Yew to a Kill

by Kim Smith

  We disconnected, and I immediately went into action. I grabbed the remains of my popcorn, double-checked my gun to make sure it had one round in the chamber, dabbed a spicy perfume behind my ears and headed out in Betsy. It didn’t feel right going out to face an uncertain adventure in Dwayne’s car without him.

  Bubba’s plot was close to the street, but pretty far back off the main lane through the cemetery. I cut Betsy’s lights off after I turned in and drove slowly until I saw the moonlight glimmer on a car ahead. I pulled in behind Sal’s car.

  He walked down the short hill to my right, opened the passenger door, and got in.

  “Something’s going down tonight. I’ve been watching Rafe’s place and saw him sneak out and head down the street on foot. Somebody in a black Mercedes picked him up and they drove off down Greenman. I lost them in traffic, but came out here on a hunch. Scott has given the department pretty much carte blanche, keys and all. But strangely, none of us were supposed to be here tonight, and I found the gate unlocked. And something else. Drive on and I’ll show you. Keep your lights off.”

  I followed where he pointed and started up the lane. In a few seconds, we made a bend and a black car could be seen parked half-way into the wooded area near the fence.

  “Look familiar?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Uh-oh. Same car? God, Sal, Rafe’s in with the casket thieves? Dwayne and I suspected, but—”

  “Hold up. That’s what I want to find out. If he is, it’s some sort of mistake. Whoever these guys are, he’s scared to death of them. He’s a conflicted participant.”

  “Well, duh. I’d be conflicted, too, if someone was threatening me with a loaded syringe.”

  Sal pulled his gun out of his holster and eased open the door. I pushed open my own door, then cringed at my forgetfulness.

  “Shit!” I hissed. Too late. The door made a sound like a cat being tortured.

  Sal gave me a pained look and threw himself back in. “Drive!”

  We took off. I kept trying to see movement in my rearview mirror, but no light illuminated the area behind us. We slid to a stop under the awning of the funeral home, behind the hearse.

  “Damn it, Shannon. Why don’t you warn me about this stuff?”

  I took a deep breath and held my tongue. I should have driven Dwayne’s car. Why didn’t I think about the screechy door?

  He climbed out. “Come on. We’ll wait to see what happens, but we’ll keep watch from my car.”

  We jogged the distance through the tombstones, cutting across the cemetery until we made it back to his Taurus, then scurried inside like mice in a hole. I slunk down, hoping to be more invisible.

  “I don’t suppose you brought your camera?” Sal asked, calmly, peering into the night.

  “Well, no.” He hadn’t said anything about a damn camera. “I probably have something in my trunk. If I haven’t taken it all to the office,” I told him.

  “No time.” He took a deep breath and started up the Taurus. I remembered the footage Dwayne and I had taken recently and reminded myself to get busy and watch it again.

  We crept slowly around the bend. The Mercedes was gone. Probably scared off by the loudness of my car door. By the time we reached where they had been, headlights flooded the gate at the mouth of the cemetery, and we watched as they sailed through.

  “Damn.” Sal said.

  “Don’t blame me.”

  “Not blaming you, but you really need to pick up some WD40 for that door.”

  “You never know when the element of surprise will benefit you.”

  He sighed, and said, “There’s just no catching these guys.”

  “At least you know I’ve told you the truth. Let’s get out and go look in the woods. What if they left caskets out there again?

  He shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt, I guess.”

  He leaned over me and took out a shiny silver flashlight. “The better to see you with, my dear,” he joked. “Not to mention a great weapon.”

  I pulled out my .38 and felt around for a place to tuck it. Finally, I settled on the back waistband of my pants. “Yeah, well, I’m making sure it has company.”

  “You’re going to blow a hole in your...” He didn’t finish what he wanted to say about my choice of hiding spots for it, and instead, pulled it out of my waistband and unloaded it. “When I asked you to bring it, I meant bring it and a holster, or at least a pocket. Leave it here. We don’t need any accidents tonight.”

  “Whatever,” I replied, trying to inject ice into my voice. Sal didn’t know about the accuracy I had shown at the range in my shooting classes with Dwayne. In truth though, I hoped I didn’t have to prove my ability to him or anyone else.

  We followed the same path Dwayne and I had taken when he was shot, and I bit my tongue to keep from saying anything about it to Sal. If he feared a similar fate might befall us, he might make me go back to the car. He could be such a chauvinist.

  I took a few extra breaths to calm my nerves hoping not to have to face another incident at the hands of those creeps. In my mind I kept chanting my own version of the Ghostbusters theme song. I had retitled it, “Creepbusters”.

  No towering bank of caskets greeted us at the rear fence, and I physically relaxed as a drip of sweat rolled down my back. Sal turned his flashlight on and shone the beam around the fence. A fresh pile of dirt was mounded up farther ahead along the fence. We walked that way, and I kept one hand on his back.

  He stopped short, and I bumped into him.

  “Oops. What is it? Leaves?”

  “That’s not what I would call it,” he replied, turning around and hustling me back the way we came.

  “Wait! Stop. What is it?” I made him stop his forced march.

  He looked me straight in the eye, taking my arms in each hand. “You up for more bad news?”

  My heart twisted. “Oh, no.”

  “It looks like a grave. They’ve buried something out here.”

  “Oh, my freaking God.”

  “Let’s go. I’ve got to call it in, just in case it’s a—you know.”

  I let him turn me around, and we hurried back to the Taurus. He used his radio. I sat in the car, paralyzed. What if it was a body? What was I thinking? Of course it was a body! These weirdoes were into something serious and deadly. Drugs, caskets, and who knew what else. They might bury someone out there as a warning to the rest of us for meddling over the last week.

  Then, a dark thought rose in my mind. What if it was Rafe? What would I do? What would Sal do? He had been seen getting into the Mercedes and it had ended up here.

  I chewed on one of my newly-painted nails until I had it soft and pliable. Then I viciously tore it off with my teeth. Biting my nails was only one of my bad habits, but it certainly was one that came out in times of stress. I always wondered if my mother had deprived me of a pacifier when I was a child and created this terrible habit of mine.

  While I contemplated the nail-biting thing to keep my mind off the actual horror, cops began arriving. The blue lights spiraled through the darkness as they wended their way through the grounds.

  Sal went to meet them.

  The flurry of activity ensued all around me as cops and paramedics and the whole of the South Lake crime scene unit showed up to work the scene. I hadn’t felt more out of place, or alone in a long while. I pulled my cell out and dialed Dwayne.

  “Hey,” I said when he picked up. “Were you asleep? Sorry to wake you.”

  “No, you ain’t,” he yawned. “You love to do this. Never mind. What’s wrong? And what the hell time is it?”

  I semi-laughed. “What? Does something always have to be wrong?”

  He coughed. “Yes. It’s two-thirty in the damn morning. Why are you calling me?”

  “I was with Sal and we—”

  “You did not wake me up to tell me about you and your boyfriend. You. Did. Not.”

  “He is not my boyfriend, and no I didn’t. We staked out the cemetery. The bad guys left another p
resent.”

  There was noise on the line as he moved around, probably sitting up. “You staked out Scott’s? What kind of present did they leave this time?”

  “A body.”

  More muffled noises. “Sheeeit,” he said.

  “Yeah, but we don’t know who yet.”

  “Do you need me to come there?”

  “How? I have your ‘stang. And anyway, you’re not allowed to drive with that arm. I have my car. I’m just waiting to see if Sal comes back with an ID. Oh God, Dwayne, what if it’s Rafe?”

  “Hrumph. Doubt that. He knows how to take care of himself, you know what I’m sayin"? More like he’s doin’ the dirt work.”

  I watched flashlights bobbing in the woods. “Yeah, maybe so. But if it’s not him, then who is it?”

  “That’s the million-dollar question, ain’t it?”

  “Yeah. So, what happened with Everett at the club?”

  “Got news. He says Rafe’s been seen dealin’ over in the hood. Least, he thinks it’s been Rafe.”

  “Like what? Heroin?”

  “He got antsy pantsy when I asked. Ain’t it enough that he’s been seen handin’ off packages? Also explains those big deposits you were talkin’ about.”

  “I guess so. Should I tell Sal?”

  “Hell naw. Not yet, I gotta get more dope on the dope, you know what I’m sayin’?”

  “Yeah.”

  He yawned loudly. “Well, I gotta go to the bathroom now that you’ve waked my bladder up. Call me back when you have more details on the stiff.”

  I agreed, and we disconnected. Shivering at the chill in the night air—or maybe it was the drop in my adrenaline—I reached over to turn the car on to get the heat going.

  The driver door opened and I looked into the face of a masked man with a gun.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The gun wasn’t fancy. It was pretty standard, in fact, with a black grip, dark steel barrel, and gloved hand holding it. I couldn’t see anything of the man other than his eyes. The mask he wore was something along the lines of a Ninja covering. He was no amateur in the costuming department, that was obvious.

  He got in so fast the overhead dome light barely had time to come on before he shut the door. He kept the gun trained on me the entire time. He wore an exotic cologne and the scent of it filled the car.

  “Do not move. If you move, I will shoot you. Understand?”

  I nodded, hoping the gas lights on the cemetery grounds reflected inside enough for him to see my head movement. I listened closely to his words, hoping he would tell me something I could use against him.

  “You’re becoming a really big problem, lady. My advice is to keep out of our business and to keep your mouth shut.”

  I nodded again, listening to his accent. I’d heard enough from Salvador Ramirez to know it. Definitely Hispanic. I looked into those dark eyes and wondered if it was Rafe. I had only seen him once before, briefly, as he stood outside Kringle’s grocery talking to Sal. Unless you could call his shadow as he darted past me to steal my car “seeing him”. I didn’t think I would really know him dressed in all black and holding a gun.

  “Consider this your last warning.” He shoved me hard against the door and exited as quickly as he’d arrived. At first, I watched him, a shadow in the shadows, but soon he moved out of my sight. Afraid to open the door until he had a chance to get out of shooting range, I sat there, frozen in place, my gun digging into my back. I’d been too shocked to even try and whip it out. I was still afraid to try, even now.

  I shivered so hard my teeth chattered. I forced myself to move, turned the car on, and then the heat, before slumping back in fear. When no bullets came flashing out of the dark, I honked the horn, over and over, praying the noise would catch Sal’s attention. Soon a cop tapped on my side window all right, but it wasn’t Sal. I pushed the button to lower it.

  “What in hell are you doing, trying to wake the dead?” he asked. He was tall and blond and he shined a flashlight into my face.

  “I need Sal, and I need him quick,” I said, pulling on my purse with my left hand and opening the car door with the other. “Someone just threatened me with a gun.”

  “What? Where?”

  “Right here, in this car!”

  He frowned and tilted his head to the side. “You’re kidding.”

  “No, I’m not kidding. Now go and get Sal Ramirez.”

  I stopped. He wasn’t getting the hint.

  “Never mind,” I told him. “I’ll get him myself.”

  I got out and started walking toward the woods following the lights and noise. There had to be a zillion people there. How the hell a masked gunman could meander around without being seen was beyond me. Out of the blue, I wondered if anyone had called Jason Scott yet. He would love this. More trouble in his graveyard. Great publicity.

  The blond cop strode up behind me and grabbed my arm, scaring the bejesus out of me.

  “No, ma’am. You can’t go back there.”

  “Oh, yes, I can.” I yanked my arm out of his grasp. “Let go of me.”

  “Ma’am. Please calm down.” He began making placating noises, all while stuffing his flashlight in his pocket.

  I hate to be placated like a child. Whenever I’m excited, scared, or what have you, and adrenaline is rushing through me like a steam engine, it’s the last thing I want to have somebody do to me.

  “Sal!” I screamed. The cop’s face wrinkled in fury. He worked overtime trying to shut me up by shushing me.

  I ignored him. “Sal Ramirez, get your ass out here right now!”

  My voice carried even over the activity in the woods. Soon familiar broad shoulders appeared, and he peered out at what was going on before jogging toward us. His flashlight bobbed strangely.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, jogging up.

  “A man with a mask,” I managed to say. “With a gun.”

  He looked at me, then at the other cop.

  I swallowed hard. “A man with a mask and a gun got in the car with me, threatened me, then took off.”

  Sal’s face fell into hard lines. “Come on, let’s go back and sit down. Jones, send somebody through the place and pick up anyone who is found on foot, man, woman, or child. And get me a kit so I can see if I can lift anything.”

  He led me to the car. “He got in on the driver’s side,” I told him. “He told me to keep out of their business and keep my mouth shut.” My voice wavered.

  Sal walked over to the passenger side and opened the door. “Okay then, we will put you in on this side,” he said. “Tell me again what happened. Take your time.”

  I sat on the car seat sideways, dangling my legs over the side, my feet on the ground, and gazed up at him. He had one hand on the door frame, one hand on his hip, and a deep furrow on his brow. His face was dirty, and his hair was as messy as I’d ever seen it and he didn’t smell too hot. Then I remembered.

  “He was wearing a really loud cologne!” I exclaimed.

  “Good. What was it? Do you know?”

  I shook my head. “Flowery. But not like a girl’s smell. Like a man’s flowery.”

  He stifled a smile. “What else do you recall?”

  “He wore a black mask, like a Ninja. And gloves,” I mused. “Oh, damn. No prints, Sal. He wore these shiny black gloves. Not as shiny as his gun though.”

  He nodded. “That’s okay. We might find something. What else?”

  I shivered. “He spoke with an accent.” I searched his face for a moment. “Hispanic.”

  What was once a face awaiting information became like a thunder cloud. He stood and shouted for Jones before asking, “Was it Rafe?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He pulled a notebook out of his pocket and clicked his pen open. Writing briskly, he tore off the sheet and gave it to Jones who appeared at his side, fingerprint kit in hand. “Go here and bring him to me.” Jones nodded and asked, “Who is it?”

  “Raphael Ramirez.”

 
The expression changed on the other man’s face. He wanted to ask about the name, I could tell he did. Sal took the kit and said in a very tired voice, “Just do it.”

  He walked around the car, and spent some time brushing the door, but it was slow work with only a flashlight to aid in lighting the area. Finally, a CSI and her partner came along, and he passed the chore off. It was a waste of time, in my opinion, but I think he already knew.

  When he returned to my side, our eyes locked. An idea struck me. “If the body back there isn’t Rafe, and the masked man could be, then who is the dead person out there?”

  He glanced over his shoulder and back. “Nobody I know. Nobody you know either.”

  Sal arranged for an escort to follow me home, and tucked me into my car. “I have a call in to Jason Scott. He’ll be here shortly. Can you wait? I really don’t feel right about you going home alone.”

  “No. I’m falling asleep where I sit. Besides, you have my protector all lined up.”

  He nodded, turning his head to listen to a conversation going on behind him. Then, he turned back to me and was just about to protest my being alone, when I interrupted. “I’ll be fine. You call me and don’t leave anything out, either,” I added, poking his arm with my finger. “I want to know if Scott has anything to add to this weird mystery, like how he really is missing caskets.”

  Shrugging, he said, “Okay. Don’t drive too fast. My guy will be following you and just in case you’re wrong about the visitor from tonight, I’ll have him keep surveillance on you for a while.”

  “I don’t need around the clock care from a poor cop in a car.”

  He smiled. “Well, I could stay at your apartment when I finish here if you’d rather.” His gaze traveled to my mouth and heat flooded my face. We had a long history and apparently, he hadn’t forgotten it yet.

  “Fear? Who, me? I smack fear on the snoot.” And I was totally going to hell for lying.

  He patted my door and stepped away. “Well, call me if you change your mind. I could bring breakfast. It’s going to be a long night.”

  I took Betsy out of park, refusing to look him in the eye. Thinking about what might befall me if he should take up residence at my place took my breath away.