We weren’t getting anywhere, and I was feeling restless and frustrated. I went to the kitchen for some sunflower seeds. Don didn’t say anything when I opened a window and put the seeds on the sill for Raymond. “I haven’t seen Raymond since before the storm.”
“He’s fine. Squirrels know what to do. He probably has a nest somewhere dry.”
“I hope you’re right.” I tried to relax my mind and feel Raymond’s presence, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Ruby and Lana. “Don’t you need to go to work?”
“Nope. Traded with one of the guys who wants tomorrow off.”
“Petreski and I were supposed to have a date tonight. That’s probably not going to happen now.”
“Probably not.”
The downstairs door buzzed and I looked out to see Petreski on the front steps. I went downstairs to open the door and he followed me back up, neither of us speaking.
“Don’s here,” I said, as I opened the door. “We’re having beer, but I can make coffee if you want some?”
“No, not right now. We need to talk about the dreams, and Lana.”
“She was murdered, yeah?”
“M.E. says it looks like she drowned, but we won’t know for sure until after the autopsy. With the flooding last night it could easily be written off as an accident, but that would be too convenient for me, especially...”
“Especially what?”
“Sorry, I’ll get back to that. Right now I need to know every last detail of last night’s dream.”
I went over it again, then told him what Don and I had discussed before he got there.
“There’s another possibility.”
“What?”
Petreski took out his phone and thumbed through his contacts. “Hey. Yeah, it’s Petreski. The Forrester case. I need you to pick up the dog and have her tested for drugs. Yeah, I think she may have been knocked out. Call it a hunch. I’m not convinced this was an accident, and if that dog was drugged we need to test her before it’s all out of her system. Okay. Yeah, thanks.”
“Oh, that does make sense,” Don said when Petreski disconnected.
“I wonder...” I made my way into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee, just so I had something to do with my hands.
“What do you wonder?” Petreski leaned against the back of the sofa, his arms crossed.
“Why Lana? Why would someone kill her? Did it have something to do with the phone call I overheard? Or was it something else? If the dog was drugged, though, that means it was premeditated. And what about that guy at the scene today – the cop who was out with Lana the other night? Was he her boyfriend?”
“That’s... complicated. I believe they were involved, but he’s being cagey about it.”
“What did she do? Maybe she caught her boss skimming funds or having an affair with his secretary or something.”
“She worked at a gentleman’s club over off Richmond,” Petreski told us.
“How? Like, as a waitress?” Don asked.
“A performer.”
Don opened up my laptop and started tapping away at the keyboard, probably looking up her act.
“She was a dancer, then? What is it with cops and exotic dancers, anyway?” I asked. “It seems like cops are always dating exotic dancers. Or prostitutes.”
“I don’t date exotic dancers or prostitutes,” Petreski replied. “You watch too much TV.”
“I could be an exotic dancer,” I said, throwing my hands up and gyrating my hips, a come-hither pout on my face.
“Uh...” Don looked up from the computer and frowned.
Petreski shook his head. “Nope. I don’t think so.”
“Dude, you have no rhythm and you can’t dance. At all.”
“Promise me you’ll never do that again.” Petreski looked stunned. “And don’t make that face, either.”
“Y’all are just jealous because you don’t have my killer moves,” I told them. But I stopped dancing and sat down because, honestly? I have no rhythm and I totally can’t dance.
“She was a mermaid!”
“Say what?”
“A mermaid.” Don turned the computer around so we could see the screen.
“No way!” There on the screen was Lana, sitting in a giant martini glass, the lower half of her body encased in a sparkling fish tail costume. Her long blonde hair was supplemented with blue and green extensions that were arranged to cover her ample – and bare – breasts.
“What is it with mermaids all of a sudden?” Petreski grumbled.
Don turned the computer back around and started reading. “Says here that the club she works – worked – at has a water show. There’s a big glass tank in the club and they call it a mermaid aquarium.”
“Weird.”
“Dude, you’re the one who’s been reading mermaid porn,” said Don.
“It’s not porn!”
“Don’s right. You’ve been reading that mermaid stuff. Okay, okay, mermen, whatever. Anyway, you don’t get to say it’s weird.”
“I do, actually, because I’m the one who’s been reading it, and I’ve read enough to declare it weird based on an informed opinion.”
“Uck. I hate it when he does that.”
“Does what?” Petreski and I both asked.
“Makes his insanity sound reasonable with logic. You can’t argue with him when he does that.”
“I don’t do that! Do I do that?” I turned to Petreski.
“You do. You totally do that.”
I frowned.
“Don’t worry. I think it’s charming.”
“Can we get back on track?” Don interrupted us.
“Yeah. Like, what’s the deal with the cop boyfriend?”
Petreski shook his head. “Can you ask me anything else?”
“It seems to me that that’s the pertinent question right now.”
He sighed and went to the kitchen. He came back with a cup of coffee and looked down into it before answering.
“He’s Perez’s ex.”
“Ex... you mean, the one who...?” I didn’t finish the question. Don didn’t know about Perez’s daughter who had died, or the man who had abandoned her, and it wasn’t my place to spill those beans.
“That explains why she was leaving the scene, then,” Don said.
Petreski nodded to answer my question. “Yeah. She can’t be on the case with the personal connection. She is, as you can imagine, pissed.”
“I thought he had left town.” Petreski had never said so, I just assumed it.
“He did. He was in San Antonio until a few months ago. He came back to Houston, but I didn’t know that until this morning. It got ugly.”
“Did Perez know?”
“Yes.” The look on Petreski’s face told me that particular question was not open for further discussion.
“And this guy...”
“Bobby Standing.”
“Standing. He was dating Lana?”
“They were involved. That’s all I’m going to say.”
“The roommate knew him. Or at least knew who he was. I think.”
“Why do you say that?”
“She was staring at him when we left. I saw her looking at him.”
“And you never saw or heard anything of the roommate in the dreams?”
“No. Maybe she works nights or something?”
“She’s a personal trainer with private clients. Works odd hours. No,” he held up a hand when I opened my mouth. “That’s all I’m saying. I need to get back to work.”
“Well, that’s nice, isn’t it?” I said after Petreski left.
“What?”
“He comes over and picks my psychic brain for the bits he wants and then leaves.”
“Well, yeah. He’s got a murderer to catch. Probably. And he told us plenty.”
“Like what?”
“We know Lana was dating – or whatever – Bobby Standing, who happens to be Perez’s ex. You don’t think Perez would... you know...”
“Okay. We know the roommate is a personal trainer. We know Lana’s name and where she worked.”
“Yeah, we know all this... but what can we do with it?”
Jake Considers His Physical Fitness
Don was right – another cancelled date with Petreski. I couldn’t complain this time, though. I couldn’t blame it on Perez, either. Poor Lana, poor Ruby, poor everybody. Murder was a messy, disruptive, time-consuming business for those left behind.
Saturday afternoon I was in my apartment, studying and minding my own beeswax with my fourth cup of coffee (it’s supposed to prevent dementia, so don’t judge me). There was a quick knock and Don came in right away.
“What?” I was used to Don barging in – he was more like a roommate, or an annoying brother, than a neighbor.
“I got a reply!” He sat down next to me on the sofa, putting his laptop on the coffee table where we could both see it.
“A reply to what?”
“That message I posted, about looking for Ruby’s owner.”
“Well, someone was bound to know her.”
“Yeah, but this is a private message from her roommate.”
“Ooh. That is interesting.”
Don opened the message and read: “I think you might be looking for Lana Forrester. I’m her roommate. Unfortunately, Lana passed away yesterday. If your message has something to do with Ruby, I am taking care of her now. Can I help? Her name is Dani Jarvis.”
“Gosh. That’s, like... what should we do? We should tell Petreski, right?”
“We should,” Don agreed.
“But, he’ll just tell us to ignore it, don’t you think?”
“He would.”
I sighed.
“But I don’t think we should.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised. Don was always the one telling me to rein it in.
“Yeah. And I think I know just what to say.”
I looked over his shoulder as he typed.
“I’m really sorry about your roommate. I was talking to her one day when she was out with Ruby, and I remembered her dog’s name, but not hers. The reason I was trying to reach her was because she had mentioned that her roommate was a personal trainer. Is that you?”
“Oh, that’s good.” I bumped my shoulder against his.
While we waited for Dani to respond, we looked at her profile and then Don looked her up online. She had a website where she blogged about nutrition and fitness, and you could contact her about training services. Pretty straightforward stuff. I recognized her in the pictures on the website. She was fit, and her biceps were impressive.
“I bet she’d be strong enough to do it.” Don said.
“Do what?”
“Drown her roommate in the bathtub.”
“Oh, geez. I guess. But would she drug the dog, though? I mean, she lived there; Ruby knows her and would be unlikely to raise an alarm.”
“She’d have the means and the opportunity, I’d say. But motive?”
“Who knows? But killing your roommate... seems kind of obvious.”
Don’s computer dinged, and he checked his email. “It’s her.”
“Yes. I’m a personal trainer. If you go to my website you can find out more, and fill out the questionnaire about your current fitness, goals, etc. Once I review it I’ll call and we can set a time/place to meet and discuss in more detail. Thank you for your interest!” At the bottom of the message was a link to the site we had just been looking at.
“Wow,” I said, “right down to business, huh?”
“She’s probably got bills to pay, and no roommate to share the rent now. Depending on their arrangement, she might need to find a new place to stay. You never know.”
“Yeah, you’re right. And we don’t know how close they were, although she was crying at the crime scene.”
Don went back to the website and clicked the link to open the questionnaire.
“Are you going to make an appointment to see her?” I asked.
“Kind of.”
“Huh?”
“I’m going to make an appointment for you to see her.”
“Me? Why me?” I hadn’t forgotten his comment about my weight, and wondered whether he had an ulterior motive.
“Because I can’t afford a personal trainer, and you’re the one who wants to talk to her.”
“Oh. Okay, then.”
We filled out the questionnaire together, guessing at my weight since neither of us had a scale. Since I spent most of my time either studying, reading, or binge watching TV shows, I had to describe my lifestyle as sedentary. I have to confess that describing yourself as sedentary when you’re only twenty-six years old just feels wrong.
“Additional comments...” Don’s fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before he started typing. “I am completing this form for my friend, Jake, who is in denial about his physical fitness.”
“What the hell, dude? Denial?”
“Pizza and beer are staples in his diet.”
“I haven’t heard you complain about the beer supply!”
“I am concerned that he will start putting on weight as he gets older if he doesn’t start paying more attention to what he eats.”
“I can’t believe you said all that!”
Don hit “send” and I made a kind of gurgling sound. Ulterior motive – I should have known.
“I think I hear Bridger crying,” I said.
“No you don’t. You just want me to leave so you can pout.”
“Do not.”
Don patted my knee and stood, closing his laptop. “Okay. Let me know when she calls. I need to go get ready for work.”
I went back to my studying, and had almost forgotten about Dani Jarvis, Personal Trainer, when my phone rang.
“Hello?” I answered. I probably sounded nervous and wary.
“Hello, I’m trying to reach Jake Hillebrand?”
“This is –” I cleared my throat and lowered my voice. “This is he.”
“Hi. This is Dani Jarvis, the personal trainer? You – or I guess a friend of yours – filled out the questionnaire on my website. Are you interested in meeting for an initial consultation?”
“Oh... um... yes? I’m not sure what that, uh, entails, though.”
“Just a chance for us to meet, discuss your goals, see if I, and my services, would be the right fit for you, that kind of thing.”
“Oh, sure. Yeah, that sounds good. My schedule is pretty flexible.”
We chatted for a few minutes, setting a time and place to meet the next day. Don had already left for work, so I texted him to let him know I had spoken with her, and then I looked around my apartment trying to decide what to do next.
There’s only so much studying you can do before your brain collapses, and I’d reached my max. Don was at work, Petreski was probably working, and I was feeling restless. I grabbed my e-reader and headed over to Ground Up. Chances were I’d bump into someone I knew.
Harry, the owner, wasn’t working, but he usually worked mornings anyway. We’d gotten to know each other a bit over the last few months, and he was cool with Don bringing Bridger into the shop as long as he stayed in his sling.
I got a beer and a sandwich and settled into a corner of one of the sofas to read. Sure enough, I only got through a few pages before someone sat down next to me.
“Jennifer. Hi.”
“Hey Jake. Mind if I join you?”
“No, I could use the company.”
“No hot date?”
“No. He’s working again.”
“Is it hard? Dating a cop?”
I thought about it for a minute. “I don’t think so, really. I think I’d worry more if he was in uniform. But it makes his schedule unpredictable because when he’s got a case he h
as to work long hours.”
Jennifer nodded and poured some tea into her cup.
“What about you?” I asked.
She shrugged, just one shoulder, and smiled. “Not sure I’m ready to date just yet. I’m enjoying being on my own and doing my own thing.”
“Yeah, I can see how you’d feel that way.”
We didn’t say anything for a minute, but it didn’t feel awkward.
“Tell me about the yoga teaching,” I asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. Do you really want to hear about it?”
I nodded and took a bite of my sandwich. I listened while she told me about immersing herself in her yoga practice after her husband’s death, and how being a teacher had always been a dream of hers. I was glad that she was going for it now that she had the chance.
“You should give it a try,” she said.
“Uhh...” I looked down, at the sandwich in one hand, beer in the other. “I don’t know. I’m not very flexible.”
“It’s not about being flexible. You might get flexible if you do it, though. And it’s good for your back, and your balance. You’re still a full-time student, right?”
I nodded.
“So you probably spend a lot of time hunched over a book or computer. The exercise would help offset that. You don’t want to get a hunchback, do you?”
Hunchback? First Don warning me about getting fat, and now Jennifer Katz talking about a hunchback. “Have you been talking to Don?”
“No. Why?”
“Nothing. I don’t know – about the yoga – I’ll think about it. I’m supposed to be meeting a personal trainer tomorrow.”
“Oh, that’s good.”
Why? I wondered. Why was that good? “Do you... do you think I’m putting on weight?” I asked.
She cocked her head to one side, looking me over. “No, you look fine to me. But the closer you get to thirty, the more you want to watch out.”
I took another bite of my sandwich, but I didn’t enjoy it.
“So who are you meeting?”
“Huh?”
“The personal trainer? I know a few.”
“Oh. Dani Jarvis. Do you know her?”
“Yeah. I know Dani. She sends some of her clients to the studio where I’m teaching now. She’s tough. She will kick your ass.”
Not a Mermaid Page 4
