I bent close, trying to see if it had been lifted off the hinges but they appeared to be welded in some way as well. Not what I’d expect to see, but perhaps it was part of how they kept their word to protect our belongings.
Turning my attention to where the hinges went into the wall, I saw something most unusual. It was a mechanism or…I ran my fingers up and down the metal plate where each hinge went into the wall and then heard…something click.
Oh my God.
Chapter Twenty-Six
At the click, the top hinge of the gate came loose, and the heavy chain link hung, connected only by the bottom hinge. Now that I knew how it worked, a quick press on the bottom plate released it entirely, and the resulting crash made me jump.
I stared at the “secure” gate lying on the concrete floor in shock. Or maybe not shock. After all, I knew it had to happen somehow. I hadn’t let someone in to stash the murder weapon with its rusty bloodstains. But I hadn’t realized just how nefarious the situation was. Curious, I moved over to the unit next to mine. Sure enough, the finger pressure opened the hinges top and bottom of my neighbor’s gate and it swung wide. It didn’t fall because, unlike mine, the opposite side was held by the naive tenant’s padlock.
I did the same thing at the next three before placing a call to Roger and, of course, reaching voice mail. “Hi, it’s Chloe, and I’m at the storage units. I’ve figured out how someone was able to place the knife in my cart. Call me!”
I hung up and continued to walk from unit to unit, unable to stop myself until I’d opened the entire row. Then a couple opposite. Whoever had done this—and I had to believe it had been part of the construction because I saw no signs of alterations. If they had been added later, surely the block walls would be marred in some way.
Here we were, confidently storing our items, sure nobody could access them unless we failed to pay our monthly fees. Even then there was a big production of late notices, calls, and finally the cutting of the padlock when the tenant officially forfeited their things. Leaving my neighbor’s gate wide open, I returned to my own unit and considered the supplies piled against the wall. Had anything been stolen?
I had developed a system of inventory over the winter, but these items had not been added yet. Although I needed to get to the beach soon, with all my new traffic jam clients hopefully watching for me, I dropped to sit cross-legged, back propped against the wall, phone in my lap. If Roger didn’t call within five minutes, I would phone the station instead. Someone had to get here because while solving the murder was of paramount importance, I’d stumbled upon the scene of more than one crime.
People stored their items here for months or years without accessing them. I’d seen the packed cars and trucks pull up out front while a family prepared to fill their unit with the stuff they “might need one day” or “couldn’t bear to part with.” Basically, they were, in this case, setting themselves up for robbery. You wouldn’t think they’d be storing items of value, but I knew from watching that TV show that sometimes they did. They might clean out Grandma’s house after she went into care or passed away with the intent of sorting them out later and somehow they just never did. And, often, they didn’t realize what might be in her boxes and purses and dresser drawers. Money, jewelry…heck, for all I knew bearer bonds. Did they still even have those?
His own source of pirate treasure to plunder at will
Mr. Slinger had deliberately constructed, or had constructed, a source of income that might be far greater than even the exorbitant rentals he charged. He treated his tenants’ belongings like his own. And he had a partner, everyone knew it, but nobody seemed to know who or if they even were more than a silent partner.
I had just picked up the phone to call the station when I heard the outer door slam. Footsteps clopped on the concrete then stopped.
“What the unholy F…” Except he didn’t say the letter F, rather turned the air blue with a string of curses unlike any I’d heard before. I didn’t consider myself shy or living a sheltered life, but wow. “Who has been in here?”
I peeked out of my unit then slid back in as far as I could. As if the pile of flour bags could hide me from anything in this rectangular space. Even my cart wasn’t here to hide behind. And it never would be. Never again.
If I made it out of here alive.
Slinger was marching around, throwing his hands in the air and muttering to himself, and my blood pressure was reaching dangerous levels, my heart pounding in my ears and palms sweating like a romance heroine faced with the Duke. But not in a good way! Maybe one facing a fire-breathing dragon.
Continuing cursing, albeit in a lower tone, he marched toward the door, just barely in my line of sight, and twisted the deadbolt lock. It wasn’t one I had a key to, and I’d never known it to be locked, but before I could think too much about it, he turned around and stared right at me, a pistol aimed at my chest.
“You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” Gesturing with the weapon, he barked out, “Stand up slowly and come out here. Don’t make me ask twice. This place is virtually soundproof, so I don’t care if I have to shoot you. In fact, maybe I will. I could just lock you in one of the units that nobody ever visits, come back tonight, and dispose of your cold, stiff corpse.”
Dramatic much?
But somehow, his creepy threats didn’t raise my stress level, as they should have. Probably because I’d gotten a text while he was locking it up and a glance at the screen told me it was Roger who was on his way. So basically I just had to stay alive long enough for him to get here, break down the door, and rescue me.
Easy peasy right?
Or not.
Swallowing hard, I pressed the button to dial Roger again and the one for speaker so he could hear. I hoped he wouldn’t say anything, but to be safe, I said, “Don’t worry, Mr. Slinger. I’m standing up. No need to shoot me.” I turned sideways and slipped the phone into my bra as I stood, hoping it wouldn’t muffle the sound too much. At least if he killed me, there’d be evidence…provided he didn’t shatter the phone in the process and that Roger was recording what he was hearing.
He could do that, right? Maybe?
Why didn’t I know more techy stuff?
“Just come out of there and stand in the middle of the open area…you know, right where I stabbed Richard.”
Holy hells, please let Roger hear this!
“Fine, but since you’re going to kill me anyway, can I ask you something, you know, so I can…die in peace.” Man that was hard to say.
“Talk fast. I need to get this place back in order before anyone comes trying to get in.”
“Okay, first, why did you kill him?”
“You really want to drag this out? He was a silent partner in this business. And he caught me in the act of cleaning out a unit.”
“Are you kidding? As simple as that?”
He shrugged. “Yep.”
So it didn’t have anything to do with the properties or any of my other theories huh.”
Suddenly I remembered something. “You were just leaving that day.”
“You saw me, huh?”
“Yes, but it didn’t seem strange, and I guess when I came upon the dead body, I forgot.” Guess I wasn’t much of sleuth huh. I only hoped I’d be able to tell Roger about it, but it didn’t seem likely.
After our little question and answer session, that only took about two minutes max, far less than I had hoped for, Slinger raised the gun again. “Okay, we don’t have all day.”
Staring down the barrel of that pistol, it looked as big as a rifle to me, and twice as deadly. My thoughts scrambled for anything that would buy me a little time. “Hey, you don’t want to kill me here.”
“What?” His brows came together to form a caterpillar across his forehead. Funny what you notice when faced with death. “Of course I do.”
“You just got the floors buffed after your last killing. Maybe don’t remind him he does it regularly… “Errr, I mean maybe if
you do it in the unit where you plan to leave my cold dead corpse, you can clean up easier, nobody will notice.”
“Good idea… Hey, why are you being so helpful?” The caterpillar twitched.
“I don’t know. You’ve always been a good person to work with here, and you did answer all my questions.” So kill me or not…you’re going to jail!
“Well thanks.” He actually looked a little happy. “How about I give you your choice of units to die in?”
“See, that’s what I mean. You’re only doing what you have to, but you’re not being unnecessarily cruel.”
A smile pulled his thin lips wide and an actual tear appeared in one of his beady eyes. “You get me. Not many people do. It’s a shame I have to kill you.”
“Yeah it is. Now, can you show me the units I can choose from?” And thereby kill more time.
“All right, there are three possibilities.” I walked ahead of him, hands in the air, while he guided me to three doorways. “Now, this one is the Smiths’ spot. Almost packed full. Their aunt died and they just piled everything in here.” I’d thought of grandmothers, but I supposed aunts were good too. “Three years and they haven’t been back once, can you imagine?”
“Anything good?” I wasn’t pretending to wonder, I really was curious…and buying time.
“Nothing like money or anything, but some collectibles. I made a couple of thousand, so not bad.”
“Wow. So what’s my next choice?”
The others were similar, very full and very dusty, and he was very happy to share with me how he’d profited by selling off the valuables families thought were safe. In the end, I decided on the Smiths’ mostly because it was across from where we stood and would take longer to get to. But I was running out of time and ideas.
Once we stood in the unit, I finally conceded I might die. In a town the size of ours, Roger could have been there from any location. Had he been out at sea again despite his promise not to? Then, my murderer-to-be threw me a bone.
“Want to pray or anything?”
“Why yes, thank you.” My mother always told me to be polite. Also, she was a big believer in the power of prayer. I bowed my head and prayed all right. I prayed for Roger to save me or for anything else that might have the same effect. Please, if you are listening, I don’t want to die. I’m all ready for opening day, my friends are here, and I’ve spent so much time grieving. Eric…if you can put a good word in for me? I hope you aren’t jealous that I might have a little crush on someone else. You always said if one of us went the other should be happy and live. I’ve just figured out how to do that. I could use a miracle! In the next five seconds please.
I lifted my head, closed my eyes and the entire building rocked with the power of the gunshot that…didn’t kill me? I peeked between my closed lids, to see if he was going to shoot again, but there was no sign of Slinger. Everything in the unit had fallen around me, and from what I could see, all the others as well, some spilling through their open gates, but where was he?
A groan drew my gaze downward to see him pinned by what I thought was an antique breakfront, the gun still clutched in his hand while he struggled to breathe. Those old furnishings sure were heavy. The Smith’s aunt was my new best friend. Or would be if she wasn’t already dead. With determination, I stepped on his hand, ignoring his howl as his fingers released the weapon.
Scooping it up, I stepped outside of the unit and slammed the door shut, It wouldn’t keep him in since he knew how to release it, but the breakfront would hold him until someone freed him. Someone being the police.
“Chloe, help me. I can’t breathe.”
I shrugged. “Sorry, the gate is locked and you know the rules. Only the renter has a key to the lock. Maybe you can call the Smiths.”
I turned and stomped toward the door where I twisted the deadbolt and stumbled back to avoid being run down by Roger and three of the other officers.
“I came as fast as I could, but they were blowing up that boulder on the highway. Are you all right?”
I smiled. “Slinger is pinned down by a piece of furniture that also kept him from killing me. Take him away, boys.” I’d heard that line in a few movies and it never sounded better than now. “Take him away.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The waves were crashing against the sand and the tiny screams of happy children could be heard all the way to the street where my cart was parked.
Pansies and pineapple pies, this was exactly where I wanted to be. The sun warmed the back of my neck as the propane stove tucked into my cart warmed the front of me. I had a fresh batch of tantalizing samosas baking up fresh for my customers. On my cart, there was a little pink flag that I raised when I was ready to sell and until the samosas were ready, that flag was staying put. The napkins were folded just right and the cute brown paper bags that I packaged my pies in were ready in stacks.
My stomach was nearly vibrating with nervousness and excitement. This was my time. It was like the rest of the year was a big prepping season and this was what I’d prepped for.
“How much longer?” A voice caught my attention and I rose to a full height after bending down to check the oven. I had put on a timer to make sure I didn’t burn anything but still, I had to check. I was that anxious to get this party started.
“Just a few…” My voice got caught in my throat as I took in the sight. At first, I actually looked around, wondering if the long line of people I saw were for another cart—that or V had parked her truck a little too close. I wasn’t a violent person, but she and I would have a throw-down if she had done that. No way I was having my customers snaked by the likes of her. But there was no one to fuss at or shoo off.
The line was there for me and my pies from what I could gather.
The voice had come from none other than Roger. He was not in line but waved his hand to the rest of it with a broad smile on his face. The crescents that hung under his eyes told a story of a detective who had missed too many nights of sleep.
“What is this?” I asked, a sense of awe in my tone.
Roger was dressed casually. Faded jeans that hung low on his hips and an off-white t-shirt that boasted a rust and burnt sienna sunset sprawled across his chest.
He had flip-flops on of all things.
And for a man, his toes were impeccably trimmed and clean.
“I may have talked up your pies to the fellas. Talked them out of their regular donuts and joe today in favor of good pies made by a really good woman.”
Heat filled my cheeks and I suddenly wished I had worn my hair down rather than up so I could use it to hide me.
“Thank you. This is incredible.” I looked at the line of people, some in uniform and some in regular clothes. “It will be about two minutes.” I shouted to the crowd with a smile. I turned to Roger and put my hand on his forearm. “Thank you, Roger. I really appreciate it.”
He nodded. “You’re welcome and just for the record, I haven’t forgotten about that lunch. Maybe after this tourist season is over. If this is any signal, I think your cart will be busier than ever.”
He began to walk away, but I stopped him. “Wait, you get the first one.”
I pulled out the pan of fresh samosas from the oven, groaning at the richness of spices that filled the air around me. They were perfectly golden brown and when I touched one, the crust was firm. They were ready and so was I.
“This one is for you.” I handed him a hot one in a paper bag.
He winked at me and nodded his head slightly. “Thanks, Chloe. See you around, okay?”
“I hope so.”
I raised the pink flag and the line shifted. “Three samosas and one of the lemon, please.”
That first customer set the pace for the rest of the day. I didn’t stop moving and baking and serving until around two in the afternoon when I was out of ingredients and my feet were screaming at me.
“Excuse me lady. Those sure do smell good.” A tugging at my skirt got my attention. I whirled t
o see who belonged to that sweet as honey voice. It was a small girl with red hair almost the same color as mine.
“Hey, thank you.” I bent to her level and made sure to smile. “Where are your parents?”
She shrugged. “At work. They work a lot.”
Even with the hustle and bustle around us, I heard her little tummy growl. She was dressed in a tank top that looked too snug and some shorts that had seen better days. Her flip flops were worn down to a paper-thin thickness and her hair was oily.
“I think I have a couple left over. I bet you’re hungry. I had a little cousin your age once. She was hungry all the time.”
She nodded and ticked her blue eyes downward. “I don’t have no monies.”
Oh, gosh. My heart melted. “You don’t need any. Here.” I pulled out two samosas that I’d saved for Daisy, but she could wait. This little one couldn’t. Hunger was written all over her face.
She took the pies and nearly gobbled a whole one down in a second. “You’re a good cook, lady. Thanks.”
She began to leave but I knew I had to tell her something. “Hey, what’s your name?”
A smile rose on her face. Her little cheeks were red, probably from sunburn. “My name’s Angie. What’s yours?”
“I’m Chloe.”
She giggled. “Well, now we aren’t strangers.”
I laughed as well. She was the cutest thing and I wondered what a kid like this was doing all by herself. Just then, someone approached and took her hand. The woman looked tired and there were streaks of red up and down her arms. She tugged on her sleeves as soon as she noticed that I had noticed.
“Angie, are you bothering this nice lady?”
I stood and stuck out my hand. “I’m Chloe. I own this stand. I had some pies left over so I offered them to her. She didn’t bother me at all.”
The woman’s eyebrow’s pulsed. “Well, it’s time we go.” She tugged on Angie’s hand and practically dragged her away.
“Angie, you come back anytime and get some more pies. I’m open every day,” I shouted. Angie turned and smiled so I knew she heard me.
A Pie in the Hand (Pacific Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 1) Page 10
