Stacy
“Stay hydrated, get plenty of rest and do not stress yourself out.”
The psychiatrist’s words were like a dagger through my heart. Her first suggestion wouldn’t be a problem. The remaining two, however, constituted major problems, ones that would have a major impact on both my personal life and Miles & Briar.
Why? Because I had undertaken a big task, and I had yet to deliver. Sure, I had interviewed Anna’s neighbors, but that was just part of what I had to do. I still hadn’t spoken to anyone from Consolidated Building or researched its executives. Unlike those pensioners, they did have a motive. With Anna out of the picture, they believed that David would sell the property in no time. It was a theory, yes, and now it was more complicated by the fact that we got shot at.
Furthermore, I’d made this case our firm’s top priority. I was sure that Michelle would be glad to do everything, but her professionalism was not an issue. The real issue would be her potential endangerment. Not long ago, she and Jake had been targeted by his ex’s mother. Despite the love he harbored for David, he wouldn’t appreciate the idea of Michelle potentially putting herself in harm’s way. I didn’t wish to put either of them in this position, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. My workaholic friend would either do that or take divorce cases again. And knowing that she had been fed up with those, I had no doubt that she would soon be looking into Consolidated Building.
Still drowsy from the ordeal last night, I followed David into his apartment, Michelle and Jake on my flanks. They had been kind enough to drive David and me back to his apartment.
“I’ll never get used to the size of this place,” Jake protested, sweeping the interior. “Look at it. The living room alone is longer than a basketball court.”
“It’s a good thing you don’t have to get used to it,” David interjected his opinion. “She does.” He tossed a rapid glance over at me.
“I don’t like this, David,” I claimed, striding towards him. “I don’t like this at all.”
“Come on, girl,” he said sweetly. “The doctor said you should rest.”
“The doctor suggested I rest,” I corrected him. “I suggest I don’t. My work isn’t finished, and I don’t want to burden Michelle with it.”
“That makes two of us,” Jake murmured, focusing on his friend. “It’s too dangerous. Why didn’t you hire a private investigator for this? Someone more experienced in this sort of thing could have done a lot more than just interview people.”
“I don’t trust PIs,” David said. “There’s just too much competition between them, which means they can be bought off.”
“Not all of them,” Jake added, the confidence in his tone puzzling me. “I read in the news recently about a certain PI recently called Jessica Trent. Apparently, she’s helped the police crack some pretty touch cases. She doesn’t come cheap. Rumor has it that she makes about a hundred thousand per case.”
“Keep talking,” David urged, intrigued.
“Her mom and dad were decorated cops until they were both killed in a gang-related shootout back in 2011,” Jake continued. “She was a cop as well, but quit the force the very next day, because she couldn’t operate within the confines of the law. Three months later, she located her parents’ killers.”
“Let me guess,” David requested with a smirk. “They both got out in three years due to good behavior.”
“Actually, neither of them saw the inside of a prison cell,” Jake informed, his voice dripping with admiration. “Trent is a martial arts expert. She beat them both into a coma. The girl is—and I quote—a sworn enemy of anything and everything that’s rotten in this city. She’s a vigilante. I think she’s perfect for the job.”
“How do we find her?” David posed a question, his tone quicker than usual.
“Her contact information is on her website,” Jake replied, smiling down at him.
“Now that’s settled, can we please do something about Stacy?” Michelle wondered, sauntering towards David. “I think it’s good that you want to take care of her, but even your apartment won’t help her much. The way I see it, we should address the ‘relaxation’ part.”
“What are you suggesting?” I cocked an eyebrow, her words piquing my interest.
“A vacation,” Michelle was quick to respond, facing me. “We don’t have to go anywhere exotic; it doesn’t even have to be for that long, just a weekend.”
“I don’t know about that, Michelle,” David declared, indecision spreading across his expression.
I parted my lips, wishing to discuss this further with him, but, before I had the chance to do so, he turned around and started off down the hall.
I shifted my attention to Michelle and glared at her.
David was still in profound pain. Regardless of what had happened to me, the whole situation surrounding the loss of his mother had been tormenting him.
Unlike my friend, I doubted he wanted to go away at all. Yet, Michelle had just made a suggestion. She hadn’t tried to persuade us into anything.
I shuffled off behind him as his heavy footsteps led him to his kitchen.
“I don’t need a holiday,” I declared, stepping around him. “Forget what Michelle said. She wasn’t thinking about what you’re going through right now.”
“Don’t blame her. She was just trying to help,” David spoke in a calm voice. “Look, I’ve been thinking about a vacation with you since our friends got back from their honeymoon. I’ve never been anywhere exotic, and I’d like my first time to be with you.”
“That’s very sweet of you,” I said, my lips curling into a happy smile.
“Will a short getaway make you feel better?” He asked, leaning closer to me.
“I guess so,” I presumed, gazing up into his eyes. “In fact, I think we could both use a change of scenery.”
“That’s all I needed to hear.” He grinned and pecked a short kiss on my forehead. “We’re doing this. But let me just go meet with that PI first.”
He took off back to the living room and I followed, “Kids…” he went on, turning his gaze to Jake. “Go pack your bags again. We’re going away for the weekend.”
“Great!” Michelle cheered, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she put her hands together. “I’ve found the perfect destination. Topsail Island, down along North Carolina’s coast.”
“Sounds good,” David commented.
“I just called Jessica Trent,” Jake announced. “We can meet with her at six tonight.”
“Good,” David nodded.
In true David fashion, he started teasing his friend, telling him that his floral shirts made him look very manly. Although I enjoyed their banter, I wished that they saved it for another day. Why? Because the noble man in David had just resurfaced. Now, he was willing to spend the weekend with me, hundreds of miles away from the city. And it filled me with the urge to take him up to his bedroom and show him my wild side again…
Chapter 16
David
“You should have done this sooner…”
Much to my frustration, Jake repeated the same phrase five times during the drive to Trent’s office. It wasn’t the repetition that annoyed me. It was the fact that he had a point.
Grief had clouded my judgment. In my despair, I had turned to the only person I could trust, and ended up putting her in harm’s way.
An outsider would say that I should have given this some time. Pain doesn’t allow people to see things clearly.
But, outsiders don’t feel the gut-wrenching pain that I felt when I received the news of my mother’s demise. In that dark hour, I had acted like a human being. I sought the help of a decent woman, believing that her integrity was her most important trait. If I could turn back time, I wouldn’t change anything.
Jake and I were in for an unpleasant surprise that afternoon. According to her website, Trent’s address was somewhere in the suburbs of Brooklyn. You’d think that a high-profile investigator like her would be statione
d in a fancy building in the downtown area, but no. Her building was anything but modern. It was in a crowded neighborhood, surrounded by structures that towered over it. Size and exterior gave away its age. Large chunks of white paint had flaked off. Numerous cracks in the concrete, both under the balconies and along the sides had me staring at my cell phone, wondering if we had the right address. The light-red sign didn’t leave any room for doubt, though.
‘Urban Fox
Private Investigators’
“I’m not sold on this, man,” I said to Jake, crossing the street alongside him. “This place looks like shit.”
“I can’t argue with that,” he agreed “It does look crappy.”
“Awesome,” I groaned, noticing a wide gap between the staircase and the wall. “No elevator. When was this place built? The nineteen twenties?”
“Stop complaining, will you?” Jake requested, annoyance evident in his tone. “Let’s just have a word with her.”
Climbing the stairs, I stayed silent, my focus on the walls around me. Within moments, I realized that they shared a similar fate with the rest of the building. Large portions of paint were missing as well, the smell of cement strong in the air.
Trent’s office was at the end of a long, narrow corridor. Still, there was something very wrong with it. A large portion of the glass in the middle of the door was missing. All that remained was a small fragment on top which contained the words ‘Urban Fox’. The investigator herself was sitting in her hair, her feet up on the desk, not moving.
“Real professional,” I scoffed, the thought of fleeing crossing my mind.
Jake reached through the broken glass and turned the rusty doorknob, ignoring me. Walking in, a mix of burning cigarette and alcohol rushed into my nostrils. I counted five butts in the ashtray in front of her. A cigarette in it was dying out, thin threads of smoke rising up in the air. The empty bottle of whiskey just beside the ashtray was a telltale sign of what she had been up to.
“Ahem…” Jake cleared his throat, halting near her desk.
“Hmmm?” She hummed, partly opening her left eye.
“This is fucking absurd!” I grumbled, glaring up at my friend. “This is the high-profile PI you wouldn’t shut up about? She’s a drunk, man!”
“Jay D and his manager,” Jessica spoke, her voice hoarse as she took her feet off her desk. “You’re a little rude for a PR specialist, Marshall.”
“Said the drunken chick in army boots,” I scoffed once more, pursing my lips.
“Get to the point, gentlemen,” Jessica urged, putting some force in her voice.
“My mother was murdered about four weeks ago,” I began, setting a dossier of documents down on her desk. “The cops looked into it, but came up with jack. An associate of mine talked to her neighbors. You’ll find transcripts of these conversations in there, along with their addresses. A developer called ‘Consolidated Building’ bought them out, but my mother wouldn’t sell. I suspect they had something to do with it.”
“I’ve heard of them, but no, that’s not their style,” Jessica shook her head in disagreement. “I wouldn’t put it past them, but they specialize in other criminal activities.”
“Like what?”
“A lot,” her answer came before I had finished my question. “Their CEO has been suspected of drug trafficking and gun smuggling for a while now, but the cops haven’t been able to tie him to the case. Was she dating anyone at the time of the crime?”
I sighed and sat down in the chair on my left. “No. She broke up with her last boyfriend more than a year ago. But, when I paid him a visit the other day, he shot at me. I barely got out of there alive.”
“You don’t know if it was him who shot you,” Jake interjected.
“That’s true,” I agreed with a nod. “I believe he’s renting that house, but the cops think he lives in Vermont. Are you confused yet?”
“I’ve heard more complicated things than that,” Jessica claimed. “Now, about my fee. It’s twenty grand. Half up front, half after I’ve cracked the case. Checks and cash only.”
“Just…”
“Don’t give me that hundred grand bullshit,” She groaned, her face twisting into an expression of disapproval. “The press made up that crap. The other day, they said I was dating Mark Ruffalo. Do you think I’d be renting this dump if I made that kind of money?”
“I’m not going to give you the hundred grand bullshit, but I’m going to give you the hundred grand if you find out who killed my mother,” I declared, my checkbook in my palm as I grabbed a pen from her desk. “Here’s ten for starters. Prove to me you’re as good as the press say you are, and I’ll make you rich.”
“A hundred thousand never made anybody rich,” Jessica countered, a cold expression on her face as I wrote the check. “It’s good money, but…”
“Remember who you’re talking to, hun,” I interrupted, taking my eyes off the paper to look up at her. “Find out who did this, and I’ll make you famous. Simple as that.” The PI nodded in acknowledgment and took the check. “Nice meeting you. Here’s my number. Call me when you find something.”
At that point, I winked and turned away from her. That shabby interior and her bad habits hadn’t gone down well with me. I was expecting to meet an organized, clean-cut investigator, not a weird brunette with a soft tooth for whiskey and cigarettes. Looks can be deceiving… I just hoped that I had found one of the few people this saying applied to. Otherwise, my mother’s killer would never pay for his crime…
Chapter 17
Stacy
“To a fun weekend.”
Four glasses clinked that night at ‘Golden Trumpet’, a classy, vintage bar in Manhattan. Under blue, red and green spotlights and surrounded by posters of blues greats like B.B. King and Etta James, I sipped my gin. I couldn’t agree more with Michelle’s toast. David and I were in dire need of a distraction, something that would take our minds off our recent mishaps.
Still, regardless of how that weekend would turn out, I had no illusions. I was one-hundred-percent sure that the minute we got back to New York, we would dive right back into agony and uncertainty. Both of us had been scarred. David might have been carrying a heavier burden than me, but that was not the point. After all, this wasn’t a competition. He had been deprived of the woman who had brought him to this world. No one could fill that hole in his heart. I could hold him, I could try and comfort him, but that was pretty much all I could do. Nevertheless, some time away from the noisy city and our troubles was perhaps the only remedy for our nerves. Topsail Island wasn’t the exotic paradise Jake and Michelle had been to recently, but it was guaranteed to help us feel better, even for a couple of days.
“Somebody get me my guitar,” Jake requested, swaying his head to the rhythm of B.B. King’s ‘Rock me baby’.
“I’d join you if you’d have me,” David smiled up at him. “I’ve kind of missed my drum kit.”
“You play the drums?” I asked, surprise sending my voice an octave up.
“I used to, until Mr. Grumpy replaced me with computer software,” he added, his tone cheerful. “Man, I should have taped those rehearsals. Whenever I missed a beat, he would throw things at me. Once, I’d made the mistake of cooking lasagna in his mansion. I ate in a hurry, because I wanted to practice. I started playing a slow tune, but dropped one of my sticks. I bent down to pick it up, but as I did, I saw his plate flying towards me. And the fork. Good times.”
“Hey, it wasn’t my fault you couldn’t synchronize your hands,” Jake teased him with a grin.
“I was a total novice, you idiot,” David chuckled before downing his drink. “Anyway, I’m glad you got to discover those computer apps. They saved my skin.”
“And gave me the pain,” Jake emphasized. “They were not what you’d call user-friendly. I had to study each for weeks before I could learn how to use them.”
“I’d like to see you play together,” I confessed, unable to stop smiling.
“Yeah,
the seasoned musicians and the novice drummer. That wouldn’t be embarrassing,” David uttered, his own smile vanishing. “I think I’m going to have to wear a helmet, too, in case Jake decides to start throwing things at me again.”
“Jake, I’m starting to like your friend here,” I shifted my attention to my friend’s husband. “Please, don’t hurt him.”
“I can’t make any promises,” he shrugged, his eyes still on his friend.
***
David
“Excuse me, kids. Nature calls,” I said, unwilling to dignify Jake’s comment with a response. As I set my glass down on the counter however, a male voice whispered in my ear.
“You’re both gonna die.”
In the blink of an eye, any notion of calmness was torn to shreds.
I felt my blood pumping in my veins and pound in my temples. I swirled around, in eagerness to face my aspiring killer. A short, young man with brown hair was hurtling among the tables, heading to the exit.
I jumped off my stool, letting off a grunt of indignation. Without wasting another second, I sped off in his direction.
I knocked an empty chair over, my gaze on the arched door as he rushed through it. The music was muffled once I found myself outside. A row of lampposts to my left revealed the stranger. He was running parallel to the parked cars down the road, looking back at me.
He was at least twenty yards away, yet, I wasn’t going to let that detail deter me. I set off in pursuit, the whisper playing in a loop in my mind. Whoever he was, he had just made a bad mistake.
Jumping over a garbage can lid I sped past a brown Cadillac. The stranger continued onwards, every now and again looking back. Amazingly enough, his eyes had widened in fear.
Unbelievable…
He had just threatened me and Stacy, and he was afraid of being caught?
I didn’t let that question preoccupy me. My fast strides were closing the gap between us. I could even hear his panting and the rustling of his jeans.
Picking up my pace further, I felt my foot smash into something hard. In my eagerness to catch him, I failed to notice a rise in the pavement where a chunk of concrete angled up. In a split second, I was flying in the air, arms and legs flailing. I landed flat and hard on my chest, my head inches from a lamppost as my face banged against the ground.
B10 - His Desire Page 9