The heavy garage door at the back of the warehouse was still securely locked, so once again we squirmed our way through the gaps in the siding and under the door we had used the day before. With all the added security to the old place, one would think the masterminds of this operation would have thought to repair the obvious problem. Oh well, it worked for us.
Near the front office of the dilapidated building, June located the switch for the overhead lights. They came on slowly and with the whiny sound of fluorescent bulbs that were not long for this world. The inside of the building again lit up, but I could now see the flickering bulbs were dangling precariously from the loft’s ceiling beams. Wild shadows danced eerily over the walls and floor of the drafty building like ghouls at a monster mash.
“This place is really starting to creep me out, June. If it wasn’t for poor Ruby and Roger, and the fact that my husband seems to be mixed up in all of this somehow, I’d be out of here before you could say ‘chocolate martini!’”
June was calmly unpacking her fancy camera equipment she uses on assignment, so I took a nice, deep yoga breath to calm myself and walked over to the far wall to take a closer look into more of the stacked boxes.
I split the packing tape on the top of the first large cardboard box I reached with the hot pink mini box-cutter I had added to my bag this morning. The first thing I pulled out was a pair of royal blue Michael Kors patent leather sandals just like the ones I tried on at Macy’s last week. They were even my size.
“These are really good reproductions!” I whispered toward June’s general location.
I was both amazed and impressed, and frankly overwhelmed, as I opened box after box and uncovered more and more knock-offs of high-end brands favored by many stylish ladies with the need to be noticed. Coach and Gucci handbags in one box. Balenciaga scarves and Yves St. Laurent sunglasses in another. The luxury items were too numerous to name or count.
I looked up from the growing mountain of goods to see June perusing what looked like packing lists attached to a clipboard that hung on the wall.
“Come here, Francie,” she called to me. “This doesn’t look good.”
She reached for her camera and focused the high-power zoom lens in on the names and addresses of several boutiques located on the island and a few more on the mainland. When I got close enough to read the smaller tickets, I saw receipt after receipt all signed by Roger Burns. It appeared that Ruby’s Treasure Chest was one of the most regular buyers of the beautiful contraband.
“Where is all of this stuff coming from? There must be a company name on one of those receipts or packing lists.”
June continued flipping through the stack of paper slips. “Wait. Here’s something!”
I craned my neck to read the small print without the aid of my reading glasses. The poor lighting wasn’t making it any easier. “What? What does it say? I give up.”
“This one says ‘Overmayer Overnighter.’ I bet it’s the name of some sort of transport business. I can look online to see if it’s legitimate. Maybe we can backtrack and trace the source of these boxes through their travel history.”
“Boy, oh, boy. I wish I could remember why something is ringing a bell. I’m sure there’s something familiar about something.”
“Well, gee, Francie, that really narrows it down.”
“There is no need to get sarcastic. Don’t worry. It’ll pop into my head when I least expect it.”
“Well, let’s hope it’s before your seventieth birthday!”
“Never mind that for now. We need to get back to finding out what’s going on!” The tension in the room right now was palpable.
June was on a mission. She snapped photos of all the written evidence and then started in on the boxes and goods strewn about the floor. I decided to walk the perimeter of the building and look for more clues. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but I was sure I’d know it when I found it. I passed rows and rows of boxes, picked up a ball of fluff that thankfully didn’t turn out to be a mouse, and tripped on the bottom step of a rickety unstable-looking staircase leading to I didn’t know what. I had made it almost around and back to June but so far had come up empty-handed (except for the fluff). She was just raising her eyes from her camera and suddenly the room went black.
“What the…?” I whipped my head frantically from side to side trying to see something. Anything. “June, are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’m here, Francie. Right here.”
We both shuffled our feet and stretched out our arms in the direction of each other’s voices until our fingertips touched. Our fingers locked, and we threw our bodies at one another. Together, we froze in place and waited for our eyes to adjust to the new inky darkness.
After a minute, we finally got our wits about us and assessed our situation.
“I’m surprised those lights stayed on as long as they did,” June finally whispered. “They didn’t look too stable from the get-go.”
“I know.” I replied. “We need to make our way back to those boxes I was looking in when we first got here. My cell phone is still over there. We can use our flashlight apps to see what’s up and get out of here without getting hurt.”
“My phone’s in the front pocket of my camera case. It’s so dark I can’t see it from here. Hopefully, I’ll be able to grab it on our way to get yours.”
We shuffled and groped our way back to the spot where the knock-offs I was looking for were strewn about. I dropped down on my hands and knees, and June bent over the disarray of goods to help me locate my missing phone.
I was still rummaging through all the stuff when June stood up with my phone in her hand. I was about to hug her when she let out a yell that pierced my eardrums like a poisoned syringe.
“Francie, quick! We need to get out of here.”
The next breath I took told me the whole story. The place was quickly filling up with acrid smoke.
“Let’s go!” I cried. I grabbed June’s hand as she pulled me to my feet.
We found the exit door without a problem. It didn’t take long to realize; however, that it was locked tight from the outside, and no amount of pulling, pushing, or banging would budge it. We couldn’t make it to the gap under the garage door entrance either. It was across the room and there was thick black smoke and flaming boxes and merchandise in front of us blocking our path.
“Up there! The windows. We need to get to the windows!”
I knew it was the only other means of escape. But we needed to get there. The windows were nearly at the roofline, and the stairs I had tripped over just minutes ago were probably as deadly as the smoke. We determined they were intended to lead up to some additional storage under the rafters, and we also surmised that they wouldn’t support a forty-pound child, let alone two grown women. We had no other choice. It looked like we were going to have to take our chances.
June grabbed my arm tightly. “We need to decide what to do and fast! Find something we can use to break the window. I’ll look for something to break our fall.”
I remembered hearing June talk about the work she had done on an article for Sexy Men in Suspenders last winter. She had explained to me that in a burning building, oxygen doesn’t last long, especially the higher up in the room a person was. We needed to work fast. I searched frantically for something we could use to smash those windows. They were just single panes of glass, so it shouldn’t be too hard. “Here’s a Coach umbrella I think will do the job.”
“Okay. Good. Now we need something to break our fall so we don’t break our legs. Oh no! I jinxed us when I said that stupid stage phrase I thought was good luck!”
“Snap out of it, June! We don’t have time for you to panic right now.” I couldn’t remember ever seeing her so close to losing control. She was supposed to be the calming presence in our duo.
“Okay, wait, I think I might have an idea.” She rubbed her fists in her eyes, ran her fingers through her hair, then shook her hands vigorously at her sides. “
Do you still have those water-activated rafts you bought at Sirena’s shop?”
I rummaged in my handbag and found the turquoise iridescent shopping bag containing the novelty rafts. “Yes! Here they are! I have them both.”
My smile of accomplishment faded the instant I realized what was missing. “How are we going to activate this thing?”
June was already busy ransacking boxes in search of some kind of liquid. By sheer luck, she stumbled upon three cases of Veen, argued to be the freshest and purest water in the world. Good thing it was fake. At forty dollars a bottle for the real stuff, we would have had to think twice about what we were about to do with it.
The air was getting thicker with smoke. “Use these,” I gasped and tossed June some very stylish Hermes scarves to cover our faces.
We breathed through the scarves and clutched as many bottles of water as we could, stumbling our way to the perilous staircase leading to the upper level of the warehouse. By this time, flames were licking the edges of the doors and smoke was quickly taking the place of oxygen in our lungs. On the third step, I heard a crack beneath me, and my foot went right through the plank. A splinter the size of a sequoia tree ripped into my shin, but I didn’t have time to stop. I had to get to the top before the whole thing collapsed under me.
Finally, I made it, gasping and choking, to a narrow walkway beneath the windows looking out over the wooded lot behind the structure. Once I got my balance, I clutched my fancy counterfeit umbrella baseball bat-style and whacked at the glass like I was in the ninth inning of the deciding game of the World Series.
Meanwhile, June uncapped water bottles with a vengeance and poured their contents over a raft that was meant to be a gift for one of my children.
“I may never see my sweet babies again! We’ve got to get out of here. Now!”
As soon as the water hit the raft, it began to enlarge and bloat up like a giant pillow.
“Hurry Francie. Clear the jagged glass from the window edges so we don’t puncture this thing! It’s almost too big to fit out the window already.”
“It’s all clear. Hurry June, hurry!”
There was just enough time and space for June to dump the last bottle of water onto the raft and shove it out the window. It landed on the sticks and debris-covered ground twenty feet below us with a strange, slurpy thud.
“On the count of three! One. Two...”
“Wait! Do you mean on three or after three?” It seemed important to me at the moment.
June tugged me to my senses and we jumped as if our lives depended on it. (Oh yeah, they did.)
We landed in the middle of the enormous, spongy raft; elbows and knees flailing and bumping until we came to rest in a tangled heap. “Are you okay, June?”
“I think all my body parts are intact. My camera, not so much.”
We struggled to free ourselves from the giant flotation device and stepped back to take a look at the damages.
“Oh my God! What is that thing? June, what is that?”
June was beside me, speechless for the first time I can remember. When she recovered enough to form words, she sucked in air and tried to reply. I wasn’t sure if she was gasping, crying, or laughing. I was still staring in disbelief.
“It’s a... It’s a... Oh my gosh! It’s a giant penis!”
“So, I wasn’t hallucinating from the smoke.”
“Francie, what did you buy? Wasn’t that supposed to be for the twins? What’s wrong with you?”
Of course, I had no idea what shapes the dehydrated rafts would become when water was added to them when I bought the last-minute gifts. I didn’t actually read the fine print on the package. My reading glasses were always in my voluminous purse, but not always as easily accessible as when I remember to stash them in their designated pocket.
“Geesh. I’m wearing my glasses from now on. At least in the checkout aisle. Thank God that thing never made it to its intended destination.”
Not even a full minute had passed when Detective Jack Morgan came roaring up the street in his official car, lights and sirens blaring, and screeched to a halt in front of the two us. He got out of the car slowly, put his hands on his hips, and stood staring at us with those soul-piercing eyes, mentally taking a precise inventory of the scene before him, right down to the sticks and soot clinging to our no-nonsense tan and navy blue work uniforms. What could we do except stand there slumped, defeated, and in my case, bleeding, in front of the giant pornographic floaty toy. I’m sure the corner of his lip was twitching. To his credit, he neither laughed nor yelled at us.
Chapter Twenty-Two
June broke out of her mortified silence before I did, and went from zero to one hundred in a matter of seconds. She hurled herself at the detective and began babbling about how he was our hero and how scared we were. After that, it became hard to hear what she was saying due to the wailing of the four volunteer fire trucks that had arrived seconds behind Morgan.
“Thank God you showed up to save us and finally get to the bottom of this mystery. Now you can arrest the criminal trying to ruin Ruby’s life. And murder us.”
“I don’t think I’ll actually murder you, but you two certainly are causing a lot of commotion around here.”
“Huh? You know what I meant! Someone is trying to kill us!”
Morgan held June for a moment and let his gaze take in her sweet, pixie-like features streaked with ashy soot and complemented by a crooked dangling mustache. He composed himself and set her aside, but his eyes held her for an extra beat.
Meanwhile, I overheard the volunteer firefighters who were not having any luck curtailing the inferno. They had decided to let it burn out as a controlled fire and concentrated on keeping it from spreading to the trees and vegetation around the building. What I gathered from their conversation was that the abandoned structure’s value was minimal compared to the risk of harm to the men on the job.
“Listen to me!” I cried, as I ran back and forth between Morgan and the fire chief. “All of the evidence will be destroyed! We have to get back in there. We have to prove what was going on! These knock-offs might be linked to the mob and some rich dead guy from Chicago.”
Morgan stood his ground. “Listen, ladies. There’s a lot more to worry about than some fashion crime. A murder victim was found in the debris at Ruby’s, and so far, the only suspects of any crime happen to be the two of you and your husband, Francie. And by the way, where is Mr. Egge? He still isn’t returning my calls to either his cell phone or the messages I left with his office secretary.”
I responded automatically. “He left for home yesterday morning. Something came up at work that needed his attention.”
June’s eyes were wide with shock. “Murder victim? What are you talking about? Who is it? What happened? You mean it wasn’t an accident?”
I was one step behind in my reaction to what Morgan had just said. Thinking about Hamm had sent my attention in another direction.
“Wait a minute! Start over. I know that you said that someone died in the fire at Ruby’s. Are you saying now that it was intentional? This is terrible. How could this happen?”
Now Morgan was looking concerned. How did everything go so terribly wrong in such a short time?
When Detective Morgan spoke next, he directed his words directly at me. His voice was low and controlled.
“Francie, no one from Hammond’s firm has had any contact with him since Thursday afternoon. Are you saying you haven’t heard from him, either? He is currently wanted for questioning, so if you know something, you better tell me right now. This is very serious business. I’m sure by now you are aware of the incriminating remarks your husband made to Mrs. Burns. Numerous people from the Beacon Pointe Yacht Club have also corroborated his threatening remarks. Apparently, it’s no great secret how Hammond felt about the Burns’ establishment.
“Listen Francie, I hate to be so hard on you, and I’m trying my best to get the facts straight because, frankly, after spending some time w
ith him, I didn’t think he was the kind of guy who could pull off such a thing. I’m a pretty good judge of character, but I have to say that right now things are not looking good for your husband. It has also come to my attention that Hammond prosecuted a serial arsonist a few years back who used some pretty unique fire igniters. You wouldn’t know anything about how involved he was in the research for that trial, would you?”
I felt all the blood drain from my face. My hands were trembling. I was having a hard time coming to grips with what Morgan was saying to me. And where was Hamm? If I could just talk to him, I was sure all of these awful accusations would be cleared up.
I was trying so hard to focus and remain calm that I didn’t even notice the golf cart until it came to a stop inches from where we were standing. Sirena stepped out and scanned the scene.
“What’s all the excitement? I was heading to my shop when I saw the flames then heard sirens and decided I better come see what’s going on around here. A girl could start getting paranoid. Is everyone okay?”
She stopped talking just then and raised her eyebrows in surprise. She looked from June to me, taking in all the details: disheveled torn work uniforms, hair in utter disarray, and of course, the bloody shin, sooty faces and partial mustaches. Considering what we looked like the last time we ran into her, I wondered if she thought of our current state an improvement. To her credit though, she didn’t mention anything. Instead, she directed her next comments to Detective Morgan.
“What was in that building? I was under the impression it was just an empty warehouse. Do you know how the fire started?”
Morgan addressed her questions politely.
“We haven’t even begun to process the scene, so I really don’t have anything to report. No one was injured, and I really need to clear the area so the firemen and I can get to work here. Could you help me out by giving Francie and June a lift? If it’s okay, I’d like for them to wait for me at your shop. I’ll be by in a while to tie up some loose ends. These ladies have had enough excitement for one morning.”
Sunny Side Up (Lake Erie Mysteries Book 1) Page 15