by Rose Pressey
Nevertheless, Dangerfield said, “That’s probably a good idea given the circumstances.”
Marc watched me for an answer.
Dangerfield was right. Until I figured out what was going on, I didn’t mind having a police escort. Unless the police thought I was involved in the crime and then wanted to escort me to the police station. With the way things had gone tonight that wasn’t entirely out of the question.
There was a tiny spark of what might have been disappointment in Dangerfield’s eyes when I accepted Marc’s invitation. Maybe it was my imagination. It was probably only because Dangerfield wanted to ask me more questions about the dead guy. Even if I did have answers, I probably wouldn’t tell him.
“By the way, do you know the man’s name?” I asked.
Marc paused, and then said, “Tim Swanson.”
I figured the fact that I’d so easily gotten the victim’s name would impress Dangerfield. He didn’t react, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t impressed.
“I’ll talk to you soon,” I said to Dangerfield.
“Take care of her,” he said to Marc.
I hadn’t expected that comment.
Dangerfield turned and walked toward the street. He didn’t look back at me.
Marc and I took off. We walked the few blocks back to my place.
“Chase, I’m worried about you,” Marc said as we moved down the sidewalk.
He was worried? How did he think I felt?
I pushed the hair out of my eyes. “I honestly don’t know why someone would have called me and why he had my name and number.”
“Just be careful until we find out, okay? I promise you we’ll find out.” Marc’s voice was soft, like a hug when I needed it the most.
Noise of passing crowds, cars, and bars filled the air, but I was used to it by now after living here for so long. On occasion, I would notice the sights and sounds of the Big Easy, but for the most part I blended in with the crowd, becoming numb to the scenery. Maybe I should start paying more attention to my surroundings. I glanced over my shoulder. So far nothing seemed unusual. Of course I was used to seeing some pretty strange sights on my walk home every night. Those sights were increased around Mardi Gras, when I saw more exposed body parts than I ever cared to witness. I expected to see breasts, but I wasn’t prepared for the boobs dressed as Mickey and Minnie Mouse. Or the large man wearing only a diaper and bunny ears with the sign around his neck that read ‘Baby Bunny.’ I was sure there was a hidden meaning to his costume, but I wasn’t clever enough to figure it out.
My apartment was in a brick three-story building. The private iron balcony off my living room overlooked the street. When I pushed the main door to my building open, I caught a quick glimpse of my neighbor Wanda Perkins. For a brief moment, I thought about closing the door and telling Marc we had the wrong building.
“Is everything okay?” Marc asked.
I pretended the door was stuck for a second, and then finally opened it. “Sorry, the door was stuck.”
I forced myself to open the door all the way. Sure enough, Mrs. Perkins was still there. She was standing halfway between my apartment and hers. Her arms were folded across her waist and she tapped her foot against the floor.
Mrs. Perkins had pink rollers in her hair and she wore a light pink bathrobe with matching slippers. I bet she had a robe in every color on the wheel. As much as I hated it, I knew I had to press forward. Marc and I stepped into the building.
“Good evening, Mrs. Perkins,” I said as I pulled the keys from my purse.
“I hope there will be no shenanigans tonight,” Mrs. Perkins said.
“Of course not, Mrs. Perkins.”
“How are you, Mrs. Perkins?” Marc asked.
She eyed him up and down. “You a cop?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered.
“Is she under arrest?” She eyed Marc up and down.
I almost choked. “Mrs. Perkins!”
Marc chuckled. “No, she’s not.”
Mrs. Perkins stared for a beat and then shuffled back into her apartment.
“Sorry about that,” I said as I opened the door.
“She’s just eccentric,” Marc said.
I grinned. “Is that what you call it?”
He leaned against the doorframe. “I feel terrible for what happened.”
“Why should you feel bad?” I asked. “You had no way of knowing what would happen.”
He studied my face. “Are you sure you can’t think of any reason why this man would have your number?”
I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I have never heard of that man before.”
“We’ll look into it. I’m sure we’ll be able to explain it soon enough.”
“Good night,” I said.
He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Good night.”
I had a one-bedroom apartment. The living and dining room were connected, but the kitchen was a separate room. I’d finally upgraded my old furniture after my divorce. Now I had a brand new beige sofa and a white chair that matched with the warm-colored walls.
The night’s events were still on my mind when I climbed into bed. How could they not be? How often did a murder victim have your name on a piece of paper in his hand when he was killed? Who was this man and what did he want with me?
With all these questions on my mind I would probably never fall asleep. I pulled the covers up a little closer to my chin, as if that would offer me protection from the big bad world outside my window. Had this man wanted to get in touch with me? Or was he a hired hitman looking for his target? Okay, that was a little farfetched—or was it? I had made more than a few people mad with my investigative reports. But enough to have me killed? I doubted it.
I stared at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. When I looked at the clock I realized it had only been ten minutes since I’d gone to bed. It felt like hours. If only I could clear my mind.
My cell phone blared the theme song from my favorite eighties TV sitcom Three’s Company. After reaching over and fumbling for a couple seconds, I picked up the phone.
“Chase Charley,” I mumbled.
“I just got your message. Sorry it took me so long to get back to you. I was at an appointment and left my phone in the car.”
My best friend and cousin Courtney worked as a voodoo priestess. She also owned a shop where tourists took back little voodoo dolls as souvenirs. I didn’t necessarily believe in voodoo, but I was supportive of my cousin.
“You know what we need to do?” Courtney sounded entirely too peppy for this time of night.
“Did you have coffee tonight?”
“I had a double latte from Café Mojo. It was so good,” she said while barely catching her breath.
“Okay, now that I know you’re wide awake, why don’t you tell me what this great idea is?”
“What you need is a protection spell.” She rushed her words as if I would agree to this idea if she spoke the words quickly. “So what do you say? How about it?”
I would have to give it serious thought before I agreed to something like that. That stuff gave me the creeps. Maybe I’d been listening to Nosy Perkins too much, but I had to wonder if I should let Courtney get me involved in that stuff. No, for now I’d take my chances without a spell.
“For now I think I will pass on the protection spell, thanks just the same,” I said.
She sighed. “Suit yourself. If something bad happens you’ll wish you had.”
“Bad? Do you think something bad will happen to me?” I sat up in bed.
“Well… no, but never mind. I’ve just had too much caffeine and don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“Call me later after I’m completely awake and maybe I’ll think about your protection spell.”
“I hope it’s not too late…” she said.
Chapter 3
Later that morning, I grabbed a yogurt from my fridge and headed out the door. I was trying to eat healthier. A beignet from Café Mojo wa
sn’t on my stay-healthy plan, although I wouldn’t be able to give them up for good. I’d treat myself once a week—maybe twice, tops.
As I stepped out into the sunshine, the night’s events came rushing back. For a moment this morning I’d tried to put it all behind me. Unfortunately, I would have to deal with it at some point. At least in the light of day things didn’t seem so spooky.
Walking down the street, Dangerfield crossed my mind. He had recently asked for my help investigating another case. It had been a hard decision, but I’d finally agreed. He had looked at me with those big blue eyes and how could I resist? That was why he tried the tactic with me. He knew it worked. I told myself that it was just his looks making me feel this way. That was probably all it was.
As far as I knew he was telling the truth when he said this case wasn’t for TV. That left me wondering why he was doing this. I had asked of course, but he’d given me some vague answer. He should know that I wouldn’t give up that easily. I was a lot more stubborn than he was. I could outlast Dangerfield on stakeouts by hours. Maybe I was biased, but I thought my investigation skills were better than his too. My boss didn’t think so, but I didn’t care what he thought anyway.
Dangerfield had told me about a man who had committed fraud while running an insurance firm. He’d also been suspected in an arson case. An all-around not-so-nice guy, it seemed. I had done a little research on the man, but other than court files I didn’t know much yet. Of course, I hadn’t had much time to look into it with everything else going on. If things ever settled down, I would have more free time.
I wondered what my boss would think of me helping Dangerfield out with the case. Oscar already wanted to know why we were hanging out with each other so much. Like it was some kind of conspiracy or something.
A case that complicated would take a while to investigate. Dangerfield said he would work on it as long as it took. I supposed I could respect his passion, even if I didn’t know his motives. I knew how it felt to want to get to the bottom of something.
People would wonder why we were working on this together. Especially since we had been rivals for quite some time. I would keep it quiet though and no one would have to know. Courtney would think I had other reasons for wanting to help Dangerfield. Maybe she was right and I just wasn’t ready to admit it.
I didn’t have time for a relationship anyway. Not that Dangerfield wanted one either. Marc seemed like a much better candidate for someone to settle down with.
I still wasn’t sure why Dangerfield wanted my help. I wouldn’t give up until he told me why. If he really wanted my help, then what would be the big deal in telling me? Was there some reason why he was trying to keep this a secret? I would have to look into Dangerfield’s connection to this man. There had to be some reason why he wanted to help. It wasn’t just to be nice. And if it wasn’t for his show, then what was the reason?
Now I was starting to sound like my boss. There surely wasn’t some hidden reason for his wanting my help.
After the short walk, I arrived at my office building. My stomach had a lump the size of a boulder in the bottom of it. As soon as I opened the door, my boss Oscar Reynolds would order me to get into his office.
I should be used to it by now. In fact, I couldn’t recall a time in recent history where he hadn’t called me into his office at least once a week for something trivial.
I pushed open the door and breezed in as if everything was peachy. I grinned at Bob the morning weatherman. He returned the smile, but looked at me with pity in his expression. He knew I was getting ready to be summoned into Oscar’s punishment chamber.
“Charley, get in my office now.” Oscar’s booming voice echoed across the entire third floor of the building.
Did he have to yell? Just as I suspected, he’d been waiting for me. Sometimes I thought he had the security downstairs call up and tell him when I was on my way.
I took my time wandering over to his door. I avoided the glances from my colleagues. I was sure they had already heard about what had happened last night. That was fine. I wasn’t worried about what they thought. I paused with my hand on the doorknob.
After sucking in a deep breath, I released it and pushed open the door. Oscar leaned back in his leather chair and studied my face. As I closed the distance between us, he pointed toward the old brown leather chair in front of his desk. Oscar wore his usual attire of a crumpled white button-down shirt and similarly wrinkled black pants. His thick salt-and-pepper hair was wild and disheveled.
Silence hung in the air and I fidgeted in my seat waiting for him to speak. I wished he would yell at me and get it over with so we could just get on with our day.
“What happened?” he asked in an unusually calm tone.
Where did I start? I knew he wanted answers, but I didn’t have them. He wouldn’t believe that though. I could make up a story, but a fib would only come back to bite me in the butt.
I slid down onto my usual spot. It wasn’t even like he had to tell me to sit now, but he did it anyway. I was already trained. Oscar tapped his pen against the edge of his desk.
“Nothing happened. They asked me a couple questions and then I went home.”
He looked as if he didn’t believe me.
“That’s the truth.”
“You know you have to look into this,” he said.
I wondered if I had heard him correctly. “You want me to find out why this man had my name?”
Oscar didn’t take his focus off me. “That’s what I said.”
So I had heard him correctly.
I stood. “Okay then, I’ll get right on it.”
Now this was the kind of thing I wanted to do. Unfortunately, I didn’t want to be the one directly involved in the mystery.
I’d never been too surprised by Oscar’s yelling at me. But today I was shocked that he actually wanted me to delve deeper into this crime. What was his reason? Was he just curious? If so, I couldn’t say that I blamed him. It was nice to know that he might be behind me with all this. I could use the extra support. Maybe he would give me a little more leeway with my work too. Oscar had never been a softy, but a girl could dream.
I had a little more pep in my step, in spite of what had happened. Before he changed his mind I rushed out of his office.
When I reached my computer, I stuffed my purse in my desk drawer and sat down. Ruth Drake sat across from me. She had so much hair spray on her brown bob today that I worried about her safety if she got too close to an open flame. Ruth wore a suit as usual—today’s color was navy blue. I felt her stare on me, but I didn’t look up and acknowledge her. If I ignored her maybe she wouldn’t ask all the questions I knew she was dying to ask.
A yellow sticky note was attached to my computer screen. There was a name and a phone number. My stomach flipped when I realized where I’d heard the name before. “Who left this note?” I asked more to myself than anyone else.
Ruth popped up over the top of my cubicle. “Oh, did I forget to tell you about that?”
I stared at her. “Yes, you did forget to tell me.” I pulled the sticky note off the screen. “When did you take this call?”
“I guess it was last night before we left for the evening.”
“So that was around five?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I suppose that was it.” So much for paying attention to detail.
“What did he say?” I pushed.
Ruth looked frustrated that I had asked. With her Botox, it was hard to tell. “He asked for you and when I told him you weren’t here he left his name and number.”
“That’s it?” I asked.
“That’s it,” she snapped.
It didn’t seem like I would get much more information out of her. Now what was I supposed to do? This was the man who’d been found last night and he’d wanted to talk with me before he was killed. How would I find out what he wanted now that he was dead? Apparently Tim Swanson thought he had a meeting with me. Why would he think that?
I’d have to make a to-do list. I loved lists. It always made me feel accomplished when I could mark something off. Calling his number would probably lead to nothing now because he was dead. I doubted he’d be answering from the morgue. I wondered what Dangerfield would think of this. Knowing him, it wouldn’t be long before he knew.
I picked up my phone to dial Marc, but then I realized that Ruth would listen to every word I said. I pushed to my feet and headed for the ladies’ room. I wouldn’t put it past her to come in there after me. Once inside the rest room, I leaned against the sink and pushed in Marc’s number.
After a couple rings he picked up. “Is everything okay?”
“Crazy thing,” I said. “I have a message here from the dead man.”
“What, he called you from another dimension?”
I chuckled. “No, apparently he left a message for me here at the office last night.”
“What time was that call?” Marc asked with his interest piqued. Now he was taking me seriously.
I opened the bathroom door an inch to make sure Ruth wasn’t listening. After closing the door, I said, “According to my coworker it was right before she left at five. I got a call from the anonymous person to be at the jazz club about an hour later. So I guess we can conclude that the murder occurred between five and six.” My hand flew to my mouth.
Oops. I hadn’t planned on telling Marc.
“You got an anonymous call?” His voice rose.
I grabbed a paper towel and wiped my forehead. “Did I forget to mention that?”
“Yes, you did. Care to tell me about it now?”
“There’s not much to tell. The man told me to go to the club, so I did.”
“That’s it?”
“I wish there was more to tell you.” I tossed the towel into the trash.
“What about the number? Have you traced it?”
“I can’t find anything. It must have been a disposable phone,” I said.
“Give me the number. I’ll see what I can find.”
I rattled off the number to him.
“You sound like you’d make a good detective,” he said.