by Liliana Hart
I cleared my throat. “We believe your husband and the other victim were specifically targeted because of their blood type. They were both O-negative, which is rare, and it makes it very difficult for organ donors to be found since the blood type has to match.”
“Yes, Jon always made it a point to donate blood regularly because of that. In fact, he was a little annoyed, because the last time he had to give blood he ended up on all kinds of third party lists and was getting phone calls all the time asking if he’d either donate more blood or consider becoming a kidney donor.”
“Any specific company?” I asked.
“Not that I know of. It’s just like with anything. Once you donate once they’ll hound you for the rest of your life.”
“They found GHB in your husband’s system.”
“That’s what the police told me,” she said, clasping her hands together on her lap. “That he’d been drugged to get him out of the restaurant, but it was impossible to know who’d done it.
“Or why they’d done it. So many people knew and loved Jon. At least the locals. I could never make sense of it before. The why,” she said, her hands clasping together tighter until her knuckles turned white. “But to know he was targeted from the beginning. That someone came to the island for the express purpose of killing him is unconscionable. If they’d only known him. They never would have chosen him. He was such a good man.”
“Emilio mentioned a woman your husband ran into on the way to the bathroom. Did you happen to see her?”
“No,” she said, shrugging. “Our table didn’t really have a good view of the bathrooms. I watched him walk away and that’s the last time I ever saw him alive.” Her words hitched once and a single tear spilled over. That had been it for me.
We excused ourselves quickly and by the time we got back in the car we were both crying.
“I need some wine,” Rosemarie said. “And some eye pads. I can’t see Magic Mike looking like this.”
She was right. Rosemarie looked a bit…startling. Her hair was rather snarled and tall and her navy eye makeup had smudged under her eyes. She would’ve fit right in on the set of Beetlejuice.
What I needed was some alone time to decompress. I missed living in a house. I missed watching comfort movies while drinking wine and crying by myself. Crying was a great stress reliever.
Rosemarie took a paper napkin out of her bag and wrapped up inside it was a few of the tea cakes.
“You had a look,” she said.
“Thank you.” And then I shoved one of the cakes in my mouth.
Chapter Ten
Monday
When I woke up the next morning I felt like I’d been run over by a truck. A really big truck. My neck was sore due to the fact that I’d fallen asleep half sitting up. The front of my pajamas held the remnants of popcorn kernels and my iPad was still propped against the wall.
After Rosemarie had dropped me at the agency, I’d decided to call it a day. Rosemarie had left in a hurry so she could get ready for her date with Magic Mike, and I’d made popcorn and settled in on my mattress to watch Netflix for the rest of the night. I’d also peeled off my old Icy Hot patches and applied new ones. The bruises hadn’t disappeared. I needed to visit Chermaine and have her rub whatever cream she’d put on Scarlet’s face on my body.
I wasn’t sure what time it was, but when I looked at my phone I noticed Nick had called twice and my mother had called three times. I decided it was best not to return either of them at the moment. I needed to get presentable and get to work. And I needed to pick up my van.
There was a knock at the door and Kate stuck her head in. She jumped at the sight of me. “Holy shit,” she said, slapping a hand to her chest as she caught her breath. “You scared the hell out of me. You look like one of those marionettes just propped up against the wall. You know how much dolls creep me out. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?”
“I did yesterday. I wasn’t that impressed. I’ve decided to start wearing caftans though.”
“Seems like an interesting move.” Kate closed the door to the office and sat in the chair behind my desk. “Why does it smell like my granny in here?”
“Why does everyone’s granny smell the same? Why can’t grannies smell like apple spice or a fresh baked chicken?”
“Are you drunk?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I didn’t buy the boxed wine at Walgreen’s the other night.”
“Probably a wise decision,” Kate said. “I like your hair, by the way. Want to tell me why your eyes are swollen and you’re covered in bruises? I’m assuming that’s where the old lady smell is coming from. How many of those patches do you have on?”
“All of them that were left in the box.” And then I broke down and told her about sleeping with Nick, my stakeout at the Tiger Lounge, being a cunt bitch, and the trip to Hilton Head. “And I put Band-Aids on my nipples yesterday instead of wearing a bra, and now I can’t get them off.”
“You had a busy weekend. I had to spend mine with my in-laws.”
“We should trade next time,” I said. I liked Kate’s in-laws.
“My suggestion is that you take several pain killers, get in the shower and rinse of the popcorn kernels, forget about Nick for at least the next twenty-four hours, and get to work on the Dunnegan case. The weather has cleared up and the longer you sit there the stiffer you’re going to get.”
“I don’t think I like those suggestions. You have any more?”
“Sure, call your mom back. You’ll probably feel much better when you get off the phone with her.”
“You’re a horrible bitch,” I said.
She grinned. “I know. Now get up. Looking at you is depressing the hell out of me. I’ve told you a million times you can stay in my guest bedroom. You don’t have to keep sleeping here.”
“I know, and I appreciate the offer. But I don’t want to impose on you guys. I know Mike is a free-range husband.”
Mike McClean was a big, Scottish, teddy bear of a man. He was solid as a rock, at least six foot five, and he had a shock of red hair. He was still a cop for the Savannah PD, and a couple of months ago we’d found out that he had a bit of a gambling addiction. He and Kate were still working through all that, and I didn’t want to interfere. Besides, Mike really was a free-range husband. He hated wearing clothes when he was home.
“The offer always stands,” she said, getting up and opening the door. “Oh, and be careful messing around too much with Ugly Mo. That could turn out to be bad business all around.”
“No kidding. Especially for the cunt bitch.”
* * *
I did feel better after a shower and pain killers. I wasn’t a hundred percent, and if anyone saw me naked they’d probably run screaming in the opposite direction, but I was able to hold my own as long as I didn’t have to chase anyone down or get into a physical altercation. I figured it was a fifty-fifty chance.
I dressed in yoga pants and a sweatshirt, since denim hurt the bruises on my hips, and I put on socks and tennis shoes. Since it was a possibility the van had become a target, I decided not to take any chances. I Velcroed my elastic holster around my waist and transferred my gun from my purse, and then I pulled my sweatshirt down to cover it.
I needed to follow up with Anthony Dunnegan, and then I was hitting the streets. The sooner I put this case to rest, the less likely I was to stab Anthony in the eye with a fork.
I used the phone number he’d given us in the file.
“Mr. Dunnegan,” I said when he answered. “This is Addison Holmes.”
“Baby, I told you not to call me at this number. You’ve got to use the other line.”
“Actually, you did tell me to use this number. And don’t call me baby. I’m the private investigator looking for your missing kidney.”
“Oh, right. Nurse Ratchet. I ought to sue you for dumping me in that room after I passed out. I didn’t know where the hell I was when I woke up.”
“You’re welco
me to sue, but I figure you don’t want the hassle, since you sexually harassed me in front of witnesses while you were under the influence of drugs,” I lied without any remorse whatsoever.
“Whatever. Everyone knows suits like that are best bought off with a settlement. How much do you want?”
“How about we get down to business.”
“Whatever,” he said. “I’ve got plans tonight, so hurry it up.”
“Hopefully it involves a church and a lot of rosaries.” Since it was barely eight o’clock in the morning, I’d apparently made the wrong assumption that he was at work.
“I’ll be seeing God, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I wasn’t,” I said dryly. “When was the last time you gave blood?” I asked.
“I’m unable to give blood,” he said.
“I didn’t see anything in your medical report from the hospital,” I said. “Do you have a condition?”
“I’m healthy. I just don’t like doing it, which makes me unable.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but snapped it shut. It was one of those moments where silence was the better option.
“I believe you were targeted because of your blood type. Did you know you were O-negative?”
“Sure,” he said. “I got the report back after our life insurance applications were accepted. They sent some nurse out to the house to do a medical workup. She took blood too. Hot little thing. Tried calling the cell number she put down on the forms, but she never called me back. Prick tease.”
I disconnected and felt the need to shower again. Instead, I grabbed my bag and headed out. I caught Jimmy Royal as he was coming into work.
“Just the man I want to see,” I said. “I need a ride to pick up my van.”
“No can do. One trip to that neighborhood was enough for me. My business with Ugly Mo is concluded.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah, that would’ve been helpful information before you sent me down there.”
He smiled and put his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I was simply passing along information. What you did with it was your business. Everyone knows Ugly Mo in this area. I figured you knew the risk.”
“Funny, because I’d never heard of him. But now I’ve been roped into following his wife to see if she’s tearing up the sheets and trading secrets to his competitor.”
Jimmy paled. “Holy shit. You want to stay far away from Fat Louie. That guy is nothing but trouble. Even the cops give him a wide berth. Word on the street is he killed his own mother. They found her in her bathtub with her wrists cut, but she had a couple of defensive wounds. The rumor was she’d been Louie’s bookkeeper and had been cooking two sets of books, siphoning off money for herself. But she’d also been working with the IRS to get him on tax evasion. The ultimate double cross. Send your son to prison and keep his empire. Then she died and it all went away.”
“If I end up with my wrists cut I’m going to haunt you for the rest of your life,” I told him.
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Jimmy said. “Louie’s MO is a nice clean slice right across the throat.”
I thought about it for a second and remembered the words on my would-be attacker’s cheek. And then I thunked myself in the head. “I’m assuming if I run into a guy with the words ‘Property of FL’ tattooed on their body that they work for Fat Louie?”
“Yep. He brands the entire gang for two reasons. It’s a warning to everyone else not to fuck with his people. And it guarantees that his people will never be able to work for anyone else.”
“Great,” I said. “So my brand new van that I bought from Ugly Mo has now been targeted by his biggest enemy. One of his henchmen stopped by the agency the other night and practiced spelling some new words on the sides of the van. It’s at the auto shop being repainted now. Which is where you’re going to drop me.” I smiled and he backed up another step. I really wasn’t happy with Jimmy Royal at the moment. “It’s the least you can do.”
* * *
Jimmy dropped me off at Magic Mike’s and drove off without waiting to see if the van was ready.
A guy came out of the garage dressed in a pair of coveralls similar to the ones Mike had been wearing the day before. The only difference was the name Joe was embroidered over the front right pocket.
“Good Lord,” I said before I could help myself. This guy was even better looking and more muscled than Magic Mike.
“Are you Addison Holmes?” he asked.
“Did my Aunt Scarlet set this up?” I crossed my arms over my chest and took a step back, looking around to see if there were cameras or anything like that. I expected loud, thumping music to start at any moment and for Joe to begin his strip tease.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Uh huh,” I said skeptically. “I’m just saying the gesture is nice, but I really don’t have time for any funny business this morning. Besides, I’m trying to decide if I should accept a marriage proposal, and though I’m not really sure if I’m actually in a relationship right now since we had a fight the other night, it makes my stomach feel a little squishy to partake in something like this.”
“Are you one of those over-sharers?” he asked.
“Only when I’m nervous. I don’t have any dollar bills on me. But you seem very nice.”
He looked at me a little strangely and said, “Mike threw his back out last night, but he called this morning and said to tell you there’s no charge for the paint job. The keys are under the visor.” Joe turned and went back into the garage, whistling between his teeth.
I stood there a full minute before I realized that Magic Mike’s was not a body shop/strip club. It was just a body shop.
“All righty then,” I said to no one. “Moving along.”
Chapter Eleven
I’d just pulled away from Magic Mike’s when my cell phone rang. I saw Scarlet’s number flash across the screen and answered.
“Swing by and pick me up,” she said. “I’ve got an inside track on all this black market organ business. And I wouldn’t mind picking up a donut. They keep trying to feed me eggs here. I hate eggs.”
“I can be there in five minutes,” I told her and disconnected. I turned on the next one-way street and headed toward East Oglethorpe.
When I pulled up to The Ballastone my eyebrows raised so far up my eyelids felt stretched. Aunt Scarlet and Ugly Mo were standing next to the bellman, talking animatedly with each other.
Scarlet had on a pair of black leggings and an oversized men’s white dress shirt. Her top button was undone and she was wearing her three-strand pearl necklace and matching earrings. She still had on her white tennis shoes with the blades in the toes and her fur coat was draped over her shoulders.
Mo was wearing another three-piece suit, this one black with silver pinstripes. He had on a fedora and was carrying a different cane today, this one with an engraved silver handle that matched the pinstripes in his suit.
I stopped the van in front of them and unlocked the doors. They both chose to get in the black leather swivel chairs in the back.
“You remember Ugly Mo?” Aunt Scarlet asked.
“I sure do,” I said. The biggest question on my mind was why he was in my van. “How’s it going, Mo?”
“I’m doing all right. Little arthritis in my neck, but we smoked a real nice blend this morning, so it’s feeling better.”
“You two met up this morning to smoke weed?” I asked. I turned in the seat to look at them. Scarlet’s face was nice and relaxed and she was looking at Mo with a dreamy look in her eyes. Mo hadn’t stopped grinning since he got in the car.
“Nah, we met up last night,” Scarlet said. “We exchanged numbers when he hired us for the case, and all of a sudden last night I hear a little ding on my phone and it was Mo. Then one thing led to another and we started sexting. I’m a real creative sexter, so Mo sent me a picture of his penis. I understand that’s how it’s done now.”
It was fortunate I was stopped at a red light. I t
hunked my head on the wheel once and then once more for good measure.
“Can you believe in ninety years of living I’ve never seen a black man’s penis?”
I wheezed in a deep breath and went into a fit of coughing. Scarlet leaned up and slapped me on the back a couple of times and then the light turned green and I moved forward with the other traffic.
“I was surprised too,” she said. “I’ve seen Chinese, Korean, Australian, British, Indian, and Iranian. And American of course, but you get bored with those after a while,” she whispered like she was sharing national secrets. “But in all that time I’ve never seen a black one. So I told Mo to come on over because I wanted to see it in person. Now I know why he walks with a cane. It’s like having an anaconda in your pants. Can put you off balance for sure.”
Mo laughed and he and Scarlet knuckle bumped. “Once you go black, baby, you’ll never go back.”
“I’d always wondered what that saying meant,” Scarlet said.
I didn’t know how old Ugly Mo was. Maybe somewhere between forty and seventy. It was hard to tell because of the disfigurement of his face. But however old he was, he was still a heck of a lot younger than Scarlet.
“Aunt Scarlet, he’s married!” I said, giving both of them a disapproving look.
I was heading for the donut shop and nobody was going to stop me.
Mo waved his hand in dismissal. “Jasmine’s always had a bit of a wayward pussy. I never minded none. I got a business to run. Nobody got time for a high maintenance ho like Jasmine full-time. It’s best she spread herself among the brothers, if you get my drift.”
Scarlet started to giggle and then Mo joined her. I had two high senior citizens in my van. And worse than that, Mo was one of the passengers. If Fat Louie’s henchmen saw me driving Mo around they’d come after me with a vengeance.