Suspicious Mimes

by Virginia Brown

  Harley coughed. “I’m fine. Honest. Just a little bruised.”

  He still looked worried, but he calmed down a bit. Then he looked at the unmasked Elvis and his eyes got really big. “Jimmy Horton? You’re the killer?”

  Jimmy Horton. His face was so battered it was hard to tell if he was even human, but apparently Tootsie knew how. Horton glared at Tootsie. “If it wasn’t for you, my father never would have gone to prison, you queer!”

  “Sticks and stones. And it wasn’t me who got him into prison. He did it all by himself.”

  “He’d have made things right. You wouldn’t listen, you or that bastard Penney!”

  “Just how would he have made things right? He didn’t have any of the money left that he stole. He’d spent it all, down to a couple of thousand. Hardly enough to cover the couple hundred thousand he took.”

  “You didn’t give him a chance. You had to drag the cops into it. I had to watch while he went through a trial and got sent to that hell of prison. Every time I visit him, he’s got new bruises, new cuts. He doesn’t deserve that.”

  “You’ll forgive me if I don’t agree,” Tootsie said. “He committed a crime and a jury decided he’d done it. It wasn’t exactly a shock since he’d left so many clues.”

  “No one would have noticed if not for you!”

  Tootsie looked at him for a minute, and then asked, “So you think killing innocent people is a good payback?”

  “I didn’t do anything. Whoever did ruined your business, though. Obviously it was too damned easy to hack into your computers and find out what they needed to know. Seems like you aren’t the great computer whiz you pretend to be.”

  Tootsie ignored that. “But what did Lydia ever do to you?”

  Horton shrugged. “Nothing. I didn’t do anything to her, and you can’t prove I did.”

  Harley felt like smacking the smug bastard. She took a step forward, but Morgan grabbed her arm. “Don’t worry. He’ll get what’s coming to him.”

  Sneering, Horton said, “You won’t find any evidence that can convict me.”

  Morgan smiled. “I think the DNA we got from one of the crime scenes will be enough to send you to prison for a long, long time.”

  Horton stared at him, obviously stunned. “No, that’s not—”

  “Lydia caught you. She got skin under her fingernails when she tried to fight you off. You should have been more careful.”

  One of the officers took Horton roughly by the arm and shoved him toward the door. As they passed by him, Tootsie swung his heavy purse and hit Horton a good clip on the chin. Horton staggered sideways and Tootsie hit him again.

  Then an officer caught his arm. “That’s enough, Priscilla.”

  The last thing Harley heard Horton say was that he’d have all their badges, that he hadn’t done anything wrong. She turned around to look at Morgan and Tootsie.

  “He’s nuts. Can he get off on an insanity plea?”

  “Doubtful,” Morgan said. “He was sane enough to plan a complicated series of murders. Besides, no prosecutor would allow it.”

  “Good. He deserves to fry. Is Tennessee a death penalty state?”

  “Vicious little thing, aren’t you.”

  Harley nodded. “Only when necessary.”

  Morgan grinned. “You’re something, you know that?”

  “Yes. It’s one of my better virtues.”

  Tootsie took her home. Her apartment was still a mess, but Frank seemed happy enough. He made chuckling noises in his glass tank, and nibbled on some ferret food.

  “Home sweet home.” Harley collapsed into one of her overstuffed chairs. It tilted to the right. A brief examination revealed a broken leg. One of the hazards of getting mixed up with a serial killer, she thought.

  “Sit up,” Tootsie said as he hovered over her, and she looked up at him.

  “What’s that?”

  “Neosporin, a warm washrag, and bandages. I’m going to clean you up and take care of your face. Then I’ll put some ice on your mouth. You look like a duck.”

  She sat up in the tilting chair and muttered, “Flattery will get you anywhere.”

  After Tootsie did his doctor routine he offered to stay a while, but she waved him off. “I’m fine. Go home, Priscilla.”

  Grinning, Tootsie hefted his Jimmy Choo purse and left, telling her to lock the door behind him. She did, then went out onto her balcony and called for Sam. He didn’t answer. Where was he? Was he lost and gone forever? The thought depressed her and left tears in her eyes. She sniffled.

  “I’m getting to be too much like Cami,” she sighed, and went back inside. The sight of his litter box didn’t help. As late as it was, she decided to go down and look in the trap under the bushes to see if he’d been fooled into going for the can of tuna.

  He hadn’t. The trap had, however, snared a raccoon that didn’t look at all happy. It curled tiny fingers in the wire and stuck its nose through one of the small squares. Beady eyes looked at her hopefully. She tried not to notice.

  “Are you the little beast who gets into the garbage dump all the time? You make quite a mess, you know. I shouldn’t let you go.”

  She let it go, of course. It sprang out from the trap and attached itself to her leg. She screeched. That scared the raccoon so badly it fell off her leg. Then it took off for wherever it was urban raccoons went.

  A little shaken, Harley didn’t bother to reset the trap. Apparently Sam wasn’t coming back anytime soon. If at all.

  When she went back into the apartment building and stepped into the entrance hall, a door opened. Sarah Simon peered out through the narrow space between the chain-locked door and the door frame.

  “Did you lose a cat?”

  Harley’s stomach jumped. She nodded. “Yes. A loud Siamese. Have you seen him?”

  Sarah nodded. “He’s in my bathroom. Come and get him. He won’t use the newspapers.”

  Sam is used to more pleasant living arrangements, Harley thought as Sarah closed the door and undid the chain.

  Sarah’s apartment was piled high with magazines and newspapers. It was clean but cluttered, with stuff sitting everywhere. A big-screen TV sat against one wall, and a huge chair had been placed in front of it. Tables held more figurines and magazines.

  “How did you find him?” Harley asked as she followed Sarah through the maze toward the bathroom.

  “I didn’t. He found me. I heard him scratching on my window screen, and when I saw it was a cat and not a murderer I let him in. My cat died a few months ago, and I thought maybe the fairies sent me a new one.”

  “Uh huh,” Harley said. Sarah might be nuts, but at least she didn’t seem homicidal. It did explain a lot of her behavior.

  Sarah opened her bathroom door and Sam shot out like a rocket. His fur stood straight out and up, and he looked pissed.

  Halfway across the room and somewhere in the maze, he must have noticed Harley. He came back a little at a time. When he peered around a stack of Victoria magazines, he saw Harley and his eyes narrowed into blue slits. She couldn’t tell if he was happy to see her or just mad because she’d taken so long to come get him.

  “Are you sure that’s your cat?” Sarah asked doubtfully, and Harley nodded.

  “Oh yeah. I can tell by the bad attitude.”

  Sam minced over to her and hissed, then leaped up so that she had to grab him or risk his claws raking down her front. He started to purr and rub his whiskers against her face, and then dug his claws into her arm.

  “I think he’s ready to go home now,” Harley said as she carefully dislodged him from her forearm. “You don’t know how grateful I am that you took him in. If there’s ever anything you need, just let me know and I’ll do my best to help out.”

  “There is one thing,” Sarah said. “Y
ou could stop having murderous maniacs up to your apartment. The neighbors are talking.”

  “Will do.”

  Harley left, crooning to Sam as she went upstairs. As soon as she unlocked her door and stepped into the living room, he made a leap from her arms and a mad dash under her bed. She didn’t much blame him. It must have been an exhausting few days for him.

  Before she went to bed, Harley called Cami and told her Sam was back. “In good shape and as ornery as ever.”

  “Oh, I’m so relieved. Where was he?”

  “In a neighbor’s apartment. Sarah Simon. She thought the fairies brought him.”

  “What?”

  “True story. Oh, and the killer’s in jail. I’ll tell you all about it when I come out of the coma I’m planning, okay?”

  “Come out of it soon. I can’t wait to hear.”

  When Harley hung up, she staggered toward her bedroom and collapsed on the bed. She debated a bath and changing into a pair of panties, but fell asleep before she could bring herself to do more than lie there under the ceiling fan.

  A heavy weight on the side of her bed woke her with a start and she reached out for some kind of a weapon, her heartbeat escalating into a Flight of the Bumblebee pace.

  “Hey, I’m part of the cavalry,” a familiar voice said, and she flopped back onto her pillow.

  “How the hell do you always get in through a locked door?”

  “Simple. I still have the key you gave me.”

  “Oh. I could have shot you, you know.”

  He bent and kissed her until her head started to spin and tingles popped up in vital places. “You don’t have a gun,” he said after a moment.

  “You don’t know that.”

  Morgan curled his fingers into hers and pushed her arms up over her head and deep into her pillow. “Yes I do. If you did, you’d have shot Horton instead of kicking him in the crotch.”

  “I liked kicking him in the crotch. He was obviously a slow learner. I did it a few times.”

  “Are your lips still swollen?”

  “Tootsie put ice on them. I’m good to go.”

  “How handy,” he murmured deep in his throat. “Want to take a shower with me?”

  “Are you saying I stink?”

  “Yeah. But that’s okay. So do I.”

  Before she could think up an appropriate insult, he lifted her into his arms and walked toward the bathroom. It took him no time to strip off her clothes and his, and they were in the shower with hot water beating down on them and slick soap making things nice and slippery.

  “I thought you wanted your space,” she murmured through the pelting water.

  “I just said that so you wouldn’t snoop around in my case too much.”

  “And what was your case?” She shuddered when he slipped his hands down over her well-lathered body.

  “Hughes and Williams. They were running a scam on the charity and the tourists.”

  “I knew it! I knew there was something wrong about those guys!”

  “Sometimes you scare me.”

  “You love it.”

  He laughed softly. “I guess I do.”

  It was the best shower she’d had in a long time, Harley reflected a few hours later as her bedroom started to get light enough for her to see the wet towels on her floor.

  Mike was asleep. That was okay. He’d worked pretty hard these last few hours. She smiled and turned over to throw a leg over him. Not a bad ending to the night.

  Not bad at all.

  Diva called at noon. “Yogi’s on the front page of the paper. He’s credited with capturing the serial killer. I think you should come over and congratulate him. Most of the neighborhood has shown up this morning.”

  “So he’s famous, huh.”

  “As I told you he’d be.”

  “You’re scary.”

  Diva ignored that and said, “It’d be nice if you’d stop by to pick up Nana on your way. She wanted to be here, too.”

  Harley closed her eyes. Serenity was so short-lived.

  “I’ll pick up Nana,” she heard herself sigh, and Morgan turned over and started doing things with his fingers that made her speechless.

  “I’ll expect you in a few hours,” Diva said, and Harley hung up. Her mother knew too many things she’d rather she didn’t.

  She didn’t show up at Whispering Pines until 3:00. Nana met her in the lobby.

  “It’s about damn time you got here. I was just thinking about a quickie with Julio.”

  Harley winced at the images that summoned. “I thought his name was Rico.”

  “Oh yeah. So it is. No matter. Let’s get out of here, chickie.”

  Chickie and Nana got to the house on Douglass Street by three-thirty. Eric met them at the curb. “When are you going to get your car back?” he asked. “This one looks pretty ragged.”

  “It’s a theft deterrent. And I get my car back day after tomorrow. Once I raid my savings account.”

  “Stop chattering and come inside,” Nana said as she opened the gate in the picket fence, marching up the sidewalk. Long-stemmed sunflowers banged against her head and she shoved them to the side. Bumblebees swarmed around her baseball cap. She took a few swats at them and they buzzed off. Not much intimidated Nana.

  Yogi met them at the door. His chest was all puffed out and his knuckles had a few cuts. He must have taken some swings at Horton.

  “I hear you’re famous now,” Nana said.

  Yogi nodded. “So everyone says.”

  “You captured that killer, didn’t you? Good thing. He was starting to get on my nerves. Is that Sadie in there? I hope she brought some pie.”

  Without waiting for an answer, Nana went into the kitchen. Harley looked at her brother and Yogi. “Now do you understand why I couldn’t stop her from stealing that horse and carriage?”

  “Cool chick, no one can stop Nana when she’s set her mind on something,” Eric said.

  Yogi grinned. “She told Diva she wants her gun back. I hope they don’t give it to her.”

  “Don’t worry. Bobby isn’t too anxious to arm her again. Things happen.”

  “That’s a relief. Did you see the morning paper?”

  “Not yet.” Yogi held it out and she scanned the headline. “Hey, you’re really famous.”

  Shrugging, her father said, “Not quite the way I thought I’d be, but I guess this is pretty good.”

  “You saved my life! I think it’s much better than pretty good.”

  Yogi’s grin got so wide she thought his face might never be normal again.

  “Come on into the kitchen,” Eric said. “There’s pie and cake. Aunt Darcy sent over some of those good cookies Janet makes. They have lots of icing on the top.”

  “I’m sold.”

  They wandered into the kitchen where Sadie Shipley sat on a stool by the breakfast bar and told anyone who’d listen that she’d always known Yogi had it in him to tackle a killer. Yogi rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. Diva just smiled her serene smile.

  Harley stuffed her mouth with Janet’s cookies. No one made them better. Aunt Darcy was the bomb; Janet was worth every penny she paid her to cook and clean. Darcy had changed a lot in the past months and become much nicer. Madeline and Amanda still had a ways to go.

  A pleasant buzz filled the kitchen, reminding Harley of her childhood. Diva had never closed her door to anyone. Over the years, a long line of hippies, drifters, and the adventurous had been invited inside. Some of them, Harley recalled, were former residents of the communes they’d lived in from time to time. It was a mystery to her how they’d found her house, but maybe Diva gave off some kind of vibe that drew them in.

  “This isn’t sweet tea,” Nana said, looking into the glass she’d b
een given. “What is this crap?”

  Diva said calmly, “Chamomile. It’s soothing.”

  “It’s crap. Use real tea. This stuff tastes like watered-down flies.”

  While Harley was trying to figure out if chamomile really did taste like watered-down flies, Morgan showed up.

  Nana immediately got all flirty. “Hey handsome, where’d you come from?”

  Morgan took it in stride. “Midtown, Mrs. McMullen.” He looked over at Harley. “Baroni said to tell you he still expects you to show up and give your statement.”

  “Bobby Baroni?” Nana snorted. “He still hasn’t given me my gun back yet. I’m thinking of suing the entire police department.”

  “I hope you have a good lawyer.”

  “I do. He’s a real pip.”

  “By the way, Nana, I brought you something.” Harley held out a flowery gift bag.

  Nana looked at it suspiciously. “It’s not something unpleasant, is it?”

  “Why on earth would you think that? It’s just something I think you might like.”

  Nana took the bag and peered into it as if afraid the contents might bite. Then her face lit up. “Hot damn!”

  She pulled out the gift and waved the wooden penis in the air. Mrs. Shipley looked puzzled, then shocked.

  “Anna Mae? Is that what I think it is?”

  “Yep, and a good, big one. Not that I can do anything with it, but it does give me nice memories. Oughta give Rico something to work towards. Why’d you give this to me, Harley?”

  “When I was in that casket and vault, I wished I’d made a will. Then I thought—why wait? I’d just give it to you now.”

  “Did you leave me your bike?” Eric looked hopeful until she shook her head.

  “I’m keeping that for a while longer.”

  Silence had fallen, with Mrs. Shipley still looking shocked, Nana gloating, and Morgan looking bemused. Diva must have thought it was time to say something innocuous.

  “Would you care for something to drink?” Diva asked Morgan, and before he could answer Nana said, “Don’t drink the tea. It tastes like crap.”

  Yogi handed Mike an organic root beer. “Try this.”

  “Thanks. There a lot of talk about you down at the precinct.”