Dead Girls Are Easy

by Terri Garey

He actually looked offended at that. As if he had some right to be offended. I flung the door open and stood there, squeezing the doorknob as hard as I could, the way I’d like to be squeezing his balls. “Get out.”

  “There’s no need for this.”

  That reasonable “doctor-speak” infuriated me even more. My heart was pounding, and for that reason alone I struggled to get control of my temper. Wouldn’t do to have another heart attack, particularly in front of Dr. Dolittle.

  “A lot of guys wouldn’t even have bothered to tell you the truth.” Joe flushed?embarrassment or anger, I wasn’t certain. “Or waited until after they’d screwed your brains out.” He took a step closer, eyes intent. “It’s not like I didn’t want to, you know.”

  The heat in my cheeks wasn’t just the result of outrage. I’d wanted him?and unfortunately for me, I still did. I’d come on to him pretty strong, but he’d held me off all evening. At least now I knew why.

  Time to regroup.

  I bit my lip, letting reason take over. If he hadn’t stopped me, we’d be naked on the couch by now, with me none the wiser.

  “It’s been a long day, Joe.” Had it ever. “I think you’d better go.”

  He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Damn if he didn’t look good when he wasn’t all calm, cool, and collected. His hair looked better mussed, doctorly decorum gone. There was a damp smear of mascara and tears on his chest.

  “Nicki, I?”

  All my anger drained away, leaving me exhausted. “It’s okay. Just go.” I held the door open a little wider. I wanted nothing more than to sleep, and forget about hospitals and doctors and death and sex and married men. “I’m tired.”

  He walked past me and out the door, pausing on the threshold. “I’m still ordering those tests.”

  I shook my head. “I’m done with tests, Doc. Have a nice life.” Then I shut the door in his face, ignoring the concern etched on his features.

  Let his wife take the tests.

  “Nicki.” He was still there, still on the other side of the door. I leaned against it, not answering.

  “I’m sorry.”

  His footsteps moved away, down the stairs, and then there was silence.

  “So am I,” I murmured. “So am I.”

  I woke in the night with a bad feeling. Thankfully, it was only cramps.

  Time for the monthly routine again, right on schedule. I never minded, though?not really. What most women used as an excuse to be bitchy and eat chocolate, I saw as an affirmation that women were special. Men might provide some of the ingredients but they couldn’t deliver a miracle?unless you counted remembering to put the toilet seat down after they’d used it.

  Besides, who really needs an excuse to be bitchy or eat chocolate?

  Not bothering with any lights, I got out of bed and went to the bathroom, taking care of things quickly. One of the advantages of living alone is that things are always where you left them. Finding your way in the dark becomes second nature. On the way back to bed I stopped and adjusted the thermostat a few degrees. The house was chilly.

  “You did right to kick his ass out.”

  I knew that voice. I squeezed my eyes shut and leaned against the wall, telling myself not to listen.

  “Can’t trust a man any farther than you can see him. Granny Julep done told me that when I was a little girl, and she was right.”

  How many times had I listened to tales of Granny Julep and her all-knowing advice? I stifled a hysterical giggle, afraid it would turn into a scream. Wonder if Granny Julep had any words of wisdom when it came to the dead?

  “No reason to be afraid, Nicki. And I know you can hear me.”

  I forced myself to open my eyes. The bedroom was dark, but I could still make out an even darker silhouette over by the window.

  “Caprice? Is that really you?”

  The familiar click of beads as Caprice nodded her head convinced me. “You know it is. I need your help.” The silhouette moved, and I reached for the light switch.

  “Don’t. Leave the light off.”

  “You’re freaking me out here, Caprice.”

  She gave the throaty chuckle that was her trademark. “I’m sorry, girlfriend, but it’s better this way. I done been to the morgue and seen myself?don’t nobody else need to.”

  Goose bumps rose on my arms. Having Irene show up in my hospital room had been bizarre, but this was downright creepy. Reminding myself that Caprice was a friend, I edged back into bed and sat against the pillows, drawing the covers up to my chin. It seemed colder than ever in the room.

  “What happened?” I kept my voice low, as if someone were listening. Hell, for all I knew, maybe someone was. Maybe the dead were all around, all the time.

  A heavy sigh came as Caprice moved to the darkest corner of the room. “That damn Mojo. He got himself a woman, and I found out about it.”

  The Mo I knew was the most easygoing, laid-back guy in Little Five Points. Stoned on weed most of the time, never a harsh word for anybody. Caprice had been crazy about him. I still had a hard time believing he could have killed her.

  “He met up with her at the shop after we closed?left me at home and said he’d forgotten to close up the register, but I knew something was up. That man might forget his own name sometimes, but he never forgets to close up the register. I waited a few minutes, then drove down there on my own.”

  “You caught him with somebody else?”

  “Hell, yeah, I caught him!” The anger in Caprice’s voice made me nervous, and I pulled the bedspread closer to my chin. “I caught him with that skinny piece of trash who supplies us with that damn organic soap! Organic, my ass?like I don’t know she cooks that stuff up on her stove with bottled spices!”

  Caprice had always had a temper. I kept quiet and let her finish the story on her own.

  “I told them to get the hell out, and told Mojo to clear out of our house, too?that we was done. I thought it was all over until that bitch sucker-punched me while we was coming down the stairs.”

  “She hit you? Not Mo?”

  A disgusted snort answered me. “Mo ain’t got the balls to squash a bug. Me and her got into it right and proper, and I almost had the skinny bitch until she shoved me backward. Then bam?” Caprice smacked her hands together, making me jump. “? out went the lights. Next thing I know, I’m looking down on myself laying on the ground, blood on my face and the bitch nowhere to be found. Mo was crying and moanin’ into the phone, calling the ambulance.”

  “He’s been arrested, Caprice. They think he killed you.”

  “What the hell you think I’m doing here? You need to get him out.”

  “Me?” The word came out as a squeak.

  “Who else? It’s not like I can go down there and tell ’em myself, is it? If I could do something, I’da done it before now.”

  “But?”

  “No buts, girlfriend. Mojo may have done me wrong, but I ain’t gonna stand by and watch him take the fall for that skinny-ass ’ho of his. You go down there and tell them the truth.”

  “Caprice, I can’t just walk into the police station and tell them dead people are talking to me.” I tried to make myself sound reasonable, but I was starting to feel panicky. “They’ll put me in the cell right next to Mo until they can find a padded one?they’re not gonna believe me.”

  There was silence, and I didn’t like the sound of it.

  “You’re gonna have to find a way to make them believe you.” Caprice said this as though the request had been turned into an ultimatum.

  Stalling, I asked the question I’d never gotten around to asking Irene Goldblatt. “Why didn’t you go into the Light, Caprice? What are you still doing here?”

  The beads in her hair rattled again, the familiar sound now raising the hair on my arms. “What light? I didn’t see no light except for the street lamps and the fire truck. And I already told you what I’m doing here.”

  The shop bell jingled as Evan swept in, obviously surprised to see me there
so early. He was almost always the first one in.

  “What’s with the police tape in front of Indigo’s?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “And can you believe somebody puked all over our doorstep?”

  I gave him a weak smile. “Sorry.”

  He took a good look at my face and both eyebrows went up.

  “What’s the matter, Nick? You look like hell.” He locked the door behind him before coming over to the counter.

  “Gee, thanks.” I slid off the register stool. “Bad night. Come in the back and I’ll tell you about it.” I caught Evan’s quick glance toward the front door and knew his compulsive need for cleanliness warred with his curiosity. “That can wait?it’ll come right off with the hose.”

  A half hour later I’d told him everything. The Vortex, the fire truck, Caprice’s murder, and why I threw up. Joe’s marital status and my late night conversation with a dead woman, my disappointment over Joe and my fears about Caprice.

  “Joe thinks I need more tests, but tests won’t help. Caprice isn’t going to leave me alone unless I find a way to get Mojo out of jail.” I looked at him, begging him to believe me. “I mean, I feel sorry for her?and I’m really sorry she’s dead, but she’s angry, and kinda scary.” I waited, absolutely exhausted and in dire need of advice.

  “Oh my God, Nicki.” Evan broke his own rule of “no makeup on the couture” and enfolded me in a big hug. I blinked back tears, grateful as always for his acceptance and understanding. Except when he was being a drama queen, Evan was the best.

  “Why can’t you just be normal like everybody else?”

  “Oh, and I suppose you’re a great example of ‘normal’?”

  Evan gave his best insulted sniff, hugging me even tighter.

  “Heaven forbid.” He took me by the shoulders and held me away, searching my face. “You look exhausted. Now you lay down right here on the office couch and get some sleep. I’ll cover you up and shut the door.” He fussed like a mother hen, tucking me up as though I were an invalid. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll take care of everything today. We’ll talk about what to do about Caprice when you’re rested.”

  “You believe me? You don’t think I’m crazy?” I don’t know why, but it meant a lot to me to hear it.

  Evan cocked his head, smoothing the hair back from my face. “I think you’re one crazy chick.” He gave me that lopsided grin. “Of course I believe you.”

  The image on the store’s security camera was almost as fuzzy as my tired brain, but I recognized the man who’d just come in and started browsing the men’s section.

  The look on Evan’s face went from politely interested to hostile in two seconds, the time it took Joe Bascombe to turn around.

  Yeah, Evan. You deal with him. Send him back to his wife with a bug in his ear and a pissed-off drama queen on his ass.

  Too bad there was no sound. We’d never invested in microphones, just cameras. I adjusted the pillow beneath my head, getting comfortable while I watched.

  Whatever Joe said to Evan earned him a suspicious stare.

  Evan crossed slender arms and thrust out a hip, delivering a no doubt scathing retort.

  Joe didn’t flinch, saying something else.

  An eloquent shrug from Evan.

  Joe kept talking, undaunted.

  Evan dropped the affronted pose and turned, walking back toward the counter. He tossed words over his shoulder, straightening clothes on the racks automatically as he passed.

  Poor Joe would have to work a little harder than that.

  He frowned, then said something else, taking a step forward.

  Evan flared. Hands on hips, radiating offense. Slim black trousers and a boldly patterned shirt in gold and white made him look like an outraged runway model. High drama now, accompanied by a flamboyant sweep of the hand.

  Take that, Dr. Zhivago.

  I turned off the security monitor and closed my eyes, confident that Evan had my back. Joe Bascombe would have to find other girls to tempt.

  “What the hell do you mean, ‘Joe bought the Valentino?’” The smug look on Evan’s face made me want to slap him. “You’re on a first name basis now?” I sat up, still groggy. Daytime naps had never agreed with me. “What time is it?”

  “Almost three-thirty,” he answered, handing me a cup of hot tea. Green chai, I think, heavily sweetened and steaming with fragrance.

  “You know I can’t resist a fashion challenge, Nick. The poor thing needed my help.” Evan lifted his shoulders in a fatalistic shrug, taking a sip from his own mug. “What’s a girl to do?”

  I glared at him, instantly suspicious. “What’s going on here? I told you he’s married.” But I couldn’t resist asking, “Was he looking for me?”

  Evan took a seat in the office chair, crossing those long legs as elegantly as only he could. “As a matter of fact, he was looking for me.”

  Could he be any more smug?

  “For you.” I waited, but nothing more was forthcoming. “You telling me he swings both ways now?”

  “Oh, honey,” he flapped a hand, “don’t be ridiculous. It was obvious from the moment I saw him he’s straight as an arrow.” A melodramatic sigh. “More’s the pity, particularly after I saw him in that Valentino. It fit him perfectly. But no, he just wanted me to convince you to get those tests done. Says you can do them on an outpatient basis and you’ll never have to go near him to do it.” He took another sip of tea and added nonchalantly, “I think he’s really worried about you.”

  A tiny spark of pleasure flickered, but I quashed it. “Sounds more like he’s worried about a malpractice suit in case of brain damage.”

  “Don’t be so cynical, Miss Thing.”

  My eyebrows went sky high at that. “Me? What did you put in this tea, anyway?”

  Evan smiled, unperturbed. “Maybe I’m just a believer in true love.”

  “Since when?”

  A leather clad foot, polished to a high shine, swung back and forth. “Since I saw Manny Vittoro naked in the shower back in high school gym class.” He sighed. “He’s still the love of my life.”

  I snorted. “Slut.”

  “Whore,” he answered sweetly.

  Order restored, we drank our tea in companionable silence.

  “So I think you should have the tests.”

  “So I’m not gonna have the tests.”

  More silence, broken only by an occasional slurp.

  “So I think you should give Joe another chance.”

  “So I’m not gonna give Joe another chance.”

  Evan’s chair creaked as he leaned back. “So what are you gonna do?”

  I sighed. “I guess I’m gonna have to go down to the police station.”

  The chair thunked as it came forward again. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Do I look like I’m kidding?” I put down my mug and stood up, stretching the kinks from my neck. “I don’t want to. But I don’t want Caprice haunting me the rest of my days, either. And besides, Mojo shouldn’t be there. He didn’t kill her. It’s not right.”

  “What are you gonna say? They’ll think you’re nuts.”

  “I’ll think of something.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  I gave Evan a smile. “I was counting on that, but a cute guy like you might drive those inmates crazy. I’ve seen that cable show about prison life—Oz, or whatever it’s called.”

  Evan gave a delicious little shiver. “Oooh, now I have to go.”

  We closed the shop early, flipping the sign in the window and locking the door behind us. I stood on the sidewalk and looked across the street at Indigo’s, where scraps of yellow crime scene tape flapped from the front steps. Somebody had hosed down the sidewalk, leaving no sign of blood. The place just looked empty and forlorn, like it was wondering where all the life had gone. Business was usually pretty steady, whether weekday or weekend, some of it, I was sure, from a little harmless dealing of weed in the back room. The colorful wind socks Caprice l
iked to hang from the front porch were still there, twirling in the breeze.

  “Hard to believe she’s gone.” Evan had come up beside me, echoing my thoughts. “She was quite a character.”

  An involuntary shudder rippled through me. Automatically, I said, “Somebody just walked across my grave.”

  “Don’t say that!” Evan spoke sharply, frowning. “You know I don’t like that kind of stuff.”

  I took his hand and patted him like a child. “Okay, okay. It’s just an old expression. Let’s go.”

  The drive took forever, as usual. Atlanta traffic was a nightmare, particularly after four o’clock in the afternoon, and we had to drive north past downtown to get to the jail. We finally crawled into a parking space about an hour later.

  Fulton County Jail looked every bit as uninviting as it sounded, at least twelve stories of ugly brick surrounded by barbed wire. I’d used the drive time to think about what to say, but I was still clueless. The best I could come up with was to see if they’d let me in to see Mo and hope for the best.

  The lady cop behind the counter at the visitor’s station had other ideas.

  “You’re not on the list.”

  “What list?”

  She gave me a bored look, having obviously been through this too many times to count. “The visitation list for Maurice Brown. He’s got three people on here, and you ain’t one of ’em.”

  I turned to Evan. “What now?”

  He ignored me.

  “Didn’t I see you on Cops last week?” he said. The woman behind the desk fixed him with a baleful stare. “Listen, Officer?” He leaned over to read her badge. “?Ashante, is it? Doesn’t that mean ‘African queen’?” No softening in her expression that I could see, but Evan persevered. “Anyway, we’re friends of his. He just got here late last night?probably didn’t expect to see us today. Isn’t there something you could do? Love the hair, by the way.”

  Since I happened to know Evan thought cornrows were a crime against nature, I kept my mouth shut.

  “Only way to bypass the list is if the watch commander approves it,” she answered grudgingly.

  “Oh, goody.” Evan clapped his hands together like a gay homecoming queen. “Could we see him, please?”