Shot Girl

by Karen E. Olson

  "I, well, I don’t know what you mean."

  I switched gears again. "I saw on the press release that his address was listed over at Brookside, the housing project." Brookside was just on the outskirts of the Southern campus. The city was trying to clean it up over there, closing a lot of it down because of the crime and trying to renovate. Problem was, the same people were moving back in; they were just moving into nicer places. I didn’t like covering anything at Brookside. There was just one road in and out. "There’s a lot of drug activity over there. Was Michael involved in that?"

  "I’m not going to comment. I have to go." I could hear her anxiety.

  "Just one more thing, okay? Nothing to do with Michael," I said quickly.

  She was quiet a second, then, "What?"

  "Felicia Kowalski. I know you’re a friend of hers. You worked with her. She’s missing."

  "I know. I’m really worried about her." The anxiety was more pronounced now.

  "You don’t know where she might be?"

  "Last I saw her, she said she was heading for Rouge Lounge."

  I took a breath. "When was that?"

  "Thursday night."

  The night Ralph died. "Was it to see Ralph Seymour?"

  "Yeah." Pause. "Hey, didn’t you say your name was Seymour?"

  Okay, so she wasn’t stupid. But I wasn’t going to be stupid enough to answer her. "How serious was their relationship?" I asked.

  "Pretty serious."

  "I heard she wasn’t on good terms with her parents."

  Ashley snorted. "That’s an understatement."

  "Did she live on campus?"

  "Until about three weeks ago, when school let out."

  "Where did she move to?" I asked.

  She was quiet again. Damn.

  "Ashley, do the police know where Felicia was living?" I prodded.

  "With me." Her voice was so soft, I barely heard her.

  "You’re roommates? Where do you live?" I wondered again about who lived in that apartment next door to Ralph.

  "It’s a really nice place. We’re in a condo at City Point."

  City Point was on the water. The condos there were pretty snazzy, gated and all that shit. I wondered how a couple of college students could afford that. Even college students who made a killing by being shot girls.

  "Are you renting?" I asked as casually as I could.

  "Oh, yeah." But the hesitation in her voice made me wonder.

  "Did you call the cops when Felicia didn’t come home?" I asked.

  "I guess I didn’t think too much about it, until her parents called looking for her. I guess she was supposed to go to some family reunion or something and didn’t show."

  Like she hadn’t shown for that chamber of commerce meeting.

  "So you have no idea where Felicia might be?"

  "No. I wish I did."

  A lightbulb went on over my head. "Michael Jackson, he knew Felicia, too?"

  Again I thought I’d lost the connection; she was so quiet.

  "Ashley?"

  "What happened today had nothing to do with Felicia," she said. "Michael’s just, well, wound a little too tight sometimes."

  Seemed like an understatement, but who was I to argue?

  "Have you talked to Vinny DeLucia tonight?" I asked, switching gears.

  "How do you know about him?" She paused. "Oh, shit, you’re the one who was with him last night, right, at Bar? That’s you, right? That’s why you’re asking about Felicia. He’s looking for her."

  "Yeah," I said. "Did you talk to him tonight?"

  "No. I can’t reach him. I’ve tried. He left a message for me. Listen, I have to go," she said. "I’m getting another call."

  The connection ended.

  I punched in the weekend late-night editor’s number at the paper.

  "I’ve got some quotes from Ashley Ellis, the girl who was shot at this afternoon on the Green," I told him. "Can we still get it in?"

  I dictated the stuff about Ashley and Michael dating briefly and her breaking it off. That was as far as I could go, I knew; otherwise she could sic a lawyer on me. With my luck it would be my mother. I could hear the night editor’s fingers on the keyboard. "Great," he said when I was done. "Thanks."

  I put the cell down on the coffee table, folded my legs underneath me, and ran a hand through my hair. That was the easy part.

  I looked around Vinny’s apartment and wondered if he knew Ashley and Felicia were roommates. I snorted. Of course he did.

  I thought about their condo at City Point, and Jack Hammer squeezed back into my thoughts. He’d said something about a condo on the water. I wondered if he lived over at City Point, too. He knew Felicia, probably knew Ashley.

  I sat on Vinny’s sofa and stared at the shadows on the walls. I had no clue where Vinny was, no clue what time he’d come back. Suddenly I wanted to go home. Sleep in my own bed. To hell with any mysterious caller. I’d take my trusty flashlight and beat the crap out of anyone who tried to get close to me on the way. I glanced at my watch. It was midnight.

  I took off the T-shirt as I went back into the bedroom and tugged my clothes back on. The mirror told me I’d put my shirt on inside out; the tag was dangling in front of my neck. I didn’t bother fixing it as I picked up my bag and touched the doorknob.

  It turned without me giving it any effort.

  Fuck.

  I stepped back to let him in.

  Chapter 26

  Vinny saw the tag first, a small smile on his lips. "Fancy meeting you here," he said, then made a big show of looking around. "Since it looks like you got dressed in a hurry, is there something I should know about? Someone hiding in the closet?"

  I punched his bicep playfully. "You asshole."

  He chuckled, his arm snaking around my waist, his lips on mine, and I dropped the bag. It landed with a thud on my foot, but I kicked it aside as Vinny’s tongue ran down my neck, his hand now caressing my skin under the shirt, his fingers slipping inside my bra and teasing my nipple. I groaned.

  But "tease" was the operative word here. As quickly as he’d pulled me to him, he pushed me away. The smile was still there, but a tenseness had settled around his eyes.

  "What’re you doing?" he asked.

  I wondered what I should say, decided the whole truth might not be a good idea, so I simply said, "Leaving?"

  "I see that." The smile was gone now. He crossed the room and ran a finger along the top of the laptop on his desk. There was nothing I wanted more right at that second than to be that laptop, but his mood had been broken. Me, I was still hot and bothered.

  "I came over here because I didn’t want to get another call," I said truthfully.

  Vinny came back over to me and traced my jawbone with his finger. It was my turn to get tense; it reminded me of the way Jack Hammer had done that, too, not less than two hours ago.

  "What were you doing there?" he whispered.

  No more hot and bothered, but definitely sweaty and nervous now. "Where?" I tried to ask casually.

  "Jesus, Annie. I’m tired of playing twenty questions. What were you doing at that house with that stripper?"

  Jealousy at any other time might be cute. But anger bubbled up through my chest. "You’re spying on me now?"

  "I didn’t think I had reason to, but your mother—"

  "Oh, fuck. My mother asked you to watch me, didn’t she?" I narrowed my eyes at him. "You’ve been watching me all along. You were watching me at the Rouge Lounge, too."

  "I was there to watch your ex, not you."

  "But I just happened to be there, and you just happened to see me."

  Our voices had gotten louder, and Vinny put a finger to my lips. It was dry and cold now, but it lingered, and I couldn’t help myself. I had to stop this conversation, and I knew how. I opened my mouth and ran my tongue along his finger until I had the whole thing in my mouth, my hands at his belt, unlocking the cold metal, freeing him in one swift move.

  Talk about mood swings
.

  His other hand slid inside the back of my capris, cupping my ass. I undid my own zipper and shoved the fabric down to my ankles, kicking it aside. We teased each other with our tongues for a few seconds before I locked one of my legs around his thigh, and he lifted me up, sliding my back against the smooth wall and slipping inside me so quickly and completely that I couldn’t help but cry out. But in a good way. To hell with the neighbors. If they were going to hear something, they were going to hear something.

  It was over in what seemed like seconds but long enough to leave us both breathing hard, the sweat slick under my shirt. Vinny’s mouth lingered against my neck; one of my hands was plastered against the wall, the other in his hair. He let me down slowly, reluctantly, both of us knowing we needed more time—hours—in bed, out of bed, on the floor, everywhere.

  Vinny pulled my shirt up over my head, and I exorcised everything from my mind except what I was expecting next. But it never came. As quickly as the shirt came off, it went back on, but this time with the tag in its proper place.

  "Put on your clothes," he said gruffly, pulling his jeans up from his ankles.

  I touched his cheek, feeling the stubble under my fingertips. He covered my hand with his for a second, then shook his head. "Later," he said simply.

  So I did as I was told, and he handed me my bag. "Where are we going?" I asked when he opened the door.

  "City Point."

  The SUV had started moving. "She told me she talked to you."

  I remembered she hung up because she was getting another call. Couldn’t pull one over on Vinny.

  "Yeah. She called." I didn’t tell him I hadn’t answered his phone, that I’d taken her number down from his caller ID, or that I’d updated my story for the paper. "You think it’s so urgent to talk to her that you have to go see her now?"

  "I do." He stopped the Explorer abruptly at a light, and I jerked against the seat belt.

  "Shit, Vinny," I scolded.

  "Listen, Annie," he said firmly. "I didn’t think I needed to explain my job to you, but Ira Hoffman wants me to find Felicia Kowalski. Going to her condo is part of that job. Talking to her roommate is part of that job."

  We were swinging wildly between emotions these days.

  "Do you think they’re both involved with Ralph and the guns?" As I was asking, I knew it was a stupid question. Ashley was in it up to her elbows. Michael Jackson had wanted her dead because she’d screwed him on a deal.

  Vinny didn’t answer. He knew it was a stupid question, too.

  "Does she know I’m tagging along?" I asked.

  "No." He stared at the road in front of us.

  "She might not be happy to see me."

  "Might not be."

  "She knows I work at the paper. She might not tell you shit with me there."

  "Might not."

  "So you’re taking that chance?"

  He gave me a sidelong glance. "I left you alone earlier and look where you ended up. At your ex’s apartment. With that stripper."

  I knew it was his clue that I should say it. But I wasn’t going to say it unless he said it first. And not as an afterthought. Writing it in a note didn’t count, either.

  I leaned toward him and ran my tongue around his ear. "You’ve got nothing to worry about," I whispered. It was the closest he was going to get, and he knew it, from his expression. But he also gave me a lopsided grin and chuckled.

  "Okay, it’s not just that, either. I’m worried about those calls you’re getting, the pictures Tom found, and those feds didn’t take toys out of that apartment tonight."

  "Who lives there?" I asked, figuring since he knew goddamn everything, he should know that, too.

  But all he did was shrug, indicating that he might not know, or if he knew, he wasn’t going to tell me.

  Story of my fucking life.

  "Maybe he’s out on his rounds," Vinny said softly as we drove past. "Keep an eye out for Section B." We bounced in our seats as we went over a couple of speed bumps.

  "You haven’t been here?"

  "Felicia’s parents told me where she was living, but the cops were here earlier and I figured it wouldn’t be a good idea to show up then."

  I thought about how Jane Ferraro hadn’t been able to find Felicia’s parents to see where she was yesterday morning. "I thought Felicia and her parents didn’t get along."

  He glanced at me. "She’s a college kid. She still thinks she’s smarter than they are. But that doesn’t mean they’re not worried about her."

  Headlights approached, and I squinted through the windshield. The car was going as slowly as we were because of the speed bumps. As it passed us, I saw it was a police cruiser.

  "Maybe that explains where the security guard is," I thought out loud, thinking it was probably a domestic. The cop would file a report, and the press release would get faxed—to Dick. But I didn’t have too much time to contemplate my future at the Herald as I spotted a sign indicating Section B was to our left. I pointed. "Turn there," I said.

  The speed bumps were closer here, and the SUV was crawling between them. Signs with numbers on them were on either side, as were the tall buildings. I looked out the window and counted what I figured were the different units. Looked like about five stories.

  Parking was underneath the buildings. Vinny eased the Explorer into a spot under one of them and shut off the engine. We got out at the same time, and he pushed the button on his key fob and the doors clicked locked. He took my hand as we made our way toward an elevator, shimmying between a BMW and a Jaguar. Which reminded me of something.

  "Shaw. What’s his role in this?" I asked.

  Vinny shrugged. "I don’t think he’s got any role."

  "But he wanted Ira to take on Ralph’s case. Why?"

  "Beats me. That’s not anything I need to know about."

  That seemed so 007, somehow. And as I turned it over in my head, it was pretty sexy. I laced my fingers through his. "What about what Ashley said about the guy Reggie?"

  "Annie, I don’t know anything about that." His tone was teetering on patronizing. I took my hand back.

  I didn’t have any time to argue the issue, however, as the elevator doors opened and we stepped inside. Vinny pushed the button for the fourth floor. It was a jerky ride up—for what these folks were paying to live here, they should at least have a smooth elevator—and the doors opened onto a landing.

  Vinny studied the sign and started toward the right. From the outside, it had looked like an enclosed building, but up here, we were on a wooden walkway lined with hanging flowering plants. A couple of walkways stretched out to one side, leading to units. Vinny kept walking. The farther we went, the more I could see the black water just beyond us, the moon casting a glow, shimmering in the darkness.

  We stopped at a door right at the end of the walkway. From our vantage point, I could tell that this unit must have a spectacular view of the water, because Long Island Sound was just on the other side of it.

  Vinny pushed the bell, and we could hear it echoing inside. Even though there was a window to the right of the door, no light was emanating from within. I wondered how big this condo was.

  After a few seconds, Vinny pushed the bell again, and again we could hear it. But no footsteps approached.

  "Damn," he muttered. "She said she was home. She told me which unit."

  He reached out and turned the doorknob. It moved easily, and the door swung open. I looked at Vinny, who shrugged and stepped inside.

  From somewhere, he’d pulled a small Maglite. Jesus, I was in another episode of CSI. I should become a cast member.

  "I guess you’ve got your gun, too?" I whispered.

  He chuckled softly. "Always be prepared."

  "I don’t think Boy Scouts carry guns."

  "Neither do reporters."

  Chapter 27

  No one was home.

  We tiptoed through the foyer, Vinny flashing his light into the kitchen before we made our way into the dining ro
om and then the living room. Huge windows overlooked the edge of New Haven Harbor and out across Long Island Sound. A small deck wrapped around the front, and the glass door leading out to it was to the left and wide open. I stepped outside to hear waves lapping against the pilings under the building.

  Vinny’s hand slipped around my waist, I could feel his body against mine, and I struggled to stay professional, to keep my mind on the fact that we were in Felicia and Ashley’s condo and no one was here.

  "Where is she?" I asked out loud.

  The hand disappeared, and he stepped away. Vinny looked out over the water. "Maybe she changed her mind."

  "Why was the door unlocked?" I asked, a shiver tickling my spine. Something was off here.

  We went back into the living room. Vinny’s Maglite landed on an oversized beige sofa, a glass-top coffee table with nothing on it, a comfy-looking side chair, and empty built-in bookshelves. Ashley had said they’d just moved in a few weeks ago, which would explain the sparse furnishings. But if you move into a place, there are usually packing boxes. I didn’t see any as the light scanned the room.

  I banged my knee into the coffee table. "Shit," I said.

  "Ssh," Vinny said, moving away from me and down the hall. I followed him, stopping a couple of times to rub my knee.

  A king-sized bed dominated the master bedroom, but the selling feature again was wide windows overlooking the water.

  "Cool place," I murmured.

  While it looked like no one lived in the other rooms we’d seen, in here, the floor was littered with clothes: miniskirts, tank tops, workout shorts, and a couple of sports bras. The closet door was open, revealing even more clutter and more pairs of shoes than I could count.

  "It’s like at your place."

  I thought he was kidding, but he never broke a smile.

  I nudged him. "You know, someone could go into your place and think no one was living there—it’s so fucking clean."

  "Nothing wrong with cleanliness, Annie. You could vacuum now and then."

  I pointed at the dresser that stood in the corner. "I shouldn’t touch anything. My fingerprints are on file."