Megan rolled her eyes. “If I could slap you right now, I would.” She looked at the dressed in uniform officers strategically spaced around the room. “No. I never met the man. But I am here, of which I left you several messages on,” okay two messages, three at most but same thing since he was still alive and didn’t call her back yesterday. “This was in my mailbox without postage handling stamps.” She snuck the bag out of her purse so he could quietly look at it. “I tried to make sure I put it in there so it had fewer prints on it. I opened the envelope so my print is on it because of that.”
Merck growled. “You stay back here where I can see you.”
Her lips curled up with the devious thought about why he wanted to see her. His desire to see her had nothing to do with enjoying the view. She should be thankful he wasn’t trying to date her because they really shouldn’t get involved like that.
“They put me two rows up on the end.” She nodded at the direction to find her. His eyes followed and checked the area around where she would sit.
“Okay. Take this with you. I don’t have a pocket to fit this in here. I’ll get it from you when everybody leaves.”
She took the card and shook her head. “I’m out of here the second the preacher says amen…or whatever they say at funerals.” She had never really hung out at one of those. The first, and last, funeral she went to as a child was too terrifying, not for her but for her parents, to do it again. When the casket fell down not one, but two bodies rolled out. One body was dressed in white and covered in blood. The Priest in that event didn’t have time to start the funeral let alone end it. Major cities like those in the east seemed to call for major crimes.
This funeral here though, it was clear to be uneventful like that. They left the casket open and Megan could only see one body in it. She didn’t have direct view but she could see enough to see the forever sleeping body. Megan shook her head. Even with funeral makeup she couldn’t see what made the man so desirable to so many women. To each his or her own, she thought.
Megan checked the time on her locket watch. Nearly noon and they said it would start at high noon. She looked at the time again and watched the second hand for each click and shift. Patience was clearly not her virtue. Could they just say he’s dead and funeral over already? No, they couldn’t. The funeral hadn’t started yet and the preacher, Lotus Heller, was never said to be short with words. He would probably go on longer than an hour for this.
Once the sermon started she saw the ladies taking handkerchiefs to eyes and sobbing quietly. Megan was bored stiff. It wasn’t that funerals were meant to be fun but the lies about Sterling being faithful to anybody but himself was nauseating. Not wanting to keep sitting there, Megan made a trip to the water closet. The toilets were porcelain eggshell white. The floor was standard gray tile. The pecan shaped wall mirror left enough room to check makeup but not enough to make sure the skirt was down all around before walking out either with fanny hanging out because the skirt was stuck up in the back of the panty band or in the stockings. It wasn’t the best of water closets but she could treat it like it was a room meant for rest just for a little while. The only place to rest in here was sitting on the toilet, but it didn’t have a lid to sit on. It was okay since she was fine standing.
Megan was deep in how crazy could life here be when she heard a strident bang and a steady line of screams. Did the casket fall over during the funeral this time?
Megan shrugged her shoulders. Deciding this she had to see. She ambled back down the narrow hallway toward the funeral reception. She heard Merck screaming her name. She picked up her pace. He had been called away just before she left for the break of the lies.
“Megan! Where are you?” She walked in and saw men trying to pull debris off the chair she would have been sitting in when the vent and ceiling pieces fell down. Merck was tugging heavy chunks of material off the floor and tossing them behind him. She stepped back swiftly so she would not get hit with the pieces that flew through the open space.
“Where are you?! Let me know you’re still alive under there, Megan!”
Megan’s heart hurt at his angst. “I’m right behind you, Merck. I’m right here.”
Merck swiftly spun around. When he saw her standing there he nearly knocked Dick Peters, the hardware store owner and Kevin, the funeral planner over while getting them out of his way. She noticed Dick stayed steady but he had to keep Kevin from falling down.
Merck jogged to her, yanking her into his arms and holding her so tightly she felt like she was wearing a corset.
Megan tried to assure him she was okay. She placed her palm on the back of his head since he had it lowered with his face in the crook of her neck. She smoothed her hand over his head while she left the palm of her free hand nestled on his back. “I’m still here, Merck. I’m still here.” Her voice was low. She noticed how his violent trembling was starting to wind down.
“I went to the water closet…the jacks…the um…restroom. This is America; you call it a restroom here. There really isn’t anywhere to rest though,” she mumbled the last of her words.
When Merck finally released her and his eyes roved over her, reassuring himself that she really was still there.
Megan observed the damage to the ceiling vent and a huge chunk of the ceiling around it. What really did trouble her was the fact if she wasn’t bored rigid and tired of the lies the man was up there telling about Sterling she would have been sitting there when it all fell down and that would have killed her. She knew it would have killed her.
If somebody was trying to get her to stay out of doing something she wasn’t doing in the first place they picked the wrong method for the wrong woman. She would, in everything, sort them all out and then call them out as the lying, thieving, murderers that they were. But first she needed to calm Merck a smidge. He looked as if he planned to go to war with all his suspects, and then some.
“I should get home.” She wanted out of there, like, now.
“I’ll take you home after we wrap up on this here.” He pointed at the mess on the floor. She knew they would have to figure out what happened up there. That wasn’t his job though.
“I came on my tricycle. I can get home.”
Merck growled and his eyes narrowed like the tiger ready to scare the prey into the cage. “I. Am. Taking. You. Home.” His voice was coarse, primal like the primitive caveman establishing his right to lead the tribe.
“But…my…tricycle.” She pointed to the right of her even though the right of her was just another wall.
“I’ll have it taken to the precinct and have it checked over to make sure the brakes haven’t been tampered with.”
She never thought of that. But it was probably fine. She was about to say something before Merck held out his hand palm side up.
“Key to the Ulock.”
“Merck…”
He narrowed his eyes more. While she knew he wasn’t planning to shoot her with the gun he had his other hand sitting upon like a man ready to pull it and open fire made her a tiny bit nervous. Megan unhooked the key from her key ring and dropped it on his palm.
“I am okay. I wasn’t sitting there when it fell.”
He groaned with frustration. “And it wouldn’t have fallen if the bomb hadn’t gone off up there to make it all fall down. On you!” His voice was a strong lion’s roar.
Megan’s eyes widened.
“That big boom you heard wasn’t the air vents falling to the floor.”
She didn’t know that. Now she could see why he was excessively worried. She had been scheduled to sit there because somebody knew they planned for it to kill her.
Merck, not wanting to risk letting her out of his sight, pulled his cuffs from his band and snapped one around her right wrist before hooking the other one around his left wrist.
Megan gasped. “Merck?”
“You’re a woman. I don’t want you to get it in your wobbly brain to hitch a ride.”
“Wobbly brain?” Her voi
ce squelched louder than needed. He clearly didn’t care because he started walking and tugged her along as if he were walking a pet or something.
Merck pulled her around as he spoke with the other officers already there and the ones just coming in. “We took care of the crowd outside. The captain said to let all, except, the ladies from the spa, go.”
“Merck nodded before giving the man across from her the key she gave him. “Get this back to the precinct and have it checked out for any tampering. No hurry on that.”
“Seriously?” She mumbled as the other man agreed and walked off.
A few of the officers knew her so they spoke before telling Merck about anything, and everything, they had sorted out before moving along to another location in the room.
If nothing else, Megan was getting a workout. By the time Merck was done roving around inside he was ready to go out. The women were given chairs to sit anyway, so a long wait allowed them to sit on their butts at least.
“Can you take these off me, please? I am clearly not going anywhere.” Not to mention the fact that she would never hitchhike. Forest Springs was not the capital of hippie nation. Hitching would be stupid. Given the fact that somebody had just tried to kill her she just couldn’t think anybody here was worth trusting for a ride, other than Merck.
Merck took the handcuff off her and unhooked the one on his wrist before returning it to where it belonged. She looked up at him as he walked out to where the women were sitting. “Silk scarves, Merck; so much more comfortable.” The shocked expression on his face made her smile brighter than the sun shining through the clouds. At least she had the last laugh here. The only laugh, really. Merck wasn’t doing this for laughs. He cuffed her to him because he felt he needed to save her. She admired him more for that.
“What; are you two married now or something?” Symphony barked like an unloved dog.
“Yeah. Holding hands is a bit much, Megan.”Heather added. “Mark shouldn’t have to coddle you.”
Megan hadn’t realized she had taken hold of his hand. “Merck, Heather. His name is Merck—not Mark; remember that.”
Megan looked to Merck, lifted her head and kissed him on his cheek, letting her lips linger there longer than necessary. She pulled back. “Get back to work, love. We can do more of that later.”
Megan mentally asked herself what did she just do, and what was she thinking.
Megan walked off the side of him over to where the other officer was sitting. He got up and gifted her his chair and took position standing beside her while he kept watch on the women and the situation at hand.
Merck went back full duty detective and asked all he needed to ask before he let them go.
Megan could tell Merck had something he was going to say to her after he finished discussing things with the officers under him on this, and the one over the hostile events here. She got the feeling it was going to become; Megan you have some explaining to do. Maybe she should sit there trying to explain what she did and why, but, on so many levels, she didn’t know the answer to either of those questions.
Was she flirting with him, trying to cut the pride and prejudice smirks off the women before them; or just trying to remind herself that she was a woman a real man still wanted? Temporary insanity might be a good excuse since she told him they should do more of it later. It being that handholding, cheek kissing thing.
Megan was able to relax as she and Merck drove to her home. Merck didn’t even mention what she did while they were on their way. He mentioned that her tricycle would be returned to her once the inspection of any possible tampering was done. His words gave her a feeling that they might take a long while.
Merck walked her to her door upstairs and checked to make sure all was well in the flat. He turned and looked at her.
“Oh…I left a resume in my tricycle basket in the back. If it falls out, just have them put it back.”
He nodded. “They told me about it. They are going to check his history.”
“I didn’t ask them for that.” She didn’t have any plans of doing anything other than getting the social for the IRS. New employees always had to give that stuff.
“I told them to do it. Since you, clearly, had gotten it before you left home it’s important to be sure of things. You have gone through more than enough after the murder; you don’t need to track the mayhem into your café.”
He did have a point. She didn’t think anything was wrong with Jean-Winston, but another look was okay with her.
“Now about that thing you said earlier.”
Megan’s eyes widened. Here she was thinking she was out of it. “Umm…well…” Yeah she had nothing.
Merck stepped close enough to wrap her arms around him. We’ll have to get back to that. I have to head in, get updates on the murders I am investigating and drop that card off to see if I can get more prints than just yours off the card and the envelope it was in.” He leaned in and tilted his head down. He pressed his lips, so softly, so intimately to her forehead she felt the sensation of his touch travel through her forehead, down her stomach and straight down to her toes. When she looked up and was able to look at him with hazy love eyes she could see his eyes drinking her in like a fine wine.
“We’ll get to more than that later.” He winked his promise to her before leaving and making sure she locked her door and going down the steps and out to the main sidewalk. Her base door was made to lock once closed so she didn’t have to leave her flat to go down to see if it was locked. She was pretty sure Merck jiggled the handle once he was out just to make sure it wouldn’t open.
Megan knew today could never be repeated. Forest Springs was turning crazier by the sunrise, and she wasn’t too thrilled about having to wonder if one murder that turned to two would turn into three.
The women of that spa were missing too many screws to call them sane. All of them were a strange group of suspects. She felt sorry for any detective who went up against women as cockeyed as this toxic group.
Megan hoped insanity was not contagious.
Chapter Ten
Saved By the Panther
Megan had gotten home safely but since the officers had yet to bring her tricycle back she had to force walking down the painful rocky blocks to pick up heavy whipping cream. It wasn’t just that she had a weird taste for ice cream, but she had to test out a recipe one of her friends had sent her to perfect for her wedding. It was her, Portia Flannigan’s, fifth wedding. She couldn’t seem to get it right and her heart did hurt for her but in Megan’s mind, now might be the perfect time to throw in the towel and leave the wedding ring before the ring decided to permanently engrave the tomb the earth held over her in the grave of relationship failure. Portia was a friend, though, and she liked playing with old recipe ice creams and sorbets even though she wasn’t really good at the ones that required cooking. Portia’s wishful thinking counted, because a lot of people would toss in the towel and shower the dirt of failure off without looking back.
“A thousand times, please.” Portia had whined in the little girl lost voice she was a genius at mastering the right pitches to get her way. Megan had to laugh at it all because she and Portia had become friends when they ended up volunteering with Red Cross disaster relief needs in Hattie. They landed in the same tent there and the friendship was born.
Portia was a woman Megan could mostly trust. She fibbed little and betrayed none. Her thin and autumn blond hair always looked polished, even when picking up storm damage for those too hurt, or too immobile to rise and work. That was what the volunteers were there for; to assist where needed. People always said that volunteers were doing something for nothing. No pay and no real award unless you were filling out college applications that might luck out with all that hard work, but Megan and Portia disagreed with that rant they often heard from people around them. A volunteer, some of them anyway, got a great sense of goodness seeing the bleak reawake with jovial hearts knowing things could get better even after the storm. She knew she felt sat
isfied, elated actually, seeing little children doing less crying with loneliness and kicking a ball around with laughter. She loved seeing adults look at the house they lost turn into a new, secured and beautiful home to take rest in. If that feeling, that fantastic I helped someone want to keep breathing, wasn’t receiving something, then Megan didn’t know what was.
Thinking about her volunteer days was starting to make Megan mourn the loss of freedom she was getting ready to experience. Owning her own café wasn’t going to allow her to hop on a boat to a disaster zone and help save worlds. She kind of wished she could turn back the hands of time but she also realized she needed to settle down and get her life headed down the path, filled with beautiful tulips that sleep at night, orchids that slept a season away or even the pebbles too hard to walk on without shoes, it was time for her to anchor her body and her mind no matter how tumultuous, or calm, the life waters were.
Of course thinking about life after any storm didn’t always leave room for staying stable in mind when stones were falling down like the anvil out of the clouds and splattering on her head like Wile E. Coyote. The Coyote never gave up trying to catch a Road Runner dinner and the Road Runner never tired of speeding past all the lines of end of heart attempts. Sure, just as the evil Coyote did keep getting up and kept going, she was going to be the brilliantly swift creature that evaded skillfully and never got eaten alive.
She was very much annoyed, though, at how the death of somebody she didn’t even know could bring people, some she hadn’t heard from in decades, and many who didn’t even remember her, to her door, to her airspace as she walked down a public street or went grocery shopping in the market. These people came, wanted to play the friend, of which she wouldn’t fall for. A hello and how are you couldn’t blind her to what they still considered her. The Greek gift bearer and everybody knew you had to beware of Greeks bearing gifts. Sure, that explained why in her school years in Forest Springs that everybody avoided her like the plague giver they thought her to be. She wasn’t Greek, and they knew that, but they had engraved her with that standing since she was a child, and just like the evils of racism, they had passed, or would pass, that evil down to their child.
A Gift for Murder Page 11
