by Misty Simon
Yeah, I knew Greg. He was a big, hulking man who had been a big, hulking boy in junior high. But he was as gentle as a dragonfly and his handwriting was atrocious, not at all like the fine scrawl I was looking at now.
“Did you have any orders for me at all? Maybe the wrong card got put on them? When did you call her this morning?” I slipped the question in and hoped he would answer it without wanting to know why I wanted to know.
I waited impatiently while he flipped through orders. Monty was old-fashioned and still refused to go the way of the computer. Everything was done in triplicate. I knew because I had worked for him one summer when I was a teenager—the year I absolutely refused to have anything to do with the funeral home. It was a long time ago and a different time, but even now I refused to let my dad make me be anything more than a glorified trash-can emptier.
“Nope, no orders. I can’t think of the last time I had an order in your name. I called the house about ten, but Darla hung up without saying anything.”
“Okay.” I hung up with him and started pacing the sidewalk. Monty had no idea if it had actually been Darla who’d picked up the phone and then hung up. It could have been her killer, and I had no way of proving anything.
On the other hand, apparently Gina had been right and no one had sent me flowers. Monty’s pointed reminder hit a mark, though. I hadn’t been with anyone in years who would send me flowers. Nice reminder and thank you very much, Monty. Still, where had the bouquet come from, and why would Max drop it off to me after he’d just winked at me with the dimple and jogged my memory as to who he was? Did he have something to do with what had happened to Waldo and Darla? Not that it couldn’t have been someone else entirely, but he was the only shady person I could find right now, and it might just make sense.
Did he have handwriting like this? Although in looking at the handwriting again, it sure did resemble the way Darla made her D’s. I rarely looked at the signature on my checks, so I wasn’t positive it was exactly the same. As long as they cashed, I couldn’t care less how Darla signed things. But maybe I would have to see about getting my hands on something Darla had written on. Not that I could waltz into Darren’s home and grab a letter from her desk, but there might be other possibilities.
In the meantime, I wanted to know where Max was, who had really killed Darla, and I still had three more houses to clean today.
* * *
I hadn’t been the one to say anything and no one asked me questions, but at the three other houses I cleaned, the main topic of conversation was Darla’s death and Waldo’s crotch-stunning. I whisked through them as fast as possible, mentally promising I’d do a more thorough job next time. The women at each house had been clustered with other friends, talking around me and over me to each other as I washed floors and vacuumed steps. And in the whole thing there was nothing new. Apparently, worrying that I would be asked questions endlessly was not an issue. I was the help and beneath them. I didn’t even correct them when they repeated something that wasn’t true. Let them drown in their own gossip and incorrect information. I had more important things to worry about.
At about four, I did leave a message with Suzy at the police station to let Burton know I had gotten a weird flower delivery. Suzy simply laughed, telling me I was low on the list of priorities. Well, at least I had tried.
After that, I went up to my apartment and jumped on my trusty computer. I might not know exactly where Max Bennett was at this precise moment, but I could try to see where he’d been before and why he was delivering flowers in a town he hadn’t been back to in years. No funerals were scheduled for today and I didn’t have any more trash cans to empty, so I dove into my search like I was on the hunt for a cheesesteak.
I put his name into a search engine and came up with tons of Max Bennetts, including a musician and an actor. I scrolled past the many links to movie databases and music interviews, accomplishments and Grammy nominations. Three pages later, I wondered if there was a way to narrow my search. I wasn’t tech savvy at all, since for years I’d been more concerned with making sure my underwear matched my shoes and clothes.
I had no idea if his name was just Max or if it was Maxwell. The fastest thing to do would have been to call my brother and ask him for background. I should have known the simplest thing is almost never the thing that works for me.
“Hey, Tallie, I hear you’ve been getting yourself into some trouble. I bet you wouldn’t be in this predicament if you’d just come work for Dad the way he asked you to.”
And there went the eye rolling again. I was going to give myself a headache if I didn’t get that under control.
“Yeah, thanks. Not happening. Anyway, I was just thinking about your old friend Max.”
“The one you had a crush on and followed around like a puppy?”
I didn’t remember it that way. “I did not,” I said indignantly. “I tagged along with both of you because I wanted to hang with the older kids, not because I had a crush.”
“Interesting.” The laughter in his voice did nothing for my disposition.
“Don’t mock me.”
“Oh, I’m not. You had big googly eyes for the guy whether you want to admit it or not.” He laughed, not realizing that had he been standing next to me I would have socked him in the arm.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Fine, but I find it telling that you just happened to be thinking about him today out of the blue.
“I’d love to keep teasing you since it’s like the old days, but I have to go. I’m getting a call for a pickup. Talk to you later.”
He hung up before I could ask my question another way. I should have just mentioned that I’d seen Max and was wondering if Jeremy knew he was in town and how long he’d been here.
My next line of action could have been to call my mother, but if I thought my conversation with Jeremy hadn’t gone well, I could be absolutely certain my mom would not let me off the hook if she thought I was interested in anyone male.
Back to the search engine for me, then. And I came up with almost nothing. No social-media posts, no blogs, no websites with his name attached that weren’t the musician or the actor. Frustration built, but I tried to tamp it down—especially since that was the moment Burton finally called to have me come down to the station.
* * *
Suzy nodded at me when I entered the police station. I’d been here before for many field trips when I was a kid, but hadn’t stepped foot inside since. While I was married, I got plenty of tickets for parking and quite a few noise-violation citations, but Waldo always took care of those and would grease palms to keep us out of trouble. It wasn’t a mystery as to why Burton was not fond of me. Money had thwarted him time and again and now he was probably relishing the fact that I had no more protection. I just hoped he wasn’t so vindictive about my stupidity in my early twenties that he’d ignore all other evidence in favor of making me the prime suspect.
I was escorted into a room in the back with low-grade carpeting and two uncomfortable chairs. I knew because I tried out both.
I sat, twiddling my thumbs, bouncing my hands off my knees and switching positions for at least twenty minutes, before Burton made an appearance. He stared at me from the moment he walked in, his eyes narrowed and his buzz cut nearly bristling with indignation.
I wished I had thought to bring a lawyer.
“Now, we’re going to have a nice little talk, Tallulah, and you’re going to answer my questions or I’m going to find a way to lock you up overnight. In fact, I might think of a way to do that anyway.”
“I’ll answer anything you ask, but if I don’t know the answer then that’s the answer you’ll get.”
“Just make sure it’s the truth,” he said gruffly.
“I’ve never lied to . . .”
I trailed off because his eyes narrowed to the point that I wasn’t quite sure how he was even able to see.
“Don’t start. Just answer the questions and we’ll be done.”
I crossed my arms tightly over my chest. I would answer only what he asked and would not share another thing. If he wasn’t going to trust me, then oversharing was not going to help.
“What happened at Darla’s today?”
A nicely vague question with so many answers. I gave him the rundown from my first arrival to my final departure, including the call from Letty and the flower delivery. I also tried to tell him about the shiny-shoes guy, but he brushed it off.
“I don’t want speculation. I need facts.” He scribbled a couple things down on a notepad and I wished that he had done better with penmanship in school so that I could read what the hell it said. That was not to be, though, because he cupped his arm around the top of the notepad like he thought I was trying to cheat on a school test.
At that point, I sat back in my chair and started thinking of a battle plan. I won’t say I met the challenge, but when he finally let me go—after walking me past the holding cells where I would not be spending the night—I knew I had to begin my own search for what had happened at Darla’s. Either that or I might very well be sleeping somewhere not as quiet, and certainly not as comfortable, as above the dead.
* * *
Shaken, I avoided anyone at the funeral home as I ducked upstairs. I needed a plan, but had no idea where to even start. If I could find the killer first, then I might be able to point Burton in the right direction.
First I needed a mindless break from the last twenty-four hours. Had it really only been last night that I’d found Waldo in the alley?
The evening stretched out before me. Maybe I’d watch a movie to remove my brain from the situation enough to have some fresh ideas pop in. I was not afraid to admit I was at a loss.
I thought about calling Gina to see if she wanted to do dinner, but quite honestly, I was tired from the day and, amid everything else, still trying to figure out who would send me a bunch of violets pretending they were from Darla. It creeped me out, truth be told. Before I’d come upstairs, I’d thrown them in the garbage can out back.
I’d made my last phone call, a message for my mom to let her know I was at home, when the phone started ringing in my hand. Call after call had tumbled through the phone throughout the day and I shuffled all of them to voicemail. It was going to be filled soon. While earlier the rich women at the houses gossiped to each other and ignored me like the paint on the walls, by now others had heard I was the connection to finding each victim. Apparently, they wanted to be my best friend to get the scoop before someone else.
I thunked my head on the phone until a particular ring assigned to Waldo the Wonder Ass came through. I definitely was not going to answer that one. After a few seconds, the phone pinged, letting me know he had left a message. The tone sounded ominous in my living room.
Deciding I’d better get it over with, I started checking the other messages to clear things out when I came to his. Thankfully, no one had said anything about me being the killer, so maybe Burton either wasn’t sharing that tidbit, or wasn’t as married to the thought as he’d led me to believe. I was about to hit the limit of the people I knew, much less the people who had my cell-phone number, when Waldo’s voice filled my ear.
“Tallie, I need you to pick me up from the hospital, and for God’s sake, bring me some clothes.” The call ended and I stared at the phone as the instructions rolled through to delete the message. Hell yeah, I was deleting that message, and I was not going to pick up Waldo. He had family around here. Or he had some bimbo of the week who could help. He was no longer my responsibility. I had the papers to prove it.
Still, I knew Waldo. If I didn’t call to let him know I wasn’t picking him up, he’d call over and over again until I answered. As if to prove me right, the phone rang in my hand with the ring that signaled him. Again, I thought about letting it go to voicemail. I sighed. Since I was still sitting here and still peeved and scared enough about all of this, I answered. There was no better armor than anger to get me through any confrontation with Waldo.
“What?”
“Is that any way to greet your husband?”
“It’s the perfect way to greet my ex-husband. Before you ask, I’m not picking you up. Surely you have your mom or a friend or girlfriend who can do it.”
There was dead silence on the other end of the phone.
“No one?” I asked incredulously.
“No one I’d call.”
Grumpy Waldo was not something new and, as ever, I refused to deal with it. “Well, you’ll need to find someone. I have to go now. Don’t call again.” I clicked off before he could say anything else. Our marriage had not been all roses, certainly, but our divorce had been a compost pile so far.
The phone rang again. I was a half-breath away from yelling for Waldo to leave me alone when I recognized the number. What on earth was Darren doing calling me?
“Hello?”
“Tallie, this is Darren Hackersham,” he said in his best business voice. I’d heard him slur with whiskey with the best of them. I was surprised he wasn’t drunk now with having just lost his wife.
“Darren, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Yes, thank you.” Impatience sizzled along the phone line, taking me aback. He continued as if his whole world had not been rocked. Then again, maybe it hadn’t. “Tallie, I would like you to come over tomorrow and clean again. I know you were here this morning, but I’d like everything neat as a pin after the police had to move things around in their search for evidence. I will, of course, pay you extra for fitting me into your schedule. I also have a proposition for you. It concerns Darla.”
“Okay.” I drew the word out. Didn’t he care at all that Darla had been found dead less than twelve hours ago? Although, perhaps this was the way he was keeping himself together and I could always use the extra money. “What time would you like me there?”
“Any time tomorrow will be fine. I’ll be working at home in the mornings for right now in deference to the recent tragedy, but I’ll go into the office during the afternoon. Please be prompt.” Then he hung up, obviously sure I’d say yes.
Well, that was interesting. Darren and I had never been best buddies when I was with Waldo. In fact, Waldo had made a point to not invite him to several parties. Darren had taken that out on me since he couldn’t risk his reputation by taking it to the mat with Waldo. I wondered what that proposition might be, hoping it wasn’t something I was going to have to slap him over.
The damned phone rang again. I was about to shut the thing off before I threw it across the room.
“Seriously, Waldo, I am not picking you up,” I said when I saw who it was.
“Tallie, I appreciate the position you feel you’re in, but he really can’t be released from the hospital until someone comes to get him. It’s five-thirty and I need him out of here before the night people start coming in.”
My mother’s third cousin, Vera, who was a charge nurse at the hospital, was calling from Waldo’s cell phone—who, incidentally, I could hear ranting in the background.
“Why does it have to be me?” I whined.
“To be frank with you, honey, you’re listed as next of kin on his records. We’ve tried several other people who can’t come get him. Now, he needs to be picked up today. We don’t have cause to keep him and we need to boost him out. I have people waiting for beds, and all he does is bitch.”
This, of course, did not surprise me at all. When did Waldo not bitch? I didn’t want to be the one to pick him up, though. Yet, I couldn’t think of anyone who would. Although maybe I could ask Uncle Sherman. The man had a soft spot for me, even if he intensely disliked Waldo. I mentioned the possibility and Vera laughed. Yeah, I didn’t think so.
“Fine, I’ll come get him. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
The movie was out of the question, so I put away the remote control before dragging myself off the couch. This was not quite the way I had thought of spending my evening, obviously. Then again, the man had been stun-gu
nned in the nether parts. Maybe he’d be docile.
Knowing Waldo was a creature of habit, I ran over to his house, let myself in with his garden key, and grabbed him a pair of pants, a button-down shirt, and socks. I hesitated to open his underwear drawers. I really didn’t want to be in there. But he would be a pain in my rear end if he didn’t have clean underwear. Sometimes it was easier to give in than fight over these types of things.
I put his not-so-secret key back into his backyard bird feeder, then made my way over to the hospital. By the time I got there, it had been twenty-five minutes since I’d talked to Vera. You’d have thought it was seven days later.
“What took you so long?” he demanded as soon as I walked in the door.
Instead of answering and engaging him, I threw his bag of clothes onto the hospital bed, then walked back out looking for Vera.
Vera raised an eyebrow at me in my jeans and T-shirt that had seen better days. “You know your mother would have your head if she saw you out and about like that.”
“Since she’s not here, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.” I smiled at her and she winked. “Now, I can just leave His Highness at home by himself, right? I did not sign on for more than chauffeur service.”
“Yes, he can be alone despite the fact he’s trying to play the sympathy card to anyone who will listen—which is exactly no one.”
“All right, I just wanted to make sure, because he’s not above lying to make sure he gets what he wants. I think I can resist punching him for the ten minutes it will take for us to get to his house.”
“If you do punch him, just make it somewhere he doesn’t have to come back to us for.”
“Will do.” I saluted her, figuring I’d given Waldo enough time to get dressed.
I did, however, knock on the door to make sure he was decent before I opened it. I had seen plenty of him when we were married and didn’t need another view.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said when I opened the door to see him fully dressed and his hair back to its normal slickness.
“After you.”
