Chapter 92
APRIL
Iwas an hour into a Tuesday shift when I saw Lucy Sykes walk by April’s Coffee Shop and subtly try to look in. She was on the other side of the street, but I recognized her right away. She had a hat on, but wasn’t fooling anyone—especially me.
This woman was crazy. Certifiable. She had just been arrested for Eddie’s murder a couple of days ago, and now she was out on the town, trying to solve his murder on her own. Sorry, honey. I’d covered my tracks. This wasn’t going to lead back to me.
Five minutes later, I spotted her again. She wouldn’t make a very good PI.
Twenty minutes later, I had to use the bathroom. No one was in the shop—par for the course these days—so I went to the restroom for probably ninety seconds max.
Sure enough, when I walked out, Lucy Sykes was standing by the front, ready to order. To say I was suspicious would be the understatement of the year.
“Hi, it was April, wasn’t it?” she said.
I walked past her and entered the employee area. I was going to play dumb no matter what. I feared this was a trap of some sort. And why had she waited until I went to use the bathroom? Had she planted a recording device?
“Yes, it was. What was your name again?” Play dumb. Say nothing important.
“Lucy Sykes.”
“Hello again, Lucy. What can I get ya?”
“I’ll take an Americano.”
“Not drip coffee?”
“See, you do remember.”
So much for playing dumb. I just couldn’t do it. It wasn’t in my genetic makeup. Not that remembering her drink was giving anything away.
“I’ll get that going.”
I started on the Americano and looked around for a phone or another recording device. The odds she just happened to walk in the one time I was in the bathroom were infinitesimal.
Once the machine started working, I walked back to the customer side of the store. Lucy gave me what appeared to be a quizzical look, but I knew better. She was aware of what I was doing.
“How has business been?” she asked, trying to keep my attention.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I walked behind her to get a different angle. She was standing in front of a display case.
“Excuse me,” I said.
She reluctantly moved out of the way.
I walked up to the display case. There was nothing in front of it, so I peered behind it, and sure enough, a phone was lying there, and you could see that it was recording.
“I think you dropped your phone,” I said, as diplomatically as I could, and handed it back to her.
“Oh, I guess I did. Silly me.”
“And it looks to be recording something.”
“I must have pressed a random button accidentally. I can be a real klutz sometimes.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that was it.”
A sudden spark of genius came to mind.
“You want to talk?” I asked. “Prove to me that you’re still not recording us.”
“How?”
“Log back into your phone, and I better not see that red circle still lit up.”
Lucy grabbed her phone and logged back in. I pretended not to be paying attention, but you can bet your damn ass I was watching as she typed in her password. My eyes were fixated on it.
She went from the top-right key to the middle key to the bottom-left key. She then pressed the bottom-left key a second time, the middle key again, and the top-right key again.
It was 357753. Bingo!
Her husband’s had been 99988. Both are easy passwords. What the fuck was the matter with this family?
“Now we can talk?” Lucy asked.
I walked back behind the counter, amazed I’d been able to find out her password. I’d accomplished the impossible. I was making a habit out of this.
I handed her the Americano.
“It depends. What did you want to know?” I said.
“Did you know my husband?”
Don’t let your guard down, April!
“I don’t think I ever had the honor. Sorry, no.”
“So you do know who I am besides just the last time?”
“I’ve seen you on TV.”
“That’s where I first saw you as well. I’m sorry about your husband.”
“Thanks. We’re basically one and the same. Two widows grieving their husbands’ mysterious deaths,” I said.
Lucy quickly turned serious. “We’re not the same at all.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true. After all, I didn’t get arrested for killing my husband.”
I saw the blood quickly leave Lucy’s face. She had no answer and looked bewildered as to what to say next.
“You’re going to wish I was never arrested,” she said, stammering through it.
“Oh yeah, why is that?”
“Because I’ve got a big old story to tell them.
I’m going to tell them about you, Eddie, Harry Shoe, and a phone call from this business to Hotel Pico.
Don’t you think that would interest them?
I might even tell them to check any cameras near the Little League field from a few days back.
I’m curious how the murder weapon ended up right next to the road the day after you first met me.
Sounds a bit fishy to me. Wouldn’t you agree? ”
Now I was reeling. She knew way more than I’d assumed.
“You’d make one hell of a fiction writer.”
“Actually, this is non-fiction.”
I smiled. “You’re good.”
She smiled back, but it wasn’t a smile of warmth. “You are too, but your luck is about to run out.”
I had a killer comeback, and debated whether to use it.
Fuck it!
“Maybe I’ll get a four-leaf clover to bring me some luck. I was thinking maybe a tattoo of it.”
I’d rarely seen eyes as piercing as Lucy’s in that moment. I’d hit the mark.
Just then, a customer walked into the shop.
“I can’t wait to nail you to the wall,” she whispered.
“Have fun making license plates for the rest of your life,” I responded.
And with that, Lucy Sykes scurried out the door.