Glazed

by Deany Ray

  “So what’s next?” I asked as I passed the mugs to my friends.

  “Well, for one thing, it’s official,” Marge reported proudly. “CMC is on the case.”

  “Bert gave us the green light,” Celeste said. “He knows that I’m fired up, that I’ll figure this one out no matter what it takes. The Ortiz clan, we stick together.”

  “That’s great,” I said.

  She rolled her eyes. “Although sometimes I could knock some of them into the middle of next week.”

  Something in me revved up, the part that loved to come up with theories and to follow up on leads, to catalogue unrelated facts until they made a kind of sense. I loved the satisfaction of seeing pieces of a puzzle fall into place at last.

  I glanced at Lucas, who was staring out the window. Something about his face said he was trying not to cry, which brought me to the part of the job I loved the most – fixing things that needed fixing.

  “I don’t see any reason why I can’t go right now and get the key,” I said. “The manager said I could move in as soon as he got a check.” I would officially (although not in actuality) reside in Clarkston Heights; I’d take my place with the elite – me and a would-be-robber friend who was hiding out from thugs.

  With the caffeine kicking in, my mind was in a whirl. “Let’s kick this case into gear. What should we do next after we get Lucas settled? Go check out the campus?”

  “I was there earlier,” Celeste said, “although it probably wouldn’t hurt to go again and take our time. Bert called me to the scene when he saw that it was Lucas who was shot at. I talked with the officers and got the basic facts, but mostly I was concerned with Lucas; I had to get him out of there.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  Celeste took her nephew’s hand and sat down close beside him. “How are you doing, Lucas? Are you feeling better now? You know you’re safe with us. Take a nice, deep breath. Breathe in and breathe out. You can’t forget to breathe.”

  She would have made a kick-ass mother. There’d be no sneaking stuff past her if you were misbehaving, but she’d always have your back.

  “Oh!” Marge sat up straight and smiled. “There’s something else.” She turned to Celeste, then back to me. “When Celeste went to the university, guess who also was on the scene.” She covered her mouth with her hand, a sense of absolute delight spreading across her eyes.

  I knew the answer must be Alex.

  “It’s his case now,” Marge said.

  People complain sometimes that detectives aren’t spectacularly handsome in real life like they are on TV shows. Well, people can be wrong, and I rest my case with Alex Spencer. He had a sculpted chest and a slow and easy smile. Despite my most valiant efforts, the sound of his deep voice could always send a shot of warmth right through me.

  “So, how’s it going with you guys?” Marge asked in a singsong voice. Marge loved a good romance almost as much as she loved guns and weapons.

  I shrugged. “Well, we text sometimes. I haven’t really seen him. With the jobs that we both have, it just can’t work, I guess.”

  Which absolutely stunk, but what could you do? He was interested, for sure. There’d been some hand-holding and sitting close and one amazing kiss, but on the job, we clashed. He thought information about cases was meant only for the police. I thought the girls and I were pros (okay, kind of pros), entitled to know things. Off the job, he might stare at me from a distance in that kind of way that made me want to melt. On the job, the guy could be a piece of work.

  “Why does he have to be a cop?” I asked. “Why can’t he be a doctor? Or a chef? Anything but the guy who shoos me off the scene when all I really want is just to do my job?”

  “A baker would be perfect,” Marge said. “I do love a man who cooks.” She cocked her head. “But I still don’t understand why you two don’t try to make it work.”

  I did want to make it work. Despite his attitude about our presence on the scene, he was the nicest guy I knew.

  “Just go for it,” Marge said. “Hon, I have to tell you, when you find a man that looks at you the way Alex does, you don’t just walk away.” She winked. “In my book, a look like that can lead to major fireworks, if you know what I mean.”

  Embarrassed by this conversation between women who must have seemed ancient to a boy, Lucas looked down at the floor. His face had turned from white to red.

  I quickly changed the subject. “Lucas, tell us slowly and in detail everything that happened at the bank. That has to be related to the shooting somehow.”

  He leaned back in his chair and spread his legs apart. “At first, the day was kind of normal. Tuesdays kind of suck. Perry and I both got three classes plus a writing lab, so in between our classes we decided we’d run out. First, we got some fries at the Ollie’s drive-through, then we swung by the bank.”

  Swung by? He made it sound so casual: take some notes in class, grab a little snack, swing by and rob a bank.

  “Oh, and we stopped for gas,” Lucas said. “Perry always goes till the arrow is almost smack-dab on empty.”

  This whole story was kind of leaving me amazed. “You didn’t think to maybe find another car if you were gonna rob a bank?” I asked. Then I stopped myself from going further. I didn’t want to sound like I was giving him advice on how to pull a heist.

  “What were you even thinking when you came up with that plan?” Marge asked.

  “He wasn’t thinking, is the trouble,” Celeste answered for him. “But he’s learned his lesson, right?” She looked him in the eyes.

  “Yes, ma’am, Aunt Celeste.”

  “So what happened next?” Marge asked, her pen poised over her notebook.

  “We sat at the bank and shot the breeze and ate our fries. Except they kind of ripped us off. The loser at the window threw in two mediums. We had each paid for a large.”

  The story kept on getting crazier. How dare someone cheat you out of French fries on your way to rob a bank?

  He continued with the story. “We weren’t ready to go in yet. The truth of the matter is that we were kind of scared,” he said. “So we called up a buddy to chat. We talked about the weekend and he told us about some new game he was just about to beat. Then I said to Perry that I was low on cash, and he pointed to the corner and said, ‘Hey dude, there’s an ATM.’ So I walked over there.”

  I was still dumbfounded. “Because you needed cash? You were about to rob a bank.”

  He shrugged. “Like I said, we weren’t thinking.”

  Celeste shook her head. “That’s why you’re in college,” she said to him sternly. “You’re there to think great thoughts. So far, it isn’t working.”

  Marge shot him a sympathetic smile. “Next time he’ll do better,” she squeaked happily.

  Lucas didn’t smile back. He just looked embarrassed.

  “Now remember,” his aunt told him, “don’t you go volunteering information to anyone at all, especially the cops. They’ve hit you with the weapons charge, but as far as they know, you had no plans to rob the bank.”

  He nodded.

  “Okay.” Celeste clapped her hands in a signal to move on. “Why don’t we drop you off at Charlie’s and you can rest a bit. Then we three will do some digging.”

  After a twenty-minute drive, we arrived at my future new place. At the complex office, the creepy guy from last night’s dreams was overjoyed (and a little shocked) that I’d come back to move in.

  “I hope that you’ll be very happy,” he intoned very slowly as he handed me the key. Along with it was a folder of information about the complex and the area. The apartment was move-in ready, having long ago been cleaned. It had been vacant for a while, so it was just a matter of handing him my credit card and signing lots of papers.

  Once we had given Lucas a quick tour of the unit, he looked at me with new respect. “This is one sweet space,” he said. “Thank you again so much. Did that guy say there was a pool?”

  “There is and it’s a nice one, but fo
r now, you’re laying low,” Celeste told him firmly. She told him she’d be back by sometime later in the day to bring him a small suitcase of clothes, toiletries, sheets and a pillow. On the way to the complex, we’d stopped by the grocery store for a few days’ worth of meals and snacks. The guy at the apartment had let Marge and Celeste stock the fridge while I signed the papers.

  Now, I gazed around at home, sweet home. I imagined pictures on the wall and a fire in the fireplace. I imagined many things. Of course, I never thought a wannabe-delinquent would be my first accessory.

  I noticed that Marge had hung back a little, barely coming in the door. “Lucas,” she whispered in a frightened voice. “Promise me that you’ll be careful. Accidents can happen anytime.”

  I think we’d all decided to ourselves that it was best we don’t mention the other tenants and their…bad luck. Poor kid had enough stuff on his mind.

  While Marge and Celeste conferred with Lucas near the door, I stood back to take it all in: the white carpet, the expansive view, the pristine paint on light beige walls, the…what exactly was that? I peered down at the couch, where the smallest bit of paper was stuck underneath a corner, reflecting the sunlight. I gave it a tug. It was a crumpled bag that once held potato chips.

  Hmm. Not so pristine as I thought.

  I stuck it in my pocket. I’d throw it away outside the complex – or the next chance that I got. I wanted my perfect apartment to be perfect a little longer. Plus, there had to be no trace of the poor souls who’d gone before me. Had Mrs. Alberts had a snack right before she turned in for the night and never woke again? Had these very chips, with their crumbs in my pocket, been the last snack of her life?

  Sheesh, I told myself. Overdramatic much? This place would be fine; this place would be wonderful.

  I looked over at my friends. Marge was looking nervous. When Lucas wasn’t listening, she’d made us promise that we wouldn’t make her stay long in that scary place. Now, her voice grew shrill. “I really need to go, Celeste,” she said. “I can’t stay here for one more second.” Very slowly, she backed out of the room while Lucas watched, confused.

  “Never mind her,” Celeste said as she put an arm around Marge’s shoulder. “Marge is very dainty,” she explained. “Sometimes she has to get back to the car to sit and take a rest. Charlie, are you ready?”

  “Lucas, get some rest,” I said.

  He nodded and flopped down on the couch, looking visibly exhausted.

  I headed to the door, stuffing the trash further into my pocket. There was no way that Marge would let that bag anywhere near her car. I could just imagine what she’d say: Poltergeist potato chips! Get them away from me!

  “Where to next?” Marge asked once she’d caught her breath and we were on the road. “Should we check out the bank? I know the cops have been there, but they’ve been known to miss some things.”

  “You can say that again,” Celeste said. The subject of cops fouling up a job always got her going.

  “Let’s go to the bank first,” I said, causing Marge to gun it.

  “Slow down!” Celeste braced herself. “The clues aren’t going anywhere. They aren’t gonna flee if you’re driving in a reasonable manner – and under the speed limit.”

  Five minutes later, we parked a block away so we could check out the area as we walked to the bank. Celeste had thrown a brown scarf over her vibrant hair. She was dressed in a plain white blouse and printed skirt, very much unlike the tight, attention-getting clothes she chose when we weren’t undercover.

  The bank was located in an older, quiet part of town. We passed a shoe shop and a hardware store, and a lawyer’s office. A doughnut shop was located on the corner just before the bank. The name was spelled out in flashing neon beside a pink outline of a doughnut.

  “The Glazed Doughnut Box,” I said in a low voice. “We should spend some time in there. Maybe somebody saw something out the window while they were in the doughnut shop.”

  How convenient that we could also order doughnuts while we investigated. Some little crullers with our clues, some sweet treats with our snooping (Sorry about the sugar, Mom! It’s my job, you know).

  We walked up to the bank, a small brick building with three drive-through teller windows on the side and three pillars on the front surrounding a red door. We stood in the parking spot where Lucas had said he and Perry waited. We looked on the ground. We looked slowly to the left and to the right. Nothing looked out of place.

  “We should go inside,” Marge whispered. “This might look suspicious.”

  We went in the lobby. We looked on the carpet. We looked very slowly to the left and to the right. Nothing looked out of place.

  A young man in a suit got up from his desk and approached us, smiling. “Can I help you, ladies?” he asked, looking very pleased to see us.

  We all froze in place. We should have thought ahead and come up with a reason for walking into the place.

  Marge giggled like she sometimes did when she got nervous. “We’re just browsing at the moment, but we’ll let you know if we need anything.”

  Browsing? Did she say browsing? We were browsing at the bank?

  That’s when I took over. “Yes! We were just out browsing…” Charlie, think. What shops did you pass? Nobody browsed for doughnuts, nobody browsed for hardware. “We were just out browsing for some brand-new heels! And somehow, we got lost. We’ve heard that there’s a shoe store somewhere on this block. Could you kindly point us to it?”

  He looked confused but smiled and kept his professional composure. “Absolutely. Just take a right out of the parking lot when you leave the bank. Just a little further and you’re there.” He paused. “You know, it might be a lucky thing you stopped in today. This week we have a special. Can I tell you how you can earn three hundred dollars when you open an account?”

  “We appreciate the offer, but it’s a busy day,” Celeste said, pulling us away.

  “Three hundred dollars!” the man said. “That will buy you lots of shoes.”

  “He has a point,” Marge said.

  “And we have accounts for every need,” he said. “I think if you’ll step inside my office, you’ll be impressed by what you hear. I’d love to talk about your future. I’d love to hear what kind of dreams I can help make come true today.”

  Sheesh, was this guy for real?

  The thought excited Marge. “I would love to scuba dive,” she said. “Oh! And to own a baby goat if I had a bigger yard. Baby goats are soooo precious.”

  “We’ll come back soon,” I said. I linked my arm through Marge’s and headed for the door. “Thanks for the directions.”

  As we walked out, I overheard a teller talking to a customer as she helped her at the counter.

  “I’ve never been so scared,” the young girl said, her eyes growing wide. “Did you hear they had a gun?”

  The customer mumbled something.

  The teller continued with her story. “It was two guys from the university, and then today there was a shooting. It used to be that Springston was a quiet place, a town where nothing ever happened.”

  As we walked outside, I said quietly, “We need to get out of here or it will look suspicious, but first let’s find the ATM that Lucas used.” Our plan was to retrace the boys’ steps and see if anything might jump out as a clue.

  “It’s kind of perfect, really.” Marge clasped her hands and squeaked. “If we’re gonna shop for shoes, it would only make sense to use the ATM first. I’ll take out some money while you girls look around.”

  We walked to the machine, and had a look around. Nothing seemed amiss. I gazed down at the grassy area in front of the machine, then peered down the alley that ran between the bank and the doughnut shop. Oh! I spotted three trash cans.

  “I’ve got some stuff to throw away,” I said to the others. “Hang on. I’ll be right back.” Truth be told, I was more than ready to lose the chip bag in my pocket. It was giving me the creeps.

  As I made my way down t
he alley, I was met with a foul smell. The trash was overflowing, and big black bags of trash were piled in front of the large bins.

  Being the graceful ballerina that I was, I tripped over one of them, and off went my glasses. That meant I was half blind. Great. I felt around for them, but nothing felt small and hard like a pair of glasses. I did touch several things that were gooey, sticky, and/or wet. Gross. I tried not to think too hard about what they might have been. And where were my glasses? I hoped there was a bathroom close. I had to wash my hands. And probably my glasses too.

  I touched the stupid bag that made me trip and fall. On top of it were my glasses. Thank you, thank you, thank you, but something about the bag felt odd; there was something big and soft inside. I put my glasses on and as I felt along the top, I saw the end was ripped.

  There were going to be numerous occasions in my life where I would think about this exact moment and wonder why. Why did I have to look into the bag? It was a bag of trash, for crying out loud. What person in their right mind would trip over a bag of trash and then open it? Why did I let my curiosity get the best of me? But that’s exactly what I did.

  I bent down to take a closer look.

  I already started regretting it.

  It looked disgusting.

  Yet, I couldn’t look away for a couple of beats.

  Was it? Yes, it was.

  I jumped back and screamed.

  It was somebody’s hand.

  Chapter Five

  Out of nowhere, I heard a woman scream. It was an agonizing scream, like the pain was off the charts. Was someone hurting Marge? Was Celeste okay? Oh, wait. That sound was me. I looked down and saw that I was shaking. In a heartbeat, Marge and Celeste were right beside me.

  “What is it, Charlie?” Marge cried.

  Celeste glanced down at the blood-spattered hand sticking out of the trash bag. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Oh, I’m afraid this is no joke,” I said, still shaken by my find.

  “Another body?” she exclaimed. “I hate it when that happens.”