A Teeny Bit of Trouble

by Michael Lee West

  A wedge of moonlight fell through the curtains and washed over the rug. Coop’s foot knocked against the sofa’s wooden arm. The thumping got louder and louder, beating a horrifying rhythm.

  Game. Set. Match.

  * * *

  The next morning, Red helped me drag my mattress into the front yard. “Don’t look so scared, homegirl. Whoever broke in your house is playing with you.”

  I kicked the mattress. “A guy leaves his DNA on my gown, and that’s playing?”

  “I studied the crime scene. Your phone was posed. Like a body. Your panties weren’t in a messy heap. They were arranged in a straight line. Gardenias represent secret romance. The dude was leaving you a love letter.”

  I looked up at the ashy-hot sky. It wasn’t even nine o’clock, and the sun was already burning my shoulders. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

  Red patted my shoulder. “Worst-case scenarios are as likely as a coconut falling on your head. Don’t freak out just yet.”

  We stepped into the kitchen. Coop stood in front of the stove, forking up bacon. In his other hand, he held an iPhone to his ear. “Yes, sir,” he said, then paused. “No, sir. It won’t happen again.”

  Sunlight fell in pinstripes along the table where Coop had set out paper towels, mismatched dishes, and chipped coffee mugs. Red dug into the link sausages, scrambled eggs, and French toast.

  Coop shoved his phone in his pocket and frowned. “We’ve got trouble. You want the medium-bad news first? Or the really bad news?”

  “Sheesh.” Red dragged a stubby hand over his face.

  “Hit me with the really bad news.” I sank into a chair and tucked my feet around the rungs.

  “I couldn’t sleep last night,” Coop said. “I decided that you need to tell the Charleston police what you witnessed at Barb’s rental.”

  I nodded vigorously. “My thoughts exactly.”

  He sat down next to me, his right shoe clicking against the floor. I counted ten thwacks, then his other leg began to shimmy. I leaned over and squeezed his knee.

  “Deep breath, Coop. What did the police say?”

  “I couldn’t make that call, Teeny. Just a few months ago, your ex-boyfriend was murdered. The police thought you killed him—and this was before you inherited his mansion on Rainbow Row and all that beachfront property.”

  I didn’t like being reminded of those dark days. I pulled my hand away from his leg. “The police found his murderer.”

  “Some of the detectives still think you’re guilty.”

  “Is that why you didn’t call them the night Barb went missing?”

  He nodded. “I was more scared for you than I was for her.”

  “I could have called them, too.” I inhaled so sharply, my head jerked. “But I didn’t. For the same reason.”

  “What’s going on, Boss?” Red asked.

  “I phoned the ADA in Charleston.”

  “ADA?” I asked. It sounded like a diet for sugar diabetes.

  “Assistant district attorney,” Coop said. “I didn’t mention you. I told him a woman from my hometown had abandoned a child on Sullivan’s Island. And the woman had committed suicide. The ADA knew all about it. Apparently the Sweeney coroner made a big fuss. That’s why the police showed up to Eikenberry’s. They had a court order to remove Barb’s remains. The coroner says the time of death doesn’t match up with the time Barb allegedly checked into the Motel 6.”

  Red blew out a sigh. “So she was killed on Sullivan’s Island?”

  “It looks that way.” Coop’s foot went still. “An article ran in the paper, asking for any witnesses to come forward. So far, no one has called about a man in a Bill Clinton mask. But a Sullivan’s Island teenager called the tip line. Claimed she saw a suspicious woman in her yard. She said the woman had frizzy blond hair and wore a scuba suit. She told the teenager that a man was chasing her.”

  I slumped in my chair. “That was me. I should have asked her to call 911. But I was scared.”

  “You would have been a suspect.”

  “For telling the truth?” I said, my voice lifting at the edges.

  Coop rested his elbows on the table and stared at his empty plate. “Why would the police chase a phantom in a mask when they had a stalker-girl? If you told them what you’d witnessed, you’d be admitting to trespassing and voyeurism. The police would charge you with stalking. That’s a felony in South Carolina.”

  I shuddered. “The police are smarter than that. They’ll keep their options open.”

  “It’s not about smarts,” Coop said. “It’s about facts and logic. Eye witnesses. There’s the truth of what you saw and the truth of what the teenager saw. All that matters is how the police interpret these truths.”

  “What am I supposed to do? I saw a freak strangle Barb. Now that freak is after me.”

  “Eventually we’ll have to talk to the police. But first, I want to dig a little. While I’m digging, I want to keep you safe.”

  “But it’s wrong to withhold information from the police,” I said.

  “It’s an unconscionable situation for everyone—except Barb’s killer.”

  “I’ll say.”

  “The truth is a prickly thing, Teeny. Honesty is in the beholder’s eye.” Coop’s hand closed on my knee. My own foot began to shake. All my life, I’ve been a truth seeker. I’d thought of myself as a gray-area girl, but I’d defined the truth in the narrowest possible terms.

  “An eye witness saw you on Sullivan’s Island,” Coop said. “She can testify about your strange clothing and behavior. This places you in the vicinity of the crime. Sure, it’s absolutely the right thing to tell the police what you witnessed. But it’s the wrong thing for you. Because your statement will give you a motive for killing her.”

  “How?”

  “You’ll have to tell the police why you went to her house that night. You’ll admit that she taunted you. You’ll admit that you and Barb argued. You’ll tell them that your boyfriend might have fathered Barb’s child. The police will think you and her were rivals. And—”

  “I still have to tell them what I saw.”

  “But you don’t have to do it today, homegirl,” Red said. “Where you go, trouble follows. The cops won’t look for a skinny dude in a Clinton mask. They’ll zero in on a blonde with big hair. They’ll get a search warrant. They’ll find the scuba suit at the Spencer-Jackson House. Game over.”

  “Red’s right,” Coop said. “This will turn out poorly for you.”

  “You too, Boss.”

  Coop shook his head. “I don’t care about me.”

  “You could be disbarred. You can’t be Teeny’s lawyer and boink her at the same time.”

  “Actually, I can,” Coop said. “A while back, I looked this up in the ethics rules. If the boinking, as you put it, began after I represented Teeny in a legal matter, then yes, ethical charges could be filed against me. But Teeny and I have been intimate for a while. If she pays me a small retainer fee and asks for legal advice, I can represent her. What she tells me is confidential. Lawyer-client privilege. Because the relationship preceded the representation.”

  I put my hand over his hand. “Name your price, O’Malley.”

  “Give me two bucks, tell me what you saw through the window, and ask how you can avoid incriminating yourself.” He smiled, then his eyes turned the color of tarnished silver. “Before we do that, you need to hear the medium-bad news. My boss called. He’s threatening to fire me if I don’t come to the office today.”

  A shivery feeling moved through my chest. “How long will you be gone?”

  “Overnight. Maybe longer. Mr. Robichaux wants me to handle a divorce for an art dealer.” Coop nodded at Red. “You’re doing surveillance on his wife. Teeny can stay with my parents until I get back.”

  “No.” I stood up so fast, the chair wobbled.

  “You can’t stay here by yourself,” Coop said. “Not after last night.”

  “I’m coming to Charleston.”


  “Bad idea, homegirl,” Red said. “Every cop in the Holy City is looking for you.”

  I felt dizzy and gripped the table.

  “Don’t scare her, Red.” Coop guided me back to the chair. “I ought to quit that damn job and stay here with you.”

  “If you quit, then I’m out of a job, too.” Red shoved a piece of toast into his mouth. “Let Teeny stay with your folks. I’d like to see a pervert break into your mama’s house. She’d cut his balls off and sauté them.”

  “True.” Coop slid a Tums into his mouth. “You can’t stay by yourself, Teeny. And you really need to avoid Charleston.”

  “I’ll be perfectly fine at the Spencer-Jackson. I’ve got a burglar alarm.”

  “And what happens when your sketch appears on television?” Red asked.

  Coop poured syrup on his French toast. He didn’t mention his mother again, so I took his silence as a sign that he’d capitulated. Red broke off a piece of bacon and fed it to Sir.

  Coop set down the syrup jar, then reached for my hand. “Teeny, listen to me. I just want one thing in life. To wake up with you every morning. I want to make sure that happens.”

  “I don’t want you to quit your job on account of me.”

  “I don’t want you in jail—or hurt.” He squeezed my hand, and something passed through me. Love, guilt, fear. So much fear.

  “Teeny, my mother’s house is a fortress.”

  “Why would she need one?”

  “My parents’ house got burgled a few years ago. Mother believes the criminals will return, and if they do, I pity them. She’s taken karate lessons. Installed video cameras and alarms. That’s just how she is, pugnacious and paranoid.” He gave my hand another squeeze. “You won’t have to stay long. Just a few days. Then I’ll be back.”

  “Does Irene know I’ve got a bulldog?” Does she know about the O’Malley ring?

  “Mother likes animals.”

  Right, when they’re on a platter. I was afraid to stay by myself at the farm. I had many sleepless nights after Aunt Bluette had died. And the Spencer-Jackson House scared me.

  “Okay.” I slumped in my chair. “I’ll stay with your mother.”

  Coop looked relieved. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

  Red pushed away from the table. “If we hope to be in Charleston by noon, we better drop Teeny at your folks’ house and scoot.”

  I sat up straight. “I’ll drive myself.”

  “How?” Red spread his arms. “You don’t have a car.”

  “Aunt Bluette’s truck is in the barn.”

  Coop gave me a long, level look. “You’re sure it runs?”

  I opened the drawer, fished out the keys, and tossed them to him. “Check it out.”

  * * *

  Coop tried to leave T-Bone with me, but the dog sensed what was going on. He leaped into the backseat and wouldn’t come out, not even when I tried to lure him with bacon. Coop kissed me good-bye and climbed into the passenger seat. Red tooted the horn, then the van moved down the driveway. I felt an urge to run after them, the way Dorothy Gale had chased after the Wizard’s balloon. Come back! Come back! Don’t leave without me!

  The brake lights turned red, and the van stopped. Coop got out and ran back to me. He gathered my hair into his hands and pulled me close, giving off new smells, soap and pancake syrup.

  “I love you, Teeny.”

  “Love you, too.”

  “I know you’re worried about my mother, but you can handle her. My grandmother will help you. Minnie O’Malley might be old, but she’s tough.”

  “Does she know karate, too?” I smiled.

  “Verbal judo is her specialty. If you need me, call. I’ll tell my boss to take a hike.”

  “You’re not a quitter, O’Malley.” I grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a kiss.

  After he left, I remembered that Emerson’s stuff was still in the van. Sir gave me a worried look. His pink tongue was caught between his lips, and his eyes said, Big mistake. You shoulda gone with them.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “All the Templetons are hard-wired for disasters.”

  Sir’s tail wagged.

  “Blizzards, burglars, drought, oil spills, cancer, treachery, liars.”

  I heard the phone ring. I dashed back inside the house, skidded to the kitchen, and grabbed the receiver. I just knew it was Coop. “Hey, come back,” I said. “You’ve got the hedgehog.”

  Silence. “I must have the wrong number,” a girlish voice said. “I’m trying to reach Teeny Templeton.”

  “Speaking.”

  “This is Kendall. I need to see you. In private.”

  I sighed. I wasn’t in the mood to discuss her romance with Lester. “This isn’t a good time, honey. I’m on my way out the door.”

  “But you have to listen.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Barb was murdered. And I know why.”

  fifteen

  My stomach tensed, and I gripped the phone tighter. “I can’t help you, Kendall,” I said. “If you’ve got suspicions, call the police.”

  “They’d think I was batshit crazy. You’re the only one who ever listened to me. That’s why I called. Plus, you’re boyfriend is a lawyer. We might need him. See, I found evidence this morning. I was vacuuming Lester’s bedroom and the Electrolux sucked up the edge of the rug. Then it sucked up a paper. It was a computer printout. It had a list of organs and how much they sell for.”

  A picture took shape in my mind, a carved cherry pipe organ like the one at First Baptist. “Was she buying or selling?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “If she was selling, the organs would be at her house, right?”

  Kendall sighed. “I’ve been to the house a lot and never saw any. But I didn’t look in the refrigerator. She’s got a Sub-Zero. She could’ve fit several organs in there.”

  “An organ won’t fit in the fridge.” I wove my fingers through the phone cord.

  “’Course it would. Wait, do you think I’m talking about a musical instrument? No, no, no. I mean human organs. Eyes. Skin. Teeth. Veins. Creepy stuff like that. Barb’s got a long list with prices. Gosh, an Achilles tendon sells for $2,000.”

  I jerked my fingers out of the phone cord. She might as well have said the Philpots were reptilians from outer space. “Barb wouldn’t sell black market organs.”

  “She used to work in medical records at Bonaventure Regional. When I saw the printout, I thought it was job related. So I called her old boss. She told me that the hospital doesn’t do transplants. But even if they did, Barb wouldn’t have been involved with organs. She was just a coder.”

  “A what?”

  “Her job was to match a bunch of numbers to an illness. The medical records lady told me that the code for diabetes is 2501. There’s a code for everything. It’s for insurance companies.”

  “So?”

  “Don’t you get it? Barb was selling body parts, and the job got her killed. I want to come over to your house and give you the printout. Your boyfriend can check it out.”

  “He’ll need more than a printout.” I paced in front of the window, stretching the phone cord behind me.

  “What more does he need?” Kendall asked.

  “I don’t know. Some kind of proof that she was selling organs.”

  Okay.” She sighed. “I’ll see what I can dig up.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t. What if Lester is involved?”

  “Seriously? He’d never do something mean like that. He won’t let us put out rat poison at the store. He uses sticky traps and sets the rats free. They just run back into the store.”

  “If Barb was selling body parts, Lester would know about it. She’d have to explain the extra money she was earning. If Lester won’t kill a rat, he sure wouldn’t mess with the IRS.”

  “No, he wouldn’t. Lester’s worried about money. His business is sucking. The new Walgreens is about to bankrupt him.”

  “Hold on. Lester wouldn’t be worried abou
t money if his wife was selling tendons.”

  “He might not have known about it. He’s real upset over his cash flow problems. Saturday morning, he and Norris got into a fight—right in the middle of the drugstore. It’s a good thing no customers were there. Norris drove off. He didn’t turn up until the next day. He looked like he’d been up all night. I guess he went to a massage parlor.”

  My thoughts whirled. Barb had disappeared last Saturday night. The man who’d choked her had looked thin and rangy. Just like Norris. Could he have killed her? But why?

  “What if the printout didn’t belong to Barb?” I asked.

  “Who else would hide something like that?”

  “Norris. He’s an eye doctor.”

  Kendall snorted. “He don’t like hard work. Cutting people up would be hard.”

  “Norris knows how to remove corneas. Maybe he stuck that printout under the rug.”

  “That’s not his style. Barb’s the one who hides things. Norris is into sex. There’s only one part of the body that interests him, and it can’t be sold on the black market. Have you talked to Zee Quinn, the girl who works at Baskin-Robbins?”

  “No.”

  “See? Nobody listens to me. But you’ll listen if I get more proof, won’t you?”

  “I guess.”

  “Fine. I’ll get it and then I’ll come straight to your house. And you can give it to your boyfriend.”

  She hung up. I put my head in my hands. If Barb had been selling black market organs, Lester knew about it. Maybe he and Barb were selling, and Norris was doing the surgery. A family operation. But where were they getting cadavers?

  I was still in my nightgown, so I ran upstairs and rummaged in Mama’s old closet. I put on a red blouse, a skirt that was patterned with cherries, and red cowboy boots. Then I went downstairs to wait for Kendall.

  Thirty minutes later, I was pacing by the front door, glancing every few minutes at the driveway. What if Kendall had made this up? She was in love with a freshly widowed man. And his brother had been missing from Saturday morning until Sunday at noon.

  I went over that night again. What if Norris had gone to Barb’s rental? All this time, I’d had trouble understanding how my phone had gotten from Sullivan’s Island to Bonaventure. Now I knew. Norris Philpot had been wearing that mask. He’d found my phone.