Val Fremden Mystery Box Set 3

by Margaret Lashley

  Winnie grabbed the bag from Winkie and pulled out the remaining gift.

  “Well isn’t that the cutest thing ever!” she said. She pushed her red glasses up on her nose to study the figurine. “It says here, ‘Gee your affable.’”

  “Giraffe...able,” I said lamely.

  A familiar arm wrapped around my waist. Tom had come over to join us. “A figurine?” he whispered in my ear, and tugged playfully at my waist. “How original.”

  “How cute is that, honey?” Winnie said.

  She handed Winky the long-necked, bottom-heavy figurine and wrapped me in a bear hug, breaking Tom’s hold on my waist.

  “Val, you still got that Dr. Dingbat feller?” Winky asked.

  “Uh...I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, and shook my head ever so slightly. I should have known my effort at discretion would be futile when it came to Winky.

  “You know,” he said. “That there statue of that there guy on the toilet. The one you brought by the shop the other day, right a’fore you showed up in hot-pants and went to dumpster divin’. Woo hoo! Was that ever a sight!”

  Winky turned to Winnie and Tom, his head cocked and one eyebrow raised.

  “What?” Tom asked.

  “You should a been there, Tommy boy!” Winky continued. “You may not know it, but our gal Val here’s got an original Dr. Dingbat. That there Difficult Defecation figure’s worth twenty grand.”

  Tom gave me some side eye and asked, “Why were you dumpster diving?”

  “On a’cause a Val went and threw the battery away,” Winky answered for me. “You should a seen her, Tom. When she was done, she looked like a skunk that’d been dragged through a knothole back’ards. Come to think of it, she smelled like one, too.”

  I couldn’t decide whether to laugh along with Winky’s deranged cackle or spit a fireball at him. I mostly just wanted to melt into a crack in the floor.

  “As I recall,” I said, “it was you who threw the battery away, Winky.”

  Winky shrugged. “Well, if you wanner get picky about it.”

  “What are you doing with all these figurines, Val?” Tom asked. “And how on earth could one be worth that much money?”

  “It isn’t. At least, not without the battery,” I said, and shot a dirty look at Winky.

  “It was part of a series,” Winky said, oblivious. “Developed by some fancy doctor type who wishes to remain autonomous.”

  “Anonymous,” I corrected. “I can’t imagine why.”

  “Me neither,” Winky said. “I seen a picture of the whole Dr. Dingbat line on the internet. Let’s see. There was Gangrenous Gout. Flaming Flatulence. The Perpetual Pooper. My personal favorite, Bodacious Butt Boil –.”

  “Thanks. We get the picture,” I said.

  Tom turned and studied me. “So where is this twenty-grand figurine now?”

  I grabbed another cracker from the tray. “Have you tried these? They’re delicious.”

  Tom stared me down. “Val –”

  “Heeelppp!”

  For a second, I wondered if the tiny voice inside my head had grown vocal chords.

  “Help me!” the voice called out again.

  Tom’s head cocked to one side. “It’s coming from outside!”

  “Shore is!” Winky agreed.

  We all stepped over to the front door. Winky jerked it open.

  I peered outside, and for once in my adult life, I believed in Christmas miracles – even in July.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  On the lawn in front of Winky’s trailer, a disheveled Santa and a disgruntled elf were brawling it out like a couple of drunken hobos.

  Santa had the elf in a headlock. The little guy reached up and jerked the fat man’s red do-rag over his eyes. Temporarily blinded, Santa let go and pulled the rag from his face.

  “Double H!” Winky and I cried out.

  I shot Winky an incredulous look. “You know him?”

  Tom shot me an incredulous look. “You know him?”

  “That there feller’s my private eye,” Winky said. “We gots to do somethin’ afore J.D. and him does ‘emselves in!”

  Tom’s face shifted to cop mode, and he scrambled out into the yard. By that time, J.D. had escaped Double H’s headlock and was riding the portly biker like a pregnant sow.

  “Let him go!” Winky yelled. “Double H is our friend, J.D.!”

  “Break it up, you two,” Tom barked, and hoisted J.D. off Double H’s back. The diminutive attorney kicked his legs in the air like he was riding an invisible bicycle.

  Tom set J.D. and his Gucci loafers on the lawn, then grabbed Double H by the wrist and tugged until he was able to right his sizeable girth and the portly PI stumbled to his feet.

  “What in the world is going on here?” Tom demanded, looking right at me.

  I diverted my eyes to the sky in search of another miracle. Or maybe I’d get lucky and a meteor would put me out of my misery....

  “Val?” Tom said sternly. “How do you know this guy?”

  “He’s uh...a friend of Laverne’s,” I said. Which, technically, was true.

  As if on cue, Laverne appeared. “What’s going on?” She spotted the two ruffians still panting in the yard. “You two at it again? Geeze! J.D., I told you Harvey and I are just friends.”

  What in the world? Is there some kind of love triangle going on between Laverne, J.D. and Double H? Woo hoo! Thanks to Laverne, I don’t have to explain to Tom that we hired Double H as a hitman! Yes! This really is a miracle!

  “Men can be so silly,” I said, nearly gasping with relief.

  I scrambled for something to say that would reiterate the love triangle-theme and divert the attention off me. I turned to Laverne.

  “You always look great, Laverne. It’s no wonder you’ve got men fighting each other for you.”

  “Why thank you, honey,” Laverne said, and demurely tugged at her skin-tight mini skirt.

  “So that’s what this is about,” Tom said to the two brawlers. “All right, men. Shake hands and let’s take this inside.”

  J.D. and Double H did as they were told, and we all adjourned to Winky’s living room, where the 1970s was putting up its own desperate fight for survival.

  “WERE THEY REALLY FIGHTING over Laverne?” Tom asked me.

  We were sitting on Winky’s red-and-orange plaid couch. Everyone had gone to get more beer, so we had a moment alone – unless I counted E.T. the Extraterrestrial. He was sitting in a pie plate, staring at me from under a lampshade. I pondered for a second how on earth to change the red lightbulb in the center of his chest, when his little blinking heart-light finally blew out.

  “I guess so, Tom. But I don’t know for sure. I mean, I barely know Double H.”

  “Speak of the devil,” Tom said.

  “Sorry about the disturbance earlier,” Double H said. He plopped onto the couch beside me, creating a crater that swept me up in its vortex. I grabbed an armrest and righted myself.

  Tom and Double H nodded silent acknowledgements, then Double H turned to me.

  “Don’t mean to barge in. Val, I just wanted to give you something.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a clear baggie. Inside it were about a dozen frizzy, reddish- brown hairs.

  “I forgot to give you the Finkerman samples,” he said.

  Tom’s hand clamped down on my thigh, just above my knee. I didn’t dare look at him. Instead, I kept my focus on Double H and tucked the baggie into my purse.

  “Uh...thank you,” I said matter-of-factly. “Mr. Hooters, Tom and I were just wondering. What’s your problem with J.D.? Are you interested in Laverne?”

  “Huh?” Double H asked, his brows furrowing. “Oh. You mean when she said.... Listen, I didn’t want to hurt her feelings or nothin’. Laverne’s a great gal and all. But she’s way too skinny for me.”

  “So then, what’s your beef with J.D.?” Tom asked.

  “Don’t say nothing, ‘cause Winky doesn’t know
it yet. But it turns out that J.D.’s the jerk that’s been giving Winky a hard time. With the loitering charges, I mean.”

  Tom shot me a suspicious look. So far, I’d been able to explain away everything that had gone on without incriminating myself. I had a sinking feeling my luck wasn’t going to hold.

  “And Val,” Double H continued, “I been meaning to let you know. I seen J.D. snooping around your house earlier this week. I’m telling you, that little guy’s up to no good.”

  The lazy gerbil in my mind climbed onto its wobbly wheel. “What do you mean, J.D. was sneaking –”

  “Shh!” Double H hissed. “Winky’s coming. I owe it to him to tell him first.”

  “But you already told us,” Tom said dryly.

  “Oops,” Double H said. “I trust you’ll keep it on the down-low. Last thing we need is some cop finding out.”

  Double H hoisted his massive gut off the couch and headed toward Winky, who was busy chatting up Jorge and his girlfriend Sherryl.

  “Well?” Tom asked.

  I looked at him sheepishly.

  “Nice lamp,” I said.

  Tom wasn’t amused.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  “Let me get this straight,” Tom said.

  He’d led me into Winky’s backyard for a private discussion. I was cornered by the hot tub and about to get into some seriously hot water.

  “You traded all my stuff away for figurines?” Tom said, his sea-green eyes storming.

  “No,” I offered weakly. “We also had Chinese....”

  “Val! How could you?”

  “Well, you sold Goober’s dreamcatcher to Finkerman!”

  Tom’s face softened a tad. He blew out a breath and said, “Okay. Go on. Tell me the rest. All of it.”

  I swatted at a mosquito buzzing around my face and wished I had a gin and tonic instead of a Pabst Blue Ribbon.

  “Well, when I found out Finkerman had Goober’s dreamcatcher, I decided to pay him a visit. In disguise. As...well, you saw it. As Destiny.”

  Tom looked hurt. “So our little role-playing date wasn’t real?”

  I looked up at Tom with puppy-dog eyes. “It seemed real enough to me.”

  Tom looked away. “Then what happened?”

  “I went to Finkerman’s office, but the dreamcatcher wasn’t there. Then Winky called saying this lady named Layla Lark was offering a twenty-grand reward for the Dr. Dingbat’s figurine.”

  “But why in the world were you scrounging around in a dumpster?”

  I tried to take Tom’s hand, but he shooed it away.

  “When I met with Layla, she told me the blasted figurine wasn’t worth ten bucks without the original battery. You see, Tom, Winky had replaced the old battery the day before. When I showed it to him at the donut shop.”

  “Why’d he replace the battery?”

  “Because it didn’t work.”

  “Work?”

  “The figurine wouldn’t...you know...grunt.”

  Tom bit his lip.

  “Well, I figured twenty grand was a lot of money to just toss out the window. So I got in the dumpster to try and find the old battery. But I was too late.”

  Tom looked horrified. “Okay,” he said. “Fair enough. I get that part. But how did that private eye, Double H get tangled up in this? And J.D.? And what’s with the baggie full of hair?”

  I cringed. “Well, that’s where it gets a little complicated. Finkerman slapped me with a lawsuit for intent to do bodily harm...you know, for Laverne’s digestive-suicide cookies. He was also extorting Laverne for an overdue library book. So we hired Double H as a...hit man.”

  Tom choked on his beer. “A hit man?”

  “Not like a real hit man!” I said. “More like a ‘hair-removal man.’ Just to get Finkerman to drop the charges, see?”

  Tom stared at me for a moment. I pulled out the baggie of hair. When Tom put two and two together, the sum made his eyes bulge.

  “Of all your lame-brained ideas, Val! This one takes the cake!”

  “More like the follicle,” I said, trying to make a joke.

  Tom didn’t laugh.

  “Okay, okay,” I said. “But everything worked out in the end, Tom. It’s over with Finkerman. In fact, this whole mess is settled. Except for the break-in. And Goober’s dreamcatcher, of course. It’s gone for good.”

  “Look Val,” Tom began, then stopped. “Wait a minute. The break in?”

  I tried to shrug, but it came off more like a nervous tick. “Someone broke into the house on Wednesday. They stole a figurine and some Halloween candy. No biggie.”

  Tom’s face turned to sludge. “Geeze, Val! I’m so sorry. I had no idea that this –”

  “There they are!” Milly’s voice rang out. “It’s the soon-to-be puppy parents!”

  “Hey, you two,” her husband Vance said, and shook Tom’s hand. “What’s new with you and Val?”

  Tom looked me in the eye and said, “Nothing, Vance. Absolutely nothing.”

  I grimaced out a smile and asked, “Can I get anybody a beer?”

  “LET ME HELP YOU WITH that,” I said to J.D. He was standing on the bottom shelf of Winky’s fridge, trying to reach a case of beer.

  “Thanks, Val,” he said, and stepped back down to the floor.

  “What’s your pleasure?” I asked.

  “Heineken, if he’s got it.”

  “Looks like it’s PBR or PBR.”

  “I’ll take a Pabst, then,” he said, and ran a hand through his silver hair.

  I handed J.D. the beer and couldn’t help but notice that the usually immaculately dressed attorney looked a bit disheveled this evening. Grass stains marred the right shoulder of his white dress shirt like green skid marks, and the knees of his expensive-looking pants were as dirty as a six-year-old’s after recess.

  “Thanks. I owe you one,” he said, and cracked open the beer.

  “You sure do,” I said. “Help me find Goober and I won’t say a word to Laverne that I know it was you.”

  J.D.’s face froze. “How did you figure it out?”

  “Double H told me.”

  “Oh. I thought maybe you’d spotted the chocolate stain on my pocket.”

  I cocked my head at J.D. “Huh?”

  “Please, I’m begging you, Val. Don’t say another word about it. Laverne will throw me out of her life for good if she finds out.”

  Unsure as to just what J.D. was confessing to, I asked a generic question to fish for more information.

  “So, why’d you do it, J.D.?”

  “I just had to have Su Mee back. Listen, Val, I’m sorry for breaking in your place. I’ll do anything I can to help you find Goober...you know, to make up for it.”

  “Su Mee?” I squealed. “I was talking about the loitering complaint you filed against Winky!”

  J.D. turned the color of olive loaf. “Oh.”

  “J.D.! Don’t tell me you’re the one who broke in and rifled through my closet. J.D., you stole from me!”

  “I know, I know!” J.D. confessed. “But only Su Mee, Val. And only for sentimental reasons. You see, Laverne sold it at the yard sale without my permission.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “I kind of lost it,” he confessed. “I’ll pay you for it.”

  “It’s okay, J.D.,” I said, my outrage waning a bit. “You can have Su Mee. Just tell me something. How did you know I had her?”

  “Laverne told me she’d sold Su Mee to some guy, along with a bunch of other things of mine. It was like a punch in the gut, Val. I was really upset with her.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “Anyway, later Laverne mentioned seeing you with Su Mee...in a box with some other figurines. Well, knowing your penchant for smashing them, I knew Su Mee wouldn’t last a week at your place.”

  I bit my lip. I couldn’t argue with that.

  “I came over and knocked on your door, but you weren’t home,” J.D. said. “I got so worried about losing Su Mee that I decide
d to sneak in the back window. It was unlocked, you know. Anyway, I searched every box I could find in your place. I got lucky and found her. And, well, I took her. I’m sorry.”

  “But Su Mee. She’s so...tacky, J.D. And you’re so...well...not.”

  J.D. blew out a breath. “I know. But my dearly departed mother gave Su Mee to me when I graduated law school. It’s all I’ve got left of her.”

  “Oh.” I put my hand on J.D.’s shoulder. “I get it. Well, you’re welcome to her, okay?”

  “Thanks, Val.”

  “But I don’t get why you didn’t just ask me for her.”

  J.D. looked down at the floor.

  “I was ashamed. And then, after the break in...well, I took your chocolate ghosts. For that, I have no excuse, Val. But you know how bad Laverne’s cooking is. I saw the candy and I guess I just snapped. Out of hunger. And stress.”

  “I totally get it.”

  J.D. looked up at me.

  “Did I mention Laverne sold my custom-made Armani suits in the yard sale? Someone got fifteen grand worth of suits for fifteen bucks.”

  “Ouch.”

  “I guess I deserved it. Do you forgive me, Val?”

  I sighed and let out a tired laugh.

  “Yeah. I guess we all do crazy things for love. And from the looks of you, J.D., you’ve suffered enough. I won’t say a word to Laverne about the break in or the loitering thing. So long as you don’t bother Winky anymore.”

  “Thank you,” J.D. said, and extended his hand. I let it go and hugged him instead.

  “Like I said, I promise I’ll do my best to help you find Goober.”

  “Thanks, J.D. Listen, I better get going.” I opened the fridge and grabbed a carton off the top shelf. “I’m way overdue on my beer delivery route.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I better go have a talk with Double H before he gets to Winky. I’ll let him know I won’t be filing any more complaints.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  “I’ll take one of those,” Vance said as I came into the living room toting a six-pack of PBRs.