Disrobed for Death

by Sylvia Rochester

  “Since our paths cross more often than I like, I try and remain on her good side. She sure can stir up a hornet’s nest, but I’ve got an idea that just might stop Myrtle from disrupting your business.”

  “What do—”

  Vera held up her hand to shush Susan. “I can’t say anything right now. You’ll just have to wait and see.” Vera ran her fingers down a long negligee and pulled the sheer material to her. I wonder what Myrtle would do if she caught me in here? For sure, I wouldn’t be on her guest list.” Vera laughed. “Okay, let’s see what you wouldn’t show in the window.”

  “How are you doing, Miss Vera?” A. K. said, joining them. “I’ve got something that has you written all over it.” She pulled a piece of lingerie from the rack and laid it on the counter.

  Vera’s face lit up at the red, satin baby doll pajamas with bikini panties. She ran her hand over the material and hummed a few notes, a cheerful sound but nothing recognizable. “That feels good…feels just right. I’ll take it.”

  While Susan rang up the sale, Vera said, “I saw Clarissa Evans leaving the shop with a purchase. You’re lucky to have made a sale. She’s a hard woman to satisfy.”

  Susan interest piqued. “You know her?”

  “I was the housekeeper for her and Doctor Evans. In fact, I still clean his place once a week.” Her face wrinkled into a frown, hinting at her age. “Clarissa and I never got along. She found fault with everything I did. I’m not one to tell tales out of school, but since I no longer work for her I’m entitled to speak my mind.”

  “What’s your opinion about the doctor?”

  “He’s a nice enough guy, but he has his faults, too.”

  “You said you don’t work for Clarissa anymore?”

  “She couldn’t pay me enough. She’s downright mean. She could put a guilt trip on the doctor over the smallest thing. Rather than argue, he tried pacifying her with gifts. Even that wasn’t enough. That woman has an insatiable appetite for jewelry…and other things.” She hiked an eyebrow. “She didn’t fool me. I heard her taking calls from way too many gentleman friends. Married or not, Clarissa seemed to think all males were fair game. Once, I even saw her flirt with the bug man.”

  “You think that’s what led to their divorce?” A. K. asked.

  Vera shook her head. “The doctor was so wrapped up in his work he didn’t have any idea what she was doing. From what I understand, it was Clarissa who wanted out of the marriage, said she wanted to travel, have more of a social life. She couldn't do that with the doctor stuck at the hospital all the time.” A. K. handed her the bag and walked with her toward the door.

  “Heck, she knew what her life would be like when she married him. I suppose she’s happy now that she has her freedom. I heard she got a very generous settlement. Me, I wouldn’t have given her the time of day.

  “Well, I’ve rattled on too long. I’d better slip out of here before I’m discovered. You ladies have a good evening. I can hardly wait to see what you’ll have in the window next time.” Vera clutched her purchase to her chest. “I can’t wait to try this out…uh, I mean on.” She giggled and disappeared out the back door.

  Chapter 8

  The next couple of days passed without incident. Regretfully, Susan didn’t learn anything further about Jack’s potential killer. Since Wesley hadn’t called, she assumed he hadn’t found anything worth sharing, either. She grew more nervous with each passing hour. This morning, she arrived early at the shop and was rearranging an in-store display when A. K. made her entrance.

  She headed straight for the office and poured a cup of coffee. “Glad you made a pot. I’m like a vampire whose craving for blood has turned to caffeine.”

  “Rough night?”

  “Fabulous night, only I let the time get away from me.” A. K. pressed a hand to her forehead and took another sip of coffee.

  “Ah, yes,” she sighed. “Have you heard anything from Wesley?”

  “Not yet. In the meantime, I’ve decided to talk with Ramona, tell her what happened while I was sedated. She’s our best chance to find out if Clarissa would benefit, financially, if something happened to Jack.”

  “You sure you want to go that route? Ramona will probably agree with her brother and think your brains are scrambled. Not only will you strike out, you’ll lose a good customer.”

  “If it saves Jack’s life, it’ll be worth it.”

  Susan sat down at the computer and pulled up the Bawdy Boutique’s customer listings. She entered Ramona’s number in her cellphone and placed the call. It went straight to voice mail.

  “Ramona, this is Susan at the Bawdy Boutique. Would it be possible to meet with you today? Some place in Hammond would be fine. It has nothing to do with the shop. It’s a personal matter, and I could use your help. Give me a call when you get a chance.”

  “You know me and my weird sense of humor,” A. K. said. “Sorry, but I can’t resist. The cost of a casket—ten thousand dollars. Opening a grave—eight hundred. The look on Ramona’s face when you tell her you and Jack met at his funeral—Priceless.”

  “Okay, smarty, how do you propose I break the news to her?”

  “I’d start by assuring Ramona that you’re not crazy. Don’t say you dreamed anything. Ask if she believes in precognition. Hopefully, she’ll say that she does. If not, you have no choice but to continue. Tell her before you met Jack, you saw him in a vision where he pointed out her as his sister and also his two brothers. Ask how that was possible when you knew nothing about her family.

  “I don’t think she’ll answer you, but you’ll have her undivided attention by then. Say that Jack also pointed out his mother who was in a wheel chair and his ex-wife, Clarissa. That’s got to shake her up. Ask her if she thought her brother was in danger, would she be willing to help? Of course, she’s going to say she would. That’s when you tell her where your vision took place…and hope for the best.”

  “I can understand if she doesn’t believe me. With each passing day, I doubt whether it really happened or not.” Susan gazed at the blinking cursor.

  “I wonder,” she mumbled.

  Her fingers tapped the key to pull up the Internet. In the Google search box, she entered the name of the Hammond newspaper and selected the Obits. There she searched the archives for the week of February 7, 2011. Her findings confirmed what Jack had told her. Samuel Wright and Randy Mumford were both listed.

  “What is it?” A. K. asked.

  “Proof that what I experienced was real.” She told A. K. about the two men. “How could I know their names?”

  “Okay, you’ve convinced me.”

  The front door opened. Debbie and Sheila arrived together and put their things away. They were still talking about a night out on the town and toasting their raise.

  “If you two don’t get to work, you’re going to have lots of days off to celebrate your raise,” Susan said.

  They laughed and moved toward the front of the store to welcome customers.

  “Uh, oh,” Debbie said, “we’ve got company.”

  This time Myrtle’s entourage consisted of seven women carrying signs. But they didn’t block the store. They marched single file just off the highway beside the parking lot.

  “Not much we can do. She’s not on our property,” Susan said.

  “Yeah, but she’s getting her message to every passing car. I’m glad the Palmetto Highway isn’t a busy artery. Let’s go check out their signs. Maybe she’ll slip up and slander us. It would be sweet revenge to wrangle a few bucks out of her.”

  A few signs had the store’s name with an ‘X’ crossed through it. Others carried messages: DON’T LET SATAN TEMPT YOU, BAN THE BAWDY BOUTIQUE, and SAY NO TO THE DEVIL’S CLOSET.

  “Two can play that game,” Susan said. Where’s my grease board, the one we use to advertise quick discounts.” She returned with a hinged, two-sided easel and set it up at the entrance to the parking lot, a short distance from Myrtle’s crew. In big, bold letters Susan wrote NEW
ARRIVALS – 50% OFF. Within minutes, a customer turned off the highway and parked in front of the store. Another soon followed.

  “Keep marching,” Myrtle called to her lady friends. “Good will triumph.”

  From down the highway came a low rumbling sound which grew louder and louder. Bikers, two abreast, headed their way. When they reached the protesters, the lead rider left the road, skirted behind the sign carriers then made a U-turn. The other bikers followed. Around and around they rode, corralling the women and covering them with dust. Then the leader, a robust man with a gray beard, held up his hand, and the bikers stopped.

  “Which one of you is Myrtle Thigpen?” the leader asked.

  Myrtle stepped forward. “I have a right to be here.”

  “So do I.” The man removed his dark helmet and tucked it under his arm. Silver hair peeked out from under a red do-rag. He flashed a smile, revealing white teeth against his tanned complexion. The man commanded attention.

  “Some hunk, huh?” A. K. mumbled, nudging Susan.

  Thick thighs straddled the Hog, while the biker’s boots dug into the soft dirt. “I’m a believer in freedom of speech, but not when it interferes with free enterprise.”

  Myrtle looked down her nose at her unknown adversary. “The law says I can protest as long as I stay on neutral property and don’t block customers.”

  “And the law also says I can ride my bike any time on any highway or street. Boys?” He turned to his fellow bikers and raised his hands. The roar from their engines was deafening. “The sound is even louder in the middle of the night, and I hear your bedroom faces the street.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Trust me. I would. I suggest you pack up your signs and go home.”

  Several of the ladies had starting making the way to their cars.

  “This isn’t the end of this,” Myrtle said.

  “It could be,” the leader said. “That’s up to you.”

  Myrtle joined her lady friends, and they all left the premises.

  “Hey, who are you?” Susan called to the biker.

  “A friend.” He gave a wave of his hand, and his pack rumbled onto the highway behind him.

  As they roared away, the biker’s passenger, a tiny figure in all black with a tinted helmet, gave Susan a thumbs-up.

  “That’s our customer, Vera,” Susan said to A. K. “Remember the widow mentioned her latest boyfriend was a biker.”

  “Woo-hoo! Good for her,” A. K. said.

  The grease-board marquee continued to catch the attention of many passersby, and sales for the day soared.

  Near closing time, Susan gathered up her purse. “You don’t mind locking up, do you? Ramona called and asked that I meet her at her house.”

  “Hot dang, I hope she’s willing to cooperate. Call and let me know what happens.”

  Susan nodded.

  Once in the Camaro, Susan didn’t head straight to Ramona’s. She took a short detour to the Roselawn Cemetery. Although the obituary had listed similar names, she wanted to see for herself if the grave of Samuel Wright was located in the place she remembered.

  She spotted the great oak, the one she and Jack had stood under, and parked close to it. Walking past its low-hung branches, she spied the granite tombstone that bore the Wright name. Yes, it was exactly as Jack had pointed it out. A few rows back, a new grave awaited its occupant. She wondered how many others awaited their burial. Were they struggling to adjust to their afterlife? As she turned to go, the hairs on her arms bristled. She had the feeling she was not alone.

  “Not yet,” she said, looking back across the empty grave yard. “Not yet.”

  She returned to the car and pulled out the instructions to Ramona’s place. Okay, I can do this. In her mind, she had rehearsed the conversation again and again, but when she pulled in Ramona’s circular driveway and parked in front of an enormous two-story house, she drew a blank. Dormer windows looked down on her like inquiring eyes, and she struggled to organize her thoughts.

  Ramona met her at the door. “Come in.”

  She led the way to a spacious living room that overlooked a pool. Exposed beams, ceramic tiles, and overstuffed furniture with green and yellow floral patterns suggested a casual, but elegant, lifestyle. Palms, Schefflera, and other leafy plants filled the room. “I’m really glad you called. After leaving your shop, I got to thinking that it might be nice if you and Jack met under different circumstances…like a cocktail party. You’re both unattached, and who knows? You two might hit it off.”

  “That would be nice. I’d like to know more about your brother.” Susan paused. “You see, I met him once before.”

  Ramona cocked her head to one side and gave Susan a queried look. “Please, sit down. Tell me about it.”

  “Do you believe in precognition?”

  A frown crossed Ramona’s brow. “I’m not sure that I do, although I’ve heard of cases that defy explanation.”

  “I think you’ll find that mine does.”

  Susan did her best to follow A. K. suggestions. She told Ramona about her fall and that, while sedated, she experienced something like a vision, where she met Jack’s parents, his brothers, and his ex-wife. “And of course, you were there. You wore a green, empire-styled dress and what looked like emerald earrings.”

  Ramona bore into her with those deep, blue eyes, the same eyes as Jack. “I do own such a dress. I bought it two weeks ago in New Orleans, and my earrings match it perfectly. How could you know that?”

  Susan stood up. “The same way I knew about your family. I hate to tell you, but I saw you wearing it at Jack’s funeral.”

  Ramona gasped and clutched her arms. “I don’t know that I want to hear any more.”

  “Please, believe me. I’m not crazy, and this is not a hoax. If what I saw was real, then I came back for a reason. I believe it’s to save Jack’s life. After all, he saved mine.”

  “Did you tell Jack about your vision?”

  “He dismissed it, said he had lots of stories about patients who experienced weird dreams under anesthesia. I tried to convince him it wasn’t a dream, but he refused to take me seriously.”

  “In your vision, dream, or whatever it was, did you ask Jack who killed him?”

  “He saw only the barrel of a gun. His next recollection was waking the following morning in the afterlife.”

  Ramona reached up and tugged on Susan’s arm. “Sit down. I still have my doubts, but if there’s even the slightest chance that Jack’s in danger, I want to do whatever I can to help him.”

  Susan eased down onto the sofa. “I don’t blame you for doubting. I’ve asked myself a thousand times if it really happened, but the other day, I got proof. At my wake…gee, that sounds weird…Jack told me about meeting two men who were buried prior to my arrival. Today, I found their obituaries. The names, ages, and dates fit what he told me, but I wanted more evidence. I stopped by the cemetery on the way here. Their tombstones are exactly where Jack pointed them out to me.”

  Ramona clutched her arms. “That gives me the shivers. What can I do to help?”

  “I’m not accusing Clarissa of anything, but she’s high on my list of suspects. I need to know if she would benefit from Jack’s death.”

  “He did have a large insurance policy, and she was the beneficiary, but I assume he took care of that after the divorce.” She frowned and shook her head. “Then again, Jack tends to put off things like that. I’ll mention it to him. If Clarissa’s name is still on the policy, I’ll urge him to call his agent and have her removed.”

  “Great. If Clarissa has nothing to gain from his death, I doubt she would do him any harm. Of course, we’re also looking for any other persons who might want to harm him.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “A. K. and an old friend who happens to be a homicide detective with the Hammond Sheriff’s Office. This is all hush-hush right now, so don’t say anything. By the way, where does Jack live?”

  “After the divorce, he sold
the house and moved into the Meadow Woods apartments. Clarissa settled on the Fairmont Apartments. Jack said he preferred the serenity and quite of Palmetto.”

  Susan got up, and Ramona walked her to the door. “In my vision, Jack mentioned to me where he lived. I just wanted to hear it from you.”

  Ramona squeezed her hand. “I’ll call as soon as I talk with Jack, and I won’t let on why I’m curious about the insurance policy.”

  “I think that’s best for now. Goodnight, Ramona.”

  On the way home, Susan called A. K. and brought her up to speed. “For once, I feel we’re moving in the right direction. This has been a long day, and I can hardly wait to get home and soak in a warm bath. See you tomorrow.”

  Darkness had settled by the time Susan pulled in front of her apartment, and it was even darker at her front door. The outside bulb had burned out several weeks ago, and the manager had yet to replace it. While fumbling to get the key into the lock, a voice startled her.

  “Susan?”

  “Oh, you scared me. I didn’t hear you.”

  Wesley stood a couple of feet behind her. “Need some help?”

  “Nah, I got it.” She opened the door. “Come in. I thought I’d have heard from you by now.”

  “I didn’t find anything worth reporting,” he said, pushing aside one of the throw pillows and taking a seat on the sofa. He glanced around the room. “Nice place.”

  She took a seat beside him. She wasn’t interested in her apartment or décor, and if she had him pegged right, he wasn’t either. “So, what’s next?” she said in a voice filled with anticipation.

  “Without a warrant, I’ll have to rely on personal contacts, call in a few favors. Court records showed he paid Clarissa alimony for one year, and the parties agreed to a financial settlement, which was not filed with the court. Whatever the amount, she seems to have spent a great deal on jewelry and clothes. Anxious to make more sales, one jeweler gave her a line of credit. Big mistake. She’s into him for thousands.

  “Her apartment manager and I are old friends. I heard pretty much the same story from her. Clarissa paid her rent on a regular basis for the first year then fell behind. The manager has started eviction procedures.”