“Oh, Lord, please help us,” I prayed. Willie barked incessantly. The man stopped trying the doorknob. The shadow of his head appeared at the kitchen window above the sink. I didn’t know whether to hide under the bed or make a mad dash for the stairs. My heart rammed against my ribcage and my mouth went as dry as a desert.
Tires squealed. A commotion erupted. Footsteps dashed down the steps. I flew to the door, peeked, and when I didn’t see anything, rushed out to the porch.
A hooded figure dashed into the bushes behind Via’s and through their parking lot with Officer Williams right behind him. The Dodge Charger sat at my doorstep. Teague rushed over to the bottom of the steps.
“Delilah, you okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” I assured him, “Go help Williams!” Teague nodded, jumped back into the Charger and raced to aid his partner. Willie and I just waited atop the balcony, and though it was only a few minutes, it seemed like forever. The Charger reappeared at the end of the alley, creeping toward my building.
“What happened?” I demanded when Teague and Williams stepped out of the car.
“Got away,” Williams said, breathlessly. “Bastard was fast. Lost me in the park.” Teague made his way up the stairs to me. The knife trembled in my hand.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes. “Yes.”
“He didn’t get into the apartment, did he?” Teague slid the knife out of my hand.
“No, he just scared the hell out of Willie, that’s all,” I said.
“Should we go inside?” Teague asked, pointing to my front door. I raised an eyebrow at him. Being alone with Teague worried me.
“Why? I can give you my statement right here,” I insisted. “It’s a mess, boxes and dirty clothes everywhere. I wasn’t expecting company and there’s no need for the two of us to be in there anyway.” I can be such a dumbass.
Teague didn’t answer. He grinned and pointed down at my mid-section. I looked.
I was wearing a tank top, braless, and panties – my Tuesday panties even though it was Friday because I stopped caring about getting the days right long ago.
“Shit.” I opened the door and slugged inside.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Hair
Teague sat at the tiny kitchen table with his back toward the bedroom as I tried to make myself decent. Willie sauntered up to Teague, pushed his hand for attention, and received plenty. I pulled on some shorts and a baggy T-shirt, still shivering with fright.
“I was just reading, you know,” I babbled while I dressed, “a little Agatha Christie and a little Wuthering Heights because I can’t resist. I drifted off to sleep. Next thing I know, Willie’s growling. Then, there’s footsteps coming up the stairs, and it’s like I’m in the middle of some kind of cheesy horror movie. A big shadow’s at the door, and he’s turning the knob, and when it doesn’t open, he starts banging on it. Bang, bang, bang. He moved to the window, but then you guys showed up and he took off.”
“Did you see his face?” Teague asked.
“No.”
“Anything familiar about him?”
“Based on this guy’s serious creep-factor,” I spat out, “he felt like Ronnie Chambers. That weasel’s freaked me out twice recently-”
Teague squinted his eyes at me. “What did he do?” In a blur of words, I spilled out the two encounters I’d had with Ronnie Chambers, the latter one being only a few hours old.
“You should’ve called me,” Teague scolded.
I shrugged. “Didn’t seem worth mentioning. Besides, this wasn’t him.”
“How can you be sure if you didn’t see his face?”
“Completely wrong body type. This guy looked like Frankenstein’s monster,” I said. “Big, neckless, dark.” I started the Mr. Coffee, realizing that there would be no sleep tonight.
Teague raised an eyebrow at me. “You want me to put out an APB for Frankenstein?”
“Frankenstein was the name of the very normal looking doctor who made a creature out of used body parts. I said he looked like Frankenstein’s monster. There’s a huge difference, literally. And obviously, it would be silly to do that. I’m just trying to give you a frame of reference.”
“You read too much,” Teague returned. “And you’re doing the nervous talking thing again, by the way.”
“Can you blame me?” I rolled my eyes and went to grab the coffee pot, but my hands still shook like I was having a seizure. Teague got up and took the coffee pot from my hand. He placed his other hand on my arm and let his fingers roam back and forth.
“Everything’s okay now,” he said. “Let me get this.” He took two Charlie Brown mugs from the cabinet and filled them both with coffee. He added the sugar and creamer without asking, which is exactly how I take it, and stirred. He handed me the mug that said “Good Grief” along the side under an upside down picture of Charlie Brown. Fitting, I thought. We sat down at the table.
“Did he say anything?”
“No.”
Teague grabbed his walkie-talkie off his belt, and asked for dispatch to send a crime scene technician to 111 Starfish Drive. I rolled my eyes. “We’ll take fingerprints,” he explained. “We need to know who it was.”
“I’m sure it was nothing,” I replied, my hands still quivering like dead leaves in the wind. “Probably just some drunk guy.”
“Drunk guys don’t run that fast,” Teague pointed out.
“Could have been the squatter,” I suggested.
“Could have been the guy who sent you that note,” Teague went on quickly.
“No, it wasn’t.” I replied just as fast, without thinking.
Teague nodded. “So, it wasn’t a bill, after all?” My shoulders slumped. He continued, “Who sent the note and what did it say?”
“I did get a note in the mail,” I relented, “but it wasn’t threatening, just annoying. And it has nothing to do with this or Darryl-”
“Can’t you just tell me?”
I huffed. “If I do, can we just move on and not discuss it anymore?” Teague nodded. “My former boyfriend thought it would be cool to send me a sticky note that said Miss me? I suppose he wanted me to know that he knows where I am-”
“And you don’t think that’s threatening?”
“Teague, he’s a jerk,” I said with a sigh, “a control freak. That’s all.”
“How can you be so sure it wasn’t him? You didn’t see him,” Teague argued.
My new deal with Jonathan came to mind, like needles jammed in my eyes. I knew there’d be no reason for him to come here in such an underhanded way because he already had me. I couldn’t tell Teague that.
“Because I know him. He enjoys knowing that he still has some kind of sway over me. When we dated, he insisted that I straighten my hair.” Teague looked confused. I grabbed a heap of the wavy mess, and said, “You know, my hair’s kind of unruly. Jonathan insisted that I straighten it out.”
Teague raised an eyebrow.
“I know it sounds ridiculous,” I went on, “but I did it. Maybe it looked better. Anyway, I eventually realized that it wasn’t about hair. He just wanted to see evidence of my obedience, if that makes sense.”
I stopped to shake my head and run my hands through my very messy hair. “My point is that Jonathan likes to do things like write stupid notes or tell me how to look or hold things over my head. But, he’s never been violent or scary. Jonathan would have knocked and charmed his way in. This wasn’t his style.”
I shoved my face in my coffee cup, if for no other reason than to keep myself from doing any more talking. Teague was silent for a moment, and then cleared his throat.
“This must be your first night in the apartment,” he said. “Who knew you’d be here?”
I took a heavy breath. “Family. Damon’s crew.”
Teague jotted down notes, and then said, “I want to check downstairs. You have your keys?”
I handed him the keys from the counter, and said, “Should
I go with you? To check on the money and, um, you know, I’d be the one to know if things are as they should be, anyway, since they’re my things.” Teague gave me his best calming look.
“I can call Williams up here,” he said. “I won’t leave you alone. Once I do a sweep, I’ll come back and get you. Then you can check the money and make sure everything’s in order.”
Teague left to search the store. Officer Williams joined me in the apartment and accepted a cup of coffee. He preferred to stand by the open door, though I offered for him to come in and take a seat at the table.
“Still don’t believe in curses?” he asked me with a light chuckle.
I grunted and rolled my eyes.
“Well, you ain’t gotta believe in curses for them to believe in you,” Williams remarked.
The technician arrived to dust the doorframe and windowsill, and Officer Williams’ attention was momentarily diverted away from curses and onto the business at hand. Moments later, Teague returned for me, and though he said things were fine, I wanted to see for myself. Teague guided me around the darkened building with his flashlight, and I kept my hand on his arm for safety.
“Are you okay?” he questioned. “I mean, really okay?”
I smiled. “My heart’s still beating a little fast, but I’m fine.”
He chuckled. “You sure that’s because of the attempted break-in?”
I laughed. We rounded the corner and stepped onto the sidewalk. Streetlights brightened up our path. Teague switched off his flashlight.
“You’re very good for this job, you know,” I told him, giving his arm a gentle squeeze before I let it go. “You have a very calming way about you and I know I’m not easy to deal with. I talk too much and think I know everything.” He laughed.
“I’m serious. You melt tensions,” I told him, and then smiled, “and not just when you’re rubbing my temples to get rid of my headache.”
We’d come to a stop in front of the store windows. Teague smiled, glanced down at his feet, and blushed, ever so slightly. “I just wanted to tell you that,” I said.
Teague looked back up, and reached for a piece of my hair. He let the lock curl around his fingertip. He shook his head. “Can’t imagine why anyone’d want to change you,” he said softly, “especially your hair. I love your hair.” He grinned.
I chuckled. “Wow, you’ve trumped my compliment,” I returned.
“Since you were giving them out,” he laughed, “thought I’d hand one over. You could use one.”
“I won’t turn it away,” I admitted.
Teague unlocked the front door, and flipped on the lights bringing the store to life.
“Cleaner did a decent job,” Teague remarked, staring at the large circular mark on the floor and the absence of red on the wall.
“Yep,” I said, avoiding the spot to make my way to the office.
“You don’t have to step over it anymore, you know,” Teague smiled slightly.
“Doesn’t feel right to step on it.” I feel like I already know you. Darryl’s words echoed in my ears again. Teague followed me to the back office. I gathered the money bag from the bottom of the filing cabinet and checked inside to ensure that it was still there. I was about to tell Teague that all was well, but his attention was diverted.
“What’s this?” he asked. He’d leaned down by the base of the filing cabinet and eyed the metal stick jutting out from underneath the left corner. With a handkerchief, Teague eased the metal tool out from its hiding place. My heart rammed against my throat.
“Um, that’s mine,” I blurted out. “I must’ve dropped it.”
Teague looked at me, with a raised eyebrow. “Yours, huh?”
“Yep.”
“What is it?” He eyed the metal stick with a snake curve on the end, and I could see that he was suspicious.
“It’s a nail thingy,” I replied quickly. “For my nails.” I wiggled my fingers to highlight the point, though I hadn’t done my nails in ages. Teague stood upright, holding the tool delicately in his handkerchief.
“Is that the story you really want to go with?” he asked, left eyebrow perched high on his forehead. Nervous acids boiled in my stomach. My shoulders fell.
“No.”
“Why lie about it?” he asked, his voice stern.
“Because if it doesn’t belong to me, then it might belong to Darryl,” I reasoned, voice shaking, “or the killer and if your nimrod co-workers overlooked it, then that means that they’ll have to come back in here again and that’ll mean another delay.”
“You knew it was here?” he asked.
“I saw it when I came in to get my clothes,” I admitted.
“And you didn’t say anything?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I didn’t think it was important. It’s probably been there for years. Probably belonged to Uncle Joe or something. I didn’t want to further complicate matters by wasting more time on something that was nothing.”
“Delilah, this is a lock-picking tool. It’s called a snake rake. It’s part of set of tools,” he continued, “and just possessing them, unless you’re a certified locksmith, is illegal.”
The word ‘mistake’ reverberated through my skull like it sounded off a gong. I bit my bottom lip and cocked my head. “Then you should probably know that my fingerprints are on it,” I added weakly.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Sea Cucumbers
Though the sea is filled with beautiful, enchanting creatures, the sea cucumber is not one of them. Shaped like its namesake, this echinoderm lives mostly on the ocean floor, feeding off of waste and leftovers. There is little charming about its life. What’s worse is the sea cucumbers’ defenses against predators. When threatened, these brainless creatures mutilate themselves and shoot their own organs out of their anuses at their attackers. Later, the organs regenerate.
After Teague’s discovery of the snake rake, I felt like both the sea cucumber (brainless) and the disposed organs (poop). The right thing would have been to tell the truth about the tool when I found it. My hopes for an honest life were slipping through my fingers.
Teague called in the discovery to a highly suspicious Detective Harlan Lewis, who wished to speak to me again in the morning. The technician upstairs came down to collect the new evidence.
“Ms. Duffy found it,” Teague told the gentleman wearing latex gloves, “underneath the filing cabinet here and picked it up. Her fingerprints are all over it.”
“It’s a good find,” the technician said, admiring the tool. “Haven’t seen one of these in ages. Did you see any others lying around?” Teague and I both shook our heads. “We’ll have to do a more thorough search. I’ll call in a few other officers. Hope we won’t have to pry up any of the floorboards.”
“What?” I demanded.
The technician shrugged. “Well, it’s a lot of work and it gets messy. Hopefully, we can avoid it.” The man smiled. I fumed.
“I’ll take Ms. Duffy back upstairs and finish taking her statement,” Teague replied, escorting me away from the scene.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you,” I said once we turned into the alley. My mind flashed to the painted sand dollar I’d stolen from the crime scene, and my heart leapt once again. Presently, it was safely tucked away in my make-up bag in the apartment.
“Just be sure to tell Lewis that you found it tonight,” Teague replied, his voice irritated. “That you found it first and picked it up.”
I shrugged. “Okay.”
Back in the apartment, Teague took his place at the table to work on the rest of his paperwork, seething under his collar. I sat down next to him, bringing one knee up to my chin, and eyed his anger.
“I didn’t know what it was,” I told him, “honestly.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t think it was important,” I added.
He stopped writing, and tossed the pen down. “Obviously not.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Don’t be angry at me.�
��
“I’m not angry at you,” he returned. “I just can’t stand deceitfulness.”
“You don’t have to protect me,” I said.
“Is there anything else, Delilah?” he asked pointedly. “Any other thing you’re keeping from me, even something you think might not be important?” My mind flooded with possible answers to that question. I was selective.
“I may know a little bit about why there might be a snake rake near Darryl Chambers,” I said, weakly.
“What do you know?”
“Well, you’re probably going to think I’m rather ridiculous,” I said, nervous acids churning again, “but the other day I went over to Shawsburg High School. While I was there, I sort of asked a few questions-”
“About Darryl Chambers,” Teague finished.
“Well, yeah. I mean, he’s been on my mind and since I was there anyway, might as well,” I replied. Teague stood up and leaned against the kitchen counter, arms folded.
“What were you thinking?” Teague asked, even more irritated.
“They were just harmless questions-”
“Really, Delilah? Let’s consider what happened tonight and then rethink the word harmless,” Teague bit back.
“Just listen, okay?” I ordered. “I think I can help.”
“Fine, I’m listening.”
“I spoke to Darryl’s English teacher, Mrs. Trojak,” I explained, “and she said that he wrote a paper on the history of locks. It was a free-write, which means he wrote it off the top of his head, Teague. She said it was very specific.”
“So?”
“So, did you know that during his senior year, Darryl allegedly managed to steal the assistant principal’s prized marlin right off his office wall?” I continued. “Coach Tucker told me that if Darryl had done it, he would’ve had to have broken in to four different locks, including an electronic one.”
I stood up and went over to Teague. I refilled my coffee cup. “I think that Darryl Chambers knew all about locks. That tool, the snake rake, was his. He used it to get into the store after I left so he could put the chandelier up for me.”
Sea-Devil: A Delilah Duffy Mystery Page 16