“I still think you should keep Gary busy and let me go after the money,” A. K. whispered as she and Susan huddled in the back of the shop.
“No way. If anyone gets in trouble, it’s going to be me. I’m the one who had the vision, remember?”
Around noon, the front door opened, and Gary entered the shop. He held a clip board in his hand. Khaki pants, a blue sweater, and a tan work jacket with his name and logo emblazoned on the pocket made for a professional appearance. Standing next to Debbie, Gary appeared taller than Susan remembered.
“Can I help you?” Debbie asked.
“I’m looking for Susan Griffin.”
When Debbie glanced toward the back of the shop, Susan motioned for Gary to join her. “It’s okay, Debbie. Come on back, Mr. Bozeman.”
Gary paused long enough to take another good look at Debbie then made his way to Susan. About halfway through the store, he stopped and squinted. “Hey, I know you. We had a few classes together at LSU. I often wondered what happened to you.”
“I left town after graduation,” she said as he approached. “I didn’t make the connection with your name, but seeing you, I do remember. I miss my college days, but now that I’m back, I hope to connect with my old friends.”
His eyes devoured her body, the way it always did when he used to look at her. “You’re even prettier than I remember.”
The smell of chemicals clung to his clothes. It was all she could do to keep from wrinkling her nose. Stains around his knees reminded her that his job was anything but glamorous, but necessary. The thought of crawling under house and into sheds teaming with critters made her shiver. Killing varmints was one thing, but could this old classmate really kill a human being? She remembered it was disgusting how he chased anything in skirts. And she had heard from classmates that he expected way more than they were willing to give. On top of that, he was cheap…even left one date to pay the bill at a restaurant. What a travesty it would be if a low life like Gary killed Jack. Somehow she managed to suppress the anger that churned in her gut.
She studied his face and was drawn to his beady eyes, knowing full well there was no such thing as a stereotyped killer. Numerous cases of the all-American, boy next door who committed unspeakable crimes disproved that theory. The mind, not the appearance, was to blame.
“Well, I’m glad to see you again.” When his long, effeminate fingers reached out to shake her hand, it took every ounce of willpower not to jerk her hand away when she touched his.
“You mentioned you had trouble with spiders. I have just the thing to rid you of them, and my basic plan will take care of any other problems you might have.” He handed her a brochure with drawings of insects surrounding the text. “The initial treatment costs four-hundred and fifty dollars and includes treating for termites. After that, the contract is one-hundred and forty-five dollars a year. I can start tomorrow afternoon if that’s okay with you.”
“Works for me. I’ll have a check ready.”
“Where have you been that I haven’t run into you?”
“Mostly right here. I’ve been busy getting my business up and running. Never knew there were so many forms, permits, and licenses required. But you’d know all about that, having a business of your own.”
“Huh, every time I turn around there’s another new regulation to comply with. I get tired of jumping through hoops. I wish they’d back off and just let me do my job.” He glanced around the store, pausing to take another look at Debbie and Sheila. Then he spotted A. K. “Nice merchandise.”
It was all Susan could do not to gag. This creep hadn’t changed a bit. “What made you decide to become an exterminator?”
“After college, I was living with my folks in Amite, north of Hammond. The Formosa mosquitos moved in and the pest control companies had more business than they could handle. My bachelor uncle owned an extermination business and asked if I’d be interested in learning the trade. Since I didn’t have a job, and my parents were anxious for me to find my own place, I took him up on his offer. Most of his customers were in the Hammond area, so he moved his headquarters there. A few years ago, he died and left the business to me.”
“Sorry about your uncle.”
“Thanks. He died of cancer. The doctor said exposure to chemicals probably caused it. I make sure to take every precaution when I’m spraying.”
How convenient, Susan thought.
Gary inched closer and whispered. “I notice you’re not wearing a wedding ring. If you don’t have any plans for tonight, I know a great little restaurant.”
Susan fought back the urge to puke and backed away. “As tempting as it sounds,” she lied, “I’m going to have to pass. I’m in a relationship.”
A scowl crossed his face, and his voice reflected disappointment. “Well, if things don’t work out between you two, the offer still stands. Whoever he is, he’s a lucky guy. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.” He turned to go.
Not wanting him to leave before she could set her plan in motion, she put her hand on his arm. “In case I’m not here, I’ll leave a check with my assistant manager. She can sign the contract for me. Let me introduce you to her.” She motioned for A. K. to join them.
A. K. sashayed toward them, wearing an emerald-green jersey dress that clung to her like a second skin. Cut low in the front, her ample breasts teased the observer with an abundance of cleavage, which the wiggle in her walk exaggerated. Her presence definitely demanded a second look.
“Well, hello there,” he said, obviously pleased at what he saw…and what he no doubt imagined was concealed beneath her flimsy dress. “I’m Gary Bozeman. Ms. Griffin was kind enough to engage my services.”
“I’m Anna Katherine, but everyone calls me A. K.”
A. K. gave him a sultry look and let her hand slither down her dress and over her voluptuous curves. “Did I hear you say you know a wonderful restaurant?”
Like a dog tempted with a treat, his jaw dropped slightly, and he threatened to drool.
Oh, A. K., I’m going to owe you big time.
“The Rain Forest—great food, terrific drinks, and a fabulous atmosphere. You interested?” he asked.
“As long as it doesn’t come with critters, but then I’ll have you to take care of that.”
Gary drew a long breath and his male ego seemed to swell with pride. “Give me your number and address, and I’ll pick you up about eight.”
“I have errands to run, so why don’t I meet you there?”
“Sure. It’s in Hammond, behind the new mall on Corporate Drive.”
As soon as Gary walked out the front door, A. K. turned and pretended to run a finger down her throat. “Yuck!”
“You still got it, babe. I’m afraid you might have to fight him off, but keep him occupied as long as you can. And by all means, call me when you leave the restaurant.”
Chapter 11
On the way home, Susan stopped at a thrift store and picked up a black knit cap and sweat shirt. She hurried with her purchases, as it was important she keep track of the time. If she left her apartment for Gary’s at eight o’clock, he should be well on his way to the restaurant, and she wouldn’t have to worry about passing him on the road. She hoped A. K. could keep him entertained for several hours, as she didn’t know how long it would take to search his house.
Once she arrived at her apartment, she laid out what she planned to wear, then shed her clothes. After pulling on a couple of tee shirts, she slipped the sweat shirt over her head. Layering would keep her warm, and she wouldn’t have to deal with a bulky jacket. Jeans, dark tennis shoes, and gloves completed her outfit. She twisted her hair into a bun and tucked it under the knit cap. Around her waist, she fastened a fairly large fanny pack. It held a screw driver, a flashlight, and a rag. If she couldn’t jimmy a window, she’d have to break it with the hammer she wedged behind her belt.
Dressed for something she never thought she’d be doing, she took one last look in the mirror. By gosh, a Ninja warr
ior stared back. A nervous laugh erupted, and she couldn’t resist.
“Eeee-ya!” she cried, striking an attack pose. But the laughter was short lived. A man’s life hung in the balance, and she must never forget that. Her shoulders slumped, and her lip quivered.
“Am I really ready to do this?” she asked herself. Stuffing the cell phone in her pocket and grabbing her keys, she fired back at her image, “You bet I am.”
She left her apartment and drove to Gary’s. As she suspected, she didn’t pass him on the way. When she arrived, she turned into the driveway of the vacant lot, which, by its appearance, had sat abandoned for quite a while. This would work to her advantage. The tall weeds would provide cover for her car. Stepping from the Camaro, she glanced overhead. Even the night was going to cooperate—no moon and no rain. While streetlights lined the road, they did little to illuminate the houses. They were built on the back portion of the lots. A few houses had porch or patio lights, but Gary’s place had no lights on at all.
Stepping from the car, she made sure she had everything she would need. Then with stealth, she made her way up Gary’s driveway. Even with all her clothing, she could feel the hairs on her arms bristling. Every nerve in her body was on high alert from her gut to her fingertips. Each shadowy shrub loomed as a threat. She approached each with trepidation, afraid he might jump out and catch her. A sigh of relief escaped her lips when she discovered his navy Nissan missing. The only vehicle parked out front was the Dodge truck with the big bug crouched on top. Had this been a horror movie, the metal sculpture might have come alive and sealed her fate. But this wasn’t a movie, and the piece of tin was doomed to ride out its life bolted to its chariot.
Like his unkempt yard, ornamental shrubs crowded around Gary’s house. Susan had to push her way behind the bushes to check for any unlocked windows. Sharp branches jabbed her sweatshirt, but she remained unharmed. One-by-one, she lifted the screens with the screwdriver and checked the windows. They were all locked. At the back of the house, three possible windows remained, along with the patio door. One overlooked the kitchen window. The other was a small, frosted window located too high to reach. She struck out on gaining entry from the first two. That left what was probably a bathroom window. If locked, she’d have no choice but to break it. While small, she knew she could wiggle her way through, but first she’d have to find something to give her a leg-up. She spied just the thing.
Dragging a wrought-iron patio chair beneath the window, she popped the screen. To her surprise and delight, it was unlocked. She pushed up the window and dropped her hammer on the ground. Bracing her hands on the window sill, she pulled her body half through the opening. Then she slid her fanny pack to her side to get out the flashlight. Now was not the time to fall head first into a toilet.
As fate would have it, the porcelain throne was below the window, and thankfully, the lid was down. She put the flashlight back into the fanny pack, reached down, and put her hands on the back of the tank. Now she’d have leverage to lift the rest of her body and shimmy her way down to the lid. Seemed like a great plan, and it might have worked, but someone grabbed her legs.
“Going somewhere?” a deep voice said.
A million thoughts raced through her mind, none of them good. She tried to look and see who had hold of her, but her assailant blinded her with his flashlight.
“I know you,” he said. “You run the Bawdy Boutique. What do you think you’re doing?”
The man lifted her out of the window and stood her on the ground. “Recognize me?” he said, turning the light toward his face.
“You’re Herman! I saw you on your bike with Vera—”
“That’s neither here nor there. You still have haven’t answered me. I’ve learned to keep a lookout for trouble, especially since Vera’s all alone. I don’t want any harm coming to her. Do you realize you could have gotten yourself shot?”
“It’s not what you think. Please, let me go. I have to get inside.”
“Not while I’m here. You’re coming with me to Vera’s. How’d you get here, anyway?”
“I parked a few doors down at the vacant lot.”
“Well, we’d better move your vehicle to Vera’s. Someone might see it parked there and call the cops. I have a feeling you wouldn’t want that, would you?
“No.”
Herman closed the window and replaced the screen. “Is this yours?” He picked up the hammer and handed to Susan. “You didn’t leave anything else around the house, did you?”
Susan shook her head.
After returning the chair to the patio, Herman’s big hand closed around her bicep. “Okay, let’s go get your car.”
When she and Herman got out of the Camaro, Vera was waiting for them at the front door. Susan discarded the fanny-pack and dropped the hammer on the back floorboard. Giving Vera a sheepish grin, she pulled the knit cap from her head and tucked it into her waist and beneath the sweatshirt.
“Look who I found,” Herman said.
Vera had the same look of surprise as when she spotted Susan wearing the wig. “You’re carrying this disguise thing to the extremes. Aren’t you? What in the world were you doing over at Gary’s house?”
“She probably didn’t want anyone to recognize her,” Herman said. “I sure didn’t when I caught her climbing through Gary’s back window. Of course, I wasn’t looking at her face, either. Young lady, before I call the cops, maybe we should hear what you have to say.”
“Please, don’t call them. I can explain.”
Vera led the way to the kitchen, and Herman followed with Susan in tow. In most Southern homes, it’s tradition to discuss important matters around the kitchen table. Tonight was no exception. Herman sat next to Susan, and no one said a word until Vera finished pouring them a cup of coffee.
Sitting in a straight-back maple chair, Susan looked up into the overhead light hanging from a brass chain. Interrogation scenes from old black and white movies popped into her mind. She so wanted to cry out, “I’m innocent, I tell you. I’m innocent.”
Only she wasn’t.
With tears streaming down her face, she pushed back her chair and stood up. “I’ve got to get back in there. Time’s running out. If I don’t find the money, someone’s going to die.”
“Sit down,” Herman said. “What money? Who’s going to die? If there’s something to what you say, I might be willing to help you.”
Susan plopped down in the chair, and Herman took her hands in his.
“It must be something really serious for you to go to this extreme. And I always have an open mind.”
Susan, talking as fast as she could, told them everything, from her vision to seeing Clarissa pass the envelope to Gary. “Now you see why I have to hurry? A. K. is supposed to call me when they leave the restaurant. I don’t imagine that’s going to be much longer. This might be my only chance to find the money and stop him.”
“Call me crazy,” Herman said, “but I believe you. There are some things we can’t explain. And I sure don’t want any harm coming to Doctor Jack. He seems like such a good man. Excuse me, ladies. I’ll just be a moment.” Herman left the kitchen.
“Where’s he going?” Susan asked.
“He probably needs time to think…to absorb it all.”
“We don’t have time.”
Herman returned, but instead of taking a seat at the table, he paced the room and kept looking out the window. “What are you going to do if you can’t find the money?”
“I have a detective friend who has agreed to stake out Jack’s apartment the night before Valentine’s Day.”
Herman wheeled around, a frown on his face. “Does he know you were going to break into Gary house tonight?”
“No. He would have stopped me for sure. All he knows about is my premonition and what I saw in New Orleans. He was mad enough at me for following Clarissa. I think he really believes I dreamed it all. Regardless, he agreed to help me.”
“You know you’re going to have to
tell him about tonight.”
A knock at the door startled Susan. Had he called the cops anyway?
“I’ll get it,” Herman said.
From where Susan sat, all she could make out was the figure of a man. He wore dark clothing and a ski mask. He handed Herman something, turned, and disappeared into the night.
“Who was that?” Susan asked when Herman returned to the kitchen.
“Who was who? I thought I heard a knock, so I looked out front. All I saw was a man running across the yard.” He placed the package on the table. “Is this what you were looking for?”
Susan gasped in surprise at the bulging manila envelope. “How did you…did he…?”
“Well, are you going to open it?”
It was money all right. When they finished counting, twenty-five thousand dollars sat on the kitchen table. Susan tried again to question Herman. “Who—?”
“Don’t ask,” Vera said. “Herman knows many people, some with special talents.”
“Gary’s going to go ballistic when he finds the money missing,” Herman said. “It’s only logical that he’ll suspect you and your friend, since it turned up missing right after he ran into you two. Maybe I should hold on to the money for now, make sure he doesn’t get his hands on it.”
Vera slapped the table. “You sure fixed Clarissa’s wagon. Wouldn’t you like to be a fly on the wall when Gary tells her he’s been robbed, and he’s not killing anyone for free?”
“You…you don’t think she’d shoot Jack. Do you?” Susan asked.
“No way, she might break a nail.” Vera guffawed.
Herman looked at Vera and shook his head. “This is no laughing matter, honey. Susan, I’ll do what I can to keep an eye on Gary and Clarissa till this is over. You be extra careful. No telling what Gary might do.”
Disrobed for Death Page 11