Disrobed for Death

by Sylvia Rochester

  “I’ll see you later,” Ramona said and made her way through the crowd.

  “I thought another donation would be nice,” Myrtle said, dropping an envelope into the box.

  “I’m sure Melanie will be grateful. Good to see you both. So, are you adjusting to Palmetto, Lorraine? I assume you left a bigger city.” Susan asked.

  “I was a hostess for one of the large hotels in Biloxi.”

  Susan had no problem picturing Lorraine greeting guests, especially dressed as she was, today. Her black fitted dress reflected an air of professionalism, and the black and white scarf draped around her neck was just the right touch. Susan recognized it as a Bawdy Boutique purchase, the one Myrtle had bought as a gift for her sister.

  “I’m sure your job was rewarding, but all the money in world can’t beat family. Right?”

  “Exactly,” Lorraine said.

  Myrtle glanced at her sister with loving eyes.

  “Have you thought about what you’d like to do now?”

  “I thought maybe I’d open a spa. Like you, I could draw clientele from the Hammond area.”

  A spa would involve a good deal of capital, and here she was thinking Lorraine might have come home due to financial problems. Was a hotel hostess that profitable a job? “Well, if I can be of any help, please let me know.”

  “Sister, I see the mayor,” Myrtle said. “I think we should let him know you’ve come back home.”

  “Yes, let’s do that.”

  Something in Lorraine’s voice gave Susan pause. More than likely, it was because Susan’s imagination was in overdrive with the funeral and everything else going on.

  The ceremony commenced with the mayor thanking the community for all their hard work. After paying tribute to the fallen officer, the mayor concluded with the presentation of the Metal of Honor to Melanie.

  “Now, while everyone enjoys refreshments, graciously provided by Tilly’s diner, bank employees will tally the donations. Whatever the amount, I know all contributions were given with love.”

  While the donation box was moved from the back of the auditorium to the speaker’s table, Susan noticed Clarissa leaving. It looked like she just wanted to make an appearance.

  A teller opened each envelope and counted the money while another recorded the amount and the name of the donor on a separate sheet. Finally, one of tellers stood and indicated that they had finished.

  “Mr. Mayor, we’ve opened all the envelopes, and so far the total comes to $50,375.”

  A cheer erupted.

  Tears rolled down Melanie’s cheeks, and she hugged her children.

  “Excuse me,” the teller said getting everyone’s attention. “I said, ‘So far.’ That’s the total from donations in the envelopes. There’s a shoe box at the bottom of the box that’s tagged, ‘From an Anonymous Donor.’”

  “Well, anonymous is accepted here,” the mayor said. “Let’s see what’s in it.”

  The teller set the shoe box in the center of the table and cut the strapping tape that secured the lid. Oh’s and Ah’s exploded from the front of the room.

  “What is it?” someone shouted from the back of the auditorium.

  “It’s full of hundred dollar bills,” the mayor said. “Move back and give the tellers room,” he said as the crowd pressed around the table.

  “Yes, we have all hundred dollar bills here,” the teller said. He laid out ten stacks, all bundled and of equal size. Looks like there are twenty-five bills in each stack. If that’s correct, you’re looking at $25,000.”

  The auditorium erupted in pandemonium. So many hands patted Melanie on the back, Susan thought she might be black and blue. Everyone was asking, ‘Who?’ But no one had an answer…nor did they really seem to care.

  Wesley stood behind her. His arm circled her waist, and he whispered in her ear. “I wonder who it could be.”

  Susan knew he wasn’t asking. While she didn’t want to lie to him, she also didn’t want him to arrest her or her accomplices. If she kept Herman and Vera out of it, and told the truth that she didn’t know who stole the money, the most he could charge her with would be trespassing. Or was there such a thing as Attempted Breaking and Entering or Conspiracy to Commit Burglary? She hoped not.

  As the people filed out of the auditorium, Susan made a point to speak with Melanie. “All the money in world can’t make up for your loss, but maybe it can take some of the financial worries off your mind. I don’t know what your plans are for the future, but if I can help in any way, please let me know. I can always use another employee.”

  “You’re too kind,” Melanie said. “Thank you for everything.”

  “You ready?” Wesley asked Susan.

  “As much as I’ll ever be.” Susan was still deciding exactly how to explain the money. What scared her most was what he’d do about it.

  Once in the truck, Wesley turned up the heater. “How about a drink and a warm fire at my place?”

  “I’d like nothing better, but I do have a business to run. Give me a couple of hours, and I’ll be there. Would you like for me to pick up something to eat?”

  “I have stuff for sandwiches, if that’s okay.”

  “And hot chocolate?”

  “Never without it.”

  “I’ll call you when I leave, and you can toss another log on the fire.”

  When Wesley turned into Susan’s apartment complex, she said, “Drop me by my car. I don’t need to go inside.”

  He pulled alongside the Camaro. After giving her a kiss on the cheek, he leaned over and opened her door. “See you in a little while.”

  Wesley waited until she was behind the wheel of the Camaro before he left.

  He was always a gentlemen…and such a hunk. If something happened to him tomorrow night, she would never forgive herself.

  To Susan’s surprise, the store was fairly busy.

  A. K. was tagging and hanging new merchandise. “I figured we’d better fill the holes. Boy, we stripped the racks clean.”

  “All for a good cause, my friend.”

  A. K. slipped a dress onto a hanger and displayed it on a floor tree with other dresses. “How was the memorial service?”

  Debbie and Sheila moved closer, anxious to hear about the service.

  “Lovely. The turnout was great, and donations totaled over $50,000, not including a $25,000 anonymous donation.”

  “Really?” Sheila said, joining the conversation.

  “I didn’t know anyone in Palmetto had that kind of money,” Debbie added.

  “I have to admit. It took me by surprise,” Susan said, glancing at A. K.

  “Bless their little heart,” A. K. said. “It couldn’t have gone to a more worthy cause.”

  “Debbie, I think your model friends really boosted the sales,” Susan said. “I’d like to do more of that in the future. Maybe have them visit hair salons, spas, and other businesses. They would provide a draw for that business, too. We could make large price tags and let them hang from their outfits. We could call them the Minnie Pearls of Palmetto.”

  “Who?” Sheila asked.

  “Honey, you’re dating yourself,” A. K. said to Susan.

  “Speaking of price tags, I’d better get on the books and see how much operating capital we have left. Things might be tight for a while.”

  Susan closed herself in the office and for the next hour buried herself in the ledgers. She was pleased to find that she was still on solid financial grounds. Good thing, because she had invested her life savings in the boutique. It wouldn’t do to go into the red soon after opening. Sound planning, along with an advertising blitz that showcased quality merchandise, had yielded several months of solid profits. If profits continued to increase, expansion was not out of the question.

  She had something in mind and was sure it would work. The vacant lot next door, which she owned, would be the perfect location for a costume shop. Rocking back in her chair, she gazed through the glass window of the office and visualized what it might
look like on the inside. Metallic beads and glittering masks would cover the walls. Costumes of every color and design would flow from the racks. She saw it as a land of enchantment, a make-believe world that would reach out to every reveler seeking to escape the mundane. Hammond had nothing to offer for such special occasions, and with New Orleans and Mardi Gras a stone’s throw away, how could it fail?

  A tapping on the glass snapped Susan back to reality.

  “Well, are we still in business?” A. K. asked.

  “That we are, my friend. Next week, I want to run an idea by you. I’ve got a feeling you’re going to like it.”

  “What I’ll like best about next week is that Valentine’s Day will have passed, and hopefully, no one was killed.”

  “My thoughts exactly. It took both of us, but I think we have thwarted Clarissa’s plan. Did I ever thank you for believing in me?”

  “I figured I’d better, if I wanted to keep my job.”

  Susan laughed. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Sheila and Debbie had already left, so Susan and A. K. closed up and walked out to the parking lot together.

  “Keep me posted,” A. K. said.

  Susan gave a thumbs-up.”

  Chapter 16

  When she turned into Wesley’s driveway, smoke spiraled from the chimney and drifted through the trees. The smell of logs blazing in the fireplace conjured up memories of the past. Many a night she and Wesley had cuddled in the den, their backs pressed into the sofa, their feet propped on the coffee table. Lost in each other’s arms, they had shared their dreams for the future. He’d wanted to finish college and coach. She’d also looked forward to college, and if he planned to be a coach, then she would be a coach’s wife. Funny how dreams never seem to work out. Now that they were together again, what did the future have in store for them?

  “You hungry?” Wesley asked, opening the door.

  “Starved.”

  Susan entered the kitchen where the table was spread with sandwich fixings. She removed her coat and draped it over a side chair.

  “Everything’s ready. Would you like milk or water? I have a thermos of hot chocolate ready for later.”

  “Milk’s fine.”

  Halfway through the meal, Wesley reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For everything you did to make this day a positive one.”

  After they finished their meal, he got up, put his plate on the counter, and leaned back against the cabinets. “I dreaded the memorial service, even thought about quitting the force. But after seeing the community’s response, it put things in perspective, validated why we, as officers, put our lives in jeopardy every day.”

  “You’re lucky to have found your calling. Some people go through life never knowing what it is they’re supposed to do. Think about it. You’ve spent your whole life working with or for others. Back in high school sports, you always emphasized teamwork, did what you could for the other fellows. Then you gave of yourself to serve our country.” Susan put her plate in the sink then turned and ran her hands down the sleeves of his blue knit sweater. “I’m so proud of you. And to think, you wanted to be a football coach.”

  “I did say that, didn’t I?”

  “How about we go watch the fire and talk about those days?” Susan asked.

  “You go warm up the couch. I’ll be right behind you with a cup of hot chocolate.”

  A few moments later, Wesley handed her a steaming mug of the dark mixture sprinkled with tiny marshmallows.

  “We can discuss my dreams about coaching later,” he said, settling beside her. “What I want to know is how twenty-five thousand dollars wound up in the donation box. Was that what was in the envelope Clarissa gave Gary? If so, how did you get your hands on it?”

  Susan’s stomach did a flip flop. She really thought he was going to let it slide, but he didn’t. She rubbed her wrists, imagining cold metal handcuffs cutting into her skin. “I don’t want to get either of us in any trouble, so let me propose a hypothetical situation. What if someone suspected Clarissa paid Gary to kill Jack?”

  “You’re talking about yourself, aren’t you?”

  “No, I’m talking hypothetically. Do you want to hear the story or not?”

  Wesley smirked. “Go ahead.”

  “Anyway, let’s say Person Number One shared what was witnessed in New Orleans with Person Number Two, who offered to help. Later, Person Number Two made sure Gary would not be home for several hours, allowing Person Number One to steal the envelope.”

  A frown crossed Wesley’s brows.

  “But Person Number One didn’t break into Gary’s house and steal the money. Later, someone else intervened, and they stole the money and gave it Person Number One.”

  “Did Person Number One get a look at or know the person who showed up with the money?”

  “No, it was a complete surprise. And Person Number One didn’t keep the money, either. Someone else placed the money into the donation box.”

  “Okay, let’s dispense with this hypothetical crap. Why didn’t you confide in me?”

  “I was afraid what you might do. Can I be arrested for knowing a theft occurred and not reporting it? Is there such a thing as attempted breaking and entering?”

  “You didn’t.”

  Susan never was a good liar.

  One look at her face, and Wesley threw up his hands. “Don’t say anything. It’s best I don’t know the details.”

  He got up from the couch, paced the room, then turned and gave her a hard look with lips tightly drawn. Picking up the poker, he jabbed at the fire. “This thing was a mess from the beginning. But in spite of your gum-shoe antics, you just might have accomplished what you wanted. Looks like I don’t need to stake out Jack’s place after all.”

  “Oh, but you do. We can’t be certain Clarissa didn’t have money stashed away and has hired someone else.’

  “It’s not likely she had more than one taker.”

  Susan brushed away the tears that had welled in her eyes. “But—”

  “Okay, if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll see it through, even if it means spending a night in the cold for nothing.”

  “I knew I could count on you.” She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him. “Any chance I could watch Jack’s place with you?”

  “I’m supposed to be watching for a burglar, remember? If something happened, how could I explain you sitting with me in the police car? The sheriff is a nice guy, but I don’t think he’d go for that.”

  “What a shame. I could keep you warm.”

  His lips covered hers, and her body all but melted against him.

  “I have another suggestion. Why don’t you help me break in my latest purchase?”

  “Are you referring to your satin sheets?”

  “Seems A. K. can’t keep a secret. Look at it this way. It’ll give you a chance to test out your merchandise, see if the sheets are worth the price.”

  “Your other girlfriends might not like that.”

  “What other girlfriends?”

  “That’s what I mean. We know so little about each other since you joined the service. I can see that you’ve changed, and by the same token, I’m not the high school cheerleader you left behind. Don’t you want to know what happened during those years apart? What we did? Whose lives we touched? And most of all, what do we bring to this relationship? Is it what we really want? Is it sustainable?” She took his face in her hands. “Sometimes, what we think we see is not always the truth. We’re two new people with old memories. Maybe that’ll be enough…maybe not. We need time to find out, make sure we’re right for each other.”

  “So does that mean you won’t jump into the sack with me?” He tried to keep a straight face, but a grin curled from the corners of his mouth.

  “That’s right, Buster,” she said in a jovial voice. Wesley’s attempt at humor helped to ease the tension between them. She had dumped a lot on hi
m at one time.

  Susan retrieved her coat from the kitchen. “When do you plan to start the surveillance?”

  “According to Jack’s sister, he usually makes rounds at the hospital about six a.m. then heads to his office, unless he has surgery scheduled. I intend to stay on his tail and follow him to his apartment.”

  “Promise you’ll call if anything happens.”

  “Promise.”

  Sunday morning, Susan woke to a cold, dreary day, not unlike the day of Terrence’s funeral. She hoped the dreadful weather wasn’t an omen of things to come. Standing at her bedroom window, she watched a steady rain paint the landscape in shades of gray.

  “No,” she said, turning away from the gloomy scene, “the weather means nothing.”

  She should be happy that Gary was probably out of the picture, but she wasn’t. She found it hard to believe that a man so unscrupulous as to commit murder wouldn’t give up searching for the missing money. No telling what he might do. And she didn’t put anything past Clarissa, either. If she hired an assassin, no telling what else she would do.

  The clock on the nightstand showed seven o’clock. This was one day she wished she had slept till noon. The next twenty-four hours would seem like an eternity.

  She snatched up the phone and called A. K. “What are you doing?”

  A graveled voice answered. “Well, I was sleeping.”

  Plucking a pencil from a small note pad, she rapped it against the stand like a drummer beating cadence. To say she was nervous was an understatement. “I can’t stand waiting by myself. Please, get over here.”

  A. K. gave an exaggerated yawn. “Give me an hour to get myself together. In the meantime, take a hot shower and calm down. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  By the time A. K. arrived, Susan was on her third cup of coffee. She opened the door before her friend had a chance to knock. “What took you so long?”

  A. K. knitted her brows, wrinkling what was otherwise a flawless complexion. “I see the shower didn’t work. You have a Xanax or something?”

  Susan shook her head.