Val Fremden Mystery Box Set 1

by Margaret Lashley

  “Is this about Winky?” Laverne asked. She clasped her hands on her boney knees, trying to keep them from knocking against Maggie’s metal dashboard.

  “No. Winky can wait. It’s about Latrina. Winnie said I sounded like Latrina over the phone. Mickie, the guy who lost his finger? He said he heard me tell someone to cut his finger off. It must have been Latrina, because it sure as hell wasn’t me.”

  “Why would this Latrina woman want to cut off Mickie’s finger?”

  “I don’t know, Laverne. That’s what we’re going to find out.”

  I careened Maggie into the lot at Water Loo’s just in time to see Loo driving away. A grey-haired guy was in the passenger seat, but I couldn’t make him out.

  “Laverne, any idea who that guy is in the car with Loo?”

  “It could have been Bingo Bob, sugar. But I’m not a hundred percent sure.”

  We scrambled out of the old Ford. I trotted to the grimy entry door and flung it open like a six-shooter cowboy in a Western showdown. The place was almost empty and eerily quiet.

  Without Loo around to argue with, Latrina had gone mute and disappeared. Winnie dropped a grimy washrag and looked up. She’d been busy pretending to wipe down the corner booth while Winky flirted with her. Jorge was sitting opposite Winky, his head down on the table, his fingers wrapped around an empty beer bottle.

  “Hey, Val Pal!” Winky hollered across the restaurant. I gave him a nod and motioned for his girlfriend to come over to me.

  “Hey Winnie. I need to talk to you a minute.”

  Winky slapped on a look of mock suspicion and hollered across the room.

  “Hey now, Val. Don’t you be gettin’ any ideas. Winnie’s mine. I saw her first.”

  “Don’t worry. This is official business,” I called back.

  Winky twisted his lips skeptically. Laverne followed me and Winnie over to the coffee counter stacked with dirty dishes.

  “Where’s Latrina?” I asked Winnie.

  “Weird. You know, you sound more like her over the phone than in person. Maybe it’s because she’s always yelling. It makes her voice higher pitched, more like yours. You know –”

  “Winnie, this is important. I really need to talk to Latrina.”

  A furrow appeared in Winnie’s pudgy forehead. Her bottom lip pooched out.

  “Okay. I’ll go get her for you.”

  Winnie disappeared behind a metal kitchen door smudged with filthy handprints. She came out a few seconds later, her head hanging like a whipped dog.

  “She says she’s busy. You need to make an appointment.”

  “Busy? What could she possibly be doing?”

  I pushed past Winnie into the kitchen. What I saw inside made me want to go home and suck on a bottle of bleach. One thing was for sure. I’d never drink another cup of coffee at Water Loo’s again as long as I lived.

  Latrina was hunched over a table, back to me, studying a computer screen covered in tables and charts. Without my cheater glasses, I couldn’t make out squat. Latrina scribbled something on a piece of paper, then used the pencil to scratch a spot underneath a raggedy bun of thick, frizzy black hair. The thought that I sounded like this shrieking shrew made my face scrunch into a self-pity frown.

  “I need to talk to you,” I said.

  Latrina’s eyes never left the computer screen.

  “I told that girl to tell you to make an appointment.”

  “She did. Look. I know you cut off Mickie’s finger.”

  Latrina whipped around, her eyes as black as a raven’s.

  “Who the hell told you that?”

  I played a wild card. “Bingo Bob.”

  “That creep! Can’t trust nobody anymore. Well, he’s a liar. I didn’t do it. Loo did. These jerks are always trying to make me take the hit for their bull crap!”

  “Loo did it? Why did Loo cut off Mickie’s finger?”

  Latrina’s face twisted with suspicion.

  “Wait a minute...I didn’t say Loo did it. You wasn’t hearing me right.”

  “Really? What did you say, then?”

  “Who the hell are you? The freaking cops?”

  “No. I’m...a friend.”

  “Friend my foot! I seen you around. You been spying on me or something? Get the hell out of here. I don’t want to see your ugly face in here again!”

  Latrina picked up a knife and stabbed the air in my direction. I jumped back like I’d been shoved.

  “Any more dumb-ass questions, ‘friend,’ and your finger’s next!”

  Latrina stood up and lunged toward me. I turned tail and high-stepped it across the kitchen, pushed through the grimy door and ran headlong into Winnie. We crashed together, face-to-face, onto the floor. Landing on Winnie was like doing a belly flop onto a lumpy mattress. I rolled off of her and tried to suck some air back into my lungs.

  Winnie sat up and adjusted her glasses.

  “What’s going on, Val?”

  “Act like you don’t know me,” I whispered. “I’ll explain later.”

  I scrambled to my feet. Latrina kicked open the kitchen door and screamed.

  “I told you to get the hell out of here, witch. I mean now!”

  “I’m leaving!” I shouted. “Your waitress was in the way. She wouldn’t let me pass by until you said it was okay.”

  Latrina glanced down at Winnie. She was still on the floor, but had pushed herself up to sitting.

  “Good work. Let her go.”

  Latrina’s raven eyes locked on me.

  “But if you see her in here again, let me know. We’ll make some ladyfinger sandwiches.”

  Latrina grinned and chopped the air with her knife. I backed away, then turned and scampered around the coffee counter. Winky, Jorge and Laverne were standing in a row, open-mouthed, like kids waiting for a dose of castor oil. Winky started to speak. I raised my right hand and discretely ran a slash-throat finger across my neck. All three blinked over at Latrina and stared, wide-eyed and silent. I grabbed Laverne’s arm and marched us out of Water Loos like two indignant floozies.

  “What the hell-fire happened in there, Val?” Laverne asked when the door closed behind us.

  “I...I got what I came for. Loo did it. He...cut Mickie’s finger off.”

  My knees nearly buckled. I hobbled over to Maggie, turned the ignition with my trembling hand, and backed out of the parking lot like someone learning to drive a stick shift. After I’d put half a mile’s distance between me and Latrina, I could finally breath enough to speak normally.

  “I’m so sorry for involving you in all this, Laverne.”

  “Are you kidding? This is the most excitement I’ve had since Elvis left the building.”

  I glanced over at her. The old woman in the pink velour suit was grinning from ear to ear.

  “Thanks...for being there for me.”

  “My pleasure kid. What’s an adventure without someone to share it with?”

  “You sound like a greeting card.”

  “Yeah? Well, I hear there’s worse things to sound like.”

  Laverne winked at me. I smiled despite myself and hit the gas.

  THE AFTERNOON SKY THREATENED thunderstorms. The tourists that normally thronged along Gulf Boulevard were tucked safely away in their rooms watching TV or getting drunk at a hotel bar. With no pedestrians to dodge, Lavern and I made it back home in under five minutes. I pulled Maggie into the drive and hit the button for the ragtop. It squealed and moaned and whined like an electric can opener until the canvas top hung in the air about three feet above the front seats. At that point, the motor gave up and let gravity take over. The top collapsed and flopped onto the windshield frame like a withered, white rose.

  “Click the clasp like this,” I instructed Laverne.

  I lined up the canvas top’s clip to the frame’s fastener and snapped it into place. Laverne tried to do the same on her side, but ended up breaking another nail.

  “Dang it! I wonder if the price of beauty is worth it, Val. Anoth
er blasted trip to Beauty Nail. I’d probably own a ski resort in Vail if I wasn’t addicted to gel nails.”

  I climbed out of the old Ford and studied the red polished claws I’d gotten to impress a man I’d probably never see again.

  “How do I get rid of these things, Laverne?”

  She swung her long, skinny legs out of the car and hoisted herself to her feet.

  “You’ve got another two weeks on those, sugar. Don’t waste it. I’ll glue this one back on until Winky can get my car fixed.”

  “Oh crap! I forgot! I’ll call Winnie again. Maybe she can drop Winky by when she gets off today at three.”

  “That’d be swell.”

  Laverne looked at her watch.

  “You know, that’s just an hour from now. How about I come inside and make us a pot of coffee? You still look a bit shaken up. Maybe you ought not be alone.”

  “Uh...sure.”

  I let Laverne in and pointed to the coffee pot. I sat on a stool at the bar and dialed Winnie while the nosy lady from Vegas rifled through my kitchen cabinets.

  “Winnie? Hey. Can you talk?”

  “Latrina?”

  “No. It’s me. Val!”

  “Sorry! It’s just...well, Latrina left in a huff right after you did. I thought maybe it was her call –”

  “It’s okay. Winnie, do you know what Latrina does on that computer? I mean, what are all those charts and tables I saw her working on?”

  “Oh. That’s dog track stuff. She and Loo are down at Derby Lane betting every day that place is open. She’s gone off there now to catch the afternoon matinee.”

  “Okay. That makes sense, thanks. Can I talk to Winky now?”

  “He’s in the john.”

  “Oh. Uh...just curious. Do Latrina and Loo know a guy named Mickie?”

  “I don’t know. What’s he look like?”

  “Hard to miss. He’s got an eye patch and a gold front tooth.”

  “Hmm. We got a couple of regulars match that description.”

  What? “Okay. He’s missing a finger?”

  “Got a few of those, too.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He plays a guitar?”

  “Not sure. How would I know?”

  Good point. “Winnie, do you think Loo might be capable of chopping off a guy’s finger?”

  “Oh. Hmmm. Well, you know he’s always throwing knives at the rats in the kitchen. His aim’s pretty good, too. It’s gross, but he likes to cut the rats’ heads off after he stabs ‘em. Loo told me one time that was his way of ‘getting even with the rats.’ I saw him one time –”

  “So I guess that’s a ‘yes.’”

  “For sure. I could definitely see Loo cutting off somebody’s finger. Especially if there’s money in it for him.”

  “Really?”

  “Val, I heard them talking. Loo and Latrina are just about flat broke. I’m not supposed to tell anybody, but lately they’ve been making me ‘recycle’ the coffee and the creamers. They say reheating takes out the germs, but I don’t know if I believe all that.”

  I fought back a gag. “Thanks, Winnie.”

  “Sure. Anytime. But what good is a finger, Val? Can you sell them on the black market or something?”

  WTF. “I don’t think so. But this one had a gold ring on it. That might go a ways toward paying off gambling debts.”

  “Oh. I get it.”

  “Winnie, why don’t you just bring Winky by when you get off work?”

  “Okay. Will do.”

  I clicked off the phone. Laverne set a cup of coffee on the counter in front of me. I watched the cream swirl around in the mug and fought back a retch.

  “What’s the matter, sugar?” Laverne asked. “I thought you liked it with cream.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  COUCHES TODAY WAS STILL holding my new sofa for ransom, so Laverne and I sat on stools at the kitchen breakfast bar. While we waited for Winnie to come by with Winky, Laverne drank coffee. I sipped on iced tea.

  “I still can’t for the life of me figure out how that finger ended up in my couch, Laverne. Life can really suck sometimes.”

  Laverne reached a long, thin arm over and patted my back.

  “Sorry, sugar. Hey, do you have a picture of it?”

  “The couch?”

  “No. The finger.”

  “Really? You want to see it?”

  “Hey, indulge an old lady. Cheap thrills are the only ones I can afford anymore.”

  “Okay, but it’s gross.”

  I searched my cell phone for the picture. I handed it to Laverne. She eyed it and grimaced.

  “Eeew. You’re right. Mighty gruesome.”

  “Told you.”

  Suddenly her horsey face brightened. “But that’s a nice manicure!”

  A horn sounded in the driveway. I climbed off my stool and shuffled to the front door. Winnie drove up in a bluish-gray Dodge Caravan at least a decade older than she was. She hit the brakes. A second later, the side door opened and all three stooges tumbled out like a low-budget clown-car act. Winky ran toward my front door like he needed to use the crapper, but he stopped a foot in front of me, his eyes as big as saucers.

  “Val, you won’t believe what I just did!”

  I wasn’t at all sure I wanted to know. I turned my face sideways and braced for the words that would surely come, whether I wanted them to or not.

  “What?” I said out of the side of my mouth.

  “I found an insurance policy. For a million bucks!”

  My head snapped back to face him.

  “What? What are you talking about, Winky?”

  Winnie sidled up to Winky and punched him on the arm.

  “Val, he told me he was going to the toilet, but he didn’t. He snuck into the kitchen and went through Loo’s papers. He’s gonna get me fired!”

  “Now I didn’t do nothin’ of the sort,” Winky said. “That there policy was sittin’ right on top of his desk. And I won’t say a word about it if you don’t want me to, darlin’.”

  “But you just did!” Winnie punched Winky on the arm again.

  “Oh. Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that.”

  “Why would he have his insurance papers out?” I asked. “Is he planning on making a claim?”

  “Maybe,” Winnie said. “I’ve noticed a few things missing lately.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, like the dishwasher...and the steam cleaner.”

  “It wasn’t like they were using them anyway,” I said sourly.

  “They’re really hurting for cash,” Winnie said. “I heard them talking about not being able to make their mortgage payments.”

  “That sounds like motivation enough to cut off a finger to get the gold ring,” Laverne said.

  “Bingo,” I said.

  “Or maybe Bingo Bob,” Laverne said.

  I looked over at the idiot-savant. Her donkey eyes were staring up at a point to her right. Whether she was contemplating the man’s motive or merely lost in space was anyone’s guess.

  MY LIFE WAS HANGING on by a thread attached to five needles – none of which was sharp enough to puncture wet tissue paper. Winnie, Winky, Jorge, Goober and Laverne were sitting in a circle on my living room floor, trying to devise a plan to find out what Loo and Latrina were up to. I stood in the kitchen watching them, my hand on the freezer handle, contemplating whether or not it was TNT time. I was pretty sure it was.

  “I’ve seen Loo and Bingo Bob hanging out at Cigar Daddy’s,” Goober said.

  “I could go over there,” Winnie offered.

  “No. Not plausible. A woman would never hang out there,” Goober countered. “Besides, they know you. It would have to be someone they didn’t know – or couldn’t recognize. If I had a disguise, I could try to eavesdrop on their conversation.”

  “How about that Über-dog scam you got goin’,” Winky suggested.

  Goober smoothed his moustache with his thumb and index finger a
s he considered the idea. The other four stared at him like lost groupies, waiting patiently for their fearless leader to announce the way to salvation.

  “It would seem more authentic if I actually had a customer of the canine persuasion,” Goober said finally.

  “If you mean you need a dog, I think I can help with that,” Laverne chimed in.

  “Yes, that’s precisely what I mean. What do you have in mind, Laverne?”

  “Well, my next-door neighbor has a bulldog named Buster.”

  “I was hoping for something a little less aggressive. A more passive pooch, if you will.”

  Laverne nodded agreeably. “Oh, he’s a real pussycat when you know how to handle him. I got him to stop barking all day with one little trick.”

  Goober’s left eyebrow raised an inch. “Really? What was that?”

  “I found out he likes beer.”

  “That could work,” Jorge said.

  “Shore could,” Winky agreed. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  Everyone turned to face me. I shrugged and nodded. With no other options, the worst that could happen didn’t seem all that bad.

  AFTER EVERYONE LEFT, I checked my phone. There was a text from Tom. It read, “I’m worried about you. Stay out of trouble, please. Call me.”

  A shiver ran up my spine. What does he know? It was almost as if Tom was spying on me through my window. How could he know what I was up to? I tapped a finger on my chin until an idea shook loose. Oh yeah. Tom’s little pal Jorge. The thought of him invading my privacy made me madder than a bucktoothed Billy goat. I punched speed dial.

  “Val! Finally!”

  “Finally what, Tom? I don’t appreciate you having your little minion Jorge spying on me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t give me that crap or I’m hanging up.”

  “Okay, okay. How did you know?”

  “I’m a freaking detective, remember? You called me one yourself. What do you want, Tom?”

  “I want to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Me do something stupid? You’re one to talk.”

  “I know. Look, just give me a chance to explain. About the baby. It’s complicated.”

  “Well, make it uncomplicated.”