Stella, Get Your Man

by Nancy Bartholomew

  “Sheila said it’s important. She needs me.”

  “Does it have anything to do with Tonya May?”

  He didn’t meet my eyes, which was a bad sign.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  I took a step toward closer. If he was going to walk out on us now, he was going to look me in the eye before he did.

  “Why aren’t we both going then?”

  “She wanted me to come alone, and since we haven’t taken care of the Joey Smack issue, that’s probably a good idea anyway.”

  He was blowing me off and we both knew it. True, I should be staying behind, but so should he. Where was his loyalty anyway?

  “Jake, what’s the deal with you and Sheila?”

  He looked at me then. “We worked together once, a few years ago.”

  That wasn’t enough to explain this sudden departure. “And?” I added. We were standing in front of his truck, but it wasn’t enough of a buffer to cut the chill wind that blew in off the ocean. I shivered and looked out toward the horizon. Thick gray clouds gathered, signaling an impending storm. How appropriate, I thought.

  “And we had a brief affair. It was a mistake. I was still married to Donna and even though I knew we didn’t love each other, that was no excuse for what I did. I’d tell you it happened because Sheila and I came close to dying and somehow making love reminded us we were still alive, but that’s an excuse. We all know excuses satisfy only those who make them.”

  “And so are you satisfied now?” I asked, unable to keep the anger out of my voice.

  “Stella, please. She wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t urgent.”

  I stared at him. I wanted to say, “Well, what about us? Isn’t this urgent, too? If Joey Smack decides to hit the house while you’re gone, will that be urgent enough for you?” But I didn’t. I could handle Joey Smack or anything else life threw my way. I didn’t need Jake Carpenter’s help, or his loyalty, or worse, his pity.

  I turned away from him and walked back up the stairs and into the house. A moment later I heard the truck’s engine roar to life and the spin of tires on gravel as he hit the road.

  Nina and Spike looked as if they felt sorry for me and I couldn’t stand it. I forced a small smile, walked back to my chair and sat down.

  “Where were we?” I asked.

  Nina hesitated. “Honey, if you don’t feel like doing this, I understand.”

  Spike pursed her lips and said nothing.

  “I’m fine. Let’s keep going. I think the fact that Jake left gives us a clear sign of where he stands with the agency and our partnership, don’t you?”

  Spike frowned. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far, Stella,” she said. “Maybe he’s just trying to do what he feels is right.”

  “Yeah,” Nina added. “After all, he’s a Scorpio. They can be obstinate. He wouldn’t want to appear wrong, even if he is.”

  Aunt Lucy walked back into the room, accompanied by Lloyd, and sat down in a wing chair.

  “Girls,” she said, “I need your help.” She looked at Nina when she said this, and seemed to be as apologetic as it was possible for her to be. “I know we were going to do the mission statement today, but I just called the shopping network people. It seems they’ve been trying to reach me all week. My magic cleanser is a runaway hit!” Her eyes sparkled. “Do you know what this means?”

  I did. “You have more orders than you have supply and we need to help you?”

  Aunt Lucy nodded. “Oh, yes, that, but our profit is approximately two dollars a bottle. They’ve had orders for a thousand bottles this week alone! I only have one hundred in stock. If this keeps up, we’ll have to develop an assembly system. We could make enough money to support ourselves!” She turned to me. “You wouldn’t need to waste your time running around repossessing sleighs and making bad people mad at you.”

  I could only nod as my heart sank down to my feet. Just what I always wanted, a job with security and safety. A nice boring routine. A job where you didn’t matter.

  “Girls, I have to deliver a thousand bottles of cleanser to the network by the day after tomorrow. Now, I’ve made a few phone calls. Nina, there’s a supplier in Atlantic City who has the bottles and spray tops we need.”

  I listened as Aunt Lucy doled out instructions, tuning out the words and nodding dully as she went on and on. Everybody had a job, but I made sure mine included staying close to my aunt. Spike and Nina could travel together. Joey Smack wasn’t likely to hit a moving target. I would stay home with Aunt Lucy until Jake returned, then I was going to do something about Joey Smack. I just didn’t know exactly what that would be.

  The household galvanized into action. Spike and Nina were on their way to Atlantic City within ten minutes and Aunt Lucy had every pot, bowl and container in the house out on top of the counters a mere two minutes later.

  There wasn’t time to think and after a while, I was grateful for that respite. I could feel my heart like a lead weight inside my chest. I’d been dreaming when I’d thought Jake and I could perhaps have a personal, as well as business relationship. Worse, I’d let my imagination pair up with my hopes, and envisioned a happily-ever-after that was pure fantasy. How gullible was I? Was I just doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over again?

  Spike and Nina returned two hours later, an hour past the time Jake had said he’d return. I glanced at the clock and went back to work, measuring cupfuls of ingredients under Aunt Lucy’s watchful eye.

  Four hours later we finished the last batch of formula and by 6:00 p.m. it was dispensed into bottles, packed in cardboard boxes and waiting by the door to be loaded onto the back of Jake’s truck. He was still gone.

  When Lloyd whined at the door, begging for a walk, Spike handed me the leash.

  “Take him for a walk,” she whispered. “You look like you could use some time alone.”

  I looked at Aunt Lucy, reluctant to leave her, but Spike patted her sweater pocket and smiled. “I have a gun, you know, and I’m not afraid to use it. Your aunt has a gun, and I’m afraid she will use it! So don’t worry about us. Go. Take a nice long walk and see if you don’t feel better.”

  I took the leash, grabbed my coat and headed for the door. I knew I wouldn’t feel better, but I might be able to calm down enough to make some decisions.

  Once Lloyd and I reached the beach, I took him off the lead and watched him take off. The air was thick with the smell of salt and rain. I looked up at the sky, saw the thick clouds overhead and knew the storm was about to begin. A few fat snowflakes hit my upturned face and as I walked, more began to fall.

  Jake was fine. He had to be. He was merely tied up with Sheila what’s-her-name. Instead of worrying about Jake’s welfare, maybe I needed to be worrying about why Sheila turned to him when she was in trouble instead of to one of her colleagues. What was up with that? What kind of history did Jake have with her anyway? He said it had been a brief affair, but was that just the candy coating he put over it to assuage me?

  The snow began in earnest and flakes blew sideways in their hurry to reach the ground. Any other time I might’ve enjoyed the oddity, but not tonight. Tonight I walked without enjoyment, feeling my life collapse around me in tangles of confusion. I’d thought things were on track again after Pete. I’d dared to hope I could reinvent myself without the mistakes and pain of the past carrying over to hurt me. I was terribly, terribly wrong.

  Lloyd barked in the distance and when I looked up I saw Fang running to join him. The two dogs ran in short circles around each other, barking, and then raced in my direction. I watched them and felt even sorrier for myself. Why couldn’t my life be that easy? Lloyd was in love with an animal twice his size at least, but that obstacle hadn’t stopped him. He’d persisted, sure of himself, and now Fang seemed to be reciprocating. Not like Jake. If running off to save Sheila was reciprocity, I surely didn’t need it!

  Fang and Lloyd ran closer, circling me in ever closer rings, finally stopping when I did. Fang walked up to me, wh
ined, and when I petted her head, pulled back, grabbing my coat sleeve in her powerful jaws.

  “Hey, girl, let go!” I said.

  Fang tugged hard, just as she had when she’d led me to Lloyd. Lloyd yipped anxiously and ran several feet ahead of us, toward the houses lining the beachfront. I stared up ahead and saw nothing but long stretches of darkened houses, their ranks broken by the occasional glow of lights from an occupied cottage or a street lamp.

  I followed the dogs nonetheless, walking toward the houses, and finally realizing that Fang was returning to Doug Hirshfield’s vacant home.

  “Girl,” I muttered, “what you need is a place to live. You can’t keep staying under empty houses and eating God knows what.”

  Fang let go of my coat, ran forward and looked back to make sure I was following. I walked behind the two dogs, coming to at least one conclusion. Fang was going to come home with us, not just to the beach house for an overnight, but to Glenn Ford. She needed a home.

  As we walked between the dunes, Fang shifted abruptly, leading me away from Doug’s house and instead, heading toward another boarded-up beach cottage, two houses down. She walked around to the back of the boarded-up building but I stopped, my attention drawn to the faint sound of music, something classical and morose. It was coming from inside the house.

  Fang walked around the far side of the cottage and paused briefly beneath a window. I looked up and saw the faint flicker of orange candlelight, and heard the music more clearly.

  Fang barked once, startling me, and continued around to the back door. She climbed the steps, looked back at me and whined before pawing the door open and walking inside.

  Lloyd followed her.

  “Come back here, Lloyd!” I called softly. “Lloyd!”

  Fang reappeared in the doorway and barked. It was all the invitation I needed. I slid my hand into my jacket pocket, wrapped my fingers around the Glock and followed my two canine companions into the house.

  I closed the door softly behind us and called, “Anybody home?”

  I reached for a switch by the door, flipped it and got no response. In the darkness, Fang grabbed my sleeve again and tugged, leading me toward the music and the faint glow of the candlelight.

  My heart beat hard against the walls of my chest. This was probably a very stupid move on my part, but Lloyd was inside the house somewhere and I couldn’t leave without him.

  Fang drew me out of the kitchen and into the dining room. A man sat with his back to me, slumped over onto the table. A green wine bottle had fallen over beside his outstretched left hand, spilling the few remaining drops of red wine onto the white damask tablecloth. A small handgun lay beside his right hand and his head rested on a few sheets of white paper. In front of him sat an ancient, possibly antique, typewriter. Suicide 101, I thought, my cop brain kicking into autopilot.

  Fang dropped my sleeve, walked over to her owner and licked the side of his face. The man stirred, brought his left hand up and swiped at his nose.

  “Go ’way, Athena,” he muttered. “Good girl.”

  Athena, or Fang, yipped softly and looked with mute appeal in my direction. I studied her master without moving. He had bright red hair, but as I took a step closer, I could see darker roots. I frowned. He dyed his hair? No wonder he was suicidal. The color was terrible.

  “Sir?” I called softly. “Sir?”

  What kind of threat was a man with dyed red hair? I stepped forward, reached for his gun and yelped as an iron hand closed over mine.

  “What the hell are you doing in my house?” he roared.

  Lloyd growled, teeth bared. Fang barked, warning him back, and I struggled to pull my hand away.

  “Let go of my hand!”

  My captor laughed caustically. “Not until you tell me who you are and what the hell you’re doing in my house!”

  I peered into the bloodshot eyes, took in the badly dyed beard and tried to see Doug Hirshfield. But while the face was somehow familiar, it wasn’t Doug’s.

  “Your dog invited me in. I believe she was worried you were about to hurt yourself.”

  The stranger looked at Athena, his eyes suddenly filled with some unbearable sadness. He shook his head slowly.

  “I should’ve taken care of her first,” he murmured.

  A chill went through my body. This man really intended to kill himself. He was entirely too calm, too sure of his plan to be merely distressed.

  “Take care of Athena?” I repeated.

  The man looked up at me for the first time. His skin was ashen, his eyes devoid of all hope, and his clothes had the rumpled look and smell of dirty laundry. He’d probably been sitting at the table for hours, perhaps even days.

  “I should have given her away,” he said.

  A tiny flicker of relief came to life in my chest. He still cared for his dog.

  “You should go now,” he said quietly.

  I felt his grip begin to ease on my hand and I tried to move, bringing his gun with me.

  “Leave it!”

  I looked into his eyes again and saw his mother. So Mia hadn’t been looking for Doug!

  “Fred, what are you doing here?” I said quietly.

  Fred May didn’t even have the emotional strength to care how I knew or why I knew his identity.

  “Go away.”

  “Fred,” I said, leaning down close to him. “Your ex-wife is looking for you. She hired us to find you, but she was using a false name and we think she wants to kill you.”

  Fred chuckled mirthlessly. “Good. Probably save me the trouble.”

  I tried again. “Do you have something she wants?” I asked. “Is that why she’s looking for you?”

  Fred May’s eyes filled with unshed tears. “Not anymore. She’s taken everything I have, everyone I ever loved.”

  “Did she kill your brother?” I asked.

  Fred nodded. “That’s why I’m supposed to be dead,” he whispered. “There was a time when we thought it would be best that I stay hidden, until they found Doug’s lens.” His eyes glittered as he looked up at me. “I was the only one who could’ve sealed her death sentence. I knew she slept with my brother. I saw her leave his house the afternoon he died. She took what she wanted and killed him so he couldn’t stop her. I was going to testify when the feds got their case together, but they wanted the lens first, so I was just waiting. They said they were going to do something to make her go after it, but they never did.”

  Fred lowered his head, reached for the bottle, and upon finding it empty, threw it against the dining-room wall where it shattered and fell to the ground in a rain of green glass and red wine drops.

  “She killed Becca! I know she did. She killed them both.”

  A sound registered behind me, the soft click of a gun’s safety moving from the on to off position. I spun, saw Fang look up, saw her begin to move and heard Tonya say, “Call your dog or I kill her next!”

  “Athena! Stay!” Fred ordered. His voice suddenly sharp and focused.

  Athena sat, Lloyd beside her, both dogs growling as Athena watched for the signal that would release her.

  Tonya May stood in the doorway with Joey Smack right behind her. They were holding ugly, nine-millimeter, semi-automatics. Behind them stood another woman, a slightly younger version of Tonya with short, blond hair.

  Tonya looked at me and smiled. “Thank you,” she murmured. “Good job.”

  She looked at Fred, the smile changing to a mocking, derisive grin. “This is the best the witness protection program could do, dye your hair and let you grow a beard?” She shook her head. “I hired private investigators thinking you’d be slick and have plastic surgery. I had them look for Doug to lead me to you. There was no point in letting them get too close to the truth, was there? I thought I’d never find you on my own. That’s why I hired her. What a waste!” she said, her glance sliding over to encompass me.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  Tonya shrugged. “I thought if he had pla
stic surgery and changed the way he looked, he’d recognize me before I could recognize him. He’d get away and I’d miss my opportunity. I knew he’d come to see his mother eventually. I knew he wouldn’t stay away. He was too much of a mama’s boy! Of course,” she said, turning her attention back to her former husband, “it would have saved a lot of time and effort if Rebecca’d just told me where you were, but no, she had to go and die on me!”

  Fred started to lunge up from the table, a guttural growl emanating from deep within his body. I grabbed his hand tighter, forcing it down on top of the table, hoping the tiny handgun was still hidden from view. Fred sank back as Tonya raised her gun, positioning it dead center on my chest.

  “Want to kill another innocent?” Tonya cooed.

  “Can we just get on with this?” Joey demanded.

  Up until now, Joey hadn’t seen me, his view blocked by Tonya, but when he pushed past her into the dining room, he suddenly realized who I was.

  “No kidding,” he said, eyes widening. “Two birds with one stone.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t have your cocaine, Joey,” I said.

  “Of course you do,” he answered. “Who else could’ve taken it?”

  I made a slight movement, saw Tonya’s finger tighten on her trigger and froze.

  “Wanna check?” I asked. “Do I look like the type to run off with a kilo of cocaine? Has it occurred to you that one of your loyal goombas might’ve been on the take, ’cause I assure you, it wasn’t us!”

  Joey stopped, a strange look crossing his face. He turned slowly around and grabbed Tonya’s sister by the arm, yanking her forward into the room.

  “You little shit!” he cried. “Why didn’t I think of it! You took the money. Why stop there? You took that kilo, didn’t you?”

  Tonya’s sister, Carla, was a pitiful study. Short, scrawny, pockmarked and wasted away by addiction was my guess. She didn’t even have the brain cells left to know when to be afraid and keep her mouth shut. She grinned.

  “Oh, just put it on my tab,” she said. “Right, Toy?”

  Tonya regarded her sister with open disgust. “Shut up, Carla. We wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t been such a fucking junkie!”