“Excuse me?”
“Zach’s phone. Did you take it?”
“Of course not. I’m not a thief after—”
“Yeah, I know what you are, Darkly. Where was the phone when you left the hotel room?”
“Not sure. I took it away from Zach after I saw he was recording his cute song. Didn’t want anything incriminating on it, after all.”
“I left it by the bed, ma’am,” said Dennis.
“If this is true…the killer took the phone…hired the detective…then killed him.”
“Whatever you say, Ms. LeFevre. Frankly, I don’t understand what you’re even talking about now.”
That makes two of us. I’m not even gonna count Zach.
“What are we doing here, Darkly? Why’d you have Godzilla over there kidnap us?”
“I wanted to find out why Zach did poor Hal in.” She batted goo-goo eyes his way. “And to have Dennis take him down to the police station with his confession.” Her hand slipped under her dress. Zach’s eyes widened. She slipped out a phone from a garter belt riding high on her thigh, everything about her trampy. “But you’re playing hard to get. Guess we’ll let the police do their own work. Pity. I’d hoped to have my name kept out of this. But no one can prove I drugged dear Zach, so I’m not worried. And as you said, Ms. LeFevere…maybe a little publicity wouldn’t hurt my career after all. Dennis? Go to work.” She shooed him on, went back to playing with her phone.
Dennis hunkered into a gorilla stance, arms and legs spread. Clopping his way toward Zach. Zach shot up from the sofa, arms rolling. Warming up. Dancing. Dennis swung a fist. Zach bobbed back, out of arm’s range. Then Zach darted in, speed his weapon, clopped the chauffer’s chin with a punch. The chauffer crashed back against the wall, but remained upright. Zach dove in again, staying low, adjusting for the height difference. A double punch to Dennis’s belly. Jack-hammering, not letting up. Zora’d never admit it to her brother, but his stripper skills finally proved useful for something. Always the show-off, Zach twirled, jacked a foot up. Landed it onto Dennis’s nose. Dazed, Dennis slipped down the wall, holding his nose. Moaning. Really a bad day for the guy.
Darkly watched the scuffle calmly, almost disinterested. High faith in her chauffer’s strength. But she lifted the gun from her lap, a back-up plan. Too bad for her she didn’t notice Zora scoot up beside her.
Zora brought her gun-butt down on Darkly’s head, hard enough to make the blond drop her gun. Quickly, Zora snatched the fallen gun. “Can’t have you playing with toys. Liable to shoot your face off.”
Darkly shook her head, suddenly very tired looking. “This is all pointless, you know. Ms. LeFevre…they’re going to catch you soon. In fact, concerned citizen that I am, I just might call them myself.”
“You really suck at making new friends!” This time Zora brought the gun-butt into Darkly’s face. A couple times. A little too hard, knocked her out cold. Too bad. Zora kinda wanted to inflict more torture.
Still shuffling on his feet, fists up, Zach said, “You rock, sis!”
“And now we gotta roll.” She collected Darkly’s phone and joined her brother, looking down at the laid-out chauffer. “Dennis…Dennis, pay attention now. Please give me your car keys.”
“You broke my noth! I’m not givin’ you—”
“Dennis, don’t make me bring out the enforcer again.” The pepper-spray frightened Dennis more than the gun. Just like all men, for some reason. So stupid, such wimps when it comes to pain.
Dennis shuddered, scooted sideways, reached into his pocket. The keys jangled in his shaking hand.
“Thanks Dennis. Ta-ta for now.” She gave him a pat on the head, almost feeling sorry for him. Then scooted her brother the hell out of there.
Chapter Eight
Zora demanded Zach drive, not that you had to tell him twice. The Caddy felt good, a true prestigious ride. If only his friends could see him, especially that damn Fireman Freddie.
“Who you calling now?”
“Phillip. Shh…. Hey honey… No, not yet. I know, I know… I’ll explain when I get home…. When? Not sure. Soon, I hope.” Zora grimaced, caught her breath. Something big brewing. “Oh, um, do you think you can arrange a ride to go pick up the minivan?… It’s, ah, downtown at… Look, I’m not too happy about it either!… It’s just something important I had to… Yes… Yes, he’s still with me…. Don’t even start. No, don’t you start with me, Phillip!… The longer you keep me on the phone, the longer it’ll take me to get home!… Yes… Enjoy your damn meat loaf! Love you, too!”
Not a whole lotta love evident in the way she shouted that last part, though.
“Phillip having a bad day?” Frankly, Zach didn’t think he had any other kind. Guy should get out more.
“Shut up, Zach.”
“Um, where we going?”
“For now, just far away from your girlfriend’s house.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Really? Hard to tell by the way you were making goo-goo eyes over her.”
“Hey, she’s a looker, what can I say?”
“Get your eyes checked. And have you forgotten she roofied you?”
“Well, I guess there is that.”
“And the little part about how she kidnapped you. And set you up to look like Senator Turlington’s gay lover.”
And then there’s that. I could maybe overlook the other things. Just not the whole gay framing thing.
“Zor, I’m kinda just driving around, you know. On autopilot.”
“Your usual mode of operation.”
“Do you think Selena did it? Killed Turlington?”
“Doubtful. She seemed actually surprised. I bet her acting’s not that good in The Scattering Part 3 or whatever.”
“Huh. Did you get anything useful? Other than stealing a car?”
“I dunno. Maybe. Apparently Darkly never had your phone. Or so she says. And she claims she didn’t hire the detective. There’s someone else involved, someone we’re overlooking. It’s usually the most obvious person.”
“Well, she said Turlington started a new affair with some young hottie. How ‘bout her?”
“Who knows?” Zora’s hands flapped up. “Everyone else seems to have agendas, political or sexual. Could be anyone.”
“Yeah…you know…if I woke up next to a dead girl, we probably wouldn’t be in this mess. So…sorry I got you involved.”
“Gah. You’re telling me you would’ve called the cops if your corpse pal was female?”
“Well…yeah. Duh.”
Smack.
“Dammit! Not while I’m driving, okay?”
“Honestly, Zach, I swear…it’s almost as if you care more about proving you’re not gay than proving your innocence.”
He had to think about that long and hard. A toss-up, really. Both options sucked. “Well…I’m not gay.”
“So you keep saying already! Maybe you protest too much?”
“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“Think about it. Now, shut up. I’m trying to think.”
Cautiously, fearing another head-slap, Zach snuck a glance at his sister. With closed eyes and a wrinkled forehead, she looked in pain. Probably her giving birth look. Still, he had to say it. The way their relationship rolled. Both of them always had to get the last word in. Hedging his bets, he said it fast. “I’m not gay. Really, I’m not.”
Her eyes snapped open. “Wait! Say that again!”
“What? I’ve been saying it all along. And you know it’s true. I’m not gay. Duh.”
“Crap. Oh, crap. So dumb of me.” She turned to face him, quite a chore. “Zach, when did that sketch of you first go up on TV?”
“Um…I don’t know…maybe when we were at that politician’s—what’s his name’s—office? I guess?”
“Let me verify that.” Excited, she searched through her phone, tapped a few buttons.
“Sis? Who you calling?”
“Quiet. Miles, it’s m
e, Zora! Pick up the phone, it’s important!” She cupped a hand over the phone, stage whispered, “He never picks up until he knows who it is. Miles! Hey! No, not yet…but soon, I hope. Got a question for you. You’ve been monitoring the Turlington murder all day, right? Good man… When did the reporters first mention Turlington had slept with a man?”
“I didn’t sleep with—”
“Shh! No, not you, Miles. Sorry. And when did my brother’s sketch first make the rounds? Uh-huh… You sure about that?… No, I didn’t mean to question your complete mastery over the facts… Of course I know you’re a consummate professional…” She quacked her hand, rolled her eyes. “That’s what I need to know. Thanks, Miles, you’re a gem.”
She slapped the phone shut with more force than she’d used all day on Zach’s head. “I know who the killer is, Zach.”
“What?” Instinctively, his foot chunked down on the brake. They turned into a skid, slowed. Stopped. A car passed them, honking. “Who? How?”
“Okay, Miles said your sketch wasn’t released to the local news until mid-afternoon, around two or so.”
“So?”
“And nothing was mentioned about Turlington’s possibly being gay until around the same time. Not a single word.”
“I’m still not following.”
“I know you’re not. Get us out of the middle of the road. Drive.” She pointed toward the windshield. Smiling for a change. A good look on her. “Think, Zach. Who did we talk to this morning? Before the whole gay debacle came to light?”
“Not gay.”
“Who?”
He tugged a lip, remembering. “Crap. Mrs. Turlington!”
“Gold star for my brother!”
“But I don’t know—”
“She said, ‘My husband was out sticking it to some whore. Or man.’”
“Oh…”
“Yep. Not once did she mention she suspected he was gay, bi, whatever. And the media hadn’t wrapped their hands around that fact yet.”
“Um, not a fact—”
“Focus. Why would Mrs. Turlington bring up her husband’s sleeping with a man? Unless she knew what happened. About your involvement.”
“But maybe…he was sleeping with men. You know, as well as women.”
“You’re not building a good case for yourself, Zach!” She held a hand up, lowered her weapon. In too good a mood. “Let’s go end this. Now.”
“To Turlington mansion, Robin?”
“Ah, no. I’m Batman. You’re Robin.”
“But…Robin always wears those kinda gay, green trunks.”
“Oh my God…”
Zora pulled out her gun, opened the chamber, peered inside. Apparently liked what she saw. Grinning, she aimed the gun out the passenger window, faked a recoil. Whispered, “pow.”
Zach considered everything, went over the day, all the interviews, the suspects.
And just like Zora’s gun, his mind’s chamber opened…
*
Something rustled in the darkness. Voices, underwater and garbled. No, his mind drowning. He tried opening his eyes, stubborn as ancient shades. Light trickled in, liquid and stinging. Blurry. Two figures surrounded him, looking down on him. A man and woman. Cat and her driver? No. Maybe. Think about it later. Eyelids so weighty, meaty. Just five more minutes…
Phht, phht, phht…
Someone having gas? No, too machine gun like, rapid-fire. A gun? Why would there be a gun in the hotel room? And, duh, it seemed too quiet for a gun.
Forcing his eyes open, he peeked. Just a crack.
An old woman. A guy in a suit. Holding a gun. Long barrel on it, kinda like what hit men used in movies. A silencer?
“Take the gun and the stripper’s phone with you. Don’t leave anything behind.” A woman’s voice, sorta broken. Or maybe the cracks in his head were leaking his brains out, making her voice sound that way.
Where the hell’d Cat get off to? Never did have our fun. Maybe we did, I dunno.
“Anything else?” The man speaking now. So boring. So lulling.
“That’ll do nicely, Tufty.” The woman’s voice turned soft, speaking in baby talk. Tucking me into bed, her voice a lullaby. “Don’t they just look so sweet together?”
“Yes, ma’am, they do, indeed.”
“Let’s go. Goodbye, Hal.”
The door opened, closed. So did Zach’s eyes.
But something didn’t seem right.
Whatever. Time to worry about it later. Once he woke up from this dream. Weirdest damn dream ever.
EZ Brite, EZ Brite, totally toothy wonderful delight…
*
“…you’re right, Zor. Mrs. Turlington did it. So did Tufts, Turlington’s advisor.”
“What? Now you remember? Now? After everything we’ve been through?”
“Guess that’s the way I roll.”
“Yeah, well, let’s hope your head doesn’t roll on the guillotine.”
He gulped. Envisioning the image. “Um, they don’t still use the guillo—”
“Dammit. I should’ve seen this earlier. I’m off my game, Zach. Too long outta the field.”
“Don’t eat yourself up over it, sis. Could happen to anyone.” He smiled, showed her his EZ Brite enhanced teeth. Irresistible, of course. To everyone but his sister.
“Something seemed off about the whole Mrs. Turlington and Tufts thing. I knew it, just knew it!”
“Think they’re having an affair?”
“Probably. Everyone else wrapped up in this sordid mess is.”
At the top of Mrs. Turlington’s street, Zora shouted, “Stop!”
“What? Why?”
“It’s time to go covert.”
Zora said it like she enjoyed the idea. But Zach didn’t know if his sister was up for it. “But it’s quite a walk for…um…” He looked at her belly, back into her eyes.
“Good God, after everything else we’ve been through today, you’re gonna start in on that? Piece of cake. Let’s go. I’ll show you how I roll.”
As soon as they left the minivan, Zach ran from tree to tree, hiding in the shadows. Waiting for Zora to catch up. Gun in hand, she strolled down the middle of the street, master of the parade. Slaying a serious eye-roll.
“Honestly, Zach, when I said ‘covert,’ I didn’t mean for you to skulk around like a serial killer. I just didn’t want them to see the car’s headlights. Ready? Or you wanna keep playing secret agent?”
Zach followed her to the door. Zora dropped her gun to her side, palming it as best she could. Rang the doorbell.
“This is covert?”
“Quiet. We’ve got surprise in our favor. Shock and awe. And I’m gonna shock the awe outta them.”
Tufts face appeared in a side window. The door opened. Impassive as usual, he stared at them. Holding a hand behind his back.
“Yes? Detectives?” A purr affected his voice, a cat toying with mice.
“Just a few last questions, Mr. Tufts.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry we can’t accept that. Police business.” Zora pushed the door open. Tufts, a blur of gray suit and pale flesh, spun behind her. He grabbed her with an arm around her throat. A gun to her temple.
“For God’s sake,” sputtered Zora, “does everyone have a gun?”
“It’s Kansas.” Tufts shrugged. Displayed his first smile, maybe ever.
“Now. I know you’re not detectives. You’re impersonating the law. Breaking into Mrs. Turlington’s house. I’m well within my legal rights to shoot you. And that’s what I’m going to do.”
“Kick his ass, Zach!” Zora stomped on Tuft’s foot, knocked his gun arm down. His finger squeezed the trigger.
Crack.
The bullet landed in Tuft’s foot. He fell back to the floor, eyes closed, mouth open in a silent scream. Zora hopped away, turned, gun up. Zach dropped on top of Tufts. Tufts held the gun above his head as Zach reached for it.
&nbs
p; “Move, Zach, I can’t shoot him with you on top of him!”
Stronger than he looked, Tufts held onto the gun. Zach bashed the smaller man’s gun hand onto the marble floor, reflexively squeezing off a series of bullets.
Bang, crack, zing…
Down the hallway, a marble bust exploded. Grey shrapnel rained down.
Pink, dink…
Zach slammed Tuft’s hand onto the floor again. The gun spun away, a metallic swirl. Zora ran for it. Bent to pick it up. Couldn’t quite make it. One hand on the wall, she lowered to one knee, retrieved the weapon, and stashed it into her purse.
Zach rolled across the floor with Tufts, trading positions. “I got this, sis! Go! Get Mrs. Turlington!”
“You sure?”
“He’s got a bullet in his…ugh…foot. I can take him. Go!”
“I will…as soon as I can get up.” Zora grabbed a drape, hoisted herself up. “Make him hurt, Zach.” She raced down the hall to the stairwell.
Tufts rolled again, forcing Zach beneath him. He sat astride Zach, his hands squeezing Zach’s throat. “Kill you…I’ll…kill you!”
Zach brought his fist up into Tuft’s exposed throat. Fair play.
Tufts flew back, his head smacking the floor with a sickly wet sound.
Zach rolled away, sprang to his feet. Dancing and bobbing, doing his thing. Fists ready, a foot prepped to launch.
Tufts surprised Zach. Up fast, spreading his weight evenly on planted legs, ignoring the bullet in his foot. “Come on,” Tufts said. “Think you can take me? Let’s see what you’ve got.” He opened his hands, extending his fingers. Did some kinda twirling motion.
Crap. One of those karate guys.
On the balls of his feet, Zach danced closer. Two steps in, one back. Getting acquainted with his dance partner. Tufts spun, his foot coming up.
Tump.
Stunned by the blow to his face, Zach twisted, fighting for balance. Like a cat, he landed gracefully. A dizzy cat. Tufts roared, charged him.
Crik, chok!
Two rapid-fire punches, one to Zach’s chin, the other just above his eye. Zach rolled with the blows, struggling to stay on his feet. Then backed up until the room quit spinning.
Bad Day in a Banana Hammock Page 12