Murder on the Ol' Bunions (A LaTisha Barnhart Mystery) (18 page)

Grunting sounds of protest echoed out from the dressing room.

“Black ones,” I added for Hardy’s sake.

Sasha didn’t miss a beat. “Sure. I have some. Not many, but we can find something for Hardy. Most guys want to get them to fit a little snug anyhow.” She wagged her brows at me.

“And a jacket to match.
With fringe.”

“I’m almost done in here,” Hardy said, the door garbling his words. “Then we can get out of here.
Don’t need no
leather anyhow. What you
thinkin
’?”

I spun around and zoned right in on the two racks of men’s pants—solid color, all cotton. It meant more ironing, but Hardy’s love of crisp pleats would terminate my position as iron-wielder very quickly. He always did a much better job.

Grabbing his size in every color, I slung them over the door. “You try these on, too, you hear?”

Another grunt.

Sasha and I shared a conspiratorial grin. She crooked her finger at me and I followed her through the cloud of stinky air to the front of the store. The little hat still sat on the mannequin’s head in the window. With an easy motion, she jumped up into the window, took the hat off the figure and handed it down to me.

Even with my twists still in, the hat perched perfectly on my head. “I’ll take it.”

“Thought you might.”
Sasha hopped down from the ledge and glanced at the price tag. “I’ll give you twenty-five percent off.”

“Sweeten the deal any more and I’ll buy two.”

Scanning the tag, Sasha punched some keys when it beeped a protest. “This thing can be such a pain. And I do have one in yellow if you’re interested.”

“Lemon yellow?”

Her head cocked to the side.
“Pale yellow.”

“
Naw
.
Not my color at all.” I glanced over the bald-headed mannequin and out the window to the street. “Regina’s doing quite the business today. She’s getting me a new hair-style.” I touched one of my twisted rows of hair. “I’m done with relaxers.”

In an unconscious gesture, Sasha touched her hair. “Makes me glad I just need a trim every now and again.”

From the doorway to the backroom behind the cash register, Olivia appeared, rubbing her hands together,
then
running them over her pant legs.

“Back there snacking?” Sasha said as she wrapped my hat in tissue paper. Olivia crouched and took out a flattened box, punching it and shaping it into a square large enough for my hat.

“Carrots.
Seeing Regina flip her sign reminded my stomach to start rumbling.”

I glanced over at the beauty shop and saw the WILL BE BACK sign on Regina’s door. When the door swung inward and Regina appeared, Sasha laughed out loud. “She must know we’re talking about her.”

But my mind zeroed in on Regina. Tucked under her right arm, she carried a white envelope. What was that gal up to?

As Sasha wrapped my hat in the tissue paper nest Olivia had made for it, Olivia said something that caused my heart to drop to my feet. “Wonder what she’s up to. That’s the second time this week she’s clutched that envelope to her chest like a newborn.
Must be sending something to her mother in Denver.”

“I feel like a starch can,” Hardy grumped. His pants swooshed with every step. “And I can’t believe you made me get a suit. What do I need a suit for? I don’t work anymore.”

“It was the suit or the leather. You made the choice.”

“I chose the leather.” He opened the back door of the car and let the bags spill onto the seat.

“Only because Livy whistled.
The suit was life, the leather death.”

His eyes twinkled. “Suppose I’d like to live to see my grandbaby.”

“My feelings exactly.
You’ve got the suit. Breathe and enjoy.”

One package fell to the ground. He picked it up and crammed it in with the others.

I watched his hind-end wag around as he arranged the packages. “Why don’t you put all that in the trunk?”

“No need, I got them all in.” He gave a mighty shove of the bags, backed out of the way, and slammed the back door quick. “See?”

 
Hardy and I crossed the street to Regina’s, him swooshing the whole way. “
I’m needing
to go to the police station and check in with Chief.”

“You go on ahead.” He pointed with his thumb. “I’ll sit in here and wait for you.”

Now I could have warned him about the pre-weekend crowd. The majority of womenfolk got their hair done on Fridays, so they could look nice all weekend, especially for Sunday. If he wanted to sit with a room full of gossiping women, let him, I had fifty minutes before my hair appointment and needed to find out if Regina’s alibi checked out.

Sunshine made it a pleasant walk, and a new pair of hose made it bearable. Slacks never worked for me
cause
they rode up my inner thighs, then the skin chafed.

“Good morning,
LaTisha
.” Chief greeted me from a desk covered with everything from potato chip bags to a bottle of toilet cleaner. I made a point of staring at the desk with raised brows. Chief chuckled. “I’m also janitor of this place.” He motioned to the toilet cleaner. “Guess I got distracted and instead of putting it away, I carried it out here. Mac’s a lot neater, huh?”

“No doubt you have a lot on your mind.”

Chief nodded, brows pinched together. “I received the results from the fingerprint test. Regina’s prints were all over that envelope. A partial shoeprint didn’t yield anything other than it was a woman’s shoe.” He released a sigh. “Which isn’t unusual being it was a store.”

“No other test results?”

“They took several samples of other items, but Officer Cameron said everything got pushed aside when three other murders took place Tuesday afternoon, so they’re backed up. I’m going to try to make a trip over there to get things stirred up.”

“Have you questioned her?”

“Regina? Not yet. With her mom not doing well and all . . . well, I haven’t talked to her.” His fingers began a dance on the surface of the desk. “I was hoping you could do that for me. She might open up more to you than she would me.”

His dancing fingers had my brain jumping in time. This boy was nervous.
Agitated.
Something had happened to make him so shy. I intended on finding out what that something was.

He had slicked back his hair today, taming its normal tousled appearance. As his fingers bounced, a suspicion bloomed in my head. Regina
Rogane
probably was about the same age as the chief.

“You thinking ‘bout courting Regina or something?”

Never in my life had I seen a white man blush so hard. His face flushed so red I thought he might be holding his breath. He sat up a little straighter and crumpled the potato chip bag, tossing it toward the trashcan and began clearing his desk of everything as if his life’s work were to compete against Mr. Clean. “She’s a nice lady,” is all he offered.

Now I’d seen this before. RBCD is what I call it—rapid brain cell depletion. It’s the disease that affects every man and woman in the throes of like—love, whatever. They start acting like all the sense they ever had was the pennies in their pocket.

Chief’s long fingers made short work of the rest of the garbage, until only the toilet bowl cleaner remained. He stared at it before finally raising beseeching eyes to me.

“What do I do?”

“Cupid I’m not, honey. You
gonna
have to work this thing out yourself.”

“I feel like such a fool walking in there and questioning her on Marion’s death. Regina wouldn’t do such a thing. I know she wouldn’t.”

I crossed my arms. “You crushing hard, boy. But you got a job to do. She
know
how you feel?”

Another wave of red boiled his ears. He shifted in his seat. “No. I don’t know if she’s. . .”

“You best be finding out, don’t you think?”

His eyes went huge. “I can’t come right out and ask her. Not now.”

“How else you thinking you going to find out?
Osmosis?
And how is it you know her momma’s not doing well? Talking to her on the phone?”

 
“I was eating at Mark’s the other night and she was talking to Tammy. You
know,
girl talk type of stuff. Tammy has a new boyfriend. Then Regina started crying and I heard her say something about Denver, so I figured it had to do with her mother.”

“Well, you don’t worry your head. I’m
guessin
’ we’ll cover a lot of territory while she gives me my new hairstyle.” I touched my hair and gave an affirming nod.
“Lots of territory.”

“And
LaTisha
. . .” His fingers stopped tapping on the surface, his stare unwavering. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t let on about
me.
. . you know.”

“My
lips is
sealed.”

Chapter Seventeen

With a good thirty minutes left before my appointment, I decided to go over to the school and let the librarian know the books were coming, but I needed a couple of hours to go through them. Too, I hoped I might have the chance to see Dana in action at the school.

I did my best to move fast to get over to the school before it let out for the week, making it in time to hear the bell ring. If I’d had a red flag, I’d waved it at the charging groups of youngsters coming at me down the concrete walk, yelling their greetings to me as they galloped past.

“You need some help with that box, Mrs. Barnhart?” Teddy Cooper asked. A former Sunday school student, he was now a twelfth grader ready to take on the world.
Scary.
Deep down though, I felt a stir of satisfaction that he would offer his help and gladly handed over the box of books to the shaggy young man.

“You can handle that much better than I can. Getting this body of mine from place to place is enough to wear me out. How you been? You
gonna
miss playing ball at that fancy college?”

Teddy played forward on the basketball team and had for four years. Known for his speed, he’d done his share of damage on visiting teams during the season.

“
Naw
, Mrs. B.” Teddy shook his head and hefted the box to his shoulder. “I’m done playing ball. I’ve
gotta
really hit the books hard.
Won’t have time for sports.”

As we passed through the doors and headed toward the centrally located library of the school, Teddy chatted on about his plans for a degree in computer science.

 
The green double doors of the library opened as we neared, and Sam
Lightner
, sloppy jock and proud of it, appeared, his shoulders slumped in perpetual bad posture, his pants riding low, ripped and torn.

Sam lifted his
head,
his eyes flickered from me to Teddy, lingering on the boy a minute longer than necessary. Neither said a word. Sam looked away and kept walking.

“What was that all about?” I ventured.

Teddy didn’t answer me. We watched Sam enter room ten.
Dana
Letzburg’s
room.
“Good,” I said, pleased. “That boy could use some tutoring.”

Teddy turned his gaze on me. “It isn’t tutoring that got him through Mrs.
Letzburg’s
English class. Uh—” He compressed his lips and turned his head away. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Now I haven’t raised kids for nothing. Guilt, in its many forms, is a universal emotion betrayed by sudden stutters in dialogue and quick stops in speech. Then there’s the way the eyes dart around or fasten on an object.

“If there’s anything happening that shouldn’t be, don’t you think it should be known? Is that why Sam was sending you those silent daggers a few minutes ago?”

 
Teddy wiped the hair off his forehead. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”

“Seems to me I taught you about honesty in Sunday school.”

He slumped. “Guess it doesn’t matter now that we’re getting ready to graduate. With Mrs.
Letzburg
catching
Valorie
cheating and all—”

“Did you know
Valorie
was cheating?”

He shrugged but didn’t meet my eyes. “We went out a couple of times. She hated English. Who doesn’t? We studied together for this really hard test. She got an A. I still got a C.”

“If you studied, why was that such a surprise?”

I didn’t miss the scarlet streaks that sprouted up his neck. He ducked his head even lower. And having been privy to the raging hormones of youth seven times over, understanding dawned.

“So you knew she’d cheated.”

“Yeah, I guessed. I broke up with her after that.”

“What’s this have to do with Sam?”

“Kind of a double-standard thing going.
Mrs.
Letzburg
catches Dana cheating, yet the entire basketball team knows that she sells grades. That’s what Sam’s doing now. He got an F on a test on diagramming sentences that was a big portion of our grade.”