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

by Margaret Lashley

“What are you two doing?”

  “Why?”

  “No reason, Val. Just curious.”

  “Nothing special. Look, I’ve got to go. I see Tom driving up.”

  “Okay, have fun.”

  “Thanks. I’m planning on it.”

  I clicked off the phone just as Tom rang the bell. I straightened my dress, ran a finger along my stiff bangs and flung open the door. Tom’s usual boyish grin evaporated. His eyes grew as big as poached eggs.

  “Whoa! Val? Is that you under all that?”

  “Yes.”

  “You look…you…I…I can’t take you to the charity benefit looking like that!”

  “What? Why not?” You bastard!

  “You look way too sexy for that place. You should be at…a fancy hotel in Vegas or something.”

  “Are you saying I look trampy?”

  “What? No. Just a bit…fancy…for the occasion, I mean.”

  “Then go on without me.”

  I pushed the door to close it. Tom raised a hand and held it open.

  “Wait a minute! What’s up? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  “Come on, Val. You look great. I’m sorry. Let’s go.”

  ***

  Tom went to fetch me a gin and tonic. I looked around the inside of the Coliseum. It was built back when dancing was what couples did on a Friday night. The building was pretty much a huge, rectangular, wooden dance floor with a roof overhead for good measure. Along two sides, intimate little booths were niched into the stucco walls. The thirty-foot ceiling was rounded like an airport hangar. Chandeliers hung from it like diamond pendants. A six-piece band in tuxedoes were busy setting up on the stage at the opposite end.

  I felt right at home in my sparkly vintage outfit. I imagined myself back in the 1930s – a femme fatale in a too-tight red dress. All I was missing was a vial of poison tucked between my boobs….

  “Here’s your TNT, miss dynamite.”

  I spun around and almost lost my balance. I looked up at Tom. Damn. Just like my daydream, he was too good to be true. Tom would look handsome in a wheelbarrow full of cow manure. Put him in a charcoal suit with a red tie, and it just wasn’t fair. A girl didn’t have a chance.

  Tom slid his warm hand along the small of my naked back. Traitorous lust shot through me like an injection of liquid fire.

  “Should we find a seat?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I said, hoping my dress wouldn’t split in half when I sat down.

  Tom led me to a table near the stage that had been reserved for police officers. When we walked up, half the guys’ eyes bulged out of their heads. I grinned smugly. A balding man in his mid-forties took off his glasses and eyed me up and down.

  “Tom. You lucky dog! She makes the rest of our wives look like chopped li –”

  The woman sitting next to the bald guy elbowed him in the ribs. His glasses flew back to his nose and he hunkered down to grovel with his angry, glaring wife. Tom touched my back again, and pulled a chair out for me. I lowered myself slowly, hoping the material would hold. It did. Tom sat next to me, squeezed my hand and whispered in my ear.

  “He’s right, you know. You’re the most gorgeous woman in the room.”

  I didn’t want to like his words, but I did anyway. “Thanks.”

  The band started up, and began to play one of my favorites, Just the Way You Look Tonight. I couldn’t resist.

  “Dance with me,” I whispered in Tom’s ear.

  He whispered back. “I promise. In bed tonight.”

  I pulled back as if he’d spit in my ear.

  “No. Now. Come on. It’s my favorite song.”

  “Okay, okay. But I’m not guaranteeing the safety of your toes.”

  “I’ll take the chance.”

  I yanked Tom toward the dance floor. It was filling up fast with middle-aged couples dancing cheek-to-cheek. Tom pulled me to his chest and began to sway. The soft lighting, the feel of him close to me, it should have been magical. But every time I drifted off into a dream that things would be alright between us, a finger poked me awake and reminded me of Mickie and Ming Ming’s and Milly. Oh my.

  The music stopped abruptly. Someone spoke over the microphone. The dancing couples came to a standstill.

  “Just a couple of quick announcements, folks! Hope you are enjoying the music of Sandy Flats!”

  The man speaking onstage was swimming around in an ill-fitting tuxedo. His expression was that of a self-congratulatory, overblown prick. Either that, or my attitude about men in general was in desperate need of adjusting. It was a tough call.

  “That’s Jergen’s dear old dad,” Tom whispered.

  I looked again. Nope. I was right the first time. That man was as smug as my cousin Tammy Jeeter at our family reunions.

  “Hello everyone. I’m Chief of Police Franz Jergen. I just wanted to thank everyone for turning out to the benefit. You all look mighty fancy – some more than others! Ha ha! I just wanted to take a minute to give a special thanks to Officer Hans Jergen for setting up the benefit. Oh. Excuse me. I meant to say, Lieutenant Hans Jergen. Congratulations on the promotion, Lieutenant Jergen!”

  A round of applause broke out, but the smiles on the policemen’s faces seemed forced. As the music started up again, Tom leaned in close and whispered in my ear.

  “No surprise there. He’s been on the force three freaking years. Me? Twenty! Now we’re on the same level. Jackasses. Both of them.”

  So this was the bad blood between Tom and Hans Jergen? Is that why he wouldn’t come to the house when he knew Jergen was going to be there? Was Tom’s pride more important to him than my safety?

  The band started up again with Jack the Knife.

  “Let’s go sit down,” Tom said.

  “Oh no, mister. I’ve come here to dance, and we’re going to dance.”

  “I’m not in the mood.”

  I grabbed Tom’s hand and put it on my waist. You hate to dance? Too bad!

  “Come on, don’t be a jerk, Tom. Show me what you’ve got.”

  “You really do have to have it your way, don’t you?”

  Before I could answer, Tom grabbed my hand and twirled me around. He yanked me in close to him, but his eyes seemed bitter and distant. He spun me out hard, then pulled me back again with such force that I bumped into his chest. He faltered. His shoe came down hard on my silver stiletto. I tripped and lunged sideways.

  Just before my face hit the floor, Tom caught me by the ribs and hauled me up in a vertical Heimlich maneuver. I gasped, and one of my chicken fill-its flew the coop. I watched in slow-motion horror as it bounced like a ball of peach Jell-O across the wooden floor. The sole of a shiny black loafer squashed down on it, and a man fell hard, face-first at my feet.

  He scrambled up in a huff and picked up the rubber boob.

  “Who’s is this?” he demanded.

  The man was Lieutenant Hans Jergen. Oh, shit!

  The crowd came to a standstill. They gathered in a circle around us like schoolkids waiting for a fight to break out. I tried to look innocent, but as peoples’ eyes scanned the group, they invariably settled on me. It was impossible not to notice my dress’s crumpled right bodice. Compared to the left side, it looked like a deflated air bag. Jergen’s eyes found my chest, then my face.

  “You again!”

  “I…I…uh….”

  I looked over at Tom. He was livid, but holding it in. Jergen turned his wrath on Tom.

  “Lieutenant Foreman. Perfect. It figures. You two are of the same caliber.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  Jergen whipped his head around to face me.

  “You’re a criminal – and so is he.”

  “What?”

  I followed Jergen’s eyes over to Tom. He stood there motionless, arms folded, and didn’t say a word. What a coward!

  “Ms. Fremden, correct?” Jergen said, his voice full of disdain.

&n
bsp; I stared at the floor. “Yes.”

  “I’ve got a suspicious body in the morgue with your name on it. And today I took a statement from a man charging you with cutting off his finger. If I hadn’t been so busy with the benefit today, I’d have already paid you a visit and read you your rights.”

  My gut went limp. Jergen turned to Tom.

  “And you. She probably doesn’t even know about your unspeakable crime.”

  Jergen looked back at me, his face twisted with anger and disgust.

  “Or did he happen to mention that he got my sister pregnant and left her in the lurch?”

  “What?!”

  I grabbed the falsie from Officer Jergen’s hand and spat at both men with my eyes.

  “How could you, Tom? I’m leaving! Don’t follow me!”

  Tom took a step toward me.

  “Val, wait!”

  I turned and glared at the crowd like a psychotic cow.

  “What are you people looking at?” I screeched. “Show’s over!”

  The bystanders parted like the Red Sea to let me pass. I stuffed the chicken fill-it back in my dress and stomped toward the exit. Despite my demand for him not to, Tom followed behind. When I got outside, he grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.

  “Where are you going, Val?”

  “Home!”

  “You’re not even going to let me explain?”

  “What’s to explain, Tom? I get it. I know everything about you that I care to know. It’s over. I’m taking a cab home. Don’t bother calling me again. Ever!”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I couldn’t see. The left side of my face was crushed into the pillow. I blinked again, but my right eye’s vision remained fuzzy and black. Had I finally drunk myself blind?

  I reached up to touch my face. My fingertips landed on the stiff hide of a dead animal.

  “Aaahhh!”

  I shot up in bed. The horrid beast came with me. I tried to yank it off my head, but it held on tight like a superglued weasel. I freaked and scrambled out of bed, screaming like a raving lunatic. I ran to the bathroom. One look in the mirror made my gut go limp and my hands fall to my sides. The beastly creature on top of my head was the rigid, repellant remains of last-night’s spray-lacquered hairdo.

  I scrounged around for a barrette and pinned back the stiff bangs hovering over my right eye like a coconut husk. My once nicely made-up face looked like a Picasso reject. And I was still wearing that trashy, thrift-store dress. Laverne had hooked and zipped me into it yesterday. Last night, I’d wrestled around with it until I’d nearly dislocated my shoulder, but I couldn’t get it off. I’d slept in the sequined straightjacket with nothing for company but a broken heart and a bottle of gin.

  I stumbled back to the bedroom and tripped over a wayward blob of rubber on the floor. When I leaned over to pick up the falsie, the backside of the dress ripped clear to my waist. Nice. I padded to the kitchen for a pair of scissors and cut the halter-neck off me like a used-up flea collar, then twisted the dress around on my hips until I could reach the hooks. I undid them, zipped the dress down to my thigh and let it fall to the floor. I stepped out of it and stared at the red-sequin puddle at my feet. It glistened on the tile like the bloody remains of my dead relationship with Tom.

  Even with your life at stake, you made impressing a man your number-one priority. Great job, Val. It was so worth it.

  ***

  Steamy water, a loofah and a bottle of shampoo went to work on my face and hair until no traces of last night’s fiasco remained. I stepped out of the shower, toweled off, pulled on my bathrobe and padded to the kitchen to fix myself a cappuccino. I sipped it and googled the news. As far as I could tell, there were no reports about a dead man in a dumpster, me getting charged with cutting off Mickie’s finger, or the police benefit turning into a roadhouse brawl.

  Well, at least I could take consolation in the fact that nobody else knew about my life going to hell in a handbasket.

  I lay back in bed, let the caffeine kick in and tried to remember the last time I’d gone to Sunset Beach. It must have been more than a month ago. I was way overdue for some fresh salt air and sunshine. Maybe it would clear my head. It wouldn’t hurt to see the guys, either. I could really use some friends right now.

  It was nearly 9 a.m. when I threw my straw tote onto Maggie’s passenger seat. The sky was clear and the sun was already beating down strong enough to make the fake-leather seats toasty-warm to the touch. I slapped a floppy hat on my head and turned the ignition. The engine’s roar reminded me that I needed to talk to Winky about Laverne’s car. I couldn’t remember whether I’d already talked to him about fixing it or not. With all the crazy stuff that had been going on, my mind had become way too squirrely to trust.

  Maggie rumbled out of the driveway and I steered her toward Gulf Boulevard. I hung a left and headed south to Sunset Beach, the home of Glad’s beloved beach bar, Caddy’s. It was Sunday, so I was pretty sure Winky, Jorge and Goober would be there. Under Florida law, no one could sell booze before 11 a.m. The guys usually idled away the once-a-week dry spell at one of Caddy’s picnic tables in the sand. If I got there early enough, they’d still be sober.

  The radio was playing All I Need is a Miracle by Mike & The Mechanics. How apropos. I smiled wryly, then turned up the volume and sang along.

  “I knew you were never right…I’ll admit I was never wrong…”

  A DJ’s voice broke over the radio, cutting off the song.

  “Jack Hammer here! It’s nine o’clock, friends and fiends! You know what that means – it’s time to get down and dirty with the latest edition of Blurs & Slurs. You don’t want to miss this one, folks. It’s a classic! Let’s get to it!”

  A very, very, very drunk woman’s voice cracked over the radio.

  “Jack…I had…I had just like…a big (BLEEP) blowout with my boyfriend. Oops. I mean…ex boyfriend.”

  “Really now, darling. What started it?”

  “The chicken thingy…it fell out of my boob.”

  The world around me came to a quiet standstill. My mind erased itself. I could see the train wreck ahead, but I couldn’t stop it. I was the drunk engineer at the wheel. My mouth sagged open. The rest of me was mortified to paralysis.

  “Yes,” the D.J. egged on. “I hate when that happens.”

  “Right? You understand…don’t you Jack?”

  “Yes, I sure do. Then what happened?”

  “He had…he had a lady with a baby.”

  “That must have been…painful.”

  “Yeshh! And that’s…not half of it.”

  “No? Please, tell me the other half!”

  “He gave me a (BLEEP) couch for my birthday…and then the dwarf came to get me.”

  “Your boyfriend’s a dwarf?”

  “No. He’s a cheater. A cheating (BLEEP)!”

  “How do you know?”

  “I didn’t…tell you? He ate…he ate…my girlfriend’s…sushi.”

  “Naughty boy.”

  “Yeshh! It’s his fault…‘cause of the finger.”

  “The finger? Sounds like you got the finger from your boyfriend.”

  “No! I got the finger…from the couch. And now…now the cops are after me.”

  “You certainly have an interesting life. What’s your name?”

  “Val Shremshend.”

  “Well, thanks for calling in Val. Anything more to add?”

  “I think I just farted….”

  “Ha ha ha! People! Didn’t I tell you? A classic! We’ll be playing this one for weeks. You just can’t make this (BLEEP) up!”

  A horn honked behind me. I was idling at a green light. I hit the gas and turned right. Where was I going? What was I doing? I drove by a strange man. He was laughing. Was he laughing at me?

  My phone rang. It was Tom. I cringed and looked away. The sign for Caddy’s caught my eye. I pulled into the parking lot and turned off Maggie’s ignition. I sunk my head on the steering wheel and decided the
n and there to swear off booze and men forever.

  ***

  “Hey, is that the infamous Val Shremshend?” Goober called to me from a picnic table on the beach behind Caddy’s.

  Oh shit! I ducked my head in shame. I wanted to hide under a rock. I wanted to drown in the ocean. I wanted to make a clean getaway and start a new life in another country. Oh yeah. I tried that already. It didn’t work. I turned the ignition on Maggie, but Jorge and Winky walked up behind her and blocked my escape.

  “Welcome to the Blurs & Slurs Club, Val,” Winky teased. “’Bout time, I’d say. What’s this I hear about a chicken in your boob?”

  “Arrrgh!”

  Winky patted my shoulder with a freckled hand.

  “Ha ha, don’t take it so bad, Val. We all been there.”

  I looked up from the steering wheel.

  “On Blurs & Slurs?”

  “Yep.”

  “Even you, Jorge?”

  Jorge shrugged guiltily.

  “Jes. A long time ago.”

  I sank back in my seat and put a hand over my eyes.

  “How long does it take for the pain and humiliation to go away?”

  “What pain and humiliation?” Winky asked. “You’re a freakin’ movie star now! Soon as it hits ‘leven, I’m buying you a beer!”

  I peeked at Winky from between my fingers and did a double take. He actually seemed to be genuinely proud of me! My hand dropped and my back straightened.

  “Thanks, Winky. But I think I just decided to give up drinking.”

  “What? Now that’s some crazy talk.”

  I snickered despite myself. “Winky, you don’t have the money to buy me a beer.”

  “I shore do. Look!”

  Winky pulled a worn, plastic wallet from his cargo shorts and pulled out three crisp twenty-dollar bills.

  “Woah! Where’d you get that kind of money?”

  “You should know. I been working last couple a days fixin’ a guy’s air conditioner, just like I did at your place.”

  “Why should I know that?”

  “Well, you got me back in the fixin’ mood. I hadn’t touched a motor in years. After fixin’ that AC for you, I started tellin’ folks about it, and pickin’ up a bit a work here and there.”