Murder She Typed

by Sylvia Selfman

  I followed behind her, shouting at her back that she was forgetting our reason for being there, when she suddenly halted, causing me to plow into her.

  “I can’t believe it! That skinny shiksa half his age beat me to him. Now I really need a drink!” Flo screamed into my ear.

  “You’re better off without him. He’s probably a serial killer,” I said to make her feel better. “Uh oh, don’t look, But check out that bartender!” I nodded toward a muscular good-looking guy in his thirties. “He was staring at me! How do I look? I can’t believe it. He’s coming over. Is my makeup okay?”

  “You Frizzy Greene?” the handsome bartender asked.

  My hand automatically went to my hair. I nodded. “It’s Izzy, and there was a problem with my shower.”

  “Somebody called and left a message for you.” He placed a small folded piece of paper on the bar. “I figured it was you from the description.”

  I decided not to ask what the description was, as I unfolded the note and read:

  Too many people in the bar. Meet me in back of the club. Sondra.

  “What do you think?” I asked Flo.

  “I think we should have a drink and go home.”

  Flo had a point but I didn’t come this far to turn back now. Besides she was the one who said we had to meet with Sondra. “I say we meet her. That’s why we came. Besides, there are so many people here, what could possibly happen?”

  “Are you kidding? If you have half an hour to spare I’ll give you a list.”

  “Well,” I sniffed, “you can join me or not. I’m meeting with her.

  After getting directions to the back of the club from the bartender, I managed to push my way through the crowd. Flo trailed behind, mumbling that I was crazy and that she’d never seen so many gorgeous men in one place. “Promise Izzy, that we’ll come back in later––that is, if we’re still alive.”

  We pushed the back door of the club open and walked out, making a quick survey of the area. It was mainly sand and wild brush, bordered by a chain link fence. A single spotlight mounted high over the door we’d just exited provided the only light. “Sondra?” I called softly. “Sondra, it’s me, Izzy.”

  “This is too spooky for me,” Flo announced. “I’m going back in. You can stay or not but I’m outta here.” Without waiting for a response Flo tugged at the back door. “Damn! It won’t open––it must be locked from the inside. Now look what you got us into,” she said angrily pounding at the door.

  “Wait!” I clutched her arm. “Look over there.” I pointed to a shed near the edge of the property. “I think I heard a noise. Maybe she’s there.”

  I slowly started walking towards the shed.

  “Why would she be there?” Flo said as she trailed behind.

  “Sondra!” I called out. “Look, the door’s open. Yoo hoo, Sondra. Anyone home?”

  “Okay,” Flo said grabbing my arm just as I was about to push it all the way open. “That’s enough. Sondra’s not in there or she would have answered. Let’s get out of here. This place is giving me the creeps.”

  “Don’t be such a scaredy cat. Look.” I said, pushing the door all the way open. “It’s empty. I think.” There was a shadow toward the back of the shed but it was probably nothing.

  “Okay, Let’s go,” I said and turned to leave when someone grabbed my shoulder.

  “Whaaaat!! I screamed. Waving my purse wildly about. I spun around to face my attacker whose screams joined with mine.

  The screaming came to an abrupt end as Flo and I stared at each other in the dark.

  “Flo?” I said.

  “You just hit me with that damn heavy purse of yours. I––I may not make it,” she moaned.

  I inquired if she’d made out her will and if I was going to inherit her large Burberry tote when the door slammed behind us..

  We were in total blackness.

  “Was it the wind?” I whispered.

  “What wind? There’s no wind. Now let’s get out of here.”

  I took a few tentative steps forward, feeling for the door. “Where’s the door? I can’t find the door.”

  “Here!” Flo yelled. “I’m trying to open it but I …can’t seem to…,” she paused to catch her breath. “I can’t push it open. Oh no!” she screamed.

  “What?” I yelled.

  “It won’t open. We’re locked in.”

  My knees started to shake so hard that I found it difficult to stand upright. I also had to pee. “Your cell. Do you have your cell?”

  There was dead silence except for the sound of Flo’s rummaging through her bag. “Found it,” she said.

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Oh darn!” she cried.

  “What now?”

  “No signal.”

  We stood, huddled together, too terrified to sit down. “Do you think there are rats?” I asked.

  “Oh I’m sure there are rats,” Flo said. Then she proceeded to launch into a non-stop tirade about how stupid I was to insist on checking out the shed, how I was leading her into a life of crime and danger and how she was never again going to listen to any of my future cockamamie ideas. Ever.

  When she finally ran out of steam, I calmly suggested she stop with the accusations and use her energy to figure a way out. Perhaps through the window.

  “Fine,” she said angrily. “When you find a window, let me know. There aren’t any windows.”

  “Oh no,” I moaned. “We’re going to die.”

  I wasn’t sure how much time passed when I announced, “Flo, I can’t scream anymore. My throat hurts and my hand’s numb from banging on the door. And I really have to pee.”

  “Well, stay clear of my foot.”

  “I’m serious, I don’t think I can hold it in much longer.”

  “Face it, Izzy, no one’s going to hear us. Which is probably why Sondra picked this place to lock us in.”

  I’d never heard Flo sound so despondent.

  “But why would Sondra want to lock us in? We never did anything to her. I don’t think that email was from Sondra. I think it was from someone pretending to be her,” I said.

  “Then we’re in even worse trouble.”

  “We could be here forever,” I moaned. “Years later they’ll find our skeletal remains. All that dieting for nothing. What time do you have?”

  It’s five minutes later than the last time you asked.”

  “I can’t believe we’ve been standing here an hour and five minutes. If someone doesn’t come soon I’m going to collapse. I’m exhausted. I can’t hold out any longer. Maybe we should sit down.”

  Are you kidding, and let the snakes and rats make a meal out of us?”

  “You’re right.” I moved nearer the door and put my ear against it. “I hear something. It sounds like people talking!”

  “It sounds like two men,” Flo whispered. “We’re saved. Let’s start banging and screaming again.”

  “Are you nuts? What if whoever locked us in, came back to finish us off?”

  “I think they’re trying to open the…oh no…,” Flo said backing away from the door.

  Suddenly the door flew open.

  The light from the spotlight blinded me. I shielded my eyes and was able to make out the silhouettes of two men in the doorway. “Well, well, what do we have here?” the taller of the two men said. He was looking us up and down. “Did we interrupt you?”

  Flo and I stood, terrified, unable to speak as we stared at them.

  “Ladies, I hate to tell you but it’s our turn now.” The shorter man said as he strode into the shed. Flo and I watched as he spread a blanket on the floor. When he was finished smoothing it out, he pulled his shirt from his pants and began to unbutton it.

  I looked at Flo who looked back wide-eyed with fear.

  Could we make a run for it? No! His partner was blocking the door. Could we put up a fight––with what? My bag was near the door. We had to buy time. “No, we haven’t been enjoying ourselves. Not at all. Please
, if it’s money…”

  “Money! Did you hear that Stevie? They want to give us money.”

  “Oh dearie me, I’m so sorry, sweetie, but we’re not into kinky foursomes.”

  His meaning became clear to Flo and me at the same time. We laughed with relief and headed toward the door. “Have fun.” I said with a wave.

  “Yeah, have fun,” Flo echoed.

  “Toodleloo, darlings. Oh, and and please don’t bolt the door. We don’t want to be locked in too.

  “Yes, lovies, do leave it slightly open. We like it in soft light,” his partner giggled.

  “Okay.” I was about to take off…when I turned back. “What did you just say? Did you say the door was bolted shut when you arrived?”

  “Why, yes, darling. That’s why we thought the place was empty. Otherwise we wouldn’t have disturbed you two. Someone probably thought the place was empty and threw that big old bolt. Or did you ask someone to do it? We know how some couples like to play it on the edge. If you know what I mean.”

  “Someone locked us in on purpose,” I announced as Flo and I headed back across the sandy lot as fast as we could, considering Flo’s platform shoes.

  “You heard what the guy said. Whoever it was, probably thought the place was empty.”

  “No. it had to be on purpose. Someone lured us out here with that note. I’m sure of it. We could have been locked in there forever.”

  “Now you’re really scaring me.”

  Flo and I pounded at the back door of the club. “No one’s going to hear us over all that racket inside. Let’s get out of here,” I said.

  After a frantic search we finally found our car and got safely inside. Only then was I able to take a deep breath. At which point I started to shake from nerves. “We could have died there. If those two guys hadn’t come along, we would have died.”

  “Izzy, if it wasn’t Sondra who left the note and locked us in, then who was it?

  “That man on the trail. It has to be. Because of what I saw. Or heard––the screams.” We drove in silence until I pulled up in front of Flo’s condo and cut the engine. “I really think Sondra must be dead or why else would he be after me?”

  “Well he never came after you until you started nosing around. So you need to drop it. I don’t want to hear another word about Sondra.” Flo opened the car door and got out. “And Izzy, this time I’m dead serious.”

  I didn’t tell Flo but I was serious about getting to the bottom of this. Otherwise I really would be dead.

  I pulled into my driveway wondering why I hadn’t turned on the outside light before leaving for the club. I was usually careful to do so when I left in the evenings. Maybe it had burned out.

  I fumbled around, trying to get the key into the lock in the dark. I’d only partially inserted it, when the door opened.

  Was it possible I’d forgotten to lock the door too? Of course it was possible. Probable even. It wouldn’t be the first time—especially since I’d been rushing around.

  The place looked like it had been ransacked. Again, not all that unusual. Except this time it looked seriously ransacked. Papers were strewn about, books pulled off the shelves, kitchen cupboards opened, plates lying broken on the floor, drawers pulled out.

  I ran into the bedroom. My closets doors were thrown wide open, clothes tossed about. Bras and underpants and hose were hanging out of drawers or lying on the floor. I was never the neatest person but this was beyond…beyond.

  I knew what I’d find before I found it. Or to be more exact, what I wouldn’t find before I didn’t find it. I pushed aside the few underpants and bras left in the top drawer of my dresser.

  Sondra’s manuscript was gone.

  In a panic I reached for the phone next to the bed to call Flo when it hit me.

  Something else was missing.

  Sherlock!

  Sherlock was missing.

  Chapter 34

  Sherlock had me trained to give him a treat when I came home, so he never missed greeting me at the door. So where was he?

  “Sherlock!” I called out, trying to remain calm. “Sherlock! Yoo hoo, Sherlock. Here kitty, kitty.” I ran into the living room. He wasn’t there.

  I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a handful of his favorite treats. “Sherlock, treats! Here kitty kitty.” I was frantic with fear.

  I ran into the bathroom hoping I’d find him perched on top of the armoire. But there was no Sherlock. “Sherlock. Treats!” When it came to treats Sherlock could sniff them out as good as any bloodhound. I ran into the den, growing more frightened by the second.

  Something awful happened to Sherlock. I was sure of it.

  I flung open the front door and ran outside. “Here kitty, kitty. Sherlock! Treats!”

  I ran around to the side of the building. “Damn,” I yelled as I tripped over a rock.

  Except it wasn’t a rock.

  It was Sherlock. Lying in the dirt, foam oozing from his mouth. “Sherlock,” I cried. I gathered him up in my arms and ran back to the house for my car keys and cell phone.

  “Sherlock, don’t die. Please don’t die.” I laid him on the back seat of my car then dialed Flo. I started up the engine and eased down the road, “Come on, pick up, pick up.”

  “Izzy?” Flo sounded half asleep. “It’s late. Why are you calling me at this hour.

  “Get me the address of a vet who’s open. Sherlock’s dying. Call me back on my cell.”

  A few minutes later Flo called back with the number of an animal hospital open 24/7. I put her on speaker and sped down highway 1-11 as she read aloud the directions.

  Fifteen minutes later––though it felt more like fifteen hours––I pulled up in front of the Murrows Palm Springs Animal Hospital and ran up the walkway. Hugging Sherlock to my breast, I leaned on the bell.

  “Help,” I said, when someone answered. “I think he’s dying”

  I sat on a tan Naugahyde couch that had seen better days and tried to avoid looking at the pictures of happy looking cats and dogs on the opposite wall. I’d been waiting nervously for an hour for someone to appear and tell me that Sherlock would be okay.

  I had taken Sherlock into my life and now he was going to die. Please let Sherlock live, I prayed silently. “Just let him live,” I said aloud.

  My cell rang. I looked at my watch. I must have fallen asleep. It was two thirty in the morning.

  “Izzy? What’d the vet say?” Flo asked.

  “Nothing yet. I’m terrified Sherlock’s going to die. He looked awful.” I lowered my voice despite being the only person in the waiting room. “Flo, I know Sherlock was poisoned.”

  “Poisoned? Why do you think that?”

  “My house was ransacked and Sondra’s manuscript was stolen. Don’t you see,” I said “it all makes sense now. The person lured us to the shed and locked us in, then broke into my condo to get the manuscript. He must have lured Sherlock outside with poisoned food.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line. “Flo, are you still there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. I’m trying to absorb what you’re telling me. And I’m thinking it’s time you called the police.”

  I heard a sound and looked over to the door. “Miss Greene?”

  “Gotta go. Doctor’s here.” I jumped to my feet. “Yes?” I studied Dr. Murrow’s face for a sign of what he was going to say. He looked like he wanted to be back in his king-sized Temperpedic bed with his wife or lover, instead of talking to me.

  “Sherlock’s gone through a lot, but he’ll be fine.”

  I grabbed him around the neck and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Oh, thank you. Thank you. I’m so grateful to you. When can I take him home?”

  “Give him another couple hours just to be sure. Don’t worry if he sleeps a lot when you get him home. It’s all part of the healing process.”

  “Did you find out what happened to him?”

  “Probably ate something poisonous. Maybe some plant. Who knows? When the report comes back from t
he lab we’ll know for sure. In the meantime he needs peace and quiet and lots of love.

  “Yes,” I nodded. And so did I.

  I rang Flo to give her the good news.

  “Look Izzy,” she said, “I’ve thought it over. You have to call the police. What was the name of that cop, Martini…”

  “Martinelli.”

  “That was it. If you don’t contact him, I will.”

  “Flo, stop. You can’t call the cops.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because! Because when they ask me what was stolen from my house, I’d have to lie and make up something. If I told the truth that a manuscript was taken, they’d ask all kinds of questions and I’d end up telling them the truth: that it was Sondra Sockerman’s manuscript! Then the police would think I was the person who broke into Dr. Linda’s and I’d go to jail.

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” I felt suddenly overwhelmed and exhausted. “I don’t know,” I repeated. “I guess I’ll call in a locksmith, change my locks, and try to figure something else out.”

  I glanced over at the window. Daylight was beginning to break through. “Right now, I’m going to get as comfortable as I can on this dreadful sofa and try to get some sleep until the doctor says I can take Sherlock home.

  ****************************

  It was seven in the morning when I got the go-ahead to take Sherlock home. The first thing I did was give Locksmith Mannie a ring and ask him to meet me at my condo.

  “How about I come around nine?” Mannie asked.

  “No, it’s an emergency. I need new locks now.”

  Pulling up to my condo, I was relieved to see Locksmith Mannie’s van in my driveway.

  After about an hour Manny handed me three shiny new keys to my shiny new locks and left.

  By now I was too hepped up to sleep and figured it was as good a time as any to straighten up the house. Perhaps by busying myself it would take my mind off the break in.

  Unfortunately it didn’t. Instead, every item I touched, silently reminded me that it had been touched by the killer. Everything in my house, practically. I was getting seriously creeped out. So I forced myself to replay everything that had happened over in my mind. Trying to fit it all into some kind of pattern that would tell me who was responsible. Or more to the point. Who was after me.