by John Clement
“Well,” I said to myself. “Either you’re really good at surviving stressful situations, or you’ve gone completely bonkers.”
Myself replied, “Watch the road, you moron.”
The car behind me moved into the oncoming lane a couple of times, trying to get around, and then as soon as there was an opening it revved its engine and sped by on the left. It must have been a sight to behold—a grown woman with wild hair, clinging to her stuffed giraffe, giggling and talking to herself.
But I didn’t care.
After what I’d been through, it felt good to laugh. Nothing restores the mind and body more, except maybe a nice long shower, which I planned on taking as soon as possible. I pulled into the winding lane that leads to our house and held my breath as I sped past the magnolia tree. I parked in the empty carport and carried Jane’s cage up the steps as smoothly as possible, and then as soon as I opened the door to my apartment, I put her down on the coffee table and started peeling off my clothes. Less than twenty seconds later I was in the shower, letting the hot water stream over my body and doing my best impersonation of Billie Holiday.
The way you hold your knife,
the way we danced till three.
The way you’ve changed my life …
No, no! They can’t take that away from me!
The longer I stood there, the better I felt. All the terrible things I’d seen, all the sadness over Sara Potts and Edith Reed, all the guilt and fear and worry (not to mention the perfume) washed away, disappearing down the drain and leaving me feeling like a new woman. I must have been standing there singing at the top of my lungs for at least ten minutes when I thought I heard something on the other side of the shower curtain.
I froze.
“Dixie?”
“Ethan! Oh my gosh, you scared me to death.”
He parted the curtain just wide enough to poke his head in, grinning from ear to ear and raking his eyes up and down my body. In a husky, mock soap-opera voice, he said, “Well, hello there.”
Nobody likes being surprised in the shower, but all it took was one look at Ethan’s beaming face to make my heart go all warm and fuzzy—I couldn’t imagine being happier to see anybody else on the planet. In fact, looking back, I must have been pretty swept up in the moment. I leaned in and gave him a wet kiss on the lips, leaving a few drops of water dripping off his cheeks, and then before I even knew what I was saying, the following words came spilling out of my mouth: “Hey, do you think we should get married?”
He blinked a couple of times. “Umm … what did you say?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Okay, let’s not jump to any conclusions, but I think I just proposed to you.”
“Yeah. I just wanted to hear you say it again.”
“I’m not sure I can.”
He grinned. “That’s what I thought. You better get out of that shower. I think your brain may be waterlogged.”
I stared at him. At that moment, I could easily have shrugged it all off and turned it into a joke, but something was urging me to keep going.
I said, “Maybe, but you know, this whole thing … it’s got me thinking. I mean, life is just so short, you know? Ever since Todd and Christy died, I think I’ve been walking around afraid—afraid to move forward, afraid to think about the future, just … afraid. But now…”
His eyes were hopeful and searching, but now they seemed to darken. “Yeah…”
“What’s wrong?”
He said, “Look, Dixie. I love you. You know that. I basically loved you the minute I met you, and I’d marry you in a heartbeat, but…”
“But what?”
“I just think maybe there are a couple of reasons we shouldn’t be talking about getting married right now.”
“Why? What reasons?”
He let out a long sigh. “Well, for one … Guidry.”
“Guidry! What does Guidry have to do with anything?”
“Well, you have to admit, the timing is a little weird.”
“What timing?”
“Umm, who got married today?”
I blinked. “Oh. That timing.”
“Yeah.”
I nodded hesitantly. “Okay. I see your point.”
And I did. The timing was a little off. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was just being overly emotional, reacting to the stress of everything that had happened, on top of thinking about Guidry’s wedding. But honestly, just between you and me, it didn’t feel like that at all.
Ethan leaned in and gave me another kiss. “Let’s just talk about it later.”
I nodded, letting the lingering sensation of his lips on mine travel across my body like a wave. “What’s the other reason?”
“Huh?”
“You said there were a couple reasons we shouldn’t talk about getting married. What’s the other one?”
There was a gleam in his eye. “Well … the singing.”
I gave him a half grin, half grimace. “Yeah, sorry about that. How long were you listening?”
He winked. “Long enough.”
“Long enough for what?”
“Long enough.”
He pulled the curtain aside and stepped in, completely naked.
Now, normally, just the sight of Ethan’s big brown eyes is enough to make me feel a little light-headed. I was thinking I should probably grab on to the towel bar just in case I keeled over, but before I got the chance, he pulled me close and wrapped his long arms around me. I melted into him, reveling in the warmth of his body against mine.
He whispered in my ear, “By the way, last time there was a rabbit by the bed. Now there’s a canary on the coffee table.”
I pulled back. “Yeah, wait ’til you hear what happened. I took Franklin and Gigi back home to Caroline’s, and while I was there, Detective Carthage came over. He asked me if I’d walk through the Kramers’ house and tell him everything I saw. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t exactly say no, so then when I went over there…”
My voice trailed away. I noticed Ethan had lowered his chin and was staring at me with a slightly annoyed look on his face. I immediately knew what he was thinking: “Dixie, shut the hell up.”
Well, maybe not exactly in those words—he’d never speak to me like that—but I could tell he was thinking there’d be plenty of time for talking later. The most important thing was what was happening right here … right now …
He leaned in and kissed my forehead, gently, and then he kissed my ears, and then my throat, and then he worked his way slowly around my neck and across my shoulders, all the while kneading the knots and kinks out of my back with his strong hands. The steam rose around us in little swirling clouds, filling the shower in a veil of white so thick that eventually, had anyone else been watching, they wouldn’t have been able to see a single thing.
30
It had taken a lot of persuasion on my part to convince Ethan he didn’t need to spend the night, especially after I’d told him about Elba Kramer. But to be honest, I wanted some time alone—some time to just sit and think about nothing. No more intrigue, no more notes, no more Elba Kramer, and no more murder. Plus, there were a lot of other things I didn’t want to think about—namely, Jean Pierre Guidry, his wedding, or where he and Monistat were headed for their honeymoon …
I had a lot of not thinking to do.
After he left, I pulled on a pair of fleecy sweatpants, some house slippers, and a soft cotton T-shirt, and then I popped open an ice-cold Corona and headed for the hammock. On the way through the living room, I stopped to check in on Jane. I still hadn’t decided if I should keep her or not, but then again I wasn’t sure I had a choice. Detective Carthage had told me Elba Kramer hadn’t said a word as he led her from the pool house to his car, but once inside, handcuffed and buckled in, she’d made him promise to give me a message:
Take good care of Jane.
I had draped a beach towel over her cage to help her get used to her new surroundings, and when I peeked inside, she was nestled in t
he far left corner, sound asleep with her beak tucked into her breast feathers.
I felt a little flutter in the center of my chest.
I’d planned on maintaining a purely business relationship with Jane. Of course, I’d do exactly as Elba Kramer had requested—find her a good home, make sure she was well cared for, etcetera—but nothing more. I wanted as few reminders as possible of everything that had happened. Only now, seeing Jane all snuggled up and content, I felt like the Grinch who stole Christmas … my heart was getting just a little bit bigger.
Outside, the stars were twinkling like tiny beacons in the night sky, and the waves rolling in on the beach below were sending hushed whispers through the trees. I lit one of the citronella candles we keep at the top of the steps and put it on the ice cream table by the door … and then my jaw dropped wide open.
Todd’s old cell phone was there, right smack dab in the middle of the table with a folded note tucked underneath. I stared at it for a good ten seconds or so while all the possible explanations for how it could have gotten there ricocheted around my brain like shrapnel. Try as I might, I couldn’t come up with anything good—especially given that the notes I’d received so far that week hadn’t exactly been full of cheer. For a second or two, I even considered pretending I’d never seen it, but, as always, curiosity got the best of me. I slid the note out and unfolded it …
Hey Sis,
Paco and I got home late tonight and decided to go for a walk. You’ll never believe what we found! Remember that old boat we used to play with? It was washed up on the beach right in front of the house … I guess now we know why you weren’t answering your phone.
Love,
Michael
ps—Paco says “GPS—good thinking.”
I picked up the phone and smiled as I turned it over in my hand a couple of times. Except for a couple of scratches and a few grains of sand stuck in the crevices, it seemed to have survived its ocean journey intact. Right at that very moment, as if on cue, it rang.
Without even looking, I knew it was Ethan. He’d said he’d call when he got home to make sure I hadn’t changed my mind and wanted him to come back. I answered the way I imagined Billie Holiday might, puckering my lips and drawing my voice out in a velvety, high-pitched wail.
“Helloooooo…”
There was a short pause.
“Dixie, this is Samantha … Detective McKenzie, I mean.”
“Oh my gosh! Detective McKenzie! I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
“Well, I’m sorry it’s so late. Are you … drunk?”
I laughed out loud. “No! No, of course not! Well, I’m having a beer, but that’s all. I swear. I was just trying to sound like Billie Holiday.”
“Billie Holiday?”
“Yeah.” I ducked back inside, closing the door behind me. I didn’t want to make too much noise in case Michael and Paco were asleep. “It’s a long story.”
“Well, again, I’m sorry it’s so late.”
There was something in her voice that caught me off guard. For one, it was unlike Detective McKenzie to apologize for anything, especially something so trivial as a late-night phone call.
I said, “Oh, it’s totally fine. I knew I’d hear from you at some point. I’m guessing Detective Carthage told you all about Elba Kramer.”
“Yes … that’s why I’m calling.”
“Okay…”
It suddenly dawned on me that what I was hearing in her voice was sadness. A terrible thought flashed through my mind: Elba Kramer would never have allowed herself to be locked up in a jail cell like a caged animal. She was too wild for prison, too headstrong and rash, too … unstable.
I said, “Oh, no. What has she done?”
She sighed. “It’s more about what she hasn’t done. I know you’re under the impression Ms. Kramer helped orchestrate the murder of those two other women, and I agree all the evidence does seem to point to that very conclusion.”
I breathed a sigh of relief that Elba hadn’t tried to hurt herself. “Wait,” I said. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. You’re going to say she denies knowing anything about it, but you have to trust me. She can be very convincing, and I think she’s just afraid to admit she was not only involved in the murder of her husband, but those women too. And I have a pretty good feeling if you search her shop, you’ll find some hat pins—the same hat pins tipped with black pearls that were found on Edith Reed and Sara Potts.”
She took a deep breath. “Dixie, we’ve made an arrest in the murder of Elba’s husband.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I know. They caught him hiding in my car.”
“No, I’m afraid not. The man who murdered Albert Greco was a hired assassin from Baltimore. We found him in a hospital emergency room about an hour from here, just outside Tampa.”
I frowned. “Then, who … Wait, I don’t understand.”
“Dixie, when you were meeting with Ms. Kramer the day Albert Greco was gunned down, Deputy Morgan was stationed in his car outside. As soon as he heard that gunfire, he ran up to the front gate and saw a man with an automatic rifle escaping around the side of the house. Morgan immediately opened fire, but until this morning we didn’t know if he hit him or not. The man we arrested outside Tampa had a bullet lodged in his right hip.”
I was shaking my head. “That doesn’t mean anything. How do you know…?”
She interrupted. “Because we found an automatic rifle with a high-tech silencer in the trunk of the man’s car, along with a file containing photos of Albert Greco, Elba Kramer’s cell phone number, and a detailed blueprint of their home.”
“So … there were two assassins looking for Albert Greco?”
“No. What I’m saying is that the man who murdered Edith Reed and Sara Potts had nothing to do with the assassination of Albert Greco.”
I could feel my heart starting to race. I said, “No. That’s impossible, because … because if that’s true, it means somebody actually was trying to kill me.”
There was a long pause, silent except for the sound of McKenzie’s slow breathing. I could feel her waiting over the phone, waiting for me to process what she was telling me.
I said, “Look, just because you caught that gunman doesn’t mean he wasn’t working alone, he…”
“Dixie, he’s confessed.”
“Who?”
“The man found hiding in your car. He confessed just a short while ago. I should have called you right away, but I was hoping I could get a flight out of New Orleans and talk to you in person before…” She paused, searching for the right words. “I just wanted you to hear it from me before anyone else. He’s confessed to the murders of Sara Potts and Edith Reed, and he’s admitted that you were next.”
Now, I shook my head again, this time in disbelief, hoping at any moment I’d wake up and this whole nightmare would be over.
“Who is he?”
She hesitated. “Dixie … it was Morton Cobb.”
I closed my eyes. “Oh, no…”
“Yes. Apparently, he never quite got over the scandal of being caught on that boat with Ms. Kramer. He’s been plotting against everyone involved ever since … including you.”
“You mean, because I wouldn’t confiscate those tourists’ cameras?”
“I’m sure you know it killed his career, and since then he’s been in and out of at least two mental institutions. In fact, we’ve had our eye on Morton Cobb for quite a while. We have his phone records from that day, the day on the boat, and we believe he immediately arranged to have Elba Kramer murdered to keep her quiet, but once the newspapers published those photos the next morning, he got afraid and called it off.”
I closed my eyes and whispered, “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“And we don’t know for certain it’s related, but not long after the incident on the boat, Senator Cobb’s wife filed for divorce, which, as I’m sure you can imagine, was not amicable. Les
s than a year later, her divorce attorney disappeared. That was nearly seven years ago, and he’s still missing.”
I mumbled, “Elba told me he was crazy.”
“Yes. She told me Cobb never stopped harassing her, sending her rambling messages, accusing her of ruining his life, threatening revenge. In fact, she was worried he’d somehow figured out her husband’s past and was planning to use it against her. That’s partly why she decided to rat him out herself.”
I sat down on the couch and dropped my chin to my chest. “So basically, all this time, he’s been plotting his revenge.”
“I’m afraid so. And there’s one more thing. Elba Kramer was on Senator Cobb’s hit list as well. I’m more than certain that if we hadn’t arrested her, he’d have had her killed. In other words, Dixie, you saved her life.”
For once, I was speechless. The idea that I’d saved Elba Kramer’s life seemed beyond ridiculous, especially given the fact that she’d been so breezily willing to put my own life at risk.
McKenzie sighed. “The good news is that you won’t have to worry about Senator Cobb ever again. He’s in jail now, where I expect he’ll be for the rest of his life.”
* * *
After I rang off with McKenzie, as horrifying as the news about Senator Cobb had been, I immediately felt a sense of relief wash over me. There’d been something about Elba Kramer’s story that had left me feeling uneasy, and now I knew why. She was telling the truth about Edith Reed and Sara Potts—she’d known nothing about them.
I went over and sat on the edge of the coffee table next to Jane’s cage. She was in her water bowl, cheerfully splashing about and fluttering her wings, completely indifferent to the news of her former owner and not one bit shy that I’d interrupted her bath.
