by Chassie West
Yeah, right. “And Michelle?”
“In custody of Anne Arundel county until the paperwork’s done to take her back to the District. They’ve got her for the murders at Celebrations, found her prints on one of the wastebaskets and the heavy-duty stapler she bludgeoned her cousin with. It’s all in her journals.”
“Hope it’s enough to hang her,” I said, elevating the head of the bed even more. “Wait a minute. She killed her cousin with a stapler?”
“Heavy-duty, evidently heavy enough to do the job. She took out the other cleaner, Borden Something-or-other, with a carving knife.”
“Lordy, how awful. They didn’t deserve that. What’s her journal say about Claudia?”
“She knew it was the day Clarissa usually came to clean and she planned to return the box and leave. After she found out last Monday that you were still living with Janeece, she hoped you wouldn’t realize the box had ever been removed, and would never be able to figure out how she’d gotten your Social Security number and all the other personal information she used. Only she and Claudia arrived about the same time and got on the elevator together. Evidently Claudia went off on her as they were going up, told her she’d lied about who she was. Michelle pulled that stupid gun on her, and took her back down to the garage. All she wanted to do was stash her somewhere, keep her quiet until she could get away. She was wearing rubber gloves so she wouldn’t leave any prints on the box, and there’s some guesswork from this point. Evans has had to piece it together by reading between the lines. It looks like the gloves got in the way when Michelle was trying to gag Claudia with the scarf she was wearing, and she must have taken them off. There’s powder from her hands all over it. With the gag in place, Claudia inhaled the particles and went into anaphylactic shock almost immediately. Michelle thought she was faking, pushed her into the trunk, and left her.”
A tightness filled my chest as I imagined what Claudia must have gone through.
“In the interim,” Duck said, “Clarissa leaves, figuring her sister’s forgotten to come get her. Michelle’s just about to make her escape in her car, and who shows up? You, Tank, and Tina.”
“So she just waited, followed us around and then out to Ourland?”
“You got it, babe. Once you saw her, she hightailed it back. Then she realized she was missing one of the gloves. She had to find it, so she came back to check around the Chevy. She opened the trunk, saw that Claudia was dead and assumed she’d suffocated. She decided the best thing to do was move the car, park it in Northern Virginia somewhere, only Grandison came down to leave for work and saw her. You know the rest.”
“In other words, manslaughter’s probably the most she could be charged with for Claudia’s death, but the stapler and the carving knife will put her under the jail for a good long time.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Wait,” he said, knowing full well I was about to blow. “She is mentally ill, babe, diagnosed as a schizophrenic in her teens.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m afraid not. Her family—and she’s lived with every relative she has—says she’d be fine for a while, then stop taking her medication. She missed her voices, the ones that told her she’s a star, destined for big things. Your grandfather says that from the time the Anne Arundel boys showed up to take her away, she’s been raving about how it was all a mistake, that she was a serious actress just working up a part for a play.”
“Yeah, right.”
“She’s been going through different characters ever since. In handcuffs, and with a broken jaw, even. Dr. Ritch says she became an old crone, a Southern belle, a gospel-spouting minister, and Lady Macbeth one after the other, all in the space of five minutes, and she was astonishing. Then she went off on you, ranted about a conspiracy between you and Bev Barlowe, and the next thing she’s Blanche in Streetcar, ‘relying on the kindness of strangers.’ ”
“Sounds like the old multiple-personality scam to me,” I protested.
“Maybe, but that’s not the impression I got from talking to your grandfather. He went to the lockup to check on her. He thinks she’s grounded in a different reality, fighting to survive as what her voices have told her she is, a supremely gifted actress. Survival to her means eliminating anyone in her way.”
“For instance, me.” Call me a poor sport, I don’t care. After what she’d put me through, I wasn’t feeling generous.
“Not just you,” Duck said, his voice gentle. “That business in the Silver Shaker? She was working on a character, a prostitute. The auditions were last Monday morning, and she didn’t get the part, just the usual kiss-off, a ‘thank you for coming.’ She freaked, tried to attack the director. They should have reported it. They didn’t.”
“So that might have been another ‘gotcha’ that sent her further over the edge.”
“Oh, yeah. And she takes getting into a role seriously. During that rant against you, she told your granddad it took her hours to perfect your walk.”
All for nothing, I mused, since I’d never walk that way again.
“Well, it’s nice to see you awake.” Dr. Brady strode in, a sweet, teddy bear of a man. “But don’t ever let anyone tell you that you can sing. How’s the pain? Manageable?”
Duck stood, shook his hand, thanked him, then excused himself. “I’ll be back,” he assured me. “Got a couple of things to take care of.”
With his departure, I began a slide into the doldrums again. “So what’s the verdict, Doc? Will I have to use a cane from now on?”
He lowered his head, peered at me over his glasses. “I’m insulted. You doubt my work? That’s a state-of-the-art knee you’ve got there, young lady. With physical therapy and a decent exercise program afterward, you’ll walk without an aid of any sort. Not immediately, but eventually. You’ll be fine, Leigh. You have my word on it.”
He became a blur behind a sheen of tears. I knew him well, knew he wouldn’t bullshit me. “Honestly? I can still be a cop?”
He snorted. “You can be any damned thing you want to be. I tried to avoid total replacement before because of your age. No way around it this time, so resign yourself to going through this again in about ten years. Now let’s take a look at my superior workmanship.”
It’s no news to anyone that they don’t coddle you after surgery. I dozed most of that day but by the next day, they had removed my catheter, epidural, and the drain from above the site of the surgery and had walked me slowly but steadily to the bathroom, where getting on and off the toilet proved to be an adventure in itself.
I washed up, wondering when Duck would be back. It was late, after dark even. Janeece had called, as had Tank and Tina and my grandparents, but I was getting more and more miffed that none of them had made the effort to come see me.
I was fatigued but clean, deodorized, and lotioned when I opened the door of the bathroom, expecting to have the nurse parked outside the door accompany me and my IV tower back to bed. Waiting instead, as patiently as the day I’d met her twenty-six years before, was Nunna. I squealed and practically fell into her arms. She smelled of vanilla, Georgia Peach hair pomade, and mother love.
“Now, now, darling,” she said, embracing me and the tower, “don’t start blubbering. Dillon called me yesterday. I came as soon as I could. Let’s get you settled. I hear you’ve been through quite an ordeal.”
“I’m fine now. You’re here and my knee will be okay and I’ll still be able to protect and defend eventually and Duck and I have a new house.” I grinned up at her as I wielded the walker across the room, aware that I was babbling and not caring a bit.
I maneuvered my rear onto the bed and sat, while she positioned the tower next to the headboard.
“Are you in pain, honey?” she asked, hovering. She looked wonderful, tall, regal, her snow-white hair in a spiffy new style.
“I’m fine, juiced up just enough. You cut your hair?” In all the years I’d known her, she’d always worn it in a bun or topknot.
Her smile bordered on sheepis
h. “I was embarrassed to go to bed in rollers. It was all right when I was sleeping alone, but now . . .”
I felt my grin widen even more. “How’s Walter?”
“Doing well. He’ll be along soon. Now, honey, are you sure you feel all right?”
I couldn’t have felt better with a banker’s check for a million or two in my hand. “I’m tired, but with you here, I’m super. I’m so glad you came.”
“Thank Dillon. Otherwise I wouldn’t have known anything.” That was a jab, gently applied. “Do you feel strong enough to change into something else? I’ll help.”
“Bless you,” I said. “I hate these hospital gowns but they’ll have to do until Duck brings me something else.” I experienced a mental hiccup, realizing that she didn’t know about my new living arrangements. “Uh, Nunna, I was going to call you last night, I mean, Sunday night to tell you—”
“That you’ve moved in with Dillon, I know. He told me. It’s not a problem, Leigh Ann. I went through the same thought process a little while back. I wouldn’t allow Walter to move in with me because I was worried you wouldn’t approve.”
“Oh, Nunna.” I reached for her and we hugged, chuckling at how silly we’d been.
“That’s enough of that,” she said, moving away. “Let’s get you dressed.” She crossed to the back side of the bed as I untied the gown.
“I’ll need a nurse to disconnect the IV.”
“I’m right here.” A new one this time, Patricia, who had obviously been waiting just outside. She shut off the drip, disconnected the tubing. “You won’t need this anymore, anyway. But don’t hesitate to let us know if the pain becomes too much.” She gave me a mysterious smile and left the room.
“Here, honey.” Nunna dropped a lace-trimmed bra with matching panties and a half-slip onto the bed beside me. “Better hurry it up.”
I fingered them. “Jeez, these are beautiful. Thanks, Nunna, but they’re a little impractical at the moment, don’t you think?”
“Getting married in no underwear is a trifle seedy, don’t you think?”
“Huh?” I looked back over my shoulder where my foster mom was pulling my ecru peau de soie wedding suit from a shopping bag. “Nunna! Where’d you get that? Is it mine? From the Bridal Bower?”
Then it registered. I was slow, but face it, I was also doped up to a fare-thee-well.
Duck stuck his head in the door. “You aren’t dressed yet? Let me tell you something, Miss Nunna, if that woman isn’t decent in ten minutes, she’s gonna say her ‘I do’ with her backside showing, because ten minutes is the longest I plan to wait.”
I was next to speechless. “Duck—”
“If that’s the beginning of a protest”—he cut me off, and stepped into the room—“I don’t want to hear it. We are getting hitched this night downstairs in the chapel. The people we wanted with us to begin with are all down there waiting, plus or minus a couple. We can go through it again later for everybody else if you like, but this one’s for us. Now get your butt in gear or prepare to get married with it exposed to God and everybody.” Turning on his heel, he left.
“I do like a man who speaks his mind,” Nunna said, bemused. “And I just realized there’s no way those panties will slide over all those bandages. It looks like you’ll be getting married with a bare bottom after all.”
So that’s how I came to be Mrs. Leigh Ann Kennedy eleven days before I’d expected, in a ceremony that would always warm my heart. I was one beat-up bride, a mouse under one eye, scratches and black and blue marks here, there, and yon, but from the daffy look on Duck’s face, I could tell that he thought I looked beautiful. What anyone else thought didn’t matter.
In attendance, Nunna and Walter; my granddad, who pushed me in a wheelchair to the altar; and my grandmother; my brother, Jon, and his wife; Duck’s mom; his sister and her husband and daughter; Eddie Grimes; Janeece; Tank and Tina; and Clarissa. Presiding, one of the hospital’s chaplains, and he did a fine job, even kept it short, since I refused to take my vows sitting down, and standing for long was out of the question.
When all the important stuff had been said, rings exchanged, the papers signed and a greenback of unknown denomination slipped into the good reverend’s hand, Duck helped me into the wheelchair again and knelt beside me.
“You don’t mind, do you, babe?” he said in my ear. “All the way across country, I kept thinking I could have lost you. I didn’t want to wait any longer. And we’ll go to Hawaii as soon as you’re able to travel comfortably. I know this wedding wasn’t quite what we planned, but it was pretty okay, don’t you think?”
“Damn near perfect,” I murmured, taking the opportunity to kiss him properly. Later I would tell him that the wedding would have been absolutely perfect except for the temperature in the chapel, a little chilly for my comfort. And far too chilly if you’re getting married bare-assed.
The World of Chassie West
Look for these riveting mysteries by
Chassie West
Starring African-American sleuth
Leigh Ann Warren
Killer Riches
Killing Kin
Sunrise
Killer Riches
As former D.C. cop, Leigh Ann Warren is preparing for marriage, a new career, and a new life, a low, threatening voice on the telephone sends her world spinning wildly out of control. Suddenly two innocent lives are at stake, and someone dear to her heart faces a cruel, undeserved fate.
This tragedy-in-the-making is dragging Leigh Ann back to the small African-American coastal community where the most lethal secrets of her past are hidden. And with precious time running out, she must now separate the truth from the lies about the family she never knew in order to prevent the unthinkable . . . and to live another day.
“A female Walter Mosely.”
Eileen Dreyer
Killing Kin
Edgar® and Anthony Award Nominee
Out on disability leave, Washington, D.C. policewoman Leigh Ann Warren can’t stay off the job and out of the game—not when her partner and former fiancé Dillon Upshur “Duck” Kennedy has vanished mysteriously, and determined and dangerous people on both sides of the law are hunting him down. The dead body she discovers in her own apartment only strengthens Leigh Ann’s resolve to find Duck first.
But the trail is twisted with perilous, unexpected turns, leading her deep into the woods of western Maryland—and to the lair of a killer who’d just as soon leave behind two dead cops rather than one.
“Chassie West creates characters so warm,
wonderful, and delightfully quirky
they jump right off the page.”
Janet Evanovich
Sunrise
Edgar® Award Nominee
Big-city cop Leigh Ann Warren is coming back to Sunrise, North Carolina, to escape the pressures of the job—and her guilt over nearly causing the death of her partner Duck. But things have changed here since she was a girl. Tensions over plans to develop hallowed ground for commercial purposes are tearing a once close-knit community to pieces.
Leigh Ann hoped to stay neutral, but a decades-old murder, newly unearthed, is dragging her down into a whirlpool of fear and small-town secrets. And a killer still lurking in the shadows of Sunrise is about to strike again—this time, too close to home.
“Chassie West has created a heroine
human enough to appreciate a mother’s hug,
gutsy enough to solve a murder,
and sensible enough to love Italian shoes.
Bravissima!”
Lisa Scottoline
Praise for the novels of
CHASSIE WEST
“A female Walter Mosley.”
Eileen Dreyer
“West’s talent is bursting at the seams.”
Drood Review of Mystery
“West has a knack for creating colorful yet realistic characters and witty dialogue . . . [and] will keep readers guessing to the end.”
Publishers Weekly
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br /> “If you’re looking for a great mystery series with quirky characters, tight plots, a touch of romance, and a funny, gutsy heroine, look no further than Chassie West.”
Romantic Times
“[A] unique talent . . . [West] delivers mystery, suspense, and intrigue.”
National Black Review
“A new Chassie West mystery is always cause for great rejoicing and dancing in the streets. No one does it quite like our girlfriend, the divine Ms. West.”
Helen Chappell
By Chassie West
Killer Riches
Killing Kin
Loss of Innocence
Sunrise
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2004 by Chassie West
ISBN: 0-06-054842-8
Epub Edition © JULY 2013 ISBN 9780062310323
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
