Authors: Jeffrey Allen
Stay At Home Dead (21 page)
53
I’d left my cell phone in the drink holder of the minivan, and it was beeping when I jumped into the driver’s seat. I punched in the message code and listened to Victor telling me to call him back right away.
I did as directed.
“Doolittle,” he answered.
“That’s how you answer your phone?” I asked, starting the van and heading away from the McCutcheon home. “Doolittle? It’s kind of rude.”
“It’s my last name, and it’s not rude,” he said, irritated. “Get over it. Where are you?”
“Picking up T-shirts. You?”
“Doing work you’re gonna be happy to pay me for,” he said. “When can you meet me?”
I had three hours until I needed to be back at the school. “Now’s good.”
“You know Louise’s over in Lewisville?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“See you there.”
I set the phone back in the drink holder as I passed the gatehouse and wondered why I was going to meet Victor Anthony Doolittle at Louise’s.
Twenty minutes later I was pulling into the parking lot at Louise’s Maternity Closet, DFW’s largest maternity wear provider. Mannequins in the window were dressed in brightly colored dresses, showcasing their baby bellies in various states of pregnancy. Another mannequin sat in a chair, hooked up to a neon orange breast pump. Julianne and I had, in fact, purchased her breast pump at Louise’s.
Pale yellow, not neon orange.
I pushed open the door to the store and saw Victor sitting in a chair near the counter, paging through a copy of
Pregnancy for Dummies.
Pregnancy for Dummies.
He looked up. “Hey.”
A woman behind the counter smiled at me.
“Hey,” I said. I pointed to the book. “Gonna invite me to the shower?”
He closed the book and set it on his lap. He pointed up at the woman behind the counter. “This is my sister. Louise.”
Aha.
“Pleasure to meet you,” she said.
“Same here.”
Victor saw the expression on my face. “Just in case you’re wondering, she’s not a small person.”
My cheeks warmed. “Thanks.”
He pointed a stubby finger at one of the changing rooms. “And my girlfriend is in there. She’s in her second trimester.”
Victor Anthony Doolittle was spawning? That wouldn’t be good for anyone.
He pushed himself off the floor. “Louise, you mind if he and I talk in the back?”
She busied herself with a thick ledger on the counter. “Don’t steal anything.”
He gestured for me to follow him, then stopped in front of the door of the dressing room that housed his girlfriend. “Jillian, I’ll be back in a minute.”
Whoever was behind the door murmured an assent.
I followed him through a narrow hallway and into a room that was no more than twelve by twelve. Boxes and wardrobe racks on wheels filled most of the space.
Victor motioned for me to close the door behind me, which I did.
“I don’t like to do business in front of my girl,” he said, shrugging. “Gets her all jumpy.”
“Sure. Have, uh, you guys been together long?”
“Little over a year,” he said.
“Know what the baby is?”
“Boy.” He grinned. “Victor Junior.”
God help us all.
“Did a little more digging on Zeke Stenner,” Victor said, getting down to business. “The kid that owns the truck.”
“I saw the truck again last night.”
“Oh yeah?”
I recounted our chase from the parking lot to the horse pasture.
He processed all that, rubbing his chin. “It wasn’t Stenner.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I was watching him drinking with a couple of buddies at a bar near the university,” he explained. “At that exact time.”
That didn’t really surprise me. I was certain after pulling up on Stenner in the Tough Tykes parking lot that he wasn’t after me for any reason.
“But I think his roommate might be the one using the truck,” Victor said.
“His roommate?”
He nodded. “They live in an apartment complex about a mile from the school. I asked around a bit. Neighbors say his roommate borrows the truck all the time.” His features screwed up, and he shook his head. “Which is so odd, because his roommate is loaded. Or at least the guy’s father is. Local businessman who owns a couple of stores. Can’t imagine why the kid would need to borrow anything, much less a truck.”
“You find out his name?”
There was a knock on the door behind me.
Victor nodded, and his gaze moved past me. “Hey, baby.”
I turned around. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting.
Okay, that’s not even close to being true. I was expecting a pregnant midget.
What I got was a supermodel.
Six feet at least, long golden hair, and longer legs. Perfect porcelain skin with aquamarine eyes. A small belly bump beneath the middle of a flowery sundress. Like she’d just walked off a magazine cover into Louise’s back room.
“Victor, I’m ready,” she said, smiling at him first, then me.
He wiggled a finger between us. “Jillian, Deuce. Deuce, Jillian.”
We exchanged waves.
“Be done in one sec, baby,” he said.
She gave a curt nod, then backed gracefully out of the room.
So completely
not
a pregnant midget.
not
a pregnant midget.
Victor must’ve noticed whatever bewildered expression had settled on my face. “What?”
“Nothing. She’s, uh ... uh ...”
“A goddamn knockout,” he said. “You’re not the only one who did well in the woman department.”
I didn’t know there was such a thing as the woman department, but I knew there was a compliment in there somewhere.
“And if you’ve got the bright idea to mention to Jillian about me flirting with your wife, forget about it,” he said, waving his hand in the air. “She knows I’m an incorrigible flirt, all right? She also knows I’d never step out on her.” He winked at me. “No matter how much your wife begged.”
“Begged,” I said. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s how it’d go down.”
He made a face. “You’d be surprised. Women find my height to be an aphrodisiac.”
Which I found gave me a gag reflex.
“Anyway, yeah, I got the roommate’s name,” Victor said, moving on. “And where he works.”
As he fished a scrap of paper out of his pocket, I pondered the ways he and Jillian might’ve met.
Match.com
, maybe.
, maybe.
A personal ad.
Mutual friends.
Or perhaps she’d lost the biggest bet known to mankind.
“Here it is,” Victor said, shaking out the piece of paper.
I shook myself out of my reverie in order to pay attention.
“You’ll love this,” Victor said, chuckling. “Kid manages one of his father’s stores. A rug store in Lewisville.”
All sorts of sparks fired inside my head.
“Stenner’s roomate’s name is Reggie Hamlin,” Victor said, turning the sparks in my head into a genuine fire.
54
“Reggie?” I said.
“Yeah, why?” Victor said. “You know him?”
Victor told me before that coincidences were for people who tried to give pancakes to rats. That made no sense, but it was the only thing that I could think of.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Victor said.
“Sort of feels that way.”
“Care to explain?”
I told him about meeting Reggie at the rug store, about Benny working there, and about our conversation.
Victor rubbed his chin when I finished. “So why would this guy be after you?”
“No clue.”
Which was true. Our conversation had been cordial, uneventful, and I’d walked away thinking nothing more about him other than he was mature for his age after he’d explained how he’d handled Benny and Odell. But coupled with the fact that Deborah Wilbon had just recently placed a call from Land O’ Rugs, something was definitely not right at the friendly little community rug dealer.
Victor glanced at his watch. “I need to get rolling. Jillian and I have a doctor’s appointment.” He smiled. “Check on Victor Junior.”
“Right.”
“I’ll make some calls,” he said, walking back toward the front of the store. “You around tonight?”
“Should be, yeah.”
“I’ll call you later on, then.”
I followed him back through the door and into the store.
Jillian was chatting with Louise. She smiled when she saw Victor. “You ready, honey?”
He walked over and kissed her hand, much in the same way he’d done to Julianne’s when they’d met.
“Ready to take you home and make another baby,” he growled.
Jillian dissolved into laughter. Louise rolled her eyes. I felt my breakfast trying to fight its way up my throat.
“Maybe later,” she purred, placing a hand on his cheek. “We don’t want to be late to the doctor.”
I exchanged good-byes with Louise and followed the happy couple outside into the already warm morning air.
Victor scooted around the MG to open the door for Jillian. She gave me a quick wave before she slid gracefully into the sports car. Victor shut the door behind her and walked back to me.
“Don’t go trying to be a hero,” he said, pointing a finger at me.
“I won’t,” I said. “Wait. What do you mean?”
“Let me make some calls and see if I can get a better handle on what’s going on here,” he said. “Don’t go stepping in it before you know what you’re stepping in.”
“You gonna protect me?” I asked.
He stood his ground on the sidewalk, his expression serious, devoid of any of the smarmy cockiness I’d seen over the past few days.
“Quit being a wiseass,” he said. “It’s not about protecting you. It’s about being smart.” He adjusted the fedora. “I’ll call you later.” He stepped into the car, and he and his ridiculously attractive girlfriend zipped out of the lot.
Victor was, of course, correct. There was no sense in going to confront Reggie Hamlin at that very moment. Victor had proven himself very capable of rooting out information, which was starting to link a few things, if not tie them together with a cute little knot.
But there’s something about knowing that some little punk running a rug store might’ve taken a potshot at the back of your head that blocks the pathway in the brain through which the “Don’t do this!” message is sent to the rest of the body.
Really. It’s a scientific fact.
55
I parked outside Land O’ Rugs and gathered myself.
I had a lot of questions. I didn’t want to go in there and get in a fight with Reggie, but I wanted some answers. I was thinking that maybe just by showing up, I’d catch him by surprise and he’d spill the entire story and then we’d all live happily ever after.
The first moment I knew that wasn’t going to happen was when I opened the door to the store and saw Shayna Barnes grabbing her sister, Deborah Wilbon, by the hair. Deborah, clearly on the defensive, was trying to stick her nails in Shayna’s eyes. Both were emitting high-pitched, indecipherable sounds as they rolled around on a pile of rugs just to the left of the entrance.
The appropriate thing to do would’ve been to wade into the fracas and separate them and calm everyone down and let them reclaim their senses.
Instead, I sat down on a pile of rugs and watched.
“I’ve hated you for twenty years!” Shayna yelled, snapping Deborah’s head back as she yanked harder on her hair.
“I’ve hated you my
whole life!
” Deborah screamed back, now both hands clawing at Shayna’s face.
whole life!
” Deborah screamed back, now both hands clawing at Shayna’s face.
They rolled to the left, then back to the right.
“I can’t believe you did it!” Shayna screeched. “You slut!”
“I learned it from you!” Deborah fired back.
Again to the left and back to the right. Shayna had Deborah’s head pulled so far back, her neck was arched. Deborah’s nails were so firmly implanted in Shayna’s cheeks that it looked like she was stuck on her face.
As amusing as it all was, it wasn’t doing anything for me.
“Ladies,” I said.
Both of their heads snapped in my direction, different degrees of agony on each of their faces.
I held out my hand. “Don’t get up. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
Neither let go of the other, but they glanced at each other, unsure of what to do now.
“You can’t be near me,” Shayna finally said. “The restraining order.”
“Didn’t know you were going to be here, Shayna.”
“What are you doing here?” Shayna asked, trying to lock her arm stiff, with her hand on her sister’s jaw.
“I’m looking for Reggie,” I said.
“Aren’t we all?” Deborah said, chopping Shayna’s arm at the elbow. Shayna’s arm gave, and Deborah scooted just out of her reach.
“Shut up, Deborah,” Shayna spat, cutting her eyes to her sister.
“You shut up, Shayna.”
Great. It was just like being at preschool.
They sat there, glaring at each other, breathing heavily. They each had long pink streaks on their arms and cheeks from where they’d dug into one another.
“So where is Reggie?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Shayna said, her eyes firing darts at her sister.
“I don’t know,” Deborah said, her eyes catching the darts and returning them to Shayna’s direction.
It wasn’t just weird sisterly tension in the room. There was something else that was causing them to brawl.
Shayna glanced at me. “Why are you looking for him?”
“Good question,” I said.
“Probably not because he wants to sleep with him again,” Deborah said, with a nasty grin.
Shayna’s cheeks flooded with color, and her entire face pinched in anger. “Shut up, Deborah.”
“You slept with Reggie?” I asked, more surprised than amused.
“You aren’t supposed to be talking to me,” Shayna said, avoiding the question. “You can’t even be near me.”
“You sure like to be near Reggie, though, don’t you, sis?” Deborah said, the grin on her face nastier now.
Shayna grimaced, pushed herself to her knees, and leapt at Deborah. Deborah, though, was ready and rolled away from her, kicking her feet at Shayna’s hands. Shayna managed to get hold of an ankle, though, and held on. Deborah, in turn, reached over and grabbed a handful of Shayna’s hair.
Something moved near the back of the room, and I glanced in that direction.
Bob the cat wandered out of the back room. He sat down, scratched an ear, then surveyed each of us. He was clearly unimpressed.
“You slept with Reggie while Benny was alive?” I asked Shayna.
“None of your damn beeswax, Deuce,” Shayna said, trying to extract her hair from Deborah’s hand.
“She’s been sleeping with him for the last six months,” Deborah yelled, shaking her ankle but unable to slip Shayna’s grip.
“So have you!” Shayna yelled. She let go of Deborah’s ankle for a moment and reached higher, sinking her nails into Deborah’s thigh.
Deborah shrieked and pulled harder on Shayna’s hair, stretching her neck into what looked to me like a very uncomfortable position.
As they struggled and grunted, I thought about Reggie Hamlin sleeping with both Deborah and Shayna. The first question was obviously, why? but from Reggie’s perspective, I could see it. A kid in his twenties bedding one attractive older woman, much less two, was probably his version of winning the lottery. Why they would’ve been agreeable was another story, but it wasn’t like either of them was the most virtuous of women. If they were going to sleep with anyone in the store, I would’ve thought it might have been the part-timer, Jake, given the description Reggie gave me. It was odd, though, that they’d both been involved with Benny’s manager. Between Reggie, Benny, and Odell, Land O’ Rugs had been seeing some pretty weird stuff.
Bob strolled over next to me, gave me the once-over, evidently decided that I presented no threat to him, and sat down to watch the action.
They were at a stalemate, but neither would give in, and they continued grunting at each other, interrupted by small shrieks of pain.
I thought again about the three men that worked at the store, and a question worked its way into my head.
“Was Reggie involved in Killer Kids?” I asked. “With Odell and Benny?”
Deborah held tight to Shayna’s hair, but Shayna’s grip on Deborah’s thigh weakened and she twitched in my direction, like I’d punched the right button.
“No,” Shayna said, but her voice had zero conviction in it.
“Yes!” Deborah yelled, giving Shayna’s hair a violent pull as she kicked out from under her grip and rolled away from her. She was in control now, on her knees, Shayna’s hair in both hands and Shayna grabbing at those hands.
Deborah leveled her eyes at me. “The entire thing was Reggie’s idea.”
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