Hot Tea

by Sheila Horgan

  “That’s more than fair.”

  “Talk to you soon Billy.”

  I jumped out of bed, called Teagan on the way into the kitchen to put the kettle on, was walking back to my room when it dawned on me that AJ could be home, and I was prancing around in no more than I was born in. Not bright. I raced the rest of the way back to my bedroom, just as Teagan picked up the phone.

  I gave her my best cheesy, “Good morning.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Why are you calling so early? You never call early.”

  I explained the situation with Billy. Teagan thought it a marvelous idea. Even if it didn’t go any further than this one family, it was a nice thing to do for Billy, and having a priest on your good side is never a mistake. Besides, maybe it was putting some credits on the positive side of the God ledger. We can always use those.

  I told her I would take it under advisement, and called Mom. Mom was quick to remind me that I am unemployed and that even if it was not a major paycheck, it was more than I was making sitting around waiting for the police to let us back into Bernie’s house. She also said that Teagan and I were to go down to the police station and submit our fingerprints as exclusionary, if the police decided that they were going to treat Bernie’s house as a crime scene.

  That woke me the rest of the way up.

  “What do you mean a crime scene? I thought Bernie just stopped living. Mom, the woman was 712. I thought Bernie died of old.”

  “I understand that Love, but it turns out that the medical examiner doesn’t share your opinion, and although the rest of us always bow to your wisdom, I don’t see that happening in this case.”

  I was horrified, my usual grace-filled self blurted, “Bernie was murdered?”

  “I’m not saying that Love. I’m saying that they have some investigating to do. I’m sure it will turn out to be nothing, but until they figure that out, we need to steer clear of Bernie’s and let them do their work.”

  “I can do that. On another subject, what’s happening with Liam and Morgan? I thought they were going to marry on your anniversary. They had better get a move on.”

  “They’ve decided to hold off just a bit.”

  “Oh oh, trouble in paradise?”

  “Not at all. They’ve just decided that with Bernie’s passing, and the church down the river being so small, and Jordan deciding that he needs to be the best man, that they are going to take some time and really plan something proper.”

  “So do they have a new date?”

  “Not that I’m aware. Perchance they are waiting for you to join them in a double ceremony with that handsome young man from the back of the church at Bernie’s service.”

  “Mom, I gotta go. Billy’s waiting for me to call him back. I’ll talk to Liam and see if there is anything I can do to help.”

  By noon, I not only had the answer to Billy’s proposal, but I had the keys to the apartment of my new project as well. I was pretty sure I could talk Teagan into helping me if it was all too much, but decided to try to do it on my own. I emailed my new client, I have a client, how cool is that? His name is Steven. I asked that he send me authorization to go into his brother’s condo. I’d hate to get arrested for breaking and entering. Can they arrest you if you have a key? 35 minutes after I’d hit send, I received his response. Efficient guy. That could be scary.

  Ms. O’Flynn,

  Thank you for taking on this project. As I explained to Father Parker on the phone, I have no idea the state of my brother’s affairs. I would appreciate daily advisories via email. I’ve mailed the initial check in the amount Father Parker and I discussed. Should you require appraisers or other consultants, please advise me before incurring cost. Per your request, I’ve included a letter authorizing you to act on my behalf. You should have no problems with access to the condo. I’ve also called the woman that seems to be in charge there and told her to expect you. She has been excellent about watching my brother’s condominium.

  Sincerely,

  Steven Arcillio

  Note from Steven and key from Billy in hand, I typed the address into my little GPS gadget and was off.

  On the way to the condo, I wondered why Steven sounded so unemotional about the death of his brother. If one of my brothers or sisters died, I would be inconsolable. I’d lose it. A part of my heart would wither and die along with them. I don’t even want to think about how I would react if one of my parents died. I’ve pretty much convinced myself that I will never lose either of them. I just am just way to immature to deal with it.

  I got to the condo complex without any problems at all. GPS is a wonderful invention. I don’t care if Teagan is right and the government is watching my every move, at least I don’t have to do 27 u-turns and try to read a map every time I am going to a new place.

  When God was handing out sense of direction, I was in the thin hair line. Again. This explains why I have hair as soft and thin as a two-year-old, and can’t find my way out of the grocery store parking lot without help.

  The lovely man inside the GPS said, “Arrive at Louis residence, in two hundred feet, on right.” I love his oh so sexy Australian accent. I programmed him to sound like that. Isn’t technology grand?

  The condo complex was smallish. Maybe 50 units visible from the street. Looked like eight units to most buildings, four up and four down. The landscaping was basic, but very well kept. The walkways were spotless, which is tricky in Florida. Because of the humidity, things seem to go from spotless, to green, to black and slimy in almost no time.

  Each building was painted a different color. Very ‘South Beach’. There was a nice sized pool and what I assumed to be a shared community building, which was teeny tiny, at the end of the complex.

  The whole thing was lovely, and inviting, and a place I would love to come home to at the end of a long day.

  I took a moment to turn off the GPS, then the car. I locked my purse in my glove compartment, put my sunglasses in the middle compartment, and was reaching for the door handle as I pulled the key out of the ignition, when I damn near soiled my leather seats.

  There was a woman standing at my window, which I’d left down just a little, a major error in Florida in the summer time. You can walk away from a car and come back to a mini swimming pool. When it starts to rain, it really rains. It can rain multiple inches before you even realize that you are doing a bunch of damage to your upholstery. I need to focus, before something goes really wrong.

  Anyway, the lady used her rather large ring to tap loudly on my car. I swear to you, if she damaged my paint, we are going to have a problem. I’m a little OCD about such things.

  For such a welcoming area, this woman was not looking very welcoming at all.

  “Girly, this is private property. Move along now.”

  I smiled, “Is this your property? Do you manage the complex?”

  “That’s no never mind of yours. Now you just move along.”

  I tried for a nice neutral tone. “Actually, I have business here and permission to be on the property. I appreciate your watching out. If you will just excuse me…” I gently pushed my car door, I didn’t want to knock down a little old lady, no matter how unwelcoming she appeared to be, but I didn’t want to sit in the car melting either, so I figured a little nudge would do the trick.

  She planted her boney little legs in a fighting stance and set herself to ready. She blocked my way out of my car. I couldn’t believe it. She was going to scratch my paint with the buttons on her sweater. A sweater. In Florida. In the summer. She must be out of her ever-loving mind. It’s hot and humid every minute of every day around here. If the woman had a drop of human blood running through those loopy veins of hers, she’d be as heated as I was fast becoming. I know older people can become chilled, but this is Florida for goodness sake. I know, always show your elders some deference, but come on now, I was starting to melt.

  I tried for a smile, but think it might have looked
more like I was baring my teeth, “Excuse me, I’m going to open this door and I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She didn’t respond at all.

  I was just about to start the car and pull up ten feet to try it again when a woman came running across the grass. She’s about 5’10” tall wearing a burnt orange caftan that was flapping behind her as she covered ground at a good clip. About 20 feet away, she said in strangled holler, “Mother, it’s ok, I’ll take care of it. This must be the lady Louis’s brother called about.”

  “Yep, that’s me.”

  The guard dog woman left us and shuffled across the grass. I looked around to try to figure out where she’d come from, since I hadn’t seen any evidence of her before she scared the crap out of me. I wondered why she’d changed from hound of the Baskerville, to feeble, in seconds. Funny how her daughter arriving on the scene changed everything.

  Caftan woman said, “You must be Carol.”

  “Cara.” I corrected her and I gave her a big smile. “It’s an Irish name, people mistake it for Carol all the time. I have lots of brothers and sisters, so I answer to just about anything, especially if food is involved.”

  She chuckled. “Louis’s brother called and said he’d hired a service to come and go through Louis’s things. He asked that we keep an eye on the place till you got here.”

  “He told me that you had been watching. That’s very kind of you. Sometimes bad guys watch for a death notice in the paper and come wipe the place out before anyone notices.”

  Caftan woman said, “I wasn’t going to let that happen to my Louis.”

  “Were you close?”

  She blushed. “No. He was just a very kind man. Whenever Mother and I had a problem, he was Johnny on the spot. Mother fell last year, at first, we thought she’d broken her hip, but it turned out to be a bone bruise. Louis would carry her out to the car for me when she had an appointment and he happened to be at home. It was so much faster than waitin’ on her to get down the walkway, and she felt wonderful in his arms. Her words, not mine.”

  I smiled. “He sounds like a nice man. It’s a shame that he passed. His brother didn’t give me any details.” Sometimes you have to chum the waters. I hoped she’d take the bait.

  “That’s because he didn’t have any details to tell you. They were estranged. Louis never told me why, but if you ask me, it had to be something that that brother did. Louis would never do nothing to hurt nobody.”

  Damn. No details.

  All I could come up with was, “Well, I need to get started. I have a key here, and permission to be here from next of kin. Do you want a copy?”

  “No. I knew you were comin’ and besides, I got no legal right to say who comes and goes. All I can do is call the cops if I see something I don’t like. I won’t be callin’ the cops on you.”

  “I appreciate that. Handcuffs and I don’t get along.”

  “You’ve worn handcuffs?”

  “Only a couple of times.”

  Her mouth went into a perfect ‘O’. She was rethinking her decision to let me into the condo. I gave her my most innocent smile and said, “My younger brother is a cop. When he was in the academy, he ran around arresting everyone in the family. We gave him our best moves to try to get his gun or run away. I never tried for the gun, was always afraid he’d forget to unload it and someone would get hurt, but I did escape a couple of times. Had the bruises to prove it. Handcuff bruises will get you some funny looks in church.”

  Mollified, she wished me well and walked in the general direction her mother had taken.

  I took a couple of deep breaths to center myself, and headed for Louis’s condo.

  The condo was much nicer inside than out, which was saying a lot. Either Louis had passed very recently, or he had a cleaning service. The place would make my mother proud, and my mother is pretty darn picky when it comes to all things cleaning.

  As you enter the front door, there is a brick wall to your immediate right and a small office to your left. The brick wall turned out to be the backside of the fireplace. I guess the fireplace was designed that way to warm the living room on the three nights we have each year that are a little chilly.

  The living room had been furnished in the traditional male style, big black leather sofa, big black leather easy chair, coffee table and matching end tables, huge flat screen TV. The only thing that seemed a little bit personal was a ceramic fairy under glass. Interesting.

  I walked through the living room, into the kitchen, again, everything in its place. I opened the fridge, and although there was food inside, there was nothing that would spoil today, so I closed it and kept investigating.

  Back through the living room, past the fireplace that kept drawing my attention, and down a short hall. Half way down the hall on the right was a half bath. Done in black and white. Continuing down the hall was a master bedroom suite. A king sized bed took center stage, it was a platform bed, very modern looking. The first thing I’d seen out of place, the bed wasn’t made.

  At the foot of the bed, there was an archway that delineated the bathroom, although there was no door. A walk in shower, nice long countertops, a lowboy toilet, and a linen closet. All his towels were neatly folded, first a black one, then a dark brown one, then a black one again. No guest towels on the towel bar.

  I opened a couple of drawers and the medicine cabinet, more out of habit and nosiness than necessity. Nothing interesting. No meds. Guess the guy wasn’t sick before he died.

  Back through the bedroom and out into the hall, I noticed a door I hadn’t seen on the way in. When I tried it, it was locked. Wonder what secrets were in there? People usually don’t go to the trouble of locking doors that they aren’t using to sequester something.

  Chances are good the key is somewhere in the condo. Although lots of people lock things up, very few are actually good at security. They use a combination lock, then write the combination down where it can easily be found, or they stick cash in the freezer, and don’t write ‘beef’ on the package like the rest of the stuff in there, or they buy one of those fake cleanser cans and stick it under the sink and everything else is environmentally friendly.

  A tiny bit of being observant goes a long way in this world, but most people don’t take the time to be observant, especially in their own homes.

  I’m observant by nature. Combine that with being nosey by nature, and paid to snoop, and I notice things.

  I wandered back into the office. At first glance, it was looking like this project wasn’t going to take very long at all.

  I sat down at Louis’s desk and took a minute to let the condo talk to me. I know it sounds silly, but all buildings have a voice. That’s why you can walk into a monochromatic modern masterpiece and feel it’s homey, or into a southern country comfy place and feel it’s cold as stone. I think some places just take on the personality of those that shelter there.

  Louis’s condo was telling me that he is organized to a fault, a characteristic I really like in a person. He was a little lonely, no personal stuff anywhere. He lived alone, and women didn’t visit often, if at all, no female touches, and Lord knows, it doesn’t take us long to implement them if we wish.

  Louis was a big guy, cause I’m tall and his desk chair was perfectly comfortable for me.

  I got up, wandered back out to the kitchen counter, where I’d left a tablet and pen, and started to the back of the condo. I figured I’d work my way forward taking quick notes for my email to Steven, my one real client, tonight.

  For some reason, known only to God, I walked over to the front door and locked the deadbolt, just as the doorknob turned. Freaked me out a little bit, but I assumed it was the guard dog and her daughter coming to make sure I didn’t take Louis’s valuables. I looked out the peephole, feeling a little superior, since I was on the inside with a key, and they were at my mercy, but it wasn’t them behind the door, it was a man. A really good-looking man. I mean REALLY good looking.