What a Meth Read online

  “I thought the D.E.A. guy said you could investigate the murder.”

  “My boss decided it’s best to give a wide berth.” He leaned in and kissed me. “That’s not why I’m here, is it?”

  I lost it. In a wave of blubbering, tears and snot, I told him everything: about seeing Dominic, about the drugs and Irma, and about not wanting to confront him.

  By the look on Nick’s face, he was about a sentence behind me, as he tried to decipher my blubbering. When I finished, he got up and went to the cabinet.

  I watched as he shook the pills out of a prescription bottle I had in the cupboard next to the sink. He put the lid back on and went to the dishwasher to get a clean glass. Knowing I’m weird about drinking from the tap, he snagged a bottle of water from the refrigerator, poured it into the glass and came back to the table.

  “Take these.” He put two white oval pills on the table along with the glass of water.

  I knew the pills were anti-anxiety medication. And I was pretty sure they’d expired at least a year ago.

  “That prescription is expired.” Leave it to me to remember this in a time of crisis.

  “Take them.” He insisted gently.

  I did.

  “I’m going to need time to process this. I’m not really sure why you didn’t tell me about seeing Dominic sooner.” His voice was stiff and tight.

  “I didn’t know it was him. I’d just woken up. I didn’t want you to think I was having second thoughts about us, because I’m not.” I was sucking in air, and my chest was heaving as I spoke.

  “No second thoughts? We haven’t had sex in a month. We used to have sex as often as possible.”

  I just stared at my glass.

  “I wondered what had changed, and now I know. You’re still married.”

  I sucked in a gulp of air, and choked on it.

  “Just calm down.” His voice wasn’t soothing, it was irritated.

  I caught my breath. “Calm down?”

  He put his hand gently on my shoulder. “I understand this is crazy. You have every right to be furious, crazed, pissed even, but it’s not going to do you any good.”

  He pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’m going to call Jackie to come and stay with you.”

  I wanted him to stay with me, but it was obvious from his stilted body language, and how he barely touched me, that he didn’t want to be there. Actually, I felt he wanted to be anywhere but in the room with me.

  “No, I’ll be okay. I don’t think I have it in me to explain it all again. And she’ll want to know everything.”

  Nick’s lips tightened. “If Jackie is at the office, and Charles went back there, I’m sure she’s completely up to date. No explaining necessary.”

  I realized he was right.

  “You shouldn’t be alone right now. Not that I don’t think you’re safe, or that I think you’re unstable.”

  I knew what he meant, but it was good to hear him try to explain it.

  “I get it.” I put my arms on the table and put my head down.

  Nick touched my hair. I loved him, but I was married. I was still married because the son-of-a-bitch was still alive. Oh God, I just called my husband a son-of-a-bitch. I was so confused. Then I shook my head. That jerk I saw at the fruit stand was not my husband. Can we say Sybil? I was losing it.

  “Mimi, why don’t you hop in the shower? I’ll call Jackie, and she’ll be here by the time you get out.” His words were soft, though I sensed some hurt in them.

  He helped me to the bathroom, but he let me undress myself. I wanted him to help me, but I’d already cheated on my husband. And that made me wonder, how many women had Dominic been with since he “died.” I was angry all over again.

  I yanked open the shower door with more gusto than needed, and I turned on the hot water. As the water warmed, I peeled my clothes off, and walked to the bedroom to put them in the hamper.

  Nick stood in the doorway, and instead of taking in my nakedness, he turned his head and looked down. He still had the phone to his ear. My heart sank. I knew that we were over. No matter what happened with Dominic, divorce, reconcile, murder (hey, you’d be thinking it, too), Nick and I were finished. He was adamant about not having an affair with a married woman. It was his sticking point with sex. His mother had been cheated on and abused, and he promised never to be the cheater or the “other man.”

  I plodded back to the bathroom and adjusted the water to a lukewarm setting. When I stepped into the shower, I immediately put my head under the stream of water, and tried to block out the world.

  I should be thrilled that my husband was alive. Maybe he did have a memory lapse and didn’t remember we were married. I thought about the many ways I could, accidentally, run into him. And no, not with my car, but in a grocery store, or at the fruit stand. Somehow I doubted he’d ever worked that stand. And then I decided, I needed to know exactly what was going on before I confronted him. I wouldn’t go in blind and stupid. There was so much more to learn, and I needed to know more before we met face to face.

  What I really wanted to do was knock on the door and wait for him to answer, and slap his face when I saw the look of recognition. The least he could have done was have the decency to live in another state, someplace I’d never see him again. This was just all too much. Finally, my tears mingled with the water and I was once again sobbing.

  This time I wasn’t shedding tears for Dominic, but for Nick. We’d finally reconnected after all these years, and we were good for each other, really good. What was he going through right now? Did his heart hurt as bad as mine? I doubted it, men bounce back so much quicker than women.

  My eyes hurt from crying, and I didn’t even bother to soap up or shampoo my hair. I wasn’t in the mood for a shower. I was in the mood for answers. I turned off the water and reached for a towel. And once the water was off, I heard voices.

  Jackie had arrived already. I could hear her talking with Nick in hushed voices. I couldn’t hear details, so I wrapped the towel around my body and let my hair hang, wet and dripping.

  I was sneaking around in my own house, but I wanted to hear what they were saying when they thought I couldn’t hear. Apparently they didn’t hear the shower water turn off, because they were still quite chatty.

  “You need to stay the night,” Nick suggested.

  “Absolutely. I’ll go back to the office to get Lola, and we’ll hang out here.” The concern in Jackie’s voice was overwhelming. Heck, at this point, everything was overwhelming.

  “You can’t leave. I have to go, and you need to stay here. Can’t Charles bring Lola back to the house?”

  “Sure. I guess,” Jackie conceded. “I drove her car here, so at least she has that. She can take me back to the office tomorrow.

  “I’m going to look into the criminal dealings of the Capurro family, and see what I can come up with.” Nick assured Jackie.

  “Charles said he already has. And besides, the D.E.A. confirmed their dealings.” Jackie sounded pissed. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  Nick didn’t respond with words, and I was curious what he thought.

  “You know, when a body isn’t found, you always have that hope. It’s like when a child disappears. You’re so hopeful they’re okay, and in your heart you know nothing good can come of it. Then when they find the body, there is closure, until the autopsy, and the details of abuse and neglect come to the surface. Then, dead or alive, there is no amount of closure that can repair that broken heart.”

  “He wasn’t kidnapped and raped, Jackie,” Nick snapped. “I’d bet the fucker parachuted from that damned plane and let everyone think he was dead.”

  “Why?” I could almost hear Jackie shaking her head. “What would be the point?”

  “Witness protection? Hiding from the cops? Hell, I have no idea why he did it. But I’m going to find out, even if I have to go to that rotten fruit stand and ask him myself.”

  I couldn’t stand there and listen anymore. I y
elled, “No!”

  When I entered the room, their heads snapped in my direction.

  “You absolutely will not confront him. That is my job.” I’d forgotten I was dressed only in a towel, and realized my error when Nick looked away. I didn’t even care.

  “This is my husband we’re talking about. Mine. He’s my problem, not yours. And I will be the only person confronting him. Got it?” I was shaking with fury.

  Jackie walked over to me and tucked my towel a little tighter, and Nick walked away. I should have gone after him, but I didn’t have the energy. Jackie looked in his direction as he walked out the door and slammed it behind him.

  “That was not cool,” she said. “Nick didn’t do anything to deserve that. He’s only trying to help.”

  I flipped Jackie off and went back into the bedroom.

  She stalked in after me. “Oh, no, you don’t. Not this time. Stop the self-pitying, self-righteous crap now. You don’t get to push me away. Nick might be okay with it, but I’m not. Not again.”

  I turned to her and screamed, “Get out.”

  And Jackie did what any best friend in the whole wide world would do. She slapped me across the face. Hard.

  14

  Morning came on with a hangover and a slightly sore cheek. Between the lethargic leftovers of the Xanax, the swelling of my face from crying, and the pounding pulse in my temple, I wanted to put the pillow over my head and go back to sleep. Sleep: where the real world disappeared, where all of my tension, sadness, and anger were not even a distant memory. So I did it. I put the pillow over my head and rolled over.

  But I hit something solid in mid roll. I sat straight up, which did nothing good for the pounding in my head. And when the stars in my vision cleared, I saw Jackie was sleeping next to me.

  I leaned down and kissed her matted hair. She stirred a bit and opened one eye to look at me.

  “Are you going to kill me?” she croaked.

  I smiled. “Thanks for staying with me.”

  She sat up slowly. “You look like shit.”

  Now I really grinned. Only a best friend could get away with that, or with slapping me across the face.

  “I can only imagine.” I untangled the sheets from around my naked body and sat at the edge of the bed. “I have a very busy day. I’ll start the coffee, before I jump in the shower.”

  “Sweetie, I think you’d be better to take the day off.” She sat up. She was still wearing the clothes she’d had on the night before.

  I shook my head. “I’m not going to sit in this house and feel sorry for myself.” Then a moment of panic came over me. “Where’s Lola?”

  “Lola had a slumber party with Charles.” She yawned. “I didn’t want to leave you alone last night, and he said he didn’t feel comfortable coming over, so he kept her.”

  I remembered how tense I’d left things with him. So, now I didn’t have Nick or Charles. That was fine. I’d decided in my moments of self-pity last night that I didn’t need anyone. And I would make sure I never needed anyone again. If you can’t trust your husband, who can you trust?

  “I’ll go get her on my way to the King house.” I headed to the kitchen.

  I could hear Jackie scrambling out of bed. “The King house? Mimi, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  I reached into the cabinet and pulled down a jug of coffee grounds. I forced myself to breathe evenly as I scooped the coffee into the built in filter on my coffee machine.

  No more crying. I was done with the tears. It was time to get to the bottom of this drug crap, and then move on with my life.

  As I poured bottled water into the coffee machine, I reminded myself that if I was no longer a widow, I’d soon be a divorcee. Anyone who could abandon me like that didn’t deserve me, or my love and affection. I didn’t care what bullshit story he came up with.

  I pressed the button and walked into the bathroom. I saw Jackie standing quietly in the bedroom doorway, watching me, but not about to argue at that moment.

  When I got out of the shower, Jackie had two cups of coffee poured, and was sitting at the kitchen table.

  “You aren’t doing this alone. No arguing.” She handed me a cup of coffee. “Thanks for putting clothes on.”

  I had donned my usual black top and slacks, but I’d put on hiking boots, and I left my hair down, so it could dry. “I couldn’t terrorize you that much more.” I smiled and sat across from her.

  “I don’t need you to rehash yesterday, since Charles already gave me the low down, but I want to know the plan for today.”

  “I’m going to find out once and for all why that house exploded, and whether Alyssa and Jeff are alive or dead. Then I’m going back to Gilroy, and the fruit stand, and I’m going to see exactly who got me involved in this shit, and why.”

  The determination in my voice scared me.

  “I’m in.” Jackie stood. “I’m not getting in the shower, because I’m afraid you’ll leave without me, so you are going with me to the bathroom while I pee and brush my teeth.”

  I sipped my coffee. “The hell I am.”

  Gross. We may have been best friends since we could talk, but no way in hell was I going to watch her brush her teeth.

  “Pinky swear you won’t leave me. That you’ll wait and I’ll go with you.” She shoved her right hand at me, pinky finger extended.

  Reluctantly, I hooked my right pinky in hers and said, “Pinky swear.”

  I mentally slapped myself for letting her get to me. But a girl can’t break a pinky swear, not with her best friend. And for the moment, my only friend.

  I didn’t even have time to finish drinking my cup of coffee before Jackie was back and ready to go.

  “I hope you don’t mind, I opened the package of boy shorts you had on the dresser. I couldn’t wear dirty underwear all day.”

  I put my cup in the sink. “As long as you wash them and bring them back.”

  “Gag.” We both laughed as we headed out.

  It was time to get some real answers.

  I was relieved to see the crime scene tape had been removed from the back of the Tucker property. My only concern was that Wanda and her trusty sidekick were home.

  My Beretta would take care of George in a heartbeat. I prayed it wouldn’t come to that, because no wild creature should be subjected to death because an old lady was heartless and cruel, and thought he’d make a nice house pet.

  As I drove past Wanda’s house, I saw the garage door was open, but there were no cars inside. Good, we’d have at least a few minutes to explore before anyone called the cops on us for trespassing. Even if she was home, I’d still planned to investigate a bit, because it would take at least ten minutes for the cops to arrive. Or so I hoped.

  Jackie’s mouth dropped open when I drove up the driveway. “That was a house?”

  I looked at the pile of ashes and rubble. “Sort of, more like an in-law’s cottage.”

  Jackie looked back at Wanda’s house. “Should we be trespassing like this?”

  “Wanda won’t call the cops, she’ll call Irma,” I said. “Let Irma call the cops. I’ve got enough on her to make sure she spends the rest of her years with a nice cot and three square meals.”

  Jackie unbuckled her seatbelt, and unsnapped the clasp on her shoulder holster. “I’ve never had to use this baby for real.” She patted her Smith & Wesson thoughtfully.

  This should have given me the creeps, but I was right there with her. “Shoot to kill, and don’t think twice. If they live, they can testify against you.”

  Jackie’s eyes went wide.

  “That’s what a CHP once told me. If you think about it, he’s right.” I opened my door and got out of the car.

  “He has a point.”

  Jackie followed me as we hiked up the hill toward what was once a home.

  The driveway to the bottom house was paved with rough gravel, but this part of the driveway was just dirt. Must have been a muddy mess when it rained. I stepped off the driveway and
over to the grass.

  As we approached what was left of the house, only the cinderblocks from the foundation gave any indication of how large the building had been. This close to the house, we couldn’t help but leave prints. At this point, who cared? They were finished with their investigation of the fire, and anything we did wouldn’t obstruct their jobs.

  Soggy ash and dirt lay in piles. There were bits and pieces that could be recognized. The head of a child’s doll, the metal beater for a hand mixer stuck straight out of the ground, an electric shaver, and a piece of a bed frame. I squatted down to see something that glinted, wondering if it would be a clue someone missed, but it was just a cheap cubic zirconium ring, with the metal bent and twisted. I was amazed at what had survived and what was unrecognizable.

  A friend of mine, who was a gun collector, had his house burn to the ground while he was in San Francisco visiting friends. When the fire was finally put out, his guns were a pile of melted metal. Thank goodness for home owner’s insurance. Still, he was devastated at the loss of his “priceless” collection. For some reason, this mess made me think of him.

  I wondered if Jeff kept any guns in the house. I’d think with his sketchy occupation, a gun, registered or not, would be a necessity.

  “This is so sad.” Jackie picked up a piece of a metal hanger.

  “Fires suck.” I stated the obvious. “I just wish I knew more about why I’ve been sucked into all of this.”

  “What are we looking for exactly?” Jackie asked.

  “I don’t care about anything in or around the house. That’s been gone over with a magnifying glass. I’m wondering what’s back here.” I pointed to a thick line of evergreen trees.

  Walking toward the trees, I saw there was a well-kept wood fence painted chocolate brown. Dead center of the fence was a gate. The fence extended the perimeter of the property behind the houses, and seemed to disappear over the hill.

  “Up for a hike?”

  Jackie nodded, and we climbed the fence, not bothering with the gate.

  “Looks like this may have been a horse pasture.”