A Novel Way to Die

by Ali Brandon

  Darla strained her ears to hear the other end of the conversation, but to no avail. Then, with a final, “Sure, see you in a bit,” Jake hung up.

  “That was Reese,” she said unnecessarily as Darla gave her a questioning look. “He needs a hand on something related to the case, so I’m going to meet him down at Teddy’s.”

  Which was, Darla had only recently learned, a smoke-filled bar frequented mostly by cops and ex-cops. She’d first heard about the place from Jake when the eponymous owner of the place had been threatened at gunpoint by a drug-addled thief intent on robbing the crowded place. The would-be robber had promptly found himself the target of two dozen or more gun-wielding patrons whom he’d discovered to his detriment were off-duty police officers. The incident—surprisingly, not the first in the bar’s history—had made the papers and likely would earn the man a stiff prison sentence as well as the scorn of his fellow criminals.

  “What about Hilda?” she wanted to know. “What if she makes bail before you get back home again? You’ve got her purse and house keys.”

  “If Hilda calls before then, I’ll have her come here. You don’t mind hanging on to those things until I get back, do you?”

  Actually, Darla did. She privately suspected that she was the last person Hilda would want to see. After all, Darla had been a witness to the woman’s arrest. Moreover, if Hilda had indeed taken a crowbar to Curt—no matter the provocation—she was not someone that Darla cared to be alone with in close quarters, either. Still, she could always have the woman wait outside while she handed her the bag from the safety of the foyer.

  Thinking fast, she answered, “I’m not going anywhere else tonight. But why don’t you leave her bag in the downstairs foyer behind the lamp table? You have the key to the building. That way, if you get home late you can pick it up without having to call me, and if Hilda gets here first, I’ll just meet her downstairs.” Jake agreed to the plan and a few minutes later had left to meet Reese, leaving Darla alone with Hamlet.

  Or rather, she had assumed Hamlet was there until another hour had passed and he still hadn’t come out to join her on the couch.

  By ten p.m., she had begun to have serious concerns as to where the stubborn feline had gone. With Robert safely at James’s place, there was no need for Hamlet to be wandering down to the courtyard or up to the lounge to keep the youth company. And Robert had taken pains to inform Hamlet of the change in plans before he left with the store manager.

  Hey, little bro, I’m rooming with the Big Hoss tonight. That means you be sure to stay in your apartment where it’s, like, nice and warm, he’d told the cat. Hamlet had meowrmph’ed in reply to indicate message received. Why, then, had the furry beast gone AWOL again?

  “He’ll be back,” she declared in her best Ah-nold tone, trying to reassure herself. Hilda had not yet phoned, either. A quick look downstairs indicated that Jake had not returned, since the purse was still in the foyer where she had left it. With things so unsettled, she’d stay up awhile longer, she decided as she put down the best seller she’d been reading and flipped on the early news.

  Unfortunately, the lead story was “local woman arrested in the bludgeoning murder of Brooklyn man.” A photo of a grinning Curt, complete with gold chain, flashed on the screen, followed by a video taken earlier that day of Hilda doing the perp walk. Darla groaned and promptly flipped the station to the animal channel for a bit of respite, only to find that a repeat of a shark special was playing. She clicked through the channels again and settled on an infomercial featuring an over-the-hill action star hawking a piece of exercise equipment. But his nasally twang was soothing, reminding her of the folks back home, and before she knew it she’d fallen asleep.

  When she awoke, it was to find herself curled uncomfortably on the sofa with another infomercial—this one for the Eggspert Egg Slicer—winding down. Hurriedly, Darla checked her answering machine and her cell phone in case she had slept through a call. Finding that neither Hilda nor Jake had phoned while she slept, she wearily made her way downstairs to check on the purse. It was gone, meaning that Jake had made it home and retrieved the bag for later.

  She had just started up the stairs again when her sleep-fogged brain cleared enough for her to realize that the entryway lighting seemed strange somehow. She could see flashes of blue and red, almost as if a police car was parked right outside her door. Fully awake now, she hurried back to the door and peered past the curtains covering the glass. She gasped to see, not a police vehicle, but an ambulance parked on the street in front of her building.

  Swiftly, she unlocked the front door and stumbled out into the cold night. Jake, dressed in her long black leather duster over gray sweats, was standing near the Plinskis’ stoop, a protective arm around Mary Ann. The old woman was dressed for sleep in a long pink flannel nightdress. She’d wrapped herself in a thick gray shawl the same pewter shade as the single long braid that hung past her thin shoulders.

  “Mary Ann . . . Jake . . . what’s wrong?” Darla called as she rushed down her steps to join the pair.

  Mary Ann turned toward her, and Darla saw that tears streaked her wrinkled cheeks. In a quavering voice, the old woman cried, “Darla, it’s Brother. I-I think he’s had a heart attack.”

  NINETEEN

  “OH, THANK GOD! I’M SO GLAD TO HEAR THAT. RIGHT, SEE YOU soon.”

  Darla hung up her cell and turned to James and Robert. They had been leaning against the bookstore counter listening to her side of the conversation with matching expressions of hopeful concern. It was an improvement on the gloomy looks that the pair had worn ever since she had given them the lowdown on the previous night’s medical emergency when they arrived at the store. Robert, in particular, had taken the news hard.

  “He’s, like, the only grandfather I have,” the teen had mumbled, looking dangerously close to tears. “If he needs, you know, blood or something, I’ll donate.”

  Darla hadn’t had the heart then to explain that his impulsive offer wouldn’t be needed for the old man’s particular condition. She tucked the phone back in her pants pocket and gave the pair a big smile.

  “That was Jake. The doctor just checked in on Mr. Plinski again, and he’s doing fine. Jake will be bringing Mary Ann home in just a bit, and her brother should be out of the hospital in another day or so.”

  “Ah, then apparently the diagnosis of a minor heart attack that the emergency room physician gave last night was correct,” James said with a satisfied nod.

  For his part, Robert let loose with a fist pump and a fervent, “Sweet!”

  “Sweet is right,” Darla agreed, sitting down on the register stool and giving an audible whoosh of relief. “I have to admit, I was pretty worried last night. When the paramedics carried Mr. Plinski out on that wheeled stretcher, he looked in pretty bad shape.”

  In fact, Darla had feared the old man was already dead, recalling the small, still figure that she’d seen strapped to the gurney. But then he’d momentarily lifted a wrinkled hand in his sister’s direction, indicating he’d not yet gone to that big antique store in the sky. Mary Ann, of course, had wanted to jump into the back of the ambulance with her brother, but Jake had gently dissuaded her.

  “That’s no place for you,” she had said as the paramedics loaded the old man into the EMT rig and then, lights still flashing, pulled away from the curb. “The ride is bumpy as hell, and the paramedics will be busy taking care of your brother. You don’t want to end up all bruised. I know which hospital they’re taking him to. We’ll get you there another way.”

  “We can take Maybelle,” Darla had promptly volunteered, speaking of the old Mercedes sedan that Great-Aunt Dee had left her. The vehicle was parked in a garage perhaps five minutes’ walk away. “Jake, why don’t you take Mary Ann back to her apartment so she can put on some proper clothes. I’ll go back inside for my keys and then go get Maybelle.”

  Normally, Darla would have been leery about running through the darkened streets at that hour of the night, b
ut concern gave her feet what James would call the proverbial feathered appendages. She jogged her way to the garage and, almost hyperventilating, took the elevator up to where her car was waiting. As always, it turned over with a single twist of the key, and a few minutes later she was parked at the curb of the brownstone while Jake helped a distraught Mary Ann down the concrete stairs.

  “We can’t all go,” Jake was quick to point out. “I haven’t heard from Hilda yet, and we can’t leave her stranded if she gets out before we’re back from the hospital.”

  Darla had considered that a moment and then quickly tossed the car keys in Jake’s direction. “You go. You know where the hospital is, and you’re better in an emergency. But be sure to call me when you know something, no matter what time it is.”

  She’d given Mary Ann an encouraging hug and helped her into the passenger side, where the frail woman barely made a dent in the padded leather seat. She waited until Jake had made a thoroughly illegal U-turn before heading back inside her own apartment again.

  It had been almost five in the morning before Jake had awakened her from a restless sleep with a call telling her Mr. Plinski’s condition was serious but not dire, and they’d know more soon. Barely had she drifted back to sleep again, however, when Hilda called saying she was waiting downstairs.

  Feeling punchy from her erratic night of missed sleep, Darla had grabbed her spare key to Jake’s garden apartment. Groggily, she had gone down to retrieve the woman’s handbag while Hilda waited in the taxi that was idling at the curb.

  Hilda had looked as haggard as Darla felt. Her words of thanks had been brief as she reached through the cab window for her purse and then waved the driver to go on. Darla had chalked that brusque reaction to a combination of embarrassment and exhaustion. With a shrug, she had taken a moment to call Jake at the hospital and let her know that Luis had managed to spring Hilda and that the woman had reclaimed her bag and keys. Then, praying no one else would disturb her for a while, she had returned to her bed for a few more hours’ sleep before the store’s usual Sunday opening time of noon.

  When she’d awakened, it had been very close to that hour. She’d had time only to hop into the shower and then pull on jeans and a bright yellow sweater. Since she didn’t have time to tame her hair, which had frizzed into an auburn cloud overnight, she’d twisted it into a quick bun, which she’d secured with a pair of wooden hair sticks. She’d made it downstairs just in time to see Robert and James, wearing matching green plaid vests, come walking up the stoop.

  And now, while Robert and James celebrated the good news about their elderly neighbor with fist bumps and high fives, Darla was unhappily considering the fact that not everything was all right. Hamlet had never shown up that morning for his breakfast. And now, at almost half past twelve, the inconsiderate feline still was missing.

  “James, Robert . . . I’m worried about Hamlet. I didn’t get to tell you earlier in all the excitement about Mr. Plinski, but the cat has been gone since sometime last night. The last I remember seeing him was when the two of you left the store.”

  “What?” Robert demanded, his grin fading. “Like, no way. I told the little bro to stay here.”

  “I know you did, but seriously, when I see that little so-and-so again—”

  “I am sure you looked everywhere,” James smoothly interjected before Darla could finish her threat, “but maybe we should make another sweep through the store in case he is simply being stubborn about joining us.”

  The three of them promptly spread out in different directions. Darla knew that it wasn’t unusual for Hamlet to be discovered curled up in some out-of-the-way nook, or else for him to be found lounging atop a bookshelf that appeared inaccessible. But what was unheard of was for the cat to skip his breakfast. Hamlet did not operate well on an empty stomach.

  A few minutes later, they regrouped at the register.

  “No Hamlet,” Darla said with a shake of her head. “I even checked that little gap between the bookshelves near the heat register, but no sign of him.”

  “I looked upstairs in the lounge and out in the courtyard,” Robert offered, “but he wasn’t, like, there, either.”

  “And I, too, had no luck . . . although I did find this on the floor near the reference area,” James said and handed Darla a thick paperback with a tricolor binding of black, red, and yellow.

  “English-German, German-English Dictionary,” Darla read from the cover without much enthusiasm before tossing it onto the counter. “I guess that will come in handy if we want to say Where the hell is the damn cat? in German.”

  “If I recall from my studies many years ago, that would be wo die Hölle die verdammte Katze ist,” James replied in a passable Teutonic accent. “But I agree, that is not much help under the circumstances.”

  “Maybe he was, you know, worried about Mr. Plinski,” Robert suggested, sounding pretty concerned himself. “I’ll go check their stoop.”

  He was back in a few moments shaking his head. “The little dude isn’t there.”

  “I’ll check the apartment again,” Darla decided. “You know how he is. He probably snuck back in already and is up there laughing at us dumb humans.”

  But Hamlet wasn’t upstairs, nor had he made an appearance by the time Jake and Mary Ann arrived back at the brownstone an hour later. The old woman looked surprisingly alert for someone who had spent most of her night sitting in a hospital waiting room.

  “My dear, I am so grateful to you for lending us the car,” she exclaimed to Darla as Jake helped her out of the Mercedes. “I used to ride around in Maybelle with Dee quite often. That made the trip to the hospital rather comforting, like my old friend was watching over me.”

  “I’m glad I could help in some way . . . though, of course, Jake is the real champ here.”

  Mary Ann nodded and gave the ex-cop a teary smile. “I must confess, I phoned Jake even before I dialed 9-1-1. I was so flustered when I woke up and heard Brother calling to me. He said he’d been in pain for a good half hour before he finally decided that something was wrong. The nice doctor who took care of him said things could have been much worse if he’d waited any longer.”

  “All of us were relieved to hear that he should be fine,” Darla assured her. “And we’ll all lend a hand if you need help while Mr. Plinski is laid up.” Turning to Jake, she added, “You look beat. Why don’t you get Mary Ann settled and then get some rest yourself. I’ll take Maybelle back to the garage.”

  “Thanks, kid,” Jake replied with a tired smile that suddenly showed her age. Tossing Darla the keys, she admitted, “Now that the worst of it is over, I’m about ready to drop.”

  Darla assumed her friend meant the medical emergency with Mr. Plinski. The specter of the missing Tera, along with the fact that Hilda had been charged with the brutal murder of a man they all knew, loomed large still. And that didn’t even count the situation with Robert. He still needed, as Jake had so wryly put it, his “forever home.” But for the moment, her most immediate concern was finding Hamlet.

  Darla went back into the shop for her phone and coat. “I’m taking Maybelle back to the garage,” she announced. “And I’ll walk back the long way just in case Hamlet is doing a little Sunday stroll out there.”

  “Take your time,” James urged her, “and I will be certain to call you if he shows up while you are gone.”

  On the brief drive to the garage, Darla kept a keen eye out for a sleek black flash. As was to be expected, the missing feline was not to be found among the shoppers and walkers all out enjoying the crisp weather. She reminded herself that it was afternoon, which equaled prime catnapping time. Wherever Hamlet was, he likely was snoring away as he rested up for the arduous journey back to the bookstore.

  She didn’t dare consider the alternative, that he’d had a run-in with a vehicle while roaming and that his sleep might be of the permanent sort.

  By the time Maybelle was safely parked, Darla had mapped out a search route in her mind to include on
e particular place: the brownstone belonging to Barry. It had occurred to her that Hamlet, for reasons known only to his wily feline brain, might have made another trip to the basement where they’d discovered Curt’s body. With Barry on his way to Connecticut, she wouldn’t be able to go inside, but she could walk around the place and peer through the basement windows.

  She did not slack on searching along the way, though. She peered behind garbage cans in alleys and behind decorative floor pots lined up along storefronts. She even made her stealthy way down to a few garden apartments to peek behind the bicycles chained securely at the bottom of their entry steps. Once, a sprawl of black fur atop a short concrete column sent her hurrying to check out a stoop halfway down one block. Unfortunately, the feline sunning itself there proved to be female and of the tuxedo variety—definitely not Hamlet.

  “As soon as I find you, I’m going to slap a GPS collar on you,” she threatened, drawing a disdainful look from the tuxedo cat, who likely assumed the words were meant for her.

  Shoving her hands deep into her coat pockets—as usual, she had neglected to bring gloves—Darla continued in the direction of Barry’s brownstone, one block over from where the tuxedo cat lived. Her pace was faster now, but she warned herself not to get her hopes up. Chances were he wasn’t there, either, and she’d just have to wait until it pleased His Furry Highness to come home.

  Her next stop on the way, however, was one she hadn’t planned. Having made a detour down a street she’d never traveled before, Darla walked past a dingy shop front and then did a literal double-take. The neon sign in its window proclaimed in large red letters, “Bill’s Books and Stuff.” And, even worse, as she halted for a moment in startled confusion—his nasty porn shop was located this close to her nice store?—the shop door opened and Bill himself lumbered out into the daylight.