Joyce & Jim Lavene - Taxi for the Dead 02 - Dead Girl Blues

by Joyce Lavene

  I bit my lip, empathizing with what he felt. Hadn’t I felt the same way many times since Jacob’s death? It was what had kept me from delving any deeper into what had killed him.

  “But it does matter, Gerald.” I told him the same thing I’d told myself that morning. “It matters because there’s more involved than Julie and Jacob. More people are going to die out there. I’m an ex-cop. You’re an ex-soldier. No one is better suited to figuring out what happened. It’s bred in us to care about more than ourselves.”

  Gerald was still crying when he looked up at me with terrible anguish in his eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this again. So much has happened. I don’t believe anymore, you know? I always believed that the system worked for us. It doesn’t. There’s nothing there but the abyss.”

  “There’s us.” I touched his hand. “We can still make a difference. I know you don’t have any children, but I have a daughter who asks about her father every day. I want to be able to tell her that I did the best I could to find his killer. Don’t you want to be able to say that too?”

  He nodded and wiped the tears from his face with the back of his sleeve. “I want to. I really do. I don’t know how. There’s nothing left of me but memories and anger.”

  I got to my feet. “Let me help you, and you can help me. Let’s do this, Gerald. Let’s make Jacob and Julie’s deaths mean something.”

  He got to his feet with more difficulty, but he slowly held out his hand. “Maybe I was just missing a partner. Maybe we can help each other.”

  I wanted to hug him, but my nose wouldn’t let me. The first thing he needed was a shower and clean clothes. I told him as much. He chuckled but quickly went to the bathroom. I searched through a chest I found in the bedroom and got out clean jeans and a plaid, button-down shirt. I couldn’t find clean underwear or socks, but I located a pair of sandals that looked as though they would fit him.

  “Nice words,” Lucas commented. “You have a plan to go with them?”

  “First I want to hear his story about the night his wife was killed. We can take a look at the details from both our experiences. Once we compare notes, we can decide what to do next.”

  “The chances are very good that magic is involved in these deaths.” Lucas looked at a picture of Gerald in his uniform that was hanging on the bedroom wall. “They don’t sound ordinary to me.”

  “Not everything involves magic,” I said even though my words from yesterday—before I saw snakes coming out of Harold—came back to me. “I know it seems as though there’s a lot of magic going around right now. But I worked the streets of Nashville for ten years and never saw anything magical.”

  “How do you know?”

  I was glad there was no time to answer because I didn’t have a good response, and it was possible he was right. One thing I did know—I had never encountered a man who was choked to death by a snake. And there were plenty of odd cases, but there was always a rational, non-magical explanation.

  Gerald came right out of the shower with a hand towel held in front of his private parts. He must have also forgotten basic rules of society due to his bereavement.

  “I’m sorry. My electric razor isn’t working, and I’m out of shaving cream.” He ran his hand through his shaggy, damp hair. “I really need a cup of coffee.”

  Lucas smiled but didn’t speak.

  “I think I could use a cup too.” I pointed to the clothes I’d found that were on the bed. “Get dressed, and we’ll make some.”

  Lucas and I ransacked the kitchen while Gerald got dressed. There was no coffee, no food of any kind.

  “Not any clean dishes either,” Lucas remarked as he opened cabinets and the refrigerator. “I think he lives on food that others make for him.”

  “Take-out,” I corrected automatically. “I don’t think he’s been out of the house in a long time. We’ll have to go get coffee and food. I think he needs to eat too.”

  “You might not be able to prop him up long enough to get the answers you seek,” Lucas said.

  “It won’t take that long. One good conversation and I’ll know what he knows. We just have to get past the crying and get him thinking again.”

  “He is a warrior? Is my understanding correct?”

  “You could say that. At least he was a warrior.”

  There was pounding on what was left of the front door followed by a brisk voice announcing itself. “Nashville PD, Mr. Linker. Let us in.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Let me handle this,” I said to Lucas. Gerald had come out of the bedroom, still half dressed. “Finish getting ready.”

  “I have a reputation,” Gerald whispered. “I don’t know why they’re here now, but they’ve been here before.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Lucas waited in the kitchen while I pulled open the door with the large hole in it.

  “Officers.” I nodded to the two young men on the doorstep.

  “We need to speak to Mr. Linker, ma’am. Is he here?” The officer closest to the door surveyed the inside of the house that he could see.

  “I’m a social worker.” The lie rolled off my tongue. “Skye Mertz.” I shook his hand. “The department of social services is trying to get Mr. Linker on his feet and involved in a recovery program.”

  The two young men exchanged glances.

  “We had a report of gun fire earlier.” He looked pointedly at the hole in the door.

  “I’m so sorry.” I smiled and straightened my hair a little. “It was careless of me. I was moving the shotgun off the table, and it accidentally discharged. I could never stand to see a gun lying out in the open that way.”

  “Is Mr. Linker here, ma’am?” The second officer seemed not to believe my story.

  “He is, but he’s in the shower. Do you have any idea how hard it was to get him in there?” I lowered my voice. “I didn’t want to take him anywhere in my car.”

  Finally the first officer nodded and smiled. “Yes, ma’am. We do. We’ve had the beat for a while. We know exactly what you mean. I hope you can do him some good. Poor old man.”

  “Thank you for coming so promptly, officers.” I was joking of course. I could have killed Gerald and stolen everything he had before they got there. They had dragged their feet getting here because they knew what to expect. I was probably a pleasant surprise.

  “Thank you, ma’am. You take care now.” He tapped his cap, and they went back down the stairs.

  “Are they gone?” Gerald asked from the bedroom.

  “Yes. I’ve had similar calls myself when I was working. We’re fine now.”

  “What would the law keepers have done if they’d learned Gerald had shot at us?” Lucas asked.

  “Taken him in to jail,” I answered. “It’s illegal to shoot a gun in the city limits.”

  “Thank you,” Gerald said. “It would’ve been a lot worse than that, Skye. For me, any call to the police is just the beginning of months of harassment. You kept that from happening to me again. Maybe there’s something to this partnership idea.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said. “Your house needs a good cleaning, Gerald, and you need to get some food in here. The police are going to be less likely to harass you if it looks like you’re taking care of yourself.”

  The closest coffee shop was a few blocks away. We headed there first. Lucas didn’t really like coffee, but he had a cup of tea. Gerald and I both had large black coffees. I bought him a bagel with cream cheese too. He hadn’t eaten in a while, and it was hard for him to get started. But after a small bite or two, he devoured it ravenously.

  “What do we do first?” he asked me.

  “First we talk. We need to compare experiences. Once we get a sense of what we both went through, we can decide from there.”

  “But no cops, right?” He scanned the coffee shop with suspicious eyes. “I don’t want them involved, at least not until we can prove what h
appened.”

  “No police,” I assured him. “This is between you and me. I know you liked to talk with the media when this first started—let’s not go there either. I work for someone who wouldn’t like me to be involved in this. We have to keep it to ourselves.”

  He nodded. “That works for me. All the TV and newspaper coverage didn’t help at all. It might’ve made things worse. Where do we start?”

  “You tell me exactly what happened the night your wife was killed,” I said. “Don’t leave anything out because you think it might not be important. Everything is important.”

  Gerald took a swallow of his coffee to wash down the last of his bagel. “We were driving home. It was raining that night. The road was dark, no streetlights. I knew that curve was blind—I’d driven that road plenty of times before. I knew accidents happened there. I glanced at Julie. She was laughing at something on her phone. When I looked up, a big truck was bearing down on us from our side of the road.”

  His account of Julie’s death was so close to what had happened to Jacob and me that it made my chest hurt to hear it. I swallowed hard so I could listen without getting emotional. Lucas grabbed my hand. I knew he understood what I felt.

  When Gerald was finished, I could see the emotional strain the story had taken on him too. He wiped his eyes and went up to get another cup of coffee.

  “Will you tell him your story as well?” Lucas asked me when we were alone.

  “Only if he asks. I think he might be too involved in his story to care whether or not he hears mine.”

  “Was it what you expected?”

  I nodded as Gerald took his seat again with a fresh cup of coffee. He looked at my empty cup and asked if I wanted something else.

  “No, thanks. I’m done.”

  “What about what happened to you?” he asked.

  It surprised me that he could get out of his own head that fast. “My story is very similar except that my husband walked away on his own to get help. I couldn’t get out of the SUV. He never came back.”

  “Sounds like you were in bad shape too,” Gerald said. “Lucky you didn’t die so one of you was left for your daughter.”

  “Yes.”

  He was fine just hearing the difference in our tales. I thought over the things he’d told me, about the door being ripped from his pickup, as Tim Rusk had said, and his wife being snatched.

  “I know you went over this plenty of times with the police and the highway patrol,” I added. “What was their explanation for what happened to Julie?”

  Gerald shrugged. “They said I was injured and couldn’t tell what really happened. They said she was thrown from the pickup, and the door was busted out in the accident. But I’ve seen the pictures since then. No way the door just fell off the truck. There was no damage on the passenger side. Besides, she couldn’t have been thrown that far from the truck, like your husband. Something is going on out there, Skye. There’s an answer, but I can’t see it without going all X-Files to explain it. I’m not that kind of man.”

  I wondered what he’d think if I told him the truth about my death, and Lucas being a sorcerer. Would it make a believer out of him?

  My phone rang—it was Abe. There was an emergency in the downtown area, near the river.

  “I’ve received a call from one of my people, Skye. I’m not sure what the problem is since our conversation was cut short, but I think you should check on him. Where are you now?”

  “I’m headed your way. I can be at Deadly Ink in a few minutes.” I was evasive about my answer. I didn’t want Abe involved in what I was doing with Gerald.

  “I don’t want you taking Lucas with you on this assignment. I’ve already called Debbie. The van is repaired and will be waiting for you at the mortuary.”

  Funny how the repairs could be done so quickly when we needed the van for Abe’s purpose.

  I glanced at Lucas. What was I going to do with him while I picked up one of Abe’s zombies? He wouldn’t be welcome to wait at the tattoo shop. I’d have to think of something.

  “Have you learned anything else about the person who killed Harold?” Abe questioned. “I hope you haven’t forgotten that I need you to do this for me.”

  “I haven’t forgotten. I have some ideas. I’m checking those out.”

  “Excellent. I’ll see you soon.”

  Abe hung up, and I put my cell phone away.

  “I have to go, Gerald. That was my boss. I’ll take you back to your house. I might have a chance to come back later and take you shopping.”

  “I can take him to buy food,” Lucas offered. “If the van is repaired, I can drive the car.”

  I hadn’t thought of that since Lucas had only been driving a short time—illegally since he had no ID to get a license. I hadn’t trusted him to drive Kate around Wanderer’s Lake, but I supposed driving Gerald would be okay.

  “Sounds great. Thanks.” I got to my feet and shook Gerald’s hand. “You hang in there. We’re going to find some answers. Let’s make sure your place is set up first. Maybe you should fix the hole in your door too.”

  Gerald smiled. “I can’t tell you how much better I feel just meeting you. It’s been a long, lonely road trying to find justice for Julie. Thanks for helping me.”

  I didn’t want to be insulting, but I asked him if he had money for groceries.

  “Sure. My pension check goes into the bank every month. I’m fine, thanks.”

  He started out of the coffee shop. Lucas and I lingered behind.

  “Be careful,” I warned in a whisper. “Anything could send him crashing off the cliff right now.”

  “I’ll take good care of him. Shall I drive you back to the tattoo shop to get the van and leave immediately?”

  “Nope. I’ll drive to Deadly Ink, and we can change places.”

  His green eyes looked hurt. “You don’t trust me to drive the car?”

  “Not with me in it.” I smiled. “Let’s get going.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Debbie was waiting at the mortuary with the van. There was still some scrapes and dents in the side that had been hit by the Darcys’ car. The passenger side looked even worse where it had hit the wall.

  “At least we can get in and out of it,” I said when I saw it.

  “This thing must be built like a tank,” she remarked. “Where are we going? I thought we had the day off?”

  “Don’t ever waste your time thinking that.” I got behind the wheel.

  “Oh look! There’s Lucas.” She waved to him from the window. “Hello! Hi Lucas!” He waved back as he started the Festiva. “Who’s that with him?”

  I explained about Gerald as we left the mortuary parking lot. “I think he can help me figure out what happened the night Jacob and I died.”

  She frowned. “I thought you said Abe told you not to investigate Jacob’s death.”

  “He did. Don’t say anything.” I glanced at her. “I have to know. I found out about Gerald’s wife. It’s almost the same thing. I passed another wreck in that area. Something is wrong there. You’d want to know if it was Terry too.”

  “I would.” She sighed. “I just don’t like to see you antagonize Abe. He could probably kill you with a snap of his fingers. You can’t investigate if you’re completely dead.”

  “I know.” The van was making an odd clanking noise that it hadn’t made before. “I swear, every time I get this back it’s in worse shape.”

  “That’s why Abe needs to get you a new one. You deserve it. We do a tough job for him. Speaking of which, who are we picking up?”

  “I thought he told you.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” She laughed. “He sent it to my cell.” Debbie read off the address.

  “One of the ritzy condos on the river,” I guessed. “I wish I would’ve asked for more money when I took this job.”

  “I know. Good thing we have Terry’s money. Even so, it’s tight. Bowman wants a new cell phone for his birthday. He deserves one—I don’t know what
I’d do without him. But I don’t think we can afford it.”

  “Sorry. I dread when Kate gets that big.” I maneuvered through the heavy uptown traffic, wishing I had the small car again. “I don’t think she really understands everything I told her. But by the time she’s Bowman’s age, she’ll know what’s going on. I don’t want her to hate me for the choices I’ve made.”

  “Hate you?” Debbie’s voice was full of surprise. “You’ve given up your humanity to be with her. I think she’s gonna love you for being there when you should’ve been in the grave. I would.”

  I smiled at her, thinking what a good friend she’d become. I wouldn’t have thought it when Abe first partnered us. “There’s King’s Towers. Yeah, this man has some money. I hope they’ll let us in the parking deck with this van.”

  But there was no problem at the gate that was manned by two security guards. As soon as we’d told them we were there for Ashcroft Benton, they were all smiles. I couldn’t believe they let us in without even asking him if it was all right. It had to be something to do with Abe. As I’d learned since becoming an LEP, Abe knew people everywhere. I’d lost count of how many zombies worked for him.

  “There’s a place over there.” Debbie checked her lipstick and put her twenty dollars on the dash. “Well? What do you think? I’m betting he’s a runner. He’s got everything—I wouldn’t want to leave.”

  I tended to agree with her, but it was no fun betting alone. Besides she always bet on our pickups running. She was bound to be wrong sometimes. I put my twenty down beside hers.

  Inside the condominium building it was quiet and cool. There was a fountain next to the elevators and tropical plants growing in the foyer. Debbie pressed the elevator button, and we waited.

  “I could live here.” She inspected the expensive carpet underfoot and other luxury additions.

  “What about your cute little cabin? I love that place.”

  “I’d give it up. Maybe someday when the kids are grown, Terry and I will live someplace like this. It would be sweet, wouldn’t it? I could see you and Lucas living here too.”