Shame ON You (An Ozzie Novak Thriller, Book 4) (Redemption Thriller Series 16)

by John W. Mefford

  As the picture remained, a girl appeared from behind the screen. She was playing the guitar. She wasn’t a member of our graduating class. She looked younger, with straight strawberry-blond hair, wearing a flowered skirt that dropped to her knees, a denim jacket, and a pair of boots. She walked up to a mic. “This one’s for Brandon.”

  Then she sang “Don’t Know Why” by Norah Jones. It was the most beautiful rendition I’d ever heard. If there was a dry eye before the song, there were none when she hit the last note.

  And that included me.

  3

  The singer looked a little lost, so I stood up and offered her a seat at our table. I introduced myself, along with Tito and Luella.

  “Girlfriend, you just messed with my makeup,” Luella said, running a finger under her eye. “That was incredible.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” I said.

  “Kate,” she said meekly.

  I complimented her on her performance. She gave me a tight-lipped smile. Her complexion was model-like, although she looked like the country girl next door.

  “Are you Brandon’s sister?” I asked, quickly trying to recall if he even had a sister.

  “Cousin. Our families were real close.”

  She rested her hands in her lap, looking uncomfortable.

  “Can I get you a drink?” I glanced around for a waiter.

  “Oz, I’m not sure she’s even twenty-one. No offense,” Tito said to Kate before he bit into a mini-burger.

  She shrugged. “It’s okay. I just turned twenty-one. That’s one thing Brandon and I shared. We look younger than our age.”

  “Good genes too,” Luella said with a shake of her head. “Mmm.” She picked up a glass of what looked like champagne and tipped her head back until the glass was empty. Tito and I shared a quick glance. I wondered if he’d ever seen Luella drunk before. As part of my college experience, it had been interesting to note the moods of people when they crossed that tipsy threshold into being full-on drunk. Some, surprisingly, turned mean. Real mean. I dated a girl briefly in my freshman year who seemed pretty cool. And then on our third date, she drank like a fish—a fish who couldn’t get enough shots of tequila. She ended up cussing out the bartender, slamming shot glasses to the floor. When I tried to calm her down, she smacked me upside the head. I somehow got her back to her dorm room without being further assaulted and refused to answer her calls. Lesson learned.

  Other drunks just fell asleep. A few would say they couldn’t remember a thing the next day—which was a big signal to me that they shouldn’t be drinking. And me? I just became super relaxed. Nicole called me “The Chill Master” when I was in that state of mind.

  A waiter walked up, and Kate ordered a Shiner Bock. Like I thought, a country girl. Luella held up her champagne glass, and the waiter nodded.

  I turned back to Kate. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, why did you choose that particular song?”

  She picked at her nails, at least what was left of them. They were chewed to the quick, with dark polish speckled in a few places. “Brandon always said he loved it when I sang the Norah Jones songs. And this one…well, the lyrics just hit me.”

  As if she couldn’t contain herself, she then went on to recite a few lines, half singing, half talking.

  When I saw the break of day,

  I wished that I could fly away,

  Instead of kneeling in the sand,

  Catching teardrops in my hand.

  “You going to make me cry all over again,” Luella said.

  We all smiled, including Kate.

  The waiter arrived with the drinks. “Did you know you’re my new best friend?” Luella said, her cheeks puffing from her big smile. The waiter dipped his head and left. Luella didn’t seem to notice, and then she pressed her head against Tito’s shoulder. “I should have said second-best friend. You’re my number-one friend. My top dog.” Tito kissed the top of her head and looked at me. We were thinking the same thing: a friendly drunk beats having the opposite as a girlfriend.

  Kate leaned in closer to me. “Were you very close to Brandon? I mean, I know he had friends. But it’s been almost ten years since he died. So, I don’t really recall very many people here.”

  “Brandon was friends with everyone. And I can honestly say he was the most likeable guy in our entire class. Wouldn’t you agree, Tito?”

  His face was covered in hot chicken-wing sauce. He nodded. “Absolutely. Great kid.”

  “So, if you don’t mind me asking, since I’m the only one who didn’t graduate with Brandon…” Luella paused a second, sipped more champagne. “How did Brandon die, and how old was he?’

  “Luella,” Tito said, dropping his chicken wing on his plate. “Come on now.”

  “It’s okay.” Kate twisted her beer bottle for a moment and took in a breath.

  Luella jabbed her elbow into Tito’s side, as if to say her question had been, after all, appropriate. Eye of the beholder—or the over-drinker—I figured.

  “Brandon was diagnosed with brain cancer during his senior year. He had surgery, lost all his hair. He hated that part.” She picked at the wet label on the beer bottle. “He went through chemo, and they thought it would work. So he went about his business. Got into Texas A&M and started his freshman year.”

  I jumped in. “Yeah, I went to UT my first couple of years, and I remember seeing Brandon when I was a freshman, down on 6th Street. I was walking along the sidewalk with some friends, everyone partying all around us, and then I heard this piercing whistle. I looked up and saw him behind the wheel of some convertible.”

  “The Converta-beast.” Kate nodded, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “That’s what he and his buddies called it. I remember that now. His mom and dad gave that to him for graduation. They knew—we all knew—it was an over-the-top gift, but they weren’t sure how long he’d…you know.”

  “Brain cancer. Wow,” Luella said, much more subdued. “Must have been hard on everyone, you included.”

  “Yeah, it wasn’t easy. Brandon and I were pretty close. For a while there, we shared everything.”

  “When did he actually…you know?” Luella asked.

  “Never finished his freshman year at A&M. It was all so sad.” She paused and stared at her beer. Then she said, almost more to herself than us, “That was a crazy year. It wasn’t easy on anyone.” A tear bubbled in her eye.

  “What’s up with all the sad faces?”

  That asshat Chase had just walked up, obviously not clueing into what we might be discussing with Kate. His ditzy wife, Taylor, basically crashed right into him. An awkward drunk.

  Tito leaned over to me and whispered, “Nip alert.”

  I snorted out a laugh and tried to cover it with my mouth. Taylor was about to unveil the full package of her prized assets. She was out of it, and Chase thought all eyes should be on him anyway, as per usual.

  I could sense Kate leaning closer to me, dipping her head. What’s up with that?

  “Did someone tell a mean joke and I missed it? If not, I’ve got a good one I can tell.” He smiled, nodding his head like a bobble-head doll. Of course, his hair didn’t budge.

  I put my arm over the chair next to me and rolled my eyes at Tito. Then I felt a buzz against my chest. I pulled out my phone. It was Ivy.

  “Everything okay with Mackenzie?” I spun out of my chair.

  “Of course. I’m a grown adult, Ozzie. How many kids have I dealt with over the years?”

  “Okay, good. Just checking.”

  “You gotta get home.”

  “What? Why? I thought you said Mackenzie is good.”

  “She’s been asleep for two hours. But that missing girl, Chantel? I finally have a clue, and I need your help.”

  We ended our call. I looked over my shoulder and saw Chase flapping his gums. I didn’t go back to the table. I waved at Tito, pointing at the exit. He waved back and nodded. He knew I was heading out.

  Kate lifted from her cha
ir, walked over to me, and set her beer bottle on an empty tray.

  “You taking a taxi?”

  “Yep. Since Austin is an Uber-free zone, that’s my mode of transportation.”

  “Mind if I share it with you?” She bit into her lower lip, glanced over her shoulder, and then turned back to me. “Yeah, I’m ready to get out of here.” She forced out a smile.

  I wasn’t sure what to expect.

  4

  A few minutes later, we were both in the back seat of a yellow taxi that smelled of about three different types of perfume. I had a heightened sense of smell.

  “So, why did you want to share a ride?” I asked, looking out the window on my side. Given my past with women with ulterior motives, I had my guard up.

  “Oh, I hope you don’t think I’m hitting on you, Ozzie. It’s just that...” She looked out her own window.

  I could see the whites of the taxi driver’s eyes peering through his rearview, staring at us. I tried ignoring him.

  I scoffed. “Of course not. I know you weren’t hitting on me.” I didn’t want to say she was too young. But she was too young, and it wouldn’t happen anyway. Nicole had just walked out of my life two days before. Part of me wondered if she would find a new life in some place like Venice, Italy, and I might get a postcard six months from now letting me know how much she loved her new life.

  Kate straightened her floral skirt and said, “Awk-ward.” She giggled, which dialed back some of the tension. “Look, I can tell you’re a nice guy. One of the few people who talked to me tonight. With me being there, seeing all of those pictures, and singing that Norah Jones song in Brandon’s memory, I was just wanting to hear some more stories about my cousin.”

  I was glad to see her opening up, acting normal. Back at the reunion, she’d seemed not just sad, but uptight, at least just before we left.

  A Brandon story came to mind. It was more like about four stories wrapped into one. I explained how a small group of us had created a checklist of seven folks whose homes we would “wrap”—our word for spinning rolls of toilet paper through trees and shrubs and anything else that was…wrappable.

  “Don’t tell me—you guys got picked up by the cops.”

  “That would have been too easy.”

  “Now you have my attention.” She pulled her knee underneath her and faced me.

  I went on to say we’d made it through the first five homes unscathed. “Yes, we thought we were untouchable.”

  “What happened on number six?”

  “Well, word must have gotten around.” After purchasing seventy extra rolls of toilet paper—this friend had a number of trees over fifty feet tall—we’d proceeded with extreme caution. “We moved with the stealth of ninja warriors.”

  “Brandon too? I mean he was kind of a loud talker…usually.”

  I nodded as a smile came to my face.

  “What?”

  “He paid the price for the rest of us.”

  “How?” she said, leaning closer.

  “We didn’t know our friend had two older sisters, and they both ran track in college. They came busting out of the house and chased us down. We all made it to the car, jumped in, and locked the doors. We saw them drag Brandon down from behind, hold him on the ground, and spray shaving cream all over his body. It was hilarious. We couldn’t stop cracking up.”

  Kate chuckled, and my face was already wearing a smile at the memory.

  “Surprised he didn’t start cussing you guys out.”

  “Oh, he did. But we laughed so hard that, eventually, he started laughing too.”

  “So did you blow off the seventh house?”

  “Oh no. We weren’t that smart.” I held up a finger. “This is where we get the lesson behind the story.”

  She arched both eyebrows, which for some reason made her look even younger.

  “We got to Mary Lou’s house, drove by a couple of times to make sure everything was cool. No lights on anywhere. We parked, grabbed our bags of toilet paper, and walked onto the yard. I could hardly see a thing. It was pitch black. Until…” I purposely left her hanging.

  She curled a lock of hair around her ear. “Until what?”

  “The front porch light popped on, and standing right there was a man, the dad, holding a rifle. We all froze for a second. Then, at the exact same time, all of us bolted. We didn’t even make it to the sidewalk before he fired the frickin’ gun. I think half of us peed our pants.”

  She put a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God. You poor guys.”

  I told her that the dad made us lie down on the grass like we were prison escapees and drilled us on why we should never vandalize homes.

  “And then what happened?” she asked.

  “Just when we thought he might make an example out of one of us and put a bullet in the back of somebody’s head, he let us go.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.”

  The talking ceased for a while. We both went back to staring out the windows. The taxi driver asked Kate to confirm that her apartment was down one more block. She said, “Yes, that’s right.” As the sedan pulled to a stop, she turned to me. “Thank you for talking to me. It helps.”

  Her hazel eyes looked sad again. More painful memories, I was sure.

  “No problem.”

  “Would you mind if I kept in touch?” she asked.

  I reached into my jacket and pulled out a business card, the one that said I shared a private investigation company with a fellow named Ray Gartner. Of course, Ray had left town weeks before. So, this card with both our names on it was part of my transition plan…for the business and for me, a former attorney.

  “You’re a PI?” She flapped the card off the palm of her hand.

  “Yep.” I tried to sound proud. It was better than flipping burgers or, for that matter, practicing law.

  “Cool. Well, thanks again. It, uh…” She opened the door and then turned back to me. “Brandon wasn’t perfect, you know.” Her face was suddenly rigid.

  I opened my mouth but wasn’t sure what to say. A few extra seconds passed.

  “So this helps,” she finally said.

  “With what?”

  “Just helps…that’s all.”

  She shut the door and hopped up the stairs to her complex.

  I questioned every bit of our conversation all the way back to my place.

  5

  Two steps into my humble apartment located east of I-35, I wondered if Ivy was having a moment. Or was it more like a nervous breakdown? “Everything all right?”

  Pacing back and forth in front of the couch, she smacked her disheveled curls out of her face. She was wearing sweats that swallowed her up. I noticed she had toes poking through holes in both socks, and she appeared to be mumbling something as she stared at the floor.

  “Ivy. What’s up?” I tossed my keys into a bowl that Mackenzie had made in Tito’s art class.

  She finally stopped and pointed right at me. “This is big, Ozzie. Chantel’s parents have been looking for her for two months, and they finally found a note hidden under her mattress. They called me about it earlier.”

  “Just before you called me.”

  She picked up a can of Diet Coke and drained it; then she crunched it with one hand and dropped it to the coffee table. There were three others just like it on the table.

  “I didn’t know we had any soda in the fridge.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Huh?” I started pulling off my suit jacket, but stopped halfway. Was she saying she left Mackenzie here to run to the store?

  She waved a hand at me. “I borrowed some from your neighbor…something Sandberg. Can’t remember his first name.”

  “Ervin.”

  “Yeah. His daughter, Ariel, had dropped by to play with Mac, and so I asked if they had any Diet Coke. Any more questions?” She was, to say the least, on edge.

  I finished pulling off my coat and loosened my tie. “You want me to sit down and
go over everything with you?”

  “Sure. Let’s do that, although I can’t seem to think of a different angle on this one.”

  I paused at the edge of the couch. “First thing. Why did you call my daughter ‘Mac’? Her name is Mackenzie.”

  She tilted her head. “You think I don’t know that?”

  “You’ve got a lot on your mind.”

  “She and Ariel told me that’s what she likes to be called now. I didn’t know it was an issue.”

  Mac? Two days hadn’t passed, and something else had changed in Mackenzie’s life. I wondered if she was going through another rough stage at school. “I’m sure it’s just another speed bump in her growing-up process.”

  Wow, Oz. You sound like a real insightful parent.

  Not.

  I landed on the couch. “So what’s the big news? Actually, ever since you showed up, I’ve been out of it.”

  “Nicole leaving. I know. You told me.”

  She sat on the couch and looked to the coffee table. She picked up her phone. “I have one too, you know.”

  “A phone?”

  The tilted smirk. “A boyfriend.”

  “I don’t have one of those.” I winked, and she finally smiled. She had a pretty smile. Her eyes lit up, and her face softened. I felt like we both got a kick out of razzing each other a bit. Not like with Nicole—that was always laced with sexual undertones. With Ivy, it was just fun. Like she was my cousin, so to speak.

  “News bulletin for you. A boyfriend is not a spouse.”

  “Maybe. But do you know how long it’s taken me to even use that term? Saul’s one patient man. He’s a lawyer, like you…well, like you used to be. You plan on doing that again? I hear it pays pretty good.”

  I noticed an open bag of pretzels on the coffee table. I pulled one out and ate it. “If I did that, I wouldn’t have time to listen to you tell me about your missing-girl case.”

  “So, for starters, she’s not really a girl. Well, she’s female, but she’s older than the typical kid I’m looking for.”