“It wasn’t so hard for me to move on,” Avett said. “See, I’d been wanting out almost since the day Rick and I got married. He’d only hit me once before then. And we were both drunk that night and being stupid. I thought it was a one-time thing. I was wrong. It was like there was a ratio—the less we had sex the more he hit me. And the more he hit me, the more I wanted out. Sorry, I didn’t mean to burden you with my baggage.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I understand completely. So, whatever happened to him?” I hoped that he was rotting in some prison.
“Oh…” She shook her head in somber reflection. “He went to some counseling or something. He’s actually remarried. Still lives in Atlanta. I mean, Atlanta’s a big place. You wouldn’t think I’d see him around. And I didn’t, really. But going to the same stores, the same movie theater, it all just felt wrong. Aunt Barb has always talked this place up. And she found me a job at the hospital.”
“At the hospital, really?”
“I’m a nurse,” Avett said. “I guess that didn’t come up at dinner, did it?”
“No, it didn’t,” I confirmed. “I think you were too busy laughing about my comic book and coffee shop.”
I gestured as we pulled into the spot just outside the front door. The Kapow Koffee sign reflected in the headlight beams. I flashed back to the day when Ryan hung the sign outside. He was so proud of it, of the shop, of this thing we created together.
It was only then I realized I had to keep the comic side open. I wanted to keep a part of him alive.
“I wasn’t laughing at your comic book shop,” Avett said, laughing. “I said it was cute. Just like you.”
My insides squirmed at the compliment. Then everything came into focus—she was talking to Gambit, petting him under his chin and on his proud chest.
When I adjusted and readied to exit the car, Gambit protested. He began to pull at the sleeves of Avett’s t-shirt. It was a playful tug, unlike the nip he’d taken at her Aunt Barbara’s heels.
“Is he always like this?” she asked. “You’re such a cutie.”
She buried her face in his, and he licked her lips and nose. Part of me was jealous. Another part, a smarter part, realized the potential here. Is this how Ryan did it? How he got all those girls?
“Oh, but the hospital,” I said, remembering my train of thought. “You didn’t happen to know Jill Adams, did you?”
“Jill,” she answered slowly. “Yeah. Well, no… I mean, I knew who she is. Was. I saw her a time or two. I work with her ex-husband. It’s on a different floor.”
I must’ve given her a look because she went on, “No, not a chance he would ever be involved. Trust me. Dr. Adams would never—”
“But how long have you known him? A month?”
“About,” she said sheepishly.
“Last Monday night, when Ryan was murdered, were you there delivering twins?”
“Yeah. Who told you that?”
“Honestly? I’m friends with the detective working the case. In fact, we were all three friends in high school. I think that’s the only reason she’s told me anything. Well, that and it happened at our store. I’m sorry to accuse Dr. Adams. I don’t even know him. It’s just weird, ya know? My friend Ryan was murdered. I don’t even think I’ve said it out loud before now.”
“I understand,” she said. “But we were there all night. Trust me, it wasn’t him.”
I nodded. And I was probably looking sullen—because I felt it. If this was a TV movie or something, she would’ve probably touched my elbow, and maybe we would’ve kissed. But as it wasn’t a movie. She handed me the dog.
And I was left on the curb wondering if I’d already blown it with her.
15
The next afternoon Tommy finally called to say the car was ready. I pulled Sarah aside just after the high school rush.
“Do you mind running the place while I go pick up my car?”
“Not at all.” She shook her head. “I think we beat the rush. But I do have some comic book duties to tend to.”
She looked at the stack of boxes our UPS driver, Karl, just dropped off.
“Yeah, about that,” I said shakily. “Listen, I know you’ve picked up the slack around here. I’ve already put in a raise—it’ll show on the next paycheck. I’m just not sure what I’ll do when you go back to school.”
“Wow. That’s awesome,” she said about the raise. “But there’s still plenty of time before school starts back. Don’t worry about it for now.”
It was easier for her to say. This store was my livelihood. And only last night I’d decided to keep Ryan’s side of it going. But I was determined to do that and make a profit—something Ryan had been less concerned about.
Sarah looked out into the sea of high schoolers in the booths. She probably expected to see Marc there to pick me up.
“How exactly are you going to get your car?” she asked.
“I’m going to hytch a ride,” I said jokingly. Saying it, I realized the jokes got old pretty quick. “Oh, and I’m taking Gambit with me. He’s been cooped up inside all day.”
Sarah nodded in understanding.
I pulled out my phone, tapped into the app, and “stuck out a thumb.”
Immediately, a driver on the map turned to converge on my position. I hoped it was Neil from the other day. As far as I could tell he was the closest thing to a clue we had. I wondered if Felicia or Detective Ross had spoken with him.
But it wasn’t Neil who pulled up.
An older woman in a less old, but still old, SUV pulled alongside the curb. She was hesitant to let Gambit ride along. But honestly, I was more hesitant for either of us to get inside with her. Maybe Felicia’s assessment of HytchHiker was on point. Anyway, this would be my last trip using it.
Once we were to King Auto and Collision Center, I couldn’t hop out of the car quick enough. I breathed a sigh of relief as the rickety SUV exited the parking lot, its brakes squealing. But my eyes found the Golf. She looked good—not brand new good, but good nonetheless.
Gambit and I circled around her, then went inside the garage. It was dank and not well lit. It smelled of oil and cigarette smoke.
Tommy King crouched under a yellow car on a lift, a Corvette. It was unmistakably Corey Ottley’s. The same car that had caused this whole mess. Seeing it made my blood boil. Tommy caught my eyes and headed over. He wiped his greasy hands on an equally greasy red rag, then stuffed the rag in a pocket.
“Kirby,” he said, “how goes it?”
“Better now.” I pointed to the car.
“Yeah.” He laughed. “It wasn’t as bad as it looked. Barely more than the deductible. I’ll get the paperwork, and we’ll get you squared away.”
He led us over to an old worn out desk in the corner of the garage. Or he tried to. Per usual, Gambit was resistant to the leash. He struggled to leave the garage toward a fenced in area at the back where multiple cars sat idle but not idling.
Finally, I managed to yank him over to where Tommy waited. Sitting on the shabby desk was a much nicer laptop. Tommy typed some keys, and a printer behind him began printing. I imagined that was Tommy’s contribution to the shop. We were both of an age where the computer almost grew up alongside us. Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak were just out of their garage when we were born. Our teenage years were spent on AOL Instant Messenger. Tommy grabbed the stack of paper and handed it over.
“This lists all we did and the cost of each with labor. But like I said, the deductible’s all you have to pay. Will that be cash or card?”
“Card.”
With my keys in hand, all was feeling right with the world. Or at least better than it had the past couple of days—scratch that, weeks.
But the feeling came to a skidding halt when Marc’s black Honda pulled into the parking lot and Corey popped out of the passenger side door.
“Thanks again, bro,” I heard him say to Marc, still not registering I was only a few feet away.
It was Gambit
’s low growl that caught his attention.
Corey looked up wide-eyed. He put his palms up in surrender. “Kirby,” he said slowly. He seemed to look for a way around us. There was none. “Dude… I’m so sorry. Are you here picking up your car? Listen. I’ll pay for it. No problem.”
“Thanks, but I already did.” I jingled the keys at him.
He nodded in understanding. “Listen, man. I just want to say thanks for not pressing charges. I don’t even know what came over me the other night. Whether it was the booze or… I’m just embarrassed.”
You should be, I thought. The thing was—I hadn’t pressed charges. I’d honestly thought he had something more coming. Something like the murder of Ryan. I didn’t want my frivolous case to hold any of that up. Yet Felicia seemed confident Corey hadn’t committed the crime. She probably knew better than me, but I still had my doubts. In my mind, Corey could’ve killed Ryan. And for all I knew, Jill as well.
Something just wasn’t adding up. For me or the detectives. A clue had to be missing.
“You really don’t have anything to say to me?” he asked. Gambit was still growling while I’d been lost in my head.
“What do you want me to say? You’re welcome? Or better yet, thanks for wrecking my car?”
“No,” he shook his head, “I was thinking something more along the lines of what you said in high school—the trekkie nerd thing. Maybe something worse. I actually deserve it.”
“Why do you deserve it, Corey? Did you kill Ryan? Are you feeling guilty?”
“I am feeling guilty,” he said. “But that’s not it. I didn’t kill Ryan. I was just a dick for the last ten years.”
“Over ten,” I corrected.
“Right… See, you knew Ryan and I both liked Jill. She gave me that one shot. And I blew it. But we’d been pretty good friends ever since. Like, I even went to her wedding. Do you know how hard that was to watch? Hell, I moved back here when she got divorced. I moved just on the off chance that I’d have a chance.”
“And did you?”
I stooped down and petted Gambit in attempt to calm him. The fur on the back of his neck was bristled in agitation.
“No, I played it cool. As silly as it sounds, I wanted her to come to me. But she started dating some guy. She wouldn’t tell me who it was. I thought maybe it was Ryan. I told her as much, told her about his huge crush on her in high school. But it wasn’t him. In fact, when they broke up, she used her newfound knowledge and asked Ryan out herself. Can you believe that?”
“I guess. So that’s why you came by that day?”
“I wanted to see if Ryan would shove it in my face. Kinda like I did him when Jill said yes to our date.”
“And he didn’t.”
“Nope. He still wouldn’t sell me that toy. But he was honorable. I have to give him that.”
“Corey,” I said, finally calming the dog enough to think straight, “who was she dating before Ryan?”
Corey shrugged. “She never told me. But I’m with you—I told Felicia as much the other day. We find out who that was, and we’ve got our killer.”
I nodded in agreement.
As I kept the leash taut, Corey sidestepped around us. He gave me a final curt smile before turning to enter the shop. He stopped short, spun on his heels and said, “I am going to pay you back. I’ll buy every toy and figure up on display. Whatever it takes.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “But you still never told me why you hit me in the first place.”
“With the car?” He waved me off. “A simple misunderstanding. I tried to talk to Jill on the dock, but she told me she was meeting someone. Then I saw you two talking. I thought it must be you she was waiting for—you hugged her and everything. I was drinking and not in the right state. Marc was still at the bar, and she came in for a bit. Then she left with some other guy. A guy with a boat.”
“The killer…”
“Right. I think it’s the same guy she was seeing before Ryan. Anyway, Felicia’s going to find him. Honestly, I can’t wait for all this to be over. I think I’m going to move back to California for a bit. Hell, I’ve already sold my boat. The house will be easier.”
I didn’t really blame him. He’d moved back for Jill, and now Jill was gone.
Corey shuffled into the garage. I attempted to head for the Golf. It was finally mine again. But Gambit being Gambit had other plans. He shot toward the fenced lot, almost choking himself on his collar in the process. He had a wheezing fit but still struggled forward.
Then I saw what Gambit was dragging me toward. Ryan’s car was sitting there behind the fence, the sun gleaming on its windshield.
16
“Felicia, I said I was sorry. What more do you want?” Detective Ross struggled to keep up as Felicia took long strides toward Ryan’s car.
Gambit and I both kept our distance, understanding that something was up between the two detectives. Tommy, who had let us inside the fence, trailed behind us. He held the padlock to the gate in his greasy fingers. He, too, was as interested to know if Ryan’s car held any clues to solving the case. He’d told me as much as we waited for the cops to show.
“I’ll buy the donuts all next week,” Ross said. “Whatever you want…”
“You seriously buy donuts?” I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer. “I thought that was just a stereotype.”
“It is,” Felicia confirmed. “We call it “buying the donuts.” It just means he has to buy breakfast.”
Detective Ross double-timed to keep up. “Listen,” he said. “I understand this is my fault. But it’s not as a big a deal as you’re making out. You know that.”
Felicia turned her head. She gave Ross what we would’ve deemed in high school as her ‘stankeye.’
“You’re messing with me, aren’t you?” Ross turned back to me, explaining, “I asked some uni’s to follow up on the car. And for once, they did their jobs. It was me who made a mistake. I missed the email. Lost sight of it somehow. It was just sitting in my inbox, telling us exactly where to find the car.”
“Yeah, someone called the other day,” Tommy confirmed.
This was a first. I’d yet to see Detective Ross in such a tizzy. Let alone, him be the one to explain something to me. I was surprised he wasn’t embarrassed to act this way in front of me, but he was far more concerned with his partner’s attitude.
Of course, I realized now that cops were people too. They made mistakes—even cops as cool and collected as Detective Ross.
Felicia’s nostrils flared. It was one of her tells. She was really mad. Thankfully, I’d hardly ever seen it directed at me. Only yesterday, she’d said she was missing something. I hoped that this was it—that the car would lead us to Ryan and Jill’s killer.
I’d half expected the whole of Niilhaasi PD to converge on the location, similar to when I found Ryan’s body. But after I called her, it was only Felicia and Detective Ross that drove up in her green Impala. There wasn’t even a forensics unit.
“Trust me,” Detective Ross said, his words still aimed at me, “this isn’t going to be as exciting as you think it is. Either of you. We’re not on Law and Order: SVU or whatever it is you like.”
“Castle,” I corrected. “My show is Castle.”
“Whatever… Wait, is that the one with the guy from Firefly?”
“Yeah.” I nodded.
“Hmm. I do like him.” Ross smiled. He was actually starting to be friendly with me. “Anyway. It won’t even be like Castle. There’s a ninety-nine point nine percent chance that this car holds no additional information. No clues. No nothing.”
“You’re just trying to weasel your way out of donuts. And if there is something in the car, you’re gonna owe more than just that.” Felicia unlocked the car with the key fob. Simultaneously, she popped open the truck and said, “But we won’t know until we—”
There were several seconds of silence.
“Until we what?” Tommy, trailing just behind me, was the last person to see it.
A large rock, just about double the size of a fist, lay in the middle of Ryan’s trunk. It—and the rest of the trunk—was covered in blood.
17
Less than thirty minutes later, the parking lot of King’s Collision was as swarming with police as I’d originally thought it would be. Not that Gambit and I were allowed back anywhere near the car. And this time, I wasn’t being asked into the back of Felicia’s Impala. I stayed because I wanted answers. I wanted to know what Felicia made of all of this.
She walked over to me, exasperated. But not with me.
“Hey,” she said. She leaned up against the Golf. I had the door open. I was half in, half out. The air conditioner was blowing cool air which Gambit lapped up, his face to the vent.
“Hey,” I answered. It was a lot like our morning greetings in high school—back when we got to school fifteen minutes early just to sit and talk by the statue of a tiger at the entrance of the school.
“We won’t know much until they examine everything,” Felicia said. “Obviously we think it’s Ryan’s blood. And we may get lucky. It looked like there was half a fingerprint on that rock.”
“Only half?”
“Don’t worry,” she said, grinning. “Half is more than enough. Even half a print is distinguishing enough to identify someone. We just have to hope they’re in the database.”
“And if they’re not?”
“Then I’ll do what I do best.”
“Pushups?”
She smiled. “Now that you’ve got your car back, you should come work out again tomorrow. But no. I meant catch criminals. Pushups are like number ten on the list.”
“Really, ten? I’ll think about it.”
Felicia stretched her arms out, sighing. “Yeah. Ross owes more than donuts. We could’ve really used this information last week. Now we have to play catch up.”
“But this all makes sense, doesn’t it?”
Felicia eyed me, asking me to go on.
Marvels, Mochas, and Murder Page 8