by N. C. Lewis
"Not to mention," added Nick, " that your husband is a detective in the Austin Police Department."
"So, you are okay with me snooping around a little more?"
"Provided you keep out of harm's way and don't interfere with the ongoing police investigation." He turned to look Amy directly in the eyes. "And keep me updated on what you find out. Detective Wilson will take the information more seriously if it comes from me."
"I agree," replied Amy nodding her head. "Where do you think I should visit next?"
Nick didn't hesitate. "The medical examiner has released the body, so try the funeral home tomorrow, after you pick me up from here. The evening is the best time to visit. I believe it's called the Shady Oak Chapel of Rest."
Amy noted the name and address. "Okay," she said looking up from her notebook. "I'll stop by the funeral home tomorrow evening."
Nick lay back down. "And…" he mumbled in a weakened voice.
"Yes?" Amy asked.
"I love you!"
Chapter 36
It was after eleven p.m. when Amy returned home. She let out a tired sigh, closed the front door, and stood in the hallway listening to the silence of the empty house. It was quiet now, the chirping of insects, and the occasional squawk of a bird amplified by the surrounding stillness.
Amy was conscious of her footsteps as she hurried along the hallway. "Like the sound of a heartbeat," she said to herself, entering the kitchen.
It won't be easy to get to sleep in this empty house tonight, she thought. So, she poured herself a glass of milk, reflected on events of the past few days wondering if the murder had dented her business prospects. So far, she'd had one new client. "I hope they don't hear about the murder in the bookstore," she said with a shudder.
Amy took a hot shower hoping it would help her relax. Instead, her thoughts drifted to Eddie Yates. His explosive temper was disturbing as was his gloating over the death of Alan Earl. Clearly, Eddie was a man down on his luck, or perhaps, she thought, had created his circumstances by making bad choices. Either way, she put him at the top of her suspect's list.
A little after midnight, Amy climbed into bed, turned off the bedside lamp and snuggled deep under the covers, but sleep did not come. Her mind raced between terrifying thoughts of something unknown happening to Nick, and her cell phone ringing nonstop with cancelations from irate clients.
Amy tried to distract her mind by thinking of something else. She counted sheep, recited a poem, but nothing worked. She'd read somewhere that lavender aided sleep and poured a drop of the essential oil on her pillow, but her thoughts kept coming back to Nick, her business, and the murder in the bookstore.
"I can't wait around for the underfunded police department to sort this out," she said at last. "It is my duty to help where I can. The future of my business is at stake." Then she put her head on the pillow but sleep still wouldn’t come.
Wide awake, she sat up, reached for her tablet computer, and watched Laura. When it had finished, she went to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and took a herbal sleep pill. One of her last thoughts before she fell asleep, was that whether she liked it or not, she was forever tied to the murder in the bookstore. It occurred to her she may have even come face-to-face with the killer. That idea sent a shudder down her spine.
If she dreamed—she remembered nothing about it.
◆◆◆
Amy arrived at Saint Mary's the next morning at nine a.m. The odor of chlorine and Pine-Sol filled her nostrils as she wandered through the main doors into the hospital lobby.
"Pleased your husband pulled through. Going home today?"
Amy turned to see a hospital orderly standing beside the reception desk. Wizened and stooped, she recognized him instantly, the man who had guided her to Nick's ward.
"Thank you. Yes, Nick, my husband, is doing well."
He smiled, made a little bow. "Give him my regards. The name's Alfred Thomas. He'll remember me."
"Oh, I'm terrible with names," Amy said, reaching for her notebook. "Let me write it down."
An electronic device, attached to Alfred's jacket pocket, flashed and buzzed. "Excuse me," he said turning and hurrying off in the opposite direction.
Nick was sitting in the reception area sipping a cup of coffee when Amy arrived.
"Hello, darling!" he said in that effortless way of his.
Amy rushed over to give him a hug. He was looking much better but would still have to take it easy. "Oh, darling Nick," she cried hugging him again.
"Doc says I'm all clear to go. Ready?"
"Oh yes!" Amy picked up his overnight bag.
After Nick said his goodbyes to the nurses, an orderly wheeled him to the elevator and down to the front entrance. Amy ran to get the car and helped Nick settle in.
The drive home through the streets of Austin was not a long one, and Nick, staring through the window, felt a surge of wellness. "Been thinking again about retirement," he said.
Amy turned off onto Congress Avenue, driving the long way home so they could talk. "Yes, darling what are your thoughts?"
Nick reached over and squeezed her hand. "Stay with the executive protection unit for a few more years. Don't think I'm ready to downsize and leave Austin just yet."
"Really?" Amy had come to a similar conclusion. She wanted to stay in their house on Gaston Avenue. "I'm good with that, but you will be on sick leave for some time. Why don't you make your final decision then?"
They were passing along Congress Avenue, now lined with concrete office blocks, parking meters, and shops. Again, Nick squeezed her hand. "Suppose so. Knew you'd understand."
They turned left onto César Chávez. "Oh," Amy said. "I almost forgot to tell you."
"Tell me what?" Nick sniffed.
"At the hospital. The orderly, a stooped, old man who hangs around the reception area—"
"What about him?" interrupted Nick.
"Well, I was in a blind panic, and he showed me to your ward."
"That was kind of him, but isn't that his job?"
"Suppose so. I guess he does many other errands as well, must be tough on the feet."
Nick remained silent, knowing his wife had more.
"He told me his name, asked me to mention it to you," said Amy, slowing down as a traffic light turned to red.
"His name?" Nick asked, eyeing her with curiosity.
"Yes. Does the name Alfred Thomas ring a bell?"
Nick cast a glance out of the window onto César Chávez. For the longest time, he kept his eyes focused on the road ahead. He finally turned to Amy. "Yes, I remember Alfred Thomas."
"Who is he?"
"A retired detective. He saved my life."
Chapter 37
They drove in silence the rest of the way home. Amy pulled her car into the driveway of their home on Gaston Avenue.
Nick let out a long sigh. "It must have been, oh, fifteen years ago. I was working homicide but had been placed temporarily on a special team to tackle gang crime. It wasn't a task I enjoyed, and I was a little wet behind the ears. But the politicians considered it a rising problem in Austin, and so the chief formed a unit to tackle the issue."
Amy kept the engine idling. "Yes, I remember. Don Keating, the mayor made a big fuss about it. Wasn't it during an election year?"
Nick nodded. "There wasn't any gang-related crime in Austin back then, so we really didn’t have that much to do."
"So, what happened?" Amy asked, racking her mind to remember. She hadn't known of the gang crime unit, or that Nick had been in any danger.
"I was a rookie. Detective Alfred Thomas and I were on the East Side, down by North Pleasant Valley, when we got a call of a disturbance by the trail, near the dam. Since we were close we arrived first in an unmarked car. There is a little lot where people park, on the side of Canterbury Street. Do you know it?"
"Yes, It's right by the water. I often park there if I want to walk the Capitol side of the trail. Not a lot of parking spots though."
&n
bsp; Nick nodded. "The area is popular today, but back then it wasn't safe during the day, and it was a war zone at night. As we pulled into the lot, a group of men ran off leaving a figure lying on the ground. Alfred attended to the figure, a young man in his teens, while I ran as if pursued by a pack of wolves after the others. They darted in different directions, and I found myself alone in a maze of deserted alleys. At the end of a darkened passage, I saw the figure of a fleeing man. I raced to the end of the alley, only to find the man hadn't run away but had crouched low around a shaded corner. I almost ran by him."
"What happened?"
"He came out of the shadows and struck me several times from behind."
Amy's hand flew to her mouth. "What happened next?"
"I stumbled, falling to the ground, rolling onto my side. As I peered up into the darkened face of the figure standing over me, I felt a deep sense of dread. Then I saw it."
"What?"
"The flash of a blade of metal. A knife. I didn't have my gun, and I knew the figure was about to strike. That's when Alfred showed up with two uniformed officers. He'd grown up on the East Side, knew the maze of alleys well. The person was arrested, but nothing much stuck. Anyway, if it wasn't for Alfred… It was a rookie mistake on my part."
Amy leaned over to hug Nick. She loved him as much today as she did back then.
Chapter 38
The Shady Oak Chapel of Rest, found on Brodie Lane, south Austin, was a low-rise, red brick building with a classic Texas metal roof, hidden from the road by a thick clump of live oak trees and neatly manicured lawns edged with row upon row of blossoming lantana. Even the parking was discreetly found at the back of the building.
By the time Amy arrived, the sun was on its way down. It illuminated the high clouds with bright reds and purples. She sat in her car, staring out at the rows of flowering bushes and changing light, waiting for Danielle. Nick had wanted to join her, but she had argued successfully that he needed rest. He had reluctantly agreed, provided she kept him up to date on her findings. If she was honest she wanted him here with her now. Amy sighed, "But it was better for him to stay at home and rest."
A light tap on the passenger side window caused Amy to jump. She had been so caught up in her thoughts she hadn't seen Danielle drive into the parking lot.
"Amy girl! Open up, it's hot out here."
Amy unlocked the doors and Danielle climbed in. "What's the plan?" she asked, settling into the seat, twisting the air vent so the chilly air blasted across her face.
Amy opened her notebook. "Nick suggested we observe who comes to visit and make a note of anything unusual. Detective Wilson may arrive at some point. If she does, we are to keep out of her way."
Danielle rolled her eyes. "You'd think they'd be grateful for a little help, especially with all the cutbacks."
Amy raised a forefinger to her lips. "Keep that to yourself, please. I'm sure if we find out anything useful, Detective Wilson will be grateful."
A late model Mercedes Benz swung into the parking lot, pulling to a stop in one of the reserved spaces at the front. A middle-aged man in a pinstriped suit jumped out and hurried to the passenger side. He looked briefly across the parking lot, twiddled with his waxed handlebar mustache, then opened the passenger side door.
"That's Sara with her lawyer what's- his-name," exclaimed Danielle.
"Shyster. Mr. Alvin Shyster," added Amy.
The friends watched as Sara and her lawyer disappeared into the building.
Inside, the soft lighting, piped music, and floral scent reminded Amy of an orthodox Christian church service she had once attended. The priest, wearing colorful robes, had swung incense in a golden ball as he recanted a prayer of blessing.
"Can I help you?" asked a somber-faced man dressed in an expensive black suit, white shirt, and black tie. "I'm Mr. Simenon, the senior mortician."
"Alan Earl," said Amy, hoping he wouldn't ask any awkward questions.
"Very well. This way please."
Mr. Simenon walked with long loping steps along a dimly lit hallway, out into a chapel with six rows of wooden bench-style seats. At the front, on a tall stand was the coffin. To Amy's relief, it was closed. Next to it, Sara stood whispering with Mr. Shyster. She didn’t look up. Amy and Danielle slipped into a seat at the back.
For the next hour, a handful of people arrived and left. They all seemed to be friends of Sara's. They hugged her and spoke in soft encouraging tones. Sara played the role of a grieving wife, occasionally dabbing her eyes and sniffing.
It was only when Tim Clark showed up that the atmosphere turned electric. He stomped to the front of the room, taking a seat next to Sara and her lawyer. For several minutes the room filled with hushed whispers. "No," Sara said, just loud enough to be heard by Amy and Danielle. "I'm afraid my decision is final. I'm closing the store. You'll have a week to find another position."
Tim stood up, then fell to his knees.
"What's he doing?" whispered Danielle.
"Get up man!" shouted Mr. Shyster getting to his feet and tugging at Tim.
"Please, please, please," cried Tim.
"Mrs. Earl has made her decision, now get up," yelled Mr. Shyster.
Suddenly Tim seemed to gain control of himself. He stood up slowly and turned to leave. Just then Mr. Simenon strode in with Esther Bara close behind. She floated into the room, filling the air with the scent of a fine fragrance. Esther wore a lavender Diane von Furstenberg floral pattern dress, with a Brighton Luciana tote slung casually over her shoulder.
She hurried to the front of the room, placed a hand on the coffin, then turned to Sara.
"Oh, I'm Tim's girlfriend, Esther. I'm so sorry for your loss."
Tim's faced flushed. "What are you doing here?" he hissed.
"I've come to pay my respects to your boss, Alan, and his widow." Esther folded her arms across her chest. "I had to give my condolences to Sara." She turned to face Sara. "We haven't met before. But Tim told me what happened and I… my heart goes out to you."
"Thank you," replied Sara with a curious smile.
With an angry snort, Tim turned and stormed from the room. "See you back at the apartment," he said, throwing the words over his shoulder.
Amy noticed Esther's expensive clothes and wondered what she did for a living. She couldn’t afford to buy clothes like that on Tim's wages. Then she wondered what a high-maintenance woman like Esther was doing with a man like Tim. Suddenly she knew who Esther was. At the same time, the realization hit Amy, it must have hit Sara. She stared at Esther with knowing eyes, not saying a word.
Chapter 39
Not until the following morning did Amy tell Nick about the events of the previous evening. He'd been asleep when she returned home, and she hadn't wanted to wake him. She was also a little disappointed Detective Wilson hadn't shown up at the funeral home and felt certain the case would be a step closer to being solved if she had.
Nick sat at the kitchen table half reading the morning newspaper, and half surfing news websites. "What happened last night?" he asked sipping from a coffee mug.
Amy caught his eyes, and for an instant saw exhaustion. He'd need more rest than she thought, maybe even more than he would admit. She placed a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of him, giving him a peck on his forehead. "At the Shady Oak Chapel of Rest?"
"Yes, did you find out anything interesting?"
Amy had been terrified and excited to visit the funeral home. Terrified because such places always brought back sad memories. But this time the thrill of observing and reporting had outweighed the gloomy reminiscences. "Nothing much happened—"
"Oh," interrupted Nick glancing down at the newspaper and turning a page
Amy swatted at her husband. "You reading or listening?"
Nick gave a sheepish grin. "Sorry darling, I'm all ears. People of interest often show at those events. I was certain that'd be the case this time. So, what happened?"
"As I was saying," began Amy, "nothing happ
ened until an hour or so before visiting time was over. Then Tim Clark showed up, got into a heated discussion with Sara and her lawyer."
Nick stared at Amy. "Right there in the funeral home?"
"Yes."
They were silent for a second.
Nick put down the newspaper. "So, let me get this straight, Sara Earl and Tim Clark argued in the funeral home?"
"In the chapel, yes."
"What about?"
"The shop. Tim fell to his knees as if he was begging, but Sara seemed adamant… I think Mrs. Earl has decided to close the bookstore."
Nick rubbed his chin. "Did Detective Wilson or a member of her team attend?"
"No, I don't think so."
Nick thumped the table. The coffee sloshed over the top of the mug. "Damn cuts and political interference. If the politicians would leave us alone, we'd catch a boatload more criminals."
Amy hurried to the sink to get a dishcloth. Wiping up the coffee, she continued. "As we were preparing to go, Esther Bara entered the chapel."
"Who is she?"
"Tim's girlfriend."
"So, his girlfriend also showed up?"
"Yes, and…" Amy's voice trailed off.
"And what?"
"I'm certain she was Alan Earl's lover. Esther Bara is the mysterious other woman."
Nick folded his arms. "What makes you say that?"
Amy explained all she had seen and heard. "Unless Esther has a high-paid executive job, I doubt she could afford those clothes," she said at the end. "What do you think?"
Nick unfolded his arms. "Parsimony?"
"Eh?"
"The simplest explanations are the most likely. I'll pass on the information to Detective Wilson and have them check out Esther Bara. Darling, can you get my cell phone?"
Nick spoke with Detective Wilson, then passed the phone to Amy. "She wants to speak with you."
Amy recounted the information she and Danielle had discovered.
"Okay," said Detective Wilson. "We'll check out Esther Bara, but first I think I'd better pay Mr. Eddie Yates a visit, don't you?"
Chapter 40