by A.W. Hartoin
Chapter Twenty-Four
THE NEXT MORNING, Aaron woke me at seven with more takeout. We ate buttermilk pancakes and home fries while I mentally flogged myself for forgetting to report Bart. Then I remembered. Who would I report him to?
I called home and Dixie answered the phone. I tripped over my own tongue until Mom got on the line.
“Hi Mom,” I said with relief.
“How’s your wrist, honey?”
“Achy, but better. Does Dad know about the whole Marilyn internet thing?”
Mom’s voice got hard. “No, he does not, and you aren’t going to tell him.”
“No worries there.” I’d rather chew off my foot than tell Dad what I’d done.
“Are you calling to tell me that you’ve fixed this situation?”
“Not quite. I need to know if Dad has any contacts in Lincoln,” I said.
“Why do you need to know that?”
“Mom.”
“Fine. I’ll get him.”
After a couple of minutes, Dad came on the line with a round of coughing that sounded like someone was plunging a toilet.
“Jesus, Dad. Have you called Pete?”
“As a matter of fact, he was here this morning and I’m good,” he said, between coughs.
“Right. You know I can call him.”
“He says I need a chest x-ray.”
“So when are you going in?” I asked.
“Right after you solve the Lindbergh kidnapping.”
“I’ll get right on that. Go in, Dad.”
“Yeah, yeah. How’s Lincoln?”
“I broke my wrist. Other than that I think we got a good line on Gavin.”
“You need to be more careful.” Dad went into another fit of coughing that covered the sarcastic noises I made at that advice. Dad never got sick, but he got hurt on a regular basis. He’d had everything from broken bones to a light coma in the eighties.
“Do you know anybody in Lincoln?” I asked.
“No, why?”
“I need a guy arrested,” I said.
“Did he do anything?”
“Of course. He’s the deadbeat dad. I found him.” I waited for congratulations. None were forthcoming.
“Call the local precinct,” he said.
“Yeah. I was going to, but then I realized they wouldn’t exactly rush on over to grab him up, would they?”
“No, probably not. Let me see what I can do. I’ll call you back.”
I took a nap and an hour later Dad called back with more than what I needed. He gave me a number of a retired cop with a kid on the force in Lincoln. Better than that, Dad told me Bart had been busy. He had several outstanding warrants in Nebraska. I called Dad’s contact, who arranged for me to meet his kid at a coffee shop in an hour. An hour wasn’t enough time to make me presentable in a way that might help, but I did the best I could. A nice scoop-neck tee and low-rise jeans would have to be enough.
I opened the door and Nardo leaned on the balcony railing, grinning and chewing on a toothpick.
“Where’re we going?” he asked.
“Straight to hell,” I said. “You first.”
“That’s not very original. I’d expect better from you.”
“Bite me.” I walked past him with Aaron trailing behind me, humming the Star Trek theme song.
“Come on. We can work together,” said Nardo.
“No. We really can’t. We’re not the same species.”
“Listen to this. I know I’m scum and you’re an artist or whatever, but this relationship can benefit us both.”
“There’s no relationship, unless you count harassment and disgust,” I said.
“It is a relationship, whether you like it or not.” Nardo ran in front of me and blocked the stairs. “I’m the talent. You’re the face. We’ll make millions.”
“Get out of my way.” I forced my way past him and nearly pushed him down the stairs. I jogged to the car, ignoring the honks from the road.
Nardo yelled out behind me. “If you won’t work with me, maybe your mom will.”
I got in the car, closed my eyes, and swallowed. I wouldn’t think about it. It was too horrible to be contemplated.
Nardo pounded on my window and yelled through the glass. “My partner says the camera loves her.”
“Leave my mother alone,” I yelled back.
“Yep, she looks great, as good as you, and he has all the time in the world.”
Aaron got in the passenger side and I rolled down the window an inch. “Call him off.”
“Then we’ll talk,” said Nardo.
“Fine, just get away from me,” I said.
Nardo stepped back, saluted me, and smiled.
I looked at Aaron and asked, “Well?”
“What?”
“Aren’t you going to say something?”
“About what?”
“Never mind,” I said.
Aaron drove us to the coffee shop, whining about his need for a snack. I shut him up with a promise of carrot cake and fluffed my hair. As it turned out, I needn’t have bothered. Nic Serena didn’t need convincing. She sat down across from me without introduction or hesitation. She was a surprise and an interesting one. Nic Serena had to get as many second and third looks as I did, although we couldn’t have been more different. She had dark blond hair that looked natural, café au lait skin, a broad nose, wide shapely lips, almond-shaped eyes, and a body that looked like a bag of hangers. She was all angles and edges with cheekbones that could’ve sliced meat.
“Mercy Watts. Nic Serena. Why am I here?”
“To do me a favor, I hope,” I said.
“You need somebody arrested?”
“Yeah, a deadbeat dad with some warrants for check kiting and larceny.”
“Sounds like a minor character. What’s the deal?”
“I don’t know what you’ve been told, but a family friend was murdered last week.”
“So?”
“I think he found something out accidentally about an old client while he was here. He started calling her while he drove back and she was murdered right after he got through and then he was. I need to know whether Sendack saw Gavin and what happened.”
“Any connection between the dead client and Sendack?”
“Not that I know of,” I said as I pulled on a sweater. I felt obvious and stupid in my scoop neck next to Serena in her sleek black suit. I guessed she didn’t use sex to get answers. She probably scared guys into talking. She scared me.
“You don’t know if he located Sendack?”
“Gavin’s notes are missing along with the client’s file, but he probably did. I did,” I said.
“Not difficult?”
“Just legwork. So what do you say?”
“I’ll pick him up and do the questioning,” she said.
“Why can’t I talk to him?”
“Because I’m a cop and you’re not. There’s nothing you can get out of him that I can’t.” She looked at me waiting for further protests. I couldn’t think of any, but I felt slighted just the same. I’d gotten plenty of guys to say plenty of stuff.
“So how about giving me that address and Sendack’s particulars?” asked Serena.
I gave her everything I had on Bart and she left promising to call when she had him. As she walked out, heads turned and I was quickly aware that we’d been watched for our whole conversation. I’d been so busy looking at Serena I hadn’t noticed being noticed. It was a new sensation and it felt good to have been anonymous, even if it was in my own mind.
I spent the early afternoon on my rock-hard motel bed with a pillow over my head. Aaron waxed on about Dungeons and Dragons strategy, oblivious to the pillow and my occasional snoring. The painkillers were doing a number on me even though I was down to a half dose. Serena hadn’t called back yet and I started to question whether she would. The less I had to do, the more I thought about Gavin and Dixie. My wrist hurt more than I would admit, and I wanted to be home in the coc
oon of The Oasis with my mother making it all better.
Serena called at three and asked me to come down. Nardo followed us to the station at a discreet distance, but didn’t come inside thankfully. Aaron dumped me at Serena’s desk and disappeared.
“Where’d your little guy go?” Serena asked when she showed fifteen minutes later.
“I’m afraid to know.”
“What’s the deal with him?”
“Family friend and my dad thought I needed help,” I said.
“He’s helping you?”
“He’s driving.”
“That’s something,” she said.
“It’s the only thing. You pick up Sendack?”
“He’s in a room with my partner. Nice guy.”
“I bet. Did Gavin find him?”
“Not that he knows of. Tell me more about the client that got murdered.”
“Rebecca Sample, graduated from UNL and worked for an internet marketing company in St. Louis. She was strangled during her wedding reception, not long after she talked to Gavin. A stalker pestered her for a couple years, but quit when she met her fiancé. The stalker’s the prime suspect, but the cops are weeding through the guest list, too.”
“Any decent physical evidence?”
“Some, but I don’t know what it shows,” I said.
“What did your friend die of?”
“Heart attack brought on by an injection.”
“No idea what the substance was?” she asked.
“Labs aren’t back yet,” I said.
“Will you know when they are?”
“Why?”
“Just curious why you know so much about an open and actively pursued investigation run by your cousin.”
“You didn’t call him, did you?”
”No. Should I?”
“Why are you asking me about him then?” I rubbed my arm above the cast and thought about my next painkiller.
Serena drummed her fingers on the desk. “You shouldn’t be involved in this at all and Chuck Watts is heading this way.”
“Great. Just what I needed and I’m not involved. I’m nosy.”
“Well, you’ve got a great nose because from what I can tell you’re a couple of days ahead of your cousin,” she said.
“He’s been busy. Triple homicide or something. Is this all you wanted me in here for?”
“No. I need a picture of Mr. Flouder.” She looked at the picture I handed her. “Is this recent?”
“It’s around a year old. He lost a lot of weight and some hair before he died, but he looked basically the same.”
“Would you like to check out Sendack while we take another run at him?”
“Sure. I’ve never seen the guy in person.”
Serena led me to a viewing area with one-way glass. It was empty and smelled like Simple Green, the industrial cleaner that Dad used to clean the bottom of his shoes after a nasty crime scene. Stuff gets through the booties if you walk through enough of it. I hated that smell once I was old enough to know what it meant.
Bart Sendack lounged in an orange plastic chair with a cup of coffee and a smile. Bart’s picture didn’t do him justice. He was relaxed and in control. I liked him with an instantaneousness that startled me. He was still the thin, sleazy guy from the picture, but his voice, his smiling eyes changed everything. Bart’d gotten through life on a wink and a smile and, if he knew the jig was up, he wasn’t concerned about it.
“I don’t know him, but he looks familiar,” said Bart. “I might’ve seen him on the street. Who is he?”
“Private detective hired to find you. He’s dead,” said Serena.
“I didn’t kill him.”
“Been to St. Louis lately?”
Bart shrugged, still smiling. “Nope. My ex lives there. I’m not her favorite person. I don’t blame her, but it’s best to stay out of her hair.”
“We’ll find out if you made any quick trips to the Show-Me State.”
“I didn’t. You can ask Bitsy. She’ll tell you. Am I being arrested for something?”
“I’ll let you know,” Serena said as she left the interview room.
She came into the viewing area and watched Sendack with me.
“Interesting,” she said.
“I can’t help it, but I kind of like him,” I said.
“Me, too. Some guys just have it. I don’t think he knows a thing about Flouder.”
“What did you pick him up for?”
“Back child support, but we’ll book him for everything.”
“Can you hold off on that and just stick to the child support for a couple days?”
“Why would we do that?” asked Serena.
“Just a favor to me. His ex thinks his family will pay his back support if he’s arrested for it. They might not if he’s got other charges and won’t get out whether she drops her charges or not.”
“How long do you expect us to stick to that?”
“Couple of days max. I’m guessing he’ll call for a bailout and let them know the situation. They’ll call Doreen to see if a deal can be made. I doubt he’ll tell them what else he’s been up to.”
“I’m sure he won’t. How do you know this woman, the ex?”
“I don’t really, but she’s decent and struggling because of Bart. Plus, she was Gavin’s last client. It’s a loose-end kind of thing.”
“I think we can let Mr. Sendack twist for a couple days. Let me know what happens with the ex.” Serena handed me her card and I took a last look at Sendack. It was about time a woman got one over on him.
Aaron drove me to the motel. Nardo still followed us, but there wasn’t a hint of a camera. He stayed in his car when we went inside. Aaron watched and complained as I packed, but it didn’t take long. We were on the road in an hour against his protests. He wanted to sample another rib joint, but I couldn’t be swayed. I wanted home, my home with the Target curtains, hand-me-down furniture, and Skanky purring in my ear. I didn’t want to talk or hear or think. Lincoln was a bust and once that thought came to me I couldn’t get rid of it. I took a full dose of painkillers in an effort to sleep it away, but it didn’t work. I went in and out of consciousness. The thought that I’d failed Dixie was waiting for me every time I came to.
Day faded to night and the rhythm of passing headlights mesmerized me, but failed to soothe. What would Dad have done? He would’ve found something or had a decent lead.
“I can’t believe this,” I said, interrupting Aaron in the middle of an explanation for his latest brilliant idea, a hash brown stuffed dog. A bad idea if I ever heard one.
“We could add egg.”
“No. Gross. Nobody is going to want egg and hash browns stuffed in a hot dog. There’s something wrong with you.”
“I think it sounds good.”
“You would,” I said.
“What’s wrong?” asked Aaron.
“Nothing unless you count the fact that I just wasted two days for nothing.”
“What for nothing?”
“We don’t know anything, Aaron.”
“We know stuff.”
“Oh yeah. What?” I asked.
“We know that Gavin knew who the stalker was and I got that recipe for blueberry pie.”
“I forgot. Now it’s all worth it.” I rolled over, putting my back to Aaron. But a little thing like a back wasn’t going to stop him. He told me about that blueberry pie till I fell asleep again.
