Murder is on the Clock

by Fran Rizer

  As I was leaving, Otis called me. “Callie, I thought you’d left.”

  “I did. Came back for some things I forgot.” I turned and looked at him. The sunglasses were perched on top of his head instead of over his eyes. He looked horrible. His eyes were hard to describe—puffy and bruised looking but not like black eyes.

  “Otis, you have to see a doctor!” I said.

  “I will, Callie, I will.” He pulled the shades down on his face, turned, and headed back up front. Then it hit me. I followed him down the hall. “Otis,” I called, “if I guess what’s wrong with your eyes, will you tell me if I’m right or wrong?”

  He stopped, turned around, and faced me.

  “Okay. What’s your diagnosis?”

  “Botox gone bad.”

  “How do you know about that?” His expression was sheepish.

  “Magazines,” I answered and added my question, “Am I right?”

  “Right as rain.”

  “Is there anything to ‘fix’ it?”

  “The doctor says it will ‘loosen up’ with time. Please don’t tell anyone, especially Odell, what caused it.”

  “Nothing to be ashamed of, but I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

  A quick stop at the nearest drugstore supplied me with a walking cane and a pair of non-prescription reading glasses. I charged them on my own card, but I planned to add their cost to Bill’s charges for the items I’d picked up. My brother was hesitant at first, but before we finished transforming him into an older lady, he was into it and enjoying joking with me about it. My intention was to create a Bill version of Mrs. Doubtfire as played by the great Robin Williams. Bill had gone the extra mile and he’d not only shaved his face super-close, he’d shaved his legs from the knees down while I was gone.

  He stepped into the half-bath and put on the dress, kneehighs, and slippers. When he came out, I laughed, and he hackled like a feral cat.

  “This isn’t funny, Callie!” he snapped.

  “Yes, it is,” I said. “You have no bosom.” The black crepe lay smooth against his chest so that he looked like a huge flat-chested woman from the neck down.

  “I should have bought you a bra,” I said.

  “It’s okay,” he said, so I went ahead with the wig and makeup. When finished, I handed him the cane and glasses, but he just didn’t look right. I wasn’t aiming for Bill to look like Eddie Murphy did as Professor Clump’s grandmother in The Nutty Professor, but he looked ridiculous.

  “Do you have any safety pins?” I questioned Bill.

  He nodded and handed me a package of pins from the big round coffee table.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said and went to the half-bath. Leaving Bill’s house without my bra was going to be downright embarrassing, but what else could I do?

  He was my brother.

  My inflatable bras will stand up like little mountains when not being worn. I knew that the band around my chest and back would be way too short to reach around Bill’s chest, but I told him to take the dress off for a minute.

  Only sisterly love kept me from snapping a picture with my cell when he stood before me without his dress. There he was: six feet of an apparent woman with gray hair neatly tucked into a bun, tastefully made-up face with gold wire-rimmed glasses, and black slippers with silky black knee-highs.

  The funny part was betwixt and between. He had on a T-shirt and whitie-tighties and the hairiest thighs I’ve ever seen. It didn’t help that every one of my brothers has a flat behind. They tease about taking “nobuttatall” pills. The Boys are good-looking men, but not a one of them could fill out the backside of a pair of baseball pants.

  “Stand still,” I said and held the front of the bra up to his chest. On me, my inflatables are believable and not too big, but certainly adequate. On Bill, they were small and too close together. That bra gave him a cross-eyed chest.

  Of course, the undergarment wouldn’t hook in the back, so I simply spread each side as far as it would go and then pinned it to his T-shirt. With the dress on, he looked—I can’t say fine—but almost believable.

  Driving to the hospital, I asked, “How did you keep Molly from knowing you were here last night?”

  “The same way Lucy stayed here without her knowing. We have an agreement that my Man Cave is off-limits. I stayed very quiet and watched TV with earphones.”

  He looked around at the interior of the car. “Rental?” he asked.

  “Yes.” We rode silently toward town.

  “I’m sorry about your car. I saw it in the ER parking lot and thought it wouldn’t do any harm to borrow it. I was exhausted and it was raining. I never meant to wreck it and I don’t know when I can pay for it.”

  “I’ll have to pay a deductible, but it was insured as a vintage show car. I’ll be all right.”

  “How did I get myself into this mess?” My big brother sounded like he was near tears.

  “You don’t want me to answer that. For now, let’s just get you where you can talk to Lucy.”

  “Why would she lie about me? I’ve never done anything wrong to her.”

  “Maybe she had stronger feelings for you than you had for her. No woman wants to feel like she’s just a booty call.”

  “I liked her, but I never felt about her like I do Molly. I swear to you that I haven’t touched another female since Molly and I married.”

  “You’re going to have a harder time convincing Molly of that than you will me. You’re my brother. I want to believe in you, but if I were in Molly’s place, I’d be hurt and furious. Bill, how would you react if Molly had moved another man into the house without you knowing about it?”

  He didn’t answer me—simply sat silently with a sullen expression.

  There are several entrances to the hospital and the ER is not technically meant to be used as a hall to the rest of the areas. The reason I always came in that way was because it felt like home turf. I’d been admitted through Emergency every time I’d ever been a patient there. Besides, that parking lot was closest to the building.

  I felt pretty comfortable walking in with Bill—until I saw John, Jim, Eric, Mike, Frankie, and Molly all sitting in the waiting room. Of course, John jumped up and came over to us. The rest of them stayed where they were. “How did you know we were here, Callie?” John asked.

  “Why are you all here?” I questioned. Bill stepped behind me.

  “Pa. Isn’t that why you came?”

  Immediately I thought about Daddy’s heart condition. My hands began shaking as I demanded, “What’s happened to him? Why are you all out here instead of someone being in back with him?”

  I deal with death daily, but this was my daddy!

  “We thought he was having another heart attack . . . ” John began.

  “I interrupted, “Was it an aneurysm or a stroke?”

  “Calm down, Callie. Pa had a panic attack. They’re starting him on some meds and we’ll be able to take him home soon.”

  “Why aren’t one of you with him? The rules allow one family member with each patient.” I knew this because I’d had several short stays behind those beige curtains that separated the patient rooms in back at the ER.

  “Little Sister, why are you so sure he’s alone? He was supposed to be married to Ellen today. She’s with him. We felt she should be, and she certainly wanted to be the one who went back.”

  “Good,” I said and then remembered that Jane had been at Miss Ellen’s house. “Where’s Jane?” I asked.

  “Tyrone picked her up and took her to the grill to help Rizzie.”

  Though Bill stood still and wasn’t saying anything, I could hear him breathing. John looked over my shoulder and asked, “Is she here to see a doctor?”

  “No, we’re just passing through to visit a patient.”

  “Well, you’d better get him out of here before Molly sees him because if she gets close, she’ll recognize him through the cosmetics.” He paused and then locked his eyes on the old lady’s face. “And, Bill, if she finds o
ut you came here to see the woman who fell off your roof without contacting your wife while Molly is worried sick about you, you’ll be the next one seeing a doctor.”

  I opened my mouth to explain, but John pointed to the elevator. “Move it,” he said. “Here comes Wayne.”

  Sometimes my emotions don’t match my intellect. I was tempted to run, but Bill kept his senses about him. He took my arm in one hand as though he needed the support and hobbled beside me using the cane. No one was in the elevator and when the doors closed, Bill pretended to collapse against the back wall and chuckled until we got to the third floor.

  “Callie,” he said as we stepped out, “I think you do better makeup on people who don’t move around.”

  When I taught, I refused to let my students say, “Shut up.” I think that’s rude to the extreme, but I looked at Bill and said, “Shut up.”

  Loose Lucy was groggy with her eyelids drooping halfclosed. When Bill stepped up beside her, leaned over, and whispered, “Lucy,” her eyes popped open and bugged.

  “Bill?” she mumbled.

  “Yes, it’s me. I’m sorry you broke your leg. How are you feeling?”

  “I had surgery today.”

  “I know. Callie told me.”

  “You can’t stay here. My brother Luke is furious with you for making me break my leg and with Callie for coming up here bothering me.”

  “Making you break your leg?” I asked.

  “That’s how Luke sees it, and he’s on the way to see me now.”

  At that moment, the door began opening. Bill ducked into Lucy’s bathroom.

  After a few minutes when Luke had finished glaring at me and was talking to Lucy, I knocked on the restroom door and said, “Mrs. Finn, it’s time to go. Are you ready?”

  The door opened and Bill came out and turned quickly toward the door to the hall. I barely controlled myself. I’ve seen women accidentally tuck their skirts into their panty hose or tights, but Bill had tucked his skirt into his skivvies. He looked quite a sight with his black silk knee highs, hairy thighs, and skirt tucked into his underwear. It actually made it look like he had a little muscle on his backside. I moved in behind him and pulled the skirt out.

  On the elevator down, Bill said, “When we get back to the ER, I’ll wait. If Wayne is still here, bring him to me.”

  All I had to do was ask the sheriff for a private word and he followed me over to the big lady.

  When we got there, Wayne stared and then said, “I don’t believe this.”

  “You know who it is, don’t you?” I asked.

  “Yes, I think I do. Are you ready to be reasonable now?” he questioned Bill.

  “I’m turning myself in to you, but I don’t want Molly to see me like this,” Bill said.

  “We can walk straight out the door to my car,” Wayne said. “I just came to check on Mr. Parrish.”

  “Is he still doing all right?” I said.

  “He’ll be going home soon,” Wayne said. “I’ll take Bill with me for a talk and then if he promises not to run away again, I’ll drop him off at your dad’s. I think we’ve solved the case. Josh Wingate and Philip Anderson were dealing drugs together. When Philip ran off with Betty Jo Caldwell, he stole all the money.”

  The sheriff took a deep breath and then went on, “Wingate passed Anderson and Betty Jo on I-95. I don’t think it was planned, just coincidence. It had to be chance because there’s no way Wingate would have known Anderson and Miss Caldwell would be in that exact spot. When Wingate saw Anderson he became livid—so mad that he pulled his gun out from under the seat of his pickup and shot at them. Philip recognized Wingate and ducked, so the girl was hit. I still have some questions for you though, Bill, so I need to talk to you before I take you home.”

  He gave me a searching look. “You haven’t called me recently. Jane’s been getting those calls more and more frequently. How about you?”

  “No. He must be concentrating on Roxanne now.”

  “Well, she’s at Rizzie’s. Where are you going when you leave here?”

  “Home. I’m going to my apartment and pet my dog and eat Moon Pies.”

  “Call me when you get there.”

  As Bill and Wayne left, I went over to my family. Of course, they asked, “Who was that old lady you were with?” I told them, “Just Mrs. Finn, a friend of mine who wanted to talk to the sheriff.”

  9:00 P.M.

  I looked at the clock, it was way after nine I needed to get home for some downtime “C’mon , Big Boy,” I said and let him inside. He nuzzled my hand. I thought he was asking for a treat, but then I realized what he wanted was to be petted, to feel my affection for him through touch.

  Totally exhausted and discouraged are both inadequate words to describe how I felt, but I sat on the couch and scratched Big Boy’s ears. He turned his face up, and stared at me. Dark sad eyes changed to love-filled brown eyes.

  I wished my mood could be changed as easily by someone rubbing my ears. Relief at knowing Bill was safe and that Daddy didn’t need more heart surgery didn’t extinguish the anguish of knowing Bill was more of a suspect now than ever and that Daddy wouldn’t handle the outcome of Bill’s problems very well, whatever happened.

  After hand-feeding my dog the red pieces in his Kibbles ‘n’ Bits like I did when he was a puppy, I said, “That’s all for now, Big Boy.” He followed me into the bedroom and lay down on the rug beside my bed. I scrounged around for a nightgown. Realizing how desperately I needed to do laundry, I settled for an old T-shirt that reached almost to my knees. It was one of my favorites. Emblazoned across the chest in big glittery letters: “VIRGIN.” Below, in a smaller font: “This is a very old shirt.” I smiled as my mind darted into the gutter. Wonder if there are shirts with “Renewed Virgin” printed on them? It had been a long time. Big Boy wasn’t the only one in my apartment who needed affection.

  I considered filling the tub to soak in some of the Japanese bath salts that Jim had sent me when he was serving over there, but I was so tired I feared I would fall asleep. Otis and I once cosmetized a lady who lived alone and had died in her bath. I’m not overly modest, but the thought of anyone finding me after several days dead in bath water was yucky.

  Honeysuckle-scented shampoo and my biggest, fluffiest towel made me feel better when I stepped from the shower. There was so much steam on the mirror that I opened the window a few inches before I combed my hair, brushed my teeth, and pulled on my VIRGIN tee.

  “Hey, Big Boy, Mama’s back,” I said to the dog as I came from the bathroom. He didn’t acknowledge me at all. I bent over to touch him.

  Two muscular arms grabbed me. One wrapped around my waist pulling me back against a masculine body. The other stretched across my mouth and yanked my head. I use body lifts at work, but moving people is still physical. I’m strong for my size, but not against this attacker. I did the only thing I could—clamped my teeth into his arm. My bite brought blood. I knew because I tasted it.

  He twisted me around, cursing me, and spit in my face, When he punched me in the mouth, I crumpled against him, dazed. The pain was really bad and I felt my blood mingle with his as my busted lip gushed and his saliva dripped off me.

  The only thought I had was that Jane’s stalker had gotten into my apartment, and that terrified me. He slapped a piece of tape across my mouth and wrapped his other arm around my neck.

  Not understanding why Big Boy wasn’t lunging at my attacker, or at least barking, I looked down at my dog. He lay absolutely still. Hadn’t moved at all.

  “I gave him a little something to help him sleep.” The voice sounded familiar but I couldn’t identify it even though there was no electronic distortion. Still dripping blood, the arm I’d bitten moved into my line of vision. His hand, covered in the same kind of blue medical vinyl glove I wear when working, held a hypodermic syringe.

  “There’s enough left in here for you, too,” the masculine voice continued.

  I pulled away as hard as I could, but his hold on
me was too tight.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not ready yet. You need to answer some questions first. If I take the tape off, will you be quiet? No screaming at all or I’ll have to hurt you.”

  The smart aleck in me wanted to say, “You already hurt me,” but even in my stunned state, I was afraid this man was going to injure me a whole lot worse.

  I nodded yes, and he yanked the tape off. The searing pain went deep and I didn’t scream, but I did gasp. I saw his face. The stalker was Luke Robinson—Loose Lucy’s brother.

  “I need some answers,” Luke said. “If you cooperate, I might not have to use this.” He wiggled the syringe in front of my eyes. “You won’t like it if I stick you with it. You might not even wake up.” He chuckled. “Will you cooperate?” I nodded as much as I could with the armlock he had on my head. “Do you promise on your mother’s name?”

  “I never had a mother,” I said.

  “Of course you had a mother. There are good mothers and bad mothers, but everyone has a mother.”

  “My mother died the day I was born.”

  “Then swear on your mother’s grave.”

  I wasn’t expecting his next move. He flung me across the bed and then pounced on top of me. I thrashed. I wanted to scream, but I didn’t. I was too scared of that needle. He jerked my arms behind me and I felt my wrists being bound together. Around and around the slender rope went. When he grabbed my feet and pulled them up behind my buttocks, I realized what he was doing. Forget kindergarten cussing. Even shih tzu wasn’t strong enough for this. He was trying to hog-tie me. Trying? No, he was succeeding.

  “Please don’t,” I said softly. I didn’t scream it for fear of the hypodermic.

  “Tell you what,” Luke said. “If you stay still and answer quietly like that, I won’t tie the rope around your neck.”

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  He rolled me over so that I lay on my back.

  “Where is your brother Bill?”