Killer Chameleon

by Chassie West

  “You do sound better,” he said. “But don’t overdo. I want you in tiptop shape tonight.”

  “Oh? Why?”

  He lowered his voice, practically whispering. “Because I plan to jump your bones, that’s why. We’re gonna make the Kama Sutra look like a Girl Scout’s manual in comparison. And before I forget, two things. I moved your car off the street last night. It’s parked by the basement door so you won’t have far to go to load up. And Helena Campion called you.”

  “You’re kidding.” Another country unheard from for years. We moved in different circles now that she’d joined one of the most high-powered legal firms in D.C. “You mean I slept through her call the other night?”

  “No, she was trying to reach you at my place, thought we’d gotten married last month. She didn’t get an answer there so she called here yesterday and asked me to give you the message. She’s throwing a get-together for somebody called Bev the Beaver. She said you’d know who she meant.”

  I whooped with laughter. “I do. She’s an actress friend of ours. When and where?”

  “Tomorrow evening, seven o’clock at Helena’s. I have her new address. Evidently she’s moved since the last time you saw her.”

  I could just bet she had. The dump we’d lived in during law school was far behind and below her now. “Okay. I’ll put it on my calendar. Go do some work. I’ve got packing to finish. See ya tonight.”

  “You most certainly will,” he purred, and it was hang up or burst into flames. Kama Sutra, huh?

  I took my time filling the last few boxes, even managing to put aside a few things to take to the Salvation Army. I had just sealed the last box when someone knocked at the door. I opened it and suppressed a groan. Just what I needed: Tank and Tina.

  “SO, WHAT CAN WE DO TO HELP?” Tank, real name Bernard Younts, to which he rarely answered, stood in Janeece’s living room looking around. “AND WHAT TIME DOES JANEECE GET HOME?”

  Tina, his diminutive wife, punched him on the shoulder. “One, you’re not talking to your granny and nobody’s deaf here,” she said, “so keep your voice down. And two,” she added, eyes narrowed, “it’s none of your damned business what time Janeece gets home. Swear to God, you’re absolutely foolish about that woman.”

  “Maybe a little,” Tank admitted, with a sheepish grin. “Just not as foolish as I am about you.”

  I gazed at the two of them, antenna a-quiver. Not that I wasn’t glad to see them; it’s just that the timing was a bit suspicious. I detected Duck’s fine hand in it somewhere. Both cops with the D.C. Metropolitan Police, Tank and Tina were charter members of Duck’s fan club and, as a result, had a rather proprietary and protective attitude about me. At times it could be a nuisance. I’m ashamed to confess that it took me a four-second beat to admit that at the moment, their intrusion and assistance were more than welcome.

  “How about helping me get all these boxes down to my car? Tina, if you could babysit the car between loads, that would be great.”

  “I can carry stuff, too,” she said, looking insulted. “I’m as healthy as I’ve ever been, thank you very much.” Tina had recently had a miscarriage, an event that, for the first time, had put a dent in her tough-girl armor.

  “Gimme your car keys, Leigh,” Tank said. “Where are you parked?”

  “Around back.”

  “Okay. And you, bride of mine, are not lifting any of these boxes, and that’s all there is to it.” He stacked three together and hefted them easily.

  “Don’t tell me what to do.” Tina whacked him on the shoulder again and glared up at him. Well over a foot and some shorter than Tank’s six-four, -five, or -six, depending on whether he was slouching and she was in heels, Tina was the boss, bullying her husband and leading him around by the nose. And he loved it. A chocolate fudge–hued Mr. Clean with the build of a weight lifter, Tank was a gentle giant whose size generally intimidated most people. Not Tina. Her fiery temper was enough to serve as an equalizer. She rarely used it, but just knowing it was simmering down there under that small frame tended to keep him in line.

  It had taken me a while to become comfortable around Tina, the only woman who made me conscious of my height and weight. But I knew because I’d asked that Tina was a size two. Two, for God’s sake! She was in yellow today, slacks that fit like a second skin and a cable-knit turtleneck sweater that made her deep mahogany complexion seem to glow. In other words, she didn’t look like someone who’d come prepared to work.

  “I can carry a box down if I want to,” she said, scowling, then lifted her chin haughtily. “It just so happens that I don’t want to. Come on, you’re wasting time.”

  I placed the key ring on one of Tank’s sausage-sized fingers and told him where to find the car. “By the time you get back, I’ll have this last box labeled. I sure appreciate this, guys.”

  “No problem.” Tank smiled down at me. “Nothing’s too good for Duck’s lady.”

  Tina rolled her eyes, then grinned. “What can I say? He’s right. Come on, man.”

  While they were gone, I wrote “Shoes” on the one remaining box, crammed my robe and slippers into a shopping bag, and patted myself on the back for a job well done. After checking the closet and all the drawers in the little chest in the den, I made one last perusal of the bathroom and found a few things I could simply drop into my purse. I was on my way out of the bathroom when I heard a knock at the door.

  Tank came in, his face full of thunderclouds. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but somebody’s spray-painted your car. You won’t be able to see to drive.”

  “What?”

  I swore my way downstairs and out the basement door. The only time a resident could park in back by the Dumpster was when we were loading or unloading something. Unfortunately, this area wasn’t visible from the street or the first-floor apartments on the rear, so the painter had had both time and privacy to complete the artwork.

  The windshield wore a solid coat of Chinese red. The rear and side windows weren’t as bad, depending on your point of view; one word, “BITCH,” in capital letters, in a dark blue, along with a single stripe of the same color on the body from front fender to rear. Since the car was white, it might as well been a flag on wheels.

  “Oh, my God.” I felt as if I’d imploded, everything collapsing to fill the vacuum in my chest.

  “Somebody sure as hell doesn’t like you,” Tina said, testing the stripe with a finger. “Quick-drying, too.”

  I plopped my backside onto the steps and tried not to cry. “It’s ruined. I’ll have to get the whole thing repainted. I’ve only had it two months!”

  Tank peered over the hood at his wife. “Think Chet could do anything with this?”

  I was too upset to wonder who Chet was. “I can’t walk to Ourland. I need my car. What am I gonna do?”

  “Hold on a minute.” Tina unclipped a tiny cell phone from her belt and began punching numbers.

  “Wonder if this stuff would come off with a razor blade,” Tank said, scraping at a window with a fingernail. “Just might, depending on what kind of paint it is.”

  Getting up, I tried the same stunt on the driver’s side window. A bit of blue collected under the nail of my middle finger. I kept scratching and managed to remove one whole letter. There was hope yet.

  Tina had moved away from us and was talking a mile a minute. “I don’t want to hear it,” she said, I assumed to the mysterious Chet. “Come and tow it to your garage as soon as we’ve finished with the police report.”

  Another police report in less than seventy-two hours. I wondered if that was a record. The only consolation was that it was doubtful any of the cops of the other evening would show up again today. Different shifts.

  “We’ve got running around to do,” Tina was saying, “so we’ll drop by later to get an estimate. Don’t give me any lip, now, boy. This is Duck’s lady we’re talking about here.”

  Those must have been the magic words because she snapped a nod, a pleased smile rimm
ing her lips, and disconnected.

  “All set. Chet—he’s my brother—will see what he can do. He works at a car dealer and does detailing on the side. He’ll get to work on it tonight and let us know how long he thinks it’ll take. By the way, we put your boxes in the Explorer. Looks like we’ll be able to fit the rest of them in it too.”

  “So now we wait for the District’s finest,” I said, disheartened. “There goes the rest of the afternoon.”

  “Nope, they’re on their way now. I called them while I was waiting for you to come down. Y’all had much of a problem with vandalism in this neighborhood?”

  I allowed as how as far as I knew, there’d been none. Besides, there was no doubt of something personal about this. The prankster had been at it again. But until I figured out who she was, there was probably no way to prove it one way or another.

  I wondered how much the paint removal would cost me, especially if Chet had no luck with the stripes. There was also the question as to how my auto insurance might be affected. They’d written off my old car, in which I’d had an argument with a tree while searching for Duck back in October. Duck, who swore he knew a mechanic who could work miracles, had left it with him for a month, wanting it in decent enough shape to donate to one of his pet organizations that trained dropouts to be certified mechanics. The Chevy was parked in a dark corner of the garage under his building but had no tags, so I couldn’t touch it. Which meant I was stuck with Tank and Tina for the immediate future.

  “How is it,” I asked, an hour later as we crammed the last box into the Explorer, “that you two are both off work today?”

  Tank, opening a rear door for me, shrugged. “Pure luck. Last time this happened has to be a year ago.”

  “Then there must be other things y’all want to do. I don’t want to spoil your day off together.”

  Tina hopped into the passenger seat, dug into her purse, and began filing nails long enough to be considered lethal weapons. Looking back over her shoulder, she cut me a look that let me know she wasn’t fooled. I would not be getting rid of them.

  “We didn’t have anything special planned. Might as well hang out with you.”

  “How about Christmas shopping?” I asked, fishing for a suggestion that might get them off my tail. Thanks to Duck, I’d had previous experience with these two as babysitters. They took it seriously. I might need a ride, but I didn’t think I needed bodyguards, at least not yet.

  “Finished all our Christmas shopping way before Thanksgiving,” Tina said. “Gifts are all wrapped, tree’s up. Nothing else to be done. Besides, the Duck said you’ve been sick and could use some help. We’re helping whether you like it or not. So get over it.”

  Tank folded himself behind the wheel. “Pay her no mind, Leigh. She didn’t have her Wheaties this morning.”

  “Or my ham and eggs and potatoes. Damned refrigerator died and everything spoiled. We just came from Sears and bought the biggest one they stock. Let’s move it. We’ve got to get those boxes over to Duck’s.”

  I gave myself a good talking-to as we made our way from Northwest to Southwest D.C. It had always been so difficult for me to ask for and accept help. Even if Duck hadn’t suggested it, I knew that Tank and Tina would have rolled up their sleeves to do anything that needed doing. And realistically speaking, without my car I’d have been up a creek today without them. The least I could do was to be gracious about it.

  “You two are lifesavers and I really do appreciate this,” I said, as we got out in the underground garage of Duck’s building. “I’d have been in one hell of a mess without you.”

  Tank pulled three boxes from the back and maneuvered them into his arms. “Glad to help.”

  I found I could manage two boxes, and Tina grabbed the big shopping bag in which my robe and slippers were crammed.

  “I hear you’ve met my auntie,” she said, as we stepped on the elevator.

  “Your auntie?”

  “Clarissa. She’s actually a great-aunt of a second cousin or something. I’m the one who steered Duck to my family’s cleaning company. It was a good match. He loves her.”

  I was trying to formulate a response when the elevator jerked to a stop at the first floor and Mrs. Luby, a neighbor of Duck’s, got on. A member of what he’d tagged the Gang of Four, she was the reigning queen of a quartet of elderly ladies who camped out in the lobby to watch the soaps together and meddle with whoever came in and out.

  “More things?” she asked. “Well, you’re smart to bring only a few at a time.” She eyed Tank and smiled flirtatiously. “And just who is this?” She and Janeece might be generations apart, but they were sisters under the skin.

  “My husband.” Tina managed a dangerously sweet smile in return. Mrs. Luby might be shifting gears toward eighty but she was still a woman, and Tina didn’t take kindly to females, no matter what age, moving in on her territory.

  “Detective and Sergeant Younts,” I said, “this is Mrs. Luby, one of Duck’s favorite people. She lives across the hall.”

  “Ma’am,” Tank said, nodding his head in greeting. He scowled at Tina, who, after a moment’s hesitation, shook Mrs. Luby’s hand.

  “Pleased to meet you,” she murmured.

  “Likewise. How much more do you have coming?” Mrs. Luby asked me. “I wouldn’t think there’d be enough room over there.”

  “This is almost the last of it, thank heaven. How are the grandbabies?” I regretted the question almost immediately, since Mrs. Luby was known to wax ad nauseam about them.

  “They’ve got the chicken pox, every last one of them,” she said, as the elevator door opened. “I just hope they’ll be done scratching by Christmas. Y’all will have to pardon me but I’ve got to hurry. Time to take my pill. You all have a good day.” She hurried toward her door, a vision in Barbie-doll pink, from the fancy comb in her hair to her ballet flats. Mrs. Luby believed in monochrome, the more intense the better.

  “Clarissa was here the day before yesterday,” I said, as we neared Duck’s door. “I didn’t realize she was a relative of yours.”

  “One of my favorites,” Tina said, “and Aunt Sister, of course.”

  “Wonder if she made anything for Duck.” Tank waited while I dealt with the deadbolt. “Man, that lady can cook.”

  “She brought barbecue,” I said, “but Duck has probably wiped it out.”

  The apartment was empty. The refrigerator, however, was not. Tank deposited the boxes in the guest room, returned to the Explorer for the two remaining, then made short work of the last of the barbecue. I wasn’t hungry, and Tina declared that she’d hold out for pizza. The two of us camped out in the living room while Tank ate.

  “So,” Tina said, “what’s with this trouble you’ve been having? Why did Duck send us to keep an eye on you?”

  My heart sank. I had hoped he’d simply asked them to help me with the last of the things to be moved. If he’d put them on guard duty, the rest of my day really was shot. They’d stick to me like lint on wool.

  “Duck may be overreacting,” I began. “It’s not such a big deal that I need bodyguards.”

  Tank moved his chair close enough to the door that he could peek around the corner from the kitchen.

  I ran down the list of pranks, omitting editorial comments to facilitate an objective opinion from them. Granted, the call that had sicced the cops on me had been over the top, but the deposits outside Neva and Cholly’s door and the one about Duck having an accident, although malicious, were, for the most part, harmless. The e-mail was unnerving and a nuisance, but when it came right down to it, all I had to do was hit the delete key.

  “Well, hell,” Tina said, her elfin features uncharacteristically solemn. “I don’t like the sounds of this. Add the damage to your car and you’ve got to figure some female is going to an awful lot of trouble to make your life miserable. You’re sure you haven’t made an enemy recently?”

  “Positive. Shoot, girl, I haven’t had time. I’ve been too busy with Christmas
and keeping an eye on the renovations of the police station in Umber Shores and trying to get myself married.”

  “I thought the place was called Ourland,” Tina said.

  “Well, it is, on the east side of town. Blame it on a long-standing family feud. I’ll explain later.”

  “Maybe it didn’t happen recently,” Tank said, midchew. “Whoever you crossed, I mean. Think back.”

  “I have. I still come up empty. It may sound like I’m a goody two-shoes, but I try to be nice to everybody. I really do. I try to treat everyone with respect. Always have, even when I was in uniform.”

  “Much more of this,” Tina grumbled, “and I’m gonna throw up. The fact remains, some woman’s pissed at you. She made a big mistake, getting the cops involved, and should realize it by now. Let’s hope that the paint job, assuming she did it, is her swan song. So. What’s next on your agenda for the day?”

  So indeed. Tina might think the pranks were history, but she obviously intended to fulfill her contract with Duck to hold my hand for the rest of the afternoon.

  It was pick-and-choose time. The Bridal Bower. Hmm. I’d left the peau de soie for minor alterations, which meant I’d need to try it on, just in case. With the undies I’d put on this morning in mind now, I scratched the bridal shop. I could imagine their expressions at seeing my well-worn old faithfuls. It would make more sense to go decked out in the ridiculously fancy ones I’d wear on the big day.

  Instead, I explained my need to get to the travel agency to pick up the tickets to Hawaii. “They’re closing early today for the office Christmas party. And I hate to impose, but I need to run over to Ourland to see my grandparents. Don’t know what’s up, but my grandmother was kind of insistent, and I promised I’d come today.”

  “Let’s hit it then,” Tank said, downing the last of the barbecue. “We’ll stop and get pizza first. This was just an appetizer.”

  “Goody.” Tina hopped up and grabbed her coat. She lived to eat, not the other way around.