Weeding Out Trouble

Once I thought I was free from my shadows, I peeled out onto the main road and headed for the highway.

  I looked over at Brickhouse. She wore a huge grin on her face. "Ach! This is the most fun I've had since I discovered birth control."

  "Too much information!"

  She laughed, an evil sounding little chuckle. It broke off suddenly. "This ride isn't going to turn into a scene from Thelma and Louise, is it? I know you've never liked me."

  "True, but I like me."

  I fished the receipt out of my pants pocket. All I remembered was that Randall and his mother lived in Monroe, north of Freedom. "Read that to me, will you?"

  Brickhouse clucked. "You eat Chef Boyardee?"

  "Other side!"

  She rattled off the phone numbers and addresses.

  "I don't suppose you have a phone on you?" I asked.

  "Evil invention."

  I took that as a no.

  "We'll just have to do a little drive-by."

  "Where are we driving by?"

  "Randall Oh's house." I told her the whole sordid truth about Kevin and the ballistics and Joe and Lewy.

  For a change she was silent. I let it stretch. I still couldn't believe the news myself. It grated on my last nerve that they'd played me for a fool.

  I stopped at a gas station to get directions to Randall's house. A few wrong turns later we happened on his street.

  "Do you think this Randall is dangerous?" she asked.

  I put the truck in park. "Could be."

  "Could I take him?"

  "Definitely."

  We both went to the door. I knocked and rang the bell, but no one answered.

  I peeked in the windows. Darkness covered everything inside. Unless he was hiding out, Randall wasn't home.

  "Mama's house next?" Brickhouse asked.

  "Yep."

  Randall's mother, Ming, lived in an apartment complex near the interstate. We found her place, no problem.

  Brickhouse and I waited until someone went into the building and followed them, so we could pounce, unannounced. If Randall was in there, he didn't need any forewarning.

  We found Mrs. Oh's apartment and knocked. Apparently the trusting sort, a woman opened the door wide. She took one look at us and closed the door a smidge.

  Brickhouse tended to have that effect on people.

  "Mrs. Oh?"

  "Yes?"

  I felt like I was ten years old as I asked, "Is Randall home?"

  "Mother?" a voice said from the other room. "Who's there?"

  "It's for you," she said in a clipped accent.

  "Me?" He came into sight, took one look at me, and cursed a blue streak.

  His mother's eyes widened, and Brickhouse clucked. "Respect is so hard to come by, no?"

  "A moment of your time?" I asked Randall.

  "Who are these women?" his mother asked him, looking suspiciously at us.

  "Friends," he said with a fake smile. "Come in, come in. The neighbors will talk."

  Mrs. Oh backed up and allowed us to pass. She had slipcovers on her furniture, and the plastic squeaked as we sat down.

  "Can we have a minute, Mother?"

  She didn't look so sure, but backed out of the room.

  "You're tenacious," Randall said to me.

  "I've been called worse."

  Brickhouse clucked. "By me."

  I shot her a look.

  Randall laughed, apparently in a jolly mood. "What do you want to know, Nina?"

  "I want to find out who killed Daisy."

  He laughed. "I love irony."

  "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

  "Daisy hated you, and you're all gung ho to find her killer."

  I was sorry Daisy hadn't liked me, but those were her issues, not mine. I refused to let the information bother me. "I'm not really looking for her sake. I'm doing it for Kit." Taking a lesson on gumption from Perry, I said, "Daisy was dealing drugs. Did you know?"

  "I took great pains not to know."

  "Look, sonny, I don't do well with double-talk," Brickhouse said.

  He leaned back, the plastic crying in protest. "I had a suspicion. Daisy was very secretive. She didn't want to hire anyone but me. Money flowed in. Her clients seemed to be of questionable origin. Honestly, I didn't want to know. I like what I do. I'm paid well. But, I have morals. That's why I called the cops in the first place. Left an anonymous tip."

  "The cops? When?"

  He scratched at his goatee. "Two years ago? It was be

  fore the questionable clients. I smelled marijuana one day coming from her treatment room. I became suspicious and called. Just to be sure. My reputation is tied to her. To Heavenly Hope."

  "What happened with the police?"

  "Two officers came out, talked to Daisy, asked to look around a bit. They left soon after. One came back later, looking for treatment, she said."

  "She? Do you know her name?"

  "I don't recall. I do remember she had beautiful auburn hair, long legs, and a killer body."

  Brickhouse and I looked at each other. We only knew of one officer that looked like that.

  Ginger.

  Twenty

  Brickhouse and I made it to the truck before either of us spoke.

  Buckling her seat belt, she said, "Holy hell." Perry would have been proud.

  "You don't think . . . she can't be . . . involved?" My brain was trying to wrap itself around this information.

  "Where is she this week?" Brickhouse asked as I started the truck.

  "She flew somewhere to visit her sick mother," I said. "Wyoming, I think."

  "Ach. Do we know that for certain?"

  We didn't. I'd overheard the call between her and Kevin when she was supposedly still stranded at the airport, but in reality she could have been calling from anywhere.

  "And when did she leave?"

  "Friday."

  "Which simply happens to be the day you find Daisy's body?"

  It was a bit of a coincidence.

  And not believing in coincidences was one of my top ten commandments.

  "Holy hell," I muttered. I turned onto the highway, headed south.

  Brickhouse was talking but I wasn't paying attention. My thoughts whirled. Thoughts about the corruption in the Freedom Police Department, about the timing of Ginger leaving town.

  "She's the link," I said aloud. Glancing at Brickhouse, I said, "She's the missing link!"

  "If I knew what you were speaking about, perhaps I could be as excited as you."

  "No one knew why Kevin was shot," I said. "He'd been in disguise when he went to Heavenly Hope. But what if Ginger had seen him? Being his partner, she would recognize him, incognito or not. They've worked undercover so often she would know immediately."

  A cluck so loud came from the seat next to me that I thought for sure Brickhouse had laid an egg. "You think Ginger shot Kevin?"

  "And Kent."

  "And Kit?"

  The ramifications of my theory stacked high in my head. "It makes sense."

  "Ach."

  I thought aloud. "Let's say Ginger investigates Heavenly Hope two years ago, and discovers Daisy's dealing drugs. She wants a cut. She allows Daisy to keep on dealing, while looking the other way, because she'd be raking in the money. The rest blossoms from there."

  "Until Daisy wanted to stop."

  "Ginger couldn't let that happen. Maybe for financial reasons, but certainly her career. Her freedom would be at risk if Daisy reached out for help." I wished I could call home, talk to Kevin. He needed to know about this, especially if Ginger never got on that plane. If she'd had a ticket at all.

  Brickhouse's icy blue eyes bore into me. "Which she did, asking Kit for help."

  More likely, Kit demanded to help. "Who then went to Ian, not knowing Ian was already investigating."

  "Using Kevin."

  "Right. Ginger must have been shaken when she saw Kevin at Heavenly Hope," I said.

  She clucked. "Enough to shoot him. Good th
ing they're no longer together."

  That was an understatement if I ever heard one.

  "Why are we getting off here?" Brickhouse asked as I got off the highway one exit early.

  "I need a phone, and Ana's place is just around the corner here. It will give me a chance to check on her too, since she hasn't been answering my calls all day."

  "Ach, she just might not want to talk to you."

  Leave it to Brickhouse to remind me why I didn't like her. I chose to ignore her barb. "Something's wrong."

  "You don't think Ginger has gotten to her?"

  My stomach dropped. I hadn't thought that at all. "Why would she?"

  Brickhouse shrugged, much like Riley. "She knows you're investigating. What better way to distract you?"

  My heart in my throat, I stomped on the gas pedal. The truck surged forward.

  "Yee-haw!" Brickhouse cried out. "What?" she asked when I gave her the Ceceri Evil Eye.

  "This isn't the time to be enjoying yourself."

  "Sorry," she mumbled. But as I blew through two yellow lights and cruised through a red, I saw a smile on her face.

  The truck hurtled into a parking spot at Ana's condo complex, and lurched forward, then back, as I slammed on the brakes and whipped the gear shift into park.

  I ran into the building, Brickhouse huffing and puffing behind me. I made a mental note to give her Duke's number.

  I banged on Ana's door. "Ana!"

  Brickhouse's normally creamy skin had turned red with exertion. "Did . . . you have to . . . take the stairs . . . so fast?"

  "Don't have a heart attack now. I don't have time." I pounded. "Ana!"

  "You'd like me . . . to have a heart . . . attack, wouldn't you, Nina . . . Ceceri?" she asked, sounding as though she needed oxygen right away.

  "Actually, no." And I meant it. God help me. "Ana!"

  "Hold your horses!" I heard her shout from the other side of the door.

  Relief swept through me, my heart fluttering back down into my chest.

  The door opened. Ana, looking amazing in a simple heather gray sweatsuit, frowned. "It damn well took you long enough."

  "What are you talking about?" I asked, my voice rising. "Took me long enough to what?"

  "To get here? I would have thought by not answering my phone it would give you a clue that something was wrong. Hello?" Her long dark hair swayed as she jutted her chin. "Didn't I rush home to help you look for Kit? Didn't I? Why wouldn't I answer your call?"

  Hands on hips, I said, "I was about to ask you the same thing!"

  Brickhouse squeaked out a cluck in between gasps of air.

  "Because," Ana said, opening the door wide, "I found him."

  Kit sat at her kitchen island, looking like Grizzly Adams. Hair had sprouted on his head, thick and curly, and a straggly beard covered most of his face.

  Mine and Brickhouse's mouths dropped open. In perfect unison we muttered, "Holy hell."

  Ana dragged us inside and closed the door tight, doublelocking it and using the chain.

  I kept staring at Kit, thinking I might be hallucinating.

  Brickhouse leaned against the door and kept clucking over and over.

  No one said anything. The only sound in the room was Brickhouse's soft clucks.

  Kit stood.

  He'd lost weight. His clothes hung off his tall frame. His body had gone from linebacker to Iron Man. Long and lean yet still strong.

  Yet . . .

  Alive.

  Thank God.

  Before I knew it I was running across the room and into his arms. No one gave better hugs than Kit. "You scared the hell out of me!"

  "Ach, me too." Brickhouse hip-checked me out of the way. "My turn."

  Kit hugged her too, and the tone of her clucks changed from amazed to nurturing. "I like the hair," she said, "but the beard needs to go."

  He smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."

  I looked at Ana. "You could have called."

  "And said what?" she asked. "Hi Nina, I came home from the airport to find Kit in my house. Come on over? Didn't you tell me you thought your phone lines were bugged? I thought it best not to call, and figured your usually nosy self would have checked on me sooner if I didn't answer my phone."

  "Hey!" I said. "I was busy! I woke up with Kevin in my bed, had a whole showdown with him, then frozen Cornish game hens mysteriously appeared all throughout the Mill sending Miss Maisie into a tizzy of epic proportions, then Lewy and Joe showed up to tell me Creepy Kent was dead, and then there was this whole thing with Mrs. Greeble and gambling and dying. Then my house was swarmed with DEA and—"

  "Ach. Don't forget about Riley's doctor appointment."

  "Right. Thank you, Ursula. I also had to take Riley to the doctor. He has strep. He'll be fine. Then I find out that Kevin hasn't really needed recuperation time but only said that so he could keep an eye on me, and that Lewy and Joe were sicced on me by Kevin to be my personal bodyguards. And then—then—Ursula and I had to track down Randall Oh, who told us about a cop who went to investigate Heavenly Hope a few years ago. You know who?" I asked. Without waiting for an answer, I said, "Ginger Ho! Can you even believe it?"

  I sat down on the counter stool, inhaled deeply.

  "I forgive you," Ana said, batting her eyelashes at me.

  I paused for breath, then said, "Oh my God. Kit, are you okay? Were you shot too?"

  "The bullet just nicked my arm. I'm fine."

  He sat on the stool next to me. Darkness circled his eyes, sadness tugged the fine lines around his mouth and on his forehead into a frown.

  I couldn't quite figure out what to say. Or do.

  Brickhouse didn't have the same problem. "Ach! What in the hell happened?"

  Kit muttered, "What a mess."

  Ana took out a bottle of red wine. "Anyone?"

  I felt like taking the whole bottle for myself, but had to share with Brickhouse and Ana. Kit declined.

  "I dropped Ana off at the airport on Thursday night—" Kit began.

  "And then he went to Heavenly Hope," Ana cut in. "He was early, though, because you know how I like to get to the airport three hours before my flight." She set three wineglasses on the counter. We all looked at her, and she gestured with her arms. "Go on," she urged Kit.

  I saw the corner of his mouth twitch into a slight grin. "I had made plans with Daisy to help clear out her storeroom. And Ana's right. I was early." He stared into the distance without really seeing anything.

  Ana uncorked the wine. "To get rid of the marijuana plants and the rest of the drugs she had hidden. Oh . . . my . . . God. Did you know about the other drugs she sold? Meth and speed and Ecstasy."

  "Corazón," I said, "made by none other than Creepy Kent Ingless."

  Kit's eyebrows rose. "You've been busy."

  "Ach. We've been busy." Brickhouse thumped her massive chest.

  Ana wasn't impressed. "Anyway," she went on, "Kit and BeBe walk into Heavenly Hope and find Daisy dead."

  "I'm sorry," I said to him.

  Brickhouse swallowed a huge sip of wine, then clucked. "Me too."

  "Next thing he knows, someone is shooting at him. Bullets flying like something out of James Bond."

  He looked amused. "Maybe not James Bond."

  "Depends," Ana said, "which James."

  "Ach, that Daniel Craig is nice eye candy." Brickhouse wriggled her eyebrows.

  Ana raised her glass in a toast. "Ursula, I don't agree with you often, but I'll drink to that. Hubba hubba."

  "Helloooo," I interrupted.

  "Oh!" Ana cried. "Sorry! Anyhoo, Kit escapes. I don't know how. He had to have had a dozen shots fired at him."

  "He's a man of steel," Brickhouse said.

  Kit looked longingly at my glass of wine. "Do you want a beer?" I asked.

  Relief swept through his eyes. I fetched him a can from the fridge.

  "Did you see who was shooting you?" Brickhouse asked him.