Splitsville.com

by Tonya Kappes

  In disbelief, I watch him turn the corner. He’s giving me permission and free rein of the executive offices. I grab his flashlight and quickly make it back to Dabi’s office, locking the door behind me.

  Just as I pull the file out, the handle on the door starts to jiggle. It’s not been twenty minutes so I can’t be Harold. I push the drawer back with the file barely sticking out of the top, turn the flashlight off and crouch under Dabi’s desk.

  Another flashlight is heading straight towards the filing cabinet. The glare coming off the white Puma tennis shoes is enough light without the flashlight. I strain to see who it is, but can’t without moving the desk chair I’m wedged up against.

  The file drawer slowly opens. The wheels creek with every roll they make. I look again, but still can’t make out anything above the knees. Only the Puma’s and blue jeans.

  The shuffle of papers, the wheels rolling back in place, the click of the file cabinet being shut, the door quietly closes, the jingle of keys locking the door, and the thud of shoes walking away and the intruder is gone. All in less than five minutes.

  Someone with a key knew exactly what they were coming for. I open the cabinet all the way and search through the files—twice. It’s gone. The intruder got want I need. The hand-lettered file.

  I open the door and look both ways. Nothing but an empty hallway and noise to match. Slowly I tiptoe my way down the hall without the flashlight on. I’m not going to bring attention to myself.

  The exit sings illuminates the hallway. If I take the stairs, I can make it up to Harold faster. Taking two stairs at a time isn’t for someone who sits in a computer chair all day. I stop for a brief second at the top and catch my breath.

  Harold stands at the end of the hallway, looking out the window.

  “I’m so glad I found you. Alive.” I grab and hug him.

  “Child, what’s wrong with you?” Harold pulls away like I have the plague.

  I explain everything that happened while I hid under Dabi’s desk. “You keep a running video right?” The intruder has to be all over the camera footage. You can’t walk an inch without seeing a camera in this place.

  “It would’ve been running, but I gave you twenty minutes. Remember?”

  “What?” I can’t believe it!

  “If I gave you twenty minutes to do whatever it is you need to do, I’m certainly not going to keep the camera’s rolling for the world to see it.” He shakes his head. “I need my job.”

  “Did you see anyone?” I ask.

  “No. I was busy trying to ignore the executive office so when the police come snooping I won’t be able to answer any questions.” Harold starts down the hall. “I’m going to walk around and see if I see anyone.”

  Why in the world would he do look for the intruder? What if they’re still here? “Wait. I’ll go with you.” There’s no way I’m letting him go alone or even worse, leave me here.

  He jingles the key ring hooked on his belt. “It was probably Mr. Stone.”

  Harold has a point. I never thought about that. I guess I’m the intruder.

  I walk behind Harold the entire time, like a shy child. Even with the lights on, this place is a little creepy.

  I jump when my phone vibrates in my pocket. Splitsville.com is hopping and I’ve totally neglected all the dumps in the past couple of days. I thumb through them hoping to take my mind off my present situation.

  Great! I read the email. I don’t need anything to add to my night.

  I’ve been watching you sleep all night. You better watch yourself. Or you just might find yourself DEAD, like your client.

  Obviously this person doesn’t know where I live, because I’ve been here all night and secondly “client” is really “clients.”

  Harold helps me tidy up the joint as we go along looking for any intruders. It’s only surface cleaning. No one will really notice if the boardroom wasn’t vacuumed or the top shelves weren’t dusted.

  “Almost quitting time.” Harold points to his watch.

  Leaning in closer, I read the time, “4:30 already?” It’s funny how time flies when you’re up to something you shouldn’t be doing—I mean the sleuthing part.

  Quickly we finish up the offices.

  Harold’s yawn is contagious. Or this nightshift might be making me tired. I promise Harold I’ll be back and do a better job even though the file I need is no longer in the building.

  ***

  I stop in the coffee shop to grab a cup on the way home. There’s no way I’ll be able to go home and fall asleep. The file being taken, and the threat are weighing heavy on my mind. With a cup of joe, I can stay up a few hours and start on the dumps that have accumulated over the past couple of days.

  The red-lettered sign on the coffee shop reads closed. I didn’t take into consideration they might not open at 5:00 a.m. But a cup sounds great right now.

  I walk over to The Surplus where I saw the protective spray. The neon sign blinks open. I’ve regretted twice not buying something to keep me somewhat safe, or something that makes me feel safe. This may be a good time.

  I pull the door open and look in before I cross the threshold.

  “What brings you in here so early?” The woman standing behind the counter chomps on a piece of gum. The chalk from her fingernail file is dusting the top of the counter. Those nails can take my eyeball out in one quick stab. Her long black hair is sleek and beautiful as silk, but the puff on top is pulled back in a clasp makes it look like she is housing acorns under it. “Who you wanna hurt?”

  “Aww, Vive, shut up.” A guy slinks up alongside of me. “How can we help you?”

  I look along the wall. “I’m just waiting for the coffee shop to open. I have some time to kill.” I can’t believe I just walked into a gun store. I move over to the area labeled protective sprays, I snicker. When did everything become so politically correct? The man follows me.

  “Killing time huh?” Vive seems to take amusement in my choice of words.

  I nod because I need to look into some sort of protection. I’m conducting my own spy jobs and receiving death threats. Why not? It may come in handy.

  I shy away from the gun side because I know I can’t shoot someone. With my hands locked behind my back, I scan the wall.

  There are several different types of sprays to choose from. I always thought there were two types. Mace or pepper spray.

  “Those are good for any single woman,” the guy says looking down at my ring finger. His brows lift with anticipation. “And it looks like you’re single.”

  “Let’s say someone is making threats and…” I stop myself. “I don’t need to tell anyone about the threats, and I don’t want Carl or Ian to find out about them.”

  “What kind of threats honey?” Vive went from leaning on her elbows to standing tall in her high heels.

  I don’t make eye contact with her; I say, “Just every day threats.”

  Vive walks over and takes a can of spray in her hand. “Like ‘I can’t stand you’ or ‘I’m gonna hurt you real bad, ’threats?” Vive tugs at the bottom of her jean mini skirt. Her big toe sticks out the front of her shoes as if it’s begging to be let out. I hold in my laughter once I see her toenail is bedazzled.

  I pick up one of the sprays and say, “Something like that.” I want to see how it feels in my hands.

  “Well?” Vive begins to take down some of the sprays. “Which one?”

  “Which one what?” I check my watch because I know the coffee shop is open by now. “Which threat?”

  “Honey if you have to pick which threat is worse, you need pepper spray and a gun.” Vive hands me the smallest little pouch with the teeniest nozzle sticking out the top.

  It fits perfect in my hand. The scent of leather swooshes up to my nose when I pop the snap open to take the small can out. It’s no bigger than my pinkie.

  “I know you’re thinking how in the hell is that tiny thing going to keep me safe. Well,” Vive says and takes it out of my hand.
“Don’t you know big things come in small packages?” Vive holds it up and aims with her eyes on the target. Me.

  I flinch.

  “Oh honey, I’m not going to spray you. Hell, it’d hurt me this close.” She hands the spray back to me because I know her nails won’t be able to snap it back in the pouch.

  “Thanks, but what’s the difference between this and that?” I point to the larger can of spray. It only seems natural for quantity to be more important. “I want to keep spraying if I have to.”

  She laughs. “The difference is mace does last a little longer, but I hope you aren’t going to be around to see.” Vive adjusts her weight to the left side of her body and checks out her nails, “They both will make eyes and skin burn, plus make it hard to breathe.” I swear I see laughter behind her eyes. “You like Bhut Jolokia?”

  “Bhu…” I can’t say it, much less like it.

  Vive snorts again. I’m glad I’m amusing to her with my lack of knowledge. She continues, “The hottest pepper in the world. My momma loved to use a little in her spaghetti. You know, to give it a kick.” She smacks her lips like she just had a bit of her momma’s spaghetti. “Imagine that getting in your eyes. Stops you dead in your tracks. This here is stronger than that.” She points to the smaller can.

  The words run out of my mouth before I can stop them. “I’ll take it.” If I wasn’t scared of the threats before, I’m scared now. And I can’t wait to use my spray on threatener.

  “I told you.” Vive takes a stab at the Joe Pesci guy, “She may not want to off anyone, but she wants to hurt someone real bad.” She disappears behind a curtain, “I’ll be right back with your protective spray.”

  I check my watch and realize I’ve been in here over forty-five minutes. My cell rings and I look at the screen.

  “Good morning Bradley.” I smile at the thought of how he is going to react when I tell him about my protective spray.

  “Why haven’t you called? I’ve been worried.”

  Crap! I forgot to call him when I got out of Macro Hard. I told him I would. “I’m sorry. I stopped to get a coffee and made a pit stop. Can we discuss it over coffee?”

  “Yes and I’m alone today so I can really use your help.”

  Help? The last thing I want to do is work. I’m exhausted from cleaning all night. My silence makes him continue.

  “Please? It’s only for a couple hours, just to feed the dogs and take them out to potty.”

  I smile when I hear him say “potty.” How can I resist that? My dumps will have to wait and the dumpers will have to put up with the dumpees one more day.

  “Of course I will help you.” Plus any alone time with Bradley is a bonus.

  Vive comes around the curtain with a box in her hand. She begins to roll her nails on the glass countertop with her head cocked in the air.

  I bend my head down so Vive won’t hear me. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll be there in a few.

  “The who?” Bradley questions.

  “No one. I’ll see you in a minute.” I push the end button and turn my attention back to Vive. She is taking the small can out and setting up an assortment of leather cases.

  Her hands create a wand, like Vanna White waving across the letters on Wheel of Fortune. “As you can see, we have an assortment of colors to chose from.”

  There are pink cases, blue cases, purple cases, black, camo, you name it and Vive has it. I pick each one up and see how it looks in my hand. None of it looks natural, but I continue to repeat “death threats” over in my head.

  Vive goes back behind the counter and brings out another box. She carefully opens it while looking around. By this time the store has five or so customers. She bends down close to my ear and whispers, “Come back here.” She waves me around the counter.

  I look around to see if anyone is staring like I’m on some spy mission, but they’re too involved in looking for their own protective spray. I follow Vive behind the curtain to the back room. The metal shelves are filled with boxes stacked to the ceiling, all of which are housing her arsenal treasure trove.

  I marvel at the warehouse. “I can’t believe how much you have.”

  “Oh honey, you haven’t seen anything. We are low compared to last week.” Vive climbs a ladder to get a very small box, no bigger than a pocketknife. “We get shipments every day. This stuff sells like hot cakes.” She hands me the box and helps herself down.

  She can’t have any flavor left in her gum. I watch her chomp and move the ladder back to its original place. She takes the unmarked box and goes over to the desk.

  She uses her nails as a knife and slices the piece of tape on the box and it pops open. “You seem like a nice girl.” She takes out a tiny pink key case and holds it up. “I see you have several key chains so this won’t be noticeable.”

  She hands me the small pepper spray can and I take it very carefully. I have no plans of spraying myself with my own protective spray. It fits perfectly in my hands.

  Vive’s eyes light up and her voice climbs, “Great! It will blend in with your everyday life. Just make sure you can get to it if you need to.” She closes the empty pepper spray box and hands it to me. “I’ve been waiting to give this to the right person. Plus, part of the proceeds go the Breast Cancer Foundation. They only made a limited number.” She pats the keys attached to her belt loop with one hand and her boobs with the other.

  I smile. Even if I wasn’t in the market for pepper spray, I’d still buy from Vive.

  “We have a deal,” I say, following Vive back out into the store to pay.

  “If you need anything thing else, you let me know.” Vive winks, “I mean anything.”

  I’m not for sure, but I believe Vive would track down the person making death threats towards me and get them herself.

  “Thanks Vive.”

  “Let me know how it works out,” she calls after me between chomps on her gum. “By the way, don’t stand down wind when you’re spraying it.”

  I turn around and Vive is leaning back on the counter the way she was when I came in over an hour ago with the same shitty grin.

  Downwind?

  How am I going to have time to determine downwind if someone is attacking me? I guess I’ll figure it out. I secretly pray I won’t have to find out.

  Twenty-Two

  “What’s going on with you?” Bradley takes the extra coffee out of my hand. I’m careful to put my key chains in my pocket in fear the pepper spray will go off without me touching it, even though the instructions say it can’t happen. I’ve come to realize anything can happen.

  I follow him into the kennel area. I look down the line of cages “I’ve had the worst night.” The little black noses sticking out through the bars in anticipation of getting fed, warm my heart.

  Bradley takes the stack of silver bowls out of the cabinet. “What happened? More threats?” He lines the bowls up on the floor.

  We fill up them and the howling begins. They know the ping of the pebble dog food hitting the inside of the metal bowls means food is on its way.

  “It looks like I’m a suspect in the murders.” I drop the measuring up in the bag and turn to Bradley, “And if you don’t like seeing me in an orange jumpsuit, we’ve got to figure this thing out.”

  “What?” Bradley’s voice has disgust in it. He tries to dump a scoop of food in the bowl but loses most of it on the ground. I bend down to help him pick it up.

  “Carl came by the house last night before work.” I stand up and brush the food crumbs off on the front of my jeans. “He has a picture of me and Kent arguing at the kissing booth. Can you believe someone took a picture?” I look down at Bradley.

  He stands up. “It only means one thing to me.” He comes closer and brushes crumbs away from my cheek. “Someone has been plotting to murder Kent and is completely setting you up.”

  I put the clues together. “It looks like we are fighting. He’s dating my best friend and I killed him over jealousy or something. But why would I want t
o kill Dabi?”

  Bradley and I walk down the kennels, sticking bowls in for the dogs to eat.

  “Same thing. Jealousy is the number one reason for murder. Money is second.” Bradley sounds exactly like Aunt Matilda.

  Money is involved, I know it. Somehow, information about that is what I need to get my hands on at Macro Hard. Kent and Dabi had some kind of deal. But what? I recall Dabi’s dad’s conversation with the mystery man.

  “There has to be a lead somewhere.” I tell Bradley about the file and intruder at Macro Hard and my plans to snoop more tonight. Hopefully it will be my last night as a cleaning lady.

  “Really, the only thing you have from the email threats is they are all sent from different locations.” Why does he always have to be so logical?

  “And the lipstick on the cup?” I remind him.

  “Lipstick on a cup in a coffee shop means nothing. There are a lot of women who drink coffee with lipstick on.”

  He’s right.

  “But the threat came from one of that computer. It’s strange the coffee was hot and the threat was just sent.” Could it be a coincidence? I don’t think so.

  I’m so exhausted from no sleep, I can’t even speak.

  “I’ll finish putting the bowls out. Why don’t you go to the office and rest your eyes for a little bit?” He points down the hall.

  It’s awfully quiet here today. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around.

  I walk down the hall and ask, “Where is Bree again?”

  “She called in sick.” I watch him walk the opposite way with the empty bowls stacked up in his arms and his hair is flopping.

  The coffee didn’t do what it was supposed to, and keep me awake. All I need to do is rest my eyes and I’ll be like a new sleuth. . .er. . .woman.

  “The light above the desk needs a good swift hit with the broom handle.” Bradley yells in my direction.