Fatal Bond

by Gemma Halliday

  Aside from that though, the place was immaculate. In fact, it felt impressively clean, given the state of the rest of her building. It also felt as if she hadn't been there recently. The kitchen was clear of any debris. The sink was empty, and the teakettle was cold, as was the stove and oven. I did a cursory search of the bedroom—similarly decorated in beachy vibes—and Sam took the small bathroom.

  "Jamie," she called.

  "Found something?" I asked, at her side in a couple of short strides.

  She pointed toward a pink pill box. Each day's dose was labeled with a day of the week. And two days' worth were still intact. The last pill she had taken was on Saturday. It didn't look like she'd been home since then, just like Candy had said.

  My gut twisted. A girl didn't just forget her pill. I was starting to really worry that something had happened to Apple.

  I pulled out my phone as Sam went through the rest of the place, and I scrolled through my contacts until I found the one who might be helpful.

  Antonio Diaz. He was a police officer in vice who had once mistaken Caleigh for a prostitute. We'd been on a stakeout when she'd dropped a stick of gum out the car window. Caleigh hated littering, so she'd gotten out of the car to pick it up. The police had pulled up just as she bent over to get the gum, and Antonio charged forward assuming the woman in the tight miniskirt was soliciting me.

  "Diaz," said a gruff male voice.

  "Antonio, this is Jamie Bond."

  It took him less than a second to recognize my name. "Well, well, Jamie. How are you?"

  "I'm good. You? How's the wife?" I paced the tiny living room.

  "Big and complaining. She also has an intense love for sauerkraut. On everything. She's pregnant. Seven months. Do you have any idea what my house smells like?"

  Had it been that long since we'd last chatted? "Congratulations. I'm happy for you."

  Antonio was a big man with a winding snake tattoo up one bicep and a mermaid on the other. His tough-guy appearance was great for his chosen field, but anyone who knew him realized he was a teddy bear in cop's clothing. Of the three of us, he'd been the most embarrassed at his gaff with Caleigh that first evening.

  "Thanks. I'll send you pictures when he or she is born. We're waiting to be surprised."

  I'd never met his wife, Carlotta, but I'd seen pictures of her. She looked similar to her husband. Tall, stocky, and with her own set of tats—roses and hearts mostly. "Yes, please, do."

  "So what can I do for you?" he asked.

  Sam reentered the room and leafed through Apple's magazine selection, which sat neatly on the bottom shelf of the coffee table.

  "A dancer at The Spotted Pony is missing. Her friend spoke to the police, but she got the impression that a…"

  "Missing stripper wasn't high on their to-do list?" he asked, finishing my sentence.

  "Exactly. I was wondering if you could ask around." I paused, hating to even voice the thought out loud… "Maybe see if anyone has a Jane Doe matching her description."

  "You think something bad happened to the girl?"

  "I don't know. I hope not. She was last seen at a private party in Bel Air."

  "I can ask some other guys to put feelers out there," he said.

  "I'll send you her picture. And, thanks. I appreciate it."

  We hung up, and I texted the photo to Antonio.

  Sam put the magazines back exactly how she'd found them and faced me. "Where to now?"

  Honestly? I wasn't sure.

  My phone chirped before I could answer. Oh God, please don't be Antonio with news already. If it was him, it couldn't have been anything good this fast.

  Luckily I saw Caleigh's tiny face on my phone's display. I read the message and walked to the door. "We're meeting Caleigh. She's got something on Harold Hampshire."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I halfway hoped to hear from Antonio and halfway hoped not to as I checked my phone at least a dozen times between Apple's apartment in Hollywood and the church in Silver Lake where Caleigh had told us to meet her. I parked on the street in front of the small white structure, reluctantly put my phone on vibrate, and shoved it into my pocket. Caleigh stepped out of her car two spots up from us and met us on the sidewalk.

  "Hey," I greeted her. "What's this place?"

  "A nondenominational Christian Church as far as I can tell," Caleigh said. She jutted her chin toward the building. "Harold and a woman walked inside there about fifteen minutes ago."

  Sam raised her eyebrows. "You got him 'scouting' already?"

  "Possibly. I've been tailing him since I left the office. After he left his house, he went to the bank and the barber, and then he picked this woman up outside a one-story ranch house a few blocks south of Los Feliz. I don't know who she is, but I already gave the address to Maya. She's looking into it."

  I stared at the church. It wasn't a big building. In fact, it was quite small, butting right up against the street. The siding had a worn grayish tint to it from years of smog deposits and very little rain to wash it away. But, I supposed churches weren't meant to be flashy.

  "Well, we're not going to learn anything out here." I took a step forward, but Sam grabbed my arm.

  Her eyes narrowed and darted back and forth between the church and us. "We're going inside? Isn't it wrong to spy in a church?"

  Caleigh snickered.

  "Relax," I told her. "We're not going to make a scene. I just want to see who Harold is with and what he's doing."

  She bit her lip. "Couldn't we just wait and see her when they come out?"

  I paused. I'd admit, it did feel a teeny tiny bit wrong to invade a man's privacy while he prayed. "Ten minutes," I agreed. "If they aren't out by then, we go in."

  Sam didn't look exactly happy at that, but she stopped chewing her lipstick off.

  "Seems like a weird place to bring a date if you ask me," Caleigh chimed in. "I mean, I don't think I've ever tailed a cheater and his mistress to church before."

  "Ditto," I agreed. Then again, we'd never taken a case like this either. Weren't polygamists deeply religious? Maybe a day of praying was a hot date in their culture.

  Twelve minutes passed—during which I forced myself not to check my phone anymore—and I was about to drag Sam into the church, when the doors opened and several people walked out. Then more. Soon the small patch of concrete in front of the church was packed with at least a dozen people.

  "Which one is he?" I whispered to Caleigh.

  She pointed a glossy peach nail toward a man in brown pants, loafers, a white shirt, and a brown tie. He was bland looking to the point of forgettable, with thinning brown hair and a very pale complexion. He was tall and slender, and his flat snub nose reminded me of a bulldog Derek had once owned.

  Beside him stood an equally tall woman, with short golden hair and ruddy cheeks, in an ankle-length navy skirt and matching top. She appeared to be dressed as modestly as Harold's wives, minus the expensive jewelry. She wore a small light blue purse, strapped horizontally along her body, securing it to her side. I recognized it as a Kate Spade, or at least a really fantastic knockoff of one. The fashion piece looked oddly incongruent with her otherwise dowdy attire.

  I pulled out my phone and snapped several pictures of Harold and his lady friend and hoped I looked more touristy than stalkerish.

  A man in a gray suit approached us. "Hello, I'm the pastor of this church. Were you ladies coming inside?"

  I nodded. "Uh, no. Thanks. We're, just, checking out the area."

  He raised an eyebrow.

  "We're thinking of buying. Just came from an open house down there." Caleigh pointed in a vague direction.

  I glanced to Sam to gauge her disapproving frown. Hey, at least we hadn't lied inside the building.

  "Welcome. We are always open to new members," he said with an impressive smile.

  "Are the services over?" Caleigh asked.

  He shook his head. "Today is community day. We like to leave God's house and help out around us.
You are welcome to join us and see more of the neighborhood. We are only going down the street."

  I started to decline but spied Harold and his lady friend gathering among the parishioners ready to leave God's house. While I itched to go back to looking for Apple, the truth was I was out of places to do said looking until someone got back to me.

  "We'd love to," I said.

  Caleigh and Sam both shot me a look that said love wasn't the word they'd use.

  I shrugged. It got us close to Harold, didn't it?

  The pastor led the group, and we fell in line behind everyone. I discreetly pushed past a couple of elderly women chatting about the begonias in an effort to get close enough to Harold and his lady friend and overhear anything interesting. Only as I moved closer, I realized they weren't talking. About anything. Great. Hard to overhear anything incriminating when nothing was being said.

  I decided to go with the direct approach.

  "Have I seen you here before?" I asked the woman.

  She looked startled that someone was speaking to her. "I, uh, yeah, I mean, I'm here every Sunday." She shot Harold a look.

  I wasn't sure if she was lying or just trying to earn brownie points with the guy.

  "I'm Jamie. I'm new." Which was true—as of two minutes ago, I'd never been there.

  "Harold," her companion said, sticking out a hand my way. While his appearance was forgettable, he had a surprisingly strong, confident grip. "And this is Jan."

  Jan grinned, her lips tightly pressed together, and gave me a curt nod.

  I nodded back. "Nice to meet you both." I looked down at Harold's ring finger, adorned with the same simple style gold band as his two wives. "You two are married?" I asked, playing dumb.

  Jan's cheeks flushed. But Harold just gave me a smile. "We're good friends."

  "Ah. Well, nice to meet you," I repeated. I slowed my pace, falling back with the girls again.

  "Verdict?" Sam asked quietly.

  "Guilty as charged. The woman is Jan, and she's definitely into him."

  "But is he into her?" Caleigh asked.

  "That remains to be seen," I said.

  As I discreetly checked my phone for any news of Apple, we arrived at our destination. I knew because everyone suddenly stopped walking, and the pastor shouted, "We're here."

  I looked up from my screen—no news yet—to find the spot we'd be helping the community today. Standing before us was a building just slightly bigger than the church. It was painted bright yellow with a blue roof and multicolored flowers in the windowpanes. The pastor was leading the group through a fence to a yard filled with a slide, a couple of swings, short tables and benches, and other play equipment for pint-sized humans. And a wooden plaque above the door read Rainbow Sunshine Daycare.

  You had to be kidding me.

  "I think it's time to go," I told the girls.

  "What, afraid of a few little kids?" Sam teased.

  I shot her a look. "You were afraid of going in a church."

  "Spying in a church."

  "Look—is Harold holding Jan's hand?" Caleigh pointed.

  It was hard to tell from this far away. He seemed to be leaning toward her, but as soon as I had a good angle to see their hands, he took a self-conscious step away.

  "Fine." I sighed. "We'll stay. But just for a few minutes to catch Harold in the act," I warned.

  But neither Bond Girl heard me.

  Caleigh had already taken off to join a little girl who was spinning round and round, watching her tutu rise up over her leggings. Sam smiled at a couple of kids on the swings and offered her assistance in pushing.

  I stood in my spot wondering how I could fade into the background and not be noticed.

  It wasn't that I disliked kids. Sam's son, Julio Jr., was awesome. He was also in middle school and didn't pick his nose and wipe it on his shirt, like the little boy in the sandbox. I simply wasn't dressed for this. And well, if I was being honest, small children scared me a little. They were so honest and direct. They told it like it was, and sometimes a woman didn't want to be reminded that her skin looked splotchy or she was a little bloated. It wasn't good for the self-esteem.

  Harold and Jan had wandered over to the slide and were helping the kids climb up, holding a hand by their backs as they teetered so they wouldn't fall backwards. The slide was only two feet tall, and there was rubber matting beneath all of the surfaces, which made it unlikely any child would be hurt—churchgoing helpers or not. It also made it very hard to walk in heels, as I gingerly picked my way toward the couple.

  They smiled a lot, and Jan definitely looked at Harold affectionately. If I had to guess, there was something more than just a mutual love of community service going on there.

  Suddenly a small person wearing only a T-shirt ran past me, holding out her discarded diaper for all to see. Her chubby legs carried her quickly as a frazzled teacher chased her down.

  I yelped and stepped farther away.

  I thought I heard Caleigh laugh from across the playground.

  I had to admit that the longer it took for the teacher to reach the toddler, and the more the child's butt jiggled while she ran, the cuter it became. Just the same, I walked closer to the building to stay out of the way. I didn't notice the little boy until I almost stepped on him.

  He squatted in front of a plastic yellow dump truck and added blades of grass to the open-box bed. His back was to his classmates, and he seemed pretty content to be alone.

  The little boy glanced to my legs, but he didn't look all the way up. He had on blue pants and a yellow shirt, pretty much matching the building he was crashing his truck into. The sun shimmered on his light brown hair, creating wheat and honey color prisms.

  "Hi," I said. Despite my reluctance to being here, I didn't want to be rude. And he was quiet. I liked quiet kids.

  He ignored me though. Cool. Ignored I could do.

  I glanced up to check in on Harold and Jan. They were still by the slide, helping each child to the top, still gazing into each other's eyes between kids. Gazing was good, but if they'd just share a chaste peck on the cheek or pious little booty grab, we'd know for sure we were on the right track.

  Sam was still at the swings, pushing a new crop of kids as she kept one eye on our happy couple. Caleigh, however, was no longer with Tutu Girl. She stood rigid by the back door of the daycare and looked horrified at a dirty handprint on the leg of her white pants.

  A woman, who I assumed was another teacher, stepped from the building and offered Caleigh a wet paper towel. As if that was going to help.

  See. That was why I didn't do kids. Cute as they sometimes were, they were messy, and I already had all the mess I could handle in my life.

  Something tugged at my skirt, and I looked down to see Truck Boy holding on to its hem. From what I could tell, his hands were clean.

  "What's your name?" I asked. "I'm Jamie."

  He didn't say anything, and I wondered if I was in his way, but he seemed to be content staying in his corner.

  "Do you need me to get you a teacher or something?" He had a little button nose and large brown eyes, and his hair curled around the collar of his shirt, and his side bangs fell into his eyes. He shook his head and drove his truck up the siding.

  Several loud squeals caught my attention, and I looked away to find six children running in a circle around Jan. The smile on the woman's face was pinched, and clearly she wasn't having fun anymore. The kids giggled and screamed as they circled her. Harold stood off a bit, looking unsure if he should try to help.

  A teacher shouted for the kids to stop, but she was just as quickly sidelined by a child falling off the slide and screaming bloody murder. Huh. Guess it was possible to hurt yourself on foam after all. The child seemed more dazed than anything else, but his cries sounded as if his entire body was broken.

  With the teacher distracted, a couple more kids joined the odd game of Ring Around the Jan, but they didn't just want to run. They each held clumps of dirt and threw
it into the air. Most of it landed on Jan's face, causing her to cough and sneeze. Some of it tickled Harold's nose, and he swatted at it.

  Everything happened so fast.

  The other kids thought that a dirt storm would be fun too, so they all grabbed tiny handfuls from the far corner of the lot and ran around throwing it into the air. They weren't near Jan, so she ran to Harold, who put an arm around her shoulders. She shrugged it off though and looked like she was about to burst into tears. I couldn't blame her. I wasn't anywhere near the raining dirt, and I wanted to cry. But there was something else about Jan's tense expression. Something that made me think she didn't want to be here, that she would start shoving kids aside any moment. I suddenly wondered whose idea it had been to go on this church outing.

  Harold called Jan's name. I watched her turn toward him, and the tense expression faded instantly—replaced by a big cheesy smile and a look of absolute adoration at the little monsters throwing dirt in the air. Well, that seemed fake.

  The pastor and other congregation members chased after the kids like the teacher had with Diaper Girl before, but without results. Those little humans were fast. With the air quickly filling, I decided it was time to make our exit. I motioned to Caleigh and Sam, pointing toward the gate.

  Only, I was focused on getting their attention and not at the pint-sized speed racers at knee height. One sideswiped me, and I teetered on the unstable mat in my heels. And I might have been able to right myself, too, if it hadn't been for the hit-and-run kid's buddy trailing behind him, who tossed a clump of dirty grass right up in my face.

  I sneezed, tripped again, and felt my body going down, trapped heels twisting my legs up like I was on a skating rink performing a double axel for all of my adoring fans. Unfortunately, my last time on ice included mittens and pigtails, and at the age of eight I hadn't been able to stay upright then. Or now.