Luther shook his head over and over. “You don’t need to find her. That’s the cops’ job. Bein’ who you are, you want to find her. Can’t leave well enough alone, can you? Always gotta go and get involved.”
He had her there. Still. “Will you help me?”
Luther shuffled over to another bin. “Don’t I always?”
“True. I’m guessing they have Lark stashed away some place, but it’s also possible she’s been out in public, however briefly. Ask if anyone’s seen a little girl with a short, light-skinned man, or a skinny one about my complexion.”
“How you know it’s a man?”
“Don’t know. Only a feeling.”
“Feeling, huh? Girl, you got any idea how many people that could be?”
“I’ve got a photo of Lark here in my purse.” Jonelle dug around and pulled out the picture she photocopied. “Take this and show it around, and I’ll get posters made. You know as well as I do that most kids that age are usually seen with their mothers. A man might stand out.” She handed the picture to Luther who shoved it in his pocket. She wanted to tell him to be careful with it but knew he didn’t want anyone telling him what to do.
He moved to go and then turned slowly around. “Hate to bring this up, but you thought about the uh, other thing, right?”
“What other thing?”
“The possibility that she ain’t alive.”
CHAPTER 24
Too many people. Why the hell’re there so many people involved?
Lark’s getting anxious. Nobody else sees it, but it’s obvious to me. Every time we find a good place that damn woman comes nosing around and people start freakin’ out. Everyone but me votes to take Lark to a place I know she hates. I tell them someone will see because it’s too open, but I’m overruled. They claim it’s a genius idea. Genius my ass. It’s stupid, and I’m against it.
But nobody pays attention to me. It’s like I have no say. Keep your eyes on the prize and your mouth shut, they tell me.
Well, the prize is changing. Things are different now. I gotta start thinking about my future. I see how valuable the little one is. Be even more valuable if the money wasn’t spread over all these damn people.
Stared at her long and hard the other day. Startin’ to see her in a brighter light. We get along, her and me. What’ll be the harm if we start gettin’ along even better?
CHAPTER 25
A little over an hour later the door to the so-called studio opened and Adrienne staggered out of the building. Jonelle grabbed her gun from where she’d stashed the lockbox under the passenger seat. The unmistakable titter of Adrienne’s high-pitched giggle cut through the night.
“What the hell?”
Adrienne teetered over to the car, wide grin spread across her face.
“Hey there,” she said. Her hand reached for the car door handle and missed. She tried and missed again.
“Ohmigod,” Jonelle said as her friend succeeded in opening the door on the third try. “Are you loaded?”
“Hmm. Could be. Define loaded.” She giggled again and reached for the ignition.
“Oh, no you don’t. Change places with me.” She returned her gun to the box.
After steering a wobbly Adrienne around the car and into the seat, Jonelle stared at the lopsided grin covering her friend’s face.
“What happened?”
“Got a touch of the,”—Adrienne mimed smoking a joint—“wacky tobaccy.” Another extended giggle.
Their college days taught Jonelle it was no use trying to communicate with Adrienne at this point. She’d have to wait until the effects wore off, which also meant she couldn’t trust her friend to drive home by herself until completely sober.
“Okay. We’re going to my house until you’re fit to drive,” Jonelle said.
Adrienne shook her pink-highlighted hair. “Nope. I wanna go home.”
Not wanting to waste valuable time taking her friend home and waiting for a call to find out what happened inside the studio, Jonelle ignored Adrienne’s request and drove them to her condo. Before entering, she glanced next door. She’d check on the couple in the morning.
Footsteps sounded on the hall stairs. A pair of black-and-white saddle shoes appeared followed by white knee socks and a gray and red pleated skirt. Sheila’s blond hair was done up in pigtails. Jonelle’s upstairs neighbor worked when most people retired for the day.
“Hey, lookit you,” Adrienne said.
“Back at you,” Sheila replied, her eyes questioning.
“Had a late assignment and this one here took it to another level,” Jonelle said.
“So I see. Anything you need help with?”
“I’ve got this,” Jonelle answered.
“She’s got this,” Adrienne mimicked with a giggle.
Jonelle rolled her eyes at her best friend. “Guess the theme for tonight is naughty schoolgirl?”
Sheila’s very lucrative job required she respond to the needs of men’s sexual idiosyncrasies at a time and place when their wives were not around.
“Always one of my most popular costumes,” Sheila said, twirling around for effect. “Makes you wonder if they’ve got kids, though.”
“You stay safe,” Jonelle said. She always worried that her friend’s profession would someday land her into a hinky situation with the wrong guy.
“I’ll do my best with the help of my little friend here.” Sheila grinned and patted the small red shoulder bag, big enough to hold her Ruger LC9s, waved and pushed open the lobby doors.
“See ya!” Adrienne yelled to the closed doors.
Jonelle ushered a still loopy Adrienne into the spare room where she had her office and a sleep loveseat. She settled Adrienne in a chair and proceeded to make up the bed. That done, she eased her friend between the covers. A compliant Adrienne made no objections, so Jonelle turned out the lights and closed the door.
Gracie followed Jonelle into the kitchen. She reached down and picked the calico up, grateful for the soft purring as she cuddled the kitten in her arms. “Heck of a day today, Gracie, and I’m still not sure how this will bring me closer to finding Lark.” Saying those words out loud reminded her that finding the child wasn’t her concern. Yet she couldn’t help herself.
Jonelle went into the kitchen, and before she placed the kitten on the floor, Gracie jumped onto her shoulder. “Okay then. Hold on and don’t you dare fall off.” With kitten neck warmer firmly in place, Jonelle poured herself a glass of Cabernet. She turned on the stereo, kicked off her shoes and sat on the sofa. Gracie hopped from her shoulders and onto her lap. With the kitten curled in a tight ball, Jonelle snuggled against the sofa cushions to the sounds of Boney James playing, “Stop, Look, Listen.”
Her mind wandered. The case was missing something.
Breathing in and out deeply, she tried to allow the facts to intrude rather than forcing them inside her mind. Jonelle believed Lark’s abductor knew both mother and child. Okay, then, not a stranger.
Fact: Tamora left the door unlocked. Even given Tamora’s insistence she went out for only a few minutes, the convenience store surveillance tape inside showed her wandering around, talking to several young men, including Reggie, for at least twenty minutes. Did Vaughn Hanson’s unannounced visit spoil some kind of plan?
And why didn’t anyone see or hear anything? The fog in her mind lifted. Jonelle assumed Maxine knew everything that happened on the seventh floor. Yet what reason would the elderly woman have for keeping Lark’s kidnapping a secret?
She sat up and drained her glass. Why would someone take a child from a single, working mother? Hefting her bag off of the floor, she pulled out a pad and jotted down some notes. At the top of the page she underlined the name “Shawn”and wrote, “What’s the deal with him?” Was he the one who turned Tamora on to the adult porn studio? If not him, who?
With pen in hand, in addition to Shawn, she listed all the people she’d questioned so far. Before their names she placed a number in order of th
eir importance. Jelani came in at number two because he had a propensity for lying and, as maintenance man for the building, knew everyone’s comings and goings. Even though he claimed to have an alibi, he could’ve had help from someone. Next number belonged to Randy.
Randy was interesting. A guy who roamed the halls at night would have a window of opportunity. She shook her head and scratched out his name. A stoner like that couldn’t get in and out that fast with a child without alarming someone.
What about the father? While she believed Vaughn Hanson, it was possible he became so upset when he found out about Tamora’s other life he decided to take matters into his own hands. But why call the cops?
What about Miss Maxine? Jonelle tapped the pen against her teeth. What motive would the elderly woman have for taking the child from her mother? She shook her head and went back over the list. Once again, she deliberated about Randy, and then put him back on the list. Something was off about the young man, and it had nothing to do with drugs.
Tilting her head against the sofa cushion, she struggled with whether or not another name deserved a place on the list. Decision made, she sat up and wrote the name “Red Fred.”
CHAPTER 26
The pressure on her shoulder wouldn’t let up. She tried shrugging it off but couldn’t. “Leave me alone,” she said.
“Get up already. I wanna go home, and I can’t find my keys.”
Jonelle opened her eyes. The blurry vision above her looked familiar. “What?”
“I said, get up.”
The fog cleared as Adrienne came into focus.
“What time is it?”
“After nine in the morning. I can’t believe you let me sleep so long. I’ve got things to do today.”
“And I don’t? Damn. I must’ve dozed off.” She stretched and grimaced at the pain in her shoulder. “I need to stand in a hot shower. I’ve got a million muscles all complaining at once.”
Adrienne held out her hand. “Keys. Now.”
“What’s your damn hurry? Usually you want coffee. Besides, I need to know what happened inside that building.”
Adrienne removed her hand from in front of Jonelle’s face. “Oh, right. I’ve still got a head full of mush, so maybe a shower and coffee is what I need. No way can I put dirty clothes on this body, so the faster I can get outta here, the faster I can come back. Besides, she,”—Adrienne cocked her head at Gracie who posed on the coffee table staring at the two friends—“looks like she’s waiting for breakfast.”
After promising to return without delay, Adrienne left.
Jonelle took care of Gracie and, after unkinking her muscles under water as hot as she could stand, fixed a quick breakfast, and stepped into the hallway. Sounds from Hamilton Yee’s cello filled the small space. Jonelle stood outside the Brobishes door, enjoying the deep bass. After a few moments she raised her hand and knocked.
Almost immediately, Franklin opened the door, a slight smile on his face. “She’s better today,” he said. “I think maybe yesterday was a fluke. She seems like her old self.”
“Who is it, Franklin?”
“It’s me, Mattie. Jonelle.”
The tiny woman appeared, white hair combed. A pale yellow cotton blouse and brown polyester pants covered her thin frame. “Come in, dear. Franklin, don’t be rude.”
Oh, yes, Mathilda definitely seemed like her old self.
“No time to visit. Going to the store later. You guys need anything?” Her eyes looked into Franklin’s own. She inclined her head, and he joined her in the hallway.
“I think we’re good until maybe the middle of the week.” He lowered his voice. “I’ll let you know.”
Jonelle leaned in close. “Make sure you do, ’cause if you don’t, I’ll remind you.”
“What’re you two whispering about?” Mathilda called.
Franklin winked at Jonelle, who winked back. “I should go put on my walking shoes,” he said, voice slightly raised. “Mathilda and I are going for a walk.”
“Sounds like a good idea. You guys have fun.”
Back inside her condo, she studied the notes she’d taken last night. She tried to remember why the interest in Randy, but the thought had evaporated. Shawn piqued her curiosity. She mulled over Fred’s name, thought about crossing it out, yet left it on the list.
Several minutes later, Jonelle’s security buzzer sounded. “Yes?”
“Me.”
Jonelle buzzed Adrienne in and unlocked the door.
Adrienne entered dressed in pink shorts, white camisole, and multi-colored, bead-covered flip-flops. She pulled out a small plastic ball with bells inside and shook the toy. “Where’s the fur ball?”
On cue, Gracie padded into the living room. Adrienne threw the ball into the kitchen, and the kitten flew after it, bells tinkling as kitty baseball commenced, making both women laugh.
“Okay. Down to business,” Jonelle said. “What did you find out last night? That’s if you can remember. Gotta say I’m a little disappointed you let yourself get stoned.”
Adrienne pointed. “Don’t lecture. How would it have looked if everyone toked up and I’m like little Miss Priss sayin’ ‘thanks but no thanks,’ huh? They’d have thrown me out faster than a major leaguer pitching at an old folk’s game.”
“Good point. So. What’d you find out?”
“First, Tamora’s definitely one of their top stars.” Adrienne used air quotes around “stars.” “They refer to the so-called talent as models. Did you know that? Anyway, as soon as we entered the place, everyone assumed we were friends. When she said she didn’t know who I was, they almost kicked me out. Told them I needed the work. Said I had a kid I needed to support and I just lost my job and would do anything they wanted. Professionally, that is. Told Tamora I was sad to hear about what happened to her kid—”
“How’d she react?”
“She said, ‘Thanks’, and that was it.”
“Strange.”
“You’re tellin’ me. She acted like it was no big deal. After that little exchange, Tamora went through this black curtain to change, or unchange as the case may be.”
“You get a look at what was behind there?”
“Nope.”
Jonelle sighed. “I don’t like that she’s not acting like the good mother everyone said she was, but continue. What else did you find out?”
“This big, buff white guy came out from behind another black curtain on the opposite side. Tight jeans, cowboy hat, no shirt, ripped abs. Think I could’ve bounced a whole boatload of change off his chest and stomach.”
She smiled at the image of Adrienne throwing coins at the man’s upper body.
“Needless to say I wanted to hang around for the shoot, but instead this weaselly-looking guy named Jasper herded me into this dump he called an office, offered me a joint, and started asking a lot of questions.”
Jonelle tried to keep the humor out of her voice. “Did you, uh . . .” She motioned with her hands at Adrienne’s clothes.
“I did not,” Adrienne said, disgust dripping from each word. “He wanted to know about my acting experience, vital statistics, and, yeah, he wanted a peek, but I said nope. Told him I wanted the job first. He and I went around and around on that. He claimed he couldn’t offer anything to me without checking out the merchandise. The more we argued, the more we smoked, and I almost gave in, until I remembered the, um, enhancements I had on. So I told him I couldn’t oblige since I had to pick up my kid. I promised to reveal all tonight.”
“So, are you telling me you didn’t see Tamora doing her porn thing?”
Adrienne smiled slyly. “I didn’t say that. On my way out I got a peek at her and Mister Buck Nekkid, in their birthday suits and rubbing some kinda oil all over each other.”
“Good. I can use that when I see her again. Thanks. I owe you.”
“You do. But that’s not all.”
Adrienne reached for her purse and pulled out a piece of paper, folded twice. “I snatched this.
It’s an advertisement for the latest film.”
Jonelle studied the grainy black-and-white photograph in the center. While a male torso covered a third of a woman’s face, Tamora’s large eyes and full lips left no doubt about the identity of the female. The photo featured the name “Tammy Tickle.” The words, “Next Month Tammy’s Little Surprise,” was written in black marker.
She tapped the paper. “I’ve gotta fax this to Langford. This is great ammo for Lark’s father, but I’m not sure how this helps me find out what happened to the child. What it does is tell me where she went when she was supposed to be going to her regular jobs. Wonder if Miss Maxine knows about Tammy Tickle. Everything rests on motive. No one’s said anything about a ransom, so money’s not the issue. The only other reason I can think of is that someone wants to use the child for a particular purpose. Hence, ‘Tammy’s Little Surprise.’ Have to face facts—someone might want to use Lark for . . . perverted reasons.”
“Child porn, you mean.”
“Yeah.”
“You think mother of the year here is involved?” Adrienne asked.
“Possibly. While Tamora lied about the amount of time she spent in the minimart, in a perverse way that actually gives her an alibi. The store’s video clearly shows her entering the store and not leaving until almost a half hour later. My guess is, going with the theory she’s involved, that she got help from someone. That whole ‘she’s a good mother’ train has left the station. When I really think about it, the one time we talked, Tamora never brought out any pictures of the child or expressed fear about her welfare.”
“So what’re we gonna do?”
Jonelle swallowed a snarky retort at the word “we.” Adrienne risked a lot in the past twenty-four hours. Jonelle’s phone chimed before she could respond.
“Hey, Rainey. On my way. Won’t miss the staff meeting.”
“No problem. You got a call from a young lady named Piper who said she tried calling you but your phone went directly to voicemail. I tried that, too, and it did. That’s why I called your personal line.”
Five Minutes Page 12
