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

by Margaret Lashley

  “What’s that?”

  “The recorder was in there.”

  I nodded toward the burnt-out husk of the building. Finkerman stomped his foot, then regained his composure. His eyes looked up and to the left as his brain concocted another scheme.

  “So, you’ve got no evidence. How inconvenient for you and me. But I might still be able to make this work. You’re worth a quarter mil. How do I know you didn’t set that fire yourself, you little arsonist, you?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Let’s see. You knew about the insurance money and the arson plan. You approached me, leveraging it to get you off the hook with the finger dealio. And gee, I just happened to run into you in the parking lot while the place was going up in flames. Arsonists do love to admire their own handiwork.”

  “That’s…that’s despicable!”

  “I know. And I’ve got it all on tape.” Finkerman patted his pocket. “Looks like you might be in even hotter water now, Ms. Fremden. I’ll be in touch. And by the way, you owe me for the recording device. I’ll send you a bill.”

  “You’re ridiculous! Isn’t talking to me about all that stuff some kind of conflict of interest?”

  “Lady, if there’s money in it, I got no conflict. And you? Unlike me, you’ve got no proof.”

  I grabbed for Finkerman’s shirt pocket, but he covered it with his hand. He smiled like Snidely Whiplash and disappeared into the crowd. A second later, Winky emerged from the same throng of people gawking at the catastrophe. He sidled up next to me and bit into a boiled egg, as if he was enjoying popcorn and a show.

  “Hey, Val pal! Can you believe that? Some people’s got some rotten luck, you know?”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  He took another bite of egg. His nonchalance aggravated me.

  “What are you doing here, Winky?”

  “Came to see Winnie. She was antsy about something all day yesterday.”

  “Yeah? What?”

  “She didn’t say. But I could tell somethin’ was getting her all riled up. Left without sayin’ a word this morning. I hitched a ride over to make sure she was okay.”

  His surprising compassion softened my attitude.

  “You really like her, don’t you.”

  “Yep. She’s a good egg.”

  Winky caught himself off guard with his own joke and laughed.

  “Good egg. Now that there’s funny.”

  “Yeah.”

  Winky raised the last bite of boiled egg up like a toast to the blackened building.

  “To Water Loo’s. I’ll miss your booze. But Loo and Latrina? Not you twos.”

  “You’re the quintessential country poet, Winky. I bet Glad loved the poem you recited at her memorial service. I never thanked you for that.”

  “It’s never too late to say thanks, Val.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Winky put his arm around me. We watched the firetruck put out the last flame. Suddenly Winky’s arm flew off my shoulder. He jerked back, raised both fists in air and beat them down on an imaginary table.

  “Gaul dang it!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There goes my free clothes box!”

  Yep. And my get-out-of-jail-free card.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Have you seen Winnie?” Winky hollered.

  The crowd at Water Loo’s last-ever barbecue had doubled. It was getting hard to hear above the din. I cupped my hand to Winky’s ear and yelled.

  “She was right beside me. I talked to this guy Finkerman, and she disappeared. But she’s got to be in the crowd somewhere. Or back at the Dodge. Want me to show you where we parked?”

  “Sure. I could use a nap.”

  I took a step in the direction of the van and found myself staring at a chest-full of blue. The face attached to the chest was handsome, with sandy blond hair and sea-green eyes.

  “Hiya, Tom-Tom,” Winky said.

  Tom nodded at Winky, then locked eyes with me. I looked away and watched Winky pull a pink boiled egg out of a pocket in his cargo shorts. He tapped the egg on his forehead with enough force to crack the shell. I felt Tom’s hands softly grip my upper arms.

  “Val, what are you doing here?”

  I shot him a hard look and pulled away.

  “Trying to save my own hide. With no help from you, thanks very much.”

  “Look, Val. I told you it would be worse if I got involved. Why won’t you believe me?”

  “Because I just don’t. You’re selfish, Tom. You put your own needs above mine. I’m in big trouble. I need help. Where are you? Off with someone else!”

  “Val, I –”

  “I thought I had a plan. But it just went up in flames. And you won’t…you’re not….”

  I burst into tears. Dammit! No! I didn’t want Tom to see me cry. I looked over at Winky. He’d finished shelling the egg. Flakes of pink shell littered the asphalt like hobo snow. He reached into his shorts pocket. I gasped.

  “Where did you get that?” I yelled.

  Winky looked at me like a deer in the headlights. “Huh?”

  I ran over and snatched the salt shaker from Winky’s hand. Inside was a little contraption that looked like a computer thumb drive.

  “Yes!!!” I screamed.

  I grabbed Winky and kissed him on the lips. He nearly fell backwards.

  “Where did you find this?”

  “Well, I kinda lifted it from Loo’s last night. If I’d a knowed you loved salt shakers so much, Val, I’d a snatched you one, too.”

  “Why did you take it?”

  “I ain’t no thief, if that’s what you mean. I just love me some Easter eggs. Every year, Winn Dixie down the road has ‘em cheap as dirt. I bought me a dozen yesterday on my way to see Winnie at work. She weren’t there. So, I sat myself down at the booth, like always. Somebody’d left a pile a papers all over it. I shoved ‘em to the side and started eatin’ my eggs. All of a sudden, old Loo hisself come over and tole me to get lost. Said Winnie wasn’t coming back ‘til tomorrow. Val, I needed the salt to eat my eggs. What’s a feller to do? I stuck the shaker in my shorts pocket. I was gonna bring it back. But I guess it don’t matter none, no more anyhoo.”

  “Oh, it matters. It matters plenty! Thank you, Winky!”

  I grabbed Winky’s hand and jumped up and down.

  “Val, what’s going on?” Tom asked.

  My mood shifted faster than a rabbit’s romance. I whipped around to face him.

  “You tell me, Tom, and I’ll tell you.”

  Tom lowered his head and bit his lower lip. He turned and took a step to leave, then turned back.

  “I’ll call you. No. I’ll come over tonight after work and explain it all.”

  Before I could answer, Tom disappeared into the crowd. Winnie walked up. She looked distraught.

  “Val, it’s hopeless and it’s all my fault!”

  I held up the recorder. “Winnie, we’ve got it!”

  “What? How?”

  “Your boyfriend saved the day.”

  I waved a hand at Winky. He grinned like a bashful gnome.

  “Shucks. Wat’n nothin’.”

  “I’ll explain on the way, Winnie. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  ***

  Winnie dropped me at my house. Halleluiah, I had the tape! With any luck, it contained the evidence I needed to get Finkerman off my ass! I had my fingers on my phone to call him when I remembered something; the sleazebag’s loyalty blew with the wind. I needed someone looking out for me and me alone. I paced around my kitchen. Something on a shelf caught my eye. It was that old phone book I’d found when I’d cleaned out my parents’ thirty years’ worth of hoarder debris.

  I flipped through the yellow pages. There were over a hundred pages of attorneys! Shit! I closed my eyes, touched my dragonfly pendant for luck, fanned the pages, and stuck my finger on a name.

  “Bernard Charles, you’d better be good,” I said to myself as I dialed.<
br />
  A woman answered.

  “Bernard Charles, civil defense attorney. May I help you?”

  “I’d like to make an appointment?”

  “Certainly. What’s your availability?”

  “Um…now? Anytime?”

  “You’re in luck. Mr. Charles has an opening at 3:30 today. Initial consultation, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “That will be two hundred for the hour. We accept credit cards and Paypal only. No checks. Do you understand the terms?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you still want to come?”

  “Uh…yes.”

  “Very good. Who shall I say is coming?

  “Val Fremden.”

  “That name sounds familiar. Did you say Val Shremshend?”

  My ears grew hot. “No. Val Fremden.”

  “Okay. You’re all set. See you this afternoon.”

  I hung up and immediately felt like I’d made a mistake. How good could this guy be if he could see me on a moment’s notice? It was barely after nine o’clock in the morning and I’d already had one hell of a day. I set my phone down and went to the bathroom. It rang as soon as I sat on the toilet. I jumped up and ran for it, yanking my panties up on the way.

  “Goober One to Goober Two.”

  “Goober! Geeze!”

  “Yeah. Good morning to you, too.”

  “Sorry. You just…I was just. Never mind. What’s up?”

  “Val, you’re not going to believe this, but I’ve got Loo in custody.”

  “What? How? I mean…what? Where are you?”

  “Behind The Deet.”

  “Hold onto him. I’ll be right there.”

  “Don’t worry. He’s not going anywhere.”

  I made it downtown in twenty minutes flat. I turned into the alley behind The Deet, but didn’t see Goober. I pulled over and climbed out of the car. A peanut-shaped head peeked out from behind a dumpster.

  “Over here, Goober Two.”

  I ran to his side. There, in the grimy corner where the dumpster met the back wall of the liquor store, Loo sat passed out in Goober’s industrial-strength stroller. His head lolled to one side. His arms hung limp, knuckles on the pavement. He looked like the biggest, ugliest baby on earth. I turned to Goober.

  “Should I even ask?”

  “Hey, I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you mean.”

  “So he’s not dead?”

  “Nope. Just passed-out drunk.”

  I blew out a breath. “Thank god. How did this…happen?”

  Goober scratched his bald head and slapped his baseball cap back over it.

  “Well, I ran into Capone this morning. He told me some guy was laying in the alley behind The Deet. Said the guy didn’t look like a bum, but he’d been rolled. I thought, hey, I could be a green taxi service. For inebriated clientele, you know? I could push ‘em around. Help ‘em find their cars and whatnot.”

  “Okay…I get it. So?”

  “So I come down here, and I see this guy laying on his belly. He’s got a big bite mark on his calf. I turn him over, it’s Loo. I was about to make a run for it when I thought, hey, maybe you and I could take another shot at getting his confession. On tape this time. Besides, it’s not like he’s going anywhere. He can’t even walk.”

  “Good thinking, Goober. I might have it on tape already. But it wouldn’t hurt to get a backup. Besides, what I really need is for him to confess about cutting Mickie’s finger off.”

  “We could work on that. You know, Val, it took me and Capone both to get Loo’s fat ass into the stroller. Cost me a dollar and three cigarettes.”

  I found my wallet and gave Goober three dollars.

  “Thanks, Val.”

  “Sure.” I looked back over at Loo. “So why do you think he’s here. In the alley?”

  “He has race tickets in his front pocket. Could a picked a winner yesterday. Down here celebrating, maybe?”

  “Celebrating! That’s probably it. Did you hear? Water Loo’s burned down last night.”

  “Yeah. Could see the smoke from here.”

  “Loo would have a million reasons to celebrate that.”

  Goober eyed the ugly baby and whistled. “Affirmative.”

  “Do you think we can get him to talk?”

  “When me and Capone lifted him, he was lying on an empty bottle of Jack. Go in The Deet and buy a pocket rocket of JD and we might just be able to make this ugly canary sing.”

  ***

  Loo held his mouth open wide like a baby bird, but it wasn’t worms he was after. It was another shot of Jack. We’d convinced the shit-face restaurateur-turned arsonist that we were his new best friends, celebrating his big win at the track. I waved his spent Derby Lane tickets in his face and danced around like there was a party going on.

  “Woo hoo! Look at you, it’s big-winner Loo!”

  Loo grinned and rolled his loopy eyes at me from his seat in the stroller. Goober stood by like a degenerate nanny, an open pint of whiskey in one hand, the cap for it in the other.

  “You’re a winner, Loo! That dog, Gold Ring, just made you a fortune! Have another shot!”

  Goober poured a capful of JD and held it over Loo’s head. Loo opened wide. Goober poured the booze into his mouth. Loo gulped it down greedily.

  “Yes, you’re a great big winner, Loo! You bought your tickets with a gold ring. How crazy is that?”

  “Yeah, preshy craashy,” Loo slurred.

  “I bet it was hard to get that gold ring, huh?”

  Loo nodded. “Uh huh.”

  Goober took a swig out of the JD bottle and poured another capful for Loo.

  “What was that, Loo? Come on, tell us how you got the gold ring again. That was sooo funny!”

  Goober teased Loo with the capful of booze.

  “Come on, tell us the story again, Loo! The ring wouldn’t come off, remember? You are sooo cute and funny!”

  “Ah, ya…Loo started. “Couldn’t get that…damn thing off. Mickie and his…stupid…big fat finger.”

  “Fat finger! Sir, pour the man a drink!”

  Goober emptied the capful down Loo’s gullet. Loo smacked his lips and closed his eyes. Oh no! We were almost there – he couldn’t pass out now! I kicked the air. Goober caught my drift and kicked the stroller. Loo’s bleary eyes opened again. I put on my best party-girl act.

  “You’re hilarious! Loo! How’d you get that ring off of Mickie’s stupid, big fat finger?”

  Loo belched loud enough to make a nearby pigeon take wing.

  “I cut…I cut that fat bastard finger off…with my knife.”

  “Oooh that’s so cool, Loo! You’re like a strong mountain man. I bet Mickie deserved it, right?”

  “Yeah…he did. He owed Bengo Bod money.”

  “Bengo Bod? Ha ha! That’s funny!”

  “Bingo Bod.”

  “So, you gave the finger to Bingo Bob?”

  “No. To the little guy…the green dwarf.”

  What? Oh my gawd! “Oh yeah, sure! The green dwarf. But he told me he couldn’t find the finger, Loo. Where’d you put it?”

  “In the pocket. Like we said.”

  “What pocket, Loo?”

  “You know. The pocket. But it ain’t my fault.”

  “Oh, nobody’s blaming you, Loo. You’re the big winner! Buddy, give him another drink.”

  Goober poured another capful into Loo. His eyes rolled around and his head bobbed.

  “Screw the dwarfs,” Loo slurred. “Freakin’ April fools. You can’t trust ‘em.”

  Loo’s eyes rolled up in his head. He passed out cold.

  “What the hell was all that about?” Goober asked. “Green dwarf?”

  I patted my shirt pocket.

  “I’m not sure yet, Goober. But I’ve got in all on tape.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  It was fifteen after three when I walked into the law offices of Charles, Charles & Associates. I guess one Charles wasn’t enough. The place had a s
eedy vibe, despite its tasteful, modern furniture and paintings. It felt…temporary – as if everything had come as a set out of the back of a truck, and could be packed up and hauled away at a moment’s notice. I walked up to a woman behind a thick glass window, like the ones in a doctor’s office.

  “Miss Fremden?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re early. But Mr. Charles can see you now.”

  She led me to a door with a plaque that read Bernard Wilton Charles, III, Esq. I didn’t want to be impressed, but I was. The receptionist opened the door.

  “Ms. Fremden is here to see you.”

  “Have a seat, Ms. Fremden.”

  “Thanks for seeing me on short notice.”

  “You’re fortunate. I had a cancellation today. I’d say it was your lucky day, but usually people don’t feel that way when they come to see me. I like to think I change people’s luck.”

  “Well, I could certainly use a change of luck.”

  “Tell me your story and let’s see what we can do.”

  As I laid out my story before this stranger. He studied me and my words with discerning, dark brown eyes the same color as mine. His brown hair showed a touch of grey at the temples. His clean-shaven chin was dimpled in the center, and his lips were full. His thick eyebrows were unruly, but everything else about him was disciplined to the extreme. He wore the well-practiced poker face of every attorney and cop I’d ever seen on TV. He looked tired, yet determined, and his face never betrayed him, even when I said “green dwarf.”

  “So, let me make sure I’ve got this straight, Ms. Fremden. First, you found a finger in your abandoned couch, then a dwarf in a Halloween mask broke in and tried to steal the finger. But you’d already given it to the cops. Is that right so far?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, then the man who lost the finger…um….”

  “Mickie.”

  “Yes, Mickie with the eye patch and gold tooth – and missing finger, of course – accused you of putting a bag over his head and chopping his finger off.”

  “Well…not chopping it off, but telling someone else to.”

  “Right. Then a woman named Latrina, who sounds like you, said a man named Loo cut the finger off.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you and your friend ‘Goober’ got Loo drunk in a baby stroller and taped his confession with a salt shaker saved from a fire by a man eating Easter eggs.”