Best Laid Plans

by Kristi Rose

  She looked at me, a scowl still creasing her features. But when our eyes made contact, I pointedly looked at her vehicle. Let’s hope she was smart enough to read my intention.

  Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move.

  “I have lots of questions, DB.” I pointed to my backpack. “I got a list of suspects in here that I’m sure you don’t even know about. And when I break this case wide open, Carlie here can be my witness that I shared facts about the case, facts you ignored because you were busy handing out tickets for…” I gestured to Carlie’s car.

  DB faced her. “Why are you still here?”

  She cast me a fleeting look of surprise then hustled around her SUV, climbed in, slammed the door and then sped off.

  I had DB’s full attention. I offered him my popcorn.

  He put his citation book in his back pocket.

  I tossed the bag into the nearby trashcan and dusted off my hands. “My work here is done. I’ll be off. Have a good one.” My apartment was in view of How Ya Bean. Spreading out all this information and having Toby do more digging was what I wanted to be doing. DB was an energy sucker, and I wanted to hold on to what energy I had left for the day. I took two steps toward home.

  “Not so fast.” He hooked me by the elbow and spun me toward him. “What gives you the right to butt into this investigation?”

  “My private investigator’s license.” I put a hand up in protest. “And before you read me the riot act for that, know that I’m fully aware of my legal boundaries, and I have no intention of overstepping.” I pointed two fingers to my eyes then back at him. “Because I know you’ll be watching.”

  “I’m not worried about you or your PI skills,” he said.

  He was baiting me.

  “Okay,” I said with a casual shrug. I moved to lean against the empty bike rack, putting it between us. Trouble was, I was worried about his cop skills. Or lack thereof.

  I kicked one foot up on the bike rack and leaned back on my hands.

  “I have a confession from the kid. That’s as good as gold.” DB fidgeted with something in his back pocket.

  “You also had a confession from his mom. If one was lying about their confession, why couldn’t another?”

  DB tsked. “You probably don’t know this, mostly because you’d have to learn it in school, and we both know learning and school was hard for you—”

  I rolled my eyes. “Says the guy who cheated off me in chemistry class.”

  “Or maybe it was just the reading of sentences.”

  “I’m dyslexic, DB, not dumb. What’s your excuse?”

  DB’s expression went dark. “If you took the time to learn anything, Sam, you’d know that the odds of two innocent people confessing to the same crime are slim. In the world of crime, there is no such thing as coincidences.”

  He moved like lightning, which was surprising for such a bulky load of a guy. He slapped one end of handcuffs on my wrist. Before I could jerk my hand away, he clipped the other end around the bike rack.

  DB laughed and put his hands on his hips. “I’d bet fast cash that you don’t have a handcuff key.”

  I gave him my best annoyed face. “Ha ha, jokes on me. You win this one.” I jingled the cuffs. “How about you undo these now?”

  DB tucked his hands in his pockets. “This is why I don’t worry about you as a PI. Or anything you think you might uncover in this case.” He pointed to his chest. “I’m the big guns, and you’re amateur hour.”

  “Those two don’t work together. Maybe you’re prime time and I’m local cable? Or maybe you’re the big gun and I’m a marshmallow shooter. Or—”

  “I get it, smarty pants. I’d love to know who you’re gonna call to bail you out of this, but I’ve got work to do.” He turned and strolled away, heading toward the station.

  I yelled, “Just a minute ago you said I was a dummy. Now I’m a smarty pants? Which is it?”

  When he kept on going, my temper elevated.

  “I’m gonna call my lawyer. I believe you don’t have just cause for this.”

  DB didn’t care. He did everything like he was above the law because he was the law. And my mother, the mayor, didn’t scare him.

  “Sammy?” called a voice from across the street.

  I turned toward it. My dad and Chuck, the guy who owned the local market and tech shop were at the front door of the newspaper.

  “You need some help?” Dad asked, one hand on the door of his business.

  I relaxed against the bike bars and used my free hand to wave him off, blocking my handcuffed hand with my body. “No, just waiting for someone.”

  Dad pause, glanced at Chuck, then back at me again. I smiled wide and kicked one foot over my ankle like I had all the time in the world.

  If he’d seen the handcuffs, he’d already be over here. Worst case, he thought he might have seen them but was gauging how to react by my reaction. After what felt like the longest moment in time, Dad and Chuck went inside the newspaper building.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. Last thing I wanted was for my mother to find out.

  I fished out my phone and called Precious. She answered on the first ring.

  “What up?” she said in the worst fake gangsta voice ever.

  “Any chance you have a spare set of handcuff keys?”

  Silence.

  “Um, I don’t know what you think I do in my free time, but no. I don’t have any handcuff keys, much less spares. And before you ask, I don’t have any whips or chains or masks or… wait, I do have a few masks from previous Halloween parties. Oh, and I might have a whip, but I certain—”

  “Precious,” I cried. “I’m cuffed to the bike rack outside June’s.”

  “Oh, dare I ask?”

  “DB’s way of proving that I sucked as a PI. I suppose he’s implying I’m unprepared for any or all circumstances.” Begrudgingly, I admitted he was right.

  “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. I have a new client meeting in ten minutes so I’ll need at least…”

  “Ooh,” I interrupted. “Never mind, I’ll call Mrs. Wright and have her come.” Not that I wanted to live that down either.

  “Okay, but if she can’t make it, text me.”

  “Done,” I said, then disconnected.

  I tried Mrs. Wright to no avail. Then I tried Mrs. Long, thinking maybe the two were entrenched in a mad game of MahJongg. No answer.

  I called Toby, all the while purposefully ignoring the people passing behind me. Hoping if I didn’t engage, they would keep on moving.

  “Dudette,” Toby said. “I’m driving a client somewhere. Can this wait?”

  Toby freelanced as a private driver in between working for me, other odd jobs, and getting high. A loud squeal came across the line.

  “How does Lady M like the car time?”

  “She’s not a fan,” he said, “but I can’t leave her at home.” Another high-pitched squeal filled the space.

  “How’s your customer like that?” As a passenger, it would not be cool with me.

  Toby cooed to Lady M, then said, “I’m not gonna ask and I’m driving over the speed limit. Before I forget, I sent those”—he cleared his throat to indicate I should pay attention— “you know, those one files you wanted. I sent them to your email.”

  I laughed. “Okay, thanks. Don’t go so fast you get a ticket.” But if by chance you do, can you ask the cop for his handcuff keys? “Listen, you don’t have handcuff keys, do you?” My not-legal husband, Carson, had kept a supply space fit for an amateur spy hidden at the top attic space of his office. But the office burned down a few months ago.

  “No, sorry. What’s up?”

  “No reason,” I said then got off the phone as fast as I could. I wasn’t up for repeating the story.

  Someone cleared their throat behind me.

  I dropped my head and closed my eyes, mortified to be caught. Darn it all.

  I said, “How long you been standing back there?”

  “Since you w
ere talking to Precious,” Leo said.

  I groaned. The universe must get a kick out of sharing my embarrassing experiences, particularly with Leo.

  He said, “Were you even thinking about calling me?”

  I faced him and pointed to my shackled wrist. “Nope, because, for once, I thought maybe I could slink away with only a few people knowing this happened. Please tell me you stumbled upon me and gossip hasn’t started making the rounds.”

  Wind River was small enough, the kind of town people pressed their noses to windows to watch scenes unfold before them while they speculated on the phone with the person next door.

  “DB was telling anyone and everyone at the station.”

  I gestured to his street clothes. “You just get off duty?”

  “Yeah, I have a tribal meeting in a few hours.” He stuck his hand in his front pocket.

  I sagged against the bike rack. “Please tell me you’ve got handcuff keys in there.”

  Leo whipped out a ring of keys. “As a matter of fact, I do. And I suggest you get one, too.” He went to work on the handcuff.

  “Consider it done. Any other sage advice you want to give me before I head down to the surplus store to stock up?”

  “Yeah, try to imagine the worst scenario you can be in and get stuff to keep you from being in that scenario.”

  This was a vast improvement from him telling me to get out of the business. He freed me from the bar.

  “I don’t think my imagination is that good,” I said, rubbing my wrist. “I never saw this coming.”

  Leo shook his head. “Maybe you should watch some thrillers.”

  Why not? The gist of my PI knowledge came from watching YouTube videos. It only made sense that my survival skills should come from a major motion picture.

  I was doomed.

  25

  Sunday

  I’d spent the last few days going over Josh’s calendar and other files Toby had sent over. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it as Josh had used emojis instead of place, people, or event names for most everything. Some emojis were sports related, others hobby related. Occasionally, he would write in PTC or Town Hall. I’d gone through my phone last night and agreed with Josh; there were no good emojis for those two. Well, at least there were no appropriate emojis.

  Having others look at the clues might provide some answers, so I’d set up a get-together of minds I liked and trusted. I prepared a simple brunch of fresh fruit, yogurt, muffins, and frozen quiche baked in my oven to make my house smell good and made me look like a pro. The team assembled at ten on the money Sunday, and I included Leo, who said his only task for his day off was to be one step closer to catching a killer.

  Because I relied heavily on my visual skills, I taped three months of Josh’s calendar to my wall in sequential order. On an adjacent wall, I taped the doctored invoices. From the office supply store, I’d bought a giant easel pad in case someone wanted to take notes. I documented in a weird shorthand that was like my own language. Well, Precious and Hue understood it, but they’d been in the trenches with me in school.

  Leo was first to arrive. Dressed in dark jeans and a cream Henley, he looked relaxed but powerful. Always powerful. With broad shoulders and a posture that never slouched, he wore his heritage well. Proudly.

  I, too, had dressed in jeans, only mine had holes in the knees and my V-neck T-shirt embroidered with flowers down one side had an eraser sized stain near my belly button where I’d almost dropped the blackberries and caught the bowl by pressing it to my stomach.

  Let’s be honest, I was too lazy to change.

  He surveyed the walls, hands on hips. “Wow, I like looking at things this way. Gives you the whole picture.”

  “That’s the point. You don’t look at things as a whole?” This was as foreign a concept to me as my inability to break words down into bite-sized sounds had been to my teachers.

  He nodded. “Sure, I print stuff out but not to this scale.” He faced me and smiled.

  “This is how I see the world,” I said. “Hue, too.” It was a defense mechanism, pointing out that his brother was like me.

  Leo snapped his fingers. “Speaking of Hue, he sent me this text with just emojis, and for the life of me, I cannot figure it out.”

  I held out my hand while he dug his phone from his front pocket. “Then you would hate the messages between Hue and me, minimal words.”

  He placed his phone in my hand, and I glanced at the screen then laughed.

  Hue’s response was a door, a man running, and a burst of wind.

  “This means get the eff out.” I typed back one-tear crying emoji followed by the snowflake and handed back his phone.

  “Why didn’t he just use GTFO?” Leo studied his phone. “And what did you say back?”

  “Because GTFO requires too much work. Don’t get me wrong. I use text slang all the time. LOL, LMAO, BTW, all those. But using pictures is easier for me. Sometimes I send my dad emoji sentences, too. I forget that they’re more a riddle for him. You can always use an online search to figure them out.” From my back pocket I pulled out my phone and showed Leo a recent text exchange between his brother and me. Over seventy-five percent of the screen was emoji sentences with one or two words sprinkled in between.

  “Based on your exchange, you told Hue you were considering applying for detective. Which is awesome, by the way. Hue said GTFO. The crying face and snowflake say ‘that’s cold.’ Because why not just say ‘congrats’ or party hat?”

  “This is amazing. Like code.” He spun and pointed to the calendar. “Like his code.”

  “Only his makes no sense.” I stepped up to the calendar pages and studied them.

  A knock at my door announced the arrival of Precious and Toby. Precious was dressed in a sweater dress with tights and knee-high boots.

  Toby wore an ironic T-shirt with jeans that sagged. Around his neck was his empty vape pen swinging from a lanyard and Lady M’s banana hammock.

  When I peeked into the banana, Lady M peeked up at me from between the folds. She made a cackle sound.

  I stepped back. “This sounds better than the sound she was making in the car the other day.”

  “Yeah, that was what’s called crabbing. She wasn’t happy to be in the car, but she’s getting used to it now.”

  Precious got cozy on the couch. “Just an opinion here, but that trauma pet you got to help you with getting over being shot seems to be adding to your trauma. All this juggling for a squirrel that flies.”

  Toby pointed to the banana. “Since I’ve got her, I haven’t thought about being shot once. It only comes up when I’m with you all. Like you’re the trigger.” He stroked the banana. “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And now that I can’t vape, jeez, she’s really helped calm my nerves.” He looked at me. “But there might be times I’ll need a babysitter.”

  “Why you looking at me?” I glanced around at the others.

  “You have the most flexible schedule. And you owe me.”

  I reared back. “How you figure?”

  “Do you want me to go into specifics? How about the time I was shot?”

  I rolled my eyes and gave an exaggerated sigh. The time he was shot was Toby’s favorite blackmail chip. “I need more than that.”

  Toby tapped a spot below the banana but above his waistline. “I feel it. Right here. That you and Lady M need to bond.”

  “Maybe that’s hunger,” Precious said.

  “Can we focus on why we’re here?” Leo asked the group. “It’s a wonder you all get anything done.”

  I pointed to the walls with the calendars. “This was Josh’s schedule for the last three months.” I pointed to the other wall. “These are invoices he doctored and used to skim money from the school. Load up on food and let’s dig in. He used some sort of code. What do you think of it?”

  Leo said, “Why are there some dates missing?”

  “Because we had to get this off Mrs. River’s computer as th
e police already confiscated Josh’s computer,” I said. “And the computer I accessed from his didn’t have anything on it.”

  Leo shook his head. “I’m gonna forget I even heard that.”

  Precious said, “If Mrs. Rivers was my secretary with access to my calendar, I’d use code, too.”

  I smacked myself in the forehead. “Of course, that’s why he did it.” I stared at the calendar with a new awareness.

  “Breakthrough.” Toby pumped his fist in the air and then filled up his plate.

  We all followed suit and sat in front of the papers tacked to my wall.

  I recapped, “Josh, with the help of Jenna Miller, ran scams in Kitsap, but Josh started his life of crime in Jefferson County with stealing school property on a small scale.”

  Leo chimed in, “It wasn’t until he was in Kitsap County that he moved into money laundering.”

  Money laundering, I explained to Precious and Toby, was done when a company appeared legit but its primary purpose was to funnel money through it. Like when Josh used school credit cards to purchase fake items from Pay Forward For the Kids, stolen money goes into his pocket. Padding the receipts was embezzlement.

  Leo added, “And he stuck with his old favorite, taking items marked for disposal or reutilization and selling them. Even falsely marking good products for disposition services.”

  Toby took off his banana carrier and handed it to me. “Wear this for a while so I can spray this on me.” He showed me a bottle labeled Chill, a face and mouth spritzer with a cannabidiol base. “All this talk of crime is making me jittery.” He didn’t wait for me to take Lady M, but slipped the cord over my head.

  I said, “I thought she was supposed to help when you’re jittery?”

  “And she does, but she can’t soothe me every time. And I don’t want this spritzer to get on her. There aren’t any studies on CBD and sugar gliders.” He stroked the Chill bottle like he did his vape pen. Poor Toby jonesing for his vape pen. Going cold turkey must be hard on him.

  Toby sprayed his face several times, misting the therapeutic water all over himself. Vanilla scent filled the space.

  “You’re like a walking aromatherapy ball. First your scented non-nicotine vaping and now this,” Precious said.