Val & Pals Boxed Set: Volumes 1,2 & the Prequel (Val & Pals Humorous Mystery Series)

by Margaret Lashley

  I sulked, but I knew he was right. “Okay.”

  Tom smiled and reached a hand to touch my face.

  “This ain’t nothin’ but a gaul-dang garbage dump!” Winky bellowed. Like Dr. Livingston from an urban jungle, Winky crawled out from the mangled maze of junked windows and rusty stoves and dishwashers heaped high in the back yard.

  Tom’s hand dropped to his side. “Let’s get out of here.”

  We walked back to the front yard and Winky and I climbed back into my Sprint. We waved goodbye to Tom in the dimming light. I’d just committed my second B&E with a homeless redneck. I wondered if Tom thought I was a criminal. Or insane. Or both. I pulled onto Gulf Boulevard and headed north to drop Winky at his place, wherever that might be.

  “Pull over here,” Winky instructed when we reached a familiar destination. We were back at Water Loo’s.

  “Do you actually live here now?” I asked.

  Winky smiled. “Workin’ on it. Thanky for the ride, Val Pal. Maggie’s a sweetheart.” He patted Maggie’s dashboard and climbed out of the car. As he did, I noticed a bulge in his right pants pocket.

  “Winky!”

  He whirled around. “Yes ma’am?”

  “What’s in your pants pocket?”

  “I didn’t think you thought a me that way,” Winky joked, wagging his eyebrows.

  “Ha ha. Very funny. What have you got there?”

  “A souvenir.”

  Anger shot through me. “Did you steal something?”

  Winky shrank back in horror. “No ma’am. I just took me a mo-mento.”

  “Let me see it.”

  Winky hung his head like a kid caught red-handed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a yellow and green ball of yarn.

  “What is that?”

  Winky tugged on the ball until it took on a familiar shape. It was a crocheted poodle wrapped around a spare toilet roll.

  “Did you steal that from my mom’s house?” I asked, incredulous.

  “No! I wouldn’t disrespect your mother’s hospitality!” Winky sounded genuinely wounded. “I found it in Glad’s Minnie Winnie.”

  “You shouldn’t have taken it,” I said harshly.

  “Oh. I see. It’s okay for you to take something, but not me?”

  I was caught in a trap I’d set for myself. My nose grew hot and painful and my eyes got blurry. Guilty. Busted. What could I say? Only one thing. “I’m sorry, Winky.”

  “She was my friend, too, you know.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. “You’re right, Winky. I’m sure she would want you to have it.”

  Winky’s face softened and his eyes brightened again. “An’ it always pays to have a spare roll!” He held the yarn poodle over his head like a trophy and waved it in the air in some crazy victory dance. Then he turned and disappeared into the darkness, his woodpecker laugh trailing behind him.

  I put Maggie in reverse and glanced over at Water Loo’s. The plate glass windows gave off a dingy, yellowish glow against the slate-blue night. The place looked empty. Then I caught the silhouette of someone standing at the side of a window, peering out through the glass. Winnie the waitress. She smiled at me and waved. I waved back.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I woke up craving Caddy’s biscuits and gravy and a walk on the beach. But both would have to wait until tomorrow. Today I had things to do and people to annoy. First on my list was a trip to the morgue to claim Glad’s things. Then I needed to stop by Tony’s lawyer’s office to drop them off. I jumped in the shower. I was feeling good, belting out my rendition of Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive, when a horrible thought occurred to me. I might be aiding and abetting the enemy. By delivering Glad’s rings to the attorney I might be putting them right into the dirty, grasping paws of that bulldog bitch!

  I pondered the irony of the situation while I toweled off and fumbled around to make a pot of coffee. If I didn’t go straighten out Glad’s name on public records, it could gunk up the works for Bulldog Woman. Maybe for a long time. But it would also make it pretty near impossible for any of Glad’s next-of-kin to ever find out what happened to her. Ditto for not picking up her rings. I could only make it possible for Glad’s true heirs to get them if I also made it possible for Tony’s ex. The conundrum soured my mood. I felt sad and confused and alone. I wanted some advice on what to do from other people who had known Glad. For better or worse, that meant I only had one choice. Water Loo’s, here I come.

  When I walked in, the stooges were passing around an old, wrinkled-up piece of paper like it was the original Gettysburg Address.

  “Val Pal!” Winky hollered. “You’re not gonna believe this!”

  I scooted into the booth next to Goober. He slid the ragged, yellowed paper across the sticky table so I could reach it. I read it in disbelief. It was the birth certificate for Thelma G. Goldrich, dated December 22, 1965. I nearly fell out of the booth.

  “Where did you guys find this?” I asked, incredulous.

  “Ready to eat some crow, Ms. Plum? You have Winky to thank for it,” said Goober. He pointed his spoon at our freckled redneck sleuth.

  I looked over at Winky, incredulous. He beamed like he’d just won a Nascar trophy.

  “Yep,” Winky said. “That there toilet-roll poodle had a big surprise inside. Nature called this mornin’ and I answered. I was about to wipe my butt with this here piece a paper when I noticed it had writing on it.”

  “Good ting you can read,” shot Jorge.

  “I might be ignorant but I ain’t illigiterate,” Winky shot back.

  “I tink you mean illiterate, Pincho.”

  “I’m gonna pinch yore…”

  “Guys, enough!” I yelled out of frustration. To my surprise everyone shut up and stared at me. Once I had their attention, I stated the obvious. “Don’t you realize? This is absolute proof that Glad and Tony had a baby together. Glad names him as the father right here!”

  “Yes, we know Val,” Goober said dryly. “As has been pointed out by someone just recently, we all can read.”

  My face reddened. Goober laughed and poked me in the ribs with his elbow. “But that’s good news, eh?”

  I smiled. “The best!”

  “That’s good,” Goober said. He smiled at me kindly and knowingly, knitted his bushy eyebrows together and asked, “Val, why in the world would Glad put something as important as her baby’s birth certificate in a spare toilet roll holder?”

  “It makes perfect sense to me,” I explained. “Okay. We know how much Glad liked to hide things, right?”

  The stooges nodded.

  “Well, it’s simple women’s logic. Men never change the empty toilet roll. It’s the last place a man would ever think of looking.”

  The men exchanged glances, then shrugs and more nods amongst themselves.

  “When you’re right, you’re right,” said Goober. “Let’s raise a toast to our clever girl Glad!”

  “Jes! A toast!” echoed Jorge.

  I raised my mug with them, put my left hand over my heart, and waited on Jorge’s double-click.

  ***

  After that extra-special toast to Glad I drove to the county morgue. I felt close to Glad again, as if she was in the seat right next to me, beaming that crooked, smeary-red-lipstick, clown-denture smile of hers. Tucked away safely in my purse, I carried Glad’s ID, her daughter’s birth certificate and that little gem-encrusted oval piece of jewelry I found in one of her shoeboxes. So, in a way, Glad really was along for the ride – what was left of her, at least. After the stop at the morgue to claim Glad’s personal effects, I planned to keep my promise to Tom and hand all of these things over and “let the chips fall where they may.”

  I pulled into a parking space at the morgue and rehearsed a scenario in my mind. I could lie and say Glad’s name wasn’t Fremden because she got married and I didn’t know it. Yes. That could work. I climbed out of Shabby Maggie and a thought hit me. Duh! You don’t have to lie, Val. That part was actually true!r />
  I walked in and recognized the clerk right away. Besides having a distinctive voice, he had the most devilish goatee – and piercing blue eyes that reminded me of Glad’s.

  “Hi. I’m here about….”

  “Ms. Fremden! You showed! Whew! I was beginning to feel the heat.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Frenchy’s called here twice today, trying to find out how she can ‘bend the rules’ and get her hands on your aunt’s stuff.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “No, I’m not. See it all the time. Dead bodies attract relatives like hungry sharks. People don’t understand. It’s like a personal-effects feeding frenzy around here.”

  “Oh. That’s awful.”

  The dimpled devil of a clerk shrugged. “So, what have you got to show me, Ms. Fremden?”

  “Her Florida ID. Will that work?”

  “Sure will.”

  “Great! But I’m curious. How do you remember my name?”

  “I guess because I thought it was funny. You were obviously scrounging around for your aunt’s ID last time. I knew you didn’t have one. As I said, I see it all here. Then you gave me your driver’s license and I saw your name was Fremden. My parents are German. I recognized that your last name means stranger. So that made you Valiant Stranger.”

  “I don’t get it,” I said.

  “Valiant Stranger? It sounded like some kind of superhero to me. And then your birthdate? April Fools’ Day? Pure Gold!”

  This guy obviously had way too much time on his hands.

  “Wow. That’s…uh…interesting. So, tell me. If you were suspicious, why did you let me claim Glad’s body?”

  The cute clerk glanced around the room quickly, then shot me a devilish grin that could make an angel think twice.

  “Easy. I make it a point not to mess with superheroes. Especially hot ones.” The clerk laughed, revealing a perfect set of white teeth. His slightly elongated incisors added to his devilish magnetism. How had I missed that before? I couldn’t help but grin.

  “Thanks. But my aunt isn’t a Fremden anymore. She’s a Goldrich. She got married. I didn’t know.” I handed him Glad’s ID.

  “Okay. That’ll work. Let me just make the correction in the computer here and I’ll get the envelope with her effects. You want to examine them?”

  “No! Leave the envelope sealed. I’m dropping them off at her lawyer’s. I don’t want to give anyone any ammunition to say I stole something.”

  “Great idea. People can get really hinky when it comes to cash and prizes.”

  He punched the computer keys a few times and disappeared behind a door. A nearby printer jerked to life and started zapping out something. A minute or so later he came back and snatched the document off the printer. He handed it to me, along with a manila envelope. He’d placed a seal over the envelope and scrawled his signature over it.

  “Okay, Ms. Fremden. Here’s your updated death cert and your aunt’s effects. I made sure no one could argue that the envelope was opened. Gave it the official Darren Dudley seal.”

  “Thanks. What’s your name?”

  “Uh…Darren?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Darren Dudley. Of the official seal. Duh!”

  The morgue clerk flashed me another sexy smile. I felt a strange mixture of attraction and repulsion. I wondered what role the close proximity to dead bodies had to do with the latter. Either way, I didn’t have time for contemplation. I needed to be on my way.

  “Uh, thanks again, Darren. You’re pretty cool.”

  Darren brightened like a megawatt bulb. “You too! Wanna go out sometime?”

  The directness of his question caught me totally off guard. “Let me think about it. I’ve got a few things on my mind right now.”

  “Sure thing. Hey, Valiant. Don’t be a stranger!”

  I groaned. “That was awful. I might have to avenge that one.”

  “I’m hoping so.”

  After flirting with devilish Darren, I left the morgue feeling like Wonder Woman – the beautiful and powerful Valiant Stranger! I smiled to myself and laid Glad’s envelope in the seat next to me. I shifted into reverse and headed for my next stop. Along the way, I thought about Darren’s offer of a date. Maybe I should have accepted. After all, Tom hadn’t actually asked me out. So far he’d just been helping me with this crazy mission of mine. Gawd! He probably thinks I’m a nutcase. He didn’t even hug me goodbye last night! I felt my superhero powers fade away in the hot breeze.

  ***

  When I stopped to drop off Glad’s things at the offices of J.D. Fellows & Associates, I felt my super powers return a little. The birth certificate Winky had found was definitely going to put a kink in the Bulldog Woman’s chain. Canine kryptonite. Yeah! I couldn’t help but smirk as I waited in the posh lobby. It reminded me of one I’d seen in a movie once. Gleaming grey granite floors and deep-hued walls accented by huge canvases of modern art that perfectly matched the sleek European furniture. I was looking over baby Thelma’s birth certificate for the hundredth time when a tiny little man approached. He looked like one of Santa’s elves in a grey Armani suit. He walked up to me and spoke.

  “Ms. Fremden?”

  “Yes, that’s me.” I figured the diminutive man was a clerk or something. But I should have known better. Underlings couldn’t afford Armani. Not in this economy.

  “I’m J.D. Fellows. Nice to meet you.”

  I stood up and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, too.”

  I followed him back to his office. The furniture was expensive, but something seemed slightly off. Then it hit me. Everything was smaller than normal scale. Mr. Fellows must have had every stick of furniture in the room custom-made to suit his smaller stature. I took a seat in a burgundy-colored leather chair in front of his desk. It was a perfect fit. The comfortable cushions lured me into a false sense of security. I relaxed, not expecting to be attacked.

  “So tell me, Ms. Fremden,” said the tiny Mr. Fellows, Esq. from his towering position across his mahogany desk, “what exactly is your involvement with this case?” His words sounded more like an accusation than a question.

  “I…uh…I just came to drop off Glad’s…I mean Mrs. Goldrich’s personal effects.”

  “And how did you come to be in possession of them?” His voice had the tone of a courtroom interrogation. “Are you a relative?”

  “Uh…no sir.”

  “Then, I ask again, how did you come to be in possession of them?”

  “Am I on trial here?”

  The question caused a tiny fracture in the man’s serious expression. He eyed me carefully and let the fracture grow into a smile. “No. Forgive me, Ms. Fremden. It just seems highly unusual.”

  “I understand. I’m a friend of Glad’s. I mean, I was a friend of Glad’s.”

  “I see. I was, too. And of Anthony.” Mr. Fellows let out a puff of laughter. “She was an original, that woman.”

  I relaxed a little bit and smiled. “She sure was.”

  Mr. Fellows looked at the envelope in my hand and spoke with a softer tone, stating the obvious. “So, do you have the effects with you?”

  “Oh. Yes. Here.” I handed him the envelope.

  “Still sealed, I see.”

  “Yes sir. I just want whatever’s in there to end up in the right hands.”

  “And whose hands would that be?”

  “I’m not sure. You’re the lawyer. But if you’ll indulge me, Mr. Fellows, I have a theory.”

  The small man burst into a surprisingly large laugh. “A theory. Okay. I’m game.”

  “Okay. Tony’s will states that everything is to go to Thelma G. Goldrich, right?”

  “Yes. Don’t remind me. She’s been calling me every day with her demands.”

  “Oh! I didn’t know! What does she want?”

  “I’m sorry. Not at liberty to say.”

  “Of course. Right. But isn’t her name actually G. Thelma Goldrich?”

  “Yes. That’s the only reas
on I haven’t released the will yet. That, plus a favor for a mutual friend of ours. I believe you know Mr. Thomas Foreman?”

  My face turned red. “Yes. So you already know the whole story?”

  “No. Not really. He only asked me to delay distribution of the will for a few weeks. He said he had good cause. I figured there was no harm in it.”

  “Pardon me for being up front, but I think G. Thelma Goldrich is not the person Tony had in mind as his heir.” I said.

  “Go on.”

  I handed Mr. Fellows the piece of paper. “This is the birth certificate for Glad and Tony’s daughter, Thelma G. Goldrich. I believe she is the true heir named in the will.”

  Mr. Fellows’ eyes grew wide. “Where did you get this?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  Mr. Fellows smiled wryly. He laughed again and spoke in a more casual tone. “Go on.”

  “And I think we’ve found her. The only thing is –”

  “She’s insane,” interrupted Mr. Fellows.

  I was stunned speechless. My mouth hung open like a trout.

  “Let’s just say that I’ve been down this road before, Ms. Fremden. She’s not a match, my dear.”

  “The woman in Chattahoochee? You already tested her DNA?”

  “Yes, and it was inconclusive.”

  “How long ago did you do the test?”

  “I can’t recall offhand, but it’s been a long, long time.”

  “Maybe the tests were wrong. Lab tests get screwed up, you know. And with today’s technology, maybe they can do a better job now.”

  Mr. Fellows sighed and studied me for a moment. “You are an interesting woman, Ms. Fremden. I admire your tenacity. And your hopefulness. Maybe you’re right. What would it hurt to have the woman’s DNA tested again? DNA technology has come a long way since then.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. It shouldn’t be a long wait now. The DNA samples are already at a lab in Tallahassee.”

  Mr. Fellows’ right eyebrow shot to his hairline. “I see. You are the resourceful one, I’ll give you that.” He looked to the left for a moment and absently tapped his right index finger on his mahogany desk. “I tell you what, Ms. Fremden. I am at liberty to delay distribution of the will until Friday of next week. Will that buy you the time you need?”