by Kim Smith
The tiny scrap was gray and looked like tee shirt fabric. Not mine. Not mine. Not mine!
For the first time since leaving Sal’s office with a bruised pride, I felt good. I had finally gained a bit of something that his police cronies missed. And lucky me, it might just be the one item that would bust the case wide open.
“You’re not as freaking smart as you think you are,” I said aloud, peering at the bit of cloth. The killer had left something behind.
Chapter 17
A short while after the cop in the car had called someone to come and check out my find, Sal knocked on the door. I grinned wide when he stepped into the apartment.
“He’s all yours now,” I said smugly.
“Good thing you didn’t get started cleaning in here too much before you found it. They’ll just mess it all up again,” he said, returning the grin. “Can’t say this is good news for my guys though. They hate when someone else gets the goods.”
“Sloppy seconds,” one of the crime scene guys muttered.
I crooked a finger at Sal and we went into the kitchen. The knife and the note were gone, but the damage to my table remained. I touched it before turning to look at him. “I just wanted to let you know, I’m really not trying to interfere in your case. But you have to understand it’s my case too. The guy is after me, for goodness sake.”
“Yeah, I know. You think I don’t know this?” He wore a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and the small dark hairs on his arms stood out in contrast. “You just have to leave the scary stuff to us, deal?”
“Deal,” I said, sticking my hand out. He took it but didn’t shake it. Instead he held it for a moment, too long to be considered business-like. His dark eyes were kind. I pulled away, gently, and he walked back to the living room.
In a moment or two, the apartment’s maintenance man, Rory Jones, arrived to fix my door. I guessed the cops had a word with the management.
Rory brought a few extra security measures with him, such as a chain lock,and a deadbolt. He peered at me through his thick glasses and half-waved at me with his screwdriver.
“Hey, Rory. Come on in and do your thing. Don’t mind these guys, they’re about to finish.”
He brought a small toolbox inside and set it down by
the door. “You want a chain or what?”
“What’s the most secure?”
“Probably a dead-bolt.”
“Do it.”
I turned away and caught Sal watching me. “What?”
He shuffled his foot across the floor and gazed over at me,
sheepish look on his face. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to stare, but I had a thought.”
“Great. You think,” I said with a laugh.
“Yeah, I do sometimes. Right now my thought is a question. Weren’t you supposed to be staying with Brown? What happened?”
I waved at the room. “I had to come back and put my things in order, Detective. Can’t leave my belongings strewn around like this.”
“Guess not. Are you going back to Brown’s?”
“Why?”
“I’d feel better knowing the two of you are tucked away somewhere safe where I can keep surveillance. I understand you’ve given my guy the slip once,” he said, with a grimace. “Please don’t do that again.”
“I’m a big girl. I won’t open the door to strangers.”
He turned to look at the security devices Rory was laying out. “Peephole. Dead-bolt. And…do you have a security alarm?”
I put my hands on my hips. “What do I look like here? Oprah, or some other millionaire-extraordinaire?”
“Well, what’s your life worth? Hm? If I were you I’d invest in one with my next check.”
I didn’t inform him of my current employment status. Mr. Fine’s offer still waited for my decision. I had to find work soon. I really wasn’t a Rockefeller. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll see what I can do.”
“You do have a smoke alarm, right?” he asked, looking around. The small ivory disk hung on the wall a few paces away. “I see it. Good.”
I tapped his arm. “Quit.”
“Huh?”
“Quit being a mother hen. I promise I’ll be fine.”
The tall CSI who had been crouched by the fireplace, stood and announced they were finished.
“Good. I’ll be back in the office shortly,” Sal told him. “Get that evidence checked in as soon as possible.”
The two gathered their equipment and left. Rory worked quietly taking off my doorknob, and acted as though he didn’t see them leave. I wondered if he sometimes just got lost inside his own thoughts as he went about his work. He was a quiet type.
I followed Sal to the stairs. He took three steps before turning back to me. I knew he would have a parting shot. He always did. “You have my number?”
Ah. A concerned albeit dumb question. “Yes, and you’re good to answer it.”
Deep breath. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
He took two more steps before stopping and turning again. “Go back to Brown’s house and stay there.”
“No.” This was beginning to get funny.
“Why not?”
“Because then I might not need you,” I said, teasing a little. I was also a little serious, although I kept that out of my voice.
He blushed and went down the rest of the stairs, humming, right up until he got into his car. It could have been the wind. I went back inside.
Rory stared up from his assortment of nuts and bolts. “That guy likes you.”
“What guy?”
“The Italian looking one.”
My face got hot. “He’s Hispanic, not Italian.”
“Whatever. He’s into you, I can tell.”
My cheeks burned, and I quickly went back to where I had started my day of cleaning. As I swept, conflict roared through me. Rick had been special in my life. He and I had shared a romance I didn’t think I would ever forget. I knew now how much I wanted a man in my life. Maybe one day, I would look at Sal and appreciate his interest.
Sighing, I thought about Katie and wished she were home. Ireland was not nearly as important as my love life. I missed my friend, and needed her advice. God, what news I had to share with her now.
I wandered through the living room with a load of laundry. Rory watched me. I was sure my emotions were stamped all over my face. Oh well, let him read them and make his own assessment. I was too confused to try.
Before Rory left, he showed me how to use my new deadbolt and peephole and handed over keys. After he left, I stared at the door as if someone would be pounding on it at any moment. I shook off the bizarre feelings and focused on feeding myself.
Most of my apartment gleamed from the cleaning I’d given it so I wandered into the kitchen to look into the matter of food. Nothing appetizing had survived my absence. I made a list of groceries and prepared to do battle at the supermarket.
Shopping called for a beloved pair of denim shorts, a red tee shirt, white Adidas, and canvas tote. I stuffed my phone into my pocket along with the new keys and set out. Ah, normal activities! I was actually excited.
I made it to the car before my phone rang.
“Hello?”
Breathing.
“Hello?”
Strange muffled laughter.
“Dwayne?”
“Dwayne?” The voice mimicked. An otherworldly feeling overcame me like I had just heard the spooky voice of an ugly witch in a fairy tale. Today, she masqueraded as a man. He disconnected.
“What the hell?” I said aloud, sliding into the car. The phone went into the cup holder for easy access. If the jerk called back, I’d find a way to keep him talking until I could place the voice. It seemed familiar, but maybe that was because I wanted to know who it was so badly.
I peered around the area. What if he hid somewhere close by, watching? I spotted my police protector. Well, come on then, try something with Sal’s watchdog in attendance. As long as som
eone was with me, I would be fine, right?
The noon sun glared at me as I pulled into Kringle’s lot. I moseyed along behind an older man and woman pushing their basket down the main aisle, hoping to snag their parking spot. The radio played, and I tapped my hand to the beat while I waited. They took their time unloading the basket and getting belted inside their fancy BMW.
I turned on my blinker and zoned out, feeling sleepy sitting in the sun. Then a car rammed into me from behind.
I screamed at the suddenness of it and was just about to climb out of Betsy when a sixth sense kicked in. What if this was not by accident?
Looking into the rear view mirror I saw a silver Toyota back up and zoom away nearly running over a woman with two small children.
I tried to remain calm.
Real smart, Shannon. Your gun is at the apartment, along with your pepper spray and anything else helpful in this situation.
But who in hell would have thought they needed that at the grocery store with a cop in attendance? Now I looked around for my tail. He was missing. Oh great!
The Toyota was long gone too, so I opened my door and climbed out to assess the damage. Fortunately, Mercury put a super deluxe bumper on my model, and there was only a dent. The bumper had moved into the car a little more snugly, but it was far from damaged.
The older couple maneuvered out of the slot and drove away, probably scared to get involved. I got back into Betsy and pulled in.
I really wanted this to be an accident. A hit and run by some teenager who would be too scared of Mom and Dad to do the right thing. Or maybe someone behind on his car insurance payments who decided to skip out on the unfortunate event rather than get a ticket.
Yeah right. It may also have been a Martian who didn’t have a clue as to how to drive, but I knew better.
My mouth got dry. Where was my tail? Had the cop seen where I was headed, and decided I didn’t need following for a food run? I glanced across the lot at the Burger Brawl. He sat at the drive-through, into a food run of his own.
Wonderful. The killer hit me when the cops were not looking. He wasn’t just prank phone calling after all.
Disgusted, I got out and checked the car again. Maybe it only seemed like a hard hit. Maybe he just rolled into me? No real damage, no worry there.
Who was I kidding?
I berated myself for not trying to see the slammer more clearly. I had to keep my wits about me at all times. This jerk would keep attacking me until he got tired of the game and wanted to end it. I really wanted my gun now.
Hurrying into the store, determined to buy some damn food, I practiced calming breaths. I could do this. I could survive a personal attack from a deranged killer. No problem.
I dialed Sal’s number while walking through the produce section. When he answered, I calmly told him that his tail was not doing a very good job and hung up.
My attention would be pinned on a silver Toyota now. But there was no need in giving that information away to the good detective yet. No need for another of my great ideas — also known as stupid ideas — to show up in the spotlight so soon. The ramming might have had no significance. If I freaked out again, without cause, Sal would surely arrest me for being a nuisance.
Next stop, spaghetti sauce.
The longer I shopped the more I wanted to jump out of my skin. Was the man with the bushy hair watching me? And how about that hot guy on aisle five? He certainly let his eyes linger.
Either one of them could be the killer. How could I know that he hadn’t returned to follow me around?
I gave up when I pulled a can of chicken noodle soup off the shelf, and ten more came with it. No sense in being a nervous wreck in public. I glanced around to see three small children shopping with their mommies.
I wanted my mommy.
Sunglasses, designed to cut glare in half, went on my face before I exited the store. I needed to keep glare down so I could see details. Details would keep me alive. I refused to be a victim from this point forward.
No one waited to gun their car and run me down as I pushed my basket out into the lot, and no Toyota idled nearby to follow me home.
Okay, maybe I was being a little paranoid.
I kept my phone handy as I tossed plastic bags of groceries into my trunk. The first sign of danger and my finger would press the speed dial button for Sal.
After a quick check, I found the cop assigned to follow me. He stood outside his cruiser, talking to another cop. Changing of the guard, maybe?
I slammed the trunk lid and got in, locking my doors immediately behind me. My heart beat so fast; my breath came in gasps.
Scared? Who me?
Maybe a little, I admitted, but being stalked by a deranged murderer was a new experience for me. The closest I had ever come was when the Turner twins wanted to give me a swirly in the girl’s toilet after we lost a basketball game my junior year of high school.
I pulled out of the lot and carefully watched for a silver Toyota. Nothing. Once on Greenman and headed home, I kept one eye on the rear view. The cop didn’t appear, which bothered me. Didn’t he know he was supposed to stay with me all the time?
At the stop light at Greenman and Eastern, I tried to shove aside all thoughts of danger when the silver. It worked for a minute. Then, the Toyota
turned in front of me, heading back in the direction of the store.
A cold chill started at the back of my neck and circled under my arm, coming to rest under my left breast. The bastard.
This was my chance to change the rules of the game as Sal had put it. Now, I understood what he meant. I wanted to be in control for a while. I was damn mad. This jerk rear-ended me and almost killed people. He was going to pay.
I swung into the Amoco station on the corner and drove out onto Eastern catching the light just before it turned yellow. I would catch the asshole and turn the tables on him. Let’s see how he liked being hunted for a change.
There were a few cars between the Toyota and me. It turned right at the bank and drove slowly down the side street bordering the grocery lot. I followed him, staying well back. If the driver ever checked behind him, he’d get the surprise of a lifetime. But then again, I would be in a ton of trouble.
He turned into the lot and slowly made his way toward the front of the store. Afraid of being made, I kept going on the side street. It ended in a high-dollar neighborhood where the houses were all brick and the cars were all new.
I turned around and worked my way back, spinning into the lot at the last minute. I drove in front of the Chinese restaurant at the end of the shopping Center, not seeing the Toyota at first. Then it appeared, going up and down all the aisles, as if searching.
He was looking for me, and it finally registered that this was a perfect time for me to call Sal and have him stop the guy and arrest him. I pushed the button on my cell.
“What now?” Sal answered.
“I think I have our killer in my sight at the moment.”
“Geez, Shannon, you’re going to get me fired. What are you talking about now? I’m due to be in an interrogation in just a minute.”
“A silver Toyota rammed me from behind earlier in the parking lot of Kringer, but didn’t hang around long enough to exchange insurance info. I figured it was our guy, out for a game. He’s back and now he’s driving up and down the aisles, looking. I want you to send someone to arrest him. But be careful, I think he watches the cops to know where to find me. He only shows up when they’re not around.”
"Are you sure it’s not that Yoshi character?”
“No, Yoshi drives that big ass truck.”
“Well, Toyotas are Japanese, and so is he.”
“Are you going to send someone?”
“Where’s the officer in charge of following you?”
“Good question.”
He exhaled. “I’m on it.”
We disconnected, and I parked over in front of the nail shop. The Toyota made a swoop around the gas pumps. A police cruis
er entered the lot and just as he approached me, I flashed my lights. He passed by and slowed, looking for the Toyota.
The fraction of time I took my attention away from my pursuer was long enough for him to escape. Now, as I hunted around, I discovered my mistake.
The Toyota was gone.
The cop told me to go home and he would follow me. Sometimes you don’t have to tell me stuff more than once. This was one of those times. My milk had gotten warm, my hunger had gotten serious, and my patience had run out long ago.
After seeing me to the apartment, the officer settled into his usual place. I hoped he did a better job than his co-worker had done.
Sal called as I was halfway through heating soup, to say that my former police tail had been involved in a situation at the hamburger place where hot coffee had been spilled on him.
I forgave him. At least he had a reason for ditching me. Even my assigned protectors needed protectors it seemed.
After I hung up, someone tapped three times on the door. I stirred the soup once more and strolled over to use my new peephole. Dwayne.
Unlocking the door took a hot minute with all the new hoohaws. Finally, I got it opened, and he darted inside. “What the hell, Wall-ass, don’t leave me sitting out there where Mr. Anybody can get off a shot.” He checked the dead-bolt and then followed me back to the kitchen.
He sniffed. “You cooking?”
“You hungry?”
“Starved.”
I pointed at the table. “Go sit. I’ll pour some soup.”
He rubbed his hands together and followed my directions. “I have had a crap day.”
“You too? Me too.”
“What’s up with you?”
I explained about the silver Toyota and the incident in the lot.
“Girl, you need to stay out of Kringle’s. I tell you every time you go there someone wants a piece of your ass.”
I gave him a questioning look as I sat a bowl and a spoon in front of him.
“Not like that Wall-ass. The hurting kind.”