April at the Antique Alley

by Bill McGrath

  CHAPTER-15.

  Monday, at least, would be a good weather day. In north Texas we have many beautiful days each year and April is usually filled with them. We turned on the television to a local news affiliate so we could get the weather report but we already knew it was going to be a fine day weather wise.

  The sun was shining and the temperature was in the lower seventies. The television suggested that it would climb to the low eighties and promised not a hint of rain. In other words, it would be a fine day to say goodbye to Lola Martin, caretaker of the world’s treasures.

  At eight o’clock I painfully climbed the stairs to the second floor where my bed room, and therefore my closet, is. I pulled out my utility black dress and painfully shimmied into it. At my size and build I always thought I looked like a bad transvestite when I put on a dress and all the exposed bandages on my arms and the bruises on my face only enhanced the look. At least the five o’clock shadow was on my legs instead of my face.

  Jill looked lovely in a long sleeved black lace blouse atop a billowy black skirt that reached her shoes. I am sure it was the longest skirt I had ever seen her in but it was, of course, appropriate uniform for today’s event.

  At nine o’clock Jill and I climbed into my Taurus and headed to the funeral home that borders the cemetery in Dallas. It would be a really brief service in the chapel and then we would ride half a mile to the actual grave site for a few more prayers. It was scheduled to start at ten and I hoped to be back at my home/office by eleven-thirty at the latest.

  In attendance besides Jill and myself were all I expected and a few others I hadn’t expected to be there. Steven and Wanda Crowley were both there as well as Parnell Erickson. Donald Smith was there along with his father Fredrick Smith the self proclaimed Mayor of Antique Alley. Jana Little appeared but kept to herself appearing to stay within the crowd but as far from me as she could. I suppose I could understand her feelings and I certainly would not prevent her from this

  opportunity to grieve her friend Lola and pay her last respects. Shelly Mizell was there dressed in black and she had Rubert Glaston with her. He looked like a failed attempt at respect. He was wearing an old wrinkled black suit but he had topped it all off with an old army green baseball cap that hid little of his long blond shaggy bush of hair. You sort of expected him to pull a flask out of his hip pocket, but he was reluctantly and impatiently behaving. The funeral director was also there amongst us as it was his ceremony to perform. These all I had expected.

  I had not expected Eric Samuels to show up but he did and it was comforting to have him there. At least I felt safer with him by my side. I was hoping for Lola’s sister Sheila but not really expecting her, but there she was. She alone amongst all the women in attendance was not wearing black. She had chosen instead a rather bold red and blue print as if it were closer to the fourth of July. She had in tow with her a man whom I expected to be the current husband but turned out to be a lawyer she had thought to bring with her in case she had reason to prove providence. He, at least, was intelligent enough to wear a black suit. In addition to these two there were also a few others I did not know at all. I found out later that there are quite a few people who either enjoy funerals or find it their duty to pay last respects to total strangers, but in any case there were perhaps eight or ten there in the chapel.

  The chapel itself was a nice little room with stained glass windows and comfortable benches. Lola’s casket was up in the front of the room and it was surrounded by lovely flower arrangements. I wondered if the flowers had all been brought by different mourners or if the funeral director had made such arrangements for them. I did not remember ever talking to him about flowers but, in truth, I had blocked out most of what he and Jill and I had agreed too. At any rate, the flowers looked lovely. I could hear some soft music playing in the background and vaguely wondered what Lola’s favorite music might have been.

  We were all just sort of sitting there in the chapel with the coffin already closed waiting around. I looked at my watch and it was eleven minutes after ten. I did not understand the reason for the delay but almost as soon as I checked my watch the funeral director jumped up and got things under way.

  He stepped up to a lectern and introduced himself and the very first thing he did was exactly the last thing I wanted him to do which was publicly thank me for making the arrangements. Now, publicly, everyone knew I was in charge, and more importantly it reinforced the idea in Sheila Martin’s head that I controlled what estate Lola had and to whom and when it would be distributed.

  The funeral director then spoke for just a few moments about Lola Martin and who she was and how sad the world would be without her. He then led us in a very Christian sounding but very nondenominational prayer in her honor. With that the service would have ended but almost as if an afterthought he asked if any from the crowd wanted to say a few words.

  I had been dreading this moment. I knew the crowd would expect a eulogy. I did not want to get up in front of these strangers and fumble my way through half true half felt words. In expectation of this dreaded event I had prepared a few words but I was horrified at the thought that I might have to get up and deliver them. There was perhaps fifteen seconds of silence and I was saved by the Mayor himself.

  Fredrick Smith stepped up to the lectern and shook hands with the funeral director. He made a brief show of taking out a handkerchief with which he dabbed at the corner of one of his eyes. He made a theatrical production of placing the handkerchief carefully upon the lectern. Nearly twenty minutes later he picked it up again from the lectern and returned it to his pocket, but in that twenty minutes he delivered a eulogy fit for a queen.

  I know it was mostly contrived bullshit but he spoke so lovingly of Lola and painted her as such a saint amongst us on Earth. His words were flowery and poetic when they needed to be. They were soft and almost whispered at times and they were, at times, booming and blusterous almost challenging the actual word of the Lord. He called himself the Mayor of Antique Alley but named Lola as the Alley’s heart and soul. He proclaimed her the best citizen in Dallas and the most true and country girl in Texas. In his words Lola was the Earth Mother and an Angel on Earth. She was the belle of every ball and the religious foundation of the bible belt. She was every girl’s mother and every man’s daughter. He proclaimed her business the icon that put the Antique Alley on the map and claimed that all in the crowd owed their livelihood to her entrepreneurial spirit. By the time he was through every eye in the crowd was red and I would have voted for Lola for Governor, but most importantly he had saved me from making a fool of myself.

  After his eulogy we all watched teary eyed as Lola’s casket was loaded into a black hearse. The funeral procession included the hearse followed by a black limo driven by someone I had not met in which the funeral director and myself as well as Jill and Detective Samuels rode. We were followed by two other black limos containing most of the store owners from the antique businesses. These were followed by a couple of other regular cars one of which contained Sheila driven by her lawyer. For some reason I noticed Donald Smith on his Harley trailing as the last vehicle.

  The funeral procession lasted only a few minutes as we were going only half a mile. The road was fresh blacktop and wound around a lot. It really was a lovely spot on a lovely day. This cemetery was a nice spot on any day but with today’s weather and the recent rains we had sustained in the area the grass was all green, the trees were all filled in with thick leaves. The numerous flower beds exploded

  with vibrant color. Even the flowers left by mourners at individual graves looked fresh and new. All in all it would not be a bad place to spend eternity.

  When we arrived at the grave-site we all assembled on one side of the coffin which had been laid on velvet straps across the freshly dug hole. I looked to the side and noticed that even though we had driven a full half mile we were only about a hundred yards over the ground from the parking lot by the chapel where our cars were parked. Vaguely I wond
ered whether we would ride back in the limousines or walk back.

  I was pretty much in a daze. We all sort of stood together on one side and the funeral director stood on the other side. He said a few words then hit a button which lowered Lola slowly into her final resting spot. We did not toss flowers on her or shovel in a spoon of dirt.

  With that the service ended but before hopping into the limos everyone sort of stood around talking. Most of the mourners gathered to thank me for a lovely service and they stood in line to shake hands with Fredrick Smith and congratulate him on his fine eulogy. Towards the end of this chit chat I found myself standing in the grass right next to the paved blacktop locked in a conversation with Sheila Martin and her lawyer who had button holed me and they were trying to tag team me into giving them information that I did not have. Like a typical lawyer, when he asked when Sheila would get the money and I told him that I did not know, he simply asked the exact same question but with the words changed a bit. He would continue asking the same question and I would continue giving the same answer. I did not know how long we would spar.

  I looked around trying to keep all of the players accounted for and noticed that I no longer could find Rubert Glaston or Shelly Mizell. I wondered where they had gotten to.

  I looked over and saw Detective Samuels but before I could give him that pity look that says “please come rescue me immediately” he gave me the look. I guess he needed it as well because Fredrick Smith had him squarely in his sights and was verbally pounding at him in what I expect was questions about when Lola’s building would be auctioned off.

  I noticed Jana was speaking with Wanda Crowley. I was so happy she was there and said a silent prayer that she would come say hello to me. People were not standing still but rather circulating. I caught sight of Jill as she approached me. We spoke just briefly about the service and then we heard Donald’s Harley roar to life shattering the peace and tranquility of the moment. Jill told me that she and Donald were going to go get some breakfast at some restaurant and that she would call me later to see what was going on.

  Donald piloted his cycle up the blacktop right next to us and I watched as cute little Jill lifted her full length black skirt to allow her to swing her leg over the

  seat and sit behind Donald. As she lifted the skirt I noticed she was wearing black leather pants under the skirt. I quickly realized she had been planning on escaping with Donald all along. It was a good plan. I wish I had thought of it. I would probably be stuck with the mourners another couple of hours sorting out questions for Sheila and her lawyer. I watched as Donald handed Jill a helmet and watched her plop it down over her head and buckle it on.

  North Texas is traditionally dry even in April but the cemetery, of course, needed lush green grass so they watered every single morning. That is why the blacktop was wet. As Donald goosed the throttle and the Harley carried him and Jill quickly away his path could be marked by a dry tire tread pattern left on the wet blacktop for just a moment until the moisture reclaimed the spot erasing the track but it was in that very brief moment that my brain screamed at me that it was important to think and I looked harder as five diamond shapes glowed then faded from the road.

  CHAPTER-16.

  I was sure Jill could not hear my loud shout over the roar of the Harley’s engine as she and Donald quickly faded from view. I ran the few steps to Detective Samuels. It was unfortunate that Samuels was still engaged in conversation with Fredrick Smith because I interrupted to tell Samuels I had seen the diamond pattern which would mean that Fredrick’s son, Donald, was the person who broke into my house and also did at least one of the killings. Fredrick looked surprised but I saw that spark of recognition in Detective Samuels’ eyes and that is all I needed. I knew he would spring to action.

  I turned and quickly spotted Jana who was still talking with the Crowleys and currently had her back to me. With my right hand I grabbed her left wrist and physically pulled her across the road. The two of us dressed in matching black utility dresses sprinted across the cemetery towards the chapel where my car was parked. As we were running I shouted to her what had happened and somehow our troubles with each other either melted or were at least postponed.

  When we reached my car as I was fumbling with my keys I noticed three things. First; Samuels and one or two others had followed me and were running for the cars. Second; the other mourners were quickly crowding into the limos and other cars with the exception of one man. Third; that one man was Fredrick Smith who was furiously shouting into a cell phone. My only hope was that he was not telling Donald we were on to him, but I couldn’t think of anything else that would be so important that he would take this moment to make a phone call. I also did not know if one could operate a cell phone while driving a motor cycle but expected he

  would at least leave Donald a voice message. I had no control over when Donald might listen to that message.

  Jana and I got into my car and I quickly headed out of the parking lot but by then, of course, Jill and Donald were long gone. I tossed my cell phone to Jana and told her to call Jill. Jill’s phone rang once then rolled to voice mail which told me she had set it to silent for the funeral service and had not yet turned it back on. I then told Jana to stay off the phone and wait for Samuels to call us.

  I knew that the original plan was for Jill and Donald to go get some breakfast which meant they would stop at some restaurant. It was my faint hope that Donald had also set his phone to silent and prayed that he had not yet heard from his father. Unless someone had slipped, Donald would not even know that the tire track was one of the clues we were following, so my hope was that he still thought he was in the clear and he and Jill would be enjoying scrambled eggs somewhere while all of us searched for them. That hope though was not an expectation. No, it was clearly a hope. I more expected that by now Donald knew we were after him and Jill, rather than being a pleasant date he might get lucky with in a little while, would be rather his hostage as he tried desperately to formulate a plan that would keep him out of jail.

  I was not familiar with this part of Dallas and had no idea where I might find the nearest breakfast restaurant so I vaguely pointed the car back towards the part of town where the Antique Alley was located on Routh street.

  There was traffic so I couldn’t go as fast as I wanted. I believed I had it all figured out so I started going over it out loud so that Jana could hear it and possibly correct any holes in my theory. Before I got started though the cell phone chirped to life. It was Eric Samuels so Jana handed me the phone. He told me that he had an APB out on Donald and his Harley. I shouted Jill’s phone number to Samuels and told him it was a new cell phone so it would have a GPS. He rung off and I tossed the cell back to Jana.

  The way I figured it Donald Smith was supplementing his income by trafficking drugs. He would buy large quantities of pure heroine and then cut it and repackage it and sell it for a profit in smaller quantities. He might not even cut and repackage the drugs, he might simply be part of the delivery chain. In any case the drugs would get into the country or be manufactured here and find their way to the Dallas area. For security purposes they needed a way to get the packages from one person to another without those people being seen together so the scam they had arranged was that someone would buy a piece of furniture, stuff the drugs inside, sell the furniture on a predetermined day to one of the antique stores, and Donald would collect it and then do whatever his part was. He could do this on a motorcycle because he wasn’t moving furniture, just the drugs themselves.

  I did not think Fredrick Smith was actually involved because if he was they probably would have had all the drug laden furniture delivered to his store and not risked needing to break into the other stores to collect the drugs.

  The problem was, of course, that I had accidentally bought one of their stashes and Lola had taken the fall for it. We had collected about a million dollars worth of drugs from that desk and I was positive that Donald Smith did not have a million dollars so tha
t meant that he had the drugs on credit from some really mean and nasty people who would want their money or their drugs no matter what Donald had to do to get them. He would now be desperate because he would have the drug people after him for cash and the police after him for murder.

  As I was spouting this all out Jana reminded me that Donald was not in the room when she and Jill and I had discussed going to Harry Hines Bazaar, and Jana once again promised that she had not told him. I thought about that a minute and then figured he had probably just left my house in the morning and then parked up the street where he could wait for us to leave so he could follow us. Once we were at the Bazaar he could get his drug friends there in just a few moments via phone. I was certainly not convinced myself that this was plausible but it was very nice to not only have another theory that did not implicate Jana but also voice it out loud for her.

  My big concern now, of course, was Jill’s safety. I figured that if Donald were on the run he would first stop wherever he kept whatever money or drugs that were valuable to him, pick them up, and then get the hell out of town as fast as he could. I prayed that would mean that wherever he stopped he would simply let Jill go as excess baggage rather than keeping her as a negotiation chip. So I tried to figure out where he would keep the things valuable to him and I could come up with only two possibilities. The first was his home, and it horrified me to realize that I did not know where his home was. Somewhere in my notes I would have that written down but my notes were at my house and I was nowhere near my house. I did remember though that I was surprised at how close all the merchants lived to their stores so I expected Donald’s residence to be near the Antique Alley. The other place that Donald might stash his precious things was at the store that his father owned. Even if Fredrick Smith wasn’t involved at all Donald could have a locker or storage closet there that he felt secure about. Of course there were also a million other places he might bury his treasures but this was all I had to go on so I headed in the direction of the Antique Alley.