Yew to a Kill

by Kim Smith

  Rolling out of the driveway, I saw a black Mercedes parked down the street.

  I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t call the cop behind me. I didn’t want to call Sal and take him away from the investigation. Maybe it was another Mercedes? I decided to drive on and see what happened, but as expected, the vehicle pulled out behind the cop. Great. Now I was putting a cop’s life in danger. I wondered if the masked man was the driver. He was definitely going to make sure I had heard what he’d said.

  Terrified, I caved and called Sal’s cell. Thank God he had it on him. “Ramirez,” he answered.

  “Sal, the black Mercedes is following me and my friend in the cruiser.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know, okay? I saw it as I passed by, and watched him put on his lights and pull out a discreet distance behind your buddy back there.” I hated the way my voice sounded, almost hysterical.

  “Okay, let me get a message to him.”

  “Sal, I’m scared.”

  “Just keep driving. Don’t go home,” he instructed. “I’ll call you back.”

  I tapped the red end button on my phone and decided to take a scenic drive through downtown South Lake until he called. I went through parts of Old Town, around City Hall, through the park, and passed the all-night gas station. The thought of a gooey candy bar and a Diet Coke ran through my mind.

  I have a weird sense of timing I guess.

  My phone rang. I answered quickly.

  “Okay, now real slow and easy, go to the police station. Matthews has been told about the situation and verified that he has a tail.”

  I mumbled a hasty okay and tossed my phone onto the passenger seat.

  Here goes nothing.

  Turning left at the next corner, I tried to maintain the speed limit as I neared the police station. Whoever was in that car was certifiably insane. Who would want to follow a damn cop?

  I turned into the blacktop of the parking lot at the PD. It had been a Baptist church at one time, and I prayed that if any hallowed ground was left, I would land on it. The cruiser pulled in next to me and we both watched in our rearview as the driver in the black Mercedes stomped the gas and roared off into the neighborhood around the police station.

  The cruiser backed around, sliding slightly sideways on the loose gravel, and took off after the car. I patted the steering wheel, nerves taking over. I didn’t know whether to stay put or leave. If the Mercedes got free of the cop, the creep might come looking for me. I didn’t want to make it easy for him.

  Then again, the cop would hurry back here sooner or later, and he would wear out Sal’s phone if I wasn’t around. Sal would be pissed, but he’d be able to get a hold of me, right?

  I wanted sleep. I wanted sleep and safety. I backed out and headed for Dwayne’s trailer. He and I both had guns. Safety in numbers, the old saying went, which could be true even if the safe haven was smack in the middle of where Rafe called home.

  If he was the driver of the Mercedes, it didn’t matter where I went. Rafe knew where I lived. He knew where Dwayne lived, too, but together we could take him. He couldn’t fight against two armed people. At least I kept telling myself that all the way across town. I wouldn’t feel safe at my apartment until he either ’fessed up to Sal and went under protective custody, or was arrested for wrongdoing and was stuck behind bars. He was a total loose cannon in my opinion. Especially since he hung out with the Mercedes person or persons, one of which had just threatened my life.

  I took a deep breath, threw Betsy into park, grabbed my phone and purse, winced at the loud squeak from my car door, and raced for the trailer.

  Mid-jog, I grabbed a beach towel from Dwayne’s laundry line and draped it over my trunk. Maybe Rafe wouldn’t know I was here at a glance. Dwayne flicked on the light as I rushed up.

  “Trouble in Paradise?” he asked, holding the door open.

  I scurried inside. “They’re after me,” I answered, out of breath.

  “So what else is new?”

  I plopped down in his chair and saw the blue quilted coverlet on the couch. “Are you sleeping in here?”

  He regained his place there. “Sirens everywhere tonight. I knew you’d be comin’.”

  “As if,” I said with a smile. “Can I borrow your spare bed?”

  “I made it up for you when you called earlier. It’s all ready.”

  I wanted to kiss him. “Thanks, buddy. Although it’s weird how you anticipate my arrival, and I don’t know about it myself.”

  “Lots you don’t know about when it comes to you. What happened?” he asked. “Why all the noise on the street out there? And who was the owner of the body?”

  “Sal wouldn’t say. Only told me it wasn’t anyone he or I knew. That was his way of saying it wasn’t Rafe.”

  Dwayne noticeably relaxed. I guess that news was good to hear.

  “Well, I could have told him that,” he said.

  “What? How?” The mention of Sal reminded me that if I didn’t shut my phone ringer off, I would be listening to his next tirade soon. I lowered the volume until it was on vibrate.

  “I saw my boy headed down the lane toward his place. Well, he looked like he was joggin’ really. Lookin’ around like someone was after him.”

  “When was that? Sal sent a uniform to pick him up.”

  “Not long ago at all. I was putting covers on your bed, and happened to look out the front window and saw him. I almost opened up and hollered at him, but thought better of it when I saw him peepin’ over his shoulder actin’ all Con Air.”

  This sent a shiver through me as I recalled how he was more than likely still harboring angry thoughts of me. Maybe the nearing dawn would keep him away like garlic repelling a vampire.

  Taking comfort in Dwayne’s presence, I yawned and squinted through watery eyes at my watch. It was nearly four AM. I just had to quit being such a night owl. “I’m really beat. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He waved me away and sank deeper into his comforter.

  “It is morning,” I heard him mutter as I closed the door to the bedroom.

  After stripping out of my clothes and shoes, I tugged on an extra-large dorm shirt kept at the trailer for overnighters. Ever since Rick Fine had been murdered, Dwayne’s place had been my own personal retreat, getaway, and security-blanket-home-away-from-home.

  In the bathroom I found a new toothbrush, travel-sized toothpaste, soap and shampoo all courtesy of dear Mr. Brown. He was better than any old hotel.

  As I took advantage of the items he’d left for me, I considered our friendship, realizing the need to do something special for him, like solving the mystery of who killed his friend Bubba.

  I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I would not let him down, no matter what.

  Finally, I plopped down on the bed and bundled into the covers. In a few moments I heard the soundtrack from Rocky Horror Picture Show coming from the television set in the living room. It was an old console, but it had great color and it seemed indestructible. Tim Curry broke into his Sweet Transvestite number and I had to smile. My friend Dwayne.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning, as I was lying awake staring at the ceiling, it struck me that we really needed to get together with Carrie Thames about the casket cover contest if we intended to make her a winning entry. I was ready to leave the police work to the police for a change; no stakeouts, no asking questions to anyone about anything. Sal would be so pleased with me today.

  I hoped the bad guys would cooperate and leave me the hell alone.

  Desperately in need of down time, I contemplated a long, hot bath at the Mamas’ house or maybe a leisurely trip to the massage therapist down the street from my office. My Aunt Nancy had told me about the lady who performed the massages. She was certified and also the wife of a minister, so she was definitely on the up and up. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea.

  I rolled out of bed and strolled into the living room fully intent on
getting Dwayne to join me. He was already awake and flipping through the channels. Or maybe he’d never gone back to sleep?

  “How’s your arm?” I asked.

  He lifted it slightly and looked at it. “Okay, I guess. Still attached.”

  “I heard strains from Rocky Horror as I drifted into unconsciousness. Are you in a mood?”

  He pursed his lips. “Maybe.”

  “How about we go to the beauty salon, get pedicures, then ride over to the massage therapist down in Old Town and let her work us over?”

  “You must be in a worse mood than me.”

  “Yeah, something like that, I guess.”

  “Let me pull out my crystal ball. Sal?”

  I shrugged. “Not really. I mean he and I have been spending time together doing the damnedest things, but there’s no zip, no pizzazz in our relationship. If you can even call it that.”

  Dwayne set the remote down and muted the television. He was giving me his full attention, and I wanted to laugh. I would never understand his need to nose in on my relationship gossip.

  “Aw, girl, you know what you need? You need to talk to Mama Rowena.”

  “Who?”

  “The love psychic, Mama Rowena. She’s the shit. Can tell you about anything you wanna know about the future.”

  “Can she tell me if we’ll win that contest we have paid for Carrie?” I asked wearily. “Because we really need to get the move on that one.”

  He stretched. “Yeah, that’s a fact. I need to call Miss Carrie. She must think we’re real jerks for not minding the store like we intended.”

  “Well, she’ll understand when she finds out you got hurt. Hell, we didn’t promise her anything definite, you know.”

  “You might not have, but I sort of did. She counted on us to have the shop open and all.”

  “We could go there today.”

  He thought about it. “Yeah. Maybe that ain’t such a bad idea. I think I like it better than havin’ some massage genie pound me into shape.”

  I glanced out the window. The weather had finally turned more spring-like. It looked like a heavy rain was on the way.

  “After last night, I hoped I would see things in the morning differently. You know—less intense? Well, daylight isn’t making me feel any safer.”

  He sighed loudly. “I wasn’t gonna make you go home alone, Wall-ass.”

  “I think I want to go on over to the office instead. It might be better to keep away from my place for a time.”

  He gazed at me for a long moment. “Keepin’ away from bad guys, or Sal?”

  “You didn’t call him Sombrero Sal,” I laughed. “Or whatever it is you always call him.”

  “Naw, I’m respecting the law. That’s all.”

  I curled up in a fetal position on the floor, laughing until my sides hurt.

  The Delicate Petal was just as we had left it before the funeral. I slipped the key into the lock and turned it, letting us into the gloomy interior. Thunder sounded behind me and I listened as Dwayne closed the door and latched it.

  “I don’t think anyone’s shoppin’ for flowers today,” he muttered. “Too damned bad out.”

  I didn’t answer, instead walked over to the phone and checked the messages. Ten. I pressed play and listened. All ten were hang up calls.

  “I guess they didn’t want to wait for someone to call them back,” I mused. “Should we contact Carrie and let her know we’re here?”

  “Yeah, I’ll do it.”

  While he dialed her up, I wandered around the shop looking at arrangements and studying the way Bubba had laid out his business. I was standing before the flower cooler when Dwayne returned.

  “That’s where he was found.” He took a deep breath. “That’s where I found him. The first time we came in here, I couldn’t get near it. It made me nauseous. Now, it just hurts like hell.”

  I watched the emotions play across his face. “Why? Why, Dwayne? Why Bubba? Why here? What did he do that was so bad someone wanted him dead?”

  He un-tucked his button-down shirt and used the edge to wipe his eyes. “I don’t know. Man, I just do not know.”

  The cooler seemed harmless in its present condition. The fluorescent lighting was out and the whole unit had been unplugged. Empty now; no flowers, no bodies.

  “Well, someone knows why. Someone always knows,” I said as we stood and stared.

  Our reverie was interrupted by my cell phone vibrating against my waist. I had forgotten to turn the sound back on. I was going to be in big trouble with a certain detective.

  I fumbled around in my purse trying to find it, scrambling it up from the very bottom under my wallet. Sal’s number glimmered at me.

  “Hello?”

  “Shannon?”

  “Oh, yeah, hi. I guess I forgot to call you.” I peered at the screen and saw five missed calls. “I had it on silent, and just nearly missed this call, too. My phone was in my purse. Oh hell, you didn’t call to get the latest perils of my life. What’s up?”

  “Aside from worrying about you and what ditch your body would turn up in,” he said, frustration evident in his voice. “We got in the prelims on the autopsy of one Bradley Thames. He died of a very potent poison.”

  This took me back a step. I stared at Dwayne who was now into my side of the conversation. “No kidding?”

  “No kidding. The kind of poison is still pending. I thought you might want to let Brown know. I assume you are together?”

  “Who Dwayne? Is he with me?” I mouthed Sal’s name to Dwayne to see if he wanted to let the cop know where he was. He shook his head violently.

  “Yeah, is he there? Shannon? Did you hear me?”

  “Oh sorry. I have a bad connection,” I lied, tapping my phone. “No. He’s not with me right now. But I’ll tell him.”

  “Okay. And by the way, we have Rafe in lockup. He wasn’t too cooperative with the officer I sent to pick him up and got cited for resisting arrest. The Mercedes lost us out on the old highway.”

  “No license plate info?”

  “No ID could be made. He made like smoke. Poof. Gone.”

  “Too bad. Would be handy to know who the driver was because well, Sal, Rafe wasn’t the one who visited me in the car.”

  “I didn’t think so either, but so far, he hasn’t said where he was during that time, so naturally my suspicions are high. However, I do believe him when he says it wasn’t illegal. Why do you say it wasn’t him?”

  “Rafe didn’t have enough time to be in that car, flee from the cop who tailed the car, and be driven to the trailer park. Dee says he saw him walking through his neighborhood about the same time as he should have been at the cemetery. Just doesn’t fit to me. Besides, he doesn’t own a Ninja costume, does he? I don’t believe he could have been the one.”

  “Really? And when exactly did you see Brown?” he asked, radar lifted like the USS Sink Shannon.

  I didn’t reply.

  He sighed into the phone and I took it away from my ear in defense. When the noise subsided, he said, “Where are you? I’d like to keep you under wraps for a few days. If Rafe is not the man who spooked you in the car, then that so-and-so is still out there running around, maybe even watching you.”

  “Thanks. Thanks so much for reminding me.”

  “Sorry. Just stating facts.”

  “Um hm. Well anyway, I’m not staying at my place. I’ll be okay. I’ll call you if I have any trouble.”

  He fell silent for a moment and I thought he had hung up on me.

  “Sal? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s the matter? Did you hear me?” Thunder pealed outside sounding like it would roll on forever. I hoped the city had its tornado sirens primed.

  “Just trying to decide if you want to know more. If you are up for it.”

  “Oh, God. Like what?”

  “I spoke to Jason Scott. He’s definitely missing caskets out of his inventory. Apparently, Shelly, the lady with the r
ed hair you told me about, is his inventory control agent. They had a bunch come through without their packaging for some reason. She was checking into the mishap.”

  “Oh, so you verified our story? Good.” I gave Dwayne a smug look. He tilted his head to the side of my phone, listening.

  “Yeah well, it’s a little more serious than that.”

  “What? Did she tell you who did the box heist?”

  “No.”

  I looked at the phone with disgust before saying, “Okay, Ramirez. I’m burning daylight standing here waiting on you to spill your guts. What’s the deal? Did she tell you anything of importance?”

  His voice got really quiet. “She can’t tell anyone anything. Hers was the body we found.”

  ###

  Carrie Thames arrived in a swirl of peach skirts and Lacoste Pink perfume. Instantly jealous and reduced to shamed discomfort at my own apparel, I gave my appearance the once-over. Un-showered and underdressed, I glowered at my Capri pants which were too tight. I had to quit eating donuts and diet bars.

  She went to the right side of the shop and in a small curtained-off, closeted area, I could hear her moving things around, then, running water.

  When she reappeared, she said, “I’ve put the coffee pot on. You two look like you need a dose of caffeine to get you going. What’s going on?”

  “Have you spoken to anyone at the police department?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “I haven’t returned a call left on my cell this morning. I didn’t recognize the number although it was a South Lake prefix. Was it them?”

  We both nodded.

  “We’ve gotten a little information on Bubba’s death. I hope you don’t think us terrible for telling you like this,” I said, avoiding her direct gaze. “Maybe you should call that number.”

  She motioned for us to go up the stairs to the loft where the work tables resided. We each took a chair and sat down.

  “Probably should call the cops, Carrie.” Dwayne crossed his long legs and gazed at her steadily.

  “What have they found out?” She folded her hands tightly in her lap.

  “Are you sure you want to hear this from us?” I asked.