Read Under Abnormal Conditions Online

Authors: Erick Burgess

Tags: #thriller, #mystery, #african american, #private detective, #psychological, #suspence, #detective fiction, #mystery series, #cozy crime stories, #cozy mystery fiction, #private eye fiction, #erick d burgess, #louisiana author

Under Abnormal Conditions (11 page)

BOOK: Under Abnormal Conditions
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“Look Doc, I love Ricky like a brother, but I
don’t want to be anymore involved than I already am. He has more
issues than Time magazine, and besides, I’ve got a date
tonight.”

“A study date?” I asked.

“No. Well, see it might start off like that,
but what woman could resist my charm and wit?”

He rolled his window back up before I could
answer him. Trey was the smartest person I knew, but when it came
to women he was just as lost as the rest of us, if not worse. He
never had good luck with women, but it never stopped him from
trying.

He was right about Ricky. I loved him because
he was family, but I didn’t know what to think about the situation.
I knew he wouldn’t intentionally bring trouble to my home, but was
my home the only one where he wouldn’t be turned away?

 

 

Chapter 15

 

 

The phone had started ringing as soon as I
walked in the door. It had to be the police or the news people.
Either way I didn’t want to talk. I ignored it until the eighth or
ninth ring. I knew I would never have any peace, until I answered.
So I picked up the receiver and yelled, “What!”

“Michael?” the familiar voice asked.

“Yes,” I answered more reserved.

“This is Brenda . . . Phil’s wife, he wants
all of our employees to meet at Angelo’s restaurant tonight at six
o’clock.”

“Okay, I’ll be there,” I said and tossed the
phone down.

As I walked to the kitchen, I wondered what
the meeting would be about. Knowing Phil the way I did, he was
probably ready to reopen the club.

Out of habit, I went over to check the
refrigerator. I didn’t think it was possible for my refrigerator to
actually have less food in it, but there it was. Even the baking
soda and jug of water were gone. There were dirty dishes piled up
in the sink and the trash can over flowed with empty fast food
containers. It didn’t really matter because I was too tired to
eat.

The house was a complete and total mess, and
Ricky was nowhere in sight. Where was he?

“Ricky?” I called out.

He didn’t answer.

A feeling of dread came over me. The house
was silent, except for a slight buzzing that seemed to be coming
from the back of the house. Careful to peek around the edges and in
every corner, I walked to the living room. There were clothes
scattered on the floor and everything was in a general state of
disarray.

It was a typical Tuesday.

I slowly moved through the rest of the house.
On his unmade bed sat an open suitcase with clothes falling out on
to the floor. I closed the door and moved down the hall.

The door to the computer room was slightly
open. I pushed it the rest of the way open and stepped inside. The
computer was on, but the chair in front of it was empty.

Maybe he went for something to eat, I
thought. God knows there was nothing in the house. After the
divorce I thought my days of worrying about everyone else was over.
I should have known better. I had the classic caretaker
personality. As much as I tried to hide it, it was who I was.

I stepped into my bedroom and began
undressing. As I walked to the closet, I noticed the faint smell of
alcohol. Even though I wasn’t a drinker, I knew that smell.

There was no alcohol in the house so I
dismissed the thought to the paranoia surrounding the incidents of
the past few days. The weather outside was still cool, so I decided
to open a window and let the room air out.

I was only about three steps away from the
window when I saw him. There were only a few feet of space between
the bed and window. I saw his fat little feet sticking out from the
other side of the bed.

My first thought was the gangsters had
finally found him. I didn’t want to look, but I had to. Each step
seemed to go in slow motion.

What would I tell the police? What could I
tell the family? What I saw left me relieved, but angry.

He was passed out across the floor with an
empty bottle of Jim Beam next to him. He plaintively lifted his
head from the floor. He looked up at me and slurred something
before he returned to his repose.

“If you are going to hide, it would help to
get all the way under the bed,” I said to his passed out body.

He didn’t return a response. I took a blanket
from the bed and covered the side of his body that stuck out from
the bed.

Maybe it was for the best. Seeing him lying
there took away any desire I had to go to sleep. It would have been
impossible to rest with him lying halfway under my bed. I couldn’t
imagine how we ended up like this. We all had so many dreams when
we graduated from high school.

Trey was going to be a high-priced defense
attorney like his father. Ricky was going to develop the next great
computer software, and I was going to make my fortune in
professional football.

Back then, I figured Trey would be the one to
stray from the plan. It had always been his father’s plan anyway.
Through everything that happened, he was the only one that had
stayed on track.

As much as I tried to fool myself, I was very
tired. It was almost like I was walking around in a dream. I guess
I had been so busy during the day I just didn’t notice how tired I
really was.

To help wake up, I decided to take a shower.
After turning on the water, I leaned against the sink until the
bathroom mirror was covered with mist.

I undressed and stepped inside. The hot water
felt good against my skin. I would have liked to catch my second
wind, but I think I was still overdue on the first.

After my shower I went to the bedroom to get
dressed. I purposely made as much noise as possible in hopes of
making my cousin’s rest a little less peaceful. As I slammed the
closet door and dresser drawers he barely stirred. I think I was a
little jealous that I wasn’t able to sleep.

I silently shook my head as I left the room.
I wondered what was going to be in store for him when he decided to
crawl out of that bottle.

Another bottle perhaps?

Redemption?

Death?

Just before I walked out of the house I
noticed the message light on the answering machine was blinking. I
hit the button to retrieve the one message.

“Hello, Michael. This is Sharon Bryant. I
just wanted to remind you about our arrangement. I realize I may
have come on a bit strong this morning. I would really like a
chance to explain myself, totally off the record. I’m working late
tonight, so if you could, meet me at Coffee Time around midnight. I
hope to see you there. Good-bye.”

Even on the phone, she sounded like she was
reading the news. I locked up the house and set out to my
meeting.

Angelo’s was a small Italian restaurant on
the good side of town. The parking lot was full of the familiar
cars of employees. My watch said I was on time, but it seemed I was
one of the last to arrive.

Phil’s dark green corvette was parked in two
handicapped spaces directly in front of the building. He and Brenda
stood waiting next to it. They’ve been married for close to five
years, but she really seemed to be Phil’s personal secretary. Her
short brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses gave the fifty-year-old
the look of a high school English teacher. Her nasal tone gave her
the voice to match.

“Late again I see,” he said. His less than
cordial greeting was expected.

“It’s 5:45. What time was I supposed to be
here?”

Brenda looked more nervous than usual. She is
one of those people who seem to be born with a permanent scowl. The
only time she is happy is when she’s doing Phil’s dirty work.

“You were supposed to be here at 5:30,” he
answered.

“Shall we enter?” she whined, before I could
say anything.

The restaurant was a nicer place than I was
used to dining. Anything better than the golden arches was fine
dining for me.

A shapely waitress, wearing a white shirt,
paisley tie and white apron, led us to a conference room towards
the back of the establishment.

Sunlight bathed the room from the large bay
windows.

Scattered about the floor was sawdust and the
dining area was full of large square wooden tables covered with
checkered red and white tablecloths.

A sonata I should have known played softly in
the background. My stomach started to rumble as the wonderful
aromas teased my senses. All of the employees were there. Most of
them were glum and solemn, but some of the musicians seemed almost
unfazed by the incident.

With Brenda in tow, Phil made his way to the
front of the room. He thanked everyone for showing up, and began
talking about the great loss we had suffered.

Joey quietly worked her way through the crowd
over to me. “We were beginning to think you weren’t going to show
up,” she whispered.

“Trust me. I didn’t want to be here. Did I
miss anything?”

“Some of them seem to think you know more
than you’re letting on,” she whispered.

“What does that mean?” I asked in
disbelief.

“They think you did it.”

I gasped loud enough to catch everyone’s
attention, including Phil’s. I tried to cover it with a cough.
“What have they been saying?” I asked with my hand over my
mouth.

“They say they noticed Sherry didn’t leave
with everyone else. Kevin Turner talked to them, and they said you
knew she didn’t come back up front. And everybody knows about, you
know, Michelle.”

“You were there. I tried to get everyone out
as fast as I could. What was I supposed to do?”

She just shrugged her shoulders and shook her
head.

Most of Phil’s speech just went in one ear
and out the other. That was until the very end.

“ . . . and the police think it may have been
an inside job. All I know, is I have my suspicions,” he said, with
his eyes focused on me. All of the eyes in the room seemed to
follow his gaze, directly to my face.

“There are a few of you that will be subject
to a lie detector test,” he continued. “The club is going to be
closed for two or three days while the police gather evidence.
Brenda or I will call to let everyone know what is going on. If no
one has any questions . . .” he paused. “I ordered the buffet for
everyone, so eat and try to forget about this whole horrible
ordeal.”

“I’m not wanted here. I’ll call you
later.”

“Wait. Are you okay? I mean really. What’s
going on?” she asked.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“No, really?” she asked again.

“Come here,” I said as I took her arm and
pulled her aside. “Sherry wanted me to find Michelle’s killer. She
told me that the night she died.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I know it sounds crazy, but what can I
do. I have to find out what happened to her and Michelle. I better
get out of here.”

“Please be careful,” she pleaded.

I was halfway out the door when Phil called
me back. “I talked to Kevin today, you know.”

“So,” I answered then kept walking.

“And the police want to talk to you
again.”

“I figured as much,” I said continuing on my
way.

He grabbed my arm and whispered, “I know you
had something to do with it, Kevin knows you had something to do
with it, and the police know it.”

“Do they also know that you were sleeping
with Sherry?” I announced, jerking away my arm. Brenda’s permanent
scowl dissolved into a look of bewilderment. With an eyebrow raised
and a puckered mouth, she looked at him as if to say, ‘Well, answer
him.’

“That’s just a dirty rumor and you know it!”
he shouted and caught everyone’s attention. “Look my friend, it’s
not about what you know, it’s about what you can prove. There was
nothing going on with me and Sherry.”

“What about the illegal gambling?”

“You can’t prove any of that. Get out of my
sight! I don’t have to take this,” he grunted and stormed away.

A sardonic smile covered Brenda’s face as she
looked over the top of her glasses and said, “I hear they are
looking for help here at Angelo’s. Maybe you need to apply.” She
then walked away in search of Phil. It didn’t matter when the club
reopened; I would be looking for a new job.

Don’t trust anybody.

 

 

Chapter 16

 

 

I wasn’t sure about the gambling and I really
wasn’t sure about the affair, but like Mona said earlier, I did
have a way with people. That also meant I could read people.

Phil was lying.

That was a trait passed down from my father.
He could spot a lie like a fly in a soup bowl. Phil was lying and
if I could catch him in his lie, maybe an end would come to my
problems. Or I could be getting myself into even more trouble.

Ester was expecting the child support for
this month, and I had to come through. What I did was stupid and
irresponsible. I knew telling Phil off was the wrong thing to do
but it felt so good. If I had not stood up to him, he would have
continued to run over me. I figured I would start looking for a new
job as soon as possible.

Ester had a small house in a quiet
subdivision on the edge of town close to Baton Rouge. It was a nice
place to raise a family. That neighborhood was real. It was filled
with real people with real families and not the artificial place
where Trey lived.

She had lived with her mother ever since we
separated. There weren’t any cars in the driveway, so I worried
maybe she forgot I was coming by. I knocked and she answered
directly.

When she opened the door, she was wearing a
tight blue dress. My eyes watched her svelte frame as I waited for
an invitation to come in. Her brown eyes and cinnamon skin almost
seemed to glow. Her short black hair was pulled back into a wrap.
It wasn’t hard to believe that at one time I loved her so much it
almost hurt.

BOOK: Under Abnormal Conditions
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