Disrobed for Death

by Sylvia Rochester

  “Of course not.”

  “Give me a minute.” Vera talked to the driver of the wrecker, made a quick phone call, then climbed in next to Susan. “I told Herman you’re bringing me home.”

  “Did you go to New Orleans?”

  “I went to visit my sister. It was her birthday. We try to get together at least once a year. Okay, what’s with the disguise?”

  “Ask me again after Valentine’s Day.”

  “Why then?”

  “Listen, I won’t squeal on biker-Vera if you don’t press me for an explanation and keep my disguise a secret.”

  “Deal.” Vera looked Susan over again from head to toe and shook her head. “Can I be nosy on another front?”

  “Got a feeling you’re going to be anyway.”

  “I’ve noticed you don’t wear an engagement ring, and I haven’t seen you out and about with a fellow on your arm, so what’s the problem?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Then uncomplicated it. Enjoy what you can, while you can. You never know what might happen. My David was gone in a flash, and I still miss him.”

  “Yes, but now you have Herman.”

  Vera’s melancholy expression gave way to a slight smile. “He is a joy. I never would have thought I’d get mixed up with a bunch of bikers. Boy, did I have the wrong opinion of them. Most of the riders are professional business men or retirees. Ain’t nothing cheap about owning a Harley. If you ever decide you’d like to meet someone else, I know a couple of guys you’ll find very interesting.” She gave Susan another hard look. “I can’t imagine what you’re up to in that garb, but if you need any help, you can depend on me and Herman.”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. So where do you live?”

  “When you get to Hammond, take Highway 933 to Palmetto. I live in the Oaks Subdivision—431 Autumn Drive. It’s off the main highway about five miles north of your shop.”

  Susan liked what she saw of the Oaks. If she decided to buy a house, she’d take another look in this subdivision. Medium to upscale homes rambled through the wooded subdivision. Curbs, sidewalks, street lights appealed to her, as well as the fact that the houses sat on large lots. Vera’s one-story, brick house had a manicured lawn and landscaped beds. Gas lights at the entrance added a warm, homey touch, not unlike Vera, herself.

  Herman emerged from the front door and helped Vera from the car. “Thanks for taking care of my lady.”

  “Glad I could help, and really glad she wasn’t hurt.” Susan pictured Wesley waiting for her. A certain longing washed over her. She never felt as safe as when she was in his arms. Uncomplicate it? Oh, Vera, if only I could.

  It was a little past closing time when Susan reached the Bawdy Boutique, but the lights were still on with the open sign on the door. A. K.’s Mustang was the only car in the lot. Wondering how long it would take A. K. to recognize her, Susan slipped in the front door and began rummaging through sweaters on a table.

  “Sorry, ma’am, we’re closed,” A. K. said.

  “Even for me?”

  A. K. narrowed her eyes. “Girl, don’t you ever dye your hair that color. You look like…well…I’d better not say. Gotta admit, though, I don’t think anyone would recognize you in that get up. Come on to the back while I douse the front lights and lock the door. I can’t wait to hear what you found out.”

  By the time A. K. joined her, Susan had pulled up an image search for Gary on Google.

  “Who’s that?”

  “That has got to be the hired killer. His name is Gary Bozeman.”

  Several pictures showed Gary posed beside a truck with the bug mounted on top. “He’s an exterminator, probably services most of the homes and apartments in Palmetto and the surrounding area. He’d be the perfect candidate to pull off such a thing. People are used to seeing him around and probably wouldn’t give him a second glance.”

  A. K. screwed her mouth to one side as if she tasted something sour. “Not much to look at, huh? And where’s your proof?”

  Susan changed to a text search and found his address—433 Autumn Drive. “I can’t believe this. He lives next door to Vera.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Susan explained about the wreck and that she gave Vera a ride home. Then she went into details about Gary and Clarissa’s meeting at the Napoleon House. “I bet she passed Gary money. He has to be the shooter.”

  “Then print out Gary’s picture so Wesley will know who he’s looking for.”

  “What if we could stop Gary?”

  “Uh oh, something tells me I’m not going to like where this is going.”

  “Here’s what I’m thinking. I’ll call Gary tomorrow and tell him I’d like to hire his pest control services for the business. If he hasn’t changed, he’ll come on to me. That’s when I’ll tell him I’m in a relationship and introduce him to you. I know you can talk him into meeting you for drinks. If anyone can keep him occupied for a long time, you can.”

  “So you can do what?”

  “Search his house. If I can find and take the money, what’s he going to do? He can’t be stupid enough to kill someone for nothing.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack. He couldn’t even report it stolen. How could he account for such a sum?”

  “How do you plan to get in? Break a window? I’m sure you don’t know how to pick a lock. What if he has an alarm system?”

  “I have enough sense to look for signs of a security system. If he has one installed, I’ll have to figure out something else. But I’m guessing he’s still a cheapskate who would rather spend his extra cash entertaining women, not securing his house. Besides, I don’t imagine he has anything worth stealing.

  “The houses are set far apart, so I don’t have to worry about the neighbors, and the subdivision is wooded. At night, it should be easy to jimmy a back window, even break one if I have to.”

  A. K. shook her head. “You could go to jail.”

  “Only if I’m caught.”

  Chapter 10

  After closing the shop, A. K. drove Susan to Hammond to return the rental.

  “Turn here,” Susan said as they headed down Highway 933. “I want to get a good look at Gary’s house while we still have a little light.”

  Like the other dwellings in the area, Gary’s sat to the back of the lot with plenty of land on either side. One thing Susan noticed was that Gary took little care with his lawn. It looked shabby, compared to his neighbors. His company truck, a white Dodge Ram with the big bug on top, was parked out front alongside a navy, two-door Nissan.

  “See, I told you it wasn’t close to anyone, and I’m glad to see it’s not fenced. But that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have an inside dog.”

  “Uh oh, bet you didn’t give that much thought, did you?”

  “I probably didn’t think about a lot of things, this being my first attempt to commit burglary. But I know a way to find out if he has a dog. I’ll call Vera, say I’m going to use Gary’s pest control business and noticed his address is next to hers. I’ll ask if she ever used him, what kind of person is he, and then I’ll casually ask if he has a dog. She’ll ask what that has to do with it, and I’ll say, ‘Nothing, but I know of a puppy that needs a good home and thought he might be interested.’”

  Susan loved animals and had often considered adopting a puppy, but a cat fit into her lifestyle easier than a dog. Fresh litter, cat food, and water were all that Marmalade needed. A dog required more attention, someone to let it out morning and night, and someone to stop it from chewing up the furniture. Maybe one day she’d move into a house with a fenced yard, then she’d reconsider introducing Marmalade to her nemesis.

  “You don’t want to draw any attention, so where are you going to park?”

  “We passed a lot for sale a couple of doors down. I’ll pull in there.”

  A. K. shot her a sideways glance. “Girlfriend, you might make a good criminal after all.”

  It was six o
’clock by the time A. K. dropped Susan at her apartment after returning the rental.

  “Thanks for the ride. See you tomorrow.”

  Once inside, Susan shed her wig. Oooh’s and ah’s flooded the room as she raked her nails across her scalp. Scratching never felt so good. She stopped only when she feared blood might run down her face. A quick shower and change of clothes energized her. Giddy with excitement about her New Orleans trip, she couldn’t wait to share her new information with Wesley. Mad or not, he had to be proud of her for pulling it off without being detected. And even though she had no concrete evidence that money exchanged hands, what else could the envelope contain? All that bluster about tickets had to be a ruse. Otherwise, why would Clarissa go all the way to New Orleans to meet with Gary if she wasn’t trying to hide something? She could have handed him tickets in Palmetto.

  Her confidence grew, and she swelled with pride as she drove to Wesley’s. The front porch light bounced off his patrol car and truck parked in front. She pulled in behind the Crown Victoria and scampered to the front door.

  “It’s me,” she said, pushing the doorbell. A chilly wind whipped around her, and she closed her blazer over her sweater. The temperature had dropped sharply after dark. While it seemed much later, a glance at her watch showed it was only seven thirty.

  “I was hoping you’d come by,” he said, opening the door. “I passed your place earlier, saw your car, but couldn’t get an answer.”

  “I…uh, was out of town.”

  “Let’s go in the den where it’s warm. You want something to drink?”

  “No, I’m good.” A blazing fire had warmed the room. She removed her blazer and laid it across the back of a chair. Her wool slacks and sweater would keep her toasty. “Ah, it feels good in here.”

  One glance around the room and she knew she had entered a man cave. Brown and green plaid covered the couch, and matching chairs set opposite a large coffee table. A mounted fish and deer head hung from the wooden paneling. No feminine frills here, but she found the masculine décor comforting.

  Embers glowed red-hot beneath the flames in the corner fireplace, vanquishing any chill from the room. She settled on the couch, and Wesley sat beside her, so close it was his body, not the fireplace, that radiated heat.

  He could have sat across the room, and she still would have felt his warmth. Pressed jeans molded to his thighs. From his broad shoulders, a long-sleeve, western shirt narrowed at the waist and disappeared behind a brass belt buckle embossed with crossed pistols. All he needed was a white Stetson. Hello, John Wayne.

  “Where’d you go, today?” he asked.

  His deep voice drummed in her ears. As if in a daze, she sat mesmerized by the moment. The scent of his aftershave played with her senses.

  “Well?”

  “Oh, I did a little window shopping in the Quarter,” she said, avoiding his gaze, still wary about how to break the news about her venture. “What about you? Did you get a chance to make any inquiries?”

  “I stopped by the hospital and talked to several employees. I don’t think we’re going to find anything there. No one had anything negative to say about the doc, certainly not anything to suggest someone held a grudge.” Wesley closed his hand around hers. “Look at me.”

  Susan gave him a quick glance then directed her attention toward the fire.

  “You haven’t changed,” he said. “I can still tell when you’re keeping something from me.”

  She swallowed and placed her other hand on top of his. “I followed Clarissa to New Orleans today.”

  His fingers tightened around hers like a vice. “You what?”

  Susan winched and pulled her hand from his. “Hey, I’m a big girl. After we parted ways, I got used to doing things on my own.”

  “I thought you wanted my help. If you’re not going to listen—”

  “I gave it some thought, but you have to realize I’m not the helpless teeny bopper you once knew,” she said, her voice terse. “Sure, I realized there was an element of danger in what I did, but the odds were in my favor that I wouldn’t get gunned down on the street.”

  “Undoubtedly, you haven’t been to New Orleans in a while. That could very well happen. I care about your safety.”

  Susan gazed into his eyes. They reflected genuine concern.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” She poked his arm and gave him an impish grin. “Aren’t you curious to hear what I found out?”

  He grunted.

  “I really was careful. If you could have seen my disguise, you would have laughed. Even my assistant manager didn’t recognize me. Picture a plain Jane. I was a gray object in a black and white photo. No one was likely to give me a second look.”

  “I can’t imagine you looking that way…ever.”

  She laughed. “But I did. A dull brown wig, drab clothes and coat worked wonders. I also rented a tan sedan and made sure to keep my distance. After traipsing through antique stores on Royal Street, Clarissa headed to the Napoleon House for lunch. That’s where she met up with Gary Bozeman.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “He’s the local bug man. Get this—he sat behind me at LSU. Earlier, a customer of mine told me she used to do housekeeping for Clarissa and that Clarissa had even flirted with the bug man. I never dreamed it would be someone I knew. When I saw them together, my mind went into overdrive. Gary would be the perfect person to pull off the murder. He has access to most of the apartments in Palmetto and even if he was seen in the vicinity, his presence would not be out of the ordinary. So, what do you think?”

  “That’s a possibility.”

  “If you had to guess, how much money could you stuff into a large manila envelope, say about a nine-by-twelve envelope?”

  “Depends on the denomination of the bills. Is that something that passed between them?”

  “That’s a yes. It was bulging, and she made sure she was overheard saying, ‘Here are the tickets. Enjoy the show.’ Like I believe that.”

  “I admit it’s very suspect, but not enough to give me probable cause. I’ll run a background check on Mr. Bozeman, see if he has any priors. Shouldn’t be too hard to find out if he’s in financial trouble.”

  “If he doesn’t have a mug shot, do a Google image search. He’s plastered all over the place. A driver license photo never looks like the person. That way, you’ll be sure to recognize him if he shows up at Jack’s place.”

  A menacing frown crossed his brow. “You trying to tell me how to do my job?”

  Susan shook her head. When was she going to learn to stop talking?

  He smiled. “Relax. I’m teasing.”

  Tension drained from her body, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him what she had planned next. If things went wrong, he’d find out soon enough, when she was handcuffed and taken to jail. Worse was the thought of being fingerprinted and facing the cameras. She could hear the deputy barking out orders, “Look straight ahead. Turn to the side. Don’t slump.”

  She stared into Wesley’s eyes. Yes, he’d come to her aid and bail her out. No matter how mad he might be, he still cared for her and would stand by her. She saw it as a chance to stop the murder before it happened. If she could pull it off, neither Jack nor Wesley would be in harm’s way. Not wanting to tip her hand, she changed the subject.

  “Did you finish Myrtle’s porch?”

  He took the bait, but not without skepticism. He opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind and didn’t pursue the issue. “Sure did. She watched me drive every nail, and I got an on-going evaluation.”

  “Did she criticize? Find fault?”

  “Just the opposite. To my surprise, she couldn’t have been nicer. You’d think I was the world’s greatest carpenter. When I finished, she paid me and insisted I have lunch with her. Her cooking smelled too good to turn down. She had set the dining room table with china and crystal, even had a centerpiece of fresh flowers. I was impressed and glad that I didn’t refuse after she had
gone to all that trouble.

  “The meal was delicious, and I was impressed with her furniture. It was like stepping back in time. Everything was turn-of-the century. What really caught my eye were the numerous photographs—on tables, the mantle, and hanging from the wall. Most of the pictures showed two young girls. When I asked about them, Myrtle said the younger girl was her sister. She said Lorraine left Palmetto shortly after her parents died. Since she referred to her sister in the past tense, I assume she’s dead.”

  “Now you’ve stoked my curiosity. I’d like to know about Myrtle and her sister, what made them part ways.” She noticed the frown on Wesley’s face. “Okay, so I’m nosy. A customer of mine, Vera, has lived here all her life. Maybe she knows about Myrtle’s family.”

  Seeing the logs had burnt down, Wesley crossed to the fireplace, placed a couple more on the grate, and turned on the gas lighter. When they caught, he cut off the gas jet. Once again, he sat beside her, but she could tell he was still thinking about Myrtle.

  “Loneliness—that’s what I felt. Maybe something terrible happened between the sisters, and that’s what drives her anger.”

  “Now you’ve really got me curious.”

  Flames licked around the logs and painted the room in a soft yellow light. Susan was tempted to stay, but she knew where that would lead and she wasn’t ready to take their relationship that far…not yet. They still had a lot of catching up to do.

  She stood up and slipped on her blazer. “Walk me to the door?”

  “Do you have to leave?”

  “It’s best that I do. Maybe another time…”

  He put an arm around her shoulder. “When you’re ready, let me know. I’m not going anywhere.”

  That night, before Susan fell asleep, she relived those last moments with Wesley. This time, she didn’t leave. She stayed the night, lost in his arms, the way she wanted it to happen when they finally committed to one another. She awoke, cursing the daylight, not wanting the dream to end, but the alarm clock wasn’t to be denied.

  Before leaving for work Monday morning, Susan placed a call to Gary’s Pest Control and left a message that she would like to hire his services. “I’m Susan Griffin, owner of the Bawdy Boutique. Lately, I’ve had a problem with spiders, and I’m past due getting a termite contract. The store hours are nine to five.” She closed by leaving the boutique’s phone number. Gary returned her call around noon and said he’d be there within the hour.