The Final Arrangement (8 page)

Derrick had been keeping two sets of books.  I wondered if the L.D. Stanwyck who had signed the paychecks for Derrick’s loquacious designer got to see the typed or the handwritten version of the business records. 

What kind of idiot keeps two different sets of financial books in the same binder?  I wondered. 
The same idiot who found himself resting in a coffin in the mortuary
.  Maybe Derrick’s not-so-fancy bookkeeping had ended up getting him killed somehow. 

I turned to a page with the title “Extra Receivables***” written across the top.  Three columns were titled April, May and June.  Under each month was written $10,000. 
What kind of ten thousand dollar jobs is he getting? 

Another question popped into my mind.  It hadn’t been too difficult to find this little black book. You’d think with a murder investigation, the police would have searched the place. Maybe that’s why the desk had been so messy.  Perhaps the cops had already been there and found something they were looking for.

The front door bell sounded, startling me.  I looked out of the little room to see if the designer had come back in yet.  She wasn’t there.  I moved over to the office, so I could look through the one-way glass that made it so you could watch the front of the store without leaving the office or being seen.  A tall man with a mustache walked in.  He wore dress slacks and a shirt and tie, and a badge with black leather backing hung from his belt.  I decided it probably would not bode well for me to be found by the police in a dead man’s office.  Especially a dead man I had been arguing with at the scene of his forthcoming murder, of which I might be a suspect. 

I tucked the ledger into the back waistband of my pants and said an internal thank you for the one-way glass.  Then I made my way as quietly as I could to the back door which had been left open by Derrick’s employee.  I hadn’t ever asked her name, and now was not the time for pleasantries.  I started to jog once I hit the pavement outside and when I reached the woman smoking around the back corner I gave her a heads up.

“Thanks for your help, I have one more question.  Haven’t the police been here?”

She snorted and shook her head.  “Hell, some asshole detective called and said he would be here, but he never showed.”

So I wasn’t the only one to experience the pleasure of talking with the asshole detective.  I didn’t want to have to repeat the experience if that’s who had just walked in.

“Thanks again, I’ve got to get going now, but I thought I’d tell you there is a customer in the store.  Oh, and maybe you’ll forget that I was ever here.”  I pulled a twenty out of my pocket and put it in her hand.  She could buy at least a couple more packs of Camels with it. 

“Give me a call,” she croaked then looked down at her palm.  “Now how did this get here?”  She looked at me and winked before she snuffed her cigarette out with her foot. 

I peeked around the front corner of Derrick’s shop, and after making sure the guy from the police was otherwise engaged, I got into the car and got the heck out of there.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The blacktop in the parking lot of Rosie’s Posies tugged at my shoes with every step.  The chatter of traffic came out muffled under the oppressive rays of the afternoon sun and my face felt like it was close to sliding off.  I noticed my van wasn’t in the back parking space.  I walked in to find Allie alone in the shop, tying extra bows to put in planters or vases in the future.  Like me, she had been taught by Aunt Rosie that idle hands are the tools of the devil, and that slow times in the shop were the times to be productive, not to take a break. 

“Hey, where’s Cindy?” I said. 

“She left about an hour ago.”

“Wow.  Good thing you remember how to do everything.”  

“Well, enough to get by,” she laughed.  “I would’ve called you if I ran into any trouble.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.  Cindy does pretty well, but the minute she doesn’t have an arrangement to make, her behind finds the nearest seat.  After a while I get sick of telling her to stand up.”

“It’s just habit for me to stand and work.  I guess that’s what Aunt Rosie taught.  Before Brad made me quit my job at the jewelry store, I would always hear my coworkers complain about having to be on their feet so much, but I never minded it.”

“A designer on her feet is worth two on her seat,” I repeated from memory. 

“Where did you come up with that?  I don’t remember Aunt Rosie ever saying it.”

“Actually, it was LaDonna Shaw.  She owns a shop in Plainville; I’ve run into her a few times at the wholesaler’s and at design shows.  Her ears must be burning.  It’s the second time today her name has come up.  Anyway, where’s Nick?”

“Let’s see.  Cindy called to ask if he would bring her a drink on the way back, and he said it would be a while because he was in Roy, so she left.”

“Roy!  What’s he doing in Roy?  The delivery slip on the board says the hospital in Ogden.  He’s thirty miles west of where he should be.”  My anger boiled up so easily lately.  Was it completely due to Nick?  Or were there contributing factors such as Cindy, the mortuary, Derrick or maybe the poo arsonist?  Unfortunately for Nick, he was the Chairman of the Board in the Piss Quincy Off conglomerate.  I’d had it with him.

I stomped over to the phone and punched in the number to his cell phone.  It felt as if my hand might crush the handset.

“HELLO,” he shouted over the blaring music in the background.

“Nick!  This is your boss!  Where are you?”

I heard a curse then the background music stopped. 

“Well?”

“What?”  He replied as if my angry tone was uncalled for.

“Where are you right now in my van?”    

“I’m about ten minutes away.” 

“You make sure and get here without a new scratch on my car.  Do you understand me?”  I think my eyes were glowing red.

I wanted to slam the receiver down but couldn’t afford a new phone, so I just mimed the behavior several times before I could hang it up softly.

“Um, Quincy?”  Allie said, “I’m sorry to add to your stress but there’s something I think I should to tell you before I forget.  Cindy asked me an interesting question today.”

“Oh yeah, what was that?”

“I don’t know how to go about this so I’ll just blurt it out.  Cindy asked me if you’re gay.”

“Wh…hat?” 

“Yeah.  Just a little bit of a surprise.  I didn’t know what to tell her.”

“Why not?  It’s a simple answer, yes or no.  What
did
you tell her?”

“I said no.  I asked her where she got that idea.  She said that her older brother went to school with Randall, and they still keep in touch.  He said you were a lesbian, and that you had lied to him about it the whole time you were married.”

“Wow.”  I wish I could have said he’d sunk to a new low, but this was pretty run of the mill for my ex-husband. “Of course, the only explanation for a woman leaving Randall would be because she’s gay.  I’m sure it’s never occurred to him that his suggestion means that being with
him
made
me
prefer women.”

Allie giggled but covered her mouth as if she shouldn’t have allowed herself to laugh. 

“’Hey everyone,’” I mocked my ex-husbands voice, “’I drove my ex-wife to lesbianism, but I’m too stupid to realize I’m makin’ fun of myself.’  Randall is a moron.  I don’t have time to waste on worrying what he says about me. Anyone who hears him should consider the validity of the source.”

“Quincy, this isn’t funny.  Randall knows a lot of people.  If he’s telling this stuff to old high school buddies, I can’t imagine all the rest of the people he’s blabbing to.  Maybe you should make it a little more obvious that you’re not—you know.”

“How did you want me to go about making it more obvious?  ‘Hi, I’m Quincy; I’m not gay, nice to meet you.’  Is that it?  Maybe I could get the title heterosexual printed on my business cards. Allie, I’ve got nothing to prove.  The people who are important to me know who I am.”

“I know, I know, you don’t have anything to prove.  But since you do happen to not be gay, it wouldn’t hurt for people to know that.”

This argument was going down a familiar path.  I hadn’t decided if it was the influence of church or mother or both, but appearances and the impressions of others meant a lot more than they should to people in my town, especially people like my family.

“Well anyway," Allie said, "it doesn’t matter, but since you’re straight, single and pretty, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to open your eyes and notice the very handsome, also not gay police officer who seems to be so interested in you.”  She batted her eyes.

“Thanks for the compliments but I’ve got plenty of other things to worry about right now, including needing to find a new delivery driver.”

“Don’t change the subject!  All you do is work and then when you go home you think about work some more.  It would be good for you to get out a little.  I’m not saying you have to get married again.  I’m just saying you could stand to socialize a little more.  And since you just happen to have one of the most gorgeous guys on the planet interested in you, I’m thinking you should probably snatch him up before you drive him off.” 

I knew Allie just wanted me to be happy, but I couldn’t afford to invest in a relationship.  Not now.  Maybe not ever. 

“Allie, I don’t have time for a boyfriend.  Besides, getting back to reality, what am I going to do about Nick?”

“First of all, lame excuse.  You have time; you just don’t want to think you have time.”  She peered at me, hands stuck on her hips.  “Secondly, you don’t have to have a boyfriend.  Go hang out a few times.  And about Nick, before you attack when he walks in the door, get his story first.  It doesn’t look to me like you’ve got a spare driver hanging around anywhere.” 

Good point.  The back door opened and Nick walked in.

“Quincy, I swear I didn’t do anything wrong,” were the first words that came out of his mouth. 

“Where was your delivery to?”

“Ogden, but…”

“And where were you when Cindy called?”

“Roy, but…”

“But what?  Don’t you find it to be an amazing coincidence that your girlfriend works in Roy, at least thirty miles from where you were supposed to be?”   

“I didn’t go see my girlfriend.  I—didn’t want you to find out.”  He bent his head and looked at the floor.  “I don’t drive on the freeway, I almost got in a wreck once, and it freaked me out, so I took the old road.” 

I stood, silent for a beat, not knowing what to say to this pathetic attempt at deception.

“Oh, give me a break! You…are…a…delivery…driver,” I paused to contain myself, “and you don’t drive on the
freeway
?”

“I know, I know, it sounds lame, but I’m telling the truth, Quincy.”

I stared at him for a good twenty seconds.  Allie stood off to the side and her words about not having an extra driver sat in the back of my head. 

“Nick, I want you to leave right now.  Don’t say another word.  I’ll see you tomorrow.  Don’t be late, don’t screw up, and by hell take the freeway if you get a delivery to Ogden.  Don’t speak.  Just shake your head.  Do you understand?”

“Ye…” I glared at him with the look of death.  He shook his head in the affirmative.

###

Turning off the open sign felt better than it should at the end of the day.  My plan at the start of it had been to seek more business.  As the workday came to its close, I questioned whether I had the will to stay with a business where I had to put up with constant problems and very little pay to show for doing so. 

I drove straight to the drive through on the way home.  There’s not much a good Coke can’t fix.

As I turned the corner, I noticed a familiar old SUV parked in front of my house.  Alex Cooper stood on my front porch.  Instinctively I leaned over to the rear view mirror to take a look. Yep, I confirmed the ragged state of my hair and the dark circles under my eyes. There was no amount of first aid that could change this mess in time to exit the van and reach the porch without raising suspicion.

“Hi.”  I asked, more than stated.  “Were we supposed to meet today?”  It was unlikely, but with the stress of the last two days, I could have forgotten anything. 

“No, no meeting.  I told you I would drive by and check on things.”  He wore a friendly smile on his face and a tight gray t-shirt on his muscular body, with a sweat-darkened area trailing down his chest. 

“Geez, I’m sorry.  What I meant to say was thank you for checking up on things.  Wow, not just a drive by, but also a house call.  To what do I owe the honor?  I hope you haven’t been chasing my sister’s ex-boyfriend away,” I said as I glanced again at the “V” pattern of sweat that accentuated the perfect pecs filling out his t-shirt.

“No, nothing like that.  Last night after I left I was thinking the smoke from your burning porch pile probably damaged the ceiling.  Since I had today off, I thought I would come and take a look.”

“Alex, thank you, but you didn’t have to do that.” 

“It was my pleasure.  I brought some stuff to clean the smoke damage, and I hope you don’t mind, but I found the spigot in the back yard and filled up these buckets.  It doesn’t look like you’ll need to repair or replace any of the wood.” 

“I’m speechless.  I….”

He reached down to pick up the buckets and I caught myself gawking at the well-defined muscles in his back and arms, which were hardly concealed under his t-shirt.

“It was no big deal,” he said. 

“Well, I owe you," I said, then thought of all kinds of ways I could repay him. 

“I’ve already thought of a way you can pay me back.” 

“Oh."  I squeaked in surprise.  I covered my mouth with my hand in reflex—startled by the thought that he had read my mind, which was much like reading a dirty book at that moment.  Page fifteen was especially embarrassing.  "Um…" 

C'mon, steady, focus! 
 I took my time and swallowed.  I tried to appear nonchalant as I slid my hand to the back of my neck and scratched an imaginary itch. "Really?” I said feebly. 

Alex smiled. His eyes twinkled in what I could only surmise to be amusement—or sympathy. “How would you like to go get something to eat?”