Hearing my voice, the two animals trotted into the dining room and sat beside my chair. Well, Martini, who looked like Elvis, fell over on her side and fell asleep. Philby scowled down at Leonard, the world's sweetest dog, and knocked my spoon onto his head. Leonard, a favorite victim of the feline dictator, whimpered and walked into the living room to his favorite sunny spot on the floor. Martini woke up and followed him, collapsing on his head facedown, asleep, providing the dog with a cat hat.
I looked at Philby. "Come on. What gives? You're a regular tyrant today."
Philby stared at me. She rose up in her scary cat, arched back pose and paced along the edge of the table in hopes of intimidating me. It might have worked if she hadn't fallen to the floor when her basketball-like figure overwhelmed her sense of balance. With a grunt, she raced out of the room toward the kitchen.
I didn't have time for this. I got dressed, made sure the comic book was still in my bag, and headed for the county jail. I needed to tell the guys that I'd secured an attorney, so they'd know her name when she called them. As it was just about lunchtime, I figured I didn't have much time to lose.
Five minutes later, I pulled up to the county jail and got out of the car. Standing on the curb was one of my sisters-in-law.
"Ronni?" I got out of the car and walked toward her, risking having my head bitten off by Rex's angry sister. "Is that you?"
Randi and Ronni were Rex's older sisters. They were identical twins who'd been in the anthropomorphic taxidermy business for years now. If you wanted a marmot opera singer performing in front of an audience of Edwardian squirrels in black tie or a diorama of an aardvark Al Capone fighting a lamprey Eliot Ness (one of my favorites, actually), they were the ones to call.
Normally, the twins were complete opposites of each other. Randi was sweet, dressed nicely, and wore makeup. Ronni was always furious and looked like a slovenly, angry gnome with troll hair. But this was…otherworldly.
Ronni was wearing makeup. Her hair was neatly groomed, and she was wearing a dress. The only thing that made me think it was her was the permanent scowl etched into her face that directed seething scorn at her favorite target. Me.
Ronni snorted. "I don't know why you'd say something that stupid! Of course it's me!"
Randi appeared, making me relax as I realized that all hell had not. in fact, frozen over.
"Hi, Merry!" She smiled warmly as she held a plate piled high with cookies. "Why are you here?"
"I'm visiting someone…" I wondered how much to tell the twins. "A pair of old friends."
Randi wiggled her eyebrows. "Us too. Only they're a pair of new friends." She winked at her sister.
"You're here to visit someone? Are you sure you aren't thinking of the police department?" After all, there were only two inmates in the county jail, and I…
Wait…
"No, we're in the right place!" Randi handed the tray of cookies to her sister, who grimaced as if she was holding a plate of snakes. Of course, then she'd probably just kill and stuff them.
"You—" I wasn't quite sure how to say this. "You know Ron and Ivan?"
Randi nodded. "We bring cookies to the jail from time to time. Usually we go to Rexley's jail, but he doesn't have anyone right now, so we came by here yesterday and met Ron and Ivan!"
The cookies must've still been warm because I could smell them. I really wanted to swipe one, but Ronni was holding them, and I wasn't sure I'd get my arm back.
"And you're back again today?"
Randi read my mind and took a cookie, handing it to me. Then she munched one and handed another to her sister, who refused.
"I'm watching out for my girlish figure!" she growled with fury.
"Let me get this straight," I said after swallowing the best cookie I'd ever eaten. "You came here yesterday and met my friends. And you're back today? Why?"
Ronni scowled even harder. "Because they're our fiancés, you idiot!"
All time seemed to stand still as I tried to process this new information. The twins and the Chechens? Seriously? Were they planning to be prison pen pals if the charges went south? Did that mean Ron and Ivan would be my brothers-in-law?
My brain promptly exploded.
"Now, Ronni," Randi warned. "It's not like Ron has proposed to you…"
"It was implied!"
"How…" I was regaining the power of speech. "What did Ron say, exactly?" If those two were trifling with my sisters-in-law just to get their green cards, I was going to murder them.
Ronni ran a hand through her hair. "You know nothing about romance!" And then she flounced—she literally flounced—through the doors and into the building.
"Have Ivan and Ron given you the impression…" I started to say. If those two were leading the twins on, I was going to pull my lawyer and let them rot.
"No, dear." Randi patted my arm. "They just said they wanted to marry us someday. No sense for alarm." She walked around me and into the county jail.
I stood there staring at the door for ten minutes.
Randi and Ivan? Ronni and Ron? In what alternate dimension was that okay?
For some reason, I didn't want to go in there and witness the Chechens canoodling with my sisters-in-law. So I waited for twenty minutes until the women came out with an empty plate. The women were smiling. Ronni was smiling.
"I'm going to push for a summer wedding!" she shouted angrily at her sister. "I've always wanted to be a June bride!"
"Yes." Randi had a faraway look in her eyes.
And they didn't seem to notice me at all as they got into their car and drove away.
My turn.
"Mrs. Ferguson," Deputy Grimes mumbled before pushing the button to let me in, his finger holding his place in a pulpy-looking science fiction novel.
Ron and Ivan ran to the bars, happy to see me. Ron wiped crumbs from his face as he grinned. "Merry! Big news!"
"Hey!" Ivan groused from the cell opposite him. "I get to tell!"
"No," Ron insisted. "You got to tell good news last time."
"That was in 2015!" Ivan shook his head.
"Guys!" I sliced through the air with my right hand. "You can't marry Randi and Ronni!"
Ron's smile faded. "You knew?" He glared at Ivan. "You told!"
How could Ivan have told me? They were seeing me for the first time since yesterday, before the twins appeared in their lives.
Ivan shook his head. "I did not! She must have found out some other way! She is a spy!"
"I found out," I said loudly, "because I ran into the twins on the way in."
"You know them?" Ivan seemed incredulous.
"It is small town, dummy!" Ron replied. "Everyone knows everyone."
"Blasto Blasto is smaller." Ivan sniffed.
"Enough!" I yelled. "Yes, I know them. They are my husband's sisters!"
Ivan and Ron smiled ecstatically.
"You will be our sister!" Ron did a little jig in his cell.
"Like you were in Chechnya!" Ivan added.
Both men reached their arms through the bars toward me but met with empty air because I was just out of reach. So they gave me a sort of air hug.
"I wasn't your sister in Chechnya," I insisted.
"We thought you were." Ron nodded. "And now, little sister, you help us with lawyer."
Ivan cut in. "Who is very nice, by the way."
Ron agreed. "Very nice. We like Miss Jane."
I paused. "You've seen her? She was here?" Wow. Jane Monaghan wasn't messing around.
"Yes! And she says we will get off." Ron frowned. "Which made us wonder because it sounds dirty."
Ivan nodded. "It was strange to think that she was going to…"
"Stop! It means something different in the legal system. It means to get you off the hook for murder."
"They hang you on a hook if you murder someone?" Ivan turned pale.
I closed my eyes. "No. It's just an expression. They don't literally hang you on a hook."
"Oh!" both men said simulta
neously, before Ron said, "I thought maybe you sent us a lawyer who was also a prostitute."
My jaw dropped. "What? Of course I wouldn't do that! She's a lawyer, not a prostitute! They aren't the same thing at all!"
"They are in Chechnya," Ivan said. "Very normal there."
I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it.
"I am glad to hear it," Ron said. "Would have been weird to have little sister send us a prostitute."
"I," I said through clenched teeth, "didn't send you a prostitute!"
"No," Ivan grinned. "You sent us our soulmates instead!"
"No. I. Didn't." There was no way I was taking credit or the fall for that.
"And talented soulmates." Ron produced, seemingly from thin air, a pair of taxidermy shrews with little wigs that resembled his and Ivan's hair. They had little T-shirts over bulging muscles. One read, I'm Randi's. The other one said, I'm Ronni's, dammit!
"How did you get those?" I moved closer to study them. "They can't bring you stuff like that! And I didn't see them carry it in."
Ron gave me a sheepish smile. "That's because Ronni smuggled them in in her…"
"Nope!" I cut him off. "I don't want to know. Ever."
"You are our guardian angel!" Ivan said. "You kill Wally. Bring us lawyer."
"Who is not a prostitute," Ron pointed out.
"And future brides! We will name our first children after you."
For a brief moment, I pictured two toddlers named Merry. One with a sweet smile and another one with a scowl and a rock in her hand to bash me on the head.
"Back to Jane." I changed the subject. "What else did she say?"
Ron shrugged. "She just asked for our story. We told her we were with you when Wally died."
Ivan piped up, "She did ask what we were doing before we talked to you."
Oh. My. God. I'd never thought to ask them that. I was so caught up in the timeline that I hadn't even asked the most basic of questions.
"What did you say?"
"That we were outside while Wally and the large woman were eating ice cream. Then they said to get lost because they were going out for drinks."
Ron added, "And that's when we saw you asleep…"
"And drooling," Ivan said.
"In your car." Ron finished his sentence. "And then we woke you up and talked to you."
"Okay," I grumped. "Good."
Except that it wasn't good because that put Hilly at the scene of the crime and made her the last one to see Wally alive. But these guys were impossible to talk to, so I didn't say that.
"So, Finn…" Ron corrected, "I mean, Merry, we need you to buy our fiancées rings."
Of all the conversations I thought we could have had, I didn't expect this one.
"I'm not buying your engagement rings. Because there's no way you're marrying the twins."
Both men looked crestfallen.
"Please," Ron begged, seemingly ignoring the last part.
"They might not marry us if we can't get rings!" Ivan squeaked.
"Guys!" I threw my hands up in the air. "Rings are expensive. Very expensive. Like at least a couple thousand dollars. Besides. I have to go. I just came here to tell you about Jane Monaghan."
Oh sure, I had the money. I had gotten a handsome settlement out of the Agency when I left. But I wasn't going to tell them that.
"We pay you back when we get out," Ivan suggested.
"And for the lawyer," Ron added. "We will get jobs. And work to pay you back."
"Look." I rubbed my eyes. "I'm covering Jane. You don't have to pay me back for that."
"Okay!" Ivan smiled. "Just rings, then. Randi wants ethical diamonds. Not made in mines."
Ron nodded vigorously. "Ronni too! I want heart shaped."
"Yes!" Ivan agreed. "Heart shaped."
He took a piece of paper and a pencil and drew a heart. A human heart.
"That's not heart shaped," I pointed out.
He frowned. "Of course it is. What other shape is heart?"
Did these guys only know the organ heart? Maybe, with their violent pasts, that was all they had experience with. I imagined a diamond ring where the stone had arteries and valves. Motioning for the paper, I drew one for him.
Ron turned it upside down. "It looks like a butt."
Ivan snickered. "A butt! We cannot give fiancées ethical diamonds that look like butts!"
Ron giggled. "No! Can you imagine? We choose something else."
"You really think that you can get married to the twins and live here?" I sighed. "You guys aren't citizens and are probably here illegally. They'll send you back, and when they see the things you've done in the past, they won't let you back in."
Both men frowned.
"I cannot marry Ronni?" Ron asked sadly. "That is bad."
"We want to stay in America!" Ivan shouted. "With you!"
My non-butt-shaped heart melted a smidge. That really was kind of sweet. Especially considering they were originally here to punish me.
"Can we stay?" Ron asked hopefully. "We will get jobs!"
"Yes! Jobs!" Ivan shouted.
"First of all, it isn't up to me," I said. "There are ramifications based on your past. This is a whole immigration issue."
"You get us immigration lawyer!" Ivan held up one finger.
"Yes," Ron added. "But not prostitute lawyer. We have settled down now."
"You've hardly settled down considering you've known these women less than twenty-four hours."
"You will get us good," Ron began as he nodded, "non-prostitute immigrant lawyer. Then we get jobs."
I gave up on the immigration track. But I was curious about jobs.
"I'm not saying this is in any way possible, but what would you do for a living here?"
The men looked at each other silently until they seemed to have some simultaneous eureka moment.
"We will be heavies in criminal underground!" Ivan said.
Ron agreed eagerly, "We are very good at beating people up! Very good."
"Probably the best," Ivan added.
"That's not a job, and it's certainly not one you want to tell an immigration lawyer."
"Not a job?" Ivan looked disappointed.
"Well, not a good job," I said.
"But it is good job!" Ron insisted. "It is hard work smacking people around."
"And good exercise!" Ivan said.
Ron nodded. "Yes! We always got good evaluations from Wally. Maybe he could be reference!"
The men began to congratulate each other for thinking of that.
"Guys!" I shouted. "You can't use Wally for a reference because he's dead. That's why you are in here."
The celebrating stopped.
"Maybe we could work for your government!" Ivan considered.
I had to admit, their enthusiasm was engaging.
"Yes! And we could travel and hurt people for America!" Ron said.
"No, you can't do that," I said.
"Why not?"
He had me there. I was pretty sure that might really be a job, but there was no way I was going to tell them that.
"Think of something else," I suggested.
"We could be models," Ivan said slowly.
"Or build things," Ron added. "I am good with hammer. Hit person on the head every time."
"Okay, clearly you guys need to give this more thought. Try thinking of something that doesn't hurt people. I've got to go. Can you just chill about the engagement and job thing for a little bit? I've got enough on my plate as it is. And I need to find Hilly."
As I walked away, Ron yelled, "Round! Ethical diamonds that are round!"
"Five carets!" Ivan added as the door swung shut.
I tried calling and texting Hilly again with no luck. Opening my purse to drop my phone in, I spotted the comic book.
What was this all about? Was it relevant? If the crime scene investigators hadn't taken them, maybe it wasn't. Something really bothered me about those two bags. It felt like they were important. Had
the killer dumped them? There wasn't any blood on the bags.
Still, that idea was interesting, and I turned it around in my mind. What if the bags were connected somehow? It was too bizarre that they would be in that dumpster. And what if someone removed them before I could find out? That made up my mind for me.
My next stop was the Cornhole. I needed to grab those two bags from the dumpster before the garbage men took them. Driving out of town, I felt my nerves tighten. Why couldn't I just have left well enough alone? I didn't have to come forward as Ron's and Ivan's alibi. I didn't need to buy them a prostitute lawyer. They would've just been found guilty based on Hilly's testimony, and I wouldn't be here fuming over them wanting to marry the twins.
I was so wrapped up in my problems that I drove past the Cornhole. Just as I was passing, I spotted someone disappearing around to the back. He was wearing black pants and a black hoodie. In the summer. If he'd wanted to truly blend in, he'd wear green to match the cornstalks that surrounded the bar. A black SUV was parked in front, facing the road—like the hoodie guy needed a quick getaway.
I drove a little farther and turned into a random field. After parking the van, I started back down the road to the Cornhole.
Who was it? Why were they there? It wasn't for anything good—not with that getup. Damn. I should've brought my gun. I used to keep one hidden up under the seat, that is until Betty found it and took it apart. Seriously, she dismantled it down to the screws. At least she didn't shoot anyone or anything.
When I got close to the bar, I slipped into the cornfield for cover and worked my way slowly around to the back. Who was this guy? Why was he dressed like a ninja? Did he think someone might see him all the way out here? The Cornhole was literally in the middle of nowhere, and it was closed. Nobody was going to see him.
Okay, so I saw him. But no normal person would be out here at this time of day.
I eventually came around to a spot where I could see him through the corn but he couldn't see me. At least, I hoped not. A big part of being a spy is knowing how not to be seen. You wouldn't believe the number of rookie agents who've blown it by dressing flashy, being the life of the party, or making a lot of noise.
Macho Man Murder Page 9