by Anthology
I was so screwed.
* * *
Matthew was smooth; I’d give him that. He put my sister in the back of squad car and had the door shut before she could say “lawyer.” Again. As the car took off, the shocked look on Dee’s face was priceless.
“You’re gonna pay for that,” I warned him.
“I can take it.” He led me to a black sedan and opened the passenger door for me. I slid inside and snapped on my seatbelt.
He did the same, and then he started the car. “Let’s take the long way. I want you to tell me everything. Off the record.”
“Why?” I asked.
“So I can save your cute little ass.” He sighed. “I’ve been wrong about people before—especially women. But I’m not wrong about you.” He glanced at me. “There’s just something about you, Violetta. I haven’t been able to get you out of my thoughts.” He smiled, and I felt electrified. Man, he could make a girl want a life with a white picket fence and a couple of kids.
“You can trust me,” he said softly. “I promise.”
I wanted to trust him. And he hadn’t read my rights, so he couldn’t hold anything I said against me. If Dee found out I gave him all the details, she would kill me. I sighed. Looks like the detective wasn’t the only who would soon suffer my sister’s considerable wrath. “All right, Matthew.”
“Call me Matt.”
“Matt.” Once again, I found myself telling the woeful tale of Violetta Graves and her bad life decisions. I started with the stiletto to Enrique’s face and ended with me kissing the alleyway pavement. I skipped the part where my sister frisked the corpse for the necklace.
When I was done, Matt looked like he’d been sucking on a lemon. “Let me get this straight. You had an ongoing dispute with Enrique Santos, one that started with you assaulting him.”
“It sounds bad when you say it like that.”
“Oh, that’s not the bad part, but it sure is motive.”
“You said you wouldn’t use my words against me!”
“I’m not.”
I sounded more and more like a crazy person. I did not want Matthew Stone to see me this way, but as I sat in his squad car recounting my trip down loser lane it was hard to hide from the truth anymore. My life wasn’t fun and fab. I play it fast and loose, and now I was paying the consequences for my actions.
“You lost a small claims case to Mr. Santos, where you were forced to hand over your only valuable item as a partial payment. Then you and your sister go to the club Enrique frequents and works at—”
“Technically he wasn’t working. And it’s a public space.”
“Irrelevant. The purpose of going to the Riot was to retrieve your former property, so you not only risked violating the restraining order, but also planned to commit larceny.” He gripped the steering wheel harder. “That’s still not the bad part. You were seen fighting with Mr. Santos. Then you were found in the alley with the murder weapon, that you inadvertently touched, and the body of your ex-boyfriend. He was alive this morning and dead by midnight. You had means and opportunity.”
“Nobody will visit me in prison.”
“You’re not going to prison. You’re going to take your sister’s advice. Ask for a lawyer. Do not talk to anyone until your lawyer arrives. I’m going to take apart Enrique’s life and try to find more viable suspects. I’ll hold off on filing charges, but we have a pretty good circumstantial case. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep you from getting arrested.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I know it looks bad. But I didn’t do it.”
“I know.” He reached over and clasped my hand. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
Tears threatened, and I hated to cry, but I think, given the kind of day I’ve had, a good old-fashioned sobbing might be in order. I looked up, glancing into the review mirror.
I saw a pair of dark eyes staring at me.
“Aaaaah!”
Matt swerved, and used both hands on the wheel to correct course. “What is it? Jesus. You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“Sorry. I thought I saw a wasp.”
“In the car?”
“Wasps get into cars all the time, Matt. They’re big and scary and sting-y.”
“You want me to pull over and do a wasp check?” He looked genuinely concerned.
“You’d do that?”
The lines around his eyes softened. His lips turned up in a gentle smile. He took my hand, his fingers twining with mine. “Yeah.”
“That’s sweet.” It really was sweet. And kind. And wonderful. My heart melted into a giant puddle of mushy emotion. He was such a nice guy. A nice guy I didn’t want ruin with my bad mojo. Why did he have to look so freaking hot? It would’ve been easier to ignore him if I wasn’t constantly thinking about how much fun he was to look at naked. “I think it was just dust or something. I’m just a little jumpy. Dead-ex and all.”
My head hurt, and I was tired, and still a little hazy from the gelatin shots. Not to mention the crowbar to the head. I glanced in the rear view mirror again and examined the figure in the back seat of Matt’s car. I recognized him now. He was the homeless man I’d seen at the courthouse.
He waggled his fingers at me. “Hi, again. I’m Ben.” He smiled widely. “I’m here to help you.”
5
Dee and I sat in a tiny room with white walls, a card table, and four foldout chairs. Ben leaned against the wall. I tried to ignore him, but I really liked the dude. However, accepting his help would probably get me convicted for murder. Why had I told Matt everything? Ugh. He brought out the worst in me, it seemed. The part of me that wanted to, for once, believe a man I picked could be honest and trustworthy.
“Is this an interrogation room?” I asked. “I expected something more like an inquisition torture chamber.” I clenched my fists until my knuckles were blanched white.
My sister patted my hands, and I unclenched. “This is Las Vegas, not fifteenth century Spain.” She looked at me and put a finger to her lips. Her gaze slid up. I followed her line of sight to the mounted video camera.
My nerves were in shreds, especially after my confession to Matt. I took a big risk trusting him with the whole story. Had I made a mistake?
I held onto my purse like it would somehow protect me. A false shield formed of faux leather and forlorn hope. I felt on the verge of either throwing up or snot crying or both.
Ben stuffed his hands into the coat’s pockets. “You’re shiny,” he said.
“What?” I turned and looked at Ben.
“Most people, they’re shadows. Dark. But you’re bright. I haven’t seen anyone who shines like you do.” He looked down at the ground. “I followed you,” he admitted. “Because no one’s talked to me in a long time. Being dead is lonely.”
My heart turned over in my chest. I felt his aching loneliness as if it were my own. This was part of what happens when I tune in to the world of the dead. I get the feels. Mine and theirs. “I’m sorry, Ben. You can hang out with me any time.”
He flashed that gap-toothed grin. “I’d like that.”
“There’s a ghost in here?” asked Dee.
“A guy named Ben. I met him at the courthouse earlier. He’s pretty cool.” I gave Ben the thumbs-up. His grin widened as he gave me a thumbs-up, too. “I’m gonna help you. I’ll find out who killed that fella.” He began to fade away.
“Wait!” Nope. Gone. “The ghost has left the building.”
Dee pawed through her bag and retrieved her cell phone.
“You’ve already left Darren three-thousand voicemails,” I said.
“Maybe he’ll answer this time. I need to do something. I’m not good with waiting.” She called Darren for the eleventy-hundreth time. Her expression turned thunderous. “Hi, Darren, again. This is your wife, again. To recap, again, I’m sitting an interrogation room with my sister and we’re being questioned for murder. Murder, Darren. Call me back, you asshat.” She stabbed the end button.
&n
bsp; Wow. Darren was really being a prick. I felt sorry for Dee. She was probably imagining, like I was, that her husband was between the sheets with another woman. Too busy banging his mistress to give a shit about his family. I wanted to kick him in the balls for the hurt he was causing my sister.
“I know a lawyer,” I said.
Dee stared at me. “You do?”
“Don’t look so surprised,” I said. “I know people, okay? They’re just not your kind of people.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” She slapped her purse down on the card table and stood up, putting her hands on her hips. “I am not a snob. I know all kinds of people, too.”
I pinned her gaze and engaged her in a staring contest. Dee gave in, and sighed, sinking down into her chair. “Fine. I’m a snob.”
“Yes, but you’re my snob, and I won’t let anyone pick on you.” I made a “gimme” gesture with my hand. She handed me her cell, and I dialed Frank Delgada’s phone number.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, Detective Stone opened the door to the interrogation room. “Your lawyer is here,” he said.
“Darren?” asked Dee.
“No. Says the name is Frank.”
“Yes,” I said. “That’s our lawyer.”
“Hmm. Okay. Sure you two don’t want anything to drink?”
I was dying for water or soda, but Ms.-I-Watch-Crime-Shows had put the kibosh on quenching thirst. Her explanation? DNA. I was innocent, damn it, and I wanted some carbonated sugar and caffeine.
“Out of the way, honey,” intoned a breathless male voice. “I need to check on the welfare of my clients.”
Matthew was jostled from the doorway as Frank entered the room. He pushed the detective out and shut the door. “Child, that man is smoking hot, and he carries a gun to boot.” Frank leaned against the wall and fanned himself. Then he turned to me, “Oh, baby girl. Are you all right?” He put down his briefcase, and opened his arms. I jumped out of my chair and went for the bear hug. Frank was a few inches over six feet tall. He worked out, so he was muscular, but not burly.
He was also dressed as Marilyn Monroe.
He drew back and clasped my hands. As usual, his make-up was over the top fantastic, and the pleated white dress clung to his frame in a way that made his fake boobs and padded hips look fantastic. His long, lean legs looked extra cute in the red high heels.
“Did you miss your show?” I asked.
“Cher took over my midnight spot.” He waved off my concern. “You’re more important than any show. You know that theatre doesn’t deserve me anyway.”
He looked around me and studied my sister. “You’re Deirdre?”
Deirdre nodded. Then she said, “You don’t look like a Frank.”
He laughed and gave my sister one of his patented hugs. “It’s gonna be okay, my darling.”
After he released Dee, he gestured for us to take our seats. He looked at the camera, wagged his finger at whoever had been watching us, and unplugged it. He sat down, opened his briefcase and took out tablet and a keyboard. “All right, tell me everything from the beginning.”
I should just write the story down and send out a memo. Once again, I divulged the details about the stiletto attack, the civil court suit, and the restraining order, and went on to describe Enrique’s harassment at the club, my subsequent flight to the bathroom, and then getting bonked on the head.
Dee told her part of the story, which wasn’t nearly as long as mine. Basically, when she came off the stage she searched everywhere for me, then she’d gone outside to look around, ventured down the alley, and found me moments before homicide arrived.
After we finished our sordid tale, Frank saved the file, shut down the tablet, and looked at us.
“Motive, opportunity, and means, baby girl. You’ve checked off all the boxes. And honey, I’ve seen people convicted on less.”
I started hyperventilating.
Frank grabbed my head and pushed it down between my legs. “Breathe, honey. Your goose isn’t cooked yet.”
I inhaled shuddering breaths and thought about life in prison (I hated orange, my cell mate would be a tatted up biker chick named Bertha, I would be forced to get out of bed early and be productive). Oh, God. Just kill me already.
“What is that?” asked my sister.
I slowly sat up. There was definitely a commotion outside.
“Dra-ma!” said Frank. “Oooh. I love me some drama.” He got up and crossed the room, flinging open the door.
We all went out into the hallway. Andrea Keller, Matt, the barrel-chested detective from the crime scene, and two uniformed police officers stood a couple feet away. Andrea spotted me and waved. “Hey!” Her voice sounded weird. As she walked toward me, she looked like a puppet whose strings were being pulled in the wrong order. Arms flopping, legs wobbling, head bobbing.
“All yours, Stone and Monetti.” The police officers shook their heads, and left.
“I found the killer.” She lifted both her arms in an awkward cheer.
I squinted at the big woman. Something seemed off. First of all, she was being nice, after throwing me under the bus. Secondly, she was acting really fucking weird.
Ben popped his head out of her head, and startled me so badly that I yelped and stumbled back. “Holy shit. What are you doing?”
“I’m helping you, shiny lady,” he said. “I can see her memories. She’s not a nice person.”
He reinserted himself into Andrea. The possessed body turned toward Matt. “I killed Enrique Santos and blamed it on Violetta Graves.”
Matt’s eyebrows went up. “You’re confessing to the murder?”
“Yes.”
“Hold up,” said Monetti. He stated her Miranda rights. “You understand your rights, Ms. Keller.”
“Yes, I do.” She gave him a thumbs-up. “Enrique wanted me to make him a partner. Fifty-percent ownership in the club and fifty-percent of my drug operation. He told me if I didn’t do what he said, he’d turn me in to the cops. When his crazy ex—”
“Hey!” I protested.
“What the hell is going on here?” muttered Monetti.
“Anyway, the crazy ex came to the club, and I knew I could pin the murder on her. I followed them both to the bathroom. She hid in the ladies’ room and I took a tire iron and hit him hard. I heard his skull crack. When Violetta opened the door, I whacked her, too. Dragged them out to the alley, and called the police.”
Matt looked from me to Andrea. “You got evidence?”
“What? A confession isn’t enough?” said Deirdre.
I elbowed her. “Shut up.” My necklace, I mouthed to Andrea-Ben. The possessed woman frowned, and I can’t help but think Ben was checking her memories. He shook her head.
“Got blood on my dress,” Andrea-Ben continued. “I changed clothes. Washed my hands in my private bathroom. Drugs are kept in a secret room accessed from my office.”
“Monetti?” asked Matt.
“Works for me,” said the detective. He turned Andrea around and put handcuffs on her. “I’m booking you for the murder of Enrique Santos and the attempted murder of Violetta Graves.” He walked her down the hall.
Ben popped out of Andrea and leaned against the wall, looking happy. “I told you I would help,” he said.
I mouthed, “Thank you.”
“My work here is done, baby girl.” Frank leaned down and air kissed my cheeks. “I am go-ood. You need anything else, you call.” He retrieved his briefcase from the interrogation room, waved another good-bye and sauntered down the hall.
“He has really great legs,” said Deirdre.
“I know, right?”
“Deirdre!”
Darren whizzed past Marilyn Monroe without even a glance and skidded to a stop in front of his wife. “I’m sorry, honey. I was in a closed meeting. Big case.” He hugged her. “Are you all right?” He glared at me. “What did you do?”
I tried to look innocent. Matt stepped slightly in front of me. “W
ho are you?”
“Assistant District Attorney Darren Hamilton. Whatever shenanigans this woman pulled—” He pointed an accusing finger at me. “My wife was not involved.”
Deirdre slapped his hand down. “Don’t you talk to my sister like that! Where were you for the last five hours, Darren Leroy Hamilton?”
“Leroy?” I asked. “Really?”
Darren gave me a dirty look. Deirdre pinched him under the arm. He resumed his expression of contriteness. “I told you, honey. I had to work late.”
“Hah!” Deirdre was angry. Her face was turning an alarming shade of red. “Let me tell you something, Darren. My sister is moving in with us.”
“I am?”
“You are.”
“Can Ben live with us, too?”
“Who the hell is Ben?” ask Darren.
“Her pet.” She lifted her finger and put it against his open mouth. “Shut. It. You are not going to have any more late nights. You are going to buy me a proper anniversary present. And you are going back to briefs.”
He blinked. I could tell from his stunned expression that he was unprepared for Hurricane Deirdre.
“Let’s go.” She wheeled her husband around and dragged him down the hall. “We’ll meet you in the parking garage, Vie.”
“Wow.” Matt faced me. “Your sister is a force of nature.”
I grinned proudly. “You have no idea.”
“You know, you were in a lot of trouble. It’s really fortuitous, and strange, that Andrea confessed.”
Ben winked at me from across the hall.
I blanched. “I guess her conscience got the better of her.”
“Hmm.” Matt drew me into his embrace. “You still got my number?”
“Yep.”
“You are a mystery, Violetta Graves.” He leaned down and kissed me. Just a soft, sweet brush of his lips. Heat swept through me. “And I love a good mystery.
The End
About Michele Bardsley
Michele Bardsley lives in Texas with her Viking husband and their fur babies. When she' s not writing, you can find her crocheting zombie hats and eating dark chocolate. http://www.michelebardsley.com