Roberta looked over at him and let the gun sag. Fred lunged toward her, going for the gun. The gun fired. The noise was deafening.
Fred lay on the ground yelling, blood running down his leg. "Jesus Christ, Roberta! You shot me. You coulda killed me!"
Roberta held the gun back up, aiming it at Fred's head. Her back was to me. "Next time, I won't miss," she said.
I whispered to Charli. "Distract her."
Roberta was just a few feet away. She held the gun steady, still pointed at Fred. I whispered a prayer and waited for Charli's distraction. I sure did hope it was a good one.
Charli threw John's golf club as hard as she could. It smacked into the green trash tote that replaced the one Wart had been stuffed into. Roberta swung toward the sound and fired the gun. I hit her in the back. She fell hard to the ground. The gun flew out of her hand and landed a couple of feet in front of her. Even though she was thin, she was strong. She tried to roll over, but I pinned her down.
"Zach," I said, "get the gun."
He knelt next to Fred, frantically trying to stop the bleeding. "It's going to be okay. It's all going to be okay, isn't it Dad?"
I heard a siren in the distance. Charli grabbed the gun. I was sitting on Roberta. She'd finally stopped struggling and was still.
Tim's truck peeled to a stop and he ran over to where we were. "Is anyone hurt?"
"Fred. Can you get an ambulance?" I said.
"It's on the way. I called nine-one-one as soon as I read the note. Miz Turner way-laid me, hollering about how 'the snooty girl who'd put Warren in the trash can tried to steal her letter.' She was hollering and waving around a piece of paper. It took me a good two minutes to get her to show me her 'letter'. She said y'all took off out of the party like a bat out of hell." He looked over at Zach. "Said she told you first when you asked her if she'd seen Marty. You're a real prize, Thompson. Marty and Charli could have been killed because of you! You should have called for help."
Zach didn't even look at him. It was like he was in another world.
"Tim, leave him alone," I said. "He's been through a lot."
"And he's going to go through a whole lot more now that we've got the goods on his dad. Guess this wraps up the case pretty much."
"Not his dad. His mom."
Tim looked down at Roberta. "Her?"
"Yes. She killed Warren. Charli and I both heard her admit it."
"Yes," Charli said. "It's true."
We told him the whole story. "And I expect that Nancy was the one that set the shed on fire, almost killing me and Zach."
Tim let out a low whistle. "So Nancy's involved in covering up a murder, not to mention arson, attempted murder, and running an illegal gambling operation. Well, that ought to get her a few years."
"God, I hope so. She's evil. She was also committing blackmail and extortion."
He smiled. "Well, we know about that. We were about to bring her in and have a little chat with her, as a matter of fact. This will all make it a much more interesting conversation."
"How'd you know about the blackmail? Vanessa?" I said.
"Vanessa. She came over to see Detective Luray today. She had quite a story to tell."
"I'm so glad."
"Me too," said Charli. She looked down at her grass-stained, dirt-encrusted suit. Dirt streaks covered her face. Her hair was wild, like she'd teased it. Or slid underneath a fence. "Well, should we get back to the party now?"
I looked down at my equally filthy dress and ripped tights. "The party," I groaned. "Mom is literally going to kill us."
Just then, a bright light flashed on. "Miss Sheffield," Giselle St. James said. Charli looked at me. I nodded. I took Rockin’ Robbie.
Giselle didn't realize what was happening. She kept talking, "Would you care to comment on...OOF!"
I slam dunked the camera into the big, green, ninety gallon trash can. Charli tossed the microphone in after it. Sisters. You gotta love 'em.
37
About two weeks after the never-to-be-forgotten anniversary party, Charli and I went to the psychiatric hospital to visit Vanessa. She'd been intent on having it out with Nancy after she stole John's truck from me that Sunday morning, but after talking to Charli and her kids had decided that there had to be a better way to resolve everything.
She spent the rest of that day, while Tim and I were looking for her, talking to a therapist. He helped her arrange for a medical leave of absence and for the care of her children while she went into the psychiatric care unit for intensive therapy.
She looked good. Still too thin and too tired, but she was obviously making progress. While we were there, Beth Turner and Steve LeFever came in to see her.
"We'll leave now," Charli said.
"No, y'all stay," said Beth. "Steve's got something to say to Vanessa and I want you all to hear it too."
"Okay," I said. Charli and I sat back down. Steve looked around nervously.
"Go on, Steve. Say it," Beth said.
He looked everywhere but at Vanessa. "Listen, Vanessa. I've been involved with some stuff I'm not proud of. I helped Nancy out with a little gambling scam, and well, anyway, Beth thought, I mean, I thought that the only fair thing to do would be for me to give you back the money I helped steal from you and O'Del."
Vanessa looked at him with surprise. "I can't take the money, Steve."
"Please. I really want you to take it. It belongs to you, anyway."
They talked it around in circles for awhile, but Vanessa finally agreed to take the money.
"The rest, Steve. Tell them the rest," Beth said.
Steve paced around the tiny room. "I'm fixing to make it right, even if it sends me to jail. I'm testifying against Nancy. You won't ever have to worry about her again."
On their way out the door Beth stopped right in front of me. "Marty, I owe you an apology."
"No. Don't worry about it."
"Yes. I do. I'm sorry for the hateful things I said about you the other night. Oh. And one more thing. I insisted to Mr. and Mrs. Turner that you and Charli get the reward money. They'll be sending the checks to y'all in about a week."
Charli said, "No. Have them send it to Vanessa. It's more rightfully hers than ours. Right, Marty."
"Right," I said. "And Vanessa, don't even think about arguing."
When we left Vanessa's hospital room, we weren't exactly friends with Beth, but we had an uneasy truce and had moved closer to something akin to respect. It was a start.
A week later, Charli and I were lounging out by the pool at her neighborhood. Her boys were playing around in the shallow end of the pool and Jaelyn splashed in the baby pool.
"Is Vanessa glad to be out of the hospital?" I said.
"I think so. It's a big step for her. She's still going to therapy several times a week, but at least she's home. She really looks good. She gained a little weight and got rid of those dark circles. The kids were so happy to see her. She saw a lawyer, too. He filed the divorce papers yesterday."
"That's great. Now she can get on with her life. What did she think about Mom's story?"
"She said that Mom did a good job. What did you think?"
"I agree. I'm glad Vanessa decided to let her write it. It was very brave." I took a big sip of my soda.
We watched the kids play Marco Polo.
"Did they figure out who was making the phone calls to the station?"
"No. Probably Nancy or Roberta."
"Marco."
“Polo.”
"Have you talked to Zach? " Charli asked.
"Yes. He came by yesterday afternoon. He pleaded out his assault case. He's going to stay up at their lake house until he finishes his community service work, then he's going to California to visit some friends for awhile."
"I can't say I blame him. His whole life just went up in smoke."
"I know, but it doesn't make it any easier to handle. He said that he needs some time to think things through. We decided that a relationship between us just wasn't in the cards. At l
east not now. Fred's selling the business and both of the houses, by the way."
"That's what Mom said. Said he wanted to be near Roberta."
"It's pretty ironic, don't you think? He was going to leave her, now he's going to stand by her."
Tim swung through the metal gate and over to where we were sitting. He flopped down on a lounge chair and rubbed sunscreen across his chest and legs. "So Charli, Marty tells me that you lost that bet you made with John. The one where you have to do all the yard work and change all the dirty diapers and stuff."
Charli glared at me. "Only on a technicality. I really should have won. I had it almost all figured out, you know."
"Well, Charli, you know what Mom would say." I said.
"Don't even say it, Marty." She raised her arm like she was going to hit me.
I stood up. "She'd say, 'you know, this was just meant to be.'"
Charli bounced up out of her chair and pushed me backward. I teetered on the edge of the pool.
"I'm warning you, Marty, don't say the rest."
"She'd say, 'Everything always works out for the best'."
Charli shoved me into the pool. I grabbed her and pulled her in with me.
We came up sputtering and laughing. I managed to get it out. "One of these days, Charli, sweetie, you'll look back on this and laugh."
Charli took me under again. That time I was prepared. I held my breath.
"Yes, Charli," I said when I surfaced, "I do believe Mom's right. It's all -"
She pushed me under again. I swam away from her and came up out of the water.
"It's all just Destiny, Charli. Des-tin-ee!"
Thanks
Thanks to Jeannie and everyone else who cheered when I ventured to say I might just go ahead and put it out there on Amazon. I really wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t pushed a bit.
Thanks to Chris for telling me to go for it.
And, most of all, thanks to any of you who decided to take a chance and download and read this little bit of fluff. I hope you enjoy it! I certainly had fun writing it.
* * *
The jester hat was downloaded from Open Clip Art Library openclipart.org and was contributed by the very talented Christian Plaza, aka Merlin2525. The book cover was designed with Canva, using an image with multi-use rights.
The Divas of Doom
Doom Diva Mysteries Book Two
Sherry M. Siska
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
* * *
Text Copyright © 2012 Sherry M. Siska
All Rights Reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
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This book is available in paperback at most online book stores.
This book is for those fighting the hard battles of cancer. Here’s hoping for a cure.
Also by Sherry M Siska
The Madams of Mischief: Doom Diva Mysteries Book One
The Floozies of Fate: Doom Diva Mysteries Book Three
The Bimbos of Bane: Doom Diva Mysteries Book Four
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To receive notice when new books in the series are available, email me at [email protected]
1
Damn that slimy worm. I really should have squashed it when I had the chance. Without the worm, maybe, just maybe, my sister, Charli, wouldn’t have flipped out and started that big old mess she managed to drag me into. The mess, by the way, that led to my being accused of murder. Which, of course, almost cost me my life as I tried to find the real culprit. If I had gone ahead and killed that nasty night crawler as soon as I saw it, it’s entirely possible that Lady Luck and the other Divas of Doom, Destiny and Chance, would have left me alone instead of trying to drop kick me through the goal posts of life.
But, of course, I didn’t. Instead of smashing it to smithereens, I actually laughed when I saw it. And, as seems to be the running theme with my life, that one bad decision compounded into a serious run of not just bad, but hideous luck.
I can’t understand it, either. I’m not a bad person. I go to church sometimes. I make an attempt to be polite. I’m unfailingly kind to animals, always pay my bills, usually mind my own business, and I always floss twice a day. So why is it that when the chips start falling, they generally land with a resounding thud right on top of my curly brown head?
Charli says it’s bad karma. My best friend, Tim, thinks I’m overly dramatic. He says that drama queens run in my family. My mom, on the other hand, says I should just ‘look on the bright side’. That I should ‘consider myself lucky’, because ‘things could have been a lot worse.’ Pollyanna hasn’t got a thing on Mom.
Mom, of course, has never had a bad day in her whole, pinch-me-I-must-be-dreaming, Cinderella-should-be-so-lucky, life. But me? Boy, is that ever another story. Since Ricky Ray Riley - and yes, I’m talking about the Ricky Ray Riley, the new kid on the block of country music with his multi-platinum, chart-topping debut album – since he dumped me three days before our wedding (on my twenty-first birthday no less) my life has been on a downhill plunge. Last summer, I even found a dead guy in a trashcan. But, that’s another story for another day.
Lately, it’s been sort of like I’m the star of one of those dorky, not particularly scary, horror flicks where there’s an axe-wielding maniac skulking around behind every other door. Only in my case, it’s not a maniac lurking, but those three Floozies of Fate, and, instead of an axe, they’re armed with a whole quiver full of cosmic wedgies. Quite frankly, it’s all starting to make me feel more than a little paranoid.
2
Here’s what happened: last month, Charli’s husband, John Carsky, winged off to Japan on business for a couple of weeks, leaving her alone with their three rug rats. Mom phoned in a Mayday to me a few days after he left, begging me to watch the yard apes for a couple of hours on Friday so Charli could have a little time to decompress.
“Poor Charlene.” Mom sighed her ‘I know just how she feels’ sigh. “She hasn’t had a minute to herself since John left. Can you imagine? She must be nearly ready to lose her mind by now.”
Okay, so maybe Tim is right about us Sheffields being gifted in the dramatic arts. Since John had only been gone for five days, it appeared that maybe Mom was trying to beat out Meryl Streep for the best actress Oscar.
I sucked up my courage. “I’m really sorry, Mom, but I’m busy all day Friday.”
There was complete and utter silence from Mom’s end of the line. Yikes. This was not going to be as easy as I’d conned myself into believing. Evidently not having learned my lesson yet, despite all those years of living with the woman, I yammered away, desperate to fill the conversational void.
“Really, Mom, I can’t possibly keep them. I have tons of stuff to do.” I hoped she didn’t ask what. I’m not very good at lying under pressure. “Why can’t you keep them?”
“Because I have to write my column and give a speech to the Rotary.” Mom’s a reporter for the local weekly, the Glenvar News-Record, and she’s real big on ‘community involvement’. “Some of us still have jobs, you know.”
She said it calmly and sweetly, not a bit sarcastic, but ouch. She certainly knows how to hit a nerve. I’d just been canned from my job a couple of weeks before. I used to be a weekend DJ at hot country radio station WRRR. I was callously given the boot along with all of the other DJs when the station was sold to a big conglomerate. The new owners converted to a syndicated program format, so they fired all of us because, as the memo said, we were ‘obsolete’.
“Geez, Mom. You think I like being laid off? Believe me, I’d much rather be working. Those people at the unemployment office treated me like I was a complete bozo when I went down there. My case manager kept me hostage for four hours, making me take a bunch of dopey tests, then, w
hen I told her that I’d never worked at Tootie’s Go-Go-A-Rama like her papers said, she told me to ‘think about it dear, sometimes we forget these things’. Can you believe that? Like I’m so dense I wouldn’t have remembered working at a strip joint.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, dear. You really shouldn’t be so theatrical.” Pot. Kettle. Black. See what I have to put up with?
“Yes it was, Mom. It was exactly that bad. And I’m not being theatrical. That woman made me feel like it was my fault that I lost my job.”
“Well, you know, Martina, if you’d have finished college instead of coming up with that ridiculous DJ idea…”
I cut her off in mid-sentence. The last thing I wanted to do was listen to yet another lecture on how I’d screwed up my life. “You’ll just have to tell Charli sorry. Maybe she can hire a sitter or something.”
This time Mom’s sigh was the ‘how could I have raised such a selfish child’ one. “Martina Gayle Sheffield, I am extremely disappointed in you. Your sister desperately needs some time off. She has a hard enough time when John’s at home to help out. The strain of taking care of those three children without him around is tremendous. We’re her family. That obligates us to do all that we can to ensure that Charlene’s mental health doesn’t suffer.”
Charli’s mental health be damned; what about mine? To put it delicately, Charli’s kids are holy terrors. Just the thought of keeping them made me want to crawl under my bed. Of course, I’d have to get rid of all the junk under there first.
In spite of Mom’s attempt at provoking me into an attack of the guilts, I was determined to hold my ground and not give in. I gritted my teeth and stood up straight so I could feel my backbone. “I’m very sorry, Mom, but I just can’t do it.”
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