Schooled in Murder

by Kim Smith

  He sighed, defeated. “Yeah, sure. I’m sleepin’ on your couch, though. As soon as I can get back. I won’t be gone long. Gonna call up Katie or somebody to drive over to get the car. Just gonna go get it and jet right back, okay?”

  I nodded with a smile. I was being looked after by the best.

  Chapter Eleven

  I woke up, groggy and disoriented, thirsty, and in a lot of pain. What day was it? Feeling disjointed, I stubbed my toe on a pair of sneakers and cut loose with a stream of curse words. I didn’t want any more pain.

  All that noise brought a half-asleep Dwayne around the corner. When I tried to throw the shoes, he rushed over. “You ain’t supposed to be doing that! Where you goin’?”

  “To the bathroom,” I told him. “I’m fine. Quit fussing over me. I even drove last night, remember?”

  “It’s my job to fuss over you, Wall-ass. You said so yourself.” He headed back toward the living room. “And until Sal Sassy Pants gets over here to do the job himself...” He muttered something else that I didn’t understand and sort of didn’t want to know about.

  When I came out, he stood in the kitchen rustling up food. I padded over to the dinette set and plopped down in a chair. The sun beamed sharp streams of light around the room.

  “My head hurts.”

  “I’m makin’ you something to eat so you can take more drugs. You need drugs, little missy.”

  Shaking my head at his words only served to bring spears of pain behind my eyeballs, so I quickly ceased all movement. “No. I don’t want more drugs. I want to think. I need to figure this out.”

  “Figure what out, Wall-ass? You’re gonna kill your damn fool-self. Now behave, you hear me?”

  Frowning at him, I took a quick sip of milk from a small tumbler. It was good and cold, and I ended up drinking all of it before setting it down with a thump and a satisfied sigh.

  “I need to figure out who came in the house, and why they left me for dead, and what they were doing there, and why Mrs. Denaldo is missing, and yet not missing, and—”

  “And end up in the hospital with brain damage. Stop.” Dwayne came to the table with a bologna sandwich and chips on a plate. “Just stop. Leave all that stuff behind for a little while, and get better. Maybe then, when you’re up to it, things’ll come to you. Hopefully, the teacher lady turns herself in and all our troubles are over.”

  I took a bite of the soft white bread and chewed. Dwayne didn’t understand how pissed off I was. No way would I let this one die. Exacting revenge on someone thrilled me at the moment.

  “Let’s brainstorm, how about it?” I asked.

  He patted his tee shirt pocket. “I mislaid my notebook, and this one is for the books. You have a brain?”

  “Ha, ha. Get real.”

  He smiled, and I went on. “Okay. So, Denaldo and the missus are separated, and he files for divorce. She’s adamant about living in the house. He lets her have it temporarily, and his lawyer hires me to film the contents for backup, so she can’t dispense with it. We go over, find Dan dead.” I paused.

  The victim was always where the story started in novels. Maybe that would be a good starting place.

  “I need info out of Sal,” I added, taking a big bite out of my sandwich.

  Dwayne stretched, raised an eyebrow. “Good luck with that girl, you know how old Salivate is.”

  “Let’s say Mr. Denaldo doesn’t know Dan, doesn’t know he’s a cop. But the missus does. She knows the dead man, and she knows the killer. Either she is the killer or she knows the killer. At any rate, Dan’s in her family room, and it’s time to freak out. She packs her clothes and runs off to a hotel or somewhere with the Escalade man, her brother. She’s going to have to move quickly before the cops find her. You can only use credit cards, and the like, for so long before Big Brother tracks you down.”

  He stood and walked to the refrigerator. “Now I’m gettin’ hungry.”

  I rubbed my sore head, continuing my out loud thoughts. “Only…that won’t work because she left her purse behind.”

  There were so many loose strands of the rope I couldn’t manage putting them all together. I went on as if Dwayne needed to hear what I had in my head instead of my own need to vocalize everything.

  “Maybe she forgot something at the house? Maybe she planned to come back for the purse. Or maybe she remembered something else she needed, so she came back. If it was even her,” I mumbled. “I remember the voices, but I didn’t see anyone clearly, and I couldn’t swear one of them was a woman, but it could have been. I think she’s being helped by her lover, the one she got caught with.”

  “Ah ha. The plot thickens,” he muttered as he pulled out a fresh knife from the drawer to spread mayonnaise. “The lover did it.”

  “So, she comes back with someone who may or may not be the killer, and when they discover me, their plans get sideways. Then, I take my tumble and they leave me for dead.”

  He plopped down onto his chair, and began stuffing a sandwich in his mouth. Over the bread and bologna, he mumbled. “Plausible, not likely, but plausible.”

  “Okay then, Brilliance, what do you think is going on?”

  He chewed a few moments before answering. “I think she stepped out to get somethin’ at the store, came back and found the murdered cop, got spooked, and took off. Afraid the cops are gonna nail her ass for his murder, she’s off hidin’. She calls the only person who can help her, baby bro, David Lunsford.”

  “And he whisks her off away from the crime scene, until they can figure out what to do?” I asked, trying to follow his thought.

  He pulled the crust off one side of his sandwich. “She knows who you are from school or maybe the papers, or even from Adams the lawyer tellin’ her about you. When she finds out you were at the house, and you know somethin’ about it all, she sends her brother to follow you around tryin’ to get info.”

  My mouth dropped open.

  He nodded at my chagrin. “Um hm. And whoever was at that house freaked completely out when they found you there in that closet. I’m not sayin’ it was or wasn’t the teacher lady, but it mighta been. Who was with her is anyone’s guess, since her brother is cooling his heels in the pokey. And then, after your little fall, they were probably afraid you’d killed yourself, and so they left. Hm. Yeah. Left just like the last time.”

  His version was almost as plausible as mine.

  “Well, maybe we’re both right? At least we both agree she’s involved in this mess right up to her neck.”

  He nodded and swigged his milk. “Oh yeah, girl, she knows a little sumpin’ sumpin’. No doubt about that.”

  “So let’s make a list of things to do,” I said, struggling to my feet to walk to the desk by the window and get a pen and notebook. “Things to help find her. She’s a big key in all of this, and she’s missing. It’s like a puzzle with a piece on the floor, you know?”

  “The first thing we’re gonna do is call ole Sallie and get him in on this. Your pink ass is bein’ targeted.”

  I spun to face him. “We are not bringing Sal in on this. If he even gets a hint that I’m embroiled in this, or that I went in that house again, really illegally this time, he’ll arrest me.”

  Dwayne leaned forward, eyes wide. “Shannon. You’re about the most blind, non-blonde woman I’ve ever met. Salavandy the Eye-Candy would only put cuffs on you for one thing.”

  I wrinkled my nose and sat back at the table, notebook in front of me. The attraction between Sal and I needed to be refused admittance to this conversation. “Stop. We have a platonic friendship, nothing more. We’ve gone out a few times, had pizza in a few times, and shared a truckload of misfortunes, but that’s it. And he’s a cop, above all else.”

  “That’s only because you keep it platonic. Not because he don’t try. Hrumph. Now, if it was me—”

  “No, don’t. I don’t think I want to hear what you would do with Ramirez. Let’s get back to this.” I tapped the notebook. “And before I forget again, d
id you meet with the Crachett lady?”

  He frowned and nodded. “Yeah, I told you this, Wall-ass. She seemed pretty cool with us. I told her we needed a deposit.”

  “And?”

  “And as I told you before, she said she’d send one.”

  “That’s a bad thing. If you don’t nail that down while they’re in the office, they usually bail.”

  He did an eye-roll. “I’ll call her today. But why don’t you remember that conversation? You got amnesia?”

  I shrugged. “I do sort of remember it. Okay. If we have any trouble, I can get in touch with her mother. She knows my aunts. Did you get a check from Jimmy?”

  He nodded. “Worryin’s like bein’ in a rockin’ chair, Wall-ass. You can do it all day long but you ain’t never goin’ nowhere. Would you quit with the frettin’?”

  I made a note on the pad, ignoring him, and chewed the pencil eraser. “We need information about Dan’s case, but Sal will never tell us. He’s holding it too close to his chest, damn him. So, who else can help us find out the grisly details?”

  He chewed and gazed at his glass like a fortune-teller reading tea-leaves, but offered no suggestions.

  “What if we hunted up Charlotte Dillon?” I asked.

  This sent his eyebrows up far enough to lift his hairline. “What the hell? You achin’ for a fight?”

  “I can conduct myself appropriately when the occasion calls for it, and I do think this is such an occasion.”

  He laughed. “All right, Wall-ass. You must think I just fell off the turnip truck.”

  “Now, Dee, darling, I need that information,” I sang out. “I’ll be nice.”

  He gathered our dishes. “You’re an evil woman and a bad liar. But go on and call her.”

  I paused and wrote on the pad. “Next, we need to get back inside the Denaldo house. Did you get that folder out of your trunk?”

  Dishes clattered in the sink. “Yes I got it. And just what are you thinkin’ of doin’ now? Are you effin’ out of your ever-lovin’ gourd?”

  “No. And this time you have to go with me and with a camera. I intend on getting more shots of that house, and earning all that money.”

  “Shannon, neither me nor you are goin’ anywhere near that place.”

  He came over and stood by my chair, arms crossed, face an implacable mask.

  I gazed up. “Why not?”

  “If you have to ask, you’re more of a dumb bunny than you look.”

  “Listen, I found some stuff in her bedroom, and I want to get more information—”

  “That might get you killed next time.” He stood there like a statue of ebony. “I have a better idea.”

  “Oh yeah? Like what?”

  He took the pen out of my hand and wrote on the pad.

  “Ask MR. Denaldo.”

  I grinned. “That’s a damn good idea! I’ll get him to sign those forms!”

  He turned back to the sink. “Get dressed, and call up that blood-sucker Adams. I may have to lower myself to talk to him now that his dirty money is payin’ our bills.”

  He said something else, but I was already on my way to the bedroom to gather my gear.

  ###

  Robert Denaldo was registered at the Day Suites in East Memphis. The old dingy gray building looked like it had seen better days, but you could rent by the day or by the week, and it had a convenient location. Some folks coveted convenience. Although with all the crime in Memphis, there was a good chance safety would have to be weighed against convenience, no matter what you thought about the location.

  “Stinks around here,” I observed as we walked toward the building.

  “Pollution, Wall-ass. You spend too much time in the ‘burbs. It always smells dirty in the city.”

  We found the stairs and started climbing, our footfalls hollow on the metal and concrete. Denaldo lived on the fourth floor.

  “What if he won’t tell us anything?” Dee panted.

  “He’ll talk. He’s got to be sick of all the attention by now. And just leave the questions to me,” I told him, huffing. “I have an idea.”

  Dwayne jogged up the last six steps and stood at the top to gloat at his physicality. I stuck my tongue out at him and rearranged my tote. The forms in the folder were inside but I didn’t think I would try to get him to sign them just yet.

  Didn’t want to seem too pushy.

  We stepped up to number 4107 and Dwayne knocked. No answer. He knocked louder. No answer.

  Just before we decided to give up, the curtain on the window eased open a fraction and a man peered out.

  “Mr. Denaldo? Can we talk to you for a moment?” I asked in a semi-loud voice.

  “We ain’t police,” Dwayne said, under his breath. “Quit tellin’ everybody we’re here.”

  Before I could smack him, the curtain fell, and the door opened as far as the security chain allowed. “What?”

  “Sir, we’re associates of James Adams of Adams, Butler, and Cook. May we speak to you privately for a moment?”

  He acknowledged his lawyer’s name, told us to wait a second, and shut the door.

  “Now what?” Dwayne mouthed.

  I shrugged, and winced at the pain. My arm was not as bad as I believed it to be last night, and I was thankful, but it still throbbed.

  The door opened again and he let us in. We entered a small suite, complete with couch, chairs, and coffee table in the living area decorated in the latest hotel/motel yuck, sea foam green paint in association with stripes and florals.

  Shabby chic it wasn’t

  I chose a chair, Dwayne slid onto one end of the couch, and Robert Denaldo took a path of pacing. He was a chunky, bulbous-nosed, bearded man who wore camo pants tucked in heavy boots and a wife beater. No wonder Thelma strayed.

  “What d’ya want? I’ve told Adams everything I know. I don’t know where Thelma is, and I don’t care. If she stays away, it can only be good for me.”

  I swallowed and cleared my throat. “Sir, I’m not trying to meddle, but, if she was having an affair, do you know who it was with?”

  He stopped in front of me and smiled, smoothing out a few wrinkles in his face. “Who cares? She’s out of the house, she’s too scared to come back, thanks to the murder, and ipso facto, I get to move back home.”

  I gazed around. He seemed to be in the throes of packing. “Her lover may be the key to the murder, and to her disappearance. Maybe even to what else is going on underneath all this weirdness. We sure could use some info.”

  He picked up a pack of cigarettes from a corner table and lit one, blowing smoke out swiftly. “What’s Adams’ office care if she gets help or from who? I hired him, not her. I don’t know who the freak is, and I don’t care. Tell Adams he can quit worrying about it.”

  Okay, different tack. “Are you going to do anything with her belongings in the house?”

  “Sure as the hell am! Put it all out on the street as soon as possible. Hope to watch some stray wander by and take a dump on it.”

  I wanted to strangle him. “Before you do that, don’t you think you should ask the cops? I mean, this is an active investigation-—”

  “It’s my house.” He stopped pacing and pointed at me. “The cops have all they need by now. And by the way, you sound like you’re a cop. What’s your deal?”

  Now my defensive side appeared. “I don’t have a deal, and I’m not a cop, I told you I work for Adams. Look, you can do whatever you want with her stuff, but just let us film the inside of your place before you ditch any of it. You know for the divorce.”

  “Yeah,” Dwayne interjected, taking up the cause. “We took this job from Mr. Adams and just wanna earn our money. Can’t do that without filmin’ the contents of the house. So far, we haven’t been allowed thanks to all the freakin’ hullabaloo. Why don’t you make sure that it happens, like, as soon as possible? It’ll only help your case—you know what I mean?”

  He gave us a long look. “Come to think of it, you’re right. You can do what
ever you want once I get back there. Which, if you don’t mind, I need to finish packing.”

  I pulled out the form folder. No time like the present. In fact, if not now, never, more than likely. I handed him the folder and waited.

  “What’s this?” he asked, flipping it open to the contents.

  “I need your permission to film. Your wife would have been the one, but since she’s now missing…”

  He shrugged, snatched a pen from the fake wood desk, and signed every place that I pointed out.

  Satisfied, I packed up and made ready to leave, and Dwayne followed suit. Denaldo showed us to the door and let us out. On the way to the car I had to mention how my bad luck seemed to pair me with ugly people.

  “Not just ugly, Wall-ass. Also, the worst sort of asshole.”

  “Yeah well.”

  “Takes one to know one, I guess,” he said, giggling. He always had to have the last word.

  Chapter Twelve

  We took off in Dwayne’s car like the hounds of Hell were after us. Putting distance between Denaldo and us felt liberating somehow.

  “When you get ready to shoot his house, you need to be sure and take some lights,” Dwayne babbled happily. “Because I remember that place had dark wood and dark rooms, at least some of it.”

  “I can guarantee you the main bedroom closet is dark,” I said, rubbing my sore arm. “And why are you talking like I will be doing this alone?”

  He grinned. “Oh no way, Miss Thang. I’ll be there. So, are you happy now?”

  “Yeah. Actually, I am.” It was good to know he would be helping me.

  “Good. How ‘bout we get to the office and do some real work for a change?”

  As we cruised back to our part of the world, I popped a couple of orange pain relief tablets and tried not to whine too much about my arm. Dwayne suggested ways we might be able to find Thelma to get our questions answered. I listened intently. He had good ideas sometimes.

  “We could go to Kringle’s grocery and hang around a few hours a day. She has to get food.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think she’ll shop in South Lake. Too hot for her right now.”