Dumpster Dying

by Lesley A. Diehl

  “You lied to me. You said the gun wasn’t loaded.”

  “I said the gun you picked up wasn’t loaded. I admit I lied about that, but I never said a word about the one I was holding.” She reached out and punched Lucinda on her nose. “That’s for the times you attacked me, but especially for calling my friend a bitch and trying to kill her and her son.”

  Lucinda held her hand to her face as blood poured out of her nose.

  “Lewis,” said Emily.

  “Yep,” he replied.

  “Hand me my gun, would you? I haven’t finished firing, and according to Mr. Pucket, I should discharge the weapon until I know it’s empty.”

  “That’s on the shooting range.”

  “Can’t I shoot at them again? I missed the first two times.”

  Lewis looked at her. It was difficult in this light to tell if she was serious or not. She might have been, or she could have been holding back a good cry.

  “Keep her away from me. She’s nuts,” said Lucinda. Another officer cuffed her and put her into the cruiser beside Lenny. “Look at my hair. And my scalp is burning. And my nose, my perfect nose is ruined. It cost me thousands to get it this way.”

  Emily looked up at Lewis who held the Walther PPK out of reach. “I think she overpaid her plastic surgeon. Can I have my gun, I mean Clara’s gun back now?” she asked.

  “No. Now . . .”

  “I know. Now I have to come down to the station and provide you with a full statement and then you’ll book me for discharging a weapon within the city limits and . . .”

  “No, now you go home and get some sleep before court tomorrow.”

  Emily put her hand to her head. After the adrenaline rush of the shooting, the yelling, and the punching, how could she feel any more exhausted? But she was wrong. The reminder of her appointment before the judge tomorrow made her wish she was a turtle who could sink to the bottom of the river and not come up for air for a very long time. “I almost forgot.”

  Another police cruiser pulled up, and Naomi jumped out.

  “You okay, Mom? What happened here?” Naomi recognized the gun in Lewis’ hand. “You didn’t, uh, you didn’t kill someone, did you?”

  Emily looked at poor Stan sitting at the end of Clara’s drive, his window shot out, one tire mangled, rim on the concrete. She wondered if she’d made a mistake bringing Stan into all of this.

  “He wouldn’t let me,” she said and gestured toward Lewis. “I guess this was the night for the Rhodes women to be packing heat thanks to Clara and son.” Emily and Naomi smiled at one another. Emily leaned over and pulled Naomi to her in a hug.

  “Get out of your car what you’ll need for a few days. I’ll call to have it towed to a garage and give you both a ride back to the park.” Lewis opened the passenger side door of his cruiser for Emily. “And about booking you for discharging your weapon within city limits? Not gonna happen.”

  Finally something tonight was going right. “No?” The corners of her mouth turned up in hopeful grin.

  “No. It’s a five hundred dollar fine.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Nine o’clock came too soon for Emily. She felt as if she had laid her head down on the pillow when her alarm rang. Oh God, I can’t face this. She slammed her hand down on the off button, then rolled her aching body out of bed and stood under a hot shower washing away yesterday’s grime, smoke, fear, and fatigue. What she couldn’t soap away was the feeling that this morning would be no better than yesterday, although she was pretty proud of herself for hitting Lucinda. The broad had it coming.

  Hap met her and Naomi on the steps of the courthouse.

  “Now don’t expect too much,” he said. As they entered the building, she wondered if having no expectations at all was too much.

  As she and Hap sat down, she caught sight of Lewis, Clara, Darren, and Donald taking seats at the back of the room. Vicki entered and, when she couldn’t find a vacant chair, Donald offered his. Maybe I’ve got little money and no home, but I’ve got my friends here to support me. Maybe that’s enough. Then she thought about Stan. My poor car. I’m partly responsible for the damage, and there’s no money to pay for repairs.

  Carolyn and her lawyer entered only seconds before the judge. Carolyn raised her hands and smoothed back her luxuriant long black tresses much as a cat might preen itself by rubbing a paw over whiskers and ears. She decided she wasn’t being fair, comparing Carolyn to an innocent cat. More like an alligator throwing his prey over his snout. Yeah, that’s it.

  The judge sat and banged his gavel, unnecessary theatrics from Emily’s perspective since everyone in the courtroom was already silent and awaiting his judgment.

  “This is an unique case,” he said, “And while I might be tempted by the unusual circumstances of the grieving partner to grant her the entire estate of her lover,” he coughed when he used the word, “especially given the wealth of the ex-wife, I must obey the law.” Emily groaned silently.

  Hap picked up on her despair. He reached for her hand.

  The judge continued. “The estate goes to the former Mrs. Costa as stipulated in the will, but the house will go to Ms. Rhodes. There is sufficient evidence,” he held up papers provided by Emily, “to support her contention that she shared in purchasing the property.” He looked down at Emily from the bench. “You must, of course, continue to make the monthly mortgage payments.”

  “Well, I’ll be darned,” said Hap. “The old curmudgeon does have a heart. Less than we wanted, my girl, but far more than he’s ever given in such cases before.”

  Carolyn’s mouth dropped open, and she jumped to her feet while her lawyer attempted to pull her back down.

  “Your honor, that’s ridiculous. I should get everything, including the house.”

  The judge banged his gavel. “Get your client under control. I rather thought you might say that so I’ve added a stipulation. If you contest this ruling, you will be required to pay all legal fees out of your ex-husband’s estate. And let me tell you, there’s not a lot of money there for you and your attorney to split.”

  Attorney Brookfield whispered in her ear while he held her arm to prevent her from rising. She shook off his hand. “But it’s all mine. The will says so.”

  “If you want to go for all of it, you may end up with nothing,” said the judge. Brookfield shook his head in agreement.

  “A wise decision then,” said Judge Miller. The bailiff approached the bench and whispered to the judge who looked surprised for a moment, then nodded his head. The doors of the courtroom opened to let in several men wearing blue jackets with “Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms” emblazoned in yellow letters across the back. They approached Brookfield.

  “You’re under arrest for trafficking in illegal drugs.” They slapped cuffs on the astonished lawyer and led him from the courtroom. On his way through the doors, he struggled with the officers and glanced wildly around the room. “Call my attorney, Ignatious Palatier.” he said.

  The larger of the two agents said, “I’m sorry, sir, but if you want to retain him as your legal representative, you’ll have to meet with him at the jail. We’ll see that the two of you share lock-up until bail is determined.”

  “What was that all about?” asked Emily. She, Hap, and all her friends gathered in front of the courthouse.

  Detective Lewis strode down the steps and approached the group, overhearing her question. “The feds have been investigating grow houses in this area for several months, trying to get at the people behind the operation. Mr. Brookfield’s name came up when the feds convinced Palatier to wear a wire in exchange for immunity for the part he played in the operation.”

  Hap chuckled. “I’ll bet like everything Ignatious did, his involvement was small potatoes, right?”

  “Right. With so many houses in foreclosure, Brookfield purchased them for very little money, not in his own name, of course, and set them up as grow houses. Very lucrative. Very illegal. The man has an ego the size of Texas.” Lewis smiled.
It was the first time since they’d had coffee together that Emily had seen a real look of pleasure on his face. She was happy for him. She touched his sleeve and smiled up into his face, then blushed at her behavior. Lewis returned her look and his face reddened also.

  He cleared his throat and continued. “But there was an unexpected outcome of Ignatious’ cooperation. The feds picked up Ignatious paying Toby to do dirty work for your trial, Emily. Digging up anything that could be used to impugn your character. Even coffee with me. Brookfield leaned on Palatier to find someone to do the work, and Toby was willing. We used that information to get Toby talking about the money given to Weston Quigley to lie about you and Marcus. And about Toby’s other off-the-books work.”

  “Did Carolyn know anything about this?” asked Emily.

  “No,” said Lewis.

  “It appears she has lousy instincts when it comes to hiring lawyers,” said Hap.

  “Toby’s going to be one of our best witnesses when Lucinda and Lenny come to trial for Marcus’ murder. They’ve been pointing fingers at one another. Without Toby’s testimony along with Lenny’s, Lucinda might walk.” Lewis chuckled. “At least she’s stopped talking about suing you for assault and battery, Emily.”

  “And even if she did, I’d hit her all over again. She hated Marcus, didn’t she?”

  “I don’t think she thought much about him. Marrying him gave her the ranch, which she was managing while he drank himself across the county. She considered it more expeditious to do her work with him out of the way,” Lewis said.

  “Cold, the woman was cold. She probably had to thermo-regulate for hours before she had enough energy to put on her make-up,” said Clara.

  “What do you mean?” asked Naomi.

  “Like an alligator sitting in the sun so he can warm up enough to move,” said Emily. “She felt right at home in these swamps.”

  She turned to Clara. “So, is my job at the golf course secure? I’ve got to remortgage the house so I can afford the monthly payments. Oh, and I almost forgot, I’ll have to get Stan back on his feet. I think he needs a new shoe, er, tire.”

  “You may be hired as manager for the restaurant and bar. I’m going to be busy working out the legal intricacies of securing Darren’s father’s estate,” said Clara.

  “And I’ll be second counsel on this,” said Hap. He turned to Emily. “I know this is not all you wanted or needed, but it was the best Judge Miller could work out given his philosophy of jurisprudence.”

  “I know you did your best.”

  Hap smiled. What little secret was Hap covering up with that smile? Something to do with Judge Miller, Emily bet.

  “Got a minute?” asked Clara. She nodded toward a bench near a live oak tree.

  Once Emily and Clara were away from the others, Clara said, “I think I owe you an apology.”

  “For what?”

  “For not being more honest with you, but . . . “

  “You were trying to protect me like you protected Darren or thought you did.”

  “I came back from the coast thinking I could get to the truth of Morton’s death, but I never did. I knew I couldn’t let on who Darren’s father was. It was better Darren believe Eddie was his dad. Eddie did his best. He was a generous guy in some ways. He couldn’t seem to find work that didn’t involve stealing or doing something illegal. But he’d never kill anyone.”

  “I thought the picture I found looked like Marcus and for a while I thought he was Darren’s father.”

  Clara’s mouth fell open. “What?”

  “Only for a minute or so. Then I figured it out. You must have loved Morton very much to leave your practice on the coast and come back here.”

  “I did adore that man. The best cowman in the county. He could ride, he could shoot, he could rope, and he could knock a fly off a Brahma’s horn with his bull whip at fifty feet.” Clara’s face grew soft and her eyes gentle. “Best of all, he could make love like no other man I ever met. He was one hell of a man. And if you’re wondering, there never was anything between Neville Landry and me.” She paused.

  “No, of course not,” said Emily.

  “Morton had his flaws, like all men.” She gave Emily a significant look. “He was far too trusting of everyone, including his brother. In the end, I wasn’t able to prove anything about Marcus’ involvement in Morton’s death.”

  “Marcus couldn’t have chosen a better mate than Lucinda, both as deadly as a wild boar in a palmetto thicket.”

  “Right, but her having him killed still leaves us with the question of whether or not he killed Morton.”

  “You knew both of them. What do you think?”

  Clara didn’t hesitate to answer. “Marcus killed his brother.”

  “We’ll have to leave it like that then.”

  Clara sighed, raised her eyes to the far horizon, and gazed down the shady street toward the pavement’s end and the beginning of pasture land with its scattering of sabal palms. “I love it here, and I surely didn’t like the fast-paced life in West Palm. And it wouldn’t have been good for Darren.”

  “We try to do what’s best or our children, but it doesn’t always work out that way,” Emily said.

  “Your daughter seems to be level-headed.” Clara laughed. “Now that’s she’s gotten over her propensity for marrying abusive cops. Speaking of which, how about you and cops? Or is it, bass fishermen?”

  Emily shot Clara a dismissive look. “Darren’s doing okay, too,” she said instead.

  “Yeah, not bad, given his lack of parenting while growing up. I wasn’t a very attentive mother, Emily.”

  “Me either.” Emily smiled, and Clara let out the bark of a laugh, reached out, and enveloped Emily in a hug.

  “Anyway, I’ll try to be more trusting in the future. There is one thing, however,” Clara said as the two of them walked back to join the others.

  “What?”

  “I’ll let you keep the Walther PPK if you promise to take good care of it, clean it thoroughly after you fire it, and practice once in a while.”

  “You don’t think my aim was accurate last night?”

  “Desperate beginner’s luck.”

  “We were worried the two of you had some kind of a score to settle, but the smiles on your faces say otherwise. So everything’s fine?” asked Hap.

  “As fine as it can be given the judge’s ruling. Listen, can someone give me a ride over to Stan? I need to pull out all that stuff in the back seat. I think it’s about time I donated Fred’s old clothes to charity,” said Emily.

  “I’ll help,” offered Naomi.

  Later that day Emily and Naomi surveyed the pile of men’s clothes dumped in the center of the living room floor at Emily’s house.

  “We could have dropped off all these clothes at Goodwill, but no. You insisted we bring them back here and go through them,” said Emily.

  “There might be money in the pockets, you know. I guess I can use all the cash I can get.”

  They fished around in all the pockets. With only several pairs of pants and one sport jacket to go, their search yielded them a paltry ten dollars in ones and some change, mostly pennies.

  “This is silly,” said Emily. She picked up the jacket. “Ah, wait. It feels like there’s a wad of bills in the inside pocket.” But to her dismay she extracted not greenbacks, but folded papers bound by heavier stock. On it, written in Fred’s hand, was a note. It read, “Happy birthday, honey. I should have done this long ago, but here you are. Love, Fred.”

  Emily unfolded the papers. At the top were the words, “Last Will and Testament.” It was dated several months before Fred died.

  “What is it?” asked Naomi.

  Emily was too numb to react. “A birthday gift from Fred.”

  “When was your birthday?”

  Emily thought back to Fred’s death. The days, weeks, and months after it were so filled with anxiety and uncertainty that she forgot her birthday came a mere week after Fred’s funeral. She told
Naomi the date and then handed the papers to her.

  Naomi scanned the document. “This is quite a present. It looks to me as if he left everything to you. And the will must be legal. It’s witnessed, dated, and there’s a lawyer’s address in West Palm on it. We’d better get in touch with Hap and have him contact the lawyer on your behalf.”

  Emily found it difficult to focus on the will and what it meant for her. Instead, she thought back to when Fred was alive. “I think I remember the day Fred must have done this. He said he was going to the coast to buy me a birthday present, but I forgot all about it with his death and all. He left the document in his pocket.” Emily sank down onto the couch with a blank expression on her face. She felt . . . What did she feel?

  “Oh, Fred,” she said.

  “Sweet of him,” said Naomi. “He was thinking about your well-being after all.”

  Emily reached down into the feelings tumbling around in her center. “The rat! “Sweet” is not what I’m experiencing, not after all the trouble I’ve gone to trying to prove my right to our house, our car, our money, the smarmy lawyer, the humiliation of having Carmen best me in court, the degradation of having the community see me as a scarlet woman.” As quickly as she condemned Fred for his forgetfulness, her anger took a U-turn.

  “Why couldn’t I have had my birthday before Fred died?” Emily could see Fred’s eyes twinkle with joy as he handed her the will all tied up in a white box with red ribbon. Another jerk of the emotional steering wheel. “It was so hot the day he decided to go jogging, the idiot!” And then a yank in the other direction, “I should have stopped him.”

  Naomi wrapped her arms around her mother, and they sat on the couch for the next hour, Emily sobbing endlessly into the tissues Naomi handed her while the two rocked back and forth.

  “You know it wasn’t your fault. And it wasn’t Fred’s fault he died either.”

  “I know. I guess I pushed all those awful feelings aside. I was too busy trying to figure out how to keep the house and how to pay my bills. Kind of sneaked up on me. Sorry.”