Hide and Snake Murder

by Jessie Chandler

Agnes harrumphed. “I don’t know a thing about computers, and I’m too old to start now. He tried. I failed.”

  Eddy said, “You might be old, but you still have a brain in there.”

  Agnes gave Eddy a sharp look. “Are you saying I’m old?”

  “You called your own self old.”

  Agnes frowned. “Guess I did.”

  “Anyway,” I jumped in before the conversation veered too far off the path. “We need to run to Target or somewhere and buy a couple pay-as-you-go phones.”

  I turned to Eddy and Agnes. “How much cash do you guys have on you?”

  A strange look crossed Agnes’s face. She said, “Oh … A few bucks.”

  I restrained myself from rolling my eyes. Eddy hated when I disrespected my elders.

  “I have,” Eddy said as she emptied her pockets on the tabletop and counted, “Two hundred seventy—”

  Agnes interrupted her. “Where did you get all that dough?”

  Eddy narrowed her eyes at Agnes. “Are you accusing me of something?”

  “No, I was just asking. No need to get defensive.”

  “I won this money fair and square, Aggie.”

  “Didn’t say you didn’t.”

  “But you implied—”

  “Ladies,” I burst out. “Stop.”

  They tore their gazes from each other to look at me.

  “I’m meeting with JT’s co-worker, Dirty Harry—”

  Eddy said, “Silly name.”

  I gave Eddy a look. “Why I was asking for money is this. Hunk and company probably already know my pickup, and if they don’t, they can find out. I think we should rent a car, something unassuming, and if you pay in cash … ” I trailed off, leaving the obvious unsaid. “And we’d have a heck of a lot more room. Coop and I can drop you off and we can meet back here when we’re done.”

  Plan agreed upon, we left Dawg still snoozing on Kate’s bed, Baz sound asleep on the couch, and Rocky chortling periodically in front of the computer screen.

  We dropped Eddy and Agnes off at Enterprise Rent-A-Car and headed to Target in Edina. The sun was shining, and puffy white clouds floated high in the sky. I should be out running around Lake Calhoun or getting frisky with JT, not on a mission to buy untraceable phones.

  Target was open when we arrived, and the place was busy even at this early hour. We procured two basic phones, and headed back to the car. I activated them, then called and left a message for JT, relaying the new numbers to her.

  I pulled into Kate’s driveway less than an hour later, and we’d just stepped from the car when a loud rumble filled the air.

  Coop looked at me. “What is that?”

  “I dunno. Sounds like a car with a glasspack, or a missing muffler, maybe.”

  The rumbling grew louder. A neon-orange Dodge Charger with black stripes and shiny black tires pulled into the drive and stopped next to my pickup. The rumble of the engine vibrated the cement beneath my feet.

  My jaw dropped.

  Eddy hopped out, beaming like a mom with a newborn. The passenger door opened more slowly, and Agnes emerged from the dark interior, looking a little pale but slightly smug herself.

  Eddy patted on the hood. “What do you think of this little baby?”

  Coop walked slowly around it, whistling under his breath the tune that usually accompanied clowns under the big top. He claimed it was “Entrance of the Gladiators,” but I hadn’t believed him until I Googled it myself. He was right.

  I said, “Why?”

  Eddy’s grin stretched from ear to ear. “Gotta use a credit card at Enterprise even if you pay cash. So me and Aggie had to take a cab to this little place in North Minneapolis that would accept the greenbacks. It was called,” she drew a large rectangle in the air, “Stan & Ione’s Classic Rental Cars. ‘We take cash.’ ” She eyed me. “You did say no credit cards.”

  Guilty on that count.

  “And this was all they had left.”

  Of course it was.

  “And it sure goes fast.”

  And that’s why Agnes was pale. Eddy loved speed, whether she was in her old yellow truck or driving someone else’s car. Whenever I rode with her, I regretted not having the forethought to take Dramamine, and I prayed for my very life the duration of the trip. It didn’t help that Eddy’s peripheral vision had gone to hell and she refused to admit it.

  Coop trailed a hand over the glossy paint. “How much did this set you back?”

  For the first time, an abashed look clouded Eddy’s face. “Don’t ask. It’s Aggie’s fault.”

  “I thought,” I said to Agnes, “you had a few bucks. You did use a credit card, didn’t you.”

  Eddy said, her voice well into accusatory range, “Are you deaf, child? I told you we had to go somewhere else. We didn’t use a credit card. But Agnes whipped out a roll the size of a drug dealer’s.”

  She’d definitely watched too many episodes of Weeds.

  Coop said, “Did you win more than you let on, Agnes?”

  “Perhaps.” She didn’t elaborate.

  Maybe she lifted money from the bear. That would make me laugh.

  Eddy said, “She was holding out.”

  A rare look of guilt crossed Agnes’s face. “Okay, okay. Fine. I won a titch more than I mentioned.”

  Eddy said, “I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me—”

  Agnes planted her hands on her hips. “You were losing.”

  “But—”

  “I didn’t need you begging me for more money to buy back in the game.”

  “Excuse me? How dare you! I never beg.”

  Here we go again. I said, “Ladies! Let’s get this show on the road.”

  SIXTEEN

  WE SAILED NORTH ON 35W in our glowing orange Charger. Since Eddy was the only approved driver on the rental contract, she was behind the wheel. After three minutes, Agnes looked seasick.

  Eddy weaved around a garbage truck and two cars, then sliced back into the right lane. If we’d been in NASCAR, she’d be kicking booty.

  It wasn’t long before she squealed into a metered spot in front of Joe’s Garage, a restaurant right off Loring Park. She shut the car off. “Shay, you and Coop go on and talk to this Harry. Agnes and I will have something to eat and wait for you in the Garage.”

  My mouth watered. Coop and I hadn’t had a chance to eat anything that morning (Rocky had snarfed the remaining cinnamon rolls), and I was hungry. I heaved a sigh. Hopefully Harry would be there, and we’d pick his brain and get back to the restaurant fast.

  Coop and I followed the sidewalk to the corner, past Café Lurcat, and around the bend to Hennepin Avenue.

  Down the block, at the next intersection, a man in a trench coat holding a battered cardboard sign slowly walked up the off ramp, past the cars idling at the light.

  Coop elbowed me. “There he is.”

  “I see him.” He had a head full of short, dark hair that looked oily even from this distance.

  The light changed to red again, and the man was about to hike past the waiting line of cars when he glanced our way. He aborted, came back to the corner and stood facing traffic, holding his sign so it was visible to the oncoming vehicles.

  The closer we got, the dirtier the guy appeared. A frayed backpack sat in the weeds between the street and the parking lot.

  When we were close enough, I said, “Harry?”

  He turned to face us, his tattered coat billowing away from his legs in a gust of wind. The clothes beneath it were in no better shape than the coat, and the smell that assailed my nose made me catch my breath. He had on at least two shirts, and the tan pants he wore could’ve stood on their own. The shoes on his feet were run down at the heel, and the grayish-colored sock on his right foot was visible through a hole worn through the leather by his big toe. He was at least as tall as Coop.

  An unlit, half-smoked cigarette dangled from one side of his mouth.

  “You O’Hanlon?” he asked.

  “Yup, and this is N
ick Cooper, a good friend.” I jerked a thumb at Coop.

  Harry eyed us a moment. “Come with me.”

  He picked up the backpack, stuffed his sign inside, and crossed the street.

  I looked at Coop.

  Coop shrugged. “Better follow him.”

  We scampered across the road and trailed Harry as he headed for the back of whatever business was housed on the corner of Dunwoody and the ramp off I-94. The red brick building was covered with vines creeping skyward. Around the back a path was worn in the ground. We skirted two other buildings and wormed our way through a narrow opening in a hedge. I lost my sense of direction.

  Harry stopped at a rickety shelter of sorts constructed in a small thicket of trees and thick brush. “Welcome to my humble abode. Have a seat.” Harry disappeared into the structure.

  A small fire pit was situated near Harry’s “house” with two lawn chairs that were well past the point of use nearby. Coop and I looked at each other and shook our heads simultaneously. Standing was safer.

  Grass and brush in the immediate area had been trampled into submission. Discarded booze bottles, crumpled fast food wrappers, empty cigarette boxes, and a mattress with springs poking through the covering lay in a heap on the edge of the clearing. The intermittent breeze periodically brought the smell of rotting garbage from somewhere close by.

  Harry emerged butt first from the shelter, grumbling under his breath. As he cleared the entry, his hands were clenched in the material of a sweatshirt. The sweatshirt was filled with the skinny, dirty body of a man of indeterminate age. Long gray hair hung in clumped strands from his head, and the rest of him was clothed in threadbare blue jeans and black tennis shoes. He had an unopened, oversized can of beer clenched in his fist.

  “Thanks for hanging while I was gone, Red. You gotta scram now.” Harry gave the dude a healthy shove down the trail. Red staggered a couple steps, muttered something incoherently, righted himself, and disappeared.

  Harry wiped his hands on his shirt and plunked down in one of the chairs. “Red keeps an eye on things while I’m gone. Otherwise other homeless guys try to take over my dream house.” He stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles. The unlit smoke still dangled from his lips. “First things first. Not much I’m going to be able to help you with. I’m deep, and bringing you two here’s a big risk. I can give you a little advice, but that’s about the extent of it.”

  I held up a hand. “We understand. Anything is better than nothing at this point.”

  Harry studied me through narrowed eyes for a couple long moments. “So you have a problem with potential drug runners.”

  I shifted from one foot to the other. “Yeah. It sounds like the situation involves Juárez, tunnels, drugs maybe.”

  Harry rolled the cigarette around lips, moving it from one side of his mouth to the other as he considered my words. Coop intently watched, his eyes focused on the unlit stub. His cheeks bulged as he ground his gum between his molars.

  “I have one that’s only half gone if you want it,” Harry told Coop. The man didn’t miss a thing.

  Coop tore his eyes from Harry’s mouth and met his obviously amused gaze. “Ah, no. No, thanks. I’m trying to quit.”

  Harry chuckled. “Me, too. Figure as long as I don’t light it, can’t hurt. Like a security blanket.”

  That broke the ice and they both laughed.

  Harry said, “Tell me what you know.”

  Between Coop and I, we gave Harry the rundown on the last few days. When we finished, he said, “You’ve been busy. I can see why you’re worried about taking this to the police. Don’t know much about Louisiana law enforcement, but I do know New Orleans PD struggled long before Katrina. The MPD’s pretty solid, but there’s a few rotten grapes in the bunch, specifically narcs.”

  He reached into his trench coat, produced a flask, and tilted it our way. “Tipple?”

  Coop swallowed hard, and I watched his Adam’s apple bounce up and down. He declined with a quick shake of his head. He wasn’t a complete germ freak, but wasn’t real fond of sharing his food and drink with other people.

  Harry fastened his eyes on me. “Shay?”

  “No, thanks.”

  Harry unscrewed the cap, tipped the container to his lips, and took two big swallows. “Your loss.” He shrugged as he returned the cap and stowed the flask. “Juárez. Lot of drug-related stuff going on there. The Mexican end of things isn’t my area of expertise.” He took the cigarette from his mouth, pulled a box of Marlboro Lights from a pocket and slid it inside. “Gotta save what you can out here. Never know when you might find more.

  “But I have a new contact,” Harry continued. “Her name is Luz Ortez, and she’s a recently relocated Mexican studies professor at the University of Minnesota. I don’t know her well, but we’ve had a couple of meetings where she’s come in to speak about cartels.”

  Coop asked, “Relocated from where?”

  “Some university in Mexico City.”

  Score. I asked, “Would she be willing to meet up with us?”

  Harry folded his arms against his chest. “I don’t know. Don’t see why not.” He rummaged through one coat pocket, and then the other. “Ah, there it is.” He whipped out an old-style flip phone.

  Coop said, “Have you heard anything about Fletcher Sharpe being mixed up in drug dealing?”

  Harry said, “Not specifically Sharpe. But nothing surprises me anymore. Seems like there was some word out about that toy store of his. Or maybe something about one of the guys who worked there.” Harry’s shoulder lifted. “Can’t remember. But I can do a little checking around.” The flask appeared again, and Harry took another snootful of joy juice.

  Harry flipped his phone open. “Give me your cell number, and I’ll give you a contact number for Ortez.” I pulled out the slip of paper I’d written our new cell numbers on and recited them as Harry poked a thick finger at the small keys on his phone. Then he rattled off Luz Ortez’s phone number, and I punched it into my cheap pre-pay phone. I’d forgotten how much time it took to punch each key multiple times to get to the right letter. Coop was right. We should’ve coughed up more money for one of the models with a keyboard.

  “Tell her you got her name from Dirty Harry, and I think she’ll talk to you. If she won’t, let me know, and I’ll see who else you can try.”

  We thanked Harry for his unusual hospitality, and he led us back to the intersection. We left him at the corner with his cardboard sign, and retraced our path toward Joe’s Garage.

  I eyed Coop. “What do you think?”

  “I think we got a name we can start with.”

  “Rough way to live.”

  “No kidding.” Coop shuddered. “I don’t even want to think where he uses the bathroom.”

  I made a face. “I’ll try the professor.” The beeps from the phone sounded loud as I navigated my way to the contact list. I had to try twice before I figured out which buttons I had to push to place the call.

  Voicemail quickly kicked in, and a Spanish-accented voice filled my ear. I left a message and hung up.

  “Seems like all I’ve gotten lately is voicemail,” I said as we crossed the entrance to Joe’s Garage.

  “That’s what happens whenever you need something yesterday. Hopefully she’ll call back fast.”

  Coop snagged a couple of menus from a basket attached to the wall. He handed me one. I spotted Eddy and Agnes vigorously waving from a table toward the back. We threaded our way between tables toward them.

  My belly was soon pleasantly full eggs and home fries. While Agnes and Eddy argued over who was going to foot the bill, I excused myself and took care of it at the bar. Sometimes it was just easier that way.

  I came back and braced my hands on the back of my chair. “Okay, ladies.” I raised an eyebrow at Coop and added, “and gentleman. The bill’s paid. Let’s blow this shack.”

  That shut them up.

  We trooped toward the front door with Eddy in the lead.
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br />   “Hey!” Eddy said once she was out the door and on the sidewalk. “Where’s the car?”

  We filed out behind her. The street in front of the restaurant was a one-way, with metered parking along the south side. There wasn’t a single bright-orange car in sight.

  Coop said, “Didn’t we leave it over there, by the college?” The busy campus of the Minneapolis Community and Technical College was right up the street.

  I nodded slowly, a doomed feeling lying heavy in my previously comfortably stuffed gut. “Yup, we did.” Could anything go right? I walked toward the spot we’d left the car. As I neared it, broken bluish glass littered the ground.

  “I told you, Eddy,” Agnes said, sarcasm dripping from her voice, “that car was a little too flashy.”

  For once Eddy had no comeback.

  We called the cops, who eventually showed up and took a report. I feared Stan and Ione’s Classic Car Rental was not going to be very happy with us.

  Coop said, “You think Hunk and Donny took the car?”

  I thought about that. “No, if they knew we were driving that car, they’d have known where we were. If they knew where we were, they could’ve scooped us up when we walked out of the restaurant. I bet this is the work of some kid who’s probably having the time of his life right now.”

  Eddy said grimly, “Until he crashes it.”

  Since Kate was working, I called my dad to see if he’d be able to come pick us up. A half-hour later, he rolled up in his boat of a car. While my dad may have been hit-and-miss in the fatherhood department, he wasn’t lazy about his vehicles, and that only intensified after my mom died. His forest-green 1970 Olds Delta 88 was in pristine condition, its black interior beautifully maintained. He only drove the car when the snow had melted and enough rain had fallen to rid the streets of residual road salt from the winter.

  “Peter O’Hanlon,” Eddy said as she rounded the car and practically dragged my father out the door for a hug. She released him and gazed up into his craggy face with obvious affection. “Aren’t you a sight for these eyes.”

  A roguish grin creased his stubble-covered cheek. He boomed, “Ms. Edwina, it’s been too long.”