Authors: Jeffrey Allen

Stay At Home Dead (13 page)

BOOK: Stay At Home Dead

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If I was going down, I was going to go down looking good.

Staying home with Carly did not call for many occasions to dress myself up. My work attire consisted mostly of shorts, T-shirts, and sandals. I shaved about every third day. The occasional A&M hat on my head. I would’ve looked silly wearing a three-piece suit to the park.

But I figured I better look like I was taking this whole thing seriously at Rettler-Mott, so I showered, shaved, and busted out the good stuff. The only suit I owned (navy and tailored), a Brooks Brothers pinpoint oxford (a gift from Julianne), a red and blue striped tie (stolen from my dad when I needed one for a dinner at Julianne’s firm about a year prior, and never returned), and shiny black wing tips (knockoffs, not name brands, because dress shoes are stupidly expensive, and if I’m spending money on shoes, it’s going to be on cool-looking running shoes.)

Dressed to impress.

I dropped Carly at my parents’ house.

My father looked me up and down as she skittered past him into the house. “You look ready.”

“I am,” I said, standing tall.

“I meant you look ready to walk right into the coffin before they bury you. Stay nimble on your feet in case they try to shove you in.”

Families are so awesome.

The first thing I noticed about the parking lot at Rettler-Mott was how crowded it was. I didn’t like that. I expected there to be a few folks, but I wasn’t looking to argue this out in front of a huge audience. I imagined most of the folks were simply there to be entertained.

The second thing I noticed was that Julianne had not yet arrived.

And the third thing I noticed, unfortunately, was Darlene Andrews.

She sashayed across the lot in my direction, her hair blotting out the moon and the stars. The only thing I saw in the sky was the giant white ribbon lifting her locks to new, superior heights.

“Is Julianne coming?” she asked, scanning the parking lot, then lasering her eyes back to me.

“She’ll be here.”

“Too bad,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She linked her arm inside mine. “Are you nervous?”

I thought about uncoiling my arm from hers, knocking her to the ground, and making a run for it. But I was already in enough trouble. “I’m fine, Darlene.”

“It’s like a snake pit in there,” she said, pushing in closer to me than was necessary. “You remember that scene in
Raiders of the Lost Ark?
Where Indiana Jones has to go into that hole full of snakes?” She squeezed my arm. “They’re like the snakes. And you are just like Indy.”

Fantastic.

We reached the steps that descended down into the school, and I stopped. “I’m going to wait out here for Julianne.”

The enthusiasm sagged out of her body. Not that anything ever really sagged on Darlene. “Oh. Would you like me to wait with you?” She squeezed my arm again. “For company. Or anything else.”

“I’ll be all right, Darlene,” I said, disentangling our arms. “Go on in and get a good seat. I’ll see you inside in a few minutes.”

“Okay,” she said, then pointed a hot pink fingernail at me. “Remember. You’re Indiana!”

She went down the stairs and disappeared inside.

I lied to Darlene. I was nervous.

I paced back and forth to burn off some of that anxiety, waiting for Julianne.

A few people passed by on their way in, nodding or waving hello. I wondered whose side they were on. Indy’s or the snakes’?

My cell phone buzzed in my pocket and I answered.

“I’m late,” Julianne said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I should be there in about five minutes. Is it crowded?”

I glanced at the full parking lot. “No. Just the entire town.”

“You sound nervous.”

“Well, Darlene just tried to push me down in the bushes and take advantage of me, so that may be it. She’s pretty strong.”

“So’s her hair,” Julianne said. “Damm red lights. Just relax. It’s going to be fine. I did some reading today.”

“Reading?”

“Of the school’s bylaws. They’re going to end up kissing my incredible ass by the time I’m done with them.”

I had done no looking at the school’s bylaws. I, in fact, didn’t even know what bylaws were. It had never occurred to me to do anything like that, and now my anxiety level was hitting DEFCON 1. I was angry over being called out by the WORMS, but maybe I wasn’t taking this seriously enough.

I strolled over near a bank of hedges that ran along the edge of the amphitheater. “Jules, I don’t want you handling this for me.”

“I know that,” she said. “And you take your shot. I’ll only get in the way if I need to.” She paused. “I’m about thirty seconds away.”

I didn’t want her handling the whole thing. This was my fight and I wanted to defend myself, no matter how ridiculous the fight was. But it was good to know I had the best backup in the business if I needed her.

“I’m turning in right now,” she said. “Where are you?”

I turned to the parking lot, my back to the hedge. I saw her Lexus coming in at the far end of the lot. “I’m here, in front of you on your left.”

Her headlights flashed across the lot and hit me in the eyes. I brought a hand across the top of my eyes.

“Deuce,” she said. “Who is that behind you?”

“Nobody. It’s the hedge.”

“No. There’s a person behind the hedge. Who is that?”

As I started to turn around, something hard and heavy thumped the back of my head. The phone fell out of my hand, and I dropped to my knees, stars dancing in my eyes.

One more shot to the back of the head and the stars dropped out of my eyes as the pavement came rushing at me before all the light disappeared.

My eyes opened, and I was looking up at Julianne, Darlene, and Sharon Ann.

Like Cinderella and her two wicked stepsisters.

“Don’t move,” Julianne said.

I pushed myself up to a sitting position.

“What happened?” Darlene asked, clutching my hand.

I reached around behind my head. A lump the size of an egg protruded from my skull. A dull throbbing was working its way from the inside of my head.

“Will you be okay for the emergency meeting?” Sharon Ann asked.

“Shut up, Sharon Ann,” Julianne said, putting a hand on my back and steadying me.

Sharon Ann held her hands up, like her question was completely justified and Julianne was snapping at her for no reason.

I pulled my hand back from around my head and was relieved that my fingers were absent of blood. “What happened?”

Julianne stared intently at me, concern shaping her entire face. “We were on the phone. I saw someone behind you. You didn’t. Whoever it was hit you with something. I saw it come up as you turned around, but I couldn’t see what it was. Then you went down.”

I kept running my fingers over the lump on the back of my head, the throbbing inside my skull growing stronger by the second. I thought I remembered the phone call and then falling to the pavement, but it was hazy.

Sirens screeched into the parking lot, and a loud murmur went up near the stairs. I looked over and realized that everyone that had come to see my fight with the WORMS was now staring at me on the sidewalk. Maybe I’d get the sympathy vote.

Two people at the edge of the crowd caught my eye. They were whispering to one another, nodding.

Shayna and Billy.

Was she violating her own restraining order by being there? Was that even allowed?

I tried to stand up, but waves of nausea crashed over me and my knee buckled before I could get to my feet. Dizziness swam around me, as if someone had wrapped me up in a big blanket and then spun me out of it.

“Easy,” Julianne said, moving her hand to my shoulder, gently keeping me in a sitting position. “Paramedics are here. Just relax.”

Darlene put her hand on my other shoulder. “I offered to give you CPR.” She frowned at Julianne, her make-up giving her the look of a pissed-off clown. “But Julianne claimed you were breathing.”

“Since you’re awake now,” Sharon Ann said, glancing around, “maybe we can just hold the meeting out here. Shouldn’t take long.”

“Sharon Ann,” Julianne said, standing up as the paramedics came to my side. “There will be no damn meeting tonight. And if you mention it again, you’ll be the one riding away in the ambulance.”

Sharon Ann’s eyes narrowed, but she wisely took several steps away from us.

The two male paramedics began peppering me with questions, and I did my best to answer.

Yes, my head hurt like hell. No, I didn’t know what I was struck with. Yes, I knew my name. No, I didn’t have a history of head injuries. Yes, I felt like I wanted to vomit.

“He probably smells Sharon Ann,” Julianne muttered, still shooting lasers out of her eyes at the woman.

“We should take you in for observation,” the one paramedic said. “Think you’ve got a concussion.”

I nodded slowly, my head feeling like a cement bowling ball. Normally, I would’ve resisted a trip to the hospital with every ounce of male ego I possessed. But my head hurt, and I knew I wasn’t right.

“Can you stand?” he asked me.

I took a deep breath, trying to get everything around me to settle. “Think so.”

The paramedic helped me to my feet. The world tilted to the right, and I started to list in that direction. He kept a tight grip on my elbow and pulled me back toward him. The school and the crowd righted themselves as my equilibrium found itself.

Shayna and Billy were walking away, toward the other side of the lot. Had they come just in hopes of seeing me get ousted? Or did one of them club me over the head?

“You all right?” the paramedic asked. “We can wheel you over.”

I’d already conceded a hospital visit. I wasn’t jumping on a gurney for a free ride. “I’m okay. Just hang on to me.”

Julianne came up on my other side. “You want me to ride with you?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Just drive over and meet us there.”

She glanced back over her shoulder. “All right. I’m going to set everyone straight before I go, though.”

We reached the back of the ambulance. I rubbed my temples, hoping to force some of the radiating pain out. “How’s that?”

She stared back at the crowd at the top of the stairs as the paramedic opened up the doors on the back of the ambulance.

“Jules?” I said.

Her lips puckered like she’d bitten into a lemon gone wrong as she tore her eyes from the crowd. “Don’t you worry about it.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll be there shortly.”

The paramedic helped me up the short set of stairs into the back of the ambulance, his hands steadying me as I wobbled my way up. I was bent at the waist so as not to smack my head against the roof. I shuffled my feet around to say one last good-bye to Julianne.

But she was already walking across the lot like her shoes were on fire, closing the distance between her and Sharon Ann McCutcheon.

“I think your midget friend is out there,” Julianne said.

We were in the exam room at the hospital. They’d already stuck me in the tube and run a CT scan, which showed that all the important parts were still working. The doctor ran a few more simple tests on me before diagnosing me with a minor concussion. He told me that I’d have a pretty good headache for a couple of days, but after a few days of taking it easy, I would be back to normal.

Julianne had just arrived, and now she was talking about midgets.

“What?” I asked, wondering if the concussion was worse than the doctor realized.

She glanced over her shoulder again, toward the waiting room, her expression somewhere between amused and confused. “Didn’t you say that investigator guy was a midget?”

“Yeah.”

“Unless Rose Petal is offering some sort of relocation incentives to small people, I think your guy is out in the waiting room,” she said. She wrinkled her nose. “He really is little.”

The throbbing began anew in my head asIfin-ished buttoning up my shirt. I had no idea what Victor Anthony Doolittle might be doing at the hospital, but I doubted it was a coincidence.

I slid off the exam table and slung my tie and coat over my shoulder. “If he touches me, I swear to God, I’m going to hang him in a closet.”

Julianne rolled her eyes and led the way out.

Victor Doolittle was paging through a magazine when we walked into the waiting room. He was wearing the fedora again, paired with a Hawaiian shirt and slacks. He glanced up, tossed the magazine aside, and wiggled himself out of the chair.

He pointed up at me with a stubby finger. “How’s the noggin?”

“Fine,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

His eyes moved from me to Julianne. He removed his fedora and smiled. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to this beautiful woman?”

“No.”

He bowed in her direction. “Victor Anthony Doolittle, ma’am. It’s my pleasure.”

She extended her hand, smiling. “Julianne Winters.”

He took her hand and kissed it.

The nausea rose up again from my stomach.

He slowly released her hand. “Your husband is a lucky, lucky man.”

“Why, thank you,” Julianne said, grinning at me.

“If things should ever sour between you two—”

“Hey,” I said, cutting him off. “Enough. What are you doing here?”

He pried his eyes from Julianne, glaring at me. “Maybe I’m here for a physical.”

“That shouldn’t take long.”

Deep lines formed on his wide forehead. “They take a look at your man parts in there? Make sure everything’s still working?”

“Let’s go,” I said, walking past him and nudging Julianne along. “See you never.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, following behind me like an annoying talking Chihuahua. “Take it easy, King Kong.”

I ignored him and kept my hand at the small of Julianne’s back as she kept trying to look behind me to get another look at him.

We pushed through the doors and stepped out into the thick, humid night air.

“I was there, you moron,” Victor said.

“Where?” I called over my shoulder. “Oz?”

“Tonight,” he said. “I was there when somebody tried to knock your block off.”

Against every instinct, I stopped in my tracks. Julianne stopped as well, and we both turned around.

Victor shrugged his shoulders and held his little hands out, palms up. “But, hey, maybe you don’t care about that. Maybe you don’t care if I saw something.” He gave me a smug smile. “Maybe you got it all taken care of, big fella.”

I couldn’t tell if he was bluffing. But the fact that I knew he’d been following me for some time made me think he was telling the truth.

“What did you see?” I asked.

He laughed, a volley of snorts followed by what sounded like a sob. “I saw you go down like a condemned building.”

“You wanna feel what it’s like to be under that building?” I asked, stepping toward him.

He jumped into his ridiculous karate stance again, chopping at the air. I was ready to give him a nice kung fu kick to the side of his fat head.

Julianne stepped between us, placing a hand on my chest and giving me a stern look, telling me to knock it off.

She turned to Victor. “Mr. Doolittle, it would be a great help to us if you would share what you saw.”

He looked past her at me. “He comes at me, I’ll have to hurt him.”

“He won’t come after you,” she assured him. “Right, Deuce?”

“No,” I said. “His karate has frightened me. I am frozen in my tracks. Eek.”

Doolittle missed my sarcasm, threw his shoulders back, and lifted his chin. “That’s more like it.”

“What did you see?” Julianne repeated.

“A truck,” he said. “I was parked at the far end of the lot, out near the street.”

“You were following me again?” I asked.

“Doing my job,” he said. “I watched you get out of the van, walk there to the front of the steps, speak to Ms. Andrews, then answer your cell phone.”

He definitely wasn’t bluffing.

“Did you see who was behind Deuce?” Julianne asked.

“No,” Victor said. “I was observing from my car. You were closer than I was when you pulled into the lot.”

“But you saw a truck?” Julianne said, pressing.

He nodded. “Yep. It left the lot on the far side during all the commotion of everyone rushing to help your husband.”

“You get a license plate?” I asked. “A description of the truck?”

“Maybe.”

My headache was threatening to blow my skull wide open, and my tiny little nemesis wasn’t helping.

“Let’s go, Jules,” I said. “I don’t care what Mighty Mouse says he saw.”

His face fired up again, and his hands closed into fists. “Mighty Mouse? I’ll stick my foot so far up your ...”

Julianne reached out and touched him on the arm. “Please. Mr. Doolittle. Ignore him. He has a concussion. If you saw anything, we’d like to know.”

He looked down at her hand on his arm, and his entire demeanor changed, like she was some sort of faith healer with a touch of the power. Her touch made him happy.

It infuriated me.

“I got a partial on the plate,” he told her. “But I don’t give information out for free. I’m an investigator, and I have to make a living.”

“Jules, seriously,” I said, ready to blow my top. “Screw Dopey. Let’s go.”

She held a rigid finger up in my direction.

“Mr. Doolittle,” she said. “I’m sure that being an investigator, you’d hate to obstruct justice.”

His smug expression weakened.

“And if you have information that might be helpful in solving tonight’s assault, you would be guilty of just that,” she explained. She smiled at him. “But I know you know that. So, please.”

He thought about that for a moment, his eyes shooting back and forth between me and Julianne. I wanted to poke his little beady eyes right out of his head.

Finally, his gaze settled on Julianne. “Lemme work on it. I’ll come by your house tomorrow evening and tell you if I’ve got anything.”

I started to object, but Julianne stopped me with her finger again.

“That’ll be fine,” Julianne told him. “We’ll see you then.”

“You bet you will, doll,” he said, adjusting his fedora and backpedaling toward the parking lot. “Good luck getting me out of your dreams tonight, baby. This pretty face is hard to forget.” He shot her with his forefinger. “Later.”

Julianne hooked her arm with mine, and we started walking slowly toward the car.

“Do we have to serve him dinner?” I asked.

“That would be the polite thing to do.”

“It’ll be a tough decision, then.”

She took out her keys as we reached the car. “What’ll be a tough decision?”

“On what to serve,” I said. “Short ribs or shrimp?”

BOOK: Stay At Home Dead

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