by Amy Boyles
Alice wore a knee-length tunic in plum, a multicolored shawl over that and leggings underneath. She, too, wore black sunglasses.
She glanced in the mirror. “I’m not incognito enough. Anyone would recognize me.”
Ruth ribbed her. “That’s the beauty of it. No one would ever think you’d wear that. It’s much too fashionable for you.”
Alice yanked a fishing hat from a cubby. She slapped it on her noggin and smiled. “Perfect.”
“It doesn’t go,” Ruth said.
“I agree.”
“You’re killing me,” Stephan chimed.
“I’m taking it,” Alice said. “It’s perfect. No one will even look at me twice.”
“They’ll look at you three times and wonder why you’re wearing that stupid hat.” Ruth parted a wall of clothes, reached back and pulled out her purse. While she shouldered it, Alice smiled at her reflection.
“I think it’s perfect.”
I thanked Stephan, who shook his head while we checked out. The three of us faced the door.
This was the moment of truth. Would the disguises work, or would Kency Blount roll up in her cruiser in less than thirty seconds?
Time to find out.
I opened the door and smiled as sunshine warmed my face. Ruth stepped forward slowly as if she were testing the temperature of bathwater.
Alice held my arm in a grip of death.
“Come on,” I said.
“Is anyone out there?”
“There are people, yes.” I stared at her. “Do you have your eyes closed?”
“No. Yes.”
I yanked my arm from her. “Well, open them. No one’s going to hurt you.”
“Kency Blount might.”
I lowered my voice. “I thought you were going to turn yourself in?”
She twisted her shirt. “I thought so, too, but then I got scared.”
Ruth slapped her back. “Come on, you big chicken. Let’s go.”
Finally Alice shuffled from the threshold out into the world. People glanced at us, but no one ran up and started talking to Ruth or Alice.
I tipped my head toward Alice. “I think it worked.”
“Thank goodness.”
“Maybe you should go to Kency,” Ruth said.
I nearly fell face-first onto the concrete. “You’re the one who picked up Alice and is hiding her.”
Ruth’s mouth fell. “Hiding her? I was only protecting my friend. When Alice is good and ready, she’ll talk to Kency, get this whole thing straightened out.”
We strolled down the sidewalk, taking our time as we glanced in the shops and smiled and laughed. I mean, there was no rush to get back to the truck. Might as well let Alice enjoy a few moments of fresh air.
We reached the hardware store and stopped. “Y’all won’t believe how stupid I was this morning.”
“Tell us,” Ruth said. “I reckon I love to hear if someone’s done something dumber than me.”
“Oh, I don’t think anyone ever does anything dumber than you,” Alice said.
Ruth shot her a look that would’ve burned toast black.
I rubbed Ruth’s arm. “Anyway, Homer Hicks entered his store early, and I overheard him talking on the phone. It sounded like he was talking about Susan. But then he caught me.”
“What happened? Did he cut you?” Alice said.
I sliced the air with my hand. “No. He explained he was talking about another customer. I felt like a real idiot.” I shrugged. “I guess my instincts have gone haywire since I’ve been in town. Not training with the Ghost Team has knocked me for a loop.”
Ruth patted my shoulder. “Everyone needs to cut themselves a break now and then.”
I nodded absently. “Yeah, I guess.”
Ruth and Alice stepped away. I caught a glimpse of Homer. He was helping a customer reach for some piping. As he extended his arm, his sleeve slid back, exposing his inner bicep.
My stomach roiled. All sensation left my limbs. My fingers numbed, and I couldn’t feel my feet. My mouth dried as I stared at the anchor tattoo inked onto Homer Hicks’s body.
Looked like my instincts had been right after all.
TWENTY
Without a word, I shoved Alice and Ruth toward my car.
“What’s the rush?” Alice said. “I feel like a celebrity in my new outfit.”
I stared at the fish hooks flapping from her hat. “Since when did you become a pro bass fisherman?”
She sniffed. “Fisherwoman.”
Ruth swatted Alice. “Oh can it. You know as well as I do that you can’t stand to even look at a fish.”
Alice shivered. “They’re very eerie. Those big eyes and the gulping mouth.”
“Get in,” I snapped. “We’ve got to go.”
“Why?” Alice glanced around. “Is Kency about? Did she see me?”
I opened the door, placed my hands under her bottom and hoisted her in.
“You don’t have to manhandle me.”
“Yes, I do. Y’all need to hurry.” My gaze snapped to Ruth, who raised her hands in surrender.
“You don’t have to give me a rectal exam. I’m in. I’m in.”
She heaved herself into the passenger side. I jumped in and slammed the door. It wasn’t until we were seated around my kitchen table that I spoke.
“Homer Hicks has an anchor tattoo on his bicep.”
Ruth and Alice shot each other confused looks.
Oh dear Lord. Had they already forgotten everything? Give these two a couple of nice outfits and all sense floated right from their heads.
First chance I got, my friends were going back in their muumuus and orthopedic shoes.
I stopped. Friends?
Yes, friends. Granted I hadn’t been around as long as them, but I considered Ruth and Alice my friends.
Okay, so I definitely needed someone my own age to hang out with. The worst thing in the world was having friends whose main topics of discussion were which bunion hurt the worst this week.
Trust me, I knew this from experience.
Ruth broke the silence. “So what that he’s got an anchor?”
I curled and uncurled my hands. It was taking all I had not to smash things in frustration. “Remember, Susan said the last thing she remembered seeing before she died was an anchor.”
Alice’s eyes flared to plate size. “That’s right! That’s right. The anchor. Why didn’t I see it before?”
“Because you’ve never asked Homer Hicks to do anything for you,” Ruth said flatly.
“I have too. I’ve gone in there plenty of times and asked him for lightbulbs and screws.”
Ruth rolled her eyes. “It’s not the same thing.” She slapped her hands together. “Okay, Blissful. You think that Homer did it.”
I opened the fridge and grabbed a gallon of unsweetened tea that I had picked up at Piggly Wiggly. I dropped it on the counter and poured three glasses.
“I don’t feel like making coffee.”
Alice pushed her glasses up her nose. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring cookies.”
“Sugar will only interfere with our thinking,” Ruth said. “We need clear minds.”
“I think better with cookies.”
I frowned. “Are you whimpering, Alice?”
Ruth took a glass. “She’s whimpering. You’ll be fine without them.”
“Okay.” Alice didn’t look convinced.
“Now that we’ve got that settled,” I said, glancing at both women to make sure it was, in fact, settled, “let’s focus on the here and now. Homer Hicks is our man. He murdered Susan Whitby and probably Neal Norton. But we’ve got to prove it. Kency Blount’s out looking for you, Alice. She won’t believe me if I tell her about Homer. Fact is, she might not care.”
“It’s up to us,” Ruth said proudly. “We’ve got to be the ones to bring the criminal to justice.”
“Exactly right.” I nodded to both women. “We’ve got to devise a plan that will get us the evidence we need to prov
e it was Homer all along.”
Silence filled the room as we drank tea and thought. Ruth spoke first. “We’ve got to get into his house.”
“But what’re we looking for?” Alice said. “I still don’t know what was used to kill Neal.”
“I’ll put in a call to Doris.” Ruth pulled her phone from her purse and dialed. She explained to Doris what we needed and hung up. “Doris doesn’t know yet. She’ll have to check. Turns out her husband hasn’t said what prescription was used to kill Neal.”
“Hopefully he won’t be tight-lipped,” I said.
“Let’s pray not.” Alice twisted her fingers. “It’s only my life in jeopardy.”
“Okay, so until we hear back from Doris, we need a plan.”
Ruth ran a finger down her glass of tea. “It’s simple enough. I’ll call Homer’s house with some excuse that gets him out. Blissful, you’ll keep watch while Alice and I enter and search the place. Can’t be hard.”
I grimaced. I liked these two women, but I didn’t want them dirtying their hands. They were older, and if something happened and they needed to move quickly or fight, they wouldn’t be able to do it.
When I’d been with the covert government Ghost Team, I’d trained with the best. I could fight hand-to-hand if I needed to. I wasn’t assassin-level trained, but I could hold my own.
“No dice.” I rose and refilled my glass. “I’ll go in. I’ll do the searching. Alice, I want you to watch in case Homer returns early. Ruth, either you can keep Homer busy or you’ll watch with Alice. But here’s the thing—I go in alone. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.
“Homer’s dangerous. He proved that when he killed Susan. If he murdered once, he’ll do it again, especially if he finds himself cornered. No, I don’t want either of you in that house. Leave the searching to me.”
Ruth and Alice studied one another. Finally Ruth broke the silence. “All right, Blissful. Whatever you say.”
I nodded. “Good. Now…” I rolled my shoulders back. “First things first—what do we know about Homer and his schedule?”
“He lives with his father,” Alice said.
I sank onto the chair. “That’s bad. So we’ve got to make sure Homer and his father are out of the house.”
Ruth pointed at me. “Farris just had a hip replacement.”
I sighed. “That’s right. I met him in the hardware store. Homer mentioned something about it. Great. It’s going to be harder to get him out of the house.”
Alice shook her head. “He goes to the senior center every Wednesday.”
“But we can’t search the house during the day,” Ruth said. “It would be too suspicious. One of his nosy neighbors would call the cops.”
I chewed my lip. This was a pickle. Getting a senior citizen out of the house at night would be nearly impossible. But ransacking the house during the day didn’t sound like the best of ideas, either. I needed time to search.
Maybe it was possible after all.
I snapped my fingers. “How well does Farris hear?”
Ruth shook her head. “Not that great.”
“I have a crazy idea.”
“Oh good.” Alice rubbed her hands. “I love crazy ideas.”
“Since when?” Ruth eyed Alice suspiciously.
Alice balked. “Since I don’t know when.”
Ruth glared at her. “You’re lying.” She glanced at me. “She’s lying. Alice doesn’t like anything crazy.”
“Then you’re not going to like this.” I swirled the tea in my glass.
“What is it?” Ruth said.
“I’m going in the house while Farris is inside, but he won’t know.”
“That is crazy,” Ruth said. “How’re you going to do that?”
“That’s what I need the two of you for. I need you to watch the house. If he gets too close, you’ll have to alert me somehow.”
“Too risky,” Alice said.
We both stared at her. She shrugged. “What? It is. Half that neighborhood is filled with the elderly. Most of them go to the senior center. All their houses will be empty. I say we go in the middle of the day. Most folks will be gone. It’ll be fine.”
I drummed my fingers on the table. “You think so?”
“Oh, she knows it,” Ruth said. “Alice has visited the senior center every now and then.”
“I have a full-time job, thank you very much. Or I had. Haven’t been there in days.”
I reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll get you back in Southern Ghost Wranglers. Don’t worry. As soon as we find the evidence we need to put Homer away, you’ll be in the shop knitting baby booties just like old times.”
Alice wiped a tear from her cheek. “I hope so.”
“You will. Now then.” I turned to Ruth. “What’s our plan?”
The plan, it turned out, was simple enough. We would wait for everyone to leave their homes for the senior citizens center, and then I would go in. Ruth and Alice would keep watch. If anyone returned to the house, they would signal by calling out like a deranged bird.
We’d worked on the sound—it did indeed sound deranged.
We were all set to go in the next morning. As I knew, Homer left for the hardware store early, and if Farris was like most geriatrics, he set out for the senior center early as well.
“Are you sure Homer is still going to the center with his hip in the shape it’s in?” I’d asked Ruth and Alice.
“Oh yes,” Alice said. “Homer loves bingo. He wouldn’t miss it even if he had one foot in his grave.”
“We need to make sure,” I said. “We need someone to get him out.”
Ruth and I looked at Alice. She blanched. “What? Why’re you looking at me like that?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Ruth said.
“No.”
I put on my biggest smile. “Alice, we need you to make sure Homer goes to the center.”
“How?”
Ruth pointed at her. “We want you to take him. Pick him up and drop him off.”
“But I’m a wanted criminal,” Alice protested.
“No one will recognize you in your fishing hat.” At least I didn’t think so. “Put on those sunglasses and you’ll be fine.”
“But I want to be in the thick of things. In the middle of it all.”
“Not since we’ve got to insure that Farris leaves.”
“But why would he go with me?” Alice slapped her hands to her thighs.
“Good point.” I nodded to Ruth. “You got any ideas?”
She rubbed her chin like a mad scientist thinking up her latest creation. “I’ll call the house and tell Farris the car from the center is coming to pick him up. I’ll say it’s the latest thing.”
I snapped my fingers. “That we’re now offering car rides.”
“Exactly,” Ruth said, enthusiasm beaming from her voice. “Then I’ll tell Farris his ride is about to pick him up.”
“Signal you,” I said to Alice. “You pick him up, take him to the center and lay low for an hour. By that time, as long as I know what I’m looking for, you should be in the clear to bring him back.”
“I’ll call you to confirm,” Ruth said.
Alice chewed the inside of her cheek. “But what if Farris is having a good time and doesn’t want to leave? I can’t be recognized.”
“Then leave him.” They looked at me as if I’d just admitted to committing the crime of the century. “What? He’s a grown man. Someone will make sure he makes it home. Besides, we don’t have time to fool around. Plus, he’s living with a murderer. I don’t have much sympathy.”
“He’s an old man,” Ruth said.
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, so I have a little sympathy but not much—and that’s if he doesn’t know anything about it. If he’s aware of Homer’s antics, then I have absolutely no problem telling Kency Blount to arrest him as well.”
Alice gasped. “But he’s old.”
“So are you and Kency wants to arrest you.”
; Ruth gave her a pointed look. “She’s right.”
“Okay, now we just need to know what we’re looking for.”
As if on cue, Ruth’s phone buzzed from her pocket. She fished it out and thumbed it on.
“Hello?” Short pause. She placed a hand over the speaker. “It’s Doris.” Back to the phone. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay.” Gasp. “You’re kidding? No, I never would’ve guessed… Yes, I did see that dress she was wearing. No one in their right mind would wear yellow after Labor Day. It’s almost as bad as wearing white.”
I motioned for her to hang up. I mean, when a murder conversation turns to fashion, then it’s time to go.
Ruth ended the call. She leaned to Alice. “We were talking about that horrid yellow dress Ethel wore in church last week.”
“Oh yes,” Alice agreed, “it was truly terrible. Made her look like the sun had exploded on her breasts.”
I flared my arms. “Ladies, as engrossing as this conversation is, we need to focus on the murder. Ruth, what did Doris say?”
Ruth smacked her lips dramatically. “Well, she discovered the drug used to kill Neal Norton. You’ll never guess, and Ruth, you’ve got some of it because of your heart.”
“What is it?” I said.
Ruth fixed her blonde bangs. “Turns out Neal Norton was killed with a drug called Coumadin.”
“Coumadin?” I said.
“Or warfarin,” Alice said. “That’s the generic.”
“What’s it used for?” I’d never heard of it.
“It’s a blood thinner, used after surgery to prevent blood clots or in folks who’re at risk of having a blood clot because their heart doesn’t tick right.”
I frowned. I wasn’t sure what this meant. “So how was it used to kill Neal?”
Alice looked at the floor, embarrassed. “Simple. He was given a huge dose of it. The poor man was a goner because unless the effects of a large amount are reversed, it’s a pretty gruesome death.”
“What happened?” I said.
“He bled to death,” Ruth said. “From the inside out.”
TWENTY-ONE
“And there’s no doubt Farris Hicks has a bottle of it, with his hip surgery and all,” I said.