Family Jewels (Dix Dodd Mystery #2) ddm-2

by Norah Wilson

  Big Eddie? Well, Big Eddie was going down (and not in the good way). The conclusions I’d reached last night only solidified his guilt.

  We decided to break the case at Mona’s party. I know, I know, not nice to disrupt her birthday celebration. But it was when everyone in all three complexes would be gathered together. Hell, even Deputy Almond had promised a spitting Beth Mary that he would show up for a piece of cake. But I think Noel was showing up for a different reason. No, not for any interest in me. But I think the guy knew I was getting closer. What other explanation could there be for his not blowing my cover?

  ~*~

  We were the last to arrive, but it was not a fashion statement kind of thing. And not just because I liked to show off. (Though I dearly love to show off.) It was strategic. By the time we arrived, everyone else was already there. The whole gang. Yes, including Almond and a few of his fellow deputies. Which raised some eyebrows, mine included. Why had he brought his posse? What did Almond know? Almond’s presence didn’t surprise me. He was, after all, a familiar figure at the Wildoh. But not with backup.

  When Mother, Mrs. P and I walked into the rec room, we got a cool reception, to no one’s surprise.

  Well, strictly speaking, we walked through the rec room to assemble on the outdoor patio. Apparently there had been some sort of kitchen accident. Burned buns of some kind. Doors stood open airing the place out while the smell of charred food hung heavy like a blanket in the air. We did the hand waving through the air as we walked through the smoky room.

  Once again the only exception to the concerted shunning of Mother and company was Mona. But even she seemed off today. We weren’t greeted with her usual arm-waving enthusiasm, and her habitually happy expression was nowhere to be seen.

  How much did Mona know already?

  We arrived before the cake was cut. Before either cake was cut. Mona being Mona had made a diabetic cake for Big Eddie. These cakes, various drinks and a couple of fruit trays sat on a table surrounded by every single Wildoh resident. Even Dylan was sitting when I arrived. He quickly jumped up, gave his chair to Mrs. P and in fifteen seconds had secured another one for my mother from inside.

  I’d stand. He’d stand.

  Mona soon enlightened us as to why the doom and gloom at her own birthday celebration. She cleared her throat. In retrospect, I think that was more to get hold of her emotions than to herald the beginning of her speech. Her eyes welled with tears held back. I hated knowing they’d probably soon be falling, thanks to what we’d be disclosing.

  “You’ve all been such good friends to me,” Mona said. She looked at my mother. “You more than anyone, Katt. My years here at the Wildoh have been some of the best in my life. After my husband died, and my daughter moved away to start a family of her own … I … I never thought I’d find a place for me again. Not one where I could truly belong. But I did. I found it here at the Wildoh with all of you. Beth Mary, Roger, even you Wiggie. Harriet. Of course with you too, Big Eddie. And that is why it pains — desperately pains me — to tell you all that I’m leaving.”

  Okay, I had not seen this coming. Not at all. Apparently, I wasn’t alone in the shock as the collective gasp of dismay reverberated around the room. Well, almost ‘collective’. While some clutched hands to their chests and others held fingers to their mouths, one resident seemed singularly unsurprised. Tish McQueen sat in her lawn chair sipping her drink, dangling one finely shod leg over the other.

  Mona continued, “I’ve decided to sell out. Tish has decided to buy in. Thank God, for Tish. I’m very glad of that. The market’s down, as everyone knows, but Tish … Tish has agreed to take my condo off my hands.”

  I just bet Tish had agreed to take it off Mona’s hands. No doubt for a song. In addition to being a stripper of extraordinary reputation, Tish was a shrewd business woman. There was no question in my mind that she had beaten poor Mona down in price over the past weeks, whilst convincing the poor woman that she was her savior. And all the while depleting Mona’s resources by sponging off her while she ‘made up her mind’, putting Mona in an even more desperate bind.

  “Oh Mona,” Mother said, genuine tears filling her eyes. “Where will you go?”

  “Well, I’m not really sure on that…,” Mona answered.

  “Maybe you could stay with Tish?” Dylan suggested. I could tell this was eating at him too.

  Tish didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, no. I haven’t got the room.”

  Mona slapped on a smile that wouldn’t fake out a toddler. “I’m sure everything will be all right. Tish’s lawyer is drawing up the papers today, and I’ll be signing the condo over to Tish tomorrow. By the end of the month, I’ll be gone.”

  “Are you going too, Big Eddie?” I asked innocently.

  Eddie turned beet red. “No. Of course not.”

  “Really?” Dylan scratched his head. He knotted his forehead. “When I was dusting around your place the other day, I saw all those suitcases out, half packed and stuff. So I thought you must be moving too.”

  “No, kid,” Big Eddie said. “You’re mistaken. Now why don’t you just shut up and—”

  “Oh, then you must be just taking a trip, eh, Big Eddie? I saw your passport out on the dinette table.”

  “Just … doing some spring cleaning. Now shut the hell up, kid.”

  As if on cue, Lance-a-Lot truck’s rumbled into the yard. The musical horn trumpeted his arrival. And despite the action going on right before the crowd at the Wildoh, more than a few people turned his way. Including me.

  Speedos? Check.

  Mesh ball-gathering bag dangling down? Yep.

  Grin? Check.

  Swagger? Oh yeah.

  Oh, yes, the boy arched his back, and strutted his stuff before he dived into the lake to do his ball gathering work. Even Noel Almond sat up a little bit straighter as Lance dove under the water’s surface.

  Right on cue, Big Eddie said, “Now, what’s that boy got that I haven’t got?”

  “Nothing, Big Eddie,” I said. “At least, not yet.”

  That sent a few eyebrows soaring. Everyone looked to me to see what I’d say next.

  “Let them have it, Dix,” my mother said.

  She smiled at me, and I had to smile back. “Damn right, Mother.”

  Just like the other day, all eyes were on me. But unlike the other day, this time I had it all figured out. I hoped.

  “Well, Big Eddie,” I said. “I’m surprised to hear that you’re not taking a trip.”

  “Why’s that?” he asked cautiously.

  I huffed. “A man who works as hard as you do — day in and day out. Taking charge. Making sure all runs smoothly. Why, even those golf lessons of yours must be exhausting. I just thought you’d probably be ready for a vacation. Some downtime.”

  “I’m good, Dodd. Thanks for your concern.”

  I threw my head back and laughed. Not because it was that funny but because I wanted to sound bitchy. “Concern? My only concern as of late, Eddie, is you getting away before I could prove my mother’s innocence and your guilt. Before I could figure out who your accomplice was. But I don’t have that concern anymore. I’m good.”

  There were murmurs of “Oh shit”, “Here we go again”, and even a “What’s that girl smoking?” from the crowd. I really couldn’t hold it against them. After all, we’d been here before with the big — and unfortunately anticlimactic — reveal. Who could blame them? But this time, it would be different.

  My eyes raked the crowd.”Most of you believe me to be Dix Dodd, erotica writer, but I’m not. That’s just my cover. I asked Mother to tell you that so I could join you unawares.”

  “Our under-wares?” Beth Mary asked, looking bewildered.

  “No, she said unawares,” someone said.

  “I wear boxers,” Roger volunteered.

  Veronica touched his arm. “As long as the waistband holds, I think you’re okay.”

  “No,” I said. “Unawares. As in you didn’t know my real occupation
. In reality….” I paused dramatically, “I’m Dix Dodd, private detective.”

  Da-da-da-daaaaaaaahhhhhhh!

  Okay, no one exclaimed shock or surprise, but they had to have felt some.

  Tough audience.

  I cleared my throat. “I got a fax from Deputy Almond a few days ago advising that my mother was in trouble. Advising that she was a suspect in these thefts, as well as in the disappearance of Frankie Morell. In order to keep everyone off their guard while I investigated, I posed as an erotica writer.”

  “Poorly.” Tish sniffed. “I knew all along you couldn’t write that stuff.”

  Okay, I should have let that go.

  Of course, I couldn’t.

  “Really?” I smiled sweetly at Tish while my mind raced. I had to make this good. “I guess I didn’t tell you the right story. Maybe I should have told the one about the woman who has been lusting after the handsome young handy man … I mean gardener, who is tall and dark and has the most amazing hands. And then one night, the gardener lets himself into her house when she’s there all alone, and the two of them pretend he’s a complete stranger who has invaded her house and she’s totally at his mercy and has to do everything he wants. Everything. No matter how depraved. Except everything he wants is everything she’s been fantasizing about. And then he pushes her up against a wall and makes her watch in the mirror as he—”

  Dylan coughed. “Um, Dix….”

  I blinked, coming back to reality. Tish stood there, her mouth hanging open. Actually, everyone’s mouth was pretty much hanging open. Roger adjusted his boxers.

  “Sorry. Got a little off track there for a moment, didn’t I?” I began pacing as I talked so the crowd would have to visually follow me. “Anyway, getting back to the mystery, I was going to say that it took me awhile to figure things out. Much longer than it should have. And do you know why it took me so long?”

  “You’re stupid?” Tish suggested.

  “You’re drunk!” Beth Mary clapped her hands as she answered.

  “No, that’s not it,” Mrs. P answered. “It was the hormones. That’s what got in the way wasn’t it, Dix? Just like I said all along.”

  “You were right, Mrs. Presley.” I smiled at her. “Yeah, it was the hormones getting in the way, fogging my good judgment.

  Ever so pleased, Mrs. P leaned back further on her chair.

  Everyone looked lost at this point, except for Mother, Dylan and Mrs. P. But some looked less lost than others. Noel Almond was listening a little more intently.

  “I turn you on that much, Dix?” Big Eddie laughed, but it was nervous laughter. “Got you all flustered into thinking I was the crook? Well, wouldn’t be the first time I’d turned a lady’s head. Ha, ha.”

  “Nothing turned on here, Eddie,” I assured him. I thought of saying my stomach was turning, but that would be just plain mean. “Except for my stomach turning a little.” Sometimes, I’m just plain mean. “But my point is, I’m still absolutely certain you’re the thief. More so now than ever. The powder on your hands the one day, the sticky stuff on them the next. The little charm that could so easily be used as a lock pick. That was brilliant, by the way, picking the locks. Anyone investigating would ask, ‘Why would anyone pick a lock if they have the keys?’ That would effectively dismiss you as a suspect. Oh, and then there is the matter of my mother’s stolen watch.”

  “I … I told you, Dix,” Mona ventured. “Eddie was with me the night Katt’s watch went missing.”

  “I know you did, Mona. You provided him with the perfect alibi. But it wasn’t Eddie who took the watch. It was—”

  Eddie sighed loudly. “Look Dodd, we’ve been over all that.” He sat back a little easier. “I thought you had something new to tell us. Same old same old. You want Deputy Almond and his boys to search the place again? Is that what you want?” He looked at Almond, looking for the Deputy to return his rolled-eyed look. Almond didn’t. Big Eddie shifted his attention back to me. “You didn’t find anything before, but go ahead and look again if you want. You won’t find anything here. Not on me. I can guarantee you that.”

  “Not even a pocket full of sand, Eddie?”

  “Sand?” he asked.

  “Sand?” Almond said. He was all ears now. “What about the sand, Dix?”

  I saw that I was somewhat losing the crowd, not the least reason being that Lance-a-Lot was strutting his stuff out of the water, swaying those hips, slicking his hair back. Sun glinted off the bag of white balls he carried and glinted off his sun-kissed chest. Did I mention today’s Speedos were yellow? Sun was glinting down there too.

  “Sand is used to make mortar, Eddie,” I said. “A sealing agent. Sand, lime, water makes mortar. The powder on your hands, that was lime. I saw you applying it to the garden on the day you hired Dylan. Sand — there was a bucket of it in the supply room locker, as well as grains of it in Mother’s safe. Water? Easy enough to come by.”

  “That makes no sense, Dix,” Eddie sputtered. “If I wanted a sealant, I would have just bought a sealant.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “But you know if you had bought a sealant, then we’d be looking for a sealant. Just like if you’d used keys for the break-ins we’d be looking for someone with keys. You’re not that bright Eddie; but you’re not that stupid. You covered your tracks pretty damn well.”

  “So, what are you saying, Dix?” he asked. “You think I’ve been stealing the jewels and sealing them into the walls or something. Hiding them in the brickwork?”

  “My officers are thorough,” Almond said. “If there had been freshly sealed or modified areas, they’d have found them. They looked.” His demeanor had changed. I wasn’t the only one to notice. Big Eddie noticeably squirmed under Almond’s steely gaze.

  “Ah, but they weren’t looking in the right place, were they?”

  And it was here Big Eddie’s eyes shifted. Right to where I knew they would. For Lance-a-Lot was just about to get into his truck.

  “Hey, Lance!” I cried, racing the short distance from the patio to the parking lot.

  He turned at my voice, broad show-time smile still plastered on his face. The smile dropped, however, when he saw me bearing down on him as fast as my Sketchers would carry me. And though he didn’t scream out loud, I knew a shriek was building as I skidded to a stop, pulled out the waistband of his Speedos, dove my hand in and grabbed his crotch.

  And pulled his penis off.

  His fake penis.

  Shrieking, Lance fell to the ground. But I was so delighted to have gotten the prize, I waved it around triumphantly.

  “Oh, Dear God,” Wiggie shouted. “Not him, too! Not again!”

  Beth Mary screamed through the chorus of exclamations:

  “What have you done?”

  “Holy shit!”

  “Oh, sweet Jesus!”

  Holding the hollow phallus aloft, I walked back toward the group on the patio. I noticed Deputy Almond had taken up position very close to Big Eddie, and one of his boys was edging toward Lance-a-Lot’s vehicle.

  “Keep back!” Roger shouted at my approach. “For the love of God, keep away from me!”

  I stopped my dick-waving advance.

  “What?” I shouted. “It’s a fake!” Belatedly, I realized I might have instilled post traumatic stress disorder in several, if not all, of the men present. “A fake,” I repeated. “A trick dick! “

  “No magic there,” Mother interjected.

  “But it’s more than cosmetic,” I added. “It’s how Big Eddie has been smuggling the jewels out of the Wildoh. With Lance the pool boy — the pool boy who left a little piece of water plant on the floor when he broke into my mother’s apartment to take her watch.”

  “You said we’d not get caught, Uncle Eddie! You said we’d—”

  “Shut up, kid,” Big Eddie said, sitting down. “Just shut up now.”

  Lance shut up now. Sat down. Crossed his legs so easily.

  I turned the phallus upside down and two bright orange golf ba
lls rolled out into the palm of my hand. “Dylan? Want to do the honors?”

  “Got it, Dix.” Handyman Dylan produced a drill from the tool box he’d brought along. A moment later, the first golf ball was opened.

  “My granddaughter’s broach!” Roger exclaimed.

  The second golf ball, of course, contained Mother’s diamond.

  “I believe this belongs to you, Mother,” I said, handing over the Dodd family diamond.

  “I knew you’d solve this crime, Dix,” Mother said, happily. Proudly. “Really I did.”

  “Once those hormones got out of the way.” Mrs. P winked.

  “Yeah, so did I.” Deputy Almond had already slapped the cuffs on Big Eddie and one of his deputies was doing the same to a very shriveled up (in every way imaginable) Lance.

  I did a double take as Almond’s words registered. “You were sure I’d solve it? All of five minutes ago, maybe.”

  “No, right from the start. From the time I faxed you.” Almond slanted me a look. “Your reputation precedes you, Miss Dodd. My cousin in Marport City spoke of you.”

  The hackles on the back of my neck rose. “And who would that be?”

  “Detective Head of the Marport City PD.”

  Oh dear God. Richard Head (aka Dickhead)! Detective Head and I were far from good buddies. Arch enemies is more like it. I could only imagine what he’d told Almond. “Whatever he said about me, Deputy, I’d take it with a grain of salt. A very big one.”

  “He said you were a severe pain in the ass.”

  “Okay, maybe it wasn’t all lies.”

  “And that you were one hell of a good PI. He said if anyone could crack this open, it would be you, especially if your mother’s freedom was on the line. Oh, and he said he’d kill me if I told you he said you were a good PI.”

  In my mind, I was already composing the email. Dear Dickhead, I didn’t know you cared. Your recommendation means so much to me. NOT. Curl up and die. Hugs and kisses, Your friend, Dix.

  Then it struck me — that’s why Almond had arrested my mother! That’s why he was bent on painting her as the guilty party despite the flimsiness of the evidence. That’s why he’d been antagonizing me. To give me the incentive he figured I needed to crack the case. The bastard! I felt my blood pressure rising. To think I’d been feeling kind of bad about that restaurant bill!