Bury Me When I'm Dead

by Cheryl A Head

  “Did you see her, Lawrence?” Yusef’s voice was urgent as he strained to hold the men apart.

  “Yeah. I saw a man crack her upside the head and pull her into that lot.” He pointed to an overgrown empty lot.

  He’d sheltered from the heat in an abandoned house and from his second floor window had seen Charlie fall from the blow she received and been dragged out of his view. He’d left his window perch to investigate, but Charlie and her assailant were nowhere in sight. He’d spotted the cell phone on the pavement and applied the finder’s, keeper’s law, but didn’t call 911 because he didn’t want to be involved with the police. The phone had been ringing all afternoon but he was afraid to answer, and didn’t know how to turn it off. Lawrence showed Yusef and Don the exact spot where he last saw Charlie. At Yusef’s suggestion, Don reluctantly gave the man forty dollars for the cell phone, which he gladly accepted and hurried off to rejoin his companions and claim his free bed. It was almost dark but within a minute, Don and Yusef found Charlie’s black baseball cap. It was caught on the low shaft of a sticky weed bordering an overgrown field.

  “That’s the cap I saw her wearing,” Yusef said excitedly.

  The undergrowth was soft with decay and weeds stuck to Don’s pants. His soft-sole shoes made a sucking sound as he advanced. He squinted, looking from side to side in the rapidly dimming light—a row of dilapidated kitchen cabinets, a deflated soccer ball, a rusty ice skate with faded pink shoelaces, and a dead cat, its fur stiff with mud. They were twenty yards into the field when the cavalry bugle called out.

  Judy was still dialing Charlie’s phone. It blared a second time, escalating in volume. Don fumbled in his pants pocket for the phone.

  “Did you hear that?” Yusef said.

  “Yeah, I’m trying to get to it now.”

  “Not the phone. Something over there.” Yusef pointed the light from his mobile phone to their left. Don turned his phone in the same direction and the two lights bounced along the back of an overturned couch. The cavalry charge rang again and they both heard a muffled moan.

  Don darted toward the sound, raising his knees high to clear the weeds and debris. His foot came down on a discarded car muffler, he stumbled and planted his palm in the mud to steady himself. Yusef hurried past and yanked on the furniture’s thick wooden leg but it was stubbornly heavy. When Don reached under the piece to lift it, he realized he was holding the metal underside of what was a massive sleeper-sofa.

  “Get on the other side,” Don ordered.

  The muddy ground made it difficult to upright the sofa and it fell back into place a couple of times before they were successful. Underneath was a body with one of Yusef’s smiley face plastic bags over its head. Don tugged at the bag and uncovered Charlie’s bruised face. Her eyes opened wide above two strips of duct tape.

  Don slumped in an uncomfortable chair in the waiting room of the university hospital. He and Yusef had carried Charlie to the sidewalk and unbound her and while they waited for an ambulance to arrive, Don held her hand. Yusef effectively worked the small crowd that gathered, explaining the circumstances of the attractive, black woman whose head rested in the lap of the distraught white man.

  A third-year resident on duty at the emergency room said Charlie had a concussion, bruised face and ribs and numerous insect bites from having lain for hours in the mosquito-infested field. She was also dehydrated, but when two Birmingham police detectives arrived was lucid enough to provide them with information about her attack. The detectives also questioned Don, who informed them of the Stringer case and his earlier visit to police headquarters, but he decided not to mention the car chase the day before. That was the recap Don gave Gil and Judy, who had been anxiously waiting for news.

  “She’ll be hospitalized for a couple of days but she’s going to be alright,” he reported.

  “Thank God,” Judy said.

  “Don, you think I should still come down?” Gil asked.

  “I think you better.”

  Don’s hands were clammy when he returned to Charlie’s hospital room. She was sitting upright, leaning against several pillows, and looked a whole lot better already. There was a small bandage at her hairline, another over her left ear and her face was a bit puffy. An IV drip, to combat the dehydration, was connected to her right arm. Charlie gave Don a huge drug-assisted grin.

  “You should have seen me an hour ago,” she said in response to his scrutiny.

  “I did see you. How’re you feeling?”

  Don hated hospitals and hoped this initial banter would give him a chance to gather his composure. He approached the bed and sat in the visitor’s chair. Charlie’s injuries looked worse up close, and he looked away.

  “I feel fine now. I’m warm and I can move my legs and arms, and I’m feeling no pain.”

  “I can tell. You had me worried.”

  Charlie saw Don’s seriousness and shivered, thinking about the cold, the pain, the darkness and the suffocating feeling of the plastic bag. Then she smiled again.

  “I bet the early pioneers, their covered wagons in a circle and arrows flying all around them, felt the same way I did when I heard that cavalry bugle,” Charlie joked.

  “Novak’s crazy ways paid off this time,” Don admitted.

  “I must have been unconscious for quite a while, but it was worse when I came to. I knew you would find me, Don. Thank you. Yusef was there too, wasn’t he?”

  “Yeah, the guy really helped. He spotted you earlier in the day walking through the hood. I thought we agreed you wouldn’t go back there.”

  “I was following my instincts. Plus, I was hungry.” Charlie giggled.

  “Well, here’s hoping your head is as tough as that iron stomach of yours.”

  Charlie laughed and winced. She touched a tender spot on her side. “He must have kicked me.”

  “Who was it, Mack?” Don leaned in, his voice a low growl and his face reddening. “On the sidewalk you said you thought you knew who it was.”

  Charlie fought the drugs to put on her sternest look. “I don’t want you to handle things on your own, Don. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I should be out of here tomorrow and then we’ll make a plan.”

  “Who was it?” Don stared her down with an “I mean business” look.

  “I’m pretty sure it was Walter Barnes. I told the police.”

  Don was puzzled for a moment, browsing his recollection for the name. He got a hit. “That asshole who took a punch at you at the casino?”

  Charlie nodded.

  Don leaned back in the chair. His eyes focused on the corner of the bed so he could think. “What’s he doing in Birmingham?”

  “I don’t know. But it can’t be a coincidence.”

  “You think he’s involved with Joyce?”

  “Well, he knew Paul,” Charlie reminded Don with a big smile. She pulled herself higher on the pillows and cupped her hands to her chin in an attempt to counter the happy drugs. “Don, I had my notebook in my jeans pocket and it’s gone. So Barnes knows what we know.”

  “Not quite,” Don said, filling Charlie in on his conversations at police headquarters.

  “I was wondering when you’d call,” Mandy said. “I left two messages.”

  “I know. I’ve been busy.” Charlie giggled.

  “Well you sound in good spirits. The case must be going well.”

  “No. I wouldn’t say that.” :Say” came out “shay” so Charlie tried to speak more deliberately. “I wanted to talk to you before I fell asleep. It’s been a rough day.”

  “Are you drunk?” Mandy asked.

  “No. It’s the drugs.”

  “Drugs?”

  “I’m in the hospital. They gave me painkillers and they’re working reeaal good.”

  “Are you okay, baby?”

  Charlie giggled. “Am I your baby?”

  “Charlie! Tell me what happened?”

  “I’m okay. A guy hit me on the head and left me for dead in an abandoned lot.”

>   “I don’t like this case you’re on. You’ve been attacked by two guys in less than a week.”

  “Actually, the same guy.”

  “What?”

  “Mandy. When I was lying there trapped under that sofa. There were a couple of times when I thought I wouldn’t make it.”

  “Charlie, should I come?”

  “You were already here,” she slurred.

  “What?”

  Charlie couldn’t keep her eyes open and drifted into sleep.

  Chapter 17

  Gil had caught the last flight of the day from Detroit to Atlanta and then the first flight of the day from Atlanta to Birmingham. Yet, somehow he looked like he had just arrived from across town. He and Don were hunched over the coffee table in Charlie’s motel room while she sat on the couch propped on pillows. The swelling on her face was being replaced by a thin, bluish-green bruise that reached for her eyebrow.

  “So I’ll stay here, do a few phone interviews and stay in touch with Judy,” Charlie agreed.

  “I think that’s best, Mack. The doctor said you had to limit physical activity for at least a week so your ribs can heal,” Don said. “Acosta and I will take over the field work.”

  “So for sure, Walter Barnes has your notebook?” Gil asked.

  “He must have it. Don went back to the empty lot this morning and it wasn’t there.”

  “That was an ugly place, even in daylight,” Don said, shaking his head at Charlie’s good fortune.

  “What was in the notebook?” Gil asked.

  “I don’t use it for my questions, hunches and speculations, that’s what the Post-its are for but the names of everyone we’ve interviewed were there. Also notes from my calls with Judy and addresses of the places we’ve been. With my bad handwriting, some of it might be too cryptic for Barnes to figure out but he’ll be able to make sense out of most of it.”

  “So, the interview notes with Grant Freeman, Grace, Anna Meadows . . .” Don began ticking off the items.

  “Right, and also the conversations in Detroit. I don’t think there’s much in that stuff except the mention of Haldeman Mortgage Company. I’m more concerned about my notes from yesterday, my conversation with Father Straughn and I’m worried about Grace.”

  “What about the address in Forest Park?”

  “Shit. Yes, that’s in there too.”

  “Okay, but let’s step back for a minute,” Gil said. “Why would any of that be of interest to Barnes? We don’t even know why he’s here. Is it possible he followed you to get even?”

  Charlie considered the last question. “It’s possible I guess, but he’d really have to have no life at all to take off from work and travel all the way to Alabama because of a knee to the balls. How would he even know I was here?”

  “Right,” Don said, thinking. “Did you mention Birmingham to the cashier at the casino?”

  “No.”

  “Then the only thing you and Barnes have in common are some traded blows and Paul Stringer. He must be after Paul.”

  “He acted like he didn’t give a damn about the guy,” Charlie remembered.

  “Obviously, he was lying,” Gil said. “Judy is doing a background check on Barnes. We’ll have more on him later today.”

  “I think I’ll go and check on Grace,” Don said. “I’ll tell her and Grant they should be wary of strangers asking about Paul.”

  “Yeah, I’d feel better if you did that. But Grant doesn’t know about my second conversation with Grace,” Charlie warned.

  “I know. I’ll be discreet.”

  “Gil, maybe you should go to Saint Agnes and warn Father Straughn. There’s a nice woman in the church office. She’s the gatekeeper and she’ll know how to handle things. The only thing to be concerned with at the church is not to alert the priest that we’re after Joyce.”

  “Understood. Maybe I can also look in on Mrs. Meadows. I’ll say you sent me to tell her to be careful.”

  “That’s good, Gil. She’ll like you and so will her daughter, Cookie. Of course, you’ll need to pass muster with the unofficial neighborhood bodyguards.”

  “I’ll give them my Chicano-Boricua swagger and talk about cars. It’ll be no problem,” Gil said with the confidence gained by winning medals on basketball courts and battlefields.

  One of Charlie’s duties was a phone call to Leonard Abrams. He hadn’t been briefed since they’d arrived in Birmingham and his approval was needed for an extended stay.

  “Are you making headway?” Abrams asked.

  “Yes. We have it on good authority that Joyce is here. We haven’t seen her yet but we’ll try to speak to her this weekend.”

  “So, you’ve found her!”

  “Well, we haven’t found her yet but we think we know where to look.”

  “That’s fine, fine. Stay as long as you need to get the job done.”

  Charlie debated the best way to broach the Owens topic. “Leonard, have you mentioned our investigation to Owen Owens?”

  “Well, yes. He’s come by a few times to chat about the situation. He’s as surprised as I am about Joyce’s betrayal.”

  “Did you tell him I was in Birmingham?”

  “Yes, I mentioned that.”

  “Owens called me. He offered to help with the case,” Charlie said.

  “Well, that was nice of him.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.”

  Judy checked in periodically with tidbits of information. The Acura at the Forest Park address was registered to Anna Stringer. Bingo. Using Don’s police connections, she had tracked down information about Paul’s bank account, and she was still investigating Barnes, but so far had turned up nothing of interest. Charlie had one more task for Judy.

  “I feel like I’m overwhelming you with assignments,” Charlie said.

  “No problem. I’m glad you called. I got a hit on double ‘O.’”

  “Who?”

  “Owen Owens.”

  “You mean, the guy so nice they named him twice?”

  “Did he actually say that?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Well, he’s not so nice at all. He’s a convicted felon.”

  “What?”

  “Owens was convicted of drug distribution charges in New Jersey. As best I can tell he moved to Detroit in 1998 after serving four years in Bayside State Prison.”

  “Wow!” Charlie said.

  “Wow is right. How did he get a job at Reliable?”

  “He probably knows the restaurant business and won Abrams over with his glib lines. Leonard doesn’t really go in for human resources protocols, he likes to think he has good instincts about people. So what else did you find out?”

  “Well, he’s a big spender. I got some credit info. He takes golf vacations a couple of times a year and is a regular in Vegas and Atlantic City. You think he was part of the theft ring?” Judy asked.

  “That’s a thought. It would explain why he’s so interested in our case.”

  “Did you ever call him back?”

  “No. I guess I should.”

  “You should, Charlie. See what he’s up to.”

  “Okay. But could you generate a three-way call so you can listen in? Do you have time?”

  “Sure. Our phones are still acting up, but let’s give it a try. Hang up, and I’ll call you back.”

  “Owen Owens,” he answered the phone in a voice oozing with syrup.

  “Mr. Owens. It’s Charlene Mack returning your call.”

  There was silence on the line. Charlie thought maybe the call had been dropped.

  “Mr. Owens? Are you there?”

  “Yes. Yes, sorry. Yes, I’m here. I, I just didn’t expect to hear from you.”

  “I know it’s been a few days since you called but this is my first opportunity to get back to you.”

  “Well. How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine.” This must be his ice-breaking routine. “You left a message you wanted to speak with me. Did you remember something about Jo
yce you didn’t tell us?”

  “Uh, no. I was just wondering how the case is going?”

  “Well, I’m not at liberty to talk about the case with anyone other than Mr. Abrams.”

  There was another long pause. Charlie heard the refrigerator in her motel room shift into defrost mode, and phone static.

  “I thought maybe you had information that might help our investigation,” Charlie offered again.

  “No, not really. Just what I told you already.”

  “By the way Mr. Owens, I neglected to ask how long you’ve known Joyce.”

  “I met her when I got to the company. That was five years ago.”

  “Where were you before that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Were you in restaurant sales at your previous job?”

  “Oh, I see. I worked in food supply and restaurant management in New Jersey and I’ve been in sales about twenty years.”

  “Got it. Well, if there’s nothing else, I have a couple of other calls to make.”

  “Oh sure, sure. Thanks for calling me back. It’s just that I’m concerned about the boss. He’s been moping around since Joyce left and I thought if I could be of any help, well . .”

  “Not unless you have an insight about Joyce or remember something that might help us find her.”

  Charlie disconnected the call, nonplussed. She laid the phone on the coffee table and stared at it. Then it hit her. She grabbed the phone to call Leonard Abrams but the bugle sounded before she could dial.

  “Charlie?” Judy’s voice was trembling. “Owens was caught completely off guard by your call.”

  “He was, wasn’t he?”

  “He was shocked to hear from you.”

  “I’m glad you heard it too, Judy. I think it’s because he thought I was food for the maggots, lying in the muck in that trash dump.”

  They both let the words hang in silence for a moment. A tremble raced up Charlie’s spine, followed by another.

  “You were lucky, Charlie. Very lucky.” Judy’s words were clipped with emotion.

  “Look, Judy, I’ve got to get to Leonard before Owens talks to him. See if you can find a connection between Owens and Walter Barnes. There must be one.”