Yew to a Kill

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Yew to a Kill Page 21

by Kim Smith


  The coffee-pot was scrubbed and had a fresh batch in it thanks to my nervous energy. The clean dishes were all put away and even the dishtowels had been folded. I suppose I was bored while Dwayne showered.

  He hadn’t spoken since the affirmation of our friendship and instinctively I knew he’d been through an ordeal. My pal was having to brave his worst fears. I didn’t want to add to his burden, but I certainly wanted to know what the hell had happened. He owed that to me. On my second cup, he yelled to me from the bathroom.

  “Make some coffee, we need to talk.”

  “Done,” I told him as I made him a cup just like he liked, with three scoops of sugar and enough creamer to turn it a light, golden brown.

  He padded up the short hall in his flip-flops. They made a smacking sound with each step. When he rounded the corner I was surprised to find him bare-chested, his bandages gone.

  “Are you supposed to go unprotected?” I asked, pointing at his arm.

  He shrugged and took the cup. “Probably not. But I couldn’t wash very well with all that shit on.”

  We sat at the table across from one another.

  He sipped his coffee and smiled. “For the first time in a while I feel good. Thanks for makin’ this.”

  I nodded and waited.

  Finally, he sighed and sat back. “Okay, I know you’re waitin’ on me to tell you what happened and all.”

  “Yeah, I am. Waiting patiently. But even I have limits, Dwayne Brown, so get with it. I just want to know you were not kidnapped, held against your will, abused, robbed, or otherwise mistreated. I was so worried about you. You have no idea.”

  He looked at me with his dark eyes and grew serious. “It wasn’t kidnapping. Not really. It was more of a long heart-to-heart talk.”

  “Bullshit. Someone called me, told me they had you. What was that all about?”

  “Just an information call. Not a warnin’ or nothin’.”

  I gave him my best you-are-lying-through-your-teeth look.

  He waved at me to listen. “Before you and me met up that night at the casino, back last summer, I had been hangin’ with Rafe and Bubba a lot. We were tight for a while. Then, I met a dude at the nail shop over on the west side and things changed. I liked how he did my pedicures—”

  I sat up straight. “I knew it! And you were just fussing at me the other day about nail polish. You have gotten your nails done!”

  He grimaced. “Yeah, well, don’t remind me. That little Korean man ruined me for all time. Anyway, back to now...Rafe came over and my dumb ass let him in. Said he needed to come clean and you know, sort of used our past friendship as a jumpin’ off point. He asked me to go with him over to the airport, to a fleabag hotel where he holed up.”

  “Hmm. I gathered as much when you didn’t want me to go near the sound of planes.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Yeah well. Bottom line, Shannon, Rafe didn’t kill Bubba, but he thinks he knows who did. He says he knows every damn thing, in fact.”

  I crossed my arms. “Oh? He knows who the drug lord is? He knows that said drug lord is using caskets to haul his crap around in? He knows the contest is just a front for some big buy and delivery going down?”

  He frowned. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I asked, leaning forward. “Wasn’t Bubba a part of the drug ring? Wasn’t he killed because he wanted out?”

  Dwayne lifted his coffee to his mouth. “Damned if I know. Rafe didn’t tell me that. I asked if he was runnin’ drugs, just like our friend Sal asked me to. He told me to keep my questions to myself, but not quite so nicely.”

  My head pounded from the confusion. “Maybe you better start at the beginning, Dee. And don’t you dare leave anything out either.”

  He nodded and took a deep breath. “Yeah. For sure. Well, after you left me to go spy on Theo, and by the way, that was the dumbest thing you’ve ever done— I’ll tell you why later—I started getting’ ready to take a shower. I was in the bathroom when Rafe knocked on the door. I went to answer it and he came in all huffy puffy, wantin’ me to go with him. Had somethin’ to show me, he said. I threw my shirt on and went, thinkin’ maybe at last I would get some answers.”

  “Weren’t you worried he’d do something to you? I mean, he hasn’t been exactly on Santa’s nice list.”

  “Nah. He was in no shape to do any of that. Besides, I figured he’d do me in, right in my damn livin’ room, if he was gonna do me. Not like he couldn’t just break in any old time he had a mind to, you know what I’m sayin’?”

  I sipped my cooling coffee and listened.

  “So anyway, we drove out to the airport. I managed to drive my car with my bad wing. When we got there, he shows me this tie-clasp he has. It’s one of those weird signs that was real popular back in the eighties, a yin yang? You know it?”

  I nodded, remaining quiet about his driving with a gunshot wound and wondering where his car was. He’d tell me on his own.

  “Well, I blew a gasket. I was so pissed. I mean he’d taken me out to this place to show me a damn tie-clasp? So I proceeded to demand to know what it all meant and that was when he told me the tie-clasp was the killer’s. He found it at the flower shop the night before Bubba’s body was found.”

  “What was he doing there?”

  “Tryin’ to convince Bubba not to blackmail someone.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The room became very silent; the only noise was a dripping faucet.

  “Blackmail? Who?” I finally asked.

  “Jason. Bubba stepped into a pile when he made a delivery one day a few months back. He stumbled onto Scott’s infidelities with Shelley.” He paused to let that sink in.

  “Shelley? Oh wow.” Classic love triangle. I had been right. Jason was the main connection!

  “Yeah, and apparently, it’s been goin’ on a long time. Well, of course, Bubba shared the news with Rafe, because at that time, Rafe worked for Scott as a grave-digger and knew Shelley and all the people involved. Never mentioned blackmail, though. That little tidbit came right before Bubba turned up in that cooler. Now Rafe’s accusing Jason of doin’ the deed, and threatenin’ goin’ to the cops.”

  “But did Jason do it?” I rubbed my forehead, warding off a headache. “He did have motive and of course opportunity, since Bubba made a delivery there right before he died according to his records.”

  He nodded. “I tried to tell Rafe that Jason is not the one. I don’t believe he is anyway. Especially now. Especially since the tie-clasp thing.”

  “What has that got to do with this?” I was confused.

  “The tie-clasp? Oh yeah, that’s a big deal. That’s the evidence ole Sallie needs.” He tapped the table with his finger.

  I sighed. “Why? What does that have to do with any of this?”

  “Well, hell girl, that tie-clasp matches cufflinks Theo was wearin’ the day of the funeral.”

  “Theo? You remember that man’s cufflinks?” It wasn’t that surprising, really. Dwayne was always up on fashion. It would be his nature to notice those things.

  He looked heavenward. “Well, duh. You mean you don’t pay attention to accessories?”

  I shook my head. “No, but, wow, you’re right! We gotta tell Sal,” I said, looking for my purse and cell phone. “Did Rafe give the tie-clasp to you?”

  He scraped his chair back. “Hold up, Wall-ass. Can’t do that just yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “I promised I wouldn’t tell the cops what I knew until Rafe had a half-assed shot of leavin’ town. He’ll mail the evidence to his cousin.”

  “What? He can’t leave town! He’s a suspect. He took you off and left everyone thinking something horrible had happened to you. How do you know he isn’t the one who killed Bubba, and he’s filling your head with crap to throw you off the scent?”

  He sighed. “I ain’t stupid, Shannon. He didn’t do it. And he doesn’t want to stay around and be dead like
Bubba. I agreed to give him time to make his escape.”

  “So? How do you know he hasn’t by now?”

  “I don’t, exactly.” He took a few steps and gazed out his front window. “You missing anything at your place?”

  I followed his gaze and remembered what he said about driving himself.

  When he returned from the window he wouldn’t look me in the eye.

  Then I finally understood. “You gave that chump your ride?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. He’ll leave it somewhere and call and tell me where to find it. Maybe.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “I’ve been wantin’ a new one anyway.”

  I walked around the room, thinking out loud. “So, Theo’s tie-clasp is found at the flower shop, which puts him there with Bubba at some point. But why would Theo want Bubba dead?”

  “That’s where Rafe began back-peddling. I asked the same question and he clammed up. Whatever the reason, Rafe is scared to death of Theo. Remember I told you he was workin’ at Scott’s for a while? Somethin’ happened between those two and it’s still goin’ on.”

  “Yeah, that fits. I mean Theo has that Mercedes, and Rafe was seen with him—” My cell phone rang, cutting me off. I pulled it out of my purse.

  “Hello?”

  “Shannon. It’s Sal. I’m here with Herbert. What’s going on?”

  I looked heavenward. No way I could explain this on a cell call. “I have Dwayne, Sal. He has some news for you. We’re coming down to the PD in five minutes.”

  “If you are not here in fifteen, I am sending a car with an officer—” I hung up. “Damn it. We have to go tell him about all this.”

  He headed toward his bedroom and I assumed a shirt. “Be right back.”

  I walked the floor while I waited and tried to decipher the whole story. Something was right there, within the grasp of my mind, but I was too fuddled to reel it in. It bothered me because it was important. Theo. Something to do with Theo—

  Dwayne interrupted my reverie by returning from dressing. He scooped up his keys and motioned for us to go.

  I was still trying to remember what was so important and the realization it wasn’t coming set in. “I’m going to drop you at the PD and let you fill out the statement and stuff. I have a couple of errands to run, and you have all the information for Sal anyway. Then, when you’re finished, have him get you to the office. I’ll be there waiting.”

  He tilted his head back and gave me a hard look. “You ain’t goin’ snoopin’, right?”

  I lifted three fingers. “Scout’s honor. I want to go through the funeral footage again. Maybe something will turn the light bulb on.”

  He shrugged and followed me to the car.

  No need in telling him that I was going to make a copy of the footage and take it over to Jason Scott to make him confess to his or Theo’s involvement.

  He would only worry.

  On the drive to the office, it hit me.

  Herbert had said the drug-lord had been hiding his drugs in caskets. That meant a distribution point was most certainly where caskets were kept. And voila! Scott was missing some. Not just any ole plain wooden boxes either. No, no. Oriental ones.

  Oriental, like Theo.

  Theo with the missing tie-clasp.

  I wanted to slap my forehead, I felt so stupid.

  After a quick jog up the stairs at the office, I opened the door and scurried to my where my jacket still remained. I tugged it on and patted the pocket where my little pistol resided. This felt very scary and I wanted to call Sal or Dwayne, but they would only stop me and make me come to the police department. And while we dawdled, the ones who needed to be in custody would still be running amok.

  Uh uh, no way.

  I wrote Dwayne a quick note, telling him where to find me. He would handle how to get there, maybe even make Sal come along.

  Comforted, I finished the note and headed for the funeral home.

  Jason needed to talk to me. If he wouldn’t tell me what the hell was going on, I’d call Sal and have him arrested on the spot. If there was trouble, he’d get the business end of my gun and a good threat.

  My aunts had told me my threats were my most powerful feature.

  I prayed Theo was not working this Sunday afternoon. If he figured out how much I knew, how much I suspected, well, I might well end up the threatened instead of the other way round.

  Trying to be smart, I pulled around to the back, cutting my engine and coasting to a stop before arriving at the delivery dock where Bubba had brought in his flowers. Advertising my arrival right away might be a bad idea.

  Behind the funeral home, you could see the cemetery. The ground sloped gently up to the first row of tombstones. Colorful spring flowers of absurd colors greeted my gaze. Dwayne’s statement about being on this side of the dirt returned to my mind. I shuddered before sliding over to the other side of the car to get out.

  No squeaky door would precede me this time.

  Dust whirled around me, lifted aloft by a gust of wind. The area was littered with sandy dirt and assorted pieces of trash like cigarette butts, and giblets of paper. I sidled against the building, and eased along until the glass entry door appeared. To the left stood the big bay doors where trucks backed in, but they were down.

  Pulling on the glass door, I made it inside as quietly as possible and stood for a few seconds to allow my eyes to adjust from the sunshine to the inner gloom of the building.

  I listened closely for sounds. Nothing.

  Then again, the carpet in the place was made for silence and did its job very well. Gooseflesh rose on my arms and I was glad for my jacket. The odd miscellaneous smells of the funeral industry assaulted my nose.

  I walked carefully toward Jason’s office, hoping to surprise him. Rounding the corner, I looked in and the surprise was mine. Theo sat behind the desk, arms crossed, glaring right at me.

  “Come in, Miss Wallace. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  Someone moved behind me. I tried to turn to see who it was, hand going to the gun in my pocket. It was Ninjaman and this time no doubt about it. His gun was the same as the first time we’d met, and I marveled at how much bigger it was than mine.

  Before I could move, he shoved me forward, spinning me into the wall. My head smacked against it and stars exploded into my vision. The last thing I remembered was sliding to the floor, my legs like stringy linguini.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  When I returned to consciousness, the pain in my head made me nauseous, and I was pretty sure I had a concussion. Concussed or not, these goons were not going to get away with hurting me.

  “Well, so glad you joined us.” Ninjaman grinned through his mustache. I wanted to slap all the hair off him.

  “Bite me.” I struggled to get to my feet, but quickly learned that they had been tied together as well as my hands.

  Great, Wallace. Just great.

  He waved my gun at me, and I almost expected him to stick his tongue out at me, but he didn’t. Instead, he gave me another nasty grin and turned away, tossing the gun onto a nearby bookcase with a tinny clatter. I swore if I managed to escape I was going to buy a gun that would make Clint Eastwood proud.

  My captors were dressed in suits, straight out of a bad remake of The Godfather. Only they were not Italian.

  Theo stood, straightened his tie and tugged on his suit coat, before slipping latex gloves on. Then he walked over to a credenza, where he proceeded to remove a bunch of little white flowers from a glass vase.

  “You’ve been a very busy lady,” he said, his back to me.

  “Yeah, found out a few things I need to talk to Jason Scott about. Where is he, anyway?” I replied conversationally, just as he had done. With a bit of a struggle, I managed to get myself into an upright position, poised on my knees.

  Theo stopped his movements to incline his head behind the desk. “Oh, he’s a bit of a mess right now.”

  I gasped. The enormity of what I knew an
d what he could mean, hit me. “Is he…is…?”

  “Probably. By now at least.”

  Tears sprang to my eyes and I tried to force them away by sheer will. They fell anyway, the traitors. I hated these goons to see me such an emotional wreck. It made me appear as being weak and unprotected. Which I was, but they didn’t need to know that.

  “Tears? For him?” Now I had Theo’s total undivided attention. His black eyes bored into me. “Why? He cared less about anyone besides himself as I have ever known. You waste yourself.”

  “Call me a crusader. I want to save people like him from themselves. Too bad it’s too late for you.” I struggled to keep snot from running down my face.

  He shrugged and continued to pour the water out of the vase into a rather ugly coffee mug. The words, “go Dawgs!” were lettered in red on the side. Scott was a State fan? I never knew.

  “You don’t intend on using that funky water for tea, do you?” I asked, trying to find something to use for a weapon, casting about for anything to keep him talking and me alive. How I would manage defending myself with my hands tied behind me was only a dim guess.

  He laughed and Ninja joined in. “No, Miss Wallace, we’re not drinking tea. You are.”

  “That would be pretty nasty, wouldn’t it?”

  “And poisonous,” he smirked.

  Sometimes I feel like a V-8 commercial in the making. Just slap my head and say duh. It all came to me in a rush. The unknown parts of the mystery were like shadows in a room suddenly filled with brilliant sunlight. The white flowers were probably some horribly poisonous plant.

  “You killed Bubba. Made him drink a nasty tea just like the one you’re making for me? Rafe found your tie-clasp. Oh man, now I get it.”

  Ninjaman snickered. “You’re pretty smart for a dumbass.”

  “Can’t say the same for you.”

  He kicked at me, threateningly. Nothing connected, but I rolled up in defense just in case and landed on my side. Lying from that position, I could see under the desk.

 

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