Chapter 7

Sunday morning came along, and I found myself cocooned in Gerry’s blankets with chipmunks buzzing around in my head. I swore to myself that there would be no more beer—until of course the next time.

Somewhere in the apartment the phone was ringing. I struggled out of bed and answered it. It was Gibbons calling to report that the car was clean—no outstanding warrants on the driver—and to ask me if I knew a man by the name of Will Phelps. I told him that the name did not sound familiar. Gibbons mentioned that was the name on the ID that our driver was carrying.

“We can’t hold him for much besides reckless driving. He seems to have an ironclad alibi for the time of the threatening phone call.”

“Bet you it didn’t include a shower or brushing his teeth.”

“Nope, seems he was spending the night in the drunk tank at 33 division.”

“I don’t suppose he is willing to give up the name of the party he was representing yesterday.”

“That’s about it.”

“Do you think he could pose a threat to me, besides an obnoxious attitude of course?”

“Not unless he tries to get back to you—we can tail him for a day see if he goes anywhere suspicious.”

“Well if he comes after me again I am getting a restraining order against him.”

“Do the police have anymore leads? Like what about the van the body was delivered in.

Well your friend Ray says he saw a rental van in your parking lot just before he let the guy in so we can easily assume that was it—the name on the truck was Easy 3 Day Rentals. I have guys tracking the truck down.”

“The decoy in your building hasn’t received any more calls that seem suspicious. No more dead bodies being delivered. Whoever these people are, are probably convinced by now that that you don’t know anything.”

“Well I don’t need any more nasty surprises. I have had enough for a lifetime. “

Just as I had finished my sentence there was a crash outside the front of the building. My decoy had a guy up against the side of my little car, which she had been using. The car was crunched at the rear because the driver of the other vehicle had tried to back end it.

“What was that?” asked Gibbons.

“Better get over here. Someone is trying to kill me again.”

So much for another peaceful day, What I needed to know was when this crap was going to end. People were stalking me, cars were blowing up, and my nerves were frayed. This murder thing was starting to overwhelm me.

It seemed like forever before the police actually arrived. My decoy had the suspect up against his car with cuffs on. I didn’t recognize the would be intruder, but no doubt, he was in on the terror plot against me.

It would appear to anyone observing the scene, that “I” was making a citizens arrest. Damn “I” was good, I thought to myself. Gibbons approached my decoy and got the details of the accident as a uniformed officer escorted the suspect to a patrol car.

I didn’t want to confuse the matter by showing my face in the parking lot.

Gibbons came to my apartment and informed me that the suspect had been taken downtown for questioning. However he also wanted to quiz me about something else I could tell.

“Great, so what else is new?” I asked.

“Why do you ask?”

“You look like you also came fishing for more info.”

“Are you psychic?” he asked with disbelief.

“So I am right, you do have more questions. Any donuts? Gerry had promised me some before our supposed trip yesterday. ”

“Okay so I am fishing. Here’s the thing: We found out that the car Hodges wanted to 'repo' used to be his. Turns out Hodges wanted it back because the guy he sold it to refused to pay for it beyond the first few payments—the man claimed that Hodges badgered him continually about this car and his associate was sick of the harassment.”

“Where did you get that information?” I asked.

“Someone talked and I can’t say who.”

“So our best guess is you traced the guy for Hodges. He went out to repo the car. A fight ensued and Hodges got killed. Women would murder in the name of love or lust. Men are much more simple. If it is made of metal and rubber, all bets are off.”

“That certainly gives someone a reason to want him gone. Do we know who yet?”

“No, not yet, still working that angle. What I need to know from you is if you recall getting anything across your desk, regarding a repossession of a car?”

“We get tons of those from banks all the time. We didn’t get many requests from private sales. When we did get requests for data input, it was in the mail or a phone request. The banks or car dealerships would send us their unpaid loans. I would enter them into the system, and the tracers and collectors would take it from there.”

“Would the collectors ever drop anything odd in your basket?

“Not that I recall, why?”

“I am just wondering if Velcro tried to make it look like a legitimate repossession just to get his car back. That way he could involve the authorities and it would be above board.”

“Let me think about that for a bit and get back to you.”

“Well, at least we have something to go on,” he replied.

“So we still need to find out who did it and why my floor.”

“My only guess Gibbons said is because something did show up in the database, you traced it. The guy got mad, decided to get Velcro off his case, permanently. You were a target because you were a point of contact and possibly knew too much.”

Gibbons paused for a minute. “Do you recall using your name in conversation with someone?”

“Yes, I usually answered the phone with the company name and my own name while on reception.”

“How about when tracing?”

“That’s when we got creative with names, accents, you name it in order to get information out of people.”

“Did you get a lot of people calling you with an axe to grind?”

“Constantly,” I said. “When people are being pursued for unpaid debts they become absolutely indignant about having their privacy invaded. We got told in no uncertain terms where to go and what or who to have sex with. I learned a new crude phrase every day. After awhile I developed a thick skin. There are so many ways to be told how to fuck off, and what barn animals are good to have sex with. I got to the point of thanking them for making my day, as I hadn’t been cussed at before. It kind of throws them off kilter.”

“So our car owner is riding around in an unpaid set of wheels, making anonymous threats to me just because I possibly traced him. Like I thought before, come between a man and his ride, there is no limit to what he might do.”

“That’s what we have so far.”

“Well like I said if anything comes to me, I’ll get back to you.”

“Oh,” I said. “What about my car?”

“We’ll get it fixed for you, and in the meantime you have the rental. We’re also going to keep protecting you in case you get any more threats attempts to run you off the road.”

Gibbons turned and headed for the door just as Gerry walked in. They greeted each other and Gibbons left.

I explained to Gerry what had happened with the car and that Gibbons had come to give me some information and ask me some questions.

I needed a beer, a shower and a hot meal. But that would have to wait as I set about feeding the pets. Gerry was puttering around the kitchen and it seemed like we kept bumping into one another, and being in such close proximity was causing a bit of sexual tension between us. I had scoffed about his comments on my recent resemblance to Julia Roberts and his related fantasies. However, I had seen him shirtless, and quite honestly the man is ripped and I found myself wondering about what he’d be like in bed. It’s no way a girl should be thinking about her “cousin.” but let’s face it. It’s only a ruse and I am only human. I had had even more not so clean thoughts after I had found him nude in his bathroom. No need for imagination there, I had seen it all, and it was impressive.

Chapter 8

With the sun streaming in to our apartment, Gerry and I were awakened the next morning by a knock on our door. I looked at the clock. It was close to ten am. I got up to answer the door to find Janice, the police decoy. She was coming to give me my telephone messages.

“In what order to you want them?” she asked. “Good news before bad news?”

“That really depends on who called,” I replied.

“Okay, good news first... Your employment agency called regarding a job for you, better call them before it gets scooped.”

“Okay, what’s next? Good or bad?”

“Your mother left five messages, all imploring you to call ASAP. I might add the last one was particularly vehement, stating that if you didn’t call soon she was changing her will after she had called every hospital in the province.”

Leave it to Mom to be melodramatic. This could be good or bad.

“Okay, next?”

“Another not so friendly call from our person of interest.”

“Oh what did my 'friend' have to say?”

“How many ways he would like to violate you and dispose of the body parts.”

“Ew, sounds ominous. Do I need to hear it?”

“Not unless you have a strong stomach,” she suggested. “I have the tape with me—I need to get it to Gibbons. Evidence, you know. Anyways, if he needs you to listen to it to see if you recognize the voice, he’ll let you know. Otherwise, that’s it.”

“Okay, thanks,” I said.

“Call Mommy before she has a conniption,” Janice reminded me before she left.

I placed a call to my mom’s house, all the while steeling myself for one of her guilty tirades. No matter how old I get, my mother can really get to me with a truckload of guilt—spouting ingratitude, and stating how my sisters Edna and Charlene would never neglect her that badly. I could easily do one of my famous eye rolls, which she wouldn’t see anyhow.

Mom answered the phone. “So you are alive. Where are you?”

I replied, “At home, just came to pick up my messages, and do laundry. If you wanted to call me you could have reached me on my cell. “

“I lost your cell number. So you still in hiding?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Why didn’t you call us to let us know you were okay?”

I thought of a quick and plausible lie. “No signal up there.”

Gerry was making, ‘liar liar pants on fire’ gestures at me. I have to admit I was good at it due to the skip tracing I did, and I have been known to cry my way out of several speeding tickets using the “family emergency ticket.”

“Well. Seeing as you are home, come for dinner. Your sisters and their families will be here. There’s more than enough to feed an army. It’s ham.”

“Okay, great. I’ll bring a friend.”

“Who, Elaine?”

“Nope,” I said. “Gerry.”

“Gerry who?”

“Remember Gerry? I went to high school with him. He drove cab for a bit, and he’s the super of my building.”

“Oh him. Well why not, the more the merrier.” She was happy at the prospect of me having a dinner date. The last person I took home for dinner was my ex-husband Louie.

“Great,” I said. “When’s dinner?”

“Six-thirty, but show up at six.”

I told her we’d be there, and hung up.

“Date? Gee, hon, didn’t think you cared that much.”

“Don’t get too full of yourself Fitz. I just don’t feel like facing them alone, that’s all.”

He looked ‘hurt’

“I feel so used,” he replied.

Nah. We both could use a home cooked meal, and I figured since he was so intent on baby-sitting me…

“It’s ham and she is a better cook than I am,” I said.

“Sure…use me, and bribe with food.”

The next call I had to make was to the agency to see if that job was still available. My personal consultant, Debbie, answered the call.

Debbie explained that it was at Handy Debt Collectors. The receptionist was out with shingles and for an indefinite length of time.

I told her I would take it.

She said to start the next day at 8:30 a.m.

We hung up.

I called the police station and asked to talk to Gibbons but he was out. I left a message for him to call me on my cell, and gave him my number.

I headed for the bathroom for my shower to get ready for my day.

Gerry and I puttered around for the rest of the day. I was doing laundry, and basically cleaning Gerry’s apartment. While I am generally not a domestic goddess in my own place, I feel it necessary to keep up my end of the housework at someone else’s place. I was damned if I let Gerry think I was anything less than a first-class housekeeper. I took the opportunity to clean the litter box, then did some vacuuming as well as some dusting

Gerry had been kind enough to take me in, along with my pets. Why should his apartment smell like a pet shop? Meanwhile, Gerry was busy enough doing whatever it is that superintendents do.

At 5:30 that afternoon we set out on our way across the city to my parents' house. I was feeling somewhat apprehensive about this visit. Don’t get me wrong. I love my family but dinners with them have escalated to a three-ringed circus in the past.

Here’s how it usually goes down. My dad and my two brothers gather around any sports program that happens to be on TV, while slugging back the Guinness. My mom, my two sisters and myself sit in the kitchen and chat while preparing dinner. We usually take turns running downstairs to the playroom to break up whatever fight is going on between my sister’s kids. Correction—I, the childless aunt, usually gets stuck playing referee while mom and my sisters dish about the relatives and the neighbors. My sisters, Edna and Charlene, live within a block of each other, right around the corner from my parents' place. They never quite cut the apron strings from Mom, unlike me who has defected to the far end of the city. Since I was married, I felt the need to keep a healthy distance from my familial origins, at least enough to keep me sane. My parents have been finding ways to reel me back in since my divorce ten years ago.

I am the middle child of three girls. Edna is four years my senior, with twelve-year-old twin boys, Jeffrey and Jeremy. Charlene is five years younger, and has two girls: Emily, six, and Claudette, four and a half. In between officiating fights over the remote control, I find myself fending off remarks about my single status. My sisters always know someone with a single brother or friend that I should consider prime real estate. I am hoping that having Gerry along this time will keep them off that topic.

Driving my SUV across the Gardiner, Gerry looked over at me. The look on his face clearly told me that he wanted to ask me something, but was afraid to.

“Okay, spill it.” I told him.

“What?” he replied.

“You have something to say, go ahead and say it.”

“Okay, here’s the thing. I was wondering what made you and Lou break up? You guys had always been this close in high school. What happened?”

It was true. Lou and I had been THE couple.

We had the fairy-tale teenage romance for the times: football jock meets cheerleader, gets cheerleader drunk, whereby they get lucky behind the stadium. Since then we were the couple. We dated for the duration of high school. He went off to college in one city while I attended college in town. We got married shortly afterwards. The marriage lasted a little over a year. I got pregnant but lost the child. After that I felt our relationship going downhill as Lou admitted he hadn’t really wanted kids anyway.

“That must have stung,” Gerry said with sympathy.

“Wait,” I said, “this gets better. Just when I was getting over the miscarriage, something else happened to rock my world. I was channel surfing one day, only to discover my dear husband on Speakers Corner. He had chosen national TV to declare that he was really gay, always had been and he was sorry to hurt me and his family but was embroiled in a romance with his brother's best buddy, Peter. I realized my life was starting to sound like a plot on a daytime drama. However, enough was enough. After all was said and done Lou and I were divorced and I moved back home in order to get myself back together.”

“So what happened to Lou?” Gerry asked.

I replied that Lou’s dad and brother disowned him. He and Peter broke up shortly after the ‘outing’. Apparently Peter wasn’t as ready as Lou to bring the relationship into the open. Lou’s brother Patrick broke one of Pete’s legs in a fight, and Pete lost his chance at pro football. Lou suffered a breakdown as a result of all the drama.

“You’re right Laura,” Gerry said, winking. “Your life is a soap opera.”

Well yeah, I thought my life had been over the top at that time, but this with the dead body and everything pretty much took the cake. I had taken awhile to heal from my failed marriage and the miscarriage. I have lingering effects of those events, like the mild depression I suffer as a result. I swore off men for a while, and my girlfriends supplied a lot of support for me. Now I can stand on my own and carry on.

“Do me a favor, Gerry, and don’t mention any of this to the folks. We all took along time to heal. Lou’s name is also verboten in the house. If you want to see my dad have a conniption, go ahead, but I warn you it won’t be pretty.”

I really didn’t even want to discuss my current predicament with my family but I had to be realistic that the subject would arise at some point. When we got to my parents' place, I quickly crossed myself, and thanked Gerry for agreeing to come along.

I had warned Gerry about my mom’s obsession to marry me off and have more grandchildren. I told him just to go in and watch sports with Dad and the guys, and I would handle the girls.