Hide and Snake Murder

by Jessie Chandler

  Sure enough, mixed with white stuffing were wads of crumpled bills along with rolls of currency. I pulled out a few of the clumps and rolls. They all contained fifty and hundred dollar bills.

  I thought Kate’s eyes were going to spring out of her head. Nothing like a little show-and-tell to turn someone into a true believer. Like Fletcher Sharpe’s slogan, Everything Is Hands On.

  “Oh, my god,” Kate said. We sat in silence, looking at my bear massacre.

  Coop said, “It wasn’t a fluke. I can’t believe Fletcher Sharpe would do something like this.”

  “Proof’s in the pudding, as they say.” Eddy picked up one of the rolls. She opened it and counted. “A thousand bucks in hundreds.”

  What was this? Money laundering? Payoffs? Theft? Drug dough?

  “Kate,” I said, “can you stow our little friend here somewhere safe?”

  “Sure.” She waited until we’d replaced the loot in the bear and disappeared from the room with it. She returned shortly. I wasn’t even going to ask where she’d tucked it away. Sometimes less knowledge is much safer.

  Kate shook her head. “There’s no lack of excitement with you guys, is there?” She set gooey, cinnamon roll-mounded plates in front us, and we dug in.

  I swallowed my third bite. “I’m going to talk to JT’s undercover cop friend, Dirty Harry, and see what he thinks about this whole mess.”

  Eddy wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin she’d grabbed from a holder on the table and said, “It’s time to get some real muscle on the case. Call in the big dogs.”

  “I agree.” Coop nodded, albeit hesitantly. His innate distrust of law enforcement was in full bloom. He sighed. “What else can we do? We’re in a fix the size of Idaho here. Who’s good, who’s bad?” He tapped his fork on a tooth. “But what if he’s on the take, too?”

  We chewed some more, contemplating that as well as the Zen rush the cinnamon rolls were giving us.

  I said simply, “JT trusts him.”

  “Then do it.” The whistle of the teapot ramped up, and Kate pulled the pot off the burner with practiced ease. She poured hot water into two mugs, one for Eddy and one for herself. Three boxes of tea appeared in front of Eddy, along with her steaming mug. Then Kate pulled a couple of cans of pop out of the fridge and handed them to Coop and me before she settled herself in a chair. The woman was as efficient at home as she was at the Hole.

  I popped the top of the can. This no-cell thing sucked. I asked, “Can I use your phone?”

  Kate pointed at the wall, where a white cordless was mounted. Dawg was curled right beneath it on his home-away-from-home dog bed, snoring softly and occasionally passing some very foul gas.

  After washing down the roll with a couple swigs of Diet Coke, I grabbed the receiver, gave Dawg a pat, and sat back down. My thumb hovered over the push buttons as it occurred to me I had no idea what Harry’s number was. I said as much.

  For a breath, no one said anything. Kate pushed her chair away from the table and stood. “Shay, doesn’t JT have her cell with her?”

  “Yeah, she does.” I morosely propped my chin in my hand, very much ready to go to sleep and forget this whole thing. I was dangling at the unraveled end of my rope. “I don’t know that number either. Who knows any phone numbers anymore? You program them in your phone and forget them.”

  Kate walked out of the kitchen without a word.

  Coop shrugged. Eddy raised her eyebrows at me and shook her head.

  Ten seconds later Kate returned. She tossed her cell at me. I barely managed to stop it before it skidded across the tabletop and onto the floor.

  “Nice phone. What do you want me to do with it?”

  Kate laughed. “Call JT, silly.”

  I’d forgotten Kate had possessed JT’s number longer than I had. She’d had a torch for the woman for some time, but I was the lucky one who caught her.

  After some random button pushing, I found the address book and scrolled down to the B’s. Sure enough, there was JT Bordeaux.

  Kate cleared the table as the line began to ring. It was 3:00 a.m. on the East Coast. At home, JT always slept with her cell right next to her head in case she got a call out in the middle of the night. I hoped she did the same thing at Quantico.

  I counted four rings, and I expected the voicemail to kick in. There was a fifth ring, and then JT’s sleep-groggy voice was on the other end.

  “Kate?” she said hoarsely, her voice holding a hint of panic.

  “Hey, babe, not Kate. It’s me, Shay.”

  “Shay?” There were five full seconds of silence on the line. Then in a rush JT said, “Where have you been? Are you okay? Where are you? How come you haven’t been answering your phone?”

  I should’ve expected her reaction, but the concern behind the harsh tone warmed my soul and made me miss her so bad I nearly choked up. I could hear more mumbling behind her in the background.

  “Wait a minute,” she told me. I heard more rustling, then silence, then the sound of a hollow bang.

  JT came back on the line, her voice echoing. “I’m in the bathroom. Didn’t want to wake up my roommate.” She went from sleep-dazed to razor-sharp in a remarkably short amount of time. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  I was past being able to cherry-pick the events that wouldn’t freak her out, so I laid it all out, the good, the bad, and the utterly terrifying.

  When I was done, JT said nothing for what felt like forever, but was probably only fifteen seconds. She took and released a deep, measured breath. Then she said, “I thought something was wrong. I even talked to one of the guys here who runs the program to see what it would mean if I had to leave before I finished.”

  I swallowed hard. The last thing I wanted to do was put the career JT had worked so hard at on the line. “And?”

  “And,” she said, “if I leave, I forfeit the ride here, and I won’t be asked back unless the reason for my departure involves a catastrophic accident, illness, or death involving an immediate family member. Or me. Jesus, Shay, I was afraid I was going to have to use that reason to come home.”

  “I’m really sorry, JT. I didn’t have any way to get a hold of you.” I felt terrible. Terrible for JT, for me, and even for Baz.

  “Oh, Shay,” she whispered. The ache in my chest intensified, and it had nothing to do with the cinnamon bun heartburn I felt coming on and everything to do with the woman on the other end of the line. I opened my mouth to tell her I was sorry to have scared her, and that I loved her so much my heart hurt when she was away, to say the words that were somehow scaring me less every day. But the winds of amore dissipated when her tone became brisk, now in cop-mode. “Okay. Do you have paper and a pen?”

  Kate was way ahead of me on the note-taking front and had placed a pad of paper and a stubby pencil in front of my nose at some point in the conversation. She was amazing, always anticipating, always aware. I picked up the pencil with a smile of thanks. “Go ahead, JT.”

  “Here’s Harry’s number again. It’s going to go straight to voicemail unless he’s off duty, which he rarely is. Leave a message and he’ll call you back as soon as he can. Then make copies of the number and give them to Coop, Eddy, and Kate. No way will all of you lose ’em.” She rattled the phone numbers off, and I carefully jotted them down.

  She continued, “And here are my contact numbers, just in case.” She spewed off more digits.

  I repeated all the phone numbers back to her to make sure I had them correct. “Look, JT, we’re cool here. I don’t need you to come home. I’ll call Dirty Harry as soon as I’m off the phone with you, okay?”

  JT heaved a sigh. “Tomorrow go to Wal-Mart or Target, or wherever they sell those pay-as-you-go phones. This way those bastards can’t track you, if they have that capability. Program the phone numbers I gave you into them, and call and leave me a message on my voicemail with your new number.”

  My woman was brilliant.

  “Listen—” I hesitated, wanting to say more, wantin
g to tell her what my heart was hollering at me. “I miss you.” Wimp. Nothing but yellow-bellied sap sucker.

  “I miss you too, babe. I really do. When I thought something might have happened—” JT’s voice was suddenly huskier than usual, and she cleared her throat.

  “Nothing did happen, so don’t worry. I’ll call you as soon as we get the new phones. Go back to sleep for ten minutes.”

  “Very funny. Call me.”

  “I will.” I hung up, very aware of the thumping of my heart. I let out a breath, happy to have the call done with, but missing JT worse than ever.

  Kate said, “I have to be to the café at five-thirty. I’m going to hit the sack for a couple more hours.”

  Eddy scooped up another cinnamon roll and deposited it on her plate. “If anyone comes to the café asking about any of us, you tell them you haven’t seen us for days.”

  Kate agreed, and we hammered out sleeping arrangements. I’d share a bed with her, Eddy would bunk with Agnes, and Coop headed for the basement and a ratty futon.

  We bid Kate a good night, and I keyed the phone on again and dialed Harry. The ringing kicked into voicemail. I told him who I was and gave him a very brief rundown of what was going on. I asked him to call me back as soon as possible, and gave Kate’s house number. And please, I prayed to anyone who would care to listen, let Dirty Harry not be on the take.

  FIFTEEN

  I AWOKE TO SOMEONE prying my left eyelid open.

  “Are you in there, Shay O’Hanlon?”

  “Wha—” My brain felt like it had been pickled in some of the crude oil that had leaked into the Gulf. Comprehension was slow going.

  “Hello in there!”

  I weakly batted at the intrusion to my eyeball. Everything was blurry, out of focus.

  “Wake up, Shay. It is 7:34 in the morning. You should be up bright and early to make the most valuable use of your day. It is late already!”

  “Rocky?” I attempted to open my other eye. The room was bright, much brighter than my bedroom at home. The light hurt. I slammed both eyes shut.

  “That is me. Rocky.” His fingers were back, forcing my eye open again. An eyeball stared back at me from about two inches away.

  “I’m awake. You can let go of my eyelid now.”

  The eyeball and fingers of torture retreated. I blinked a couple of times, and things blended into focus. I was in Kate’s room.

  Rocky sat on the edge of the bed next to me, dressed in his aviator cap and Twins jacket, even though we were indoors. He had an impish grin on his face and leaned forward until his nose almost touched mine.

  “Are you awake?”

  “I am now.”

  His round face didn’t move, and he whispered loudly, “I have a secret.”

  My eyes crossed as I attempted to look at him. “What is it?”

  Rocky gave me two raised brows and a smirk. “If I told you, it would not be a secret anymore.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed my head against the pillow. I wasn’t good morning company on the best of days. I was about two breaths from growling, and I was doing my best not to lash out. It wasn’t his fault his internal timer went off at six in the morning.

  “You need to eat a nice, balanced breakfast every day, with a portion of the recommended daily allowance of thirty-two grams of fiber to help regulate your digestive system.” He paused dramatically. “You know, so you can poop!”

  I laughed in spite of myself. I don’t know where he came up with his mandates, but he was usually right. I propped myself up on my elbows, thankful the fog was lifting off my brain.

  “So what’s your secret?” I asked.

  Rocky sat up straight, crossed his legs, and then placed his hands one over the other on top of his knee. He said proudly, “I am in love.”

  Oh boy. “With who?”

  “Tulip. The most beautiful animal creator ever.”

  Tulip … Tulip. Then it came to me. The balloon maker in New Orleans.

  “She is the prettiest flower in the world.” Rocky’s eyes had taken on a far-away, sappy look, and his face glowed.

  What kind of a parent would stick a kid with the name Tulip? I supposed it was better than Turnip. I suppressed a grin. “Tulip is a lovely name, Rocky.”

  “We are going to get married one day and have two kids.”

  I wasn’t ready to deal with love and the Rockster. Coop needed talk to him about the birds and the bees, because I wasn’t touching that with a ten-foot pole. No pun intended. “Oh.” I tried to think of a better response. “Don’t you think she’s a bit far away for a relationship?”

  “No, we have Facebook.”

  I squinted at him. “Since when did you get a Facebook account?” I knew he didn’t have a computer at his place, and he wasn’t very tech savvy. Coop had tried to give him some basic web surfing lessons, but Rocky had zoned out after ten minutes.

  A huge smile creased his face. “Kate got me all set up last night.”

  As I inhaled to speak, the phone on the nightstand next to the bed rang. I grabbed it. “Hello?”

  A rusty-sounding voice said, “I’m looking for Shay O’Hanlon. This is Harry.”

  “Harry, hi. I’m Shay. Thanks for returning my call.”

  “No problem. Any friend of JT’s is a friend of mine.” Harry sounded like he was talking out of one side of his mouth. “You’re having some problems.”

  “Yeah. But, ah, I’d rather not talk about it on the phone.” It dawned on me anyone could tap into Kate’s landline. Great. Now I was sounding as paranoid as Coop sometimes was.

  “If you want to meet, you’ll have to come to me.”

  “No problem. Where and when?”

  Rocky, bored with my call, wandered out of the room. I was going to have to file the Tulip issue away for later visitation.

  There was a few seconds of silence on the line, then Harry said, “Come to the corner of Dunwoody and Hennepin at nine-thirty. Dress down. Gotta go.”

  The line disconnected.

  I rolled out of bed and looked at myself in the mirror on the dresser. My short black hair stood on end, and one side of my face was imprinted with a latticed stripe from the lace border on the edge of the Kate’s pillowcase. The area around the three Steri-strip bandages holding my forehead together was starting to bruise. I sighed and trudged into the master bathroom. It was Frankenstein’s shower time.

  I pulled on a clean t-shirt and a pair of black jeans, about as “dressed down” as I was going to get. We were going to have to do some laundry soon. I followed my nose toward the kitchen, where some kind soul had put coffee on to brew.

  Eddy, Rocky, and Agnes, who looked much less bleary, were all seated around the kitchen table. Coop leaned against the counter next to the refrigerator, his eyes at half-mast, holding an open can of Coke. At my entrance, he looked up and saluted me with his can. “Morning,” he said wryly.

  Agnes looked over her coffee cup. “I want to apologize for what happened last night. I shouldn’t have wandered off—”

  Eddy snorted. “Sure as a chicken has feathers, you shouldn’t have wandered off. Scared us silly. And you should know potato juice always kicks your skinny butt. It practically dumps itself down your throat. Dum-dum.”

  Agnes stiffened. “Who’re you calling—”

  “You! Ya boozer.” Eddy narrowed her eyes. “I don’t go into strangers’ houses and chug their alcohol.”

  “Oh, no? What do you call having one too many and falling out of Sula’s window?”

  “I tripped, and she wasn’t a stranger. But she did make a mean Jäger Bomb.”

  This was a tale Eddy hadn’t told me. “You fell out a window?”

  Agnes cut her eyes toward me. “She sure did. Landed right on her head in the flower bed.”

  I looked at Eddy, whose lips were pressed tightly together. She said, “I’m just glad it was summertime and the ground was soft.”

  Rocky picked that moment to say, “Hi, Shay O’Hanlon!” He grinned
, fork in hand, oblivious to the sniping he’d unintentionally cut short. The pan of cinnamon rolls was in front of him with maybe two bites left.

  He said, “I love Kate’s rolls. And cinnamon lowers cholesterol and inhibits bacterial growth and food spoilage. And tastes great!” He shoved the rest of the gooey roll in his mouth and chewed happily.

  “Sit down, Shay,” Eddy told me.

  I sat. She stood, went over to the coffee maker, and poured a cup.

  Eddy placed a chipped mug adorned with a Rabbit Hole logo in front of me. I took a careful sip and sighed as the dark liquid seared its way down my throat. “Where’s Baz?” I asked.

  Coop’s glower deepened. “Still out on the couch.”

  Nice.

  “Rocky,” Coop said, “why don’t you go and give Baz the eye treatment you gave me this morning?”

  Nice to know I wasn’t the only one who had their eyelids peeled apart as a wake-up call.

  “No, thank you. I don’t like Spaz Man. He’s mean.” Rocky slid the pan away and stood.

  “Basil’s not mean, Rocky. He’s just a little misguided,” Agnes said.

  “I have to go Facebook.” Rocky zipped out of the kitchen.

  Agnes pursed her thin lips in disdain. “Facebook? That’s all the kids talk about nowadays. Doesn’t anyone talk with their real faces anymore?”

  “Not when they can do it on a piece of technology.” Coop rubbed his scruffy chin. “Rocky doesn’t have a computer.”

  I said, “Kate let him use hers and set him up last night so he can communicate with his newfound love.”

  “Love?” Eddy said. “What love?”

  “Tulip of the balloon animals.” I took another sip of coffee, feeling the caffeine spread into my veins like hot lava.

  Coop asked, “Tulip from New Orleans?”

  “Yup. He’s in love, and they’re going to date via Facebook.”

  Agnes said, “My goodness, things have changed since I was young.”

  “You haven’t been young for sixty years, Aggie.” Eddy poked her arm. “Maybe Kate should give you Facebook lessons. Nicholas got me all set up, and I can friend you.”