For Old Crime's Sake (Chase Charley Mystery Book 1) (2 page)

He shook his head. “No, I walked.” He stepped away from the car. “I’ll see you later, Charley.”

I cranked the engine while Dangerfield stood there, watching me with that amazing smile on his face. He walked down the sidewalk and I wondered exactly where he’d been hiding while I watched the man across the street. Without him knowing it, I studied Dangerfield until he disappeared out of sight.

Once he was gone, I started to drive off. The dark-haired man peeked out from the courtyard as I pulled away. I hoped that was the last I saw of him.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened. There might have been blood splatter or the murder weapon left behind. So, I did what I thought was the right thing and called the police. I kept my distance in case the man had returned to the scene of the crime.

After a short time, the police came to my location a few blocks away and spoke with me. They claimed they found nothing out of the ordinary. So they had no justification to obtain a warrant to search the home. Actually, the two policemen acted so casually that I was sure they didn’t believe me. This left me no choice but to investigate this on my own.

The bizarre scene was still on my mind the next morning. I was glad that I’d called the cops, and I’d figured the man would be long gone with the body by the time they arrived. And I’d been right. I’d thought about Dangerfield too. Despite his attitude, I hoped that he had recovered from the pepper spray.

I left my apartment on Bourbon Street and headed toward the office. Eclectic shops and restaurants lined the sidewalks for as far as my eyes could see. The oak trees shaded me from the sun.

Another day of investigative reporting and chasing down shady characters. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed helping people get refunds from bad contractors or confronting car salesmen who sold lemons as much as any reporter, but I wanted action. I needed to get answers to tough questions or break a case wide open.

The WDSO office was a short walk from my place. My morning routine consisted of stopping for coffee at Café Mojo. On occasions, I’d change things up and get a beignet too. Today was one of those days when I needed the sugary treat. The powdered sugar usually got all over my clothing, but it was worth it.

A historic brick building housed the station’s office. My cubicle was on the third floor in the converted space. At least there were a ton of windows so it didn’t feel quite as much like a prison. Though I hated being locked up at my desk so that the warden could keep an eye on me.

Speaking of the warden, he spotted me immediately when I walked through the door. I’d hoped to at least finish my coffee and check my email before he started barking orders at me.

“Chase, in my office now,” Oscar Reynolds screamed loud enough to make the windows rattle.

My co-workers stared at me. They shouldn’t be shocked—Oscar was always screaming at me. This time I wouldn’t let him get the better of me.

Glass walls were the only thing that separated the rest of us from the boss. Yes, we were the prisoners and he was the warden keeping an eye on us from his security tower.

I eased the door open and stepped into his office. His desk was in front of the windows so that his back faced the view. Most of the time when I walked past his office I caught him with his chair swiveled around, staring out the window. This time his attention was focused purely on me.

Oscar wore a wrinkled white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and equally wrinkled gray pants. I thought about asking if he’d slept in his clothes, but the man rarely slept. His thick salt-and-pepper hair reminded me of Einstein’s, all wild and untamed. I hoped Oscar wasn’t going for that look on purpose.

“Have a seat.” He pointed at the old brown leather chair in front of his desk.

The space had a permanent stench from his cheap cologne. Bless his heart, no one had ever told him that a little went a long way. If I told him he’d probably fire me, so I kept my mouth shut.

Oscar leaned back in his chair. He tapped his lip with his index finger and stared at me. Silence hung in the air. I shifted in the seat, waiting for him to speak. I wondered if he’d always had that hair coming from his ears.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity he said, “Where were you last night?”

The dark-haired man’s face flashed before my eyes and I was instantly transported back to last night. “I, um, went to check out a party.”

“Did you? How was it? Did you have a nice time?” The smirk on Oscar’s face told me he wasn’t sincere.

I studied my fingernails. My index finger had a chip in the bubblegum-pink polish. It was time for a manicure. “It didn’t quite pan out.”

“Is that right? Well, something panned out.” Oscar’s lips pressed together in anger.

How did he know? Had he followed me? I brushed powdered sugar that had fallen from my morning beignet off my gray pencil skirt.

Oscar leaned forward in his chair. “I got a call this morning.”

“That’s nice. Anything interesting?” I looked over his shoulder out the window. Too bad I couldn’t escape.

“Funny you should ask. Yes, it was quite an interesting call. A man said he ran into you last night.”

Dangerfield? Or was it one of the two men with the corpse? The only other man I’d seen last night was Derek, who worked at the corner market. I’d picked up a turkey sandwich with light mustard for dinner.

Of course I continued my innocent act, as if I had no clue what Oscar was talking about. I batted my eyelashes, which had absolutely no impact on Oscar, yet I continued to try that tactic.

A look of ice-cold fury fell across Oscar’s face. “He said you tried to steal something from the trunk of his car.”

I pointed. “I did not try to steal from his trunk! I was only looking.”

Oscar’s face turned red. “He’s a cop, Charley. You’re lucky he didn’t arrest you.”

I shook my head. “He couldn’t arrest me when I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Veins appeared on Oscar’s temples.

“Oscar, remember your blood pressure.”

Anger flared in his eyes so I figured I was only making it worse. “I want to know what the hell you were doing,” he snapped.

“I was working. There was supposed to be a party. Look, that guy may have told you he’s a cop, but he had a dead body in the trunk of his car.”

Oscar stared at me. “You’ve finally lost it this time, haven’t you? There was no body in a trunk. You’re either imagining things, or trying to lie your way out of this.”

I scoffed. “I know what I saw. Furthermore, how did he know where to find me?”

“He recognized you from television. Get me something good for your next segment now.” Oscar flicked his wrist, dismissing me from his office. “Or you’re fired.”

Yeah, that wasn’t the first time Oscar had threatened to fire me. It probably wouldn’t be the last either. Sometimes I worried he might actually do it. That was the chance I had to take.

Everyone pretended not to notice when I made the walk of shame back to my desk. Some co-workers felt sorry for me, others just wondered how I’d landed a job there in the first place. Despite their lack of confidence in my journalistic abilities, I knew that I just needed to break a big story. Everyone would notice me then.

My cubicle seemed to get smaller each day. Sure, it was my imagination, but caused me a panic attack at least once a day. I’d decorated my space with photos of my parents, brothers, cousins, and their children. A few splashes of pink colored the otherwise dull space.

I sat at my desk and stared at my computer screen. As I tapped the pen against my desk, Ruth Drake glared at me from over the top of her cubicle. The Botox had made it so that I never knew if she was angry with me. Her brown bob had enough hairspray to withstand a Category Five hurricane. Her suit matched the color of her hair.

Feeling as if the walls were closing in on me, I needed to get out of the office. I grabbed my big black bag and jumped up from my chair.

“Where are you going?” Ruth asked.

“I have a meeting,” I said over my shoulder.

She smirked. Her left eye twitched—the only part of her face that would still move—so I figured she was angry. Honestly, as far as I could tell, she was angry with me most of the time.

“Yeah, right,” she said.

The meeting I had wasn’t scheduled, and the person didn’t know about it, but I wouldn’t let that stop me. I slipped past Oscar’s office before he noticed me and yelled again. Before I went for my little visit with the cop from last night, I needed to stop by my apartment. I’d left my cell phone there this morning. It had the number for the hairstylist who had given me the info about the party last night. Jessie Thorpe was one of my best sources—well, until last night. Her clientele had all the gossip and details happening around town.

When I stepped through the main door of my building, my neighbor Wanda Perkins was standing in front of my door. As soon as she spotted me she began waving her bony finger in my direction. I was convinced she’d lived in this building since it had been built in the early eighteen hundreds. Okay, she wasn’t that old, but she refused to divulge her age, so what was I to believe?

“You and your voodoo friend!” she yelled in a shaky voice.

Technically, my voodoo friend was also my cousin, but we were best friends too. Courtney Charley was only one year younger than me. We’d grown up together and a day didn’t pass without us talking. With our dark hair and hazel eyes, people thought Courtney and I were sisters instead of cousins.

Courtney had become interested in voodoo in college. She’d recently labeled herself a voodoo priestess. I wasn’t sure how Mrs. Perkins had discovered Courtney was into voodoo, but nonetheless we were on her radar now. I was almost convinced old Wanda Perkins had placed a bug in my apartment, or at the very least held a glass up to the wall to listen in.

“What’s wrong, Mrs. Perkins?” I inched toward my door, but she wasn’t budging.

“Someone left a hex at my front door. And I know it was you and your friend,” she yelled. Gray curls like tightly coiled springs lay flat against her head. Her white robe had a blue floral pattern. The pale blue slippers on her feet matched the flowers.

“Calm down, Mrs. Perkins, what are you talking about?”

Mrs. Perkins shuffled away from my door and down the hall. She motioned over her shoulder. “Follow me and I’ll show you.” 

I didn’t want to follow, but she would only make things worse for me if I didn’t. Releasing a deep breath, I slumped my shoulders and trudged over to her. We stopped in front of her door. A couple of dried twigs were neatly placed across the threshold. Next to them were what I assumed were chicken bones. Yep, that looked like a hex all right. Who had she made mad?

She pointed at the items. “Will you look at that? I can’t live in these conditions. I have a heart problem, you know. What kind of hex do you think this is? What did you do to someone?”

“Mrs. Perkins, I’m not sure this means there’s a hex.” I didn’t want her to panic. “It was probably just someone goofing around. Plus, what makes you think it was left for me? It’s in front of your door.” I wished I hadn’t added that last part the moment the words slipped from my lips. By the color of her face I was worried she’d have a stroke.

“Goofing around, my ass. What else do you think it means?” She shook her fist. 

I shrugged. “I don’t know.” I just needed to get my phone. Dealing with Crazy Perkins was not on my to-do list for the day.

She wagged her finger at me. “You need to fix this.”

I hurried toward my door before she could wrap her skeletal hand around my shoulder. “I’ll take care of it.”

My apartment building was a brick three-story affair. The private iron balcony overlooking the street was the best part about the place. My space was a one bedroom with a separate living/dining room and kitchen. The beige sofa and white chair matched well with the warm-colored walls. I felt fortunate that I’d finally upgraded my furniture from the hand-me-downs that I’d had throughout college. But divorced and at the age of thirty, I figured it was about time I did something adult-like. A framed poster from the movie
Sixteen Candles
decorated the wall behind my bed. What could I say? I was a huge fan. Jake Ryan would forever hold a place in my heart. Why else would I buy a Porsche just like his?

After grabbing my phone from my nightstand, I rushed out the door and onto the sidewalk before Mrs. Perkins caught me again. I dialed my cousin’s number first.

“Good morning,” Courtney said with a merry tone in her voice.

A pent-up breath escaped my lips. “Maybe for you.”

“What happened? Where are you?”

“I’m walking to a meeting. Do you know why someone would leave dried twigs and chicken bones in front of someone’s door?”

“Did you find that in front of your door?” she asked.

“No, my neighbor Mrs. Perkins’.”

“You have to get rid of it for her right now.” An edge of worry filled her voice.

“What are you talking about?” I zigzagged around a group of people on the sidewalk.

“Take the twigs and bones down to the river and toss them in. Make sure to tie them together first,” she said in a firm voice.

I’d learned a long time ago to just go along with her crazy requests.

“All right. Don’t freak out.”

“Go now,” she yelled into the phone.

“I’m turning around. By the way, my neighbor thinks I placed a hex on her. Or rather, I had
you
place one on her.” I adjusted the purse strap on my shoulder and weaved around an old man on the sidewalk.

“She is a dear. A sweetheart.” Sarcasm dripped from Courtney’s tone. “Why does she think this?”