Authors: Cheri Lewis
“And you think pink feathered boas are going to go with our outfits we haven’t bought yet?”
He smirks as he starts unwinding the boas and Prima is now standing, waiting for her chance to pounce on them. “They can go with any outfit, if you have the right attitude.” He winks. And he’s right about that. He can pull off a feathered boa in any situation.
“You want something to drink?” I ask as he walks back into the living room carrying one of his bags.
“Yes! Let’s make some Creamcicles.”
“I don’t think I have any pineapple-orange juice but I’ll check.”
“I stopped on the way here, so we’re set; it’s in my carry-on bag”
“Okay.”
I stand from the couch, go and get the juice and take it into the kitchen; I pull the whipped vodka out of the refrigerator and start mixing the two. I hear Jessie exclaim from the other room, “Oh my God!”
“What?”
“Oh, my GOD!”
“What?”
“Get in here Kinsey.”
I grab a drink in each hand and go back to the living room.
“What?”
“Girl, I know why I recognized him.”
“Would you quit with the theatrics and tell me what it is?”
“You remember about three years ago when we were at Missy’s house and she wore that God awful string bikini and we were making fun of it?”
“
You
were making fun of it, but what does he have to do with Missy?”
“You lost sight of her strings under her belly roll,” he explains like I wouldn’t remember that sight.
“Seriously Jessie, what the hell?!”
“Okay, okay. Remember when we heard all those sirens and there was big to-do about a cop’s wife getting killed?”
“I remember something about that but, oh, is that where the woman was putting her kid in the car seat and somebody hit her with a car and left her to die?”
“Yes.”
“Are you telling me that Tatum was her husband?”
“Yes.”
“Did they ever find out who did it?”
“No, there’s an article by the Skeeter News published two months ago, marking the anniversary and in bold print it says ‘unsolved’.”
“Whatever happened to the child?”
He quietly states, “She died too.”
“Was she—?”
He nods his head and I instantly feel sick. I didn’t even know them but for anyone to die that way is terrible.
“Holy shit,” I mumble out.
“You got that right.”
“How old were they?”
“Um, it says here, thirty-two and eighteen months.”
We sit in silence a long time, sipping our drinks, both lost in thought.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were hiring a private detective?” Jessie asks.
“Holy crap, you don’t know anything. I forgot I haven’t told you anything yet. You’re going to have to find a way to keep your phone on you at all times. I’m sick of not being able to tell you what is going on!!! I’ve had so much happen to me over the last week.” I proceed tell him about the police station and how someone was messing around the house.
“We’re going tomorrow and buy you a gun.”
“I don’t need a gun. What I need is to be left alone”
“If you’re spending the night at your parents so you can sleep, you need something to make you feel safer.”
“That’s true. I can’t stay another night at my parent’s. My mother informed me I can’t friend date you forever”
“Ha! That June. She is something else.”
“She’s ready to be a grandmother.”
“Well you know… we’ll make beautiful babies.”
“Would you even know how to do it with a woman?”
“It can’t be that hard. I’m sure I’d figure it out.”
“How romantic, but it’s nice to know I have a back-up plan.”
CHAPTER THREE
Marijuana
Monday morning I sent off a quick email to my boss asking to have a quick chat with him, when his voice almost immediately comes over the voice speaker at my desk. I’m shocked. “Ms. Morrow, could you come to my office please?”
Wow that was quick; I guess he does handle things accordingly and quickly.
I walk into his office. He doesn’t bother to look up. He immediately starts spouting off different tasks I need to take care of because he has a family emergency and will be leaving to go out of town this afternoon for the remainder of the week. I start to panic trying to remember everything he’s saying, and on the tenth task I have to finally speak up, “Mr. Samford.” His blue eyes cut up quickly toward me and I stammer, “I—I—thought you had called me in here because of my email. I didn’t come prepared; can you give me a second to grab a pen and notepad, please?”
He furrows his brows and glances at his computer screen. He stares at it a long minute before annoyance flitters across his face. He lets out a light sigh and I get the feeling he is counting to ten, which makes me feel an inch tall. “Of course, Ms. Morrow, what did you need to speak with me about?”
“First, I would like to apologize. My personal life has crossed over to my professional life and I promise after our conversation today it won’t happen again. I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Osborne stopped by my house last night and I’ve decided to let him look into my problem.”
He presses his lips together and then picks up a pen and writes something on a piece of paper. “You’ll need to speak to Mrs. Hatter. She handles all the payables and receivable for my companies. I have already told her to expect an invoice for your initial meeting that I would be paying for that and that you’d be setting up a payment plan for any services rendered by Mr. Osborne after that.” I reach out and take the paper from his hand and bite my tongue so I won’t ask him what other companies he owns. I’ve already pushed my limits this morning not coming in his office prepared. I slip the paper into my slacks pocket and then pick up his notepad and pen off his desk and began asking questions about his previous instructions. After I have all of my notes down and questions answered I turn to walk out of his office. I look back over my shoulder when he speaks quietly, “At one time Tank had it all. He suffered a great loss but I’m sure of one thing, whomever it is that’s causing you trouble, he’ll get to the bottom of it.”
I give a small smile. “Thanks for all your help; I will get right on this list.” When I make it to my desk I sag into my chair, several different emotions run through my body, and I find it odd to hear him call Tatum, Tank. It’s so informal which is something I’ve never heard my boss be but I do find his reassurances hopeful,
I really just want my life back
.
It’s a slow week at work with Mr. Samford out of town. I find myself dusting the file cabinets and taking a Q-tip and running it between the numbers on the phone pad to clean it and I
really
hate cleaning. Thoughts of calling Tank have crossed my mind about one hundred times.
But if he had found anything about Joel or whatever or whomever it is messing with my stuff he would have contacted me, right? And I haven’t had any more incidents lately, maybe it was Joel like I thought all along and he scared him enough to leave me alone.
My thoughts are interrupted when the phone at my desk rings and I can’t contain my smile when I hear Jessie’s voice, “Class ended early and I’m on my way home.”
“That’s great. What do you want to do tonight?”
“I don’t care as long as we’re together and it’s fun. I have to run by and see my mom first, she was pretty pissed off I didn’t stop by last weekend. Plus I think daddy #2 wants to make sure I’m still working.”
“Okay, say hi to your mother for me.”
“Will do sunshine; see you in a couple of hours.”
****
My eyes pop open alert when I hear Jessie’s loud screech from my spare bedroom, “McKinsey come here now!”
I jump out of bed, grab my glasses and run down the hall to his room, stubbing my toe in the process. “What is it? What’s wrong!?” I find him standing back pointing down toward the floor. There was a little sandwich bag in the middle of the room and it looked like it was filled with some sort of crumbled up dried grass. “What is that?”
“It looks like marijuana.”
Oh crap!
I swallow hard and bend at the waist to get a better look at it, “Marijuana. Is it yours??”
He gives me a look of absolute disbelief. “How many times have you known me to smoke pot? Besides I don’t want me teeth to turn brown.”
I roll my eyes. “Jessie, I don’t think your teeth will turn brown smoking pot. Where do you think it came from then?”
“I don’t know. I got up this morning and there it was in the middle of the floor.”
“It wasn’t in the floor last night?”
“I don’t think so but I don’t make it a habit to inspect the floors for marijuana when I walk into a room, plus look whose house we are talking about here. You probably have plants growing under the bed and you’d never know.”
“Your “bedroom” is the cleanest room in the house and if it’s not whose fault is it then?”
I’m not sure why Jessie has never fully moved in with me. I’ve asked him to several times but he always uses the same excuses. “I don’t want to move out and leave mom, I’m her only kid.” “You just got out from under your parents; you need to learn to take care of yourself.”
I don’t ask him anymore because what does it matter. He’s here all the time and we know my spare bedroom is his bedroom.
We both stand several feet back watching it like it was going to grow legs and run away. “We have to do something with it. It can’t stay there in the middle of my floor,” I say.
Jessie sits back on the bed and crosses his arms as he stares at the bag in the middle of the floor. “Did Joel smoke pot?”
My heart hits my stomach and then I begin to get pissed at the thought he might sink that low all because I won’t date him. “I don’t know. If he did, he never did in front of me but I wouldn’t have thought he would send me black roses either. Do you think he would do that? I mean do you think he would put this in my house and call the police and say we were smoking pot?”
“I don’t know, honey. All I know is, it wasn’t here and now it is and it ain’t mine.”
I think it over for a second. “Okay, pick it up, and let’s flush it down the toilet.”
He animatedly waves his arms around, his eyes narrow in on me. “I’m not picking that up. Do you know what kind of sensitive scanners they have at the airport? This will have the machines screaming that I’ve been handling illegal drugs and that will not look great on my already long resume.”
I shake my head and cross my arms. “Well, I’m not picking it up either; I don’t want to touch it.”
We almost jump into each other’s arms when we hear the loud knock on the front door; Jessie starts panicking. “Oh my God, the police are already here.”
“Should we kick it under the bed or something?”
“No way. That makes us look more guilty.”
“But we’re not guilty!” I cry.
Jessie tip-toes to the window and peeks out. “I don’t see anything or anybody.”
“You can’t see the driveway from here, come on.” I grab his arm and we start for the front door as another set of knocks sound, I look back at him in the eyes and say, “And whatever you do, act normal.”
Once we get to the front door I’m kicking myself for not having a peep hole yet
. I wonder if I have to buy a whole new door or if you can buy a kit or something.
I open the door slowly and sigh, instantly relieved when I see Tank standing at the door. I open the door all the way and motion for him to come in and watch as he eyes me and Jessie. I quickly cross my arms over my chest when I remember I’m still in my spaghetti strap pajamas top, braless, but he doesn’t even seem to notice that. His gruff voice finally asks, “What’s going on?”
I try to play it cool. “Nothing. Why would anything be going on?”
Movement catches my eye and I watch as a sleepy Prima appears from my bedroom door and makes her way slowly down the hallway, walking right past us like we were lowly peasants and deserve no acknowledgement.
Then Jessie and his big mouth brought me quickly back to reality. “Hey, tell me something, since you’re her private investigator. If we tell you something do you have to tell the police?”
My eyes get so wide they hurt and they feel like they’re about to pop out of my head. Tank stares long and hard at Jessie before he asks, “Are you asking me if there is a privileged confidentiality agreement between her and myself?”
“Yes, like if she commits murder and tells you about it do you have to tell the police?”
He quickly looks at me. His hazel eyes feel like they were boring into my soul. “Did you kill somebody?”
In complete aggravation I blurt out, “ARGH! No! I didn’t kill anybody. Somebody put drugs into my spare bedroom and we’re trying to figure out what to do with them.”
I watch as he crosses his arms, suspicion ringing out in the tone of his voice. “Drugs? What type of drugs?”
“Marijuana,” Jessie quickly informs him.