Killing America's Sweetheart: A Natalie Miller Mystery (4 page)

Ah, now grandma was getting it.

“Yeah, similar. Except this one is a bit more
modern
,” Karen replied trying to concentrate on the word ‘modern’.

“Well, then I think I’ll take it for myself. I could use a little delight in the afternoon,” she said with a slight chuckle.

Karen plastered on the biggest fakest smile I had ever seen, and proceeded to check
50 Shades
out to the silver haired wonder.

“You handled that with such poise and grace,” I said stepping up to the counter.

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had to try and explain that book to people? Damn, E.L. James for writing it!” Karen said with conviction.

“Can you take a break so we can talk?” I asked.

Karen nodded and made sure her library assistant was okay and we headed outside to a nearby bench. I proceeded to tell her everything.

“Holy shit! You’ve never had
precognitive dreams before. What does this mean?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never had something l
ike this occur. I’m used to the knowing the random unknown, but not something as vivid and clear as this,” I said shaking my head.

“It’s a good idea you didn’t mention the dream to Zack. It’s one thing for him to accept your intuition, but I think he’d freak out if he knew you were dreaming too.”

I wholeheartedly agreed. Zack thought my abilities were cute, entertaining and sometimes helpful with his job. But this would definitely throw him off balance. He might think I was a full-fledged nut.

“How late are you working? Maybe we can go to Chipotle for dinner?” I asked.

“That sounds so good, but I can’t. I have derby practice tonight,” she said making a sad face.

She may look meek and mild
, with her shortly cropped hair, trademark black rimmed glasses and fresh face, but Karen “the killer” Kane was also a badass roller derby chick. She plays for Treeville’s Dynamic Derby Dames and she’s a fucking monster. I would never want to play against her. She’s my friend and I love her like a sister, but something happens to Karen when she puts on that helmet and mouth guard. I do not envy the opposing players at all.

“No worries. I guess I’ll just nuke a healthy dinner of mac ‘n cheese,” I said in my best pitiful voice. After saying our goodbyes, I got in my car and drove back to town. It was only going to be noon, so I decided to go home and save money by fixing a sandwich. Honey was happy to s
ee me and after eating I noticed how messy my apartment had become. I knew it was time to do what I hated; I was going to have to clean. Dishes, clothes, bathroom, vacuum and dust, my place needed the works. It was going to take all day.

Take all day it did. By the time I finally folded the last freshly laundered shirt it was nearly 6
P.M.

“Where did the day go?” I mumbled to Honey, who was just enjoying a
leisurely stretch after awakening from a nap.

Damn dog.
All she did was eat, sleep, piss and shit. When I die I want to come back as a dog in a good home. That would be the life.

I began riffling through my sparse
cupboards looking for something to eat when my phone rang. I checked the caller ID and saw it was my mom.

“Hi
Mija, what are you doing?” she asked.

“Nothing really. I just finished cleaning and was looking for something to eat,” I said as I spotted a box of macaroni and cheese in the very back of the shelf.

“Oh, you should come over. I just made some enchiladas and the beans and rice are just about done.”

My stomach rumbled. Enchiladas were my weakness and she knew it.

“I’ll be over in a few minutes,” I replied shutting the cupboard door without a second thought to my original dinner plans.

Chapter Seven

Honey and I arrived at my mom’s small two bedroom cottage in record time. I loved the old neighborhood; the homes here had personality and individuality. They weren’t like the new monstrosities that were popping up all over the south side of town. The nouveau riche mini palaces that were 3000 sq. feet of living space with a bare strip of grass known as a yard. Call me crazy, but that wasn’t my idea of home.

After letting Honey do her business we hustled inside and both began drooling over the exotic scents that awaited us.

“You’re just in time, the beans and rice are done,” my mom said walking us into the kitchen.

“Man, this smells so good. I feel bad for all the other people dining on mac ‘n cheese right now.”

I grabbed a plate and served myself a generous portion and sat down at the kitchen table with mom. I even made up a little plate for Honey, because if I didn’t there would be hell to pay. That little bitch was more Mexican than me.

My mom’s name is Selma Estrada, but I just call her mom. She’s in her early 70’s and as you can imagine if
you’re somewhat decent at math, I was a late in life child. I do have one older brother named Alex, but he lives in San Francisco where he owns a successful pizza parlor. Mom lives alone with no pets and definitely no husbands. She’s been married three times and each time was a failure. Husband number one was a cheater and alcoholic and produced Alex. Husband number two was my father Seaburn Miller, which also ended because of chronic cheating and drinking. Husband number three was slightly different. He was about twenty five years younger than her, but again a raging alcoholic, cheater and drug addict. So, to say she’s sworn off men is an understatement. She now gets her passion from Steele and McComber.

“Oh, I went to the library this morning and got some books,” I said getting up from the table and retrieving them from my car. I brought them back and handed them over for her inspection. I sat back down and resumed eating.

“Have you read them before?” I asked.

She looked them over carefully, reading bits of the inside jackets. “I don’t think so, but these look good. Thank you. I was running out of books to read, I’m so glad you brought me these!” She said with excitement in her eyes. Some women get all misty eyed and weepy over clothes and jewelry, us-we do it over good books.

After pigging out on what was probably a million calories my mom suggested we take a nice stroll. I grabbed Honey and her leash and off we went for a nice evening walk. October in California is a bit strange. Elsewhere people are already donning jackets and thick boots, but here it could be 60 degrees one day and 90 the next. As we walked around the neighborhood children were still outside playing, some in short sleeves and shorts, while their parents and grandparents sat on the front porches digesting dinner, reading and gossiping. This was typical small town Treeville at its finest and one of the reasons I didn’t want to move. Even though the town had recently had an influx of gang activity, as a whole, it was still a great little place to live.

“So, I’m guessing you went down and saw Zack? What did you find out?” my mom asked pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Well, of course he asked me not to repeat what I had been told.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less from him.”

I smiled. This is why I loved my mom so much. She knew I was terrible at keeping secrets.

“It’s just so shocking,” she said as we walked past the old town court house after I filled her in on the hottest story in town, minus the dream.

“I know. I mean I imagine there are a lot of people who hated her, but who would actually act upon it?”

“Maybe it’s the ex-wife
Bebe? Women have been known to kill out of jealous before. Hell, I’m surprised you didn’t go after Carrie Marks, when you found out about her and Matt.”

“
Christ, don’t remind me of those two assholes,” I grumbled.

“I
saw them at the store earlier, looking all happy and picture perfect with her two kids. You know the ones from two different daddies? I bet she thinks she’s won the lottery with him. No more welfare for her. Now that they’re married, she’s got it made,” my mom said bitterly.

I wouldn’t call Carrie’s life made, but it was
definitely a far cry from living off of food stamps and cash aid. Remarkably that’s where I first met her; she had been one of my clients when I was an eligibility worker. I knew she had been friends with Matt, but I didn’t know the full extent of their relationship until it was too late. Now she lived in a nice house, drove a nice car, had a decent job as a bookkeeper and I was the one living at poverty level. Life sometimes sucks donkey dick.

Honey must have sprayed her scent
about a hundred times by the time we got back to my mom’s. It was just about dark and I was feeling tired and I could tell my mom was eager to start reading her new bounty of books. We said goodnight and headed home, only after promising to keep my mom in the loop if I heard anything new about the Gold murder.

When we finally arrived home, I poured a little dog chow in Honey’s bowl (I don’t want a malnourished dog) and put my jammies on. I
lay in bed and turned on the TV. I wasn’t in the mood for Lifetime or forensic stories. I needed something light and funny. I checked my DVR and saw I still had a few episodes of Park and Recreation and Brooklyn 99 waiting to be viewed. So, I settled in and watched two of my favorite shows before falling asleep.

Chapter Eight

I was scheduled to work the closing shift again. In fact I mostly work closing, since everyone else has family and kids, and I only have Honey. It really angers me that dogs are not considered children by your employer. If she could talk, I’m pretty sure Honey would want me home by 7P.M. for bath and story time. Whatever, a girl can dream. Tonight I was working with Debbie and our greasy store manager Eric Morris. He was a pig in every sense of the word. Not only did he look like one with wide nostrils and a round fat face, but his skin was a strange shiny pink shade and he was practically hairless. He wasn’t too tall for a man, probably about 5’8 or 5’9, but he was solid and chunky. Eric also acted like a pig, meaning he went after anything with tits and ass. I felt especially bad for Debbie because she had to share an office with him. But I had a feeling she could hold her own.

“It looks like you’re doing well tonight Natalie,” Eric replied leaning close to me, while he put the change next to my till. I was running low on quarters and pennies.

“Where’s Debbie? I thought she normally brought out the money?” I asked feeling uncomfortable as he was invading my personal space.

“She went to lunch, but she’ll be back in a few minutes and then I’ll be able to go home,” he said leering to
o long and hard at my chest.

“Well, have a good night,” was all I could think of in terms of a reply and turned around willing a customer to come to me. What can I say? I don’t like the guy and he creeps me out.

Pig man finally took a hint as I could feel him backing off and return to the office. Just then a customer began approaching. I was grateful for the reprieve until I saw who it was. Emma Phillips, Zack’s girlfriend.

“You’re
working late tonight,” she said flashing me her perfectly crafted veneers.

I looked at the clock and saw that
it was a little past 9 p.m.

“I still have a few hours left actually. What brings you here? This isn’t your normal store. Don’t you usually shop at Golden Nuggett?” I asked.

Golden Nuggett was the classy supermarket, where practically everything was organic, free range and expensive as fuck.

“I do, but Zack told me you guys had his sport drinks on sale, so I came in to get them for him,” she said grimacing as she put all ten of the drinks on the conveyer belt. She looked as if she was afraid she was going to catch a disease by just being in the store. Guess she wasn’t used to slumming it.

“He does like these drinks. He goes through them a lot, especially after working out,” I replied holding one as I scanned it.

Emma gave me a dirty look.

“He comes in after the gym to buy them,” I added, so she didn’t get the wrong idea. Oh, who was I kidding, I was trying to piss her off.

“Didn’t you and Matt belong to the gym too?” she asked as she moved up to the POS machine.

“Yeah, but not anymore. Obviously,” I replied coolly.

“Oh, that’s right.
He’s still a member, except he goes with Carrie now,” she added with a smug smile on her face.

As if she just remembered Matt and I were divorced. I stared at her and for the first time I saw just how unattractive she
really was.  There was only so much Instagram filters could do for someone. A plastic surgeon may be able to make her look “fresher”, but up close she looked haggard and old for her nearly 40 plus years. She went to great lengths to wear designer clothes and look the part of a success relator, but she was not pretty. I’m sure many would find her attractive, but her ugly and vulgar personality was a giant turnoff. While I am fairly certain she had never fucked my ex-husband (I knew thanks to the Treeville grapevine), she had busted up at least six marriages with her fondness for married men. Which is why I couldn’t understand what she and Zack were doing together, it didn’t make sense.

I bagged up the drinks as she was paying, when I saw Debbie come back from lunch. I gave her silent hello,
as Eric left for the night and handed the bags over to Emma.