Memory Lapse: A Slater Vance Novel (10 page)

Slater arrived at a small
grocery store at the very end of the street. It had neon signs, probably from
the late sixties, prominently displayed in the windows. The windows were barred
and covered in cobwebs and dust. Stepping into the store, he removed his
aviator sunglasses and gave his eyes a chance to acclimate to the store’s
dimness.

The store had probably
been built back in the fifties and was long and narrow. There was an antique
red cola cooler set against the wall under the window. The stale air of the old
building was circulated with the help of an oscillating fan, which was
positioned on the top of a meat counter located against the store’s back wall.
There was a man wearing a dirty apron standing behind that counter. From the
lines in the man’s face, he could have been the original owner of the store.
Heading towards him, Slater gave the man a nod in greeting.

“Afternoon.
Sure is humid today, isn’t it?”
Slater said in greeting.

“Yep, it is.”

“Do you mind if I ask you
a couple of questions?” he asked solicitously.

“You a cop?”
came
the clipped response.

Slater smiled. “No, no.
Nothing like that.
I’m just looking for some people. A
mutual relative of theirs passed away and I’ve been hired to find them to
notify them.”

The old man eyed Slater
suspiciously. “Is that right?”

“Yeah, the woman used to
live not too far from here, so I thought she might have stopped by here at some
point. Do you know a woman called Honey Luscious or a man named Zeke
Zagoria
?”

“And you say those are
kin?” the man questioned.

“Yep,
distant cousins.”

“Umm.
Then they’d be
kissin
’
cousins. They used to come in here, but I
ain’t
seen
them in ‘bout six… seven months, thereabouts.”

Slater tilted his head in
consideration of the man’s words. “Can you tell me what Honey Luscious looks
like?”

The old man gave him a
disbelieving look. “
Them
people sent you out here to
find somebody and they’d not tell you what they looked like?
That
don’t
make good sense.”

“Not really. It’d been a
while since they’ve seen them.”

“Uh,” the old man
grunted. After several moments, he said, “The last time I saw Honey she was a
blond. She was average height with above-average figure. Oh yeah, probably the
most important thing to know,” the old man’s dilapidated face widen in a grin,
“she’s a… little darker than her ‘cousin’ ZZ.”

“Honey’s not Hispanic?”
Slater asked.

“Nope.
Black as the ace
of spades.”

“You’re right. That’s
helpful. Thanks for your help.”

Now that Slater had a
better idea of who was looking for, he began driving around the surrounding
neighborhood. Seeing a group of scantily-clad woman standing on the corner, he
pulled over and rolled down the passenger side window. One of the women,
dressed in a tube top and a short orange skirt, sauntered over to the SUV.

“Hey,
handsome.
You
looking for some company?” she asked suggestively.

“I am. I’m looking for
Honey Luscious. Have you seen her?”

The young white woman
heaved her sizable breasts onto the edge of the open window, giving him a
sample viewing. “I’m Honey Luscious and I’m as sweet… and naughty… as my name,”
she flirted.

Slater flashed
her a
grin. “I’m sure you are; however, I’m looking for a
different Honey Luscious; blond and black. Any idea where I can find her? It’ll
gain you fifty bucks if you can tell me,” he said, flashing
her
a
brief glance of the money.

The woman licked her lips
as she eyed the money.
“You a cop?”

“No, no. Just back in
town and wanted to find… an old friend,” Slater said, raising his brows
suggestively.

“Well Honey
don’t
work here no more. She moved her operation to the
other side of town. She now hangs out over on Vermont Street, close to the
Kwik
Klean
.”

“Thanks, “Slater replied,
handing the money to the woman.

“Hey, word up, she’s by
appointment only now… ever since her break up with Z. You can get her number
from the manager at
Kwik
Klean
.”

Slater peeled off another
twenty and handed it to the barely covered woman, “Thanks, I’ll keep that in
mind.”

Slater punched Vermont
Street into his GPS and after a few turns, found
himself
parked at the
Kwik
Klean
.
He walked into the dry cleaners. The smell of starch and the humidity of the
steam
was
almost overwhelming. He strolled to the
counter and leaned his hip against it. A small man with blonde-tipped
highlights in his almost black hair walked from the back of the store. The
man’s hair was only eclipsed by the heavy earring gouged into each ear, leaving
a huge, gaping hole in the lobes. His nametag read
Tim
.

“What can I do for you,
man?”

Slater folded his arms,
placing them on the counter and leaning in closer to Tim.

“I need to speak to the
manager,” Slater said quietly.

Tim’s face broke into a
huge grin. He pointed both thumbs at himself and said, “That would be me.”

“I’d like to make an
appointment with Honey Luscious.”

Tim’s almost
boy-next-door goodness was immediately eclipsed by an edgier, street thug
countenance. The transformation was remarkable.

“You a
cop?”

“Nope,
just an old friend.
Some… mutual friends told me I could find her number here.”

Tim removed the pencil
from behind his ear. “Well, man, it
don’t
work that
way. I get your number and if you check out, she’ll call you. Got it, Ace?”

Slater took the
outstretched pencil and wrote his cell phone number down on a yellow notepad
located by the phone. “Tell her I’ll pay double if she calls me before
tomorrow.”

Wordlessly, Tim took the
note and folded it in half while never taking his eyes off Slater.

Slater was frustrated as
he drove home. He so wanted to resolve the issue with Honey Luscious today. He
didn’t want this drawn out any longer than necessary. His only other hope was
that Bridge would find Zeke
Zagoria
, thereby
relieving the threat for the woman at this house. At this point, he didn’t know
what to call her. Snidely, he thought to himself, the only thing he wanted to
call her was gone.

Slater remembered he
needed to pick up dinner for him and his ‘houseguest.’ How had his life gotten
to this? He’d been very careful to not become ensnared in the lives of others.
His damn brother!

He pulled into the red
brick building which housed Lingui’s Italian Restaurant and ordered a couple of
specials to go. Tonight’s special was one of his favorites: spaghetti with
meatballs the size of bowling balls, all covered in a delicious red sauce. He
ordered a couple of salads and breadsticks as he wasn’t sure what Honey – or
whoever she was – would want to eat.

Within twenty minutes, he
was on his way home. God, it’d been a long day. He was tired. He hoped that
maybe, just maybe, he could sleep in until his actual alarm woke him and not a
phone call or alarm.

The house was dark when
he pulled into the driveway. Slater gathered the spaghetti dinners and headed
into the house. Sensors turned on the houselights as he passed them, lighting
his way. He set the food down on the counter and tilted his head to listen for
any sounds of his houseguest. He walked down the hall and knocked on her door
but didn’t receive an answer. With a shrug of his shoulders, he headed back to
the kitchen and began to unpack the food. Idly, he glanced out the sliding
glass doors leading out onto the patio. He saw Honey lying on a chaise lounge
with a throw lying over her upper torso. She appeared to be fast asleep. He
slid the door open and stepped out into the night. As with the house, the
automatic sensors switched on lights as he passed them. The lights seem to
startle her and she jerked awake.

“Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean
to wake you, but I have dinner,” Slater said.

“Don’t be sorry. Thanks,
I’ll be right in,” she answered softly.

“Do you need help getting
up?” he asked solicitously, remembering he’d promised his brother he’d be nice.

“No, I’m good.”

Awkwardly, she rose from
the lounge and grabbed the crutches propped up against the lounge and followed
him into the house.

“If you’ll go ahead and
get comfortable at the table, I’ll bring the food. It’s spaghetti with salad
and bread. I hope that’s okay.”

“Sounds
great, thanks.”

“What can I get you to
drink?
Water?
Wine?
Soda?”

“Water’s good.”

Slater nodded his head
and went about his tasks. He placed a hand against the bottom of one of the
spaghetti tins and found it had cooled to nearly cold.

“I’ll need to reheat
this, so it’ll be just a minute, okay?”

“Sure, fine.”

Slater slid the
spaghetti, meatballs, and sauce onto a microwavable plate and placed it in the
microwave. He put ice into glasses and placed the salad into bowls. He carried
the drinks, salads, and bread to the table and went to retrieve the spaghetti
when the microwave beeped.

He touched the edge of
the plate and thought he’d be okay with lifting it without the aid of oven
mitts. He’d gotten almost to the table when the heat became too much and he
tried to shift his hands to a cooler spot. But the next place his hands landed
on was even hotter. He tried to juggle the plate and as he did, the entire
contents of spaghetti, meatballs, and red sauce went flying into the air
landing on the carpet.

“Damn, damn, damn!”
Slater said, putting the plate down and slinging his hands in the air trying to
cool them off. He heaved a huge sigh at the mess he’d created.

He turned back to the
kitchen to grab a cloth and said over his shoulder, “Sorry, it’ll be just
another minute. I think there’s enough in the other meal for us to share. If
you get hungry later, I can order pizza.”

He wet the cloth and
waited on her usual cordial response but she said nothing. Slater glanced over
and found her staring off into space. All color had washed out of her face and
she was gasping as if she couldn’t suck in enough air.

◊◊◊

Honey watched Slater as
he removed the spaghetti from the microwave and cringed for him at his
discomfort. While she didn’t allow a smile to reach her lips, on the inside,
she couldn’t help smirking a little at his domestic ineptness. He was so
controlled in every other
way,
it was almost a relief
to find something at which he didn’t excel. But the minute the spaghetti had
flown into the air, a memory wavered in her mind and then grew stronger and
clearer.

She was sitting at a
dining table with its formal setting of china and crystal goblets filled with
an amber liquid. The silverware had been placed precisely on the table, spaced
appropriately apart. The candles flickered as they burned. She pushed her food
distractedly around her plate. She cast a quick glance around the table to
ensure everything had been placed exactly right. Blowing out a silent breath,
she was satisfied everything was perfect.

With her fork, she cut
into the chicken parmesan on her plate covered in the tangy tomato sauce. She
was in the process of raising it to her lips when her dinner companion snapped,
Damn it, how could you be so stupid?
causing
her to jerk her hand which had caught the edge of
the plate, flipping it, the chicken, pasta, and the rich, red sauce spiraled to
the floor, more precisely to the white, white carpet at her feet.

She glanced quickly to
her companion to see his reaction, but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t
see him. He was nothing but a blur; like having tunnel vision. As she reached
down with her napkin to begin the process of cleaning up the splattered sauce,
she sensed a whirl of movement. Her arm was grasped firmly in her companion’s
hand and she was jerked up from her chair. She was immediately filled with an
overwhelming sense of doom and terror. Cringing, she waited and then felt the
stinging pain of the resounding slap as he hit her, open-palmed. He’d learned
long ago that his open palm didn’t leave behind any telltale bruises. Roughly,
he threw her to the floor and shoved her face into the carpet where the food
had landed.
Lick it up like the little
bitch you are
, he snarled.

Honey jerked and adjusted
her eyes to see Slater standing in front of her, shaking her shoulders. She
swallowed, trying to dispel the memory. She tried to give him a reassuring
smile but had to clap her lips together to stop them from shaking.