A Mysterious Mix Up

by J. C. Kenney

  Maybe I’d left it in the break room. It was a desperate thought, but it was the only one I had. Without the phone close enough to make the Bluetooth connection, Tommy would never know if I was in trouble.

  With no other ideas, the break room it was. I took a deep breath and made a run for it. Halfway there, I stopped. Freddie was back.

  “What are you—” I stopped in mid-sentence as the truth finally dawned on me. It was a slap in the face and punch to the solar plexus at the same time.

  “It was you all along.” My breath had literally been taken away. I had to bend over and put my hands on my knees until I could breathe again.

  “Well done.” She withdrew my phone from her purse. “Though I’m afraid your silly little plan failed.”

  “So, you’re the drug dealer. And you’re probably mixed up in Vicky’s murder, aren’t you?”

  She lifted her head toward the ceiling and laughed.

  “I have to say, I’m disappointed in you, Allie. When I heard about your plan, I was impressed. Now? Not so much. I managed to pin everything on that pathetic Porter Rasmussen, but you couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” She dropped the phone back into her purse.

  “You won’t get away with this.” I cringed, fully aware of how lame that sounded. “The police know I’m here. They’ll be here any minute.” It was a weak lie, but it was the last card in my deck.

  “I don’t think so. Before my first visit, I surveilled the area. Imagine my surprise, not, when I came across Officer Abbott. Being a supportive citizen, I offered him a cup of coffee, which he readily accepted. The coffee was laced with Rohypnol. He won’t be joining us anytime soon.”

  The panic I’d kept at bay overwhelmed me, and my flight instinct took over. I made a move for the entrance. I’d only traveled ten feet when, once again, I was brought to a sudden stop.

  This time by a deadly weapon.

  “That’s enough, Allie.” She pointed a nine-millimeter handgun at me. It had an eerie resemblance to the one Jeanette kept at home for her personal safety. “I’m sorry it had to come to this. You’ve done a lot for this town, but, like the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat.

  “Or, in your case, the cat owner.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “On your knees.” With the gun, Freddie gestured toward the floor. “It will be easier if you don’t resist.”

  As I got down on one knee, she took a roll of duct tape from her purse. She bound my hands behind my back, making my eyes water when she wrapped the tape so tight my wrists couldn’t move. I didn’t yell out, though. Instead, I recited in my head one of my favorite lines from literature.

  Where there’s life, there’s hope.

  While it seemed obvious what Freddie had planned for me, I wasn’t going down without a fight. What I needed most was time. Time to puzzle a way to get out of my predicament. Time to get help.

  Time to stay alive. And avenge Vicky.

  “I take it we’re not going to the pub for a drink.” The library’s low pile carpeting was irritating my right knee, so I leaned to the side to give it a break. My movement was met by a boot to my lower back.

  “Far from it. If you cooperate, you might see the light of day, though.” She forced me to my feet, spun me around, and marched me into Vicky’s office.

  “So, you’re a drug-dealing murderer. Why kill Vicky? I thought she was your friend.”

  “It was all an unfortunate mix-up.” Freddie pushed me into a chair and bound my feet to the legs with the duct tape. I had to hand it to the woman. She was prepared.

  “You need to understand something, Allie.” She took a seat behind the desk. The gun rested on the desktop, but her finger was still on the trigger. “Running a business is hard. Running a restaurant, with its razor-thin profit margin, is even harder. Being a woman, keeping a restaurant afloat for over thirty years, is almost impossible.”

  “And you deserve all the credit in the world for that accomplishment.” It wasn’t false praise. Rachel and I had often talked about the challenges she had at the pub. Running a small business wasn’t for the weak of heart.

  “Thank you.” With her free hand, she started rummaging through the desk drawers. “My bigger accomplishment is one virtually nobody knows about. You see, I’ve been involved in another business venture since I was in high school. My family didn’t have a lot of money, so if I was going to college, it was up to me to pay my own way.”

  I had no idea where she was going with this, but the longer I kept her talking, the more my odds of escaping increased. For now, it seemed best to let her ramble.

  “It was very different coming of age in the seventies. I had a job waiting tables at a restaurant, but it didn’t pay much. What did pay was marijuana. Specifically, selling it. What started in high school as a way to supplement my savings turned into a steady job in college. Did you know Vicky smoked dope in college?”

  “No. Tell me about it.” I tried to move my wrists. It was like rubbing sandpaper against my skin, but my wrists were covered with stress-induced sweat, which allowed for a tiny bit of movement. Without access to a knife, it might be a fruitless exercise, but I wasn’t going to give up.

  “We met at a party. I was smoking a joint and offered her a toke. After inhaling, she practically coughed up a lung.” Freddie laughed, like she was reliving one of her favorite memories. “She normally didn’t indulge, but every now and then, when she was under a lot of stress, she made a small purchase.”

  “You dealt and she smoked dope in college. So, what? From what I’ve read, back then, practically everyone did that at one point or another.” Visions of President Clinton testifying that he’d smoked, but not inhaled, came to mind. It was an absurd thought to conjure at such a stressful time, but it did serve to take the stress level down a notch.

  She pointed her index finger toward the ceiling. “Ah, but therein was my dilemma. Selling dope paid most of my bills in college, so there was no way I was going to give it up when I graduated. I’ve been dealing from practically the day I arrived in Rushing Creek. And before you try some holier-than-thou attitude on me, that extra cash helped keep Marinara’s afloat more times than I can count.

  “Vicky knew what I was doing, though. She never said anything, but I could sense it. She held it over my head like the Sword of Damocles.”

  Freddie’s description wasn’t the Vicky Napier I knew. My hero was a kind, selfless person. She would never use a secret to wield power over someone.

  Or had she?

  Regardless, it was time for another delay tactic. “If Vicky knew, maybe she kept your secret because she was your friend. She was trying to help you. Did you ever think of that?”

  “Oh, I thought about it. I thought about it almost every day.” She slammed the final desk drawer closed and got to her feet. “That’s why I stayed friends with her. Why I bought a house on the same street as hers. I even offered to keep an eye on her place and bring in the mail when she was out of town.”

  The puzzle pieces finally fell into place. My misgivings about Porter’s guilt had been right. The satisfaction about that served to fuel my growing anger at Freddie.

  “Let me guess. You went to see Vicky the morning she died. You knew she’d gotten her hands on the pot by accident. You wanted it back. When you couldn’t reach an agreement, you poisoned her tea. You used something from the plants Porter grows to put suspicion on him.”

  “Well done. I used aconite. It comes from monkshood. He’s grown it for years.”

  She looked behind the filing cabinets and tried to push the one closest to her away from the wall. “You see, when you’re in my line of work, well, my off-the-books line of work, it’s important to be prepared. If people wonder why I always have cash on hand, it’s because I run a restaurant and deal with a lot of cash and tips. If people wonder why I’ve always supported the garden club, it
’s because I love flowers and plants. Those are great cover stories.”

  “You used Porter’s crush on Vicky to your advantage. You knew how much he cared for her. You’d researched what plants he grew. Just in case.” I let out a low whistle. “Credit where credit is due, I’m impressed with your planning. One thing I don’t understand. Why now? She was all set to retire and move to Florida to live with her sister.”

  She sighed. It was long and sad and made me wonder what was truly going on in this mad woman’s head.

  “Like I said earlier, it was all due to a simple mix-up. Do you know why my deep-dish pizzas are only available Friday and Saturday?”

  “I thought it had something to do with a secret family recipe. That you won’t let anyone else make the deep-dish pizzas. And since you’re the only one who makes them, they’re only available on the weekend.”

  “It’s amazing how an urban legend can take on a life of its own.” She went from the filing cabinets to the credenza. “I use the deep-dish pizzas as one of my distribution methods. Certain customers know how to order something special in their pizzas, shall we say. I put that package you found into one of my special orders. Two weeks ago tonight, your friend was supposed to get a thin crust pizza with pepperoni and mushrooms, but someone screwed up the delivery. It’s so hard to find good help these days.”

  “I know what you mean.” While she burrowed through the credenza, I told her about my challenges in finding an intern. Anything to keep the dialogue going. Plus, the mention of only one told me what Freddie was looking for.

  “Vicky, bless her heart, called me. She told me what she’d found. I suggested that she return what wasn’t hers, I’d refund the cost of her pizza, and we could forget the whole thing. She said no. She had to go to the police.”

  “She didn’t though. Why not?”

  “I begged her to reconsider, to think of our decades of friendship. She began to waver, so I hit her in her soft spot. I reminded her of how much I’d helped her in my position as library board president.”

  “That was underhanded.” I shrugged. “I mean, even within the realm of everything else that was going on.”

  To my amazement, she giggled like a schoolgirl. “It was, wasn’t it. If there was ever any doubt about her one true love, her response ended it.”

  “Hanging the library over her head bought you time to get her to come around.” It was the only possibility, given that she was killed four days after the pizza was delivered.

  “I convinced her to wait until the weekend was over before making a decision. When we talked on Monday, she hadn’t changed her mind.” Freddie picked up the desk phone and threw it against a wall. It shattered into countless tiny fragments.

  It was a fitting metaphor for the current state of my plan.

  “She was going to ruin all I’d worked so hard for. All because of a stupid mix-up.” She was shouting now. Her eyes were wild. A string of spit hung from the corner of her mouth.

  “She thought it was over, but it was far from over. I told her if she went to the police, I’d implicate her in the whole mess. Claim she’d known about my illicit activities and been a willing co-conspirator. Then word would get out and my associates would pay her a visit.”

  I nodded. In a twisted way, it all made sense. “You scared her, so she offered to keep your secret and move away. You, in turn, agreed to keep your mouth shut about the whole affair.”

  “Close.” She went behind me and tapped the gun on my head. “I agreed to keep my mouth shut if she returned my merchandise. The foolish woman said she needed to sleep on it. My patience had run out, so, a few days later, I showed up at her house before she went to work. Since she still hadn’t gone to the police, I offered to come clean if she kept quiet. When she agreed, I offered to make her tea, as a peace offering. When she wasn’t looking, I laced the tea with the aconite. With the dosage I used, I knew it wouldn’t take effect until she got to work. You know the rest.”

  “You had all your bases covered.”

  “I did, didn’t I.”

  “Except for me.” While she rifled through a filing cabinet, I worked on loosening the tape. The discomfort helped me focus on the task at hand. Keep her talking until I could make a move.

  “You’ve always been too much of a busybody for your own good, Allie. I would have thought you learned your lesson last fall.” She slammed the cabinet drawer closed and pointed the gun at me.

  “Now that you know the story, it’s time to pay the storyteller. There were four packages in that pizza. You only turned in one. Where are the others?”

  “They’re not here.” My refusal to give Freddie a straight answer amounted to attempting a tightrope walk across the Grand Canyon without a net. It didn’t matter. My wrists ached, my legs were numb, and I was angry this criminal had killed my hero.

  I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of an easy victory.

  “Then where are they?” She pressed the barrel of the gun to my temple. “Out with it. I haven’t got all day.”

  The moment of truth had arrived. She wouldn’t shoot me here. Not here. There would be too much mess for her to clean up. The woman might be unhinged, but she wasn’t stupid. The game needed to continue.

  “First, take that stupid gun away from my head.” I licked my lips and swallowed. My blood pounded against my temples as I waited for her response. I thought some of my negotiation sessions over books had been serious. They were nothing compared to this.

  After what seemed like decades, the pressure of the barrel against my head eased. It took all the control in my body to refrain from closing my eyes in relief. I wouldn’t show weakness.

  “Well? Spill it. I need those packages.” She put her hands on the arms of the chair and leaned close. Our noses were centimeters from touching. Her breath was sour, as if she’d been drinking cheap whiskey. “Where are they?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Liar.” Her shout bounced off the walls and left my ears ringing. She stomped to the far wall and back again, running her free hand through her hair.

  She came to a stop in front of me, standing erect so I had to look up at her. Classic power move. She wanted me to feel weak and intimidated.

  It wasn’t going to happen.

  Somehow, some way, I was going to get out of this mess. The longer I dragged this out, the more likely it became that Freddie would make a mistake. And when she did, I’d be ready.

  “Let me put it this way. I have an unhappy customer who hasn’t received an order. I also have an unhappy supplier who doesn’t want their product ending up as police evidence. That leaves you between a rock and a hard place. So, I’ll give you one more chance. Where are those packages?”

  I waited a moment before I smiled. A warm sensation of resolve, strong as tempered steel, filled me. Despite what Freddie seemed to think, she was the one who had lost. Not me. The game was over. It was simply a matter of playing it out and making my move at the right time.

  “Well?”

  “I don’t know where they are.” I shook my head. “I mean, the police have them. I know that. You’d have to ask them if you want specifics.”

  The color drained from Freddie’s face. Her expression was almost comical as her eyes grew as wide as saucers and her jaw practically fell to the floor.

  “That’s it. It’s time to take a ride.” She took a pocketknife from her purse, cut my duct tape bindings, and yanked me to my feet.

  “Where are we going?” I clamped shut a scream as the pain of a million pinpricks went through my legs.

  “To your final resting place.” She covered my mouth with duct tape. “You might want to say your prayers.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  With the gun to my back and her hand clamped onto my shoulder like a vice, Freddie directed me out of the library. My bike was missing from the bike rack by the en
trance. The chain securing it to the rack lay on the concrete surface. Someone had cut it.

  “Keep moving.” She poked me in the back with the gun. “If you try to run, I’ll shoot you right here.”

  A black sedan was the lone occupant of the parking lot. I scanned the area. There was nowhere to run. Despite my demonstration of bravado while we were inside, I was in no mood to test Freddie’s marksmanship by making a break for it.

  As we came alongside the car, the bike’s handlebars came into view. It was in the back seat. A massive set of bolt cutters lay draped over the top tube. Again, I had to give her credit. She’d thought of everything.

  Check that. Almost everything. Her first mistake was her failure to count on my involvement. Strike one. Her second mistake was assuming there was marijuana left to be found in the library. Strike two.

  One more mistake, one more strike, and Freddie would be out.

  That was the hope I clung to as my captor popped open the trunk. The space was a dark, foreboding cavern.

  “I guess it’s good you’re so small. It would have been harder to squeeze your boyfriend in here.” She gestured with the gun toward the opening. “In you go.”

  She pushed me until I cracked my knees against the back bumper. I held my ground while I scanned the interior to buy more time. My gaze darted back and forth, up and down. Freddie hit me in the back of my knees. I staggered but kept searching. Something. Anything.

  Then it came to me!

  The trunk was spacious. At least, for me, it was. That would give me the wiggle room I needed. I wanted to end up in the trunk with my back to the panel. That would give me the element of surprise I’d need later.

  To create space to make my move, I called on my kickboxing skills and struck backward at Freddie with my foot. As I did so, I leaned forward with my left shoulder. The goal was to look like I’d lost my balance in an attempt to get away. Then, when she reacted, I could go into a controlled roll and land in the trunk the way I wanted.