Trouble in a Big Box (A Kelly O'Connell Mystery)

by Alter, Judy

  “We’re goin’ to your garage apartment. See how hard it will be for me to move in there, how much junk we're going to have to move. If even John Henry knows you’re being stalked, we got to do something new.”

  “Hold on. If Mike can’t protect us, what makes you think you can?”

  “I got a weapon he doesn’t, for all his guns.”

  I looked at her curiously.

  “Sixth sense,” she said calmly, turning off her computer and picking up her purse. “Come on. Then you and Mike can buy me lunch.”

  I followed obediently, leaving her to lock the office. We drove to the house in silence, until she asked, “Apartment locked?”

  “Key’s on my key ring.”

  “Okay. Drive down the driveway and we’ll go directly out there.”

  Keisha was giving orders again. As I got out of the car, I noticed that Bella had pulled up behind us. Keisha turned around and waved almost friendly-like. “Want her to know I’m taking part in this,” she said. Then she marched toward the apartment.

  It wasn’t as bad as she feared. The treadmill could be folded up and stashed against one wall, and I thought we could fit the bike into our bedroom—after all, the bedroom was a spacious room and maybe Mike would use it more if it were inside, once he was given permission.

  “We’ll have to talk to Mike,” I said.

  “We will.”

  I knew that meant she would.

  We picked up Mike and headed for Lili’s. I wanted the comfort of the house wedge with blue cheese and bacon dressing. If Mike was surprised to see Keisha, he said nothing. Nor did he ask what we were up to. When he heard, he would want to take care of us himself. I’d let Keisha explain sixth sense to him.

  Lili’s was a perfect choice. Mike couldn’t explode. At the Grill, he might have felt freer to give vent to his anger. Instead he asked rhetorically, “How does that little bitch know stuff we can’t find out? Buck’s been investigating Lattimore, on the sly, and come up empty. Can’t even link him to that North Side Properties you found out about, Kelly. That seems to be a front, a paper business.”

  “A paper business?”

  “Covering up for some illegal activity. Besides gouging poor people for unreasonable rents.”

  “If it’s that kind of operation, why did Tom call me back about Sonny Adams?”

  “To throw you off,” Keisha said.

  How did she get so smart? “Throw me off what?”

  “Your interest in Sonny Adams,” Mike supplied. “My guess is that he was indeed skimming the top off rents and was killed as an object lesson to others. But we’ll never find his killer if we can’t find out who is behind North Side Properties.”

  I was beginning to feel naïve. “I thought it was Tom.”

  “A front,” Keisha said.

  Well, darn, why didn’t she just join the police force?

  We pushed our empty plates to the edge of the table, paid the bill, and were about to leave when I brought up Keisha and the apartment.

  “Oh, yeah,” she said casually to Mike. “I’m movin’ in. Gonna help you protect your family.”

  Predictably he said, “I don’t need help. I can take care of them myself. Even with a bad leg.”

  “You ain’t got the sense,” she replied.

  He stiffened. “I don’t have enough sense to take care of them?”

  “No,” she was laughing now, “you ain’t got the sixth sense. I do. Besides right now I can run faster than you.”

  I didn’t point out I could probably run faster than both of them, but I’d be running with a girl under each arm.

  “When are you moving in?”

  “Tonight, while José is on duty.”

  That brought a question about José to my mind. “Keisha, the girls….” I know, I know—Mike and I lived together in sin, but the girls knew we would marry and be a family. José and Keisha seemed, I thought, a different kind of thing.

  “Kelly, he won’t be spending the night. He’s gonna take my apartment and move outta his mama’s house. He just don’t know it yet, but I’ll tell him. And I don’t have to move all my stuff. This isn’t permanent, so relax, Mike.”

  He grinned at her. Mike had learned faster than I had that when Keisha made up her mind, you didn’t argue with her.

  “Not going to solve it sitting here,” he said. “Kelly, take me back to the office.”

  “No. Doctor’s orders—and they haven’t changed.”

  “Because I haven’t seen him,” he retorted. “He’d understand. Take me to the office. I won’t stay all afternoon. Buck can run me home.”

  Back at the office, I was tense, watching the clock, determined to be at the school early and go in and get the girls before they got out on the school grounds. Maybe I’d have to explain to Susan Smith, the principal, and have the girls wait for me in the office. They’d be embarrassed to tears.

  Keisha began to sing, “Christmas is coming, the geese are getting fat.”

  I stared at her. How could she think of Christmas with my girls in danger?

  “Got to be thinking about it. What you giving the girls? Suppose Miss Claire will invite us all again?”

  I didn’t let on that I knew she was trying to distract me. I went along with it. “I think it’s my turn to do a big dinner. We’ll rearrange the furniture to make room.”

  “Good, we can plan it together. I think I’ll buy the girls some cool clothes, maybe promise them a shopping trip as their present.”

  I began to make lists and when I looked at the clock, I was almost late for the girls. I flew out the door, calling “See you tonight” over my shoulder. When I got to the school, Bella was there in her car, parked across the street, just watching the kids in the schoolyard. My heart skipped a beat. I slammed the car into park, jumped out without bothering to lock up my car, and ran for the school.

  I grabbed Em as she came out the door of her room, waved hastily to her teacher, and flew down the hall to Maggie’s classroom. They were already outside. I dragged Em, who complained, “Mom, why are we in such a hurry?”

  To my relief, Maggie was standing in a knot of girls, with her teacher keeping a watchful eye. She waved at me, and I hugged Maggie so tightly she looked at me strangely. On the way to the car, Maggie kept trying to tell me something, but I just hurried her along and said, “Tell me later.”

  When I got both girls in the car, my purse was gone. Swell, now she’s got my credit cards, my social security number, checkbook—she can totally steal my identity. The fifty dollars or so in cash didn’t bother me. I slammed my hand on the steering wheel so hard it hurt.

  “Mom, you’re really acting weird,” Maggie said. And Em echoed, “Yeah, Mom, you are.”

  “Sorry, girls. Something’s bothering me.”

  “The lady in the green car? I saw her take your purse. I was trying to tell you that. I bet you can tell Mike and they can go after her.”

  There was no need. When we got home, my purse was lying on the doormat, with nothing missing, not even the cash.

  Neither of the girls said a word as they watched me pick it up and check it, and I was silent too. All the time I was giving the girls snacks and getting them started on their homework, a part of my mind was puzzling about Bella. It was no use. She stole my purse as a way of saying, “Look what I can do.” But why did she return it? Was it audacity? Surely there wasn’t a kind streak in her. She didn’t want to be friends. She had made it clear she was the enemy, a threat to my family. I decided to be grateful I had my purse intact and forget about it, except I’d be more wary from now on.

  That was another problem: I thought I was being careful and cautious, and yet I’d let Bella push me into a panic where I acted without thinking. She was winning this battle of the wits. I had to stay calm and cool.

  “Mom?” Em called. “I’m through with my homework. Would you come check it so I can start on my Christmas list?”

  “Good idea,” I replied. “You start on that list. You to
o, Maggie.”

  “I’m not through with my homework. Fifth grade is a lot harder.”

  “Of course,” I said soothingly.

  My thoughts happily diverted to Christmas, I went off to call my extended family about Christmas dinner which was, after all, only two and a half weeks away. How had I let it creep up on me like this? I knew how—and why. Bella and the big-box development.

  Mom and Claire both protested that they wanted to have dinner at their houses, but I prevailed, sure it was my turn. “I don’t know, Kelly. Is your house big enough? You’ve collected so many friends.” Mom, as usual, had just a bit of disapproval in her voice, as though I’d been collecting strays on the street. I reminded her that I’d include Otto, and she brightened.

  “Well, I suppose you can rearrange the furniture and make room. I do think we should all sit at tables and not eat out of our laps on Christmas day.”

  “Absolutely, Mom. Keisha is staying in the garage apartment for a while, and she’ll help me rearrange. I won’t let Mike do it.”

  Her antenna went up. “She is? Why?”

  My caution alert went up as high as her antenna. “Oh, she just thought it was a good idea for a while. José needs to get out of his mother’s house, and he’s moving into the apartment.” I wondered what José had thought about that plan.

  “Of course,” Mom said. “Although I’m sure his mother will miss him.”

  Was that a subtle dig? No, she couldn’t live with us. We’d drive her crazy, and she’d do the same to us.

  The recipients of my other calls were much quicker to accept and soon it looked like I’d have the usual crowd for dinner—about sixteen of us. I began to make lists—a menu, seating arrangement, gifts, etc. Man, I had a lot of work to do in the next two weeks. I could get Mom to bake and freeze dinner rolls, and Anthony would bring dessert…my mind began assigning tasks.

  Mike clumped into the room with his walker. “Having fun? You’re grinning over whatever you’re working on.”

  “Lists for Christmas. Planning dinner and gifts. We’ll host here. That okay?” I guess I hadn’t been married again long enough. It didn’t occur to me to check with Mike before inviting everyone to our house, and it should have.

  “Perfect,” he said. “I love having them all here. You know that.”

  “You won’t have to do much. I’ll see to that. But you will carve the turkey, won’t you?”

  “I’d be offended if you let anyone else do it.” He was thoughtful a minute. “Have you put Bella and Tom and all that mess out of your mind?”

  “For the moment. I can’t let them ruin the holidays for us.”

  “You think Bella will take a Christmas holiday?”

  “No, but I want the girls—and us—to have as normal a life as possible.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Instead of taking a Christmas holiday, Bella stepped up her stalking campaign with threatening notes and those middle-of-the-night phone calls I’d come to dread. Still, with a few changes, we went about our lives as always, even sometimes taunting Bella by waving to her. Once I left a sack of cookies on the front porch with her name, and it disappeared. I didn’t think a stray dog got it. In a way, I’d come to accept her presence as a part of my life, an unpleasant part but still just part of my day.

  The notes, often slipped through our mail slot, were disturbing, sometimes predicting doom and gloom on a certain day, sometimes talking fire and destruction. To my surprise, these were all handwritten in a neat, concise hand, properly punctuated and with correct spelling. Bella was no dummy, and somewhere along the way she’d paid attention in school. I forbade the girls to open such notes, and as far as I know, they obeyed. I don’t think they wanted to know any more about Bella.

  The phone calls were less specific and therefore less scary. Mike took to answering the phone and always simply heard the click of a hang-up. If I did happen to answer, I mostly heard heavy breathing. The calls were, however, a major annoyance when they came in the middle of the night, sometimes at twenty-minute intervals—just long enough to get back to sleep before the next one. We disconnected the phone, and Mike kept his cell handy in case of an emergency call. I made sure Mom had that number, with strict orders to keep it confidential. Nonetheless, Bella found out that number and began to call. Mike and I were both suffering from sleep deprivation—another of Bella’s tactics to wear us down. It worked, and we were too often cranky in the morning. Didn’t Bella ever sleep?

  I had shared, in confidence, our situation with Susan Smith, the principal, and now the girls waited for me every day in her office. They were allowed on the playground during recess only with strict supervision. None of this pleased them, and they fussed until Mike sat them down and had a talk with them.

  Bella knew better than to claim she had been sent to pick the girls up for me, but there was the day the school nurse called to say that Em was in her office throwing up. I rushed up to the school and burst into the nurse’s office.

  “Where’s Em?” I demanded.

  Caroline Patrick, the nurse, looked at me blankly. “Em hasn’t been in here today. Far as I know she’s fine.”

  Frantic now. “But I got this call. She was in your office, throwing up.”

  Caroline laughed a bit. “Thank heaven, no. Haven’t had one case of the throw-ups today.” Seeing that I was coming unglued, she suggested gently, “Why don’t you check her classroom?”

  Of course. I did. And there she sat, head bent over whatever she was working on. I watched for a minute, but she didn’t look up, never saw me, and I slunk away. I did manage to go back to Caroline Patrick and report that all seemed well and stumble through an apology.

  She was puzzled. “I don’t know who called you. They didn’t use my name, did they?”

  I nodded. Yes, they had used her name, but I knew darn good and well who had called. When I got into my car and checked my cell phone, there was a message from Bella: “Glad the little one was okay.” A chuckle. “Hope she stays that way.”

  The implication was all too clear.

  I could not, I repeated to myself, let her get to me. This was less a physical threat than a battle of the wills. I went by the Fiesta Market and bought a small pork roast, pre-seasoned, some new potatoes to do in the oven with rosemary and olive oil, and Romaine lettuce for a Caesar salad. We would eat well tonight and pretend Bella didn’t exist.

  “What’s the occasion?” Mike asked as he cut the small roast into slices.

  “Nothing. I just felt like fixing a good dinner.”

  He and the girls wolfed it down and raved about it, and I was glad I had done it.

  “Next time you get this urge, we really should call Nana,” Mike said. “We don’t see enough of her. And the girls don’t see her enough.”

  “Sure,” I said. “You’re right. Let’s talk later and plan something.”

  “Later” came after the girls were in bed and, I hoped, asleep. “Mike, Mom wants the girls to spend Friday night at her house.”

  “Great. A night alone for us.” He tried his best to leer at me but his interpretation of a leer left a lot to be desired.

  “But with this Bella business, I’m just not comfortable with that.”

  Mike didn’t answer right away, and I was relieved that he didn’t just brush away my hesitation. “Okay. What can we do to make it work?”

  Finally I said in a questioning voice, “Keisha?”

  “I’m okay with that, if you are. And if Nana and Keisha are. We’ll have to coordinate schedules.”

  Keisha was actually delighted. Mom resented having to have a babysitter watch her when she thought she was babysitting, but she acquiesced, and it was arranged that the girls would spend the next Friday night at Nana’s. My mom pumped them up with plans for things to do—make homemade ice cream, bake cookies. What child could resist? I tried hard to quiet my worries, and Mike tried equally hard to reassure me.

  “Bella is not going to burst in there with a gun and start shoo
ting,” he said. “And Keisha can more than handle everything else. I’m fine with it.”

  “Okay. I am too.” I said it with a bravado I didn’t really feel.

  That Friday night Keisha drove the girls to Mom’s, after much hugging and kissing and assurances we’d meet each other in the morning for breakfast at Ol’ South.

  After they left, Mike grumbled, “For Pete’s sake, it’s not like they’re leaving for a month. They’ll be home in the morning.”

  “I know. But they haven’t spent many nights away from me, and with Bella in the picture, I’m still nervous.”

  “Quit worrying. Let’s go see if we can get a table at Nonna Tata.”

  We did. Took a bottle of red wine with us, held hands across the table while we waited for our pasta, and had a real, grown-up “date” kind of an evening. I only called Mom twice during dinner and once after we got home, when she assured me the girls were sound asleep. She and Keisha were watching TV and José had been by three times on his rounds. They were safe. No sign of Bella.

  Keisha’s parting words were, “You two stay safe.”

  “You too,” I said, thinking it was just a nice way of saying goodnight. As it turned out we weren’t safe. We just didn’t know it.

  About three, the sound of breaking glass woke both of us, bringing Mike to his feet too rapidly. He fell, and I struggled to help him to his feet.

  “Get me the walker,” he said. It had scooted away when he fell. As I pulled it back, he used the bed to pull himself up and said desperately, “I smell something. Living room.”

  I flew ahead of him down the hall until he said, “Stop, Kelly. Let me go first.” He had his service revolver in one hand and used the other to clump the walker along. I ran back to the bedroom for my cell phone.

  “Smoke bomb,” he yelled. “Go out the back door. “

  “You can’t make it down those steps, and the front door is closer.”

  “Kelly, go out the back door now!” His tone told me not to argue with him, and I fled to the back door, hearing the walker behind me. Once outside I turned to help him, but he brushed me away and between the walker and the railing, he made it into the yard.