Slash in the Pan

by CeeCee James

  I pushed the sandwich away as my stomach turned.

  “Anyway, I’ve got to get going. You’ve got my number. Keep me in the loop. Let me know what the police find out about Derek. I’ll be keeping my ear to the ground, too.” He stood to go and tossed two twenty’s and a ten on the table. “Lunch is on me. Have a good day, now. Stay out of trouble.”

  Chapter 19

  I asked the waitress for a to-go box. By the time I had my sandwich in the container and made it out to the sidewalk, Croker was already gone.

  Which was just as well. He’d given me a lot to digest. I jumped into my car and was immediately alarmed at the scent of gasoline. It took a second to remember the can in the trunk. I opened the hood to make sure it was safe and then headed back to Gainesville.

  By the time I got home, it was already dinner time. Oscar didn’t answer the door, and I suspected he was already at Cecelia’s. I heaved the gas can up the stairs and set it on his front porch. From there, I glanced over at the b&b.

  The hedge covered most of it, but I could just see a glimmer of warm light cutting through the gray sky that came from the dining room. I smiled, imagining Cecelia in her height of glory, feeding the poor, starving man.

  I suspected they were working on getting a whole lot closer than neighbors. But, knowing Cecelia, she’d take her time.

  I walked out to my car and reached for one half of my sandwich. Munching on it, I backed out and headed home. I was definitely ready for home.

  I parked the car in front of my apartment, for the millionth time marveling at how easy it was to find space for it compared to my big hippo of a van. I shoved the remainder of my sandwich in my mouth and punched the code. It took a moment for it to recognize and buzz open. I didn’t mind. It was a chilly evening. I was done rushing.

  In fact, I took the stairs slowly and used the handrail to haul myself up on the last story. I was of the mind to get into my pajamas and curl up in front of one of my favorite cooking competition programs.

  The heart wants what it wants, and soon I was relaxing on the couch with a glass of wine, doing just that. The TV show was entertaining but mind-numbing, and that’s what I needed right about now. There were so many things to think about.

  I remembered my original question to Joe, and sent Kari a text.—Hey friend, you never got back to me on why there would be a hole in the middle of the laundry room wall.

  I took a sip of wine while I waited. I normally wasn’t a wine drinker, but Kari had brought over a four pack of individual Rieslings. I enjoyed the sweetness of it.

  She answered,—He says there is no hole in the wall. Unless you’re talking about the water hook up and dryer vent?

  I frowned. No, I definitely wasn’t. I tried one more time,—It’s a hole half-way up the inside wall. About 2x2

  Her text back was quick. —He says he has no idea what you’re talking about.

  I leaned back on the couch and considered that. Joe would know. So why was the hole there?

  Just a piece of the puzzle, I thought, remembering Cecelia’s words. Some are polished, some are rough. I will figure this out.

  On TV, one of the contestants was being applauded by the others. Her dinner creation won the night’s competition. It made me think of Cecelia’s pancake recipe. Maybe I’d try that in the morning.

  Okay, back to Devon. What did I know of him, now?

  I knew that he knew who the fake fire marshal was, and had used Barnett’s ID when paying for a Daffy Duck mask. I knew the fire marshal was the one who made the ruling on my fiancé Derek’s murder. I knew that Mikey and Midnight Trucking were somehow in the mix of all three, the fake fire marshal, Derek, and Devon.

  I knew there was stolen jewelry, but no one knew where it was. Devon had been murdered after not paying Mikey, but not killed in a way Mikey would have done it. And everyone who had come and gone from the construction house was accounted for, even by Daisy’s standards.

  What was I missing?

  I felt it then… on the tip of my senses. I knew the answer. I knew it. Only I couldn’t grasp it. Because, just like when I tried to remember the name of something that I always knew until the moment I had to remember it, my memory batted the answer away like a cat with a yarn ball.

  Come on, come on, I coaxed it. My brain returned with white noise. Ugh. I flopped back on the couch and flipped the channel.

  There was a mystery on, entitled Cold Case. I paused to watch it, sipping my wine. After ten minutes, I had to change the channel, shivering.

  I searched for a few more minutes before giving up and turning off the TV. I opened the social media app on my phone instead. And, like I’d already done so many times before, I scrolled through Devon Walter’s pictures.

  Again, I was amazed at how many he had with different groups of people. But, like last time, I noticed there were two consistent people, a man, and a woman. The woman I’d identified as Wendy Breckenshaw. Remembering the interaction at the last station, I suddenly had an intense interest in determining who the man was.

  The first picture I focused on was the one at the construction site where he had his arm around Wendy’s shoulder. I couldn’t see his face well due to the sunglasses and long hair, but I could swear the tattoo was the same as the guy’s at the gas station.

  I paused at another photo. He was younger, with no tattoo in this one, but still had the same long hair. It was definitely him.

  Once again, just like with Wendy’s photos, there was no tag naming him. He was still the mysterious guy.

  But at least I knew where to find him.

  At the gas station.

  I ended up skipping my trial-by-fire pancake experiment the next morning, opting instead to head over to the gas station. It really was a two-for journey, since the mechanic called and told me Old Bella was ready to be picked up.

  I didn’t see Devon’s friend when I walked into the gas station, but I didn’t expect to. I figured the odds would be low that he’d be working again so soon. I just needed his name.

  There was another attendant behind the counter. I walked over, trying to think of how to word my question. I’d put people off too many times by getting them suspicious with my questions.

  “Hi, there,” I said, giving my flirtiest smile.

  His eyebrow flickered in interest. “Can I help you?”

  “Well, I’m not sure.” I leaned against the counter and trailed my finger along the gum. I was laying it on thick, but hey, desperate times call for desperate measures. “I’m actually looking for the other guy that works here.”

  “Which guy is that? There are a lot of us that work here.”

  “The one with the snake tattoo. He said he had a used car I might be able to get. My car broke down. That one out there is a loaner.” I pointed to the VW. Hey, technically I wasn’t lying. Well, not entirely.

  Actually, my moral compass regarding lying was starting to set off alarms. I’d get back on the straight and narrow. Right after this.

  “A car, huh? You must be looking for Jerry. Well, sorry to disappoint you but he’s not here right now.”

  “Oh, shoot,” I pouted. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  “Nah. He’s not a regular. This is just his side job.”

  “Side job? Wow, where else does he work? At an auto repair shop?”

  “He’s been out at the construction site. He does drywall, but they just finished the house. He has to wait until they’re ready for him again.”

  His words sounded like the mumblings of the teacher on Charlie Brown. I’d heard all I needed to hear, and I was beaming.

  The guy looked concerned. “Hey, don’t you go bothering him. I don’t know what he told you, but he has a girlfriend.”

  I waved goodbye as I ran out.

  Chapter 20

  I needed to talk to someone as fast as possible. But I also needed to get my van. And, with Frank out of reach for me to talk with, I needed to figure out who my venting person was going to be.

&n
bsp; I got into the VW and started it, feeling hyper with excited energy.

  Calm down. I don’t have all the answers yet. Just hunches. I giggled and said out loud, “Really strong hunches!”

  Okay, okay, this time I was going to calm down. First I’d head to Bob’s Mechanics and get things squared away with him. I’d miss this green Bug, but I was eager to get back to my old van, despite how hard she was to park.

  “It’s not you, it’s me,” I whispered to the flower as I headed to the auto shop. “This car is amazing, but I can’t fit anyone in it. And shuffling people around is how I make my money.”

  The flower bobbed forlornly.

  Bob was behind the counter at the repair shop and happily took my credit card. I tried not to cringe as he rang up the total. When it was finished, he slid the receipt and a pen over to me to sign.

  “Van’s out back,” he said. “She’s got some miles on her, but she’ll do ya for a long while yet.”

  I smiled and handed back the paper and pen. Bob passed me the key, and I gave him the VW’s. Then, I headed out.

  At the doorway, I stopped, remembering. “One thing about the Bug. The driver’s side door doesn’t open smoothly.”

  “Oh, yeah. She’s got a bit of a kick to her step. Sorry. I forgot to warn you. She didn’t bite, did she?”

  I thought about my shin but shook my head no. I waved goodbye and headed out to my van.

  Old Bella gleamed in the sunlight. Bob must have taken her through the car wash. I opened the door to see plastic covering the floor mats. “Aww, he tried to keep you clean.” The welcoming smell of barbecue filled the air as I climbed inside.

  It was hard to explain, but I just fit here. I was a short gal and really loved the higher clearance in seeing the road as well. She made me feel big and strong behind the wheel. I started her up, and she purred without her usual backfire.

  “That’s my girl,” I said, patting the dash. I saw a spot where there had once been an ashtray. “We might be getting you a new decoration, Old Bella. How would you like a flower?” I shifted into gear and headed out. I didn’t head home, nor to the B&B. There was only one place I wanted to go.

  Back to the housing development.

  I drove down the street where I’d already been a dozen times this week. I didn’t see Gertie or Daisy, but I still waved as I passed their houses, in case they could see me. At the end of the street, I took a left and followed it to the housing development’s park.

  The park was green with fresh play chips under a brand new playground. There were thick bushes to one side. I parked the car and headed for those bushes.

  On the other side was Dunning Creek. The water was shallow but running swiftly. It sent happy gurgles up to me as I considered my hypothesis.

  One hole in the wall. One drywaller. Check.

  Where was the mask found? Right here at this creek. Check.

  And who had thrown something over the fence? I had just one more thing to verify.

  I logged into the social media once more. Service was kind of spotty, so I swung the phone around a bit, looking for bars. When I finally found some, I typed quickly. This time, I didn’t search up Devon.

  I was searching for Randy Kay.

  It took a little longer with the slower service, but eventually, a list came up. I scrolled through, looking for a Randy Kay who had friends in common with me.

  Bingo, there she was, with Kari as our mutual friend.

  I clicked the young woman’s profile, wondering if it would say what I thought it would. I actually dreaded it. Please let me be wrong.

  The wheel spun and spun, keeping me in suspense. I couldn’t take it any longer and dragged my gaze back to the park. Two little kids were playing chase on the jungle gym. The boy tagged the girl, who screamed that he really didn’t get her. They dissolved into an arguing match before the boy gave up and started chasing her again.

  I smiled, remembering when Frank and I played like that. Come to think of it, we still sort of did. I glanced back at my phone.

  Randy Kay’s profile page was up. I looked under her statistics even though I didn’t really need to. The proof was right in her profile picture which I could see as clear as day.

  It was a picture of her with her boyfriend’s arm around her, the head of the snake tattoo resting against her shoulder in the form of his hand. His name was Jerry. I winced and shook my head. Devon’s old friend was her boyfriend. It wasn’t the age gap that was making me so sad. It was the fact that she was in love with a murderer, and she herself was about to be arrested as an accomplice to Devon’s death.

  Chapter 21

  I texted Jefferson. —Jefferson, I need to talk to you right now and please don’t arrest me.

  I could almost hear him growling when he texted, —what?

  It took some cajoling, but I finally talked him into a phone call. It wasn’t an easy conversation, indeed nothing like when I came to Frank with my wild ideas. But I had to hand it to him, Jefferson did listen and, after twenty-minutes of talking, I didn’t get arrested. I considered that a win-win.

  My next call from Kari was much more exciting.

  “Jefferson just called to say Joe is off the hook!” Her next few words dissolved into hysterical screaming.

  “I’m headed to your house right now,” I said, holding the phone away from my ear.

  I stopped at the store for a box of doughnuts, because I wasn’t going to do that again. I figured a doughnut could steady a person whether they were sad or happy.

  She raced out onto the porch the moment I pulled into the driveway and yanked my door opened before I’d even grabbed the box.

  “Hang on!” I said, “Let me get out! Geez, you’re like a Golden Lab right now.”

  She stepped back. “I can’t help it! How could I ever thank you? Walk me through everything. How did you figure it all out?”

  I struggled to climb out and then glanced around. “Where are the kids?”

  “Joe took them to get pizza. They’ll be back in a bit.” She whisked the doughnut box away that I was juggling and dragged me up to the porch. "Now sit! Tell me everything!”

  I eased into a chair with a sigh. “Well, it started with me wondering why Devon was at the house that Joe was building. No matter how I tried to explain it, I couldn’t think of a good reason.”

  Kari nodded and opened the box of doughnuts. I chuckled as she grabbed one without even looking.

  I wanted one myself, but it would make my mouth too dry with all the talking I needed to do. I needed to finish my explanation first.

  “So, I could only imagine that Devon was meeting someone there. But who was he meeting, and why in one of Joe’s houses?”

  Kari nodded again. I could tell she was tracking with me.

  I continued. “Then, it occurred to me that it was one of the last places anyone would think to find Devon. So why would he want a place so disassociated with him?”

  She stared at me with big eyes, waiting.

  I pointed my finger up like an Aha moment. “Devon might want a place like that if he was hiding something. Like a bag of jewelry.”

  “Jewelry?” She sprayed doughnut crumbs.

  “I found out through Croker that Devon had bought the Daffy Duck mask. Most likely, he was the one who robbed the store. But the police knew he had an accomplice, someone who drove the get-away car. That one took me longer to figure out who it was, but I finally realized it was his longtime friend, Jerry. They’d planned to steal the jewelry and possibly split the profits. Devon was going to use his share to pay Mikey back.”

  I looked at the doughnuts. My mouth was getting dry anyway. “There was a lot of media coverage, so they wanted to lay low and hide the jewelry. Jerry probably came up with the plan to hide it in the job site wall. Because he does drywall for a living, he could cut a hole and patch it without anyone knowing.”

  She nodded.

  “On the day of the murder, Jerry had a plan. Jerry already knew the bad blood between
Devon and Joe, and how Devon was suing Joe. Jerry must have gotten the knife out of Joe’s truck during one of the many days Joe was out at the job site. Jerry had the perfect plan to pin the murder on Joe, and get away with all the jewelry.”

  I watched, and Kari seemed to be following, so I continued. “Jerry had Devon meet him at the construction site to split the jewelry. Instead, he murdered him, wearing gloves to preserve Joe’s fingerprints. After he killed Devon, Jerry managed to blend in with the rest of the construction workers, which is why none of them saw anyone unusual enter the house besides Randy Kay and Devon. Jerry probably left the jewelry behind so that there was nothing on him to implicate him. Later, he sent Randy Kay over the fence to get the jewelry and the mask. That bundle was what she threw over the fence. After she climbed over, she took the bag to the park and threw the mask into the creek.”

  Kari blinked. I wondered if I’d explained too fast and had left her at the beginning of the story.

  “So do you understand?” I asked.

  “Devon stole the jewelry?” she asked, munching on the doughnut.

  “Yeah, to pay back Mikey the money he owed. Devon had Jerry hide it in Joe’s construction site wall as a safety, knowing no one would ever link Devon to Joe’s site. And it was safe for Jerry to come and go because construction workers do that at a housing site. Who would ever know?”

  I thought for a second about the picture I’d found of Mikey and the house reflected in the car window. “I’m guessing Mikey had Devon followed, and maybe took a picture of himself parked outside the house to put some heat on Devon. Or perhaps the pressure was intended for Jerry, in case Jerry was tempted to hold out on Mikey now that Devon was dead. Either way, it was a message sent.”

  “What about the jewelry?” Kari asked.

  “The police are getting a search warrant for Randy Kay’s house. I suspect they’ll find the jewelry there. But Mikey won’t be happy. He’s still going to want his money.”