A Teeny Bit of Trouble (33 page)

I found my way back to Dracula’s den and sat down on the sofa. In the distance, the phone rang, and I heard Red’s gruff voice. I clicked on the TV.
Wild at Heart
was playing on Showtime. Sailor and Lula were doing the big nasty in the Big Easy.

Red handed me a cup of peppermint tea. “You look tense,” he said, then leaned over to scratch Sir’s ear.

“I am.”

“Maybe you should read Zen philosophy.”

“I’ll try anything.” I took a sip of tea.

“You ever heard of Bruce Lee? He’s an actor and a karate expert. He said water doesn’t have a shape. It’s free flowing.” Red wove his hands through the air. “But if you pour water into a vase, the water assumes the shape of the vase. They’re a single entity. If the vase shatters, the water runs everywhere. It’s shapeless. Chaotic. When things get tough, do what Bruce says. Be water, girlie.”

“I can’t be what I’m not.”

“Think you’re tough, don’t you?” He grinned.

“I aim to please.” I smiled. “Who was that on the phone?”

“Don’t ask. You’ll just freak out.”

“I’m already freaked.”

“A bass fisherman found two bodies in Lake Bonaventure,” he said. “One was Vlado the Russian. The other was the cosmetology girl. Both had ligature marks on their hands and ankles. Whatever was holding them down in the water must’ve come loose. And the bodies floated up.”

A painful gas bubble was growing in my chest, pressing against my ribs. I raised the cup and inhaled the gut-calming peppermint.

“The state ME is down here. A crew is exhuming bodies from the Bonaventure Cemetery. The docs are doing posts in a big plastic tent.” Red paused. “The DA will offer Mr. Winky a deal. He’ll talk before it’s over. I’m guessing that the Russian put Kendall in that shallow grave.”

“But who put Vlado’s body in the lake? Josh is in a wheelchair. He couldn’t do it. Winky’s in jail.”

“There’s no telling who’s involved.”

“Like the Philpots?”

“The Feds haven’t found any evidence that links them.”

“I might have.” I told him about the printout I’d found at the pharmacy.

“Inadmissible, girlie,” he said, and launched into a diatribe about the exclusionary rule. I raised my hand.

“Save it. I may break in that store again. I haven’t cracked all of those anagrams. Barb left something on that wall, and she wanted Coop to find it.”

“You’re not above the law.”

“I don’t care. The day Kendall died, I told Coop that someone was harvesting organs. He blew me off. And I was right.”

“Do you want to be right? Or do you want to be happy?”

“Quit using psychology on me and act like a detective. Barb’s murder is connected to the chop shop. So is Kendall’s. I bet the Sweeney police arrested the wrong man.”

“Maybe. A witness saw Barb arguing with a man. They were in a Sullivan’s Island bar.”

“Coop told me about that.”

“The police are gonna show the witness pictures. The Philpot brothers, Josh, Winky, the Russian, and Son Finnegan.”

I set down my cup a little harder than I intended, and it banged against the saucer. “I saw that man in the mask. He was tall and skinny. Son has muscular thighs. And Vlado was stumpy.”

Red stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Before you go postal, hear me out. The GBI questioned Dr. Finnegan. He admitted that he and Barb had rubbed no-no parts. Then his lawyer showed up, and the doc stopped talking.”

The gas bubble in my chest burst, spilling acid into my throat. Son and Barb had been lovers? My pulse beat in my ears,
train, train, train
. Barb had been the engine, and Son was the caboose.

Red was watching me. “Finnegan could be mixed up in this, homegirl.”

“Why don’t you test his DNA and see if it matches the sample that was left on my nightgown?”

“That’s another thing I wanted to tell you. The substance on your gown wasn’t semen. It was watered-down confectioners’ sugar.”

*   *   *

While Red swam laps in the O’Malleys’ pool, I watched TV. The discovery of Kendall’s body had made the Savannah news, minus the gruesome details. A NewsCam tried to interview Mr. Winky outside the jail as he did a perp walk, but he pulled his shirt over his face.

The portable phone rang and I snatched it up. “Hey, Boots.” Son’s voice poured over me like scalding-hot lava cake.

I glanced out the window. The pool was empty. “How’d you know where to find me?”

“Drove by the O’Malleys’ house and saw your truck. Bet Irene is tickled to have you around.”

“Delirious.”

“Is Cooter around?”

“Right beside me.”

“Sneak out. We can have dinner and catch a movie.”

“Stop calling me.” I clicked off.

I heard a rustling noise. I looked up. Red stood in the doorway. “Was that the boss?”

I shook my head.

He leaned toward me, giving off the sharp bite of chlorine, and snatched the portable phone. He scrolled through the numbers and his eyes narrowed. “You called Son Finnegan?”

“He called me.”

“How’d he know you were here?”

“Stalkers have their ways.”

“It’ll kill the boss if you’re seeing Finnegan on the sly.”

“I’d never do that. If anyone’s cheating, it’s Coop.”

Red’s mouth opened and closed. “He’s not.”

“Does Coop work with a brunette lawyer?”

“You mean Sherry Beth?”

“Lester said her name was Chlamydia.”

“Sheesh, no. She’s a nice lady. The boss isn’t interested in her.”

“I called him yesterday. He wasn’t at the beach. Something was beeping in the background. A TV was blaring. He wouldn’t tell me where he was.”

Red shoved the phone into the charger. “Boss ain’t banging Sherry Beth or nobody.”

“Fine. Let’s call him right now.” I lunged for the phone and dialed the beach house. I held out the receiver so Red could hear it ring. And ring.

I hung up and dialed Coop’s cell, but I got turfed straight to voice mail. Next, I called the law firm, and a curt voice told me Mr. O’Malley was out of the office for the rest of the week.

I hadn’t expected that. My hand shook when I set the portable phone back in the charger. I glanced up at Red. “If you know where Coop is, now would be a good time to let me know.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I promised.”

“Let me get this straight. Coop gets to know where I am, but I don’t get to know where he is?”

“He’s not doing nothing wrong.”

“How can he take off the rest of the week? I thought his job was on the line.”

“The situation has changed.”

“Okay, tell me one thing. Is he alone?”

Red tucked a towel around his waist. “Not exactly.”

“Who’s taking care of T-Bone?”

“The mutt’s in good hands. Look, I’ll talk to the boss. I’ll tell him you’re upset. If he gives the go-ahead, I’ll explain everything.”

“
You’ll
explain? Right.” I led Sir to the truck. We got in and I blasted toward the historic district. By the time I reached Monterey Park, my thoughts had turned to murder. Everyone who’d known about the harvesting was dead. Barb, Kendall, Vlado, and the Gothy cosmetologist. True, Winky had been in jail when the last three victims had gone missing, but he probably had helpers.

Maybe one of them was Son Finnegan.

The noon sun skated through the clouds while I drove to the farm. Asia’s van was gone, and so was Zee’s car. I was scared to go inside the house. Sir tapped his paw against my arm, his way of saying, Let’s get out of the heat.

“But someone could be in the house,” I said. “It’s not safe for you, either.”

Sir panted, his ears twitching back and forth.

“Go ahead and say it,” I told him. “You think I’m a coward.”

His forehead wrinkled, making me think of that scene in
Blue Velvet
when Dennis Hopper had sniffed nitrous oxide. That movie had centered around body parts, too. I just couldn’t seem to escape it. Not in movies. Not in my imagination. Not in real life.

Sir wriggled away from me. He ran to the other side of the seat and stretched his paws on the window. Over his head, I saw a column of dust move down the driveway. A gold Corvette shot around the bend and angled in front of the house.

I cranked the truck, ready to back out. Then Dot climbed out of the car, the sun glinting on her cockatoo hair. Gold crucifix earrings dangled from her lobes. Her left arm was in a sling.

“Teeny, why are you sitting in that hot truck?” she called.

I was so relieved to see her, I scrambled out of the truck. Sir hopped out after me.

“I’ve been calling and calling,” she said. “Someone named Asia keeps answering.”

“He’s a friend.” We walked toward the house. “What happened to your arm?”

“A rapist broke in my house last night,” she said. “He crawled in through a window.”

The hairs on my arms lifted. “Did he…?”

“No, no. I kicked him in the balls. He had a tiny male part, but awesome upper body strength. He just about broke my arm. Then he let Mama’s budgies loose just for pure meanness. I’ll never catch them. I was already upset over this organ stealing ring. Have you heard about it?” She rolled her eyes. “I hate to drink in the daytime, but I need something real strong.”

“I’ve got gin and tonic.”

“Perfect. Tonic water fights malaria and limes prevent scurvy.”

We went inside. While I made her a drink, she rehashed the attack. “I didn’t see his face. But I just know it was Dr. Philpot.”

I squeezed the lime a tad hard, and juice squirted into the air. “How?”

“Cause he said, ‘Open your legth.’”

“What made him attack you?”

“I egged him on a little,” Dot said. “I was in the drugstore yesterday and Norris ogled me. Asked me for a date. I told him to kiss my asth. Normally I don’t smart off to people, especially to alleged rapists. But he was so obnoxious, I couldn’t help myself.”

From the driveway, a car door slammed. Dot jumped. “It’s him,” she whispered. “I just know it.”

I grabbed a rolling pin just as Asia walked into the kitchen. He set down a sack from Salad Days. “Hey, Teeny, you’re back,” he said. He looked at the pin, but didn’t comment.

Dot gave him a dreamy smile. Asia ignored her and lifted two cartons from the bag. “You ladies hungry? I just bought some blueberry chicken salad. It’s better with sautéed walnuts.”

“Love some,” Dot said.

He dumped walnut halves in a hot iron skillet, added a pat of butter and olive oil, then turned up the heat.

Dot gave him the once-over. “Are you a chef?”

“Microbiologist.” He shook the frying pan, toasting the nuts on all sides until a smoky aroma filled the room. He piled the chicken salad into a romaine nest, then added a sprinkle of walnuts and a small cluster of green grapes.

Dot’s face brightened when he slid the plate in front of her. “Praise the Lord for blueberry chicken salad,” she said. “It’s filled with protein, complex carbohydrates, and antioxidants.”

Asia grabbed a basket and opened the back door. “I’ll be in the orchard, getting me some peaches. You ladies be good.”

“It’s too much fun being bad.” Dot blew him a kiss. “The badder the better.”

After Dot finished her salad, we moved to the parlor. I paused by the hi-fi and put on a stack of records. While Elvis belted out “Love Me Tender,” I curled up on the sofa next to Dot.

“This is just like old times,” she said. “Me and you and Rayette used to sit in here and talk about sex, Jesus, and food. Whatever happened to old Rayette?”

“She married an electrician and they moved to Alabama,” I said.

Dot propped her hurt arm on a pillow. “I hope the police catch Norris-the-rapist. Because I’m starting to wonder if he killed Lester’s girlfriend. Maybe Norris tried to rape her, too. I bet he got her drunk. Maybe she escaped. Then she wrecked her car. Norris might have found out she was in the hospital. He could’ve sneaked into her room and killed her.”

I’d been thinking along the same lines. “But he used to be on the medical staff. Wouldn’t someone have seen him?”

“We have a lot of new employees. Norris could have worn sunglasses and a hat. He could pass for a visitor. All he had to do was inject a fatal dose of potassium into her IV. Insulin would work, too.”

“Aren’t those drugs traceable?”

“Yes. But she was cremated. Now the news is saying someone put kitty litter in her urn. And her poor little body was cut to pieces.” Dot shook her head. “If murder can happen in Bonaventure Regional, no place is safe.”

“After a hospital patient dies, what happens to the body?” I asked.

“Our morgue caught on fire three months ago. It’s being remodeled. The deceased are transported to a holding room next to the ER. Then a funeral home picks up the body.”

“So where are autopsies done?

“At the funeral home.”

“Could the coroner be involved in this organ stealing ring?”

“I doubt it. Mr. Winky and that Russian boy were probably behind it.”

“What about Josh?”

“Oh, honey. I don’t think so. He trusted Winky. Josh didn’t trouble himself with the day-to-day stuff. He just planned funerals.” Dot shifted toward me. “I bet Winky was doing this on the side. And he hired Norris-the-rapist to remove corneas. I bet that lispy-lipped, murdering miscreant planned to cut me up into itty pieces. Then again, Son Finnegan is a board-certified plastic surgeon.”

“But Son moved to Bonaventure a few months ago. He hasn’t had time to hook up with a chop shop.”

“Unless they recruited him,” she said.

“Would harvesters do that?” I frowned.

“Well, it makes sense. Hospitals recruit doctors all the time. Son did skin grafts at the base hospital in Germany. He was in contact with tissue banks. Maybe he returned to Bonaventure to set up a chop shop.”

“What if he didn’t? What if another surgeon is harvesting the organs?”

“Remember, crime is in Son’s blood. His dad was a felon. His brothers are in and out of prison.”

“Son grew up poor, but he’s never broken the law,” I said.

“That you know of.” She took off her earrings and set them on the coffee table. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Norris-the-rapist and Son-of-Cissy are involved in this harvesting ring. Son has lost several young, healthy patients. He spends his money on expensive toys. He’s got a Jaguar, a ski boat, and a ten thousand-square-foot house on the lake. And, he’s bought everything in the last three months.”