by Terri Thayer
I crooked my finger at him. He finished stamping their passports and followed me into my office.
He swiped his forehead theatrically. “Thanks for the rescue. One of those women is a badge bunny. She hangs around the office and brings coffee and donuts to the cops. She loves any guy on the job. I thought I was free here.”
I smiled but saw that I wasn’t fooling Buster. He knew the difference between a real smile and a fake one.
“What’s going on?” he asked. He took my hand and kissed the palm.
I blew out a breath. “There’s been a death at Freddy’s shop. One of my customers got trampled or died of a heart attack. I don’t know, but Freddy’s not answering his phone and I need to go find out what happened.”
Buster squeezed my hand. “I’ll drive you.”
I shook my head. “I need you to stay here. Jenn could use help at the register. You need to make sure Kym doesn’t get wind of this and start spreading rumors. Don’t let Ursula lift anything heavy.”
Buster studied my face. I knew he was struggling. He didn’t want to tell me what to do, but I could tell he didn’t think I should go.
“Look,” I said. “Freddy’s my friend. I want to make sure he’s okay, but I’m doing this for the Quilters Crawl, too. If he goes nuts, he’s going to scare a lot of people away. I can soothe him over and make sure he keeps things in perspective.”
“That a dead body doesn’t have to be the end of things?”
I felt anger rise up in my throat. “That’s not fair,” I said. “It’s not really my fault that I’ve had some experience with this. I can help him understand what’s going on.”
He struggled and then he relaxed. He knew I was going to do what I thought I had to do.
“I’m asking you to hold down the fort here for me for a couple of hours,” I said.
“I can do that.”
I threw my arm around his neck and pulled him close. “That’s what I love about you. You’re so damn versatile. Busting drug dealers one day, wrassling quilters the next,” I said.
“What an exciting life I have,” he laughed. “I don’t know how my heart stands up to it.”
I touched his chest. “Because you have the biggest heart in a man that I’ve ever seen.”
I was doubly glad now that Sonya had stayed. I could leave Pearl alone with her in the loft. I’d have to remember to send her a gift certificate. Or maybe a copy of Lark’s autographed book.
“I won’t be long,” I promised. “There’s a class going on that’ll be over in a few minutes. If you could help the students out with their stuff, that’d be great.”
“Bye, sweetie. Go. We’ll figure it out.”
I barely heard Buster as I rushed out to my car.
Fourteen
Freddy’s store was in a strip mall. The façade had recently been overhauled to enhance its Spanish style, with fake timbers and buttery stucco. Freddy had purchased the entire strip when he’d moved up north.
His place took up three of the nine storefronts. He had sewing machines in the window, alongside large posters from the manufacturers, extolling the virtues of their latest innovation. The windows gleamed invitingly. Freddy managed to inject an air of excitement into the somewhat staid world of machine sales.
The parking lot was empty. The special pink raffle tickets littered the ground. A crushed pen gave credibility to the hundreds of rushing feet. Balloons tied to the street lamp were flat.
There was no sign of Lois. No sign that paramedics had come and gone. No indication that someone had recently died here. All of a sudden, the shrines that crop up on freeway ramps made sense to me. I understood the need to mark the spot. If I had a teddy bear or a silver vase of flowers, I’d have laid one down.
I pulled open the door, hearing the bell ring to let his staff know I was there, but no one came forward.
“Freddy,” I called out. I headed to the back of the store where I knew his office was.
“Back here,” he said.
He was leaning against a shelving unit that held boxes of unsold sewing machines. Rebekah and Inez were standing, watching him. I wasn’t sure of their loyalty. Would something like this make them quit?
I gave Freddy a sideways hug and settled in next to him, feeling all the bumps in my spine as I leaned against the metal shelving. I worried for a moment about boxes of machines avalanching.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
Freddy shook his head. His speechlessness worried me. A silent Freddy was not one I’d seen before.
Rebekah answered, “There was a rush and this woman fell in the middle. She couldn’t breathe.”
“No, that’s not what happened. Let me tell it,” Inez said.
Competition was the glue that bound these two. They didn’t let go of their natures easily.
Freddy held up a hand. They both quieted. “Truth is, none of us saw what happened. All I know is that the Twitter thing was going great. We had a huge line of people waiting to get their raffle ticket. I swear, there were at least two hundred people out there.”
Rebekah said, “We thought we had a good system going. I was stamping passports and Inez was giving out tickets,” Rebekah said. “But we fell behind. The line kept getting longer and longer. Freddy got on the megaphone, telling everyone that they would get a ticket.”
“Did you see Lois?”
Freddy shook his head. “I don’t know a lot of the customers here by name yet.”
I looked at his employees. Inez and Rebekah had been around for years, working in other shops in the Bay Area. I was pretty sure Rebekah had sold my mother her last Bernina ten years ago. The machine I used now. They knew a lot of locals even if Freddy didn’t.
Inez was shaking her head. She had a tone that broached no argument. “She’s never been here. We don’t know her.”
“I met her the other day,” I said. “She was nice.”
Freddy closed his eyes. I felt a shudder run through his body.
Inez and Rebekah were looking down at their shoes. Freddy was their boss, not a friend. His discomfort was nothing to them. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they weren’t mentally rewriting their resumes right now.
After a long pause, he swiped a hand over his face. His complexion was gray and the skin under his eyes sagged. I’d always thought of him as my contemporary but he was in his mid-forties and today he looked all of that, and more.
“Then, a limo pulled up,” Freddy said. “Can you believe it, a freakin’ limousine. Who thought that was a good idea?”
Freddy’s face darkened as he remembered the scene. “There was no place for them to go, so the driver double-parked on El Camino. Not smart. I was sure the cops were going to come and shut us down.”
I could picture the scene. What a mess.
“The doors opened and at least a dozen women came out. It was like a clown car.”
Except way bigger.
Freddy pinched his chin and I wondered if he was missing the goatee he used to sport. Something to rub. “The girls in the limo had had champagne. They were a little tipsy and very loud. They started toward the front of the line, not realizing everyone else was waiting.”
Rebekah looked up. “That inflamed the crowd. All of sudden, people were pushing and shoving.”
Freddy nodded. “Next thing I know, women are screaming. The noise was awful. People were hollering even though they didn’t know what they were yelling about.”
He stopped, and when he spoke again his voice was shaky. “There was a ripple effect, women backing up in rings, doing anything they could to get away from Lois, who was on the ground. I couldn’t see that of course, just an open space where everyone was fleeing from.”
“I thought she had heat stroke,” Rebekah said. “Fainted.”
Inez snorted, “It wasn’t warm enough for that.”
“She was in the middle of a lot of people,” Rebekah said. “It could have been very hot.”
Inez tched.
“A g
uy came forward, and started doing CPR.”
“Was Lois conscious?” I asked.
Freddy shook his head. I could see he was rattled. “I don’t know. I called 911. The paramedics came and took her away.”
The softer side of Freddy, the rescuer, was not one I encountered very often. It was something he kept hidden. I thought I saw tears in his eyes, but Freddy blinked and they were gone.
He pulled himself away from the shelves. “I’m closing up.”
“It’s against the Quilters Crawl rules,” I said before I had a chance to think.
He frowned at me. “Screw that.”
“Sorry,” I said.
He turned to his employees. “Rebekah, Inez, go on home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The pair left, stopping in the break room to gather up their purses. Both carried enormous expensive leather satchels that I knew Freddy gave out as a reward for selling over one hundred thousand dollars worth of machines.
We followed them out to lock the front door. The Quilters Crawl basket sat on the counter, mocking the event with its perkiness. Freddy fingered the ribbon.
“This happens to you, not me,” he said. The whine in his voice told me he was going for self-pity. “You’re the one who finds dead bodies.”
“It’s awful, no matter what,” I said. “It’s not exactly a competition.”
“Yeah, but, you’re the one who knows how to handle this. I don’t.”
“That’s why I’m here. To hold your hand.”
“Does your boyfriend know?” Freddy asked. He couldn’t resist a little mischief.
“Of course. He was at the shop. I told him before I left.”
“Oh,” Freddy said, his voice cresting with disappointment.
I stepped away from him. I didn’t like the direction this was headed. “Freddy,” I said, warning. “You know there’s nothing between us. We’re friends.”
“I know,” he said, stroking his non-existent goatee again. “It’s just—”
I knew what was going on. Times like these make you lonely. Life looked vast and loomed with too many empty places. Freddy had no one at home, preferring his girlfriends to be many, with minimum commitment.
The first time I saw a dead body, I’d had to go home to an empty house. It was too much to bear and I recruited Buster to keep me warm that night.
This was no time to be alone. “Come on,” I said. “Isn’t there a bar nearby? I’ll buy you a drink.” I could use one, too.
He brightened. “You’d do that for me?”
“I’ll stay until you’re feeling better,” I said, making sure I wasn’t promising more in his eyes.
“That might take quite a few drinks,” he said. We went out the back door. His car was parked under a sign that read “Parking for the King. Anyone else will be beheaded.”
“Get in my car,” I said. “If you’re going to get good and drunk, you’re not driving. I’ll take you home later.”
Freddy looked a little too pleased with himself as I texted Buster and asked him to lock up. I promised to be home by eight.
———
“I feel a little guilty,” I said. “I mean, the Twitter thing was our idea.”
“We never intended anyone to get hurt,” Freddy said, sipping his fourth scotch. After downing three straight shots, he’d finally ordered one with water and was nursing it. For all the alcohol he’d consumed, I couldn’t see any change in his demeanor. No slurring, no glassy eyes. He had a greater tolerance than I did. After my first drink, I’d switched to tonic water. I had to drive home.
“I know, but …” I pushed a finger through the condensation from my glass on the bar.
Freddy tipped his glass and watched the amber liquid move. “It’s human nature, Dewey,” he said. “I mean, for crying out loud, they were there for a gift basket with maybe a hundred dollars worth of stuff in it.”
He turned to me, his eyes flashing with scorn. “Those women probably spend more than that on fabric every week. This wasn’t about the prize.”
Maybe the alcohol was having an affect after all. Freddy’s eyelids drooped.
“People like giveaways,” I said. “We use them all the time to lure people into our shops.”
Freddy put his forehead against his glass. “You didn’t see it, Dewey. They were like animals, clutching and clawing.”
He looked at me. His eyes were filled with tears. “Truly awful.”
“I’m sorry it got out of control.”
His shoulders sagged. “Promise me you’ll find who did this.”
“Ouch. Could you sound any more like an extra on Law and Order?”
He closed his eyes. He drained his glass and held it up for a refill. The bartender obliged. The bar was empty except for Freddy and me. It was early for most partyers.
“We need to figure this out.”
Freddy leaned in to make his point. The eau d’scotch was overpowering this close.
That last drink had been the tipping point. He was over the line. He leaned further. His butt slipped off the barstool and he landed on my shoulder.
I stood and planted my feet. Freddy was taller and fifty pounds heavier than me. I couldn’t handle him if he was too drunk to walk.
I pushed him into an upright position. “Seriously. Let’s go. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
Freddy’s eyes darkened. He straightened his spine and sat down. Any vagueness in his eyes disappeared. “I’m not kidding, Dewey. We must find out what happened to her. Otherwise, you and I are going to hell for our part in this woman’s death.”
He burped. “Another, barkeep,” he called out.
My phone rang. I held it out so the Budweiser sign illuminated the name of the caller. The readout said it was the San Jose Police Department. I couldn’t ignore this.
Anton Zorn launched as soon as I said hello. “You quilters have the worst luck, don’t you? I heard about your buddy, Miss Lois Lane. Too bad Superman couldn’t help her.”
He chuckled at his lame joke. “I want you to know that I see a connection, Ms. Pellicano. A direct link from Wyatt Pederson to Lois Lane. And that is you. You.”
He paused dramatically. I didn’t even breathe for fear he would take that as an acknowledgment that I was listening.
“I will let my colleagues know about you. I will help them make the connection back to you.”
He hung up without saying more. My stomach roiled. I gulped in the bar air, but it only filled me with the smell of alcohol and stale men. I closed my eyes against the onslaught on my innards.
When I opened them, Freddy was staring at his scotch like it held some answers. His phone rang. He reached into his shirt pocket. The phone caught on his pocket and he pulled hard, knocking himself in the nose.
I grabbed for the phone, but he held it away from me. I wasn’t sure if he actually got it shut off with his fumbling, or if the person on the other end gave up, but the phone stopped ringing. He placed it on the bar in front of him with the careful, exaggerated movements of a drunk.
My phone rang. Barb V. I glanced at Freddy’s phone. Sure enough. Missed call from Barb V. She must have heard the news.
I held a hand over my right ear. “Hello?”
“Hello,” Freddy answered. I shook my head at him, and gave him a shush a librarian would have been proud of.
I got up from the barstool and walked to the short hall where the bathrooms were located. The din from the bar faded.
“Dewey?” Barb V’s voice, as sharp as a broken beer bottle, came through loud and clear.
“Yes, Barbara.”
“Did you hear? What are we going to do?”
We? What was with the “we”? She surely wasn’t going to drive over to console Freddy. I looked back at the bar. A woman had taken my spot and he was leering at her. She was smiling in a way that suggested she might be for hire. I doubted that was what he needed tonight, but if Freddy thought that was a good idea, who was I to stop him?
“Yes, Bar
bara. I heard. I’m with Freddy now.”
“Good, I was trying to reach him. We need to call off your silly Tweeter thing.”
“No, Barbara, that’s not the answer.”
“Dewey, I’m not going to argue with you.”
Freddy was leaning over, looking down the woman’s shirt. A line of drool was ruining his sexy vibe. No way was he getting lucky tonight, even for a price.
“You can’t unilaterally decide that. We need to talk to the other shop owners.”
“I’ll call an emergency meeting tonight.”
“Tonight?” That wasn’t going to work. Not with the shape Freddy was in. The bartender was looking at me meaningfully. I had to get him out of here.
“We can’t let this wait,” Barb V said. “We all have to work tomorrow.”
“Tell you what. How about we meet very early at my place?” I didn’t give her time to say no. “I’ll call everyone and let them know. Seven AM. I’ll have coffee and bagels.”
She started to protest.
“See you tomorrow, Barbara.” I clicked off the phone.
I hung up before she could argue further and headed over to the bar. I gave the hooker a look and she slid away. I took the stool.
“That was Barb V,” I said.
“Vomit,” Freddy said.
I jumped up to avoid getting splattered. But Freddy hadn’t moved, slumped over, his body relaxed and not heaving.
He pushed his face off the bar and said, “Vertigo.”
That was all I needed. A dizzy Freddy.
I waggled my fingers in front of his face. “Are you okay?”
His mouth moved before the sounds came out. “Barb V, V for Vise.”
“Jerk,” I said. A drunken version of Name That Barbara. “I thought you were getting sick.”
The door opened and a man who looked a lot like Freddy if Freddy favored suits and ties over polos and jeans walked in. Could this be Vangie’s lawyer?
“Larry!” Freddy called, waving his arms so widely, he tipped himself off the stool. His brother took three long strides and caught him in mid-air.
