“Well…”
Bonnie glanced up at the Tahoe and saw Bryce. He gave her a two-finger wave.
“Whose car is that? Oh Lord, don’t tell me…is that Bryce in the car?” Bonnie turned her attention back to me. “You told me you hadn’t heard from him in a long time. He’s the main suspect in Archie’s murder! Get in here fast. I’ll call the cops.”
Bonnie reached out and snatched my arm in an attempt to drag me into the house but stopped suddenly. “No, wait, not on my rug. I don’t want you dripping on my Oriental. It cost a fortune.”
“I don’t need to come in. Let me explain.”
Bonnie crossed her arms over her chest. “You can be really naïve sometimes, Chelsey. Especially when it comes to men with pretty faces.”
“Let me talk for five minutes and if you don’t agree with me, then I’ll be on my way.”
“Fine! Wait here.” Bonnie walked away and returned to the door with two beach towels. She laid one on the floor and handed me the other to wrap around myself. She backed away from the door to let me in. I told her what I knew so far, which wasn’t much. Mainly that Bryce said he didn’t do it and that I believed him.
Bonnie was never at a loss for words, but this time, it appeared I’d stumped her. After a long pause, my friend (if you could call her that) shared her infinite wisdom with me. “You’re stupider than I thought.”
Imagine the look of shock that appeared on my face. “Some friend you are.”
“Your priorities are screwed up. This has nothing to do with you, stay out of it. You have your own life to worry about. The last thing you or your daughter need is to throw yourself into the middle of a murder investigation.”
Bonnie had gotten herself tangled up in her own murder investigation not too long ago. She almost ended up divorced over it. In fact, the murderer came after her, so she almost ended up dead too. Not to mention the fact that she was kidnapped in the middle of it all from nosing around too much. And to think I helped her when she asked for my help!
“Like you should talk, Bonnie. I’ll remember this the next time you ask me to help you with something.”
Bonnie’s look softened. “I’m in no state of mind to be supportive when I just went through what I went through. I’m simply trying to help you to learn from my own mistakes. Being curious or helping someone out who’s in that kind of trouble can lead to no good. You don’t want to go through the same hell I was in. You don’t want to risk your life or your family by butting in somewhere you don’t belong.”
I turned to leave, but Bonnie grabbed my shoulder. “You know I love you like a sister, right? And I don’t want to see you get hurt…or killed…or jailed for aiding and abetting.” She embraced me. “Don’t go yet.”
Bonnie led me to the bathroom and disappeared. She returned with a set of clothes for me and Bryce. I changed and met her in the kitchen. Bonnie rifled around in a kitchen drawer and pulled out a set of keys. She placed them in my hand. “Take these if you need a place to hide for the next two weeks. My boat is docked at the Yacht Club Marina.”
I glanced down at the boat keys. “Thanks, I owe you.”
“Wait.” Bonnie went to a key rack she had near her garage door and picked a key off of it. She handed it to me. “This is the key to my house. You can’t stay here now, but in two weeks, we’ll be on a cruise for nine nights.”
“You’re going on a cruise?”
“Yeah, Jayce surprised me with a trip. We are leaving from Bayonne and sailing to Bermuda, St. Maarten, San Juan, and Labadee with the girls.”
I was jealous. Bonnie’s husband, Jayce, was a neurosurgeon, handsome, loving, and caring. Her two daughters were beautiful. She had the kind of life I wanted. I felt blessed having my daughter, but Bonnie’s relationship with her husband was unlike most. I wondered if Bryce was a Jayce or a Randy.
“One last thing. Call my Uncle Freddy. He’ll know what to do.”
Little did Bonnie know that I wanted to call Freddy, but Bryce wouldn’t agree to it, so I nodded, hugged her, and left not feeling any better about the situation. I thought Bonnie was going to be more supportive emotionally. But Bonnie knew that emotional support for this cause wasn’t what I needed—a dose of reality was. True friends will give you what you need, no matter how harsh it is, and they don’t blow smoke up your butt thinking that’s what you want to hear. Bonnie was a true friend. I resolved to take Bonnie’s advice…by Sunday, when my daughter was back.
* * *
Bryce’s left eye was twitching. “Well, Bonnie was no help. Now what?”
I wondered if his twitching eye was nerves, lack of sleep or anger. He seemed cool until now.
“You tell me what you want to do. This is your issue. I’m not sure why I’m even here.”
“I thought you were my friend.”
“And I thought you were mine. A real friend would look out for me and know that involving me in a murder wasn’t in my best interest.”
“I told you back at your house that I’d leave.”
“And the only thing I can think to do to help you is to have you talk to Freddy, but you don’t want that. So what do you want? Bonnie gave us dry clothes, her boat keys, and her house keys. I wouldn’t say she was no help. Do you want to hide out forever? Continue being a fugitive? Someone is bound to see you sooner or later. We need more help than the two of us can handle.”
Bryce pressed his lips together. Had I gotten through to him?
“If I hire Freddy as an investigator, would he keep it confidential?”
“Yes, he should.”
“Fine. I concede to your brilliant advice. Please call Freddy and ask him if he’ll take me on as a client. A very, very confidential client.”
I couldn’t help but smile. It was the right decision, even if Bryce couldn’t see it yet. “I need a phone to call him.”
“What happened to yours?”
“I left it at my house. And it’s a good thing, because I don’t think it would’ve survived the plunge in the lagoon.”
Bryce drove to a convenience store several towns away. He wanted to buy a couple of prepaid cell phones.
“Is it wise to go in there now that the police are searching for you? I mean, us?”
“We’re in another jurisdiction. I should be fine. I’ll only be a minute.”
I offered Bryce a credit card before he went into the store, but he refused. I guess with all the craziness, I had forgotten that the police could track our credit cards and find us. I pulled some wet money out of my pocket and offered that to him instead.
“I’ve got it.”
“What? My soggy money’s not good enough for you?” I cracked a smile.
Bryce winked and ran into the store. He came back moments later and handed me one of the prepaid cell phones.
“Thanks, but I really need to go back home and get my own phone.” I didn’t mean to sound whiney, but I was starting to get upset.
“That’s not happening.”
“Why not?”
“It will be crawling with cops by now. They’ll be keeping watch. Looking for you to return.”
“I really have to have my own phone.”
“I bought you a phone. You’ll have to use that for now. It’s better this way. Now that they know you’re with me, they’d track your phone and find us.”
“But I need my own phone.”
“Why? What’s gotten into you? You were smiling right before I went into the store.”
“My daughter. She’s going to call on my cell.”
“Call her from the prepaid line and give your ex the number to use.”
“His phone number is in my cell phone. It’s not like I ever talk to him. I don’t have his phone number memorized.”
Bryce rolled his eyes. “Don’t you know anyone who knows him? Someone you could call and ask for his number?”
It occurred to me that I did know someone with his number—Randy’s parents. I had to call Freddy anyway. I could get him to look up
their home phone number since the prepaid cell phones were a smart move to keep the cops away, but weren’t smartphones. Maybe he could even locate Randy’s cell number for me, but cell numbers were harder to locate than landlines.
“You’re right. I know someone. I’ll call Freddy first.”
I dialed Freddy’s number, which I did have memorized—after all, it was my place of employment. That is, if I was still employed.
Freddy answered on the first ring.
“Hey, Freddy.”
“Well, well, well…if it isn’t my most talented assistant. Where are those bank records I asked you to pull?”
“Um, well, actually…”
“Chelsey, Chelsey, Chelsey. You know I love you, dear, but I would be crazy about you if you finished up that research for me. Soon. Sooner than soon. Like now would be fantastic.”
“I’ve actually been out recruiting a new client for you. I think it could be something big! And possibly a substantial amount of money for you. Or wonderful publicity for the business. So much so that you might have to hire a few more people to work for you because everyone will be calling you to solve their problems.”
“I’m all ears.”
“You know that murder investigation for Archibald Wallace?”
Freddy heard a shortened version of the story from me. That I believed Bryce was innocent. That I had a list of suspects to investigate and about the ring. I begged him to take the case.
“He’s with you now, isn’t he?” I could picture Freddy raising an eyebrow at me over the phone.
“Umm…”
“Chelsey, need I remind you that you could be in serious trouble if you’re caught with him?”
“I know.”
“Where are you now?”
“We are heading toward the Yacht Club Marina.”
“Turn around and head toward one ninety-five.”
I told Bryce to turn around and head for the highway as Freddy instructed. Freddy gave me an address to plug into the GPS. He told me it was his brother’s house and that we’d be safe there until he could figure things out and do some probing.
I also asked Freddy to see if he could find a phone number for Randy or his parents. Freddy agreed to call me back when he found something.
“Thanks, Freddy.”
“Ten-four.”
Chapter 10
Bryce
Eight seventy-four Sandals Avenue was an hour and fifteen minute drive from the shore to Hamilton Township in Mercer County, New Jersey. We pulled up to the red brick ranch located on a corner lot in suburbia. Hide in plain sight, I guess. We parked on a side street a block away. Chelsey got out of the Tahoe while I slid into the dry clothes from Bonnie. Bonnie’s husband was the same size as me, so that was one thing that worked out. I joined Chelsey and we walked to the house. We trudged up the driveway and rang the doorbell.
The woman who answered was no more than four feet six inches tall. “Are you Freddy’s friends?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“Come in. Don’t mind the mess. I can’t get around anymore to clean this place up. I’m Geraldine. Geri for short.” Geri wore a muumuu and walked with a limp.
“It’s fine, really.” I stepped over one of the toys that peppered the foyer. Chelsey trailed behind me. We introduced ourselves and followed the sixty-something year old a few steps to the family room.
“Frank! Frank!” she hollered.
A deep male voice from another room responded to her calls. “What?”
“Freddy’s friends are here.”
“Well, did you let them in?”
“Of course! What do you think I am, anyway?”
“You don’t want to know what I think!”
Geri shook her head. “Don’t mind him. He’s always a grump.”
It was humorous how they were screaming at each other from different rooms instead of waiting to get into the same room to talk. Chelsey was smirking also. She must’ve thought the same thing.
Geri led us into the kitchen where a six foot tall, bald man with a large belly was stirring the largest pot of tomato sauce I’d ever seen. The sauce splashed his wife-beater tank as he stirred. His shoulders could’ve used a good waxing.
“Have a seat.” His baritone voice was menacing. Chelsey immediately complied with his demand. I took my time sitting. He may have intimidated Chelsey, but not me.
“You want something to drink?” Geri asked.
“Uh, sure.” I was thirsty after the long ride.
“There’s some soda there.” Geri pointed to a few twelve-pack boxes near a garage door. “And there are more cups out on the porch.”
Out on the porch? “Uh, okay.” Chelsey and I headed toward the boxes of soda, scooting past Frank along the way. I saw a second door near the soda boxes. I looked at Geri. “Is this the porch?”
“Yeah, grab a bunch of cups. They’re right on the table.”
Opening the door, I found their stockpile. The porch was completely enclosed—just another room off the back of their house. Not what I was picturing. I hadn’t expected the hordes of supplies. Four cases of creamed corn. Eighteen boxes of pasta. Six cases of crushed tomatoes. More paper towels than I’d bought in my lifetime. The industrial pack of red plastic cups. Chelsey and I exchanged glances. I wondered if they had robbed Sam’s Club. I realized why Freddy had sent me to his brother’s house—he knew there’d be enough food and supplies for us to hide out for a while. Maybe even for eternity.
There were also plenty of toys fit for a toddler on the porch. I got an image in my head of little kids around the neighborhood crying in fear when the hairy-shouldered ogre took their toys away. I laughed to myself.
Chelsey couldn’t stay long because of her daughter, but I knew I’d be fine hanging here. Plenty of eats and extra time to solve Archie’s murder. And with Freddy on board, he could do a lot of the investigation without having to hide himself in the process. I feared how much his bill would be when he was through.
With a stack of red plastic cups in my hand, we traipsed back into the kitchen. On our way, we grabbed two cans of soda—a birch beer for me and a diet soda for Chelsey. I sure wished it was something stronger.
Chelsey tried to break the awkwardness of the situation by striking up a conversation with Frank and Geri. “We really appreciate you helping us out like this. Are you survivalists?”
“Survivalists? What? You mean like that TV show? Are you kidding? Do we look like a couple of people that would survive on that show with no food?” I wondered if Geri was referring to her age, physical condition, or fondness for her stash.
Frank turned his head toward Geri. “Speak for yourself. I was in the service. You couldn’t survive yourself out of a paper bag.”
“Nobody asked you, and you couldn’t survive nowadays with those bad knees of yours.” Geri rotated her head back to me. “He thinks he can still do what he did when he was twenty.”
I nodded for a lack of something to say. I didn’t know how to take these two. Was it a love/hate relationship? Having my own situation to deal with was enough for me, I didn’t need to be in the middle of any more drama.
“I just meant that you have so many things stockpiled.” Chelsey looked at me. I shrugged.
Frank didn’t look up from his cooking. “ShopRite had their Can Can sale last week. Do you know how much crushed tomatoes normally cost?”
Gazing at the pot on the stove that nearly reached the hood, I wondered how many cans of crushed tomatoes it held. Probably a lot.
Chelsey tried at a conversation again. “Do you mind me asking for your sauce recipe? It smells so good.”
“Wait until you taste it.” Frank retrieved a second oversized pot from the cabinet beneath the stove. He filled it with water and placed it on a burner. “I make the best gravy you’ve ever had. I’ll write it down for you after dinner.” He grabbed an industrial sized container of salt and poured some into the water without measuring first. “And you know, gravy repeats on a lot
of people, but not mine. See, the trick is the baking soda. A lot of people add sugar to reduce the acid, but that ruins the flavor. It really must be a sin to enjoy your own cooking so much.”
I silently wondered if calling tomato sauce “gravy” was a Jersey thing or an Italian thing. And the sauce repeating on people…was that what I had to look forward to once I was Frank’s age? If nothing else, Frank took my mind off my problems for a minute.
Frank retreated to the porch and returned with three pounds of pasta. I wondered who else he was feeding with all that pasta. He poured each box into the boiling pot of water. “So who is after you? Do I need to get my old hunting rifles out of the basement?”
“That won’t be necessary. No one knows we’re here.” I took a bite of the buttered piece of Italian bread that Geri handed to me.
“That’s a fresh spolet from People’s Bakery. They were out of sticks. How is it?” Geri asked.
“Good,” I mumbled with a full mouth.
“What sorta trouble you in?” Frank asked.
Chelsey was about to respond when Geri interrupted. “How much pasta did you put in?”
Frank turned and looked at her. “Three pounds, why?”
“Is that gonna be enough?”
“Why isn’t that enough? There’s a pound for me, a pound for Bryce and a pound for you and Chelsey.”
It seemed insane to me that Frank was cooking an entire pound of pasta for himself and another pound of pasta for me. But I shouldn’t have been surprised. Bonnie was half Italian and from what I had heard from Chelsey, it was as if she continually cooked for half the population of New York City.
“Linda and the kids are coming,” Geri replied.
I wondered who they were. I hadn’t realized there would be an entire house of witnesses seeing Chelsey and me. Wouldn’t Freddy send us somewhere to hide that would be more…well…like hiding?
“You didn’t tell me that!” Frank shouted.
“I did tell you that!”
“No, you didn’t!”
“Yes, I did! You don’t listen.”
“You never said that.” Frank retreated to the porch. Three more boxes of pasta went into the boiling water. It was amazing to me that six pounds of pasta fit into the pot. I didn’t own any pots that large. As a bachelor, I didn’t own many pots period. I suddenly understood why Frank had so many boxes of pasta on the porch. Two more dinners in this house and the boxes would be gone.
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