Woody glanced at his watch, sighed and leaned his head against the headrest. “Jenn was mad at me because we got arrested. Like it was my fault. I tried to explain that it wasn’t my fault. It was your fault.”
Rhetta shot him a look, which he probably couldn’t tell much about in the dark. She chose not to answer him. No point in arguing. Instead, she felt along the top of the console for her cell phone, and glanced down long enough to speed dial Randolph. “Yes, we’re fine. I’m dropping Woody off at the office, then I’ll be right home.” She disconnected, then returned the iPhone to the console. She couldn’t just let his remark slide past. “What do you mean it was my fault? I’m not the one who had drugs stashed. Anyway, if it’s any consolation, I think Randolph is mad at me, too. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him strangle on words like he did when he asked me to repeat where I was.”
“He ought to be plenty mad. I know I am.” When Rhetta started to protest, Woody held up his hand in a stop gesture, and didn’t let her speak.
“We had no business being at the Pink Peacock, no matter what time of the day. That is Sin City, and today, we were the sinners.”
“Woody, how can you say that? We didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sure this will all be cleared up.” She fiddled with the radio, turning it on, then off. “Besides, we needed to find Mylene Allard. We had nothing to do with her operation, and this will all be straightened out.” She dared hope her bravado rang true. Of all the places to be caught in a drug bust, Alexander County, Illinois had to be the worst place on earth. She had heard nothing good about any of the officials or cops there. In fact, what she always heard was how crooked they all were.
“Sure it will. I heard the deputies say they found a huge stash of drugs, and there you were, sitting and enjoying a drink with the woman they’d come after. There’s going to be plenty to have to clear up. I don’t think we looked too innocent, even to me.” He sighed and rubbed his head three times. “I should’ve known better than to go with you on a hunt for that woman.”
Rhetta turned into the now dark office parking lot and stopped alongside Woody’s Jeep. “I’ll wait to make sure your car starts before I leave.” She didn’t like that the parking lot didn’t have any night lighting.
He cut her a look, started to say something, then apparently thought the better of it. He just shook his head and climbed out of the car.
Within a minute, the Jeep pulled out on to Kingshighway. Rhetta followed, turned the opposite way and aimed Streak for home. She glanced at her watch. It was nearly 9:00 PM.
Although Randolph remained calm when she’d finally got hold of her purse and phone and was able to call him to tell him what had happened, she heard the edge to his voice. It reminded her of her mother’s tone whenever Rhetta called home after staying out past curfew. Her mother always reprimanded her when she got home. Rhetta braced for a scolding from Randolph, too.
She turned up the Oldies. It would take much more than the DJ, Cousin Brucie, playing Andy Kim, the Beach Boys or the Righteous Brothers to cheer her up. She had to be back in court in Alexander County in one week to face arraignment. She turned the radio off and swerved into a convenience store parking lot, and stopped near the trashcans. Opening the console, she rooted around under her tissues and sunglasses and pulled out her secret stash. Leaning against the front fender, she slipped on her plastic gloves, fired up a cigarette and inhaled a deep, lung-filling jolt of nicotine. She stood and smoked the cigarette down to the smallest nub she’d ever managed to smoke a butt down to. When there wasn’t enough left for a single drag, she ground out the stub, peeled off the gloves and tossed them and what was left of the pack of smokes into the trashcan. Disgusted with herself, she climbed back in the SUV and headed home.
* * *
The motion sensor light over the garage door clicked on, spilling daylight quality floodlighting into the driveway when she pulled up. That reminded her to ask the landlord about installing lights in their parking lot at work.
The door took forever to fold upward. It probably didn’t, really, but her dread of going in made the door appear to move slowly. After she parked Streak, she slipped into the kitchen from the garage. The house was dark and silent. She listened intently and couldn’t hear any sounds from the television. Switching on the overhead recessed lighting, she called out cheerfully, “Sweets, I’m home,” hoping to make light of the situation. Her heart, however, wasn’t so light.
From the deck, Randolph slid open the glass door, and padded into the kitchen. He was wearing his slippers and the blue robe she’d bought for his birthday. Her heart melted. He carried in an empty iced-tea glass, and set it gently into the sink. Guiltily, Rhetta thought about smoking the cigarette. Randolph could’ve easily used the occasion as a reason to justify mixing himself a drink, but chose iced tea instead. Hearing that your wife was arrested in a neighboring state for possession with the intent to distribute drugs would have driven anyone to drink. He had really quit drinking. She vowed she’d never buy another pack of cigarettes.
He rinsed the glass, opened the dishwasher and set it carefully inside. Then he turned around to Rhetta and opened his arms. “Come here.” She melted into his embrace. They stood silently, Rhetta soaking up the love she felt from her husband.
He led her to the kitchen table and sat her down. “Do you want some coffee?” She shook her head. “Are you hungry?”
When she nodded, Randolph went to the refrigerator and brought out ham, condiments and a fresh loaf of wheat bread. She watched him as he unwrapped the ham, her mouth watering at the sweet smoky fragrance of the meat. He placed the food on the table, then sat across from her, taking her hands in his. “Want to tell me how this happened?”
She told him everything. Except the part about smoking.
Chapter 34
“I can’t understand why Mylene Allard posted bond for us, but I’m sure grateful she did.” Rhetta guided a knife through the boneless ham. She arranged the slices on a small platter along with wheat bread, and retrieved a couple of plates from the cabinet. Now that she was home, she was ravenous. She and Woody had been incarcerated right through the supper hour. She returned to the table with the plates and a tin of chocolate chip cookies. She couldn’t fathom what Alexander County would have served them. Probably bread and water. Or nothing.
Randolph poured them each a glass of milk while she prepared their sandwiches. He returned the milk to the refrigerator. “Maybe she just wants you out of her hair, so she can get back to work. Mylene is probably selling drugs at the Pink Peacock.” He eyed the cookies.
“Heck if I know about any drugs. I didn’t see any, even when the deputies were tearing the place apart. She was just about to elaborate on Malcom Griffith and Jeremy Spears when we were, ah, interrupted.” Rhetta stuffed a bite of the ham sandwich into her mouth. She swallowed, then studied what was left. She found a piece of fat still clinging to the ham, so she carefully peeled it off. “She did tell me that she and Jeremy were half-brother and -sister. Malcom was their father. She managed to get herself out of jail almost immediately, while we sat around for a couple of hours.” She took a long drink of milk and wiped the cat whisker off her upper lip. “I wonder why she posted bail for us? Maybe she knew the officers wouldn’t let us make any phone calls. By the way, isn’t that unconstitutional?”
“Apparently not in Illinois. They have their own ideas. That ought to teach you to stay away from there permanently.” Randolph finished one sandwich and began preparing a second for himself.
“I hate to hear that about Illinois. I still like Chicago,” Rhetta said, and took another bite. She dabbed at her lips with a paper napkin. “Umm, this is delicious. I’m so happy to be home.”
Randolph had to smile. “Then stay out of Alexander County, will you? I’ll call the State’s Attorney in the morning and see if we can work something out.” He finished his sandwich, and snatched a paper towel to dab his chin.
“Her lawyer looked pretty sharp. He wore a
dark green suit that looked like it was silk. And his shoes were those European, loafer-style, with tassels in a sort of cordovan color. Is cordovan still a color? Anyhow, he didn’t wear a dress shirt, but had on a pale green T-shirt and no socks. He looked more like a rapper than a lawyer. Or a member of the Chicago Bulls. He was the tallest man I’ve ever met.” Rhetta wolfed the rest of her sandwich and eyed the remaining two pieces of ham on the plate. Randolph snatched one and left one for her. She scarfed the last piece. Randolph popped open the tin of cookies and nabbed several. Rhetta reached for a cookie, then changed her mind. No cookies. Still, she eyed the cookies longingly.
While he sat there nibbling, Rhetta gathered their plates for the dishwasher. “At any rate, Mylene may be my new best friend, especially if she sent her lawyer to bail us out.” Rhetta veered to her purse sitting on the island. “I have his card.” After digging around, she waved it triumphantly. “His name is Matthew Elias.”
Randolph sniffed and held up a cookie for closer inspection. “Mylene may now be your new worst enemy, especially if she’s a murderer selling dope.” He plopped the cookie into his mouth.
“I don’t think she killed anybody. And I have a hard time believing she’s peddling or using dope.”
“Then why does she have the most powerful lawyer in Illinois representing her?”
“You know Matthew Elias?” Rhetta filled the soap dispenser in the dishwasher and pushed the start button. The dishwasher began filling with water.
“You ever heard of Kill-R-Dogg, the rapper?” Randolph closed the cookie tin and carried it across the kitchen to the pantry.
Rhetta cleaned the sink and gathered up the morning newspaper that was spread out on the countertop. “No, can’t say that I have. Sixties on Six doesn’t play much rap.” The dishwasher began sloshing its way through the cycles.
“He’s the singer-slash-rapper that was accused of killing that thirteen-year-old girl last year.”
Rhetta turned from the dishwasher, and dried her hands on a kitchen towel. “I remember that.” Rhetta vividly recalled the horrifying story of the raised-in-the-hood success-story rapper who’d been accused of kidnapping and molesting, and finally killing a young girl who’d gone to a concert. She had been missing for nearly a month when police arrested Kill-R-Dogg and charged him. He denied any wrongdoing, even after they found her brutalized body buried on the grounds of his country home outside Evanston, Illinois.
“Uh-huh. After getting him off, Elias is now the most sought-after criminal defense attorney in Illinois. Now you tell me he’s Mylene’s lawyer.”
“Oh, crap.”
Chapter 35
Rhetta was the first to arrive at the office the next morning. The sun shone brilliantly in a cloudless cerulean sky. Although the day was picture perfect, her mood didn’t match it. She replayed the events of the previous day, still worried about Woody. From the way he acted on the way home, she wasn’t sure if it was because of his PTSD or if he was totally peeved.
For a moment she thought about snatching the coveted parking spot, since technically, she felt the agreement was off, since Randolph knew everything, leaving Woody with no ammunition with which to tattle on her to Randolph. She’d confessed everything to Randolph about their lunatic trip to Illinois in search of Mylene Allard. Plus, she’d arrived first. Instead, she decided to treat Woody especially nice, since he blamed her for them getting arrested. So, she let him have the spot. She still, however, couldn’t follow his logic on the getting arrested business. All she’d done was stop to try and find Mylene Allard. She didn’t know anything about any drugs, presuming there really was a stash of drugs seized in the raid.
She’d cruised through Starbucks and ordered two grande light cappuccinos to go. It was going to be a double caffeine morning. Woody liked these, so she wanted to bribe him into making up. The unique fragrance wafted to her from the cups sitting in the cup holders by the console. That reminded her that she’d never been able to carry drinks in Cami. People driving in the seventies must have never thought about eating or drinking anything while they drove. None of the cars of that era seemed to be equipped with drink holders. Come to think of it, most of the population was thinner back then, too. Was there any correlation? She decided to ask Ricky about the possibility of a custom console for the Z28, should she ever get the car back from the sheriff’s department. She decided she needed cup holders.
She enjoyed the quiet time in the mornings when she managed to get to the office early. There was something strangely comforting about hearing the ticking of the oversized clock, and turning on the lights to start the day.
After setting Woody’s beverage on his desk, she adjusted her chair, then sat and stared at her files while the computer booted up. The single chime sounded, indicating the booting process was completed. As the computer did its thing, Rhetta turned to gaze out the large window to the parking lot. LuEllen had parked her spotless white Honda Accord at the very end of the lot. No wonder the woman looked so healthy and stayed so slim. She walked at every opportunity. Rhetta almost felt guilty about wanting to park so close to the door. She sipped her sinful coffee.
LuEllen called out to Rhetta as she walked in. “I took your books back.” She unloaded her purse and her lunch tote on to the table near her desk.
“Thanks a million. I promise I won’t make you return any more late books for me.” Rhetta really meant it, this time. She hated taking back late books, and vowed not to make her wonderful LuEllen do her dirty work anymore. She glanced at LuEllen’s lunch tote and figured it probably contained something healthy, like a salad. She spun around to her computer and opened her email.
LuEllen tucked her purse into her desk drawer, and pulled out her computer chair. “Woody called me and said he isn’t coming in this morning. Said he’s not feeling well.”
Rhetta stopped reading her email. “Did he say what was wrong?” She knew that Woody was terribly upset last night. Maybe he just didn’t want to have to deal with Rhetta this morning—probably why he’d called in sick to LuEllen and not Rhetta. Rhetta felt guilty about possibly taking Woody to the brink of an episode.
“Nope. Just said he’d try to come in later. He has an appointment with a customer this afternoon.” LuEllen turned on her own computer as she strolled by her desk, picking up her lunch tote on her way to the kitchen. Rhetta heard her humming while she made coffee.
She needed to quit feeling guilty so much. As she reached for a file, she spotted the FedEx envelope that Ricky gave her containing the check payment for Monster. Had that just been a couple of days ago? So much had happened since then.
She’d scanned the TV news this morning to hear if any funeral arrangements had been announced for Jeremy, but there was nothing. Woody might bring the paper with him, so she’d check it when he came in.
She dumped the contents of the envelope on to her desk. The check appeared to be a typical business type check, drawn on a Regions Bank in Corinth, Mississippi. Yet, when she read the hand-written FedEx label, the shipper’s address was from Paducah. She snatched the phone and dialed her local FedEx office.
Carol Hartwell, a customer Rhetta had closed a loan for a few months ago, worked at the FedEx depot south of Cape. She answered on the second ring. After asking her for information about the account, Carol promised that she would call Rhetta back on her lunch break with the information. Next, Rhetta Googled the number for the bank in Corinth.
After explaining to the clerk who answered the phone that she wanted to verify funds in an account, the manager came on the line. “You’re about the sixth or seventh person that’s called checking on the validity of this same check number on the Valley View Farms account. I’m sorry to inform you that the check is a forgery, and that the account, while valid, has been frozen. Someone stole a Valley View Farms check and is trying to forge copies of it to buy stuff from all over the country. I’m afraid the check is no good.” The woman sounded genuinely sorry.
“I understand. I wa
s pretty sure it was bogus, too. Thanks for your help.” Rhetta returned the phone to the cradle. This was the real deal as far as scams went. Was “real deal scam” an oxymoron?
It was eleven-thirty when Carol Hartwell checked in. “That FedEx account number you gave me belongs to Crimson Peripherals in California,” she said.
“Crimson Peripherals in California? That means someone is using their account number to commit fraud. CP is so huge I bet they never go over each and every charge on their account. Can you report it?”
Carol promised she would.
Poor Ricky. She’d definitely been scammed. Someone who stole a check had somehow gotten Crimson Peripherals’ account number. It could be a former FedEx employee, or someone who had seen the account number written out on a label. At least Ricky hadn’t sent the shipper the thousand dollars.
Rhetta tapped Ricky’s cell number from her favorites list. Ricky’s voice mail picked up. “Hey, Ricky, I did some checking, and the check you received for the Monster is for sure a scam. Good thing you didn’t send money to the phony shipper. Call me and I’ll fill you in.”
Two minutes later, Rhetta’s iPhone played Little Deuce Coupe, the oldies tune Rhetta had programmed as a ringtone for Ricky’s number.
A distraught Ricky blurted, “Too late, Rhetta. I sent the money this morning via Western Union.”
Chapter 36
“Oh, no.” Rhetta couldn’t fathom what Ricky was telling her. What on earth was she thinking? Rhetta had pointedly advised her not to send any money until she researched it. “I told you not to do anything until I could check it out.”