Doing It To Death

by Angela Henry

  “Was Otis Patterson the one Dibb called Otis Redding?”

  “Yep.”

  I could tell Lewis was getting tired of my questions but that was just too damned bad because I was anxious for this to be over and for him to be back in the Pullman building before he got too comfortable at my place.

  “Why’d they call him Otis Redding?”

  “His name was Otis and he could sing his ass off. Now, you got any other questions, Sherlock?”

  “Don’t get cute with me, when you’re the one hiding in my apartment dressed like Madame Butterfly.”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind. I’ve got to get to work and you need to be thinking about what he could have left at your place because you’ve got until Monday, then I’m calling the cops. You got that?”

  “What about this dog?” Queenie was sniffing at Lewis’s bare feet and barking.

  “Oh, you’ll be taking care of her while you’re here. And don’t let Mrs. Carson know either of you is here or she’ll call the police.”

  “Damn. I guess it’s you and me, girl.” Lewis held his hand out to Queenie, and she snapped at his fingers.

  I was at the door and paused before leaving thinking back on how frantic Lewis was when he thought Dibb was in his apartment with his girlfriend. “I’m really sorry about Brenda, Lewis. Had you two been together a long time?”

  “Naw, we just hooked up a couple weeks ago. Met her at the Spot. She always had some good ass weed though.”

  I sighed and clenched my fists so I wouldn’t strangle him and turned to go but had barely taken a step when my unwanted visitor stopped me.

  “Hey, Kelly!”

  “What, Lewis? I’m going to be late.”

  “Could you do me a solid?”

  “You mean besides the huge one I’m already doing you?”

  “I left my blood pressure medicine behind at my place. Could you got get it for me?” I stared at him without blinking.

  “Please. I know you don’t want me to stroke out right here in yo’ crib now, do ya?” He held out a key ring with two keys on it and dangled it in the air.

  “I should be so lucky,” I mumbled, and held out my hands for him to toss them to me.

  I got stuck behind a train and ended up being late again. And Rhonda made a point of commenting on it.

  “Wow, Kendra. You’re not the boss, yet.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning you’ve been late a lot this week.”

  “Two times isn’t a lot and since you’re not the boss, yet, either, you have no reason to bring it up, right?”

  “I was just kidding. Someone’s sure wound a little tight.” She walked away and I took a deep breath, knowing things were probably going to be this way until Dorothy’s replacement was hired. I sat down and reached for my sweater that I’d left draped on the back of my chair earlier in the week, but it wasn’t there.

  “Have you seen my sweater, Rhonda?”

  “Sorry, it’s not my turn to watch your stuff. You sure you didn’t leave it in your car?” She replied sweetly.

  “Positive.”

  “I’m sure it’ll turn up.”

  She was probably right. But I couldn’t shake the weird feeling that someone had taken it.

  To avoid being late again, I ate lunch at my desk and stopped by the Pullman building after work. It didn’t occur to me to ask Lewis how he’d gotten to my place and was surprised to see his Eldorado still parked in the gated lot. Avoiding the elevator, I took the stairs, a little more slowly this time, and ran into the same lady with the dog that had warned me about the elevator. This time she was wearing a sleek black pantsuit with a red scarf wrapped like a turban around her head and hiding her silver-streaked dark hair. She didn’t have her dog with her this time.

  “Ah, we meet again, young lady.” Her voice was husky and reminded me a little of Lauren Bacall. In fact, she had the same regal air about her as the legendary actress.

  “Hello,” I replied. “Where’s your cute doggy today?”

  “Sadly, Buttercup doesn’t belong to me. I walk her for Mrs. Wilkin’s on the fourth floor. She had a hip replacement and can’t get out.”

  “That’s nice of you.”

  “It’s the least I can do, and besides, it’s not good for a dog to be shut up all day. Too much pent-up energy is never a good thing. I’m Esther Wade, by the way, I run this building, and you’d be?”

  “Kendra Clayton.” We shook hands and the jeweled bracelets on each of her wrists jangled together making a pleasant sound.

  “What a lovely name. And do you have a relative living in the building, Kendra?”

  “I’m a…uh…an acquaintance of Lewis Watts.” Talk about something I never thought I’d be admitting to. Lewis owed me big time. Esther Wade must have sensed my aversion to being linked to Lewis because she laughed. It was a throaty, full-bodied laugh, genuine and contagious. I smiled despite myself.

  “Yes, Mr. Watts is a very…how shall I put it…unique individual,” she said finally.

  “And you’re a very kind lady.”

  “And how is Mr. Watts holding up? I was sorry to hear about his lady friend.”

  “He’ll be okay. They hadn’t been together for very long.”

  “Ah, but time is relative, my dear. It’s possible to make eye contact with someone on the street and feel like you known them forever.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” I said, not quite sure how to respond.

  “Well, you tell Mr. Watts if there’s anything he needs to please let me know.” She headed past me down the steps before I could respond, leaving me in a heavenly wake of Chanel No. 5.

  Lewis’s apartment looked pretty much the same as it had when I’d been here on Monday. The only difference was there were no incense and joints burning in the fist shaped ashtray, though the smell of vanilla still lingered in the air. And, of course, no Brenda sitting at the end of the couch. I headed into the bathroom and after suppressing a shudder at the faux fur leopard print toilet seat cover, rooted through his bathroom cabinet in search of his blood pressure medicine. But the only things I found in the cabinet were two boxes of black hair dye for men, a half empty bottle of Pierre Cardin aftershave, toothpaste, mouthwash, and a nose hair clipper. I started to pull out my cell to call him and ask where his medicine was but realized I didn’t want to talk to him.

  So, I headed into his bedroom. Lewis’s bedroom walls were painted blood red. His carpet was black shag, and his bed sat up high on a platform and was covered in a zebra print throw. But it was what hung from the vaulted ceiling over the bed that made me do a double take. It was a swing, a swing with an opening in the seat that allowed the crotch of whoever sat in it to hover mere inches above the face of whoever was lying in the bed.

  “Lewis, you are one nasty old freak,” I whispered and got busy searching through the drawer next to his bed where I finally found the blood pressure medicine sitting next to a prescription for Viagra and a box of condoms. Eew! I grabbed the medicine and quickly left the bedroom before I got some mental images I’d never be able to get out of my head.

  I was on my way through the living room, and past the couch, when a glint of gold caught my eye. I stopped to get a better look. Something shiny and gold was peaking from between the cushions of the couch at the end that I’d seen Brenda sitting at. I could still see her all smoked out and leaning back into the cushions. I pushed the thought away and reached between the cushions and pulled out a necklace. The thin gold chain attached to either side of the golden filigreed rose was broken. In the very center of the rose was a single round ruby. It looked really expensive. Was this Brenda’s necklace or that of some other woman Lewis had entertained? Either way it was none of my business, and I placed the necklace on the table. I was still wondering about it when I got into my car, which is why I didn’t see Dibb Bentley’s Caddy slowly drive past until I’d settled myself behind the wheel. I caught a quick glimpse of a white baseball cap as he sped off.

>   I took every back street and alley on my way to my duplex to check on Queenie and found my place empty but there was a note on the frig that read: Took the Queen for a walk. I hoped he hadn’t gone far, or worse yet that Dibb had finally caught up with him. Then it hit me that I’d have to go back to Mama’s because I damned sure wasn’t going to stay here with Lewis. I had to get this idiot out of my home, pronto. I took advantage of him not being around to change into my work clothes. I had to work at Estelle’s that night. I left Lewis a note of my own reminding him to feed the dog and then headed off to my other job.

  The weather may have been frigid, but that wasn’t keeping the college kids away. The new semester at Kingford had started on Monday and the place was jam packed. It was so busy I had to help serve in between seating people, which I hated. After three full hours of working nonstop, I was taking a well-deserved break with my aching feet propped up on a chair when Joy Owens, one of the other hostesses, walked into the break room. Joy had recently graduated from Kingford College with an art degree and was temporarily running a nonprofit art program for kids called Graffiti, which had been founded by her best friend Pia Ramey.

  “How’s it going, Joy?”

  “It’s going alright,” she replied with a frown. “Would be going a whole hell of a lot better if I could quit this tired ass gig.” She plopped down into a chair opposite me. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes and put one in her mouth but didn’t light it. She was trying to quit.

  I wanted to point out that this tired ass gig had allowed her to support herself through college when no one else would hire her but decided against it. Joy was hardly the type to listen to good sense, especially coming from me. The Hatfields and the McCoys got along better than we did.

  “Then why are you still working here? I thought you got a salary from the grant that funds Graffiti.”

  “Man, that grant barely covers rent and operating expenses. I get what’s left over after the bills get paid, and it ain’t enough to keep me in food and gas money,” she fumed.

  “Maybe Alex will schedule you for more hours.”

  “Why the fuck would I want to do that? I’m trying to work here less, not more. Ain’t nobody trying to work two damned jobs forever, except maybe you, Clayton.”

  “Whatever, Joy.” I got up to go realizing that if I’d had any lingering doubts about applying for Dorothy’s job, they had just evaporated. Did everyone think I was a slug?

  “Hey, Clayton,” Joy called out after me.

  “What?”

  “That old dude catch up with you?”

  “Old dude?”

  “Tall bald motherfucka with a gold tooth. Came by lookin’ for you last Friday night when I was workin’.”

  “You're the one who told that man where to find me? He’s a convicted murderer, Joy!”

  “How the hell was I supposed to know that shit? He had a picture of you posing with some other old motherfucker. So, I figured that was just how you rolled. I thought I was doing you a favor.” Joy tossed her soggy ciggy in the trash and put another one in her mouth.

  “Do me a favor and don’t do me any more favors,” I said and left the room.

  “I’ll remember you said that, Clayton. You never know when you’re gonna need my ass,” she said to my retreating back.

  And as it turned out I did need a favor from her ass, a favor to cover for me so I could hide because when I got back to the hostess station there was a couple waiting to be seated. It was Mason. And he was with the same beauty I’d seen him with at the Red Dragon.

  Four

  “Detective Mason, long time no see. How’s it going?” I forced a big smile on my face as I grabbed two menus, silverware, and napkins.

  “I’m good, Kendra. How about you? You staying out of trouble?” His smile was just as big as mine but probably a whole lot more genuine. He looked great in his khaki Dockers. His biceps rippled under his crisp white shirt and his caramel-colored skin glowed. His big brown eyes were warm and friendly beneath his glasses. He always reminded me of a superhero disguised as a really buff accountant. My stomach did a little flip-flop, and I could feel his companion eyeing me curiously.

  “Hi, I’m Jess.” She held out her hand for me to shake. Tonight, she was wearing tight jeans, black suede ankle boots and a white cowl-necked sweater.

  “Sorry,” said Mason, sheepishly. “Jessica Lawrence, this is Kendra Clayton. Kendra, Jessica’s my new partner.”

  “Partner? You aren't working with Harmon anymore?”

  “Harmon’s been promoted. She’s the new assistant chief of police.”

  “Wow,” I said, seating them. “Good for her. I had no idea.” I guess I could have found out from my former crush, Reverend Morris Rollins. But ever since the day he’d seen Mason kissing me on the cheek when he was in the hospital, I’d seen very little of Rollins. And the couple of times I had seen him, he was distant. It was probably for the best, but I had to admit I missed him.

  “I saw you two at the Red Dragon the other night. I was with a date,” I added quickly, though I had no idea why I felt the need to let them know that.

  “Blake took me out to celebrate my getting the job,” said Jessica, smiling up at her new partner.

  “That was nice.” I wondered if all police detectives took their new partners out on dinner dates.

  “Have you two known each other long?” asked Jess, looking from me to Mason.

  “We met during a case I had back in the fall. Things got kinda crazy, didn’t they, Kendra?” Mason smiled at me again, and my heart started hammering in my chest. Damn him. And what was my problem anyway?

  “Crazy isn’t the word for it.” I forced a laugh. Then a thought came to me. “Hey, are you guys working on that stabbing case?”

  “You mean the Brenda Howard case?” asked Mason.

  “That’s the one.”

  “Why? Did you know her or something?” Mason was no fool. He’d been assigned to babysit me back in the fall when an escaped murderer was after me and had developed a sixth sense when it came to catching me every time I’d tried to ditch him.

  “No, I just wondered if any witnesses ever came forward. It just seems so weird that no one saw anything.”

  “We’re following up on a lot of leads right now. But we don’t have anything solid,” said Jess. Mason shot her a hard look that she returned in earnest making me like her instantly.

  “Yeah, so if you have any information or know anything important you need to let us know, now.” Mason had flipped from civilian to cop on a dime and was giving me a look that I’m sure had caused plenty a perp to break down and confess. Thankfully another group was waiting to be seated and I was able to make my escape.

  “Pleasure meeting you, Jess. Enjoy your meals, and nice seeing you again, Detective.” I hurriedly walked away but could feel Mason’s eyes boring holes into my back.

  I didn’t get out of the restaurant that night until after eleven. I was dog-tired, and my feet and back ached. But at least being busy didn’t give me time to think about having to go back to Mama’s with Dibb Bentley still lurking around. I was already sorely regretting the promise I’d made to Lewis. I wished I’d pulled Mason aside and told him what was going on. And if Dibb had killed Brenda, why had he done it? It didn’t make sense to me to kill the girlfriend of a man who had something he wanted. But when did murder ever make sense?

  I got into my car and drove out of the parking lot and was heading back to Mama’s when I suddenly remembered that Queenie was still with Lewis. I turned the corner and put my foot on the break to stop at the next light, only my car didn't stop. It sailed right through the intersection and kept right on going. I laid on my horn to warn the drivers careening towards me from either side, causing them to break abruptly. The sound of horns blowing, screeching tires, and my own screams filled the night air as I frantically tried to get my car under control. I was barreling down the street at thirty-five miles an hour with my foot pressed down on a brake pedal that wasn�
��t working.

  I finally remembered the emergency brake pedal on my left and fumbled for it, jerking it up and causing my car to hit a nearby curb as it came to an abrupt stop, throwing me forward in my seat. Just as I thought my chest was about to slam into my steering wheel the airbag deployed in an explosion of white powder that covered me and the entire inside of my car, making it smell like a dozen cap guns had gone off. Someone was knocking on my window. I could have sworn someone was calling my name, too. But I couldn’t be sure because my ears were ringing. My car door was suddenly opened from the outside. It was Detective Blake Mason.

  “Why’d you follow me?” I asked as we sat in Mama’s kitchen. Queenie was asleep under the kitchen table, snoring softly.

  It was after one in the morning; we’d just come from the ER, where Mason had insisted on taking me to get checked out. Except for the white powder still in my hair, a headache, a stiff neck, and sore boobs from where the airbag had deployed, I was fine. But that didn’t mean I was off the hook with Detective Blake Mason. He sat back in the chair with his big arms crossed giving me a hard look.

  “Because I knew something was up with you.”

  “Crap,” I said softly.

  “What the hell’s going on, Kendra? And don’t lie. It’s late. I’m pissed. Someone cut your brake line and you could have been killed or killed someone else.” He was right. If I’d been killed that would have been the end of me. But I could have never lived with myself if I’d killed someone else.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, bursting into tears.

  “Come on. Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He pulled me into an embrace. I cried on his shoulder while he rubbed my back. After a minute I pulled away. Our faces were inches apart and our eyes met. His eyes had softened. He reached out and gently wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb, leaving a tingling trail behind on my skin. He sighed.

  “What am I gonna do with you, Kendra Clayton?”