A Grave Peril

by Wendy Roberts

  “I can wait until you’re back. We can try out that new diner on—”

  “Just ate.”

  “Oh.” There was a pause. “You okay? You sound, um, preoccupied. And bitchy. But mostly distracted.”

  “Sorry.” I put the paper down and rubbed my eyes. “I guess I’ll drive back soon. Just one more thing I want to check. I just grabbed a burger but I’ll have a coffee while you eat.”

  She gave me the crossroads for the diner where she wanted to meet, and I asked her to allow me extra time because I had something I wanted to do in Seattle, plus I wanted to go back to the motel to walk Wookie and change out of my jeans, which I’d torn tackling Meg.

  I entered Burke Avenue into my GPS and took a drive toward the Green Lake area. There was no number 426 and no apartment four at twenty-six. It was a hunch that turned out to be useless, so I just pointed my Jeep back toward the motel. Wookie was excited to see me. I felt bad keeping him locked up in a motel all day, but I knew he’d only be sleeping like he did all day at home. I took him for a hard run and let him add his scent on every light post down the road and back again. When we returned to the room, he drank from his water dish until his muzzle was all slobbery and then we played tug of war with his rope toy until he hopped back up on the bed and decided to nap. I left him a chew bone and promised I wouldn’t be too long.

  In all honesty, I had no desire whatsoever to go meet Tracey. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts and theories on where Garrett might be, but I kept remembering what Dr. Chen told me about maintaining close relationships to keep myself from going bonkers. I knew that on any given day I was only an ounce of alcohol or one bad, post-traumatic stress-induced episode away from hospitalization. I’d learned to make a conscious effort when it came to my mental health. Even though today the only thing I wanted to do was run myself ragged searching for Garrett to make sure that he was safe, I needed to do something else. I could feel my anxiety about him increasing and I hoped Agent Powel was also beating the bushes trying to find him. In the meantime, meeting with Tracey would be a great way to distract my mind from the edge of panic. At least that was the plan but the minute we were sitting across from each other I spilled the beans on what I’d discovered.

  “Oh my God! So, his house was ransacked, and his girlfriend is firing the ack ack gun!”

  “The what?”

  “Shooting smack.” Tracey made a motion about jabbing her arm with a needle. “You think Sid’s doing it too? Maybe Garrett took him away to get him to detox? What else did you find there?”

  Tracey leaned in as I told the story of the notes I took and the puddle of blood in the bathroom.

  “I feel like this brother-in-law, Sid, is a sack of shit.” She sat back and shook her head. “Your man is literally running around trying to save the ass of a man hooked up with a dangerous drug cartel. Why the hell would he do that?”

  “Well, I don’t know for sure that is what he’s doing but if it is, it’s because Garrett has powerful loyalties. And he wouldn’t be doing it for Sid. He’s doing it for her.”

  “His dead wife.”

  “Yes.” I nodded and licked my lips. “Faith.” I said her name on a whisper. I didn’t feel like I had the right to even speak the woman’s name out loud.

  Tracey ordered a soup and sandwich combo and insisted I at least have pie to go with my coffee. “So, you figure Sid is in up to his neck in smuggling drugs?”

  “His lifestyle doesn’t look like a middle management exec at an import company. I did some online search and it looks like he’d be making a good income; maybe one hundred thousand a year. But his house is two and a half mil and the diamond on his girlfriend’s finger is a few carats and it’s not even an engagement ring. She called it a friggin’ promise ring! What’s he promising? To keep her in as much heroin as she can handle until she’s dead?” I shook my head. “Sid’s social media accounts are exotic trips, fancy cars and expensive scotch. He’s living wa-a-ay beyond his income.”

  We sat in quiet a few minutes, both scrolling on our phones until the waitress brought our food. The lemon meringue pie looked delicious, but I couldn’t choke down more than a bite. My thoughts kept returning to all the blood in Sid’s bathroom.

  “I wonder how Sid explains his fancy lifestyle to his coworkers,” Tracey mumbled through a bite of her sandwich.

  My fork dropped noisily onto the table and I pushed my plate of pie away.

  “What?” she asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “His work. God, I should’ve called his office!” After a few taps on my phone to locate the phone number I called Flash Imports and asked to speak to Sid Klein. “They’re putting me through to his office,” I whispered to Tracey who gave me a thumbs-up.

  A receptionist answered, “Mr. Klein’s office, how may I help you?”

  “I’d like to speak to Mr. Klein, please?”

  “Mr. Klein is out of the office at the moment, whom may I say is calling?”

  “I’m with the Seattle Police Department and I need to speak to Mr. Klein about an urgent matter,” I said all business like.

  Tracey choked a little on her sandwich.

  “I’m sorry, Officer, but Mr. Klein has been on leave for a number of weeks. He took time off due to a death in the family. Would you like his cell phone number?”

  “One moment.” I dug a pen and paper from my purse. “Yes, give it to me.”

  I jotted down the number and thanked her for her time but stopped just before she was about to hang up.

  “Is there anyone at the office who is a personal friend to Mr. Klein? Someone who associates with him outside of work?”

  “Well...” Her voice trailed off, thinking. “He sometimes goes for drinks after work with Mr. Mayer.”

  “And Mr. Mayer’s first name is?”

  “Jerry.” She added, “But he left early today. I saw him leave a few minutes ago. Would you like me to connect you to his department so that you can leave a message for him?”

  “Not at this time. Thank you for your help.” I ended the call and immediately dialed the cell phone number she gave for Sid. It went straight to his voicemail and I hung up. Then I scrolled through my phone.

  “Did you just impersonate a police officer?” Tracey whispered, leaning across the table and waving a sandwich in my face. “That’s not cool. You can get in so much trouble for that kind of stuff. The only time it’s okay is if you’re dressed like a cop for Halloween and that’s only because the costumes for that are all slutty and the badge is plastic.”

  I held up my phone showing a picture on Sid’s Facebook page. It was a photo of Sid and his coworker, Jerry Mayer, having a pint at a pub not far from their office.

  “Feel like going for a drink?” I asked her.

  “No.” Tracey shook her head. “And neither should you.”

  I signaled the waitress for our check. “I’m not going off the wagon here. But if this Jerry Mayer guy has left work early for the day and maybe stopped to have a drink, I wouldn’t mind picking his brain about Sid. If they’re buddies, there’s a good chance he knows what he’s up to. Maybe he even knows where he’s hiding with Garrett.”

  “That’s a lot of ifs and maybes,” Tracey griped. “Like maybe this Jerry guy is also into the drugs and hooked up with smuggling and we’re going to die trying to talk to him.”

  “We’re not going to question the guy in a dark alley. That’s why meeting him in a public place like the bar near his work is a good idea.”

  Tracey wrapped the last half of her sandwich in a napkin as we paid the bill and within a few minutes we were headed south to Seattle. Tracey left her car at the diner while I drove. I had her look up the address of the pub and put it in the GPS and then I fielded a couple of calls about the repairs at the house. I’d given Preston and Phil a spare key and they were more than happy to let in all th
e trades needed to get the job done, and both men had sent me texted updates throughout the day. At this point, I didn’t care about the house. My only thought was about Garrett’s safety.

  I drove as fast as traffic would allow and soon we pulled into a lot on the side of the pub. I positioned my Jeep to back into a spot next to a newer red Jaguar convertible.

  “You’re going to want to get out of the car before I back in.”

  “Oh my God, half this lot is empty, why the hell would you park next to some guy’s Jag?” Tracey opened her door and started to climb out.

  “Because that’s Jerry Mayer’s car. I saw pictures of Sid and him leaning on it on the day he bought it. He’s not going to be able to get into his car unless I let him.”

  “Wow. You’re hard core.” Tracey nodded with appreciation.

  Once Tracey got out, I slowly backed in so close to the driver’s side of the Jag that he’d either have to climb in from the passenger side or use a can opener to get inside. Satisfied with my parking job, I put the Jeep in park and killed the engine.

  “I can’t tell if you’re smart or crazy,” Tracey said as we crossed the parking lot to the pub.

  “The good news is—” I put an arm around her shoulder “—it’s possible to be both.”

  Tracey sighed as she limped along with her knee brace. “Show me his picture again so I know who I’m looking for.”

  Earlier I’d taken a screenshot of Sid and Jerry Mayer together. I pulled up the photo and handed my phone to Tracey. She expanded the picture so Jerry’s face was enlarged. He looked to be in his forties with a shaved head, neatly trimmed goatee and hard brown eyes.

  “He looks mean,” she grumped as she handed me back my phone. “What’s our plan? Are we just going up to him and saying ‘Hey, I hear your bestie is doing the tango with a Mexican drug cartel, care to share how that makes you feel?’”

  I laughed and shook my head because I had no idea how to play this. “Just follow my lead, okay?”

  Inside the dimly lit bar the smell nearly knocked me off my feet. I stopped short and Tracey bumped into me. That musky aroma of alcohol and fried food slammed me back to every bar I’d ever had the misfortune of nearly passing out in. I took in a jagged breath while doing a quick scan of the premises.

  Garrett. This is about Garrett.

  The thought helped me refocus.

  “You okay?”

  I gave Tracey a quick nod.

  Jerry was easy to spot, balanced on a barstool and leaning an arm on the back of the stool next to him where a tall brunette sipped a martini. I beelined in that direction and took up the stool on the other side of him and Tracey got up next to me.

  The urge to tell the bartender to fill me a wineglass and keep the drinks coming was a powerful demon on my shoulder but I ordered a club soda with lime and Tracey asked for the same. I wanted to tell her she was okay to drink around me, but I’d be lying. I was grateful she didn’t ask.

  “What now?” Tracey mouthed to me as she brought her glass to her mouth.

  “We wait,” I whispered.

  Jerry had his back to us with his full focus on the girl beside him. He had a beer glass half-filled with Blue Moon and a slice of orange bobbed around inside it. When the brunette was done with her drink he quickly ordered her a refill, and when she excused herself to use the restroom, I took the opportunity to get his attention.

  “Jerry Mayer, is that is you?” I gave his arm a playful punch. “I was just telling my friend that it looked like you.”

  He turned on his stool to face me and offered a confused smile while trying to remember who the hell I was.

  “I’m Julie.” I flashed him a bright smile that was all teeth. “I’m a friend of Meg’s.”

  “Meg?”

  “Sid’s girlfriend.”

  He tilted his head and looked at me hard.

  “You probably don’t remember me,” I said quickly. “We met months ago at some party.”

  “I’m Tracey.” Tracey leaned around the front of me and stuck out her hand.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said taking her hand automatically and giving it a quick grasp.

  “Speaking of Sid,” I said. “You don’t happen to know where he is, do you? I called him days ago and he hasn’t called me back.”

  “That right?” Jerry picked up his glass and took a long drink from his beer. “Sid does whatever he wants. I think he’s off work because of a death in the family or something.” He shrugged. “I’m sure Meg would know. You should ask her.”

  The brunette was on her way back, carefully putting one high-heeled foot in front of the other in a deliberate way to try to hide how drunk she really was. I recognized that walk. Hell, I had perfected it at one time.

  “Yeah, I talked to Meg this morning, but she’s really pissed about Sid missing her birthday. It ended up being just the two of us eating pizza because she didn’t hear from him.”

  “That right.” He didn’t seem too concerned.

  “Yeah, missing your girl’s birthday...” I shook my head. “That’s pretty cold.”

  “Really cold,” Tracey piped up from behind me.

  He shrugged again.

  “What Sid does and doesn’t do with his girl is none of my concern, right? I’ve got my own life.” He turned his stool back to focus on his date.

  This wasn’t going nearly as well as I’d hoped. Before he got too involved with his girl again I put a hand on his shoulder and said to his back, “You know what might be helpful? If you were to give Sid a call. In fact, why don’t you call him right now. He’s not taking my calls or Meg’s, but I bet he’d pick up for you.”

  He ignored me except to shrug off my hand. Then he pulled a knot of cash out of his pocket and left a bunch of twenties on the bar as he got to his feet. While the brunette complained about not yet finishing her drink, he took her by the elbow and helped her off her stool and told her they were leaving.

  I waited until he was almost out the door before I said anything to Tracey. “Damn. I was hoping he’d tell us where Sid was.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “It sounded like a good idea in my head.”

  “Are we following him?” Tracey asked, getting to her feet. “We should definitely follow him.”

  “We’ve got time.”

  She followed me out the door and from across the lot we could see Jerry waving his arms in the air and cursing at my Jeep. The brunette was already in the passenger seat but, even though he’d squeezed his body between my Jeep and his car, there was no way he was going to be able to open his door. As we walked closer, he came out between the two vehicles and glared.

  “Is this your friggin’ Jeep?” And then threw his hands in the air. “Of course it is. You’d better move it as in NOW.”

  “I don’t know if I have my keys.” I made a show of patting the pockets of my jeans and then turned to Tracey. “Have you seen my keys? Maybe I left them in the bar. You know what would help? If you told me where I could find Sid. I bet I could find my keys then and—”

  Abruptly he was on me and I found myself pinned against the hood of my car with a revolver pressed into my stomach. I heard Tracey’s sharp intake of breath only a few inches away.

  “I know who you are, Julie,” he snarled in my face and spittle hit my nose. “I got a call the second after you left Sid’s place this morning.” He pressed the gun harder into my stomach and I cringed. “The guys who got hold of Sid came for him because your FBI boyfriend was nosing around.”

  “The Flores Cartel?” I asked on a gasp as he leaned his face up to mine.

  “There’s no way in hell I’m talking to you, and if you come near me again, it’s not going to be Mateo Flores’s henchmen you’re gonna have to worry about, got it?” He pushed the nose of the gun hard against my ribs. “First thing I’d do is kill your friend. Then I’d have some fun w
ith you and send pictures of that fun to your boyfriend. You want that?”

  I swallowed thickly and shook my head.

  He pushed off me then and took a step back.

  “I’m gonna give you to the count of ten to get your car out of this lot.”

  I scrambled into the car and Tracey, because she couldn’t climb in on the passenger side, hopped into the back seat on my side. We were out of the lot and around the corner before he could count to eight.

  “I may have peed myself,” Tracey whimpered.

  I didn’t reply until we were a few blocks away and I’d pulled behind a convenience store. When I took my hands off the wheel, they were shaking.

  “That may not have been my smartest moment,” I admitted as Tracey climbed back into the front passenger seat.

  “You think?” She punched me in the shoulder. “You are not Garrett! You are not with the FBI and you don’t even have a gun!”

  “I’m a pretty good shot with a rifle,” I said trying to lighten the moment but my voice cracked as sorrow washed over me.

  “Oh he-e-ey...” Tracey leaned over the console and gave me a half hug. “He’ll be okay.”

  “You don’t know that.” I sniffed.

  “No, but I believe it. He’s a big, tough FBI guy, right? He’s got this.”

  They were just words, but they did help.

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  It took a while to compose myself. Tracey walked into the convenience store and came back with slushies and Doritos. After a blast of sugar and salt, I took a deep breath and started the Jeep.

  “Why don’t you let me drive?” she offered.

  “I’m fine,” I told her with a quick smile that belied that horrible ache of fear and sadness in my chest.

  By the time we were back on I-5 headed north I concentrated only on driving. Traffic wasn’t as bad as it usually was but a couple of times I could’ve sworn a dark Escalade was following me. Although it was a few cars back, whenever I changed lanes, so did he. I was getting paranoid. Thankfully, by the time we arrived at the diner where Tracey had left her car, there was no sign of the Escalade.