Glad One: Starting Over is a %$#@&! (Val & Pals Book 2)

by Margaret Lashley

  I walked in and recognized the clerk right away. Besides having a distinctive voice, he had the most devilish goatee – and piercing blue eyes that reminded me of Glad’s.

  “Hi. I’m here about….”

  “Ms. Fremden! You showed! Whew! I was beginning to feel the heat.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Frenchy’s called here twice today, trying to find out how she can ‘bend the rules’ and get her hands on your aunt’s stuff.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “No, I’m not. See it all the time. Dead bodies attract relatives like hungry sharks. People don’t understand. It’s like a personal-effects feeding frenzy around here.”

  “Oh. That’s awful.”

  The dimpled devil of a clerk shrugged. “So, what have you got to show me, Ms. Fremden?”

  “Her Florida ID. Will that work?”

  “Sure will.”

  “Great! But I’m curious. How do you remember my name?”

  “I guess because I thought it was funny. You were obviously scrounging around for your aunt’s ID last time. I knew you didn’t have one. As I said, I see it all here. Then you gave me your driver’s license and I saw your name was Fremden. My parents are German. I recognized that your last name means stranger. So that made you Valiant Stranger.”

  “I don’t get it,” I said.

  “Valiant Stranger? It sounded like some kind of superhero to me. And then your birthdate? April Fools’ Day? Pure Gold!”

  This guy obviously had way too much time on his hands.

  “Wow. That’s…uh…interesting. So, tell me. If you were suspicious, why did you let me claim Glad’s body?”

  The cute clerk glanced around the room quickly, then shot me a devilish grin that could make an angel think twice.

  “Easy. I make it a point not to mess with superheroes. Especially hot ones.” The clerk laughed, revealing a perfect set of white teeth. His slightly elongated incisors added to his devilish magnetism. How had I missed that before? I couldn’t help but grin.

  “Thanks. But my aunt isn’t a Fremden anymore. She’s a Goldrich. She got married. I didn’t know.” I handed him Glad’s ID.

  “Okay. That’ll work. Let me just make the correction in the computer here and I’ll get the envelope with her effects. You want to examine them?”

  “No! Leave the envelope sealed. I’m dropping them off at her lawyer’s. I don’t want to give anyone any ammunition to say I stole something.”

  “Great idea. People can get really hinky when it comes to cash and prizes.”

  He punched the computer keys a few times and disappeared behind a door. A nearby printer jerked to life and started zapping out something. A minute or so later he came back and snatched the document off the printer. He handed it to me, along with a manila envelope. He’d placed a seal over the envelope and scrawled his signature over it.

  “Okay, Ms. Fremden. Here’s your updated death cert and your aunt’s effects. I made sure no one could argue that the envelope was opened. Gave it the official Darren Dudley seal.”

  “Thanks. What’s your name?”

  “Uh…Darren?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Darren Dudley. Of the official seal. Duh!”

  The morgue clerk flashed me another sexy smile. I felt a strange mixture of attraction and repulsion. I wondered what role the close proximity to dead bodies had to do with the latter. Either way, I didn’t have time for contemplation. I needed to be on my way.

  “Uh, thanks again, Darren. You’re pretty cool.”

  Darren brightened like a megawatt bulb. “You too! Wanna go out sometime?”

  The directness of his question caught me totally off guard. “Let me think about it. I’ve got a few things on my mind right now.”

  “Sure thing. Hey, Valiant. Don’t be a stranger!”

  I groaned. “That was awful. I might have to avenge that one.”

  “I’m hoping so.”

  After flirting with devilish Darren, I left the morgue feeling like Wonder Woman – the beautiful and powerful Valiant Stranger! I smiled to myself and laid Glad’s envelope in the seat next to me. I shifted into reverse and headed for my next stop. Along the way, I thought about Darren’s offer of a date. Maybe I should have accepted. After all, Tom hadn’t actually asked me out. So far he’d just been helping me with this crazy mission of mine. Gawd! He probably thinks I’m a nutcase. He didn’t even hug me goodbye last night! I felt my superhero powers fade away in the hot breeze.

  ***

  When I stopped to drop off Glad’s things at the offices of J.D. Fellows & Associates, I felt my super powers return a little. The birth certificate Winky had found was definitely going to put a kink in the Bulldog Woman’s chain. Canine kryptonite. Yeah! I couldn’t help but smirk as I waited in the posh lobby. It reminded me of one I’d seen in a movie once. Gleaming grey granite floors and deep-hued walls accented by huge canvases of modern art that perfectly matched the sleek European furniture. I was looking over baby Thelma’s birth certificate for the hundredth time when a tiny little man approached. He looked like one of Santa’s elves in a grey Armani suit. He walked up to me and spoke.

  “Ms. Fremden?”

  “Yes, that’s me.” I figured the diminutive man was a clerk or something. But I should have known better. Underlings couldn’t afford Armani. Not in this economy.

  “I’m J.D. Fellows. Nice to meet you.”

  I stood up and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, too.”

  I followed him back to his office. The furniture was expensive, but something seemed slightly off. Then it hit me. Everything was smaller than normal scale. Mr. Fellows must have had every stick of furniture in the room custom-made to suit his smaller stature. I took a seat in a burgundy-colored leather chair in front of his desk. It was a perfect fit. The comfortable cushions lured me into a false sense of security. I relaxed, not expecting to be attacked.

  “So tell me, Ms. Fremden,” said the tiny Mr. Fellows, Esq. from his towering position across his mahogany desk, “what exactly is your involvement with this case?” His words sounded more like an accusation than a question.

  “I…uh…I just came to drop off Glad’s…I mean Mrs. Goldrich’s personal effects.”

  “And how did you come to be in possession of them?” His voice had the tone of a courtroom interrogation. “Are you a relative?”

  “Uh…no sir.”

  “Then, I ask again, how did you come to be in possession of them?”

  “Am I on trial here?”

  The question caused a tiny fracture in the man’s serious expression. He eyed me carefully and let the fracture grow into a smile. “No. Forgive me, Ms. Fremden. It just seems highly unusual.”

  “I understand. I’m a friend of Glad’s. I mean, I was a friend of Glad’s.”

  “I see. I was, too. And of Anthony.” Mr. Fellows let out a puff of laughter. “She was an original, that woman.”

  I relaxed a little bit and smiled. “She sure was.”

  Mr. Fellows looked at the envelope in my hand and spoke with a softer tone, stating the obvious. “So, do you have the effects with you?”

  “Oh. Yes. Here.” I handed him the envelope.

  “Still sealed, I see.”

  “Yes sir. I just want whatever’s in there to end up in the right hands.”

  “And whose hands would that be?”

  “I’m not sure. You’re the lawyer. But if you’ll indulge me, Mr. Fellows, I have a theory.”

  The small man burst into a surprisingly large laugh. “A theory. Okay. I’m game.”

  “Okay. Tony’s will states that everything is to go to Thelma G. Goldrich, right?”

  “Yes. Don’t remind me. She’s been calling me every day with her demands.”

  “Oh! I didn’t know! What does she want?”

  “I’m sorry. Not at liberty to say.”

  “Of course. Right. But isn’t her name actually G. Thelma Goldrich?”

  “Yes. That’s the only re
ason I haven’t released the will yet. That, plus a favor for a mutual friend of ours. I believe you know Mr. Thomas Foreman?”

  My face turned red. “Yes. So you already know the whole story?”

  “No. Not really. He only asked me to delay distribution of the will for a few weeks. He said he had good cause. I figured there was no harm in it.”

  “Pardon me for being up front, but I think G. Thelma Goldrich is not the person Tony had in mind as his heir.” I said.

  “Go on.”

  I handed Mr. Fellows the piece of paper. “This is the birth certificate for Glad and Tony’s daughter, Thelma G. Goldrich. I believe she is the true heir named in the will.”

  Mr. Fellows’ eyes grew wide. “Where did you get this?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  Mr. Fellows smiled wryly. He laughed again and spoke in a more casual tone. “Go on.”

  “And I think we’ve found her. The only thing is –”

  “She’s insane,” interrupted Mr. Fellows.

  I was stunned speechless. My mouth hung open like a trout.

  “Let’s just say that I’ve been down this road before, Ms. Fremden. She’s not a match, my dear.”

  “The woman in Chattahoochee? You already tested her DNA?”

  “Yes, and it was inconclusive.”

  “How long ago did you do the test?”

  “I can’t recall offhand, but it’s been a long, long time.”

  “Maybe the tests were wrong. Lab tests get screwed up, you know. And with today’s technology, maybe they can do a better job now.”

  Mr. Fellows sighed and studied me for a moment. “You are an interesting woman, Ms. Fremden. I admire your tenacity. And your hopefulness. Maybe you’re right. What would it hurt to have the woman’s DNA tested again? DNA technology has come a long way since then.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. It shouldn’t be a long wait now. The DNA samples are already at a lab in Tallahassee.”

  Mr. Fellows’ right eyebrow shot to his hairline. “I see. You are the resourceful one, I’ll give you that.” He looked to the left for a moment and absently tapped his right index finger on his mahogany desk. “I tell you what, Ms. Fremden. I am at liberty to delay distribution of the will until Friday of next week. Will that buy you the time you need?”

  “The time I need? I’m sorry, but I’m officially done with the case. Tom…uh…Mr. Foreman will have the lab forward its DNA findings to you. It’s all in your hands now.”

  “Very well. But tell me the truth, Ms. Fremden. Why are you really involved in this case?”

  “If you knew Glad like you say you did, you already know.”

  Mr. Fellows looked at some distant point and smiled. “Yes. And you…as I said before, certainly are an interesting woman, Ms. Fremden. I hope you’re right.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Two days had passed since I’d heard from Tom. I flopped onto my ugly couch and checked my phone again. No voice messages. No texts. I presumed, like the rest of the world, Tom just wasn’t interested in someone as messed up as me. I tossed my phone onto the other end of the couch and bit my lip. Another potential relationship in the dustbin. I vowed to myself not to call Tom, then tromped to the bedroom to change into my bathing suit. A trip to Sunset Beach might cheer me up – or at least keep me from going nuts.

  I was halfway through pulling my shirt over my head when I heard a loud banging sound. I pulled my shirt back on and went into the living room. Someone was banging on my front door. I peeked out between two slats in the blinds that covered the window section of the door. To my horror, Bulldog Bitch’s angry eyes stared back at me! I dropped the blinds like they were molten lava. Bulldog tried the locked knob, then began beating on the door even harder.

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” she screamed through the door. “Keep your busybody nose out of my business!”

  She was silent for a minute. Perhaps she expected a response from me. I didn’t give her the satisfaction. Besides, I had no idea what to say.

  “This was my husband!” she screamed again. “My money. Keep your trashy ass out of my affairs!”

  She must have gotten wind of my visit to J.D. Fellows. Adrenaline pumped through me, blanking my mind and making me itchy to flee. I screamed out the only response I could think of. It had appeared like a whispered inspiration in my ear. “Fuck you, Kiddo!”

  Bulldog Woman stopped banging the door with her fists and began kicking it instead. “I’ll teach you to curse at me, you meddling whore!”

  “The police are already on their way!” I lied.

  The banging stopped. I peeked through the blinds. Bulldog’s sausage-link ponytail swung wildly to and fro as she waddled a hasty retreat. I trotted over to the living room window where I had a view of the staircase. When her wide-load butt reached the bottom of the rickety stairs, I decided to run out the door to give her a piece of my mind.

  I flung my front door open and raced to the staircase landing leading down to the street. Bulldog must have heard me coming. She turned around at the base of the stairs and sneered at me. My stomach turned to ice and my mind went blank. Bulldog put one foot on the bottom step. Panic shot through me like a hot-mustard enema. I fled back into my apartment and bolted the door behind me.

  I flung myself on the couch and stared at the door, waiting like a frightened, guilty child. Would she come back and punish me? I sat still as a stone for five minutes. Nothing happened. Somehow, that made me even more scared. Not knowing what else to do, I decided to break my promise to myself. I called Tom.

  ***

  “Well, technically, Val, it’s not a crime unless she hit you or threatened bodily harm,” Tom explained.

  “She threatened me! She threatened to…to…she said she would teach me not to curse at her.”

  “That sounds brutal. Sorry, Val. Close, but no legal cigar.”

  I felt foolish. “Okay. Thanks. Sorry to bother you. Goodbye.”

  “Hold up!”

  My heart fluttered. “What?”

  “Are you okay? By yourself, I mean?”

  “I guess…I don’t know. Should I be worried, Tom?

  “I’m not sure. I’ll check on some things and get back with you.”

  “Okay,” I said. I felt dejection kicking in again.

  “Goodbye, Val.”

  “Goodbye, Tom.”

  Our goodbyes sounded like final ones to me. It was as official as the tone in Tom’s voice. Our budding romance was never going to bloom. Crap! I was already sad from giving up my role in helping to find Glad’s daughter. This “back-to-business” attitude from Tom was another low blow. I felt purposeless again. My life was officially empty. A clean slate. Nothing on my plate. Nada. Zilch. Zero. What am I going to do now?

  My phone rang, saving me from self-inflicted penance like a mission bell.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello. Is this Valiant Stranger? I’m in desperate need of being rescued from certain death caused by prolonged boredom.”

  I perked up and laughed. It was Darren. “How did you find my secret lair?” I teased.

  “A beautiful woman came by my office with a clue.”

  “What kind of clue?”

  “Her phone number and address on a release form.”

  “Clever. You must be a prodigal genius.”

  “Some say I have a few brain cells knocking around in the old noodle. Speaking of noodles, want to have dinner with me tonight at the new Vietnamese place on Central? I hear they make a mean pho.”

  “A mean foe. Sounds like a job for Valiant Stranger.”

  “Ha ha! You’re funny. Meet you there at six? Say yes. Please!”

  “Yes.”

  And just like that, I had something to do.

  ***

  I was in a wrestling match with a pair of black leggings, getting ready for my first official date since the Bush administration, when Tom called.

  “Hi, Val. I want to drop by tonight to discus
s what’s going on with that Jacob fellow and Bulldog Goldrich.”

  “Hi, Tom. I’m sorry. I can’t tonight. I’m busy.”

  “You’re busy? Doing what?”

  “I have a life, you know.”

  “Oh, sure. Hot date?” he joked.

  My silence said it all.

  “Oh. I see,” he said, his tone back to business. “Well, how about tomorrow. I really do need to speak with you. I have some news. But it can wait.”

  “Sure, Tom.”

  “Hooker Tea at ten?”

  “Okay.”

  He clicked off before I had a chance to say goodbye. Then I thought about his suggested meeting place. Was he suggesting something else as well? Sparks of hurt and guilt and anger started a bonfire of conflicting emotions within me. Why should I care? I don’t owe Tom anything. I put away the jean skirt and button-down shirt I was planning to wear on my date with Darren and picked out a sexy little sundress instead.

  ***

  It didn’t take long for my date with Darren to hit an iceberg. He was handsome. And nice enough, I’d give him that. But all he wanted to talk about was work. Call me squeamish, but cadavers just didn’t make for good dinner conversation. Neither did morbid humor. As the date dragged on, I felt a wall of insulation thicken between me and Darren. My initial excitement and anticipation tarnished into dull, familiar disappointment. When Darren reached over the table and touched my hand, the thought of what that hand had been doing all day proved the Achilles’ heel for Valiant Stranger. His appeal vanished like a cartoon villain, leaving a trail of palpable awkwardness in its wake.

  “Thanks for a nice evening, Darren,” I said as we left the restaurant.

  “You’re welcome. I guess I blew it.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “The look on your face at dinner. I was a train wreck. I know I shouldn’t talk about dead bodies at the dinner table. But you made me nervous. I didn’t know what else to say.”