Fat Assassins (30 page)

I touched my puffy right eye and grimaced.

“You’re going to have a pretty bad shiner.”

“I got whooped by a senior citizen.” I complained.

“I told you she was dangerous. I just didn’t expect you to get into trouble so soon. Seems I underestimated your ability to attract danger.”

“No kidding.” I laughed making my busted lip hurt. “Did anyone else see me get jumped by the geriatric gangster?”

He laughed. “Nope. Just me. And Eric. Luckily, he was passing by on the way to the office. He hauled Roberta off to jail, while I kept an eye on you. A couple women from the hair salon came out to see where the sirens were going, but that was it.”

“The beauty shop gossips saw me passed out on the sidewalk in the middle of the day?”

“Yup.”

“Great. I don’t think this could get any worse.”

“Well, it’s not over yet. We have to see what the doctor’s say.”

“Please don’t take me to the hospital. I don’t have insurance.”

“Nope. You’re going.”

“Please take me home.”

“I never thought I’d hear those words come out of your mouth.” He grinned.

“Not like that. I’ll take some Tylenol and put some ice on my eye. I’ll be fine.”

He considered it for a minute. “Only if you let me hang out until Ulyssa gets home. I’m really worried about you being concussed.”

“Deal. Now please shut off the sirens.”

He parked the giant Suburban in front of the trailer and helped me down from the truck. “You okay to walk?”

“I’m fine.” I tentatively took my first steps and my legs seemed steady. I unlocked the trailer and walked inside.

“Sit down. Where do you keep your Tylenol?”

“Kitchen. Middle cabinet drawer.”

He disappeared and came back carrying the extra strength bottle. He poured a glass of water and pulled some ice out of the freezer to make an ice pack. He handed me the water and medicine.

“Drink.”

Then he took the glass and sat it on the table.

“Put this against your eye and mouth.” I laid the ice pack against the right side of my face, adjusting it to cover my eye and lip.

“I’ll put the TV on. What do you want to watch?”

“Something funny.”

He flipped through the channels for two cycles. “There’s nothing funny on. Next choice?”

“I don’t care.” He switched the television to the History Channel and I groaned when I saw the content. “Mafia in the United States.”

“This should be pretty good.” He said laying the remote on the table.

Jake wouldn’t let me fall asleep, so I was stranded in sleep purgatory. Strains of monotone commentary on Mafia life lulled me to sleep, but he nudged me each time I tried to close my eyes. This went on until Ulyssa burst through the door and ran to my side.

“OMG! Are you okay, Shasta? I heard what happened. I can’t believe that the police beat you and hauled you off.” She turned to glare at Jake. “Exactly what did she do to deserve this brutality? Why were you questioning her without a lawyer present?”

“What?” Jake and I both asked.

“My mom called me and said that she saw Jake loading you into his truck after he beat you up. She said he drove away really fast. I just came home to grab a couple things before going to the jailhouse.”

“That’s not what happened. Jake saved me.”

“Saved you? Your face looks like hell. What happened?”

“Roberta attacked me outside the salon. She thought I was a Mexican who hit her and Jake saved me and Eric arrested her.”

“Oh.” She said.

I waited for it to really sink into her brain.

“Ooohhh. My goodness. I’m sure glad you’re safe from that crazy, old hag.” She turned on the charm. “Thank you so much Jake.”

“No problem. I’ve got to go meet the Deputy though. Can you keep an eye on her and make sure she stays out of trouble?”

“I’ll try, but you know how she is.” She smiled sweetly.

He regarded her sudden charm with suspicion.

“She hit her head so hard it knocked her unconscious, so I’m worried about a concussion. Don’t let her go to sleep for at least three more hours just to be sure.”

“Yeah. I can do that.”

“You girls have a good night. Thanks for an interesting day today Shasta. Pedicures and street violence. Who says Nitro is lacking cultural activities?” He smiled and waved on his way out the door.

She waited until the sound of the Suburban faded away before asking me about Roberta. “What happened? I thought she was locked in Charleston? How did she recognize you?”

“She was there getting her hair done. I managed to avoid her until we were leaving. She didn’t put two and two together until I was already outside. I was minutes away from freedom and she came sprinting out of the salon like a hellcat. I have no idea how she recognized me. The FBI let her go so they could tail her. After the way she beat me up, I don’t think we’ll be on their list of suspects anytime soon though. Today just showed how crazy she is.”

“Whew that was a close one. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I’m as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”

“Yeah. I thought a pedi would make me feel better and it did, until I got jumped.”

“And you took Jake with you? Are you trying to make Eric jealous?”

“I was trying to get rid of him, but it didn’t work.” I felt my eyes getting droopy. “He took his pants off.”

“Oh, no you don’t. Jake said you have to stay awake a few more hours.” She poked me in the leg. “Jake took his pants off?”

I gave an annoyed sigh. “Yes. If you want me to stay awake, change the channel. The History Channel is making me sleepy.” 

She grabbed the remote and started flipping through the channels. 

Her search for quality television programming was interrupted when Mitchell, Mitsy and Sam came crashing through the door also protesting the police brutality. Ulyssa stopped them from storming the police station by explaining the situation. Sam and Mitchell dragged chairs over from the living room table and Mitsy squeezed onto the couch. Ulyssa muted the television so we could all socialize.

“You want me to roll on her?” Sam asked. “I believe in age equality!” 

That made me laugh and I moaned when my lips stretched taunt. “No thanks. I believe in Karma. She’ll get hers.”

“Sheeeeet! My middle name is Karma.” She accentuated her words by throwing a one-two jab into an imaginary Roberta.

“Old people and critters always seem to be attacking Shasta. Maybe it’s a curse.” Ulyssa joked.

A curse? Maybe that’s what Mrs. Mullet did, she put an animal curse on me.

“I’m cursed.”

“I’m kidding, you’re not cursed.”

“Think about it. When did my first animal attack happen?”

“At the festival……but that doesn’t mean anything.” I nodded. “It was only seconds after that lady cursed me.”

“Don’t be silly. She couldn’t curse you.”

“But she’s Cajun.”

“Being a cajun doesn’t give you a fastpass to the dark arts.”

“Did she use a talisman?” Mitsy asked.

“Like what?”

“Don’t feed into this Mitsy. She’s not cursed.” Ulyssa warned.

“Well, she had a weird necklace with a stick voodoo doll and chicken claw.”

“And that chicken did dropkick you.” Mitchell added.

I gasped.
I’ve been cursed!

“That’s enough! She is NOT cursed.” Ulyssa must have believed it a little, since she was trying so hard to avoid the discussion. “Change the conversation.” Everyone sat in silence for a moment trying to find a more intriguing topic than voodoo.

“So, who do y’all think blew up the power station?” Mitsy asked.

“Militia members.” Mitchell said. “They’re thick in these parts. Probably some type of anti-government protest.”

“I think it was drug dealers destroying evidence. They drove the car up from Mexico and dumped it here. It just happened to be next to the power station.”

“What about y’all?” Mitsy turned to me.

“I think it was probably some dumb kids messing around with stuff. Probably got the directions off the Internet or something.”

“I think Shasta needs some rest now. She’s had a long day.” With those last words, Ulyssa ushered everyone out the door.

Ulyssa nudged me from my comfortable slumber. “Shasta! It’s noon. Time to wake up.” I waved her away and kept my head nestled into the couch pillows. She nudged me again. “Only four days until we have to go to Atlantic City.” 

Stress = heart palpitations. 

“Okay. Okay. I’m awake.” I rolled over and sat up.

“Damn!” She was staring at my face. “Roberta did a number on you.” 

I ran my hand over my swollen cheekbone. “Is it really that bad?” 

She brought me a hand mirror from the bathroom. “Have a look for yourself.” A giant purplish-yellow bruise extended along my cheekbone to the corner of my eye. My lip was split and swollen on the same side. She had clearly concentrated her efforts on the left side of my face. “Great.” I laid the mirror down.

“So, I’ve been working on a plan while you were busy creating a turf war between the Deputy and FBI!”

“Alright…”

“We’re going to sneak into his house and poison him.”

“I’m sorry. What?”

“We’ll sneak into his house disguised as Merry Maids and poison him.”

“Are you crazy? We can’t scale walls!”

“He pays Merry Maids to come clean his house every Friday night at 7PM and we’ll just pretend to be the maids. No wall climbing required.” She seemed proud of her master plan. “And I have a couple back up plans in case the poisoning doesn’t work.”

I exhaled and waited.

“We’ll wax the top stair, so he’ll fall down and break his neck. And I’m going to shave one of the electrical wires bare in the bathroom, so he’ll electrocute himself shaving in the morning.”

“You’ve gone all Wil-E Coyote on me. The only thing missing from your plan is a giant piano dangling out of the second story window, waiting to smoosh him.”

“Haha. Too obvious. Would cause too many questions.” This is the craziest plan yet, so maybe it stands a chance of working. “So, we’re breaking into his house to rig three booby-traps?”

“Yup.”

“What if we hurt someone else in one of the traps?”

“We won’t. He lives alone. Won’t even let the goons inside to use the bathroom. They have to use the pool house.”

“No girlfriends or family?”

“No family. He had a girlfriend, but she broke up with him when she found out he’s a grave robber and druglord.”

“What’s the poison?”

“Basil.”

“Huh?”

“He severely allergic to Basil, so we’ll just sprinkle this on all of his food.” She waved a bag of ground green flakes at me.

“How did you find all of this out?”

“Different sources.”

“Stop being dodgy with me. I’m not going any further with this plan until you tell me how you found all of this out.”

“I went over to Bella’s for lunch one day, wearing a disguise of course, and talked to the staff for a while. I asked if they got very many weird requests or high maintenance customers. They talked about a few women who ordered everything on the side and sent the main course back at least twice before they were happy.

Then they started talking about a jerk who comes in all the time that was arrested a week ago. They said he always asks for no Basil cause he’s allergic to it.” 

I’d never heard of anyone who’s allergic to Basil.

“Once a new cook had accidentally added Basil to his salad. Instead of making a new salad, he just picked out all the basil and served it. Well, he missed a piece and it almost killed Marcus. They had to call an ambulance and he threatened to sue them. Ever since he’s eaten there for free.”

“Wow. Nice detective work!”

“Thanks. Their antipasto is pretty good too. Not as good as mama’s. But it’s a close second.”

“That explains the allergies, but how did you find out all that other personal stuff about Merry Maids and his girlfriend?”

“I just checked the gossip columns for information on him and ran across public statements from his girlfriend shortly after he was arrested. I think she wanted to clear the record so she could move on to the next rich guy. The Merry Maids information took more work. I started thinking that he’s a single, rich, mafia guy living in a huge house.”

“How do you know about his house?”

“I drove past it on a recon mission. So I started thinking, he probably doesn’t do his own house cleaning, so I researched the different maid services in the area.

There were only three listed. Merry Maids and two ‘freelance cleaners’. With a house full of expensive junk, I didn’t think he would let just anyone have the run of the house. So, I hedged my bets and called Merry Maids. I told them that I was interested in getting a weekly service and asked which days they were in the neighborhood. I gave them an address near his house so they could check their database. Annnddd….it turns out that they’re in that neighborhood every Friday night. I told them that Fridays would work, but I’d have to get back to them with a good time.”

I guess she was busy while I was romancing the po-po!

“How are you feeling? You gonna be able to do this tonight?” I nodded. “I just need a hot shower and a good dinner.”