by Angela Henry
I could think of a lot of things he could do with me; sweaty things that involved touching, kissing, rubbing, licking, and sucking. Afraid he’d read my mind, I looked away instead of answering. He laughed low and deep; the sound did something to my insides and set my nerves to fluttering.
“How do you know someone cut my brake line?” I got up abruptly to turn off the burner on the stove where I’d put a saucepan of milk and half & half on for hot chocolate.
“You were leaking brake fluid. I was honking my horn trying to get your attention. Didn’t you hear me?”
“No, I was too tired.”
“Didn’t your warning light come on letting you know the brake fluid was low?” I thought about it for a minute and shook my head no.
“Then whoever cut your break line also knew how to disable the warning light.” Mason took the mug of steaming, rich hot chocolate I handed him and blew on it before taking a sip.
“Good?”
“Hmm…delicious. And what else is in here? I can taste something beside the chocolate.”
“I put a little cinnamon in it the way my grandmother does. Gives it a little kick.” I knew he’d appreciate the hot chocolate, because the man had a sweet tooth the size of Willow.
“It does give it a kick,” he agreed. “And stop trying to distract me with chocolate.” He set the mug down on the kitchen table and gave me the same intense look he’d given me back at the restaurant. “Why would someone want to cut your brake line, Kendra? What have you gotten yourself into now?”
“Fine,” I said, feeling only mildly guilty for breaking my promise to Lewis. But that had been before Dibb had tried to kill me. And just what the hell had I done to that man anyway?
I told Mason everything that had happened in the past week, starting with Dibb Bentley’s visit the previous Saturday and ending with Lewis squatting in my apartment.
“I was going to call you on Monday, I swear. But I promised to give Lewis a couple of days to try and figure out what Dibb wants.” Mason ran a hand over his face.
“Has if even occurred to you that maybe this Lewis guy is the one who killed Brenda Howard? And that all this Dibb Bentley stuff is just a smoke screen?”
“Lewis Watts a murderer? Have you ever met the guy? The only crimes he’s committed are crimes of fashion.” I laughed and Mason’s face tightened in annoyance.
“You already said they were high, right? How do you know they didn’t get into a fight and this Lewis guy followed her to the store and killed her when she came out?”
“Yeah, they smoked some weed. But the only thing they got were the munchies. I hardly think Lewis would have killed her for forgetting the Cheetos.”
“You sure seem to have a lot of faith in the guy.”
“He’s arrogant, cocky, a pain in the ass, and stuck in a seventies time warp. But he’s harmless.” I left out the part about him being a being a freak.
“Yeah, and we both know that dangerous criminals don’t have any of those qualities, right?”
“Now, you’re just being a smart ass.” I tried to pick up his still full mug of hot chocolate to dump it down the sink, but he held on tight.
“And you’re being naïve. Mr. Watts doesn’t have a solid alibi for the time his girlfriend was stabbed; being asleep on the couch doesn’t cut it. A neighbor overheard them arguing on several occasions. And for the record, he had no business leaving his home without notifying us of his whereabouts, because in my book that looks shady as hell.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re not going to at least talk to him?”
“I can talk to him until I’m blue in the face. And as long as he’s done nothing, there’s nothing I can do. Has he openly threatened you, or harmed you in any way?”
“No,” I sighed. Technically, he hadn’t done anything except creep me out, but now a woman was dead and tonight I’d almost followed her to the grave. Who else could be behind it but him?
“Do you know if Brenda Howard even knew Dibb Bentley?”
“Everyone in Willow knows everyone, especially in the black community. I’m betting they ran in the same circles back in the day. But you’re the cop, not me. That’s your job to find out.”
“And don’t you forget it.” I ignored him and took a big gulp of hot chocolate. It was still too hot and burned a trail down my throat.
“When can I get my car back?”
“Needs to be checked out for any finger prints.”
“You seriously think Dibb Bentley would have been stupid enough to leave his prints behind?”
“No more stupid than your friend Lewis fleeing after his girlfriend’s murder.”
“He was scared. So am I. And he’s not my friend!”
“Whatever you say,” he said, shaking his head and laughing. “Do you always let men who aren’t friends stay at your place?” The sudden image of Sam popped into my head followed by the memory of fantasizing about both Mason and Carl. Ugh.
“You stayed at my place.”
“That was for your own good.” He smiled that panty-melting smile at me again and I swallowed hard. He had no idea what he was doing to me; I wondered how he’d feel if he did.
“You know what? It’s getting late.” I got up from the table and held the backdoor open. “Goodnight, Detective Mason. Thanks for everything.” Mason got up and shut the door and locked it. He leaned down and whispered in my ear. His breath was hot on my neck and sent shivers down my spine. Bastard.
“Think I’ll go out the front. Wouldn’t want the neighbor’s thinking we’ve got something to hide, now would we?”
Actually, between Sam, Dibb Bentley, and now Mason, the neighbors probably already thought I was a ho. I wondered how long it would take them to give Mama the lowdown about my male visitors once she got back. I wasn’t looking forward to that conversation one bit.
“Here.” Mason handed me a card before he left.
“What’s this for?”
“It’s got my contact numbers, work and home. I’ve got a patrol car that’s going to be riding by here every half hour. You call me if you have an emergency, Kendra. Got it?”
“I got it. I got it. Now, go, so I can get some sleep.”
I watched Mason go, then took some aspirin. I didn’t head up the steps to my bedroom until I saw the patrol car go by. I was sure I wouldn’t sleep a wink, but soon fell into a deep dreamless sleep.
I couldn’t pick up my rental until noon on Monday. I had to take the bus to work. My car had been dusted top to bottom for prints and the only ones they found were mine. But the break line had indeed been cut, and whoever had done it had also disengaged the brake fluid light. I was lucky I hadn’t been on the highway or things could have turned out a whole lot worse. Now my car was in the shop and I probably wouldn’t have it back until the middle of the week. I didn’t even want to think about how much it was going to cost to fix.
I still couldn’t figure out why Dibb would want to hurt me. What had I done to the man? Or was he just trying to send another message to Lewis? And speaking of Lewis, when I’d stopped by my place at lunchtime I found him in his boxers, unshaven, and eating the last of my double fudge chocolate chunk ice cream. Dirty dishes were piled high in the sink, clothes were all over the floor, and the place stank like feet. And to make matters worse, he still had no idea what Dibb could have left at his place. He had to go. His time was up. I couldn’t rely on him to take care of this. Even if he did remember what Dibb wanted, there was no guarantee he’d know where to find it or if it would even appease a man who was clearly unstable.=
“Aw, don’t be like this, Kelly. I just need a little more time. It’s not like you was using the place.”
“The deal was you could stay here until Monday. That was before that maniac tried to kill me. And you should have never come here without letting the police know where you went. Do you know how guilty this makes you look?” I got busy opening all the windows to let some fresh air in but could feel the dirty looks he was giving me behind my back.
“I don’t give a damn how it makes me look,” he replied, indignantly. “If I’m dead it don’t matter anyway.” I whirled around to face him.
“And you thought you were going to hide out here forever? If you’re half the man you claim to be then you need to get up off my couch, get your funky ass in the shower, pack your shit, and get down the police station and talk to Detective Blake Mason. I’ve already told him what’s going on. He’s good guy. He can help you.”
“That’s cold, girl. Why you sellin’ me out like this?”
“Well, I could call it tough love, Lewis. But since I don’t like, let alone love you, I’ll just call it tough shit.”
Lewis pouted for a good ten minutes while I took Queenie out for a quick walk. When I got back he seemed to have perked up a bit and was cleaning up his mess.
“Do you need a ride down to the police station?”
“Naw, I got my car parked out back.”
“When did you go get it? It was still at your place when I went to pick up your medicine.”
“I took the dog for a walk Friday night and next thing I knew I was at my place. So I got my car and drove back here.”
“You walked seven blocks?”
“I had a lot on my mind, Kelly. I needed to think,” he snapped, not meeting my eyes.
“If that was the case then why did I have to go out of my way to go get your damned medicine? You could have gotten it yourself.”
“Uh, don’t you got a job to be gettin’ back to?”
“Oh, I’ve got plenty of time before I have to be back. And the quicker you shower and get dressed the sooner we can get going.”
“I ain’t a child. I don’t need no escort.”
“Yeah, like I trust you.” Lewis shot me an evil look and stalked off to the bathroom and I took the opportunity to bag up the trash and take it out back to my dumpster.
Lewis’s Eldorado was parked in the alley behind the duplex. And seeing it sitting there made me want to see the back of my unwanted guest even faster. Anything I could do to get him on his way and out of my life I was all for. I went back inside and got his car keys from the living room table and grabbed his duffle bag and dragged it across the kitchen floor and down the back steps. The frost on the ground made it easy for me to drag it across the backyard. Once he was dressed, all he had to do was get in his car and go. I’d call Mason to let him know he was coming, then follow him to the Willow police station to make sure he got there. A quick peek inside showed the backseat to be filled with crates of old record albums.
I dragged the duffle bag to the back of the car and popped the trunk. The sight of what was inside hit me like a punch in the gut. Dibb Bentley lay on his side inside the trunk. His eyes were open and staring at nothing. A large frozen bloodstain crusted the front of his once white T-shirt. His mouth was open, and sunlight glinted off his gold tooth. I stumbled backwards over Lewis’s duffle bag and would have fallen on my ass if he hadn’t caught me.
“What’s wrong, Kelly?” I pulled out of his grasp and shoved him away from me.
“Oh my God, Lewis! What have you done?” I screamed.
Lewis took one look inside the trunk and fainted dead away.
I sat shivering on my back step as the Willow crime lab processed the scene. They’d cordoned off the alley and had erected a tent around Lewis’s car. Lewis had been transported to Willow Memorial Hospital by ambulance. He’d hit his head on the hard ground when he’d fainted and was still unconscious when the police had arrived.
“You okay?” asked Mason, handing me a Styrofoam cup of steaming coffee. I gratefully wrapped my hands around it for warmth.
“Not really.” I took a sip of the coffee and was surprised that it was loaded with sugar and cream. Mason remembered how I liked it from the brief time he’d stayed with me. Somehow it made me feel a little bit better.
“It’s freezing out here, Kendra. Let’s get you inside.” Mason helped me to my feet, and I allowed him to lead me inside. Queenie ran up to me wagging her tail and I set the cup down and scooped her up, burying my face in her warm fur.
“You up for answering a few questions?”
“Yeah.” Most of the forensic techs were outside but there were a couple in my apartment, too, collecting the rest of Lewis’s things to take down to the crime lab. I was still stunned. Dibb was dead. When had Lewis killed him? How could I have been so stupid? He’d been lying to me all along.
“When was the last time you saw Dibb Bentley?”
“Friday afternoon when I went to Lewis’ apartment to pick up his medicine.”
“Do you remember the exact time?”
“It was after work so probably around 4:30.” Mason wrote down my answers with a perplexed look on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“He’s frozen solid, Kendra. The coroner couldn’t even insert a thermometer to get a liver temp,” he whispered, looking over at the forensic techs, letting me know he was giving me info he had no business giving me.
“But how could that be?” I whispered back. “It’s been cold. But not that cold.”
“And there’s more.”
“What?”
“He had a watch on. The kind that showed the time and date. The face was smashed, and the watch had stopped at 9:30 pm on Wednesday January 12th. You couldn’t have seen him on Friday afternoon because he was already dead.”
I just stared at him. I know what I saw. And if it hadn’t been Dibb, then who the hell had I seen? And more importantly, if Dibb had already been dead by Friday afternoon, then who had cut my brake line?
Five
I should have stayed home the rest of the day. But I didn’t want to be at Mama’s and my place was off limits. So, I dropped Queenie off at Mama’s and went back to the literacy center. Classes were over for the day by the time the police were finished with me. Good thing—I still had plenty of work I could do, and I knew the building would still be open. When I got there, I was surprised to see Dorothy and Rhonda’s cars still parked in the lot. I wasn’t up for answering a bunch of questions, but in all the chaos that ensued after finding Dibb’s body, I wasn’t able to call and let them know what was going on. Dorothy’s office door was open a crack and I could hear her and Rhonda’s voices. I had just raised my hand to knock when I heard my name.
“Kendra didn’t even come back from her lunch break, Dorothy. She’s constantly late, and now this.” I peered through the slightly open door to see Rhonda pointing at something black in a plastic bag lying on Dorothy’s desk. I leaned in closer for a better look and saw tiny white buttons. It was my black sweater. “How long are you going to put up with this kind of behavior? I’m tired of covering for her when she runs off and gets herself involved in other people’s business. It’s clear her heart isn’t in this job.”
Angry tears welled up in my eyes. I didn’t know what hurt me more, the big knife Rhonda had just plunged into my back, or the fact that she hadn’t even had the courtesy to talk to me about what was bothering her before running to Dorothy. And why did she have my sweater? I pushed the door open and Rhonda actually jumped when she saw me standing in the door.
“Sorry to eavesdrop but since this little meeting of yours sounds like it’s about me, I’d like to know what’s going on,” I said. Rhonda had been so salty a second ago. Now her face was crimson, and she was looking anyplace but at me.
“Come on in and have a seat, Kendra,” said Dorothy. I closed the door and took the seat next to Rhonda, the same seat I’d sat in only a week ago when Dorothy had announced she was retiring. What a difference a week makes.
“Where’d you find my sweater?” I’d addressed my question to no one in particular, but I’d really been speaking to Rhonda.
“There’s been some concern about you coming to work under the influence, Kendra,” said Dorothy, eyeing the sweater.
“Under the influence? You mean drunk? I’ve never showed up to work drunk. I can’t even remember the last time I was drunk.�
�� Blood pounded in my ears and my face was getting hot.
“Not drunk, Kendra,” said Rhonda, finally finding her voice. “High on marijuana.” She reached across Dorothy’s desk, grabbed the bag with the sweater and tossed it at me.
I looked from Dorothy to Rhonda as I opened the bag and was horrified by the smell that wafted out. It was a mixture of vanilla incense and weed, with a heavy emphasis on weed. I could have just died.
“And don’t try to deny it. You smelled like pot when you came back from lunch last week and you even had the munchies!”
I had to resist the urge to put the plastic bag over Rhonda’s head and suffocate her. She was the one who took my sweater from my chair and ran to Dorothy and tattled. My God. Did she really want the woman’s job that bad? Dorothy’s eyes held concern but to her credit she didn’t rush to judgment like Rhonda, she merely watched me and waited for an explanation.
“I’m going to say this once and once only. I do not smoke. Not cigarettes and certainly not marijuana, weed, pot, Mary Jane or whatever else you want to call it. But I did visit someone that day who was smoking marijuana and the smell must have gotten into my sweater. And had you asked me about it, Rhonda, I would have gladly explained that to you.”
“Well,” Rhonda sputtered, her face getting even redder, “What about all the times you’ve been late coming back from lunch?”
“With the exception of today, I’ve always apologized and explained why I was late, and I’ve always stayed late to make up that time, haven’t I?” Rhonda didn’t answer. She just looked at the floor. “Haven’t I?” I didn’t mean to raise my voice as loud as I did but I was pissed and frustrated and hurt. Rhonda burst into tears.
“Well, what about me? Why am I always the one who has to suck it up and understand? Why I’m I always the one left holding the bag who has to step up and be the adult? It’s not fair and I’m sick of it!” She got up and ran out of the office and slammed the door shut behind her. I got up and started to go after her. Dorothy stopped me.
“Let her go, Kendra. She needs to be alone.”
