The Trickster (A Jonelle Sweet Mystery Book 3)

by R. Lanier Clemons

  “Looked to me like he had somethin’ else on his mind.” She peered closely at Jonelle. “You piss somebody off lately?”

  Jonelle believed she was pissing off a whole lot of somebodies lately. Her breathing returned to normal and her head felt more like a small rubber ball, hitting against her skull instead of a hammer. She glanced back to the bar several feet down. Jonelle had to find out why Kelly and Finkleberg went inside and she couldn’t do it standing in one spot. She took a few tentative steps in that direction. “I gotta get in there,” she said more to herself than to her two helpers.

  “You sure you wanna do that now?” asked the youngest of the two. “You don’t look so good to me.”

  The truth was, Jonelle did feel a little woozy, but she’d hate herself if she didn’t at least look inside the place on the off chance the two men were still in there. “I need to find someone and I believe he’s inside.” A look passed between the two women.

  “Tell you what,” said the older woman, “how about we make sure you get to where you’re going without you gettin’ hit again. After that we gotta go.”

  Jonelle nodded her gratitude and instantly regretted stirring up the pounding in her head.

  With her saviors close on her heels, she staggered up to the bar’s entrance. Her hand shook as she reached for the handle. She pulled and nothing happened. Either it was heavier than she anticipated or the bump on the head was interfering with her movement. She inhaled and willed more strength into her right hand and pulled again. This time the door opened and she stepped inside the dark room and stood next to the door as her eyes adjusted.

  The dark coolness did wonders to improve the way she felt and she took several deep breaths. To their credit, both of her escorts remained at her side. A bar stood on the left and Jonelle counted two men and a woman sitting on high stools. No one paid her any mind. Of the five tables situated on the right side three men occupied one and two women sat at another. All patrons were black. Where were Kelly and Finkleberg?

  Jonelle walked up to the bar where a heavyset man on the other side gave her a wary look. Before she opened her mouth, he pointed to her head. “What happened to you? We ain’t got no phone in here for you to use to call the cops.”

  Jonelle touched her head and withdrew sticky fingers tinged with blood.

  “I’m not calling the cops. Two white men came in here a few minutes ago. Did you see them?”

  The bartender shrugged. “People come. People go.”

  Jonelle didn’t feel like playing games. Her damn head hurt. “How many white people come and go?” She spread her arm around the room. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say not many.”

  The man closest to her left arm answered. “Both of ‘em came in, sat down, talked some and left out the back jus’ afore you come in.”

  The bartender glared at him. “When you gonna learn to keep your damn mouth shut, huh?” He looked Jonelle in the eye. “We don’t want no trouble.”

  “I’m not giving you any. Had you seen either man before?”

  After a slight hesitation, the bartender shook his head.

  “Me neither,” said the man at the bar and was rewarded with another dirty look.

  Jonelle took a few steps forward. “Where’s the back door?”

  “What you wanna know that for?” the bartender asked.

  “Places like this only have one way in and out. Unless …” She headed for the back where an open area revealed two doors, one with a legless figure in a cutout dress, and the other without a dress and no head.

  Jonelle opened the door to the men’s room and recoiled at the stink. She took in the one urinal and one stall. She covered her mouth and pinched her nose as her eyes swept the tiny, filthy space. Not one window in sight.

  The women’s room was just as dirty and again, windowless.

  “You done?” the bartender asked as he stood near her elbow.

  “Almost. If you don’t have a back door for customers, I’m assuming you let them use the service entrance. Since when do barkeeps let their customers go out that way?”

  She stared at him until he turned away.

  He slipped back behind the bar without speaking, picked up a cloth and proceeded to half-heartedly wipe down the bar’s surface.

  “Aw, why don’cha tell the lady them guys paid you to use the back, huh? I gots a feelin’ that unless you tell her what she wanna know, she ain’t movin’ from here. Am I right?”

  Jonelle threw the man a weak smile.

  The bartender sighed. “I’m tellin’ you this so’s you get the hell outta my bar. A hunnerd dollars, okay? They gimme a hunnerd dollars to use my back door. Now go on outta here.”

  The tight space and the dark atmosphere, combined with her two escorts staying close, triggered Jonelle’s claustrophobia and she had to leave soon or else someone would have to call emergency services. “Thanks for your help,” she said with an edge to her voice and headed for the entrance. Her two guardian angels followed.

  “Wait a minute,” said the woman in blue. “Maybe you oughta wash some ‘a that blood off first.”

  “Don’t believe he’d appreciate my going back in there. Besides, I don’t think I can hold my breath that long.” Jonelle rummaged through her bag and pulled out a wet wipe. She swiped her head several times and looked at her newfound friends with raised eyebrows.

  “That’s better,” said blue dress. “What you think, Angela? She okay now?”

  Angela stepped away from Jonelle. “I kinda agree, Vernella. I think you’re okay to get home, Miss.”

  “Please call me Jonelle.”

  “Okay, Jonelle. You live far?”

  Jonelle told them MARC’s Penn station was her destination, and assured them she could walk that far.

  Jonelle glanced over in the direction of the hotel. As long as she was so close, maybe someone else besides the maids might give her information. Especially for some extra dough.

  “I need to check something at that hotel over there first,” she said.

  Both women frowned. Vernella shook her head. “I think you should head on home Jonelle. You look a little shaky to me.” She looked over at Angela and received a nod in confirmation.

  “I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. Really. I need to ask a few questions of the desk clerk and then I’m heading home.”

  Vernella peered at Jonelle. “You a cop? ’Cause if not, you should be. Never met nobody who got mugged before wanna hang around and ask a lotta questions.” The two women turned to leave.

  “Speaking of questions.” Did someone groan? “Almost forgot the most important one. Did you two get a good look at who grabbed and hit me?”

  Angela answered. “White guy. Dark hair, kinda long and straight. Looks like he works out a lot. You not doing drugs are you?” Her eyes searched Jonelle up and down.

  “No. Can you tell me more about him? What was he wearing? Did he say anything?” Jonelle looked at both women in turn.

  “He was wearin’ jeans and a long-sleeved dark green sweatshirt. The shirt had some kinda writin’ on it in white.” Vernella crinkled her eyes in concentration. “What did that writin’ say? Hmm? Angela, did you see it?”

  Angela shook her head.

  Vernella’s eyes brightened. “I got it. On the front was written somethin’ weird like ‘Mouse Country.’”

  Angela laughed. “‘Mouse Country’? That don’t make no sense. Mice don’t have no country.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Jonelle’s two good Samaritans escorted her to a corner drugstore where she purchased painkillers and a bottle of water. Outside the store she downed a few tablets and assured the women once she questioned the employees inside the Lancelot hotel, she’d walk back to MARC’s Penn line station for the journey back to DC to retrieve her Jeep.

  Angela put a hand on Jonelle’s arm as all three women stood in front of the hotel. “You sure you wanna go in there? Don’t look on the up and up to me. What you think, Vernella?”

&
nbsp; “Anybody else I’d say no, but this one here,”—she pointed to Jonelle—“can handle herself. Ain’t that right?”

  Before Jonelle answered, Angela piped up. “No offense Jonelle, but you didn’t do so good before.”

  An embarrassed Jonelle agreed. “I plan on paying more attention to people around me from now on.” You’re beginning to sound like a broken record, Jonelle thought. Might not be so lucky next time. “The guy who jumped me sounds like someone I’ve seen before.”

  “Say what?” both women said in unison.

  “Yeah. I don’t think he’s coming back. You guys were awesome scaring him off like that. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “You can thank us by taking our phone numbers and calling if you need help.” Angela and Vernella recited the information and watched Jonelle program everything into her phone. All three hugged each other and after a quick wave, Jonelle entered the lobby of the Lancelot and walked up to the desk.

  Behind the bullet proof partition an elderly Asian man looked her up and down. “No vacancy,” he said.

  “Then you’d better change your damn sign.” She was so not in the mood. “Besides, I’m not looking for a room. I need to ask you a few questions.”

  “No answers,” he said. A lopsided smile exposed several missing teeth.

  Jonelle’s hand reached inside her bag. The clerk’s eyes widened and he pushed away from the counter. “Relax. All I want to do is show you a picture and if you recognize her, tell me what you remember.”

  “We don’t give—”

  “Yeah, right. Whatever.” She pressed two twenties and a ten in front of the glass.

  He pointed to the slot below.

  Jonelle shook her head. “Nope. You give me information first.”

  “How I know you not gonna stiff me?”

  Jonelle slid the ten under the glass. “This is a deposit.” She held Susanna’s picture up for him to see. “Well? Do you remember seeing her?”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, her. Cops already ask about her. Told ’em everything. No big deal.”

  Jonelle ignored the comment. “Did you ever see her with anyone else? An average looking white guy, slender build, glasses?”

  “Nope always by herself. Also told cops bag she had, she took when she left first time.”

  “What bag?”

  He shrugged.

  Jonelle suppressed a groan. “Okay. What do you mean ‘the first time’?”

  “I mean she leave once with bag, then come back. Without bag.”

  Damn. “What was she like?”

  “Like everybody else. No big deal.”

  Jonelle waved the remaining twenties in his face. “Try again.”

  “Okay, okay.” He scrunched his face in concentration. To Jonelle it looked as though it was part of some perverse act but she decided to wait him out. His face relaxed. “This my opinion. No big deal. When she first come, she was different, you know? Not like most, uh, visitors we get. She look, well, clean is best way to say it. Even though most who come here don’t look dirty, also don’t look clean. Understand?”

  Jonelle nodded. She knew exactly what he meant.

  “And, she always speak. Say hello. Say goodbye. Say thanks. Until last time. Last time she seem upset. Kept looking around like she never saw this place before. Not so polite. Hardly spoke.”

  Jonelle tried to tamp down the feeling of excitement. “So, she seemed the same, but different. Is that what you’re saying?”

  He nodded.

  Jonelle dug into her bag and retrieved the picture of Susanna and Sophia together. She showed it to him. His eyes widened and his mouth gaped open.

  “Two? Makes lotta sense now.”

  “Besides the attitude change, did you notice anything else different from the way she acted the first time she stayed here?”

  He indicated with his fingers he wanted more money and she obliged by slipping the rest under the glass.

  “I notice lot about her, because she good-looking, see? Last time she still good-looking, but more, um, harder. Get it?”

  Jonelle frowned. “Do you mean scared? Did she look scared?

  “Not only scared. More, um … like this.” He opened and closed his fist several times.

  A puzzled Jonelle had trouble figuring out what he meant. “Strong?”

  He shook his head all the while opening and closing his hand faster.

  She got it. “Determined?”

  He grinned. “Right!”

  “What else?”

  “For somebody without much money she had a lotta change of clothes. Some really nice, some kinda shabby.” Jonelle wondered what happened to the clothes and figured the police probably took control of Susanna’s possessions.

  Susanna must have made a huge impression on the man that he could remember so much. Based on information from Luther and Finkleberg, Susanna had probably stayed at the hotel after being rejected by Kelly. So why hook up with Luther on the street?

  The walk back to the station took less than thirty minutes, even walking slow so as not to aggravate her headache. She considered leaving the Jeep in DC until the next day but didn’t want to be without her vehicle. The anger she felt for getting ambushed, was assuaged by what the hotel clerk revealed. No wonder Luther said Susanna disappeared for periods of time. But why keep coming back to the street? Jonelle figured it had to do with keeping tabs on the money. Woman was probably frantic someone would find it and everything she’d done would’ve been in vain.

  After retrieving her Jeep from DC, Jonelle decided to stop and see Burt. She’d deal with Kelly later. Did he know she was following him? Why were Kelly and Finkleberg meeting close to the place where Susanna had stayed?

  Upon entering the police station Jonelle received a visitor’s badge without comment. She signed the book and wrote down Burt’s name and location. A weak smile and nod later to the desk sergeant, Jonelle made her way down the familiar hallway.

  Burt waited by the open door to the division. His eyes widened when he saw her. “Whoa. You look a little … what’s the word? Frazzled.” His body blocked the open door as he leaned in and studied her face. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Mind if I go in?”

  He moved to one side. “Of course. Sorry.”

  Jonelle followed him toward the back to his cubicle. He motioned for her to sit.

  “So. What happened?”

  Jonelle frowned. “How do you know anything happened?”

  Burt pointed to her shirt. “You’ve got dirt all up and down your blouse, and if I’m not mistaken, that’s a scrape on your left cheek and a bump above your eyebrow.”

  She touched her face and smiled weakly. “You got me.” Jonelle gave him a brief rundown of what happened when she tried to enter the bar, omitting some details. On the way over, she’d decided to mention Kelly’s name. If the doctor was involved in something dicey, a little help from the police wouldn’t hurt.

  Burt scribbled some notes. “You positive the man you saw Kelly with was Finkleberg? That’s something else I’ll ask him about when we talk. He and this doctor are friends, right?”

  Jonelle came to attention. “You’re interviewing Finkleberg?” Her eyes scanned the room. “Now?”

  Burt shook his head. “He’s not here now. He’s coming in later, and before you ask, no I can’t allow you to sit in.”

  A scowl creased Jonelle’s face. “I need to ask him a few more questions. I’ll bet anything he knows who mugged me.”

  “Then you’ll have to find some other way. Sorry.”

  Burt’s face indicated he wasn’t all that disappointed she wouldn’t question Finkleberg at the same time he did. “Tell you what,” Burt said. “I’ll ask him to give you a call when I’m through with him. How about that?”

  “Hmm. Okay.” Jonelle’s mind raced. What might be even better is if she just happened to run into him as he was leaving his appointment with Burt. “So, what time is he due here? Just so I can get some kind of idea
of when to expect his call.”

  Burt’s round, dark eyes narrowed. “If I tell you, do you promise not to talk to him before I do?”

  Jonelle shrugged. “I don’t even know where he’s staying, so how could I possibly see him before his appointment with you? Honestly, Burt. I think you’re getting paranoid.” She rose quickly. “Well, gotta go. When you talk to Finkleberg, let him know that I know he went into that bar with Kelly and that I have every intention of finding out why he went there. And ask him about Sophia. I still haven’t been able to reach her.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Across from the police station, a narrow stand of trees separated the building from a small strip mall with a donut shop, nail salon, pizza carryout and urgent care clinic. She drove over to the line of stores and parked closest to the road facing the department, with the hope of catching Finkleberg before he entered the Northern District station. If that didn’t work, she’d intercept him when he left.

  She opened the glove compartment, nudged the gun aside and removed mini binoculars, and settled down to wait. Time crept by and still no sign of Finkleberg. The aroma from the pizza place wafted through her open window, a reminder that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Not wanting to risk going inside the carryout and missing Finkleberg, Jonelle used her phone and dialed the number printed on the eatery’s window. After ordering a small cheese pizza and diet soda, she waited for Finkleberg to appear.

  Fifteen minutes later with no sign of the commissioner, Jonelle rushed over and retrieved her order. The time spent away from observing the station was a scant five minutes so she felt sure she hadn’t missed his arrival. It’d take him that long to find a spot in the crowded parking lot.

  Time crept by and still no sign of Finkleberg. She shifted in her seat. Maybe she shouldn’t have consumed the entire large soda. After a quick glance at her surroundings, her eyes settled on a combination gas station and mini mart. There was probably a restroom she could use.

  Decision made, Jonelle opened the Jeep’s door but instead of leaving her vehicle, she stopped. A slight man with stooped shoulders hurried toward the police department’s entrance. With binoculars in hand, she zoomed in on a worried-looking Finkleberg. Too late to stop him. Now that she knew for sure he was keeping his interview with Burt, it was only a matter of time before she could confront him about his meeting with Kelly.