“Hey now,” Kip scolded me, “I’m a married man.”
I knew better than to take him seriously, long after we broke up he still adored the attention.
“See what else you can find and hit me back, okay?”
“Will do.” I almost ended the call when I heard his final admonition, “And tell your parents, Lindy.”
I hung up, knowing he was right. Jackie was their daughter, and it needed to be done.
“After all this is settled,” I said aloud. I couldn’t manage to think about it before then.
My phone buzzed as the email from Kip came through. The newspaper article listed the shooting as gang related, though no gangs took responsibility. The victim was Shawn Lawdries from the downtown sector. No known ties to gangs, possibly just the wrong place at the wrong time. The interesting fact was that he was found with the dust from methamphetamines on his skin and clothes, but none in his system.
My phone buzzed again with another email from Kip. School reports, scholarship applications, more information than my simple search skills would have uncovered. Kip had a way of circumventing any firewall or security measure that had been put in place. That was why I needed him.
By all accounts the victim had been a good kid. His grades weren’t perfect, but his scholarship essay mentioned working part time to help his single mom pay the rent. Take that into account and his grades were stellar. His job was listed as the convenience store across the street from the club. A police report suggested that perhaps he was used as a drug runner for one of the gangs. It would explain the drugs on his hair and clothes, but not in his system, but the close proximity to Club Feugo had me suspicious.
No way around it, I needed to check out Club Feugo.
♦ ♦ ♦
The difference between open mic night at Ace’s and an average night at Club Feugo is night and day. Where Ace’s had an indie hipster vibe with candles dotting the tables and low lights, I had to wonder what deviant acts were hidden in the shadows of Club Feugo.
I’m not great with all things girlie, and when I go out, especially if it’s undercover, I find if I keep applying the darkest eye makeup and reddest lipsticks I can find, it works. To me I look like a raccoon on patrol, but the looks I received from the men lining the bar told me they appreciated the wildlife look. The crimson red skirt I dug from the back of my closet hit just above mid-thigh. Coupled with some knee-high boots my mother had stashed from the ’70s, I felt as though I might look the part.
At Aces I’d tried to become one with the talent. At Feugo, I knew my best chances were to blend in and try to go unnoticed. I sat at the long bar that stretched the length of the back wall. Alcohol bottles glittered from the mirrored shelves behind the bar. The cynical side of me wondered if the bottles at the top were filled with water for show.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked me within seconds of sitting. I couldn’t help but flashback to that night at Johnny’s, the night I’d met Ryder. How I wished I could go back and play the entire night over with a different ending.
“Just a Coke,” I said and he disappeared to fill my request.
The music assaulted my mind. I rarely listened to music. It dulled my senses and distracted my mind. Combined with the flashing lights, I knew I was in trouble for surveillance.
The glass slipped over the resin top. I reached for my purse, but the man to my right offered to pay instead. I wanted to object, but that wouldn’t fit in with the atmosphere. Instead, I forced a smile and engaged in small talk. If nothing else it gave me an alibi and kept me off the dance floor with the sea of twisted bodies.
My night went on in that pattern, soda and small talk while I watched the club. After an hour I nearly gave up. It was dirty, lewd and deafening, but nothing illegal as far as I could tell. I let some of the local talent pull my newest beau off to the dance floor. Sighing, I pulled my phone from my purse and clicked open the PI Net tab.
The messenger popped up moments after I’d logged in.
“Hi, Katie,” Ryder wrote. “I was hoping you’d log in tonight.”
For a moment I let myself feel the jealousy of my beloved obviously searching out another girl, but I had to admit when the tables were turned I’d often hoped Sleuth28 would log in as well. Maybe it should have buoyed my spirits that no matter the name or alias we were still drawn to each other.
“Hi, Ryder, it’s good to talk to you.” I felt grateful not everything I said to him had to be a lie.
The bubbles appeared on the screen and then the words, “It’s been a rough week. It’s good to have a friend. Are you working right now?”
I let my eyes roll over the crowd before I wrote, “Yes, just surveillance. Nothing dangerous. You’re giving me credibility because my face is buried in my phone just like the rest of the club.” I thought for a moment before I tacked on, “What was rough about this week?”
Stupid question. Everything about his life was rough. What I really wanted to know was what had changed.
“I went home yesterday,” Ryder wrote. “I live in a lighthouse. I’m an artist, or I was, I don’t know what to do now.”
I took a deep breath in through my nose. At least he was home again.
“Any more memories with the psychologist?”
“No,” was his quick response.
Noise on the floor caught my attention. A couple of girls shoved each other, camera phones flicked on while everyone tried to get their piece of the action. I was worried the squirrelly looking girl might rip the other girl’s hair out before the bouncers got there, but they busted up the fight and ejected the two girls.
My phone buzzed and caught my attention. Ryder had written, “I’m starting to have flashes of memories, stronger now, but I don’t like them.”
“Did you tell anyone?”
“I told you just now, doesn’t that count?”
Even though I couldn’t hear him, I could see his lopsided grin and imagine the twinkle in his eyes when he thought he might get away with something.
“What did you see?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“A girl,” he wrote, “really little, blonde hair. I think she was sick. I remember taking care of her, but I don’t know who she was. I’m not a doctor, Katie. I dropped out of med school.”
I wanted to tell him her name was Moonlight, or rather Chloe. Her mother was Fern, and we’d saved them from their prison. But I couldn’t because I was Katie to him and Katie didn’t know anything about Eden’s Haven.
“And violence, and guns,” he wrote. I felt his panic in the speed of his words. “And crying, women crying, and someone getting beaten, and I remember a gun to my head.” The speed stopped and the bubbles went away.
My nose scrunched together to stop the tears gathering. I needed to be there with him, to help him understand what he was remembering, but I wasn’t. The guilt sliced me open, raw and forgotten.
“Mostly I remember Lindy,” he wrote. “I think she was there. The shrink screwed up during session the other day and said something about us being there together.”
Before I could stop my fingers I typed the words, “Maybe that’s why she can’t be with you now. Maybe they’re keeping her away.”
Commotion at the front door caught my attention. The later it became, the more chaotic it appeared. More alcohol in the system perhaps? Or maybe the dangerous creatures waited for darkness to blanket the city before they ventured into the night?
“Maybe,” Ryder wrote back, “but Lindy doesn’t listen to the rules. She makes her own.”
I couldn’t help but smile at his words, not quite praise, but not quite condemnation.
The bubbles appeared and then, “But that’s what doesn’t make sense. She breaks the rules for everyone, why not this? Why not me?”
Because I’m keeping you safe.
“Do you have a boyfriend, Katie?”
The question nearly knocked me off my barstool. My first inclination was to ask why, but that would sound
beyond defensive.
“I have someone, we don’t have a title,” is what I settled on and pressed send.
“Makes sense,” he wrote back, “that you’d have someone. There’s this girl, Vanessa. She says we were a couple, and we were in love, but I don’t feel anything. I remember dating her, but it’s pretty hazy.”
My inner Lindy reared up, claws out, ready to surgically remove Vanessa from his life once and for all, but Katie couldn’t show that much emotion.
“You should trust your instincts,” is all I wrote.
“Stay away from that she-demon-man-thief,” was what I wanted to write but didn’t.
He didn’t write back, so I watched the crowd. My eyes caught something, no someone, someone I knew, but he didn’t belong here. He belonged at the law firm. Andrew, the jerk lawyer with all the stupid jokes I hated. What was he doing at Feugo?
“My psychologist said that same thing, he keeps telling me to trust my instincts, but it’s hard, you know?”
In my glance down to read Ryder’s message, I nearly lost Andrew in the crowd. Two large Hispanic men strong-armed him through the crowd, headed for the back. My worlds collided. My gut was right, and it’d paid off. No reputable defense attorney would be doing work this late on the weekend in a shady club. Something was up.
“Katie, I have to go,” Ryder wrote. “Vanessa and my mom are here. Can I talk to you tomorrow?”
My blood boiled at the thought of Vanessa stepping foot anywhere near the lighthouse, but it would have to wait. At least with his mother there she’d have to keep everything G-rated.
“Tomorrow, for sure.” I clicked off my phone.
Andrew stumbled out of the crowd on the other side of the room. His taut jaw stiffened. His lips nearly puckered as if he’d tasted something sour; by the look of terror in his eyes, I wagered it was his own stomach bile. Not wanting to get behind, I jumped to my feet, hiked my skirt another two inches, and headed for the same archway I’d seen them push Andrew through. The sign read “bathrooms” but they hadn’t gone that way, they’d taken the right turn. I followed, trying to stumble along the way as I followed the sound of their feet.
After the second turn in the labyrinth, I ran into a man, young, fair skinned, dark hair, and from the bulge beneath his jacket I wagered he was packing a semi-automatic. Nothing I wanted to mess with. He blocked my way, and I was going no further.
He spotted me within seconds, and his right hand moved to his weapon. I was ready for him.
“Do you know where the bathroom is?” I faltered and let my heels twist beneath me. “I don’t feel good.”
I fell heavily into his arms; after all it’s hard to shoot someone when you’re holding them.
“Oopsie!” I made sure to giggle and even let one snort escape through my nose. “I fell!”
He growled hard and whistled for help. Rough arms dragged me around the corner and dropped me in a heap. I heard a few words in Spanish, “borracha,” which I knew was drunk, and then “zorra,” which I didn’t recognize, but they had a good laugh over whatever it meant. I thought they might leave, but I felt a hand on my ankle, pulling my leg from beneath me. Dread gripped my stomach. I weighed my options if he chose to attack. They both outweighed me. I was a far cry from fighting strength anymore.
From the slits in my eyes I saw the first man, the one I fell into, put his hand on his companion’s shoulder. “She’s not worth the trouble.”
I made sure my eyes were closed. Something wet and slimy collided with my face. His spit slowly dribbled over my cheekbone, sliding toward my neck.
“Adios, zorra.”
“Not even worth the trouble,” a new voice grumbled before they left.
I held still, stomach flipping at the saliva that oozed over my skin. Once I knew I was alone, I swiped the spit from my face and rubbed my hand against my skirt. Tucking my knees beneath me, I crawled to the edge of the hall. They were still there, the man I’d fallen into and his companion who liked to call me names. That room, the room they were guarding, that was where I wanted to be. There had to be some way to get back there, but not tonight.
I pulled myself to my feet, not easy in the boots I’d borrowed, and moved to go back the way I’d come in. Nearing the entrance to the archway, I heard a scuffle. At first it sounded like another couple girls fighting over some guy. A whimper, followed by a wheeze. A body hit the floor. I ducked back into the shadows, hidden by the alcove that led to the bathrooms. Bouncers had blocked the entrance. They’d cut off all traffic flow for whatever beating had just taken place.
“You tell him I want my shipment, you hear me?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell him.” Andrew’s voice choked on the pain. He spit once, but cried out in the next second. Heaving and moaning urged me deeper into my hiding place. I needed to hear, but I hated listening.
“No more mistakes, ya hear me?”
Andrew didn’t speak again. Like a rat he fled through the doorway. The others waited, likely making sure he was gone before they spoke.
“Let him deliver the message, then take care of him.”
“Yeah, boss,” the second voice said.
“No loose ends like last time, right?” There was no reply and the same voice plowed on. “It brings too much attention. Don’t do it here either. That kid in the alley, we had cops crawling all over this place. That’s no way to operate business.”
“We tied up those ends, boss. All taken care of.” Though he tried to sound confident, fear leaked into his voice.
“Yeah, and the cops pinched that con-man. You got lucky, but from what I hear he’s hired a PI, and if she starts snooping around, she’s gonna see something,” Boss said.
My skin prickled at their words. If they had any idea that I was listening, I’d be dead by morning. Maybe only after a round or two of torture to learn what I knew and who I’d told it to.
“So what if she does?” the henchman asked. “We’ll take care of her like we did Honey B.”
Ice seeped into my veins. It was a confession. I knew who’d killed her, but it still begged the question why.
“Yeah and you’ll screw that up too. Get back out there, make yourself useful.”
A hard slap rang through the air. I heard a stumble and then they made their way down the opposite hallway. I held still, pressed into the shadows, kicking myself for not wearing black because one errant glance my way and my red skirt would light me up like a firecracker.
Five minutes went by before a couple of girls ventured into the back. I followed behind them, possibly breathing for the first time in minutes.
“Did you see Lulu?” the redhead asked her brunette companion. “She was all over Magnus.”
“And Nix and Cobi, can you say desperate?”
I needed to infiltrate their inner circle to get past the guards at the arch, but it was as if they were speaking another language. What were parents naming children these days? For as long as I live, I swear I’ll never understand the hipsters.
“Do you have any lipstick I could use?” I puckered up into my best duck face. “I’m totes washed out and helpless.”
I was almost as scared having them size me up as I had been hiding from the thugs in the shadows.
“Oh my gosh! Totes cute!” the blonde one said. “Where did you get those vintage boots? Are those from Rewind, or Road Show, or did you get them at Yoku’s?”
Again, foreign language, but I did my best.
“Totally!” I mimicked her, and she handed me the lipstick.
“Are you here with Beckett?”
“You know it,” I said. “Gotta love Beckett.”
They exchanged a quick look. “He said he was here with an older woman. Man, he wasn’t kidding. You must be Teagan.”
I resisted the urge to throw the lipstick at her face. Maybe eight years between us. I was hardly their grandmother, for heaven’s sake.
“Well, ready to get back out there?”
“Totes ready,” they said in uni
son. I wondered if I would have nightmares about this encounter tonight.
Arm in arm with the other girls, I barely raised a second look from the bouncer in the doorway. It didn’t take long to lose them in the crowd and make a quick exit. I never got the chance to meet the elusive Beckett, but I was glad my days of Teagan the Hipster were short lived.
Chapter 14
I’d never been in this position, knowing exactly who’d killed someone, and yet missing everything I needed to put them away. Hearing the confession wasn’t enough to take them down, especially not when I was helping the main suspect. It was the equivalent of saying, “No, seriously, he’s innocent, just trust me, a little bird told me so.” Still, I hoped that if I could talk to Ranger it would give him enough to investigate, and at least I wouldn’t be out in the wind.
Kitchens had never been my strength, again, that was Eleanor’s job, but I was trying to improve the relationship with my mom, so I offered to help get ready for dinner with Ranger Sunday night.
“We’ll have a beef roast, Layton loves roast. Then a side salad, some homemade rolls, and maybe a pie for dessert. I used to make an apple pie for him a long time ago. Once he had three slices.” Her hands ran across her hair as if to smooth it. I’d never seen this side of my mother, giddy and nervous. Was she attracted to Ranger?
“I didn’t know you’d cooked for him so much.” I chopped lettuce for the salad. “I don’t ever remember a beef roast either.”
“Well, that was all before you were born, Lindy.”
It was meant to shut me up, but how could I stop asking questions when she said things like that?
“Dad must be excited for dinner. He and Ranger haven’t hung out in ages.”
“Mmm-hmm,” was all she said, but I smelled a rat.
“You did tell Dad, didn’t you?”
“Well, he’s been busy, and I didn’t want to stress him.” She rubbed seasoning into the roast as if it were enough to avoid my questions.
“He’s an old friend, why would it stress him?”
The roast slipped out of her hands and splashed back into the dish. Mom groaned. “You’re distracting me. Let me think.”
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