The Doom Diva Mysteries Books 1

by Sherry M. Siska

  After a couple of minutes, Izzy appeared. The screen in the storm door and the darkness from inside the room behind her made it look like I was talking to a disembodied head. “What do you want? I thought I made it clear before that my grandmother and sister are not up to having visitors.”

  “Oh. I guess I thought you were just saying that to get rid of Rose and Sugar.” I felt the heat rising in my cheeks. “Uhh, okay, well, I, I had some sandwiches, but I dropped them, so I’ll, I’ll go get another tray and bring them back by later, if that’s okay. I just wanted your grandmother and you to know how very, very sorry I am about, uh, about Vivi’s death.”

  “We have food.” Izzy didn’t wait for me to finish.

  “Oh, uhm, okay. Please tell Miss Guydie...” I said the last line to a closed door. It was my turn to stand awkwardly on Miss Guydie’s porch. I fidgeted with my tote bag, then turned to leave. I was on the third step when I heard the door reopen. I glanced around. May Lynda motioned for me to come back. Her face was pale and, like Otey’s had been, her eyes were blood shot and swollen from tears. For once, though, she wasn’t crying.

  ‘Marty,” she whispered through the screen. “Can you meet me at my apartment later? Say about nine o’clock? I need to talk to you.”

  Shoot. I’d planned to be in bed well before nine o’clock. But my curiosity got the best of me. “Sure,” I whispered back. “You still live in 2190 B?”

  Someone said something from inside. “Be there in a second, Izz,” May Lynda called back over her shoulder. She shot me thumbs up and closed the door.

  9

  When I finally made it home, I took some ibuprofen and scarfed down a bowl of soup and a couple of miniature chocolate bars, curled up on the couch with Delbert nestled by my side, and dosed off. I’d been asleep for a couple of hours when my doorbell bing-bonged, nearly causing me to fall off the couch. I might have cursed a little bit, but I pushed Delbert out of the way, much to his chagrin, got up, and went to answer it.

  A kid wearing baggy jeans, Doc Martens, an over-sized hoodie, a vest, massive sunglasses, and a trucker hat pulled low leaned against the wall outside my door. I couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl and couldn’t help but wonder what was up with the sunglasses since it was pitch dark outside.

  It suddenly dawned on me that this was the same kid I’d seen at Pilazzo’s and at the bus stop by the station. The same one I’d noticed hanging out in front of the Riley’s house. Was this my stalker? I almost slammed the door, but curiosity got the best of me.

  “May I help you?” I asked.

  “Are you Marty Sheffield?” The voice was raspy, and was no help in the gender identification mystery, although it sounded vaguely familiar to me.

  I nodded and waited to see what he -- she? -- wanted.

  The kid twitched and looked around nervously. “I’m, uh, I’m Beau.”

  Well, pooh. Gender-neutral name, so no help. “What can I do for you, Beau?”

  More twitching and a little lip biting. “I, uh, I need to talk to you. It’s about Richie.”

  I didn’t know anyone named Richie. Surely she – he? -- had the wrong apartment. “Richie?”

  Big twitch and major lip biting. “Riley. You know, Richie Riley. Please. Can I come in? It’s important.”

  “Of course.” I pushed the door open and stepped aside, even more curious than before. My visitor suddenly stopped short and pointed to Delbert, who had sauntered out of the kitchen.

  The kid turned to me. “Keep that cat away from me. I’m allergic.”

  Normally, I would have immediately invited the kid to leave, but, once more, my curiosity won out. “Sure, sure thing.” I picked up Delbert, who tried with all his might to wriggle out of my arms so he could greet the visitor. As always, he had that perfect cat instinct for going right to the person least likely to want to see him.

  I shuttled him into the bedroom and closed the door, wondering what on earth could this kid have to say about Ricky Ray Riley? Other than, “I’m a huge fan and can you get me his autograph”, that is.

  Beau perched on the edge of my skuzzy arm chair, looking ready to bolt at any second. She’d pulled the hood down and I could see that she was, in fact a she. “I, umh, okay, so, Richie and I, we’ve been, uh, well, we’ve been seeing each other for about, I guess it’s about a month now. It’s a big scandal, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

  “Well, of course it’s a big scandal! I mean, good grief, what are you? Like sixteen?”

  “No! I’m twenty!” Beau took off her sunglasses finally, revealing her flawless face. She looked really familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on where I’d seen her before. Since Ricky Ray usually dated models, I figured maybe a magazine, although, she was pretty tiny for a model.

  “We hooked up at a party in Nashville. I was there filming and, well...” Her voice trailed off and she shrugged.

  Ahh. So she was an actress, then. But why would she be saying it was a big scandal they were dating? She was of legal age and Ricky was single. I mean sure, he was missing, but I doubted some low-level actress was going to be a paparazzi target. Of course, there was the problem of the Rays. Those folks would make anyone’s life a living nightmare if they wanted to.

  She dug down into her green messenger bag, a Coletta, one from the same exclusive line as Vivi’s purse, and pulled out a vape pen. It was identical to Vivi’s. The image of Vivi puffing on it right about the same time that she’d taken a swig from the coconut bottle popped into my head. Had I told Detective Winger about it or not? I was pretty sure I had, but made a mental note to give him a call first thing Wednesday morning.

  “Uh, excuse me, Beau? I’m sorry, but you can’t use that in here. You can go out on my balcony, if you want.”

  She gave me a withering look, but stuck the pen back in her bag. She wore a Rolex man’s watch on her right wrist, and her manicure was flawless. She hopped up and began pacing around my tiny living room. “Look, I’m here because Richie told me about how you guys were engaged once upon a time. He said you were about the only person in the whole world he trusted, besides his family. I didn’t want to go to them, because, well, you were there. You saw all those papzz and his nutty fans. Thankfully, none of them recognized me.”

  I just had to ask. “Why are you so worried about the paparazzi? Are you married or something?”

  She stopped in front of me. Another withering look. This girl had haughty and disdainful down pat. “Don’t you know who I am?”

  Which is when my brain finally engaged and I had that big “duh” moment. Of course I knew who she was. She was the big shot actress Ricky had been caught with. The one supposedly in the relationship with her co-star.

  I admit, for about ten seconds, I was a little bit star-struck. I’d been around a lot of fairly big celebrities before, but Beau was the most famous by far. She was as A list as it’s possible to be. Everyone flung piles of money at her to get her to come on their show or wear their clothing line or, heck, even just show up at their party for five minutes. Why then, was she hanging around little old Glenvar, Virginia? Sitting in my living room on my ratty sofa?

  “Okay, so you and Ricky Ray were – are – having an affair? And you’re here because he’s supposedly missing? Do you know where he is?”

  She squirmed and picked at an imaginary hang nail. “No. That’s the problem. And now I’m here, stuck in this Podunk town, and as soon as the papzz find out my life is going to be even more wrecked than it already is.”

  “So you’ve been here since Sunday? Were you in the car with Ricky?”

  Disdainful, but with a dash of defiance. “Obviously not. We got here Saturday night, late. Richie didn’t want anyone to know we were here, so he paid cash for a room in a scuzzy motel over in that other hick town. Salem, I think it’s called. Richie was supposedly going to sneak over and see his folks, let them know he was going off grid for a few days until all the latest goss blew over. But he never came back.”

  I had so many
questions for her, I didn’t know which to ask first. I settled on the first one that had popped in my head. “If you’re so afraid of being seen, why have you been hanging around town so much? Why didn’t you just get the heck out of Dodge?”

  She’d found her way back to the arm of the chair. She tilted her head down slightly and cut her eyes up at me. They were so green that I wondered if she had on tinted contacts. “I’m good at disguises. I was trying to get hold of Vivi, get her to pop me a little cash, so I could bail.” The eyes filled with tears. “But, now, Richie is gone and Vivi is dead and I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  I wasn’t sure how to react. I finally decided to try to channel Mom. I went in to hug Beau, planning to do the back patting, soothing routine, but when I put my arm around her, she jerked away like a cow that brushed up to an electric fence. I felt my face go hot and floundered around trying not to let on like I’d noticed her reaction. “So you heard about Vivi. Was she your publicist too?”

  She pulled a tissue out of the box I keep on my end table and dabbed at her nose and eyes. “Sort of. One of my team, I guess. More of a friend.”

  “I’m so, so sorry.” I honestly couldn’t think of anything else to say and it seemed rude and crass to keep interrogating her. Plus, it was getting close to nine and I was supposed to go over to May Lynda’s to see what she wanted to talk to me about. “I can’t imagine how you must feel. What can I do to help you?”

  She did the eye-lifting thing again. I knew right then why she made so much money. Her big green eyes and her sad-little-kid tone sucked me right on in. “I, uh, I hate to intrude and I, mean, I’d understand if you said no, but, well, is it possible that I could maybe stay here? Just for tonight? I promise, I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow, soon as I can get in touch with my manager back in L.A. Get him to wire me some cash.”

  Since the last time I’d let a stranger stay at my apartment overnight hadn’t gone well, I was, to be honest, hesitant. But, like I said, I felt sorry for her. “I guess. I mean, you’ll have to sleep on the sofa bed, which isn’t all that comfortable, and you did say you’re allergic to cats and Delbert’s hair is everywhere, and I have to get up at 5:30 in the morning because I have to be on the air, and surely you’d be more comfortable...”

  She cut me off, sniffled a couple of times, and gave me another of her pity-me looks. “No, no, I get it. Like I said, I don’t want to intrude. I’ll just have to try and figure something else out. I can probably hitch a ride. I’m sure there’s like a shelter or a hostel or something dreadful like that around here, right?” She blinked and snuffled a couple of times.

  She was good. So good that I let her play me, even though I knew that’s what she was doing.

  “No, no, seriously. It’s fine,” I said. “You can take my bed. I’ll, uh, Delbert and I, we can sleep on the couch.”

  I checked the clock. I still had about 15 minutes before I was supposed to go meet up with May Lynda. “Listen, Beau, I’ve got to go run an errand in a bit. I’d offer you something to eat, but all I’ve got is cereal. I’m even out of milk. If you want, after my errand I can scoot over to Pilazzo’s and grab a couple of subs.”

  “Actually, I’m starving. What do they have that’s organic, raw, and vegan?”

  I caught myself before I burst out laughing. The only thing organic, raw, and vegan at Pilazzo’s is the beer. And, to be honest, I’m not really sure about that. The only restaurant around I knew of that had anything that would possibly fit the bill was way over in Roanoke, about a 30-minute drive. I was feeling generous, but not that generous.

  “Sorry. Do you eat salads? I can run by the grocery store and get some lettuce and stuff.”

  “That would be bangin’. Maybe one with organic kale and avocados, but only if they’re not imported. I live clean and eat only local and sustainable. And, maybe, if you don’t mind, can you get some Tony’s Coconut Water?”

  That was the brand Vivi drank. The one she’d died drinking. “I, uh, sure.”

  She did the eye thing again. “Would you mind very much if I had a shower while you’re gone?”

  I showed her the trick to making my shower turn on, got her a towel, and made the mistake of asking if she needed anything else before I left.

  “Actually, I am out of my allergy medicine and, well, since you do have a cat, I’m really going to need it. Oh, and, I’m really, like, only supposed to use Denito shampoo and conditioner. Well, the soap, lotion, and face cream, too, actually. Because of my allergies. You wouldn’t happen to have that brand, would you?”

  I found a paper and pen and began making a list. By the time I finally got out the door there were fourteen things on it. As I made my way across the parking lot and past the six buildings that separate my apartment from May Lynda’s building, I fretted over Beau, wondering if I’d made a big mistake in allowing her to stay at my apartment without me there. By the time I climbed the stairs, I’d convinced myself that, since she was a well-known, big-time, movie star, things would be just fine. The maniacal laughter I heard was surely coming from a balcony on the third floor, and not, as I’d first thought, those mistresses of madness. Right?

  10

  Clearly, May Lynda had consumed more than a few alcoholic beverages. “Marty, you want a drinkie poo?” she said, her words slurred. She held up a highball glass half-filled with what appeared to be cranberry juice and rum. Judging from the smell, heavy on the rum. She was barefoot and had on a too-big pair of sweatpants and a comfy looking, long-sleeved tee covered with stains.

  “No thanks. I’ve got to drive down to the grocery store when I leave here.” Hopefully, that was going to be soon.

  May Lynda didn’t take the hint. “You sure? It’s a bay breeze. I got lots left.”

  “Looks great, but I’m going to have to pass.”

  I decided if I was going to get any sleep at all that night, I needed to get her on topic. The problem, of course, was that I had no idea why she had asked me to come over.

  “How’s your grandmother holding up?” I asked, figuring it probably had something to do with Vivi’s death.

  She went to her bar cart to refill her drink, not even bothering to measure the rum. “She’s okay,” she said automatically. All of the sudden a horrified look came over her and she dropped the glass. It bounced off the metal cart top, and smashed to the floor. Ice, liquid, and shards of glass landed all around her.

  “Stand still,” I said. “I don’t want you to cut your feet. Where do you keep your broom and mop?”

  “Bathroom closet.” She bawled so hard, she barely got the words out.

  I dropped my tote bag, dumping all of my stuff out yet again. I sighed and went to get the cleaning supplies. I also grabbed a pair of running shoes off of her bedroom floor, helped May Lynda get them on, and guided her to her sofa. She leaned heavily against me, weeping and wailing to beat the band. I left her to cry it out while I cleaned up the mess off of the floor, happy that her apartment was one of the newer ones with laminate flooring instead of carpet.

  I swear I wasn’t trying to be nosy, but a lot of the drink spilled on some of the papers that she’d left on her bar cart. When I went to dry them off, I automatically checked out the one on top. Centered just below the fancy channel 42 logo and address, in big bold letters, it said “Notice of Termination of Employment”. I scanned its contents.

  Oh crap. It was bad enough that her sister had been murdered, but May Lynda had been fired from her job on the very same day. No wonder the poor girl was drunk. I sure hoped that she hadn’t picked up on the fact that her boyfriend had been in love with the dead sister, too. That would have been complete catastrophe. I decided to just leave the papers where they’d been and act like I hadn’t seen anything. I tossed the last of the paper towels I’d used, put the cleaning supplies away, and joined May Lynda on her sofa.

  She’d finally managed to quiet down. She held her head in her hands, sniffling when I sat down. I gave her a couple of “there, there”
pats and got right to the point. “What did you want to see me about, hon?”

  She didn’t lift her head. “I need your help.”

  “With what?”

  “My job.” She looked up at me, her eyes and her voice steely. I’d never seen May Lynda like that before, so I was a bit taken aback. “I need you to help me get my job back.”

  “I’m not sure I can do that, sweetie. I don’t even know anyone who works at your station.”

  Her teeth clenched. “That bee-yotch stole my job. You have to help me get rid of her.”

  Was she asking me what I thought she was asking? I gulped. Maybe I’d been wrong about who that coconut water had been meant for. Maybe May Lynda had sent the basket. Maybe she’d been trying to kill Giselle, not me.

  “Oh, heck no! No way. Look. I mean sure, I hate Giselle, probably more than anybody, but what on earth makes you think I’d be willing to help commit murder?” I popped up off the sofa, trying to control my panic and outrage.

  May Lynda stared at me like I was the one that was falling-down drunk. Then she started laughing, at first a giggle, then going into a full-blown fit, one of those where you can’t breathe and your chest hurts.

  “What? Why are you laughing? I can’t imagine what you find so blessed funny. There is nothing funny about murder.”

  That sent her into a fresh fit. She tried to talk, but couldn’t. She fell over to the side and was sort of half sitting, half lying on the sofa. I tried to decide if I should call Tim or Detective Winger or Otey or just leave. I gathered all the crap that had fallen out of my bag, stuffed it back inside, and headed for the door.

  May Lynda managed to finally stop laughing. She pushed herself back up. “No. Don’t go. That’s not what I meant. Obviously.”

  I gave her my best stink eye. “Then what did you mean?”

  “I just want you to convince her to stay at the radio station. To keep doing your show.”

  “You’re kidding me, right? There is no freaking way she’d listen to me. Even if I did want to talk to her. You’re forgetting, Giselle and I don’t get along. We suck as a team. If she goes, I get to finally have a new partner. Why on earth would I ever, in a million years, want her to stay.”