Done Rubbed Out

by Jeffery Craig

  “I’m fine, Grams,” he replied, although he wasn’t. “It was late when I got home and I was really out of it.”

  “What happened, hon?” she asked him quietly.

  He told her how he’d found a man murdered in the spa, and about the events that led to his arrest. He didn’t go into much detail, hoping to spare her any unnecessary upset. Then he came to the hard part. “Grams?” his voice was very quiet and soft. “The man who was killed, was Geri.” The phone was silent except for a quick intake of breath, and the sound of her breathing. “Grams?”

  “I’m heard you, Toby. I’m just trying to take it in.” Her voice was very sad. “My heart is breaking for that poor, sweet misguided boy.”

  “Mine is too, Grams.” And it was, although the breaking had started a year ago. He could hear her sniffling and could picture her wiping her eyes with a kitchen towel, or maybe her apron.

  “When’s the burial, Toby? She asked after a moment.

  Toby went silent, shocked by the question. “I haven’t even thought about it. I’m not even sure when they’ll release his body. How could I not know that?”

  “Honey, it’s alright. You’ve had quite an upset and more than a few other things to deal with.” When he didn’t respond, she prodded him gently. “Toby Bailey, please don’t go quiet on me. I know you’re sitting there convincing yourself you’re an awful person and you need to stop that right now. It’s not going to do anyone any good whatsoever, and it isn’t true.”

  “Grams, what am I going to do?”

  “You’ll do what needs to be done. The Lord knows the poor boy doesn’t have anyone else in this world that will.” The phone was silent for a moment and then she told him, “Bring him home, Toby. Bring him home. This was his home for a while, as much as anywhere. What better place for him to be, than here, where he was and always will be loved?” After a quiet moment, she continued, her mind turning to things needing to be done, rather than to her own grief. “We’ve a whole big empty row of cemetery plots down here. Your Gramps always figured someone would need ‘em. Might as well put one of them to good use – the ground’s just sitting there waiting.”

  “But, Grams…”

  “No buts about it, Toby! It’s what I want, and what your mamma and your Gramps would want if they knew the situation. Although, I suspect they do, up where they are now.” She waited and then added, “When they release his body, bring Geri home.”

  He thought over her words while tears ran down his cheeks. “Grams, I will. I’ll bring him home, when they let me.”

  “Good. I’ll call down to Goodwin’s and get them started on the arrangements. You have any idea what you want?”

  Her pragmatic tone of voice helped him collect himself and soon he was able to answer. “I think something simple, Grams. Other than that, I just don’t know.”

  “Honey, simple is often the best. The dead don’t much care anyway.” She knew he was hurt and grieving, and probably sadder than he even knew, but she’d never been a person who coddled others along and she wasn’t going to start now. “It’s only those of us who are left behind that care, Toby. I’ll give them a call and they’ll be ready when it’s time. Now, do you need me to come up there?”

  “No, ma’am, I don’t think so. I’ve got a lot of things to take care of, so that’ll keep my mind occupied. I don’t even know when I’ll be able to open yet, and I need to call the staff and the customers who’ve made appointments. If I have any left.”

  “Oh, you’ll have customers left, Toby, even if they reschedule just out of morbid curiosity. That’s one of the bitter truths of the world. Folks always flock to where there’s been trouble. Just don’t let them get to you – no matter what nonsense tumbles out of their mouths. You hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “That’s my boy. I’ll take care of things on this end and you’d better get started on things there. I know it’s going to be really hard, but don’t wallow around in doubts or recriminations. It doesn’t help, and it often hurts. I speak from experience, so you listen and take my advice.”

  “Yes, Grams. I’ll will. Love you.” He ended the call and set the phone down. He poured himself another cup of coffee and went to track down some clothes, and another pair of shoes.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MELBA FLAILED ABOUT in her double bed, struggling to find the button to silence the blaring alarm, and knocked over a glass of water in the process. “Dammit!” She flung back the tangled sheets and covers and sat up on the edge of the bed, breathing heavily. She’d slept deeply, probably due to the three glasses of zinfandel she’d finished – along with the too old carton of sesame noodles – when she returned from her aborted attempt at grocery shopping. She gently touched her scraped cheek, noticing it was still tender from its short, but meaningful contact with concrete. She allowed herself a moment of worry about the events of last evening, and then shook it off. “Probably just some nutcase,” she told herself, although the whispered warning echoed in her mind. It bothered her more than she cared to admit. She shuffled to the bathroom, took care of business, and applied some generic-brand antibiotic ointment on her cheek. “Aren’t you pretty?” she asked the mirror as she ran a brush through her bedraggled hair.

  After starting the coffee, she turned on her small television. That was a mistake. The news stations had been late in covering the story, but were making up for it now.

  “…and here we see Mr. Toby Bailey, one of the proprietors of the well-known Time Out Spa, being escorted downtown for booking,” announced the suave, over-groomed news anchor as the video clip played. “Mr. Bailey was arrested late Wednesday evening for the suspected murder of a yet unnamed victim, but has since been released. All charges have been dropped following yesterday’s interrogation by senior homicide Detective Melba Reightman and her partner, Detective Sam Jackson.”

  The station flashed an unflattering photo of her – and a pretty good picture of Sam – up on the screen. “Long time City Police Chief, Ernest Kelly, in an off camera interview earlier this morning, confirmed Mr. Bailey is no longer a person of interest in the investigation. News 7’s repeated calls to the office of the District Attorney have not been returned. However, insiders have told News 7 reporters this is one of the most brutal murder the city has seen in several years. Currently, no additional suspects have been identified.”

  Melba aggressively pointed the controller at the set, and changed the channel. News 39 and News 14 had more of the same. She punched the ‘off’ button on the remote, and tossed it toward the coffee table. It landed in her mug. So far, her day was off to a great start, and it was past time to hit the shower.

  She emerged thirty minutes later, prepared for her day. She moved on to the next item on her list. “Time to call the diabolically clever Madame Zhou Li,” she decided and reached for her purse. After digging around for her cell phone, she simply gave up, and upended the bag over the kitchen counter. She reached into the jumbled mess to grab her phone, but stopped mid-motion. Lying in the middle of the pile was not one, but two, phones. She fished out the phone she recognized as hers and moved it to the side. She started to pick up the other, but stopped herself for some reason. Recalling her training, she bent down and pulled a pair of yellow dish gloves from underneath the sink and pulled them on. She then picked up the strange phone.

  It was one of the newer smart phones, encased in a brushed silver-toned case, which had no identifying marks. She turned the phone over in her hands, examining it carefully. Satisfied with her inspection, she pressed the power button with one plastic covered finger. Nothing happened. She pushed again. When the screen failed to light up, she decided the battery was dead. “Where did you come from?”

  She put the phone back on the counter and threw the motley collection of items back into her purse while reviewing her last twenty four hours. “How did you get in my purse?” she glanced at the phone. It gave back a silvery gleam – communicating with her somehow. She frowned, her brain pickin
g up on a clue which evaporated as quickly as it’d manifested. “Come on Melba, think!” She shut her eyes and concentrated, thinking back to the night before. Deciding to buy a few groceries…finding a great parking place…hurrying into the store, colliding with someone and then falling to the ground…disoriented …she’d focused her eyes and had seen…shopping carts, gleaming silver in the store lights…her stuff scattered on the ground, and a lot of hands helping her to place things back in her purse…hands putting things in her purse…

  She tried to remember the faces of the people who’d helped, but she couldn’t – other than the face of the concerned store employee. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, trying to remember, before finally giving up. She had a pretty good idea of when, and how, the phone had been placed in her purse, but the rest was a total mystery. She added it to the list.

  She pulled out a plastic sandwich baggy and placed the phone inside, sealing it before placing it in her purse. Then she picked up her phone and dialed Zhou Li.

  Madame Zhou suggested they meet for a mid-morning conversation over a cup of tea. From the remarks made yesterday, Reightman knew she wouldn’t be treated to a tall cold glass of southern sweet tea, but beyond that, she had no idea what to expect. Probably some straw-like, bagged herbal variety served in an upscale bistro or coffee shop. At least their meeting would held be on neutral ground.

  “Where would you like to meet?” she asked, reaching for something on which to write down the address.

  “Why, Detective, we will meet at Green Dragon, of course. It will be much nicer than any of the local establishments and will give us the added benefit of privacy while we get to know one another better. I assume that you are familiar with the address?” Reightman suppressed a shiver at the thought of a private tete-a-tete with Zhou Li, but indicated she was indeed, familiar with the location.

  “Excellent. I will expect you promptly at 10. I am looking forward to it, Detective.”

  Melba took a quick inventory of her appearance; dark blue jacket and slacks, beige blouse and sensible, low-heeled footwear. Remembering the old lady’s eccentric appearance the day before, she decided it was good enough. Besides, her limited wardrobe could only accomplish so much. As a newly divorced woman, she didn’t have much extra cash for nice clothes and a detective’s salary didn’t stretch very far these days. She added a touch of lipstick and after taking a quick glance in the mirror she decided the shade really didn’t do her any favors. Good thing she wasn’t aiming to be included on anyone’s best dressed list. She grabbed her things and locked up the condo.

  She made a quick call to the Chief to fill him in on her plans for the morning, and he relayed the official permission to involve Bailey and Zhou in the case, in a limited capacity. Fifteen minutes later, she pulled into a space directly in front of Green Dragon.

  A small set of bells attached to the door chimed softly as she made her way inside. Reightman stopped just inside the shop entrance, surveying her surroundings. The shop interior was painted a cool, calm green, very similar to colors used across the street in the spa. There was a deep red accent wall at the back of the shop behind an old fashioned dark wood counter. An intricately embroidered scroll of a rearing green oriental dragon was hung in the center of the wall, and a huge brass scale of some sort set square on the counter. Melba identified it as an apothecary scale and decided it was probably older than she was. Simple wooden shelves hugged the walls on the two longer sides, displaying pristine glass jars filled with unknown herbs, and groupings of teapots and small cups without handles. A couple of large rocks were placed here and there along the shelf, their striations and coloring reminding her of wind-swept beaches or desert sand dunes. There was a closed door on the right-hand wall, positioned between the wooden shelves, presumably leading into the vacant storefront next door. Recalling the Chief’s mention of Zhou’s substantial real estate holdings, she decided Zhou Li must own the entire building. An open doorway to the back of the shop was screened with intricately carved wooden beads.

  Music played softly, made up of some unknown instruments – perhaps some sort of flute accompanied by the occasional plucking of almost discordant strings. All-in-all, the space was clean and elegant, not at all what she’d expected. As she finished taking in her surroundings, a voice called from behind the beaded curtain. “Come on back, Detective, I’m through here.”

  Reightman parted the curtain, causing the beads to clash gently together with a rustling, wooden sound. She turned back, attempting to still them with her hands. “Don’t worry about that, Detective. Those beads are nothing but a nuisance. I should have replaced them ages ago, but they’ve been here forever. I suppose I just don’t give their rattle much thought anymore.” Zhou Li came forward from the middle of the room to great her.

  Gone was the deceptively harmless old Asian woman of yesterday. Madame Zhou was dressed in an impeccable pair of dark gray linen pants, with a dark green silk blouse. She wore a strand of the biggest, dark gray pearls Reightman had ever seen – not that she’d seen many. Matching pearl earrings the size of a bird egg were tightly screwed to her ear lobes. Her tiny feet were encased in a pair of elegant dark green leather flats. “Crocodile,” Reightman identified the material, “and you probably hunted, killed it, ate it and cobbled those shoes out of the hide before I had my first cup of coffee.” She felt shabby in her own ensemble and tugged at her jacket. At least polyester didn’t wrinkle too badly.

  Madame Zhou stepped closer to her, peered through her huge, thick lensed glasses and extended her small hand. “Thank you for coming, Detective Reightman. I’m sorry I didn’t greet you when you came in, but I was puttering around back here and must not have heard the bells on the door.”

  Reightman reached out her own hand. “I bet you didn’t hear them. You were probably crouched back here like a spider waiting for an unsuspecting fly.” She fixed a pleasant smile on her face. “That wasn’t a problem at all, Madame Zhou. I enjoyed looking over your shop. You have some very interesting things.”

  “Thank you, Detective, I enjoy collecting things.” Zhou Li gave Reightman’s hand a little pat. “Shall we?” she gestured gracefully to the seating area in the middle of the dimly lit back room.

  Compared to the front of the shop, this room was a treasure trove. Reightman had always heard dragons were famous for their hoards, and tended to guard their things jealously. This was exactly the kind of setting she’d imagine a dragon would find comfortable.

  A multitude of knick-knacks were scattered throughout the room, placed on small pedestals and tables along with several silver framed black and white photos. Multiple painted scrolls hung from the walls, and shelves held a profusion of leather-bound books, some of which appeared to be quite old. Everywhere she looked, something gleamed, glittered or beckoned.

  Zhou Li carefully picked her way through the room to a grouping of four low armchairs clustered around a carved stone tea table. The table’s glass surface was held aloft by eight intricately carved green dragons, their five fingered claws outstretched to support the thick top. In the center of the glass sat a ceramic tea set on a lacquered wooden tray. The tray was inlaid with mother-of-pearl which picked up the room’s light, and reflected back a soft rainbow of colors.

  Zhou Li seated herself in an armchair and indicated Reightman should do the same. “Now, isn’t this more pleasant than meeting in some public establishment?” she asked rhetorically. “We can be cozy and comfortable while we get to know one another and will not have to worry about any over-eager ears.”

  At Reightman’s hesitant nod, the little lady lifted the teapot and began to pour the tea. A sweet, delicious scent of some exotic flower permeated the air. Reightman thought it might be jasmine. As she watched Zhou steady the pot with her hands, she noticed the entire tip of one of the lady’s pinky fingers was missing. Strange that she’d not noticed it yesterday, but then again, she’d been focused on other things.

  Zhou Li followed the detective’s gaze, an
d gave a small shrug. “A reminder of a singularly unpleasant incident from my childhood, Detective, nothing more. Thankfully, it is long past passed.” Reightman noticed Zhou made no attempt to hide the remnants of the finger as handed her one of the small cups. Following the example of her hostess, she blew gently across the pale golden liquid and took a sip. She looked up, surprised. The tea tasted like the most wonderful spring evening. “My own blend,” Zhou said, catching the look on Melba’s face. “I’ll be happy to package some for you when we are through here.”

  “Thank you, Madame. That would be very nice.’” Reightman wondered how much the tea would set her back, but after taking another sip, she decided she didn’t care.

  Zhou Li nodded and sat her own cup on the dragon table, and folded her hands on her lap. Reightman was eager to move immediately into a discussion about the case, but intuited it would not be viewed favorably. Zhou Li had asked her here for a reason, and was obviously not going to spill the beans until she was good and ready.

  Reightman decided she had nothing to lose if she played along. “Have you owned this shop for a long time, Madame Zhou?”

  “For quite some time, Detective. My father opened it shortly after he moved the family here in the 1950s.” She set completely still, waiting for the Detective to respond.

  “That long?” Reightman was surprised she’d never noticed the shop before. “Did your family come from China?”

  “Not directly. My family came from Sarasota, Florida.” Zhou Li gave her a tiny smile, indication the conversational ball was back in Reightman’s court.

  “I’ve heard Sarasota is very nice.”

  “It was, at one time, and I believe it’s striving to be so again.”

  Reightman was beginning to feel a little sticky. She tried to arrange herself more comfortably in the chair. “Had your family lived in Florida for a long time?”

  “Yes, Detective. My grandfather immigrated there in the final days of the nineteenth century.” Zhou picked up her cup, taking a small sip. “Unlike many of the Chinese who came to the United States of America, he came with considerable wealth. And, unlike so many others, he decided to settle here, in the southeastern part of the country, instead of California.” She placed the teacup on the table and waited.