Dumpster Dying

by Lesley A. Diehl

  Donald scanned the area. “There aren’t even any timbers around we could use as floats to get us across.” He sat down beside her and pulled her into him. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

  So this is the end, she thought. She’d envisioned it differently, quiet, dignified, in her own bed with those she loved near her side. And she’d be a lot older. Some kind of speech should mark the moment. She glanced up at Donald.

  “You’re a great bartender,” she said, “and you’ve been a good friend. I’m sorry I’ve been so suspicious of you.”

  He looked down at her. His nose almost touched her hair. “And?”

  “Oh, and you’re the world’s greatest bass fisherman, too.”

  “You are a real pain in the ass, Emily Rhodes,” said Donald. He reached out and took her chin in her hand, turned her face toward his, and . . .

  “You folks need a ride or do you think it’s romantic sitting at the edge of gator-infested water with flames licking at your toes?”

  Emily and Donald both jumped to their feet. Emily shone her flashlight on the water. Ahead of them, only five feet from shore, a figure stood on a flat boat, pole in hand. Several dozen pairs of eyes disappeared below the water’s surface at the sound of his voice.

  A large smile came slowly to Donald’s face. “Well, I’ll be. Merle Melnick. What’re you doing out here?”

  “Checking my goats. One of the kids ran off and his mommy was having a fit.” They heard a bleat from boat and could make out the form of a small animal standing in the bow.

  “Not worried about the fire?” asked Donald.

  “I’m on the water. But you two are about to become ‘smores unless you climb aboard now.”

  They didn’t need a second invite.

  “You used that fat detective to help find me, right?” asked Naomi. She had moved into the corner of the passenger’s seat as far from him as she could get, Darren’s backpack on the seat near her hip.

  “A comp between professionals,” he said.

  “Professionals? More like thugs. Aren’t you afraid he might rat you out? You didn’t pay him what you said you would.”

  She couldn’t see the expression on his face in the darkness, but the tone of his voice told her that he was pleased and not worried. “Toby’s got his own trouble.”

  “Like what?” She wanted to keep him talking until she could find an opportunity to make her move.

  “Toby’s been a bad boy for a long time. I got wind of an operation through the state attorney general’s office and Toby’s involved in it.”

  “That slug?”

  “Oh, he’s not one of the players, but he’s been running errands for some of them.” He slammed on his brakes. There was a roadblock ahead. “Damn. The highway’s closed to the coast.”

  “I know another way.”

  “Oh, like I’d let you lead me out of here. I’m not stupid.”

  “I’m not either.” She dropped her shoulders in a gesture of resignation and reached out and tapped his arm, although her entire body shuddered with disgust at the feel of his skin under her finger. “I can’t run anymore. I’m willing to come home and be a wife to you if you’ll control your temper and stop the hitting. Will you?”

  In the light from the vehicles blocking the highway, Barry turned and looked into her eyes. “Can I trust you’ve learned your lesson?”

  Naomi lowered her head and nodded numbly.

  “Things will be different,” he said. Not a promise, but a statement of what was to come.

  A chill ran up her spine. This time his tone carried no note of regret for what he’d done to her. Instead she heard only threat there, and she knew he’d never let her run off again.

  “Great, Babe. Let’s find us a cozy little hotel where we can hole up for a few hours.” He reached out and stroked her arm.

  She wanted to draw back, but she knew better and kept herself very still, then looked up at him with a half smile on her lips. She saw his shoulders relax. He checked his outside rearview mirror to make his U-turn back into town.

  With his attention diverted from her to his driving, Naomi reached her hand into he backpack, extracted Darren’s revolver, and pointed it at him.

  “What the hell?”

  “Now get out of the truck or I’ll shoot you.” She cocked the revolver.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You hate guns. You won’t shoot me.” He reached across the seat for her.

  She fired. At this range she couldn’t miss.

  “You got me.” There was surprise in his voice and a stupid grin on his face. Barry grabbed his arm where the bullet had entered. Blood seeped through his jacket.

  She was furious at him for making her shoot and appalled she had the gumption to do so. “I’ll do it again if you don’t get out of the car.”

  “And you won’t get away with it.”

  The men on the road block had heard the shot and dodged behind their cars. Naomi saw one lean into his car and she knew he was radioing for help. Or reaching for a weapon, she thought.

  “Get out, Barry. This is your last warning.” She cocked the revolver again. Barry hit the door handle and rolled out of the car onto the pavement.

  She slid across the seat, hit the accelerator and fishtailed in reverse, narrowly missing the truck behind her. She cranked the wheel to the left and hit the brake. The car flipped around, its hood pointed back toward town. She shifted into drive and sped off.

  She knew they’d pick her up, but with the authorities tied up with the fire, she figured she’d have enough time to find Emily. She settled back in the seat, surprised at how calm she’d been. She let the feel of the powerful engine take her down the road for several miles. Hmmm, she thought, practice at the driving range paid off. She glanced at the gun on the seat beside her. Then she got the shakes.

  When she hit the city limits sign, she saw a police cruiser up ahead parked across the road nose-to-nose with an SUV. Could they be responding this quickly? She had to find her mother and let her know about Toby having Darren’s birth certificate. He seemed so interested in it, and that can’t be good.

  She jerked the wheel to the left, shut off her lights, and turned into an abandoned strip mall. She cruised behind the building and spotted a dirt lane leading off toward a residential area, the one she was heading for. Unfortunately, a chain was strung across her exit. Oh what the hell. The car isn’t mine. She stomped on the accelerator and gunned it through the cable, which snapped like piece of uncooked spaghetti.

  She abandoned the car on a side street and hoofed it to Clara’s. When she swung open the front door, everyone looked up from the kitchen table.

  “Just in time for a late dinner,” she said, taking the chair at the end of the table. “Pass the spuds. I’m starved.”

  Emily jumped up from the table and enveloped her in a hug that seemed to go on forever, and, even though her mother smelled like a charbroiled hot dog, she didn’t want her to let go. She outlined the events of her evening while she shoveled food into her mouth. She actually was starved. Shooting abusive husbands was hard work.

  Emily held Naomi’s hand. She couldn’t seem to find her tongue. She was numb, scared for her daughter, tired. She felt defeated, but relieved. She was overjoyed. Naomi was here. And safe.

  Finally, Clara spoke. “We looked everywhere for you. Emily was convinced Toby had kidnapped you. She sent Donald to talk with Detective Lewis. I practically had to tie Emily to the chair and force her to eat something.” Hap smiled and Darren nodded in her direction.

  “So I guess I’ll be needing your services, Hap, when they come to arrest me.”

  Someone knocked on the door.

  “Sooner than I expected,” said Hap.

  Clara opened the door to Detective Lewis followed by Donald Green. “If you’ve come to arrest her, can’t you let her finish eating?”

  “That can wait,” said Lewis. “Donald told us a very interesting story at the station. He said he thought Toby had been at your
house, Emily, and that he may have picked up Naomi. That true?”

  Naomi replied before Emily could explain. “Yes, he picked me up all right. Then he delivered me into the hands of my abusive husband. Barry promised him money to do it.”

  “I watched Toby hang around the house earlier in the day and we,” here Donald nodded toward Emily, “found evidence he’d been there later when everyone was leaving because of the fire.”

  “We did? What evidence?” asked Emily.

  “The stuff you stepped into in the driveway. Chawed tobacco and spit.”

  She looked down at her foot as if she were considering ordering a new one from Sears.

  “Toby’s not at the station even though he’s supposed to be on duty. We all are because of this fire,” said Lewis.

  “It seems a lot less smoky out there,” said Clara. She held open the door and blocked the men’s entry with her body.

  “It is. The wind has kicked up and it’s blowing from the west. I think it’s under control for now, unless the wind shifts again,” said Donald.

  The men were still standing in the doorway with their hats in their hands.

  “You might as well step in here. I’ve got some coffee on if you’d like some. And there’s pie, too.”

  “I didn’t know you baked, Clara,” said Lewis.

  “I don’t. I bought it at Publix.”

  “Everybody knows everyone, I gather,” said Clara. Emily knew Clara wasn’t happy to see the detective, but she appeared committed to being civil.

  “Aside from talking to you once on the shooting range, you’ve been difficult to find,” said Lewis to Darren.

  “He’s got nothing to say to you,” said Clara. Emily thought the look on her face signaled her intent to renege on the pie offer. After the evening she’d had avoiding becoming a char grilled entrée and knowing she had a court date tomorrow certain to leave her homeless, she was bone tired and pissed off at almost everyone.

  “Oh, cut the crap, Clara,” she said. So she was being nasty and insensitive. “Darren’s a big boy now and he owes the police the truth about that night at the country club. Come to think of it, I think he owes us the truth about what he saw there too.”

  “How dare you?” said Clara.

  “Oh, stuff it. If Naomi can take a shot at her hubby to defend herself, don’t you think Darren can tell the police what he was doing at the country club the night of Davey’s murder?”

  Emily and Clara stood toe-to-toe with each other, a stand-off between a red-headed pit bull and a blonde Chihuahua.

  “Stop it, you two,” said Darren. “Let’s everybody sit down. Emily’s right. I need to let the police know what was going on that night, and now is as good a time as any.”

  Emily wasn’t so sure about that. A minute ago her insistence that Darren talk with the police seemed like a good idea. Now all she ached for was a final night’s rest in her king-sized bed before the court wrested it from her. That along with a long soak in her tub and some “tough stuff” cleaning solution and a bucket of bleach to remove the chewing tobacco from her foot. But she’d started this ball rolling and she’d have to see it to the end.

  Everybody sat down, Emily and Clara on opposite sides of the room. Clara continued to glare at her. Emily shut her eyes and hoped she wouldn’t fall asleep. This had better be a good story, she thought.

  “It’s really simple,” said Darren. “I was following Dad.” He paused. “I mean I was following Eddie. He’d blown me off since he got out of prison this last time. I wanted us to get together, but he was always too busy. I thought something was up with him. Every time we talked he was jittery, chain smoking and drinking too much. When I mentioned it to him, he said he had a lot on his mind, a big job coming up. I didn’t believe him, so I borrowed a car from one of my friends and took to following him.”

  Emily wiggled on the couch, opened her eyes and looked at Clara. She was no longer glaring at her, but had her head down. Emily couldn’t tell what she was thinking or feeling.

  “Eddie stopped by here, ran into the house through the back door, but only stayed for a few minutes. He came back out, drove out to the casino and pulled into the parking lot toward the back. Some guy was waiting for him there. It was too dark for me to get a good look at him. They headed back down the highway and took one of the roads leading to the country club, where they pulled around behind the clubhouse. It was late and most of the cars were gone. Except for the new bartender’s.” He looked at Emily who gave him a wan smile and suppressed a yawn.

  “I left my car in the lot out front and slipped around the building, keeping to the shadows, but they’d walked down the path to the driving range. I heard a shot and knew I’d better get out of there. I rushed back to my car, but I was worried about Eddie, so I drove my car around behind the equipment shed and ran back to the club house.” Darren stopped and his eyes seemed to plead with his mother for permission to go on with his story.

  “You can come down to the station and finish your statement there if you prefer, you know,” said Lewis.

  Emily’s eyes popped open. “No, he can’t. I’ve been waiting for too long to hear this. Get on with it. I’m tired, and I want to go home.”

  “She’s a little distraught from outrunning the fire tonight,” said Donald.

  “And the gators, and the snakes, don’t forget about them.” Emily knew she was getting hysterical, but she didn’t care. She pounded a fist on the couch. “And he tried to kiss me.” She pointed at Donald who had the decency to look embarrassed. Lewis glowered and let forth a low growl.

  “There, there,” said Hap. He patted her hand.

  Emily gathered herself together. “I’m fine now. Go ahead.” She smiled one of her kindergarten teacher smiles meant for small children and parents of unruly youngsters.

  Darren continued. “When I got back to the club house, I heard the sound of the dumpster lid open and then close with a bang. I recognized Eddie’s voice. He said, ‘I thought you said we were just going to have a talk with him. You shot him.’ I heard the other man say, ‘He didn’t want to talk. I thought he was going to pull a gun on me.’

  “Dad said, ‘He was drunk and he wasn’t packing.’ I thought he said something else, but I couldn’t hear what. Dad sounded upset. They got into the truck and left. And that’s about it.” Darren looked scared but relieved to get the story off his chest.

  “But you called Clara from my cell phone, and I left it in the bar. How did you get in?”

  “If you’re going to tell the story, tell all of it,” said Clara. “You hid there until Emily came out and discovered the body.”

  “I went through the front door. It was unlocked. I picked up your phone from off the bar and made the call. Mom said to get the hell out of there. And I did.”

  “I left the damn front door open. Of course. What a dummy,” said Emily. “But how did my cell and keys end up outside?”

  “I didn’t hear you drive off. I knew the back door was locked, so I knew you couldn’t get to your keys. I didn’t want anyone to see me, but I tossed the keys and cell out there. I thought you’d find them. I wasn’t really thinking very clearly.”

  “Did you hear anything else?” asked Lewis.

  “Nothing,” said Darren.

  “How did they leave the club, the same way they came in?”

  “No, they drove out the front entrance.” Darren hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Oh, shit, am I dumb. They saw the car parked by the shed.”

  The detective scratched his chin. “And someone got to wondering about the car later and figured out it didn’t belong to Emily. Someone did some clever detective work, connecting the plates to your friend’s car and then to you.”

  CHAPTER 24

  “Toby,” Lewis said. “Toby tracked down those plates.”

  “Toby’s the killer,” said Emily.

  “Toby’s a gofer,” Lewis replied. “I’m not convinced he was the man with Eddie at the country club that night, b
ut it’s pretty clear Eddie stopped here to get your gun, Clara, and, for some reason, he gave it to the other man who shot Davey.”

  “And then someone beat up Darren, hoping they could scare him into keeping silent about that night. Right, Darren?” asked Emily.

  Lewis stepped in front of her. “I think I’m supposed to ask the questions here.”

  “Fine, go ahead, but be quick about it. I want to hear the end of this story, but I’ve got only a few more minutes of being awake in me.” Emily sunk into the couch, then pulled herself back up, knowing she’d fall asleep in seconds if she relaxed.

  “I can’t help you, Detective Lewis,” said Darren. “All I know is I was taking a break out back at work. Someone came up behind me, put a gun in my back, and told me to keep my mouth shut. ‘And you know what about,’ the guy said. Then he shoved me from behind and I fell onto the gravel parking lot. I never got a look at him.” Darren pulled his mother to him.

  Clara put her arm around her son, her head on his shoulder. Whatever animosity there had been between mother and son had disappeared. Emily still had a few questions for Clara, but thought better of asking them tonight. That could wait until another time when the two were on better footing as friends.

  But before Emily could leave, Clara grabbed her arm. “In case the judge tomorrow takes a while delivering his verdict, I’ll cover for you at the bar.”

  “Thanks. We’ll talk then.”

  Detective Lewis told Darren to stop by headquarters the next morning to dictate a formal statement about the murder.

  “I’ve got some more questions for you about the guy who beat you up, too,” said Lewis.

  “He thinks it was Toby,” said Emily. Lewis shot her a look that said he wished she’d stop butting in on his case. She grinned back at him.

  Before they could leave, Lewis stopped Naomi and Emily.

  “I’ll need Darren’s gun,” he said to Naomi.

  “I think I dropped it on the floor of Barry’s car after I shot him. I really can’t remember because I drove out of there like the devil was after me.”