3 A Brewski for the Old Man

by Phyllis Smallman

  “Let me see if I understand this. You’re going to confess to killing Ray John even though you didn’t do it?”

  He just nodded his head, more intent on going over the details than bringing me up to date on reality. “I drove out to that place this morning but it’s gated,” he said. “How did you get in? Did anyone see you, ’cause if they did that’s going to be a problem. If they have a witness we’ve got to get the hell out of here.” He reached out for my arm and shook me. “Talk. This is no time for you to go white lily on us.”

  I started to laugh. These crazy old buggers just weren’t to be believed. My dad’s face turned to confused concern at my hysteria. He dropped the coffee cup in the dirt beside him and reached out to shake me. “C’mon, kid, get it together.”

  I wiped my eyes and raised a hand to him to stop him from slapping me out of hysterics. “Okay, okay.” I turned to Uncle Zig. “What about you, aren’t you going to confess too?”

  “Your dad thought it should be him, but I will if you think it sounds better.”

  I laughed. “No,” I choked out, shaking my head. “Not necessary.”

  They looked from one to the other and waited impatiently, watching me, until the madness passed. “Not me,” I babbled, shaking my head.

  I jabbed a finger at Tully. “I thought it was you. But I sure have to tell you I wasn’t about to confess and go to jail on your behalf.”

  “What are you saying?” Tully asked, sitting up straight.

  “Are you telling me you didn’t shoot Ray John Leenders?”

  “Yes.” My head was bobbing up and down wildly. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  He looked confused or dubious, I’m not sure which, and told me, “But a pickup was seen leaving the scene. That wasn’t you?”

  “Nope.” I had to ask again, “Was it you?” I watched my dad. He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Damn, I wonder who did it for us.”

  “Wasn’t me,” said Zig. “Although I sure as hell would have given it some thought if I’d known about that bastard. Why didn’t you tell us, kid?”

  “Because of this. Do you think I wanted you to get fried? Florida has the death penalty, you know.” “Damn,” said my father. “Damn.”

  “Indeed.” I raised my cup to Tully and toasted him. “Here’s to two innocent people.” He picked his cup up out of the dirt and touched his cup to mine. We grinned at each other over the rims. My coffee was barely lukewarm but I didn’t care. It tasted the best I’d ever had.

  “I have to call Marley. She’ll be waiting to hear what I found out. Man she won’t believe this.” I dug around for my cell phone. “She made me promise to call her as soon as I talked to you. For reasons that escape me she would hate to see you incarcerated.”

  Marley picked up on the first ring which made me think maybe she doesn’t work as hard as she likes to tell me she does. I told her about Tully, trying to keep it light around the lump in my throat.

  “Tell him I love him,” Marley said.

  “Wait.” I lowered the phone. “Marley says she loves you,” I informed my dad.

  “Yeah, all the girls do,” he replied.

  “What about me?” Uncle Zig protested. “I wanted to confess too.”

  “Oh yeah, he was ready. He wanted to arm wrestle me for the honor,” Tully said.

  “A pair of old fools,” I told Marley.

  “Lucky you,” Marley said and hung up.

  And she was right. These two old men were no one’s idea of happy nurturing family and the pet adoption people would never let them near a stray cat, but they were mine. The one true thing I had in the world, the one thing I knew for sure was mine without question, something I didn’t need to deserve or earn and definitely something that wouldn’t desert me in times of trouble.

  C H A P T E R 2 2

  Kimmi Yost called in ill and I was filling in as hostess when Detective Styles showed up at one o’clock in the middle of the lunch rush. Joy of joy, nearly every table in the main dining room was in use.

  I gave Styles my biggest smile and picked up a menu. “Table for one, sir?”

  He didn’t return my smile. “You were supposed to be at my office. I told you to come by at three.”

  The elevator opened and four people emerged. I ignored Styles and took them to a table. When I got back, Styles was really steaming.

  “Do you want me to arrest you in front of a full restaurant?”

  “I’ll sue,” I promised. “False arrest. You have no reason to arrest me.”

  “How about a red pickup seen leaving the scene of a murder, a red pickup with a Florida license plate that says RIF RAF? Is that good enough?”

  I could see my life swirling around the bowl. I spun around on my heel and signaled for Gwen to take over before I headed for my office, just on the edge of running.

  Styles sagged into the chair across from my desk. His eyes were etched with red; his hair was tousled; his tie was undone and a shadow of whiskers crept along his jaw. Normally he was an extremely fastidious man, impeccably dressed and turned out. Actually, the tired, world-weary and jaded look worked, gave him an edge that I much preferred to Mr. Clean. “Have you been up all night?”

  He drew in his chin and said, “Never mind about me. You’re in real trouble.”

  “Since birth.” I picked up the phone to call the kitchen.

  “You probably haven’t eaten either.” Styles grabbed the phone out of my hand and slammed it onto the desk.

  “Never mind that shit. Just answer my questions.” He was shouting. This man didn’t swear, didn’t go unshaven and he certainly didn’t shout. I was in trouble.

  “What questions?”

  “Did you kill Ray John Leenders?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “What kind of a stupid question is that? Of course I’m sure. True, there are a few incidents in my past that I don’t fully recall but murder? I’m sure I didn’t murder anyone.”

  He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “Then why was your truck at the murder scene?”

  “It wasn’t. I was home in bed and the truck was downstairs in its parking spot.” “Can anyone verify it?”

  “Well, Clay is away but Lacey Cagel was there in the apartment all night and so was Marley. They weren’t sleeping in the same room but they were in the apartment. And Clay called at one-thirty and woke me up. He can tell you I was there.”

  “Cell phone?” he asked.

  “If you mean did I talk to Clay on my cell, yes I did.”

  “Then you could have been anywhere.” His brow furrowed. “Then how did your truck get out to the Preserves if you were home in bed?” “Someone made a mistake. Has to be.”

  He shook his head and got to his feet. “No.” The word came out long and slow. He paced the floor, working through it. “No, it was one of the security guards. He was pretty sure about it. Besides, RIF RAF is a pretty distinctive license plate.”

  “It’s Bernice’s favorite name for me. My ex-mother-in-law has lots of names for me but that’s the only one they’ll let me put on a license plate.”

  Styles was caught up in his thoughts. “The security guard is sure. He’s used to taking note of license numbers and at three in the morning they notice any vehicle. I checked his background myself. Mark Cummings was a military MP.”

  I picked up the phone and ordered two specials and coffee. Styles glared at me. “I’m not hungry,” he told me. “You’re not going to make this go away by feeding me.”

  “Look, you aren’t going to do anyone any good if you kill yourself. Besides I’m hungry.”

  “You’re always hungry.” He gave me a small smile and sat down on the corner of the desk. “Let’s start at the beginning.” “But first, do you believe I had nothing to do with it?” He listed my sins on his left hand. “You threatened him. You didn’t want to go the court route. You were worried about this Lacey Cagel. Your truck was seen. And yes I think you could kill someone.”


  “Thanks for the stirring endorsement.”

  “But you’re more likely to do it in a moment of anger, not sneaky like this.” “Well, thanks a bunch.”

  “What was I supposed to think? Can anyone get your truck out of the parking lot?”

  “Sure. We all have these electronic buzzers, kinda like garage-door openers, to get us into the parking garage. I keep mine on the visor. But they would have needed the keys to the truck.”

  “Do you keep one of those little magnetic boxes under the bumper with an extra key?”

  My face answered his question. “Shit,” he said. “So much for security.”

  “But how would anyone get into the garage?”

  “Trust me; I could get into that garage. It’s all for show. Or it could be someone in the building.”

  I shook my head. “Who else in the building not only knew Ray John but knew that I knew him. That’s a lot of knowing if you know what I mean. Doesn’t make sense. And why take my truck?” “No idea.”

  “Tell me what you do know.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out in a long loud sigh. “Okay.” It took him a moment to get started. “It happened about three. Mark Cummings, a security guard at the Preserves, made his hourly rounds and came back to the recreation hall where the security guys have a little office. He was about to turn into the parking lot when a red pickup shot out. He took down the number as a matter of routine but he didn’t drive in. Seems he knew about Ray John’s bad habits and he wanted to give him time to collect himself. Ray John was given to accusing people of trying to sneak up on him.” “Which way did the truck go?”

  “It was heading towards the entrance to the Preserves.”

  “What are they trying to preserve there besides their money?”

  “Can’t say but they definitely are willing to pay for it. They have eight guards on staff, security twenty-four hours a day. They have it covered.” He scratched the side of his nose. “There’s one on the gate from seven in the morning until eleven at night and after that you need a transponder to get in. A guard patrols the community all night.”

  “Tell me again, how does someone get in after eleven?”

  “Like your building they have transponders or if you have a guest you give them a code to punch in on a number pad. It’s always the same, the date. Or you can go down and let them out.”

  “Can someone walk in at night? Slip under the gate?”

  “Yeah, but you couldn’t get a car in without the number.”

  “Well, there you go. How would I get in? I didn’t know the code, never even been out there.”

  “But it’s pretty easy. I bet half the walled communities around use the date as the security number.”

  “One night, just for fun, I’ll go out and try a whole bunch of gates but until you told me what it was I’d never have thought of the code.”

  “Rena could have told you.”

  Before I could call him something colorful there was a knock at the door and Gwen Morrison entered with a huge tray covered in white linen. She had a good look at Styles and then set the tray on the desk and pulled off the cloth. Styles’ eyes were riveted on the food, while Gwen, grinning like she’d found out something delightfully naughty, raised her eyebrows and pointed at Styles, asking a silent question.

  “Police,” I told her. “Official business. They’re looking for a terrorist and I’m turning you in.”

  “Nice,” she said. “Being arrested could be fun. Especially if there’s handcuffs involved.” “Don’t wait for a tip.”

  “Well, you two have fun,” she said and left.

  “That’s it,” I told Styles. “My reputation is ruined. You’ll have to marry me now.”

  “Wouldn’t be so bad,” he said, picking up his silverware and going back to his chair. “At least it would never get boring.”

  I remembered he’d just separated, started to say something smart but for once in my life managed not to put my foot past my tonsils. “Go back and tell me what happened when this guard found Ray John.”

  Styles pointed his knife at me. “This isn’t for public consumption by the way.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I poured coffee from a flask. “Talk.”

  “Cummings decided to drive around for a little bit before he went in. Seems Leenders often had late-night visitors, entertained some ladies there and the guards knew enough to stay away when he was doing the nasty. Leenders was real sensitive about people knowing too much. Cummings waited for about twenty minutes so Leenders wouldn’t know he’d seen his lady friend leave.”

  I stopped him there, “Did he know it was a woman in the car? Did he see a woman?”

  “I asked that. He just assumed it was a woman.”

  “Okay,” I said, pouring coffee into my cup. “Go on.”

  “Not much else. He went in and found Leenders dead, shot with a small-caliber weapon. Forensics isn’t back yet, that will take a while.”

  “In the office? I mean was the body in the office?”

  “No. The recreation hall has meeting rooms and a kitchen. There’s also a small room, like a sitting room, with couches and chairs. That’s where he was. The door to that room is normally locked but he had keys to the whole building, all the rooms. All the guards do.”

  “Do all the members have a key to the building?”

  “No.”

  “So Ray John had to let his killer into the building.”

  “That’s the assumption we’re going on. Ray John knew his killer and let him in or he had a key, which would make it one of the guards or four people on the board.” “Maybe the killer just found an unlocked door.” He had his fork halfway to his mouth. He froze, looked up at me and said, “Damn. I hate it when you do that. You’re not supposed to see things I don’t.”

  “I haven’t been up all night. Besides, it’s unlikely they’d take a chance of finding an unlocked door if they were going out to murder him.”

  “Well, so far we’ve been assuming Leenders let his killer in and knew him or her.” He was going through it, thinking out loud. “Probably her, and looking to get it on. That’s why the room with the couch. If it had been a man, he would have taken him into the office.”

  “Your bias is showing. Maybe he was a double hitter.”

  “Did you ever see any evidence of that?”

  “No.” I thought about it a bit more. “But I wouldn’t have thought of it back then. I was only eleven when he moved in and not even I grew up that fast.”

  “How long was he with your mom before he started hitting on you?”

  “Right away, overly friendly, wanting us to be chums and all. I wasn’t comfortable with him from the get-go, but Mom was madly in love. Well, not that that was anything new. They moved in together within weeks of the first date.” “Does your father know about this?”

  Alarm bells went off in my head. “I told you, if I’d called my daddy up and told him that Ray John tried to rape me, he would have killed him. Daddy and I weren’t real close but still I didn’t want to see him in jail. He did show up occasionally and take me for burgers, or out on his boat.” I grinned at the memory. “Now I think about it we had some real good times. He just wasn’t good at everyday things, birthdays or keeping promises like picking me up after school. If I had to wait for Daddy it always ended in tears.”

  Styles went right by the filler and grabbed hold of the meat. “I mean does your father know now? Have you told him now that Ray John resurfaced?”

  “No,” I said. “There’s cheesecake for dessert.” Always hide the truth behind the cheesecake. “Running a restaurant can be dangerous for your waistline.” “You look okay to me.”

  C H A P T E R 2 3

  Did Styles know something about Tully he wasn’t telling me? Tully had been out to the Preserves that morning. Maybe the police took license plate numbers. Not a good thing. Maybe Tully even called up Ray John and left a threatening message on his answering service. That was more likely. Or
maybe Tully, after a few drinks, had got big-mouthed and told someone he was going to kill Ray John Leenders. Even more likely. Tully did some mighty stupid things when he was drinking. Like the time he rode a horse into the Presbyterian Church on a Sunday morning. I don’t know why, maybe he was still drunk from Saturday night and it seemed like a good idea.

  When I was a kid and people heard my last name they’d say, “Was your daddy the guy who rode a horse into Jacaranda Presbyterian?” Tully stories abounded. Unexpected and strange things were done by my father and people were going to be bringing up adventures of my daddy long after Tully was gone.

  The cops would have lots of notes on Tully, starting with stealing a car when he was fourteen, so I didn’t like any policeman asking about Tully even if I didn’t think he was involved in Ray John’s death. They just might uncover some other little escapade better kept hidden. Oh no, he wasn’t out of the woods yet. There were still lots of things out there to rise up out of the mud and bite us on the ass.

  But not for a minute did I think Tully was lying to me. He just wouldn’t. Well, not about this anyway. Then what about Uncle Zig? Did he go out to the Preserves and shoot Ray John? Loved him madly but the man was no genius. Sneaking into a gated community and shooting someone wasn’t his style. He was more likely to go to Ray John’s home with a bulldozer and run over him. Flatten his house first and then run over him. But he’d never lie about it or try to hide it. Nope, if Uncle Zig murdered Ray John it would be perfectly obvious. Besides, he would have told us.

  What about Rena? You mess with my kid, I’m going to have your balls for breakfast, but Rena hadn’t believed Lacey or hadn’t wanted to. She wanted Lacey to go back home as if nothing had happened. But what if Ray John had said he was leaving? She was madly, passionately in love with him. Would she rather see him dead than lose him?

  Lacey could have done it, but like me she’d been tucked up in my apartment sound asleep.

  I didn’t like any of the candidates. There had to be someone else, someone from Ray John’s past, someone with a long memory and a reason to get even.