by Liliana Hart
“Those are pretty big bullets,” Rosemarie said. “I once shot a .44 at a piñata at my cousin’s fortieth birthday party and the bullet went through the piñata and the side of the house. When we went in to see how much damage it had done, we found a hole in every wall. It went clear out the other side. Never did find where it ended up.”
Scarlet nodded. “They pack a wallop. I think I need something smaller. Back in my day, I carried a lovely pearl-handled revolver that fit in my evening bag. And I always had a stiletto in my garter. I’ve had to be more creative as I’ve gotten older. I don’t wear garters anymore. They fall right to my ankles, and that’s no good when you’ve got a knife in there. Stabbed myself right in the foot once. Had to get ten stitches.”
Scarlet leaned back in the seat and propped her white sneaker on the console between me and Rosemarie. And then she hit her heel against the flat surface and a blade shot from the toe of her sneakers.
“Holy shit,” Rosemarie said, swerving off the road and driving up on the curb. The car behind her blared his horn and then passed us, flipping us the bird for good measure.
I stared wide-eyed at the knife that had popped up just a few inches from my face and swallowed hard. “Didn’t see that one coming,” I said.
“That’s the whole idea,” Scarlet said. “I’m a dangerous old lady. People underestimate me all the time.”
“How do you get it back in?” Rosemarie asked.
Scarlet clucked her tongue. “That’s the tricky part. You gotta push it back in. It’s easier to do if you take the shoe off first. I learned that the hard way. Was a time when I first got them that I felt just like Johnny Depp in that movie.”
“Edward Scissorhands?” I asked.
“No, Sweeney Todd,” Scarlet said, looking thoughtful. “But that one works too. Johnny has a movie for every occasion. He’s like Hallmark.”
She waggled her foot in my direction and I leaned away from the blade. “Addison, just pull the whole thing off.”
I carefully pulled her shoe off and passed it back to her so she could retract the blade, and she passed me her empty sundae container in trade.
“I don’t feel so good,” Rosemarie said. “I think I need some Tums. And maybe a nap.”
She turned onto State Street, and there wasn’t a parking spot to be found. The McClean Detective Agency sat on the corner in a three-story brick building with ivy rioting up the side. The front windows looked out across Telfair Square. The park was still green, though sparser than it was in the spring and summer.
Directly across the agency was the bank, to the right of the square were two federal buildings, and to the left of the square was the Trinity United Methodist Church. It was an upscale area, and my best friend and owner of the agency, Kate McClean, was no dummy when it came to knowing where the higher-end clients would be. She had five full-time private investigators working for her, including me, and a few cops that worked details for her when needed. She also had Lucy Kim, who was the gatekeeper at the front desk. I got paid a percentage of the fee once I solved a case, and so far, I could almost pay all of the bills that had been past due back when my life had started spiraling down the toilet.
“You can just drop us off,” I told Rosemarie. “It’ll be impossible to find close parking. Too many tourists out and about.”
“I don’t know what these people are doing here in January anyway,” Scarlet said, her shoe firmly back in place. “Why the hell anyone would come here in January just to buy homemade soaps and eat corn pudding that has three-thousand calories in it is beyond me. I’d rather be on a beach drinking Mai Tais.”
“We can always go back to the nudist colony,” Rosemarie said.
“No we can’t,” I butted in. “They kicked us out. They said we’re not Hidden Sunrise material. Apparently it upset the other guests when the FBI showed up wearing clothes to make an arrest.”
“Just as well,” Scarlet said. “I had so much sand up my hoo-ha I’m surprised I wasn’t making pearls.”
Rosemarie and I both curled our lips in disgust, and I thought I saw Rosemarie gag a little. Her face was tinged green and she was a little clammy. She pulled in front of the agency and I got out and leaned the seat forward to help Scarlet.
“You don’t look so good,” I told Rosemarie, leaning back in.
“She just needs to chuck it up,” Scarlet said, leaning in next to me. “She’ll feel right as rain after that. Drink a little castor oil and you’ll be throwing up your toenails lickety-split.”
Beads of perspiration dotted Rosemarie’s upper lip and her hands gripped the wheel. “I’ll be fine. I just need a nap and a Dancing with the Stars marathon. I’ll see y’all later.”
We watched as Rosemarie sped away and barely missed a few pedestrians in the crosswalk.
Scarlet clucked her tongue. “She won’t make it another block before she’s decorating the street. Damned embarrassing. Back in my day a woman knew how to keep her donuts down.”
I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but I knew from experience it was never a good idea to argue with Scarlet, so I hmmmed appropriately and helped her up the steps to the agency.
“I think we need to get some ice on your forehead,” I said. “I really wish you’d let me take you to the hospital to have you checked out.”
“No way,” she said. “I’m an old lady. Once you take an old lady to the hospital they never let you leave. They’re always doing tests and sticking tubes up your butt to see what your colon looks like. Doctors are fascinated by old people’s colons and bowel movements. I think it’s unnatural. I haven’t had anyone interested in my colon since my second husband, and that’s just because he was secretly gay. The man was beautiful to look at, but didn’t know what the hell to do with a vagina. One time he was down there and burst into tears. He died before we could get an annulment. Rest his soul,” she said, making another sign of the cross.
“Okay,” I said, brightly. “No doctor. But when we get inside you’re going to rest and let us take care of you. You look like you got in a fight with a heavyweight. And lost.”
“I wouldn’t mind some ice, but drugs would be better.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
* * *
I was relieved to see Lucy wasn’t at her desk.
There was something about Lucy Kim that scared the ever-loving daylights out of me. She was just a couple inches over five-feet, but she always wore pencil-thin heels that added an extra four inches. Her hair was like black silk and fell straight as rain to the center of her back, and her eyes were as black as her heart. Okay, maybe I made up that last part. I had no clue if she even had a heart. At least a beating one. The most workable theory I had was that Lucy was a vampire, though I hadn’t worked out how she walked around in the daytime without turning to ash.
I’d never heard her speak, and I’d never seen her eat or drink anything. Lucy was an enigma. But I was pretty sure she knew a hundred ways to kill a man and never get caught. And I was almost positive her role in the detective agency wasn’t just a secretary. I hadn’t heard any news reports of vigilantes roaming the streets of Savannah at night, but if I had, Lucy would be my first choice.
“It feels like old people in here,” Scarlet said as I led her toward Kate’s office. “Depressing as hell.”
“I’m sure Kate will be glad to hear that. Maybe you mean old money,” I said. “Everything is very tasteful. It’s a business. She can’t have those paintings of blue dogs hanging up everywhere.”
“I don’t see why not. Those suckers are expensive. Got two of ’em hanging in my bathroom.” She wobbled a little and I grabbed her elbow for support. “Besides, I know exactly what I’m talking about. I’m old and I’ve got old money. I never liked the snooty rich people who liked this kind of stuff. I’ve got trains in my attic. Have I ever shown them to you?”
The change of subject took me by surprise, but I rolled with it. “You’ve never invited me to your house. I don’t even know w
hat state you live in.”
“It’s better that way,” Scarlet said. “That way if you’re ever captured and tortured you won’t be able to give them the information they’re looking for.”
I knocked on Kate’s door wondering what kind of secrets Scarlet might be keeping that someone would want to kidnap her family for. It was better not to think about it.
“Come in,” Kate called out.
Kate and I had been best friends since diapers. I always thought of her as a tiny titan. She was constant motion in a five-foot-two package, and she was cute as a button. Her face was always free of makeup, her dark blonde hair was cut in a no-nonsense chin-length shag, and she never wore anything but black, brown, or gray boxy suits to work, much to my dismay.
She’d been a cop for a couple of years before she decided the politics and bullshit weren’t for her, but she’d made enough contacts to get the P.I. business started and build a solid clientele. Kate was as practical as they came, and she’d always been a voice of reason through the years. I liked to think I balanced her out a little so she wasn’t all work and no play, but mostly I gave her heartburn.
“Holy cow,” Kate said when she looked up from the files on her desk. “What happened?”
“I shot his ear clean off,” Scarlet said. “Do you have any of that medicinal marijuana? I’ve got a bit of a headache.”
“No kidding,” Kate said. “You’ve got a mountain growing out of the center of your forehead.”
Kate dug through the bottom drawer of her desk while I led Scarlet to the brown leather sofa in the little sitting room attached to the office. It was a large space that Kate used to interview potential clients and feed them coffee and cookies until they paid their retainer fees.
I got Scarlet settled and covered her with a blanket, and Kate called Lucy at the front desk to ask for a couple of ice packs.
“I’m fresh out of medicinal marijuana, but I’ve got Vicodin,” Kate said.
“That’ll do. I don’t have any Cheetos anyway.”
Kate handed Scarlet the drugs and a bottle of water, and we both watched as she swallowed them and laid back on the couch. Lucy entered and handed us an ice pack, and then she left as silently as she came.
“There’s something unnatural about that girl,” Scarlet said, nodding toward Lucy after she’d left. “I knew someone like that during my days as a spy. She never said a word. Always looked like she was up to something.”
“Was she a double agent?” I asked.
“Nope. It turns out she’d lost her tongue in a horrible accident and couldn’t speak. And she’d lost an eye in the same accident and it was replaced with a glass eye, which is why she looked so shifty all the time. But that girl there is more than she seems. I bet she’s bedded a man or two to get his secrets. Like recognizes like.”
“Is it too early to start drinking?” Kate asked me.
“Believe me, alcohol doesn’t help,” I said, dropping into one of the oversized chairs next to the couch. I already felt like I’d put in a full day.
I was going to have to take responsibility for Scarlet. She was an old woman who was injured. I had no idea where her home was, if she had a car, or if she had someone to take care of her. The only thing I knew with certainty was that I had to keep Scarlet away from my mother. They hated each other with the kind of cold disdain and insults that only Southern women had a talent for.
“Do I want to know whose ear you shot off?” Kate asked.
Scarlet narrowed her eyes. “Armed robber at the gas station. He shot the shit out of their ceiling and scared the bejeezus out of all the poor customers. I couldn’t let that stand with my training, so I took him out. Only problem was I forgot what a kick that gun has. Knocked me right on my keister.”
“Are you living back in Georgia fulltime?” Kate asked. “I didn’t realize you had a conceal carry permit.”
“Don’t need one,” Scarlet said, unconcerned. “I’ve got a universal pass from my days in the OSS.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works,” Kate said. But it was no use. Scarlet was fast asleep. Her hands were crossed over her chest and the only reason I knew she was still alive was because of the gentle snores escaping her mouth.
“How long do you think she’s going to stay there?” Kate asked.
“No telling. If we’re lucky it’ll be a couple of days. Sleeping keeps her out of trouble.”
“Right, well I’ve got an appointment at ten-thirty with a new client. In fact, I need you to be at the meeting. He personally requested you for the job.” Kate looked me up and down, taking in my wardrobe choices of that morning. “You still sleeping in your office?”
“Yep.”
“By your attire I’m assuming you’re not having sex with anyone.”
“I’m on sabbatical. Sex with Nick clouds my judgment. I can’t make rational decisions when he’s naked. That man’s a sex wizard.”
“So instead of having crazy Hogwart’s sex, you’re sleeping like a bag lady in your office and wearing clothes that wouldn’t tempt a nymphomaniac.”
“Stop trying to be logical,” I said, closing my eyes. “I just had to do what felt right. I needed time to think on my decision, and Nick agreed to give me a full month. Didn’t you have cold feet when you and Mike got married?”
“No,” Kate said. “It’s marriage. You either love each other or you don’t.”
“There are a lot of variables. I don’t have the best track record when it comes to marriage.”
“Bullshit,” Kate said, rolling her eyes. “You don’t have the best track record when it comes to weddings. Weddings and marriages aren’t the same thing. You’ve never been married, therefore you don’t have a track record. And your track record with weddings sucks because you were engaged to a narcissistic gigolo who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. Karma came and bit him in the ass.”
I had to agree. Karma had been a real bitch to my ex-fiancé.
“What you need is to skip the wedding this time. Just elope. Then you can overcome the fear you have of finding Nick consummating your vows with someone else.”
“I’ve got exactly seven days to make a decision,” I said. “Maybe I should just flip a coin.”
“You can’t tell me you don’t already know what you’re going to tell him. Why are you dragging it out?”
“What’s if it’s the wrong decision?” I said, throwing my hands up in the air. “I don’t need this kind of pressure right now. The stress is affecting me. When I took a shower this morning a clump of my hair came out right in my hand. And I’ve gained ten pounds since I got my P.I. license.”
“You had it to gain,” Kate said. “But you probably shouldn’t eat a whole box of donuts.”
“I only got two,” I said dramatically. “Nick and Rosemarie ate the rest. And marriage is a big deal. Why doesn’t anyone else understand that but me?”
“Because you’re acting like a lunatic. Nick loves you, despite your weirdness. And you love him. Despite the fact that you keep looking for reasons not to. Now go change out of your bag lady clothes and be back here for the ten-thirty. If Nick still seemed interested in marrying you after seeing you dressed like that then you know you have a winner.”
I stuck my tongue out at Kate. She didn’t see it, but it made me feel better.
Chapter Three
I was feeling a little more stable once I dressed in regular clothes and did something with my hair. I looked at my reflection in the small mirror hanging on the back of my office door and turned my head from side to side. Maybe what I needed was small changes in my life. Like a new hairstyle or color. I’d worn my dark brown hair to the middle of my back since high school. And other than the ill-advised bangs I’d cut myself last year, it hadn’t changed much over the years.
I’d pulled on a pair of black leggings and an oversized angora sweater the color of a good merlot. The weather was supposed to turn nasty by nightfall, so I wore my knee-high leather boots and capped the
look off by looping an infinity scarf around my neck. This was the south. We accessorized to go to the grocery store. If my mother had seen me in public in what I’d worn this morning she would’ve had kittens.
Since I’d moved out of Whiskey Bayou and into Savannah, it took a little longer for word of mouth to reach her. My mother’s reach was far and wide. And it always seemed like someone was watching. She had spies everywhere.
I was in better spirits since Kate’s pep talk, so I swiped on some lipstick the same color as my sweater and grabbed an empty notepad before heading to the conference room.
“Hey, Holmes,” Jimmy Royal called out as I passed by.
I stuck my head inside his office and looked around. His space was about five-times the size of mine, which made sense, considering my office had been converted from a janitor’s closet. He’d decorated it with a mixture of sports memorabilia and divorced ex-cop. It wasn’t a good look. But he was a great P.I.
Jimmy was second-in-command at the agency. He was just over six feet tall and thin as a rail. He lived on Chef Boyardee and Cracker Barrel, and I’d never seen him wear anything on his feet but the same pair of cowboy boots. I had no idea how he walked quietly in those when he was on a case. I made noise walking in my bare feet.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I found a lead on that RV you’re looking for. A friend of mine outfits them custom. He said he had a buyer fall through, so he’s got one ready for pick up if you want it.”
“I don’t think I want an RV. Just a van. I’d never be able to park it in the city.”
“This is about the size of a van. They still call it an RV if it’s got all the junk inside it.”