Val Fremden Mystery Box Set 1

by Margaret Lashley

  He screamed and slammed the door. But not before I got an eyeful. Or, to be more accurate, a thimble full.

  That explained a lot about Lt. Jergen.

  Chapter Fourteen

  BY LATE MORNING WEDNESDAY, the BMW-sized heap of files in my cell at Griffith & Maas had eroded to the size of a VW Beetle. As piles got sorted and filed away in cabinets, I began to unearth things that had gotten lost amid the giant mass of paperwork. So far, I’d found three writing pens, a desiccated mouse carcass, and, oddly, a dental retainer. But the most interesting discovery occurred when I reached down to pick up the last stack of files before lunch. It was the name on top that caught my eye. The file was labeled H.F. JERGEN.

  OMG! Could it be Hans Jergen’s file? I’ve already seen his private parts. What would it hurt to take a peek at his private papers?

  I looked down the hallway to make sure no one was watching. The door to Milly’s office was closed. Mrs. Barnes wasn’t at her desk. The old lady was probably on one of her many cigarette breaks. That woman smoked more than the grease fire that had burned down Water Loo’s.

  I opened the file. It belonged to Hans Franz Jergen, all right. Hans’ tax return for last year was right on top. I looked at the bottom sum. Geeze! Police work was more profitable than I thought.

  On closer inspection, I found that most of his income hadn’t come from his salary, but from stockholder distributions from a company called Pet Patrol. I flipped to the second page. Besides being a cop, Jergen was the CEO of Pet Patrol, Inc.

  Funny. Jergen didn’t seem like the kind of person a dog would like.

  I heard the front door open. It was Mrs. Barnes hacking up a lung on her way back to her desk. I shut the file just as her head peeked around the corner.

  “Taking an early lunch, Val. Got a doctor’s appointment. Milly’s keeping down the fort. Should be back by two.”

  “Okay. Hope it’s nothing serious,” I said in a cheerful tone that I hoped hid my nervousness.

  “Yeah. Too late for that,” she said dryly and turned to leave. It was then that I noticed that Mrs. Barnes’ skunk-striped hair, which was all neat and tidy in the front, was matted and flat in the back. I guess she’d forgotten to comb it after getting out of bed. I watched her disappeared from the doorframe. A minute later, the front door opened and closed again.

  I couldn’t help myself. I reopened Jergen’s file. I wanted his address. It might come in handy if I decided to set that old couch on fire and throw it in his yard. I envisioned it my mind – the first “drive-by sofa-ing.”

  I placed the first page of his tax return on the copy machine and hit start. I heard Milly’s office door open. I snatched the file out of the copier, slapped it in the folder and flung it on the heap.

  “What ’cha doin’?” Milly asked from the doorway.

  “Nothing. I was –”

  “I’m bored. You busy for lunch?”

  “Oh. No. I mean –”

  My phone rang and startled the guilty hell out of me. “Hold on,” I said to Milly, then grabbed the phone. “It’s Tom.”

  Milly nodded. “Tell him I said, ‘hi.’” She headed down the hall to her office.

  “What’s up, Tom?”

  “Just wondering if you can meet me for lunch.”

  “Oh. Sorry, but Milly just asked me.”

  “Aren’t you Miss Popular.”

  “How about drinks after work? My place around 5:30 or 6?”

  “Even better. Okay.”

  “It’s a date then.” I hung up and went back to Milly’s office.

  “What did Tom want?”

  “To go to lunch. But I told him I had plans with you.”

  Milly grinned, then scrunched her nose. “He wasn’t mad?”

  “No. Why should he be?”

  Milly sighed. “You know, there ought to be a law against boyfriends like Tom. He’s smart, reasonable, says he loves you, and he’s got a firm butt. He sets the bar pretty high compared to the lowlifes left loitering around for the rest of us to haggle over. There’s not many like him. In fact, you might have landed yourself the last decent bachelor out there, Val. Yes. You’ve quite probably doomed me to spinsterhood.”

  “I just can’t picture you as a spinster, Milly. You’ve got way too much to offer.”

  Milly sighed again and smiled weakly. “Flattery will get you nowhere, sister. It’s your turn to pay for lunch.”

  WHY HADN’T I GIVEN myself more time to prepare?

  Before I’d begun working, I’d had all day to get ready for a sexy rendezvous with Tom. Thanks to a clot of slow-moving tourists on Gulf Boulevard, I now I had less than ten minutes. I jumped in the shower and shaved my armpits and legs. I toweled off quickly, then slapped on skin lotion and tugged on a pair of sexy panties. I didn’t wear perfume. The light, rose scent of my moisturizer was enough. I hated colognes. All of them. They burned my eyes and throat, and made my mouth taste like soap. Sexy? Nope.

  I fastened my push-up bra and studied a scrape on my inner arm. I’d gotten it yesterday when Winky and I’d moved the old couch to the bonfire pit. I slipped on a silky sundress and combed back my damp hair. Thankfully, my makeup had survived the shower pretty much intact.

  I was officially ready to rumble. When Tom arrived a moment later, so was he. But not in the way I’d hoped.

  “I thought we’d talked about this before,” he barked as he marched through the door, his sea-green eyes stormy with anger.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re putting yourself at risk again. With another of your silly stakeouts. Seriously, Val. You could get injured – or worse. People are crazy out there. Don’t you know that?”

  Tom was dead serious. I joked to ease the tension.

  “Of course I do, Tom. I’m friends with Winky and Goober, aren’t I?”

  “I’m not joking, Val. What is this about? You having Winky on lookout at Garvey’s?”

  “How did you know that? Did Jorge tell you?”

  “What? No. Jerry Muller did. He said he overheard some hot brunette talking to a red-headed pile of freckles about a stakeout at Davie’s Donuts. I figured it was you and Winky.”

  I winked. “Oh. Hot brunette, huh?”

  Tom wasn’t amused. “So it’s true?”

  “Yes. But it’s not like last time. I’m not trying to catch a criminal, Tom. I’m just trying to find Cold Cuts.”

  Tom’s face contorted in confusion. “Lunch meat?”

  “No. The woman who bought the RV. Her nickname is Cold Cuts.”

  “Wait a minute. You know her nickname, but not her last name? Val, you truly are a lousy detective.”

  “Look, when she told me her nickname, I didn’t even know it was her.”

  “Her?”

  “Her her. The one in the RV. It’s no big deal, Tom.”

  “If it’s no big deal, why didn’t you just tell me what you’re up to? Why keep it a secret from me?”

  “I dunno. Things can get...unpredictable when the guys are involved. I didn’t want whatever happens to get traced back to you.”

  Tom grabbed me by the shoulders and stared into my eyes. I’d never seen him so intense. “Val, we’re not going to make it if you keep hiding things from me.”

  “What? But...I don’t mean to keep secrets from you, Tom. I just want to protect you from my stuff. You’re a cop. I know you have to tow a different line than me.”

  “I get it, but I don’t agree. Do you have any other secrets you want to tell me? I need to know I can trust you to come clean with me.”

  “I do have one.”

  “What?”

  “I ran into Hans Jergen yesterday.”

  Tom’s face registered anger and suspicion. “What did he want?”

  “Nothing. I ran out of gas. He gave me a lift. I saw his baton. No biggie.”

  “You saw his what?”

  I cringed. “Baton?”

  Tom looked dumbstruck. “Are you saying what I think you’re say
ing?”

  “It was an accident. We were at the gas station and –”

  Tom’s face flushed with anger. He wasn’t listening. “How...I mean...geeze, Val. I know that you’re a magnet for the bizarre. But this? What have you got to say for yourself?”

  I tried again to lighten the situation with a joke. “Let’s just say, unlike you, Hans has his shortcomings.”

  Tom shook his head. “Val, this is just too much. I’ve got to go.”

  “But Tom!”

  He didn’t hear me. He was already halfway out the door.

  I WAS ON MY SECOND Tanqueray and tonic when I heard a knock at the door. Tom! I raced to the door and flung it open. Laverne was standing there with another hideous lump of wasted ceramic in her hands. This one showed a bit more skill. But, I mean, the last one looked like it was rescued from a prison toilet bowl.

  “Hi, Laverne.”

  “Hi, sugar. You okay?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Well, I saw Tom’s car drive away in a hurry. And you look like you just lost your last dollar at the slots.”

  I shrugged. “Come on in.”

  Laverne smiled, but her face still registered concern.

  “I’m glad you got that couch moved, honey. Neighbors were starting to talk.”

  “What? Really?”

  “Aww, don’t worry about them. How do you like my latest sculpture?”

  “It’s...,” I said, then, quite unexpectedly, started bawling.

  Laverne looked at the lump of clay in her hand. “Oh, honey! Is it that awful?”

  Her misinterpretation of my crying made me laugh through my tears.

  “Oh, Laverne. No! I’m just...upset about Tom. We had a fight.”

  “Well, what about, sugar?”

  “He thinks I’m not being honest with him. Not telling the truth. I tried to convince him, but I just mucked it all up.”

  Laverne put her sculpture on the kitchen counter, grabbed a paper towel and led me to the couch. She sat beside me, and put her long spider arm around me.

  “It’s gonna be okay, Val. It’s just a misunderstanding. That’s all.”

  “Do you think I’m honest, Laverne? That I tell the truth?”

  She handed me the paper towel. “Only you know that for sure. But I tell you what. In Vegas, I learned to spot a faker a mile away. You’re no phony baloney, sugar.”

  I sniffed and dabbed my eyes with a paper towel. “No?”

  “Listen, Val. I know Mr. Happy Banana looks like a turd. But you were nice enough not to say so. That’s not being fake. That’s being kind. There’s a big difference.”

  I laughed again, shocked by Laverne’s insight and kindness. “It’s not that bad.”

  “Yes it is. And this one’s not much better. But hey, it’s been fun learning. That’s what counts.”

  “I guess you’re right, Laverne. But I don’t seem to ever learn. When it comes to guys, I mean. I don’t know why Tom would be so angry over our stakeout. It’s just –”

  “Honey, I guarandangtee you the stakeout’s got nothing to do with it. Tom’s probably sore over you not saying you loved him back.”

  I looked at Laverne, stunned. “But he didn’t even mention that.”

  Laverne winked at me and smiled. “I know it may sound funny, sugar. But we don’t always say what we really mean.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  I KNEW IT WAS WRONG, but I couldn’t help myself. While Mrs. Barnes took a smoke break, I rifled through the battered metal file cabinet labeled “F-G.” I just had to see if Tom was a customer of Griffith & Maas. I’d almost convinced myself it was research – a simple salary comparison between Tom and Hans Jergen. But what I truly wanted was to know was if Tom was broke. More specifically, if he was fiscally irresponsible.

  I can’t afford to get swindled again.

  The thought surprised me, and kicked off a fierce internal debate.

  But Val, the only way you could get swindled by Tom was if you married him. Are you thinking of marrying him?

  No. Not really. But I don’t have to be married for him to go through my things...forge my signature.

  He wouldn’t do that!

  Crap! He’s already has! With the RV!

  My sticky fingers were on a file labeled D. Formack when a voice rang out behind me. I jumped like a cat waking up next to a cobra.

  “What are you doing?”

  I dropped the file and shoved the drawer closed. I whipped around to find old lady Barnes leaning on the doorframe, one ankle crossed over the other. She tapped her finger on a pack of filter-less Camels.

  “Well?” Mrs. Barnes’ eyes danced with the pleasure of watching me squirm.

  “Uh....”

  “Our business was built on discretion, Ms. Fremden. You’d best come clean with it.”

  I cringed and spilled my guts. “I was looking to see if my boyfriend’s files were in here.”

  The skunk-haired woman’s face morphed from a scowl to a grin. “Oh. Why didn’t you say so?”

  She walked over to the cabinet. “Any luck?”

  Relief perked me to attention. “No. The closest I got to was Thomas Format.”

  “Too bad. It always pays to know your enemies. He might still be in that pile you’re working on. Want a donut?”

  I didn’t, but I took one anyway. I figured this was one woman I didn’t want to piss off.

  MILLY WAS OUT OF THE office most of the day. I skipped lunch and begged off early so I could prepare for the stakeout. When I got home, I wasted the extra hour taking a nap. The doorbell woke me up. It was Milly.

  “You look like hell.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Were you sleeping?”

  “Yeah. Just a catnap. This job is kicking my butt.”

  Milly laughed and closed the door behind her. “Mrs. Barnes can be pretty demanding sometimes.”

  I flexed my tired shoulders. “Sometimes? You know, she caught me going through the filing cabinets today.”

  “Isn’t that your job?”

  “Yeah. But I was snooping. She nailed me.”

  “Oh my word! What happened?”

  “When I told her I was looking for my boyfriend’s file, she laughed. Then she offered me a donut.”

  Milly shook her head. “I told you! Step awaaay from the donuts.”

  “I know. I hid it in my purse and tossed it in the dumpster.”

  “Why were you looking for Tom’s file?”

  “I dunno. Why do you work for Mrs. Barnes? She kind of gives me the creeps.”

  Milly smirked. “Only kind of?”

  “So, I don’t get it, Milly. Why do you work for her?”

  “Why does anybody work for anybody? The money. Griffith & Maas pays better than a lot of other firms. Believe me, I’ve looked. And now that I’m getting older, it’s hard to get someone to take a chance on me.”

  “You’re not old.”

  “I said older, not old. And fatter. And look – I’m starting to get wrinkles on the bridge of my nose!”

  “What? Where?”

  “At the top. Between my eyes.” Milly pointed at her nose and drew her face close to mine.

  “They’re nothing.”

  “Nothing? I’ll probably look like a crypt keeper in another six months.”

  I shook my head. “Quit it. You’re scaring me.”

  Milly’s face registered mock shock. “See?”

  I punched her on the arm. “Oh, shut up! How about a drink?”

  “Geeze. I thought you’d never ask.”

  “TNT?”

  “Works for me. So what are we gonna do for disguises, Val? I’m not wearing my good suit to this showdown at the not-okay corral.”

  “Very funny. Hmmm. Wait a minute. I’ve got an idea.”

  I went to my bedroom and returned with the two bags of used clothes I’d bought at Laverne’s bidding. Milly rifled through them while I made the gin and tonics.

  “These are hideous, Val! Where did you ge
t them?”

  “Laverne.”

  Milly tugged a yellow polka-dot dress on over her slim skirt and silk camisole. She held her blonde hair in a bun and struck a pose with her index finger to her cheek. “How do I look?”

  “Ravishing, darling Daisy. Donald is gonna eat you up.”

  The doorbell rang. Milly stopped smirking at me and stuck an eye in the peephole. “Speak of the devil.” Milly turned her nose up. “Should I let Laverne in?”

  “Yes, of course, Milly.”

  “All right.” Milly rolled her eyes, pouted and opened the door.

  “Well hi there, Milly! I just dropped by to see if I could help you girls out. Oh! Look at you! You look sweeter’n a set of triple sevens in that outfit.”

  I smirked. “It’s one of the dresses you picked out, Laverne,” I said in a syrupy tone, then dead-eyed Milly. “Milly’s going to wear it tonight.”

  Milly smiled sweetly at Laverne, then shot me a death stare. “I’m ready for that cocktail anytime now, Val.” Milly grabbed something out of the clothing bag. “Oh, and here’s what Val’s wearing.”

  “Why that’s the perfect choice,” Laverne said. She beamed, clasped her hands together and looked us both up and down. “Now all we need is hair and makeup.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I WAS WISHING FOR DUSK...to hide my shame. My “outfit by Laverne” made my trashy interview outfit look like a bashful Southern belle.

  Milly glanced over at me from the passenger seat and giggled. I scowled and mashed Maggie’s gas pedal to the floorboard. The faster we got to Garvey’s, the fewer the people I could be accused of causing to die from laughter.

  “Oh, let’s stop here,” Milly said. She pointed toward an approaching convenience store. “I need some gum.”

  “No way. I’m not being seen anywhere in this getup.”