I still thought the cops were pinning this on the wrong guy and said as much to Bobby.
“I know your feelings about this. I mean you’re not exactly shy about sharing your opinions.” His eyes crinkled and his mouth curved into a grin, and for a split second there was the old Bobby. The one who used to love me. “I’ve been up for three days trying to track this asshole Davis down. I don’t know if he was involved with Ilene Werner’s death. We don’t even have any proof that he knew her. There isn’t much to link him to that besides Toodie’s word, and let’s face it, that’s not worth much at the moment. But he killed Andi. I feel it in my gut. I just don’t have any hard evidence to link him to her murder.”
My lasagna arrived. I picked up a fork and handed Janine’s to Bobby. “Help yourself. I can’t finish all this.”
“Since when?”
Since I realized the possibility of Nick seeing me naked.
“Do you have any clues at all in Andi’s murder?” Besides the glaring fact that if I hadn’t hassled her about Glen, she’d be alive today.
Bobby hesitated. I knew that look. He was waffling between respecting police confidentiality and telling me what all he knew. I waited and he caved.
“There were some skin samples under her nails. Looks like she put up a struggle and might’ve dug her nails into his scalp. But we don’t have anything to compare it with. Not until we find Glen and do a DNA test.”
“So if you had a sample of say, hair, you could compare that with whatever you found under her nails?”
“That’s right.”
“Bobby,” I gulped. “I have some good news and some bad news.”
The bad news was I’d forgotten (really!) that when I went through Glen’s house, I’d picked up the few remaining personal items that he’d left there and stuck them in my bag. The good news is I still had the hairbrush with Glen’s hair entwined in its bristles, tucked away under my bathroom sink.
Bobby stood and yanked me out of the booth by the elbow.
“Ow. What are you trying to do, break my arm?”
“You’re lucky it’s not your neck.” He threw some bills on the table. “Let’s go.”
He was dragging me through the restaurant and I had to break into a trot to keep up with him.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Your house.”
It was just as I’d left it, sliced couch and all. My eyes swept the room, taking in the devastation. I just don’t understand it. Bad things never happened when my parents lived here. Although my mom did get an obscene phone call once. Turned out to be my father, trying to spice up their sex life.
I refused to go upstairs alone. It had been days since anyone had tried to break in, and I figured I was due. Bobby led the way.
“There,” I said, pointing to the cabinet under the sink. He retrieved it and opened the baggie. “Smells like Cheeze-its.”
We drove back to the restaurant in silence. Once or twice I caught Bobby looking at me, but he turned away each time, careful not to make eye contact. He was mad at me. Okay, so inadvertently I’d withheld evidence—again. It’s not like I did it on purpose this time, and he should be glad I’d remembered at all.
“I’m not mad at you,” he said finally, breaking the ice.
“Well, you sure do a good imitation of it.”
Bobby pulled over to a side street and cut the engine. “I’m worried, okay? I’m sick to my stomach that one day I’m gonna get a call to go check out some corpse and it’s gonna be you.”
“Well, what’d ya have to go and say that for?” I huffed. “It’s not like I go around looking for trouble. It just sort of shows up at my door.”
“Yeah, and then you open the door and invite it right in. It’s just dumb luck that you haven’t gotten yourself killed.” Bobby started the engine while I obsessed over the image of me in a body bag.
“Okay,” I said. “If I promise to butt out, will you promise to keep me totally up to date on this investigation?”
“I promise,” Bobby said.
“Me too.” Only we were both lying.
Bobby’s cell phone rang just as we pulled into Sargenti’s parking lot. It was his buddies down at the station. “Oh, Christ,” he said, “I forgot all about picking up their dinner.” He walked me over to Nick’s truck and waited while I climbed in.
“Santiago’s?”
I nodded.
“Nice,” he said. “Lock the doors.” He didn’t have to tell me twice.
Alphonso was there when I got back to Nick’s. It was after nine and Nick was headed out the door. He was wearing “date” clothes—black silk shirt, linen pants and Prada Loafers, which I recognized from John’s designer wish list. His hair was freshly washed and hung in soft waves. He looked positively edible, which was, I’m sure, Alana’s plan for the evening.
“Going somewhere?” I tried to appear casual, but my voice came out two octaves higher than normal. I sounded like I’d been taking hits off a kid’s party balloon.
“Don’t worry, Alphonso will be here. I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone at night.”
I glanced over at Alphonso, who was sitting on the couch, flicking the channels on the remote and looking disgruntled.
I truly hoped the overwhelming disappointment I felt at his leaving didn’t show in my face, so of course, Alphonso picked up on it immediately.
“You got it bad,” he called from his seat on the couch.
“I’ve got what bad?” I asked, only I was stuffing a TastyKake into my mouth at the same time, so it came out like, “Ah ga wha ba?”
Alphonso dropped the remote and sauntered over to the kitchen, swiping a cupcake along the way.
“It. You know—L.O.V.E. You love him,” he singsonged. “You want to marry him.”
“Oh grow up. I do not.”
“Don’t try to deny it, sweetcakes. I’ve seen that look on dozens of women. They get around Santiago and they’re ruined for life.”
“Don’t you have anything better to do?”
Alphonso shrugged. “Not really.”
“So, do you know where he was going tonight?” I pulled out another package of cupcakes and offered them up as an inducement to talk.
“Nick watches my back, I watch his. I don’t ask questions about his personal life and he doesn’t volunteer information. He pays well. It’s the perfect business arrangement. All except for this baby sitting duty I keep pulling.”
“You’re free to go any time.” It really bugged me that he thought he had me all figured out, plus he was eating my cupcakes.
“Nah, I think I’ll stick around. No telling what a woman scorned will do.”
“I’m not a woman scorned!” I yelled. But Alphonso was already back on the couch, flicking the remote and changing the channels.
Turk Davis walked towards MasterCarb’s front office, carrying a cup of coffee from the Seven-Eleven across the street. The minute he saw me climb out of Nick’s truck, he did an about face, sloshing steaming coffee down the front of his grease-stained cover-alls. He took a rag out from his pocket to wipe himself off, and it gave me time to catch up to him.
“Hi Turk,” I said, real friendly. “Remember me?”
Turk heaved a big sigh. “I remember you. You were looking for my half-wit brother and I told you I’ve got nothing to do with him.”
“Yeah, well, I was hoping things had changed since then. Ya see my friend, Toodie, just got arrested for a murder I think your brother committed, so I’m kind of anxious to find him.” I didn’t bother to add, “Before he finds me.”
A tow truck pulled in front of us and parked. “I’m really busy,” Turk whined.
“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bug you. But you seem like a good guy and this is very important. Glen might’ve mentioned some little thing, something you wouldn’t necessarily think is significant, back when you guys were still speaking.”
“Like what?”
“Like, people he hung out with, anyone he might’ve w
orked for.”
Turk thought about this for a minute. It was freezing outside and his breath came out his nose in little puffs of smoke. “About six months ago, he stopped by to see me. This was before he started tweaking. It seemed like he was really trying to get his life together. Anyway, he was all excited about some business type he’d hooked up with. The guy told Glen he wanted to give him a chance to work for him. The only requirement was that Glen didn’t have a police record, which is hard to believe, but he didn’t.”
“You got a name for this guy?”
“No.”
“Any idea how they met?”
“If I knew I’d tell you.” Turk shook his big, woolly head. “My brother was a good kid. I don’t know what the hell happened.” I waited an awkward moment while he swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Look, I’ve got to get back to work.”
I pulled a Hershey bar out of my pocket, which I was saving for lunch. “I really like chocolate with my coffee,” I said, extending the candy to Turk.
He looked at me for a beat before taking it. “Thanks.”
I waited until I pulled out of the parking lot before bursting into tears. The idea that psycho-man Glen Davis was once someone’s beloved little brother had never occurred to me. After a few minutes, I wiped my nose and drove across the street to the Seven-Eleven for another Hershey Bar.
Nick called while I sat in the parking lot eating the candy. When I’d woken up this morning, I’d checked in the living room. Alphonso was gone, which meant Nick had come home last night. I felt inordinately relieved, the way I imagine my mother used to feel when she’d hear my key in the door, after I’d been out on a date with Bobby. Never mind that we’d been fucking like rabbits the entire evening. In her mind, if I didn’t stay out all night, nothing happened.
“Did you have fun with Alphonso last night?” Nick asked, as if I were a five year old on a play date.
“We had a blast,” I told him. “Let’s see… we watched Totally Naked News until the cable went out and then Alphonso fell asleep on the couch. Ya know that guy should look into having his adenoids removed. He has some serious snoring issues.”
“I’ll mention it to him.”
“Did you have fun last night?” I asked.
“Apparently not as much as you. Listen,” Nick said, switching gears, “I’ve got the thumb drive back.”
“And?”
“And you were right about there being hidden information buried on it.”
“I knew it!” I yelled, practically slapping myself a high five. “So what did you find out?”
“Most of it’s encrypted and my source wasn’t able to crack it. But there’s a list of Chinese surnames and then some dates ranging from nineteen forty-seven to nineteen eighty-six. Could be birth dates—”
“Could be anything. Crap.” I finished off the candy bar and stuffed the wrapper into my pocketbook.
“Okay,” Nick said, “forget for a minute that we don’t know what’s on the thumb drive. The important thing for now is it’s not what Keith told you it was.”
“True. So somehow Keith got a hold of this mysterious information—was he blackmailing the owners of the casino with it, or was he working for them when he lost it? That would be my guess, because he didn’t seem to be in control. He seemed really scared and desperate.”
“Either way, he must’ve had a coronary when the dog ate it.”
And now he knows I have the damn thing and won’t give it back. If Nick and I are right, I could be in a shit load of trouble here.
Nick must’ve been reading my mind. “Maybe it’s time to turn the thumb drive over to the police and let them sort it out.”
I’m sure he was right. Only something told me to hang onto it for a little while longer.
“All I know for sure is Bulldog and Keith both want the computer drive. Bulldog works for a casino that may or may not employ illegal aliens and Keith owes the casino money. Everything else is speculation. I just want to be sure I have something substantial before I go running to the cops again.”
“Again?”
“Yeah, well, I may have lost a little credibility when I accidentally falsely accused Connie Harrison’s father of hiring goons to beat her husband to a bloody pulp. But hey, nobody forced them to listen to me.”
The sound of Nick’s laughter echoed in my ears and warmed me.
“I’ve got to get back to work, angel. Let’s talk more over dinner.”
He suggested we meet at a Colombian bar and grill in Center City. The place is the new “in”spot in town, known for its exotic atmosphere, gourmet food and Latin music.
“Will there be dancing?” I squeaked. The last time Nick took me dancing, he slipped a thigh between my legs and I came in the middle of the dance floor.
“It could be arranged,” he said, low and sexy, with just the barest hint of teasing in his voice. Oh God, he knew! I blushed from head to toe.
“Whatever,” I managed to croak out.
“I’ll see you at eight.”
Oh boy! I’m going on an actual, sort of date with Nick. Okay, he didn’t call it a date—or even imply that it was one. In actuality, all he really said was we should eat food together. But this was my chance to really make an impression.
All right…what to wear…I did a quick mental scan of my wardrobe…my blue jeans with a gray turtleneck or some black jeans with a beige one…I’m pathetic. What I need is a hotline for the fashion-impaired.
I thought about calling Janine to go shopping with me, but I’d end up looking like a South Street whore—not that there’s anything wrong with that—I just wanted a slightly subtler look. Ditto, Carla. Okay… there’s Mindy Rebowitz, but she’s still wearing her maternity clothes after “delivering” six months ago. Besides, I hate her. I briefly considered Alana, but that would be inappropriate. Plus, I didn’t know her phone number. Did I know anyone with fashion sense? Yes, in fact, I did.
“Tell me I’m dreaming. I have wanted to do a fashion makeover on you for years.”
“Don’t get too excited, John. It’s one outfit, and I have veto rights.”
“It’s a start, Sunshine.”
John schlepped me half way across town and back again, to every boutique in the city.
We finally settled on a dress. It had an off the shoulder tight black top—sexy, subtle, and sophisticated, and a short, ass-hugging skirt. It was so totally opposite who I am I could be arrested for fashion fraud. A pair of stiletto heels completed the ensemble. The only problem was, I couldn’t stay upright in them.
“How am I supposed to walk in these things? I keep tipping over.”
“It’s the price you pay for looking gorgeous.”
“John, tell me the truth. Do I look alright?”
“Brandy Renee Alexander. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound insecure before.”
“Then you haven’t been listening. I’m a mass of self doubt.”
John looked at me for so long, I thought I’d grown a third eye or something.
“What?”
“You really like this guy, don’t you?” “Well, have you seen him?”
“No,” he said. “It’s more than that. Tell me how you really feel about him.”
I sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“How so?”
“If I knew, it wouldn’t be complicated.”
“Are you in love with him?”
“John, that’s nuts. I barely know him.”
“If I were Franny you’d tell me,” John sulked. “I figured what with her being temporarily insane for the next five and a half months, you’d confide in me by default.”
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know, John.”
I was quiet the whole rest of the way home. What if John and Alphonso were right? Lust I could handle, but love? Oy.
Nick called. He was running late, so I stopped by Kenny’s place on the way to the restaurant to get paid for the singing gig. It wasn’t much, but it was the firs
t honest buck I’d made in weeks.
“Be careful going up Walnut,” Kenny warned, as I left. “They’re doing some construction work near the St. James.”
I drove carefully, looking over my shoulder about every three seconds to make sure I wasn’t being followed. Traffic was light and the sidewalks deserted. A damp chill hung in the air, turning the road slick with a thin layer of ice. An SUV came up behind me, its headlights bouncing off my rearview mirror. My heart leaped into my throat but settled back down when the driver turned left at the light.
I was about two blocks from the restaurant when I heard a dull popping sound. Instantly, the truck lurched out of control. I pumped on the breaks, tightening my grasp on the steering wheel, struggling to make it to the curb. Damn. I must’ve picked up a nail and popped the front tire. The truck rolled to a stop next to a fire hydrant, and I got out to inspect the damage.
The tire was completely blown, which ruled out the possibility of driving it any further. Quickly, I hopped back into the truck and pulled open my pocketbook. If I could get a hold of Nick, he could swing by and pick me up on his way over to the restaurant—which would have been a great plan, had I remembered to charge my phone within the last five days.
I scrambled into the back of the truck and retrieved a pair of tennis shoes I’d left back there, after my training session with Uncle Frankie. Quickly, I pulled off the stiletto heels and replaced them with the sneakers. I’d change into the heels again when I got to the restaurant.
The idea of running around unprotected on the dark city streets made me a little nervous, but I couldn’t just sit there in the truck, freezing to death. Besides, what were the odds of someone coming along at that precise moment to do me bodily harm?
Turns out, they were pretty good.
The SUV appeared out of nowhere and slid to a halt in front of the truck. A man flung open the door and jumped out, his shaved head gleaming in the light of the streetlamp. He wore the same drab olive green army jacket he had on when he invaded my home, and he looked about as friendly.
He began sprinting towards me and I took off running, dropping my pocketbook on the sidewalk but instinctively hanging on to the shoes. I got about five yards when he overtook me, grabbing me by the throat, pressing his meaty hands into the soft spot on my neck. “You’ve been a real pain in the ass,” he growled. “But all that’s about to change.”
No Such Thing As a Good Blind Date: A Brandy Alexander Mystery (No Such Thing As: A Brandy Alexander Mystery) Page 19
