by K. M. Waller
“Deal.” I poked his shoulder. “But if real evidence about Harold falls into my lap, then so be it.”
“You have a caveat for everything.”
“We’re here.” I waved my hand in the air. “Kill the headlights.”
“I won’t be able to see where I’m going if I do that.”
Duh. “Sorry. It’s the actress in me that wants to play this like a cheesy crime drama.”
He sighed. “Above all, we need to remember that Lou Kadlec is a potential murderer who isn’t afraid to break laws to cover up his crime.”
My excitement dulled allowing a bit of the fear to poke through. “You really can paint a picture of doom.”
He shook his head slightly, his focus on creeping up the drive at a three mile per hour pace. “I think I’m going to be the realist in this relationship.”
I glanced over my shoulder at headlights passing on the main road. “We have to hurry.”
We pulled up to the front of the wooden farmhouse. “If we go in there, we’re breaking and entering.”
“I don’t care. I can’t let him have a chance to get rid of Burt Jr. before we confront him.”
“We should leave the car running and the doors opened. We made it here in less than seven minutes. Normal driving speed will make it in twice that.”
His suggestion made total sense. I scrambled out of the car and rushed to the front porch. “Burt Lancaster Jr.! Burt!”
“I’ll check around back.” Mateo disappeared in the shadows.
I pressed my ear to the door to listen for the familiar yip. “Burt!”
A muted bark came from somewhere inside the house.
Mateo called from the back of the house. “He’s here. I see him.”
I dashed around back and found Burt Jr. with his snout pressed against a window. Through the curtains, I could tell he stood on a table or desk against the wall.
When he saw me, he yipped with excitement.
“How do we get him?” I pushed the window hoping it would be unlocked. I noticed a blue and white ADT sticker in the corner.
“Take a few pictures first for proof,” Mateo said. “Send them to my phone.”
I pulled out my phone and clicked a few shots. I attached them to a text and hit Send.
Mateo steered me away from the window. He used his shirt-covered elbow and smashed hard against the window pane, breaking the glass.
Careful not to cut Burt Jr., we maneuvered him through the hole.
“We need to hurry,” I said again and tucked Burt Jr. tight against my chest.
Mateo and I ran around the corner of the house toward the car.
“Stop!” Lou stood on his porch a few steps above us, his arm extended with a handgun pointed at us.
Mateo put himself between me and Lou.
We hadn’t seen any headlights flash in the yard. I bet he’d turned them off to sneak up on us. “Lou.”
“You almost had me sold on your act, Rosalind.” Lou descended the stairs from his porch. “But you didn’t anticipate the tracker I’ve had on your car since you called me and gave me your Bowman killed Harold theory, did you?”
A tracker, of course. In my investigative research, I’d read that P.I.s liked to use them. I moved out from behind Mateo. “Why did you take Burt Jr.?”
“You needed a distraction from Harold’s death. Who would’ve thought you’d try investigating on your own and actually be smart enough to figure some of it out? I thought all actresses were flakey. It’s bad enough I have all those bad reviews from the dead jerk, but you, the fallen actress of Asheville, were supposed to come to me for help. The plan was you’d boost my reputation, not take my job.”
“So, you did kill Harold.” I wanted to hear him say the words.
“I didn’t kill him on purpose.” His tone turned almost flippant. “After he fired me, I went back for my equipment. I’d put up a camera for surveillance on that side of the house that could be reached from the bathroom window. He went on and on about how he’d ruin me for not catching the neighbors fast enough and that he’d sell my cameras to make up for the money he’d already paid me. When he turned his back, I gave him a little shove but he went down hard in the shower, hitting his head on the faucet. When he didn’t get up, I stripped him and turned the water on to make it look like a shower accident. I didn’t think he’d die.”
My stomach churned at his blatant disregard of culpability.
“You left him there and didn’t call for an ambulance,” Mateo said, disgust evident in his voice. “You murdered him.”
I had my confession. Now I needed to talk us out of becoming his next victims. “You can’t kill both of us and Burt Jr. too.”
He tilted his head up toward the sky and let out a bellow that would rival any monster in a horror movie. As usual, the more I talked the more trouble I made. The gun shook in his hand. “You’ve left me no choice.”
My chest tightened with fear. Cry, beg, straight talk, acting—which did I use this time?
The front porch light cast a sinister shadow across Lou’s face. “Everyone would expect an actress with the nickname Diva Rosalind to have a dramatic death and that’s what I’ll give them. You are going to write a very short, very sad suicide note and drive off a cliff with your boyfriend. I’m going to find the dog and be the hero. The good press will get me back on track.”
“One minor detail issue. I’m not her boyfriend yet,” Mateo scoffed. “That’s some poor detective skills you have. You are just as inept as the reviews make you out to be.”
I glared at my not yet boyfriend. Not a good time to bait the man with the gun pointed at us. Burt Jr. wriggled in my arms. “Not the time, Mateo.”
“Here’s what I don’t understand,” Mateo continued. “How you had hidden cameras on the neighbors and couldn’t figure out what was going on, but Rosie cracked it in two days.”
“You’re going to get us shot,” I murmured.
“I had it solved,” Lou started. “The Lees didn’t have me fooled one bit but I needed proof.”
Mateo ignored my warning and pushed on. “But Rosie got them to confess. Just like she got you to confess about Harold. That takes some serious skills. Anyone can buy a bunch of cameras and set them up.”
“Stop comparing us.” I didn’t try to lower my voice this time. Was he stalling or losing his mind? “Lou is a professional.”
“Is he, though?” Mateo followed his statement with a dry chuckle.
Lou’s growl rivaled Burt’s. “I’ve had enough. Put the dog down and get in the house.”
Because I didn’t want Lou to shoot at me and accidently hit Burt Jr., I set the dog down on the grass. I really hoped that Lou would return him to Grammy. If I died, she’d only have him left.
Mateo came up close behind me and whispered, “You need to play dead.”
“What?”
“Play dead now.”
My one true acting talent. This had to mean Mateo had a plan, so I dropped to the ground and pretended to be unconscious.
“What’s wrong with her?” Lou shouted.
“I think she fainted.”
As if.
“Pick her up and bring her inside.”
“She’s heavy and I have a bad back.”
Ah! The nerve. If we lived through this, I’d get him back for that comment.
I heard a distinct click. Having starred in one murder mystery too many, I knew the sound of a gun’s hammer being pulled back. The crunch of the grass announced Lou’s descent toward me. A mosquito buzzed near my ear.
“Pick her up now,” Lou said.
I grabbed a fistful of dirt and peered from between shuttered eyelids. Ready or not. Mateo’s strong arms scooped me and pulled me against his chest. Through narrow lids, I could see Lou lower the gun and lean close to look at my face.
I threw the dirt at his eyes and he backed away blinking rapidly. Mateo dropped me and tackled Lou, knocking the gun out of his hands.
After an unscri
pted umph from my contact with the grass, I crawled to the gun and held it up. In the distance, sirens rang out on the highway. Mateo held Lou on the ground.
“It’s over, Lou,” I said, enjoying the sound of cheesy murder drama lines coming out of my mouth. My chest rose and fell rapidly from the surge of adrenaline.
A sheriff’s car pulled into the long drive and I set the gun down on the ground so there’d be zero confusion about who had a weapon.
Mateo smiled. “I dialed 9-1-1 and tossed my phone into the broken window just in case. I knew someone would have to respond. All we needed was for me to stall for time.”
I latched my arms around his neck and held him tight. Burt Jr. nuzzled against the back of my leg. “I take it back. You are a far better partner than Gabe.”
15
Back in the interview room of the Asheville police department, Detective Jones took a full written statement from both Mateo and me. We sat side by side in those uncomfortable blue chairs, Mateo’s arm draped across the back of mine. Since we’d been officially out of city limits when Lou made his confession, the sheriff’s department asked to hold him for questioning until proper jurisdiction could be determined.
I’d called Pearl and she’d made a trip to pick up a rattled Burt Lancaster Jr. Even though I wanted to take him to Grammy myself, allowing Pearl to make the delivery would help absolve her of all the guilt of Burt Jr. going missing on her watch.
Detective Jones sniffed and rubbed the bottom of his nose.
Feeling a bit irritable about our last meeting, I pointed to the camera in the corner of the room. “Did you have a nice birthday, Detective?”
His gaze flickered to me, and then back down at the paperwork in front of him. After flipping through a few more pages and adding our statements to the file, he closed it and addressed us, but spoke mostly at the manila folder. “The District Attorney will review your statements, along with those of the responding deputies.” His tone suggested I wouldn’t get an answer to my question about the birthday.
“Is the confession enough to put him in prison?” Mateo asked.
“That’ll be up to a grand jury if the D.A. even decides to go forward with murder charges. They could go with manslaughter since his fall was an accident, though turning on the water and setting up an accident scene was not.”
I didn’t care how Lou presented his side of the story. He’d killed Harold over something petty and he deserved to face the consequences. I’d use what little fame I had to ensure he came face to face with Lady Justice. “I’m happy to testify.”
Detective Jones grunted. “No doubt.”
“What about the charges for kidnapping my Grammy’s dog?” I asked.
“Dog larceny is a Class I Felony but his intentions could make it a misdemeanor. The most he’d get for that offense is probation and some fines.” He shrugged his large shoulders. “We’ll know more once the D.A. has reviewed everything.” Finally, he let his gaze meet mine and held it there. “In the meantime…”
“Yes?” I assumed this warning was meant for me.
“Stop trying to be a detective. You could be charged with interference in a police investigation from this point forward. If you so much as tweet, Instagram, or Facebook about the events of last night, I’ll dig through every ordinance until I find a way to charge you.”
“There wouldn’t be a case if I hadn’t interfered,” I grumbled back at him.
“I don’t know, Detective. I think she’s pretty good at investigating.” Mateo tugged on my ponytail. “Almost as good as she is at acting.”
“Hey.” I batted away his hand but gave him a smile.
“Lucky is what you both were.” He pushed away from the table and stood. “Next time you might stumble into something a little more complicated and won’t have anyone there to back you up.”
I thought about the back room of Napoli’s Bar. Even if Napoli wasn’t a mob boss, I had a feeling that he could be just as dangerous as the lowliest bookie. Dealing with the seedy underworld of Asheville rose to the top list of things I didn’t intend to repeat.
Mateo stood and helped me out of my chair. “I think what you mean to say, Detective Jones, is ‘thank you.’”
Detective Jones grunted again and showed us down the hallway and out to the main lobby. I wouldn’t be getting that thank you anytime soon.
Once out of earshot of anyone in the police station, Mateo pulled my hand through the crook in his arm. “He’s partly right, you know. You took a lot of risks for a man you didn’t even know.”
“That’s like saying that only people who are well liked or are our closest friends deserve justice.” I squeezed his arm. “Everyone deserves justice. Even a misanthrope like Harold.”
“And a second chance?”
“Exactly.”
My phone chirped inside my purse and although I didn’t want to ruin a perfect moment, several places around town had my job application. I didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?”
“Rosie? It’s Sadie Perkins from Harold’s funeral. Pastor Tom gave me your number.”
I bit my lips together. I still owed Pastor Tom an apology for how I’d accused him in the funeral home parking lot. Add that to my list of things to do the following week. Maybe I’d even consider making Grace Baptist my church home. A lot of good people I’d met attended services there.
“How can I help you, Sadie?” I tugged on Mateo’s arm so he’d stop walking.
“I told the other members at our Saturday morning waterfowl enthusiast meeting about your speech at the funeral and they’d like to have you come as a guest speaker a few Saturdays from now.”
“Guest speaker? I’m not sure I know enough about waterfowl to speak to a group of enthusiasts.”
Mateo’s eyebrows shifted into a questioning expression.
“Oh, dear, don’t worry about that. The talk can be on anything inspirational.” There was a slight hesitation on her end. “And we’ll pay you a stipend for your time.”
“A paid speaking engagement.” How could I turn that down? At some point, I’d have to deal with the letter from the lawyer and the summons which would ultimately lead to additional attorneys’ fees. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“We’re so happy,” she said, her voice taking on an excited tone. “I’ll call you later next week with the details.”
We disconnected and Mateo and I continued on to my car. “What’s up?” he asked.
“Things are starting to look up. That’s what’s up.”
“Does that mean I’m getting the rest of the rent for this month?”
“Actually, we need to talk about that. If we’re going to be dating, I don’t think I should be your roommate or tenant anymore. Roomies and romance don’t mix.”
“I understand. An EMT I work with could take over the sublet pretty easily.” His smile charmed me. “But you still owe me back rent.”
I chuckled and nudged his shoulder with mine. Of course I did.
∞∞∞
Gabe sent me a quick text to let me know he’d be going straight from the zombie set to an alien movie filming in New Zealand. He also chastised me about the heavy-handed makeup job from the AB-A-Girl entrepreneurs. I accepted his criticism with a smile.
Because I wanted him to enjoy his job success without worrying about me, I didn’t mention anything about Burt Jr. going missing or Lou killing Harold over a series of bad Yelp reviews. I simply told him to break both legs. When he got back in town, I’d tell him the half of the story he’d missed over a glass of wine.
Monday morning I entered Ruthie’s office ready for my next professional mourning assignment. If she’d heard anything about my shenanigans regarding Harold and Lou, she didn’t mention them. She handed me an assignment for Thursday and sent me on my way. It didn’t pay as much as delivering the eulogy, but I wouldn’t dare complain since I only had to pretend to be a distant cousin from New York. Hmm. My notes said to use a heavy accent but to keep the Fran Drescher
imitation to a minimum. Maybe she did know about my shenanigans after all.
I’d also grabbed an application from the haunted tour place. Fake dead or real dead didn’t matter anymore as long as the paycheck paid all the bills.
Out on the sidewalk, the August sunshine hit me on the face with a blast of heat. I slipped on my oversized sunglasses.
“Hey,” a voice called out from somewhere behind me.
I turned to find Teddy the Gangster leaning against a post. Almost like he’d been waiting for me the entire time I’d been in Ruthie’s office. Wearing the same gray sports coat and pants as the first time I’d seen him, this time he opted for a hunter green shirt opened enough to allow that sprig of chest hair to come through. He straightened and used one hand to smooth back his greasy black hair. “Boss wants to see you.”
“Sure.” My throat tightened. “I’ll stop by the bar later.”
If later meant never.
“He’s waiting for you in the car.” Teddy led the way through the parking lot to a black Cadillac Escalade with dark tinted windows. The pepper spray I’d held closely all of Friday and Saturday now sat in the glove box of my car.
Teddy opened the back door and nodded toward the seats. “Get in.”
I slid across dark gray leather onto the seat beside Carlino Napoli.
Teddy climbed into the driver’s seat and shut his door with a firm thud.
Carlino chewed on the edge of an unlit cigar while I dug my fingernails into his expensive leather material. Material too nice to get messy with my blood, I prayed. “Mr. Napoli. Nice to see you again.”
He spoke around the cigar. “My granddaughter wants more acting lessons. I’ve decided to send her to a studio in New York. Not that we don’t appreciate your time.”
I swallowed hard and nodded. Not working for Carlino Napoli could’ve been the best news I’d received all morning.
He removed the cigar and thumbed the end of his nose. “Sources tell me you solved the murder of Bowman’s uncle.”
“I did. Sort of.” I removed my sunglasses so I didn’t appear aloof. Would a simple bookie have sources in the police department?
