Chapter Twenty-One
Tuna breath. Inches from my nose. Not the most pleasant thing to wake up to. Especially at six forty-five in the morning.
"Ugh, Delbert! Your breath smells terrible." I pushed him off my chest and sat up.
Was that thunder I heard?
I peeked out the window. It was thunder. The sky was a dismal gray and looked like it was going to open up any minute. Lovely. Twenty-seven days without a drop of rain, and now, the day of Warren's funeral, it looked like we were in for a deluge. Obviously, another one of Destiny's little pranks. I pressed my fingers under my eyes, trying to ward off the sinus headache that was promising to start.
Why was my shower running? Oh, yeah. Zach. Zach! I scrambled out of the bed and into my robe before venturing a peek in the mirror. It wasn't a pretty sight. My hair stuck up every-which-way. Sort of like the Christmas Angel Mom still hangs on her tree every year, even though I shampooed its hair, clipped its wings, and gave it a mustache when I was six.
I yanked a brush through my hair and tucked it up into a ponytail. Other than wipe the sleep out of my eyes, I couldn't do anything to repair the rest of the damage.
What I needed was coffee. That always helped. I headed for the kitchen to make some. The phone rang.
"Hi, Mom," I said.
"Hi, sweetie. How are you?" she said.
I didn't tell her about the accident. Some things sound a lot better in person. "I'm okay. A little tired. And, I feel like I'm getting a sinus headache. I sure wish I didn't have to go to this funeral. It's all rainy and yucky outside. I'll probably catch pneumonia."
I was hoping she would tell me to go back to bed and that she'd be over later to bring me grape juice and soup. She didn't.
"I know how you feel, but you're absolutely obligated to go. No matter how you felt about Warren, his parents are good people and it just wouldn't look right if you weren't there."
"I know, I know." Lord knows, I wouldn't want to do anything that didn't look right. I kept that last part to myself. I'm not totally stupid.
"I just called to see what you planned to wear to the funeral. Charli said you wore your gray dress to the funeral home last night. Does that mean you plan to wear that yellow dress you wore to church last week? I sure hope not. It just doesn't do a thing for you."
I sighed and sat down on the bed. Mom was on a roll. I didn't say anything, just grunted.
"You need to wear rich colors, Marty. Wine. Emerald green. That yellow makes you look all washed out. Of course, it would help if you'd wear a little makeup. And do something about your hair. I know. Why don't you come on over here and I'll help you with your hair and makeup. We won't be able to do much with that hair of yours, but at least we can fix it some way other than that ponytail you always stick it in."
I looked up. Zach stood in the bedroom door, freshly scrubbed. He had on his Dockers and no shirt. I sucked in my breath and almost dropped the phone. We're talking major hormonal overdrive. I smiled at him and winked. He came over and sat on the bed, handing me a mug full of coffee. He smelled incredible. Did I mention hormonal overdrive?
"Marty? Marty? Are you still there?" asked Mom. "Are you listening to me?"
"Uh, yeah, I'm listening. What did you say?"
"I said why don't you come over here and I'll help you with your hair and makeup."
"That's okay."
Delbert jumped up on Zach's lap, and rubbed against his chest. I wouldn't have minded trading places with Delbert right then. Zach noticed me looking at him and smiled. I smiled back. He leaned over and lightly ran his finger across my lips
Mom asked me something. I have absolutely no idea what.
I faked a clicking sound. "Uh, Mom, that's, uh, that’s my call waiting. Might be important. Gotta run. See you at the funeral." I didn't wait for her answer.
With the phone safely out of the way and Delbert removed from Zach's lap, we went to work on satisfying those hormones. Suddenly, Zach looked at the clock and groaned.
"Marty," he said, gently pushing me away from him, "I'd love to stay and continue this, but I gotta get to work by seven-thirty or Dad's gonna shoot me."
I snuggled against him. "Are you sure you can't stay for just a few more minutes?"
He groaned and kissed me. "I wish. But in a few minutes, I don't think we're gonna be stopping. Later, tonight, you can remind me where we left off."
"I guess that'll be okay." Who was I kidding?
It took us several minutes, but we managed to get up off the bed. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close.
"See you at the funeral," I said.
"I probably won't be there. I've got a ton of work to do. A cute little Mustang to work on. But, hey, if you want, I can take off tomorrow. Maybe we can go to my folk’s cabin up at the lake. Take the boat out. Ski. Whatever."
The whatever especially interested me.
He squeezed me and pulled back slightly so he could see my eyes. "You game?"
"Absolutely. It sounds great. We can talk about it tonight. I'll fix you supper," I said. "About eight?"
"Eight it is." He kissed me again, pulled on his shirt, and left.
I leaned against the door and watched him walk away. The sixty-something year old widow from across the hall cracked her door open and peeked out.
"Psst, Marty," she whispered, "nice butt!" She winked at me and cut her eyes back around so she could watch Zach walk away.
"Hey, Rowena," I whispered back, "you ain't kidding. Don’t tell my Mom, though, okay?" She nodded and we admired the view until Zach was out of sight. I grinned at Rowena and waved before going back into my apartment.
After my shower, I washed down two sinus pills with another cup of coffee, put on my yellow dress, and pulled my hair back into a loose ponytail. I was almost out the door when I remembered my car.
"Damn! I forgot all about it! What the hell am I gonna do?" I asked Delbert.
He rubbed against my leg and meowed. "Good idea, buddy. We'll call John and Charli and see if I can borrow one of their cars. They have an extra one."
John and Charli have a van, a Crown Vic, and John's pride and joy, an old beat up clunker of a truck. Hopefully, they'd let me borrow the Crown Vic until my car was fixed.
I called Charli's number. John answered. I told him about the wreck (begged him not to mention it to Mom) and asked just as nice as you please if I could borrow the car for a couple of days.
"Sorry, Squirt. I have to go out of town this afternoon. I'll have to take the car and Charli needs the van to haul the kids around. I'll be glad to let you use the truck, though."
"I guess that'd be okay. It's a straight, right?" I tried to remember what the truck looked like. I didn't think it was too bad; certainly it wasn’t worse than my Mustang. Otherwise, ONAG would have banned it.
"Right. Three-on-the-tree," he said. "Have you ever driven one before?"
"Of course," I said, figuring it couldn't be any different from driving a four speed.
"Good, it's kinda hard to shift. Charli has to stand up to do it. Hang on a sec." I could hear Charli talking in the background.
John talked to her then came back on the line. "Hey, Squirt, Charli said she'll drive you to the funeral and you can pick up the truck after that. Okay?"
"That'll work. Tell her I'm ready."
I straightened the apartment while I waited for her. She knocked on the door about twenty-five minutes later. She was wearing an expensive looking gray suit with a rose colored silk blouse. The blouse set off her complexion perfectly.
Charli stood in front of the mirror hanging above my desk and fluffed her hair. "Do you think this suit makes me look fat?" She pulled out her lipstick and touched up her already perfect makeup.
"As a matter of fact, it does. You look like a real tubbo in it."
"Really?" She looked at her watch. "Do I have time to go change?"
"Charli, I was just teasing. You look great."
She g
lared at me. "That wasn't funny! Why are you always picking on me? I hate that!"
"It never used to bother you when I teased you. Geez, ever since your birthday, you've lost your sense of humor. Guess that's what happens when you turn thirty. Must be part of your mid-life crisis."
"Thanks. That really makes me feel better. Thirty is not middle aged." She glanced back in the mirror and studied her flawless complexion.
I covered my mouth to hide my smile. "I wouldn't know anything about that. After all, I'm only twenty-four."
Her eyes flared. "I swear, I don't know who is worse, you or John. Why are you being so mean to me today?" She turned back to the mirror and rubbed her fingers gently across her forehead. "Do you think I'm getting a wrinkle up here?"
"Yes."
She stomped out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her. I shook my head and laughed. "Gee, somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed," I said to Delbert. He agreed.
The rain started just as she pulled out of the parking lot. I slouched down in the gray leather seat, listening to the windshield wipers screek-scrawk and the rain pound on the sunroof while I waited for Charli to ask me about the wreck.
"Well, aren't you going to tell me what happened to your car?" she said. Charli is so predictable.
I filled her in on my run-in with Ricky Ray and the wreck, leaving out the part about Zach falling asleep on my sofa and staying the night. I didn't need to hear a lecture from Mom about 'what will the neighbors think'. I had a pretty good idea what one of them thought, anyway.
When we pulled into the funeral home parking lot I saw Nancy Winslow getting out of the green Focus. Her outfit was just like the one she'd worn the night before, only in red. She even had a red floppy hat. She held a huge orange and maroon Virginia Tech golf umbrella over her head. I wished I had one.
I told Charli about how I had spied on Steve and Nancy. She was impressed.
"Thirty-five hundred apiece?" Charli said. "I wonder what those two are up to. It sounds like blackmail. But who?" She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel.
"Who would have that kind of money?" she said. "Fred! That's who! Maybe he did kill Warren and they know about it and, and,...oh shoot! You don't think they're going to get my reward do you? Maybe that's it. Maybe they're planning to turn in Fred and split my reward money between them."
"Your reward money? It isn't your money. Anyway, I thought the reward was for five thousand. That would only be twenty-five hundred apiece. I know they said thirty-five hundred. Maybe what they were talking about doesn't have anything to do with the murder."
Charli shook her head excitedly, bouncing up and down in her seat. "No! I know! Collusion! That's what it is. Remember, I said that maybe Beth hired somebody to kill Warren? I'll just bet that Steve and Nancy were in on it. I'll bet they are getting a payoff! That's gotta be it!"
She rubbed her hands together and clapped them several times. "Okay. Okay, we need to get some evidence. Do you still carry that little digital recorder around with you?"
"Yes. Why?
"Let me have it. I'll slip it in my purse and stick close to Steve, if he says anything incriminating, I'll turn it on and BAM, we've got him!"
I dug the recorder out of my tote bag where it had been stashed for about the last five years. I wasn’t entirely sure that it still worked, but I didn’t mention that to Charli. "What about me? What should I do?"
"You hang close to Nancy."
"How come you get the recorder?" I asked. Okay, I whined. "Nancy might say something incriminating too, you know."
"It was my idea." She checked her face in the mirror on the back of the sun visor. Probably seeing if the non-existent wrinkle had grown any since we'd left my apartment.”Besides, you’ve got an I-Phone. Can’t you record with that?”
Duh. I handed over the recorder. She stuck it down in her black leather purse. The rain had settled down to a slow drizzle. Charli handed me a black umbrella. One of the ribs was bent, but it didn't have any holes in it. At least I wouldn't have to get totally soaked. She opened up her door and stuck a gray umbrella out and popped it open. It was brand new and a lot bigger than the one she gave me.
We dodged puddles and went inside the chapel, leaving our umbrellas dripping in the vestibule. It was steamy and warm inside the building. My hair was one big frizz. Charli spotted Mom, Dad, and John, and grabbed my arm, pulling me over to their pew. They scooted over and we squeezed in next to them. The tiny chapel was almost packed. I waved to Tim, who was about three rows in front of us, and sat back, glancing at the program.
I'd never been to a Church of God of the Living Truth's Holiness Fellowship of Man service before. I'd heard they were one of those way-out sects. Poison drinkers, snake handlers. That sort.
"Do you think we'll have to touch snakes?" I whispered to Charli.
She rolled her eyes. "For goodness sake, Marty. This is a funeral. I think they only do that at weddings."
Mom leaned over and whispered something to Charli. They both looked at me, Mom frowning, Charli smirking. The music stopped and everyone stood up while the Turners entered and sat on the front pew. I stood on my tip-toes and stretched my neck, but I couldn't see a thing. I wondered if Beth had managed to pull herself together or if she’d worn another party outfit to the funeral.
The service started with a sad song about life cut short. I glanced around. I'd never been in this chapel before. Most of the funerals I'd been to had been in regular churches. The chapel was nice, very suitable for a funeral.
There were ten rows of pews on each side. Arched red glass windows flanked each side of a simple cross which hung behind a dark oak lectern. More red windows were at the end of each row of pews, which were also dark oak. The benches had a dark gray upholstery covering and the carpet was the same shade of gray.
The service was short and sad. Warren's Mom sobbed through the whole thing, drowning out most of the preacher's words. None of Warren's friends or relatives spoke. A brief eulogy, a couple of hymns, three prayers, and we were adjourned to the grave side. Not a snake in sight, darn it. I'd sort of been looking forward to watching Charli faint.