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

by Margaret Lashley

  “Laverne, that’s nothing but mints.”

  “I know.”

  “How’s that going to calm my nerves?”

  Laverne laughed and put the tin back in her pocket.

  “I give these to my dates all the time,” she said. “I tell them it’s Viagra.”

  “Does it work?”

  “Let’s just say this; a person believes what they want to believe.”

  “I believe if this keeps up much longer, my heart’s going to shrivel up and die.”

  Laverne looked me up and down and winked.

  “Well, at least your nails look fabulous.”

  ***

  I paced the floor like a tiger in a cage. Tom had just texted. He was on his way over. Part of me ached for him. Part of me wanted to take my hammer and finish him off, too. I’d showered, shaved and dolled myself up. I was also stone-cold sober. If this was the last time I was going to see Tom, I wanted to make it memorable.

  I jumped a foot in the air when the doorbell rang. I smoothed my hair and skirt and opened the door. Tom wore jeans, a white button-down shirt and an open, serious face. He held a spring bouquet in his hand.

  “These are for you, Val. Thanks for seeing me.”

  I took the flowers and invited him in. He followed me to the kitchen. I looked for a vase, but my mind was scrambled. I put the tea pitcher in the sink, filled it with tap water and stuck the flowers in. The awkwardness was palpable. Screw it. I need a drink.

  “You want a drink?” I asked as a set the pitcher of daisies and lilies and bluebells on the counter.

  “Yes, sure.”

  “Me, too. Beer or TNT?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Beer. It’s easier.”

  I pulled two bottles of beer from the fridge and opened them. I handed one to Tom. He looked at it, surprised.

  “Glass bottles? Fancy. What’s the occasion?”

  I smiled weakly at his joke, but I wasn’t in the mood to laugh. I wasn’t keen on getting this tragic conversation going, either. We both took a slug of beer and stared at the floor.

  “Well?” I said, finally.

  I looked up at Tom. His handsome face had gone serious again.

  “It’s a long story,” he began. “Should we sit somewhere?”

  “No couch.”

  “How about outside? Lawn chairs?”

  “Okay.”

  I opened the sliding door to the backyard and cringed. Shit! Standing on the concrete block, next to the hammer, the little police boy figurine stared up at me pleadingly amidst the shattered body parts of his less-fortunate fellow captives. I walked by him to a pair of lawn chairs near the water. I hoped Tom wouldn’t notice Petie in the evening twilight. We took our seats and stared out at the boats bobbing in the waterway.

  “I see it’s not looking too good for us cops,” Tom said. “Did you grant me a stay of execution?”

  I cringed again. “Yes. But it’s only temporary.”

  “What can I say to convince you I’m a good guy?”

  “I don’t know. Just tell me the truth. I can live with anything but lies.”

  Tom took a deep breath.

  “Okay. It all started around six years ago. I dated Jergen’s sister Rita for a few months. She was nice, but no real sparks – not like you and me.”

  Tom shot me a look that made me squirm inside.

  “So, one evening, Rita and I did a double date with my best friend John. By the end of the night, his date Judy and I were on our own. To be honest, I didn’t mind. It was kind of magical, the way John and Rita just hit it off like that. Like those sappy movies you girls like so much. I think it was like love at first sight for those two.”

  “What’s that got to do with you and the baby, Tom?”

  “I’m getting there. Hans – Jergen – hated John. Let’s just say, when it came to who was good enough to date his sister, Hans was a racist snob. A month or so after their first date, Rita found out she was pregnant. They wanted to get married, but knew Hans would never give them a minute’s peace if they did. They came to me with this scheme. They wanted me to tell Hans that I got Rita pregnant but I wouldn’t marry her. That way, John could step up, be the hero and make a so-called ‘honest woman’ out of Rita. I would take the fall. John was my best friend, so I did it. Hans fell for it. He turned his hate on me, and Rita’s family accepted John.”

  “Geeze. Are you still friends? With John?”

  “No. Giving that up was part of the plan.”

  “What happened to the baby?”

  “Miscarriage a month after they were married.”

  “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry. But Tom, I have to ask. How do I know you’re telling the truth – that the baby wasn’t yours?”

  “Because I wasn’t sleeping with Rita. But I was afraid you wouldn’t take my word for it. I had a vasectomy ten years ago. I have the records in my truck, if you want to see them.”

  “No. I believe you.”

  Tom turned and shot me a hopeful smile. “Are we good, then?”

  “Is that it?”

  “Yes.”

  Tom leaned over to kiss me. I pushed him away and stood up.

  “Really, Tom? What about going through my phone? What about snooping through my papers? And what about my best friend Milly? I’ve seen you two together all over town!”

  Tom shrunk back and bit his lower lip. “Crap.”

  “What?”

  “Val, I swear. Nothing is going on between Milly and me. I know it doesn’t look good, but trust me on this.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Look, she’s helping me with something. I can’t explain it. It’s official business. An…investigation. It should all be over in a couple of weeks. I promise I’ll tell you everything then. I swear.”

  Tears filled my eyes. Relief and frustration. So close, but still so far.

  “I’m not good at waiting, Tom.”

  “I know. Believe me.”

  Tom smiled. He stood up and hugged me. His arms felts so strong. So safe. I pulled away again.

  “You know what hurts the most, Tom? You weren’t there when I needed you.”

  “I know. I wasn’t there to help you, and I’m sorry. Val, I know firsthand what a nasty piece of work Jergen can be. I backed off so he would back off of you. I hope it worked.”

  “I guess you were right about that. I think it did help. The last message he left me…he actually sounded kind of nice.”

  “Good. Val, life isn’t a fairytale. I can’t be there for you all the time. I’m no superhero. I’m not like you, Valliant Stranger.”

  Tom took my chin in his hand. We locked eyes and smiled.

  “I’ve got my weaknesses, too,” I said.

  “I know. Chocolate…roaches…yard sales…”

  I snickered.

  Tom laughed and continued, “…can’t take a compliment….”

  “Don’t forget the worst one,” I added. “Inability to smell bullshit until it hits me in the face.”

  “Ah. My personal favorite.”

  Tom pulled me to his chest and kissed me hard on the mouth. My knees buckled. He whispered in my ear.

  “I’m hoping I can add sexy cop to your list of weaknesses.”

  My thigh bumped against the crotch of Tom’s jeans.

  “Maybe I should add jealous, untrusting brunettes to yours.”

  Tom kissed me hard again.

  “I said I was sterile, Val, not impotent. Big difference.”

  Big difference, indeed.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Forever was a long time to swear off something. I’d lasted about twelve minutes with booze, twelve days with men. I looked over at Tom in bed beside me. Maybe fate hadn’t given us the finger after all.

  A week had passed since I’d smashed any figurines. Petie the Police Boy had gotten his last-minute stay of execution. The tension between Tom and me had slacked off, but wasn’t totally erased. He still had a week before he had to spill his gu
ts about Milly.

  Milly and I were talking again, too. It was a tenuous time for me. I tried my best to find a way back to our old routine, but it was a struggle, given my lingering feelings of mistrust. On top of all that, I had to dodge Finkerman’s calls while I waited for the DNA results to come in on the finger. I was cleaning up breakfast dishes the morning after a very nice Taco Tuesday when the phone rang. My attorney, Bernard Charles, was on the other end of the line.

  “Ms. Fremden?”

  “Yes. Hello, Mr. Charles.”

  “We’ve analyzed the tape. Good and bad news. Good news, you got Loo and Meyers on tape plotting the arson.”

  “Meyers?”

  “Bingo Bob.”

  “Oh. Right. That’s good for your case, right?”

  “Yes and no. The fire investigation report came back. They can’t prove arson. Looks like either they covered their tracks well or faulty wiring beat them to it. The place burned down due to a grease fire. Can you believe that?”

  “Yes. I was in the back kitchen once. I’m scarred for life.”

  “Bad luck all around.”

  “Where do you go from here?”

  “We’ve got other angles to pursue.”

  “What about Loo’s confession? Cutting off Mickie’s finger?”

  “Well, your tactics were dubious at best, Ms. Fremden. But I promise I’ll do all I can to get you off. You won’t be facing direct charges. The only charge that has a chance of sticking at this point is conspiracy. Unless, that is, you’ve figured out the connection. How the finger ended up with you.”

  “No. Nothing yet. Could I get a copy of the tape?”

  “Certainly. I’ll leave one at reception for you. Hopefully, with any luck, DNA will prove the finger wasn’t even Mr. Michaels’.”

  “Really? Do you get a lot of missing fingers in your line of work?”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  I hung up and padded over to my computer and googled the news. “No Evidence of Arson in Local Restaurant Fire.” Some people have all the luck. I’d just stuck my hands in the dishwater again when my phone rang. It was Finkerman.

  “Ms. Fremden, your ‘bigger fish’ just slipped off the hook.”

  Nope. This was definitely not turning out to be my lucky day.

  “What do you want, Finkerman?”

  “Why, your money, of course. Don’t be silly.”

  “Silly?”

  “Hey, it’s nothing personal. But a million dollars just went up in smoke. I’ve got a client here says you cut his finger off. You had the finger. You’re low-hanging fruit.”

  I hate you! You disgusting excuse for a human being! I took a deep breath and swallowed my anger. “Okay. How much do you want?”

  “Ah. The voice of reason at last. Twenty-thousand ought to do it.”

  “But that’s twice what you –”

  “That’s the price of adding on a wild, million-dollar goose chase, Ms. Fremden.”

  “Okay. But I want to do this face-to-face.”

  “My pleasure. When and where?”

  “Water Loo’s parking lot. Two o’clock.”

  “I’ll be there with the paperwork. Don’t forget your checkbook.”

  “I won’t.” And I won’t forget to bring my recording of Loo’s confession, either. I can’t wait to see the look on your smarmy face when your last fish jumps out of the fryer.

  ***

  I squeezed the last drop of Ty D Bol into the toilet. I flushed and watched it swirl away. Hopefully the recording would be enough to rid me of Finkerman. My house chores were done. It was time for my reward. I slipped on a sundress, inched into some sandals and headed to the drugstore on 107th. I was in desperate need of Ty D Bol and chocolate.

  I was standing at the checkout with a Mounds bar and a family-sized bottle of my favorite toilet cleaner when I saw Pops walk in, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Hey, Pops!”

  “Val! How’s my girl?”

  “She’s running great, as always.”

  “No, I meant you.”

  “Doing okay. Hoping to finish off some business this afternoon. You’re all smiles today, Pops.”

  “I finished off some business myself. Sold me a car. Remember that gold Cadillac? The one that crazy woman put five-hundred down on?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She and her boyfriend came by this morning. Bought the Caddy full price. I told her I couldn’t give her that deposit back, being as she was late and all. She didn’t bat an eyelash. Said she’d always wanted her a gold Cadillac, and she was gonna have it no matter what.”

  “Hey, good for you!”

  “Yeah. You know, Val, normally, you can’t trust a crow-eyed woman. But this time she up and proved me wrong. Whipped out a wad of hunnert-dollar bills and peeled sixty of ‘em off right into my hand. Didn’t even make a dent in that roll of hers.”

  “Wow. Where’d she get that kind of money?”

  “Said they just won a million dollars. The man with her opened up a duffle bag and flashed me a wad of cash that could choke a wood chipper. Said they was gonna live like a king and queen down in Mexico. I wished ‘em well and they drove that Caddy right of the lot. Gonna miss her. She was a beauty.”

  “Yeah. She sure was.”

  ***

  I drove toward the law offices of Charles & Charles with a mouth full of Mounds and a mindful of angst. Should I tell Mr. Charles what I’d just heard? What if the people who bought Pops’ Cadillac really were lottery winners and weren’t Loo and Latrina? I’d have made a fool of myself. But what if they were!

  I parked Maggie sideways in the empty parking lot at Charles’s office. The door was locked. I banged on it and a small, brown envelope fell out of the mailbox slot. It had my name on it. I tore it open. The recorder was inside. I slipped it into my pocket and leaned over a window and peeked inside. The place was empty. Not a stick of furniture or a piece of paper on the floor. Nothing.

  I called Mr. Charles’s number. No answer. What was going on here? I left a message for him to call me and glanced at the time on my phone. It was 1:30 p.m.

  I didn’t have enough time to go home, change clothes and get back to Water Loo’s by two o’clock, so I took a slow tour down Gulf Boulevard and parked in the empty lot that used to surround the restaurant. A man was there, walking around with a tape measure and a clipboard.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Lot measurements. I’m a property appraiser. You interested in buying the lot?”

  “Maybe. What’s it going for?”

  “Hard to say. Somewhere between quarter and half a mill, it being on Gulf, you know.”

  “Yeah. Location, location, location.”

  “Exactly. Well, I’m all done here. Should be on the market in a few days. Crown Royalty Group, if you’re interested.”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.”

  The man drove off. I thought about all the times I’d been in Water Loo’s with the gang. Now the place was erased as if it never existed. A few minutes later, a huge, lemon-yellow Hummer pulled up. A tinted window zipped down, revealing the frizzy-haired head of Ferrol Finkerman.

  “Geeze, woman. Get in my vehicle. It’s too hot to sit outside.”

  I got out, walked to the passenger side of the hummer and pulled open the door. Inside, Finkerman had a laptop desk set up in the console between two swiveling seats as big as living-room lounge chairs.

  “Geeze. This thing is bigger than my old apartment.”

  “Lap of luxury is the way I roll, Ms. Fremden. Here’s the agreement.”

  Finkerman handed me a stack of papers.

  “This looks pretty complicated.”

  “It’s all routine stuff. Standard contract. Here. Use my lucky pen. You have your checkbook?”

  I took the pen. It was lemon-yellow like his Hummer, with a round smiley-face head on top. I thought about jamming it in his eye, but settled on a sweeter kind of revenge.

  “I didn
’t bring the checkbook. I have something better. Listen.”

  I hit play on the recorder. Finkerman’s smugness disappeared like July snow as he listened to loopy Loo slur out his confession under the influence of Jack Daniels. Suddenly, he smiled and reached out a hand for me to shake.

  “Well played, Ms. Fremden. I’m back on track with Loo and his million. My client will be pleased.”

  “So I’m off the hook?”

  “Not exactly. As I recall, you still had possession of the finger.”

  “Not if it turns out to be someone else’s finger instead of Mickie’s.”

  “True. But you and I both know it most likely belongs to him.”

  I grabbed the recorder and stuck it in my bra.

  “If you don’t let me off, Finkerman, you don’t get the tape.”

  “Don’t need it. I’ve got my own copy, now.”

  Finkerman patted his pocket. I picked up the yellow pen. A gold Cadillac pulled up in the lot, saving me from assault charges. I stared and pointed out the windshield.

  “There’s your real money, Finkerman.”

  We watched from the tinted windows as Loo got out, walked over to the spot where Water Loo’s front door used to be, and took a piss. Latrina climbed out and recorded it on her phone.

  “Look at them. Disgraceful,” Finkerman said.

  “They’re disgraceful?”

  “Look, someone has to do my job. I’m just looking out for the little guy.”

  “How little is it?”

  I patted my groin. Finkerman stared at me blankly for a second, then laughed out loud.

  “You’re clever. I like you. Tell me why I should drop this nuisance case against you. I’m in a good mood. I might just listen.”

  “What if I told you that those two people over there are Water Loo’s owners Loo and Latrina stopping to take souvenir photos?”

  “What?”

  “They cashed in their insurance settlement. Got the money in a duffle bag in their car. They’re heading to Mexico.”

  Loo and Latrina got back in the gold Cadillac and pulled out onto Gulf Boulevard.

  “What? Are you serious? We can’t let them get away!”

  Finkerman shifted the Hummer into drive and took off after the Cadillac.

  “What are you doing?” I yelled at him.

  “I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”