More Poison in Your Coffee?

Chapter 5

        In the morning I was awakened by the unbearably loud ring of my cell phone. Who in God's name could be calling me at-I checked the digital clock- eleven thirty-two AM? Everyone knows it's impolite to call someone so early the day after a massive drinking bender.

        I rolled over the thick folds in my comforter trying to reach the phone. I don't even remember coming home last night. Everything after that fourth glass is kind of a blur.

        My head pounding, I felt around until the noisy device was in my palm, then pressed talk without bothering to check who it was.

        "Evie?" The voice on the line was small and frightened.

         "Aunt Jackie? What's up?"

         "You've got to get down to the police station. Jackson's been arrested." I shot up in bed, dizziness distorting my vision.

         "What?!"

         "They say he killed some man."

          "I'm on the way. Don't worry." I'd hear the rest in person.

           I climbed out of bed and, working through my hangover showered and dressed; throwing on a dress shirt and dark slacks. In the living room Henry was passed out on the sofa looking about one hundred times worse than I felt. On the counter my keys were splayed across a scrap of paper. The note read:

     "You owe me cab fare on top of your debt. Next time I see your face you better have my money.
                           P.S. Tell Henry he's a punk bitch for getting wasted after just two drinks.
                                                                                                                         -Jimmy"

        Jimmy lived on the floor above mine. He didn't have a car so every evening he bused the two miles to Delmar's. On occasion if I get too toasty to drive myself home, the surly bartender puts me in a cab and drives my car home which meant I wouldn't have to go all the way back to the bar. Good old Jimmy.

        I grabbed my keys and rushed toward the door.

        "Hey, lock up when you leave." I said to Henry's deaf ears. He'd wake up in a few hours, get his bearings then head back to the bar to get his car. I knew I didn't have to worry about him.

          I walked out of my apartment building, lungs gasping for breath in the damp Florida heat. There was enough humidity in the air this morning to make my hair frizz right out of it's pony tail. But of coarse this was me we're talking about, and my hair's sensitive enough to frizz for no reason at all. Holy moly it was a scorcher today. With a sluggish inhale I made my way to my baby.

         Parked on the east side of my building in my usual spot sat my true love Douglas, the world's greatest car.

         "Good morning, Handsome." It's important to talk to your car you know, it promotes fewer breakdowns. He's less likely to crap out on you when you've built a good relationship, or so I tell myself. Superstition like that is good for someone like me who doesn't know a dipstick from a tailpipe.

         I climbed in and started the engine. I'd like to say he purred like a kitten but if I'm giving animal analogies to my car, I'd say he sounded more like a chocking chicken, right before he gets his head cut off. I stroked his dashboard.

         "Okay, I'll take you to your mechanic next week, right now we have to go see about Jackson." He sputtered in compliance and I made my way downtown, unease settling in the pit of my stomach.