Authors: Lois Lavrisa
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #Cozy
I opened the top dresser drawer in Lily and Frank’s room. “This is where I saw needles and bottles.”
Picking up the box of needles, Cat said, “But these all look new and sealed. We need to find used ones. Specifically the ones that have a lethal residue in them and Frank’s fingerprints on the outside.”
I nodded. “That would prove it was him without a shadow of a doubt.”
Cat grinned. “Exactly. So keep looking.”
Cat rummaged around other drawers. I cautioned her to make sure that she put everything back exactly the way she found it. If I was infringing on Lily and Frank’s privacy; the least I could do was be respectful about it.
Poking around the bathroom, I found Rogaine. Since Lily had gorgeous, thick red hair, I assumed Frank was using it. A few shirts, including a man’s tank top with the Atlas Gym logo on the front, and several chiffon and lace bras and panties hung from the shower curtain rod. My washer worked, but the dryer had been on the blink, either running for hours never drying the clothes or heating up so much it nearly caught them on fire. I had a clothesline strung in the courtyard. Although I used it, the renters seldom did.
After leaving the bathroom, I said to Cat, “I didn’t find anything except some intimate apparel as well as some hair-growth lotion.”
Cat shut a drawer. “That makes sense. Steroids can cause hair loss, and Frank wants to grow some back.”
“Sure, I suppose so.” My shoulders sagged. “But, Cat, so far, real clues are as scarce as hen’s teeth. Not a one. What we have amounts to nothing but pure speculation.”
“I think that you’re wrong. Have faith.” Cat smiled at me. “I do believe we have something—enough to take to the police. They can take it from there.”
“I’m afraid it’s half-cocked. And nothing more.” My chin sank. “The police don’t want a theory of how to solve a crime. They want facts.”
“Hey, cheer up. I have faith that we will find something that will incriminate Mr. Muscle Murder Man Frank. Keep digging.” Cat smirked. “Listen, we only lose if we don’t try. I don’t know about you, but I am not a loser.”
I giggled. “You never fail to amaze me with your unbridled optimism. Thank you, Cat. You are right. As Hattie used to say, ‘Even a blind squirrel finds an acorn now and then.’” I stood straight and lifted my head.
“That a girl.” Cat sifted through a stack of papers. “We need to find one iota of evidence. Even if we have to stay up until the wee hours of the morning.”
I winked at Cat. “I just hope that we can discover something here and not be as lost as last year’s Easter egg.”
Cat tapped my arm. “My, aren’t you full of clever sayings tonight.”
“I am indeed.” I scanned the room. “Something is missing.”
“What?”
My mind raced. What did I remember seeing attached to Frank’s hand, almost as an ever-present extension of his arm? “Frank’s gym bag.”
Cat’s eyes widened. “Yes. Even in the hospital, it sat right next to his bed.”
We locked eyes. I asked, “Do you think that’s the smoking gun?”
“Or lethal needle, in our case,” Cat said.
“Where is that bag?”
“It has to be with him, right?” Cat asked.
“The gym,” I said. “Lily mentioned after they left the hospital that he was dropping off his bag there.”
Then I remembered the floorboard in Mr. Phong’s room. “Listen, before we go, can you help me with something?”
“Sure, it’s not like a few more minutes is going to hurt anything.”
“I need to grab a crowbar first,” I said.
Cat said, “I know I should ask why, but I think instead I’ll just follow you.”
A short time later, we had the crowbar and were in Mr. Phong’s bedroom.
“Luiz and I attempted to get this loose floorboard up, but we were interrupted,” I said to Cat.
Cat held her hand up. “Hey, that was an accident. I didn’t mean to get in your way. Although it did look like you two were—”
“Enough.” I smiled as I knelt on the floor. Cat moved next to me.
“Can you please wedge the crowbar under here while I pull?” I said.
After a few tugs, the floorboard gave way. Several large envelopes were stacked in the recessed space.
Cat plucked the contents out. “These all have Luiz’s company logo on them.”
“Oh my.” My heart caught in my chest. “Mr. Phong was a spy.”
“Really? That is hard to believe.”
I waved my hand. “But all of this is proof. Plus, if he hid it, that means he knew that it was important.”
“Or, wonder if someone else put it here? Or he took it from somebody and hid it from them?”
Stacking the envelopes, I said, “Conceivably.”
“Okay, now what?” Cat asked.
“I have to let Luiz know.”
“Why don’t you open them first to make sure?” Cat asked.
I arched an eyebrow. “No. These may be company secrets, and I want to keep them that way.”
“Good point.”
After we nailed down the floorboard, we went downstairs. I called Luiz.
He picked up on the third ring, “Well, hello, Miss Bezu, to what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I have good news for you,” I said.
“Are you accepting my invitation for dinner and a movie?” he asked.
I felt heat rise in my neck. “Cat and I got that floorboard up and discovered some envelopes in the space underneath.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, they have your company’s logo on them. We didn’t open them.”
Luiz loudly exhaled. “When can I get them?”
“I will leave them in the foyer in the top drawer of the mahogany desk. You are welcome to come by anytime to get them. I would offer to drop them off, but Cat and I have to go to the gym,” I said.
“That’s how you keep your incredible figure,” Luiz said.
Again I felt myself blush. “Thank you for the compliment. Actually we are heading to Atlas Gym to try to find something. Not work out.”
Luiz said, “I wish you both luck.”
“Thank you. And I do hope that whatever is in the envelopes is what you were looking for.”
“I cannot thank you enough. Really.”
With that, we said our good-byes and clicked off.
“I can’t help but hear how your voice trembles and rises as you talk to him,” Cat said to me. “It’s cute how your face and neck turn pink, too.”
“It does not.” I felt like a schoolgirl with my first puppy love crush. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes, and I have a great feeling about this. We’re going to walk in, find his locker, get the bag, call the police—and boom, Frank is in jail.”
Giggling, I said, “So that is how it’s going to happen.”
“Yes. Smooth as silk.”
Somehow the churning in my stomach and my racing heart said otherwise.
Upon entering Atlas Gym, we followed the signs to the locker room.
“Smells like sweat and wet clothes in here.” Cat crinkled her nose. “And testosterone. Loads of it.”
The sound of clinking weights and conversation came from another room.
“What if they ask what we’re doing here?” I said.
Cat said, “Let’s say that our friend Frank left his gym bag here and we offered to pick it up for him. Just leave it up to me.”
“Okay. But I’m getting a little nervous now. It sounded great when we were back at the house, but now that we’re here, I don’t know. I feel apprehensive,” I said. Knots formed in my stomach.
“Trust me.” Cat squeezed my hand.
“I do.” I meant it.
We turned a corner and bumped into a sturdy short man wearing an Atlas Gym tank top. “You ladies need help?”
I shot a glance at Cat. My tongue was tied up.
“Oh, no, thank you. We’re fine,” Cat said.
“By the way, if you’re looking for the ladies’ locker room, it’s the other way.” The man shot a thumb over his shoulder.
“Yes, we must have taken a wrong turn,” Cat said.
The man waved as he left us.
“I thought you were going to tell him that we were picking up Frank’s gym bag,” I said.
Cat shrugged. “I improvised. Annie Mae taught me how.”
“You did just fine. Now let’s just find the bag and get out of here. I’m getting jittery with nerves.”
A minute later, we stood outside the men’s locker room door.
“I’ll go in, see if all is clear, then if it is, I’ll come out and get you.” She gave me thumbs up.
“Gotcha. What happens if you’re in there and someone is coming? Then what?”
“Knock on the door, so I know.”
“But how do I keep the person out of the locker room, so they won’t see you?”
“Improvise.”
“Oh no. I can’t do that.” I wrung my hands. “Please, let’s get this over with so we can get out of here.”
Cat gave me a quick hug. “Cover me. I’m going in.”
It felt like hours, but only a minute passed. A young man approached me. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen years old.
“Are you heading into the locker room?” My voice shook.
“Yes, ma’am, I am,” the young man answered.
“Um, well, you, uh...” What am I supposed to say? Think, think. “You might want to wait a while. They’re spraying for bugs. A big infestation with really huge bugs. Trust me, it’s not a pretty sight. The fumes alone are toxic in there. Give it some time to settle down.”
“Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll make sure I tell everyone to wait a while before using the locker room.” He grinned as he flexed a bicep. “I guess I can do a few more sets.”
With that, he was gone. I knocked on the door.
Cat poked her head out. “The coast is clear. Come in.”
Entering the locker room, I said, “I don’t like this at all. I had to fib to some poor kid.”
“Did he buy it?” Cat asked.
“Yes, I mean, I guess he did. He wanted to come in, but I made some lame excuse about exterminating bugs,” I said.
Cat high-fived me. “Good job, Bezu. You’re a natural for this line of work.”
I rolled my eyes. “Um, no. This whatever you call it—line of work—for me is never going to happen again.”
“Fine.” Cat pointed to a locker. “Listen. I think this is Frank’s; it has Frank K. on it.”
“Yes. His last name is Kincaid. This might be it.”
Cat rattled the handle. “I’m having trouble opening it.”
I grabbed the lock. It was a simple little key lock, not too heavy-duty, and rather easy to break into. “Do you have a nail file?”
Cat snickered. “This isn’t the time to give yourself a manicure.”
I giggled. “For the lock. I think I can jam the sharp end in the hole and twist and jiggle it enough to make it open.”
“See? Here you have all this raw talent—lying, breaking and entering—yet you want to give up detective work. I just don’t get it.” Cat grinned.
“So I can go back to my normal life of harboring illegal tenants and desperately duct taping my maturing house together.”
“Yeah, I see your dilemma.”
Cat produced a metal nail file from her purse. I wiggled it into the lock hole. After a few twists, the lock clicked open. “Voilà.”
“Amazing. Now let’s hurry up and get the bag.” Cat opened the steel locker door.
“There, on the floor,” I indicated.
Cat tugged the duffle bag out. Then she placed it on top of a nearby bench and unzipped it. “Whew. I think he needs to do laundry.”
The stench of unwashed clothes permeated the air. “It smells bad enough to gag a maggot.”
“You got that right.” Cat pulled out a few pieces of clothing. Then she produced a clear, plastic Ziploc bag. Inside was a needle wrapped in a paper towel. The same pattern of paper towels I used in my kitchen.
“Oh my, do you think we found our clue?” My heart raced.
“I bet if we take this down to the station, have them dust for fingerprints, then have the lab examine the residue inside the needle, it will all point to our killer.”
“This is too good to be true. Let’s get out of here.” As soon as I said that, Cat began to walk backward. “What’s going on?”
“Behind you.” Cat’s voice shook. She stuck her hand holding the Ziploc bag behind her back.
I spun on my heels and saw Frank glaring at me. He held an open switchblade in his hand.
“I see you’ve gotten into my locker.” He grabbed my shoulders.
“Who, us?” Cat said.
“We meant no harm. Actually we were just leaving,” I said, feeling his strong grip dig into my shoulder.
Frank blurted as he released me, “You two aren’t going anywhere.”
“Well, you see, we have to do something, I mean, someone is looking for us, I, uh, mean, the police are on the way. You have to let us go.” Cat aimed a finger at Frank.
Frank reached in his locker. He pulled out two jump ropes. He fastened the jump ropes together forming one long rope. “Here is how this is going to go down. Miss Bezu, you are going to tie this around her neck. I’m going to fling the rope over that beam.”
Frank looked up at the ceiling at the exposed metal pipes. “Then I am going to wrap the other end around your neck. You’re both going to stand on this bench.”
“I hate anything around my neck. Can you just tie my hands instead? Or even better yet, just let us go.” Cat crossed her heart. “We promise that we will not tell anyone anything. Lips sealed.”
Frank let out a low, guttural chuckle. “Fat chance.” He waved the switchblade in front of us.
“I’m curious. Why do you want us to stand on the bench? Can’t you just tie us up and have us sit down on it?” My voice trembled. I was trying to reason with a madman.
“I know, you won’t say anything.” Frank snickered.
“Yes. That’s true.” I stood next to Cat, our backs against a wall. The only exit was behind Frank.
“I think you underestimate me. You are not going to talk, because both of you will be hung after I kick the bench out.” Frank stepped closer to us.
“Well, I do declare. That is such an ungentlemanly thing to do. What would Lily say about your behavior?” I tried to plan our escape but could not.
“She’ll never find out. Because you are going to write a double suicide note first,” Frank said.
“Why on earth would we go to a gym and kill ourselves? That is highly unlikely,” I said.
Cat added, “What’s more improbable is that we would even harm ourselves at all.”
“That’s very true, and it would be suspicious if we did,” I said.
“Yes, that’s right.” Cat agreed. “I don’t think that you’ve thought this through. Just like you didn’t think through Mr. Phong’s murder very well.”
I whispered in Cat’s ear. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to get a confession out of him,” Cat said.
“Hey, you two, no more of that. I can snap or slit your necks right now and be done with you both,” Frank said.
I rubbed my neck. Why did I think of my missing pearl necklace more than my neck bone being broken? “Oh, no need for that.”
“And also no need for hanging us, either. Really, if you think about this, it is just a big misunderstanding,” Cat said. “Easily cleared up, with no one harmed. You go on your way, we go on ours. And no one is worse for wear.”
A corner of Frank’s mouth lifted, as though Cat amused him.
Seeing a chance to delay our demise, I added, “Yes, Frank. We know that you were just so tired. Lack of sleep can make people so cantankerous, I understand that. And Mr. Phong sang incessantly. It almost drove me mad, too.” Another lie. Oh, how I missed his voice. “And you were trying to get ready for that body-building contest…well, it just came together. You had no choice. It was too much.” I pretended to see his warped point of view.
“If he would have just shut his trap.” Frank slammed a fist into a locker. The sound of the bang reverberated in the room.
“That had to hurt,” Cat said under her breath.
Frank rubbed his hand. “He just irritated me to death. It made me crazy. Then one day, I saw all that creepy-crawly killer stuff you had under your sink, and the plate of muffins—which the stupid foreigner ate way too many of. Doesn’t he know that carbs will kill you?”
“When laced with poison,” Cat muttered to me.
“I just thought…I just wanted to shut him up. He made me so angry. I didn’t know it’d kill him. I mean, he’s bigger than an ant, and I didn’t put that much in. Damn it! How did everything go wrong?” Frank ran a hand through his short, thinning hair.
“I’m sure a jury will be on your side,” Cat said.
“You just tell them what you told us, and they would have mercy on you. You would be out in no time.” Even though, if I were a jury member for his trial, I’d give him life plus a hundred million years.
“Oh no.” Frank shook his head, all the while waving the knife at us. “I see what you two are trying to do. You’re trying to get me all mushy and soft so I’ll let you go. Lily is the only one who can play me like that. Not anyone else.” He put the knife on the bench, then snatched my arm with one hand and grabbed Cat’s arm with his other hand.
“You are getting a little rough here. Can you please, for heaven’s sake, lighten your grip?” I pleaded.
“Yes, you might bruise my arm,” Cat said.
“That should be the least of your worries, ladies.” Frank huffed as he threw us against the wall of lockers. “You two need to put your arms up in the air where I can see them. The first one who moves gets the rope around her neck.”
My eyes filled with tears as I looked at Cat. She put on a half smile, as though she were trying to reassure me.
“One muscle—one twitch—and I will kill you with my bare hands,” Frank said as he kept an eye on us but made his way to his locker. He began to dig inside his locker, every second making eye contact with us.
“So what are you looking for?” Cat asked.
“You moved,” Frank said.
“Only my lips. I thought you meant, like, move our body,” Cat replied.
“Damn it.” Frank slammed his locker.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I need something to write with. For your suicide note,” Frank said.
This was a long shot, but if I could convince him to let me go into my purse and grab paper and pen, maybe I could turn on my phone and hit José’s number. It was a stab in the dark, but I had to try. “I have some things in my purse you could use.”
Frank slit his eyes. “No funny business. Come over here in front of me and get them out. As for you…” He picked up the knife and stabbed it toward Cat. “Stay put.”
Cat whispered, “Seriously? You’re aiding him with our homicide?”
My back to Frank, I winked at Cat.
She cocked her head.
I lowered my arms. My legs were quivering so badly I feared I would tumble right over. Taking in a deep breath, I made my way to Frank. My heart pounded in my ears. “Let me just get them out. You know women’s purses are like bottomless pits.” I bided some time. My hand inside my purse, I felt for my phone. Once it was in my hand, I cracked the purse open more so that I could see the face, then pressed speed dial seven for José.
“What is taking so long?” Frank grabbed my purse, then spilled the contents out on the floor. My phone slid facedown under the bench. My heart almost stopped. Mr. Phong’s iPod turned on, playing “This is how I roll, come on, ladies, it's time to go. We headed to the bar, baby, don't be nervous. No shoes, no shirt, and I still get serviced. Girl, look at that body…”
“My favorite song. That idiot knew I liked it and would come by me and sing it.” Frank huffed. “Annoying little Oriental turd.”
Oh my goodness. Mr. Phong did leave me a clue to his killer with the song on his iPod. But now it was too late.
“By the way, it is not politically correct to use the term Oriental to describe a person. You could say Asian, but not Oriental,” Cat said.