More Poison in Your Coffee?

Chapter 12

        After I dropped a slightly more sober Johnny off at the Gregson's, I swung by Taste Teas. I'd been neglecting a bit of business this week and even though I trusted Pasha to run the place in my stead, I still liked to be proactive as far as the money was concerned.

        Since my shop was closed and no social clubs were in tonight the only illumination came from the inside of Prick Pros. Walking by I could see that Tad was busy giving some lady a tattoo right above her ass that looked distinctively like a downward pointing arrow. Classy.

        I waved at the overly pierced tattoo artist and he nodded back. When I first moved in, Tad used to scare me a little, what with his body almost completely covered in tribal tattoos and his face a burial ground for metal, but I soon learned that he was just a really sweet guy with a fondness for body art.

        I unlocked Taste Teas and let myself in. I hate to admit it but I get a little creeped out walking in this place in the middle of the night. It's beautiful in the daylight when the sun streams through the large front windows and gives my place a cozy almost ethereal feel. When we have some of our regulars in, chatting us up and reminding us of how great people can be, I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. It can be very charming. At night however, eerie shadows dance up the walls and every little bump makes my skin crawl.

        Right now, for example, all alone in the dimly lit shop it felt like I was being watched. I shook my head, telling myself that it's just paranoia. It's just my natural defense mechanism kicking in, keeping me on my toes in case of worst case scenario. Someone like Henry is more prone to believe he's more or less invincible in case of attack. I on the other hand know my limits.

        Even still, telling myself that I was perfectly safe and totally alone, I felt on edge. Maybe it was this murder case. Maybe being around all these potential crazies was taking its toll on me psychologically.

        I took a deep breath and walked into my office, flicking the light switch on the wall as I entered. I almost jumped out of my pants when I saw it, sprawled across the back wall where I usually hang anti-inspirational posters. Large lazy lettering in dripping red paint displayed a message that both petrified and fascinated me:

                                            "Mind your own business, bitch."

        It was written in fresh paint. Behind me I heard sudden movement. A few boxes spilled over and I heard someone running toward the back hallway.

        He was still here.

        Usually my instincts would have told me to run the other way, but I felt angry. Who did this guy think he was, coming here and vandalizing my place? Without thinking I ran after him.

        He slammed his body through the back door and I followed awkwardly, watching as he climbed into an intimidating black SUV and revved the car on with the intention of barreling out of the parking lot.

        Quick on my feet I got to Henry's car and started the chase. I was going to figure out who it was if it killed me. I hadn't gotten a good look at him; in fact the slender body hidden under layers of head to toe black leather had ensured that I wasn't entirely certain whether it was even male or female.

        He turned his car on Reutter St and gunned down the sleepy neighborhood. I picked up my speed, trying desperately to catch him or at least follow him somewhere that could lead me to identify him. He hit the brakes suddenly, and side winded, just barely missing a parked car. His car askew in the street he charged toward the Park Rd entrance to I295. Good lord he was going on the expressway!

        Undiscouraged I followed after, the two of us swerving in and out of a mild traffic buildup. He skidded, narrowly missing a station wagon. I was hot on his tail weaving in and out of traffic with more grace than I knew I possessed. Henry was going to kill me if he found out what I was doing with his car.

        Just as I was on his bumper the worst thing that could possible happen, happened. It started to rain. Not even heavy, but there's something about water in this town that makes everyone a more terrible driver.

        Cars started slowing down, five then ten then fifteen miles slower than they were going before. I had to hit my brakes or risk running right into the back of a painfully slow moving Buick.

        "Come on! It's just a little water, Jesus!"

        My target however, was not deterred and continued to barrel around the cars, nearly hydroplaning twice. I slammed my head against the steering wheel and let out a string of colorful curses far too nasty to repeat. Damn it, I was right on him. I don't know what it is about the people of this city, but for some stupid reason a single drop of water is like their driving kryptonite.

        Defeated I sighed and maneuvered my car toward the nearest exit.

        Back at Taste Teas, while the cops were taking my statement and photographing the atrocious graffiti on my wall, I tried to place the intruder. They were about my height, maybe taller though I couldn't be certain since I wasn't close enough to get an accurate comparison. The person was thin, that rules out Karalyn. That leaves Allison, Earl, and maybe Brock. I was more anxious than ever to solve the case, the funeral was tomorrow and I figured it was an excellent time to check up on all my suspects.

        "Where's Man- uh, Detective Juarez?" I asked a cop.

        "He's busy with something else Ma'am, but he filled me in on what's going on." He looked like he wasn't a day over twenty. "Are you alright?"

        "Fine. A little shaken, but not hurt." I'd declined to mention my little high speed pursuit because I had a feeling civilians running around in their friends cars chasing bad guys was highly frowned upon.

         When they were done questioning me I was too tired and too frazzled to work, not to mention I would have to ignore the ominous paint message, so I decided to call it a night and go on home.

        But even as I was pulling into the parking space in front of my apartment, I felt unease. I felt like I was being watched again. I hurried up the two flights of stairs and let myself into my home, turning on every light as I checked all the nooks and crannies where someone would hide. Once I got the place lit I took a deep breath and relaxed, but it still wasn't right.

        "This is stupid, Evie." I lectured myself. " You’re a grown woman, no one’s here. Stop acting so childish."

        Or at least that’s what I tried to tell myself. My gut feeling made me walk to the window facing the east lot. Parting the curtains I looked out on the quiet street. There was no one there but the murky phantoms cast by a flickering street light but I still felt off. It was like the walls were caving in.

        "Relax," I told myself, "it's just nerves." Closing the curtains tight I checked all the locks on the door and windows. Satisfied that the boogie man wasn't out to get me I tried to sleep, all the while thoughts of masked killers wreaking havoc in my dreams.