Chapter 29

 

 

 

 

OCTAVIA CONSULTED the card Raleigh Otter had given her and punched in his number. The oaf still hadn’t called her and obviously needed a fire lit under his big ass.

The call immediately went to voice mail and Otter’s redneck voice came on the line. “This is Raleigh Otter. If you need to make an appointment for pressure-washing, press one and leave a message. If you need to have your parking lot restriped, press two and leave a message. If you need legal services, press three and—you guessed it—leave a message.”

Octavia pushed her tongue into her check and pressed three. When the beep sounded, she said, “Mr. Otter, this is Octavia Habersham. If you know what’s good for you, you will call me with an update on my husband’s case. Soon.”

She ended the call with the stab of her finger. “Ooh!”

Her phone rang and for a second, she thought it was the lame attorney. But when she saw “Dominick’s” restaurant come up on the screen, excitement bolted through her. She connected the call. “Wally?”

“Yo. Got another order of that funky rolled oyster and spicy cheese sauce.”

She gripped the phone. “Is the customer different from the previous two?”

“Yup. A woman this time—Freida Runyon.”

Probably another false alarm, but she couldn’t afford not to see it through. “I’ll be there in ten.”

She snagged the keys to the minivan and hightailed it to Dominick’s. At the bar, Wally looked as if he’d had a new outbreak—and he was high.

“Yo, this is a cash on delivery order, so on top of the hundred, you gotta pay for the food.”

She handed over her card, seriously hoping the woman didn’t stiff her when she got there.

As if the universe wanted to pour salt in her wounds, the delivery was the part of town where she and Linda had grown up. The sight of the shabby houses and unkempt lawns tied her stomach in knots. She’d vowed to get out of there, and she had…

And now she was back.

She pulled up to the address and parked between two beater cars. As she approached the dilapidated house, she acknowledged rolled oysters was a pretty swanky meal for this neighborhood. But maybe it was a special occasion meal, like with the Pierces.

After walking up onto a rickety porch, she knocked on the door and positioned the bag and her phone camera, just in case.

But when the door opened, a tall gray-haired woman stood in the doorway, dressed in slacks and a flowery top.

Octavia sagged in disappointment, but managed a smile for the unattractive lady, thinking food was probably one of the pleasures she had left in life. “Delivery from Dominick’s.” A few seconds later she felt a pang of remorse when she realized the woman was transsexual… or a cross-dresser….

Her pulse spiked. Or Grady Pierce? The height and size was right. Glasses obscured the person’s eye color. She decided to try to get them to talk. As she handed over the bag, she said, “How are you today?”

The person smiled but made a cupping hand gesture under their chin. They were mute.

Now what?

Octavia read from the receipt the amount due and as the person counted out bills, she mentally reviewed her choices. She could pass the information to Rogena Everwild and possibly sic them onto an innocent trans mute person—after which her reputation as an investigator would be over. Or she could try to find out if the person was Grady Pierce on her own… and risk an assault charge on an innocent trans mute person.

The latter, she decided. She had to trust her instincts.

She lunged forward and snatched off the person’s wig.

“Hey!” a man’s voice bellowed.

It was Grady Pierce! She pointed the camera and held down the button. He lunged for her, but the sack of food tripped him up. As he went down on the porch she fell back in the grass. The bag exploded, sending rolled oyster and jalapeño cheese sauce flying through the air. Chunks landed on her. She sat up, clawing food off her face. “Ugh!”

Grady was sprawled face-down on the porch, moaning. “Help,” he said. “I think I broke something.”

Octavia smirked. “Hope you have good insurance.” She pulled up the photo she’d taken showing the man’s eyes wide with surprise, then texted it to Rogena Everwild.

She puffed out her cheeks in an exhale. Now that she’d hopefully snagged the woman’s attention, she really needed to get her license.

Despite being covered in smelly food, she was buoyant on the drive home—she couldn’t wait until Dunk found out she’d scooped him on the Pierce case.

She was good at this, she realized.

Her phone rang and when “Louisville Metro Department of Corrections” came up, she sighed and connected the call.

An automated voice came on the line. “Will you accept a call from Inmate Habersham? Say yes or no.”

“Yes,” she intoned.

Richard’s voice sounded. “Octavia? How are you?”

“Cut the small talk, Richard. Okay, I’ll help you, but only because your lawyer is a dumbass. And this is going to cost you, bigtime.”

He exclaimed in relief. “I knew I could count on you. I love you, Octavia.”

She ended the call with stab of her middle finger.