Worked to Death (Working Stiff Mysteries Book 2) (9 page)

"My get up and go has done got up and went." —Things We Say in the South

I got zero sleep. Between the motorboat sound that Sundae made as she snoozed deeply on the sofa and my checking and double-checking on Matty to be sure that she didn't (a) murder us in our sleep or (b) choke on her own stomach contents in her drunken stupor, I basically paced around the house all night waiting for the sun to come up.

The one thing I had accomplished was to retrieve the evidence containing garbage bag from under the sink and slip it into the trunk of my car. I hadn't been brave enough to try to extract the note that was covered in Matty's stomach contents, but I had it nonetheless. At least until I decided whether or not it was significant at any rate.

This had been a terrible night off from watching after my sister. I would remember this next time someone offered. I was better off locked behind closed doors with my sister and my pooch, Pickles.

I thought of him and decided to slip into the laundry room to phone Ms. Lanier and ask that she feed him.

I was going to have to change clothes at Hollon Brothers Towing this morning and not take my shower until after my shift. I certainly wouldn't have time for primping after taking Sundae home. It was already only an hour before my shift.

I had hoped that Matty would wake up so I could chat with her about Mick's death. To express my true condolences and to see if she seemed suspicious in the light of day. In all of my late-night pacing, I'd decided that I still couldn't believe she'd murder the man she'd been with all these years. I could still see them cuddling together under a stadium blanket in high school. I could still hear their laughter on the morning radio show.

Ms. Lanier had been right that it was an aggravating show. But I believed that the reason it grated was because they seemed so darned happy.

I tried to think of why Mick would throw all that away to be with the much older Ms. Jamison. I couldn't remember her all that clearly, but from what I could remember—she was certainly no Matty Thibault. It just didn't make sense. Why would he have an affair with her eight or nine years ago and then start back up again now?

The phone rang on the other end of my cell phone, and Ms. Lanier answered after only two rings.

"How'd your night go? I heard that you took one drunk, screaming widow home just to keep her from getting arrested by Devvie," Ms. Lanier said with no shortage of glee.

"Of course you know the details, did Ms. Maimie fill you in?"

"Well of course she did. We already had morning coffee. Apparently, Devvie came home and told her everything—including the fact that you have a date later today. Woo hoo! It's about time, girl." Her laughter was so loud that I held the phone out a few inches until the ruckus died down.

"It's not really a date." I tried to tone down her excitement. I was starting to have second thoughts about starting something up with Ms. Maimie's grandson anyway. I'd had time to think about it more, and one of the reasons that it was a bad idea was because I didn't want it to damage my relationship with my dear friend Ms. Maimie in any way.

"Okay. Okay. You're just having dessert. I know. That's what Devvie told her as well." Ms. Lanier tried to calm her voice, but I could tell that she was still smiling.

I smiled back through the phone.

"Listen, I wanted to see if you could feed Pickles for me. I have to take Sundae home and then get to work at Hollon's."

"No problem. He's actually over here with me right now."

"He's—what?" I looked down at the phone as if I could see through it.

"Yeah, hope you don't mind. I brought the poor dear over here last night. He seemed so sad that both his girls were gone."

I knew she was probably right. He'd had a tough time adjusting since he'd lost Aunt Patty, too. People sometimes forget that about animals. They do mourn.

"It's okay. Just don't feed him too much junk food. It really upsets his stomach."

"Roger that," she said. "Hey, you come by here right after work tonight and tell me all about your date—I mean dessert outing—and all about last night. I still like to see you now and again, ya hear?"

"Yeah, okay. After I pick up Paget. We'll be there." I thought of having a nice quiet evening at home. Alone. With my bathtub.

"I'll have dinner on the table for you." Ms. Lanier bribed me across the connection.

"Lasagna Thursday?" I asked, hopefully.

"Yep and garlic bread," she promised.

My stomach started rumbling.

*  *  *

We left Matty a note, and I drove Sundae home. Phoned Denise to check on Paget and then I swung by Back Porch to grab a sausage biscuit courtesy of Ms. Maimie's curbside service.

"I'll only do this for you, ya know?" she said and then gave me a long, fake eyelash wink.

"Thanks, Ms. Maimie. Are you coming over for dinner at Ms. Lanier's tonight?"

"Of course I am. We're having a Hoots meeting." She waved at me and headed back inside the café for the breakfast rush.

Another Hoots meeting? I tried to stay away from their meetings, which turned out to be more like hostile gossip sessions, but hadn't been successful yet. Somehow, despite my desperate attempt at showing disinterest and my even stronger attempt at discouraging them, they had a way to drag me into their crazy. And now, it looked like the death of Mick Thibault was next on the menu.

My phone rang as I pulled into the parking lot of the tow and body shop. I saw Dr. Cavello's number scroll across the screen.

"Hey, Dr. C." I grabbed my purse and bagged biscuit and hotfooted it inside.

"Mandy, can you swing by the funeral home later today? There is something I'd like to show you."

The request was sort of odd, but I had told him that I'd like to take a role in observing some of his coroner duties. Any experience I could gain would help me get back into med school when I was finally able to re-apply.

"Sure. Anything specific?" I pushed through the back door of Hollon Brothers, and the normal waft of grease and transmission fluid assaulted my nose.

"Yeah…Well, let's just discuss it when you get here. What time do you think you can come by?"

"Uh, maybe during my lunch break. Would that be enough time?" I was already thinking about how I was going to go home and shower and change at lunch, but this sounded important. I couldn't help but to think that Dr. C. sounded a little ominous.

We agreed to meet at 12:30 and ended the call.

I clocked in and then sat at the break room table to hastily down my biscuit. I could hear my boss yelling at someone on the phone one office over. I decided that I should finish my breakfast and get to my desk before the yelling was focused my way.

"And that's another thing… If I don't get payment in full from you by closing time, I'll be calling Ty Dempsey and telling him what I found in your car. Don't think I've forgotten that," Scabby Hollon threatened someone on the other end.

I secured my purse in my locker. Applied some deodorant and some lipstick. Ran my fingers through my hair and decided it was best not to check myself out too closely in the mirror. After a night of sleeplessness, I was sure that I wouldn't win any awards for beauty this a.m.

And thinking about beauty awards made me think of little Teensy Jamison. I wondered what she looked like now. And I wondered if her little sister was the daughter of Mick Thibault.

"These invoices are not going to get up and mail themselves out, girly," Scabby coughed at me in his smoker's voice.

I slammed my locker door and headed straight to my tiny desk located just outside of his cramped and disorganized office.

"I'm on it, boss." I smiled at him and thought about how I couldn't wait to find a full-time job so that I could stop shuttling back and forth between these two. I really wished I could work full time at the lab, but Mr. Andrulis had made it clear that it wasn't in his budget.

"Uh huh. You must want something. You're never this chipper in the morning." He eyed me with unhidden suspicion.

"Nope. Just want to put in my four hours and then clock out." In honesty, I was happy that I wouldn't have to go on a run today. After the big rig had been held for an evidence check, due to the body-in-the-trunk situation, that left him with only two mechanics and one driver plus one truck. That meant I was only needed in the office and that suited me to a tee.

He rubbed his arm and something black and oily made a path down to his hand. I tried not to make a "yuck" face.

"Well, Cletus will be here shortly, and he may need your help filling out his invoices. He had a little accident last night and his eye is all taped up. Some kind of chemical got in it or something." His voice trailed off as a loud crash sounded in the work bay.

The sound startled me, and I jumped up from my seat. We both made our way out to the garage area and found one of the mechanics shoved up against the wall of the garage. He was being held there, about a foot off the floor by the giant, barefoot redneck—Mr. Blue.

"What the Sam hell is going on in here?" Scabby barked at the assaulting visitor.

Our mechanic let out a choking, gurgling sound, and Mr. Blue turned his head to the side and spit a big wad of saliva on the garage floor. His eyes were dilated to huge saucers, and he was sweating profusely.

"How dare you come into my place of business and act like this," Scabby's voice had risen to a hoarse scream.

I backed slowly out of the room and grabbed my phone out of my back pocket. Dialing Ty's number.

Loud voices echoed from the garage, but I couldn't make out all the words from the loud beating in my ears emanating from my pounding heart.

"Hey, Mandy. I'm glad you called." Ty's voice was fairly chipper.

"Ty, can you get over to the tow shop now? That Blue guy from the gym is killing our mechanic," my voice spat out the words, and I looked over my shoulder to make sure that I was still alone.

"Are you serious?" He sounded as if he wanted to laugh. As if he thought I was pulling an old high school prank on him.

"Ty—please—get—" The phone was slapped out of my hand, and I let out a little scream. It sounded almost like a puppy yelp and surprised both me and my attacker as we both froze and stared at each other for a split second.

"You. Come with me." Mr. Blue and his thick drawl commanded me to leave with him.

I shook my head and backed away from him. I wanted to get back to Scabby's office and lock the door. That was my plan anyway.

But before I could get more than a couple steps away, he grabbed my hair and started yanking me forward and with him, back toward the garage.

"Noo—stop," I cried as my scalp burned with each tug of his fingers, and my eyes watered in response to the pain.

"You think you can disrespect me? Just stick your nose in the air and leave when I'm talking to you?" he was saying as he pulled me out of the large car bay doors and toward a jacked-up truck.

I had no idea what he was talking about and couldn't imagine that he was doing all of this because I'd not flirted with him at the post office. But I was being forced to keep moving with him or endure extreme pain.

"I'm sorry?" I tried, as I hoped this would suffice and cause him to let up on his grip.

"Sorry? No, you're not sorry. You're always sticking your nose into people's bidness. You're everywhere. Every time I turn around. Who do you think you are? A spy?"

He shoved me against the side of his truck and wrenched open the back door. I'd hit the side pretty hard, and the breath had been knocked out of me. I bent at the waist and tried to catch my breath.

"Get in there." He motioned to the back seat of his truck.

I
wasn't
getting in there. Who knew where I'd end up or what he'd do to me if I got in there. I didn't plan on finding out. And even if I'd wanted to, I had no idea how one even got up into these things. The bottom of the truck's doorframe had to be at least four feet off the ground.

I shook my head. He slapped me across the face and grabbed me around the neck. Leaning in close, his eyes wild and his spittle assaulting my face, he snarled, "Get in the damned truck."

I closed my eyes. Trying to calm myself and hoping to come up with an ingenious plan of escape. Hoping beyond hope that Ty or Devon or one of the guys would arrive just in time.

And then there was a loud crunching sound and the pressure around my neck loosened. I peeked open one eye.

There, in front of me, was Colin Brooks—my secret agent mystery man. A real life spy.

"If that don't get yer fire started, your wood's wet." —Things We Say in the South

"Miss me?" He smiled.

I fell forward into his arms, which he wrapped around me. I started crying right into his shoulder. Inhaling between sniffles his warm woodsy scent. I thought maybe I was imagining things. I hadn't seen him in so long, and here he was when I'd needed him most.

"What are you…? Where have you…? How did you…?" I couldn't make my brain work, and my mouth was trying to catch up to my thoughts.

"Shh. Are you okay?" He ran his hand through my hair in long, downward strokes, and I calmed down though my scalp still hurt, my cheek stung, and no doubt I'd have a lovely necklace of bruises coming up around my throat sometime soon. But I took a deep breath, finally pushing back from him and looked into his deep, grey eyes.

"I've been better." My voice was scratchy, and I had the sudden realization that I must look like a nightmare. This was
not
the way I'd envisioned us making our re-acquaintance with one another after almost five months. I'd planned to look perfect, and he would hoist me up onto the back of his bike, and we'd ride off into the sunset—well after a nice meal, of course.

"Yeah, sorry I didn't get here sooner."

I gave him a look. "Sooner? You've been gone for five months."

I wanted to be mad at him. I'd planned to give him a piece of my mind. And then he smiled.

I melted a little.

"I've been around." He stepped back and looked me over as if checking for injuries.

"You have?" I looked him up and down, and he looked absolutely perfect. Perfect-fitting jeans. A black T-shirt. Not quite clean-shaven.

The sound of sirens in the distance drew his eyes away from the examination of my body.

"I need to run. But I'll come by later, okay?"

"Why do you need to run?"

He winked at me. I gave him a small smile. I hoped he saw that I was pouting.

The sound of a groan emanated from inside the garage. We both turned to see old man Hollon on the floor of the garage. He looked hurt.

When I turned back to Colin, he was gone. Dang him and his ghosting skills. I would never get used to that.

I looked down at my attacker, and he was completely unconscious on the ground. He hadn't moved a muscle since Colin's arrival. I didn't know what move he'd made on him, but it was a good one.

I ran into the garage to check on my boss.

"Are you okay, Mr. Hollon?" I knelt down and took his hand in mine. I tried to assess his injuries. His arm was bent back at an awkward angle. I was pretty sure his shoulder was dislocated.

"No, I'm not okay, girly. My shoulder hurts like hell." He let out a few pants of hot air.

"I think I know how to fix this," I said, remembering rounds that I'd spent in the emergency room at school. I'd watched an orthopedic surgeon kick off his thousand dollar loafers, jump up on a gurney, wrap a towel around the neck and shoulder of a patient, and pull her shoulder back into place. She'd let out one little scream, and then she'd felt tons better.

"What? No. Just call the medics." He cried a little in pain after the last word.

"Are you sure? I can fix this in two minutes." I looked around for a towel and found an oilcloth nearby. The mechanic was still and quiet near the far wall. I needed to check on him as well. And for a split second, I feared he was dead, but then I made out the rise and fall of his chest. Whew.

"Get away from me," Mr. Hollon cried out between each word as I kicked off my boots and pressed the heel of my foot to his neck to apply counter pressure.

The sound of two car doors slamming behind me grabbed his attention. "Mandy, are you okay?" Ty's voice yelled out, panic filled the timbre.

"Thank God, it's the police. Get this crazy woman off me." Scabby was yelling in a rather high-pitched voice. And as he looked around me, I pulled. Snap.

*  *  *

Scabby had fired me at least half a dozen times during the moments while the medics assessed his injuries, strapped him to a gurney, and placed him in the back of the ambulance. I hoped he'd change his mind once he felt better, but I had bigger problems to worry about at the moment.

Brady Blue, the barefoot redneck, had been arrested and was already on his way to the police station where he would be booked on at least three counts of aggravated assault and possibly attempted kidnapping. Not to mention some sort of controlled substance charge as was yet to be determined. But I'd given Ty all the details about his wild, mega-dilated eyes and his profuse sweating.

If my training had taught me anything it was how to recognize someone hopped up on drugs.

"Are you sure you don't want them to come back and pick you up?" Ty asked as the second ambulance rolled off the lot with the mechanic who'd taken a rather severe beating from Mr. Blue and who had yet to regain consciousness.

"I'm fine." I rubbed my scalp as I spoke the words.

"Let me see…" Ty reached over and smoothed my hair down, leaning in close to inspect my head.

I pulled away a little. "It's okay, Ty. He just pulled my hair a lot. I'll survive."

He seemed reluctant to let it go but finally acquiesced to my pleas. "Any idea what the original fight was about?"

"You mean with the mechanic?" I asked, trying to piece together the scene in my memory.

He nodded.

I shook my head slowl
y
a headache was pressing in behind my eyes. "No, I really don't know. Mr. Hollon and I were in the office when we heard the fight break out. He was choking the life out of the guy by the time we came in. We didn't hear any discussions."

Ty kicked a piece of gravel across the lot. His frustration was evident. And I knew he'd been worried about me.

"That was some phone call, Mandy. You scared the life out of me when you dropped that phone, and I heard you screaming."

"Sorry," I said, my throat was suddenly very dry. It was hard to hear him so emotional. It took me back to a night many years ago, and I tried to steer clear of those memories—they had a habit of getting me into trouble.

"No." He reached out to help me up off the workbench I'd been perched on. "I don't want you to apologize. I'm just—I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner."

"It's okay, Ty. I've survived." I tried a reassuring tone and a soft smile.

He stared at me, his face soft one moment and tighter the next. "Yeah, so about that. You managed to escape from and knock unconscious a man three times your size before we arrived on scene, exactly how?"

"Okay, so I'll tell you. But promise you won't be mad." I scanned the parking lot, but saw no trace of my mystery man. It was silly to think that I would, but somehow it was always as if he was listening from the shadows.

He tilted his head to the side, his eyes boring into mine. He was waiting for my answer.

"Colin was here."

"Colin—what? You mean—" He stumbled over his words in disbelief. "Colin Brooks?"

"Yes."

"Was here?"

"Yes."

"With you?"

"Yes. Well, not
with
me. But he showed up." I touched my sensitive neck with my fingertips and wondered if and when bruises would show up.

"Let me guess…he swooped in and saved you at a dramatic moment?" Ty put his hands on his hips and turned his back to me.

I knew he was trying to get his emotions under control. The two men had never been fans of one another, and Ty was always on the lookout for him to come back into town.

"Something like that." I felt sheepish in my response, but Ty had pretty much hit the nail on the head.

"Any idea where I can find him?" He spun around slowly and looked at me with determination and hope.

I let out a pent-up breath. "You know he doesn't work like that."

"But he will be by to see you again, I'm sure." Ty's words carried something like jealousy mixed with—irritation—mixed with sadness.

I didn't answer. Probably best not to answer.

"So, let me see if I have this right. Brady Blue shows up, nearly kills the mechanic, attacks Scabby Hollon, and then tries to kidnap you. Colin Brooks, a/k/a Mr. Government Spy, ghosts in and saves the day but then disappears. We don't know if he's involved with this in any way or if he's tracking Blue or if he was tracking you. Is that somewhat the story here?" He crossed his arms over his chest and the little muscle in his cheek started pulsating.

That was not a good sign.

"Yeah, I think that's about right. But, there's one more thing—I'm not sure if it is related to this or not." My brain flew through thoughts of Matty Thibault and her note, Mick Thibault and his affair with Ms. Jamison, and Randall Jamison's pending DNA test at the lab. But I decided to keep those things to myself for the moment.

"I was at O'Hannigan's last night," I started.

"Yeah, I heard." He interrupted and then looked up at the sky as if assessing the weather.

I wondered if he meant that he knew about my date with Officer Keith. I had a suspicion that he did. Little was kept under wraps for long in this town, and I knew that Ty ate breakfast at the Back Porch every day. I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd heard it from Ms. Maimie herself.

"And," I said, trying to stay on topic, "Brady Blue was there having some sort of heated discussion with Hank O'Hannigan."

Ty's interest was definitely peaked. "What were they saying?"

"I can't remember all the details, but something about a bad batch. And he mentioned an overdose." I strained to remember more details.

"What else?" Ty was staring hard at me.

"Umm…he mentioned a name…Brown, I think." I nodded. Proud of myself for remembering so much.

"Is that it?" Ty sounded less thrilled with my memory.

"Yes, that's it." I was beginning to get frustrated now. "It was loud in there with all the music. It was only because we were in that back booth by the kitchen door that I heard it anyway. Do you think this is helpful? Is Blue a drug dealer or something?"

Ty turned to walk toward his cruiser. "Sound like a possibility. I'll check into it."

"Wait." I stood up and followed him. "Is that it?"

"Why? Do you want me to take you by Millbrook Memorial to get a doctor to check you out?" he asked as he opened his door and stepped one foot inside the car.

The mention of a doctor reminded me that I was supposed to meet with Dr. C. at my lunch break and that had to be coming up soon.

"No, I'm seeing Dr. C. in a bit. I'll let him check me over then, okay?"

He slid inside the car without further comment.

"Ty…," I said, feeling as if something important was still hanging in the air.

"What?" he asked.

"Uh…do you think any of this has anything to do with Mick Thibault's death?" I surprised myself with the question. I think what I'd really wanted to ask was if he was mad at me for going out with Officer Keith.

He stuck his key into the ignition, and the door-open chime began to sound. "I have no idea, Mandy. But if Brooks shows up again, please ask him to come by and see me. If he can tear himself away from you for a moment."

He cranked the car and slammed the door.

I watched him drive away.

Interesting. I'd had no men in my life for months, and now, I had three too many.