Naked Frame (12 page)

Joey soften his tone. "I'm not mad...I
just..." He kissed the top of her left breast.

There was a knock at the door.

Joey jumped back.

Bobby opened the door and stuck his head in.
He looked surprised and disappointed. "What's going on, Boss?"

"Nothing." He cleared his throat. "Get back
to work, Boobsicles. I'll...look into that problem."

"Thank you, Sir." Rebecca exited.

She hurried to the dressing room, changed
into her street clothes, and left the building before Joey or Bobby
came out of the office. She needed a shower. A very long, hot
shower.

Once Rebecca was two blocks away, she took
out her phone and called Gabby to come pick her up. It took him ten
minutes to get there, but it seemed like thirty.

"What did you find out?"

"I think Joey is the killer, and that he did
it for Kimberly."

"Kimberly Smotherburn? Why?
I mean, I can understand
her
motive. She wants her husband's money and his
company—without having to be his wife. But what's Joey's
motive?"

"The café. I found a sales contract between
Kimberly and Joey for Café Nue. She's selling it to him for
$10,000."

"That's practically
giving
it to
him."

"Yeah, and it's postdated for the fifteenth
of next month. It's even notarized."

"So, Joey kills Big Bill and
frames
you
for the
murder. Ownership of Café Nue passes to Kimberly, and she sells it
to Joey for a song."

"Quite a plan, huh? So, I'm moving Joey
Ketrousie to the top of our suspect list."

"But if Joey killed Big Bill right there in
your office, why hasn't he recognized you?"

"I don't know. He must have hired somebody
else to do it."

CHAPTER 24 - Tuesday 7:32 p.m.

Wiley plopped down in his leather recliner
and called her again.

"Why do you keep calling me?"

"Because I miss you, Baby. And I want to
come over."

"Well, I miss you too, Honey, but you know
you can't come here right now. What if somebody were to see
you?"

"I don't care," he slurred.

"Are you drunk, Wiley?"

"No. Of course not."

"Because you know how I feel about
that."

"I know. I did have a couple of drinks
earlier. But I'm not drunk. Definitely not drunk."

"Good."

"I want to come over there and screw your
brains out."

"Wiley!"

"I'm sorry. I meant
make love
to you. You
know that's what I meant, Baby."

"I know. I want that too. But we can't."

Wiley sighed.

"But you know what we can
do?
"

"The Game?"

"Yeah, The Game. It turns me on like crazy,
Honey. Please play with me."

"Okay. Let me get it. I'm putting you on
speaker." He set his cell phone down on the coffee table.

After a few moments, she
said,
"Wiley? Are you there?"

"I'm back."

"Good. I'm lying in bed. Let's play."

"Okay. I'm spinning."

"I'm already getting hot."

"Putting it against my head."

"I'm catching on fire, Honey. Keep
going."

"I'm pulling the trigger." The revolver
clicked.

"I'm almost there, Baby. When you spin, it
feels like you're licking me. Oh, God, don't stop!"

"I'm spinning again. Spinning.
Spinning."

"Oh, my, I'm gonna explode. Hurry! Pull the
trigger, Baby. Pull it!"

The hammer clicked on an empty chamber.

"Oh, oh, here it comes. Shit! Oh, Baby. I
can feel you in me. Oh, God!"

Wiley waited a few moments for her to
finish.

"Let's go again, Baby. You want to go
again?"

"Sure. But this time, how about I come over
there and do it for real?"

"Oh, wait. I'm sorry, Wiley. Somebody is
ringing the doorbell. I've got to go."

CHAPTER 25 - Tuesday, 7:38 p.m.

Melvin open the door to his apartment.

Megan walked in. It smelled like old people.
Or maybe it was the stacks of newspapers along the wall.

"Have a seat, Young Lady."

"Thanks." There was a couch, covered with a
worn and stained quilt. No way. She opted for the wooden rocker. At
least the wood looked relatively clean.

"You must be hungry. Let me see what I've
got in the fridge."

Megan imagined leftover turnip greens and
fried liver. "No, thanks. I'm fine. I had something at the
airport."

"How about something to drink? I've got a
can of Pepsi."

"Sure. That would be great."

He brought her the can.

She opened it and began to sip. "It's kinda
noisy here."

"What do you mean?"

"You know." She pointed to the window. "The
cars honking. People yelling."

"You get used to it."

She set her Pepsi on a coaster. "Where's the
bathroom?"

"At the end of the hall."

"Thanks." Megan got up and walked into the
hall, pulling her carry-on bag behind her. Out of the corner of her
eye, she noticed Melvin looking at her bag, shaking his head. He
probably thought a pink bag was silly.

She went into the bathroom, turned on the
light, and shut the door. After she had used the toilet and washed
her hands, she heard a knock at the apartment door. Megan put an
ear to the door and listened from inside the bathroom.

Someone burst into the apartment.

"Where is she?" said the man.

"Who?" said Melvin.

"You know who. Where is she, Old Man?"

Megan panicked. She knew it must be the
killer. The bathroom window wasn't very large, but she was sure she
could squeeze through it. She released the latch, and pulled the
window open. Megan knew the killer would find her bag in the
bathroom. But she hoped he wouldn't hurt Melvin for lying.

She climbed up on the counter, and went out
through the window, onto the fire escape. She had never stepped
foot on a fire escape before, and it scared her. Although, not as
much as the killer in Melvin's apartment.

She followed the stairs down as fast as she
could, and took the ladder to the sidewalk.

CHAPTER 26 - Tuesday, 7:49 p.m.

Calvin was under the hood of the GTO,
installing a radiator hose, when he heard someone open the side
door of his garage. "It's about time." He had been waiting all day
for his money.

"Really? You've been expecting me?"

Calvin stood up and turned around. Three
young Hispanic-looking men stared at him. Were they gang members or
just some kids looking for trouble? "Who are you?"

"My name is Larry. This is my brother,
Darryl. And this is my other brother, Darryl." He laughed. The
Darryls didn't crack a smile.

"Oh, I get it. The Bob Newhart Show."

"No, Man. Not the
Bob
Newhart Show. Just
the plain
Newhart
Show. The one where he lived in that Vermont Inn. You're not
much of a connoisseur of classic TV, are you, Dude?"

Larry was clearly an American. He spoke
English intelligently, and apparently grew up watching the TV Land
Network. But the two Darryls didn't appear to know what the hell he
was saying. "What can I do for you?"

"Wow, Man. You've got some fine automobiles
in here. I love this GTO." The three men walked around it, checking
out the interior, the chrome, and the engine. One of the Darryls
rubbed his hand across the smooth, shiny front fender.

"Please don't touch," said Calvin. "Do you
have a car that needs work?"

"No," said Larry. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, if you don't have work for me, why
are you here?"

"Because I'm thinking about buying a '69
Triumph Spitfire."

"I don't work on foreign cars."

"Why not? Are you prejudiced or
something?"

"Prejudiced?"

"Yeah. You hate what you don't understand,
Man."

"I don't hate people from other countries.
Is that what you're saying?"

"Yeah. For example, my two step-brothers
here. I'm American. But they're Mexican. You hate them, don't
you?"

"Of course not."

"I don't believe you, Man."

"Look, when you have an American car for me
to work on, come by and I'll add you to my waiting list."

"Oh, I see. I'm not good
enough for your
regular
list. You'd put me on your stupid
waiting
list."

"
Everybody
goes on the waiting
list."

"Yeah, I'll bet."

"Okay, I've had enough talk. I've got to get
back to work." Calvin began tightening the screw on the hose
clamp.

"Okay, Man. I get it. No hard feelings."

One of the Darryls took a set of gloves out
of his pocket and slipped them on. He picked up a large screwdriver
from the workbench and walked up behind Calvin.

Larry said, "So, have a good night,
Sir."

Calvin ignored him, hoping they would leave.
He never saw the long, sharp screwdriver Darryl was holding above
his back. And he had no chance to react when Darryl thrust it
downward with both hands, into Calvin's back, through his heart,
and out the front of his chest. As he fell forward, his forehead
slammed into the edge of the exposed carburetor.

"I really wanted this car." Larry looked at
Calvin's lifeless body lying across the front of the car, blood
dripping down the radiator and onto the concrete floor. "But not
anymore."

CHAPTER 27 - Tuesday, 7:57 p.m.

Gabby studied Rebecca, as they sat in his
car eating McDonald's ice cream sundaes and sipping coffee. She
looked so vulnerable. He loved it when she let her guard down. To
him, she was still the cute, innocent teenage girl he grew up
with.

Was that why he had such a strong urge to
kiss her cold, wet, ice cream lips? Or was it because of her
topless act at Café Nue? Or the excitement of the danger they were
in. Whatever the reason, he would resist. Gabby knew they could
never be more than friends. And he was okay with that. He was just
happy to have his best friend back in his life.

Rebecca's phone rang. She put it on
speaker.

"Megan, are you okay?"

"No."

Her voice sounded weak and hoarse, as though
she had been crying.

"What's the matter, Honey?"

"We went to Melvin's apartment and some man
showed up and started yelling at him. And I think he hit him too. I
was in the bathroom."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No. I climbed out the bathroom window. But
I don't know what happened to Melvin. Tell Gabby I'm sorry. I hope
his uncle is okay."

"I'm sure he's fine. Maybe a little roughed
up. Don't worry." She glanced at Gabby.

Gabby was very worried. He wished he hadn't
put his uncle's life in jeopardy.

"Where are you right now?"

"I don't know exactly. I'm outside some
coffee shop."

"Okay. I'm going to buy you an airline
ticket to Dallas. Do you have enough money for a taxi to JFK?"

"Yes."

"Good. Go back to the airport and I will
text you with your flight information. You can pick up your ticket
at the counter."

"Oh, thank you so much, Rebecca. I feel like
such a fool."

"It's going to be okay. But if you have
enough money, you might want to buy a hat or windbreaker, or
anything that will make you look different."

"You think the killer will
come after me?
"

"Probably. So be careful."

"Okay. Thank you."

Gabby knew what Rebecca was about to ask.
"Yeah, I'll buy the ticket."

"I'll pay you back."

"I know."

Gabby purchased the ticket on his smartphone
and sent a text message to Megan with her flight information.
"There's something that's been bugging me."

"What?"

"Calvin. We went by his garage this morning
at around eleven o'clock. And Carly never made it home last night.
So, why didn't Calvin say anything about it? When you asked to talk
to her about cosmetics, he said she wasn't home. Shouldn't he have
been worried about the fact that his wife had never come home last
night? Or, was that something that she sometimes did?"

"No. As far as I know, she always went home.
It would usually be after midnight. But she went home."

"So, why did he act like everything was
fine? Why did he casually say she wasn't home. He should have been
saying that he didn't know where the hell she was. Or at least
appear to be worried about her. How do you explain his
behavior?"

"I just chalked it up to him not caring what
happened to her. Maybe he thought she fell asleep at the hotel
after screwing her last john."

"Is it possible that Calvin murdered
Carly?"

"No, I don't think—"

"—what if somebody offered him enough money
to buy that car he was drooling over, for example? You know—the one
in the brochure."

"Who would pay him money to kill his own
wife?" She thought for a moment. "Joey."

"That's what I'm thinking."

"But it looked as though Carly had been
killed by some type of electrical device."

"Right. And Calvin has all kinds of
electrical testers and gadgets in his shop."

"Like a battery charger or something?"

"Yeah. We should go back there."

"Wait." Rebecca reached into her pocket,
pulled out a twenty dollar bill, and clicked on the dome light. "I
copied a phone number from Joey's desk and wrote it on this bill.
It had the letters CC next to it. I wonder if it could be Calvin
Cinaway's number?"