Flanagan laughed. I glared at her. “Don’t laugh at my flower man.” I turned back to Germany. “Of course I don’t think you’re a brute, Germany. I was being very, very, very, very sarcastic.”
Germany breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”
“I wish I had more information,” I said. “I want to get you out of here but it’s hard if we can’t discuss any details of this case.”
Germany stroked his chin. “Something tells me you already have all the information you need. Think about everything you’ve learned over the past few days. Replay the conversations in your mind. You have all the ingredients for a rich soup. You just have to put all the clues together and see what kind of soup you have.” It wasn’t the best analogy I’d ever heard, but I didn’t interrupt. “You’re the smartest woman I’ve ever known. Teeny and Miss May are likewise brilliant. I’m not worried. I know you’re going to get me out of here. Until that time comes, you should not worry either. The jail cell here is comfortable. Made more comfortable by thoughts of you.”
I looked down. Germany’s confidence in my abilities somehow made me feel insecure. Like I didn’t deserve for him to have such faith in me. I looked up and we made eye contact. “You really think I have all the information I need?”
Germany nodded. At that moment I had a thought that changed the course of the investigation. A classic light bulb moment.
Coincidentally, the fluorescent light flickered and went out at that exact second. I gasped.
Weird.
“Hercules!” Flanagan called out. “Come change the light bulb in here please! And Chelsea? It’s time for you to leave.”
38
Light Bulb
Miss May and Teeny were leaning against the bus waiting for me when I exited the police station. They both stood straight up when I emerged. Miss May walked toward me. “What happened?”
“We have to go back to that junkyard.” I crossed straight to the bus and climbed inside. Miss May and Teeny followed behind me.
“Back to the junkyard? For what?” Miss May put the keys in the ignition. “We already confirmed Zambia and Adam were having an affair. She was destroying the evidence from that relationship.”
I shook my head. “No. We overlooked something in that dumpster. I barely had time to search it. Wayne arrived. He tried to seduce me.”
“Wayne tried to seduce you?” Teeny leaned forward. “You didn’t mention that.”
“Well not exactly seduce. Whatever. I’m using a shorthand. He interrupted me,” I said.
“Wayne is always trying to seduce her.” Miss May started the car. “That junkyard is owned and operated by Zambia’s brother. He’s not going to let you back in. I still don’t understand why we’re headed there.”
I turned to Miss May with a serious look in my eye. “I have a theory. But you need to be patient. I’ll tell you but I want you to take this theory seriously.”
Miss May turned up her palms. “OK. What are you thinking?”
Teeny grinned. “It’s the Russian spy thing. The two of you always doubt me. But this stuff happens. It’s ripped from the headlines.”
I turned back to Teeny. “I’m not talking about Russian spies.” I looked over at Miss May. “I’m talking about my parents.”
Miss May hung her head. “OK. Go on.”
“We don’t really talk about them. We never have. I understand that. But this whole thing seems intertwined with their deaths.”
“You mean because Zambia was so close with your parents when they were alive?”
I nodded. “Kind of, yeah. Because she was mayor back then. I don’t know. When I was inside that police station Germany challenged me. He told me we already had all the clues we need. And the way he looked at me… I could tell he meant it. Germany believes we can solve this with the information we currently have. And Zambia’s connection to my parents is an important part of that information.”
Miss May bit her lower lip. “I suppose.”
I shook my head. “No. It is. Think about it. When I went over to Zambia’s house this morning it was because I wanted to learn more information about my parents. But she died just before I had a chance to talk to her.”
“Someone killed her,” said Teeny.
I nodded. “Exactly. What if the killer realized I was getting close to the truth about my parents? This whole thing is connected to the past, I’m almost certain of that. Was Adam Smith in Pine Grove when my parents were killed?”
Miss May scratched her head. “I believe he was, yes. He was still active on Broadway then. But he had a house up here. Came up sometimes when he wasn’t in a show.”
I smacked my knee. “We have to go back to that junkyard. The two of them knew. Adam and Zambia. They knew what happened to my parents. What if they were the only two who knew the truth other than the killer? I have to at least try to find out.”
“Chelsea…” Miss May started.
I suddenly realized I was crying. Silent tears streamed down my cheeks. “Those were my parents. I’m never going to get them back. The least I can do is find out what happened to them.”
Miss May put her hand on my arm. We made eye contact. I saw that she was crying too. Then Teeny let out an incredibly loud sob from the back seat.
I turned back. Teeny blew her nose into a handkerchief so vigorously the handkerchief fluttered in the wind. We all laughed.
The laugh was cathartic, therapeutic, cleansing. We laughed for almost a full minute, then we settled down, caught out breath…
“OK,” Miss May said. “We’re going to go back to that junkyard. We’re going to explore this theory.”
I wiped my nose. “Just to humor me?”
Miss May shrugged. “Your theory is the best lead we’ve got. But Teeny and I and this big yellow bus are too obvious. We can’t go back there.”
Teeny leaned forward. “I agree. It has to be you. And you’re going to need a disguise.”
39
Big Dan’s Disguises
“I can’t do that.” Big Dan slid out from underneath the SUV he was working on. “It’s the middle of the workday. And I’m terrible with disguises. Haven’t dressed up for Halloween since I was seven years old and even then I just tossed a sheet over my head and called myself Big Spooky Dan.”
“Were you big when you were seven?” I asked.
“No,” Big Dan said. “But people still called me Big Dan.”
Miss May shook her head. “Big Dan, you don’t have to get dressed up in a disguise. Chelsea would be wearing the disguise.”
Big Dan steadied himself on the fender of the vehicle and stood, wiping his hands on his jeans. “So Chelsea is going to have a sheet over her head? That’s not going to allow her to penetrate the junkyard undetected. She’ll draw attention to herself. I doubt those junkyard boys believe in ghosts. And even if they did, they’ll be able to see her sneakers. Nice sneakers, by the way.”
I looked down at my plain white shoes. “Thanks. I’ve always thought they were boring.”
Big Dan nodded. “They are. But in a good way. Like watching the news in a language you don’t speak or read or understand. Soothing.”
Teeny laughed. “You say the weirdest stuff, Big Dan.” Teeny got serious. “But we really need you to help us. We need to get Chelsea a good disguise. Then you go to the junkyard and say you’re looking for a car door or something.”
“Why would I go to the junkyard for a car door? I rarely need doors. And when I do, I go to the auto salvage lot.”
Miss May sighed. “So you tell the junkyard boys that you’re just coming from the salvage lot and they didn’t have the door you need and you’re stopping by on the off-chance that they’ll have it.”
“I need to think this over.” Big Dan entered the office adjacent to his garage and popped a K-cup in his little coffee machine. “Who wants coffee? I can only make one cup at a time, so if you all say yes we’ll be here all day.”
Miss May waved him away. “We’re
over-caffeinated already.”
Teeny nodded. “I’m over-caffeinated when I wake up in the morning. Then I drink coffee and I’m way over-caffeinated. Then around two or three I get a latte with sprinkles and I’m over-sugared and over- caffeinated.”
Miss May chuckled. “And you wonder why you can’t fall asleep!”
Teeny shook her head. “No. I can’t fall asleep because my mind goes too fast. Nothing to do with caffeine.”
“You should try one of those rain machines,” said Big Dan. “I put mine on the loudest setting. I think it’s called ‘violent thunderstorm.’ Not sure why, but the rolling thunder, the claps of of lightning, and the pounding rain put me right to sleep. I hate rain, don’t like getting rained on, but I like it from the machine.”
Teeny nodded. “I’ll try that. If it works for you, I bet it’s great.”
Teeny and Big Dan made eye contact. I wasn’t sure why those two didn’t just go out on a date already. They got along great. They had obvious chemistry. When they were together, conversation flowed freely and easily. Teeny thought Big Dan was the funniest guy in the world. And I was pretty sure he thought she was cute and friendly.
Big Dan pressed a button on the coffee machine and watched his single cup of coffee fill one tiny drip at a time. There was a long, quiet moment.
“By the way, Big Dan,” Miss May said. “I don’t know if we ever really thanked you. You were basically the hero of our last investigation. That’s why we’re here. You’re kind of the fourth member of our team, Big Dan.”
Big Dan looked over at Miss May. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“We most certainly do not,” said Teeny. “These two barely acknowledge my existence on these investigations. I just got anointed the third official member of the detective team, I don’t know, a couple murders ago. I’m actually annoyed right now. Big Dan gets to be number four? He’s barely around at all.”
“I’m not involved often but when I am I make it count.” Big Dan took a sip of his coffee. “Yum. Tastes just like the gas station.”
Miss May gestured to a few folding chairs that were propped against the wall. “Mind if I take a seat?”
“Sit as long as you want. But I need to get back out there and work on that car. I think I’ve just about got it fixed. One good, hard kick and it’ll be running like brand-new.”
Teeny laughed. “Is that the secret of being a mechanic? People bring their cars and you kick them?”
Big Dan nodded. “Sometimes a punch on the hood if it’s a tough job. Charge extra for that.” Big Dan killed his cup of coffee in one big swig. “OK, ladies. Have a nice day.” He began to exit the office. I jumped up and stood in his way.
“Wait.”
Big Dan stopped in his tracks. “Chelsea. Almost forgot you were here. These other two talk so much.”
“Did you know my parents?” I swallowed. I wasn’t sure where I was going with this line of inquiry, but I needed Big Dan’s help and I was willing to try anything.
“Sure. I knew ‘em. Great people. Worked on their Volvo a couple times.”
“Cool,” I said. “Did you know that their deaths… might not have been accidental? Miss May has suspected for a long time that they were murdered.” Big Dan looked over at Teeny. She shrugged.
Miss May stepped forward. “Chelsea. Maybe we should let Big Dan get back to work.”
“That’s fine. I just want to know.”
Big Dan tossed his cup in the trash. “I’ve heard that, yes.”
“We think the murders we’re investigating now might be connected to my parents’ deaths. Evidence of their murder is at that junkyard. I can feel it. But it’s going to be hard to get in there without you.”
I spotted a pair of coveralls that Big Dan had draped over his desk chair. I crossed, grabbed the clothes and held them up. “If I put these on and smear some oil on my face, I can pass as your assistant. We can wait for you to get done working on that car out there. But then we have to get to that junkyard.”
Big Dan nodded. “OK. I’ll go. But those coveralls belong to Giant John. I might have to give you a smaller size.”
I laughed. “Perfect. Thank you.”
Big Dan shrugged. “I’ve always been sorry about what happened to your parents. If I can help solve that mystery… I don’t care about fixing up a car right this minute.”
I gave Big Dan a small smile. “So you want to go right now?”
Big Dan popped another K-cup in his machine. “Right after my second cup of coffee.”
40
Junkyard Dogs
“I’m Al Baker. I own this junkyard. And I guarantee we don’t have any car doors.” Zambia’s brother, Al aka Junk Boy, crossed his arms and glared. His large frame and deep scowl were intimidating. Al made Big Dan look tiny.
I cowered behind Big Dan. Although I felt fairly inconspicuous in my coveralls, I knew the disguise could have been better so I wanted to remain in the background. Also, let’s be honest, I was scared.
Big Dan bit his lower lip. “No car doors. That’s a shame.” He scanned the junkyard. “Do you have anything car-related? I could use radios. Also wouldn’t turn down a nice wheel or two. And everybody in town knows I love bucket seats. Give me a bucket seat and I’ll be happy for a month.”
Al shook his head. “We mostly clear out people’s homes. People don’t keep car parts in their homes. You need to go back to the salvage yard.”
Big Dan ran his tongue over his teeth. “I thought you might try to send me back to the salvage yard. Those guys are on my bad list. They haven’t had a good door in months. If I show up looking for a good door, don’t try to sell me a door with a big ding in it, am I right?”
Al shrugged. “If you don’t want a door with a big ding in it, don’t try to get it from the salvage lot. Or a junkyard.”
“Back in the day you could get high quality goods at junkyards. The word junk used to mean something. These days… It’s a disgrace. All you can get in the junkyard is actual junk.”
“If you wanted a microwave I could sell you that. I also have plenty of armchairs. Lamps. Boy, do I have lamps. There are at least fifty filing cabinets in one of our storage units. We call that the filing cabinet cabinet. I don’t know what else to tell you, man.”
Big Dan scrunched up his face. “Let me take a look around. I’ll find the car doors.”
I winced. Big Dan had gotten caught up on our “car door plan.” He needed to be more malleable, but he seemed stuck. I stepped forward and whispered in Big Dan’s ear. “No more car door talk. Tell him you’re also looking for household goods.”
Al narrowed his eyes. “Why doesn’t your assistant talk out loud? Is there something up with his brain?”
I bristled. “My brain is in tip-top condition.” I spoke in a low, masculine voice. “They wanted me in the Marines.”
“They wanted you in the Marines but you chose to be an assistant to a small-town mechanic instead?”
I shrugged. “What can I say? I love fixing cars.”
Al rubbed his chin. “You look familiar. Do you have a sister?”
“Forget my assistant,” said Big Dan. “I’m not here looking for a door anymore. I need household goods. Show me to the household goods.”
I pointed over at Zambia’s dumpster. “I bet you there’s some household goods in that one. Looks like it’s overflowing with stuff.”
“OK. Explore the lot. Make note of anything you find and I’ll quote you a price at the end.”
Big Dan nodded. “Thank you. Was that so hard?”
Al shrugged. “It was easy once you stopped fixating on car doors.”
Al ambled away, scrolling on his cell phone. Big Dan turned to me and wiped the sweat off his forehead. “That was touch and go for a while. I’m not a good liar.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, Big Dan. That’s why you’re a great mechanic. It’s also why we should never take you on a mission like this again.”
Big
Dan crossed his arms. “Hey. I got the job done, didn’t I?”
I chuckled. “I suppose you did.” I pointed at Zambia’s dumpster on the far side of the junkyard. “Thank goodness her stuff hasn’t been incinerated yet. Come on. Let’s see what we can find.”
Five minutes later, and Big Dan and I were side-by-side in Zambia’s dumpster. The contents of the dumpster were much as I had left them. Random documents, files and folders tossed in every direction, interspersed with random junk from Zambia’s house.
I hadn’t really envisioned myself climbing around dumpsters so much as an adult woman, but honestly, it was kind of exciting. I could tell Big Dan was having a good time too, sorting through a stranger’s junk. Even if there weren’t any usable car parts.
Big Dan picked up a broken, empty picture frame. He stuck his head through where the photo should have been. “What are we looking for again?”
I exhaled. “I’m not sure.” I kicked an old shoebox aside. “Look for stuff that seems old. My parents died over twenty years ago so if there’s evidence of their murder in this dumpster it’s going to be at least twenty years old.”
“I feel a little bad, digging through a dead woman’s dumpster,” Big Dan said. “It feels wrong. Like trespassing or something.”
“There’s that trademark honesty again. But you shouldn’t think of it as trespassing. Instead, think of this like our research expedition. We’re hunting for information. And whatever we find might stop someone else from getting murdered. What better way to honor someone’s life than to use their belongings to save another life?”
Big Dan nodded and continued sifting through Zambia’s junk. He pushed aside a lamp. He turned over an end table. He sifted through a binder, one page at a time.
Shot Through the Tart Page 16
