“Um . . . yes.” I giggled. “I believe she did.”
The gals had about fifteen minutes of sister bitch fight left in them before they were able to pull themselves together sufficiently to hold a somewhat normal, albeit horrifically smelling, conversation. I’d never seen so many creative takedowns in my life. The old coots were extremely limber and if they’d been younger, I might have suggested they go out for Cirque du Soleil, but they were pushing seventy and they liked to kill people. Probably not a good fit.
“So Mag,” Edith wheezed, trying to catch her breath after being socked in the stomach with the butt of Mrs. C’s Uzi. “We have a little problem here.”
“That’s right,” Mrs. C added, breathing heavily. “Fuck-for-Brains forgot the tickets and we couldn’t get in. The hotel dick-wads thought we were with the religious ass-munchers protesting outside. We tried to explain nicely that they were mistaken, but . . .”
“But,” Edith cut her sister off, “my sister got impatient and called the little hotel turd-knocker a fucktard and they kicked us out.”
“Interesting,” Luke said with his fingers plugging his nose. “And the rest of the story . . . ?”
“Right.” Edith gave her sister the stink eye and kept going. Mrs. C flipped her off and began to make a show of sharpening her rather intimidating bowie knife. Lovely. “So, the fat cow here decided we should scale the building and crawl through your window.”
“You agreed to it, you stinky hooker,” Mrs. C snapped.
I truly thought Edith was going to self-combust. I’d never seen her so mad. “Yes,” she said steaming, “But I didn’t agree that we needed a quarter mile running start from the skunk-infested field behind the hotel.”
“You agreed if we got a good jump we’d stand a better chance of getting to the second-story ledge, smelly ass.”
“If you make one more odiferous comment, I will knock your head into your shoulders. Permanently.”
I glanced over at the building. There was no way they could have jumped to the second story. They were insane, they smelled like hell—and we had to work with them.
“Why are you wet?” Luke asked the question I was afraid to hear the answer to.
“Shit for brains”—Mrs. C pointed at her sister—“thought it would be a fine idea to wash the scent off in the hotel pool. I’m fairly sure the sirens you hear in the distance are a direct response to that assmonkey move.”
“Did you have a better idea?” Edith ground out through clenched teeth.
“Douche,” Luke said.
“What?” I laughed at his new name for the gals.
“Did you call me a douche?” Mrs. C demanded, brandishing her knife.
“No,” Luke said. “I didn’t call you a douche. I implied that you need to douche.”
“Well of all the . . .” Edith sputtered, picking up her Uzi and aiming at Luke’s head.
“He’s right,” I said, stepping in front of Luke out of habit. Luke chuckled and moved me to his side.
“Thank you for protecting me, light of my life, but I can handle it.” He walked over to Edith and put his hand out for her machine gun. She reluctantly handed it over. “Douche will remove the skunk smell. I’ll run to the drugstore and get some. You and your stench will remain outside with Candy until I get back.”
“Wait one goddamned minute, you’re telling me if we had dunked ourselves in douche instead of pool water, we wouldn’t smell like skunk ass?” Mrs. C asked.
“Close,” Luke told her. “You wouldn’t smell like wet skunk ass, which, by the way, is far worse than plain old skunk ass.”
I had to agree. My gag reflex was on overdrive.
“Well Jesus Christ, that’s the best news I’ve heard since we found out Candy here was Mag the Hag reincarnated,” Edith crowed, and went to hug Luke.
“No,” he yelled, backing away. “While I appreciate the sentiment, I’d probably hurl all over you and we certainly don’t need to add that to the mix.”
“Roger that,” Edith said, saluting him.
“I’ll just run to the store and . . .”
“No need. We have four cases of douche in the back of our van,” Mrs. C informed us.
I was speechless and Luke went pale. The burning question was why they had four cases of douche in their van, but neither one of us was willing or able to touch that one.
“I’ll be right back.” Edith sprinted in the direction of the field.
“Watch out for the fucking skunk,” Mrs. C called after her. “We parked under a tree just in case we had to make a quick getaway. Parking lots suck for that.”
I nodded mutely and Luke just stood there. I knew he was sill stuck in the mystery of the massive amounts of douche.
“It will never make sense,” I whispered to him. “Drop it or you might go insane.”
“Roger that,” he mumbled, still trying to let it go.
“So thank God all the paperwork was in a waterproof folder,” Mrs. C said, handing over a thin lime green plastic case. “We’ve deciphered it, but I think we need Shoshanna to figure it out.”
“Did you run it by Steve?” I asked, praying Edith would return quickly. My eyes were watering and my nose felt singed.
“Nah, he’s kind of pissed about a little mishap in his office and we figured it out on the drive up. No time. Although we should probably give him a call. He is involved.”
“Probably,” I muttered, thinking that it was stupid not to have informed him first, but the sisters worked with their own set of rules. I just hoped they really had something . . . because we didn’t.
“Got it,” Edith bellowed as she arrived, carrying four huge boxes. “Do we just shove it in our . . .”
“No.” I cut her off before Luke and I had to hear whatever term they favored for female genitalia. “Pour it all over your bodies and rub it in.”
“Strip,” Mrs. C told her sister.
Luke and I couldn’t turn away fast enough. “Let us . . . um, know when you’re done.” I’d seen too much in my short life that I couldn’t erase. Mrs. C and Edith naked and douching their skunky bodies off would make my brain implode and I would most likely die.
After twenty minutes of staring at the back of the hotel and imagining them scaling it, they were done.
“You can turn your pansy asses around now,” Edith told us.
We turned to find them decked out in sequined halter tops, leather pants, and combat boots. They looked like drowned circus clowns, but the smell had abated somewhat or else I’d just gotten used to it.
“I smell like spring rain,” Edith boasted.
“And I smell like extra cleansing vinegar and water in a field of wildflowers,” Mrs. C added.
“That’s fantastic,” Luke said. “Now lets get our asses back up to the room and figure this out.”
We trudged back around the building. Although the smell was better, it definitely still lingered, as proved by the parting of the Red Sea of protesters as we made our way to the hotel entrance. The wrinkled noses and gasping of the Jesus lovers would have been humorous if I hadn’t been a participant. This day was only getting worse and I worried what else it held in store . . .
Chapter 26
“What in the hell is that smell?” Shoshanna screeched when we entered my room en masse. The sisters were positively sheepish in the presence of their idol.
“Sorry,” Edith muttered, getting down on one knee and genuflecting to Shoshanna. “We had a little run-in with a skunk’s ass. We douched thoroughly and we are deeply mortified to offend you in any way.” Mrs. C dropped to her knees beside her sister.
“Get your asses up.” Shoshanna laughed. “You kill me. I hope no harm came to the skunk.”
The old dykes paled considerably and mumbled something incoherent about the skunk being happy, healthy, and fine—prancing off into the field of wilderness behind the hotel to play with his skunk friends. I realized we’d completely forgotten to inquire about the skunk, but from their ridiculous story
, I was certain the skunk would no longer use his ass again. Ever.
“Okay, time to get to work.” I sat down at my laptop and started poring through the massive number of pictures I’d taken. The quality was outstanding.
“Talk to me,” Luke told the old gals. “And by the way, another note arrived when you were in transit and it . . .”
“Don’t tell me,” Mrs. C cut him off. “Let me guess. The greeting has to start with an E.”
Luke paused and checked the copy he held in his hand. “Yep. You were expecting that?”
“Yeah,” Edith chimed in. “The E makes it mine. Of course, it could have been a T or a D, but it wouldn’t have made as much sense. Mind or mint wouldn’t have worked.”
“Explain,” he said.
“I’m dying to hear this,” Shoshanna added.
“You’re not dying anytime soon,” Luke told her, and put his arm around her.
“Are you Shoshanna’s concubine too?” Edith asked, impressed.
“Fuck no!” Shoshanna cackled. “Luke’s my son.”
“How in the fuck did we not know this?” Mrs. C demanded of her sister. “Have our sources been slacking?” She was utterly shocked and pissed.
“I’ll take their balls off when we get back,” Edith promised her.
“Wait.” Shoshanna jumped in quickly, fearing for the testicles of people she didn’t know. “It’s a new thing. I’m adopting him. The paperwork is ready—we just have to go to the courthouse and file when we get back.”
Luke seemed surprised and flustered. As much as he secretly wanted this to happen, I don’t think he’d really thought it would. God, I couldn’t love Shoshanna more.
“Are you open to some new daughters?” Edith asked, wondering if she and her sister had a shot. It was clear they’d never get to date Shoshanna, so I supposed being her daughters was the next best thing.
“Nah,” she told a disappointed Edith. “Already got a daughter, but I am looking to add to my friendship tree.”
The old gals perked up immediately and slapped each other a high five. I tried to suppress my giggles and failed. I buried my head back in my computer before I said something to the gals that might start a fistfight. The pictures were fascinating. I’d gotten an alarming number of photos of the mousey gal. Boy, Mousey had some bad teeth . . .
“Enough of the chitchat.” Luke was all business and sexier than hell.
“Right,” Mrs. C said, pulling out her copies of the notes. “If you put the threats in order and take the first letter of each greeting, there’s a message. Pretty unsophisticated, but then again I don’t think we’re looking for someone with a shit-monster load of brains.”
I half listened as I scanned the pictures. The shots I’d taken from behind me were starting to get interesting. There was a man and a cloaked women talking with people intently. Riling them up. I noticed fist bumping and angry faces. WTF?
“Yep,” Edith said. “Fairly amateur, but they do have some knowledge of police procedure because there’s not a print to be found on these notes.”
“So it’s a cop?” Shoshanna was appalled. She held the law in high esteem. Her son was a DEA agent, for God’s sake.
“No.” Edith shook her head. “Someone in the field wouldn’t have used such a simplistic code and I don’t think they would have left the cryptic message we found.”
“Look at this shit,” I told Luke. “Here’s the reason the crowd was getting hostile.” He moved in and leaned over my shoulder. “Look at that man and the woman. They’re doing something to the crowd.”
“Can you go in closer?”
“Let me see.” I moved in and blew the picture up. It got blurry and I still couldn’t make out the woman’s face.
“Keep scrolling,” he said. “See if you captured a better shot of her.”
“On it.”
“Do you think the God-heads are involved?” Mrs. C asked, checking out the pictures.
“Don’t know,” I muttered, scrolling quickly, “but my gut says yes.”
“I know you think we’re full of shitfire and hot air, but you are Mag the Hag.”
The visual of shitfire and hot air was not a good one. The girls had such a riveting way with words. Hell, I was halfway beginning to believe I might be Mag, not that I would ever admit it. The pure agony of the time I’d have to spend with them catching up would keep my lips zipped for eternity.
“Candy, keep looking,” Luke instructed. “Ladies, back to the notes.”
“Right. The message is about Steve.”
“Wait. What?” I stopped mid-scroll and turned to the gals. “It’s about Steve and you didn’t call him?” Were they insane and stupid? “What if he’s in danger?”
“I don’t think he is. It’s Shoshanna this person is after,” Edith said, but pulled out her phone and texted Steve the information. “He’s gonna scream like a girl and I’m just not in the mood,” she said, indicating her text.
“What the hell does it say?” I asked, exasperated. They needed to just get to it.
“It says, Steve is mine,” Edith said. “Steve is mine.”
“Well, what the fuck does that mean?” Shoshanna was bewildered.
“I don’t know,” Mrs. C said. “We were hoping this would make sense to you.”
“Well, it doesn’t,” Shoshanna replied.
Something in my gut clenched hard and I started scrolling like a mad woman. The cloaked woman and the note were connected and I had a feeling I knew exactly who she was. I just needed the proof. Why couldn’t I find a shot with her face? Dammit, there had to be at least one.
Edith’s phone started ringing. Shoshanna started freaking and Luke started swearing. It was all I could do to concentrate, but I knew I was right.
“Goddammit,” Edith groaned. “It’s Steve. Do I have to answer this?”
“Yes,” we all shouted in unison. The chatter continued and it was driving me nuts. I simply had to block everyone out and focus on the task in front of me. We were so fucking close I was starting to tingle.
Edith was listening to a tirade from Steve. Though I couldn’t make out what he was saying, I could tell he was pissed. Luke stood next to her and listened in. Shoshanna was pacing the room and Mrs. C was doing something akin to yoga. Scroll. I had to scroll.
“What?” Edith bellowed. “You’re fucking kidding me!”
“Give me the phone,” Luke snapped. “Get your laptop open and pull up the e-mail he just sent. Now.”
Edith hustled over to her bag and went to work. Mrs. C, having finished her meditation, was arming herself to the teeth.
“I love the smell of napalm in the morning. Smells like victory,” Mrs. C grunted as she tucked a wicked-looking knife into her boot. Holy God Almighty, she was quoting Apocalypse Now. This did not bode well.
“Right,” Luke said in a tight voice to Steve. “You’re sure? Do you have the e-mail pulled up?” he asked Edith.
“Almost,” she said.
I scrolled and froze. I was absolutely sure the picture I’d just found would match the one in the e-mail Edith had received from Steve. I couldn’t believe it, but then again it made perfect sense.
“Got her,” I yelled.
“Me too,” Edith added.
“What the fuck?” Shoshanna exploded when she saw the picture. “It’s Helen?”
“Who’s Helen?” Mrs. C asked. “Actually I don’t care who she is. I’m going to shoot her. Somebody show me a goddamned photo,” she huffed, and checked her Uzi.
“Helen is Steve’s ex-wife,” I told her.
“He’s gay,” she informed me as if I didn’t know.
“Yes,” I agreed. “And therein lies the problem, I think.”
“Why does Helen want me dead?” Shoshanna dropped into a chair and ran her little hands through her hair. “What the hell have I done to her?”
“It makes no sense to you or me, but I’m going to go with the guess that you were married to Kevin and now he’s married to Steve,”
I said, taking a screen shot of the picture and forwarding it to Steve. We had our girl, now we just had to find her. I grabbed my purse and headed toward the door.
“No,” Luke said. “You’ll stay with Shoshanna. You’re the only one of us she knows, and if she sees you she might run or God knows what else.”
He was right, but I was pissed. I wanted to take her down for so many reasons I couldn’t begin to count them. I was ready to fight him on it, but I stopped myself. I would never go Rambo on a case again. Ever. If I went down there and she recognized me, I could jeopardize everything. My needs were secondary. Shoshanna’s life and safety were paramount. Not to mention Luke’s and the old gals’.
“I’m good with that.”
Luke watched my internal struggle and gave me a quick nod of approval. “Edith and Mrs. C, we’re going down. We will not kill her unless it’s absolutely necessary. I want to take her as quickly and quietly as possible. Alive.”
“Can I use chloroform?” Edith asked, holding up a rag and a bottle.
“Yep.” Luke nodded, impressed at how well equipped the gals were. “Chloroform, good. Uzi, bad. Just make sure you don’t breathe it in.”
“Aww fuck, commander boy.” She laughed. “I’m totally immune to that shit.”
Luke’s eyes grew large, and Mrs. C gave him a thumbs-up to confirm Edith’s story. “You two are something else.” He shook his head and grinned.
“You don’t even know the half of it,” I muttered, and double-checked that my Glock was loaded.
“Is she working alone?” Edith doused her rag in chloroform and shoved it in her pocket as she continued her questions.
“There’s a man with her in the pictures, but my gut says she’s going solo on this.”
“I agree,” Luke added, “but I want him too.”
They were locked and loaded and still managed to look like tourists—not a weapon in sight. Although there was still one major problem . . .
“Lose the sequined halters,” I told the sisters. “You stand out like a sore thumb.”
“On it,” Mrs. C said, dropping her halter to the ground. I shrieked and slapped my hand over my eyes. I didn’t mean for that to happen, but I should have known better. “Does anyone have a T-shirt?” she asked, completely uncaring that her torpedo tits were swinging in the wind.
Cop a Feel (Handcuffs and Happily Ever Afters) Page 22
