Chasing Shadows

by Jason Richards

  “What's the matter?” Jax said. “Cat got your tongue?”

  “N..N..No.”

  “You got a stuttering problem?” Mikey said.

  “No. Sorry. Just nervous, I guess.”

  “What are you nervous about?” Mikey said. “Just some friends stopping by for a chat.”

  Brad nodded timidly. “You want something to drink?”

  “No. We won't be here long,” Mikey said. He reached into his jacket pocket.

  Brad flinched.

  “Twitchy little fella,” Jax noted.

  “We can appear a little intimidating,” Mikey said. “Relax, Brad. I just want to ask you some questions.”

  Brad nervously nodded.

  “Ever hear of Aaron Hurley?”

  “Yeah. We went to the same school for a while. And he hangs out at the Snake Pit sometimes.”

  “You aware of who he works for?” Mikey said.

  Brad's eyes darted from Mikey to Jax, then back to Mikey.

  “Never mind,” Mikey said. “Same guy we work for. You are aware of who we work for?” Brad swallowed. Then he spoke softly. “I already told Aaron I don't have Mr. Scarpelli's money. I’m not sure–”

  Mikey held up his hand for Brad to stop talking.

  “We are going to give you one more opportunity to change your answer,” Mikey said.

  “I'm telling you guys the truth. Honest. I didn’t take Mr. Scarpelli’s money. I don’t have any of his money. But if you give me some time, I’ll find it. I promise.”

  “I actually believe you don’t have the money,” Mikey said.

  Brad seemed to relax somewhat. “So you can tell Mr. Scarpelli I don’t know anything about his money?” he said.

  “No,” Mikey said. “While I believe you don’t have the money, that doesn’t change the fact that Mr. Scarpelli holds you responsible.”

  “Responsible?” Brad questioned. “Why?”

  “Enough talking,” Jax said.

  “It is very unfortunate for you,” Mikey said.

  Jax took the backpack off his shoulder. He opened it and pulled out a new pair of latex gloves.

  Brad's eyes looked at Jax quizzically. They shifted to Mikey as Jax tossed the backpack over to his brother.

  “What's going on, guys?” Brad said, his voice trembling.

  Jax slipped the gloves on and then grabbed Brad. He forced him onto the mattress in the corner. Brad watched Mikey also pull on a similar pair of gloves.

  “Don't worry, Brad. The high will be amazing,” Mikey said.

  He prepared a needle and syringe for injection. Mikey stepped toward Brad. Jax had him pinned to the mattress.

  “Hold on, fellas,” said Brad. He tried to break free. Not a chance. “I can help you get the money. Please, you don't have to do this.”

  “But we do,” Mikey said.

  “It 'ain't personal,” Jax said. “Just doing our job.”

  “I'll disappear,” Brad said. “You can tell Mr. Scarpelli I left town and you can't find me. Or tell them Aaron did the job and dumped my body in the ocean. Please. Anything. Just not this.”

  Mikey shook his head. “That would be dishonest on our part.”

  “Please,” Brad pleaded. “Please, don't do this. I'm nobody. I didn’t take Mr. Scarpelli’s money.”

  “That may be so,” Mikey said, “but we have our orders.”

  “Please,” Brad pleaded again, “give me some time. I'll find the money. I swear.”

  “We're done talking,” Mikey said.

  “Please.” Brad was crying.

  Mikey rolled up Brad's sleeve and tied a band around his arm. He looked for the perfect spot. The old track marks made it easy.

  “No! Please, no!” Brad screamed.

  Jax and Mikey ignored him. Mikey plunged the needle into Brad's arm. There was enough heroin to kill a man Jax's size.

  They waited until Brad was still. Jax let go. Mikey made sure to get Brad's fingerprints on the syringe. He dropped it onto the mattress next to Brad's still hand.

  “So sad when a junkie has a relapse,” Mikey said.

  “Truly sad,” Jax said.

  The brothers laughed as they took off their latex gloves and put them in the backpack.

  They exited Brad's apartment.

  CHAPTER 16

  DREW PATRICK

  BONNIE ROSS LIVED IN a two-bedroom apartment in Cambridge's Inman Square. It was a modest place and well-kept. Pictures of Tina through the years were on one of the living room walls. On an end table were some framed photos of Bonnie and Tina on vacation at Disney World when Tina was younger, and a more recent photo taken at a school event.

  “Would you like some coffee?” Bonnie said.

  “If it's not too much trouble,” I said.

  “No trouble at all.” Bonnie went into the kitchen and placed a coffee pod in one of those single serve coffee makers. After the coffee brewed she removed the mug and repeated the process with a fresh pod and mug. Within a few minutes, we both had steaming mugs of coffee.

  “Do you take anything in your coffee?” Bonnie said.

  “Black is fine,” I said.

  Bonnie handed me a mug. She added some cream and sweetener to her mug, stirred, and then joined me in the living room.

  Bonnie sat on the sofa and I sat in one of the matching chairs. I opened the large envelope I was carrying and pulled out the pictures I had taken of Aaron with the young lady. I handed them to Bonnie.

  “These are the best evidence we have to prove to Tina that Aaron is not the guy of her dreams,” I said.

  Bonnie considered the photographs.

  “There are likely other girls I could photograph Aaron with, but I would think one is enough.”

  Bonnie nodded as she placed the pictures on the coffee table. In the silence, street noise filtered up to us on the second floor through the open window. Bonnie held the coffee mug with both hands as she looked blankly in front of her.

  “It has never been easy for us,” Bonnie said after a few minutes. “I've been a single mom to Tina since she was two-years-old. Honestly, I was pretty much a single mom before that. Her father was a drunk, couldn't keep a job, and had no interest in being a husband or father. One day he decided it was easier to just leave.”

  “As hard as it all was,” I said, “he might have done you a favor.”

  Bonnie nodded. She drank some of her coffee. Then she said, “But I think I did okay with Tina. She had a happy childhood. We don't have a lot, but we have everything we need. I even managed for us to take some vacations over the years.”

  “She looked very happy at Disney World,” I said as glanced over at the picture on the end table.

  “Oh, she loved Disney. I lost count of the number of times we rode Space Mountain. Tina has always been a bit of a thrill seeker. It might explain why she ended up dating Aaron.”

  “Possibly,” I said.

  “But I still don't get it,” Bonnie said. “Not really. I mean Tina had such nice friends. She liked school, and being in the debate club and on the volleyball team. She was a solid A and B student. Never got in trouble. Was never any trouble to me.”

  “From what I gathered during my investigation, many teenage girls are attracted to Aaron like moth to flame.”

  “And no doubt they get burned just like a moth,” Bonnie said.

  “So Tina isn't alone in this,” I said.

  “But Tina is the one who quit school, gave up the only life she knew, and moved in with him.”

  “It is out of my area of expertise to try to explain the actions of a teenage girl. But I do know you are not to blame. I'm not sure Tina is even fully to blame. Aaron Hurley seems very good at manipulating girls. He is well-practiced in it.”

  “Do you think this will be enough?” Bonnie nodded toward the pictures on the coffee table. “Will it be enough to get her to come home?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure,” I said. “But I am going to ask my friend Jessica to help us present the evidence to Ti
na. Jess is also a private investigator, and a former attorney. She knows how to read people and make a convincing case.”

  “This Jessica just a friend?” Bonnie said. A small smile appeared across her face.

  “More than a friend,” I said.

  “She's a lucky woman,” Bonnie said.

  “Not as lucky as I am,” I said.

  Bonnie put her mug on the coffee table. “I can't thank you enough for taking my case. There wouldn't even be a chance without you.”

  “Most private investigators could have delivered the same results,” I said.

  “But most wouldn't care as much as you do,” Bonnie said.

  I smiled at Bonnie in appreciation of the comment. “Thanks,” I said.

  “You are going to try to help Aaron Hurley too, aren't you?” She said.

  “He's mixed up in something he can't fully control, and it could get him in a lot of trouble,” I said. “He may already be in trouble. So, yeah, I'll see what I can do.”

  “And no one has hired you to do anything for Aaron Hurley?”

  “Nope. I'll do it on my own dime.”

  “See,” Bonnie said, “you care.” She gave me an innocent peck on the cheek. “And I hope Jessica realizes what she has.”

  “I remind her often,” I said.

  Bonnie laughed. For the first time since Tina left home, I think she felt something close to relief. At least hope. All I asked from this investigation is that it wasn't a false hope. Bonnie deserved better. So did Tina.

  CHAPTER 17

  TINA ROSS AGREED TO meet her mother at a Starbucks near Aaron's apartment. The text from Bonnie contained enough details to let Tina know there was no point in hiding who she was with, or where. Bonnie also, somewhat reluctantly, admitted that Tina was a legal adult who could make her own decisions. What likely tempted Tina was Bonnie showing she had proof that Aaron Hurley had a secret he was keeping from Tina.

  “Okay, I'm here,” Tina said when she sat down. “Who are these two?” She asked, tilting her head toward Jessica and myself.

  Tina was tall, only an inch or two shorter than Jessica, with an athletic build. She wore perfect-fitting jeans and a baggy Boston College sweatshirt. I figured the sweatshirt belonged to Aaron Hurley.

  “This is Drew Patrick and Jessica Casey,” Bonnie said. “Mr. Patrick and Ms. Casey are private investigators.”

  Tina studied us for a moment. Her hazel eyes revealed both curiosity and confusion. She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. Tina's dark brown hair fell onto her shoulders. Her expression was one of annoyance on an otherwise pleasant face.

  “So they must have something to do with this secret you claim to know about Aaron?” Tina said. “And how did you even learn about Aaron and where we live?”

  I detected a cringe from Bonnie when Tina mentioned living with Aaron.

  “Yes,” Bonnie said. “I hired Mr. Patrick to look into your whereabouts.”

  Tina snorted. “So if you hired this guy, what is she doing here?”

  “To offer her expert perspective,” I said.

  Tina snorted again. “Because she's a woman, right?”

  “She is a woman, yes. But that is not entirely the reason,” I said. “Jessica is an experienced investigator. She adds to my experience.”

  “Tina,” Bonnie said, “I worried about you. I am worried about you.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “You are an intelligent and more than capable young woman,” Bonnie said. “Yes, you probably can take care of yourself—”

  “So what is this all about?” Tina said.

  “Even though you are an adult and capable of being on your own,” Jessica said, “that doesn't mean your mother doesn't deserve to know where you are living. And what is going on in your life.”

  Tina shot daggers at Jessica. “Do you have kids?” Tina said to her.

  “No,” Jessica said.

  “Then what makes you an expert on being a mother?”

  “Tina!” Bonnie said. “That was uncalled for.”

  “Whatever,” Tina said. She slumped in her chair and stared at the table.

  “Tina, life is all about the decisions we make,” I said. “Good, bad, and indifferent. Some things are even out of our control, but we choose how we react.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Phil,” Tina said.

  “If you want to live with Aaron,” I said, “no one can stop you. But you do need all the facts.”

  “I suppose you will give them to me?” Tina said.

  “Look,” I said, “I'm not going to lecture you on the plight of high school dropouts, underage drinking, or hanging out at clubs like the Snake Pit.”

  “Good,” Tina said. “You'd be wasting your breath.”

  “Then I'll conserve my breath to let you in on what I discovered about your boyfriend.”

  “Meaning?” Tina said.

  “Meaning Aaron Hurley is probably not the best choice to pin your future on,” I said.

  “Because he has this secret?” Tina said.

  “Yes,” I said. I took out the envelope with the photographs of Aaron and the young woman with the long legs and full lips. I laid the envelope on the table.

  Tina glanced at it.

  “Look inside,” I said.

  Tina hesitated, then sat forward and reached for the envelope. She paused another moment before opening the flap and pulling out the photographs.

  Bonnie, Jess, and I waited as Tina flipped through the pictures. She said nothing for a few minutes, but her eyes clouded as she fought back tears. She threw the pictures onto the table and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of Aaron's BC sweatshirt.

  Tina took in a deep breath and exhaled.

  “There are no doubt other girls,” I said. “I would only need to follow Aaron a little more to get more pictures like those.”

  Tina looked out the window as people passed by Starbucks. “How could I be so stupid?” she whispered.

  “You're not stupid,” Jessica said. “This has nothing to do with intelligence. This is about a guy who plays this game with lots of young women. He's good at it.”

  “What matters is the decision you make now,” I said.

  Bonnie reached out her hand. Tina pulled away. “I'm through with Aaron,” Tina said still looking out the window. Then she turned to Bonnie. “But don't think everything is going to just be okay. I can't believe you hired a private eye to spy on me.”

  “I didn't know what else to do,” Bonnie said. “You shut me out of your life. It scared me. What would you have done if it were your daughter?”

  Tina stood up. “I'm going to pack my things,” she said. “No doubt he has the address where you can pick me up.” Tina jerked her head in my direction. Without another word, Tina walked out of the Starbucks.

  “Thank you,” Bonnie said.

  “Will she be okay?” I said.

  “Eventually. What's important is that she is coming home. We can work on the rest.”

  I nodded.

  “I'm obviously not a fan of Aaron Hurley,” Bonnie added, “but I hope you can help him too.”

  I nodded again. So did I.

  CHAPTER 18

  I FOUND ONE OF THE few well-lit spots in the Snake Pit's parking lot and parked my car. The lamplight probably didn’t matter all that much in preventing a break-in, but I figured it wouldn't hurt. If I brought Dash to ward off potential thieves, it was a coin toss whether he would give them a sloppy wet kiss or bark at them. I tended to lean more toward the sloppy wet kiss. My parents would be spoiling their granddog for the evening.

  A quick call to my mother and she was more than happy to pick Dash up from doggy day camp and dog sit. It saved my boarding him for the evening. Not that Dash minded spending the night in one of the dog suites, but he would prefer an evening being spoiled at my parents.

  There was already a line forming to get into the Snake Pit. I walked past it to the bouncer at the front door. The same guy I saw the other night. Paint
him green and he would resemble the Incredible Hulk. I showed him my private investigator's license. He glanced at it.

  I held up my cell phone. “Do you recognize the guys in this picture?”

  Hulk nodded.

  “I know Aaron Hurley,” I said. “Can you tell me who the other guy is?”

  “Brad,” Hulk said.

  “Any idea where I can find Brad?”

  “Brad ain't here,” Hulk said.

  “He off tonight?” I asked.

  “Brad's dead,” he said without emotion.

  “Dead? When did that happen?”

  “Earlier today. Drug overdose.”

  Learning Brad was dead from an overdose should have been a shock, but it wasn’t that uncommon for anyone associated with the Snake Pit. Except maybe Hulk. He looked like a health nut.

  “Anyone else I can talk to?” I said.

  “Pete's the manager.”

  “May I speak with Pete?”

  “Pete,” Hulk said into a wire, “got a PI out here wants to talk to you about Brad.” He paused a beat as Pete said something.

  “Looks like the real deal,” Hulk said as he glanced my way. “License seemed legit.” He paused another beat to listen to Pete again. “Okay.”

  Hulk opened the front door and nodded me in. “Pete's at the bar.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  I stepped through the front door. The Snake Pit had black walls with a variety of snakes painted on them. I would have gone for a different theme.

  Employees hurried about getting ready for the club to open for the night. Through the dim lighting, I could see two guys talking at the bar. My keen detective skills led me to believe the guy behind the bar was the bartender. The other guy must be Pete.

  I walked over and introduced myself. The bartender moved away. The guy standing at the bar looked at me.

  “I'm Pete,” he said. Nailed it. Drew Patrick, master sleuth.

  “Thanks for taking a moment to speak with me,” I said. Win them over with kindness.

  “A quick moment,” said Pete. “We're about to open for the evening. Although I don't know what I can tell you. Cops came by asking about Brad. Said he died of an overdose at home. Ruled accidental.”