The driver said, “Stand up slowly, sir.”
Blu leaned forward and stood using only his legs, which wasn’t easy given the angle he’d been sitting thanks to the low curb and his bruised ribs.
“Turn around.”
Blu turned.
The officer said, “Put your hands behind your back.”
Again, Blu complied.
Another vehicle showed up as Blu felt his hands being zip-tied behind his back, “For your own safety,” as the officer explained.
From behind his back, Blu heard Powers say, “Unbind his hands. Now.”
The officer began to protest but Powers cut him off.
“I said now.”
In what could only be construed as an act of defiance, the officer said, “You cut ’em off. I followed procedure, Detective.”
Blu heard the snick of steel and then felt something cold next to his wrist. In a second, his hands were free and the zip tie fell to the ground. He turned around and faced Powers. “Thanks.”
The other officer stooped down over the dead black guy. “I’m not getting a pulse. How long’s he been out?”
Blu said, “Ten minutes.”
Powers said, “I raced to get here first, but I was too far away.”
“No big thing,” Blu said. “They’re just doing their jobs.”
The officers let the ambulance approach.
Powers pulled the radio clipped to his belt and called for the crime scene techs and the coroner.
Blu considered lawyering up, but then calculated if the coroner was worth anything, he or she would prove it wasn’t his bullet that killed the guy. It might have eventually, or Blu might have if he’d have gotten the chance at another shot. In the end, he told Powers almost everything, except for the room with the girls. He wanted to check that out himself, so he danced around a lie as to why he was there.
After Powers was through taking his statement, Blu walked around to the rear of the hotel and entered through a service door. He didn’t want any of the officers seeing what he was about to do.
None of them followed him, and he managed to make it to the reception desk with no unwanted “friends” tagging along.
The person working the counter, a middle-aged white woman with red hair, greeted him with a smile.
He rented a room on the same floor as the room with the naked women and, when he was inside his new digs, called for extra towels.
When a Latina woman from housekeeping brought them, he asked, in Spanish, if for a hundred dollars she would let him in the room where the women were.
She gave him a look that said “pervert.”
He explained the room was empty and suggested she check for herself.
“I could lose my job,” she said in heavily-accented English.
“I don’t want to take anything belonging to the hotel. I want to see if the previous occupants left anything behind. They are bad people, I promise you.”
To him, she still seemed hesitant.
He handed her two hundred dollar bills.
“You take these, check the room, and then decide. You keep the money either way.”
She eyed him, then the money, and then him again. Then she snatched the money up from his hand. “Wait here.”
It was worth gambling on the two hundred-dollar bills if there was a chance he could get a look at the room.
Without realizing it, he was counting and had gotten to two hundred and fifty before the knock at his door startled him.
He looked through the peephole, half expecting the officers from outside to be standing there ready to arrest him for God only knew what kind of charge they could drum up.
Instead, it was the woman from housekeeping.
He opened the door.
She handed him a tube of lipstick wrapped in a tissue. “I checked the room real good. This was all I found. I didn’t touch it with my fingers.”
She’d found a way to give him what he wanted and not risk losing her job. He was impressed.
Blu handed her a business card. In Spanish, he said, “You are one sharp lady. I have my own private investigation business and may have some extra work if you’re interested.”
She smiled and took the card. “Gracias.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Blu’s cell phone buzzed as he drove home. It was Crome.
He answered the call. “It’s about time.”
No loud music or laughing twenty-something females in the background this time. Crome said, “You read the info Harmony sent yet?”
Blu had forgotten about it. “I’ve been kinda busy.”
“Yeah? How’d the lead turn out?”
“It was a setup.”
“No kidding? You okay?”
Blu said. “I’m good. Listen, be ready to roll first thing in the morning. I’ve got a new lead on a stolen car we need to follow up on.”
“You got it.”
He ended the call with Crome and called Tess.
She said, “What’s up?”
“Any chance you’ve got some chits with someone who could pull some prints or DNA and run them?”
“You know what you’re asking?”
“Yes.”
She didn’t reply right away.
He counted to twenty.
She said, “What do you have?”
“Tube of lipstick.”
“Yours?”
“Very funny. Am I giving it to you or someone else?”
She said, “Drop it off at the Palmetto Pulse. I’m not making any promises.”
“It’s almost eleven.”
“We have something called a graveyard shift.”
He ended the call and stopped there first before heading home. His ribs were aching and he needed to tend to them.
Friday, eight a.m.
Blu drove and Crome rode shotgun to an address Powers had given him. It was in an older subdivision in Mount Pleasant just off Rifle Range Road not too far from Sullivan’s Island. He told Crome the story of Kara and the hotel room, the scene in the parking lot, and the lipstick.
Crome said, “Jesus, Blu. You think you coulda made any more mistakes?”
“While you were doing who knows what with the wonder twins, I was working. And at least now I know there isn’t a contract on me anymore. The shooter in the Tahoe could have taken me out if he wanted.” At least Blu hoped he was right.
“Still,” Crome said, “I told you to text us. I’da been there.”
“Tell me how I’m supposed to text, drive, and tail someone all at once.”
“Your phone’s got this thing called voice command, ya know.”
Actually, Blu didn’t know. “No kidding?”
“Didn’t you read the instructions?”
This coming from a guy who hadn’t paid a bill for anything in who knew how long. “I guess not.”
He pulled the truck to a stop in front of a twenty-year-old ranch home and they got out.
Blu said, “Hold back. Let me see what this is about.”
Crome leaned against the fender and pulled out his vaporizer.
Blu walked to the front door and rang the bell.
After about thirty seconds and a second ring, an elderly woman opened the wood door but kept the screen door shut between them. “Yes?”
“Mrs.—um,” he looked at the notepad with the information from Powers, then said, “Sanders?”
She was a feeble old woman with gray hair, pale white skin, and a large cotton flowing dress over her frumpy figure. “Can I help you?”
Blu held out his PI license. “My name is Blu Carraway. I’m a private investigator following up on the report your car was stolen yesterday morning.”
The woman’s face brightened up. “Oh, you mean my granddaughter’s car.”
&nbs
p; “I’m sorry,” Blu said. “The information I was given is that it is registered to a Mrs. Ruth Ann Sanders at this address.”
“Yes,” she said. “That’s me. I bought the car for her.”
“Is your granddaughter here, ma’am? I have a few questions that might help me resolve this.”
“No, not at the moment.”
Blu held up a business card. “Can you give this to your granddaughter and have her contact me?”
“Um,” she said.
He realized she didn’t want to open the door. He sat his card on the porch banister. “I’ll leave it here for you, Mrs. Sanders. Thank you for your time.”
“Oh, why thank you, young man.”
He waved and walked back to his truck. Another strike.
Friday, noon
Blu drove them to the Isle of Palms to grab something to eat. He parked in front of the Pirate’s Cove, and he and Crome walked up the back steps and found a table on the deck shaded by an umbrella. The Atlantic Ocean yawned at them, its breeze always refreshing. The respite gave Blu a chance to regroup.
He’d forgotten about his ribs until he sat and a sharp pain shot through his diaphragm, causing him to grunt.
Crome said, “Gotcha good, didn’t he?”
“It’s not so bad,” Blu said, massaging the tender spot on his chest that had taken the brunt of the punch.
A waitress dropped off menus and got their drink order, a draft beer for Crome and a sweet tea for Blu.
Crome said, “Patricia’s nephew owns this place?”
From behind him, someone said, “I sure do.”
It was Pelton. He definitely was a sneaky bastard. Beside him was his dog, Shelby, a tan fifty-pound mixed breed lady killer of a dog.
Crome said, “So you’re the one who rescued Hope.” He stood and offered a hand. “Mick Crome. Helluva job you did. Thanks.”
Pelton looked him in the eye and shook his hand. “Brack Pelton. And I was just in the right place at the right time.”
Crome let go of Pelton’s hand and held his out for Shelby, who sniffed and then gave it a lick and a smile.
Blu caught Pelton give the dog a quick nod.
The waitress returned with their drinks.
Pelton said, “Fey will take good care of you guys. Let me know if you need anything.” He walked away, Shelby in tow.
Crome said, “Seems like a decent enough fella.”
“He is,” Blu said. “But he can sure be a pain in the ass sometimes.”
Crome laughed. “Sounds like you.”
Blu smiled and picked up his menu. “That it does.”
As if they hadn’t had enough excitement for one day, he heard Tess’ voice say, “Hey, guys!”
He looked up and saw her and Harmony heading their way. Blu turned to Crome.
Crome shrugged. “I’m not sure how they knew we were here.”
The young women approached the two open seats at their four-top table.
After they had seated themselves, Tess asked, “You mind if we sit with you?”
Blu said, “Not at all.”
Crome’s mood brightened noticeably, until Harmony, with a puppy dog face, asked if they’d seen Pelton yet.
It was as if some of the air went out of the older biker.
The trouble with younger women was they usually weren’t happy unless they were with men they could relate to, meaning men closer to their own age. Not that Pelton fit the description either. Blu and Crome were twenty years older than the women, while Pelton was only a decade their senior. And the kid was also married, which didn’t help. Or maybe it did.
Blu said, “He was just here with Shelby.”
Harmony said, “I love that dog.”
Tess said, “Me too.”
The waitress returned and the women ordered Coronas.
Blu said, “We were about to get something to eat. You ladies want something?”
Harmony picked up a menu. “Yes. I’m starving.”
“We’ll call this a business lunch, so I’m buying,” Blu said.
Tess said, “We never pay when we come here.”
Of course they didn’t. How stupid of Blu to assume Pelton would let two of the most attractive and available women in the county pay for anything in his place.
Crome said, “Well, in that case, how about a round of shots?”
Blu said, “This is a business meeting.”
“And I need a business shot to go with my business lunch,” Crome said.
Harmony said, “Okay, but only one.”
Only one shot. Blu used to make the same misguided stipulation back when he drank regularly. One always led to more. And with Crome, it meant most of the night.
Harmony asked, “You look at that file I sent you yet?”
Blu had forgotten about it again.
Before he could admit as much, she said, “Never mind. Your client’s son gets a pretty hefty check each month. But he hasn’t made any withdrawals in three weeks.”
“And before that?” he asked.
Tess said, “He was consistent, withdrawing something every day.”
Not exactly what Blu wanted to hear.
“And,” Harmony said, “that lipstick had a partial fingerprint. I’ve got someone checking it against the database. We may have something tomorrow.”
Early Saturday morning, an alarm shrieked, waking everyone within earshot.
Blu felt a wet nose poke his sore ribs and opened his eyes, which had stayed closed even through the obnoxious sound. The dog licked him on the nose.
About the same time someone shut off the alarm, Blu turned and caught sight of a very nice rear end saddled in pink panties saunter past him. By the color of hair, a reddish blonde, he guessed it had been Harmony tiptoeing by from using the bathroom.
From somewhere in the room, Crome said, “You see that?”
It took Blu a moment to realize he’d been sleeping on a leather couch. He looked over and found Crome stretched out on a chair and ottoman.
A woman said, “Can I get you guys some coffee?”
It was Pelton’s wife, Darcy. She was dressed in a tank top and jogging shorts and although she was every bit equal in physical appeal to the younger women, it wasn’t her derriere in the pink panties providing the nice start to a new day.
Blu said, “That would be great. Thanks.”
Crome stood, did a quick stretch, and asked, “Where’s your husband?”
The story about Darcy and Pelton’s marriage had made Blu smile. Pelton had been in a real pit of depression when Blu met him the previous fall. Darcy had moved to Atlanta, away from Pelton, and the kid did not take it well. He took on a suicide mission as an excuse to roll west to the capital of the south that was Atlanta even though the “reason” for the trip was to rescue a friend and had nothing directly to do with Darcy. Blu had heard from a reliable source Pelton shot the city all to hell. And Darcy came back with him.
She said, “He had to go to the other bar on Kiawah.”
The kid was trying his hand at a second location.
“Does he ever sleep?”
“Not very often,” she said. “Shelby and I were about to go for a run. Either of you care to join us?”
Crome said, “The only time I run is, well, never.”
Blu, who along with Pelton and Darcy didn’t get completely hammered the previous evening, said, “Yeah. I’ve got some gear in my truck. Give me a minute to change.”
He put on running shorts and tennis shoes.
Darcy snapped a leash on Shelby and off they went.
Pelton’s and Darcy’s beach front home was located on Sullivan’s Island. Blu had known the kid wasn’t exactly poor, but Darcy’s family owned Wells Shipping where she now worked. With that came a substantial amount of money, henc
e the prime residential location.
A half-mile down Middle Street, the central road on the island, Blu said, “You think it’s safe to leave Crome with those two?”
“I think whatever happens, they all deserve each other.”
“True that,” Blu said. “Crome can be a real pain, but he’s a good man and a great soldier.”
She said, “He sounds like my husband.”
Blu said, “Yes, I can say without a doubt your husband is all of those things.”
They passed Poe’s Tavern and turned down a side street heading back toward the beach.
Darcy laughed. “I was talking mostly about the pain in the ass part.”
“Brack sure is that,” Blu said. “But he saved my daughter. I have to like the guy.”
“He saved me too,” she said. “More than once. And I’ve loved him since the first time I met him.”
“Even when he brings drunk versions of Harmony and Tess back to your house?”
He caught her smile.
She said, “It’s his way of showing me he’s faithful. Besides, I have sources all over this town. If anything ever happened, I’d hear about it. He knows it’s always better to come clean with me.”
“Sounds like he has no other choice,” Blu said.
“He doesn’t,” she said. “How’re Harmony and Tess working out helping you with your job?”
“Better than I am,” he said. “At least they haven’t been ambushed.”
She said, “They’re aggressive and driven and they will give it their all. But they’re also young and attractive. You’ve got to make sure nothing happens to them.”
“I’m trying,” he said, although he wasn’t sure if he believed it.
Blu drove the women to their vehicle in the Pirate’s Cove parking lot. After promises to call later, he and Crome went back to his island home. His business partner reminded him to stop for apples on the way, which was good because he wasn’t thinking about the horses like he should have been.
After feeding Dink and Doofus apples and adding water to the trough, each man took turns showering and cleaning up. The house was decent-sized for one person but had only one bathroom.
Blu was always amazed at how quickly Crome rebounded from an all-night bender with just a cup of coffee. One might think he was back on the little red pills, but Crome would have shared that with him already. No matter what these two men were or what they did, they did not lie to each other.
In It for the Money Page 12
