“If she’s broke and in debt, how can she hire a killer?” Susan asked.
“Chances are she had some money stashed away.”
“That’s a possibility.”
“Let’s face it, Susan. All we have is a lot of ‘what if’s’ and all of it based on your experience when you were sedated.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I didn’t say that. It’s just that—”
Susan got up and paced the living room. For a moment, she was back at the funeral home. This time, she was staring at the hole in Jack’s forehead. “I went to see Ramona this afternoon and told her about my vision. I believe women are more inclined to believe the paranormal than men. She didn’t think I was crazy.”
Wesley frowned. “I don’t, either.”
Susan joined him again on the sofa, and a big, strong hand closed over hers. Her skin tingled at his touch.
“Look, Susan, I want to help you, but—”
“I understand. You have to stay within the law. It’s just that I’m anxious.” She pulled her hand from his and rubbed her temple. “Ramona doesn’t know whether Clarissa is still on Jack’s insurance policy. She said her brother tends to procrastinate when it comes to tending to financial matters, but she’ll ask him and get back with me. If Clarissa remains the beneficiary, we should follow her. If she does have money stashed away, she could use it to hire someone.”
“We? I’m working several cases right now. That’s going to be difficult.”
“I can—”
“Don’t even think about it. Without experience, the hunter can quickly become the prey. Right now, the best course of action is for me to stake out the doctor’s place. If what you think is true, I can stop the murder before it happens. If I can do that without killing the assailant, more than likely he’ll turn state’s evidence against the person who hired him.”
“And if he doesn’t or if he gets killed, Clarissa will go free. I don’t want that to happen. Besides, Jack lives in Meadow Wood. How are you going to get into the gated complex?”
“It’s not hard for a cop to get access. A couple of the apartments have been burglarized, and I can say my confidential informant tipped me off regarding the break-ins. The sheriff and the apartment manager would be more than glad for me to catch the guilty party. If I happen to prevent a murder in the process, well, that wouldn’t be bad either.”
“You make it sound so simple. Nothing ever works out that easy for me.”
Wesley’s cell phone rang.
“Hello. Yes, Ms. Thigpen, your spindles are ready. I’m off tomorrow morning. Is that okay with you? Fine. I’ll see you then.” Wesley stood and reached for her hand. “Walk me to the door.”
“It’s good to hear Myrtle won’t be marching at the store tomorrow.”
“No, she’ll be inspecting my every move. Wish me luck. You try and get a good night’s sleep. I’m sure things will look better in the morning.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her close. She closed her eyes ready for his kiss, the one that made her knees buckle. Instead, his lips barely brushed her cheek. When she looked up into his eyes, he smiled.
“We have lots of catching up to do. Any chance we can pick up where we left off?”
“Maybe.” She gave him a peck on the chin. “Good night, Wesley.”
The next morning, Susan awakened to a downpour. That would mean fewer customers for the day, but it would also give her time to do some past-due rearranging in the shop. A different look was always a good thing.
Around noon, she and A. K. took their lunch break while Debbie and Sheila manned the store. Over burgers at Tilly’s, Susan told A. K. about Wesley’s visit.
A. K. stared past her out the window and seemed to ponder the information. “Looks to me like the only chance to save Jack will rest on Wesley.”
“Unless…”
“Unless what?” A. K. asked, wiping her chin.
Before Susan could answer, her cell rang.
“Hi, Ramona. You did? And? I’ll pass that information on to my contact, see if that’s enough to give him probable cause.” Susan listened to Ramona. “Yes, we’re going to do everything we can to assure nothing happens to Jack. I’ll get back with you soon.”
A. K. shook her head. “I can tell you right now, a judge isn’t going to sign a warrant just because she’s listed as beneficiary. No crime has been committed, and Wesley has no evidence of a conspiracy. And you can bet he’s not about to tell the judge the truth—that he’s trying to stop a murder based on someone’s vision.”
“Then I’ll tail Clarissa and get him some evidence. If my vision is right, she’ll have to make her move soon, and I’ll make sure I’m there.”
“Why can’t Wesley do that?”
“He’s doing what he can to help, but he has cases to work, so that leaves me.”
“That’s dangerous, but if you’re determined, I’m going with you.”
Susan shook her head. “One person can hide better than two. Besides, we can’t expect Debbie and Sheila to run the store all the time.”
“Are you going to tell Wesley what you have planned?”
Susan screwed her mouth to one side. “I’ll think about it. Can you drive me to Hammond this afternoon? I want to pick up a rental, a gray or tan sedan. My yellow Camaro would be like waving a flag.”
“What’ll you do if Clarissa spots you?”
“She won’t, not with my disguise. But just in case she does, I’ll act surprised and say I’m meeting someone who can’t afford the publicity. She’ll probably think I’m meeting a married man, might even try to get a name from me, but I’ll give her nothing. I’ll call you every hour and keep you posted as to my whereabouts. If I fail to check in, send the posse.”
“I assume you mean Wesley.”
Susan gave an abrupt nod of the head, reached across the table, and picked up A. K.’s receipt. “I’ve got this one. We’d better get back so Debbie and Sheila can go eat.”
On her way out, she thanked Tonya for a delicious meal.
Debbie and Sheila were restocking undergarments when Susan and A. K. arrived at the shop.
“A. K., watch the store. It’s time I tell Debbie and Sheila what I experienced.”
Susan called the girls into her office. When she finished with her story, they both sat there with their mouths opened.
“I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me, and I’ll understand if you want to turn in your resignation.”
“Are you kidding?” Debbie said. “Can you really see into the future? What does it hold for me?”
“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. I might never have that experience again.”
“Bummer,” Sheila said. “I sure would like to know what’s ahead for me.”
“I’m sure both of you will have a wonderful future. Until this is settled, I’d ask that you keep this to yourself. It wouldn’t do to get out in the community.”
Debbie raked her finer across her lips. “My lips are sealed.”
“Mine, too,” Sheila said.
“Thanks.” Susan glanced through the glass window into the store. “I think A. K. can use a little help.”
Chapter 9
By eight o’clock the next morning, Susan was dressed and parked in a tan Altima several cars down from Clarissa’s apartment. The sun was shining, and there was no rain in the forecast. A silver Lexus would be easy to follow. Susan was right in assuming Clarissa wasn’t an early riser, but it was nearly ten o’clock when Clarissa slid behind the wheel of her posh car and headed in the direction of Hammond.
Susan found herself glancing at side streets and in the rearview mirror, half expecting to see Wesley pull in behind her. He knew her better than anyone, which would make it even harder for her to do what he warned against. When they left the Hammond area and took I-55 south toward New Orleans, she exhaled a sigh of relief.
Because she was inexperienced at following someone, she would be extra careful
and follow from a distance, in the car and on foot. Under any other circumstances, she might have listened to Wesley, but they didn’t have the time to sit and wait for a solution. Besides, he didn’t listen to her when he enlisted and deployed overseas. He had said it was his duty to serve his country. What about his duty to her? She loved him more than anything, wanted to grow old with him, then he just walked out of her life. Well, she considered it her duty to prevent a killing. He couldn’t fault her for that.
When Clarissa merged with the I-10—Pontchartrain Causeway—Susan closed the gap between them. She was afraid she might lose Clarissa in traffic. Shaking off her thoughts about Wesley, she concentrated on the silver Lexus, now several cars in front of her. Near the Super Dome, Clarissa exited on Loyola, took a right on Girod and a left on Carondelet.
Now that she was no longer zipping around traffic on the Interstate, Susan placed a call to A. K. and got her voice mail. “Looks like I’m heading to the Quarter. It’s as good a place as any to meet up with someone. No time to talk. I’ll check in later.”
Clarissa crossed Canal Street and entered the Vieux Carre on the world-famous Bourbon Street. Immediately, Clarissa made an abrupt right on Iberville where she pulled into a hotel parking garage. Susan eased to the curb and gave Clarissa time to get out of her car and secure her parking ticket. Then Susan drove into the garage.
Smoothing her mousey-brown wig with her hand, Susan concealed her face as Clarissa walked past. The second Susan stepped from her car, a navy Crown Victoria pulled in behind her. Wesley? Her heart skipped a beat, but the sudden surge of adrenalin faded when a little, gray-headed lady exited the vehicle.
“I’m in a hurry,” Susan said, to the parking attendant. She shrugged on a camel colored, finger-tip jacket and grabbed her parking ticket.
Back on the street, she spotted Clarissa. She was headed in the direction of the river. As Susan hurried forward, a cold wind whipped off the muddy Mississippi and almost ripped the wig from her head. That would never do. She made sure it was fastened into place and continued down the street. Not wanting to sprain an ankle from the uneven sidewalk, Susan’s head swiveled up and down like a bobble doll on a dashboard.
Music wafted through the streets of the historic city. The setting and the sounds were an integral part of each other. Take away the lilting refrains of jazz or the blues, and the Quarter would be naked. Along with the music, the tantalizing aroma of mystery meals simmered behind closed doors. Lunch time was approaching, and already customers crowded the entrances to restaurants.
Clarissa hung a left on Royal Street and began to peruse the antique shops that lined that street. The woman’s mouth went slack as she gawked at heirloom jewelry showcased in the windows. If Clarissa was as broke as Wesley said, Susan wondered how Clarissa could afford to purchase anything.
For the next hour, Clarissa sauntered into one store after another while Susan succeeded in fading into the background, always shopping with her back to Clarissa. Unlike Clarissa’s here-I-am red dress and fancy bobbles, Susan’s drab wig, blue jean skirt and pale blue blouse didn’t draw attention. But as Susan reflected more on the situation, she had to chuckle. Even if she had worn a gaudy outfit, she probably would have remained oblivious to her prey. Clarissa was too much into herself to notice anyone, except perhaps a good looking man.
Farther down the street, while Clarissa looked into another window, Susan checked in again with A. K. “The woman’s inspecting every piece of jewelry in the Quarter. Since she’s not buying, I’m even more inclined to believe she’s meeting someone. Gotta run. I don’t want to lose her.”
Sometime around noon, Clarissa glanced at her watch and all but bolted from the shop she had just entered.
With spirits emboldened, Susan flexed her aching toes and hustled after her fleet-footed quarry. Clarissa crossed over to Chartres Street and scurried through the door of the Napoleon House.
Ah, this is it.
Susan entered the restaurant a few seconds later. Clarissa had chosen a seat to the right, overlooking the deserted courtyard, so Susan moved to the other side of the front room. A table at the end of the bar provided the perfect cover. Customers who crowded around the bar helped to hide her, but not so much that she couldn’t see what was going on at Clarissa’s table.
So far, Susan had escaped detection and was even beginning to enjoy the cloak-and-dagger charade. But Wesley was right when he said that tailing someone wasn’t easy. All the walking had tortured her feet. Glad for a chance to rest her aching tootsies, she ordered a bowl of seafood gumbo and some hot French bread with butter. At least, her stomach would be happy.
A rowdy group of college-age kids pushed through the door. Behind them, a slender man in jeans, a dark sweat shirt, and a tan quilted vest sauntered over to Clarissa’s table and took a seat. The tartan scarf around his neck hid half his face.
Just my luck. He sat with his back to Susan, making it impossible to get a good look at him, and even harder to make out what he was saying. Even though she strained to hear their conversation, with all the noise in the restaurant, she only picked up on a few words—late and traffic. A waiter approached their table, and after a few moments, he returned with a beer.
Clarissa constantly scanned the customers. Every time she looked in her direction, Susan lowered her head and concentrated on her meal. After several minutes, Clarissa reached into her purse, which was the size of a shopping bag, and pulled out a fat, legal-size, manila envelope. She pushed back her chair, gathered her coat around her, and with the flair of an actress exiting a stage, she let it be known she was leaving. This time, her parting words were loud and clear. “Here’s the brochure and the tickets I promised you. I hope you enjoy the show.”
With that, she strutted out of the restaurant, leaving the guy to pick up the tab.
The man turned and watched Clarissa exit the restaurant.
Susan gasped. I know him—Gary Bozeman!
Gary had sat behind her in physical science class at LSU. Scrutinizing him even further, she noticed strands of blond hair peeking out from under his knit cap, and she could never forget those beady-brown eyes. He hadn’t changed at all. The hair was still straggly and greasy looking, and she was willing to bet he was still hitting on any girl he could. She couldn’t imagine how he and Clarissa ever got together. Then she remembered Vera telling her that Clarissa had flirted with the bug man. Could Gary and the bug man be one and the same? Susan kept her head down, while her eyes remained fixed on Gary’s every movement.
He took one last draw on his beer, stood, and placed several bills on the table. Never once did Gary turn loose of the envelope. He unzipped his vest, slipped the package next to his body, and zipped the vest again. With his forearm holding the envelope tightly against his ribs, he made for the door.
Tickets my foot. The envelope was way too thick for just tickets and a brochure. It had to contain money—blood money.
No need to follow anyone now. In fact, it would be wise to give Gary and Clarissa time to disappear. While she finished her gumbo, she decided on her next move. First, she’d do a Google search for Gary on the computer, find out where he lived and what he did. Maybe that would explain how Clarissa knew him. Next, she’d have to tell Wesley what she did…and discovered. He was going be angry for sure, but if he knew what she had planned next, he’d really explode.
Susan left the restaurant with a satisfied smile on her lips and happy feet. Once on the road to Hammond, she opened her phone and punched in A. K.’s name. “I’m heading your way. Traffic’s really heavy, so I can’t go into detail, but I’m pretty sure Clarissa has hired an assassin. Are you ready for this? I know him. I’ll tell you everything when I get back to the shop.”
Traffic thinned after she left metro New Orleans, and the long, monotonous hum of the car on the Interstate lulled her into complacency. Following Clarissa hadn’t been difficult, and if she could pull off her other plan, Jack and the Grim Reaper might not meet on Valentine’s Day.
She was through trying to convince him. It was going to take saving his life to prove her story. She really couldn’t fault him. If the shoe were on the other foot, she might react the same way.
When it’s over, she decided she wasn’t going to say, “I told you so.” Maybe she’d smirk a little, but keeping him alive would be satisfaction enough.
After watching the exchange between Gary and Clarissa, Susan liked the idea that Jack didn’t believe her. Jack was a creature of habit, and that would work to Wesley’s advantage. He wouldn’t have to worry about Jack suddenly changing his routine. He’d be where he should be and Wesley would have him under surveillance.
A sly grin crossed her face. If she could pull off what she had planned, maybe there wouldn’t be any need for a stakeout.
Further down the Interstate, flashing lights indicated trouble and drew Susan’s attention back to the road. Traffic crawled to a standstill, and twenty minutes later, Susan had advanced only a few hundred feet. She called A. K. and told her she would be late.
When she finally approached the wreck, she recognized Vera Barksdale talking to one of the officers. Susan left her lane and pulled in behind a patrol car.
Exiting her rental, she waved at Vera. “Are you okay?”
Vera cocked her head to one side and gave Susan a quizzical look.
Only then did Susan realize she was still in disguise. “It’s me, Susan.”
Vera dropped her head and stared over her glasses. “I’m not hurt, but what in the world happened to you?”
“I’ll explain later. Is your car drivable? Do you need a ride home?”
She pointed to a gray Nissan Altima. “I was the last one to plow into the pile-up. Busted my radiator. A tow truck is on the way to haul me and the car to Hammond. The man who owns the wrecker service is a friend of Herman’s. Uh, here he is now.”
“Why don’t you let me drive you home?”
“Sure you don’t mind?”
Disrobed for Death Page 9
