Demise in Denim

by Duffy Brown

  “You know,” KiKi said to me, “I’m going to give you my chocolate and I’ll take the sprinkle one for a change and—”

  GracieAnn smacked KiKi’s hand and whispered, “You eat what I give you, period. Absolutely no sharing, house rules.” She looked around at other patrons sharing. “For you it’s house rules. Understand. A mutual friend gave me this doughnut to give to Reagan and to no one else.”

  GracieAnn headed back to the counter and I stared at the pastry in front of me. “Okay, that’s it, it’s poisoned. Pelting me with chunks of dough wasn’t good enough, now GracieAnn’s going to . . . Look at this, there’s something stuck in this doughnut.”

  KiKi gasped. “She really is trying to—”

  I poked at the side. “It’s an edge of something.” I broke off a chunk of doughnut, revealing a rolled-up paper protruding out the end.

  “A love note from GracieAnn?” KiKi whispered.

  “I’m thinking a warning note from the great beyond.”

  “I don’t think we’re talking Bible quotes. You mean . . . Really? Why not just have Gracie tell you whatever it says?” KiKi added in a whisper.

  “My guess is she doesn’t know what’s on the paper. She’s doing it as a favor to Boone and he’s probably trying to protect her by keeping her out of this as much as possible. The cops must really be tightening the noose to warrant something as crazy as this.”

  “He could just call me.”

  “If this all goes south the cops could get a warrant for your phone records. He doesn’t want you involved either.” I cut my eyes back and forth to make sure no one was looking, then slid out the paper and unrolled it, as little doughnut crumbs floated into my lap.

  “Well?” KiKi asked, an impatient edge to her voice.

  I slid the paper back into the doughnut to pass to KiKi so she could read it. When I looked up, my gaze landed on Deckard coming toward us. Yikes! The noose was tightening all right; Deckard being here was no accident.

  “Starting the day early?” Deckard said, proving my point. How would he know seven was early for me unless he’d been watching me? Ick!

  “Guess the police aren’t the only ones liking doughnuts.” Deckard pulled over another chair and sat down at the table with KiKi and me. He picked up a chunk of KiKi’s chocolate doughnut and plopped it in his mouth. “We need to share, right?” he said around a mouthful.

  “Sure,” I said, my heart pounding.

  “But I don’t think you really mean that.” Deckard took another chunk of KiKi’s doughnut. “And I’m not just talking doughnuts. What’s going on with Boone? If you don’t tell me, that’s obstruction of justice; you could go to jail.”

  “Aren’t you going to be late for work? How will the police force function if you’re not around? Maybe you should go.”

  “Don’t get smart with me, cookie.”

  Holy freaking cow, Deckard’s big meaty hand was headed for my plate, my sprinkle doughnut! Snapping it out of his reach would look suspicious. Take the little half, take the little half, take the little half. I concentrated on the words, hoping mental telepathy really worked.

  Except Deckard’s fingers headed for the big half of my sprinkle doughnut, the paper-in-the-doughnut half. I grabbed the big half and shoved the whole thing in my mouth at once, my cheeks bulging out chipmunk style.

  “I’mnotcookie,” I mumbled around the crumbs.

  “I’m not cookie,” KiKi translated. She stared at me, her eyes huge, not quite believing what I’d done. I couldn’t believe it either.

  “I think you should go,” KiKi said to Deckard.

  Deckard flattened his hands on the table and leaned toward me. “Have you seen Walker Boone? And I better get the truth this time.”

  I shook my head.

  “I don’t believe you,” he said in a chilling tone. “If I find that you’re lying to me, that you’re in contact with him, I’ll lock up you and Grannie Chocolate here, I don’t care who her husband is. I’ll bury the paperwork so deep no one will ever find either of you. I’ve had it with Boone on the run and I’m fed up with everyone covering for him. I’m going to find Walker Boone, I’m going to get a conviction, and you better not be in the way. Got it?”

  I swallowed down the doughnut plus paper, and Deckard swiped the little chunk of my doughnut still on the plate and headed for the door. KiKi shoved the coffee into my hand. “Drink before you choke.”

  I gulped from the cup and gasped for air. “Think that’s what they mean by eating your words?”

  “Oh for crying in a bucket, what did the words say and just who does that man think he is calling me Grannie Chocolate?”

  Chapter Eleven

  I LEFT a twenty on the table and gave a wave to GracieAnn. Auntie KiKi, BW, and I made for the front door of the Cakery Bakery. When we got outside, Deckard’s cruiser was still parked at the curb.

  “That man’s nothing but trouble,” I said to KiKi as I smiled at Deckard. He wasn’t the only one who could fake it. The fearsome threesome casually strolled along, the cruiser following us. We turned onto Barnard, where KiKi had left the Batmobile. BW jumped in the back and KiKi and I climbed in the front, just two ladies and a pup out for breakfast. Oh, if only that were true.

  KiKi brought the car to life, casually blended into the flow of morning traffic, and then turned to me. “If you don’t tell me right now what was in that note, I’m throwing you out at the next stoplight and running you over flat. I’m dying here, honey! What’s going on?”

  “It said Follow the money, and there was a phone number.”

  “Saints in heaven, tell me you remember the number before you choked it down.”

  “Of course I remember.” Maybe. “I think the three was before the four, or was it after the five?”

  KiKi stopped to let a band of happy tourists plus leader cross East Oglethorpe to get to the Colonial Park Cemetery. “You got to be kidding. This is important. James Bond always remembered that kind of stuff.”

  “Do I look like James Bond? And I was under a lot of stress, and I bet Bond never had to eat the evidence, now did he? Just give me your phone and I’ll try some combinations.”

  “The way things are going, you’ll probably get through to China and I’ll get nailed with roaming charges.” KiKi harrumphed and forked over her iPhone. I punched in the numbers, then hung up.

  “Well?” KiKi asked.

  “Main menu for the Savannah Chatham County public school system.”

  “Sweet mother save us all,” KiKi muttered under her breath as I punched in another combination. I apologized for having the wrong number, then hung up. “Car Spa over on Jeff . . . Wait a minute.” I hit redial and Jimmy at Car Spa answered again. “This is Reagan Summerside and—”

  “Bring in the Chevy tomorrow at noon and we’ll take care of it.” The line went dead.

  “What was that all about?” KiKi asked as I stared at the phone in my hand.

  “Boone’s closer than we think. The number was to have the Chevy cleaned. Chantilly and I sort of spilled barbecue in the trunk when making a delivery and—”

  “And Walker knew about it and made plans to have it cleaned up even on a Sunday? That makes sense; a man’s gotta take care of his ride, now doesn’t he?”

  KiKi pulled into her driveway and I didn’t get out. Instead I folded my arms. “You’re not surprised.” I looked KiKi dead in the eyes. “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “And you wouldn’t tell me if you did.”

  “There is that.” KiKi framed my face with her hands. “You saw Deckard; he and everyone in this city knows you got a thing for Walker, and feelings being what they are, you’d be tempted to take off after him.”

  “Why would I do such a thing?”

  “All the TV spots and lies can’t hide the way you look when you mention his nam
e. My guess is the only reason he contacted you through the doughnut was he knows you’re out there looking and you can get to places he can’t right now.”

  “I thought I was doing pretty good with the dopey-look thing.”

  “Walker’s got to keep on the move. Besides the numbers, what else was in the note?”

  “Follow the money. What does that mean? There’s lots of money floating around. Tucker has tons, Mason Dixon has none, this Grayden Russell guy wants to buy the Old Harbor Inn, and he’s after the Tybee Post Theater.”

  “Anna and Bella married for it,” KiKi added.

  “And Conway left a bunch of it to the free clinic.”

  KiKi gasped. “Well my stars, I sure didn’t see that one coming. Bet that sent a tremor through the universe.”

  “I wonder which money Boone’s talking about?”

  “I’d say he doesn’t know, that’s why the note. So he doesn’t think this is about revenge or love or jealousy, and it’s all about the bucks.” KiKi checked the clock on the dashboard. “I’ve got an emergency dance lesson with Bernard at nine. Seems like Dancing with the Stars is giving him an audition, probably to get him to back off. I think he calls them every day.” She held my hands tight. “If Deckard’s keeping an eye on you, my guess is so is the real killer. You need to keep an eye out, honey.”

  “The problem is I have no idea who the real killer is.”

  “It’s like Cher says, no doesn’t mean no forever; you’ll figure it out.” KiKi was a roadie for Cher back in her college days and never quite left the tour, proven by the fact that Cherisms sprang from her mouth from time to time. “Anyone who can eat a rolled-up note in a doughnut and not gag is capable of most anything,” she added.

  I appreciated the vote of confidence and all, but what if KiKi and Cher were wrong; what if I didn’t figure this out? KiKi pulled the Beemer into her garage and BW and I headed for the Fox. I opened the front door, paused, then closed it and started off for St. John’s Church.

  The weekday eight o’clock Mass had ended; the smell of snuffed candles, old hymnals, and fresh flowers washed over me as we went inside. BW’s nails tapped against the marble floors and we made our way past the stained-glass windows of saints and redeemed sinners. I was sure dogs in church were a no-no, but God loved BW; everybody loved BW.

  I was baptized and married in St. John’s and frequented it on holidays and when I was in deep doo-doo. I tried to remember to be grateful for the good stuff in my life and not ask for a lot of favors, but this was one of the deep-doo-doo times. I’d gotten nowhere in finding Conway’s killer and figured divine intervention was my only hope. Boone would never have sent me the note unless his back was to the wall, and that one factor alone scared the heck out of me.

  I dropped money in the little tin box and lit three candles, figuring if this was a three-olive problem, three candles seemed fitting, too. I asked anyone listening to keep an eye on Boone, and BW added two tail wags and a bark. Feeling totally defeated because I had no idea how to fix this mess, I headed out into the sunlight with BW as Steffy Lou Adkins came up the church steps. She had on a yellow sundress that set off her dark hair and dark eyes, and a covered wicker basket hung over her arm.

  “Well, I do declare, I do run into you at the strangest places,” Steffy Lou said to me. She tried for a smile but failed miserably, meaning I wasn’t the only one in a frazzled state this morning. Steffy Lou rolled her eyes toward the church steeple and made the sign of the cross. “It’s always a comfort to know the powers above are watching, and right now I need all the help I can get.”

  “Grieving is a long process,” I offered, not really knowing what the heck I was talking about since I was two when Daddy passed. I just felt the need to say something comforting.

  “Not that.” Steffy Lou let out a sigh. “Well, it’s not entirely that, I should say. It’s the theater benefit that’s got me in a tizzy. There simply cannot be a drop of rain for the fund-raiser two days from now or the whole thing’s going to fall flat as a pancake, being it’s an outside event and all.”

  Steffy Lou paled and looked unsteady. “I just don’t know what I’ll do if we can’t raise enough money for repairs and the like. That no-good Grayden Russell is just waiting for things to go wrong so he can swoop down like the vulture he is and turn the place into some frivolous resort with canned music and DJs, of all things. If I weren’t here on the front steps of God’s house I’d tell you exactly what I think of the man and then some.”

  A spring breeze ruffled through the trees and flipped back the cloth covering Steffy Lou’s basket, exposing little angel statues, candles, colored pieces of cloth, an empty green bottle, and a full bottle of rum.

  “Odilia?”

  Steffy Lou nodded and quickly covered up the basket. “Like I said, I’m in desperate need of all the help I can get.”

  “I can sure relate to that.” I nodded back into the church.

  Steffy Lou’s eyes brightened, and she put her hand to her chest in a state of relief. “Reagan honey, that’s music to my ears.” She patted her basket. “I need an East and a West right quick-like.”

  “As in witches for The Wizard of Oz? I have to tell you that I’m not much good at acting. Fact is, it seems I can’t even tell a little old lie without all of creation knowing about it and—”

  “Not that East and West.” Steffy Lou lowered her voice and huddled close, the wicker basket between us. “It’s a protection plan for the Tybee Theater. We have to protect the place from all directions. Odilia told me to get these items, and then she also gave me strict instructions on what I needed to do with them. I’d sure appreciate it if you could lend me a hand. Think of the little children who won’t get to see Peter Pan if Russell gets his grimy hands on our theater.”

  Steffy Lou cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders, and I could tell she was headed for take two of “I Won’t Grow Up” right there on the church steps. How could I say no to a Lost Boy, and truth be told she had me at no-good Grayden Russell. I could still feel his fingers digging into my arms. “What do you need me to do?”

  Steffy Lou hugged me with her one free arm. “I so appreciate this, Reagan honey. Be out to the theater around sunset and bring a West with you. I need four participants, you see. Harper Norton’s a dear friend of mine and helping me out since Walker’s not able to.” Steffy Lou bit her bottom lip. “How can this happen to that fine man after all the work he’s done for the theater?” She swallowed hard and tilted her chin high. “He’d want us to carry on as best we can. So, Harper’s taking the North and I’m the South. That Russell troublemaker isn’t going to have his way as long as the Savannah ladies are in charge, I can promise you that. Now, I’m off to light a few candles. Odilia is mighty good at calling in the saints to set things to rights, and in there the Main Man is front and center.”

  Steffy Lou faded into the cool shadows of St. John’s interior, and BW and I rushed off to Cherry House. I went into panic mode to get things ready, and by ten the front door to the Prissy Fox was open and customers were streaming in; I had another busy day ahead. I offered up a prayer of thanks, then started writing sales and taking in clothes.

  By four I was dead tired and hadn’t even stopped for lunch or had a second to spare in finding a West . . . until my dear Auntie KiKi wandered in. The Lord does provide. “You’re limping,” I said to KiKi.

  “I think my big toe is broken, the others are black and blue, I might have cracked a rib, and Putter has emergency surgery, so he can’t even take a look at my ailments. Bernard bought his plane ticket for L.A. He’s got an audition lined up and he has to bring a demo tape. We’ve been dancing for six hours straight to get five minutes of decent footage.” There was a little twinkle in her eyes. “The good news is I now have enough to get that new purse I have my eye on.”

  “I think you should celebrate and take a nice convertible drive out to
Tybee Post.”

  I got the suspicious eye. “Right now celebrating is a long bubble bath and a martini. Besides, there’s barbecue shrapnel in the Chevy trunk.”

  “The top will be down and you won’t even smell it.” Much. “And we can stop off at the Crab Shack for Southern boil, my treat.”

  “Tybee?”

  This was the tricky part. “I met Steffy Lou and she wants you to be a special guest for her event, and tonight is the rehearsal to get things right.”

  “Yep, you truly are the worst liar ever, but you had me at Southern boil; I can almost taste the shrimp, clams, and crawfish. After a day of Bernard and sore feet, I’m in.” KiKi started for the door, then stopped. “So what are we really doing out at Tybee?”

  “Odilia sort of plays into it.”

  “Oh sweet mother, I better not wind up pregnant with triplets.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “WE’RE going to be late,” I said to Auntie KiKi as we climbed back into the Chevy, the sun just above the horizon. I handed her my iced tea to-go cup as I backed out of the parking place between two trees.

  “How can Boone have a car without cup holders?”

  “Maybe it’s a hint that we’re not supposed to eat or drink here,” KiKi said, then slurped her own tea as I slowly motored out of the Crab Shack parking lot. We circled the alligator sanctuary, where dinner guests could buy little pellets of whatever and feed the gators. Some might enjoy the experience, but personally I stayed as far away from snappers as possible. Anything with that many teeth was not to be messed with.

  “You just had to go and have apple pie for desert,” I said, taking my cup back. “After all that you ate? Where in the world did you put it?”

  KiKi patted her stomach. “Right here and proud of it. I’ve had a tough day and burned up a ton of calories with Bernard, so the way I figure it, I deserve apple pie and more.”

  An ocean breeze caught in my hair as I pulled onto Route 80, which ran from Savannah to the island. Marshes stretched off to the right and left, the road like a ribbon of land through the water. It occurred to me that the last time I was out here I had a string of cruisers trailing behind me and was shaking like a leaf.