Dead Flowers

by Lori Armstrong

  But as it turned out, Tony had nothing planned. He tucked me in. Stroked my hair. Kissed my cheek. My forehead. My temple. Between my eyebrows. He nuzzled my neck. He breathed me in and sighed.

  This close, I detected another scent under that familiar tang of leather and his pine-scented soap. Something... sweet. Perfume. Subtle, but there. Not my brand since I didn’t wear perfume.

  My pretense of faking sleep vanished. When Tony eased back to smooth my hair from my face, he was surprised to see my eyes were open. And hard as ice.

  “Don’t give me the death glare, blondie. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “Then you should’ve left me sleeping on the couch.” I eyed him, the handsome fucker, from the midnight black hair brushing the collar of his leather jacket, down his jeans to his biker boots. “I see you’re still in your outerwear which means you’re not staying even though it’s”—I glanced at the alarm clock—“four o’clock in the morning.”

  “I needed a change of clothes.” He kept his back to me as he rooted in his dresser drawers.

  “You going out of town?”

  “No.”

  “You moving out?”

  Tony stiffened. He turned toward me very slowly. Even in the darkness, I knew his eyes had gone flat and cold. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Because you haven’t been here and when you are, you’re not really here.” I stood because I refused to have this conversation lying down.

  He didn’t say anything. I couldn’t read him, and that scared me. And as usual, I was the one who broke the mind-fuck eye lock first.

  But I didn’t back down entirely. “Who is she, Martinez?”

  “Who is who?”

  “The woman whose perfume is all over you.” The look on his face indicated I’d actually shocked him.

  “You think I’m cheating on you?”

  “Are you?”

  Martinez slammed the dresser drawer shut and shoved his clothes into his duffel bag. Then he shouldered it and looked at me. “I won’t dignify that with a response, and I’m more than a little pissed off you even asked.”

  But he wasn’t denying it.

  Goddamn him. I wanted to throw something. Wanted to scream and rage. But I didn’t. I played it as cool and aloof as he did.

  He stopped at the door. Seemed about to say something. But he shook his head and walked out.

  And I let him.

  ~*~

  Despite my exhaustion—I hadn’t slept more than twenty minutes after Tony left—I made it to my stakeout spot across the street from the Brunson’s. Part of me hoped the math tutor wouldn’t show today.

  My wishful thinking was short lived.

  The tutor parked in the driveway and left the engine running. Natalie Brunson climbed in the passenger side of the beat up Impala.

  This was a new development.

  I zoomed in with my camera, expecting a kiss or a show of affection, but nothing. Was I disappointed? Or relieved? With an hour still allotted on the client’s dime, I followed them.

  They pulled into the strip mall on Omaha Street and headed into Dunn Brothers coffee shop.

  I parked at the far end by Pauly’s Sub Shop and browsed at the other storefronts before I wandered in. The place wasn’t busy and Natalie and the tutor had already claimed a booth across the from the pastry case. In my mind, if they had something to hide, they would’ve taken a table in the back room. I ordered a cup of black coffee, scowled at the pink and red cupcakes with a plastic Cupid on the top, purchased a copy of the Rapid City Journal, and slid into the booth in front of them, keeping my back to the door.

  Normally, I didn’t perform surveillance close enough to warrant a disguise, but today I’d slipped on an army green Moosejaw knit cap and kept my scarf wrapped around my neck, so I could hide the lower half of my face if need be. The way I wore the cap made me look like Dopey from Snow White but I had to keep my ears uncovered so I could hear.

  I tuned out all noises but their conversation behind me.

  “What are you saying?” Natalie asked the tutor. “My son doesn’t give a crap about calculus?”

  “Look, I can help Braden get a passing grade in the class, if that’s all you and Mr. Brunson want. But if your husband’s expectations are that my teaching methods will make Braden love math and want to become an engineer like him... then I’ll have to quit working with him.”

  “We’ve talked about why I need you to continue.”

  The tutor sighed. “I don’t want that burden, either. I thought I could do this, Mrs. B, but I can’t. And to be honest, Braden is starting to... suspect.”

  “Why?”

  “He asked me last night why you and I meet so much.”

  Neither said anything else and I sipped my coffee, feigning interest in the letters to the editor.

  That’s when I heard the laugh. The warm, deep laugh that rolled over my skin like a velvet caress.

  What was Martinez doing in here?

  Granted, this coffee shop was closest to the strip club, but he usually sent a minion for his morning caffeine fix.

  And why the hell was he laughing? He should be moping we’d had a fight, just like I was.

  I remained statue-still, sharpening my auditory focus to the timbre of his voice. A woman responded to his query about a scone with a flirty comment, dripping with sexual innuendo.

  Don’t turn around. Don’t jump to conclusions. Gather the facts first.

  Martinez’ order included three scones, two large coffees and one chai hot tea, which meant Big Mike was with them.

  I was in limbo, unable to give away my position because I was on a case. But I couldn’t focus on my job because I was too focused on my lover sharing coffee and laughs with another woman right under my nose.

  Natalie and the tutor made preparations to leave. I did too, as discreetly as possible. I ducked into the back room, but my pride demanded I poke my head around the corner for a look. I saw Martinez and his entourage in the conversation area by the front doors. Tony leaned forward, listening intently to the brunette who had her back to me.

  Lingering wasn’t an option and somehow, I tamped down my jealousy as I booked it out the back door.

  I disobeyed several traffic laws getting into place on Natalie’s street. The tutor dropped her off and his car belched blue smoke as he cruised out of sight. I’d give the client the full ten minutes owed before I headed to the office.

  Five minutes later two taps on my window startled me. I turned and looked into Natalie Brunson’s face.

  Shit. Busted. I rolled down the window and said brightly, “Yes?”

  “This is the third time I’ve seen you on our street. And you were just in the coffee shop.”

  So much for my disguise.

  “My husband hired you, didn’t he?”

  No accusation in the tone, which was odd. Other times I’d gotten busted doing surveillance, the person had been infuriated, lashing out at me for capturing proof of their infidelity. “Yes, he did.”

  “Can I talk to you about it?”

  “Sure. Hop in. But understand I am armed and my partner is aware of my whereabouts.”

  Undeterred by my threat, Natalie Brunson climbed in the passenger’s side. After seeing the ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts, she took out a pack of Newports and lit up.

  I sparked a Marlboro. Maybe she thought we’d bond over our mutual bad habit.

  After a couple of puffs, she said, “Once a cheater, always a cheater, right?”

  She wasn’t our client and I owed her nothing. But listening wouldn’t hurt.

  “Here’s the lowdown on why Tad hired you. Ten years ago, I stupidly had an affair. First and only time I’ve ever lapsed in my marriage vows. The guilt ate at me and I confessed that lapse to Tad. We went through counseling and I thought we were okay... But the next year when Tad hired a painter—a male painter—to spruce up the outside of our house, I had that eerie feeling someone was watching me. Long story short, I disco
vered he’d hired a security specialist to keep tabs on my interaction with the painter. Every couple years something trips him offline and he gets a bug up his ass that I’m having an affair again.” She exhaled a long stream of smoke. “So he’s convinced I’m doing the deed with our son’s math tutor.”

  I flicked an ash and waited for the excuses.

  “That’s almost funny. Even if you’ve been peeking in the windows, you’d know I’m not sleeping with Steven. But because I hired Steven and wouldn’t consider any of Tad’s tutor recommendations, I’m under suspicion.” She drew in another hit of nicotine. “Seems I’ll always be under suspicion.”

  “Why put up with that?” Hadn’t Kevin said the same thing to me about Martinez?

  “I’m wondering that myself.” She put out her cigarette. “Tell him I’m fucking the kid blind. That lie will be easier for him than knowing the truth.”

  “What truth?” I said automatically.

  Natalie expelled a harsh laugh. “Huh-uh. I know how this goes. Tad hired you. Your loyalty is to him.”

  I shrugged. “Technically, I’m off the clock as of”—I glanced at the digital display—“two minutes ago. Whatever you say stays between us.” And my curiosity was definitely getting the better of me.

  She gave me a peculiar look. “Why would you care?”

  “I’m nosy. It’s why I make a good PI.”

  Another laugh. Then her face sobered. “The truth is our son, Braden, came out to me six months ago. He’s been struggling in all aspects of his life, not just his grades. Tad won’t accept Braden being gay any more than he’ll accept that Braden hates math and doesn’t want to be an engineer. I hired Steven not only to get Braden’s grades back up, but because Steven is gay.”

  That seemed convenient. “How did you know Steven is gay?”

  “Steven’s mother and I worked together a few years ago. Until Tad put my boss under surveillance because he was convinced we were going at it in the stockroom.”

  “That’s... hard core suspicion.”

  “I lost that job because of Tad’s paranoia. Again, I don’t know why I put up with it. I made one mistake. A decade ago. Tad won’t ever forget it.”

  Could I forgive and forget if the same were true of Martinez?

  “Steven’s in grad school at the School of Mines and offers tutoring. I thought it’d be easier for Braden to talk to Steven about being gay as he brought his grades up to snuff.”

  “I’m sorry you’re forced to lie to your husband to protect your son.”

  “But?”

  “But I won’t lie to our client. My report will state that you aren’t having an affair.”

  A minute or so of silence passed. “The truth doesn’t always set you free, does it?” She exited the cab, leaving me staring after her.

  I drove to the office. No sign of Kevin. Armed with coffee, I forced myself to finish the Brunson report. When I reached the part about following them to the coffee shop, my fingers hesitated on the keyboard.

  Was I overreacting about Martinez having coffee with another woman? Should I apply the same logic to my own situation? That his public meeting with her and Big Mike meant he wasn’t doing anything wrong and didn’t have anything to hide?

  Or maybe he didn’t care if I found out.

  On impulse, I called Big Mike.

  “Yo, Julie, what’s up?”

  “Not much. I know bossman is busy so I’ll ask you a quick question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Did you guys send a couple cars by the office today? I saw two Navigators pull up across the street, but no one ever got out. I wondered if Tony had gotten called away suddenly or something before he could pop in for a visit.”

  “When was this?”

  “Around nine.”

  “Nope. Couldn’t have been us. We’ve been in meetings at Fat Bob’s since the crack of dawn this morning.”

  Such a liar.

  “Do you think someone is following you?” he asked sharply.

  “No. But you oughta put markings on your cars so I can tell them apart from the other thug vehicles. Like a big letter A in the back window.” I doubted Big Mike would get the reference.

  He laughed. “And the A stands for...?”

  “Asshole.” I hung up.

  I don’t know how long I stared into space. Cross, miserable, remorseful—which was just fucking stupid since I wasn’t the goddamned one at fault. The truth was beating at me from all sides... lies, evasion, absence. So why was I still in denial?

  I’d just clamped a Marlboro between my lips when the door blew open, courtesy of my buddy, Jimmer Cheadle. At six feet six inches tall and wide as a Peterbilt truck, Jimmer wasn’t exactly docile.

  He scowled at my unlit cigarette. “I thought you were quitting that nasty habit as a New Year’s resolution.”

  “Nope. Did you get hired by the resolution police to crack down on repeat offenders?”

  “Funny.” A smirk settled on his mouth as he plopped in the buffalo skin chair across from me, propping his size-twenty feet on my desk. “I just figured now that you and Tony have been shacked up for almost a year, you’d be hankering to hear the pitter patter of little feet. Sucking on a cancer stick is a no-no, little missy. That kid’ll have three eyes.”

  I flicked my bejeweled Zippo lighter—a gift from Martinez. “I already hear the pitter patter of Martinez’ bodyguards feet. Constantly.” I inhaled. Exhaled. “Besides, if I want to subject myself to pooping, barfing, and screaming, I can get it from Kim’s precious babe, Abby. I’m cool with not smoking around her little baby lungs, but I hate that Kim and Murray make me bathe in hand sanitizer before I can even poke her jelly belly.”

  “I hear ya. Know what I hate? When the first question outta my date’s mouth is if I want kids.”

  I tried to wrap my head around Jimmer dating. I must’ve had a funny look on my face because Jimmer said, “What?”

  “Just envisioning you on a date.” I paused and blew a smoke ring. “Nope. Sorry. No can do.”

  Jimmer shook his finger at me. “I had a damn date last night. I know how to treat a lady, unlike some guys.”

  Was that a shot at Martinez? And wasn’t it ironic it was justified this time? Wasn’t I chickenshit for not asking Jimmer if he knew whether Martinez was stepping out on me and why?

  “Anyway, I’m here because I need a favor.”

  I’d say yes to anything to take my mind off cheaters and cheating and stupid Valentine’s Day. “Sure. We waiting until Kev gets back?”

  “Nope. This is just between you and me, little missy.”

  Anticipating a chance to kick some ass, I tucked a couple of zip-ties in my pocket. I decided to leave my gun, figuring Jimmer probably had an extra one on his person I could borrow and slipped on my black down parka. I practically skipped down the stairs with excitement.

  Jimmer rarely drove the same car twice, so I did a double take at seeing his big body in the tiny blue Metro, idling by the curb. I hopped in and he cut across three lanes of traffic connecting two city blocks, the bald tires spinning on the ice. For a brief second I thought he was dragging me to Bare Assets to face Tony, but he parked in front of Victoria’s Garden, the flower shop that sat down the block from the strip club. Then he bailed out of the car, leaving me no choice but to duck inside the shop after him.

  Customers were in line at the register and I noticed other employees frantically arranging posies at work tables in the back. The humid scent of flowers and dirt clung in the air, reminding me of a cemetery.

  I snagged Jimmer’s coat sleeve. “Dude. You took a wrong turn. You realize we’re in a flower shop, right?”

  “You’re fucking hilarious. Yes, I know where we are. I need to buy something for Valentine’s Day for this... ah... woman I’m seeing.” He shuffled his combat booted feet.

  Jimmer, nervous? Really? After all the crap he’d given me over the years, now, I could totally razz him. “This was your big favor? I don’t get to shoot stuff
up or knock bad guys’ dicks in the dirt? You need my help picking out... hearts and flowers and lovey-dovey shit?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Who is this for?”

  “You don’t know her. Which is why I need to cover all the bases, since I ain’t even been to first base with her yet.”

  A smart remark dried on my tongue when I noticed the flush on his cheeks. My badass, gun-toting, pawnshop-owning friend was clearly flustered by his feelings for this woman.

  So being a sucker for this big guy’s sweet side, I took pity on him and dialed back my anti-Valentine’s Day attitude. “I’ll pick something flashy. And phallic.” We browsed the buckets of fresh flowers lining the sales floor. We inspected shiny green plants. We studied exotic single blooms in fancy vases. Too many colors and styles caused an expression of pure panic on Jimmer’s face.

  That’s when Lulu noticed us. I’d heard rumors that Lulu had traded in her pasties at Bare Assets for working with pansies at the flower shop. We knew each other in passing from hanging out at the Hombres clubhouse since she had an on again off again thing with Buzz, one of Martinez’ bodyguards.

  Lulu squealed when she saw Jimmer and squeezed him tight. “Big J! You naughty rascal I’ve missed seeing you.”

  Big J?

  “And I’ve missed seeing you spinning on that pole, sugar plum.”

  Sugar plum?

  Lulu glanced over her shoulder. “Now, don’t you be telling secrets outta turn, Big J. I’m tryin’ to be respectable.” She patted his arm and cooed, “What can I help you with?”

  “I need something for Valentine’s Day.”

  I should’ve walked out right then; it was obvious Jimmer didn’t need my help. But I stayed out of voyeuristic curiosity. Could lovely Lulu coax notoriously cheap Jimmer into forking over a big pile of bones so he could get to first base with his mysterious lady friend?

  “You thinking flowers? Candy? A stuffed animal?”

  “All of ’em. Probably.”