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

by Margaret Lashley

  “Just a guy I met at the beach last year. He fixed the air conditioning at my house last week.”

  “Oh. Did he get you one for a house instead of a train?”

  “Uh…yes. That’s what he did alright.”

  “Good. I wish that company would quit ripping people off.”

  “Right. Me too. We’ll stop by Water Loo’s on the way and see if Winky’s there.”

  “Should you call him first?”

  “He doesn’t have a phone. But he should be there. Or his girlfriend, Winnie, will be. She’ll know how to reach him.”

  I pulled out of Bahia Shores and chugged along Gulf Boulevard past 107th. The sky was blue and the air was still April fresh. It was good to get in a top-down cruise while the fair weather lasted. I pulled into Water Loo’s parking lot and hit the brakes.

  “Fair warning, Laverne. This place is a dump.”

  She shot me a wry grin.

  “I lived in Vegas, remember?”

  I opened the door and took a look inside. Water Loo’s was deserted except for the corner booth. Loo and a guy I’d never seen before were having a discussion that faded away to cautious stares when Laverne and I stepped inside.

  “Hi. I’m looking for Winky?” I asked.

  “Who the hell’s Winky?” the stranger asked.

  Loo started to say something, but the man kicked him in the shin. The man sitting with Loo sported a headful of thick, grey hair styled in an Elvis pompadour. He also had the King’s lips and his famous sneer.

  “What?” Loo asked the guy, then turned to me. “He ain’t here.”

  “Okay, thanks,” I said. “I guess I’ll be going, then.”

  I turned and saw Winnie coming out of the kitchen with a fresh pot of coffee.

  “Hi, Val!”

  “Hi Winnie. Looking for Winky. Do you know how I can get a hold of him?”

  “Not really. He ain’t got a phone. But he usually shows up here at the end of my shift. Around three?”

  “Okay. Here’s my number. Have him give me a call?”

  “Sure. Who’s your friend?”

  “Oh. This is Laverne. She needs some car rep –”

  “Hey kid with the coffee! Get your ass over here,” yelled the man sitting next to Loo.

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  Winnie shrugged, rolled her eyes and shuffled off to serve the coffee. Laverne and I stepped out of the dingy brown hovel and into the glaring sunlight.

  “What a jerk that guy was,” I said.

  “Yeah. He reminds me of some dirt-bag back in Vegas. What was his name? Buffalo Bill?”

  “Buffalo asshole?” I suggested.

  Laverne laughed.

  “Yeah. That could be it.”

  ***

  Laverne and I tooled back down Gulf and hung a left on 107th. We crossed the bridge spanning the Intracoastal and skirted through the tiny community of Treasure Island. A few blocks later we were on the mainland. We passed by Ming-Ming’s on our way to 34th street.

  “There’s the scene of the crime.” I nodded toward the restaurant as we drove by. “That’s where I saw Tom and Milly together.”

  “You know, back in Vegas, at the casino buffets I tried every food under the sun. I never could warm up to sushi.”

  “Yeah. I’m starting to lose my appetite for it as well.”

  “Now don’t you go and do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Let a man spoil something for you. Honey, if I did that, I’d be down to drive-through donuts and coffee.”

  “But Laverne, how do you separate the two – I mean, Ming-Ming’s was our place.”

  “You know for sure he’s cheating?”

  “No. But come on. Milly’s gorgeous. So is Tom. They’d make the perfect pair.”

  “There’s a lot of beauty in imperfection, sugar. It makes you real. Bing told me that.”

  “Bing Cr…? Never mind. What’s the address of the salon?”

  “Uh…let’s see.”

  Laverne fumbled around in her purse and finally pulled out a card. I hung a left onto 34th Street.

  “Card says it’s 2330 34th Street. Why?”

  “Well, odd numbers are on one side of the road, even on the other.”

  “Oh. I never knew that. But zero – it’s not even or odd, is it?”

  I started to answer, then my face went slack.

  “I never thought about it. I guess you’re right, Laverne. Let’s just call it even.”

  “Ooops! There it is, sugar. You just passed it.”

  “Crap. I’ll turn around.”

  “I’m not in any hurry, honey. Tell me, how old is this Pops guy, anyway?”

  “Probably older than you. But his wife is younger.”

  “Just my luck.”

  “Still want to come along for the ride?”

  “Sure.”

  I cruised past 22nd Avenue and took a right. A few blocks down, I took another right. A neighborhood of small, run-down 1950s block houses just like mine came into view. But, as Florida realtors were fond of saying, “location location location.” Without the waterfront venue, the value of these homes was about a tenth of what mine was worth.

  It was one of those neighborhoods where nobody minded a couple of extra vehicles parked up in the yard. Concrete blocks instead of tires were also acceptable, and once the weeds had half-covered them, abandoned appliances were considered garden sculptures. Despite the obvious signs of neglect, the little community tugged at my heartstrings. It reminded me of my mom’s place up in Greenville – minus the bass boats, ATVs and chickens running loose.

  I pulled up on the street in front of Pops’ house. Painted seafoam green with teal trim, it was easy to spot. Pops was out in the yard polishing the chrome on a 1970s-era gold-colored Cadillac. His black arms glistened in the sun, and looked surprisingly muscular for a man pushing eighty. If his hair hadn’t been pure white, I’d have placed him in his late fifties.

  “Well now, there she is!”

  Pops waved his dirty polish rag at me.

  “How’s the old girl running?”

  “Not bad, thanks for asking,” Laverne yelled across my lap.

  “Ha ha! Who’s the looker with you, Val?”

  “Laverne. Straight from Vegas,” I answered.

  “Well, is she now?”

  Pop stood back, put a finger to his chin and stared at Laverne. I climbed out of the car.

  “I’ve come to pay you off, Pops.”

  He didn’t hear me. His eyes were fixed on the strawberry blonde. I took $475 out of my back pocket and waved it in his face. That got his attention.

  “I said I’ve come to pay Maggie off, Pops. Here’s the rest of what I owe you. Thanks for trusting me to pay her off in installments.”

  Pops counted the money, one eye on the bills, the other on Laverne.

  “It’s all here. We’re square. But wait, have twenty back.”

  Pops stuck a twenty in my hand.

  “What? Why?”

  “You just won me a bet with my wife. Worth every penny for the braggin’ rights. I was right about you. Now I get to wag it in her face.”

  “What? I don’t get it.”

  “Velda said you’d never pay me back. She don’t trust people like I do. See, I got an eye for knowing who I can lend to and who I can’t. Take this Caddy, here. This woman came by the other day. Wants that Caddy real bad. But I wouldn’t let her have it without a flat thousand dollars down. The woman gave me five hundred and said she’d be back the next day with the rest. She never did do it. I knowed something wasn’t right about that crazy-eyed woman.”

  “I guess you win some and you lose some, Pops.”

  “Yep. Shore enough.”

  Pops eyed Laverne longingly, then turned toward me and put a hand on my shoulder.

  “Oh, speaking of losing, Val, sorry about your piggybank. I hope you got it back in one piece.”

  “What? That was you? You took it?”

  “Wel
l, yes and no. I knew about it, but it was Velda’s doings. We was driving by one day, and saw little Maggie parked at the drugstore. You were a day or so late with a payment. My wife made me pull over. She wanted me to go inside the store and shake you down for the money. But I wouldn’t do it. Well, she got mad and swiped that piggybank instead. As collateral, mind you. She didn’t trust you like I did. Velda thought that little peanut bank was full of the money you wasn’t paying us. But when she opened the bottom, wasn’t nothing but dust inside. I carried that bank around with me for months, trying to see if I could get it back to you. I finally did a couple weeks ago.”

  “‘Sorry, Mr. P.’ That was you.”

  “Yep. Hope it wasn’t no inconvenience.”

  Nope. Just made Glad miss her own funeral. “No worries.”

  “Good. Now don’t go blaming Velda. We’ve got cheated a few times. In this business, it happens. Like that crazy woman wantin’ this Cadillac. She called me a week ago, trying to get her deposit back. Said some guy called Bingo was gonna get her. You ever hear such nonsense? She was a looney bird. I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her since.”

  “Bingo! That’s it!” Laverne said.

  “That’s what?” I asked.

  “Bingo Bob. That’s the name of that jerk at Water Loo’s.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Who’s Bingo Bob?” I asked Laverne as I hit the gas and waved goodbye to Pops.

  “Just some low-life who ran one of the bingo games at the Gold Digger Casino back in Vegas. I heard he was a bookie for sports games, too. But that was what…fifteen years ago? I wonder how he ended up here in Florida?”

  “Same as everyone. People come here from all over. They think Florida’s the secret to the good life. No snow. Just fun in the sun all year long. That, and they can live in their cars through the winter and not freeze to death. Everybody blames Florida for being loaded with crazy people, but I swear Laverne, most of them come here from somewhere else.”

  Laverne looked at me through the top of her sunglasses.

  “Sugar, nobody looks good in jade.”

  I blew out a breath. “Sorry, Laverne. I’ve just…I’ve got a shitload of stuff going on right now. I’ve got to figure out what the hell’s going on with that blasted finger. I can’t get sued back down to nothing. Not again.”

  “Well, what are you working with? What have you got so far?”

  “Not much. I found the finger in the couch that day you came over for coffee.”

  “The day you beat the stuffing out of those pillows in your backyard?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s the same day I fixed your faucet.”

  “Yep. That’s the day.”

  “Well, who could have put a finger in your couch to begin with?”

  “That’s just it. Tom brought the couch over. It had been sitting in the alley behind my old apartment all day. I talked to the bum who’d been sleeping on it. He told me the finger belonged to that guy Mickie. You know. The one with the eye patch and gold tooth.”

  “Yeah. So, Mickie ought to know how he lost his own finger.”

  “Yes, he ought to. But he says I cut it off. And now he’s suing me.”

  “What? That’s crazy. How is that possible?”

  “He says he was drunk at the time. He couldn’t see me because I put a sack over his head. But he recognized my voice.”

  I pulled up in front of the nail salon. Laverne climbed out.

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this, sugar. Don’t you worry.”

  “Thanks. Pick you up in half an hour?”

  “Sounds about right.”

  I hit the gas and drove about thirty feet when the phone rang. It was Tom. I pulled into a parking spot.

  “Yeah?”

  “Val? Is everything alright?”

  “Not really.”

  “What’s going on?”

  That’s what I’d like to know, you cheating, lying, philandering dirt bag! “Nothing much. Just got threatened with a lawsuit by that slimy ambulance chaser Ferrol Finkerman.”

  “What? For what?”

  “His client is missing a finger and swears I’m the one who cut it off.”

  “Shit, Val!”

  “Yep. Shit describes the situation, alright. Deep shit.”

  “I don’t know if I should even mention this now. You seem upset.”

  “Mention what?” That you’re dumping me for Milly?

  “I was going to ask you to this police benefit thing tomorrow night. But I guess you’re not interested.”

  “What’s the benefit?”

  “Exactly.”

  “No, I mean, what’s the event?”

  “A dance at the old Coliseum. They’re raising money for charity.”

  “How long have you known about it?”

  “A month.”

  “Oh.”

  “You know I hate to dance.”

  “So what changed your mind?” Guilty conscience?

  “My boss sort of made it clear today that my attendance was mandatory.”

  “So you’re stuck having to go, and thought of me. How sweet.”

  “Look. If you don’t want to go –”

  “Oh, no. I want to go. Sounds delightful. What time?”

  “Pick you up at seven?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  I clicked off the phone. Well, Mr. Tom Foreman, you’re about to find out exactly what you’re gonna be missing. I’ll be smoking hot at that dance. You and Milly Halbert can eat your hearts out and kiss my ass! Once you see how fantastic I really am, I’m going to dump you both like a pair of day-old dirty diapers.

  I pulled Maggie into a parking spot, scrambled out of the car and marched over to the nail salon. The young Asian woman at the reception desk looked up from filing her nails.

  “How much for a manicure?”

  The girl looked at my hands.

  “Lady, we Beauty Nail. Not Miracle Nail.”

  ***

  “Show me those cat claws again!”

  Laverne and I were cruising down Central Avenue, heading toward Pasadena Boulevard. I let go of the wheel and pawed the air with my long, shiny, bright-red nails.

  “Ha ha! Good to see some sass back in you, sugar! Now let’s find a dress that matches that attitude.”

  I pulled up in front of my favorite shop on Corey Avenue. The window display was full of pastel-colored sundresses and cute beach wear. Laverne turned her nose up.

  “Sugar, this is amateur-hour stuff. Start the car. I know just the place with the ammunition you need to bring down the big game.”

  I swung the car around and headed back toward Central Avenue and downtown.

  “You can’t catch someone’s attention with the same-old-same-old, girl. You’ve got to kick it up a notch. Take him by surprise.”

  “You mean like he did me – with Milly?”

  “Nope. Better than that.”

  Laverne pointed to her right.

  “Slow down. Just another block on the right. See it?”

  I did. It was a consignment store. I blew out a disappointed sigh.

  “Laverne, that place is full of junk.”

  “Yes, it most certainly is. One man’s junk is another man’s treasure. That’s what you’re after, right? Make him realize what a treasure he’s letting go of?”

  “Yes….”

  “Alright then. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Here, honey. Stick these in there.”

  Between her thumbs and index fingers, Laverne dangled two globs of rubber that looked like oversized, raw chicken breasts.

  “What in the world are they?” I asked.

  “They’re chicken fill-its. At least that’s what the girls from England called ‘em back in the day. Saved many a flat-chested girl’s career.”

  I stared at the strange, floppy globs.

  “Oh, don’t be shy, honey!”

  Laverne reached a boney, red-nailed hand into my dress
and slipped a cold, slimy glob under my right breast. She jiggled it around until it filled out the right side of my dress’s bodice perfectly. I looked in the mirror and was instantly converted.

  “Whoa! Gimme the other one!”

  Laverne grinned. I grabbed the other fill-it from her hand and installed it myself. I stared at my reflection and shimmied my shoulders. I was rocking it!

  “Jessica Rabbit, eat my dust!”

  “Now you’re talking, sugar!”

  In under ten minutes and for less than twenty bucks, Laverne had transformed me into a Vegas showgirl, minus the giant feather headdress. Amongst the castoffs in that old consignment store that smelled of desperation and soured dreams, she’d scrounged around and found a vintage, backless, red-sequin dress that fit me like a wet glove. It clung to my body like a desperate lover – everywhere except the boob area, that is. Laverne had solved that problem with a pair of falsies.

  “You want the whole vamp treatment?” Laverne asked.

  I was feeling cheeky.

  “Sure. Why not.”

  Laverne fiddled with my hair. Armed with nothing but a comb and a half a can of Aqua Net, she puffed and curled my hair until it was twice its normal size. Satisfied, she swirled my long bangs over one eye like a sexy pinup model and hosed them down with hairspray.

  “Just a touch of red lipstick and we’re done here,” she said.

  She handed me the lipstick and pinched me on the butt. I jerked back and scowled at her.

  “Ouch! What was that for?”

  “For good luck, sugar. But you’re not gonna need it. You’re a knockout!”

  I looked in the mirror again. Yes. I was a knockout. And I knew just who I was aiming to punch in the gut.

  ***

  I talked a big game, but when it came to follow through, I’d proven time and again that I my bark was bigger than my bite. I poured myself a TNT to steady my nerves. I was taking my first sip when the phone rang and nearly startled me out of my silver stilettos.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Val. It’s Milly. What are you up to tonight?”

  Wouldn’t you like to know. Or do you already? Did I say “yes” to Tom and spoil your plans? “Going out with Tom. You?”

  “Oh. Nothing. Just wanted to see if you could come out and play.”

  “Not tonight.”