by anna snow
Dale leaned back in his chair with an affronted expression and a hand pressed against his chest. "Y-you don't think I did it do you? I didn't like Mark one little bit, but I didn't kill him," he rambled.
"No, we don't think you killed him," I tried to assure him before he decided to toss us out on our butts. "We're here to ask you if you might know of anyone who would possibly want to hurt Mark."
"Um, everyone?" he said with sarcasm. "You met the guy. He was a royal jerk with a capital J. He was forever complaining about one thing or another. He cheated with everything in a skirt, and he made fun of me and my partner."
"Why did you stay with the band?" Silas asked.
"I love the music. Playing the bass is my passion. I'll admit I was shopping myself around to other bands, but none who wanted me were nearly as popular as us, and the money we were making was so good that I just stuck with it and did my best to ignore him."
"You said he was always making fun of you and your partner? Why?" I asked.
"He was one of those homophobic jackasses who always seemed to have a gay joke up his sleeve." He rolled his eyes. "I always did my best to blend in with the other members of the band while in the public eye. I wore the same style of clothing and never went out looking like my real self for fear that Mark would find a way to toss me out of the band or that it would hurt our rock and roll image," he explained.
I took a sip of my mimosa. "Where were you the night Mark was killed?" I asked.
Dale fidgeted with the little bell on his dog's collar and looked away. "I was here. Alone. I was reading," he said nervously.
Silas glanced at me quickly, and I knew he was thinking the same thing I was. Dale didn't have an alibi, and he was suddenly acting more nervous than a cheater caught in the same room with both his wife and girlfriend.
"Do you happen to know a woman by the name of Melody Thompson?" I asked.
He pulled a face of disgust. "Oh, I know her." He tossed a hand in the air then finished off his mimosa. "That girl gets around, and she was hung up on Mark."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that girl was like his shadow. It was pathetic, really. She was by his side every second of the day while we were on tour. I even saw them together a few times after we got back from tour."
"Do you know if their relationship was serious?" I asked and finished my drink. The tiny bubbles tickled my nose, and I smothered the urge to sneeze.
"Mark wasn't serious a single day in his life. He just liked bagging as many women as he could. His words, not mine," he assured me. "We all knew that Melody was never going to be anything more than his side piece. He had too much fun stringing poor Kelly along. He said so himself on several occasions. He liked knowing that he didn't have to look for a chick when he was home. Said she'd always be waiting. He was sick, and as much as I adore Kelly, when it came to Mark, she was as dumb as a rock to stay with him."
"I agree with you on that," I said.
"What a jerk," Silas said with disgust.
"Do you think Melody would hurt Mark?" I asked.
"Maybe. She was way jealous of Kelly." He put his little dog down, and it scampered away. "Jealousy makes people do crazy things."
The tone of his voice softened, and what I'd dubbed my spidey-senses began to tingle.
He peered into his empty glass a minute longer then caught me watching him. I had no doubt that he was hiding something, but what? I highly doubted he would just come right out and tell me if I asked, but I had to try.
"You sound like you speak from experience," I said gently.
He smiled, and I was momentarily blinded by the brilliant whiteness of his sparkling teeth. "I do," he said simply then stood. "I hate to boot you out, but I'm expecting an important phone call soon."
Silas and I stood and moved around the table. I reached into my purse, pulled out a business card, and handed it to Dale. "Thanks for speaking with us. If you happen to think of anything else that might help us, please don't hesitate to call me."
He nodded. "There is one other thing, actually." He flicked the card against his open palm. "I saw Mark talking to this guy in the airport right after we got off the plane Tuesday night. It was odd."
"What made it odd?" I asked.
"Kelly almost always picked Mark up at the airport, but this time she wasn't there. Instead, Mark grabbed his bags then headed straight to this guy. They looked like they only said a few words to each other, and then Mark left with him."
"You didn't know the guy?" Silas asked.
Dale shook his head. "I'd never seen the guy before in my life. He was tall, had tattoos on his forearms, caramel colored skin, a cap, and honestly, he didn't look like a very stand-up character. Mark looked a little nervous, but that was nothing new. He'd been acting paranoid for a few weeks, but none of us really cared enough to ask why. I'm ashamed of myself for not caring, but it's hard when someone's so mean to everyone he comes in contact with. You know?"
I nodded. Unfortunately, I did. I'd known Mark for years through his relationship with Kelly, and I didn't feel the least bit sad he was gone. I didn't know if that said more about the kind of person I am or more about the kind of person he was.
"Can you tell me what kind of car they left in?"
"A black SUV."
"Thank you." I shook his hand. "Call me if you remember anything else."
"Will do." He waved the card at me. "Be careful out there."
"Will do," I repeated his words.
Silas and I left the house and got into the car then turned around and drove down the driveway and through the gate. It slid closed behind us.
"So, what do you think?" Silas asked.
"If you're asking me if I think Dale killed Mark, I have to say no. But," I looked at him, "he was obviously hiding something."
Silas nodded. "I felt that way too. He doesn't have a solid alibi for the night of the murder, and he seemed antsy when you asked his whereabouts. If he didn't kill Mark, then why the nervousness?"
I shook my head. "I don't know. He might not have killed Mark, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have some idea of who did."
"Do you think he's trying to protect someone?"
"Maybe. We need to talk to Kelly again. If she knew about Mark's drug problem, then maybe she can tell us who he was buying his supply from. It's possible that he wronged someone in some kind of deal then that person knocked him off and used Kelly as a scapegoat to save his own skin."
"Do you really think Kelly would keep Mark's drug problem a secret from us, knowing that any information she could give us might help clear her name?" Silas asked.
"No, but I know with everything that has happened, Kelly isn't thinking straight, and it's possible she didn't think to mention it. Her mind isn't clear right now."
"I know." Silas blew out a breath and changed lanes. "It's worth a shot." He shrugged and continued driving.
"So far the only person we know of who had any real reason to kill Mark is Melody." I leaned my head back against the headrest. "And just like Dale, she doesn't have a real solid alibi."
"And, as much as I hate to say it—Kelly."
I looked over at Silas. "Kelly? You know she didn't kill Mark."
"I know that," he said with an exasperated sigh. "And you know how I feel about her. I'd do anything to keep her out of that jail cell, but that doesn't mean she didn't have more reason than anyone else to kill him. Look at all that he's put her through over the years," he said. "And even if the blood on her hands turns out to not be Mark's by some miracle, the cops are still going to try to build a case against her as the killer because she was the last person seen leaving the apartment, and like Dale and Melody, she doesn't have a solid alibi for that night either. I wish like heck she did. I'd even lie and say she was with me. You know that, but that isn't an option at this point."
I knew every word he said was true, but that didn't mean I was ready to hear it coming from someone else. Hearing the truth out loud made everything seem all
the more real, almost hopeless even. I'd been worried about the very things he was talking about since the minute I found out Kelly had been taken in as a suspect. I just refused to let myself believe that I wouldn't clear her name before formal charges were filed.
"I know," I said wearily. "We have to hurry. Like it or not, Kelly's time is running out."
The rest of the ride was made in silence. Both of us were completely lost in thought.
The street was quiet when we turned into Silas's neighborhood. He drove into the underground parking garage and killed the ignition. Then we took the elevator up to Silas's floor and made our way to his home.
When we stepped inside the apartment, neither one of us knew what the heck was going on.
Mandy was typing away on her laptop with one hand and a glass of wine in the other. Kelly was sprawled out on the sofa with an empty bottle of wine in her hand hanging off the side of the couch.
But Mona was the star of the show.
I covered my mouth to keep from laughing when I spotted her jumping around in front of the big-screen television with a microphone in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, while she belted out Blondie's "One Way or Another" like she was on American Idol, going for the title.
Silas and I shared a quick what the heck is going on here? glance then stepped the rest of the way inside.
Mandy looked up at me as I walked into the room and stopped at the sofa she was kicked back on, and she shook her head.
"I know how this looks," she began wearily, "but she finally quit crying." She nodded toward Kelly. "And she's…well, she's content." She motioned toward Mona.
I nodded my understanding. To say Mona was a handful was a total understatement.
I watched petite little Mona shake her booty in her flame-red leggings that matched her hair, black ballet flats, and matching black baby-doll T-shirt for a minute longer. We were all in a stressful situation, and if acting like Debbie Harry helped her cope, then who was I to take that moment of peace away from her?
The song ended, and just as she was revving up to sing "Roxanne," I finally stepped in.
"Oh, hi, darlin'," she said with a smile and kissed me on the cheek. "I didn't hear you come in." She stepped away, paused the Wii, and then made her way to the kitchen where Silas had already made himself at home at the breakfast bar with a bottle of water.
Mandy put down her computer and joined us. Kelly hadn't budged an inch. Alcohol wasn't my first choice for solving problems, but like I'd said, this was a tough situation, especially for her. So whatever helped her right now—who was I to judge?
"What did you find out?" Mona asked.
"Extremely little." I shook my head. "We talked to Dale, the bassist for the band. He looked more like he belonged on tour with Elton John instead of The Rebels, but he was loose-lipped." I took a drink of the water Silas slid in front of me. "Most of what he told us was what we already knew. He said Melody was practically obsessed with Mark."
"That doesn't help us much since we already knew that little fact," Mandy said.
"I know. But he also confirmed that Mark was acting strange. Paranoid. And he told us he saw Mark leave with a shady-looking fella when they arrived at the Dallas-Fort Worth airport last week."
"Do you think Mark was mixed up in some kind of shady business that got him killed?" Mona asked.
"Maybe. But for now, I think Melody's still our best suspect until we have reason to believe otherwise. I want to get a look inside her house. Maybe there's something there that will tell us if she had anything to do with Mark's death."
"She admitted she and Mark had been seeing each other but said that he wouldn't leave Kelly. That really seemed to aggravate her. You should have heard how she spoke about Kelly," Silas said.
"Have they ever met? Kelly and this woman?" Mona asked.
"She said they haven't, just as Kelly told us when we asked her, but Melody definitely knew who Kelly was and obviously hated her," I said and ran my fingers through my ponytail. "And there's something else…Tyler called me. He said that they found a handgun and a lot of drugs in Mark's apartment."
"Mark was on drugs?" Mona asked and pressed a hand against her chest.
"Apparently."
"Well, I did a little digging," Mandy said. "Because you're not required to register a firearm in the great state of Texas, we don't have a way to find out if any of the band members own a gun. So, if Tyler said they found a gun in Mark's apartment, there's no way of knowing if it was legally purchased or picked up illegally on the street."
"Is the gun they found the same one that Mark was killed with?" Mona asked hopefully.
"We don't know yet," I answered. "Tyler said the lab is running ballistics right now trying to match the bullet to the gun. The serial numbers were scratched off, so there's no way of telling who the gun belonged to or where it was purchased. But really." I shrugged. "What's the likelihood that the killer would leave the gun in the apartment where they knew the police would more than likely find it? I seriously doubt the gun is the murder weapon."
Mandy nodded. "So if that's true, the gun that killed Mark is still out there somewhere. We just have to figure out where."
"I've been thinking about that," I said hesitantly. "If the gun Tyler found in Mark's apartment along with the drugs are in fact Mark's, then he obtained them both illegally, and I only know of one person who could possibly lead me to the guys who sold Mark both the drugs and the gun."
"You're not seriously considering what I think you're considering, are you?" Mona asked and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Dickie the Bookie," I said.
I'd met and done a little bit of business with Dickie Myers, or Dickie the Bookie if you will, on another case that I worked back in the summer. Mandy, of all people, had gotten herself into a bit of trouble during a much-needed girl's night out, and thanks to a little information from Dickie, I'd been able to help her get out of the entire mess unscathed.
Dickie the Bookie was just that. A bookie. A bookie with mob connections who would have his goon, Gerald, break your fingers and bust your kneecaps if you breathed without his permission while in his presence. He'd moved here from New Jersey to "take a break" as he'd put it. If he considered the business he was in now "a break," then I would have hated to see what he'd been mixed up in before moving down here.
"Dickie is the only choice I have right now," I explained. "It's just a matter of time before the test results come back and Kelly is tossed in jail, facing real murder charges. Charges that Lopez can't get her out of. We're running out of time, so if I have to go to Dickie and ask for help, then that's what I'll do. He's the only person I know of who could possibly help me find who sold the gun and drugs to Mark."
Mandy's, Mona's, and Silas's expressions said they disapproved of my plan but that they understood where I was coming from.
"I'm heading out to the racetrack first thing in the morning to talk to Dickie, but until then, I need to talk to Kelly. If she can tell me where Mark got his drugs or his gun, then I might not have to pay Dickie a visit after all."
"She was up at dawn and hasn't stopped crying since. I tried everything," Mandy said. "When she grabbed a bottle of wine out of the wine fridge, I let her have it, and she finally passed out. I didn't know what else to do, and to be honest, at that point I was about to grab a bottle of my own."
Silas reached over and patted Mandy's shoulder. "It's okay," Silas assured her. "Kelly's a handful on the best of days. I can only imagine what she's like right now."
I stood and walked into the living room.
Silas's plush area rug cushioned my knees as I knelt down in front of the sofa beside Kelly where she slept. Even in sleep, she looked exhausted. Dark bags sat heavily beneath her eyes, and she was pale. She looked worse than I'd ever seen her, and I felt awful for waking her up from her peaceful sleep, but I didn't have a choice, not if I wanted to get on the ball and clear her name before she was officially charged with murder, which could be
any minute now.
Before I had the chance to wake her, Kelly opened her eyes. She looked up at me and closed her eyes again.
"If you're waking me up, you can't possibly have good news to share with me," she said then sat up and leaned her forehead into her hands.
"Well," I said and sat down beside her. "It's not exactly good or bad."
Silas sat down on the other side of her and handed her a bottle of water. The look he gave her was so soft and emotion-filled that it was hard to ignore. She took a drink and replaced the cap before setting it on the heavy wooden table.
Silas clasped her hand in both of his.
"Kelly, I'm just going to ask this and get it out of the way."
She looked up at me.
"Did Mark have a drug problem?"
"Drugs?" Her eyes widened. "Why would you ask that?"
"Tyler said they found a lot of drugs in his apartment, along with a gun, beneath a loose floorboard," I explained. "If Mark had a drug problem, then it's possible that he had other enemies we don't know about. Enemies who could've killed him."
Kelly stood and began pacing. "I knew he'd been acting strange lately." She pressed her hand against her forehead. "But I just figured that he was tired or stressed out from the tour." She stopped pacing and looked at me. "Drugs? Are you sure?"
I nodded. "You really had no idea?"
She shook her head. "I'd noticed him losing weight. He seemed agitated more often than not, but like I said before, I just figured it was stress. He was always on the road going from city to city with the band, so I just assumed…"
"Do you know anything about a gun he might have owned?" I asked. "The gun found in his apartment had the serial numbers scratched off."
She shook her head. "He always told me that he didn't like being around guns. A gun in his apartment doesn't make sense."
It looked like I was paying a visit to the racetrack in the morning. Hopefully, Dickie would be in a chatty mood. If not, I was back at square one.
"We paid a visit to Dale Allens' house this morning," Silas said.
"I bet that was entertaining," she said and smiled sadly.
