“Sure thing,” Dale said breezily. “But first can you get me an address on that guy Marky that worked here? The one with the Mohawk? I need to talk to him.”
“Oh, I’m not supposed to give out the addresses from the files,” she said. “It’s a violation of policy.”
“It’s okay, we just want the one and we’re his friends,” Viv said. “It’s not like we’re going to sell his address to a bunch of junk mail companies or something.”
“Oh good, I hate getting junk mail. Except for the ones that sell plants. Or dishes. Or knit pants. It’s hard to find good knit pants these days, you know.” She chatted cheerfully as she dug through the files. “Okay, here it is.”
Dale looked over her shoulder and scribbled the address and phone number on the palm of his hand. Tiffany looked at him worshipfully.
He tossed her pen on her desk and gestured that she could put the file away. “Thanks, Tiffer. You’re a big help.”
“You know, I didn’t realize you two were friends. One time he was in here talking about how you were the most full of, well, poop...person he’d ever met. I guess he meant that in a nice way though.”
“Oh yeah, we’re good enough friends so we can joke like that with each other. Of course, we’re not that good of friends.” He raised his eyebrows knowingly.
“Oh yeah,” Tiff said and giggled. But then she looked kind of confused.
“That’s all we need. If Hal ever changes his mind maybe I can come back to work here.”
“That would be great,” Tiffany said breathlessly. “He won’t though. He never changes his mind.”
As we headed for the door, she said, “Do you think I should go ahead and call the police now? I mean, since you’re leaving it seems kind of a waste.”
“Whatever you think,” Viv said. “If they want to talk to us you can just tell them we were driving a blue Camry. That way they can find us.”
“Oh, good.” Tiffany nodded enthusiastically. “That will be helpful.”
As we drove away, Viv listed all the ways Tiffany seemed to be, in her words, as dumb as a box of rocks. “She didn’t hesitate at all to give us this guy’s address. She really believed you guys were friends after the guy said you were full of poop.”
She seemed genuinely interested in Dale, I added silently.
We were two blocks from the address Dale had written on his hand when a patrolman flashed his lights behind Viv.
“Now what?” she asked.
It could be that Tiffany had actually managed to pull off calling the cops and putting them on our tail, but it was more likely that Viv had been spotted during one of the many, many traffic violations she routinely committed. After being her friend for a while now, I’d gotten used to buckling myself in as tightly as I could and using our ride time as prayer time.
Viv pulled into a Burger King parking lot and slammed the Cadillac into park, the lines around her mouth working as she pursed her lips. She appeared to be running through her entire vocabulary of curse words, but she didn’t say them out loud.
The officer asked for her license and insurance, which Viv practically tossed at him. “What’s this all about?”
“Just wait here a minute, ma’am,” he said.
We waited in silence for the officer to run her license, which seemed to take an inordinately long time. But then a car pulled up behind the patrolman and everything became clear.
“You have to be kidding me,” I said as I realized what was happening.
Bobby Sloan sauntered up and leaned in Viv’s window. “Forget it,” he said shortly.
“Forget what?” Viv asked innocently.
“I know what you’re up to, I know where you’re going, and I am telling you, drop it right now.”
“Why, where are we supposed to be going, Detective Sloan?” She and Bobby had a mutual detest thing going. It had started when Bobby had the nerve to question Viv’s detective abilities when we worked our first case, which ignited this whole competition thing in her mind. All of us – including Bobby, if he was honest – had our money on Viv. But still, he gave it his very best shot.
“You’re going to see CJ Hardin’s partner over in the Live Oaks Apartments,” Bobby said.
“Ha!” Dale chimed in, like the dolt he was. “Shows how much you know. He lives at Red Oak Apartments.”
Viv and I both gave him withering looks, which he completely missed.
“How did you even know where we were?” Viv demanded. “I told that dimwit to say we were driving a blue Camry.”
“She did, but some guy with a biohazard tattoo gave us different information. He even had your license plate.” Bobby grinned a brilliant crooked grin at me.
There had been a period of several years in my life when being the recipient of that grin would have sent me into a dead faint. I congratulated myself on being practically over Bobby Sloan – all I felt was weak in the knees, dizzy and dry-mouthed.
The patrolman tapped on Dale’s window and motioned for him to get out of the car. They walked back behind the cruiser. I turned in my seat and watched, but they had their heads bent together and I couldn’t hear anything.
An entirely too familiar fear bubbled in my gut. I had spent too much of my life just like this, pulled over to the side of the road and telling lies like, “No, officer, I have not had anything to drink. I don’t know where that stuff came from. Of course I didn’t...”
I had not gone through over a year of AA meetings, days of wanting a drink so bad it was all I could think about, and shelling out almost half my salary in fines just to feel like this again. I pushed on the fear and tried to turn it into anger.
I set my jaw and leaned forward to glare at Bobby standing beside Viv’s door. “This is police harassment.”
“Am I going to have to put some kind of restraining order on you two? I can do that, if I need to.”
I hopped out of the back seat, cradling Stump to me. Stump stuck her nose in the air and sniffed at the flame-broiled Whopper scent.
“That would be a clear abuse of your power,” I said, my own mouth tight. “I would waste no time getting Trisha to do a whole exposé thing on you. She would love that.” When we were in sixth grade and Bobby was a senior back at Idalou High School, he’d called Trisha “Wide Load” in front of a bunch of upperclassmen, and she’d cried for three days. I was fairly certain she would still welcome the opportunity to get revenge.
“Salem, the last time you two got involved in a murder, you nearly ended up murdered yourself. You did end up in the hospital, both of you. Face it. You two are not cut out for real crime fighting.”
“We are not crime fighting,” Viv said, her wobbly old-lady chin sticking out. “We are concerned citizens, going to comfort the bereaved. You have no right to deter us from that. No right at all.” She made a motion for me to get back into the car, and turned the key. “Now if we are quite through here...”
She hit the button to raise her window.
Bobby reached in and pushed the button to lower it. He looked straight at me. “I’m not kidding, now. This one wasn’t an accident, it wasn’t a mistake. Somebody wanted this guy dead and he wanted him to suffer. This isn’t playtime. Stay away.”
He walked back to the patrolman. I stood there, furious at him for being so nosy, so bossy, and so freaking hot. I had almost completely made up my mind to no longer find him attractive.
I realized Stump was digging her hind feet into my back, trying to get down.
She might be trying to get at the Whoppers, but then again, she might need to go to the bathroom. I took her over to a grassy area and put her down.
Dale went back to the car and Bobby stood talking to the patrolman. I could hear their voices but not make out the words because of the traffic noise.
Stump sniffed around the ground, and I kept my eyes on her while I edged toward Bobby, straining to hear. I could make out a couple of words. I edged closer.
A light must have turned because traffic stopped
, and I was able to pick out what Bobby and the patrolman were saying.
“You’re sure he didn’t say anything about PDDL?” Bobby was asking.
Something about the tone of his voice didn’t sit well with me. Concern, beyond just his normal don’t-make-a-mess-I’ll-have-to-clean-up tone. PDDL, is that what he’d said? I tried to remember if that had been one of the groups on Tri-Patrice’s list.
I did not care for the way his tone made a cold ball of dread form in my stomach. I didn’t care for it at all.
“Nah,” the patrolman was saying. “Just that church outside of town where they handle the snakes, and he said they were going to talk to the partner.”
“We already questioned him. I doubt they’re going to get much from him.” He turned and noticed me. “Hey, that dog’s supposed to be on a leash, you know.”
I glared at him.
He grinned.
I wanted to flip him off so much it was painful. I let Stump finish peeing, then bent to pick her up. I narrowed my eyes at him, but all he did was grin and look hot. Jerk. Was he concerned for my welfare or not?
I got back in the car, but I couldn’t help but think of what Bobby said. I was familiar with Bobby’s different faces, and that one had been fairly “don’t-mess-with-me.”
Viv took off, and Dale and I sat back in our seats. The car was silent as we made our way down the street. I figured the other two were thinking what I was thinking – maybe we should stay away from this one.
I waited for one of them to say something, but when neither did, I figured I could be the one to say it. “Man,” I said. “That ‘they wanted him to suffer’ was kind of bad.”
Dale nodded. “Yeah.” He sounded stunned.
“It did sound bad,” Viv said. Then she pressed on the gas. “We need to get to this Marky guy and find out what happened. He’ll probably know all the details.”
“Yeah,” Dale said, leaning forward in his seat. “Take a right up here.”
I sat back in my seat and scowled. I did not say, “Guys, maybe we should rethink our involvement in this.” nor did I say, “Let’s explore some alternatives.” Nope, because that would be uncool.
I had hoped when I got sober that I would turn out to be one of those people who always made sensible decisions and didn’t sit in backseats wondering what kind of terrible mess they’d just gotten themselves into. Turns out the ridiculous self-destructive decisions I had made in my life couldn’t all be laid at the door of drink.
Red Oak Apartments were like every other apartment building in town – a thin strip of parking lot surrounding a sea of buildings. These were painted a greenish taupe color, and sported balconies and patios for each unit.
Viv parked the Caddy and turned to look at Dale. “Now listen. It might become necessary for me to do a little embellishing of the truth in there, in order to get the whole story out of the guy. Can you go with that?”
Dale gave a derisive snort. “Listen, you can’t bullshit a bullshitter. I bet I can embellish better than you.”
I doubted that. I’d seen Viv make up perfectly plausible BS at the drop of a hat. I knew her as well as anyone did, and she had the ability to convince me even when I knew for a fact she was lying.
We all piled out of the car, following Dale to a ground-floor unit. In front of the door was a welcome mat with a Siamese cat on it. Dale rapped on the door.
A short woman with wildly curly hair and spotty glasses on the end of her nose opened the door. She gave us a slack-jawed, mildly alarmed look. “Yes?”
“We’re from the Discreet Investigations Detective Agency,” Viv announced briskly. She folded her hands in front of her and stepped wide in what I privately called her Secret Service look. “We’re here to see Marky Petrelli. Is he in?”
Dale mimicked Viv’s stance, and the woman looked a bit more alarmed. “I don’t know.” She put a nervous hand to her throat. “I really couldn’t say.”
“Can’t, or won’t?” Dale asked. He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head.
I rolled my eyes, shifted Stump to my other hip and stepped slightly in front of him. “Forgive us for sounding brusque,” I said. I gave her the smile I gave to my grooming customers when I had to tell them their precious doggie was a matted-haired mess that would have to be shaved bald. “We just need to ask him a couple of questions. He’s not in any trouble or anything. Do you know when he will be in?”
She nodded her head slowly. “I really don’t know.”
Neither Viv, Dale or I were quite sure what to say next. I didn’t think she was covering up for him, but she sure wasn’t a font of information.
“What time does he normally get in?” I asked. “Is he at work or something?”
She swallowed hard and peered at me through the spots on her glasses. “He could be, I suppose. Where does he work?”
I wrinkled my forehead. “Well, I don’t know. Don’t you know?”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t even know who he is.”
We all stood dumbstruck for a couple of seconds, and then I grabbed Dale’s hand. The ink was smeared, but I could make it out.
“You idiot,” I said. “This is apartment 3F. We need 3B.”
“That’s around the back,” the short woman said.
“Yes, well,” Viv said. She nodded at the woman and stepped back. “Let us know if you need anything, then.”
We hot-footed it back down the sidewalk. I didn’t know about the other two, but I felt like an idiot.
“That was a pretty good warm-up, at least,” Dale said. “Now we’re more prepared for the real thing.”
We found 3B, and once again Dale rapped on the door, then he and Viv resumed the stance.
Marky himself opened the door, and this made my heart pound and I jumped a little. I guess we’d failed so many times I wasn’t emotionally prepared for success. Stump grunted and squirmed, looking up at me with an annoyed expression.
Viv had no trouble going for it, though. “We are from the Discreet Investigations Detective Agency. We’re working on behalf of a party who is very concerned about the death of CJ Hardin.”
He raised an eyebrow and took us all in. His eyes lingered on Stump for a second. “You’re detectives,” he said, his tone flat.
Viv raised her chin and thinned her lips. She met Marky’s gaze with a steely one of her own. “Our past clients include families of both kidnap and murder victims, and we have a 100 percent success rate. Our client on this case expects no less from us, and I expect to give them no less.”
I wanted to give Dale an I-told-you-so look but I didn’t dare. Everything Viv had just said was true. The parts that she left out – that our kidnap victim was a Maltese dog, and that it wasn’t that hard to have a 100 percent success rate when we’d only had two actual cases – weren’t especially important.
“And who is your client now?” Marky asked.
“We’re not at liberty to divulge that, but please rest assured that it is someone who only wants to see the truth be told and the guilty party – or parties – brought to justice. As I’m sure you’re aware, there are a lot of factors in this case that are detracting from what should be the main priority, and that’s bringing Dr. Hardin’s killers to justice.”
He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t lose that you’ve-gotta-be-kidding-me expression, either.
“Do you have time to answer a few questions? We’re establishing a timeline of Dr. Hardin’s last few days.”
He shook his head. “I’ve already talked to the police and told them everything.”
“Look, Jack,” Dale said. “Don’t you want his killer to be found?”
Viv put a hand up to motion Dale to step back. “I’m sure you’ve been very cooperative with the police.” She lowered her voice and stepped close to him. “I’m sure you’ve also noticed, they’re not exactly running with the information you’ve given them, either. You and I both know the police say one thing and then do another.”
Marky lost th
e derisive half-smile.
“Now, maybe they’re interested in finding Dr. Hardin’s killer, and maybe they’re thinking this is just some prank that got out of hand.” She shrugged. “You know, he’s just some gay guy. It’s not like an important member of society got killed, right? Maybe he was looking at somebody the wrong way. Maybe he went someplace he had no business going. Maybe, if they dig too deep, they’ll find a guilty party they don’t want to be brought to justice. Somebody whose pristine reputation could be tarnished by this scandal.” She stepped back and shrugged again. “There are all kinds of reasons the police aren’t motivated to pursue leads as thoroughly as they could.”
I cocked my head at her. I knew a few people on the Lubbock PD – Bobby Sloan especially – and there was no way he would not do a thorough investigation. He wasn’t like that. I was almost 100 percent positive.
I kept quiet, though, because if I had learned anything, it was that Viv usually had a plan. Sometimes it was a ridiculous plan that went up in flames, but she had a plan.
Marky studied her a moment, then stepped back and motioned for us to come in.
The sparse living room held a sofa, one chair and a small coffee table. Dale, Viv and I sat on the sofa and let Marky take the chair. Stump curled up in my lap and almost immediately fell asleep.
Marky’s Mohawk was gone, I noticed. I supposed it took a bit of effort and hair gel to get it to stand up like it had the morning of the Hope for Home 5K.
Viv got right down to business.
“Tell me about your relationship with CJ Hardin.”
“We were lovers.” Marky sat and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked at each of us in turn, his chin tilted. I got ready to stomp on Dale’s foot, but all he did was shudder a little and look at the ceiling.
“Where did you meet?”
“At a Hope for Home meeting back in April.” He leaned back and looked at the floor in front of his chair. “He gave a presentation about the work the organization had done over the previous year and his goals for the next year. I had been involved in a Friends of Joshua group back in my home town, so I wanted to help out here. We talked after the meeting and we just...hit it off.” He swallowed hard and cleared his throat.
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