The Doom Diva Mysteries Books 1

by Sherry M. Siska

  I groaned again. “Geez, thanks a lot. Y’all know I tend bar here. Everybody in the place knows me. Did you have to think up something so humiliating?”

  After Harry ran the table, I practically cried.

  “Best two out of three,” Charli said. “Marty, you break this game.”

  It was the fastest version of ‘Take Me Out…” ever, believe you me.

  “Sorry to be a spoil sport, y’all,” John said at about nine-thirty, after the guys beat us at a round of darts, forcing me to further embarrass myself with a rousing rendition of “I’m a Little Teapot”, complete with motions. “I’ve got to be to work at five tomorrow morning.”

  I had to get up early too, but the last thing I was thinking about was leaving. Unless it was with a firm date to see Harry again really, really soon.

  He must have felt the same way. He gave me another one of those penetrating looks. “So, Marty, how about I give you a ride home? Save John and Charli a trip.”

  Charli’s head bobbled up and down so hard that I thought she was going to give herself whiplash. “What a great idea,” she said. “Isn’t that a great idea, Marty?”

  After a quick mental exam of my apartment to try and remember if there was any stray underwear lying around, I agreed with Charli that it was, indeed, a great idea. Sleep? Who needs sleep? I could always take a nap after work on Monday or something.

  We were on our way out the door when someone hollered out to Harry.

  “Do you mind stopping for a minute?” Harry asked me. “That’s one of the buddies from the team. He owes me ten bucks.”

  John and Charli hugged me and left. I followed Harry to a table in the back corner, next to the jukebox. Two guys and three girls were playing Spades, watched over by one of the eight trillion posters of Ricky Ray that serve as wall décor at Pilazzo’s.

  “Hi, Harry,” said one of the girls, a pixiesh-looking little thing with short, curly brown hair, and enormous brown eyes. With that haircut and those eyes, she looked a bit like a dark-haired Tinkerbell.

  The guy next to her was very attractive. He had light brown curls, blue eyes, and a classic face, but he was obviously well on his way to a blinding drunk. His left arm draped around the girl’s shoulder, and it appeared that he was about two more gulps away from passing out.

  Harry barely glanced her way. “Guys, this is Marty Sheffield. She’s a DJ. Marty, these are some pals of mine. Doug Curry, he plays second base; Mark Donavan, he’s in the outfield. We played college ball and roomed together. We’ve known each other since high school. That there is Sabrina Lewis, Mark’s girlfriend; and those two are the Debbies. They’re with Doug.”

  The Debbies were dressed alike in matching Glenvar Bomber’s cropped shirts and black booty shorts, and both had long blonde hair, parted in the middle. Because of that, at first glance, I thought they were twins. On closer inspection, I realized they really didn’t resemble each other at all. One was well built, but she had a slightly crooked nose and close-set eyes, which meant she was always going to be described as cute instead of beautiful. The other one was very thin, almost painfully so, but was stunningly gorgeous.

  The first one rolled her eyes and sighed. “I’m Carole and she’s Tessa. Doug started calling us the Debbies ‘cause when we first met him he couldn’t remember which one of us was which. Now they all do it.”

  The guy they were with, Doug, was fairly nice looking, with longish brown hair, blue eyes, and a mischievous grin. He was the only one not drinking.

  The others said “hey”, except Mark who was in the process of spilling beer all over Sabrina. She mumbled hello to me, but didn’t take her eyes off of Harry. In fact, she’d been staring at him since we walked up.

  “Ten bucks, Curry,” Harry said, “I told you Donavan would have an error tonight.”

  “Double or nothing on tomorrow’s game,” Doug Curry replied. “Hey, ’Brina, you got the hosebag?”

  Sabrina gently pushed her boyfriend aside, picked up his cards, and tore her eyes away from Harry long enough to look at them. “No, Mark has it. Y’all want to quit? He’s three sheets and I’m soaked.”

  The Debbies tossed their cards to the center of the table. “Yeah, Dougie,” Carole, the cute one with the good figure, said. “Let’s drive over to Roanoke and go dancing at that new club I heard about.”

  Doug winked at Harry. “Wanna get in on the action?”

  Harry frowned at him. “No, I’d rather spend some time getting to know Marty. ”

  Sabrina, who had resumed staring at Harry, finally looked over at me. She winced, then forced a smile. “Do you live at the Glenvar View Apartments, Marty?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. 4600G. How’d you know?”

  “I thought I recognized you. I’ve seen you at the pool with that cute cop. Tim what’s his name. Is he your boyfriend?”

  The Debbies both squealed and actually seemed to notice my existence.

  “Nope, just friends. I’ve known Tim since kindergarten.”

  “Really? He’s available then? That is one sexy man. I’d let him handcuff me anytime,” Carole said. “Can you introduce us?”

  My Tim? Sexy? Obviously they weren’t talking about my Tim. My Tim has red hair and is tall and gangly and, okay, cute. He’s cute in that Opie Taylorish, big-brotherish sort of way. But sexy? Not a word I’d use for Timothy Cornelius Unser. Nope, never.

  “Yeah, Tim’s a good guy,” I told her. “A little boring. And, he works all the time. When he’s not working, he’s really, really busy doing, uh, stuff. He hardly ever has time to go out on dates. I’ll bet he hasn’t been on a date in…”

  She cut me off. “Too bad. Oh well, maybe you can introduce us anyway. Maybe I can help him with all that stuff he’s so busy doing.”

  “Sure,” I said, noncommittally, changing the subject. No way would Tim be interested in either one of the Debbies. He likes brunettes, not blondes. And girls who are smart and work hard. Not bimbos. I was pretty sure both of the Debbies were bimbos.

  “So, which unit do you live in?” I asked.

  “Tessa and I live in 5300 C,” said Carole. “Sabrina lives across the hall in the A unit. Mark and Doug live upstairs from us in J.”

  Theirs was the building directly behind mine. One of the newest buildings in the complex. I didn’t remember seeing any of them around, but I’m not the most observant person in the world.

  Harry and I left after that. If I’d know everything that was about to happen, I’d have time travelled back and hitched a ride with John and Charli, or taken a cab, or even walked. But I didn’t. Big mistake. But, as my mom likes to say, it’s a whole like easier to call ‘em as you see ‘em once you’ve already been there and done that. (When it comes to clichés, idioms, proverbs, and other spiffy sayings, my mom likes to just throw them all together in a pot and see what rises to the surface.)

  Oh, nothing bad happened with Harry that night. A lot of talking, laughing, and flirting; it was a great first encounter, to be honest. Harry and I had some serious chemistry working and I was looking forward to seeing him again. He must have felt the same, because when he left at about eleven, he suggested we get together the next day after I finished my shift.

  “I get off at about noon. What should we do?” I asked.

  “Why don’t I pick you up at the station and take you for a ride on my Harley? I don’t have to be at the ballpark until four. We’ll go on a picnic over at Glenvar Lake. Hike around the lake a little or rent a kayak. Paddling is part of my rehab. Plus it’s a ton of fun.”

  I agreed and gave him a decent, first-date sort of kiss. Once he was gone, I acted like a silly, love struck teenager. Poor Delbert. I actually danced him around the living room twice before he managed to swat me on my wrist, leaving an inch long scratch.

  I climbed into bed excited about meeting Harry, and, although hiking and kayaking aren’t really things I put in the “fun” category, I was looking forward to our date the next day. I was thrilled that things were finally goi
ng my way for a change and was even eager to be getting back to work. In fact, I was actually excited, in a sick sort of way, even though I knew the insanity that was lurking for me there.

  Not only was I going to have to deal with the worst station manager in the history of radio, Herb, but also with my archenemy, Giselle St. James. Giselle had been recently fired from her job as a hack reporter for a local television station for sleeping with her boss.

  Since we were both unemployed, and willing to work for practically peanuts, Herb had come up with what he considered to be a brilliant plan. He convinced upper management to hire Giselle and me and to pair us up for what was to be the “Giselle and Marty: Morning Drive Party”.

  By the way, the name was not my idea. I seriously doubted that putting Giselle and me together in any capacity would be akin to a party. However, Herb’s theory was that the mutual hatred Giselle and I shared would lead to big ratings. And since the station was in trouble, dealing with disastrous ad revenues and bleeding money out the wazoo, big ratings were a must.

  Frankly, I thought the plan was a little like putting a bomb on the Titanic. But, as Mom says, beggars who are all dressed up with no place to go can’t be choosers, and with the economy in the toilet, I didn’t have much choice unless I wanted to move back in with my folks. Besides, it was entirely possible that it would turn out to be fun.

  Yeah, I know. Being delusional also runs in the family. That’s why I’m seeing a shrink.

  3

  I hadn’t been asleep for more than a couple of hours when all hell broke loose. Someone was leaning on my doorbell, then they took to pounding and shouting. I grabbed my robe and dashed into the living room to see who it was. My across the hall neighbor, Rowena, stood out on the landing consoling an elfish-looking, dark-haired, disheveled woman

  “Marty, thank God,” Sabrina Lewis wailed. “Please, you’ve got to help me.”

  I invited her and Rowena in. “No,” Rowena said, “I’m going back to bed.” She patted Sabrina on the shoulder. “Marty will take good care of you, dear.”

  “Thank you,” Sabrina said through her tears. Her bottom lip was puffed up and her right eye was purple and swollen. “I’m so sorry I woke you up. I thought Marty said she lived in E.”

  “Sabrina, hon, what’s the matter? Have you been in an accident? Do you need a doctor? The police?” I led her into my apartment and practically pushed her onto the sofa.

  She swiped at her nose and took in big gulps of air, trying to gain control. “Nuh, nuh, no,” she finally managed to spit out. “I just, I, I just need some, somewhere to stay.”

  Probably because I’d been in a deep sleep before so rudely being awakened, it took me a minute to comprehend what she meant. “You need a place to stay? You mean now? Tonight?”

  She nodded and reached over to pet Delbert, who had come to see what all the ruckus was about. He allowed her a couple of side rubs, then put his head in her hand, going for a bit of ear action. This seemed to calm her down and she managed to stop crying.

  “Plu, plu, please? Can I stay here?” she asked. “He, he accidentally hit me, and, and, I know he didn’t mean it, but he cursed me out. Said I was in his way and ruining everything he had planned. I’m not, really, I’m not. I just want what’s coming to me. I’d go to Doug’s or to the Debbie’s, but they haven’t come home yet. Mark’s passed out in my bed. I don’t know where else to go.” She looked at me hopefully, still scratching Delbert’s ears.

  Now, normally, if a strange woman, one I’d just met a few hours before, had begged me to let her stay at my apartment, I’m sure I would have said “no”. But, Sabrina Lewis was obviously panic-stricken. And no way was I about to send her back to an apartment where a low-life, drunk guy was likely to beat the snot out of her.

  “Yes, absolutely, you can stay. But I also think you need to call the police. You can file a complaint and they’ll arrest him. You can’t let him get away with treating you like that.” I dug down into my back pack and tried to hand her my cell phone. “Here. Or, if you want me to, I can call it in for you.”

  She stopped petting Delbert and pushed the phone away, looking at me like I’d tried to hand her a scorpion or something. “No! No, that’s not the way it is. He’s not like that. Not at all. He didn’t mean it. I know he didn’t. Tomorrow, when he thinks about it, he’ll make it up to me. He’ll be sorry and he’ll remember how much he needs me. He loves me. I know he does. He just forgot. He loves me. Just me.” Her voice cracked on the “just me” and the tears started flowing again.

  I sat down next to her and grabbed her hands, perhaps gripping them a tad tighter than necessary. “Listen to me. Men who love you don’t give you puffy lips and black eyes. You can’t let him get away with this.”

  She shook her head violently. “No! I said no. And if you call, I’ll deny it. I love him and he loves me and he didn’t mean it. I know him, Marty. You don’t. What we have is special. You can’t understand. No one can. He’s a good person. He is! And, he loves me.”

  “Okay,” I said, finally giving in. “Listen, though, if you aren’t willing to call the police, at least promise me you’ll call the hotline for battered women. First thing tomorrow, okay? Will you promise me that?”

  She wouldn’t or couldn’t look at me, but she nodded affirmatively. “O-o-okay. I promise.”

  I went to my linen closet for sheets and a spare pillow, folded down the sofa, which is sort of like one of those futons, but not nearly as comfy, made it up for her, and asked her if she needed anything else. “Maybe some shorts and a t-shirt to sleep in?”

  She sighed and sat back down heavily on the sofa. “Yeah, that would be great. I’m exhausted.”

  Delbert nuzzled her hand some more, but she ignored him. Finally, he jumped off the sofa and moseyed toward the kitchen, evidently deciding that if he wasn’t going to get loving, he’d go for some food. Typical male.

  I got her an old pair of gym shorts and a clean t-shirt from my vast collection. They were probably going to swallow her since she was even smaller than Charli, but it was better than nothing.

  “So, here’s the thing,” I said as she picked up her purse and headed toward the bathroom to change, “I’ve got to be at work tomorrow at four-thirty. I’m starting my morning drive show and we go on at six. Since it’s the first day, I’ve got to be there extra early. I’ll leave the spare key on the coffee table. Whenever you leave, lock up and stick the key under Rowena’s doormat.”

  She turned around and hugged me hard. “Thanks, Marty. I can’t believe how nice you are being to me. I mean, I’m basically a stranger to you and yet, here you are, inviting me into your home and trusting me like that. Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I promise, I’ll pay you back one of these days.”

  “Don’t sweat it,” I told her. “I’m sure you’d do the same thing if the circumstances were reversed.”

  Of course, there was no way that would ever happen. First time a guy hit me, I’d be out the door and on the phone to the cops so fast, it would make Usain Bolt look slow. Not to mention the fact that the scum bucket would have to deal with my dad, my mom, Charli, John, and, perhaps scariest of all, Tim.

  I locked the door, turned out the lights, and headed back to bed. It was two o’clock and I had my alarms set to buzz at four.

  “Tomorrow. I’m going to worry about it tomorrow,” I told Delbert. He snuggled close to me and licked my fingers. I stared at the clock on my nightstand, watching the numbers tick by, but as tired as I was, I couldn’t get to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Sabrina Lewis’s face and it made me, literally, feel sick.

  Looking back, I wish I’d gone ahead and called it in myself right then and there. Or, at the very least, called Tim and told him about it. I’ve beat myself up a thousand times over this particular part of the story, trying to remember what I was thinking at the time and wishing, hoping, praying that I could go back to that moment and fix my mistake. I guess I thought that if I waited until
the light of day, I’d be able to talk Sabrina into filing a report, into finding her courage, and into leaving him. But, of course, sadly, that wasn’t the way it played out.

  4

  Four o’clock came way too early. I slapped off the three alarms I’d set, padded my way to the shower, and boiled myself for at least fifteen minutes before even remotely waking up. Fifteen more minutes of staring into space didn’t help. Eventually, I managed to get my clothes on and open a can of diced chicken for Delbert. He sniffed, found it lacking, and stalked off to the bedroom.

  Sabrina must have been utterly exhausted. She let out a gentle snore, but never even rolled over when I tip-toed through the living room to leave. By the time I staggered into the station, with a giganto-sized double espresso mocha latte from the local twenty-four hour coffee shop in hand, I was almost coherent.

  Herb, the afore-mentioned station manager, a man who has dedicated his life to bad fashion and pseudo-cussing, was pacing around the lobby of the station, practically hyperventilating. “You’re effing late, Marty. First dadgummed show, I told you and Giselle to effing be here early.”

  “Chill, Herb. It’s four forty-five. I’m fifteen minutes late, that’s all. We’ll be fine.”

  He stopped pacing long enough to peer out the big picture window. Herb’s a big guy with chronically smudged, often broken, black-rimmed glasses, a forty-gallon beer belly, a bad comb-over, and a wicked case of halitosis. He was spiffily attired in one of his trademark polyester western suits. That particular one was bright pink and featured purple music notes embroidered on the lapels and down the sleeves. He wore it with a purple shirt, a music note string tie around his neck, and lavender cowboy boots. Normally, I would have enjoyed the sheer absurdity of it and taken a photo for posterity, but it was a little too bright for what amounted to, for me at least, the middle of the night.