Page 15 of Property of Sugar
“No. She doesn’t know anything about this.”
“Did she tell you about the patch?”
“The patch?” I asked. “What patch?”
“How’d you know about me?”
“She told me about you when she told me to stay out of Kahakai and away from the club.”
“What did she tell you about me?” he asked.
Why? What did you do that you don’t want me to know about? If you hurt her, I’ll kill you next.
“She told me you’d been friends since high school but drifted apart after her divorce.”
He nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer. Tilting his head toward Matthew’s body, he asked, “It true about him selling his niece?”
I met his eyes. “Yes.”
“You gonna cooperate?”
“Yes,” I vowed. “As long as you don’t hurt me or kill me.”
“They won’t cause problems, if you don’t,” he said. “But we’ll kill you and Birdie if you do.”
“Understood.” I would do anything for Birdie, and Coochie obviously knew it.
He nodded once. “I’ll be back.” Then he left with Whisker and Biscuit following him outside.
When they returned several minutes later, Whisker picked up the remote and turned on the television. “Need to check the weather. It’s raining.”
“Fuck,” the man I stabbed groaned.
Fuck was right. We were expecting the last big storm of the season, which meant catastrophic rainfall and extensive flooding. But it wasn’t supposed to start until later the next day.
NINE
SUGAR
“Fuck,” I groaned. Since the storm was twelve hours early, we had a lot of shit to get done on top of dealing with a dead body and the bitch who killed it. We didn’t have the extra time for either.
“We need to get them over to the clubhouse and get this room cleaned,” Biscuit said. “And we gotta start getting shit ready for the storm.”
“Biscuit, text Bush and Cookie. Have each one bring a golf cart. And tell one of them to bring a poncho or some black trash bags. Biscuit and Bean will take the body back to the clubhouse with whoever gets here first. Sugar, you take her on the next cart. Beaver, ride back with them and keep doing what you’re doing at the clubhouse. I’ll stay here and wait for the cleaners. Then I’ll call Mom,” Whisker ordered.
While waiting for Bush and Cookie to arrive, I started gathering Matthew’s shit. He didn’t have much with him, but I did find a large envelope in the nightstand. The first thing I pulled out was a one-way airline ticket for Matthew Heinz.
“Hey, Prez,” I called, reaching inside for the rest of the contents. “You might want to see—Oh, fuck no!” I turned myhead away in disgust. I didn’t need to see more than the first picture to know what the rest were.
“Might want to see what?”
“Here.” I handed everything to him. “I found it in the nightstand. Plane ticket, cash, and at least one picture of a naked child. I’m not looking at the others.”
Whisker put everything back in the envelope, but not before he glanced at the top photo. He looked at Matthew and narrowed his eyes. “I would’ve made you suffer more.”
Before I could point out the last name on Matthew’s plane ticket, Cookie arrived with black ponchos, trash bags, puppy pads, and duct tape. “Slit taught me this trick,” he said as he covered Matthew’s abdomen with a puppy pad and secured it with duct tape. Then he folded another pad and taped it around Matthew’s gaping neck. “Keeps the blood from spilling everywhere when you need to move a body. Works pretty well for short distances. No one will see it under the poncho.”
He was right. When Biscuit and Bean lifted Matthew’s poncho-covered body and walked it out as if they were assisting an inebriated guest to the hotel shuttle, they didn’t leave a drop of blood behind.
