by Ellie Ashe
“And that adds up to an affair?”
“It adds up to something shady.”
Eddie turned onto Chalk Quarry Boulevard and my pulse quickened. We were about a half-mile from the site of Leo’s former restaurant.
“Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to testify. He’s afraid that his affair will be revealed,” I said.
“Or maybe he knows more about the fire than he says,” Burton said.
We passed a large construction site where a developer was renovating an old bottling plant into high-end lofts, another sign of Chalk Quarry Boulevard’s transformation.
“Leo says that Eddie was trying to get him to move out of the restaurant before the fire,” I recalled.
“There was a six-year lease, and Leo still had three years to go and an option to renew for another three,” Burton said, slowing as Eddie eased the green machine into the center turn lane, then into the parking lot next to the newly refurbished building.
Instead of the rustic chic look that Leo’s bistro had sported, the remodeled building was cleaner and more modern. Painted signage announced that the Red Silk Ribbon would be opening in a few weeks and that there was more parking in the rear of the building. The windows were still covered with paper, but from the glow, it was apparent someone was inside. I could see why Rita wanted to move in here. It was a decent storefront, but the off-street parking was coveted in this part of town.
We couldn’t take advantage of the large parking lot, though, or it would tip Eddie off. Instead, Burton drove past the lingerie shop, flipped a U-turn, and came back and parked on a side street.
“I’ll take the subpoena,” he said, grabbing it before I could. “You stay here.”
“No way am I staying here.”
“If he sees you, he’s going to run,” Burton said.
“He won’t see me,” I said. “Plus, he knows you, too. You interviewed him. He’ll run if he sees you.”
“He’s not going to see me until it’s too late,” Burton said, giving me a wicked grin.
“I’ll stay behind you, but I’m not staying in the car,” I conceded.
Burton frowned and looked around. It wasn’t a great neighborhood. It wasn’t even a good neighborhood. There were a lot of men with long unkempt beards, but only a fraction of those had chosen that style out of some sense of hipster irony. The rest were homeless, parolees, or fugitives dodging warrants. I had my trusty stun gun in my purse, but I didn’t want to sit in a stifling car waiting to use it.
With a sigh, Burton opened the door. “Fine, you can come. But stay behind me.”
I grabbed my stun gun, stashed my purse behind the seat, and said a quick prayer that the car would still be here when we were done with Eddie. It was dark now and the temperature was still hovering around 90 degrees. A siren pierced through the usual city soundtrack of traffic and music booming from car windows.
Burton set the alarm on his fancy and expensive car and gave it a wistful look, as if he hated to leave his baby unattended at the curb in front of a small blocky apartment building that looked a bit sketchy. The good news was that it was probably under constant police surveillance. It just looked like it was no stranger to yellow crime-scene tape. In two years, I had no doubt that we’d be passing by families pushing strollers. But for now, this section of town stayed on the shady side of the gentrification border.
In my flats, I had no trouble keeping up with Burton as we walked toward Chalk Quarry Boulevard.
A trio of young men walked down the middle of the street toward us, eyed Burton and me, and made like they might want to get to know the contents of our pockets better. Burton reached out and put an arm around my shoulder as I flipped the switch on my stun gun. He stared down the men, who turned away quickly and walked faster toward the apartment complex. Burton turned and watched them, his arm still encircling me and keeping me close. I was fairly confident of my ability to take care of myself, but there was something comforting about having that heavy arm draped across my shoulders.
We walked on, slowing as we reached the side entrance of the parking lot. There was a man loitering near the freshly painted stripes. But he took one look at Burton—tall, bald, scowling—and slunk off toward the boulevard.
The back door of the building was open except for a screen door, and a dumpster was filled with empty cardboard boxes, as if someone were unpacking a shipment of inventory. Thanks to the interior lights, I could see Eddie inside the building, leaning against a wall, his back to the screen door.
Burton led me behind the trash container, where we’d be out of view if someone walked out the door to drop more boxes. I peered around and saw a sliver of the new store, where Rita was sitting on a red padded bench, sorting silky items and putting them on hangers. Though the only thing that seemed to be in the dumpster was cardboard boxes, the heat brought out a lingering odor of old trash.
The sound of annoyed voices carried through the screen door. From the tenor of the discussion, I’d say that we were coming in on the middle of a lover’s quarrel.
“It’s not a good time for me to take a vacation,” Rita said, her voice tense and curt.
“Even to Paris? We can go shopping,” Eddie said, his nagging tone bordering on pleading. “It’s so romantic, darling. We can walk along the Seine and go see that famous cathedral, Notre Dame.”
My eye twitched at his pronunciation, but I kept still in the shadows. The thought of Eddie walking through the city where my father was born and raised, where I had so many happy memories, made me grimace. I just knew he’d be wearing shorts with black socks. Or a fanny pack.
“For the last time, Eddie—no. I’m about to reopen my shop. This is my dream. I can’t trust it to my employees,” she said.
“Just do a soft opening. Restaurants do it all the time. Get the shop open and up and running, then have a huge celebration when you return. We’ll just be gone three weeks,” I caught a glimpse of Eddie scooting toward Rita on the upholstered bench. “But it’s three weeks when we can be together—all day, all night.”
That thought triggered my gag reflex more than the hot garbage bin behind me.
“Oh, Eddie, you’re so romantic. But I can’t. This has to be perfect.”
Eddie sighed and leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees. “I’m going without you then.”
Rita jumped up, and I could no longer see her.
“What?!”
There was a crash from inside the building, and I felt Burton tense next to me, ready to spring forward if the chaos spread outdoor.
“Well, I’ve already paid for the hotel suite, the airline tickets,” Eddie said. “What am I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know, Eddie. Maybe postpone the trip until your fiancée can go with you?”
Burton and I exchanged a glance. Fiancée? That might be news to Mrs. Lucas.
“I want to see Paris in the summer,” Eddie said and I shook my head at that thought. No one wanted to see Paris in the summer. Especially Parisians. The city was hot and humid and packed with… well, tourists like Eddie.
“Oh, my God. You’re not going alone, are you? You have a little piece on the side, don’t you?”
At the accusation, Eddie leapt to his feet and walked out of my view.
“No, no baby. You’re my only little piece on the side,” he said. “I mean, I love you, baby. Didn’t I get you everything you wanted? I got you your dream.”
Rita’s huff was loud enough for me to hear, crouched on the pavement about ten feet from the door. She was obviously not convinced that her married boyfriend wasn’t cheating on her.
“Come on, babe. Think about it, okay?”
“Fine.” It did not sound fine.
Burton nudged me, and I realized that I may have laughed out loud a little. I nudged him back. It wasn’t loud enough that I blew our cover.
“Move,” he hissed in my ear, his breath tickling my neck.
A shadow moved by the door, and I realized someone was coming out. With seconds to
spare, I made it around the corner of the dumpster. The screen door banged open and more boxes landed on top of the heaps. Two bounced off the stacks of cardboard, bonking me on the head in quick succession.
“Stay here,” Burton said, then disappeared.
Damn. I’d love to know how he was able to move so quietly and gracefully. I reached up and rubbed my head where the corner of one box had landed. At least they were empty. Though even if they’d been full, I couldn’t imagine that the silky lingerie being unpacked weighed all that much. I counted my blessings that the trash bin was filled with empty boxes and no longer held restaurant garbage.
I stayed crouched, grateful that I’d changed shoes in the car. On the other side of the dumpster, I heard the door open again. My brow furrowed. Eddie wasn’t leaving, was he? From my position, I couldn’t see if he had gone back inside, or if Rita had come out.
“Did you have dinner yet, love?” Eddie asked, and I froze. It sounded like he was around the corner of the bin from me. Out of habit, I reached for my purse with the subpoena, only to remember that Burton had the document I needed to get into Eddie’s hand. I looked around, but didn’t see Burton.
Damn it. This would be a great time for him to jump out of the shadows and shove that subpoena… well, at least into Eddie’s hand. But where was he?
“I placed an order across the street.” Rita’s voice sounded closer, too, and I heard the screen door shut.
“I’ll go get it,” Eddie offered, clearly trying to get back in his mistress’s good graces.
“No, I’ll go. I’ve been stuck in this store all day and want to stretch my legs. Mind watching the store for a few minutes so I don’t have to lock up?”
“Of course,” Eddie said. “I’ve a case of that Bordeaux in the trunk. Maybe when you get back, we should open a bottle, throw a little party for ourselves.”
I nearly gagged at the thought, but Rita giggled. I heard footsteps and panicked at the thought that she was going to walk around the dumpster to get to the street, but then I heard the sound of her footsteps fading and I realized that she was going in the opposite direction.
I exhaled slowly and tried to slow my heart rate, then peeked around the corner to see if it was clear for me to stand yet. My legs were cramping in my crouched position.
Eddie whistled as he trotted out to his car, away from the back door of the Red Silk Ribbon. I stood up, but stayed low, trying to stretch my aching muscles without alerting Eddie to my presence behind the large metal box. I stepped carefully around a couple of the boxes that had fallen out of the bin and peered into the dark, looking for any sign of Burton. This would be an even better time for him to serve that damn subpoena.
Eddie popped the trunk and leaned over. It looked like he was opening a box, probably the case of wine he’d mentioned.
As if summoned by my thoughts, Burton materialized out of the darkness about twenty feet where Eddie was bent over, his body half inside the trunk of his car.
“Excuse me, sir,” Burton said and I stood up, no longer concerned about hiding my presence from Eddie.
Eddie didn’t even look up. “No hablo Ingles.”
Jerk. He probably thought someone was going to hit him up for money.
“Mr. Lucas,” Burton said.
Eddie startled, bumping his head against the open trunk as he turned and stood.
“Who are you? What do you want?” he said.
His back was to me, but I saw Burton put both hands up, the subpoena in one. “Hey, man. Calm down.”
He took a step back, and Eddie took a step forward. In the faint light, I saw that Eddie had something in his right hand.
“Get away from me!” Eddie swung his arm and Burton took another step back.
That was my cue. I switched on the stun gun and jogged toward Eddie.
“I’m not here to hurt you, I just need to give you this subpoena.” Burton’s assurances were met with a new round of slashing motions from Eddie.
“I don’t want it!”
Burton looked up, away from the knife and saw me approaching behind Eddie. He shook his head. “Sarah, no.”
Eddie turned toward me and his mouth gaped open. I saw that the knife in his hand was a box cutter.
“You? Again?”
“Just take the subpoena, Eddie,” I snapped, the stun gun held out in front of me.
“No way!” he yelled, his face pink with rage.
His head swiveled between Burton and me, unsure who was the bigger threat—the hulking black man with the subpoena he desperately didn’t want to take, or the petite Asian chick with what might look like a cell phone in her hand. He turned his back to me, evidently thinking Burton was the more immediate problem.
Big mistake.
I lunged forward with the stun gun extended, my finger on the button that would fire seven-million volts into his body, rendering him useless for anything but shrieking and moaning. And accepting service of that subpoena.
As I moved in, Burton did, too. He grabbed Eddie’s right wrist, then dodged a swing from Eddie’s flailing left arm. I threw myself into the fray with the crackle of the stun gun announcing my entrance.
“Sarah, I’ve got this!” Burton yelled.
“No, I don’t think you do,” I said, struggling to find a large muscle group to target with the stun gun. The thigh was best, causing the person to collapse into a heap. Don’t ask how I know this.
Eddie proved to be more wily, or at least more desperate, than I’d anticipated. He threw an elbow, catching me on the side of the jaw with a teeth-clacking blow. It stunned me for a moment, and I fell backward, the stun gun clattering to the ground. Stumbling, I tripped over someone’s leg—maybe Eddie, but it could have been Burton. I tumbled backward, landing on my ass in the most unladylike way imaginable.
The two men continued to grapple, falling to the ground and rolling toward me. I scrambled to get the stun gun and threw myself on top of Eddie, trying to find the trigger button with my thumb.
“Let go of the knife,” Burton grunted.
He had Eddie’s hand in a tight grip and I saw the box cutter slide from his fingers. My finger slid over the recessed button and I was just about to give Eddie a jolt, just for being a jerk, when I felt an iron grip on my hand, crushing it into the hard plastic case.
Eddie struggled to wrestle the stun gun from me while Burton tried to pin him down. My fingers were nearly breaking and I felt the device being twisted by his sweaty grasp.
“Oh, no! Burton, look out,” I gasped.
But it was too late. Eddie’s grip on my hand triggered the stun gun, and I cringed at the crackle of seven-million volts being shot directly into Burton’s perfect ass.
He crumpled to the side as his glutes contracted in reaction to the electricity, falling heavily onto me. Eddie seized the opportunity and jumped to his feet, leaping over me as struggled to get out from under Burton’s prone figure. He wrenched the driver’s door of his car open, the engine roared to life and the car backed up, turned and accelerated out of the parking lot, spraying dust and fine grit at where Burton and I sat on the filthy pavement. Well, I was sitting. Burton was still moaning and twitching.
“Damn it!” I yelled into the dark and empty parking lot.
I was sick of this case. Sick of Eddie Lucas. Sick of not being able to do this one simple task.
“Aaaauuuuggggghhh,” Burton said. I couldn’t tell if he was as frustrated as me or just suffering the effect of the stun gun.
I stood up, brushed the dirt from my dress, then leaned over Burton, who was laying on his side.
“Come on,” I said, taking his arm to help him to his feet. “We need to get out of here.”
I managed to get him upright, but I was supporting much of his 200-pound frame. “I swear to God, Sarah.”
I didn’t need to hear the rest of his muttered, mumbled promise.
“Looks like I should drive back,” I said as he stumbled, his right leg pretty much still paralyzed.
He growled at the thought of letting me drive his precious sports car. “No.”
“I don’t see any other options. You want to hang out here and explain Eddie’s hasty departure to his mistress?” I asked.
Burton growled again.
But the thought of getting to Eddie via another path made me stop in the middle of the empty lot. I glanced over at the back door to the Red Silk Ribbon, where Rita would be returning shortly. Maybe we needed a different approach to confronting Eddie Lucas.
6
I helped Burton navigate across the parking lot to the screen door at the rear entrance of Red Silk Ribbon, and then into the half-unpacked interior of the lingerie shop. The store was cluttered with open cardboard boxes and piles of plastic hangers and the wall displays were only half full of sexy lingerie. Scattered around were red velvet settees and puffy ottomans. Gilt-edged ivory dressers were placed around the room in strategic locations to display smaller items, like baskets of lotions and sweet-smelling soaps that were waiting to be assembled, stacked in a corner of the store.
Rita had a strong sense of style—not my style, but the place definitely had a theme going. Though it was hard to say if she was going for “high-class strip club” or just fell short of “the tart’s boudoir.”
I pushed an empty cardboard box off of a sleek red couch and helped Burton lower himself to a sitting position. I plopped down next to him on the firm cushion and sighed. It felt good to sit down on something that wasn’t warm pavement.
“You’re not hurt, are you?” he asked, looking over my slightly dusty dress.
Just my pride. “No, I’m fine.”
“I’m not sure how this is going to help us get Eddie served,” Burton said.
“I think Rita’s a better businesswoman than we’re giving her credit for,” I said, turning toward the back of the store as I heard footsteps approaching.
“Son of a bitch,” she hissed, opening the door. “Can’t believe he left—Argh!”
Rita jumped at the sight of me and Burton, lounging on her sexy furniture, and her to-go container flew into the air and scattered salad greens on the deep red carpet.