Val Fremden Mystery Box Set 1

by Margaret Lashley

  “Same as everyone. People come here from all over. They think Florida’s the secret to the good life. No snow. Just fun in the sun all year long. That, and they can live in their cars through the winter and not freeze to death. Everybody blames Florida for being loaded with crazy people, but I swear Laverne, most of them come here from somewhere else.”

  Laverne looked at me through the top of her sunglasses.

  “Sugar, nobody looks good in jade.”

  I blew out a breath. “Sorry, Laverne. I’ve just...I’ve got a load of stuff going on right now. I’ve got to figure out what the hell’s going on with that blasted finger. I can’t get sued back down to nothing. Not again.”

  “Well, what are you working with? What have you got so far?”

  “Not much. I found the finger in the couch that day you came over for coffee.”

  “The day you beat the stuffing out of those pillows in your backyard?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s the same day I fixed your faucet.”

  “Yep. That’s the day.”

  “Well, who could have put a finger in your couch to begin with?”

  “That’s just it. Tom brought the couch over. It had been sitting in the alley behind my old apartment all day. I talked to the bum who’d been sleeping on it. He told me the finger belonged to that guy Mickie. You know. The one with the eye patch and gold tooth.”

  “Yeah. So, Mickie ought to know how he lost his own finger.”

  “Yes, he ought to. But he says I cut it off. And now he’s suing me.”

  “What? That’s crazy. How is that possible?”

  “He says he was drunk at the time. He couldn’t see me because I put a sack over his head. But he recognized my voice.”

  I pulled up in front of the nail salon. Laverne climbed out.

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this, sugar. Don’t you worry.”

  “Thanks. Pick you up in half an hour?”

  “Sounds about right.”

  I hit the gas and drove about thirty feet when the phone rang. It was Tom. I pulled into a parking spot.

  “Yeah?”

  “Val? Is everything all right?”

  “Not really.”

  “What’s going on?”

  That’s what I’d like to know, you cheating, lying, philandering dirt bag! “Nothing much. Just got threatened with a lawsuit by that slimy ambulance chaser Ferrol Finkerman.”

  “What? For what?”

  “His client is missing a finger and swears I’m the one who cut it off.”

  “Crap, Val!”

  “Yep. Crap describes the situation, all right. Deep crap.”

  “I don’t know if I should even mention this now. You seem upset.”

  “Mention what?” That you’re dumping me for Milly?

  “I was going to ask you to this police benefit thing tomorrow night. But I guess you’re not interested.”

  “What’s the benefit?”

  “Exactly.”

  “No, I mean, what’s the event?”

  “A dance at the old Coliseum. They’re raising money for charity.”

  “How long have you known about it?”

  “A month.”

  “Oh.”

  “You know I hate to dance.”

  “So what changed your mind?” Guilty conscience?

  “My boss sort of made it clear today that my attendance was mandatory.”

  “So you’re stuck having to go, and thought of me. How sweet.”

  “Look. If you don’t want to go –”

  “Oh, no. I want to go. Sounds delightful. What time?”

  “Pick you up at seven?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  I clicked off the phone. Well, Mr. Tom Foreman, you’re about to find out exactly what you’re gonna be missing. I’ll be smoking hot at that dance. You and Milly Halbert can eat your hearts out and kiss my behind! Once you see how fantastic I really am, I’m going to dump you both like a pair of day-old dirty diapers.

  I pulled Maggie into a parking spot, scrambled out of the car and marched over to the nail salon. The young Asian woman at the reception desk looked up from filing her nails.

  “How much for a manicure?”

  The girl looked at my hands.

  “Lady, we Beauty Nail. Not Miracle Nail.”

  “SHOW ME THOSE CAT CLAWS again!”

  Laverne and I were cruising down Central Avenue, heading toward Pasadena Boulevard. I let go of the wheel and pawed the air with my long, shiny, bright-red nails.

  “Ha ha! Good to see some sass back in you, sugar! Now let’s find a dress that matches that attitude.”

  I pulled up in front of my favorite shop on Corey Avenue. The window display was full of pastel-colored sundresses and cute beach wear. Laverne turned her nose up.

  “Sugar, this is amateur-hour stuff. Start the car. I know just the place with the ammunition you need to bring down the big game.”

  I swung the car around and headed back toward Central Avenue and downtown.

  “You can’t catch someone’s attention with the same-old-same-old, girl. You’ve got to kick it up a notch. Take him by surprise.”

  “You mean like he did me – with Milly?”

  “Nope. Better than that.”

  Laverne pointed to her right.

  “Slow down. Just another block on the right. See it?”

  I did. It was a consignment store. I blew out a disappointed sigh.

  “Laverne, that place is full of junk.”

  “Yes, it most certainly is. One man’s junk is another man’s treasure. That’s what you’re after, right? Make him realize what a treasure he’s letting go of?”

  “Yes....”

  “All right then. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “HERE, HONEY. STICK these in there.”

  Between her thumbs and index fingers, Laverne dangled two globs of rubber that looked like oversized, raw chicken breasts.

  “What in the world are they?” I asked.

  “They’re chicken fill-its. At least that’s what the girls from England called ‘em back in the day. Saved many a flat-chested girl’s career.”

  I stared at the strange, floppy globs.

  “Oh, don’t be shy, honey!”

  Laverne reached a boney, red-nailed hand into my dress and slipped a cold, slimy glob under my right breast. She jiggled it around until it filled out the right side of my dress’s bodice perfectly. I looked in the mirror and was instantly converted.

  “Whoa! Gimme the other one!”

  Laverne grinned. I grabbed the other fill-it from her hand and installed it myself. I stared at my reflection and shimmied my shoulders. I was rocking it!

  “Jessica Rabbit, eat my dust!”

  “Now you’re talking, sugar!”

  In under ten minutes and for less than twenty bucks, Laverne had transformed me into a Vegas showgirl, minus the giant feather headdress. Amongst the castoffs in that old consignment store that smelled of desperation and soured dreams, she’d scrounged around and found a vintage, backless, red-sequin dress that fit me like a wet glove. It clung to my body like a desperate lover – everywhere except the boob area, that is. Laverne had solved that problem with a pair of falsies.

  “You want the whole vamp treatment?” Laverne asked.

  I was feeling cheeky.

  “Sure. Why not.”

  Laverne fiddled with my hair. Armed with nothing but a comb and a half a can of Aqua Net, she puffed and curled my hair until it was twice its normal size. Satisfied, she swirled my long bangs over one eye like a sexy pinup model and hosed them down with hairspray.

  “Just a touch of red lipstick and we’re done here,” she said.

  She handed me the lipstick and pinched me on the butt. I jerked back and scowled at her.

  “Ouch! What was that for?”

  “For good luck, sugar. But you’re not gonna need it. You’re a knockout!”

  I looked in the mirror
again. Yes. I was a knockout. And I knew just who I was aiming to punch in the gut.

  I TALKED A BIG GAME, but when it came to follow through, I’d proven time and again that I my bark was bigger than my bite. I poured myself a TNT to steady my nerves. I was taking my first sip when the phone rang and nearly startled me out of my silver stilettos.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Val. It’s Milly. What are you up to tonight?”

  Wouldn’t you like to know. Or do you already? Did I say “yes” to Tom and spoil your plans? “Going out with Tom. You?”

  “Oh. Nothing. Just wanted to see if you could come out and play.”

  “Not tonight.”

  “What are you two doing?”

  “Why?”

  “No reason, Val. Just curious.”

  “Nothing special. Look, I’ve got to go. I see Tom driving up.”

  “Okay, have fun.”

  “Thanks. I’m planning on it.”

  I clicked off the phone just as Tom rang the bell. I straightened my dress, ran a finger along my stiff bangs and flung open the door. Tom’s usual boyish grin evaporated. His eyes grew as big as poached eggs.

  “Whoa! Val? Is that you under all that?”

  “Yes.”

  “You look...you...I...I can’t take you to the charity benefit looking like that!”

  “What? Why not?” You jerk-wad!

  “You look way too sexy for that place. You should be at...a fancy hotel in Vegas or something.”

  “Are you saying I look trampy?”

  “What? No. Just a bit...fancy...for the occasion, I mean.”

  “Then go on without me.”

  I pushed the door to close it. Tom raised a hand and held it open.

  “Wait a minute! What’s up? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  “Come on, Val. You look great. I’m sorry. Let’s go.”

  TOM WENT TO FETCH ME a gin and tonic. I looked around the inside of the Coliseum. It was built back when dancing was what couples did on a Friday night. The building was pretty much a huge, rectangular, wooden dance floor with a roof overhead for good measure. Along two sides, intimate little booths were niched into the stucco walls. The thirty-foot ceiling was rounded like an airport hangar. Chandeliers hung from it like diamond pendants. A six-piece band in tuxedoes were busy setting up on the stage at the opposite end.

  I felt right at home in my sparkly vintage outfit. I imagined myself back in the 1930s – a femme fatale in a too-tight red dress. All I was missing was a vial of poison tucked between my boobs....

  “Here’s your TNT, miss dynamite.”

  I spun around and almost lost my balance. I looked up at Tom. Dang it. Just like my daydream, he was too good to be true. Tom would look handsome in a wheelbarrow full of cow manure. Put him in a charcoal suit with a red tie, and it just wasn’t fair. A girl didn’t have a chance.

  Tom slid his warm hand along the small of my naked back. Traitorous lust shot through me like an injection of liquid fire.

  “Should we find a seat?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I said, hoping my dress wouldn’t split in half when I sat down.

  Tom led me to a table near the stage that had been reserved for police officers. When we walked up, half the guys’ eyes bulged out of their heads. I grinned smugly. A balding man in his mid-forties took off his glasses and eyed me up and down.

  “Tom. You lucky dog! She makes the rest of our wives look like chopped li –”

  The woman sitting next to the bald guy elbowed him in the ribs. His glasses flew back to his nose and he hunkered down to grovel with his angry, glaring wife. Tom touched my back again, and pulled a chair out for me. I lowered myself slowly, hoping the material would hold. It did. Tom sat next to me, squeezed my hand and whispered in my ear.

  “He’s right, you know. You’re the most gorgeous woman in the room.”

  I didn’t want to like his words, but I did anyway. “Thanks.”

  The band started up, and began to play one of my favorites, Just the Way You Look Tonight. I couldn’t resist.

  “Dance with me,” I whispered in Tom’s ear.

  He whispered back. “I promise. In bed tonight.”

  I pulled back as if he’d spit in my ear.

  “No. Now. Come on. It’s my favorite song.”

  “Okay, okay. But I’m not guaranteeing the safety of your toes.”

  “I’ll take the chance.”

  I yanked Tom toward the dance floor. It was filling up fast with middle-aged couples dancing cheek-to-cheek. Tom pulled me to his chest and began to sway. The soft lighting, the feel of him close to me, it should have been magical. But every time I drifted off into a dream that things would be all right between us, a finger poked me awake and reminded me of Mickie and Ming Ming’s and Milly. Oh my.

  The music stopped abruptly. Someone spoke over the microphone. The dancing couples came to a standstill.

  “Just a couple of quick announcements, folks! Hope you are enjoying the music of Sandy Flats!”

  The man speaking onstage was swimming around in an ill-fitting tuxedo. His expression was that of a self-congratulatory, overblown prick. Either that, or my attitude about men in general was in desperate need of adjusting. It was a tough call.

  “That’s Jergen’s dear old dad,” Tom whispered.

  I looked again. Nope. I was right the first time. That man was as smug as my cousin Tammy Jeeter at our family reunions.

  “Hello everyone. I’m Chief of Police Franz Jergen. I just wanted to thank everyone for turning out to the benefit. You all look mighty fancy – some more than others! Ha ha! I just wanted to take a minute to give a special thanks to Officer Hans Jergen for setting up the benefit. Oh. Excuse me. I meant to say, Lieutenant Hans Jergen. Congratulations on the promotion, Lieutenant Jergen!”

  A round of applause broke out, but the smiles on the policemen’s faces seemed forced. As the music started up again, Tom leaned in close and whispered in my ear.

  “No surprise there. He’s been on the force three freaking years. Me? Twenty! Now we’re on the same level. Jerks. Both of them.”

  So this was the bad blood between Tom and Hans Jergen? Is that why he wouldn’t come to the house when he knew Jergen was going to be there? Was Tom’s pride more important to him than my safety?

  The band started up again with Jack the Knife.

  “Let’s go sit down,” Tom said.

  “Oh no, mister. I’ve come here to dance, and we’re going to dance.”

  “I’m not in the mood.”

  I grabbed Tom’s hand and put it on my waist. You hate to dance? Too bad!

  “Come on, don’t be a jerk, Tom. Show me what you’ve got.”

  “You really do have to have it your way, don’t you?”

  Before I could answer, Tom grabbed my hand and twirled me around. He yanked me in close to him, but his eyes seemed bitter and distant. He spun me out hard, then pulled me back again with such force that I bumped into his chest. He faltered. His shoe came down hard on my silver stiletto. I tripped and lunged sideways.

  Just before my face hit the floor, Tom caught me by the ribs and hauled me up in a vertical Heimlich maneuver. I gasped, and one of my chicken fill-its flew the coop. I watched in slow-motion horror as it bounced like a ball of peach Jell-O across the wooden floor. The sole of a shiny black loafer squashed down on it, and a man fell hard, face-first at my feet.

  He scrambled up in a huff and picked up the rubber boob.

  “Who’s is this?” he demanded.

  The man was Lieutenant Hans Jergen. Oh, crap!

  The crowd came to a standstill. They gathered in a circle around us like schoolkids waiting for a fight to break out. I tried to look innocent, but as peoples’ eyes scanned the group, they invariably settled on me. It was impossible not to notice my dress’s crumpled right bodice. Compared to the left side, it looked like a deflated air bag. Jergen’s eyes found my chest, then my
face.

  “You again!”

  “I...I...uh....”

  I looked over at Tom. He was livid, but holding it in. Jergen turned his wrath on Tom.

  “Lieutenant Foreman. Perfect. It figures. You two are of the same caliber.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  Jergen whipped his head around to face me.

  “You’re a criminal – and so is he.”

  “What?”

  I followed Jergen’s eyes over to Tom. He stood there motionless, arms folded, and didn’t say a word. What a coward!

  “Ms. Fremden, correct?” Jergen said, his voice full of disdain.

  I stared at the floor. “Yes.”

  “I’ve got a suspicious body in the morgue with your name on it. And today I took a statement from a man charging you with cutting off his finger. If I hadn’t been so busy with the benefit today, I’d have already paid you a visit and read you your rights.”

  My gut went limp. Jergen turned to Tom.

  “And you. She probably doesn’t even know about your unspeakable crime.”

  Jergen looked back at me, his face twisted with anger and disgust.

  “Or did he happen to mention that he got my sister pregnant and left her in the lurch?”

  “What?!”

  I grabbed the falsie from Officer Jergen’s hand and spat at both men with my eyes.

  “How could you, Tom? I’m leaving! Don’t follow me!”

  Tom took a step toward me.

  “Val, wait!”

  I turned and glared at the crowd like a psychotic cow.

  “What are you people looking at?” I screeched. “Show’s over!”

  The bystanders parted like the Red Sea to let me pass. I stuffed the chicken fill-it back in my dress and stomped toward the exit. Despite my demand for him not to, Tom followed behind. When I got outside, he grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.

  “Where are you going, Val?”

  “Home!”

  “You’re not even going to let me explain?”

  “What’s to explain, Tom? I get it. I know everything about you that I care to know. It’s over. I’m taking a cab home. Don’t bother calling me again. Ever!”

  Chapter Twenty-Four