Murder at The Blues Stop

by Wendy Byrne

  “You don’t happen to know his name, do you?” I asked.

  “I don’t think she ever said. She mentioned that he had legit money and that he told her he’d take care of her and she’d be okay. I got the impression he might have been older, more mature than her, you know what I mean.”

  We both nodded, then left the building and walked to the car. A little color had returned to Donna’s face, probably more from excitement than a miraculous cure. “We’ll head to Johnny’s and see if we can locate Vanessa. Maybe she knows something more about this elusive boyfriend. He’s got to be a good place to start.”

  A few minutes later, we parked outside of Johnny’s. Donna’s burst of energy seemed to dissipate as we headed inside. Immediately, she headed to the bathroom in back.

  I took a seat at one of the open tables and waited for the waitress to come around. While I didn’t know exactly how these things normally worked, I figured we couldn’t push our way in and start asking questions. We weren’t cops. We weren’t even private detectives.

  We had to be subtle with our questions. Not for the first time, I wished I weren’t so mad at Shane so I could ask for his advice.

  While I tried to think of a way to call Shane without apologizing for something I didn’t do, Donna joined me at the table.

  When the waitress came to fill our coffee cups. Donna’s phone rang. She glanced at the readout. “I’ve got to get this. It’s my son’s school.” She got up and walked toward the doors. After a few minutes she came back. “My son got hurt. They think he might have broken his arm playing baseball in gym class and have taken him to the hospital. I’ve got to go.”

  A shimmy of relief poured through me. I had an excuse to back out and revisit this another day.

  Before I could say anything, she rested her fingertips on the table. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but can you follow up on this? I don’t want to wait to find answers.”

  I gulped. Holy crap, I hadn’t expected she’d have this much faith in me. Didn’t she know this wasn’t my kind of thing? Instead of saying any of that, the words that came out of my mouth seemed to be coming from someone else. “Absolutely. If I find out anything, like the name of the boyfriend, I’ll call you right away.” I’d stepped into it now.

  “Thanks.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a silver cylinder. “Here’s some pepper spray just in case you run into trouble.”

  I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or terrified. “Don’t worry about coming in tonight. You need to take care of your son. Besides, Mack found a guitar, and I’ll do fine. The show must go on and all that stuff.” I smiled and hoped Donna bought my bravado.

  Maybe she had because she looked relieved. “Thanks a million, Gabriella. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” With that, she stumbled back to her car and drove off.

  When the waitress returned, I asked, “Is Vanessa here?”

  The woman shook her head. “She’s not coming in today.”

  When the woman started to walk away, I stopped her. “You don’t happen to know her address, do you? I owe her some money, and I hate like heck for her to go without.” Maybe I was more devious than I’d thought as the lie had easily sprung to my lips. Or I’d morphed into supersleuth mode. Either way, I needed to talk to this woman, if for no other reason than to prove something to myself and honor Donna’s wishes.

  The girl hesitated. “Let me try to get her on my cell.” She pulled a phone out and keyed in a number. “It’s going right to voice mail.” She gave me the once-over, as if trying to gauge my trustworthiness. “I guess it won’t hurt. I know she could use the money. Jake had to go on asthma meds, and I know that costs a fortune.” She jotted the information down on a napkin and sent me on my way.

  I went outside and hailed a cab, reciting the address to him. I could do this. Baby steps. This seemed like a simple enough project to tackle alone.

  I didn’t know much about the neighborhoods in Chicago, but this one seemed to be teetering on the brink. Unkempt lawns were the norm rather than the exception. But kids playing in the front yards were being supervised by mothers or fathers, which I deemed a good sign.

  I got out and walked to the building. Judging by the number of different doorbells along the side, there were about twelve apartments. Luckily, the downstairs security door wasn’t closed all the way so I was able to slip inside. I still couldn’t be sure Vanessa would let me in, but I figured it would be harder to turn me down in person.

  I knocked on the door, my back straight, my confidence solid. I could do this. I wasn’t the irresponsible flake everybody thought I was.

  “Vanessa,” I called and knocked again. She didn’t respond, but the door squeaked open. “Vanessa?” I peered around the door and slipped inside.

  And nearly tripped over the body lying on the floor. My scream originated somewhere near my toes and ripped through my body and out my mouth. It reverberated in the tiny apartment like thousands of ping pong balls bouncing off the walls.

  It wasn’t one of those bad actress movie screams. Singing gave me the lung capacity of a long-distance swimmer so it was near deafening.

  I rushed to the woman’s side, despite the blood pooling on the floor around her. When the woman turned her head and opened her eyes, I screamed again. Runaway adrenaline fueled by overwhelming fear had my body trembling.

  The woman’s mouth moved a few times before words actually came out. “Help me.”

  “Of course,” I whispered before grabbing the blanket from the couch and putting it over the woman. Next, I yanked out my cell.

  And then I heard another scream. This one didn’t come from me. Putting my hand against my chest, I willed my heart to slow. Somebody else was in the apartment. It sounded like a baby. But what if whoever did this to Vanessa was in the same room?

  I dialed 9-1-1 and whispered the specifics to the operator as I approached the room down the hall. I didn’t have a gun, so I held out the can of pepper spray as if it were a .357 Magnum and imagined myself as Dirty Harry. I let that persona envelop me as I tiptoed into the next room.

  With shaky confidence, I pointed my weapon as if expecting to repel an army of bad guys. Instead, what I saw was even more frightening.

  A baby held out his arms toward me. “Mama.”

  Then I did something very un-Dirty Harry-like. I fainted.

  When I opened my eyes, a paramedic hovered above me. “Ma’am? Are you all right? I believe you fainted.”

  Embarrassed, I shifted to an upright position with his help. “I’m fine. How’s the woman—I mean, Vanessa?”

  “We transported her to the hospital.”

  “What about the baby? I’m pretty sure he needs asthma medication.” I gulped down the fear clogging my throat. I couldn’t help wondering how close I’d come to being face-to-face with the guy who’d attacked Vanessa.

  “Fine. He’s staying with the neighbor across the hall until his grandmother comes for him.” He took my pulse, then listened to my heart. “Everything’s fine. The police will want to ask you a few questions.”

  I nodded as I waited for the officer to come into the room. He gave me a quick smile when he entered, then opened up a small spiral notebook.

  “I’m Officer Wilton, and I’d like to take a statement from you. You might need to come down to the station later.”

  “Sure, but I didn’t see anything. I came to the door and knocked, and it opened right up. That’s when I saw her on the floor, bleeding.”

  “How do you know Ms. Young?”

  “Through a mutual acquaintance.” In a convoluted way, I wasn’t lying.

  “Then why were you here?” Skepticism evidenced itself in the way he stared as if measuring every speck of my body language.

  “I wanted to know if she had some information about a friend of mine.” I couldn’t very well say that the friend in question happened to be dead. Even I knew that would be too much of a coincidence for the police to overlook. Later, when I got a chance to talk to
Patrick, I could fill him in on the details.

  “Give me your current information and we’ll get back to you about coming in to the station.”

  “No problem. I’ll be in town for a couple of weeks yet.”

  ***

  Despite my hellish afternoon, I showed up at work on time that evening. After the blowup the night before, I didn’t expect Shane to swing by to pick me up so I took a cab.

  Mack seemed a little surprised to see me, although I didn’t know why unless he thought I’d been scared off. Patrick came in around midnight and motioned me over to his table in the corner. “I heard you had quite an afternoon.”

  “Understatement of the century.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  “Donna was upset about what happened to Annie and wanted me to go with her to do a little digging. We found out the name of Annie’s sponsor. But then Donna’s son got hurt, so I went there alone. And when I got to Vanessa’s, she was bleeding and...”

  “You didn’t see anybody? Nobody told you anything?”

  I shook my head “Nothing. Is Vanessa going to make it? Do you know who did it?”

  “Don’t know yet if she’ll pull through. From what I understand, she lost a lot of blood. And as for who did it, don’t know that either. She’s got an ex-boyfriend who looks somewhat promising as the perp, but we’ll see what shakes out. If they want you in for further questioning, ask for me. I’ll be around.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “I’m going to get going. I just wanted to stop in to make sure you were all right.” He stood up.

  I grasped his arm and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Patrick. That was really sweet of you.”

  Of course, Shane chose that exact moment to walk in the door. They glared at each other on Patrick’s way out.

  Prior to that moment, I’d anticipated making a grand apology to Shane, even if I had nothing to apologize for. Besides, I wanted to share with him what happened this afternoon and get his take on things from a private detective standpoint. Doing a little groveling might work to my advantage. But now, considering the scowl to end all scowls on his face, I didn’t dare come within ten feet of him.

  ***

  I finished the night without much drama and was anxious to get home. It had been a long day, and I was exhausted, although I wasn’t too sure if I’d be able to sleep considering what had happened this afternoon.

  As I walked toward the door, Shane gave me the death stare from under hooded lids. “My stepbrother coming back to pick you up?” he practically snarled on my way past.

  I rolled my eyes. “Will you knock it off with the sibling rivalry thing? Aren’t you a little old for that stuff?”

  He harrumphed and folded his arms across his chest. “Hey, I’m not the one who invited him here.”

  “For the last time—” I stopped and tapped my toe on the floor. “Never mind. Fighting with you isn’t going to get us anywhere.” At that moment, I heard a beep coming from outside. “That must be my Uber.”

  He seemed genuinely shocked, as if taking the initiative weren’t within my makeup. “Why’d you call an Uber?”

  “Because I didn’t want to be indebted to you in any way, shape, or form. And I didn’t want to stand outside and hope a cab appeared.” With that, I sashayed out of the bar with my dignity firmly intact.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I pulled on a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt, then fell into bed. The muted noise of light rain pinging against the windows broke the night’s silence as I drifted off to sleep.

  An indeterminate amount of time later, the sound of breaking glass startled me awake. I sat up in bed, my body trembling even as I shook off worrying thoughts. Silence. A smile curved my lips as I took in slow, easy breaths to steady my pulse, and felt myself relax. It had been a dream.

  Settling back into bed, I tucked my hands beneath the pillow and closed my eyes. That’s when sounds from below forced me to sit up.

  I checked the time. Quarter till four. I’d been sleeping for only an hour or so. Even as I tried to convince myself it was my imagination, I strained to hear more.

  Subtle noises like the ones I heard when Cara was working below filtered up through the floorboards. But she wouldn’t be here at four in the morning.

  It had to be Shane getting a head start on the day. Or maybe he couldn’t sleep because he felt guilty for being such a cranky pants earlier and had come to…apologize? I shook my head. That made no sense.

  But neither did the idea of someone breaking into a detective’s office. Shane wouldn’t keep guns or other weapons there so what would be the point? Unless, of course, they wanted to drudge up potentially sensitive information that might be kept in files or on the computer.

  Convinced I had to do something, I punched Shane’s number into my cell phone and hoped he didn’t laugh at me. Then again, him being the anal type, the security system downstairs had to be top notch so I shouldn’t worry. Relieved, I was just about to hang up when he answered.

  “O’Neil.” He sounded groggy as if I’d awakened him.

  “Please tell me you are downstairs making a lot of noise to scare me,” I whispered.

  I heard him stir as if he were getting out of bed. “What’s going on?”

  “I think somebody’s in the office. Do you think it could be Cara?”

  “I’ll be right over.”

  Wait. A. Minute. Shane hadn’t blown me off or made excuses. That could only mean…

  Trapped. Even tiptoeing down the stairs might alert them I was in the building. Or, worse, they could be waiting for me.

  “I’ll call the police.”

  “I can get there faster.” He hung up without another word.

  “But—” Calling the police made sense. A normal, non-paranoid person would see logic in that decision. I dialed in 9-1 but stopped. How long would it take for them to get here? What if the guys downstairs were the bad cops from the courthouse or the ones that showed up at The Blues Stop? They might be alerted to my presence if I called.

  Then again, what if whoever was downstairs decided to come upstairs? Would Shane get there before they decided to hack me into little pieces?

  Breathe. I closed my eyes and struggled to rein in my imagination. Shane would be here in a minute and scare them away. That happy thought lasted seconds before the fear swept me up again.

  Pacing was out of the question as they’d hear me downstairs. Instead, I considered my best option for an easy-to-grab weapon. There were a couple of knives in the drawers in the kitchen area, but I’d have to get too close to use one.

  As my imagination began to spin out of control, I forced myself to think logically. They had to be searching for something in particular. Hence, they would have no reason to come upstairs.

  That slice of relief lasted only seconds. If they didn’t find what they were looking for, they might think more information could be hidden upstairs.

  Seconds later, I heard the door from downstairs open before the sound of somebody coming up the stairs. Too quick for Shane to have gotten here.

  Now what? Even if I called the police this second, they would never get there in time.

  The only weapon-type thing within reach was the bedside lamp. No other choice. I slipped behind the door with the brass lamp raised above my head. Once I was free and clear, I’d call the police, regardless of Shane’s paranoia.

  The knob twisted, and the door slowly opened. My heart beat so furiously it felt as if a giant fire hose pumped the blood inside my chest. I drew in one strength-gathering breath before bringing the weight of the lamp onto the back of his head.

  Unlike in the movies, he didn’t crumple to the ground, but my clumsy move did stun him. I ran down the stairs and tore open the door to the outside.

  And ran smack into Shane. “Gabriella, stop singing and get into the car.”

  Still rattled, I slipped inside his car and hit the power locks. Though I’d stopped singing, I started hu
mming in the hopes of alleviating some of the feelings of terror coursing through me. When I spotted the keys dangling from the ignition, it took every bit of willpower to not put the car in gear and take off for parts unknown. Instead, I scrolled through his iPhone for music and tried to soothe the staccato beat of my heart.

  Even with the windows up and the music on, I heard shouting, mostly curses, coming from inside the building. Then I remembered I hadn’t told Shane about the guy upstairs. As I worked on how I might alert Shane, the guy in question barreled out the door. To my relief, he didn’t pay attention to me, choosing instead to keep on running down the block.

  Seconds later, Shane and another guy tumbled out the door. While I’d bet on Shane in a foot race, this guy had a head start. Undeterred, Shane ran around the corner after him and out of my sight. If I weren’t such a chicken, I would get my butt out of the car to try to help. But that wouldn’t be happening any time soon.

  I chewed on my fingernails, listened to music, and watched the same corner through the ever-increasing rain. I hadn’t heard any gunshots earlier, nor had I seen a gun. But what if other guys were waiting around somewhere with guns?

  If I hadn’t listened to Shane earlier and had called the police, they would be here by now. I cursed him in English, Spanish, and for good measure, Italian. Just as I was about to let out another litany of curses, Shane came around the corner. Alone, but in one piece.

  I scooted out of the car and joined Shane as he walked toward the office. My teeth chattered from the cold and rain and, more likely, a heavy dose of fear. This had been a hell of a day or two.

  Once inside the office, he assessed the damage—from the overturned desks to the files strewn out on the floor to the broken chairs—and let out a string of expletives. “What the hell? If you weren’t upstairs, they might not have been stopped.”

  “What did they do, shred every piece of paper you have?” I tiptoed around the mess.