A Glimmer of Death

by Valerie Wilson Wesley

  * * *

  My mystery couple canceled at the last minute, which annoyed me. But it wasn’t a sudden craving for barbecued ribs, chicken wings, or a slice of my 7-UP cake that sent me to Royal’s Regal Barbecue too early for dinner, too late for lunch. It was the need for normalcy and comfort. Darryl used to call Royal’s Regal Barbecue a clean, well-lighted place. He always said it with a wink because it was a reference to a Hemingway story he loved and a reminder that he’d been an English lit major in college. I smiled now as I remembered it. Royal’s Regal Barbecue was what I needed—a place safe and free of craziness. I needed familiar barbecue smells and the comfort that comes with a plate of good food and a cheerful friendly welcome. I had a wide grin on my face when I walked into Royal’s, but my grin turned down when I settled into my usual spot at the end of the counter. Georgia’s attitude and suspicious eye hinted that I just might be better off at Risko’s.

  I wished there was a way to let this woman know I had no designs on a man she was obviously interested in, but I could think of no tactful way to tell her. I gave up playing games with folks—male and female—twenty-odd years ago when I left my early twenties. I had no designs on Lennox Royal. He was a customer and I was his baker. There was nothing between us, and probably never would be. Georgia wasn’t buying it.

  “Mr. Royal is in the kitchen, if that’s who you’re looking for,” she said with a touch of malice. “If not, what can I do for you?”

  I smiled sweetly. “I need to talk to Mr. Royal about his order. I’d also like a cup of coffee and the last slice of that delicious 7-UP cake,” I said, tooting my own horn. I was sure she knew who baked it. “I’m always in here for one thing or another, and I don’t think I’ve ever introduced myself. I’m Mrs. Dessa Jones,” I said when she brought my order.

  “Georgia Wickham. Just Georgia Wickham,” she said, still eyeing me suspiciously. “Didn’t you used to come in here with a man?” she added after a moment.

  “Yes, that was Darryl, my husband. He passed away about a year ago.” I stared at the coffee swirling in my cup because I didn’t want her to see the pain in my eyes.

  When I glanced at her again, I noticed a glint of sympathy. Maybe she wasn’t as bad as she pretended to be. “Sorry to hear that. He seemed like a nice man.”

  “Yes, he was.”

  She studied me, summing me up. She struck me as the kind of woman who checked out, for better or worse, every woman under fifty who talked to her boss.

  “So how long have you worked for Mr. Royal?” I asked.

  “After Pearl, his wife, left. I stepped in to help him run it. Pearl was, is, one of my best friends. I’m still helping him run things.”

  I was curious how long that had been, and why his wife, Pearl, had left and why she’d left her best friend to cover for her. But Georgia didn’t volunteer any information, and I certainly didn’t ask. I wondered if she and Lennox were partners—of some sort or another—and if he knew how possessive she was. I doubted he did. Like most men when it came to women, he probably didn’t have a clue. He probably wasn’t sure how to handle his feelings, if he had any, or hers, if he knew about them, so he kept them to himself. If he wanted me to know more about his life, he’d tell me sooner or later. Whatever was between them was their business, not mine. I just hoped the woman didn’t put salt in my food.

  Lennox’s eyes lit up when he made his way in from the kitchen. I hoped Georgia didn’t notice.

  “Hey, good to see you. You’re in here just in time for this week’s order. A big one,” he added as he pulled out the stool he kept behind the counter and slid onto it.

  “I got errands to run; I’ll be back in time to help out with dinner,” Georgia said as he sat down.

  “I think I’m covered, Georgia, but thanks anyway.”

  “What about Lena?”

  “She’s good! See you later. Speaking of Lena, I’ve got something for you,” he said, turning to me. Georgia’s eyes fastened on us both before she headed out the door. Lennox pulled the cookie tin off a shelf and handed it to me. “Do you mind?”

  “Of course not. Chocolate chip okay?”

  “I’d say yeah, and two yellow cakes with chocolate frosting, and another pound cake, if it’s not too much trouble.” He wrote me a check for more than he owed me. “Small down payment on the next order.”

  “It’s way too much money but thanks,” I said. Being in the business, he knew that the price of eggs, sugar, and good chocolate were no joke. I was glad they were just plain yellow cakes. “Thursday afternoon okay?”

  “Sounds good. Want some more coffee? Unless you thought my coffee was too strong.”

  “I’m getting used to it. But tea would be good. Have anything herbal?”

  “Constant Comment, is that okay? I should get some herbal teas around here, chamomile, peppermint, something like that. Cool folks out when they need it.”

  He brought a cup of Constant Comment and we sat in easy silence, each of us lost in our thoughts, Lennox possibly making a mental note to add herbal teas to his grocery list or wondering how to deal with Georgia Wickham. I was wondering how to bring up murder versus suicide. Finally, I just asked.

  “Is there a way you can make a murder look like suicide?”

  Lennox chuckled. “You’ve decided to apply to the police academy? Good idea, you’d probably make a good cop. What’s up with a question like that?”

  “A lady in my office committed suicide over the weekend, and I’m wondering if it’s something else,” I blurted out.

  Lennox put his cup down so quickly his coffee spilled on the counter. “Odessa, you’re not serious.”

  “Yes, I am,” I said, suddenly realizing that Lennox called me Odessa when he thought he had something important to say. Basically, though, we had become Dessa kind of friends, which was great because I didn’t like reminding him of his grandmother . . . or myself of Aunt Phoenix. “So can you tell a murder from a suicide?”

  “Your boy is still the main suspect, right? But they can track him so it wasn’t him. You know who I suspect? The wife and her boyfriend.”

  “What about murder masked as suicide?” I asked again, not willing to condemn Tanya yet and trying to bring him back to the main subject.

  Lennox mopped up his spilled coffee with a sponge, taking his time before he began to speak. “Depends on the suicide. If the victim left a note, where the body is found, stuff like that. Drownings or hanging, it’s usually the way the body is positioned. If the rope is found in a certain position, or when the water entered the lungs, is a giveaway. A shooting death, that depends on how the person is shot and where they find the gun and the residue. A poisoning is similar. But most suicides don’t use poison, they use pills or alcohol. Where was the body found, who found it, and how did she die?”

  “Coworkers found it,” I said, leaving out the role I played. “Her body was found in her bed. She drank a lot of alcohol and took some pills. Gin and Ambien, and I think she also had some vodka.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Over the weekend.”

  “How did you find out so much, so soon?” Lennox said, regarding me with a hint of suspicion.

  “The coworker who found her was really upset and told me about it,” I said with as straight a face as I could manage.

  “What did the ME say?”

  “He has to do an autopsy, but said it could be suicide or possibly an accidental death.”

  “Then that’s probably what it was. If she was in her own bed, and they found the liquor and pills, that’s what happened. Somebody would have to get her drunk, ply her with pills, and put a pillow over her head when she passed out. That’s the only way it could be done if it was murder, and he or she would probably need to have the key to the apartment. Was there a note?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, which was the truth, yet knowing that Vinton had keys to Juda’s apartment made me uneasy.

  “Was the woman involved with that Charlie Risko guy?”


  “Yeah, an ex-lover,” I said, leaving out the juicy stuff.

  “You know what I would do if I were you, Odessa? I’d get out of that damn place while you still have a heartbeat,” he said, only half joking.

  I smiled but it wasn’t real, and he could tell, and he wasn’t joking when he continued. “If you need me, call me. You’ve got my number here, and here’s my cell. Promise me you’ll use it if you need to, okay? Day or night. If you feel scared or worried that something doesn’t feel like it should.”

  I nodded and wrote down my home number and cell for him. It might just come in handy.

  The dinner folks were trickling in by then, and Georgia wasn’t there to help. Lennox went to check on his kitchen and Lena in her place. I left with more troubling doubts about all of my coworkers than I came in with. My clean and well-lit place was certainly clean, but not as well lit as I’d hoped it would be.

  It was a merlot night. A double one, at that. I watched the news, trying to take my mind off the day, and ignored Juniper mewing loudly for his evening snack. He’d recently taken to nipping lightly at my pant legs when he didn’t get what he wanted—a “gentle reminder,” since he did it without drawing blood. I stood my ground. I’d recently seen a show on the news about obese pets, and although Juniper wasn’t there yet, his round body bore enough of a resemblance to the featured cat to make me cut back on his treats. After a while, he gave up and settled down in the chair next to me and purred himself to sleep.

  I can’t say I wasn’t expecting the call when it came, thanks, in part, to the gift. I was owed a call, and the person on the other end knew it, which was why it took him so long to answer when I finally said his name.

  “How are you doing, Harley?”

  “How did you know it was me?”

  “Who else but somebody with no place to go and no one to talk to would call me at this time of night?” Of course, there was one other person who I didn’t bother to mention.

  “I haven’t been able to call anyone, Dessa. I don’t want to talk; I’m too scared. Especially after what happened to Juda. That really freaked me out.”

  “Didn’t you just say you were too scared to talk to anybody?” I said skeptically.

  “Tanya left a message, but I didn’t call her back.”

  “Juda wasn’t murdered. It was a suicide or accidental death,” I said for the third time today. Who was I trying to convince?

  “They don’t know that!” I couldn’t see his face, but his voice told me everything I needed to know. “I want to ask you for a favor.” I rolled my eyes, grateful he couldn’t see me.

  “What do you want this time?”

  “Can you bring Parker home?” A request for Parker was the last thing I expected, and then he added, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about that night, what really happened, about all the stuff I forgot. I need to run it by somebody I trust. Will you come by? Please, Dessa. I’m losing it. I really don’t know what’s going to happen to me.”

  I waited for a minute before answering, and finally did because he was clearly in need of company, human and bird. “Okay, I’ll come by tomorrow after I pick him up.”

  “Pick up Parker? You mean he’s not living with you?” he squealed in alarm.

  “No, and I’ll see you when I see you,” I said and hung up.

  Chapter 16

  I was annoyed with Harley and didn’t hide it. Although I hadn’t admitted it to Tanya, I was surprised I hadn’t heard from him. By morning, I was feeling more charitable. After all, the man had been in jail for two weeks for a murder he said he didn’t commit and confined to his apartment until his trial. God only knew how that would go. Yet I couldn’t forget that glimmer of belief I’d felt so strongly when I visited him in jail. It had convinced me of his innocence.

  I’d promised Lennox his order by Thursday, so I decided to get Lena’s chocolate chip cookies out of the way early; cookies keep better than cakes. If you’re going to bake two dozen cookies, you may as well bake four dozen, so I threw in some for Harley; he’d probably need them. Always timely and in touch with my life, Aunt Phoenix sent me a text as I pulled out the last batch.

  Celestine gone. Come get this damn bird.

  Are you referring to dear little Parker? I joked when I texted her back. Be there in an hour.

  Aunt Phoenix was in a testy mood when she opened the door. Parker was squawking like crazy in the living room. I hadn’t come a moment too soon.

  “When did Celestine leave?” I asked as I gathered up Parker’s belongings.

  “Last night, after we got back from the casino.” Aunt Phoenix opened her flask to take a nip of cherry brandy as she settled down in her rocking chair to watch me work.

  “How did you all do at the casinos?” I asked, as if I didn’t know.

  “Cleaned up, of course,” she said with a sly smile. “Check your bank account when you get home.”

  “Aunt Phoenix!” I stopped packing, ready to scold her even though I knew it would do no good.

  “‘Thank you’ will suffice. Give Celestine a call, too. She racked up almost as much as me. Almost,” she added with a wink, then turned to glare at Parker in his cage. “He was fine last night, then started up his mess when he realized Celestine was gone. Nasty little thing!” she said, scrunching up her face in disapproval. “Where’s he going now?”

  “Back to his owner.”

  “He’s out of jail?”

  I didn’t remember telling Aunt Phoenix who Parker belonged to or that his owner was in jail. But that was neither here nor there.

  “You got Rosie’s charm?” she asked, concern in her voice.

  “Always.” I pulled it out so she could see it.

  “Keep it close,” she said.

  I piled Parker’s belongings into a garbage bag, put it in my car, and then returned for him. “By the way, did you get a call from the Weatherbees? They’re new in town and looking for a house,” Aunt Phoenix said just as I was heading out.

  I stopped to warily study her. “These people aren’t distant relatives, are they? I can’t take any more gifts, glimmers, ghosts. . . .”

  “We don’t do ghosts,” she said firmly. “Just nice people I met at the supermarket who I’d like to help out.”

  “They made an appointment, then canceled at the last minute. You sure they’re not connected to us somehow?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll take you at your word,” I said, still suspicious and wondering exactly who these people were.

  “My word is all you’ve got,” said Aunt Phoenix, taking another nip from her flask, which left me wondering.

  * * *

  Parker was quiet on the drive to Harley’s place; I was grateful for that. He must have sensed we were getting close because he started squawking—big-time. I left him in the car and rang the buzzer. Harley opened the door on the first ring.

  I was shocked to see the state of his apartment, how dark and stuffy it had become. The blinds were pulled down and the lights were so dim it seemed as if he was hiding from somebody. Maybe he was.

  “I don’t want anyone to know I’m here,” he said. “I’m scared, Dessa. Of everything and everyone.”

  “Harley, that thing you have on your leg cuts both ways. It will protect you from anyone who means you harm,” I said, trying to reassure him as I studied the heavy contraption strapped around his ankle. It looked as if it weighed ten pounds, and although he could walk, it dragged him down. “How far can you walk in that thing?”

  “Around my place, to my mailbox, the end of the driveway. If I go outside, like to the store or to work, I need to let them know ahead of time. They know where I am every minute, but that’s okay with me. But, Dessa, I’m desperate. I know they’re going to do me in. There was a story on the news about a guy who served twenty-five years for a crime he didn’t commit. I don’t want that to be me.”

  “How does the monitor work?” I asked, eager to change the subject.

  “It tra
cks you from a satellite. It’s waterproof; you can’t cut it off. Some people say you can get it off if you try hard enough. But it’s on till you go to trial.” Just saying the word trial seemed to affect him. “Where’s Parker?”

  “I left him in the car.”

  “Do you want me to help you bring him in?” he asked, keen to see his feathered friend, then looked at his ankle and sighed. “I almost forgot that I’m stuck in here.”

  “Don’t worry. I can bring him into the lobby.”

  I hauled Parker’s cage and the rest of his paraphernalia out of my car and into the building. When the bird saw Harley, his screeching took on a milder, sweeter tone, close to a melody, which was new to me. Harley carried the cage into his apartment, and after it was positioned, opened the cage door and the bird flew out, landing freely around the room. Apparently, this was something he did on a regular basis. After ten minutes of freedom, he perched on Harley’s wrist and began to “talk” in a language that only Harley seemed to understand. The scene between the two was strangely touching.

  “How you doin’, man? How you been?” Harley asked, as if expecting an answer that Parker actually gave by dropping his head to one side and tweeting softly. Harley grinned as if he understood. “Sorry I haven’t been around, man. Thank Mrs. Jones for looking out for you. Here, Dessa, you want him to fly to you?” He pointed the bird in my direction.

  “No, I’m good,” I said, not eager to feel those sharp little claws on my wrist. The two of them “spoke” a while longer until the bird flew back into his cage. Parker’s presence had a visible effect on Harley, and I was glad I’d brought him.

  “You need to meet my aunt Celestine. You two have a lot in common,” I said as he closed the cage door. He looked puzzled. “Ask Parker,” I added.

  “You want some tea or a drink or something?” he asked, after making sure Parker was settled. “I have plenty of food. My mom’s reading group, the Aging Readers Club, brought me over so much food I can’t eat it all. I didn’t tell them that, though.”

  “You need to eat something to keep your health up.”