“How do you know all that? Did she tell you?” London says.
“I keep detailed contemporaneous notes. And I don’t just let anyone into the building without a reason.”
“And you didn’t think to tell us before this?” London asks.
“You didn’t ask.”
London sighs. “What’s the name of the cable company?”
“Her uniform said Able Cable.”
“It was a her?” I ask.
“Yes, but not a terribly feminine her. She wore tinted safety goggles and a hat.”
“You ever heard of Able Cable?” London asks me.
I shake my head. The only cable and internet company I know is the one I use—Lakeland Cablelinx.
“She said they were a new company in town and were offering a new modem and a six month contract at a substantially reduced rate. I’m thinking of switching over myself. In fact, I believe I still have the brochure she gave me.” He digs around until he locates it in his desk drawer. He hands it over.
London and I examine it. The brochure looks well done and the company seems legit.
“I’ll need to take this,” London says, sliding it into her inside jacket pocket.
“But what if I want to switch over?” Bruce says.
“I’m sure you can find it on the Web,” London responds. “So that’s it on the people who came to Veronica’s place?”
“Yes. Only the cableman. Er, lady. And that was on Thursday the twentieth of July at 9:33 am.”
“Wow, you do keep good records,” I say.
“Thank you,” he says, bowing his head slightly and smiling at the compliment.
“Well, that should do it for now,” London says, rising. “If you think of anything else, call me.” She hands over her business card.
“Certainly,” he says.
He doesn’t bother to show us out. We leave the same way we came in.
Once we’re back on the road, London laughs.
“What? What’s so funny?” I ask.
“Boy, that was a good suck-up job.” She imitates me, “Bruce, you keep such good records.”
“Hey, we might still need him. And even if he does like Justin Bieber, he did just give us our best clue. I hope our Able Cable person has her fingerprints on file.”
“Yeah, and that’s a big if,” London says. “I’ll take you back to the station and we’ll call it a night.” She yawns. “And start all over tomorrow beginning with a visit to Veronica.”
“She’ll be in fine form. Day four in jail,” I say. “That’s a long time to go without room service.”
London drops me off at my place. She doesn’t try to kiss me again. Maybe she’s waiting on me to make the next move?
“See you later,” she says.
“Okie dokie,” I respond. I mentally kick myself as she drives away. Did I really just say okie dokie? Could I be any stupider? Is that even a word, stupider?
I think about getting in my car and driving by Gloria’s house. Just to see if she’s still awake. But what would I say if she were? Hi, Gloria. I was just kissing London and I thought of you.
Of course I couldn’t say that. God, I’m such a loser. Probably better off by myself anyway.
Thirty-Four
I follow the sound of voices and find The Hardy Boys in the war room. Veronica-the-Cat is napping on the back of the couch.
“I’m so glad you’re home. The clock is ticking here, Jamie. We got a lot of stuff from our visit with Zelda,” Michael says, flexing his buttocks.
“Please don’t squeeze your butt cheeks at me,” I say.
“It wasn’t anything personal,” he says. “I just flex when I’m excited.”
“I’ll remember that.” His buttocks are his tell. Most poker players have a tell, but it’s usually a raised eyebrow, an itchy nose, or fingers drumming. I’ve never heard of buttock flexing.
“Zelda spilled all the dirt,” Travis says. “Terri was bullied and more bullied. In today’s world, it would’ve gone viral.”
I sit down in an office chair and it rolls over about five feet. I look down at the chair. “Is this new?”
Travis nods. “It was on sale at Target. I needed something to roll from one work station to another,” he explains. “If I’m going to be your assistant, I’ll also need my own desk. Target didn’t have one I liked. I’m thinking I’ll try IKEA.”
“You’re not my assistant,” I say firmly.
“You say that now…”
“Oh, tell her about Gloria,” Michael says, patting his hands together.
“I was going to,” Travis scolds.
Michael’s butt cheeks squeeze together about five times real fast.
“What about Gloria?” My heart rate increases. “Is she okay? What’s happened to her?”
“She called, that’s all,” Travis says. He pops the top on a Red Bull.
I wait until he’s sucked it down, then ask, “And?”
“She wanted to know if you had time to go up north. Her cousin has a cabin on a lake and it’s not being used this week. I guess the family shares the place or something. Anyway, it’s her turn and she wanted you to go with her.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her the truth. That you were with London and you were too busy working on Veronica’s case to go away for a week. She sounded disappointed.”
“Travis!”
“Well, it’s true.”
My heart sinks. “Why didn’t she call me?”
“She said she tried. But you never picked up.”
I look at my phone. Sure enough, there were two missed calls. Damn it! I had turned it off while we interviewed Bruce and forgot to turn it back on. “I’ll just call her back and explain it myself.”
“You can’t. She left already and there’s no cell service up there,” Travis says.
“You can’t make decisions like that for me.” Once again, I’d let Gloria down, and Travis made it sound like I was out on a date with London, not working with her. There was the little matter of the lip wrestling London and I did earlier, but Travis doesn’t need to know about that.
“You really can’t go right now, Jamie. Veronica is inching ever closer to trial and if we don’t come up with some new evidence, she’s going to be sent up the river,” Travis replies.
I sigh and roll the chair back to center. He’s right. Veronica does need my help. Even London is doing her best for a woman she doesn’t even like as a person. But that’s what a professional does—looks out for the unjustly accused. I’ll get back to Gloria who will understand. I hope. “All right. So tell me what Zelda said.”
“It was much worse than shutting Terri in her locker. Veronica and the plastics were downright cruel. You know that movie Mean Girls?”
“Yes.”
“It was like that,” Michael says. “Only more so.” He sits on the couch. I can’t see if his cheeks are flexing or not. Now how am I going to know what he’s thinking?
“That movie could’ve been based on what Veronica and Beth Ellen did to Terri. They spread rumors that Terri was easy, they sabotaged her homework assignments, and tripped her at lunch on a daily basis until she was too traumatized to step in the lunchroom altogether,” Travis says. “And that’s just the stuff Zelda remembers.”
“Then why does Terri want to be on Veronica’s visitor’s list? She told us she may have seen the killer and now she wants to visit Veronica in jail.”
“So she can gloat?” Michael says. He slams back a Red Bull, too.
“But she’s acting like she wants to help Veronica.”
“That’s just a tease—giving Veronica hope. Right before she snatches it away. It’s like psychological warfare,” Travis says. “Believe me, I know psychological warfare. I work with drag queens, remember?”
“I had no idea any of this was going on back in high school. How could I have been so blind?”
“You were too into your own survival,” Travis says. “You were young. Teenage
rs never notice anything outside themselves.”
I turn the chair in slow circles while I think it over. After about five circles, I stop the chair and say, “Terri is starting to look like a good candidate for getting even with both Beth Ellen and Veronica.”
“And wouldn’t killing one and framing the other be the perfect revenge?” Travis asks.
Ivan must’ve heard my voice. He prances into the room looking like he’d been on a weekend bender. His tuft of hair is smooshed on one side and sticking straight up on the other. He jumps up into my lap, sending me and the office chair rolling backward several feet.
Travis stands and paces. His index finger taps the cleft in his chin. That’s his usual thinking tell. That, and he hums. He doesn’t hum a melody or anything; it’s more like the monotone hum of a refrigerator.
I notice an enormous bowl of popcorn sitting in the middle of the conference table. My stomach growls. I wheel over and grab the bowl. I eat popcorn, Travis hums, and Michael flexes.
Suddenly, Travis turns and looks at me. “Terri has the perfect m.o. But there’s only one problem. The locks on Veronica’s condo weren’t picked. So how did she gain entry to Veronica’s apartment? She must’ve had a key. But how would she get a key?”
I swallow my mouthful of popcorn and say, “I know how.” I hand over the brochure Bruce had given me. It’s creased about fifty times from being in my pocket. Travis irons it out on the table before studying it.
“I’ve never heard of Able Cable,” Michael says.
“Neither have I,” Travis says. “I bet it’s a dummy company. What does Terri do for a living?”
“Something with computers,” I say.
“Ah ha! All this would be so simple for someone like her,” Travis says.
Michael, brochure in hand, scurries over to the laptop and pounds away on the keyboard. Travis leans over his shoulder.
I set the popcorn bowl down on the floor and Ivan dives in headfirst. I reason that it’s okay for Ivan to eat popcorn because I heard somewhere that it’s good for the colon. Dogs need healthy colons, too, am I right?
“Here it is!” Travis exclaims.
I don’t have to see Michael’s butt cheeks to know they found the website for Able Cable.
“If it’s on the web, does that make it real?” I ask. My lack of computer skills is becoming a serious deterrent to my P.I. career. Juniper is going to have to give me lessons whether I want to or not.
“Not necessarily,” Travis says. “Anybody with the know-how can put up a website.”
“I’ll click on the links, see if they go anywhere,” Michael says. He taps and clicks.
“Bingo!” Travis says. “I knew it. The links don’t go anywhere.”
“Terri Barton was the cablewoman. She got into Veronica’s apartment…” I say, thinking out loud.
Travis picks up where I leave off, “She found Veronica’s spare key, made a copy, and voilà! She lets herself into the condo after the reunion. Veronica and Beth Ellen don’t hear her because they’re all hot and heavy. Terri waits until they’re asleep and then stabs away.”
The image is gruesome. We all grimace.
“But how would Veronica not wake up?” Michael says.
“Veronica is a heavy sleeper. Especially after sex,” I say.
“And she had a lot to drink,” Travis says.
“The problem is. . . How do we prove it?”
Travis paces, tapping his cleft and humming. Michael bounces up and down in the chair because of his rapid flexing. I turn in circles in the office chair.
Travis snaps his fingers. “First, we have to hack backwards and find the origination of where the website was created. Link the website to Terri.”
“Can you hack back or whatever?”
Travis and Michael looked at each other. “No,” they said in unison. “You’re going to need someone really good at computers. Probably a criminal,” Travis says. Suddenly his eyes widen and he gasps.
“What’s wrong? Did you think of something else?” I ask.
“No. It’s the popcorn.” He runs for the bathroom, clutching the seat of his pants.
I laugh. “Red Bull and popcorn isn’t a good mix. The Red Bull makes the popcorn go off like Pop Rocks in your intestines.”
Michael looks horrified. He clenches his cheeks.
Thirty-Five
“What do you mean I don’t want to know about it?” London says. I stopped by her office to talk to her about our Terri theory. In a reversal of positions, I sit on the edge of her desk facing the chair she sits in. It makes me feel more in charge.
“Well, I’m going to talk to the goombahs about doing some under the wire stuff,” I explain. “It might lead us right to Terri.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to know about it,” London says.
“I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“Sure.” She crosses her legs. “Oh, I saw Veronica this morning. It’s no-go on the visitor’s list. She doesn’t want to have anything to do with Terri. She figures Terri just wants to gloat.”
“If Terri is the perp then toying with Veronica and the police would be fun. Especially if you aren’t the one being investigated.”
“But now she is.”
“She doesn’t know that. And I think we should keep it that way as long as possible.” I pick up a cold cup of coffee from her desk and pour it into the spider plant. “So, how is Veronica doing? She hasn’t gotten beat up yet?”
“Hell, no. It’s like she’s the belle of the ball. She’s looking into all the women’s cases to see if they got a fair shake. I saw two women bring her Snickers bars and another one a Coke.”
“Only she would figure out how to make herself popular and protected.”
“It’s a good idea. Jail is especially tough on newbies.” She stands. Now I’m looking up at her. “Okay, you go do this thing with the goombahs.” She does air quotes around the word goombahs. “You do realize, if you find out anything, we won’t be able to use it in court, right?”
“I know. I just want to make sure it’s Terri and then Travis is working on an idea to trap her. He got inspired in the shower. He hasn’t worked out the details yet so he’s on his third shower this morning.”
“He better use a lot of lotion,” London says.
“Don’t worry, Michael has already signed up for the job.”
“I don’t want to know about that either.” She walks around behind her desk and sits. “Call me later. Maybe you can take me back to your mom’s for lunch. I keep smelling oregano. I think it’s my nose’s way of telling me to eat more pasta,” London says.
“Really?”
“Really,” she says. And I don’t think she’s kidding.
*
Frankie, Jimmy, and Dumbshit aren’t at the gelato shop. “Too early for gelato. This time of day they’re at Donovan’s Donuts down on 5th and Blanche,” Giovanni says.
I know the place. “Thanks.”
I drive to Blanche and keep an eye out for a parking spot. Saturday morning is a popular time for espressos and donuts. It’s a social thing. Friends and neighbors chitchat, discussing the past week, catching up with what’s new.
Four blocks from Donovan’s Donuts, I find a parking spot. Walking there and back will total eight city blocks. In calories, that equals one donut, right? Fitbit be damned. Besides, the reunion is over.
Frankie, Jimmy, and Dumbshit are sitting in a booth by the window. It’s evident from the looks on their faces (dilated pupils, drool, slack expressions) that on this busy Saturday morning, they’re girl watching.
Frankie calls out when he sees me come in, “Jamie, bella, you need a pastry on us. You got a favor coming,” he says. “Donovan, get Jamie here a cannoli and an espresso.”
Donovan stops serving the long line of people and brings my order over immediately. For a second it looks like a guy standing in line is about to protest, but his friend elbows him in the ribs and cocks his head in Frankie’s direction.
All protest wisely drops from his lips.
I bite into the cannoli. It’s fabulous. I know by now that Frankie wants me to eat then talk. I sip the excellent espresso. “I can’t believe I’ve never been here. This is great.”
“I know all the best places,” Frankie says.
“He does,” Dumbshit agrees. He doesn’t get whacked. Maybe he’s learning.
“So, you did a great job with Sheri and Angela. They’re in love. Ronny granted the divorce, all is well in lesbo-land, and we don’t got to worry about loose lips,” Frankie says.
Jimmy nods. “You done good,” he says around bites of his cannoli.
Frankie hands him a napkin. “Wipe your face, you ape.”
Jimmy does.
“Now what can we do for you?” Frankie asks. He slides an envelope across the table to me. It’s obscenely fat with greenbacks. “Other than this.”
I quickly pocket the cashola, swallow the last of the cannoli and say, “I need a hacker.” I set the Able Cable brochure on the table. “This is for a dummy corporation. I need to know the…” I forgot what it’s called. “You know the thingie that tells you where the computer is coming from?”
“The IP address,” Jimmy says as he studies the brochure.
“Jimmy’s our tech boy,” Frankie says.
“Jimmy knows all about that stuff,” Dumbshit says. Or that’s what I think he said. It’s hard to tell with his mouth full.
Frankie smacks him. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s bad manners.”
Dumbshit almost chokes but manages to swallow. Thank God. It would really ruin my morning if I had to give an emergency tracheotomy.
Jimmy flips out his cell phone and quietly talks into it for maybe ten seconds before putting it in his shirt pocket. “He’ll call back in five.”
“He’s that fast?” I’m thinking I might have time for another cannoli.
“Yeah,” Jimmy says. “The guy’s a genius with computers. He’s like one of those savant people. He can’t remember to change his underwear, but he can hack into the pentagon.”
Frankie nods. “We got people.”
Till Beth Do Us Part (A Jamie Bravo Mystery Book 2) Page 21
