I’M NOT DEAD.
MEET ME TONIGHT AT GUIDO’S PIZZERIA.
TELL NO ONE.
My hands trembled as I reread the typed letter. Kneeling in the sultry sunshine at Megan’s grave, chills racked my body.
“Oh God, Megan, is this Gator’s doing?” Unaware of the tears streaming down my face, I glanced around the cemetery, expecting to see the man responsible for my best friend’s death, standing there, laughing at me. The hairs on the back of my neck bristled.
Raising the letter above my head, I shook it violently. “I buried my best friend last week. Aren’t you satisfied? How many more trophies do you need?” No one had proof, but rumors said Gator, the leader of a motorcycle gang, had a wall of framed panties, representing his many conquests.
Most town people considered Megan a tramp, someone who lived on the wrong side of the tracks, and therefore, disposable. True, she liked to party with the best of them, dancing and drinking until dawn, or riding Harleys, but she’d never ever touched drugs, nor was she promiscuous, regardless of her reputation. When the coroner ruled her death accidental drug overdose, I was the only one screaming foul.
It didn’t matter to me that she was poor. I knew the real Megan, the one who wanted to be a social worker, helping others. Privately, she’d been taking online college courses, using my computer because she didn’t own one.
“I’m sorry. You deserved a better friend.” I’d argued with Megan about her partying, telling her that Gator was dangerous. When she refused to listen, I told her to go, have fun, but she’d be sorry. “Maybe you’d be alive if I’d tried harder.”
Clutching the letter, I stumbled to my car. Shivering, I closed the windows and locked the doors. My mind replayed Megan’s funeral. Except for a handful of town’s people and me, no one attended the closed casket memorial. In drizzling rain, the Police Chaplain and I followed the hearse to the cemetery, standing alone as the coffin was lowered into the ground. At the end, a line of Harleys roared past the sacred grounds, yelling obscenities and smashing beer bottles against the pavement. Still, someone refused to allow her to rest in peace.
Mindlessly, I started the car and drove out of the cemetery. I continued to drive around town, alternating between bouts of sobbing and hysterically screaming for justice for Megan. Unable to clearly see the road any longer, I pulled to the curb and parked. Images of Megan flashed before my eyes. Pounding my fists against the steering wheel, I screamed and pleaded for forgiveness until my throat ached with pain.
Finally spent, I scanned the area to see exactly where I had parked. Yellow police tape, used to mark off a crime scene, flapped in the gentle breeze. A torturous gurgle escaped my lips as I realized I was sitting outside the house where Megan had taken her last breath.
Megan, are you trying to tell me something?
The letter had fallen to the floor. Picking it up, I smoothed out the crumpled paper and read it again. I’m not dead. Meet me tonight at Guido’s Pizzeria. Tell no one.
Glancing at the house, I struggled to think straight. The coroner pronouncing Megan dead from an overdose, the funeral, and now this letter claiming she was alive – none of it made sense. I needed answers and what better place to start than where she died.
Sliding out from behind the wheel of the car, I scanned the area to see if anyone else was around to see me enter the house. Satisfied neither the police nor Gator’s people were watching, I hurried up the sidewalk, hoping it was unlocked. Turning the knob, I sighed in relief as the heavy door creaked and swung open. I stepped inside, closing it behind me.
The interior of the house was in shambles. Evidence of a wild party was everywhere. Shattered pieces of amber bottles dotted the well-worn carpet. Dark stains covered the wallpaper, indicating spots where beer bottles had smashed against the walls. I gagged on the stench of dried vomit and urine. Boxes of half-eaten pizzas lay strewn across the room. A wary mouse scampered away as I moved through the room.
Adrenaline pumped through my veins, urging me to complete my mission. The local newspaper accountings reported that Megan had broken into the abandoned house, and had died alone from a cocaine overdose. The evidence in this room alone screamed denial.
Gathering courage, I gingerly stepped over the debris toward the dark stairway that led to the upstairs bedrooms, where Megan’s body was discovered. The first step moaned under the pressure of my foot, causing my heart to race. Pushing my back against the wall, I took another step up, looking up and down the stairs. The door creaked and I froze, struggling to breathe. I strained to hear anything, wondering if I was still alone. The dead silence sent chills down my spine. I knew what I was doing was crazy, but something told me I owed it to my friend. Trembling, I took another step up.
Terror ripped through me when I reached the top landing. Crimson stains of blood splattered the floor and wall. I refused to consider the possibilities of horror that had taken place in this house, tragedies that police, sworn to uphold the law, must have simply ignored.
Sunshine filtered through the crack of a partially opened door. I moved in that direction. Slowly, pushing it open, I stepped into a bedroom, and a sob ripped from my chest. Filthy sheets lay twisted and tangled on a stained mattress. Knotted ropes dangled from the corner bedposts. Remnants of a white powder dusted the nightstand amidst beer bottles. Bending down, my trembling fingers picked up a ripped orange peasant top – the one Megan had been wearing that night. Clutching it to my chest, spasms of sobs racked my body.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway penetrated my mind. My body was paralyzed, unable to move, I gasped for air. I waited for the unknown person or persons to enter the room, fearing I was about to meet the same tragic ending as Megan. My terrified eyes met my intruder as the room visibly began to spin. My mouth opened to scream as I collapsed to the floor.
*****************
My eyelids fluttered as I tried to focus on the face only inches above mine, murmuring softly, “Tammy, can you hear me?”
“Oh, my God, Megan?” My hand flew to her face, touching every inch, trying to convince myself she was real. “How? I don’t understand.”
“We don’t have much time. An undercover team has been tracking Gator for some time, without ever being able to nail him. One of those guys infiltrated the gang. Matter of fact, he was the one responsible for putting the note on your car. Gator’s sick mind wants to pay you back for defending me.”
“But … you’re dead. I was at your funeral. The coroner said –“
“Listen to me. I only have a few minutes.” She glanced at a man standing in the doorway and then back at me. I pushed myself into a sitting position before she continued, “I was in a drug induced coma. They left me for dead, but the undercover officer was able to notify his team. After the rescue, they released the information that I was dead. I’ll be going into the witness protection system. Gator’s into some heavy stuff and they want to catch all of them.”
“How did you know I’d come here?” I clung to Megan, afraid she’d disappear.
She smiled, “Tammy, I knew you wouldn’t ever believe I’d willingly taken drugs. You wouldn’t rest until the truth came out.”
“Megan, I should have stopped –“
“Shhh … it’s not your fault.”
“Megan, we have to go.” The man in the doorway looked at his watch.
“Okay, just another minute.” He nodded and she spoke again, “Tonight is a set-up. Gator’s angry because of what you have been saying. Go home … someone is going to contact you from the squad.”
“Megan –“
We clung to each other. “I gotta go. Listen to what they tell you, Tammy.” She stood, her eyes filled with tears, “I love you, Tammy. You were always the best, believing in me. I’m going to have that house with a white picket fence. Oh yeah, and my degree.” Wiping away her tears, she hurried from the room. I listened to the footsteps running down the stairs. Megan was alive!
A man’s voice jolted me back to reality. “Tammy, you need to leave now. Go home and wait for someone to contact you about tonight.” I nodded, struggled to my feet, taking one last look around the room before hurrying down the stairs and out to my car.
************************
Dressed in a leather miniskirt, silk top and matching leather bolero, I walked into Guido’s Pizzeria, Megan’s favorite restaurant, glancing around the empty room. On a normal Friday night, we would be scrambling for a table. The emptiness was eerie. I chose a table in the center of the room, positioning myself facing the door. Nervous, my fingers played with the butterfly broach on the jacket.
Moments later, Gator and two of his goons entered the restaurant. The two men carefully canvassed the room before nodding an okay to their boss. Looking wide-eyed, I stood as he walked toward me. My chest rose and fell rapidly. He smiled, pleased with my fear.
“Expecting someone?” His satanic laugh rippled across the empty room.
Trembling, I stared as he lowered his six foot, two hundred something body into one of the chairs. My voice quivered, “What … What’s going on?”
“Sit,” he commanded as if I was his trained dog. He waved his hand toward the chair I’d been sitting in, and spat the word again, “Sit.”
I lowered myself into the chair. The two goons slipped into a nearby booth. Gator clicked his fingers and two young girls appeared carrying a wine carafe, glasses and a basket of garlic cheese bread. Another one served the goons a pitcher of beer.
“Too bad about your friend. Sure will miss the good times with that one.”
“Her name’s Megan.” My voice cracked. “Some people respect the dead.”
“If I remember right, the slut was nothing more than a cocaine freak.” He lifted his glass in the air. “Here’s to one good lay.” He chugged the wine. The young girl nervously ran forward to refill his empty glass. With one powerful hand, Gator shoved her and she toppled into the next table. “Leave us alone.”
Scrambling to her feet, she scurried to the kitchen. The other two girls followed closely behind.
“Megan would never have done the things you say.”
“Unfortunately, most of the town doesn’t believe you. Even the coroner said it was an accidental overdose.”
“You raped her and forced her to take those drugs.”
“I’d watch your mouth before you say something you’ll be sorry for.”
“What? You going to kill me too?” I knew I was pressing my luck, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Or you going to have one of your goons do it for you?”
Gator grabbed my wrist, twisting it until I winced with pain. Laughing, he released me.
“Naw, baby, your friend, Megan, never knew what hit her.” Running his fingers across my cheek, he leered at me, “I’m going to make you feel every second of it. You’ll regret having crossed Gator.”
“Are you nuts? I’m not going anywhere with you.” I pulled my face away from his hand.
Like a bolt of lightning, his fingers snared my arm and yanked me to my feet. His face was inches from mine when he snarled, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll walk out of this place with me.” He nodded toward the kitchen. His two goons stood towering over the three young girls.
“They’re innocent children. Leave them alone.” My mind screamed for the owner or someone.
One of the men grabbed a girl’s long black ponytail and twisted it in his fist. She screamed, terrified. The man slapped her face with his powerful hand, sending her sailing to the floor.
“Either you oblige or the boys start having a little fun. This whole place is going to go up in flames.”
“You’ll rot in hell.” I spat in his face.
I felt the bite of his hand against my cheek. He bellowed across the room, “Torch the place.”
My right hand grabbed the wine carafe and swung it at his head, shattering it to pieces. Shocked, he let loose of my left wrist, stumbling backwards. I ran toward the door, colliding with a man in a dark blue suit. He pulled me outside, holding my terrified body.
An army of uniformed men burst into the room from every direction, guns drawn. Totally surprised, Gator and his two goons were quickly apprehended and cuffed.
I carefully removed the butterfly broach from my bolero and handed it to the man in the suit. “Did you get it all?”
“You did a fantastic job, Tammy. Amazing how a tiny microphone can fit inside a piece of jewelry.”
Satisfied that justice for Megan was served, I headed for my car and home, sweet home.
