Kendra Clayton Mystery Box Set

by Angela Henry

  “Ted Adamson,” he said, extending a hand, which I shook.

  “I guess I’ll be seeing you around, Vanessa,” I said with meaning.

  Vanessa turned her phony smile up a notch and replied, “Just contact Ms. Gibson and I’m sure she’ll answer any questions you still may have.”

  “Nice meeting you,” I told her friend and left. I saw that Ted Adamson’s car had vanity tags that read “drted.” Dr. Ted. How goofy can you get? I figured that this must be the Adamson that I’d heard the nurses at the hospital talking about. I wondered if he was the reason Vanessa had left Carl. He certainly looked like a man who could buy a house in Pine Knoll. I wondered how he would handle it if he knew that his sweetheart had been sleeping with her landlady’s boyfriend. Not well I’d bet. He’d take his money and run. I wondered what lengths Vanessa would go to keep her involvement with Jordan a secret.

  As I drove away, a thought suddenly came to me. I pulled my car into the alley that ran between Archer Street and River Avenue and got out. I walked quickly down the alley until I got to the fence that led into the backyard of Bernie’s house. The fence was high enough that anyone approaching the house from the alley would have to open the gate to see through the yard to the driveway. I pushed the gate slightly and it opened enough for me to see into the backyard. The gate that led to the backyard from the driveway was almost completely obscured by overgrown hedges. I couldn’t even see the car in the driveway from where I was, which answered another question. The killer had to have figured that Vanessa was at work and had approached the house from the alley, not noticing that her car was parked in the driveway. But if the killer was Vanessa or someone she had been in cahoots with, it wouldn’t matter whether there was a car in the driveway. I looked around the alley and saw that some of the other houses behind Bernie’s didn’t have fences as high as hers. I wondered if anyone in those houses had seen anything the morning Jordan was murdered. I knew just how I could find out. But I’d have to wait until Monday to put my plan into effect.

  I went home and cleaned my apartment. I usually tried to clean it once a week, whether it needed it or not, and today it needed it—badly. I lay down on the couch afterward for a couple of hours, trying to catch up on some of the lost sleep from the night before. I dreamed that I was in the house on Archer staring down at Jordan’s body. But instead of his head being all smashed and bloody, he just looked like he was sleeping. I heard a noise behind me and turned to see a person walking slowly toward me. As they came closer, I could see the person had no face. I tried to scream but couldn’t. I turned to run and someone grabbed my leg. I looked down and it was Jordan. His head looked like a smashed melon, and he had a viselike grip on my leg.

  I woke with a start. I’d never been prone to bad dreams. This one had been enough to last me a lifetime. I lay there a while, almost too afraid to move. My heart was hammering hard. I’ve always considered myself to be a pretty straight arrow when it came to obeying the law. I’ve never even gotten a parking ticket. But I knew the nightmare came from my guilt over lying to the police. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep it to myself. After a few minutes, I calmed down and looked at the clock. I jumped up after realizing I was supposed to meet Gigi for lunch in fifteen minutes. I had just enough time to fix my hair and put lipstick on. I was never so happy to get out of my apartment.

  My lunch companion was already seated when I got to Estelle’s. Gwen was wearing her diva wig and had a funky look on her face. I knew something was up, so I didn’t try and engage her in any small talk.

  Gigi was her usual bubbly self. She’d brought a picture album with her. My bad dream was soon forgotten as we started reminiscing and going through the album. There where a lot of pictures of us from high school. Gigi and I had been acquaintances all throughout our school years. It wasn’t until our senior year in high school that we became good friends. This was mainly because she tutored me in algebra and because Lynette was too busy being in love with Lamont Gaines to be a good friend to anybody.

  “This is my husband, Mitch,” she said, pointing to a picture of a muscular brown-skinned man with glasses and a lopsided grin.

  “And this is our baby, Sasha. She’ll be two this fall.” Sasha had Gigi’s dimples and big brown eyes and her daddy’s smile.

  It would be impossible not to notice how happy Gigi was to be a wife and mother. I guess she finally found an identity she could stick with. I wondered if I’d ever feel that way. Not that it mattered much at the moment. I instantly thought about Carl and wondered what kind of a father he’d be. I quickly pushed the thought out of my mind. I’d only been out with the man once and was already wondering about his potential as a father.

  “So, what’s your last name now?” I asked.

  “Lewis, Mrs. Mitchell Lewis. What about you, Kendra? Are you seeing anyone special? I’m surprised you’re not married by now.”

  “You sound like my grandmother. I met someone last week. We’ve been out once. I’d like to see him again. He just got a divorce, so he may not want to get involved again so soon.”

  I told her all I dared about Carl and left out the part about him being possibly linked to a murder. That wouldn’t be an easy thing to gloss over. I’ve been known to sugarcoat the men in my life. Unemployed became he’s deciding what job offer he’s going to take; chubby became he’s a big guy just like I like ‘em; opinionated became he’s very passionate about the things he cares about. What the hell could I say about murder?

  Our food came and we put away the album. I dug into my tuna melt. It was a specialty at Estelle’s and my favorite thing on the menu.

  “Well, it’s up to you to make him want to get involved, Kendra. You’ve got a lot to offer. When I met Mitch, I knew he was the one, and I set out to make him see that we’d be good together. You’ve got to do the same thing,” she said with her mouth half full of chicken salad.

  “How’d you two meet?” I asked to change the subject. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s friends who have found love and think they’re experts on romance.

  “I got into an accident over in Dayton a few years ago. A woman ran a stop sign and slammed into the passenger side of my car. I was shaken up, but she was banged up pretty bad. Mitch was one of the paramedics on the scene. Those biceps and his take-charge attitude got me all hot and bothered. Girl, I was trying to faint so I could get some mouth to mouth! I slipped him one of my business cards—that’s back when I was selling Amway. He called a couple of days later and the rest is history.”

  A paramedic. I should have known that’s why she was in the medical profession. I guess she was still the same old Gigi after all. We ate in silence. I looked up after a while and saw her staring at me.

  “Well, aren’t you going to tell me?” she asked almost indignantly.

  “Tell you what?”

  “You know, Kendra, the murder. The paper said you were there. What happened?” She was practically whispering, and her eyes were glittering with anticipation.

  Most people I’d encountered since the murder had had the good grace not to ask. Now, my bad dream came roaring back into focus, making me close my eyes and shudder slightly. I instantly lost my appetite for the rest of my sandwich, which isn’t an easy feat when it comes to food and me.

  “Kendra, I’m sorry. I’m so damned tactless at times. Mitch is always telling me my mouth is going to get me in trouble one day.”

  “Well, don’t worry,” I said, taking a sip of my iced tea and pulling myself together. “Today’s not that day. You just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

  “It’s just so unreal, you know? Besides,” she said with a wicked gleam in her eyes, “I know something that I bet the police don’t even know.”

  “What?”

  She looked around dramatically, making sure no one was listening. The only people sitting near us were two blue-haired old ladies having pie and coffee three booths down from us. They looked ill at ease, like they were afraid a pack of rabid college
students might attack them at any moment.

  “You have to promise me you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to say, ‘cause I could lose my job. This is confidential information. Promise me.”

  “I promise, Gigi, just tell me!”

  “I don’t know about now, but as of about a month ago, Vanessa Brumfield was pregnant.”

  “What!” I screeched. I almost knocked over my iced tea.

  My screech coincided with a blast of music from the jukebox, shattering the peace and quiet of the restaurant. George Clinton’s “Atomic Dog” thumped loudly, causing the two old ladies, who were now convinced all hell was about to break loose, to toss money on the table and scurry from the restaurant, probably vowing never to stray from Denny’s again.

  “Are you sure, Gigi? Did you hear this at the hospital?”

  “I was the one who ran the test. Her doctor sent blood work to the lab for a bunch of tests about a month ago. One was a standard pregnancy test. It was positive. I didn’t even realize it was her until I saw her in the cafeteria a few days later. I didn’t know her married name until I saw her nametag. I’d just started working at the hospital. Of course she pretended like she didn’t recognize me. We were in all the same college prep classes together, plus National Honor Society. I couldn’t help but look at her stomach. She wasn’t showing at all.”

  She certainly didn’t look pregnant when I’d seen her earlier in the day. I was shocked but not surprised. It made a lot of sense when I thought about it. I had wondered why Vanessa would take off for a weekend to “stay with friends” when her father was so ill. Especially since they’d recently reconciled. Now I knew why. Vanessa went away to have an abortion. It made perfect sense. But whose baby was it? Jordan’s, Ted Adamson’s, or God forbid, Carl’s? She was involved with Adamson and Jordan. Had she been involved with both men at the same time?

  Had she and Carl had one last roll in the hay for old times’ sake before the divorce was final? Had that been what Gwen’s friend Myra had seen them arguing about? Maybe Carl had thought it meant something while Vanessa didn’t. I wondered who else could have known she was pregnant. Did she go to the same abortion clinic she used to work at? Could her stalker, Russ Webster, have found out and lay in wait for her in the house and killed Jordan by mistake? That still didn’t explain what Jordan was doing in the house in the first place.

  “Do you happen to know how far along she was?” I asked.

  “No, I don’t know anything about that.”

  “Have you told anybody else?”

  “Are you crazy? I shouldn’t have told you. Just make sure this stays between us, got it?”

  Gigi finished up her lunch and we made plans to get together in the future. After she left, I sat and drank another iced tea. Gwen came over and sat with me.

  “This may be my last day working in this place,” she said melodramatically with her arms crossed. I’d heard this statement at least a million times. Gwen gets pissed at Alex and threatens to quit. Alex sweet-talks Gwen and she stays. I wondered what had happened this time.

  “What’s up, Gwen?”

  “Either your uncle fires that little troll or I’m outta here for real this time! I don’t know why I stay here anyway. Bruce offered me a job doing nails full time at the shop. Even offered to pay for me to go to school to refresh my skills since it’s been so long since I’ve done them professionally.” Gwen had been a manicurist about twenty years ago and always acted like it had been the career of a lifetime.

  “What did Joy do this time?” I should have known it had something to do with Joy.

  “I have plans tonight. Tonight is Myra’s niece Shelly’s bachelorette party. She’s getting married next weekend. Myra’s rented out the party room at the Red Dragon. They’re even gonna have male strippers. I got a million things to do before tonight and that little tramp decides she ain’t comin’ in tonight. She called and said something came up and she has things to do. That’s the second time this week she’s pulled this shit. Alex just shakes his head and says he’ll talk to her, and then when she comes in he don’t say jack to her. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say something was going on between them.”

  I wasn’t even going to touch that one.

  “What time does the party start?”

  “Eight o’clock.”

  I looked at my watch. It was almost three. “If I come back at four and work until closing, will you work Monday for me?”

  “Yeah, girl. You know you can count on me. Thanks, Kendra, you’re a lifesaver.” She got up to greet a party of five. Her mood was greatly improved. “Oh, by the way,” she said, turning back to me. “I got that graduation program of Ed’s you asked me about. I’ll slip it in your locker on Monday. Just make sure you give it back. Ma’s real sentimental about that kinda stuff.”

  I’d told Gwen when I asked her earlier that I had a friend who was trying to track down someone they graduated from Morehouse with back in 1976 and needed to find the exact spelling of the guy’s name. She bought it and didn’t ask any questions. I left the restaurant and tried not to feel like such a sucker. I don’t know why Gwen didn’t just come out and ask me to work for her in the first place. It’s what she wanted all along anyway. But at least I had all day Monday to stick my nose where it didn’t belong.

  Business had picked up a little by six. The restaurant was almost half full. Alex was in his office. He and Gwen had had an argument before she left to go get ready for the party. I’d heard muffled shouts behind the closed door. Alex hadn’t come out since. I wondered if Joy was aware of all the problems she was causing. I still couldn’t imagine what she and Jordan could have been arguing about. Could it have been about bad service? Did Joy treat Jordan badly when he’d come into the restaurant? Was it something a free dessert couldn’t fix and when he saw her in the park, he decided to give her a piece of his mind?

  By eight o’clock, the restaurant was almost empty again except for a large party of teenagers that was spending the weekend at the college for early freshman orientation. Music blaring out of the jukebox and loud laughter made it seem as if the place was bursting at the seams with customers. Business would pick up again in another week when summer session started at the college. I told one of the servers to cover for me. I went back to see if I could pry Alex out of his office to keep me company while I had my break. I got two bottles of root beer out of the big fridge in the kitchen and knocked on the office door.

  “It’s open,” he called out.

  I opened the door and walked in. Alex’s office is decorated in what I like to call principal office chic. He’d gotten his big gray metal desk and hard wooden chairs when the school board had had an auction of old classroom furniture. There was even a small blackboard on the wall behind his desk with work schedules written on it. An outdated Macintosh computer sat on one corner of the desk. He refused to buy a new computer, insisting that what he had suited his needs just fine. Black plastic letter trays stacked four high sat in the opposite corner. There were two metal bookcases filled with books on accounting for small businesses, restaurant management, cookbooks, and Walter Mosley and Stephen King novels. There wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. He kept his office like he wished he could keep his life, orderly. Being involved with Gwen didn’t leave much room for order. They had almost nothing in common. I figured the sex must really be good. He looked up at me, or rather peered at me, over the tops of his glasses.

  “Everything okay out there?”

  “Just fine.” I set his root beer down on his desk. When I was a little girl, Allegra and I would spend just about every weekend with Mama and Grandpa. Alex was still living at home then. I used to wait until Allie and my grandparents were asleep and then sneak downstairs, and Alex and I would watch low-budget scary movies and eat popcorn and drink root beer.

  “So, what are you doing all closed up back here?”

  “Trying to put together some new specials. I was thinking maybe some new specialty salads like a cheeseb
urger one with ground beef and cheese with toasted-bun croutons. What do you think?” I could tell he didn’t want to talk about Gwen.

  “Sounds good,” I lied. “You think maybe we could hire another hostess? Someone to maybe fill in when one of us can’t come in. It’s getting harder and harder to spread the three of us around, especially when Joy ups and decides at the last minute not to come in.”

  “Actually, Debbie came in and talked to me yesterday. She’s pregnant and doesn’t want to be a server anymore with all the heavy lifting. But she can’t afford not to work. She’s going to start hostessing next week.”

  “Did you tell Gwen?”

  “Yeah, I told her. But she’s not going to be happy until I fire Joy. To tell you the truth, the way I’m feeling right now, if Gwen wants to quit and join the wild wacky world of nail sculpture, then so be it. I’m tired of all the bitching,” he said with the sarcasm that everyone in the family swears I’ve inherited from him. “Besides, it might just help our relationship if we stopped working together.”

  I was stunned. Not just by what he said but by the fact that he’d said it at all. Alex isn’t one to confide in anyone, least of all me. He kept everything inside and dealt with it in his own way. He must really be fed up to have made a statement like that. Unless, of course, Gwen was right and there was something between Alex and Joy. I shuddered to think that there could be.

  “You’d rather see Gwen quit than fire Joy?”

  “It’s not just Joy. There are other problems. Joy is just adding fuel to the fire.”

  “Are you pleased with the job Joy’s doing? How many free desserts have you had to give away because of her funky attitude?”

  “I’m just trying to give the kid a chance. She’s had it rough. Her mother committed suicide when she was fifteen. She went to live with her aunt. But she didn’t have much time for her because she was working two jobs to keep her own kids in college. When I first interviewed Joy for the hostessing job, I didn’t hire her. She must have lied to her aunt and told her she got the job because her aunt called me and thanked me for giving her niece a chance. Then she told me about Joy’s background, so I called her back and hired her. I don’t know if I was suckered or not, but the girl has a king-size chip on her shoulder about something. She never talks about her family. So, I figured it must all be true.”