by Wendy Byrne
I sure wished I knew who the she in question was. Maybe if I hung around long enough, I could find out. It would be nice to wrap this up quickly before the thing with Nate went any further down the road to disaster. And from what I'd overhead, Purdy, Boris, or one of her employees was involved.
"Not sure. But boss lady said about an hour ago she'd be here shortly."
"Well, big boy, you'd better get your butt in gear and sashay behind that bar and work your magic with the old ladies," the woman said.
I heard some kissing sounds. Hmm…now I knew it wasn't Purdy in there, but apparently she'd be arriving soon if I took the reference to assume she was the boss lady. I hoped I was right.
"Are you sure she doesn't know about us?" he asked.
"Do you think you'd still be alive if she heard you were with sleeping with her grandson's wife?" The woman emitted a disgusting chuckle. "Oh, just teasing. You know Boris and I don't get jealous about stuff like that."
"It's not Boris I'm worried about. I need this job, which means you need to get out of here before she comes in."
"You know I like life in the fast lane, and taking chances is where the action is."
Cue more kissing and who-knew-what-else sounds. Eww. I threw up a little in my mouth. This eavesdropping stuff wasn't all that much fun when you were trying to keep from hurling.
"When did you say that next shipment is coming in?" he asked.
"Boris isn't saying, and I'm not in the loop about that stuff. If he ever gets caught, I'll be completely unaware of my husband's dealings. It's better that way for both of us."
"But I thought—" He was interrupted by more kissing. Oh geez. Would they get to the point—ah not that point. The point where they focused on their conversation and gave me the lowdown on what the heck was going on.
Complete silence. I needed a peephole about now. Get your mind out of the gutter, people! The lack of noise—any at all—meant something. I just didn't know what. I plastered myself against the door.
BAM.
I got slammed against the wall by the force of the door and let out a squeak. While my head spun, I had the wherewithal to be grateful that at least the guy hadn't seen me. I inched into the dark corner and tried not to breathe.
As if he somehow sensed my presence, he stopped and turned full circle right when I was doing a fist pump for escaping without getting caught. "Are you all right?" He got so close I could smell the aftershave he'd doused in.
"I was feeling overheated and wanted to get some fresh air, but looks like I headed the wrong way." I could swear I felt the imprint of the wooden door against my forehead as it throbbed. How was I going to explain a bruise the size of Texas to the Qs? Heck, they'd be intrigued. Gabe would be the suspicious one. The Qs would know I'd been doing my best snooping and would want all the details.
"There's no exit here, except a fire exit." His voice suddenly became deeper and more menacing, as if he knew what I'd been up to. Or maybe I was being paranoid or had a concussion from the door. Was that even possible?
"My bad," I mumbled as he retreated toward the bar.
I stumbled into the ladies' room a few steps away. I inspected myself in the mirror and spotted a small red bump in the middle of my forehead. It wasn't as large as I'd imagined, which magically made it hurt a whole lot less. I splashed water on my face to regroup and concentrated on what I'd heard. Something about a shipment and Boris. That had to mean something big. Maybe even huge in the drug world. They also mentioned the sheriff, which had to mean Nate.
I pulled open the door and headed toward the bar with a game plan. The only way to approach this would be to mosey on up and try to make friends. Who was I kidding—flirting with the thirtyish men to meet an objective? Somebody had to do it, and it might as well have been me.
But one of the bartenders had been the one I overheard with the woman in back. Would he recognize me if I couldn't pick him out? Probably not, given the dark hallway. Still, I was the only woman here my age. With four bartenders all looking and dressing the same, I had a one in four chance of choosing the right one. On the other hand, he didn't know what I'd been doing there.
I straightened my ponytail. The tall bartender with an arresting smile handed something that looked almost like a Bloody Mary on steroids—including shrimp, asparagus, olives, and croutons—to the guy on my left before giving me the once-over and smiling.
"What on earth was that?" Trying to break the ice, I asked the most innocuous question I could think of.
"It's the moonshine version of a Bloody Mary called a Slutty Marie." He smiled. "What can I get for you?"
"Do you serve anything less lethal than moonshine? I am driving. How about bottled water?"
"I can do that." He reached beneath the counter before twisting off the top and pouring the water into a tall glass. "Splash of lime?" he asked. When I nodded, he slid the ice-cold glass onto a coaster and over to me. I hadn't realized I was thirsty until I gulped it down.
"Thanks." I played with the colorful pic he'd used to insert a couple of lime wedges before popping one into my mouth. Despite the tartness, it tasted refreshing. Next, I contemplated how to negotiate my way to the next level of conversation. But first things first.
I always liked to keep a visual on the Qs and noticed they had spread themselves out, which was good. Alice seemed enamored with a guy at the end of the bar. With a head full of gray hair, he was a good-looking man in his 70s or 80s. I could see Alice was in full-court flirt mode. Good for her.
Since the Qs had everything under control on their end, that meant I was free to get to the bottom of the situation. I'd grown a lot since coming to Iowa and pretty much had a kick-butt attitude most of the time. But here, despite the laid-back atmosphere, I felt a little out of my element.
"I don't remember seeing you here before. Is this your first time?" the bartender asked, bringing my attention back.
I nodded and took another sip. "Yep. I seem to have picked senior night."
He chuckled. "I'm guessing you're a little surprised by the age of the crowd, but that's how we roll at Purdy's. Moonshine hasn't quite caught on with the younger set."
I smiled, loosening up at his affable nature. "On the good-news side, I feel like a kid again."
"You can't be more than thirty."
"I'll be thirty-one soon. It's going to be a dark day being on the other side of that hill." I couldn't quite figure out why this guy who looked like he might be a clone of the other three seemed so normal. I felt more relaxed than I should have, especially if he was the same guy I'd overheard in the back room. Somehow I had to subtly ask him about drugs. That was going to be a tough one to throw into the conversation.
"This seems like a popular place for being in the middle of nowhere."
"Purdy does okay."
"Purdy? Is that the owner's name?" For some reason the lie didn't slide as easily through my lips as normal when I'm a mission. I didn't know if worrying about the Qs was playing havoc with my mojo or if that hit on the head caused a hiccup in my game.
"She's one tough old lady."
"I have a few of those in my life as well," I mumbled. "Is Purdy around? I'd love to get her take on being a successful female entrepreneur." When I slid the water glass back onto the coaster, it slipped, tipping the ice onto the bar top.
He removed the glass and wiped down the mess I'd made. "Haven't seen her so far." He gave me a flirtatious smile. "No offense, but you're not our usual clientele. And you have no interest in moonshine. You just here to meet Purdy?"
"I was a little curious, as her reputation precedes her. Quite an interesting business empire she's developed."
A flush shimmied down my back as beads of sweat pooled along my hairline. I grasped the edge of the bar top for support. The room seemed to tilt on its side.
"Are you okay?" Before I knew it, he'd slid to the other side of the bar. But I didn't remember how he'd gotten by my side.
"I…I…" For the life of me, I couldn'
t get the words out. I'd never had this problem before when I drank…but wait…I was drinking…water.
"We've got a couch in the back room. Let me help you there so you can rest a bit."
Without waiting for an answer, he moved again, and I found myself being guided away as I struggled to keep the dizziness at bay.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I didn't comprehend what I was hearing, while at the same time, at some level, I did. First, there was pounding at the door that seemed a million miles away and reverberated like an echo chamber. I was pretty sure someone was calling my name, but this reverberation thing was killing me.
My eyes didn't want to open, and I was okay with that. I felt too tired to do anything, but it was the pounding on the door that wouldn't let me sleep. Why was I so tired and out of it? And how long had I been this way?
It couldn't be the water. Unless it wasn't water. But it sure tasted like water. Wait. Was it the bartender? No, I'd hit my head. And right now it hurt way too much. I just wanted to go to sleep.
"Let us in." Alice pounded on the door.
I heard other voices but couldn't distinguish one from the other.
"You…go…" The words were muffled and mixed up in my head.
I needed to get to the door. Pronto. "Coming." I didn't hear my voice make a sound, but in my head the word came out. I flopped off the couch, landing in a thump on the floor.
The noise outside increased. I eyed the door, which seemed to be a million miles away. Whoever had put me here must have disappeared.
"What's…" My words came out indecipherable after that.
I needed to get to the door. At least get onto my knees. But my whole body seemed to be on shutdown mode. Where had that bartender gone?
My mind tunneled through the information, but I wasn't sure what was real and what was a figment of whatever this weird thing invading my body was. I wanted to shout but couldn't. Feeling more than a little powerless, I urged my body to work.
"I'm…calling the…right now." Viola's voice filtered through the door, and I could feel my lips curl into a smile. I thought it was a smile. Right now I couldn't decide if any of my body parts functioned normally.
The knob turned. I looked up to see the Qs, and all was right with the world. Satisfied, I passed out once again.
* * *
"I'm fine." I wasn't really fine but didn't want to stay in the hospital. A police guy, who I didn't remember seeing before, had a pad of paper in his hand as the ladies took turns relating what had transpired inside Purdy's.
"Are you sure she doesn't take drugs? Sometimes people can be very secretive when they're addicts."
"She is not an addict. The girl barely drinks. Now, I want you to concentrate on figuring out who did this to her." Viola's voice was scarier than I might have imagined as she went on sternly lecturing somebody in a tone I didn't remember hearing from her before. "I'm a nurse, and I know that what happened to this woman is not normal. You need to make sure whoever did this is prosecuted." Her voice quivered on the end.
So sweet. I got a little misty-eyed when I patted her hand. "I do like wine, but that's it. Gabe doesn't drink, so I don't much either. I only had water. But…" While it wasn't my usual rambling, I was making a valiant attempt at coming close, considering my near-death experience.
There was a sharp intake of breath as everyone around me seemed to be reacting like I was a baby taking their first steps—well, at least the Qs. Waiting patiently for me to be fully functional again.
"We checked the water she was drinking, and it was fine," the officer said.
"Somebody slipped that girl a mickey. We need to know who." Alice's voice was music to my ears. No one messed with Alice or her people. Luckily, I was included in that circle.
"I believe that's my job, ma'am."
"And we're here to make sure you do your job, young man. What kind of place is that Purdy's? Do you know they sell moonshine there?" Ramona asked.
"They have a license to sell micro-distilled spirits. Perfectly legal in the state of Iowa," the officer said before continuing. "May I ask what you all were doing there? I understand you're from Inez, so it's a little out of your way."
For once the Qs were quiet. Normally they were a little quicker on the uptake. And I didn't trust my voice yet. Who knew what kind of secrets I might divulge since this fog in my head didn't seem to want to leave without a fight?
"We were looking for a new place to check out. Just because we're seniors doesn't mean we sit at home on our duffs," Dolly said in her best schoolteacher voice.
"I never said anything of the kind. I'm only trying to figure out what happened to your friend," the officer said.
His intonation sounded a little ambiguous when he said your friend. It wasn't the first time I'd run into that kind of skepticism about hanging out with a bunch of senior citizens. To me, they felt like they were my contemporaries. Most times I was pretty sure they acted less mature than I did.
"We ran some blood tests to see what we'd find."
"Don't go there. If you think you can insinuate Izzy took drugs…" Viola was in her feisty hands-on-her-hips pose. How could I not love that woman? In fact, how could I not love all these women? I got a little misty-eyed again as emotion welled up inside me.
"Somebody slipped her some of that GHB drug I bet," Viola said.
Before the officer had a chance to defend himself, a doctor walked into the room. "Your bloodwork came back clean. As a caveat, I will say that some things do not stay in the bloodstream long enough to be traceable. Are you allergic to anything?"
"No, not that I'm aware of."
"Are you pregnant?"
There was a collective gasp and then an excited squeal from Viola as well as the other ladies. While we never discussed my love life with Gabe, I was pretty sure they knew the score in that regard. I shook my head. "No."
The Qs responded with a sound like deflating balloons.
"The test on that came back negative too."
I wanted to ask him why he'd bothered to inquire then but didn't. Figured I should conserve energy.
"Usually we see this kind of extreme reaction from something like peanuts or maybe shrimp. Are you sure you're not sensitive to either of those things?"
"There weren't any peanuts that I remember, but there was some shrimp in a Slutty Mary drink the bartender prepared before he served me my water. I don't think I'm allergic, but I did have a shrimp and crab salad recently and felt a little weird afterward—nothing like this, but lightheaded."
"Most times allergies get worse over time. Could be that's what we're looking at." The doctor shook his head. "I've had one of those at Purdy's. They're amazing, but they'll kick your butt for sure. Maybe the bartender had some shrimp residue on his hands when he poured your water. He said you hit your head on the bar when you started to fall, which is what knocked you out."
"Nothing else makes much sense."
"It's the only thing plausible. The police already have the glass for evidence. Now that we know foul play wasn't involved, we can do some testing on it to see if there are any traces."
"Maybe I should have some allergy testing done. I don't want that to happen again if I can help it." I wasn't sure I had a choice but felt like I needed to say something.
"How are you feeling now?" The doctor smiled. "You look much better, less pale, and your blood pressure is normal. I'm discharging you if you feel up to it."
"I'm more than ready."
"But I don't want you to drive."
I nodded and thought through my choices of women to drive my car back. The safest best would probably be either Viola or Dolly. They both were a little more even-tempered than the other two and would be able to see over the steering wheel. We'd figure it out when we got there.
The Qs insisted I needed a wheelchair to leave. I was too tired to fight them but was more than a little nervous when Alice was the one to push me outside. Frankly, that should scare anyone. One of the police officers had a
lready delivered my car to the hospital, and the ladies argued about who should drive. I tried to stay out of the melee but was pulling for Viola. In the end, they decided on toss a coin.
And wouldn't you know it, Alice won.
Worst. Drive. Home. Ever.
And that included the time when somebody tried to kill me.
* * *
By the following morning, I felt like my old self again. After a strong dose of coffee, I got dressed in old clothes and ventured downstairs. Since my plan of trying to get the storefront downstairs rented through word of mouth wasn't working, I opted to hang up a sign in order to increase visibility. Prior to this, the only potential client I'd had was a guy who wanted to sell fishing gear, including minnows and worms, to the locals. Besides the fact his choice of store goods was abysmal, he didn't have the capital to even rent the place for a month, so I took a pass.
Besides, there was the Yuck-o factor. The last thing I wanted to think about was worms crawling around down below my space. I did a full-body shimmy just thinking about it.
I'd made up the sign a while ago, so it was ready to go. I taped it onto the window and opened up the front door to let in some fresh air. As I gathered my finished art projects into a pile against the wall, I swept up the residue dust that had accumulated since I'd last been down there.
Then I brought the old round table of Viola's outside. She'd asked me to spruce it up, so I had decided to paint some flowers on the top. I grabbed paints in every color of the rainbow and did a run-through in my head of placement and colors. And thought and planned and thought some more. She wasn't picky about those kinds of things, but I was a perfectionist when it came to my art.
The wooden table had seen better days, and I thought a light green/blue color would be the perfect backdrop to the flowers I planned to hand paint. I mixed a little green with a little blue, added some yellow and white to tone it down and soften it up, and called it done. Next I retrieved my roller brush and gave it two coats.
