Hide and Snake Murder (12 page)

Thirteen

“Is anyone going to
tell me why Agnes is snoring back there and why Shay has a bear growing out of her head?” Baz asked as Coop flew around curves and screamed over hills.

“There was an incident,” Eddy said. “Basil, why didn't you warn us someone was coming?”

An uncomfortable silence filled the cab. Baz said, “I was afraid they'd see me. They pulled up in a big black Escalade. I freaked.”

Damn. I knew he'd bail on us.

“So what happened?” Baz wasn't going to let it go.

I said, “Agnes apparently slipped in the front door and managed to find Fletcher's stash of booze.”

“Vodka?” Baz asked.

Eddy said, “You know it. That woman cannot hold her potato-based spirits.”

“Oh, boy.” Baz whistled. “And why is Shay wearing a bear?”

“I forgot to duck,” I said.

“There was a slight miscalculation in removing the bottle from Agnes's grip,” Eddy said. “Shay, when we get home, we'll get you fixed up good as new.”

I cringed at the thought of having all the little fibers that were now implanted in my skin, covered with clotted blood, pulled off one at a time. I gave the bear an experimental tug and decided blood could be a substitute for glue.

Coop took the curve onto eastbound 394.

“Anyone behind us?” I asked.

“Nope,” Coop answered after a quick check in the mirror. “What do you think they were referring to?”

“The guys in the basement?” Eddy asked.

“Yeah,” Coop said. “The whole Juárez thing, tunnels … ”

“Juárez?” Baz repeated. “Who is ‘they' anyway?”

“Our friends from the Big Easy,” I mumbled.

“No way. Hunk and Donny?”

“Hunk and some other guy. No Donny,” Eddy said. “They said he'll be here tomorrow.”

I asked, “Was that Fletcher Sharpe?”

“I don't think so,” Coop said.

“No, it wasn't Fletcher,” Eddy said. “His ads are always on TV for that toy store of his.” She went on to relate what we'd heard. When she was done, a charged silence filled the air, broken only by Agnes's light snores.

“Man.” I scrubbed the half of my face not covered up by fur. “This whole thing is unbelievable.”

“No doubt.” Coop's voice sounded hollow, tired. We all were.

My mind was having a hard time staying on track. Hopefully that was from exhaustion and not related to the vodka noggin knock. I forced my brain cells into some semblance of order. “We've got to get some rest. And, sorry folks, it ain't gonna be at any of our own homes.”

“No,” Eddy agreed. “We can't go anywhere near home. What time is it, anyway? I have to visit the little old ladies room.”

That made at least two of us.

“1:03 a.m.,” Coop relayed. “Let's go to Kate's place. She'll have enough room there to put us up for the night. Maybe we should just go to the cops.”

“Oh right,” Baz muttered from the back seat. “We don't know who's on the take, who's compromised, remember?”

“My goodness, Baz, such a big word for such a little guy,” Coop said. “I didn't know your vocabulary included anything over five letters.”

“Hey!” Baz said, his voice rising. “I'm not an id—”

“You spineless coward,” Coop bellowed. “Running off to save your own—”

“BOYS!” Eddy's sharp voice brought the bickering to a screeching halt. “Whether we like this or not, we're in this calamity together. So stuff a sock in it.”

We rode the rest of the way to Kate's without more than three words between us. Ideas echoed around my mind, rolling like a snowball down a giant hill. Should we go to the police? Baz, sadly enough, was right. We didn't know who might be on the take in this muddle of a mess. I really wished JT were home. It'd been forty-eight hours since I'd talked to her. She was going to be fit to be hog-tied.

Screw it, I decided. If I couldn't have JT, I'd take my second best option. As soon as my brain worked again, I was going to call Dirty Harry. If JT trusted him, so would I.

My brain ached, and the skin under the matted stuffed animal itched fiercely. I could hardly wait for surgical separation. Then I'd call Harry whether everyone else wanted me to or not. Desperate times, desperate measures. Decision made, I shut my eyes and fell into an uneasy stupor.

Kate lived in a three-bedroom, story-and-half bungalow not far from Minnehaha Creek, on Chicago Avenue just past True Colors Bookstore and Pepito's Mexican Restaurant. The thought of Pepito's made my stomach rumble, reminding me it'd been a while since our last feeding.

Coop navigated the narrow alley behind Kate's house and pulled onto a double-car-sized cement platform that masqueraded as a driveway. The house was dark, nary a light bleeding through any of the windows.

The sound of the engine faded into silence, and we emerged from the truck. I assured Coop I could manage to hold the bear to my own head without his assistance, and he reluctantly relented. Good move on his part, as my patience was wearing thin.

We trooped into the fenced backyard—carefully following the crumbling sidewalk for fear of stepping into a Dawg-sized dump—and huddled on the back steps. Kate's doorbell hadn't worked since the day she'd moved in. I raised my hand to knock. Before my fist met wood, Eddy's hand curled around my bicep, stopping all forward motion. “Wait,” she whispered. “We don't want to wake up the neighborhood. Last thing we need is someone calling the cops.” Good point. Kate was a sound sleeper, but maybe she wasn't REMing yet.

“I'll try her bedroom window.” I hopped off the two-step stoop, carefully keeping the bear against my forehead. Gingerly I followed the edge of the dark mound I knew was a flowerbed in summertime but was now a mushy mess.

Kate's bedroom was in the corner of the house, and I was mighty happy one window faced the backyard. Who knew what the neighbors might do if they got an eyeball of some freak with a furry growth on her head skulking around.

A screen covered the window. I reached across the muddy abyss and tapped on the trim that surrounded the glass as a siren sounded in the distance.

I waited for some hint that Kate was alive and stirring. I sure hoped some do-gooder with insomnia wasn't watching and reporting suspicious goings-on to the authorities.

The curtains behind the glass didn't stir, and no lights came on. I tapped harder.

Still nothing. The ground under my feet sunk down as I stepped closer to the house. Too bad Kate had her windows replaced last summer. Her old ones were practically falling out, and I could've hollered at her through the cracks to get her butt out of bed.

Everything seemed calm, and the emergency siren had faded into the night. Gritting my teeth, I rapped harder. Suddenly deep woofs directly on the other side of the wall shattered the quiet. The noise practically vibrated the window. A light appeared.

“Kate,” I yelled as loud as I dared. I didn't need her calling 911 because she thought intruders were raiding her yard. Dawg continued to bark as a silhouetted figure moved around the room. Then the light went out.

I knocked again.

Sudden movement startled me as the curtain flew back and I was face to barrel with a great big gun.

Holy shit! When did Kate get a gun, and why hadn't she told me about it?

In reaction, I stepped away from the threat, but the tennis shoe on my left foot was stuck in the squishy ground. I lost my balance, and my foot slid out of my shoe.

I tipped backward in slow motion, my one unoccupied arm desperately flailing for a nonexistent handhold. My butt thudded against the ground hard enough to make my teeth clack, and the elbow on my free arm was the only thing that stopped me from flopping full out on Kate's dead grass. The same elbow that had been abused in New Orleans. Ow.

Kate shoved the window open.

Brave girl. Actually, stupid girl, if I thought about it.

The barking was remarkably louder now that there was only a screen between the deadly weapon and me.

“Kate!” I yelled sharply.

A shadowy face replaced the gun barrel. “Shay?”

“Yes!” I hissed. “Don't shoot.”

“You scared the bejesus out of me. What on earth are you doing? What's wrong with your head?”

The moment he'd recognized my voice, Dawg stopped barking. I could barely make out his wrinkly muzzle as he snuffled wetly at the screen, trying to figure out how to get through it to bounce on me.

“Let us in, and we'll tell you all about it.” I heaved myself to my feet. Somehow, I'd managed not to rip the bear off my head. Which, in hindsight, was too bad. It would have been nice to have the ripping part over with.

Kate disappeared as I hopped on one leg to the flowerbed and retrieved my shoe. It made a sucking sound when I wrenched it from the mud. I clapped it against the foundation to try to get some of the clay-like stuff off.

The backyard light flicked on. The screen door screeched open, and voices filled the night air. I was about to pull my shoe on when Dawg shoved his way through the crowd and galloped straight toward me, ears flopping merrily, jowls slapping up and down in time to his strides. I hopped madly around, trying desperately to get my shoe on before impact. Then all eighty-some pounds of Boxer plowed right into me. My shoe sailed out of my hands and my butt reacquainted itself with the ground. My left elbow smacked the surface, but this time the force of the blow was cushioned by something soft, thank goodness.

Dawg straddled me, his entire body quivering in excitement. He licked my face. Good thing I didn't wear contacts because his big tongue would've slurped them right out.

“Dawg,” I panted. “Off!”

I tried in vain to push him away. He was a star at doggy-school and usually responded to my slightest direction. Not this time.

Coop dragged the mutt off me. His affectionate attention shifted to Coop, who rubbed his face vigorously, causing his loose lips to flap up and down. After reacquainting himself with Coop, Dawg danced around in a circle, bounced straight-legged on all fours a couple of times, and raced toward the door.

“Happy to see us,” Coop observed.

“No kidding.” I swiped at a glob of Dawg drool that was on my cheek. After Dawg first came to stay with me, I'd stopped being grossed out at his bodily fluids either dripping on me or flying through space and landing with a splat on the furniture or the walls.

“I'll get the luggage.” Coop extended a hand. “You get the bear removed.”

“Thanks.” I grabbed him with my left hand, surprised to find my right hand had held the bear to my head through the Dawg-attack. I was getting good at this.

I started toward the door.

Coop said, “What's on your elbow?” I stopped and pulled my sleeve around to face the light. A large mud-colored smear ran from my elbow toward my wrist. At first glance, I thought it was mud from the flower garden. Until the smell hit.

“Ugh. Son of a—that's
not
dirt.” I held the sleeve away from my skin, my face frozen in horrified disgust.

Coop laughed. “The mutt's here for less than twenty-four hours, and you manage to find the poop.” He guffawed, and my horror melted into a smile. Then I joined in semi-hysterical laughter.

Kate stuck her head out the door, and Dawg slipped in past her, intent on greeting the rest of his pack. “What are you two doing out there? You're gonna wake the neighbors, and then I won't be the only one pointing a gun at you.”

Coop looked quizzically at me.

I raised the eyebrow on my unimpeded eye. “The woman's armed, and we didn't even know it.”

Never assume you have Kate's number, because she was always full of surprises. This night needed to end, and the sooner the better. But I felt a whole lot better after having released some tension, even if it had to be at the expense of my crap-covered arm.

Fourteen

“Ow!”

“Shay, shut up and stop being a baby,” Eddy muttered. I eyed her reflection in the mirror as she squinted at my forehead. One of her hands was full of bear and the other snipped more fur away.

We'd gathered in Kate's bathroom after bedding Agnes down in a spare bedroom and Baz on the couch, and relegating my sweatshirt to the wash. Luckily, Rocky slept through our noisy arrival. Now he was probably going to awaken from my cries of pain. What could I say? Bear fur, congealed blood, and a forehead gash weren't a recipe for a simple fix.

Kate, who favored an over-sized Paddington Bear t-shirt and matching boxers for sleepwear, leaned on one side of the doorjamb while Coop occupied the other, both watching in amusement while Eddy worked. With one last scissor slash, the bear was free. She tossed the toy at Coop, who one-handed the blood-covered, partially-bald animal.

“Thank you, Lord,” Eddy said. “I'm sorry this happened, Shay, but I didn't think I could take one more howl out of you.” She wet a washcloth and slapped it above my right eye. “Hold this on there a minute. It'll make it easier to clean up. Cut's not too big, maybe an inch or two.”

“So, Kate,” I said, trying to be careful not to move too much. “What's up with the six-shooter?”

“After being held at gunpoint by mobsters during Coop's murder investigation,” she elbowed Coop, “I bought it.”

Kate was queen of the unexpected.

Eddy grinned. “Gotta teach me how to use that.”

That was so the last thing we needed.

“So fill me in on what's going on,” Kate said, neatly sidestepping Eddy's comment.

My eyes drooped shut as I half-listened to Coop relate what had happened in the last forty-eight hours, including our nocturnal visit to Fletcher Sharp's place. Eddy's low voice added a colorful tidbit every so often. My body hurt, my beloved iPhone was sunk, and the baddies were back. It hadn't been a good day. All I wanted was to curl up with JT and go to sleep.

Eddy gently took the cloth from my hand. In no time, she cleaned me up and had three Steri-Strips holding my battle wound closed.

We moved en masse from the bathroom to the kitchen. I grabbed the bear as I was steered out of the bath. The thing was heavier than it should be, and I wanted to know if this animal was filled with the same kind of stuffing as Rocky's snake.

The mint-green-painted kitchen was small by most standards and carried a hint of Kate's legendary cinnamon rolls. My mouth watered at the thought.

I swiped a paring knife from a butcher-block on Kate's counter and fell into one of the four ladder-back chairs that encircled the table. Coop and Eddy followed suit while Kate flitted here and there, putting hot water on for tea, her power drink of choice.

As if reading my mind, she pulled a tin-foil-covered cake pan off the counter and set it between us on the tabletop. She peeled the foil back, and there, in all its frosting-covered, chewy goodness, was half a pan of the sinful rolls. I considered grabbing the whole thing, running for the bathroom, and locking the door behind me. Then I decided if I wanted to live, I'd better share.

Kate laughed at the obviously ravenous expressions on our faces. “I take it you're all hungry.”

She pulled plates out of the cupboard and forks from a drawer, whipped a huge knife from the butcher-block, and set to work cutting us generous pieces.

I stabbed the bear with my own small knife.

“Shay,” Eddy said in alarm. “What are you doing?”

“Trying,” I carefully tried to cut a hole in my ex-bandage, “to see if this has the same innards as the snake.”

Kate froze, the butcher knife in mid-air, silently watching me gut the bear.

Sure enough, mixed with white stuffing were wads of crumpled bills along with rolls of currency. I pulled out a few of the clumps and rolls. They all contained fifty and hundred dollar bills.

I thought Kate's eyes were going to spring out of her head. Nothing like a little show-and-tell to turn someone into a true believer. Like Fletcher Sharpe's slogan, Everything Is Hands On.

“Oh, my god,” Kate said. We sat in silence, looking at my bear massacre.

Coop said, “It wasn't a fluke. I can't believe Fletcher Sharpe would do something like this.”

“Proof's in the pudding, as they say.” Eddy picked up one of the rolls. She opened it and counted. “A thousand bucks in hundreds.”

What was this? Money laundering? Payoffs? Theft? Drug dough?

“Kate,” I said, “can you stow our little friend here somewhere safe?”

“Sure.” She waited until we'd replaced the loot in the bear and disappeared from the room with it. She returned shortly. I wasn't even going to ask where she'd tucked it away. Sometimes less knowledge is much safer.

Kate shook her head. “There's no lack of excitement with you guys, is there?” She set gooey, cinnamon roll-mounded plates in front us, and we dug in.

I swallowed my third bite. “I'm going to talk to JT's undercover cop friend, Dirty Harry, and see what he thinks about this whole mess.”

Eddy wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin she'd grabbed from a holder on the table and said, “It's time to get some real muscle on the case. Call in the big dogs.”

“I agree.” Coop nodded, albeit hesitantly. His innate distrust of law enforcement was in full bloom. He sighed. “What else can we do? We're in a fix the size of Idaho here. Who's good, who's bad?” He tapped his fork on a tooth. “But what if he's on the take, too?”

We chewed some more, contemplating that as well as the Zen rush the cinnamon rolls were giving us.

I said simply, “JT trusts him.”

“Then do it.” The whistle of the teapot ramped up, and Kate pulled the pot off the burner with practiced ease. She poured hot water into two mugs, one for Eddy and one for herself. Three boxes of tea appeared in front of Eddy, along with her steaming mug. Then Kate pulled a couple of cans of pop out of the fridge and handed them to Coop and me before she settled herself in a chair. The woman was as efficient at home as she was at the Hole.

I popped the top of the can. This no-cell thing sucked. I asked, “Can I use your phone?”

Kate pointed at the wall, where a white cordless was mounted. Dawg was curled right beneath it on his home-away-from-home dog bed, snoring softly and occasionally passing some very foul gas.

After washing down the roll with a couple swigs of Diet Coke, I grabbed the receiver, gave Dawg a pat, and sat back down. My thumb hovered over the push buttons as it occurred to me I had no idea what Harry's number was. I said as much.

For a breath, no one said anything. Kate pushed her chair away from the table and stood. “Shay, doesn't JT have her cell with her?”

“Yeah, she does.” I morosely propped my chin in my hand, very much ready to go to sleep and forget this whole thing. I was dangling at the unraveled end of my rope. “I don't know that number either. Who knows any phone numbers anymore? You program them in your phone and forget them.”

Kate walked out of the kitchen without a word.

Coop shrugged. Eddy raised her eyebrows at me and shook her head.

Ten seconds later Kate returned. She tossed her cell at me. I barely managed to stop it before it skidded across the tabletop and onto the floor.

“Nice phone. What do you want me to do with it?”

Kate laughed. “Call JT, silly.”

I'd forgotten Kate had possessed JT's number longer than I had. She'd had a torch for the woman for some time, but I was the lucky one who caught her.

After some random button pushing, I found the address book and scrolled down to the B's. Sure enough, there was JT Bordeaux.

Kate cleared the table as the line began to ring. It was 3:00 a.m. on the East Coast. At home, JT always slept with her cell right next to her head in case she got a call out in the middle of the night. I hoped she did the same thing at Quantico.

I counted four rings, and I expected the voicemail to kick in. There was a fifth ring, and then JT's sleep-groggy voice was on the other end.

“Kate?” she said hoarsely, her voice holding a hint of panic.

“Hey, babe, not Kate. It's me, Shay.”

“Shay?” There were five full seconds of silence on the line. Then in a rush JT said, “Where have you been? Are you okay? Where are you? How come you haven't been answering your phone?”

I should've expected her reaction, but the concern behind the harsh tone warmed my soul and made me miss her so bad I nearly choked up. I could hear more mumbling behind her in the background.

“Wait a minute,” she told me. I heard more rustling, then silence, then the sound of a hollow bang.

JT came back on the line, her voice echoing. “I'm in the bathroom. Didn't want to wake up my roommate.” She went from sleep-dazed to razor-sharp in a remarkably short amount of time. “Tell me what's going on.”

I was past being able to cherry-pick the events that wouldn't freak her out, so I laid it all out, the good, the bad, and the utterly terrifying.

When I was done, JT said nothing for what felt like forever, but was probably only fifteen seconds. She took and released a deep, measured breath. Then she said, “I thought something was wrong. I even talked to one of the guys here who runs the program to see what it would mean if I had to leave before I finished.”

I swallowed hard. The last thing I wanted to do was put the career JT had worked so hard at on the line. “And?”

“And,” she said, “if I leave, I forfeit the ride here, and I won't be asked back unless the reason for my departure involves a catastrophic accident, illness, or death involving an immediate family member. Or me. Jesus, Shay, I was afraid I was going to have to use that reason to come home.”

“I'm really sorry, JT. I didn't have any way to get a hold of you.” I felt terrible. Terrible for JT, for me, and even for Baz.

“Oh, Shay,” she whispered. The ache in my chest intensified, and it had nothing to do with the cinnamon bun heartburn I felt coming on and everything to do with the woman on the other end of the line. I opened my mouth to tell her I was sorry to have scared her, and that I loved her so much my heart hurt when she was away, to say the words that were somehow scaring me less every day. But the winds of
amore
dissipated when her tone became brisk, now in cop-mode. “Okay. Do you have paper and a pen?”

Kate was way ahead of me on the note-taking front and had placed a pad of paper and a stubby pencil in front of my nose at some point in the conversation. She was amazing, always anticipating, always aware. I picked up the pencil with a smile of thanks. “Go ahead, JT.”

“Here's Harry's number again. It's going to go straight to voicemail unless he's off duty, which he rarely is. Leave a message and he'll call you back as soon as he can. Then make copies of the number and give them to Coop, Eddy, and Kate. No way will
all
of you lose 'em.” She rattled the phone numbers off, and I carefully jotted them down.

She continued, “And here are my contact numbers, just in case.” She spewed off more digits.

I repeated all the phone numbers back to her to make sure I had them correct. “Look, JT, we're cool here. I don't need you to come home. I'll call Dirty Harry as soon as I'm off the phone with you, okay?”

JT heaved a sigh. “Tomorrow go to Wal-Mart or Target, or wherever they sell those pay-as-you-go phones. This way those bastards can't track you, if they have that capability. Program the phone numbers I gave you into them, and call and leave me a message on my voicemail with your new number.”

My woman was brilliant.

“Listen—” I hesitated, wanting to say more, wanting to tell her what my heart was hollering at me. “I miss you.” Wimp. Nothing but yellow-bellied sap sucker.

“I miss you too, babe. I really do. When I thought something might have happened—” JT's voice was suddenly huskier than usual, and she cleared her throat.

“Nothing did happen, so don't worry. I'll call you as soon as we get the new phones. Go back to sleep for ten minutes.”

“Very funny. Call me.”

“I will.” I hung up, very aware of the thumping of my heart. I let out a breath, happy to have the call done with, but missing JT worse than ever.

Kate said, “I have to be to the café at five-thirty. I'm going to hit the sack for a couple more hours.”

Eddy scooped up another cinnamon roll and deposited it on her plate. “If anyone comes to the café asking about any of us, you tell them you haven't seen us for days.”

Kate agreed, and we hammered out sleeping arrangements. I'd share a bed with her, Eddy would bunk with Agnes, and Coop headed for the basement and a ratty futon.

We bid Kate a good night, and I keyed the phone on again and dialed Harry. The ringing kicked into voicemail. I told him who I was and gave him a very brief rundown of what was going on. I asked him to call me back as soon as possible, and gave Kate's house number.
And please
, I prayed to anyone who would care to listen,
let Dirty Harry not be on the take
.