by anna snow
I had no idea who Rena's parents were, but if they were rolling in dough as Cindy said, then there was a good chance they were prominent in the community. It was worth a few minutes of Googling to see just who they were and what exactly happened to them.
I typed Rena's name into the search bar and hit enter. Two seconds later numerous entries filled my screen. I scanned the first ten or more before one particular article caught my eye.
OIL TYCOON AND WIFE KILLED IN FIERY CRASH. ONLY DAUGHTER INHERITS MILLIONS.
I clicked the link, and an article from 2010 popped up. I scrolled past the date and read.
Oil tycoon Alberto Salazar and his wife, Tamera, were killed in a fiery crash Thursday morning when Mr. Salazar lost control of the Land Rover they were driving and collided head on with a semitruck. The cause of the crash is still being investigated at this time.
Their only child, Rena Salazar, is said to inherit her late parents' vast fortune.
We'll have more on this story as it develops.
I blew out a breath.
Why in the heck was she still working in that club? I didn't care how much of an attention seeker she was—none of it made sense.
I closed the page and scanned several more articles. A few minutes later another article caught my eye.
SALAZAR OIL FILES FOR BANKRUPTCY.
"That can't be good," I murmured to myself and clicked the link. How is that possible? I continued reading.
One year after the tragic death of oil tycoon Alberto Salazar and his wife in a fiery car accident, Salazar Oil has officially filed for bankruptcy. The daughter of the late Salazar couple took the reins of the company, but after four short months handed the company over to her uncle, Renaldo Salazar, who when asked why the company was filing bankruptcy, simply stated, "My successor wasn't as wise with the company as she should have been. I've stepped in and am currently trying to bring the company back to life, and to do so, bankruptcy must be filed." Apparently, Ms. Rena Salazar isn't as business savvy as her late father. More on the story as it unfolds.
I closed the screen and tossed my pen onto the desk. Rena was rolling in the money—that was a given, seeing as who her father was. Even I had heard of Alberto Salazar. But I couldn't help but wonder if she had been as reckless with her inheritance as she had been with the company. If that was the case, it would explain why she was still at the club and not on a beach somewhere sipping Bahama Mamas while being fanned with a giant palm leaf.
It made sense. No one wanted to admit they had somehow lost millions and had to work in a strip club as a result, and with what little that I'd gotten to talk to Rena at the club the previous night, she seemed the type to exaggerate everything.
I put the Post-it I'd written Rena's home address on and my phone in my purse then hustled out of my office.
Mandy was glued to her computer screen, undoubtedly already digging into Fernando's phone records.
"I'm going to pay a visit to Rena. I have some questions I think need to be answered," I explained.
"Good luck," Mandy said without looking up from her screen.
I doubt she even registered what I'd said. When she got into something, she zoned out until she was finished.
Once out on the sidewalk, I jogged across the street, shielding my face with my hand to keep the rain out of my eyes, then opened the car door and slid into the driver's seat.
I keyed the address to Rena's place into my GPS and pulled away from the curb.
Thirty minutes later, I stopped in a familiar apartment building parking area.
I killed the ignition and stared at the same crappy building I'd visited just days before with Silas when we'd come to have a talk with Tammy's ex-boyfriend, Gary Hooper.
"This can't be right." I dug the Post-it note back out of my purse and rechecked the address.
"What in the…" Sure enough, Rena lived in the same dumpy apartment building as the deceased Gary Hooper. My mind was suddenly awhirl with what-ifs.
I got out of the car and hurried across the mostly empty parking lot. I had to watch my step as to not trip over any of the grass or weeds poking up through the cracks in the cement as I made my way past the stairs leading to Gary's vacant apartment and around to the back of the building.
A second staircase came into view to my left leading up to another row of apartments. I took the stairs in a bit of a hurry as the rain was starting to come down heavier than before. Once on the balcony, I dodged holes in the awning leaking rainwater onto the walkway until I caught sight of the apartment number I was looking for.
Rena's place was the last door on my left.
I wasn't sure how she would react to seeing me, but at that point, I didn't care. I knew I was facing a potential killer without my usual backup of Kelly or Silas, and the thought wasn't a comforting one, but I needed to find the dancers' killer before they decided to strike again. Reaching down I gave the gun in my ankle holster a quick pat to reassure myself more than anything.
I knocked.
"Whoever's beating on my door before three p.m. better have a freaking good reason."
The door flew open. Rena appeared surprised momentarily before her expression shifted to a steely glare.
"Who are you, and what in the hell do you want?"
"It's good to see you, too," I couldn't help but say sarcastically. I wasn't surprised that she didn't recognize me. After all, the first and only time she'd ever seen me, I was undercover wearing a platinum bobbed wig, and my boobs were out more than I cared for them to ever be while in public.
"What. Do. You. Want?"
"I need to ask you a few questions—"
"Look. I don't know you, and I don't know what you want from me, but I'm not buying." Rena huffed and tried to close the door in my face, but I shoved my foot between the door and the frame.
"What's your problem—"
"My name is Barb Jackson. I'm a private investigator looking into the murders of two of your acquaintances, Tammy and Kiki."
She glared at me for a few seconds before she spoke again. "I don't know anything about those two getting killed off. We weren't friends or anything. I don't know what you expect me to tell you, but you can come in and ask your questions if it will get you off my back. The last thing I need is any kind of trouble."
She pulled the door and let it swing open. She didn't wait for me to enter, simply walked over to the sofa and plopped down.
Rena's apartment wasn't as shoddy as Gary's had been. The walls were freshly painted, the carpet appeared to be new, and her furnishings were well appointed and cushy. I took a seat on the couch and faced her.
"How well did you know Tammy and Kiki?"
"Not very well at all. They were pretty stuck up, you know? Never really talked to any of the other girls. They did like to sneak into my customers' laps though." She sniffed.
"What do you mean?"
She looked at me like I was a complete idiot. "I mean they would try to steal my regular customers for themselves. The more regulars, the more tips we make, and they were taking my regulars from me," she explained.
"So you had a bit of a grudge against them both?"
Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. "Wait a minute. I hated those women but not enough to kill them if that's what you're thinking." She scooted to the edge of her seat. "Listen. I didn't kill Tammy or Kiki. I wasn't their biggest fan, and we argued often about them snaking my clients, but that was as far as it went. I wouldn't ever kill anyone."
"I see. Did you ever see them have any kind of trouble with any of the customers or any of the other girls?"
Rena shook her head. "No. The only drama I ever saw was the drama they carried in with them."
"Can you explain?"
"Tammy had this boyfriend, or fiancé, or whatever. He used to come around causing trouble for her, but I haven't seen him since he showed up at the club and got himself arrested."
"This boyfriend, you didn't know him?" I asked.
She fidgeted in
her seat and glanced away. "No. Never met him."
I narrowed my eyes at her. "I find that hard to believe, seeing as he lived in this very apartment complex."
Her gaze jerked up to meet mine. She was quiet for so long I began to think she wouldn't answer.
A minute later her shoulders sagged, and she flopped back against the back of her seat.
"Fine," she sighed. "I knew Gary, okay?" she said with a hint of attitude. "When Tammy started stealing my regular clients, I got P'd off. I wanted to get back at her for causing me to lose money. I came home one night, and I saw Gary going into his apartment. Before that night I didn't even know he'd moved into the complex. So, instead of going to my apartment, I went to his."
"You were sleeping with Gary?" I asked.
She nodded. "A couple of times, just to get back at Tammy. I figured she'd taken something of mine. It was only fair that I take something of hers."
What a beyotch.
"What happened when Tammy found out the two of you had been having an affair?" I asked.
"She freaked out. Called me all sorts of names and dumped Gary flat," she said as she karate chopped her hand toward the floor.
"Is that when Gary started stalking Tammy?"
"Yeah, around that time."
Had I been a less professional woman, I would have reached over and tried to knock some sense into the chick sitting across from me.
"Did you do anything to get back at Kiki?" I asked instead.
"No. I was thinking about it, but then she wound up dead." She scooted to the edge of her seat again. "Look. I didn't have anything to do with Tammy or Kiki getting killed. What would I get out of it? My regulars back? Yeah, but the truth is I had already won them back before those two checked out."
"One more question," I said. "What happened to all of the money your parents left you?"
Her eyes widened. "How did…"
"I'm a private investigator. It's my job."
She ran the fingers of one hand through her thick hair and sighed. "I lost it."
I raised an eyebrow. "You lost it? How does someone lose that much money?"
"Bad investments. Trusting the wrong people. Gambling. Living frivolously. I can keep going if you want," she said sarcastically.
"No, that's fine. Thanks for your time," I replied as I made my way to the door.
Rena jumped from her seat behind me and hurried over.
"You don't think I killed them, do you?"
I opened the door and faced her.
"I think you're a horrible person and that what you did was awful, but no, I don't think you killed anyone."
Her mouth flapped open and closed like a goldfish. Apparently Rena wasn't used to people telling her exactly what they thought of her.
I wasn't a mean person, and yet I didn't regret my parting words. I closed the door behind me and hurried back to my car.
I wasn't lying when I told Rena that I didn't think she killed the girls. I couldn't see her getting her hands dirty, but I'd been wrong before. Rena was still on my radar. Just because I didn't think she knocked off Tammy or Kiki with her own two hands didn't mean she didn't have something to do with their murders. Especially if they were costing her money, which was obviously bad since she'd lost her father's millions.
The rain was coming down harder than before, and the trip back to the office was going to be a slow one. The windshield wipers going on high and my bright headlights on was the only way I was going to be able to see clearly through the downpour.
Once back on the highway, I hit the button on my steering wheel to make a call. I hadn't heard from Kelly and was a little worried about her.
I was about to give up when her nasally voice came on the line.
"Hey, Barb."
"Hey, you," I said sympathetically. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm actually feeling much better. The medication the doctor gave me is really working. My sinuses are still a mess, and I'm exhausted, but at least I'm feeling half human again," she said with a small chuckle.
"That's good to hear. I'll bring some dinner home for us if you're still at my place."
"I am," she said. "The doctor said not to be out in the rain for a few more days." She sniffled.
"No problem," I said. "Stay as long as you want."
I filled her in on how the case was going as I pulled into the drive-thru of a coffee shop.
"That Rena sounds like a mess," she said. "Have you thought about checking out Tammy and Kiki's home? Maybe there's something there that could help."
Breaking and entering wasn't high on my list of things I should do, but that didn't mean I wouldn't do it…again. I'd been known to secretly enter a suspect's or victim's home a time or two in the past, and Kelly had a point.
"I hadn't until now. I'm going to do a quick search and see if I can find their address. Thanks for the idea." I took my caramel macchiato and made my way to an empty parking spot so I could get to work.
"You're welcome. See you when you get home," she said then coughed.
I grabbed my laptop out of the back seat and connected to the Wi-Fi in my car. A luxury I needed to thank Silas for suggesting I had installed.
Tammy and Kiki lived in an apartment building not far from the office, so I headed over to their place.
All of the parking slots were taken, so I parked in one of the metered areas across the street then headed inside the building. The lobby was a simple affair with a front desk, shiny tile floors, and some cheesy paintings adorning the walls. The desk was unmanned, so I hurried to the elevator and stepped inside.
The elevator doors opened with a ding, and I stepped off into an empty hallway. I turned to the right and followed the numbers on the doors until I reached Tammy and Kiki's. There wasn't a strip of crime scene tape covering the door. Why would there be? The murders had been committed at the club, so I didn't have to worry about tearing it down when I let myself into the apartment.
I looked both ways to make sure I was still alone then pulled out my driver's license. I wasn't the best lock-pick in the world. As a matter of fact, I really sucked at it, but I'd been doing this a lot lately and as a result was getting better. After a few wiggles and shimmies of the card, I heard a soft click, and the door opened an inch.
Taking a hurried step into the apartment, I closed and locked the door behind me then put my license away.
The blinds on two of the windows were open, allowing the dreary light from outside to spill in. After a quick look around, I spotted the light switch, hurried over quietly, and flicked it on. The apartment wasn't luxurious by any means, but it was obvious that Tammy and Kiki were managing their money much better than Rena had. The furniture looked soft and cozy, and the overall feel of the apartment was warm and inviting. Without wasting any more time, I pulled on the pair of rubber gloves I'd grabbed absently out of my glove compartment and shoved in my pocket before entering the building. Then I quickened my pace and started pulling out drawers, looking for anything that stood out.
When a quick search of the kitchen and living areas produced nothing but bills, magazines, and some pictures of Tammy and Kiki with each other and of course Gary and Fernando, I turned my attention to the women's bedrooms.
I hurried down the short hallway past an open bathroom door and slowly opened the first closed door on my left.
The curtains in this room were open as well, and with the small size of the room, the open blinds produced enough light that I could see clearly.
It was obvious that the police had yet to search the apartment, most likely due to the previous detective's lack of desire to be thorough where his cases were concerned. The fact that the apartment seemed untouched was good news for me but bad for the victims' grieving families. I was certain they were anxious to know who had taken their daughters from them.
I rummaged through the nightstands and found nothing more than some personal hygiene products. ChapStick, lotions, face creams, and so on.
The pictures on the
wall and dispersed throughout the room and the embroidered pillow on the bed told me this was most likely Tammy's room.
I made short work of the tiny closet and came up once again empty-handed.
Feeling a bit defeated, I made my way to the second bedroom and stepped inside.
The room was dark, so I felt along the wall until my hand connected with a light switch. I flipped it on, and bright light filled the room. If the giant letters spelling out Kiki above the bed was of any indication, the room had belonged to her. Whereas Tammy's room was simply decorated, Kiki's was a bit on the wild side with zebra and leopard print blankets and throws, clothing scattered about willy-nilly, and bright pink paint. I wondered momentarily if I had stepped through a portal and ended up in some teen girl's bedroom.
I shook the thought aside and hurried to check the dresser drawers and nightstands. Nothing caught my eye, so I moved on to the closet. After riffling through about a dozen leopard-print dresses and shoe boxes, I was about to abandon my snooping and call the entire search a bust when I spotted a shoe box shoved in the back corner of the closet, covered with a scarf. Excitement bubbled through me, and I knew before I even put hands on the box that I'd found something significant.
Reaching into the recesses of the closet carefully, I pulled out the box, removed the lid, and then stared down at the contents of the box. Absolutely speechless for a moment, I had to shake myself mentally to get myself moving again.
I'd never seen that much cold hard cash in my entire life.
The box was full of money rolled up and secured with little red rubber bands. I couldn't even begin to guess how much I was holding, and I didn't want to start assuming as to where Kiki had gotten her hands on so much dough, but I had to. I pulled out my phone and took a few snapshots of the cash.
Returning the box to its original hiding place, I covered it with the scarf, just as I had found it.
After closing the closet door, I checked my watch. It was getting late. I quickly shut off all the lights I'd turned on but slowed down as I reached the front door. A little worried that someone might be in the hallway, I eased the door open an inch and peeked out. Seeing the coast was clear, I jogged over to the elevator.
