“I wasn’t that bad a husband, was I?”
“You weren’t very good. And I’m not talking about cheating on me either. That was just the last straw.”
“But we had good times too. Especially in the bedroom.” His low voice got a suggestive tone.
I tried hard not to remember those particular good times, but they’d been really good and I’d had a long dry spell. I had to clear my throat.
“Sex isn’t enough to hold a marriage together. Especially if one spouse tries to work for the marriage and the other is just freeloading.”
“You’re saying Nicole is the freeloader this time?” His tone was sharp now. So he was paying attention at least.
“And isn’t that ironic.”
He gave a mirthless laugh. “We’ll see. Thanks for the advice.”
“You’ll get the bill on Monday.” He actually would, and I’d add this conversation to it. With Saturday fees.
That in mind, I sent Jackson an e-mail detailing the conversation for him. If he was busy with Emily, I didn’t want to bother him with a call. But he called me only a moment later, before I’d managed to get out of bed, so I settled in comfortably, letting his voice calm me down.
“I really didn’t believe you’d be right about it,” he said first thing.
“Thanks a lot.”
He laughed. “Admit it, you just said Nicole was behind it to spite him.”
“I admit nothing.” But he was right. “So how was last night?”
“It was nice.”
“That’s it? Nice?”
“I’m not telling you anything more, you nosy woman.”
“I’m a P.I. It’s my job.” I rolled on my back on the bed and could hear similar sounds in the background from his end. Was he in bed too? “Fine. Then I’ll tell you that I had an eventful night.”
“Oh?”
“I saw Jonny Moreira.” I don’t know why I started with that, except perhaps to hear him growl on the line.
“He’s not good for you.”
“You don’t know that. Besides, he was useful.” I told him what we’d done the previous evening, making him laugh heartily.
“That was just stupid.”
“Hey! It was educational. Aren’t you all about educating me? Besides, he’ll check into Brody.”
“That wasn’t wise.”
“I was out of ideas.”
He sighed. “Yeah.”
I wasn’t that despondent yet. “What are your plans for today?”
“I have none. Except watching the game this afternoon,” he drawled lazily, conjuring all sorts of pleasant images. “Why?”
“I want to go look for Deanna.”
“Where?”
“The warehouse.”
I had a nagging feeling there was more to the place than met the eye. Where were all the drugs? Detective Lawrence wouldn’t have made such a huge mistake that he’d raid the wrong place. Where were all the little things needed for distributing drugs to customers? I had no clear idea what that might entail, but in the movies the drugs usually came in small plastic bags. Where were those? You’d need a ton of them. And where had JT vanished to from the warehouse?
The warehouse had to have a hidden room. And if you could hide drugs in there, you could hide a fourteen year old in girl there too. Deanna had disappeared so completely she had to be held against her will.
“I’ll come and fetch you.”
“I don’t want to drag you from your game.”
“I’m not letting you go there alone.” His tone brooked no argument, but I argued anyway.
“What could possibly happen?”
“Do you really need to ask?”
“I’ll just go take a quick look.”
He snorted. “Then why did you tell me if you don’t want me there?”
“Because you’ll yell at me otherwise?” I suggested and could practically hear him roll his eyes.
“Be ready in fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll need half an hour. I’m not dressed yet.”
“Fine. I’m not exactly dressed yet either.”
I tried not to imagine it and failed.
“And I need breakfast.”
“We’ll eat on the way. Now move.”
So I moved.
Thirty-one minutes later—I timed it—I got into Jackson’s car. “I have a better plan,” he told me as he turned the car around to where he’d come from.
“What, better than breaking into a warehouse, rummaging around and hoping to find something?”
He smiled. “Infinitely.” He wasn’t wearing his normal black-on-black work uniform, but blue jeans and a fine black cashmere sweater under his blazer. I hadn’t even known he owned other clothes. This must be his weekend look. Or a concession to the coming winter.
“Let’s hear it then.”
“We’ll trail Alysha.”
Now why hadn’t I come to think of that? “Do you think she’ll leave her grandmother’s place?”
“We’ll give her an incentive.”
“Such as?”
“I’ll wing it when we get there.”
I grinned. “I thought you have to have a detailed plan of everything before you act.”
“Just because I don’t act on impulse like you do don’t mean I lack spontaneity,” he said with a huff.
“Or maybe I’m bad influence on you.”
“That you certainly are.”
But the corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement, so I didn’t quite believe him. And I definitely couldn’t talk him into having an unhealthy breakfast—or lunch, at that hour—at the diner where we stopped, and ended up eating a healthy meal myself. So I guess we influenced each other.
Chapter Twenty
Detective Lawrence called just as we’d pulled over on the vast parking lot at the edge of Alysha’s grandmother’s neighborhood. Jackson put it on speaker.
“JT made bail this morning.”
“What? I thought he’d be there at least till Monday,” I cried. That had been the one good thing about this case.
“His father knew a judge who was willing to set a court date.”
“Of course he did.” I was bitterly disappointed.
“Where did he go from the station?” Jackson asked, always more levelheaded in a crisis.
“Home, but only to have a shower and change. He left there a moment ago and my men couldn’t follow.”
“Thank you for telling us,” Jackson said, looking pleased. “This is exactly the news we needed.”
“Oh?” Lawrence sounded disbelieving. I seconded the emotion.
“We’re trying to make Alysha act.”
Ah.
“His girlfriend? You found her?”
“She was with her grandmother. But she claims not to know where Deanna is.”
“You think she’s lying?”
“Yes. Or JT knows, and I hope she’ll lead us to him.”
“Okay, call me if you need backup.”
“Will do.” He ended the call and smiled to me. “Here’s the more detailed plan you so wanted. You’ll tell Alysha that JT made bail. She’s bound to act, and could be she’ll head to the warehouse. I’ll go wait there, because it’d be impossible to trail her in a car through this plain without her noticing. It’s a walking distance from here, so you can follow her on foot if she goes there.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“I’m still close enough to follow her if she takes the bus.”
“Or if JT comes to fetch her.”
“Or that.”
“Good plan,” I said, getting out of the car.
“Let me know where you are at all times,” he said, the last thing before I closed the door. I refrained from rolling my eyes.
Fine, I rolled my eyes.
Alysha opened the door herself this time. “What do you want now?”
“JT made bail this morning.” She pulled back, the news clearly a surprise to her, so I pressed on. “I was wondering i
f he’d contacted you.”
“Why?”
“He made a call to someone he called sweetie the moment he was freed, and I thought it was to you.”
My fib angered her. “You’re lying.”
“No? Must’ve been one of his other girlfriends, then.”
“What do you mean other girlfriends?”
I shook my head, feigning sympathy I didn’t feel. “You didn’t really believe you’re the only one, did you? He’s from Marine Park. He needs a girl he can show to his parents and take to the prom. A little girl from the projects isn’t it.”
Really mean, but it had the desired effect. Alysha lashed out so fast I had to step back.
“JT’s mine! You know nothing about our relationship and what we mean to each other.”
I didn’t give up. “Meanwhile, he’s been out of jail the whole morning and hasn’t contacted you.”
Alysha had tears in her eyes now, but I hardened myself. If she knew where Dee was and kept her mouth shut to protect her boyfriend, she deserved to feel bad.
“You’re wrong,” she said. “He loves me.”
“Well, if you learn differently, you have my number.” I headed to the elevator, not looking back.
Less than ten minutes later Alysha exited her building in a great hurry. She didn’t even glance at where I was waiting out of sight. I called Jackson.
“She’s on the move.”
“Good. No need to tail her too closely. Just stay safe.”
“She’s fourteen and she’s alone. I’m pretty sure that’s as safe as it gets for me.”
Alysha headed straight to Flatlands Avenue on foot, so she wasn’t going far, and didn’t once look back. I kept a good distance between us. There really was nothing to hide behind. She reached the avenue long before me, and I called Jackson again.
“She took towards the warehouse.”
“Yeah, I can see her. I’ll take it from here.”
The warehouse was only two short blocks down on Georgia Avenue, but by the time I reached it Alysha was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Jackson. Annoyed, I picked up my phone again.
“Where are you?”
“On Alabama Avenue. Alysha went into the garage the cops raided.”
That was a street over. “We know the tunnel cuts through the block.”
“Yep. So stay on Georgia Avenue, just in case she comes out on that side.”
There weren’t any hiding places on Georgia Avenue, so I retreated to Flatlands Avenue, leaned against the building at the corner, and peered around it at the warehouse door. After maybe ten minutes, the sound of an approaching bike alerted me. JT drove down Flatlands Avenue from behind me. I crouched hastily behind a car parked by the street, probably looking suspicious as hell, but JT didn’t notice me. But he didn’t turn onto Georgia Avenue either.
“JT’s here,” I said to Jackson over the phone a moment later. “He pulled over outside the auto parts place again.” I glanced at the warehouse door, in case Alysha was coming out from there, but it remained closed. When I turned my attention back to JT, I got a nasty surprise.
“Alysha just climbed on his bike and is putting a helmet on. Where the hell did she come from?”
“Damn. I’d best follow them. My car’s on Alabama Avenue and I can’t wait for you to reach me. You’ll have to get home on your own.”
“No problem.” A moment later I saw Jackson’s car enter Flatlands Avenue and go after the bike.
I had two choices now. Wait for a bus and head home, which didn’t entice me at all, or do what I’d come here to do: investigate.
Guess which one I chose.
The obvious point to start was the auto parts shop. Alysha had had to appear from somewhere and the shop was the closest candidate. Maybe there was a tunnel to there from the garage too.
The electronic sensor by the door gave an annoying bleat when I entered, and I paused to look around. It was a small space with a wall-to-wall counter that blocked access to the back. The small customer area had some posters of cars and near-naked ladies on the walls and a couple of chairs for people to wait in. A customer was leaning against the counter.
He sized me up and smirked. “Car trouble?”
“Not yet,” I answered coolly.
“What does that mean?”
“Just checking what options I have to give my cheating husband some.”
The man straightened, horrified. “Look now, lady, whatever he’s done, messing with his car is just cruel.”
I gave him a slow smile. “I know.”
The service guy returned with a part for the customer and they handled the transaction. When the customer was leaving, he pointed at me. “Watch out for that one.”
The middle-aged man in greasy overalls on the other side of the counter gave me a questioning look. I smiled.
“I may have told him a small untruth.”
“Ah. How may I help you?”
“I’m a teacher at the local school and we’re talking about recycling. I was wondering if it’s possible to bring a class here.”
He scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know. It can be really dangerous here.”
“It can? I hadn’t thought of that. Would it be possible to check the place myself? Just to get the feel of it.” I gave him my hopeful smile, meant to soften the heart of a difficult male customer, but it worked here too.
“Sure. Let me call someone to show you around.”
“Thanks.”
A moment later another man, much alike the first, arrived at the shop. He nodded after hearing my business. “We’ve had school groups here occasionally, though mostly from vocational schools. You know, car mechanics.” But he lifted a hatch in the counter and beckoned me to come through.
He led me to a small, messy office and through it to a much more organized garage where cars were being stripped one piece at a time at two stations. Everything useful was removed, from windows to bumpers and everything in between, and carefully sorted and tagged.
It took me a moment to drag my attention off the work and check the garage itself. There was a back door, but it was towards the car dealership next door, not to the direction of the large warehouse. I didn’t see any floor hatches. So maybe there was a route through the yard. I needed to take a look there.
“Where do the … husks go from here?” I asked the man, utilizing my helpless look.
“To the yard.”
Yes!
He led me out of large open doors to the yard, where stripped frames of cars, and the cars still waiting to be stripped, were piled three and four high, filling the small lot from side to side. There was just enough space between the neat piles for forklifts to operate. I walked to the back of the lot, looking left and right, full of curiosity. It just wasn’t aimed at the cars.
A wire net fence cut my path, separating the yard from the narrow alley between it and the warehouse. Piles of cars filled the alley too and there were no holes in the fence. So where the hell had Alysha come from?
“And what happens to these cars next?” I asked, just to keep up the pretense.
“They’re transported to a scrapyard for their metal.”
“Of course.” I smiled, trying to make connections. “Maybe we could visit the scrapyard too, if it isn’t too far from here?”
“No, it’s two miles away, in southern Brownsville.” He gave me the name and the address, and I nodded, studying the cars.
“This has been very educational. I’ll have to talk with the principal, but I’d like to bring my class here if possible.”
“Let us know in advance when you’ll be coming, so we can be on our best behavior.”
An open gate led from the yard to the street and the man walked me there. I smiled and thanked him, and headed purposefully down the street towards Alabama Avenue, my mind racing. I may not have found the tunnel, but maybe I’d found something else.
Chapter Twenty-one
I rounded the corner to Alabama Avenue and tried
to call Jackson, but he wouldn’t answer. He seldom did if he was driving, so I wasn’t worried. I called Detective Lawrence instead.
“Do you know how they get the drugs out of the garage?” I asked the moment he answered.
“Why?”
“Because I have an idea and I want to know if I’m clever or if it’s something you’ve figured out yourselves.”
“Let’s hear it, then.” He sounded like he was smiling. I took it as an encouragement—after I’d recovered from the mental image of him smiling.
“We know there’s a tunnel between Alabama and Georgia Avenue, but I think there’s one leading to Flatlands Avenue too.” Just because I hadn’t found it didn’t mean it wasn’t there. “And it goes through that auto parts shop.”
“And you think they give out drugs with auto parts? Because we already considered that, but there hasn’t been any suspicious activity.”
I hadn’t come to think of that option, but I had another one. “What if they hide the drugs in smaller patches in the cars they send to the scrapyard? No one’s paying attention to that place. Easy to distribute from there.”
He was quiet for so long that I feared the connection had cut, and had to take the phone off my ear to check.
“Well, fuck,” he then said. “I’m not saying you’re right, but it’s something we’ll have to check. Don’t suppose you know where they take the cars?”
“I do.” I gave him the address. “It’s in Brownsville, where, incidentally, they have a new dealer.”
“Where are you now?”
“At the garage on Alabama Avenue.”
I was walking past it, looking for a way in, but the only human-sized door had an alarm and it was covered with cameras. Quite a few of them for an empty garage. Abandoning my first plan, I continued around the block in a brisk pace.
“Are your men here?” I didn’t see anyone in the few cars parked by the street.
“None of your business. You definitely shouldn’t be there,” Lawrence said sternly.
“But shouldn’t we find the tunnel?”
“You don’t need to find anything.”
“What if I suspected Deanna was being kept in there?”
He was silent for a heartbeat. “Why would you suspect that?”
“Alysha went into the garage. Why would she do that, especially since she met JT out on an open street afterwards, if not to check up on her? And she came out through the car parts shop, so I know there’s another tunnel. I just need to find it and then I’ll find Deanna.”
Tracy Hayes, P.I. to the Rescue (P.I. Tracy Hayes 3) Page 11
