NOT What I Was Expecting

by Tallulah Anne Scott

  “Tell the Becnels I sure am sorry to hear about Barney. He was a good friend to Eliza, and I hate that it might have been the cause of him ending up dead. We talked at Eliza’s funeral. He told me Marianne’s Garden was in a safe place and offered to get it to me after the service was over. I told him my wife was scared enough after our house was burglarized, and I’d appreciate it if he’d hold onto it until I could make arrangements to put it someplace safe back in Ohio. My wife already told me she didn’t want that thing in our house, since it’s worth so much money.”

  I tried to think of another question that might prove helpful, but I was also anxious to get off the phone and let Luke in on the scoop. I wanted to see what we could do with this information.

  “Mr. Parker, thank you so much for sharing this information with me,” I told him. “I know it must not be easy to go into such painful issues, but we do appreciate your help.”

  “Well, it’s true that my family’s a mess, but if it helps bring Eliza’s and Barney’s killer to justice, it needs to be explored. Do you think I should call the sheriff’s office and tell them what I just told you?” Mr. Parker wanted to know. “I feel awful that we didn’t realize the letter was missing before my sister was murdered. Then come to find out Barney’s been killed, too. I’m thinking maybe I should let the sheriff know, although I don’t know what good it’ll do now.”

  “That’s your call, Mr. Parker,” I acknowledged. “If you want, Luke and I will make sure the authorities are made aware of everything you told me. I know Luke will be in touch with you as soon as he locates your painting, but apparently his Uncle Barney was true to his word and didn’t divulge the location to anyone, not even Luke.”

  “Yeah, I’m okay with you and Luke handling it,” Mr. Parker agreed. “You tell the sheriff I’ll be calling in the next week to see what kind of progress has been made in solving Eliza’s murder.”

  “We’ll do that, Mr. Parker. Thanks again for your help,” I said in closing.

  “No problem, ma’am, and let me know if you come up with anything or have any more questions for me,” Mr. Parker concluded.

  “Will do. You take care. Goodbye,” I signed off. As I hung up, Luke looked up from his coffee. He had been studying it with complete concentration if the look on his face was accurate. I might have been listening closely to Mr. Parker’s story, but I was watching Luke’s expression. That’s how I knew his eyes never left his coffee the entire duration of my phone conversation.

  Now, however, I had his full attention as he waited for me to put the phone down and take a drink of my coffee. I started at the beginning, as Mr. Parker had done, and went through everything. I referred to the notes I’d scribbled as I listened, whenever a name or time frame had come up.

  When I finished, I expected some kind of reaction to all the information I’d just given him. Instead, Luke sat very still, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers. He was watching me closely while I was watching him expectantly, and we seemed to be at an impasse.

  After what seemed like hours but was probably only a few moments, Luke asked, “Does he have anything more substantial than a hunch that his younger brother is responsible for his older brother’s death?”

  “Um,” I quickly reviewed the conversation in my mind, “he didn’t say specifically, but I got the impression he couldn’t prove it. Why?”

  “I’m just not sure how this information helps us unless we can find some way to connect Eliza’s and/or Barney’s death to the greedy brother.” Luke didn’t sound discouraged, just deep in the planning mode. “So we need information on the greedy brother’s offspring. I guess I can do an internet search to see what I can find about Jacob Parker of Phoenix, Arizona.”

  When Luke said “we need information,” it triggered an idea – an incredibly brilliant idea, if I do say so myself! As my thoughts organized around my idea, one word escaped my lips.

  “Stubby,” I said softly.

  “What?” Luke asked apparently unable to pick up my brilliant idea vibes that were flying around the room.

  “Stubby!” I answered growing more excited.

  “Hmm,” Luke looked thoughtful for a second before responding. “If that’s my new nickname, I gotta tell you I think I prefer Sucre.”

  The way he was smiling at me left me no option but to smile back. My words, however, conveyed how serious I was.

  “No, no. Stubby. Fry’s friend Stubby.” Since Luke looked kind of lost, I went on to explain, “Stubby has this unique way of getting anything – supplies, firearms, information. You name it, and Stubby can get it.”

  “Stubby?” Luke asked slowly. “Fry’s warehouse garage guy? The prescription eyedrops guy?” he asked as realization hit him.

  “Yes, that’s the one!” When I saw the dubious look on Luke’s face, I added, “Okay, maybe ‘unique’ is the wrong word to describe his abilities. I guess ‘questionably legal’ would probably be more appropriate, but Luke, we really need this information. If Fry can get more details from Stubby than we would get by ourselves, I say we tap into this resource.”

  “Maggie, I hate putting you in the middle of this. I’m not going to sit here and pretend I’ve never crossed the line between legal and illegal, because I have been known to – repeatedly. I can’t even tell you it was all a long time ago in my past, since I’ve been known to skirt that line in recent years when it was for a good cause and seemed unavoidable,” he admitted. “But I think we are coming to the point where your involvement is not the best thing for you. I think it would be best if you went home and let me handle this myself.”

  “No,” I explained.

  Luke sat a little straighter but didn’t say anything for a minute. He blinked a few times, gave his head a slight shake, and finally said, “No? What do you mean no? I didn’t ask you a question.” Luke spoke slowly and evenly, to make it clear he had made his final decision in no uncertain terms.

  I smiled and said softly, calmly, and politely, “Oh, I know you didn’t ask a question. Out of consideration for you, I decided to take it as a suggestion, rather than the more unfortunate interpretation I could have made, which was as an order. And while your ever so gallant suggestion has touched me and warmed my heart, to that suggestion I say NO.” I was very proud of myself that my voice had remained soft and calm. Now I waited for round two to begin.

  Luke leaned back in his chair and laughed.

  That was no way to begin round two. Before I had the chance to ask him what he was laughing at, he stood up, leaned across the table, and patted me on the head.

  “You win,” he said as he left the room, shaking his head and laughing. As he started down the hall, he yelled over his shoulder, “You sure are cute when you get all obstinate like that.” He was back after only a minute and yelled as he went by on his way out, “Going for a quick run. Be back in a bit,” and he was gone.

  I sat there with my mouth hanging open for a few minutes and thought about how much I kind of hated that guy. Patted me on the head? He patted me on the head? I was just glad he’d left the room right away, because I had no response that wouldn’t have been extremely immature, except one that would have cost me a fortune if Swear Bear lived here. I was even happier that he’d left the apartment. This would give me time to let my blood pressure return to a normal level before I had to deal with him again.

  I walked over to pour myself another cup of coffee, caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glass cabinet, and was surprised to see that I was smiling. Now I was the one shaking my head and silently chuckling. Luke Becnel, I thought, you sure are cute when you’re being all difficult, which is apparently 23 hours and 45 minutes every day. I’m guessing he takes a 15 minute break from being a pain.

  CHAPTER 13

  “Yes, CeCe, I feel better,” I assured her. “I’m sorry I was sort of all over the place this morning when we spoke.”

  “You’re forgiven,” CeCe allowed, “but tell Luke not to let you drink anymore. You know how you get.”r />
  “Look, it’s not Luke’s job to monitor me, and I can take care of myself,” I contended. “I just had too much on my mind, and I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing last night. Don’t worry, I’m not going to let that happen again. Now tell me what’s going on there.”

  “Well,” CeCe began, “since it’s Sunday and I don’t have to go into the shop I thought I’d do some yard work and then maybe . . . .”

  “That’s great, CeCe, but I was actually talking about what’s going on with the investigation,” I pointed out.

  “Oh, sure. Um, I don’t have any idea what the police have been up to, but I can tell you Luke is still wanted only for questioning. Oh, and there’s a BOLO for him now. I saw Deputy Ben at the sisters’ house last night for the Neighborhood Watch meeting. That’s when he asked me if we’d heard from Luke and told me they’d issued the BOLO.”

  “What’s a BOLO?” I asked, since I decided CeCe was going to keep referring to it without explaining what it was.

  “Oh, sorry Mags,” CeCe apologized. “That is a Be-on-the-Lookout request. Now that I’m pretend-dating an officer of the law, I have to keep up with the lingo.”

  That was a lot to process. They were on the “lookout” for Luke? He was still wanted “only” for questioning? As opposed to what – being wanted for murder? Pretend-dating?

  “CeCe, what do you mean they are looking for Luke ‘only’ for questioning? And who are you pretend-dating?” I asked.

  “Why, Deputy Ben, of course. Don’t worry. I’m still on Luke’s side. I’m just pumping Deputy Ben for info. Although, I have to admit, he isn’t very forthcoming with the lowdown on the perp. I mean, right now they want Luke for questioning, but it’s pretty obvious they are looking for enough evidence to issue an arrest warrant. I’m on it, though. Deputy Ben asked me to dinner tonight, and I’ll get the latest scoop then.”

  “What do you mean arrest? How can they hope to arrest Luke? He wasn’t involved in the murders,” I asserted. I was glad I’d called CeCe while Luke was still out for his run, instead of sitting in front of me listening to this. “And when did this pretend-dating start? I thought Deputy Ben was Enemy #1?”

  “Sure, Maggie. But you know the saying, ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,’ right?” CeCe explained. “That’s all I’m doing. I was sweet and friendly to him at the Neighborhood Watch meeting last night. Which by the way, the sisters think you missed due to your laryngitis, so they sent well wishes and chicken soup home with me. Anyway, after working my feminine wiles, Deputy Ben asked me out.”

  “Just like that?” I asked with my skepticism oozing through the phone. “All this time you’ve been sweet and friendly, and he didn’t know your name. Now just like that, he asked you out?”

  “Your point being?” CeCe responded through clenched teeth.

  “Um, you don’t find his timing kind of suspect? Look CeCe, I know you’re a great catch. My concern is that he might be trying to get information from you, and that might be the reason behind his timing.”

  “That sleaze! He’s taking me to dinner just to get information on Luke from me? What a worm,” CeCe ranted.

  “Well, and I’m not defending the worm,” I pointed out, “but isn’t that the same reason you’re going out with him?”

  “No,” CeCe answered quickly. “I mean, my pumping is to find the truth and preserve justice, while his pumping is for a lie. We’ll just see who’s the pumper and who’s the pumpee.”

  “Wait, CeCe,” I practically yelled into the phone. “What are you planning to do? I don’t want you to give away Luke’s location, but I don’t want you lying to the police either. That will get you in a lot of trouble. So far, our lies have really just been a lack of telling everything we know, well except for that first little fib or two. The point is I don’t want you to fabricate things.”

  “It’s called ‘misinformation’ Mags, and you just leave everything to me,” CeCe clarified. “I’ll have the sheriff’s department looking for Luke on a fishing boat out of Alaska before you know it. Now Fry just got here, because we’re going to Sunday brunch. Do you want to speak to him?”

  “Yes!” This time I did yell.

  “Hey, Maggie. What up?” Fry was in his usual good mood, since he was about to be fed.

  I quickly told Fry everything we had learned from Joseph Parker, stressed how much we needed Stubby’s help with information, and went into an in depth description of ways to neutralize CeCe, including but not limited to tying her down. In addition to asking for his help, I wanted to know what was going on with Fry’s law enforcement shadow.

  When I finally stopped to breathe, Fry tried to calm me.

  “Maggie, Maggie, Maggie. You can count on me. Have I ever let you down?” he reasoned. “I’ll speak with Stubby, so give him 24 hours to get the info you need on this Phoenix, Arizona person named Parker. I’ll handle CeCe, so she won’t need you to visit her in the joint anytime soon. I don’t have a police shadow so much as a pop in uninvited guest from time to time. Sometimes, when I know I have their attention and feel they need a little something from Fry, I take a ride over to Barney’s house, knock on the door, look all disappointed when nobody answers and leave. Now sit tight, stay cool, and I’ll call you tomorrow morning. Are you keeping your cell charged?”

  I heard the front door open as Luke came in, saw me on the phone, and whispered, “Shower,” before heading down the hall.

  “Yes,” I sighed. “Luke’s charger fits my phone, so call me on my cell as soon as you know something, and Fry,” I said wrapping up, “thanks. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

  “Fortunately for you, that is not something you’ll ever have to learn to do – without me, I mean. Take care of Luke, and we’ll see you soon.”

  When I finished talking to CeCe and Fry, I cleaned up the kitchen while I waited to update Luke.

  When Luke came into the kitchen to get some water, I filled him in on my conversation with CeCe and Fry.

  “I know it isn’t unreasonable to give this Stubby guy 24 hours,” Luke began, looking a little frustrated, “but I have to tell you, I’m struggling with this patience thing. I’m not very good with waiting.”

  I let a snicker slip, and Luke looked at me kind of surprised as he asked, “What’s funny?”

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized, but I couldn’t stop chuckling. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just that you seem to be one of the most patient people I’ve ever met.”

  Luke smiled at that. “Maybe on the outside. Not on the inside.”

  “Then let’s get your mind off of the waiting,” I suggested. “Let me run put some clothes on, and then we can take a leisurely look around. I mean, we are in the Quarter. It’s not like there’s nothing to do.”

  “Truth is, since we’re in the Quarter, you wouldn’t even really have to get dressed,” Luke pointed out with a grin. “I’m just saying.”

  I nodded in agreement and said, “Yeah well, forgive me, but I don’t think I want to go that far to blend in.” On that note, I dashed back to my bedroom and jumped into some jeans and a t-shirt that said My Dog is Da Bomb! After I slapped on some powder, brushed on some mascara, and gave my lips a few quick passes with the lip brush, I called myself ready.

  I was forced to reassess my opinion, however, when I stepped into the living room, and Luke looked up from the laptop. A big smile crept across his face, as he sputtered, “What is that?”

  “What?” I asked the picture of innocence.

  “What’s with the shirt?” Luke clarified. “You don’t have a dog!”

  “I’m aware, but it w . . . ,” I ended with an unintelligible mumble.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?” Luke wanted to know.

  “It was on sale,” I said slowly and softly.

  “But you don’t have a dog,” Luke stressed softly.

  “I know that,” I responded a little bit more abruptly than I intended. “Why do you keep saying that? I realize I
don’t own a dog, but that didn’t happen to be a prerequisite for buying this shirt.”

  “It just seems a strange sentiment to wear on your shirt when you don’t even own a dog,” he observed.

  I could tell by the look on his face that he was enjoying giving me a hard time and didn’t really care about the shirt at all.

  “I mean, what are you going to say if somebody asks you what type of dog you own?” he inquired. “Don’t you think you’ll feel a little silly admitting you don’t have any kind of dog? You’re not even a pet owner and here you are announcing to anyone who can read that you have a dog who is ‘Da Bomb.’”

  “Look, nobody is going to ask what kind of dog I have, and – wait a minute. What do you mean I’m not even a pet owner? I have a cat,” I argued.

  “You don’t have a cat,” Luke declared and shook his head in an annoying matter-of-fact manner.

  “I absolutely do have a cat,” I shot back. “And she happens to think I’m a terrific pet owner.”

  “You don’t have a cat,” Luke stated flatly.

  “Wha – uh – ya-huh!” I countered, cutting him to the quick.

  “You don’t have a cat,” he repeated perfectly calmly, “and I’ll tell you how I know you don’t have a cat. We have been together all this time, and you’ve never once mentioned a cat. You don’t have a cat.”

  After my last brilliant response, I wasn’t sure I could top that, so I just stood there with my mouth hanging open while Luke scooped up my cell phone from the table and dropped it into my open purse, which he proceeded to push into my hands.