The Devil's Dwelling (17 page)

I usually work alone and Wendell will try to get away from me by way of the back door. 

I jerked the door open. Wendell was hopping around the trailer in his boxers with one leg in his pants. He headed for the back door. Punkin was setting up in bed with the covers pulled up under her chin. Wendell flew out the back door meeting a 38 head on. “What’s going on? Don’t shoot me lady.”

“Where’s your clothes?”  Mona flipped him around with one hand and cuffed him.

“Tiffany wouldn’t give me time to get dressed. Who are you?”

“I’m your worst nightmare.” 

Punkin came to the door in a tee shirt with her boobs resting on her belly. “Here’s Wendell’s tee shirt. I don’t want my man to catch a cold.”

Mona helped Wendell put the other leg in his pants. She put the tee shirt over his head and let it hang around his neck.

“You can put the tee shirt on when we take the cuffs off.” She threw him in the back of the Blazer.

I started the engine and headed out. Punkin was yelling. “I’ll take care of the antiques till you get back.”

We dropped Wendell off at the jail. Got the papers signed and was back to Peewee’s office within two hours from the time we left.

Mona waited in the Blazer. I handed Linda the paperwork. And turned for the door.

“Why the hurry?”

“We’ve got ‘no shows’ to bring in.” I waved and slammed the door a little too hard. I heard shattering glass. The window in the door hit the floor and broke in a million pieces. I didn’t break my stride. Jumped in the Blazer and headed for Sassy’s Massage Parlor.

“Why are we headin’ back to Sassy’s? Mona said wondering why they were retracing their tracks.

“I’ve got a gut feeling there’s something there.” 

I noticed the black sedan on my tail.

“We’ve got a tail. I’ll try to loose them.” I threw on the brakes and turned the steering wheel sharply to the right, sliding in a spin and flying past the black sedan. We came so close to them we could see the whites of the drivers eyes. Mona had her middle finger standing erect and stuck out the window. I made a left and headed up the freeway.

I checked my rear view mirror. “Looks like we lost them.“

I took the next exit and made our way to Sassy’s speeding down surface streets.

The house looked deserted. The lawn was six inches high and the newspapers were stacking up. We made our way to the back door. The door was ajar. Mona pushed it open and the stench hit her in the face. She turned to me. “The smell of death.” She waved her hand in front of her face and shook her head. We stepped inside the kitchen  and covered our nose.

“Shit! Tiffany I can’t breathe.” 

“Someone’s been here since our last visit. There’s a grocery bag. Looks like it’s been half emptied. Check to see if there’s a grocery receipt.”

Mona turned the brown bag on it’s end dumping the groceries.

Mona checked the bottom of the bag and pulled out a receipt. “Here’s a receipt stuck to the bottom of the bag.”

She picked up the syrup bottle and put it down licking her fingers. “ Looks like the seal on the syrup bottle is broken.”

Mona pulled the receipt from the bag.

“What’s the date on it?” I looked around the kitchen for any clues to who had been there.

“The receipt is for the day we were here. She must have been shopping the day we missed her and the intruder must have followed her in from the market.”

“Do you think there was an intruder?”

“Do you think there’s a dead body in this house?” I headed for the living room before Mona could answer. There sat Sassy on the sofa looking stiff. Her head was laying back and her chest was covered with dried blood.

“Looks like she’s been riddled with bullets.”  I looked around to Mona. Her legs were folding under her.

“Mona, get a grip. You’re a bounty hunter. You‘re clothes say you are any way.”  I took her arm and helped her to the Blazer.

Again we drove to the nearest phone booth to call the Sheriff’s office.

“Do you have any change for the phone.”  Mona dug to the bottom of her bag and brought out a quarter. “This will do it.”

I dropped the quarter in the coin slot and dialed 911.

“911, How may I help you?” 

“There’s a dead woman at Sassy’s Massage Parlor.” I hung up before the operator could reply.

Within minutes Sheriff Reagan and his deputies were taping off the property. The coroner’s wagon arrived and the TV crew were setting up.

The Sheriff saw my Blazer parked down the street. My phone rang. “Tiffany, what do you know about this?”

“We questioned Sassy last week about one of her masseuse and were coming back to get more info out of her.”

“You get out of here. I don’t want you involved with a murder.” Sheriff Reagan demanded.

“You got it. We are all but gone.”

TWENTY-ONE

The maroon Chrysler passed us as we headed across town. I put the accelerator down and caught up with him and pulled along side.

“Would you look at that? It’s Marty Martin and his got a gun pointed at us.”

Mona, pulled her 38 out of her bag and lowered it on him. I stayed beside him as best I could.

“For crissake what’s he doing?”  He jerked his wheel toward the side of my Blazer. I  reacted pulling but knew I would have to turn into him or be put off the road.

“This looks like a game of chicken.”  He fired off one shot. It danced across the windshield. Mona took a couple of pot shots leaving the Chrysler with a couple of memory markers in the fender. Marty took his eyes off the road and hit the gravel. His maroon Chrysler was in a cloud of dust. Last we saw he was going sideways down the highway.

“What’s Marty doing playing ‘chicken’ with us?  What’s he doing on this side of town?  You’d think he would be hiding out. Or, at least have enough respect for Maxine to not make such a scene.” I had a lot of questions that needed to be answered. First who killed

Maxine and why? Now, who killed Sassy and why? We seem to be missing a strategic link to these murders.”

We cranked up the music and headed out to check on some other massage parlors.

Mona opened the phone book to the yellow pages under Massage. 

“We still have a lot to cover if we are going to talk to all the massage parlor owners.” 

“We’ll stop visiting the parlors when we find Natasha.” 

My phone rang. It was a private number. “I answered in my voice of authority. Tiffany here.”

A voice came over the phone line. “You left a message at my massage parlor a few days ago.”

“Yes, I did. Thanks for calling me.”

“Do you need an appointment?” 

“As a matter of fact I do. My masseuse moved to a new location and I can’t seem to find where she might be working. She has long red hair. She wouldn’t happen to be one of your masseuse?”

“She was till I caught the sonnabitch helping herself in the cash box. I fired her  a couple days ago. Natasha McGuire is her name or at least that’s what she told me. I don’t think you want to use her. I have another girl that gives a very relaxing massage. Can I put you down with her?”

“I’ll have to call back to schedule. What’s your name and the name of your parlor?”

“Chelsea’s Massage Parlor.”

I took the name and number remembering where I left the note.

“We are right on Natasha’s tail. Let‘s call it a day.”

I dropped Mona off at her apartment and headed on home.  I drove into the apartment parking lot as the flower delivery truck was pulling in. He stepped from his van and asked. “Are you Tiffany?” He inquired looking at his delivery sheet.

“Yes, I’m Tiffany.” I thought no way can he be delivering flowers to me.  Sheriff Randy, Hayden or for that fact Brad wouldn’t have cause to send flowers. I hope it isn’t my stalker or my secret admirer.

“Can I read the note before I accept them?”

“That’s not customary but I guess that will be okay.”

I removed the sealed small envelope from the plastic fork stuck in the bouquet poking above the top of the flowers.

The note read.
You smell wonderful
.
Your secret admirer
.

“Oh shit! I can’t accept these flowers.” I opened my bag, found a twenty dollar bill and handed the delivery man. “You tell your boss I will not accept flowers from this guy.”

“Okay, ma’am I’ll tell him.”

The delivery man loaded the flowers back into the delivery van, slide the side door shut, jumped in the van and sped away.

I pushed the fob button and locked the Blazer.

I read the card in my mind.  I smell good. We’ll I’m glad I smell good but what man has been close enough to smell me that I don’t know?  Maybe I know the jerk. I laughed…Maybe it’s Mr. Sinclair.

Mr. Sinclair opened the foyer door for me.

“You hauling in any bad guys these days?”  He let the door close and put his hands in his front pocket pulling his shoulders forward.  The change in his pocket rattled from his shaking hands. 

“I’ll let you know if I get a real mean one.” I patted him on the back and made my way up the stairs.

No, I thought, it isn’t Mr. Sinclair. I’m sure his libido died years ago.

I opened my apartment door. Music was coming from the bedroom. That’s weird Bailey didn’t greet me. I took my Glock from my bag and tiptoed to the door. I put my ear against the door and listened. Music was all I could hear. I pushed the door open. There Hayden lay on my bed dressed in his full uniform. Black jeans, black button down shirt and black boots with his hands behind his head. Bailey was curled up beside him. Flopping his tail on the comforter.

“Hayden!” I yelled. I dropped my bag on the floor and put my hands on my hips.

“What the heck are you doing in my bed. In my apartment for that matter?”

“Bailey and I were napping until you woke us.” He threw his legs over the side of the bed grabbed my hand and pulled my face down to meet his face. He gently kissed me. “I’ve been missing you.”

“That’s sweet but that’s not the reason you are here.” I took his hand and pulled him off the bed. I wasn’t going to roll in the hay with him before I got a shower.

We walked into the kitchen, I open the frig and peered inside.  ‘I have beer, you want a beer.”

“I can’t refuse a bottle of beer.” He tapped the counter.

I tossed Hayden a bottle of beer and set next to him at the bar. “Okay, why are you here?”

“Can’t a guy come by to see his girl without an invitation?”  He pulled the cap off the beer with his teeth and spun the lid on the counter.

“Word’s on the street Marty Martin is after you. They are saying he thinks you killed Maxine.”

“he thinks I killed Maxine, why would I kill Maxine?”  I put my hand to my chest. My heart was pumping on overdrive.

“You were seen at the scene of the murder.”  Again he spun the bottle cap on the counter.

I slapped the cap to the counter. “Be serious with me, this isn’t funny.”

“That’s why I’m here. You need to stay at my place. Marty knows where you live and when he gets the nerve up he will be here.”

I didn’t dare tell Hayden about today’s incident with Marty.

“I can’t run and hide from every idiot out there. I also have a stalker and an admirer. He’s sent me flowers two times. The first time I thought Randy had sent them. I opened the card and it said.
My eyes are on you. From your secret admirer. 
Isn’t that creepy and when I pulled in the parking lot a while ago the flower delivery man had flowers for me. I read the card and sent them back.”

“What did the card read?”

“
You smell good. From your secret admirer.”

“This sounds like a real psycho. For your safety you need to go home with me. Look, you can have the guest room. You can come and go as you please. No strings attached unless of course you might want some and that I might consider.”

“I’ll be okay, I have my Glock. Marty surely won’t hurt me.” I put my head in my hands. “This is crazy.” 

“There’s going to be an art show and we are transporting some very expensive paintings we have stored at Hayden Store All to the gallery in Little Rock. I’d like for you to go with me. We’ll be gone for two days. No one will know where you are and I’ll have a dozen men with me guarding the paintings.”

“When will you be leaving?” What am I thinking? Going out of town with thirteen men in a caravan.

Tomorrow afternoon about one. The drive will take about an hour. The men will set the show up. I’ll put them on guard detail and you and I will spend the night in a nice place away from the guys.”