by N. C. Lewis
Leon stopped, closed his eyes, and placing his hands on his temples, continued. "The truth is, if Mary Birdsong had gone to the press, it would have been beneficial for the show. You see, in our business, ‘show and tell stories’ are one of the most potent forms of advertising. They often go viral sending a show’s rating into the stratosphere."
Footsteps, echoing off the tile floor, interrupted our conversation. The tall sleek woman with salt and pepper hair wearing a Carolina Herrera silk gown floated past. On her arm was a short potbellied man, with a bald head and a double chin which wobbled in sync with his step. She turned and gave Leon a friendly wave. He nodded his head, then, when the couple were out of hearing range, continued.
"Dorothy and I were just discussing the final scenes of the reality show. I like her idea that, in the final scene, we go to a remote area dig a deep ditch and throw bottles of the pills into it, then fill the darn thing with soil like an unmarked grave. What do you think?"
"Oh!" I said, "That’s a wonderful idea."
Chapter 38
In the hotel parking lot under the clump of trees and twinkling starlight I stretched for several minutes. As I went through my mini yoga routine, the grackles, now roosted, were strangely silent. One final twist and the cell phone buzzed. A text message from Millie.
Carlos Castillo released, not the Slayer of Medlin Creek, has rock solid alibi. I'm about to call the owner of the newspaper. Wish me luck. Will call you later tonight. LOL.
I pulled out a stick of gum from an old packet in my bag, and chewed, as a series of events clicked into place like dots joining up to make an outline of a newly discovered world. The link between Theodora Simon and colloidal silver, the argument between Mr. Burlington and Mary Birdsong, and the angry threat issued by Mary Birdsong to Dorothy Sadler. I sucked the last of the flavor from the gum, climbed into the Tahoe truck and started the engine. I knew where I had to go. I knew who killed Mary Birdsong.
Chapter 39
It was dark by the time I pulled into the parking lot behind Don Andrews pizza parlor. The silvery rays of the moon illuminated that desolate place. I slipped on a jacket as the heat of the day was long broken, and it was beginning to get chilly, almost autumnal.
Inside, I ordered two slices of Don Andrew's best and sat by the window to wait. A straggle of patrons came and went as a group of old-timers played dominoes on the long bench at the far side of the restaurant. Time seemed to slow down with each minute lasting an eternity. After sixty-five eternities, in she strode, arms swinging as if the woman didn't have a care in the world.
She gave a little wave to Don Andrews and ambled over to the old-timers to watch the game. After several moments she looked around and sat down, squeezing between two of the players. If I wasn’t paying attention I would’ve missed it. An envelope slipped across the table, in return a package passed back. She picked up the package, looked around, then stood up and left the pizza parlor.
I followed her outside, the dark empty street almost the opposite of the bright bustling activity in the pizza parlor.
"Wait!" I shouted.
The woman stopped dead, then turned around.
"Karina Pope, I know what you did. I know you killed Mary Birdsong."
Her eyes bugged, mouth fell open, then she bolted.
Adrenaline mixed with caffeine surged through my body as I chased after her. I should have known better, should have called Millie, should have gone to the sheriff’s office. But I left reason in the dust as I pursued the person who tossed those tiny kittens into the creek, and murdered Mary Birdsong.
"Stop!" I yelled. The cardio training from the dojo was beginning to pay off. I wasn't in great shape, or even fit. But I kept pace with Karina as she darted down a side alley.
The stench of stale urine caused me to gasp, and my eyes struggled to adjust to the darkened passageway. Stacks of wooden crates leaned against the side of a rusted dumpster. Greasy puddles of an unidentified liquid oozed from a metal drainpipe. The only sound, the steady clatter of the footsteps of the pursuer and pursued.
Karina cast a desperate glance over her shoulder. Then, at the end of the alley, darted around a corner. This wasn’t like the chase scenes in the Hollywood movies. I gasped for breath, legs slowed--I was out of steam and Karina was out of sight. Suddenly, a stitch gripped my side. The sharp pain caused me to slow down even more.
Around the corner following Karina, now at a shaky walk rather than Olympic sprint. The space was even darker than the alley. I could just make out several large garbage cans overflowing with plastic bags stuffed with rotting trash. There was a fire escape which snaked its way up the building, but it had a locked iron gate which barred entry. The space was a dead-end.
I stopped, partially bent over sucking in the rancid air. Then I saw Karina. She stood in the shadows with her back to the fire escape, a terrified glare in the eyes. I reached for my cell phone, then spoke, in short gasps.
"Why did you do it Karina?"
"Ollie," she cried, "you have to believe me. I didn't want to do it. You know me. I’m not a cold-blooded killer, am I?"
She took a step forward, the man-sized palms raised in the air like a bandit surrendering to a cop.
I ran a hand over my face in sudden fatigue. "Then," I wheezed, "why did you kill Mary Birdsong?"
Her head jerked back as if my words were arrows fired from a crossbow, and the small dull eyes flickered denial, acceptance, defiance, resolution, all in an instant. Then in a suddenly calm voice, she spoke.
"I have a nice little business selling drugs to well-off folks. Whatever they want, I can get it. I even sold drugs to goody two-shoes Dorothy Sadler when she came to town. Liked doing business with that woman--big bills, all cash."
She licked her lips, eyes half closed as if she was savoring a tasty morsel. Then she continued.
"Mary Birdsong was a regular client. I got her what she needed in Austin, and the same deal when she came out here for the film shoot. I told her about Dorothy Sadler's addiction to sleepytime pills, guess I made the mistake of mixing business with pleasure. Mary saw a quick way to make a buck--blackmail. Got to say I liked the idea, but Dorothy was my client and I didn't want Mary Birdsong muscling in on the action. I’ve worked hard to build this business."
Karina paused, her body went rigid, her eyes opened wide as she took another step forward. I was still gasping for breath.
"Killing Mary was the easy part. That woman would do anything for a fix. I told her a stash of the good stuff was hidden on the trail, didn’t have to persuade her to come with me, she insisted. I swiped a tarp and tray of colloidal silver from Carlos, hiding the thing underneath oak trees on a barely used part of the trail. I didn't want her to get suspicious."
Karina smiled. This whole thing was a game. Eliminating Mary Birdsong, a necessary part in order to move to the next square.
"Well, after the event at Ealing Homestead Mary and I took a little stroll along the trail. I pointed out the spot, near some old tire swings. Mary rushed over and began to dig with her bare hands. She didn't see me coming. I strangled her. Yes, I strangled the life out of Mary Birdsong. And buried her in the same spot. Nobody steals my clients!"
A thin smile curled across her lips as she rubbed her hands.
"I cover my tracks, it’s part of the business. That’s why I took the job with Carlos. Working with celebrities is kinda exciting, and brings in good business too."
Her hands dropped to the side, and she rocked back and forth, voice low, muttering.
"Thought I hid Mary’s body away from prying eyes, a deserted place, on an overgrown trail. I thought it would be easy to get rid of those damn cats too--early in the morning, as an extra precaution--a disguise."
Karina brushed past, almost knocking my still-gasping body to the ground. Then she stopped and turned around, her six-foot frame now blocking the only exit from this dank, nasty place. I stumbled backward until my back pressed against the gated fire escape.
"A
s I said, I like to cover my tracks. Even though you found the body, I thought the authorities would finger Mr. Burlington. Mary tried to buy drugs at his store--Gregg’s, and the foolish man fought with her in public at the Ealing Homestead event. I didn’t think those lazy Medlin Creek deputies would look far if they found her body wrapped in his tarp. They’d figure it was either Mr. Burlington or Carlos. Either way my tracks were covered...then, Ollie, you came along…"
Karina’s eyes grew wide, nostrils flared, and the body rigid. An evil cackle came from her throat, a low menacing chuckle, the murderous hands waving like the pincers of a monstrous crab. Then her voice went quiet, just a low babble, words muttered as if talking to herself.
"I’ve got to cover my tracks. I’m sure you understand that Ollie."
She rushed forward, the huge hands reached out grabbing for my throat. I moved sideways, but not quite fast enough, for the hands traveled with greyhound speed reaching forward to grasp and tighten their grip on my jacket lapels.
Karina was screaming now, a vicious ball of animal spirit intent on the kill--rationality and sanity departed.
"You nosy old hag, I’m going to strangle the life out of you too."
Her hands tightened their grip. I made a little sidestep to the left, then pivoted to the right as my right arm snaked up her back. For an instant she was behind me, a victorious cackle emanating from her throat. But I bent forward, straightened my knees and turned to look behind myself toward the feet--O-goshi.
The movement broke Karina’s balance throwing her clean through the air to clatter a few moments later with a heavy thud into a puddle of a dark greasy substance. She didn’t move.
Oh crap, I’ve killed her!
Then she let out a low agonized moan. I reached into my pocket and dialed 911, then I called Millie.
Chapter 40
The next morning…
In the Medlin Creek sheriff’s department interview room Deputy Zilpah prodded and probed my statement. At the forth recounting of the entire tale, I checked myself, took a deep breath and continued to answer questions. I respected Deputy Zilpah’s professional attitude and admired her thoroughness.
The deputy drilled out of me the events of the previous day, the time I’d woken up, visit to Moozoos, meeting with the Celebrity Guru, and events at the Hill Country Hotel. She even went over my earlier meeting with her to discuss suspicions about Johnny Spinner.
Finally satisfied, her azure eyes reviewed the statement several times in silence before she relaxed, the formal mask of a deputy removed.
"Yep," she said, "that just about wraps it up. Nice move to turn on your cell phone voice recorder back in the alley, most people would have panicked. The recordings are of high enough quality to be used as evidence."
Deputy Zilpah leaned back in the chair, her lips curling into a knowing smile.
"Not sure it will be necessary though, Karina's made a full confession."
She paused, tapped the pen on her notebook, and looked me in the eye.
"Ollie, I don’t advise chasing on foot after murderers, not unless you carry a weapon and wear a badge."
Smiling, she continued, "I don’t suppose you will take that advice though."
I picked up the mug of sheriff's-department-issued coffee and took a sip--bitter.
"That is very good advice. I will certainly try my best. What about Karina?"
Deputy Zilpah sighed. "It looks like the young woman will face multiple charges, animal cruelty, drug possession, trafficking, drug dealing, first-degree murder, and anything else the county prosecutor can throw at her. There is little doubt that Karina Pope will spend the rest of her life in prison."
I nodded, a sense of relief and sadness welling up in my heart. Thanks to Karina’s confession, I didn’t need to mention how I had acquired a small green bottle of Mr. Burlington’s finest colloidal silver. Given my suspicions about the bluish-gray sheen to Deputy Zilpah's skin, I thought that was probably for the best.
Chapter 41
Millie hopped from one leg to the other.
"This is it Ollie, the big break the Celebrity Guru spoke about. The owner of the newspaper wants five days of feature-length articles on the whole incident. The newspapers agreed to pay a full-time rate."
I picked up my Creek Jolt and inhaled its fragrant aroma.
"Sit down girl and tell us more."
Millie slipped into a chair next to Bob Lukey, her boyfriend.
"Okay, the first article is gonna be a feature about how you cracked the case and then single-handedly tracked down the Slayer of Medlin Creek."
Bob slipped his arm around Millie’s shoulder, "I’m sure there’s a lot of the story we haven’t heard yet, isn’t that true Ollie?"
The expectant expressions on the gathered faces told me they weren't here solely for the free Creek Jolts the barista supplied in celebration of the capture of the Slayer of Medlin Creek. If only I didn't have to tell the whole tale again. I'd give anything to leave matters with the sheriff's department now, but it was time to recount recent events to my friends.
The barista pulled up a seat next to Emma Garcia, and settled down to listen.
◆◆◆
As I finished recounting the events of the past few days, the small group of friends rose to their feet and cheered. Bob Lukey shook his head, the dreadlocks cracking like whips in the still air. Millie performed a robotic dance of victory with the barista. Even Peter Travis let out a self-conscious and very creepy, "Yee-ha."
The barista, catching his breath and sitting back down asked, "But what about Carlos?" Millie reached into her handbag and Professor Purple came out. The puppet puffed out its chest, a contented smile crossed the lips.
"It’s difficult to make a film with fifty thousand dollars, especially when thirty-five thousand is used to pay one actress. One can only surmise that he hoped to raise additional funds once in Texas."
"Or perhaps," said the barista, his lip curled into a snarl, "he was playing at being a famous director."
There was a murmur of agreement. Then Peter Travis spoke up, his creepy voice more sinister sounding than normal.
"What about the life insurance policy on Mary Birdsong?"
The barista chimed in, "Word on the Creek is that it has a clause requiring filming to be fully financed, it wasn't."
Professor Purple continued, "In any case, Carlos never tried to file a claim. It seems he was unaware that the clause even existed, it's a requirement of all European Union infomercials."
Deputy Patty Freeman, who had been sitting quietly listening to the conversation added, "Security confirmed Carlos was at the Hill Country Hotel when the crime was committed, and you can’t hold a man for unpaid debts without a court order. I guess he's back in Portugal." Deputy Freeman turned to look in my direction. "What happened to the three precious kittens?"
Emma Garcia spoke up, "They have found a new permanent loving home…with me and George."
The cell phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, so I slipped away from the conversational hubbub to a quiet area near the entrance of the Café.
"Hello, my name is Maranda Hopps." The voice was brisk, professional and had a certain sternness which indicated this was business.
"I’m the personal assistant to the Celebrity Guru, Leon Rademaker. I believe you have met him. He wondered whether you would be available to attend the opening show of his new television series featuring Dorothy Sadler, all expenses paid..."
Before she said another word, I answered.
"Oh, yes, I’d be delighted!"
Author Notes
Nothing makes me happier than the thought of a reader finishing one of my books.
So, thank you!
If you enjoyed this story, I hope you'll leave a review at the retail website where you purchased it. Reviews help readers like you discover books they will enjoy and help indie authors like me improve our stories.
Until next time,
N.C. Lewis
P.S.
As an indie author, I work hard to bring you entertaining cozy mysteries as fast as I can. I’ve got many more books in the works, and I hope you’ll come along for the ride.
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Also by N.C. Lewis
CAPITAL OF TEXAS SERIES
The Capital of Texas murder mysteries are set in Austin, the capital city of Texas and can be enjoyed in any order:
Murder in the Bookstore
Murder by the Clowns
Murder through the Window
Murder in the Bullock
Murder under Mopac
OLLIE STRATEFORD MURDER MYSTERY SERIES
The Ollie Stratford murder mysteries are a set in the Hill Country of Texas and offer a light hearted glimpse into small time life. The stories can be enjoyed in any order:
Texas Troubles
Creek Crisis
Bitter Bones
Magic Mumbles
Teddy Tumpin
Double Dimple
Angry Arrow
For an updated list of all books please visit: https://amazon.com/author/nclewis
