enjoyable bonfire now that the marriage was over.

Setting the box aside, I opened some of the books, picking up bits and pieces, getting a feel for her reading habits. The covers exhibited men and women in throes of ecstasy, obviously contemporary and erotic romances.

Eww. My old teacher read erotica? I tried hard to erase the vision of her reading such works, her eyes glazing over at the spicy parts. Women her age didn’t do that, did they? Then I recalled how she had been discovered cheating on her husband.

She’d made sexy videos. An uncomfortable feeling crawled up my back.

The sound of muffled voices outside the window ended my reverie. I’d been snooping too long. With my heart in my throat, I used my tee shirt hem to wipe where my fingers had been on the box and returned it where it belonged. I also wiped the covers of the books and tried to replace them where I thought they had been.

The voices got louder, at the front door, and then, a ding sounded loudly, like the security alarm alerting the owner of an opened door. A security alarm? Really? Good grief! Thank God it had been off, or I would have been toast.

Adrenaline rushing, I scrambled around the closet and found lots of room to hide. Thelma Denaldo had more shoes in there than the Steel Butterfly. The lowest rack of clothes hung close enough to the ground for me to hide behind and I wasted no time.

The visitors made soft sounds as they proceeded to check each room. The closet door opened and whoever was out there took a quick look around, but stopped just short of coming in. Crazily, I thought about jumping out to ask them who they were looking for, but knew a word from me would get me dead, or at the very least, arrested.

Before long, I found myself silently begging my shaking legs to stop their involuntary dance before they gave me away. The investigating visitors retreated, not quite closing the door all the way. How could they be unaware I stood only a breath away? I would thank my guardian angel later for talking me out of those onions I loved so much.

Waiting a few seconds until it seemed the coast was clear, I eased out from behind the clothes and inched to the closet door. One of the lurkers, suspicious after all, flung it wide open making me take a step back. I lost my footing, and fell butt-first into the clothes rack and all those damn shoes.

I would have been okay except the bracket holding the shelves above my head decided to give way and wooden shelving and boxes fell on top of me, knocking me out colder than a dead seal.

###

When I came to, it was so dark I thought I’d gone blind. Disentangling myself from the mess around me, I discovered my hurt shoulder had been injured again, and halted all movement to hug it and take deep breaths. My head hurt like a thousand bee stings, and there was blood in my mouth.

Not a good thing to wake up to, Wallace.

One handed, I pushed and pulled at shelving and boxes until a bit of illumination showed beneath a box on my legs. With supreme effort, I heaved it to one side. The room beyond glowed from a small lamp on the nightstand.

How long have I been here?

Finally, unburied, I half-crawled, half-dragged my battered body to the doorway of the closet. No sounds. No anything.  I peered around. From my vantage point, I would have seen any feet in the room, had there been feet anywhere. But no. None. Nada. Whoever had entered the house was long gone.

Why they didn’t kill me or take me with them to keep my silence I couldn’t say. I suspected it was probably because I didn’t see anything, due to being too startled, then too unconscious. Not much of a threat. They had cleared out in fear of me. Yeah right. More like they could move faster without my dead weight slung over their shoulders.

I yanked on the cord hanging overhead, and blinked in the ensuing brilliance of seventy-five watts. The camera lay underneath a pile of boxes, and I scooped it up before struggling to my feet. If Dwayne had been with me, he’d be disgusted at all the whining and moaning I emitted before rushing out of the house to the car.

My smart-alecky planning had meant parking the car far enough down the street as to not be noticeable. Now, limping and cursing, I despised my smart-alecky planning.

Once in the Toyota, I used my unhurt arm to call Dwayne. He’d been blowing up my phone according to the missed calls listed on the display.

“Wall-ass! What the hell are you doin’?” He sounded positively frantic. “And where the hell are you doin’ it at?”

“Dee, did you get Betsy running?” I tried to turn the key in the ignition but realized my arm was utterly useless.

“Yes, Shannon. It’s fine. We’re both here where you left us. Now, where the hell’re you?”

I could picture him pulling the phone from his ear and looking at it strangely as if the inquisitive look would make me answer with something he wanted to hear. Hated to disappoint him.

“I’m parked on the Denaldo’s street. I’m hurt and I need you.”

“Shit! I’m there.” Dead air.

I didn’t even get to tell him not to speed in my poor old rust bucket.

###

It was 11:30 pm by the time he drove Betsy out of the hospital parking lot. I got home, got meds, and finally quit hurting. Dwayne followed me around, promising to stay the night.  He gingerly adjusted a pillow under my arm, and with a worried frown, sat back on his heels. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” I touched the cut on my face just under my nose. When I’d examined my injuries, they amounted to a few cuts and bruises, a bad bump on my head, and a hurt wing. Again.

“You should have let them keep you overnight at the hospital.”

“Why? I’ve had a bump on the head before. It hurts like hell, and gives you a terrible headache, but I’m not going to die. If there was danger of that, they would’ve made me stay.”

“Shit, did you forget about that Richardson woman, or what? No one, not even her, knew she had a bad injury to her noggin. Until she died from it, of course.”

Celebrity news was Dwayne’s thing. He’d kept up with the story about Natasha Richardson that had been talked about on every station for days.  He stood and looked around. “I can’t believe you went back over there, Shan. What in hell were you thinkin’? Why didn’t you ask me to go along? And how in hell did you get in anyway?”

Time to fess up. “I used that bump key of mine. You know the one? And I took the camera with me and got a few minutes of footage inside the house. You know, like, the kitchen, living room, and guest bedroom. But when I got to Thelma’s bedroom, I sort of got distracted. Then my attackers came in and I had to worry about staying alive. We still need to get in there and do a proper job of shooting her stuff. I think what I saw is pretty damn important.”

“Did you look at the footage?”

“Not yet.”

“Did you get any shots of the area where they found Justice?”

“No. I didn’t make it that far.”

“Did you have decent light? Did the footage look okay on the monitor?” I imagined him turning into a hungry werewolf, saliva dripping from his drooling lips, a wicked gleam in his eye as he anticipated what I might have brought home.

“It looked fine to me. At least, what I saw in the viewfinder. I know you want the low down but honestly, I just don’t have the answers right now. I’m tired. Can we talk about this later? That nasty stuff they gave me is working, but before I forget, you should get over to your car soon. Get that camera, bag, and folder out of the trunk. I’m going to sleep.”

I closed my eyes in hopes of putting an end to his interrogation.

He sighed, defeated. “Yeah, sure. I’m sleepin’ on your couch, though. As soon as I can get back. I won’t be gone long. Gonna call up Katie or somebody to drive over to get the car. Just gonna go get it and jet right back, okay?”

I nodded with a smile. I was being looked after by the best.

Chapter Eleven

I woke up, groggy and disoriented, thirsty, and in a lot of pain. What day was it? Feeling disjointed, I stubbed my toe on a pair of sneakers and cut loose with a stream of curse words. I didn’t want any more pain.

All that noise brought a half-asleep Dwayne around the corner. When I tried to throw the shoes, he rushed over. “You ain’t supposed to be doing that! Where you goin’?”

“To the bathroom,” I told him. “I’m fine. Quit fussing over me. I even drove last night, remember?”

“It’s my job to fuss over you, Wall-ass. You said so yourself.” He headed back toward the living room. “And until Sal Sassy Pants gets over here to do the job himself...” He muttered something else that I didn’t understand and sort of didn’t want to know about.

When I came out, he stood in the kitchen rustling up food. I padded over to the dinette set and plopped down in a chair. The sun beamed sharp streams of light around the room.

“My head hurts.”

“I’m makin’ you something to eat so you can take more drugs. You need drugs, little missy.”

Shaking my head at his words only served to bring spears of pain behind my eyeballs, so I quickly ceased all movement. “No. I don’t want more drugs. I want to think. I need to figure this out.”

“Figure what out, Wall-ass? You’re gonna kill your damn fool-self. Now behave, you hear me?”

Frowning at him, I took a quick sip of milk from a small tumbler. It was good and cold, and I ended up drinking all of it before setting it down with a thump and a satisfied sigh.

“I need to figure out who came in the house, and why they left me for dead, and what they were doing there, and why Mrs. Denaldo is missing, and yet not missing, and—”

“And end up in the hospital with brain damage. Stop.” Dwayne came to the table with a bologna sandwich and chips on a plate. “Just stop. Leave all that stuff behind for a little while, and get better. Maybe then, when you’re up to it, things’ll come to you. Hopefully, the teacher lady turns herself in and all our troubles are over.”

I took a bite of the soft white bread and chewed. Dwayne didn’t understand how pissed off I was. No way would I let this one die. Exacting revenge on someone thrilled me at the moment.

“Let’s brainstorm, how about it?” I asked.

He patted his tee shirt pocket. “I mislaid my notebook, and this one is for the books. You have a brain?”

“Ha, ha. Get real.”

He smiled, and I went on.  “Okay. So, Denaldo and the missus are separated, and he files for divorce. She’s adamant about living in the house. He lets her have it temporarily, and his lawyer hires me to film the contents for backup, so she can’t dispense with it. We go over, find Dan dead.” I paused.

The victim was always where the story started in novels. Maybe that would be a good starting place.

“I need info out of Sal,” I added, taking a big bite out of my sandwich.

Dwayne stretched, raised an eyebrow. “Good luck with that girl, you know how old Salivate is.”

“Let’s say Mr. Denaldo doesn’t know Dan, doesn’t know he’s a cop. But the missus does. She knows the dead man, and she knows the killer. Either she is the killer or she knows the killer. At any rate, Dan’s in her family room, and it’s time to freak out. She packs her clothes and runs off to a hotel or somewhere with the Escalade man, her brother. She’s going to have to move quickly before the cops find her. You can only use credit cards, and the like, for so long before Big Brother tracks you down.”

He stood and walked to the refrigerator. “Now I’m gettin’ hungry.”

I rubbed my sore head, continuing my out loud thoughts. “Only…that won’t work because she left her purse behind.”

There were so many loose strands of the rope I couldn’t manage putting them all together. I went on as if Dwayne needed to hear what I had in my head instead of my own need to vocalize everything.

“Maybe she forgot something at the house? Maybe she planned to come back for the purse. Or maybe she remembered something else she needed, so she came back. If it was even her,” I mumbled. “I remember the voices, but I didn’t see anyone clearly, and I couldn’t swear one of them was a woman, but it could have been. I think she’s being helped by her lover, the one she got caught with.”

“Ah ha. The plot thickens,” he muttered as he pulled out a fresh knife from the drawer to spread mayonnaise. “The lover did it.”

“So, she comes back with someone who may or may not be the killer, and when they discover me, their plans get sideways. Then, I take my tumble and they leave me for dead.”

He plopped down onto his chair, and began stuffing a sandwich in his mouth. Over the bread and bologna, he mumbled. “Plausible, not likely, but plausible.”

“Okay then, Brilliance, what do you think is going on?”

He chewed a few moments before answering. “I think she stepped out to get somethin’ at the store, came back and found the murdered cop, got spooked, and took off. Afraid the cops are gonna nail her ass for his murder, she’s off hidin’. She calls the only person who can help her, baby bro, David Lunsford.”

“And he whisks her off away from the crime scene, until they can figure out what to do?” I asked, trying to follow his thought.

He pulled the crust off one side of his sandwich. “She knows who you are from school or maybe the papers, or even from Adams the lawyer tellin’ her about you. When she finds out you were at the house, and you know somethin’ about it all, she sends her brother to follow you around tryin’ to get info.”

My mouth dropped open.

He nodded at my chagrin. “Um hm. And whoever was at that house freaked completely out when they found you there in that closet. I’m not sayin’ it was or wasn’t the teacher lady, but it mighta been. Who was with her is anyone’s guess, since her brother is cooling his heels in the pokey. And then, after your little fall, they were probably afraid you’d killed yourself, and so they left. Hm. Yeah. Left just like the last time.”

His version was almost as plausible as mine.

“Well, maybe we’re both right? At least we both agree she’s involved in this mess right up to her neck.”

He nodded and swigged his milk. “Oh yeah, girl, she knows a little sumpin’ sumpin’. No doubt about that.”

“So let’s make a list of things to do,” I said, struggling to my feet to walk to the desk by the window and get a pen and notebook. “Things to help find her. She’s a big key in all of this, and she’s missing. It’s like a puzzle with a piece on the floor, you know?”

“The first thing we’re gonna do is call ole Sallie and get him in on this. Your pink ass is bein’ targeted.”

I spun to face him. “We are not bringing Sal in on this. If he even gets a hint that I’m embroiled in this, or that I went in that house again, really illegally this time, he’ll arrest me.”

Dwayne leaned forward, eyes wide. “Shannon. You’re about the most blind, non-blonde woman I’ve ever met. Salavandy the Eye-Candy would only put cuffs on you for one thing.”

I wrinkled my nose and sat back at the table, notebook in front of me. The attraction between Sal and I needed to be refused admittance to this conversation.  “Stop. We have a platonic friendship, nothing more. We’ve gone out a few times, had pizza in a few times, and shared a truckload of misfortunes, but that’s it. And he’s a cop, above all else.”

“That’s only because you keep it platonic. Not because he don’t try. Hrumph. Now, if it was me—”

“No, don’t. I don’t think I want to hear what you would do with Ramirez. Let’s get back to this.” I tapped the notebook. “And before I forget again, did you meet with the Crachett lady?”

He frowned and nodded. “Yeah, I told you this, Wall-ass. She seemed pretty cool with us. I told her we needed a deposit.”

“And?”

“And as I told you before, she said she’d send one.”

“That’s a bad thing. If you don’t nail that down while they’re in the office, they usually bail.”

He did an eye-roll. “I’ll call her today. But why don’t you remember that conversation? You got amnesia?”

I shrugged. “I do sort of remember it. Okay. If we have any trouble, I can get in touch with her mother. She knows my aunts. Did you get a check from Jimmy?”

He nodded. “Worryin’s like bein’ in a rockin’ chair, Wall-ass. You can do it all day long but you ain’t never goin’ nowhere. Would you quit with the frettin’?”

I made a note on the pad, ignoring him, and chewed the pencil eraser. “We need information about Dan’s case, but Sal will never tell us. He’s holding it too close to his chest, damn him. So, who else can help us find out the grisly details?”

He chewed and gazed at his glass like a fortune-teller reading tea-leaves, but offered no suggestions.

“What if we hunted up Charlotte Dillon?” I asked.

This sent his eyebrows up far enough to lift his hairline. “What the hell? You achin’ for a fight?”

“I can conduct myself appropriately when the occasion calls for it, and I do think this is such an occasion.”

He laughed. “All right, Wall-ass. You must think I just fell off the turnip truck.”

“Now, Dee, darling, I need that information,” I sang out. “I’ll be nice.”

He gathered our dishes. “You’re an evil woman and a bad liar. But go on and call her.”

I paused and wrote on the pad. “Next, we need to get back inside the Denaldo house. Did you get that folder out of your trunk?”

Dishes clattered in the sink. “Yes I got it. And just what are you thinkin’ of doin’ now? Are you effin’ out of your ever-lovin’ gourd?”

“No. And this time you have to go with me and with a camera. I intend on getting more shots of that house, and earning all that money.”

“Shannon, neither me nor you are goin’ anywhere near that place.”

He came over and stood by my chair, arms crossed, face an implacable mask.

I gazed up. “Why not?”

“If you have to ask, you’re more of a dumb bunny than you look.”

“Listen, I found some stuff in her bedroom, and I want to get more information—”

“That might get you killed next time.” He stood there like a statue of ebony. “I have a better idea.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

He took the pen out of my hand and wrote on the pad.

“Ask MR. Denaldo.”

I grinned. “That’s a damn good idea! I’ll get him to sign those forms!”

He turned back to the sink. “Get dressed, and call up that blood-sucker Adams. I may have to lower myself to talk to him now that his dirty money is payin’ our bills.”

He said something else, but I was already on my way to the bedroom to gather my gear.

###

Robert Denaldo was registered at the Day Suites in East Memphis. The old dingy gray building looked like it had seen better days, but you could rent by the day or by the week, and it had a convenient location.  Some folks coveted convenience. Although with all the crime in Memphis, there was a good chance safety would have to be weighed against convenience, no matter what you thought about the location.

“Stinks around here,” I observed as we walked toward the building.

“Pollution, Wall-ass. You spend too much time in the ‘burbs. It always smells dirty in the city.”

We found the stairs and started climbing, our footfalls hollow on the metal and concrete. Denaldo lived on the fourth floor.

“What if he won’t tell us anything?” Dee panted.

“He’ll talk. He’s got to be sick of all the attention by now. And just leave the questions to me,” I told him, huffing. “I have an idea.”

Dwayne jogged up the last six steps and stood at the top to gloat at his physicality. I stuck my tongue out at him and rearranged my tote. The forms in the folder were inside but I didn’t think I would try to get him to sign them just yet.

Didn’t want to seem too pushy.

We stepped up to number 4107 and Dwayne knocked. No answer. He knocked louder. No answer.

Just before we decided to give up, the curtain on the window eased open a fraction and a man peered out.

“Mr. Denaldo? Can we talk to you for a moment?” I asked in a semi-loud voice.

“We ain’t police,” Dwayne said, under his breath. “Quit tellin’ everybody we’re here.”

Before I could smack him, the curtain fell, and the door opened as far as the security chain allowed. “What?”

“Sir, we’re associates of James Adams of Adams, Butler, and Cook. May we speak to you privately for a moment?”

He acknowledged his lawyer’s name, told us to wait a second, and shut the door.

“Now what?” Dwayne mouthed.

I shrugged, and winced at the pain. My arm was not as bad as I believed it to be last night, and I was thankful, but it still throbbed.

The door opened again and he let us in. We entered a small suite, complete with couch, chairs, and coffee table in the living area decorated in the latest hotel/motel yuck, sea foam green paint in association with stripes and florals.

Shabby chic it wasn’t

I chose a chair, Dwayne slid onto one end of the couch, and Robert Denaldo took a path of pacing. He was a chunky, bulbous-nosed, bearded man who wore camo pants tucked in heavy boots and a wife beater. No wonder Thelma strayed.

“What d’ya want? I’ve told Adams everything I know. I don’t know where Thelma is, and I don’t care. If she stays away, it can only be good for me.”

I swallowed and cleared my throat. “Sir, I’m not trying to meddle, but, if she was having an affair, do you know who it was with?”

He stopped in front of me and smiled, smoothing out a few wrinkles in his face. “Who cares? She’s out of the house, she’s too scared to come back, thanks to the murder, and ipso facto, I get to move back home.”

I gazed around. He seemed to be in the throes of packing. “Her lover may be the key to the murder, and to her disappearance. Maybe even to what else is going on underneath all this weirdness. We sure could use some info.”

He picked up a pack of cigarettes from a corner table and lit one, blowing smoke out swiftly. “What’s Adams’ office care if she gets help or from who? I hired him, not her. I don’t know who the freak is, and I don’t care. Tell Adams he can quit worrying about it.”

Okay, different tack. “Are you going to do anything with her belongings in the house?”

“Sure as the hell am! Put it all out on the street as soon as possible. Hope to watch some stray wander by and take a dump on it.”

I wanted to strangle him. “Before you do that, don’t you think you should ask the cops? I mean, this is an active investigation-—”

“It’s my house.” He stopped pacing and pointed at me. “The cops have all they need by now. And by the way, you sound like you’re a cop. What’s your deal?”

Now my defensive side appeared. “I don’t have a deal, and I’m not a cop, I told you I work for Adams. Look, you can do whatever you want with her stuff, but just let us film the inside of your place before you ditch any of it. You know for the divorce.”

“Yeah,” Dwayne interjected, taking up the cause. “We took this job from Mr. Adams and just wanna earn our money. Can’t do that without filmin’ the contents of the house. So far, we haven’t been allowed thanks to all the freakin’ hullabaloo. Why don’t you make sure that it happens, like, as soon as possible? It’ll only help your case—you know what I mean?”

He gave us a long look. “Come to think of it, you’re right. You can do whatever you want once I get back there. Which, if you don’t mind, I need to finish packing.”

I pulled out the form folder. No time like the present. In fact, if not now, never, more than likely. I handed him the folder and waited.

“What’s this?” he asked, flipping it open to the contents.

“I need your permission to film. Your wife would have been the one, but since she’s now missing…”

He shrugged, snatched a pen from the fake wood desk, and signed every place that I pointed out.

Satisfied, I packed up and made ready to leave, and Dwayne followed suit. Denaldo showed us to the door and let us out.  On the way to the car I had to mention how my bad luck seemed to pair me with ugly people.

“Not just ugly, Wall-ass. Also, the worst sort of asshole.”

“Yeah well.”

“Takes one to know one, I guess,” he said, giggling. He always had to have the last word.

Chapter Twelve

We took off in Dwayne’s car like the hounds of Hell were after us. Putting distance between Denaldo and us felt liberating somehow.

“When you get ready to shoot his house, you need to be sure and take some lights,” Dwayne babbled happily. “Because I remember that place had dark wood and dark rooms, at least some of it.”

“I can guarantee you the main bedroom closet is dark,” I said, rubbing my sore arm. “And why are you talking like I will be doing this alone?”

He grinned. “Oh no way, Miss Thang. I’ll be there. So, are you happy now?”

“Yeah. Actually, I am.” It was good to know he would be helping me.

“Good. How ‘bout we get to the office and do some real work for a change?”

As we cruised back to our part of the world, I popped a couple of orange pain relief tablets and tried not to whine too much about my arm. Dwayne suggested ways we might be able to find Thelma to get our questions answered. I listened intently. He had good ideas sometimes.

“We could go to Kringle’s grocery and hang around a few hours a day. She has to get food.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think she’ll shop in South Lake. Too hot for her right now.”

“We could go back to the coffee shop and do surveillance. I could use an iced coffee.”

“Nope. She won’t take another chance like that. Reminds me, she has to be getting help from someone else now, but who? I mean, listen, if she’s with her lover, and I’m going with that thought, then she’ll put him up to doing everything. Keep her face out of the limelight. We have no clue who he is or what he looks like, so we are never going to get resolution that way.”

“Did you get in touch with Charlotte Dillon yet?”

“No. I put it off for the meeting with Denaldo. I need to do that. Do we have time now?”

He sighed. “Yeah girl. We always have time to blow off editing and doing stuff that pays our bills.”

“At least we have them paid for right now. You said so yourself.”

He went down a side street and turned around. “Charlotte Dillon, here we come.”

###

We parked at the end of the South Lake Times-Tribune building. A shiny red Ford Mustang gleamed from its slot.

“She’s here,” he announced. “Fancy ass car and all.”

“Hey, don’t diss her because you lost your Mustang. You could have kept it, you know.” The Mustang was a sore subject. Dwayne had given it to Sal’s cousin and I think he expected Rafe to bring it back. There was no honor among thieves, or so it’s said.

He grumbled something and fussed with his seat belt. I let myself out of the car and waited for him on the curb. Just as we were about to enter the offices of the paper, Charlotte rushed out.

Willowy, but not in a terribly thin way, her muscular legs would make a ballet dancer jealous. Knockout gray dress and killer red heels didn’t hide the utterly frazzled look she wore.

“Excuse me!” she said, nearly plowing into us.

“Charlotte, wait!” I called after her as she hurried down the walkway toward her car. She turned at my shout and frowned, waiting.

“I need to talk to you about the murder over at the Denaldo residence. You may have some information that’s important to me.” I walked toward her hoping she would stay and talk to us.

She didn’t. She frowned even deeper and asked, “Do I know you?”

I stumbled and fumbled over my words trying to explain. Our only connection was Charlie Fine, my former boyfriend and murdered boss’ brother.

She glanced at her watch, exasperated. “Oh yeah? Well, call and leave me a message with your telephone number. I’ll try to call you back and set up a meeting. I’m late for an appointment right now, and…I’m sorry, I have to go.” She darted to the lot, slid into her car, and roared off with twin exhausts screaming down Greenman Road.

“Well, damn.” I glanced at the time on my cell phone. “That didn’t take long.”

“Let’s follow her,” Dwayne said, tossing his toothpick out to the street.

Why argue when he felt investigative?

We shut our doors simultaneously, and he took off after the red car. In a short while, only a few car lengths behind her, it seemed luck was on our side, but traffic was not. Dwayne switched to the turning lane when she put her blinker on and pulled over to turn.

“Watch out, don’t let her see you,” I said.

“Why? It don’t matter if she knows we’re followin’ her ass or not. It’s a free country. Serves her right for not talkin’ to us. She acted like we were gum on the bottom of her ugly heels.”

“Never mind all that. I like the invisible element, just in case.”

She drove down around to the old highway and then turned off. We followed her several side roads and back roads until we crossed the state line and ended up in Memphis.

“Aha,” Dwayne retorted. “Lookin’ promisin’.”

I poked his arm. “This means nothing, Dee. She’s a reporter for two different places. This trip could be anything.”

“Naw, girl. I’ve got a gut feelin’.”

Dwayne’s gut feelings sometimes became real deals, so I didn’t give him any grief.

Charlotte broke a lot of speed laws as she drove up Rivers’ Edge toward an industrial part of East Memphis. We remained three cars behind her, watching carefully. Suddenly, she whipped into a parking lot at a church.

Dwayne turned at the light across from the church, zipped around the little corner gas and grocery store, and parked near the air machine. He dropped the door on his glove compartment, and pulled out a pair of mini-binoculars. “Here, keep her in sight.”

I focused on the church and the Mustang. She climbed out leaving the door open, walked to the shiny red front door, and tried the handle.

Locked.

She returned to her car, pulled out her cell and called someone. They talked for a few minutes and then she tossed her phone through the window, and got back in her car. But she didn’t go anywhere.

“Waiting on someone, I guess,” I said, passing the glasses back to Dwayne. “How about we go over and ask our questions while she’s not doing anything?”

“Don’t you ever watch the Discovery Channel? You can get a whole lot better information about your prey if you sit back and watch,” he muttered from behind the binoculars.

“Well, for your information, Sir Bright Idea, she is not my prey. And what if she’s meeting Charlie Fine here? I don’t want to go anywhere near him. What if they’re getting married or something? Maybe they’re visiting the church hosting the nuptials?”

He pulled the glasses away from his face and glared at me. “Wall-ass, you are so full of shit sometimes.”

“What if this meeting has nothing to do with Thelma Denaldo, Dee? We’re wasting time here. We could just go over and talk to her while she’s sitting, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel.”

He exhaled loudly, setting the binoculars down on the console. While he put the car in reverse and got us turned around, I watched Charlotte’s Mustang.  From the neighborhood to the left of the church, a figure detached itself from some hiding spot, and fled down the lot to the car. A patterned scarf and dark sunglasses hid her identity, but I had my suspicions as I watched her step into Dillon’s car.

“Well, either that’s Thelma Denaldo, or Charlotte’s cheating on Charlie,” Dwayne said, pulling forward. As he entered the church lot, Charlotte spun out in reverse and nearly crashed on the way out of the church’s driveway and onto Rivers’ Edge.

“Damn!” Dwayne said, twisting the wheel to get turned around to go after them. “I bet I’m gonna wish I had my ‘Stang now!”

I hung on for dear life as he made some very unsavory moves in the Toyota.

We watched as they tore up Rivers’ Edge to Interstate 240 and took the exit toward Germantown. Dwayne cussed a blue streak as we waited for lights and traffic to clear to follow them, but once on the interstate, he settled down and focused on speeding.

I kept one eye on the road for the Mustang and one eye on the side mirror for cops parked in nooks along the highway, waiting for speeders. None appeared, and neither did Charlotte and her mystery guest.

“We should have caught up to them by now,” Dwayne said, disappointed.

“What now?”

He turned off the highway near the mall, and did a loop, getting back on the highway heading back in the direction we had just come from. “We’re going back and scout that neighborhood.”

“You mean where the mystery guest came out and got in the car?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Something I learned about from the Discovery Channel, Wall-ass. If you flush an animal out of its hole, if you hide and watch, sooner or later, it will turn back up there.”

It was a huge waste of gas, but whatever my partner wanted, he usually got. We entered the subdivision and slowed to a crawl, peering at every driveway. The shadows grew longer and I knew it had to be around six or seven o’clock.

The houses in the area were old established homes with metal awnings over the windows and wooden frames that needed paint. Their front stoops were mostly concrete with some fancy wrought iron rail on at least one side. A lady standing at her mailbox watched us with curiosity.

“We’re just two folks lookin’ at the houses, maybe to rent,” Dwayne said softly, smiling at her. “No need to be afraid of us.”

We cruised along that street with no success, turned left at the corner, and hit pay dirt.

“Wait!” I shouted, pointing at a white house with peeling paint. “That’s the Escalade!”

“How do you know?”

This made me pause. How could I know? There were a lot of those monstrosities in Memphis, I would be willing to bet. But I remembered something about the one that had faced me in the car lot. There was a dream catcher hanging from the dashboard. It had been blue and had white feathers.

“Stop the car,” I told him. He pulled over and I jumped out and ran up to the vehicle’s driver side window and looked in. It took all of three seconds to see the blue and white ornament hanging inside. I jogged back.

“It’s the same one!” My cell phone fell out of my hands as I fumbled it to call Sal. Dwayne crept past the driveway housing the Escalade. Somewhere around my navel something told me I was onto something.

“Hello?”

“Is David Lunsford out of jail?” I asked, my voice cracking from the excitement.

“Never went to jail,” Sal said. “Questioned him, then said hasta luego. Nothing to hold him.”

“He was clean?” I gazed around. The houses outside my window were ramshackle, falling down, sad bits of board and brick, with dumpy-looking front yards.

“Yes. And more information is not forthcoming from this side of the phone, so do not ask.”

“God, why didn’t I think of that?” I said, flipping the phone closed. “David Lunsford is not the mark here, Dee. Lunsford is as innocent as a newborn baby.”

Dwayne idled in front of the house next door to the house where the Escalade was parked. “What?”

“They let him go. Obviously, he had alibis out the wazoo and they couldn’t hold him just because I said I saw him with his sister.”

“Could be his car then.” He eased the Toyota into park and killed the engine.

“We need to know the name of whoever owns the house, and subsequently, the car, in case it doesn’t belong to Lunsford, and we’ll be in like Flynn,” I said. “My money says there is a third party involved in this mess.”

“Who’s Flynn?”

“The guy who always makes an ordeal go smoother.

“Damn! Where’s he been all my life?”

“Quit. We need a name.”

“Well, lucky for you I’m the right ethnicity.” He slid out of the car and walked up to the door of the house we’d parked in front of.  A gray-haired woman answered and talked to him behind the security door.

He gabbed and waved his hands around a few times before jogging back to the car. When he got in he was in Eveready Bunny mode. “Homeowner’s name is Donzell Harper. They call him the Harpoon, due to his ability to score heroin. Lunsford’s rentin’ a room. The neighbor lady, Mrs. Jones, was mostly interested in discussin’ the older woman that’s been comin’ to visit and stayin’ overnight. She suspects drugs, prostitution, and anythin’ else illegal.”

“How on God’s green earth did you get her to tell you all that? Although, she’s probably right.”

He took a deep breath. “Told her I was looking to buy a house and thought that the one next to her was the one my agent had told me about. Even though she might be on the money about the resident, suspicions don’t get convictions. That’s likely why that ‘Lade is parked in the driveway.”

He started the car, but before he could get started down the street, a man came out from the house where the big fat car was parked, glared at us, and lifted his right arm to aim a pistol in our direction.

“Go, go, go!” I shouted.

Dwayne didn’t need any more encouragement, and sped off like a bottle rocket. The ping of metal hitting a part of the car made me duck. I prayed it wasn’t a tire or a gas tank. We took the next corner on two wheels and were gone in sixty seconds.

Chapter Thirteen

Dwayne scooped two spoonsful of Aunt Nancy’s famous garlic mashed potatoes onto his plate. We were seated at the Mama’s house after raiding the fridge, too scared to go to either of our places for the time being.

“Pass me the peas,” Dwayne said.

Handing over the heavy bowl of black-eyed peas, I broached the subject. “It had to be, what’s his name? Harpoon? He’d shoot at anyone even remotely looking like a cop, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I do, and yeah, it was him. The neighbor lady said he was at home because she’d already had a run-in with him over their back fence about his man-eatin’ dog.”

“What dog?”

“Harp’s Rottweiler. Big one, too, if his bass voice is any indicator. I heard him while I was out there talkin’ to the neighbor.”

I shook my head. I hated big slobbery dogs. “What do you think we should do now?”

He loaded his plate and set the bowl down. “Go see Sal. And this time I ain’t listenin’ to your malarkey. We need to tell him what we found out, and what’s happened. I don’t want to have to hide out, and I know you feel the same way.”

I did. We’d had to sleepover a lot to keep the other one safe, and sometimes it wasn’t much fun. This time neither place was safe, leaving little alternative.

I washed two pain relievers down with sweet tea and dug out a spoonful of my macaroni and cheese. “Sal’s going to be furious, and he may throw both of us in jail.”

“Better jail than dead, Wall-ass. At least in jail the bad guys can’t pull out a nine.”

“Hm. So you say. You just want to check out the male population,” I joked.

“Ew. So not. Those men have germs. No, ma’am.”

We ate in silence for a while until my cell phone rang and I saw Sal’s name appear in the little window. I swiped it open.

“What’s up with the hang up call earlier?” Sal asked.

My nerves waltzed. “Sorry about that. I was about to call you.”

“You sound weird. Is Brown with you?”

I stared at the phone in my hand, before replacing it over my ear. “Well, duh. Isn’t he always?”

He ignored my attempt at sarcasm. “Why were you calling? If it was to apologize, I accept.”

“Oh? Um. No, that wasn’t it. Why were you calling me?”

“I was calling you for a date.”

The phone shook in my hand. “What? A date? Wow. Oh, um. Isn’t that a coincidence! That was what I was calling you for, too. I need to see you. I mean,” I struggled to keep my sanity. “Dwayne and I need to see you.”

He grunted. “I don’t want that kind of date. We’ve been at crossed swords lately. I miss talking over beer and pizza.”

“Oh, good. That’s good, Sal. But, um, we need to talk to you about a police matter, though. Maybe I can get back to you on the other?”

“I’m off duty. Call me tomorrow,” he said, with a sigh.

“Later.”

Dead air.

I grimaced and set the phone face down on the table.

“A date? He freakin’ called you for a date and all you could tell him was I’ll get back to you? Shan, girl, you’re gonna end up a lonely old lady.”

I picked up my dishes and headed to the kitchen sink. “Well, I had to let him know we needed to visit him, didn’t I? He won’t be so antsy to date me when he has to arrest me.”

I could hear my partner mumbling until I turned on the water in the sink.

###

We idled on the Mama’s couch, channel surfing and painting each other’s toenails until we could come up with a plan. When the key turned in the door, we were both drooping, nearly asleep.

Aunt Tillie entered first, arms loaded with boxes from the restaurant. “What a nice surprise to have you both here!”

Aunt Nancy followed and bussed our cheeks on her way to the kitchen.

Dwayne tried to get them to let him help, but they refused. When his cell buzzed from where he had tossed it on the couch, I paused to be nosy and find out who was calling. His face registered excitement as he swiped it open to receive the call.

“Hello?” His voice was bright and cheery, quite the opposite from the sleepy voice I usually got at this time of night.

He mouthed at me. “I’ll be outside. It’s a man!” And hightailed it out the front door, striding in a manner that resembled a duck-walk thanks to his fresh pedicure.

I padded into the kitchen to visit with the Mamas, hoping to get to check out the birthday presents that had been hinted at. I also needed to let them know about the unfortunate accident that I’d had so they wouldn’t be able to say I never shared things with them.

“So…” I started to say. “I got hurt.”

Nancy hip-checked the fridge door and faced me. “What? Hurt how?”

“I sort of had some shelving fall on me. Hurt my shoulder.” I held my elbow and jutted my chin at the shoulder in question.

“Oh, honey!”

“Are you all right?”

They pinioned me with worried looks.

“I’m fine. Nothing broken this time.”

Tillie poked Nancy’s arm. “This is just too weird.”

“Yeah. Um. Shannon why don’t you sit down at the table and let’s talk.”

Uh oh. This was aunt-speak for “there’s something we need to tell you.”

I sat.

Nancy sat across from me and waved at Tillie to join us. Once everyone was seated, I said, “Okay. What’s up? You two look too mysterious for this to be about birthday party time.”

“No. It’s something else, but sort of related.” Nancy’s brow furrowed.

Tillie, never one to keep a secret, blurted out, “Tell her, Nan.”

Nancy clasped her hands in front of her and gave me a blank stare. Then she said, “Sister and I have been having a lot of accidents ourselves here lately.”

I sat straighter. “Accidents? You two?”

She nodded. “Yes, and don’t get excited, we’re not hurt, none of that. But when stupid mistakes lead to accidents, it’s time to rethink things.”

Tillie wanted to talk, I could see it in the way she kept looking at her older sister. For once, she let Nancy talk.

“We have been advised by our advisor to think about our final arrangements.”

I swallowed hard. If thinking about them was all they did, everything was okay. I had to ask though.

“So…what are you saying?”

Tillie couldn’t keep it in any longer. “We are leaving everything to you, Shannon Marie.”

This had never occurred to me. I had never thought about being their beneficiary. And I didn’t want to think about it now.

“I…I don’t really want to talk about this.” My heart thudded dully in my chest. The delicate subject of their passing made me very ill. “Y’all are not allowed to leave me. Ever.”

Nancy lifted her gaze heavenward. “God, please give me strength. Listen, Shannon, this is not all. We’ve gotten word that you have a trust account set up from your parents, too. That’s what I’ve been trying to get you over here to talk about. Then, when Tillie fell at work—well, I had additional thoughts about stuff that might be passing to you.”

“You fell?” I asked Tillie, rising from my seat. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

“Sit,” Nancy commanded. “She’s fine. As I am after having a basket nearly plow me down at the grocery store.”

“What?” I sat back into my chair and tried to understand. “Okay, wait. You two have been hurt and you didn’t tell me…and I have a trust account? Somebody please tell me what’s going on. Start over. Start at the beginning and tell me.”

“Yeah, well, it’s like this: we keep having stupid incidents that might leave us with a broken hip or worse, and if we should kick off, we don’t have a will yet. So, the other day I spoke to a regular customer of ours about it. His name is Leslie Howell, and he’s the son of old Mr. Thomas Howell, the attorney that your daddy used to use. Remember him?”

I frowned. I didn’t remember anything about the law people who had overseen my parents’ estate. I was only in middle school at the time.

She shrugged. “Well, anyway, old Mr. Howell died recently, and his son, this Leslie Howell, took over the practice. He agreed to help us with our will problem. Because Les is sorting through all the legal stuff at his daddy’s practice, he came across some papers that spoke of a trust for you.”

Tillie chimed in. “Yes, and it’s very exciting, Shannon. Apparently, your daddy left old Mr. Howell an advisor to a trust that we didn’t even remember existed. It was God’s providence that led us to pick this time to contact an attorney.”

Nancy nodded. “Les said he was going to call us about the papers. Something to do with your 27th birthday and how it matured on that date. Providence, like Tillie said.”

“Wait…I received that trust at 25, didn’t I?”

The two sisters looked at each other beneath lowered lids.

“Well, you were supposed to, we thought.” Nancy said, clearing her throat.

“No, I did receive funds, it was only like 2 years ago, Aunt Nan. Don’t y’all remember?”

Tillie tapped her lip with a fingertip. “Yeah, about that…”

“That was from no trust account. That was from my retirement account,” Nancy said, avoiding my gaze.

“What? I remember going to a lawyer’s office and picking up a check,” I said, voice rising.

“You did, you did. But nevertheless, it was not from any trust. We were so mad at your daddy. He told us there was money put aside for you, but no one could locate the file.” Tillie squirmed in her seat. “We decided to not tell you and just take a bit of Nan’s retirement to give to you instead.”

I wanted to throttle them both. Instead, I took deep breaths and tried to focus.

“So, could this trust be the same one my dad spoke of before? Maybe the papers got mislaid or something?”

“Yes, we believe so. Mr. Howell had things in a real mess according to Les.”

“Okay, so…what do I do?”

“Need to make an appointment to visit with him and see what all the trust business is about, and what kind of funds is attached to it.”

“Well, before I start dreaming about being a millionaire, tell me more about these accidents.”

“I tripped tail over teakettle in the kitchen at the restaurant. Somebody left a box right where I would trip over it,” Tillie said, rising. “I’m fine. A few bruises. But it could have been way worse. Off to set up the coffee for in the morning. Love you, honey.” She pressed a kiss on the top of my head as she passed by.

“I was at Kringle’s putting bags in the trunk of the car when a basket came plowing right into my back and legs. I didn’t even hear it rattle across the parking lot. Hurt like the devil, I know that.”

She stood, rubbed her lower back as though it still hurt, and shoved her chair back.

“You’re sure you’re okay though?” I asked.

“I’m fine. But we have an appointment to visit Les about the will next week.” She smiled. “We can’t wait to hear what the trust business is all about. Be sure to get over there before you turn 27.”

She followed Tillie into the kitchen leaving me with a crap-load of things to think about, the least of which was my birthday on July 4th. Up until that moment, I’d tried hard to forget the fact that I was pushing thirty.

A few minutes later, Dwayne came back inside and hollered for me. I strolled into the living room and waited for him to gush about the phone call.

He didn’t. Instead, he plopped back onto the couch.

“Was that phone call a big deal?”

He shrugged. “Not really.”

When he quickly turned away, I thought I saw a little smile on his face. He was lying. I considered telling him about the trust, but decided to wait. If he could keep secrets, so could I. And I needed time to go over it in my mind, make sense of it all. My secret was life-altering in a way his might not be.

“I think I’m about ready to turn in,” he yawned. “We have to go to the police place tomorrow and you know that gives me nightmares.”

“Take some of that PM stuff.”

“No way. Makes me feel goofy all day afterwards. I don’t want to be goofy while talkin’ to the cops.”

I wanted to tell him that being goofy around cops was what normal people did. It was called nerves.

Aunt Tillie stuck her head around the corner and told us she had some carrot cake leftover from the restaurant if we wanted dessert. No one made better carrot cake. She used all the freshest ingredients and the cream cheese icing was so good it made my toes curl.

“Me!” I started climbing out of the recliner, but Dwayne, ever faster, shoved me back down on his way past.

“Too slow. I’m first.” He sprinted to the kitchen, nearly bowling Tillie over.

While he sliced huge hunks of cake, she took out plates to dump them onto. In a little while, we dug in like contented pigs. Gun-toting hoodlums, mysterious money in a trust account, and possible men to date vanished from our minds.

“Carrot cake can cure the world,” Aunt Tillie told us. “I think they should feed it to all the prisoners in jail. They might make a miraculous recovery from a life of crime.”

“Or at the very least, learn how to love something worthwhile,” Nancy added.

“Heck naw. Carrot cake is sort of like laxatives. It cleans the pipes. Must be the raisins. At any rate, it would be unfair punishment to give it to jailed people. They have toilets right in front of God and everybody.”

Aunt Tillie choked on her cake, and spewed a mouthful in the sink. I pounded her back and glared at Dwayne. So much for forgetting dangerous criminals.

###

Thursday morning, I dutifully called Sal. He had a meeting at nine and told me to come by about ten thirty. Great. Now he was mad at me and bent on putting me off as punishment.

When I told Dwayne, he sniffed and said, “Told you so.”

“Let’s swing by my apartment. I need to find something nicer to wear.”

“Gonna use feminine wiles on him, eh? Good thinkin’.”

“Can’t hurt.”

“Well, we’re gonna drive by and make sure no one is sittin’ in a car, and then we’re gonna enter your place with the suspicion that we could have company,” he said, patting his ankle. “Where’s your little bad boy?”

I shrugged. “I left it at the office.”

“The office? Damn, Wall-ass, it does you a lot of good there, don’t it? And after I trained you, and warned you and labored with you, you still don’t carry?”

“I used to. But I think it’s a magnet for trouble, is all.”

“Let me tell you what’s a magnet for trouble, girl. A magnet for trouble is goin’ around with people shootin’ at you off their front porches and not bein’ able to shoot back. A magnet for trouble is when your partner—”

“I get the picture, Dee.”

He heaved his lanky frame up out of the chair. “Do not, I repeat, do not leave the house or office or anywhere else, without it. And we’re goin’ to go get it before we go anywhere else. I don’t feel like bein’ the freakin’ gun patrol on this escapade.”

Mr. Yoshi’s Dodge Ram was parked in front of the office building when we pulled up. He did odd jobs around the office for us and kept the place clean. He was the best cleaning crew we could afford. He used to be my boyfriend’s neighbor.

When I had a boyfriend. Before he was murdered.

The thought of my past depressed me. I pushed open the door and found the little Asian man pacing in front of the receptionist’s desk, muttering.

“Yoshi stupid. Stupid, stupid man.”

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

He waved a blue-veined hand at his broom lying on the floor next to a pile of garbage and the dustpan. “Dropped contact lens in pile of trash.”

Dwayne breezed by him. “Hey, Yoshi. Excuse me.” Then he pointed at the desk and pointedly asked me, “Wanna get that item you left so we can go?”

Yoshi moved away from the desk, tilting his head with one eye closed as he tried to make out what item Dwayne spoke of.

I hurried over and retrieved my pistol.

“Yoshi no like guns.”

“I know,” I assured him. Seeing his scared look, I lied, “It’s okay. It’s not loaded.”

Dwayne gave me the stinky eye, and I dropped the weapon in my tote bag, patting it. “I’ll get ammo later, at home.”

Yoshi, visibly moved, shuffled as far away from me as possible. “What Angels doing at work now? Chasing bad people? Need gun for protection?”

The reminder of our sloppy attempts to meet with Charlotte and our even sloppier attempts to have a face-to-face with Thelma struck me, and my stomach hurt from the feeling of failure.

“We’re trying to get in touch with a teacher we need to talk to. Mrs. Thelma Denaldo. I know you don’t know who she is, and I sort of wish we didn’t, but that’s what we’re trying to do,” I answered miserably.

As I walked to my office, I heard him walk up behind me. “Shannon needs gun to talk to this teacher?” he asked. “Guns no allowed at school. Yoshi see on television.”

“No, sir. Not really. It’s the people she knows that makes Shannon feel scared,” I explained, smiling at the childish way I spoke. Then I turned to face him, trying to come up with a more positive utterance.

“Yoshi know better way.”

Dwayne sidled up behind him, and did an eye-roll. It was easier to indulge the old fellow in my opinion, so I ignored Dwayne and asked, “What would that be, Mr. Yoshi?”

“Go to adult bookstore.”

Dwayne backed away, stifling laughter. I tried not to snicker.

“Excuse me? What did you say?”

“Denaldo teacher also make lively koochie koochie movies.”

I swallowed hard, hoping my face wasn’t as red as it felt. “You mean porn?”

He nodded.

Dwayne stopped giggling. “What’d you know about them?” he asked our janitor.

“Yoshi watch movies all time. Lots of movies. Read books, too. Denaldo teacher sign books and movies at adult bookstore. Away on Parkin Road, you know the one?”

I thought the earth was falling away. I nodded. “You’re kidding? Denise’s? The novelty place?”

He nodded. “Denise’s. Yes.”

Then, like a lightning bolt, I remembered the books shoved under Thelma’s bed. Some had been by a Madam T. Anonymous for Madam Thelma, maybe?

“Good grief,” I muttered, as the full story played in my head. “There’s more to the woman than meets the eye.”

Now Yoshi snickered. “Lots more. Go to store on Parkin Road. Many time she there.”

Dwayne cleared his throat. “How about we try to get that contact lens out of the trash for you, Mr. Yoshi?”

I plopped down in the nearest office chair. Thelma Denaldo Lunsford was a porn queen or author or both? Could this get any weirder?

Chapter Fourteen

My apartments looked just like they always did, the neighbors were at work and the surrounding area was relatively quiet. Betsy basked in the sunlight like the cougar she was named for. Seeing her reminded me to treat Dee to a dinner for his mechanical work.

He entered my place first, crouched into a movie cop stance with his gun aimed at the living room and swung it left and right. When he rolled into the kitchen, I laughed out loud.

“Don’t you think you are overreacting?” I said, shaking with mirth.

He stood and holstered his gun. “No way, girl. No such thing as overreacting when it comes to safety. I’m gonna take a gander at your closet and under the bed.”

Well, I certainly couldn’t fault him for being precautious.

I followed along behind and waited until he declared everything safe. I scooped up a pile of laundry that hadn’t been sorted yet and set it aside hoping against hope he wouldn’t notice. Another futile attempt at keeping my real life from Dwayne, the all-seeing, all-knowing diva.

“What you gonna wear to this gatherment?” He asked this putting air quotes around the word gatherment.

“Gatherment is not a word and you don’t need to worry about what I’m going to wear.”

“The hell you say. I’ve been worryin’ about it ever since you said you were goin’. Now ‘fess up. What’s your plan, Shan?” He stood a little straighter, and I knew we were going to tussle over clothes.

“I was going to wear a pair of bike shorts and a long tee.” I pointed out the clothes lying on my dresser.

He crossed his arms and gave me the lifted eyebrow look. “No way in hell will I allow that nasty-lookin’ shit to adorn your body in the presence of one Salvador Ramirez. Uh-Uh. I think not, Ms. Wall-ass. You need to try to be sexy and make him forgive your nasty-nice way of jerkin’ him around. The man wants a date with you. Try to be womanly, how about it?”

Exasperated, I tossed a skirt on the bed. He picked it up and noted the length. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“Okay, look, I’m running out of time here. Can I please you with a skirt and some strappy sandals? Can we call it a day yet?”

He shrugged and gave me a finger wave as he headed out of the bedroom. I followed to lock up behind him.

“Call me when you’re ready. I’m going to get gas real quick,” he said shouldering his man-purse a little higher on his shoulder. “And while you’re at it, send me a selfie when you get all done. I’ll tell you my—”

“Eat dirt, Brown. I’m not calling you with a selfie or any other picture of myself. And bring your tail back here in twenty minutes. We don’t want to be late, right?”

I heard him laughing all the way down the stairs.

Meeting with a cop when his mind was on everything but police business was a tricky deal, I considered as I showered. Sal was the trickiest of cops, too. But if dating him a few times would bring about desired results-such as getting help with my current situation-then so be it. Worse things had happened.

While dancing around the bedroom, I also found a new temporary home for my pistol in my lingerie drawer until I returned from the PD. With all the metal detectors and protective measures, I might encounter, taking it along would be asking for trouble.

If Dwayne wanted to have to explain his weapon to them, that was his business.

Finally, I settled for a sassy pink skirt and scoop-necked purple shirt made of soft cotton. This color scheme didn’t scream “power babe” but it did make my legs look good. I scrambled around looking for some shoes, before settling on a pair of white sling-backs.

I looked longingly at a sleeveless floral print dress that I’d picked up at Macy’s when I’d gotten a pair of apricot heels a few months back, but after traipsing around the cemetery with Dwayne chasing Rafe, the heels were toast. The current selection would have to do. As it turned out, Dwayne approved. He was sort of crazy about pink and purple anyway.

During the short drive, I focused on the reason we were doing this. Our lives could be at stake. Even if Sal threw us in jail, we’d likely be better off safety-wise, I reckoned. Then I recalled what Dee had said about toilets in jail. Surely they were not really in the view of everybody?

###

It was ten-thirty on the button when we slunk up to the Homicide office.

Sal, seated behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, furrowed his brow as we entered. Guess our appearance wasn’t exactly a day at the beach.

“How’s tricks?” I asked, doing a pinky wave as I slid onto the cold seat situated in front of his desk. Dwayne followed suit, silent as a spider.

“Same. What did you need to see me about?” He swept his hand over the desk in way of explanation. “It’s busy here.”

Uh oh. He was in a mood. What could I say to make him relax? I paused too long thinking about it because Dwayne dived right in.

“News from the street is, a bad boy named Harpoon knows somethin’ about Dan’s case. He hangs out with the likes of one Charlotte Dillon and Thelma Denaldo. Interested?”

Sal cocked an eyebrow and leaned forward. “Very.”

I picked up the story. “This bad boy shot at Dee and I yesterday as we drove by his bungalow in East Memphis, hot on the trail.”

Now, Sal’s face took on an angry scowl. “Woman, you are going to get yourself killed doing things like that.”

Somehow the way he said woman made my heart go pitty-pat. The scowl did nothing for me, however. I crossed my legs hoping they would erase it from his face.

“It’s the job, only the job,” Dwayne said in his best Mel Gibson voice.

“Find a new line of work, this one is dangerous.” Sal sighed, leaning back in his chair. “We’re working with the MPD to get Thelma brought in. If she sticks her nose out a hair, we’ve got her…”

“If you’re in a hurry, see Charlotte Dillon. Take some legal action to make her talk. She knows something, Sal, I’m telling you,” I said with a gush of emotion. “Screw keeping things level-headed. We’ve been doing our best to find out stuff and we’re falling over Thelma left, right, and up and down. She’s not hard to find if you look in the right places—”

“Right! Places like coffee shops, right, Shan?” Dwayne interrupted. He suddenly became animated; a sure sign he was lying about something. I hoped he slowed down soon.

I nodded.

He didn’t want to divulge the adult bookstore yet, apparently. But I had sort of intimated we had information to share when I’d spoken to Sal. I tapped the desk with a finger while considering what to say. “Yeah. And she hangs out in the neighborhood over close to Hickory Heights, that’s where we found the man, Harpoon. David Lunsford’s Escalade sat in his driveway. Anyway, Thelma climbed aboard with Charlotte Dillon and took off.”

“Not exactly in that order,” Dwayne offered, giving me a frown.

Sal’s voice sounded strained and tired as he leaned in to write on his notepad, not looking at us. “Your story is hard to follow. How about complete disclosure? I need this in the exact order it happened with all the names, places, and faces. It seems we are destined to work together on this and for once even Dan would agree it’s important for everyone to be on the same team.”

Dwayne raised questioning eyebrows, and I nodded. No use in being subversive. Hiding anything at this point was useless.

“Okay, here it is, dude. We went over to call on that reporter chick, and she brushed us off like flies on the garbage man. We followed her to see where she would lead, and sure enough, she ran smack into old lady, Denaldo, who climbed in her car. We followed them toward east Memphis, but lost them thanks to traffic.”

He paused to check if I had anything to add. I shook my head, and he continued.  “We decided to go back to the ‘hood where Denaldo came strollin’ out of. We found her brother’s ride parked in one of the driveways. I got out and talked to the neighbor lady who told us about Harpoon, and how he owned the house, what she suspected he did for a livin’, which ain’t good news. He must have been watchin’ because he got tired of seein’ us burnin’ fuel outside his joint, and came out to shoot off a round at our quickly departin’ asses.”

“Is that it?” Sal asked, his eyes dark and brooding. “Either of you hurt?”

The pain in my shoulder kicked in simply from thinking about it.

“Nope, no hurts from us,” I told him, uncrossing my legs and sitting up straighter. “Are you going to arrest us for messing in your case?”

He clasped his hands in front of him and directed his gaze at me with purpose. “No. I said we were working together. That means you keep me informed, and I keep you informed. Comprende?”

I glanced at Dwayne who visibly relaxed.

“Yes. We understand. And thanks,” I said, letting out a little held breath.

“Good,” Sal said. “I just need to make sure you know a few things. First, don’t get caught. No matter what happens from here on in, I’m not going to save you, if you do anything illegal, or otherwise. And if Memphis police haul you in, you’re on your own.” He paused to allow this to sink in. “Second, ask before taking things in your own hands. If you get in the middle of a gun battle in Memphis, I am pretty damn powerless to save you, but I will send flowers to the hospital or the funeral home. I’d rather be told before you rush into a situation so I can advise you on the best way to handle things.”

Dwayne nodded. “Got it.”

I started to voice my opinion, but Dee put his hand over my mouth. “She gets it, too.”

Sal smiled. “Good. Thirdly, if this Harpoon character is the killer, then he now knows who you are. Does that make you shiver any?”

Dee removed his hand, and we both nodded. Sal patted his desktop with one hand. “Me, too. So, keep clear of him and his friends. Let the police do their job, okay? Hate to sound like a movie line here but this is for professionals, don’t try this at home.”

I wanted to tell him it was too late, but thought pushing my luck that way might change his mind about jail.

“Now,” he added, looking at Dwayne, “how about I have a private word with Shannon?”

Dwayne quickly rose to leave. “I’m goin’ down to talk to the dispatcher. She’s kinda sweet on me. Maybe I’ll get her brother’s telephone number this time.”

I made a zipper motion over my mouth and watched him leave. Sal stood and came over to take the seat Dwayne had vacated. He tried to hide the fact he was checking me out. It failed.

“Sorry about all this.” I sounded nervous even to me.

“It’s fine.”

Fine. Fine? What did that mean? Nothing was ever fine with Sal when it came to his cases. Was he trying to put me at ease? It had the opposite effect.

“Should we just forget this situation with Denaldo? I mean we were hired to do this job, but whatever. I think deep down Dee and I want to find out if there is any connection to Dan’s murder and Thelma’s activities.” I shut up at that point. He didn’t need to know about the porno queen until I had more to tell him.

Sal gazed at my hair, and tucked a strand behind one of my ears. “I know. He was my friend. He was a good guy. That’s why we should work together on it.”

“I don’t know how to work with you. I’ve made it a habit to work against you.”

He laughed. “So that’s it! I knew there was a reason you fight me.”

I went a different direction. “Thelma is staying over at Harpoon’s place. She’s been seen going in and out, and her brother’s car is over there. Maybe we should stake out that house?”

“No. The MPD will do that.”

“So, what should we do?”

He leaned close to me, placed his hand on my leg, and whispered in my ear, “You and I are going to do many things.”

My pulse rocketed from its normal 80 to 90 beats per minute to off the charts. I began a mantra in my head. I do not know anything more. I do not know anything more. I do not—

His neck-nuzzling distracted me.

“Do you remember that time in my car…?” he murmured.

Oh, my God, how I remembered. “I remember a dark night in the car with you, and it was very good,” I replied, closing my eyes. “Until I discovered a little black book.”

He stopped nuzzling, and moved away with a sigh. “I remember, too.” Then he stood, and held out his hand for me to take. “I remember too much to finish this walk down memory lane now. Maybe we can continue over dinner tonight? Today, I have criminals to catch, and you have Mr. Brown waiting downstairs.”

I took his hand and stood, my legs a little wobbly after his physical assault. “Dinner? Tonight? Sure.”

He smiled and turned me toward the door, giving my back a gentle push. “I will call you.”

I did a quick over the shoulder smile and hauled out of there. Halfway down the stairs, I remembered he was an expert interrogator and wondered if I had accidentally committed to a date that would end up being a probe-Shannon-for-information session.

I really hoped not. I would have to work hard to keep the info about the adult bookstore out of his notepad. If he allowed his hands to roam over my more sensitive spots, all bets were off. And did I even want that? We had a history as he had begun to relate in our most recent chat. Our date in his car didn’t turn out very well. Should I even be glad he remembered that night at all? Did he remember that the night in question only happened because he had taken a dare to date me? Should I be mortified that I had taken his black book and published it in the school newspaper? Up until this point I hadn’t been. I felt more like a woman scorned who needed to have the upper hand.

I tried to push the thoughts away as I stepped off the last step in the tight staircase. He surely didn’t want to date me on a dare now, apparently. Maybe we could let bygones be bygones.

Maybe I was just developing a conscience.

Dwayne sat on the edge of the dispatcher’s desk telling some crazy joke. He must have known by my look that there was a problem of some kind, because he said goodbye in the middle of the story, and we walked out together.

“So?” he asked.

“He’s got my number.”

“Yeah, but does he have that secret information we found out this afternoon from Yoshi along with it?”

“Not yet.”

“Yet? Yet hell! What happened?”

“He wants to take me out for dinner tonight.”

“Did you say yes?”

“Yes. But I think I meant no. He had me all breathless.”

Dwayne clicked the door locks opened, and we got inside his car. “If he hits on you again while on this date, are you going to explode with information that I would rather he didn’t know about?”

“What do you think?”

He started the engine. “We’re screwed.”

###

Dwayne dropped me at the entrance to my apartment and took off in a cloud of exhaust. I clumped up my stairs, the sling-backs pinching my toes together. The air conditioning was working in fine form, and I soaked in the cold goodness. I tossed purse, keys, and sunglasses on the coffee table and went to change. Jeans and a tee shirt felt fabulous. Nothing was out of sorts in my apartment and for the first time all day, I relaxed.

Then, just because I had time to kill, I switched on the television to watch the noon news. Grimacing, I watched a stern faced Charlotte Dillon on the screen, and an even more stern voice telling me to watch the evening edition to hear Charlotte’s in-depth report on a local pornography ring.

A report? She had been hanging out with Thelma to pick her brains on her involvement in the porn market? I shook my head. No matter if hell froze over today, I would be in front of my television at ten tonight.

While I had nothing more pressing to do, I pulled open the internet browser on my smartphone and looked up Leslie Howell, attorney at law. I called the number listed and listened to the rings.

“Howell, Howell, and Howell,” the perky female voice answered.

“Um, yes. My name is Shannon Wallace, and I need to speak to Leslie Howell.”

“Is Mr. Howell expecting your call?”

“Well, not really…I mean he told my aunt that I should call him. It’s about a trust.”

“I see. Well, he might be at lunch Ms. Wallace. Let me check and see.”

She put me on hold and butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

In a few moments, she came back on the line.

“It’s as I feared. He is at lunch. Can I have him return your call?”

The butterflies sank into oblivion.

“Yes. Please do.”

When we disconnected, I wandered through the apartment contemplating my life, my sad social existence, and Sal Ramirez. Would he still want to date me if I suddenly came into a lot of money?

“Guess it’s a good thing he wants to date you now, before that happens. At least you know where you stand with him,” I said to myself as I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

The problem was, I really didn’t know where I stood with him. It was never what I thought it was and had never been so.

Chapter Fifteen

While I dried my hair and tried not to think about a date with the one man in the world who could be my undoing, I focused all my thoughts on Thelma Denaldo. Considered her really hard, the way a woman thinks of another woman. It was very enlightening.

Involved in a porn ring, authoring porn books, possibly producing porn movies, Mrs. Denaldo was interesting if nothing else. I couldn’t imagine her acting in them, though. Or maybe she did? Maybe it was porn for the over forty crowd.

“Ugh!” The distaste hit my mouth like wasabi-flavored jellybeans.

She was living with or spending time with a man who was suspected of illegal activity in many flavors too, and who knew what that meant?

I flipped the television on to see the five o’clock news, but there was nothing new about the news story. They said they would bring us more at ten. I planned on being present for it. Then, I thought, I might not be alone, and that gave me a shiver in all the right places.

At six sharp, Sal pulled through the lot in the shiny new Mitsubishi he’d bought for his personal car a few weeks ago. I supposed he was tired of conducting personal business in the battered Taurus. He cut the engine. I waited to see if he would come up to the door to get me, or just honk like an impatient teenager.

Pleasantly surprised, he emerged; arms full of colorful flowers that made my heart throb hotly in my chest.  He meant business this time. I rushed to the bathroom to check myself one last time. The short-sleeved black dress meant business too, and I told it to be nice and not get me in too much trouble. I did a quick spritz of a musky perfume, a quick peek for stray hairs out of place, adjusted my pantyhose, and double-checked my makeup before sauntering to the door.

When I opened it, I was reminded of the proverbial spider and fly scenario. This time I felt like the fly. Salvador Ramirez was going to consume me and toss away my dry husk.

He smiled, handing me the flowers. I made the appropriate exclamations while finding a vase, adding water, and displaying them on my dining room table. When I turned back to him, he stood too close for comfort, right on my heel.

“Oh! Oh, um, you look nice.” It was the only thing I could think to say, as we were nearly nose-to-nose.

“You smell good,” he replied, lifting my hand to kiss it. He must have gotten a whiff of the body spray. “Are you ready?”

I did a slight double take. If he meant going out, yes, I was ready. If he meant anything else, I would quickly panic and probably faint.

“Ready? Um. I guess?”

“I don’t know about you, but steaks at that new place over by Hazy Heaven are calling my name,” he replied, placing his hand on the small of my back and herding me toward the door.

I thanked my lucky stars his stomach came before everything else. I grabbed my clutch from the arm of the couch, and we took off. The drive exhilarated me. The sky, a deep amethyst the way it is at dusk in the summertime, illuminated the stars, which twinkled happily down at us. We sat at the bar and had beers while waiting on our number to be called.

The restaurant, a take on the old western movies, had John Wayne posters lining the walls, and cowboy items of all descriptions, including lassoes and steer horns.

“Been here before?” I asked.

“Yes. The food is outstanding.”

“Thanks for bringing me. It’s nice to be able to just hang out and leave the heavy stress stuff behind.” I gave him one of my most sincere looks.

“I agree. I’ve missed being with you for fun. Sometimes trouble follows you around like a dark cloud. I don’t mind being your Sir Galahad, but some days…”

“I know.” And I did. He must have answered my frantic calls a hundred times over the last year. Now that it occurred to me, I was shocked he even still showed interest. “I’m glad you still want to hang out.”

He sipped a beer and nodded. “Why wouldn’t I?”

I decided to come clean. “You and I have a strange history, Sal. You’ve been aggravated by me more than allured, or so it seems sometimes.”

He shrugged. “I suppose it does seem that way. But you’re pretty alluring, chica. I would like to think I have a semi-investment in you. We go way back. You know?”

“Yeah. I do. I’m just glad we’re taking an active role in our…er…friendship. Not just all business and bad things.”

“I’ll drink to that.” He stuck his beer bottle out, and I gave it a good clink with my own. By the time we finished our beers, we were called for our table.  Once seated, I started in on the bucket of peanuts on the table. He ate a few, a lot slower than I did, and watched me with humor.

“You keep going on those nuts and you’re going to be too full for steak.”

“Never.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone consume so many peanuts and not get sick.”

I stopped mid-chew. “Sick?”

“Yeah, you know they salt those things pretty hard.”

I shoved the bucket away. Salt was never a girl’s best friend, and I imagined how impossible it would be to fit my bloated body into skinny jeans tomorrow. Just as I was about to ask Sal’s opinion on fluid retention, the waitresses began doing a line dance to a country song. We clapped and hee-hawed right along with the rest of the crowd.

When we were stuffed full of garden salad, and hot rolls with honey butter, our server brought perfectly seasoned steaks and baked potatoes dripping with the works. As we dug in, I decided to ask a not-so-subtle question.

“Is there any news on Dan’s case? Do we know who did it yet? Or even the cause of death?”

Sal leaned back from the table a little and eyed me. I could tell his cop soul was battling his friendly heart. Cop soul won out once again.

“I can’t talk about it, Shannon.”

“Why not? You said we would work together.”

He scratched the side of his nose. “It’s complicated. I can tell you that we know what killed Dan, obviously, blunt force trauma, but the autopsy results aren’t in, and forensics is still churning out details from their end. I can’t share that with you. I can’t risk anyone knowing details that could compromise this case. It’s too critical. When I said work together, I meant I would share what I could share, and you would fill me in with what you find out.”

I sipped water and thought about what he’d said. Then, I glanced around. It was too loud for anyone to hear what was being said. He wasn’t being cautious about eavesdroppers. That only left trust. He didn’t trust me with all the details. He would share only the ones that had been sanitized for public consumption. Like what they fed the reporters.

I stared hard at him and tried to decipher his innocent look. It struck me then that he wasn’t going to work with anyone outside of his team on the case. He only placated Dee and I to hear our news, to see if it could help him out any. Again.

The selfish pig.

“Thanks for dinner,” I said, sliding out of the booth. “I’ll call someone for a ride.”

“What? Where are you going?” he asked, sticking out a hand. “You’ve hardly eaten your dinner.”

“I thought it would be different this time, Sal. But you are too much of a cop to be anything else. In contrast to our first date, this one is just about as bad. I still feel like I’ve been used.”

He tried to explain, but I was already halfway to the door.

I called Dwayne to get a ride home, but he didn’t answer his phone.

“Damn it.” I paced the front of the restaurant, all dressed up and nowhere to go. Dwayne likely had a date too. I hadn’t considered that.

I retreated back inside, sliding into the seat across from Sal.

“Change of plan?” he asked, dark eyebrow lifted.

“You’re an ass, Salvador Ramirez.”

“Eat. I will regale you with stories about cops. You might even learn something.”

I cut off a piece of the steak and shoved it into my mouth. It was delicious.

“Beefcake, beef steak, whatever,” I muttered, as he gave me a quizzical gaze. I had been thinking about whether I wanted to be his date and maybe have a long night with him, or run from him and his effect on me.

My phone buzzed beside me on the booth seat. I glanced at it.

Katie Henderson: the one person on earth who could save me from myself.

And she did.

Chapter Sixteen

At ten o’clock sharp, I was in a ratty tee shirt and lounge pants with my hair pulled up in a loose ponytail, remote at the ready. I switched the television to the news and settled in for Charlotte’s story.

They sandwiched it in between a suspicious house fire in Midtown, and a carjacking in Frayser. Memphis violence was at its best, apparently. I made a mental note not to spend a lot of time in the city from here on out.  Too dangerous.

Charlotte’s segment began with her at the news desk talking about the porn ring before they cut to her news story complete with video feed. She had been to the adult bookstore Yoshi had told Dee and I about, and she had spent time there doing in-depth coverage of the people who frequented the place. Then, it cut to footage from the Denaldo house when Dan was found.

“The violence from this situation has spewed over to Mississippi where one of South Lake’s officers was found bludgeoned to death at the home of a local teacher who has been missing since the incident and who is believed to be a person of interest in the case,” Charlotte’s voiceover announced just before she introduced an informant. The interview was with someone who had her back to the camera, to protect her identity. Unfortunately for her, I didn’t need to see the face to know the voice. I had heard it drone on and on in class.

“I want to let people know I’m a victim of this whole situation,” Thelma said. “My involvement with certain people has enflamed a war and I’m in the middle of the crossfire. I’ve been targeted, followed, and…and my house has been burgled. Twice. I’m in fear for my life!” Her voice ended on a slight sob.

I wondered if she was talking about me. I had followed her, and I had been in her house and been caught at it.  She pleaded for her freedom from arrest and buried her face to hide the tears. “I didn’t kill anyone. You people have to believe me!”

Her crying softened, and the screen went to the news desk and Charlotte.

The news hound wore a very serious look. “If anyone knows anything about this situation you are urged to call the South Lake Police Department or MPD with any information at the number on the bottom of your screen.”

The anchor woman thanked her for her report, and they cut to a commercial. I flipped the television off and thought about what the hell was going on. Then, someone knocked on my door. I walked over to it, and checked the peephole. Sal stood there glancing at his feet.

“What?” I said, pulling the door open a smidge.

“I want to try to make you understand. You’ve got some things wrong.”

“The only thing I have wrong is who killed Dan. I really thought Thelma was involved but…let’s say I’ve had a change of heart.”

He looked around, thrust a thumb over his right shoulder, and said, “Old lady Smith is listening. Can we discuss this in there, away from prying ears? I promise to share.” He looked so pitiful, I didn’t have the heart to shut him out.

“Okay, but if you say one mumbling word about my slouchy appearance, you will get slapped.

“Cross my heart,” he answered, making a wide X over his heart.

I let him come in, closed the door behind him, and took a deep breath before following him.  We took our corners, me in the recliner, and him on the sofa.

“Why do you feel like Thelma is innocent now?” he asked.

“Well, you couldn’t know this because you were driving over here, but she was just on the news with Charlotte, incognito, of course. Our favorite newsperson has nosed around and come up with a bunch of trouble. Charlotte had Thelma silhouetted on the screen with her voice masked. But more than likely anyone who’s hunting her will know who it was. She has a pretty definitive voice.”

He asked. “You recognized it?”

I nodded. “She says she’s innocent of Dan’s murder, and she’s in fear for her life from whoever did it.”

“And you believed her?”

“I believe a lot of things,” I blurted out, without thinking. Oops. Then, I tried to cover my blunder. “I mean, why not? A teacher is not exactly a candidate for murder, is she?”

“But before this, you were ready to hang her. I believe in gut instinct. You have a good gut.”

I sneered. “Not hardly.” Now I squirmed a little. He had just complimented me. Couldn’t I try to be a little nice? Damn my mouth anyway.

I shoved a pillow behind my back. “And besides, I just wanted to film her stupid house so I could feel like I was earning the money I’d been paid. But it was Dan who was the victim this time. Someone I knew. Someone I considered a decent person. Now all I want to know is who killed him. And I want that just as much as you do, Sal. Only as usual, you’re shutting me out. I don’t know what to think anymore.”

He looked at his folded hands for a moment before standing to walk to where I sat. He held out his hand for me to take.

I looked up at him. “What?”

“Come on.”

I took his hand and allowed him to pull me up, focusing on his second shirt button. What did he mean to do? My heart fluttered, and I tilted my head back to meet his eyes. “What?”

“Get dressed. I’m going to make sure your conscience is clear and maybe fix what’s wrong with our friendship at the same time. I’ll get you inside Denaldo’s residence to shoot the contents.”

Surprise jolted me. “Really? You mean it?”

“Yeah, as long as Mr. Denaldo is cooperative. I think he’s moving back in. I can keep him company while you shoot the stuff you need. I’ll tell him you are a police videographer.”

“He knows me,” I admitted, looking at my bare feet.

“Oh. You’ve met?”

I nodded. “Dee and I went over and talked to him about allowing us to film it.”

“He refused?”

“No. Not really. I mean we left thinking we could get in and get it done. But so much keeps happening.”

“Brown wants in on this, I take it?”

I shuffled my feet around. “I think so. But,” I said quickly, “I can call him and ask if he minds getting cut out as long as I turn over the disks to him.”

He waved me to my tote bag lying on the coffee table.

I pulled out my phone and called Dwayne. When he picked up it sounded like a party was going on.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“Driving,” he shouted. “Hang on.”

The music, some really loud rap tune, had its life snuffed out suddenly.

“What’s up?” he asked. “You ain’t told Sal the secret, have you?”

“Who me? No way. I’m in the process of getting dressed to go to the Denaldo residence to film the interior. Sal says he can clear the way with Rob Denaldo. Do you mind if I go solo?”

He giggled. “Getting dressed and ole Sallie is there? What you been doin’ girl? Naw, I don’t care. Go for it. Make me proud. I’m doin’ some investigatin’ my own self. Goin’ over to that sexy movie house Yoshi told us about. If I find anythin’ out, I’ll call you.”

I glanced at the clock on the wall over the sofa and squeezed my off button on the side of my phone.  “You might want to call Mr. Denaldo. It’s getting pretty late.”

Sal nodded and pulled his cell from his belt clip as I trotted down the hall to my bedroom to pull on a pair of jeans and tee shirt. It wasn’t that I really needed to get in the Denaldo’s house again, but I sure wanted to get another gander at old Thelma’s personal stuff. And Sal was going to be the door opener? I was thrilled.

When I returned, Sal smiled. “It’s all set. He’s going to leave us to work while he drives to the grocery for beer and cigarettes. We’ll have about twenty minutes. Can you get it done in that length of time?”

I shrugged. “I’ll have to, won’t I?”

He gave me a wistful look. “I liked the dress better.”

I uttered a growl as I passed him for the door.

###

We drove over to the shop in Sal’s car, and I grabbed the video camera and a battery operated camera light with two bulbs. If I only videotaped for twenty minutes, that one would be fine. The battery would last a lot longer than that. Sal helped me carry the camera bag down the stairs and he even opened my door, tucking me in and placing the equipment at my feet. I felt around in the bag to reassure myself the signed forms were all in order. Just in case, Denaldo or anyone else wanted to change their mind.

We rolled up to the residence at a quarter of midnight. Rob Denaldo allowed us entrance and without a word, took off for the store. I proceeded to shoot everything I could think of that was of value including the entertainment center and movie collection.

When I got to the bedroom, things had changed. There were no longer any books strewn under the bed, and when I looked in the closet, there were no more clothes or shoes. I filmed everything everywhere; the linens, dishes, and bric-a-brac but had no doubt that a lot of valuables were probably gone.

Poor Jimmy. He was not going to be happy about the change in game plan.

As good as his word, Mr. Denaldo returned in about twenty minutes, laden with white plastic bags from Kringle’s grocery.

“Did you get what you came for?” he asked.

My mind screamed no, but I kept it to myself. “Yep.”

“Good. Hope that’s all I have to worry about in the days to come. That divorce lawyer of mine is one slick dude. If he can get this mess behind me, he’ll be a good one.”

“Mind if I ask you a question?” I asked.

“Shoot,” he answered.

“Where are Mrs. Denaldo’s personal affects?”

He laughed, and pulled a six-pack from one of the bags. “Her brother came and got it.”

“David Lunsford?” It came out in a big fat gasp.

Popping the top on one of his Millers, he slugged it hard before answering. “Yeah. Lunsford. He and I don’t talk anymore, but we used to be pretty close. She corrupted him against me, I guess. The bitch.”

Sal made a sound in his throat that sounded like he wanted to say something, but ended up coughing a bit, keeping his silence.

I mulled over what to do next. “Do you think Mrs. Denaldo or her brother would have taken anything of value?”

“Hell, no. I was here watching his every move. Nothing left here that I didn’t want to leave here.”

That was a little comfort at least. “Well, thanks. I’m finished.”

I lifted my camera and gave Sal a weak smile.

He said goodbye to Denaldo, and we both high-tailed it to the car.

Chapter Seventeen

When we arrived back at the apartment—safe and sound, it was getting very late, (or early depending on how you looked at it).

Sal came around and opened the car door for me. I stepped out, draped the camera bag over one shoulder and my purse over the other

“Thanks a lot for helping me get this done. I sure wish I could have gotten a look at her book collection. She’s writing erotica and that may be how she got involved with all this stuff.”

He tapped my chest with one finger making me look down, then, he chucked me under the chin playfully making me look up. “Want to make a pot of some of your wonderful Brazilian coffee and talk about it some more?”

I shook my head. “No coffee this late. I need some shut-eye. You know what a grouch a woman is when she misses her beauty sleep.”

He took a deep breath and leaned in to kiss me. I had forgotten all about how it felt to be kissed properly by someone who really liked kissing. His lips were soft and warm and in a moment or two, my toes were curling. A moment or two after that, I was ready to drop all my baggage and wrap my entire body around him.

Realizing the dangers of what my body wanted to do, I suddenly broke away like a shy teenager fearing being caught by her parents. “Wow. Well. That’s…certainly…nice.”

He pulled me back into his arms. “Let me come up.”

It took all my energy and willpower to say no.

Accepting defeat, he moved away. “When can I see you again? I’m growing tired of this mouse and cat thing.”

I shrugged, shouldered my bags again, and did a quick finger wave as I trudged up to the apartment. I didn’t look back. But I wanted to. I really wanted to.

Once inside, I flipped my light twice for him to indicate a safe arrival. Then, I peered out at the lot to watch him slowly drive away. I wasn’t sure I was completely glad I’d ditched him once again. My body surely wanted what he offered. I swiped my hair off my forehead and paced a few times. Finally, I called Dwayne.

“Yo, yo, yo,” he answered. Pinging sounds from a pinball machine filtered in, and I tried to figure out where he was.

“It’s me.”

“Duh, Wall-ass. I have your number and your face on my phone. What’s up?”

“I got all the footage I think I can get at this point. I’ll call Jimmy in the morning, but a lot has happened tonight, and I want to talk about it. Where are you?”

“Can’t do that right now, girl. I’m stakin’ out the secret place. Damn!” He made my heart pound with his exclamation.

“What? What’s going on?”

“Oh sorry. Nothin’. I’m playin’ a vintage pinball machine. Lost all my damn change, too.”

At least my ears hadn’t failed me. “Well, call me in the morning, will you? Maybe we can get coffee somewhere and talk? I really have to talk to you.”

“Roger that,” he said, disconnecting.

I stared at my phone and wondered what the hell ever possessed me to let him go to that playhouse in the first place. He’d screw things up for sure. But how had he gotten in front of a pinball machine at a sexy place like Denise’s? I was too tired to try to figure it out.

I plopped down on the couch for a moment or two, wondering if I should allow him to just work on it from his end or if I should gather up my purse and keys and go make sure he didn’t miss anything.

While trying to decide, someone knocked on my door.

What the hell? I had become mighty popular of late.

I looked at my Tigger clock on the wall. It was now the wee hours of the morning. Not a great time for a drop in visit. I soundlessly slipped my shoes off and tiptoed to the door, peered through the peephole, and snatched it open to admit Katie.

“Oh, it’s you. What’s up?” I demanded.

“I know it’s late. I know,” she said, slipping inside, shutting the door behind her. “I’ve been waiting for you to get home all damn night. Where did you and Mr. Kissy-face go?”

“You saw that?”

She giggled and plopped down on the recliner. “Every luscious, saliva-sharing, moment.”

“Look, no matter what it looked like, we’re not an item, so don’t go there.”

She raised an eyebrow, and I thought of Dee. He would have done exactly the same thing. “No? Well, didn’t look like nothing to me.”

“What are you doing here at this hour? I was just about to go to bed.”

“Alone? Tsk, tsk,” she said. “Not good, Shan, not good.”

“The purpose of this visit?” I asked again, one hand on a hip, the other waving for her to spit it out.

“Oh. Um. I sort of took a bike ride tonight with someone after I dropped you off here. You know that date thing that went wrong…and how on earth did you two end up back together again?” She paused for an answer, but I didn’t budge, so she went on. “When things got too hot for me with this guy, I cut out. I raced across the neighborhood on foot to hide out here. Been in those bushes down by the garbage cans all night.”

“Thank God it’s dark and warm,” I said. “Who’s after you?”

“Oh, no one you know, but honestly, if he finds me, he’s going to want more than a handshake, and I just don’t feel like dealing with Bluto tonight.”

I snickered at her reference to the villain of the old Popeye cartoons and nodded. “The couch isn’t being used tonight. It’s all yours.”

“I’ll be gone first thing in the morning.”

“No problem. You can use some of my lounge pants and dorm shirts.”

She grinned. “Just like a sleepover. Cool.”

Before I knew it, she was dressed in comfy clothes, bedded down on my couch with a spare pillow, blanket, and the remote, planning to watch an old Ronald Reagan movie on the classics channel. I trotted off to my bed.

As I shut off the light, I hoped Dee didn’t encounter anything dangerous. He was playing pinball in the wee hours at a place that had porn movies.

I hated feeling like I should be with him.

Those feelings usually meant something.

I usually listened to those feelings.

###

At 6:36 in the morning, my phone emitted the warbling associated with Dwayne’s calls.

I snatched it up, heart in my throat. “Hello?”

“Shannon, roll your ass outta bed. Don’t ask questions, and don’t fool around. Come to 201 Poplar in Memphis and get me. I’m bein’ booked for assault. Better bring your damn money, too.”

“Oh, my God! Dwayne, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. The other guy looks pretty bad though. You wanna get goin’ now? I don’t think I will make it long in that cell with that buncha men.”

“Sure, sure. I’m on the way. 201 Poplar? Okay, got it. I’ll GPS it on my phone. Oh God, Dee, I’m on the way.”

I was afraid to hang up knowing it was the only call he would get. “Do you want to talk to me while I drive there or what?”

He laughed a short nasty laugh. “As if. They’ve got other plans, girl. Hurry the fuck up, okay?”

I didn’t remember pulling on clothes, didn’t remember anything until I skidded to a stop in the living room, waking Katie. She sat up, hair sticking out everywhere, blinking at me with sleepy eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Dee’s in jail! He’s been picked up for assault. I’ve got to go to Memphis and get him.” I frantically tried to find my purse and keys while juggling my cell phone.

“You want me to go? You don’t look up to driving.”

This stopped me cold. “Yes. That’s a good idea. I sure don’t need to get a ticket or be held up. You’re the ice queen, Katie. You can handle stress better than anyone I know.”

She pulled her dorm shirt off, and slid the tight knit black mini she’d been wearing the night before back on. In a moment, she’d zipped her little ankle boots up, smoothed her hair down, and waved at me to follow her out. She held out her hand for my keys, which I dropped into her palm as I passed her on the way out.

I hoped the cops didn’t think she was a hooker.

When we got buckled in our seats, she tried to crank Betsy, but unfortunately, someone had once again taken liberty to tamper with my car.

Katie got out and popped the hood and with a penlight I had in the glove box, peered at the depths of the car and announced my battery cables were off of the battery, and it was probably dead.

I stood there, shaking from head to foot. Whoever did this might still be around. Glancing around us, I hoped they showed themselves. I would tear them from limb to limb. They better hope they had the good sense to clear off.

“Where is your bike?” I asked, looking around at the shadowy area by the dumpster.

“Oh. At home. But we couldn’t ride to jail to get Dwayne on a bike.”

I wanted to start screaming. This was insane.

Think, Wallace, think.

“Okay. Only one thing to do then. I’ll have to call Sal.” The mere thought of facing him this morning before having coffee or brushing my teeth was scarier than facing a hairy spider trapped in the shower.

Katie held out a hand and stopped me as I grabbed my phone. “Don’t. Don’t do that. Call your aunt instead. It’s never a good idea to call a man early in the morning after you told him no the night before.”

She had a point.

I would not choose my aunts for such duty unless it was a desperate situation. I dialed Aunt Nancy’s phone. Nan was the most likely to be amenable to my problem. Tillie might just freak out.

She answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

I tried to keep my voice level and happy. “Hey, Aunt Nan. What’re you doing?”

“The crosswords. You know it keeps my mind active. It’s terrible to get old. What are you doing up at this hour?”

“Oh, got a little emergency over here. My car’s battery is dead again, and I sort of need a ride somewhere. I hate to ask but…can you come and get me?”

“Oh honey! You’re going to have to get a new car. That old rust bucket’s going to end up getting you stranded somewhere dangerous one day. Sure, I’ll come get you. Where are you?”

“In my parking lot at the apartment.”

“Where are you going at this ungodly hour?” she asked.

I swallowed hard. Squeezing my eyes shut, I answered her question and waited for the result.

She exploded. “That’s the Memphis jail, kiddo!”

“Yes, ma’am. I know. It’s Dwayne. He’s been taken there, and I have to go get him.”

“Oh good Lord. Poor Dwayne. For him, I will do this. I’m on the way. Sit tight.”

She disconnected. I took a deep breath and relayed the news to Katie.

“Good. She’ll take care of you. She’s a tough lady. If you ever need security, take her. She’s not one even I would tackle.”

“Will you still go with me? There’s safety in numbers.”

She nodded. “Wouldn’t miss this for all the money in the mint. Dwayne Brown being held in jail? Oh yeah.”

I wanted to understand the humor she found in the situation, but I was too afraid for his safety inside the concrete block walls of a place where dangerous criminals resided.

Chapter Eighteen

They say going to jail is like an out of this world experience. I say it is more like a dream you cannot get out of. The smells of old paper, dust, urine, blood, and things I would never be able to identify made me choke when we arrived. I didn’t quit feeling sick all the way through the process. When we walked out with Dee in tow, I finally felt better and allowed the sun to beat down on my head and face for a moment before following to the car.

Seated safely inside, I gave my friend a pointed look and waited for the explanation to come. He shrugged and said, “Some people don’t have a lick of sense, Shannon.”

“What does that mean?”

“Tell you about it later. I don’t think I can exactly elaborate just yet. My heart may never settle back to its normal beating again.”

I scowled at this. “Do you know how close I came to calling Sal? Do you remember what he told us in his office?”

Dee motioned toward my aunt’s back. “Let’s talk about it later, okay?”

I stewed the rest of the way home. He owed my aunt as much of an explanation as anyone since she funded his release from jail via a bail bondsman, and she was driving his criminal butt around. But I knew he would pay her back every cent, and I knew she would never refuse to do anything for him as he ranked high on her list of favorite people.

We took him to his trailer and Katie and I stayed with him letting Aunt Nancy go on about her day. When we entered the trailer, he went straight to the fridge and pulled out beers for all of us.

I went straight for the jugular. “Spill the beans, Dee, and don’t you dare leave anything out. Your recklessness made me drag my aunt all the way to downtown Memphis. You owe me.”

He plopped down on his ugly sofa and took a pull off his bottle before answering. “It’s pretty simple really. I finished up my pinball game, walked over to the guy behind the counter, asked where I could find books written by Thelma Denaldo, and acted like I was just a shopper. Problem was, she don’t write under her real name.”

“Oh, no? I suppose she wouldn’t, would she?” I took a thoughtful sip of beer. “Wonder who she does write as?”

“Sally Sanders.” He saluted me with his bottle. “I found out.”

“Was this before or after you ended up assaulting someone?”

“Before. And quit looking at me like that. Your aunt wasn’t nearly as judge-y as you look right now.”

I stuck my tongue out at him hoping it softened my obvious chagrin.

“What happened? Come on and tell us,” Katie said, fidgeting. “I’m getting old and gray over here.”

“Uh huh,” said Dwayne. “Well, at some time around three this morning I finally found some of her stuff, over by the videos. I had been takin’ my time, easin’ around, lookin’. I think the damn clerk thought I was screwin’ up the courage to rob him.”

“You played pinball for that long? It’s a wonder you can even see today.”

He frowned at me, forcing me to shut up. “Anyway, I was just about to flip through a book when this huge blond dude comes rushin’ at me, and shoves me straight into the wall. You know I ain’t takin’ that shit lyin’ down.”

I gasped. “Did he mean to? I mean was it an accident?”

“Who knows? He stank like a still, so I’m pretty sure he was too crocked to care.”

“So you assaulted an inebriated man who couldn’t stand up? Pretty bad form,” Katie said, wagging a finger in his face.

“Hell naw, I didn’t. He snatched the book I was holdin’, and told me to keep my nose outta other people’s business. I told him to get the eff out, and that was when we commenced to tusslin’,” he assured her.

“Dude. Did you find out who he was and why he cared so much?” I stood straighter. This was getting interesting.

“Yeah, I see your antennae goin’ up over there, Wall-ass. You’re on the right track. Apparently, he’s an admirer of Sally Sanders, aka Thelma D. Figured out she was the one and the same, and when he heard about the situation from the news reports, he came over to beg, borrow or steal all her books and stuff from the bookstore before anyone could buy them. Just so happened, I was there first. Thought he was saving her honor or some such crud, and that was why we went at it. The night man called the law and well, the rest is history. Only good thing was they hauled Blondie’s ass in, too.”

Katie gaped from one of us to the other. “What? Can I ask…?”

“No,” we said in unison.

She sighed and slid from her seat. “Okay then, I guess you really don’t need me anymore huh?”

I took a deep breath. “I really do want to hang out. I’m in need of some retail therapy.”

She glared at Dwayne. “Seems to me that your partner here scotched that idea.”

He gave her a funny look and stalked away toward his bedroom.

“Katie,” I said with a pleading note.

“It’s his fault. He’s the one who got tossed in the pokey, and you won’t fill me in on what it’s all about. I might as well leave.”

“It’s the murder case. The Denaldo woman is involved, and well, as you heard, she is a sort of porno writer, and that involvement is crucial to the case. Even Sal doesn’t know about the extracurricular activities of dear old Thelma aka Sally Sanders though, and we were trying to get more details on it before taking our findings to Sal.”

She pursed her lips. “Uh huh.”

Dwayne came back. “Guess we have to tell our tale now?”

“I just did.”

He nodded. “So, as I was saying, Denaldo has a few admirers. I think that may be who’s been phoning you up.”

“I figured as much. Didn’t I tell you that back at the office right after it happened?”

He shrugged. “Well, Wall-ass, you have a lot of enemies. It’s hard to keep count.”

Katie and I both swiveled our necks to gape at him.

“Kiddin’. I’m just kiddin’. Gah.”

“So what now?” I asked, patting my hair down.

“We gotta go back to the bookstore. I think if we all go we might get a lot further. I mean, Katie can keep the clerk busy with her sweet talk, you can keep a watch out, and I can check out the wares.”

“How come I can’t be the ware-checker? How come you can’t be the watchman?” It sounded so much like kids arguing even I had to smile.

Katie said, “He just wants to be the first one to drool on the pages.”

Dwayne grinned.

“Grin like a Cheshire cat, if you will, Dwayne Brown,” I snipped. “You have to fix my car again, so there.”

His grin changed to a grimace and he let out a huge sigh. “If they tore up that fix I gave it the other night…I may kill somethin’.”

###

We synchronized our watches and planned on meeting at the shop around two that afternoon to travel together to the adult bookstore. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be that many people hustling in there in the middle of the afternoon on a Friday.

Of course, there might have been because some people got in there and got their weekend started early. Binge-watching videos and reading books were the bomb dot com, unless you were a videographer. Then it wasn’t too much fun anymore.

I pulled out my cell and called Jimmy to let him know about the visit to the Denaldo residence. He told me to sit on the footage and he would get back to me. I was a little disgruntled he was so flippant about the trouble I’d gone to on his behalf.

“Whatever dude,” I muttered aloud, shoving the cell inside of my tote.  Later, I unlocked my car so Dwayne could work on it, and he lifted Betsy’s hood and got busy right away. I headed for some light housekeeping at my place.

While dusting, vacuuming, and picking up, thoughts of how pitiful my life had really become assaulted me. My aunts were staid and single and seemed to be quite happy, but damned if I wanted to follow their lead.

Smitten with regret at putting Sal off, I contemplated how hard it would have been to just ask him to come up to the apartment for a drink? Or even more?

I shook my hair all the way forward and twisted up an ugly ponytail.

Ending up a lonely old woman was not what I wanted, but being Sal’s girlfriend was damn scary, too.

I wandered over to the window and looked down in the lot. Dwayne had left. The hood was down on my car, which could mean either it was fixed or still broken. I snatched up my cell and called him up.

“Well?” I asked when he answered.

“Well, you got a car, girl, but don’t count on anything. You really need to buy a new one.”

“I can’t afford it, Dee. We’ve been over all this.”

“Humph. Okay, then. Later.”

We disconnected and I took a deep breath. Maybe I should try yoga or meditation or chanting to send the demons that plagued me back where they came from? Nothing else was working on my side.

Finally, retail therapy dialed my number.

I tapped out Katie’s number on the phone and waited for her to answer. She picked up on the third ring.

“You want to go shopping with me?” I asked.

“Sure. I’m always in the market for something new. What’re we shopping for?”

“Something that makes me look as good as you do even on a bad hair day.”

“Cool. Where’re we going?”

“I sort of have no ride, so…”

“No problem. I’m on the way.”

In just a short while, we were walking past dress shops in the mall while I tried to figure out what I wanted to try on. Katie ended up pulling me by the hand until we stood in front of a pretty exclusive one.

“Here,” she said. “Here you will definitely find Sal bait.”

I giggled. “What bait?”

She gave me a grin. I shrugged and we entered the double entrance of Gaston and Co. I wandered the aisles, ogling everything. I wanted to buy jeans, a shirt, a belt, a jacket, a necklace, and short boots before it was all over.

Katie made me pull out my emergency credit card and spend. Oh boy, did I ever spend. Then as quickly as I’d had retail madness, it was over and I was second-guessing my insanity.

“God, Katie, what have I done? I cannot afford all this stuff.”

“Shannon Wallace. You never spend money on yourself. What is the point of having a lie if you never live it?”
I didn’t have a good answer. She dropped me off and I trudged upstairs. I plopped all the packages on the bed and flopped across it. What good was having stylish fashion if I didn’t have a stylish life to go with it. I had to figure out my life.

To satisfy my oncoming depression, I gobbled down an Elvis special-a peanut butter and banana sandwich-and slid my feet into a new pair of white flip flops. Sitting by the front door was the camera bag with my camera and tape from the Denaldo residence shoot. I scooped it up and snuggled the strap over my shoulder. This would need to be tended to soon. I hauled out of there to meet up with the others at the shop.

Betsy, my worn out Mercury Cougar, sat gleaming in the sunlight and cranked right up when I turned the key. I was extremely happy about that but kept a sharp eye out for vindictive vandals as I rolled out of my lot. Somebody had it in for me, and I really suspected it was Sally Sander’s fan club. Once at the shop, voices could be heard all the way down the stairs.

I hurried to dump the bag on my desk before going to find out what Dwayne and Katie were arguing about.

“I ain’t givin’ y’all no chance to chicken out,” he was saying.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“He’s decided we all need to go in the same car,” Katie said, rolling her eyes.

“Fine by me. After that, I need to get back here. The tapes are piling up. I need view footage in the worst way, and especially the one from the shoot at the Denaldo’s. I really want to focus on that one.”

Dwayne rubbed his hands together. “Yeah. Me, too.”

“Oh, good grief, all right.” She flounced to the front room. Snickering, Dee followed suit, and I shook my head at their antics before bringing up the rear. We piled up in Dwayne’s Toyota, and took off down the old highway leading into Memphis.

Katie fiddled with the radio stations and soon she and Dwayne were in a heated discussion about music. I tuned them out in favor of plotting what we were going to do.

If the books Thelma had penned, or the movies she was considered to be a part of, had other people’s real names on them, we might have a lead or two to follow. Not that that was very likely. Who wanted people to know you starred in porno?

I shuddered when I thought about how this whole situation might lead us toward the heart of something dark and dangerous.

Not that such an occurrence would be new to me. I seemed to gravitate to dangerous stuff these days. Where had I left my innocence? When had I gone from a timid church mouse to a hungry investigative type?

Since people I cared about kept dying around me, that’s when.

I gazed at my reflection in the rearview mirror and admitted a well-kept secret. I liked digging and dredging up information on criminals. If the truth was known I would rather be doing something like this mission we were on, than something like going to the mall. Maybe that was why I never bought myself anything. Maybe my devotion to self was more in the knowledge department than the lingerie department.

Did I secretly want to be a PI? Admitting nothing, but accepting all possibilities, I refused to meet my own eyes in the mirror. My aunts would disown me if they ever found out this newfound desire.  I wanted to ask Dwayne about the PI classes he’d taken some time back, but refrained. He’d once mentioned we should turn Video Angels into a business where we were videographers who did undercover work. I had never encouraged him.

Katie Henderson, although my best girlfriend since high school, would take this information from its inception and walk it all the way to its bitter end where I rested cold and alone on a gurney in the morgue.

Best keep quiet, Wallace.

Chapter Nineteen

I don’t know what I expected when we stopped out front of the boutique known in Memphis as a one-stop shop for all things erotic and romantic. The building didn’t really look all that sexy. In fact, Denise’s was pretty much a dump.  Not the fault of the owners, really just a pretty suppressed part of town. All the buildings looked forlorn and worn out the way they get when the owners don’t care anymore about their outward appearance or they change hands a lot.

We got out, and headed for the front doors. The front windows were sort of painted over like a strip joint. Totally expected for a sex store. The interior, a dull red, had racks of boudoir lingerie, and walls filled with videos and books.

I took in the pinball machine in the far left corner and knew it would be a major ordeal if Dwayne ever got started playing it. Since I was the lookout, I headed over to it and checked the view. It was sure in a great place to be able to watch the entire store, including the entrance. If I was on their security force, I would tell them to watch people who hung out over here too much as being potential robbers.

Katie stood next to the clerk, began chatting her up, asking questions. She really did know a lot about this industry, and I wondered how she knew so much. Did she spend a lot of time in places like this? Was she into waylaying a man using such guiles?

I stared at the crotch-less panties nearby and gulped. Sal’s face filled my mind. God. Why on earth did I think about him now?

Dwayne sidled to the wall racks and flipped through the books and magazines, easing down toward the back wall where video DVDs were situated. I figured Thelma’s stuff was probably down that way. I dropped a few quarters in the machine in front of me and began playing, looking around every so often. I sucked at pinball that was for sure.

Katie and the clerk chatted over the rack of black lacy garters near the front door. I heard her give her size and glared at her. Surely she was kidding. Hadn’t she been that size in high school? I gave her a hard stare.

My game ended and when I looked up, Dwayne had his arms full of DVDS and made for the checkout. Wistfully, I tapped the machine’s metal rim, and moved away. I didn’t have another dollar in change to feed it.

As I strolled toward the front, I recalled how much fun the slots were in the little town south of us where casino craze was the name of the game. We hadn’t been down there in a long while.

“Are you ready to check out, sir?” The clerk, an acne-scarred woman with oily black hair named Debbie asked him.

“Yeah, and I got a question. These movies…are they directed by the same person as the books on the end over there?” He pointed back at the rack.

Debbie nodded. “Oh yes. Sally Sanders is our hottest seller.”

He clicked his tongue. “Hm. Well, they’re for rent, right? I can just bring them back when I’m done?”

She smiled and nodded. “Yep.”

“Cool.” He dumped them all on the counter. “This is better than the damn library.”

Katie did a quick finger wave at the clerk and headed out the door. I lingered around the bra area until Dwayne left, and then casually sauntered out. The sun hit me full force in the face, and I pulled my sunglasses out.  We were going to be holed up for a long while in the studio watching videos. I yawned, hoping to stay awake that long.

On the ride back to South Lake, I looked over the DVDS as Katie tossed them to me after she checked them out.

“Ew. ‘Betty Bum’? Couldn’t she get more creative with her name?” Katie asked, peering at the starring list.

I took the case and found the fine print where the director and producer names were located. “Says here this movie was directed by Thelma Lunsford. Get that? She didn’t even try to hide herself. And who is this producer?”

My heart dropped like a stone.

Produced by Harpoon Productions.

The box stared back at me.

“Dee, that Harpoon guy produced these videos. What does that mean?”

“Means his ass is in this deep. No wonder he shot at us.”

I met his gaze in the rearview mirror. “I think I need an antacid.  This is giving me a nervous stomach.”

###

Two hours later, Dwayne lounged in his roller chair, Katie draped over the loveseat, and I perched in my high-backed executive chair as we sat watching the last of the first movie.

A lot of grunting ensued on the screen, but we were all yawning.

“Not the best porn I ever watched,” Katie observed. I glared at her, not sure I wanted her to elucidate on that.

“Me either,” Dee agreed.

“Okay you two, I don’t want to hear any more. Your personal lives are not up for discussion.”

“Just because you like living a celibate life, doesn’t mean we all do,” Katie teased.

“That’s what I’m sayin’,” Dwayne added.

I ambled over and popped the disc out of the player, shoved it quickly back inside the case. “Okay, so Thelma isn’t the best at creating dramatic renditions of her books. Books are always better than flicks any day,” I said, giving them both a pointed look. “I do read.”

This amused them to no end.

“You need the real thing, Shan,” Dwayne said a few minutes later when their guffaws died down.

Seeing my stricken face, Katie cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Maybe it wasn’t her directing that was the problem. Maybe it was the sucky acting.” She waved her hand toward the television. “You know bad movies are the product of poor acting, not poor writing.”

“That’s debatable,” I told her. “If the acting sucks, yes, the story suffers, but can survive. But if the story sucks, even Dwayne Johnson and his yummy-ness couldn’t save it.”

Dwayne stood and stretched. “God, I love that man. He puts the action in action movie. All right movie critics du jour, what have we gained from watchin’ this shit?”

I sighed. He always seemed to know how to get to the heart of the matter.

“Nothing. Not a damn thing.” I tossed the case onto the pile of videos on the coffee table. “I don’t know what to do now. Thelma had someone’s help with this though. She had a producer, the Harp in fact, and that means he has money. Doesn’t the producer put out all the cash, and the camera people, and actors? What about them? Does the producer pay everyone? She’s not an island, seems to me. But also seems like the more people she knows, the harder it is to figure out this situation.”

“And how does all this have to do with Dan’s death?” Katie asked. “How does it all fit together?”

“Exactly. And really, who cares? I mean, we got the filmin’ of the household goods done, well, Shannon did,” Dwayne said. “The cops’ll sort out the murder the way they always do. And our lawyer bud will be whistlin’ all the way to the bank as he plunks down Denaldo’s Benjamins.”

I listened to them for a moment before blurting out, “Thelma’s a victim as much as Dan was. She said so on her interview with Charlotte Dillon. Now we have to help the cops figure this stuff out to help her. Helping her is as important as anything else.”

“Boy, what a switch! You were all ready to throw her to the crocodiles just a few days ago,” Katie exclaimed.

“That’s true,” Dwayne said, nodding.

I turned toward them, hands on hips, finger wagging an accusation. “Don’t either one of you start. Dan Justice’s death is keeping the whole of two police forces busy. But what if we can speed things up by finding out info they can’t get? And where is Thelma? She’s hiding out somewhere in fear of her life. We need to do something to help her, because the cops aren’t focused on that.”

“What if her husband could help out with that? I mean maybe he’s heard from her?” Katie asked.

“No. He hasn’t. He’s as bad as the cops so far as she’s concerned. He doesn’t care about her. He’s done away with her stuff and he’s just glad she’s gone. She’s a victim I’m telling you.”

“Well,” Dwayne said. “If she’s missin’ and it’s not of her own doin’, then we have to find out where she’s holed up. My vote goes to Midtown and the Harpoon. I’m itchin’ to get some goods on that one. He’s got a bull’s-eye painted on his ass in my book.”

I swallowed hard. I was afraid he was going to say that. “That’s dangerous, Dee. That guy shot at us.”

He nodded. “I know, but he has a story to tell. I just feel it. We won’t necessarily go huntin’ for him per se. We’ll just put out feelers.”

I ran my finger across my nose, and then scrubbed my face with both hands. “Do you know something about him that you haven’t told me?”

He turned on his brown puppy dog eyes. I stared right back. Finally, he shrugged and ‘fessed up. “He might know some people I know.”

“Great. Just great. And what in hell kind of trouble will this dump on our poor heads?” I paced in front of the entertainment center.

Katie sat mute watching us like a spectator at a tennis match.

He tilted his head. “Nothin’, Wall-ass, nothin’. I’m just gonna hang out at a few places that some people who might know him hang out at. It’s no biggie.”

“When did you realize your people might know him or his people or whatever?”

He turned away and mumbled.

“Dwayne Alexander Brown,” I said threateningly like a mother cornering a small child.

“All right, all right. It crept up on me after we met him and his gun. But I ain’t gone out and done nothin’ about it yet. I swear.”

“Operative word there, Dee. Yet.” I sat down on my chair, hard. “We are in so much trouble.”

“Naw girl, I’m tellin’ you. It’s fine.”

Katie shrugged when I looked to her for comfort, advice, or words of wisdom whichever came first.

“Couldn’t hurt, I suppose, to just hang out and listen to news,” she said, trying to look apologetic. “But if there’s a whiff of anything dirty, you haul your black butt out of there, capisce?”

He thrust his hand on his hip and said, “No, you didn’t!”

“Yeah. Yeah, she did, and I second that remark. If you so much as get a flicker of anything dangerous, Dee, you have to get out of there. Don’t forget what the Hispanic Hottie said. He cannot save us.”

He turned to face me now, and I could tell he wanted to argue. It danced from his eyes to his mouth, which opened and closed twice in quick succession.

I shook my head. “No discussion— unless you want me to go with you and make your life miserable?”

I knew that would get to him. He hated to be watched while doing his private eye thing.

“Fine. But you two have to back up off of me and let me swing. I’ll call in like a good little boy when I have news.”

We both smiled at each other, and him. I draped my purse straps over my arm. “Fine. That will definitely work. And speaking of work, we need to get a little done. Katie, I’ll call you later.” And I headed for my office, closing the door behind me. I wanted to be the first person to view the footage of the Denaldo house.

In private.

Chapter Twenty

After watching the first five minutes of the footage from the Denaldo house, I realized there was nothing in there worth a cent. David Lunsford had effectively taken everything that might have helped.

I wondered where he was. Did he have Thelma with him? Was that where she was hiding out from the world? I doubted it, because if that were so, the cops would have already had her in their clutches as a person of interest.

But maybe they had?

Sal would never call me up and say, “Hey, we just talked to Mrs. Denaldo, and she’s cool, everything is fine.”

I proceeded to close up shop and get ready to go. Dwayne and Katie left an hour earlier.

My stomach rumbled. When had I eaten last?

I pinched the bridge of my nose and rubbed my eyes. I was tired. I was mad. And I was hungry. Not a great combination for a woman on a mission. Time to call Jimmy again, and tell him to come get his goods. Hell, he’d paid for them, now he needed to take them away. We planned for me to burn a copy for him and drop it at his office. When we disconnected, I dialed Aunt Nancy.

“Hey sugar! What’s up?” she answered.

“I am still, unfortunately. Are you gals alone?”

“Sure are. You want to come over here? We’re just about to sit down to dinner.”

Friday night dinner with my aunts sounded like something homemade and delicious.

“Yes! That would be great.”

“Good! Come on then.”

Sighing with satisfaction that at last something was going my way, I turned off interior lights and headed for the door. Watery sunlight still beamed outside, and I smiled as it occurred to me that summer was in full swing even if I wasn’t.

On the ride to my aunts’ house, I listened to a New Age CD that I’d picked up at the health store in town.  I’d gone there with my aunts and had been filled in on all the latest on the church play being planned for Mother’s Day, and about their latest escapades. Aunt Nancy had a new beau. But then, she had so many admirers I’d lost count.

At the house, I helped Aunt Tillie set the table and sat down to inhale some of her enchilada casserole, steaming with bubbling cheese.

“Tell me all your news, baby,” she said, handing us paper towels. “How do you like my fancy napkins?”

I laughed. “Great. Um, about the news, well, there isn’t any really. Same stuff, different day.”

“Not what I’m hearing from my customers,” she said, giving me a look over the rim of her bifocals. There was no way around this conversation. She would poke and prod and ask leading questions until I divulged all. Might as well give her the whole sordid tale and be done with it.

“Okay, here’s what’s going on.” I relayed all the news I had, filling them in on things that only someone from inside the story could know. I relayed what had transpired from the discovery of Dan’s body all the way to the lingerie store visit, and the video viewing.

“This is just bizarre, isn’t it, Nancy?” Aunt Tillie said, shaking her head. “I’ve known Thelma for years and this just does not sound right. I know she writes sexy books, but that’s been going on for some time. Teachers have never made squat for a living. But this tie-in with a pornography group, well, it just isn’t right.”

Aunt Nan nodded. “Yep. I agree. She’s a writer not a criminal. How’d she ever loop up with that Harp critter? And don’t you dare go off and wrangle with that fearsome creature again, you hear?”

I gaped at them with as innocent a look as I could muster. “I wouldn’t. I don’t have a death wish. And it may seem strange, but Thelma is a porn movie director. She has several movies out and she uses her real name too, so no mistake there.”

Aunt Nancy shook her head. “Doesn’t add up. Just doesn’t add up.”

We changed the subject and the talk wound up around the latest band slotted to play in the heart of the oldest part of South Lake on the first Thursday of the summer. I sat back from the table a bit, sleepy and full.

“Wanna stay the night?” Aunt Tillie asked.

“Oh no. I can’t, sweetie, but thanks.”

“Why not? Your room is all made up,” Nancy added.

“I have so much to take care of tomorrow, including taking my car to a mechanic to be checked out. I better not.”

“Is it still acting up?”

I hemmed around trying to decide whether to inform them of the on-going sabotage. I finally gave in. “Yes. But you know, it’s getting helped along by someone who’s tampering with it.”

“Who’d want to do that?”

“Someone who thinks I’m out to get Thelma.”

Aunt Nancy scooped crumbs off the tablecloth onto her plate. “Strange things just keep happening. Tillie was nearly run over in the street as she backed out yesterday. You need to report that activity to the police. The next thing you know they’ll be tampering with you.”

Aunt Tillie made a noise in her throat. “Sister, don’t tell her stuff like that. You’ll frighten the child.”

Child? I didn’t even bother to correct her. It was sort of nice to have them fussing over me.

“Did you make it over to the attorney’s office yet?” Nancy asked, ignoring her.

“Nope. I called and left a message but nobody called me back yet.”

“Probably next week, then. Might want to call them back and give them your work number, too.”

I sighed. “Don’t remind me about work. I have to plan the shoot for the Crachett wedding.”

Picking up our plates, Aunt Tillie leaned over and kissed the top of my head. “You work too hard.”

For once I didn’t argue.

###

I thanked them again for being so sweet and feeding me as I fled the house with a covered plate of leftovers including enough Karo pecan pie to give me tooth rot. As I waddled to the car, thoughts of how fat I would be if I still lived at home clouded my mind. It was probably my laziness and slothful thoughts that caused me not to notice the car parked down the street under the streetlight. I wasn’t aware of it until it came streaking along the street, screeching to a stop behind my car blocking me in.

“What in hell…” I stood like a deer caught in a lightning storm, not knowing whether to run or stay. All the strange near-miss accidents that had been happening to my aunts came swiftly to mind.

The sound of squealing tires brought my aunts flying to the door and when the hooded assailant grabbed me, forcing the plate of food out of my hands, I knew we were all in a passel of trouble.

“This is a gun in your ribs, right? Yes, so just walk really slow right back to the house, and smile at those two nice old ladies.”

I didn’t know if it was the mask he wore hiding the lower half of his face, or the fact that my eyes were as big as saucers, but whatever it was, Aunt Nancy knew something was wrong, and she shoved Tillie out of the way, and shut the door, bolting it securely.

“What the hell?” I heard my attacker mutter. He took the words right out of my mouth.

Chapter Twenty-One

While he was occupied with scratching his pea-brain, I used the time to figure out how to get out of my current situation. My gun was at the bottom of my purse, and of no use. Stomping on his foot would meet with no success in flip-flops and elbowing him in the gut was out as there was no room to get a good aim.

The best thing I could do at this point was lead him up the front steps and then back quickly up and take him off his feet. I called out to my aunts as I took the steps, one, two, three. On the top step, I crowded close to the glass door and waited until he pushed against my back with his gun poking my ribs.

Then, I took one huge gulp of air, and one very short prayer, ducked at the waist, and shoved backward with my butt. Unexpected movement in that direction brought about the desired result, and with flailing arms, he pin-wheeled off the front porch.

The gun went one way and his body the other and the distinct sound of all the air in his lungs being expelled was my cue to move. I dove off the porch, rolled to the gun, which just happened to be an exact replica of my own, and breathed a sigh of relief when I came up with it, cocked and ready to blow his face off.

“Now, asshole,” I huffed. “You just move one half-inch and you’re dead.”

He held his hands up and blinked at me. My silhouette must have been wild, hair all array, gun gripped with both hands, legs in a wide-legged stance like some badass.

“Aunt Nan, call the cops!” I screamed as the door squeaked open behind me.

“Done,” she said softly, appearing at my elbow. She held a pistol in one hand, aimed right at the man’s baby-making gear.

“Where did you get that?” I asked, grinning.

“Same place you got yours. Dwayne has good connections there.”

I kicked the man’s foot. “Take off that mask, asshole.”

“Yeah, you loser,” Aunt Tillie growled as she arrived to rip the mask over his head none too gently.

We all gaped. The masked man was none other than Jerry Alexander. Suddenly, it came to me what had been going on. He’d been watching my movements ever since the murder, when he’d seen us leaving the Denaldo house. He’d been in the crowd, and had even spoken to me.

“What crap is this? It’s you? You’ve been calling and following and messing with my car? What the hell is up with you?”

He forced himself up to a sitting position, throwing up an arm in defense to indicate he was not going to try anything. “I knew you were the ones who found the body, and you were probably the only person who knew the full story. I figured you would lambast Mrs. Denaldo as the killer since it happened in her house and that’s what you do, right? I was going to hound you until you got too scared to say anything. I won’t let you endanger her!”

“At gunpoint?” Aunt Nancy yelled, kicking his leg. “You lousy, good for nothing jerk, my niece would never lower herself to accuse anyone unfairly. Even if she did lambast Thelma, as you put it, then she probably deserved it.”

“I hope they toss you in the pokey,” Aunt Tillie added, turning at the sound of sirens approaching in the distance. She strode to where my leftovers languished in the driveway and picked it up before some unsuspecting cop stepped in it.

Soon, a patrol car skidded to a stop in front of the house with sirens and lights in full array. The neighbors began peeking out at the ruckus and some even paced the perimeters of their yards to ogle the activity.

“Sorry for the mess,” I told my aunts. “Looks like you guys will be the talk of the night.”

“Should be great for the breakfast rush tomorrow,” Aunt Tillie replied, unfazed. She pretended to stumble, and dropped the leftovers, including pecan pie, onto Jerry’s head. He yelled and tried to dislodge the gooey mess out of his eyes.

The first patrolman to arrive, quickly unsnapped his gun holster when he saw Aunt Nan and I with guns. He ordered us to put them down in a voice that brooked no argument. We complied instantly and raised our hands like good little scaredy cats.

“He’s the baddie,” Aunt Tillie told him, waving at Jerry.

His partner strode up, grabbed Jerry by his shirtfront, and hoisted him to his feet in order to cuff him. The resulting food that besmirched his hands sent him from working public servant to grumpy city cop in a flat second.

“Good God,” he muttered, wiping at the sticky confection.

Sal’s unmarked car slid in front of the patrol car, and his tall form emerged. He strode over, explaining who we were as he came. “Don’t worry Hill, I got this. These people are my friends.”

Hill, aka the-voice-that-must-be-obeyed, nodded and turned to Aunt Nan. “Take those firearms indoors, immediately.”

She did.

“Everything okay?” Sal asked, gently placing his hand on the small of my back.

“Yep. We’re just dandy.” I gave him the once-over, taking in his faded jeans and the black tee shirt plastered perfectly over bulging biceps and rippling abs.

His attention went to the patrolman talking to Jerry, before he turned it on me.

“Admirer of yours?”

“As if!”

“She’s a mite touchy about that fellow at the moment,” Aunt Tillie told him. “I’m going in the house. There’s some more pecan pie, we always make extra, you know, in case company drops in.”

“Love some,” Sal said, smiling at her. “Right after Shannon and I chat.”

He peered at me like a cat at a mouse. “What? He’s somebody I knew from high school, and the only person he’s been admiring lately is Thelma Denaldo. He’s the one who’s been calling me with threats and tearing up my car. He thought I was endangering her, of all things. I’d be willing to bet he’s the same blonde fellow who attacked Dwayne last night…oops.”

“Oops, what?”

I looked down and refused to answer.

“Great. Now who’s keeping secrets?”

I wanted to remind him he had been keeping more than us, but refrained.

“I don’t think I want to know about this at the moment. Congratulations on your collar, Detective Wallace.”

He sounded so sarcastic, so angry it broke the floodgates of my restraint.

“You rat! He was the one who peeled up on my aunts’ property, gun at the ready. I defended us. You can be nasty about it if you want to. I’d do it again in a minute. And, before you launch into another one of those long tirades about not being able to protect me if I am going to act irresponsibly, save it. Dwayne and I survived the situation last night just fine without you.”

I turned away and started for the house, but he reached out and took my arm, holding me in place.

“I wasn’t trying to be nasty, Shannon. I truly wasn’t. I came over as soon as I heard the broadcast.” He had a weird look on his face like he’d swallowed sour gummy worms without chewing. He pulled me close to him. “I was just worried. Dan’s funeral is set for Monday. The autopsy results came in today. I was worried, Shannon, really.”

At that moment, all my anger left. I recalled he had lost a close friend to a still unknown murderer, and I softened. I had been in his shoes before. He’d been very kind to me then. I owed him the same.

“I won’t ask the details for now. I can tell you’re not up to it. But, we’re fine, Sal. You can go on if you were just checking things out. I’m…I’m going in for that pie now.”

He nodded, and stroked my arm. “Good. That’s good. Okay, I’m going to help Hill and Johnson get your gunman loaded up, and then I’ll be in. I’m not leaving you three alone just yet.”

I tried to act nonchalant. Gently pulled out of his grasp and headed toward the house, but somewhere south of my navel, an attachment grew to that warm soothing hand that had held on for a moment too long.

###

Sal, good to his word, didn’t leave us alone for a long while. We consumed two bowls of my Aunt Tillie’s pecan pie with vanilla ice cream and sat in the family room, television on. None of us watched it, but we kept looking at each other with interest.

“So,” Aunt Nancy started. “You’re becoming a regular fixture in Shannon’s life.”

He nodded. “Yes ma’am. I try my best to protect and serve.”

I choked and sputtered, reached for my glass of water.

“You must like helping people,” Aunt Tillie added, not looking up from her bowl. “That’s really nice.”

“Yes, I do. I love my job, except when it requires my involvement in crimes like murder. Then it gets kind of rough. But keeping Shannon safe is important.”

“Well, guess you need to get back to it, huh?” I asked, clearing my throat one final time before standing to give him a pointed look. He’d worn out his welcome.

“Oh, no. I’m off duty.” His grin dazzled me with its brilliance. “But I’d be honored to follow you home. As part of my job to protect you, of course.”

Damn him. He was going to ask to come up and have a romantic chat as sure as I was standing there. I had to think of something fast before we made a mistake we’d both regret.

“How very sweet, Mr. Ramirez. But I’ve decided to stay with my aunts this evening since all this has transpired. Your assistance isn’t required.”

He stood and stared down at me. “I see. Then, I will be happy to stay outside in my car and do a bit of surveillance on the house until such a time as another officer can take over for me. You should feel quite safe.”

Double damn. He knew my plan would be to bolt for home as soon as he turned off the street. Now he wanted to hold me captive. He would probably tell one of his officers to follow me if I set foot outside the house.

“There’s really no need, Sal. You have the guy in custody. No more boogeyman, right? These brave ladies have an alarm system as well. We’ll be snug as a bug in a rug.”

“Snug?” he asked.

“As a bug,” I answered, smiling.

“I see,” he replied, defeat evident in his voice. “Well then. I’ll be going. Thank you for the pie, ma’am.” He kissed Aunt Tillie’s hand and started for the door. “If you need anything, do call, won’t you?”

They both murmured that they certainly would, and he left.

I sat down hard in the recliner, energy gone.

Aunt Nancy fanned herself with the Tribune. “That man makes hot flashes seem like a stroll in Iceland.”

Aunt Tillie leaned toward her to get some of the air. “Times two.”

I snickered. They weren’t the only ones feeling his heat. Soon evading his pursuit would be impossible. I grabbed the paper and fanned all three of us even harder.

###

In the middle of a great dream where Sal fed me ice cream and truffles, my cell blared from under my pillow. Heart pounding in my chest, I grabbed it and answered.

“Shannon? Wake up, girl!”

“Huh? Dee? What’s up?”

“I’ve got news. You have to come and join me.”

“Where are you?”

“Midtown, of course. Where are you?”

“At the aunts. I’m sleeping. What did you find? Just tell me.”

He exhaled loudly. “All right. Well, let me go outside.” I heard bar noises get louder for a moment before they subsided and then it got quiet except for Dwayne’s breathing.

“Now,” he said. “I’m in the car. It’s quieter in here. So, anyway. I’ve been at a bar in Midtown over by the fairgrounds. Our buddy, the Harp, rode in a while ago, and has been runnin’ his mouth ever since. He’s tryin’ to scrape up some money for a venture he’s involved in.”

“What sort of venture?”

“Mostly prostitutes, but there’s some talk of a big movie deal. I think he’s found someone in the industry to take him seriously.”

“What about Thelma? Has he mentioned her? Does anyone know where she is?”

“Yeah, girl. She’s in on this shit. Sure as I’m sittin’ here, she’s in on it.”

“Really? So you think she’s still hanging out with Harp?”

“Could be. I’ve got to keep my ears open. Maybe someone will let that info fly, you know what I mean?”

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. The bedside clock time read three minutes after midnight. “You better find out something fast, Dee. They’re going to be closing soon.”

“Nuh uh, Shan. This place’s a late-night bar. I’m here for the duration, ‘cause if Harp’s hidin’ Denaldo, involved or not, we gotta have somethin’ concrete to take to Sal, so, I’m diggin’ in.”

I sighed. “Okay, Dee, but please be careful. I’d be willing to bet Harp doesn’t want to let on where she is. I don’t think she’s involved. She went to a lot of trouble to sound like an innocent victim in that news story. I wonder just how much Charlotte knows and how much she’s not talking about.”

“You know she’s dumb as dirt about it all. She’s only after one thing, Shannon. An exclusive story about the porno industry leaders, and she got it. The rest ain’t vital to her.”

“But it is to the cops. They want to find Dan’s killer.”

“Yeah, but since when did cops and reporters ever find themselves on the same page?”

He had a good point. After making him give me the address to GPS, and making him promise to keep me posted until I could get there, we disconnected. I flopped back on the very soft down-filled pillows and considered what to do. If the Harp found out Dwayne’s scheme, he could be in a lot of trouble. I would be no help at all, unless you called beaning someone with a chair to the head any help. It was likely a bad idea to include Katie on something like this. There was only one other person I could think of.

I dialed Sal’s number.

He answered on the second ring. “You’re killing me over here.”

“I’m sorry,” I replied. “Listen. I have something to tell you and the only reason I’m calling is because I’m worried. Dwayne is down in Midtown, at a late-night bar, trying to drum up business for the case. He’s already found out that the guy who shot at us—that Harpoon creature—is trying to raise big money. He wants me to come down there. Shouldn’t you go, too? We could be his backup. I need advice.”

I heard rustling, and when he answered, his voice sounded rushed and breathy, “Fantastica! That’s the best news I’ve gotten all day. Get dressed and meet me outside. I don’t want to have to sweet talk you away from your steel magnolias.”

I laughed at his reference to my aunts and broke the connection. Dressed in capris with pockets, a tee shirt that mentioned something about making art not war, my tote over my shoulder, and my phone in hand, I quietly closed the door to the Mamas house and walked outside.

A swipe of stars danced overhead in a clear summer sky.

It was a good night to go dancing at a bar in Midtown.

Too bad my date was a cop.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The club sat on the corner of two residential streets in Midtown, and looked like a coffee shop from the outside, complete with tables and people sitting at them, talking and drinking.

I gaped a moment as we passed. “I thought it was against the law to drink alcohol outside?”

Sal smirked. “You need to get out more, chica.”

We entered through the narrow doorway greeted by the usual smoky interior where only bar signs illuminated the tables and dance floor. Multicolored lights that you would usually see at Christmas ringed the bar. A man sat on a tall bar stool at a corner of the dance floor strumming a guitar and singing plaintively about the unfairness of love.

Dwayne was nowhere in sight. I tapped my foot in frustration, and waited. When he didn’t appear in a few moments, I said, “Maybe he went to the restroom?”

Sal leaned down to hear me over the noise and when I repeated myself, he shrugged and took my hand to pull me along the bar toward a booth in the back. We nestled in on one side in case Dee showed up and wanted to sit with us. We had a great view of the nearest side of the bar, the front window, and part of the doorway.

There was not a huge crowd from what I could tell. Glancing at the time on my phone, I realized it was going on two in the morning. No wonder they were all gone. Strangely, I wasn’t sleepy.

“Where is he?” I muttered, craning my neck. The man at the bar must have thought I was looking for service because he grabbed a drink menu and came over.

“Hey,” Menu Man said.

“What’s up?” Sal intoned.

“Not much left to eat at this hour, if you’re hungry.”

We shook our heads. Sal ordered two beers for us and the guy wrote it down, patted his order pad, and sauntered back to the bar.

I poked Sal in the ribs. “Go to the bathroom and look for him.”

He nodded and took off. I drummed my fingers on the tabletop and worried. The place wasn’t that big. One skinny black man couldn’t be hidden that well.

The singer ended his song on a mournful note and the silence was palpable. The server returned with our beers and a couple of bar napkins that had the bar’s name embossed on it. He gave me a short smile and returned to his station behind the bar.

Stubie’s, as the bar napkin touted, was not a happening place. I wondered how a person could keep awake after midnight there.  In a few moments, I squirmed around and wondered where Sal had gone. What the hell was going on?

Straining my ears, I heard faint noises somewhere on the other side of the bar like someone playing pool. I rose to my feet and wandered to the other side of the bar. Down a short hallway an ugly green door stood ajar and the distinct thwack of pool cues against balls came back to me louder than before.

The barkeep wasn’t paying me any mind, so I assumed anyone could go in. I eased down the hallway and gently looked around the door. Dwayne idled at the far end of the nearest pool table facing me, and Sal stood guard behind him. Dwayne’s opponent’s dreadlocks jarred loose a memory. My buddy Dwayne was playing pool with none other than Donzell Harper, aka the Harpoon.

My heart turned to stone in my chest, and my danger antennae went all the way up.

I turned around as silently as possible and headed back to the table. Time to make a plan. If I barged in, something fragile could be upset and endanger lives. They were all carrying guns, and at least one of them had professional training to back up the metal, but a trigger-happy someone could ruin all our days.

I took a hefty slug of beer and did what any forward-thinking female would do. I called their cell phones, starting with Dwayne.

“Yo yo,” Dee said.

“Yo yo yourself! What the hell is going on back there? I’m sitting out here trying to be cool and fearing the worst.”

“No way man, you better bring my car back up here, you hear me?” And he hung up.

It had to be code. Maybe he wanted me to bring his car around to the front of the building? Without a key? I gulped another swig of beer and tried to decide what to do.

Maybe I would fare better with Sal.

“Hello?” He sounded engrossed in the pool game.

“Would you care to explain what he just said? Does he mean for me to bring the car around? What the hell do I do?”

“Yes, I think he means it. Bring his car back or he’ll be in jail for killing someone.” And he hung up as well.

Throwing my phone through the wall in hopes of hitting one of them square in the head entered my mind. How the hell was I to get his car started without a key?

I drained my glass, looked fetchingly at Sal’s beer (which had languished), rose to my feet, shouldered my tote, and considered options. Then, the bartender came up, handing me a key chain with a Kringle’s grocery fob.

Dwayne’s keys!

“Dude around back said some guy was gonna be by to get his car and to give you the keys,” he said, with a shrug.

My mouth worked. Which dude was anyone’s guess. I didn’t care. I had the keys.

That Dwayne was slick as chrome.

I aimed for the front door, figuring there was no time to lose. Halfway there, I heard angry voices coming from the poolroom and took off running for the cars. It didn’t take long to get to the Toyota, rip the door open, throw my purse inside, and get the engine going.

It must have taken even less time to piss the Harp off, because before I could back out, he shoved Dwayne out the back door at gunpoint. Dwayne had parked his vehicle right in front of it giving me a front row seat. Good thing I was slow, or I’d be in front of the building and he’d be screwed.

I hunkered down, hoping to be invisible.

Sal eased along the brick to my left, already on his phone, most likely to the MPD for backup. He moved carefully toward the door.  It was one of those moments where you don’t know what to do. I pulled out my gun, nestled it in my lap, and hoped I wouldn’t have to use it.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit!” I moaned.

Dwayne staggered down the single step of the back door and landed back first on the hood of his car.

Harp followed, leaning close to him, gun at his nose. “You messin’ wid me, boy?” he shouted, eyes wild.

Dee tried to shake his head, but Harp clutched his shirtfront and shook him.  “You been in there hustlin’ me for over an hour. What da fuck you want, huh?”

Before Dwayne could formulate an answer, sirens wailed in the distance. I gaped at Sal loping along behind cars, aiming for Harp. Just as he reached the back of the Toyota, Harp stood straight, alert. His eyes registered fear of capture as it crossed his mind. He let go of Dwayne, aimed at Sal, and shouted something. I didn’t hear his shout because at that instant, I pressed down on the horn.

A Toyota horn is a terrible thing to behold. The loud beep when expressed is not only mind–numbingly annoying, but if unexpected, can make one jump out of one’s skin, or even better, off one’s feet, as was the case with Harp. He didn’t know I was in the car, wasn’t even looking at me. The horn scared him so much he lurched away from the car and tripped backwards over the parking slab.

Dwayne scrambled onto him while he tried to recover, and knocked his gun away. Sal came forward to assist.  I never budged from the car. Too much testosterone going on out there.

The Memphis cops arrived, wheels screeching and doors slamming. My two favorite heroes rose from the ground, disheveled, but happy, with their target in tow.

It played like a movie scene, and I wished I had a remote to hit replay. But then again, life never played fair. I figured I’d get to relive it again, over and over, in the days to come, as Sal would tell his side, and Dwayne would follow up from his point of view. It would be exciting for a while, that was sure.

###

Sal let us go as soon as Dwayne finished giving his statement. “Take Shannon home, and do not leave her alone. I’ll be by as soon as I can.”

We rolled away and Dwayne relayed all the info from his encounter since he had hung up the phone that morning.

“Donzell Harpoon had been selling drugs, and involved in porno and got the attention of a high roller in Memphis. You know, one of those dudes who has fingers in everything including stuff down in Tunica at the casinos. At any rate, big money exchanged hands between them. Harp was gonna make movies out in LA thanks to the deal.”

“He was in the bar partying, and shootin’ off his mouth. My friend tends bar there for the afternoon shift, and he was the one who told me to come in. Said Harp would be there as he usually is on Friday night.”

“Good thing you put out feelers, huh?” I said.

“Yeah. Well, so when Harp rolls in, he tells my friend to give him somethin’ expensive and tasty and proceeds to relay his good news, not payin’ little ole me any mind. I just kept quiet, listenin’.”

I struggled not to laugh. Dwayne didn’t keep quiet at anything.

“When he took off for the back room, I called you, and then I followed. Figured it would be easier to keep tabs on him and find out more if I played some games.”

“Good thinking.” Not what I would have done, most likely, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. “So, I played him, all the while droppin’ questions every so often. Like, what’s your movie gonna be about? And, who’s gonna star in it? Yadda yadda.”

“Did he mention Thelma?”

“No. But he talked about his partner being a crazy old coot who had the whole world fooled. I figured he was yakkin’ about her.”

“Sounds like it. She’s old and she’s crazy. I’ve known that since high school.”

“I was just about to close in for the kill and get the name of the money bag when Sal showed up. Damn, he spoiled it all. That fool just looks like a cop. He needs to let his freakin’ hair grow out.”

I made a derisive noise. “As if. He’s supposed to look like a cop. He is a cop.”

“Yeah, well, next time you come to save me, leave him at home, will ya?”

“So you didn’t get the name?”

“Yes, Wall-ass. Ain’t I a PI in the makin’? Just as he was shovin’ a gun in my face he let loose the information.”

“Great timing, Dee. So? Who is the money man?”

He yawned and wiped his eyes before answering. “Robert Denaldo.”

I had never been so alert.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Aunt Nancy was reading her newspaper when I arrived back at the Mamas’ house, so I filled her in on the events. She laughed out loud at the news that Dwayne had captured a dangerous criminal. She also listened—not laughing—when I told her Robert Denaldo was involved in the case.

Exhaustion wrapped itself around my body and mind. I passed out on their sofa while Aunt Tillie puttered in the kitchen making coffee and getting ready to head off to the restaurant. My cell phone woke me in the late afternoon with its strumming guitar sounds.

“Why am I always left out of the fun?” Katie asked. “I’m going toward the Denaldo house, you want to ride along? I hear there’s going to be some police activity.”

“You’ve been listening to the scanner again,” I mumbled.

Silence.

“Sure. I’ll ride. I wasn’t doing anything but sleeping anyway.” I didn’t tell her it would help me sleep better to know Thelma was in custody and not out to even the score.

Since Dan’s death, I had gone the gamut of emotions over my former teacher. First, I wasn’t crazy about even facing her, and then I was obsessed with her innocence, now I was incensed at her involvement. Well, her and her trashy husband.

I hopped up and shuffled off to the shower. With no clean clothes to drag on, I just redressed in yesterday’s outfit. It smelled like stale bar odors and smoke.

When I slid onto the back of Katie’s bike, I knew this trip was a big deal because she wore real biker wear.

“What’s with the getup?” I asked, sliding her spare helmet on my head and attaching the strap under my chin.

“Cute cops notice biker chicks.”

“Oh, my freaking God.”

She laughed and then we took off.

Finally, Katie turned onto the Denaldo’s street. As we roared up toward the house, it was obvious we had missed the party. There were no cops anywhere on the street or at the house.

“What’s up?” I yelled at the back of her head.

She shrugged and pulled in the driveway, cutting the engine. Trying to consider what to do now, I glanced at the front of the house. The curtains were still moving from where someone had quickly pulled them aside and let them fall again.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a gun on you, would you?” I asked her, taking the helmet off.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Somebody’s inside and since there are no cops around, it may be someone who would like to do me bodily harm. Thelma knows I am involved in this case up to the ears by now.”

“Okay,” she said, pulling her tight black leather pant leg up a bit exposing her holster. “I’m ready. Want me to wait out back so she can’t escape?”

“No. For once, I want to be the back-door man. You go up and knock. Keep her busy while I enter the back.”

“What if it isn’t her?”

This thought made my knees weak. “I’ll be out back, either trying to get in quietly, or waiting for you to let me in. Whatever happens.” Even after the words left my mouth I knew they sounded utterly ridiculous. I should be going in the totally opposite direction.

I never listen to me.

Climbing over the Denaldo’s fence was anti-climactic this go-round, and I stood on the other side of it, remembering the last time I’d been there. Thelma had been as elusive as a greased seal.

I paced the yard considering what she would do if confronted by Katie dressed in all that black leather. The worry that my buddy might end up on her butt in the flowerbed made me stroll toward the back door. But my hesitation took too long.

Katie pulled open the door, grinned at me, and then joined me outside. “You’re really a lucky woman, Shannon.”

“Why? What do you mean?”

“That man has it for you bad.”

“Oh, no. No Thelma? Oh, damn. Not Sal?”

“Yep. He’ll be out soon to talk to you.”

“No. No. No. We have to go right now.” I jogged back to the fence and started climbing. Before I could get one leg anchored, he came out of the back door and charged across the patio toward me.

“What are you doing?” His voice sounded gruff.

My heart dropped like a stone and I bit my lip to keep from screaming. He was going to arrest me this time for sure.

Katie grinned sheepishly, gaze going from one of us to the other like a spectator at a tennis match.

Sal crossed his arms over his chest. “Get down, please.”

I landed near him with a small grunt. He dangled a key in my face, moved around me, and unlocked the gate. “Miss Henderson, if you’d be so kind as to go away, that would be very helpful. I will personally make sure Miss Wallace makes it to her home.”

She scurried out like a mouse dressed in black, and he waited until the unmistakable roar of her motorcycle reached us.

“Do you like the Denaldo’s house?” he asked, anger making his eyes snap.

“Um.” I looked down at my feet.

“You’ve been here a few times. I’m assuming you like it a lot. You’ve even gone so far as to break in.” He walked toward me, and I backed up a bit closer to the patio.

The little boy who lived behind the Denaldos played some childish game at the top of his lungs.

“You’re mad. I don’t want to talk to you when you’re mad.”

He pointed at the door behind me. “Inside.”

There was nothing else to do, but obey. I knew I had gone too far this time, and I didn’t have anyone to blame but myself. I entered the back door and waited on him to follow.

He did, taking time to lock the door behind him.

“If you’re going to arrest me, just go on and do it, Sal. I’m sure I deserve it.”

He took my arm and led me toward the front door. “I’m not arresting you, Shannon.”

“Why? What’s the deal anyway? What are you doing here? I thought you had this case wrapped up. Where’s Thelma?”

“Your timing is unbelievable. We’ve got a trap set for Thelma, and you, my dear, have nearly cooked my goose.” He moved the curtain aside with one finger and looked outside. “No time now. It’s too dangerous. If Mrs. Denaldo even suspects cops or anyone else are around here, she’ll bolt. I guess you’ll have to stay.”

“But I don’t want to meet with her,” I whined.

“I’m sure you don’t. Robert Denaldo felt the same way when I showed up here. While my back was turned, he bailed, leaving me here all alone, waiting for him to return. But now I believe he’s a bit tied up with some of mis amigos downtown, so, you’re stuck with me and his wife, if she shows.”

“Great,” I moaned. “Maybe she’ll forget where she lives. Maybe she won’t come back here…”

“Too late, Shannon, she’s just arrived.” He let the curtain fall and pulled me along with him as he ran for cover. “Vamos!”

The unmistakable sounds of a car engine going silent intensified the sound of our breathing as we rushed for an area he’d made behind the couch.  In a few moments, a key rattled in the door lock and it eased open and closed quickly behind the person entering. Footfalls traveled across the tiled floor to the dining room and then on to the kitchen.

Sal placed his finger up to his lips to make sure I knew to be quiet.

He didn’t have to worry. I held my breath, terrified of discovery. He eased his gun out of its holster and clasped it, barrel down, listening to the sounds the visitor made.

It wasn’t long before my old, school teacher was heard talking on the phone. I could picture her in the kitchen, puttering around making some tea, maybe a bite to eat, while we crouched behind her couch, muscles cramping.

Then, rustling got louder as she moved toward us, sat down on the couch. “Rob had no idea I worked with Donzell. He thought it was just a lucrative business. He didn’t even consider it might be illegal. Stupid idiot. I hid out for a hot minute, but I’m here now. Do you have the books? What about the movies?”

She paused, waiting on the answer.

“Good. Put that stuff in a safe deposit box and bring me the key. I’ve moved all the money to a new bank. Maybe we should think about something down in the islands?”

She sipped her drink, and listened.  Then, “Yeah. Okay. Well, I’ve got to go. I figure it’s only a matter of time before the cops start hunting me again. They probably think Donzell is the one they wanted. Arresting Rob was just a good stroke of luck for me.”

She laughed at something the other person said. “Yeah. I watched them haul him in. They’ve been busy. Oh. HA! If only.”

Then, she disconnected and tossed the phone onto the coffee table. Sal motioned for me to help him turn the couch over on the count of three. We shoved as hard as we could, lifting it up and over on top of her, effectively capturing our crook.

When Sal had her in cuffs, and called for backup to move in, I breathed easier.

“Shannon Wallace. You’re a total waste of good air,” Thelma snarled at me. “I knew you would be a waste when you were in my class.”

“Hey, excuse me? Who’s doing what here? I’m with the good guys and you’re trussed up and headed to jail. I’d say that the wasted airspace belongs to you.”

“I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’m an educator. Sex is not evil.”

“Maybe not. But if it leads to other stuff like drugs and making book, it’s a big time length of stay in the pokey. You’re busted, Witchy-poo.”

She closed her eyes and refused to say more.

I felt great. I loved lobbing that nickname at her one last time. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

I sashayed away to find Sal directing officers in the kitchen. When he found a stopping place and came to my side, he said, “Good job, Shannon. Thanks for your help.”

“Thank me later, I need to go home.”

“Don’t want to hang out and watch her go to jail?”

I shook my head. “Nope. I guess seeing her suffer for her sins wasn’t quite as much fun as I thought it’d be. I did enjoy seeing her squirm some though. Reckon that makes us even.”

He laughed and draped his arm around my shoulders. “Okay then, hang on one moment and let me get someone to take you home.”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll call Katie. She’s probably dying to know what’s happened.”

He nodded and went back to his duty.

Once Katie arrived, still dressed in her biker garb, and doing her utmost to interest a cop, Sal came over to say goodbye.

“I’ll call you in a few hours. You and I have unfinished business.”

The officer standing nearby gave us an amused glare, and my unabashed embarrassment silenced both of us.

Katie didn’t miss a beat though and gave a low whistle. “Day-um.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Katie didn’t drop me off at the office like I wanted, but instead came in with me. Surprisingly, Dwayne sat at his desk.

“You’re still in those same clothes from yesterday, Wall-ass. What’s wrong with you?” he asked, looking up. “Don’t you do laundry?”

“Oh. Um. Haven’t been home yet.”

His eyebrows rose a bit. “What? I dropped you at your aunties’ hours ago.”

“We sort of ran into Sal at the Denaldo house. Stakeout.”

“I told her that man wants her like a carrot wants ranch dip.” Katie hitched one hip on the side of his desk, and grinned at me.

He sighed and sat back making his chair squeak. “Katie’s right. That man has plans for you, girl.”

“Salvador Ramirez is the hottest man on the planet,” Katie said. “Antonio Banderas might even pale in comparison, and she can’t see him for nothing.”

“Banderas has more money,” Dwayne said.

Katie didn’t seem to care. “Money-smoney. Money can’t keep you warm at night. I was trying to interest a cop over there.”

“Did he make googly eyes at you?” Dwayne asked me.

“No. He was on stake-out, I told you.”

“So?”

“So, he wasn’t thinking of googly eyes.”

“What happened?”

“They got Thelma and her ugly old man in custody. I sort of helped.”

“You’re in trouble, girl. He’s going to want to be paid for allowing you to be a part of his take-down.”

“No way.”

Dwayne waggled his eyebrows at me before waving at Katie. “We should go over and park down the street and watch the goings on. Might even interest a cop myself.”

“No!” I yelled.

“Why not? Don’t you wanna watch him work?”

“Just did that, don’t want to go back,” I said, exasperated.

“I don’t want to watch him work either,” Katie said. “I just think he’s hot.”

“He’s even hotter when he’s fightin’ crime,” Dwayne said, gazing at his nails. “Somethin’ about a man workin’ his thang.”

Katie slid off the desk. “That’s just your lust talking.”

“I can’t help I’m lusty,” Dwayne said. “Lately all I seem to be attractin’ are straight guys and criminals. My lust needs attention. All this non-action is just sendin’ me directly to the candy aisle at Kringle’s. I’ll be as big as a Buick.”

I held my opinion inside and wandered into my office. If my silence was noted, it was never spoken out loud. I didn’t want to think about Sal’s animal magnetism. If his last words were any indication, he’d be showing me soon enough.

###

Dwayne and I stopped off at the local sub shop before going to the Mamas to pick up Betsy. I told him about the whole conversation with my aunts about the trust.

“Hells bells, Wall-ass. You haven’t told me nothing about this!” He nearly choked on his foot long.

“I know. But there has been so much stuff going on non-stop, I haven’t had time to even think about it much myself. I expect to be in touch with the lawyer about it next week.”

He swallowed, took a swig of his soda and pinioned me with a look. “How come you ain’t lettin’ that Adams piece of legal trifle help you?”

“He’s not an estate and trust lawyer.”

“Hell, they all smell money when it’s headed their way.”

I shook my head. “Aunt Nan pointed me in this direction.”

He took another massive hunk out of his sandwich and began to chew. I related the info about how both aunts had been having weird mishaps. He grunted and frowned.

“I’m more than a little worried about these weird accidents. They seem small and disconnected, but, you know my life. They could mean something.”

He nodded and chewed. Finally, he said, “Them women are too sweet for anything to happen to them. You know I’ll keep an eye out.”

“What do you think? Could the accidents be related?”

He shrugged and grabbed a chip from the snack bag in front of him. “Have you ever considered they might not be accidents?”

This sent a cold chill through me that had nothing to do with the air conditioning in the restaurant. He had in effect spoken the words that had been haunting me for days.

The silence that followed grew long, and Dee filled it with advice on how to handle Sal’s advances.

###

When we finished eating, we headed for the Mamas house.

When we pulled in the driveway, Betsy was missing.

“Dwayne, where’s my car?” My heart knocked around in my chest, taking my breath. “I have to go home.”

“Oh that. Well, while you’ve been busy playin’ the Bionic Woman, I took the liberty of doin’ a little dealin’ with the dude over at the dealership.”

“No! I told you I can’t pay for a car.” My voice rose as my panic took over.

He waved my concern aside. “Well, after what you just told me, Shan, you don’t know that for sure. Maybe you can’t right now, but you might be comin’ into money. And well, anyway, for now—your aunties can afford it. They helped me out with the fundin’ and we have things all worked out.”

I started to protest loudly, but he shushed me. “Look. You need a better car, girl. I can’t keep haulin’ your ass around and keepin’ your car runnin’ and worryin’ about whether some fool is goin’ to be yankin’ you out of that old junk pile on some dark road while you’re broke down.”

He had my attention.

I pushed him on the shoulder. “So, what’s up?”

“It’s parked over on the side of the house. It’s the red one.”

I leapt from his car and raced for the red Honda parked on a side street by my aunts’ house.

“This one?” I squealed, as I slid to a stop, my heart pounding a dance tune in my chest.

He loped up and dangled a set of keys in front of me. “Yep. Go on, test it out. But first, go kiss them women on both cheeks. They love you like a rat eatin’ cheese. They want to see how you look in it.”

I threw my arms around his neck, kissed him on both cheeks, and took off for the house where the two sweetest women in the south were just emerging. Suddenly, life was finally turning out for the better.

###

By the time I made it home from joy riding and showing off, it was mere moments before Sal knocked on my door. The realization that he was coming over to finish some unfinished business dampened my joy. A state of detachment settled on me.

“You don’t look so good,” he greeted me as I let him in. He held up a bottle. “I have some wine. Fix you right up.”

“Are you going to anesthetize my arrest with alcohol, because if so, just go on and shoot me. Put me out of my misery now. I didn’t mean to mess up anything with that stake-out.”

He strolled into my kitchen and made me sit at the table. Then, he pulled out tumblers in lieu of wineglasses. “No. I told you, you are not under arrest. We’re celebrating.”

This roused me. “Celebrating? What?”

“That new car Brown got you, the fact that you have gotten a couple of decent video jobs, and for closing the case on Dan.”

“You knew about the car too?”

He nodded, smiling.

“What jobs? I only know of two.”

“I think I may have another one for you.” He handed me a glass. “And the autopsy results on Dan are final.”

I took the glass and sniffed the contents wondering how to ask the question most on my mind. I didn’t have to as it turned out, he read my mind.

“Well? Don’t you want to know how he died?”

If he shared that information with me, I was not going to jail. If he didn’t, then my guard would remain up, but I wasn’t going to ask for it. No sirree, Bob.

“Officially, blunt force trauma. Unofficially, it was an accident per Harper. He tried to knock Dan out so they could escape. Mrs. Denaldo was not involved in the attack and was, as you once said, an unwilling victim. She was more worried about having her whole operation shut down. Of course, she didn’t want to be accused of the murder either, so she hid. She had plans for her skin operation, though.” He took a sip and sat across from me. “Her brother was not as pristine as was first thought. He was the person she talked to on the phone about going to some island.”

I relaxed and smiled more to myself than to him. “So case closed?”

“Almost. Mostly just paperwork and tying up loose ends. At least we have the people involved in the whole convoluted ordeal in custody. Sooner or later, someone will finger someone who will finger someone.”

“That’s a lot of fingering going on.” I sipped the wine and felt a burning sensation in my stomach.

“Yeah, I guess. At any rate, Harper’s being held for manslaughter, and the others are up on obscenity charges. Thelma even halfway offered one of my men a spot on her next movie. I won’t tell you what she said about his…equipment.”

“Ew. No. Don’t tell me. I still have to call Jimmy and tell him that his case is toast for now. When he finds out that all the Denaldos are in jail and all their money is going for bail, he might retract the cash he paid me.” Saying it out loud made me feel slightly squeamish. I sure hoped I was thinking worst case scenario.

“No, he will not. You earned that fair and square. You got his footage. He owed it to you. But let’s talk about something else. I think my cousin is getting married. Want to do her wedding?”

I slid my empty glass away and stood. “We are pretty open right now, so I think that’s a definite possibility.”

“Good! I will give her the numbers to call you. Now, how about us? I’m off duty and you’re sipping wine and relaxing. This could turn into something.”

“What does that mean exactly?” My anti-cop antennae went up a notch.

“Maybe I want to be better friends?” His dark brown eyes twinkled with mischief.

I moved to walk past him. “I need a shower.”

Snake-like, he grabbed my arm, halting my stroll. “What’s wrong? Every time I try to elicit your attention, you run from me.”

“I don’t like it when you elicit things,” I said. He gave me a questioning look, and I shook my head and replied, “E-licit not ill-icit. Never mind. I’m not up for teaching you words tonight.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He seemed so genuine for a change. Or maybe the wine was talking.

I stared at him and decided to come clean. “You’re a cop.”

“So?”

“So a cop can be a dangerous person given the right circumstances.”

“A dangerous…I need another drink,” he said, thrusting his hand through his hair. “Maybe two.” Then he stood and looked at me in shock. “Is that what you really think of me?”

I exhaled. “I don’t think you’re dangerous-dangerous, Sal. I just think you could put a crimp in my life in a big way. I don’t follow rules. I don’t obey the law, all the time.”

He moved back to the counter, poured a new glass for both of us, and stood a moment staring at them, both hands on the counter. Finally, he said, “Fine. Then let’s drink to Dan and I’ll go away and you can forget I ever said anything.”

I hustled over and took one of the glasses, watched him drain his. I tried to do likewise but the alcohol burned my throat, and I ended up choking and sputtering.

He patted my back and raised my arms over my head like a father would a child. My eyes were streaming, and I could barely breathe.

“You’re supposed to drink it, Shannon, not breathe it.” He took me into his arms.

“I’m not much good with wine,” I croaked. “Beer. Beer’s better.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “You’re doing fine.” He rubbed my back softly before saying with a sigh, “Dangerous, eh? I was hoping for something better than that. I thought we had a connection.”

It felt good to be enveloped in his arms. He smelled like his expensive cologne and boy sweat. It brought back memories of an evening in his backseat when we were in college.

“Are you okay now?” he asked when the coughing became a few throat-clearing sounds.

“Yes.” I didn’t move out of his arms.

“If I let you go, will you run away?”

I shook my head.

He released me and took a step back, gazing down at me, dark eyes questioning. “Do you want me to leave and let you forget I ever said anything?”

I shook my head again. He was like sweet and sour in my life. Right now, the sweet was completely intoxicating. Right now, the sweet was like melted dark chocolate running through my veins, both poisoning me and sustaining me.

“Do you want me to stay and let’s discuss this thing between us, this fear of me and my dangerousness?”

The wine had begun its work to relax me, and I decided maybe Ramirez wasn’t so scary. I nodded, finally. He came in for a kiss and I didn’t stop him.

When our lips met, I realized Sal didn’t need any answers from me anyway. He had the whole questionnaire, already filled out. Probably I would hate myself in a few hours. Probably Dwayne would never let me hear the end of it.

Ah, to hell with probably.

THE END

If you liked this book, you can read the others in the series on Amazon.

Disk of Death

Yew to a Kill

In the Shadows (A Spooky Short Story)

Thank you for reading Schooled in Murder.  I would love it if you would help others enjoy this book, too. Please recommend to others and leave a review.

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Kim Smith has written over 300,000 words in mystery, romance, and YA fantasy. After several failed attempts at traditional publishing with small publishers, Kim leaped into indie publishing with a vengeance. She hopes to begin turning them out at a quick step so that her readers will get all things Kim Smith in short order.

Kim lives in the mid-south region of the US with her husband of many years, and her Chihuahua dog, Darby, who demands to be in a book one day. Kim is a photographer, videographer, writer, and coffee-fiend.

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