The air outside Taste Teas was so hot and humid it felt as if the sky itself was sweating. Though the sun hung low, clinging to the horizon as it made its early evening descent, the temperature hadn't cooled down a bit. I wiped a hand across my brow, now damp with sweat and snagged some of my hair when I dropped my hand. The swampy air was already turning my curls to frizz and images of me meeting Manny with a fuzzy mess on my head danced before my eyes, but damn it, it was after four and my obligation to be cute ends with the workday.
I turned the key and waited for the pronounced click that let me know the back door was locked and secure then bounded down the back stairs on a wave of good cheer. I didn't know why my spirits were up—it'd been an ordinary day—but far be it for me to look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially with the week I've had.
My head swiveled from side to side as I walked across the narrow drive that ran through the alley, still weary of my surroundings after my brush with the stalker. If there even was a stalker. Even if there wasn't, you couldn't be too careful. Not in this crazy world.
There hadn't been a repeat of the incident, nor anything else concerning so naturally I started wondering if I'd imagined it. Wouldn't be my first bout with paranoia. But then again, it wouldn't be my first bout with a murderer either.
I pushed the anxious thoughts out of my head as I backed out of my space and rolled slowly through the alleyway. Whether I'd been followed or not there was nothing I could do right this second without real proof, so I was choosing to think happier thoughts. Happy thoughts like the fun popcorn movie I was about to go see with my boyfriend. A movie I'd been waiting to see since I'd stumbled on the first preview four months earlier while trying to YouTube how to change the bag in my vacuum. And a trip to the theater was always welcome in my book.
I smiled as I drove, hitting the headlights just as I turned into traffic. As I pulled up to the stoplight on University Blvd, my fingers strumming along to the radio, my phone rang. It was Ashley Pham...calling after four thirty like I didn't have business hours. I thought about ignoring it but the only thing it could be about was my money. I sighed and turned down the music. Stay positive. Today was a good day.
I answered with the last burst of customer service energy left in my body. "Hey," I chirped. "What's up?"
She answered flat, like something had knocked the wind out of her sails. "I got your money."
"That's great."
She paused like she was waiting for me to say something more. "I thought maybe you could swing by and pick it up now."
My brow furrowed. "Now? It's almost five."
She paused then came back quietly. "I know I just...want this over with."
I didn't want to do it but then what chore does anyone want to do? If I put it off, I'd just have to make time for it tomorrow and by then I may not be able to squeeze her in. "Alright, where are you?"
"Home."
"Oh, I'm not that far. A bit of serendipity, eh?"
She didn't bother to grace me with a pity chuckle. "Uh, yeah. Sure."
I hung up then prepared to change lanes. As I hit my blinker, ready to detour back onto one of the side streets, I remembered Manny. At the next light I dialed his number and put him on speaker. I should invest in a Bluetooth.
He answered quickly. "Hey, you. On the way?"
"I'm going to be a little late."
"There's no trouble is there?"
"Why does your mind always go to trouble?"
"Cause it's a shitty world," he said. "And honestly, Scooby, you're a bit of a trouble magnet."
I giggled at that. He knew me pretty well. "I'm just doing a quick errand. It shouldn't take more than ten minutes."
"We'll miss the opening." He whined.
"No, we won't. You know how I know? Because you always plan for us to get to the theater, like, thirty minutes before the start. I'll have time to do my errand, get to the theater, and meet you before the previews are even over."
"Why are you saying it like it's a negative, hmm? Would you rather I be like those people who come in ten minutes into the movie, walk across the screen, and miss the first five minutes?"
"There's plenty of time, you weirdo."
He groaned. "I just like to be in my seat, with my snacks, before the previews roll."
"This is so anal retentive."
"Would you rather date someone who's always late?"
Actually, no. "I'm hanging up!"
He laughed. "Okay, I'll be waiting."
"See you soon."
As soon as the line disconnected, I was turning down Ashley's street. The sun had dipped much lower and the top of the sky swirled with a mix of deep pinks and purples. Closer to the ground the streetlights activated down the tree lined road.
A black car was pulled into the empty spot in the driveway next to Ashley's car, so I pulled up to the curb and parked just behind the mailbox. I didn't have time to waste so I shut off the engine, grabbed my purse and got to it, hopeful that she wasn't in a chatty mood—I had a movie to get to.
A mild rain last night had left the thick green lawns lightly soaked and a swarm of gnats had descended with it to annoy me as I walked. I swatted the air around my face and dreamed of winter when most of Florida's most pesky critters would go to ground to avoid the cold. I wish I could go to ground during the summer months and bypass the heat, sweat, and water bugs but I'm just a lowly human so I have to be bothered every day of the year.
As I chuckled to myself and quickly sidestepped the black car blocking the driveway, the thin sole of my flat landed in an unpleasant pile of mush. I jumped back, cursing the existence of leash free suburban dogs and scrapping my foot across the concrete. This is exactly why Henry doesn't allow outside shoes inside his house—people and their dogs! After I was satisfied that my shoe was clean enough to continue my eyes roamed of their own volition to the offending pile.
What even is that? I squinted through the dusk and at what was clearly not dog shit but some kind of pile of paper litter.
Is that...a pile of cigarettes? What the hell! Why do people keep leaving their gross cancer litter at this house? Nobody who ever lived here even smokes. Who sits outside chain smoking in front of someone's house then dumping their litter in the driveway...
I stared thoughtfully at the strange black car, the hair on my neck prickling with alarm.
Think, think, think!
Black car, cigarettes, blackmail, the goddamn Circle K, embezzling, Leukemia Ball, David's gun...and David's friend who knew about the gun...
Fuck, fuck, fuck...okay, calm down.
I pulled my phone from my purse and steadied my trembling hands as I dialed.
The woman on the other end answered almost comically calm. "911. What's your emergency?"
"I think someone's in trouble." I whispered.
"You think?"
I looked back at the house. Dim light glowed from the living room. "I mean, I'm not a hundred percent sure—"
"Ma'am, please calm down."
I realized with a start that I had been breathing heavily into the receiver. I swallowed, my stomach a jumble of knots. "Sorry."
"Now, what's happening?"
"I think someone's trying to hurt my friend... but I'm not sure"
"I can send out an officer for a welfare check."
Relief washed over me. "Yeah, okay."
"What's the address?"
Once I hung up, I moved back behind the black car and peeked at the house. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There were no gunshots or blood curdling screams or sounds of fighting or anything like that. The front door wasn't swinging open like someone had broken in. And Ashley had sounded fine on the phone, if a little distracted.
Not fine, fine but not in danger. Was I wrong? I've been wrong before. Well, whether I was right or wrong the cops were on the way. They could handle it...
I straightened up, suddenly aware that the neighbors might mistake me for a potential burglar what with me crouch over and hiding and looked back at the house.
But what if Ashley really was in danger? What if she was hurt right now? What if the murderer was in there? Could I really stand here and wait for Ashley to get killed? As I understood it, it took the police a long time to show up even in emergency situations. Would they make it in time if she were in trouble? Was there anything I could even do?
Curiosity gnawed. Were my instincts wrong here? Maybe if I took a closer look...
But what if my instincts were right? What if the murderer was inside right now here to kill Ash and tie up loose ends? What if she was already dead and the killer was long gone?
But what if the cop showed up and nothing was wrong at all?
It couldn't hurt to check. Just a quick peek and then I'd come back to wait on the cops. Plus, I had my pepper spray and taser in my purse, and my knife tucked carefully in my pocket just in case.
With my mind made up I crept my way up the driveway and slinked toward the side of the house. All seemed quiet inside. Outside the air was alive with activity from the not-so-distant sound of cars puttering about to the chirping of frogs, crickets, and cicadas enjoying themselves in the watery grass.
The side of the house was pitch black. I walked across the gravel walkway, careful of my steps and listening out for the sound of any movement bigger than a small animal. It was deathly quiet in the house. Like, creepily so.
On the back porch I could just make out the stain where Noah met his end, still visible under the porch light. The back door was firmly closed but a nearby window was available. I crept to it and peered through the side like a pervert and held my breath as I searched. Ash was sitting on the couch in her living room looking off into space. She wasn't dead or roughed up or particularly frazzled. She looked fine. I breathed a sigh of relief. No one was pointing a gun at her or beating her senseless. She was simply sitting there waiting on me.
Better not keep her waiting any longer. The sound of sirens grew in the distance. I'd almost forgotten about the police. Well, I guess I'll just have to explain it all. Looked like I was going to make the movie after all.
But when I turned back, I was face to face with the barrel of a gun.