“What do you think triggered him to drink the night he crashed his car?”
He crushed out his cigarette on the ground then stood there with arms crossed over his chest. He was looking past me, like I wasn’t there. “No idea.”
“Do you know if Blake had been in touch with his father?”
“Doubt it. He hated his old man.” Trevor shifted his feet left to right a few times, his expression tight. “Look, I don’t know what else you want from me, but I gotta get back to work.”
I wanted to ask him why he seemed so uncomfortable with my questions, but I figured he’d only reply with another defensive remark. “Thanks for talking to me, Trevor. Can I give you my card with my number, in case you remember something about Blake?”
“Don’t bother.” He put up a hand to stop me, just as I was about to reach into my purse. “I already told you, I don’t know why Blake drank the night he died. There’s nothing else to talk about.”
“OK, then. Well, I’ll get out of your hair.”
He left me and headed back to his station at the car wash.
Chapter 3
As I headed back to Bridgeport, I considered popping in at Gail’s office but decided against it. I’d give her till the end of the day to get back to me. Can’t expect people to drop everything to return a call, especially during business hours.
I stopped at the Hometown Diner for a late lunch and ordered the special. I immediately regretted ordering the fettuccine alfredo when the plate was set down in front of me. The meal had to be at least a thousand calories, not including the garlic bread. How many miles of running would it take to burn off that many calories? Probably a week. I should have ordered the chicken Caesar salad, instead.
No point in lamenting. I ate half the meal and took the rest to go. As I was getting back into my car, my phone rang. It was Carter.
“Miss me yet?”
“You’ve only been gone since yesterday,” I teased. “Give it another 24 hours and I should start to miss you.”
He laughed. “Sorry I didn’t answer when you called earlier; I was busy signing up for the seminar this afternoon.”
“Did you get a sneak peak at some of the items?”
“Spectacular. You wouldn’t believe the technology I’m seeing. It’s a whole new world in the business of spy-craft.”
“Find anything you can’t live without?”
“I can’t justify buying new toys right now. We need to land a big job first.”
“Speaking of that, there are two things I wanted to tell you. First, I got a job this morning. Nothing too complicated, so I’ll be able to handle it on my own. Second, I got a call from Max. He’s in town and wants to have dinner tonight.” When Carter didn’t respond right away, I went on. “He invited you to come along, too, before I told him you were out of town. Anyway, I agreed to meet him at the Mexican place, and I hope you don’t mind.”
“Why would I mind?”
“Well, you know, I just want to make sure you’re not uncomfortable with it.”
“Doesn’t bother me, as long as he keeps his hands to himself.”
I chuckled because Carter was the least jealous person I’d ever met. “I’m curious why he wants to see me, though. I get the impression that he wants to talk about something specific.”
“Like what?”
“Don’t know. Sure you’re OK with it?”
“Does he know that we’re living together?”
“Yes, I told him right after I moved in with you.”
“He might be testing the waters with you, to see if he’s still got a chance.”
“Why?” I said. “He lives three thousand miles away.”
“Could be he’s planning to move back East.”
“I doubt that, but I’m sure I’ll find out.”
“And what about Brian? When are you gonna see him?”
“He’s coming over Sunday morning and we’ll spend the rest of the day shopping. I hope he brings the girlfriend; they’ve been dating four months and I still haven’t met her.”
“All in good time,” he said. “Speaking of time, I gotta go. There’s a demonstration starting.”
“Go on, then. Have fun. I love you.”
“Love you, too. Call you later.”
When I got home around two, I did a search online for Clifford Pratt using the social security number and date of birth Sue-Ellen had given me. Last known address was Las Vegas, but the phone number listed had been disconnected.
A search for a death certificate yielded nothing.
In the past two years, there was nothing to pinpoint where Clifford had lived. No car registrations or insurance. No job applications. No credit inquiries. No bankruptcy filings. No passport applications.
I checked all the social media sites just to be thorough, but nothing turned up there.
Either the guy was homeless, or he had changed his name. Perhaps, he had taken someone’s identity.
It was almost five o’clock by the time I gave up on the search. It seemed painfully obvious that Clifford Pratt was a man who did not want to be found.
I closed my laptop and was about to take a shower when Gail Hass called.
“Hello,” she said. “Is this Sarah Woods?”
“Yes. Thank you for calling me back, Ms. Haas. I have a few questions about your late boyfriend, Blake Pratt. His mother hired me.”
After a long pause, she cleared her throat. “What kind of questions?”
“Look, I know it’s only been a few weeks since the accident, so I can understand how this may be painful to talk about, but is there a chance we could meet in person?”
“This is about Blake’s drinking, right? I already told his mother that I have no idea why he would drink that night. He was perfectly sober when he left the event.”
I detected a slight tremor in her voice, like she was fighting to keep her composure.
“I’d really appreciate your help just the same,” I said.
“I suppose I could meet you for a drink tonight. I can leave the office in a few minutes.”
“Perfect,” I said. “I’ll meet you anywhere you want.”
“How about Chantilly Lace, that new martini bar in the South end of Bridgeport. Happy hour is from five to seven.”
That would give me an hour and a half until I’d need to leave to meet Max for dinner. “I can be there in ten minutes. How will I find you?”
“I’m wearing a navy-blue pantsuit.”
“Great, I’ll see you soon.”
Chapter 4
Chantilly Lace was one of the new specialty martini bars that seemed to be cropping up lately in the area. Inside, the décor reminded me of a speakeasy with the red velvet bar stools and mirrors and fake crystal chandeliers. The male bartender was dressed like a gangster character from The Great Gatsby with his gray and white pinstriped suit.
Surprisingly enough, the place was doing a brisk business. Most of the patrons were between thirty and fifty years old, and they all looked as if they had come directly from the office.
I spotted a woman wearing a navy blue pantsuit, sitting by herself at the bar. Sue-Ellen was right, Gail was not what I considered attractive, although her haircut looked expensive, and her clothes were top of the line.
“Hello, Gail.” I saddled up next to her and she turned to me.
“Sarah?”
“Nice to meet you.”
The martini glass in front of her was filled with an electric blue liquid that reminded me of toilet bowl cleaner.
After we shook hands, I asked her how the drinks were.
She gave a shrug. “The martinis are overpriced, but I like the atmosphere. Here, take a look at the menu. You won’t believe some of the outrageous concoctions they’ve come up with.”
I opened the menu and glanced at the list. Each martini had its own clever name. I ordered the Daisy Buchanan, which was Champagne mixed with pear liquor and apple brandy.
Once the bartender went to make the drink,
she leaned toward me and asked, “So, you’re a private detective?”
“Almost three years now.”
“Mrs. Pratt hired you to find out why her son drank the night of the accident?”
“That’s right. Don’t you think it’s odd that Blake only had less than a month to make his one year goal. Any idea what set him off?”
She gazed into her drink. “I’ve been asking myself the same question for weeks now.”
“You guys didn’t have an argument?”
“No. We rarely argued, and it seemed like he was having a good time at the event.”
“Would you mind telling me how you and Blake met?”
“We met at an AA meeting. I don’t have an issue with drinking, but occasionally I go with my brother for support. Anyway, I’ll never forget the first time I saw Blake. It was his first meeting, and he seemed so scared to speak in front of the group. He said he wanted to get sober for his mom. I really thought that was sweet. A lot of the members go only because they have to. You know, court-ordered, mandatory meetings and such. But, from the moment I saw Blake, I knew he was a sweet, yet tortured soul.”
“How long after that first meeting did you two start dating?”
She took a slow sip of her drink, as if stalling. “A few weeks later, I asked Blake if he’d like to get some coffee with me. He said yes. Turns out we had a lot in common. At first, I figured he was too young for me. He was barely twenty-four, after all. Yet, he seemed very intelligent and wise beyond his years.”
“How long until he moved in with you?”
“I’ll admit, it was pretty soon after our first coffee date. He’d been sleeping on couches at friend’s houses, living out of a backpack. Since I have a house with four bedrooms, I invited him to stay with me.”
“Did you ask him to pay rent?”
“No, I just wanted to help him out.”
“Were you hoping that a romantic relationship would blossom?”
She looked at me as if slightly offended. “I didn’t invite him to come live with me because I wanted a romantic relationship. That happened after he moved in.”
“I’m not judging,” I said. “Seems like you two were a good fit. And you accepted him with his faults.”
“I did. I won’t say it was easy living with him. There were days he wanted to drink so badly, he practically pulled his hair out in frustration. I was there for him, and he appreciated that. Having dealt with my brother’s addiction, I knew how to handle the mood swings.”
“Had Blake ever fallen off the wagon during the past year of sobriety?”
“Not once. He came close to caving in many times, but he never did.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I know the signs, believe me. Blake did not consume one drop since he moved in with me. That was part of the deal.”
“Getting back to the night of the event, what was Blake’s mood that night?”
“First of all, I knew it was risky having Blake accompany me to the event with the alcohol around, but he said it was fine. He said he couldn’t spend the rest of his life avoiding situations where alcohol was involved. I agreed with that logic at the time, but now ... if Blake hadn’t been at the event, maybe he’d still be alive.”
“What kind of business event was it?”
“A customer appreciation dinner. Over fifty of our best clients attended.”
“I understand that you and your ex-husband own the company together. Was he there, too?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Is it possible that Blake felt threatened by the fact that you were still working closely with your ex-husband?”
She stared off into space as if pondering the question. “I doubt it. Kevin and I are strictly business partners, and Blake knew that.”
“Still, you have to admit that it’s an uncommon situation.”
“After our divorce, I thought about leaving the company. He offered to buy me out, but I couldn’t walk away. We started the company together right out of college, just the two of us, and now over ten years later, we have eleven full-time employees. I’m very proud of our accomplishments. Why should I walk away just because we are no longer together?”
“Don’t get me wrong,” I said. “I think it’s great, but I’m just wondering if Blake had a problem with your ex, or if it was the other way around. Maybe Kevin had words with Blake during the event.”
“Well, I doubt that Kevin would be jealous of Blake. He got remarried last year and seems very happy. But, if you want to talk to Kevin, be my guest. He’ll be at the office tomorrow because he usually works on Saturdays.”
“Yes, I’d like to talk to him.” When my drink arrived, I took a sip and enjoyed the flavors of citrus on my tongue. “Sue-Ellen mentioned that a bottle of Scotch had gone missing at the event. Do you suspect it was Blake?”
“I can’t imagine him doing that, and nobody saw him steal it. At least, nobody has come forward to say so.”
We sat in silence for a minute as we sipped our martinis. It also provided me with an opportunity to nonchalantly assess Gail some more. Her purse was Prada, her shoes were Gucci, and the Cartier watch must’ve cost more than my car. Which prompted my next question.
“Whatever happened to the BMW? Was it totaled in the crash?”
“Yes, it was totaled.”
“And the cops never found that bottle of Scotch in the car?”
“Apparently not,” she said. “Although, he could have thrown it out the window before the accident.”
“Where did the accident take place?”
“A few miles from the Bridgeport Convention Center.”
“What do you think happened?”
She looked at me with wide eyes, like the question had caught her off guard. “I don’t know what happened. He probably fell asleep at the wheel. Or maybe he swerved to avoid hitting an animal in the road. Sadly, we’ll never know for sure.”
“Was he taking medication for depression? His mom mentioned that he battled with it.”
“Yes, he did take meds, but I can’t tell you the name of the drug. He kept that stuff away from me. He was embarrassed that he had to take them.”
“You must have really cared for Blake, to give him a place to live and help him get sober. Not to mention the BMW. That was a generous gift.”
“I make a decent living, so I was happy to spoil him a little. Plus, I wanted to reward him for staying sober.”
“Were you in love with him?” I hadn’t intended to ask that question, but it just slipped out.
Gail’s smile was faint. “I did love him, but I also knew our relationship wouldn’t last.”
“What do you mean?”
“If he got signed on to a modeling agency, he’d probably have to move to Boston or New York City. But, even though I knew our relationship was temporary, I still enjoyed the time we had together.”
“I dated a younger man for a while,” I said. “It was great for a year or so, but then he wanted to start a family, and I had already raised my kid. I felt guilty for holding him back.”
“So, you broke it off with him?”
“It was fate that intervened; he got a job in California. He wanted me to go with him, but I figured it was the universe telling me to let go of him.”
“Do you ever regret that decision?”
“Not for a minute.”
“Well, Blake was only twenty-four. My friends thought I was crazy for dating him, but maybe they were just jealous.”
There was a hint of a smile on her lips as she gazed at her martini glass, now empty. I got the feeling that she liked the idea of her friends being jealous of her.
She signaled the bartender for another round of drinks.
“I better not have another one,” I said. “I’m meeting someone for dinner in half an hour.”
She seemed disappointed. “That’s too bad. I’ve been enjoying our conversation.”
“Me, too.”
Since I had limited time, I
figured I’d better finish my line of questioning. “Gail, did Blake ever talk about his dad?”
“A little, but he hadn’t seen him in years. Why?”
“If his dad got in touch with him, it could have triggered some bad memories, which could’ve driven him to drink that night.”
“His dad left him, that’s all he said. In fact, Blake never talked about anyone from his past. Not even his friends.”
“So, you never met Blake’s friends?”
“He didn’t want me to meet them. Said they were an immature bunch, still living like college kids. I encouraged him to stay away, mostly because of the alcohol situation.”
“So, I’m curious, what did Blake do all day while you were at work?”
“He spent a lot of time at the gym. He said his top priority was to get ripped. He needed to impress an agent to score some modeling gigs.”
As Gail talked about Blake’s modeling career, something didn’t feel right. The way Gail spoke about Blake, with a sort of detached feeling, made me wonder just how in love she could have been. Maybe she was still in shock over his death, but her casual demeanor didn’t make sense. If she and Blake had been so close, I would’ve expected some tears, or at least an emotional pause. Two weeks wasn’t a long time to process the loss.
“Is there a chance I could get a list of the people who attended the event? I’d especially like to talk to the bartender.”
“Sure, you can ask Carla when you come to the office tomorrow. She’s the office manager.”
“Great. Thanks for your help.” I checked my watch and made a frown. “Shoot, I need to head out. Drinks are on me.”
I placed sixty bucks on the bar, hoping that would cover three drinks plus a tip.
She handed the money back to me. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s my treat. I insist.”
“That’s very kind of you, Gail.” I handed her my business card. “My personal number is on there. Please call if you can think of anything else concerning Blake.”
Chapter 5
The Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 7) Page 24