Page 111 of Cash

“I do.” Brick beamed, and then he tilted his head expectantly. “Is this the part where you threaten to kick my ass if I break his heart? Because I can promise you that I have zero intention of doing anything like that.”

“Nah, nothin’ like that.” Junior grinned. “I ain’t the one you gotta worry about.”

“Huh?”

“You mess him up, you’ll have to deal with his sister, Rowena. And judging by what she can do with a shoe, eh, probably best not to get on her bad side, ’kay?”

There was a frantic knock at the door.

“Shit.” Brick jerked in surprise. “Who the hell is that?”

“Maybe it’s Rowena here to kick your big ass. How the fuck should I know? Get a fuckin’ ring cam.” Junior grunted as he stood up. “Ugh, stay here, Beefy. Lemme go check it out.” He strolled over to the door and then looked through the window. “Some guy in a suit.”

“It might be one of my friends from the funeral home. Hang on.” Brick joined Junior over by the door, and he looked outside to see who it was.

It was Ramp, the location manager.

“You know him?” Junior asked.

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t exactly say he’s a friend.”

“Want me to shoot him?”

“No! No shooting anyone. Lemme just see what he wants.” Brick nudged Junior out of his way, put on a friendly face, and opened the door. “Hey there.”

“Hi,” Ramp said politely. “I’m so sorry to bother you so late, but I was hoping I could steal a minute of your time. I’m Edwin Ramp, location manager of Brown-Wynne Funeral Home—”

“I know who you are,” Brick drawled. “You’re Mr. Ramp. You screamed at me because you thought I was the florist.”

“Right. And I am so sincerely sorry about that.” Ramp smiled. He seemed nervous. “I happened to hear that Ziggy and Noah came to see you today. Something about a message from Trixie?”

Brick frowned.

Yeah, because that wasn’t suspicious at all.

“She wanted me to have the receipt for the new flamingo she bought me,” Brick replied evenly. It was the truth, more or less. “That’s all. You know, she’s been on so many pain killers, and I think she was a little confused.”

“Really?” Ramp continued to smile. “Because Noah was asking me about what restaurant I talked to her about. He said it might be important.”

Shit.

“No. Maybe, uh.” Brick struggled for something to say, and that eerie numb feeling from before was creeping up his spine. “What restaurant was it?”

“Madame Kimchi’s Kitchen,” Ramp replied. “Great food. I was telling Trixie about the last time I ate there. It was for a friend’s birthday, they turned the big four-oh on the twelfth. I went there just before closing, and they were nice enough to serve me. I told her she really needed to try it.”

Brick wondered if Trixie’s note had been as simple as trying to remember someone’s birthday, but he couldn’t shake that nagging feeling that something was wrong. It was as if it was right in front of him, but he couldn’t grasp it long enough to figure out what it was.

“Yeah, they’re really awesome like that.” Brick tapped the door frame, and he heard Junior shifting impatiently behind him. “Uh, was there anything else? Is that it?”

“We’re good here?” Ramp pressed. He was sweating now, and his smile was becoming more strained. “There’s nothing else we need to talk about?”

“No? If you’re worried that I’m mad about you yelling at me the other day, I’m seriously over it.” Brick clicked his tongue. “All right? So, uh, you have yourself a good night.”

“All right.” Ramp seemed to relax, and he turned to leave.

“But the twelfth was a Wednesday,” Junior suddenly piped up.

Ramp stopped.

---