by L. K. Hill
He would have asked if she knew Tanya, but stopped short. At the mention of Tanya’s name, the bartender froze. She shifted her eyes briefly to him before beginning her polishing again.
“You know her.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah,” she tried to act casual, even shrugging. “She comes in here sometimes.”
Sometimes a direct approach was best. “You were surprised when I said her name. Why?”
She gave him a wry smile, as if to tell him that she knew he was trying to manipulate her. Which he wasn’t. Entirely. “She’s just not the sort I would expect a cop to be looking for. What’d she do?”
After hearing so many people sing Tanya’s praises, people would be more willing to talk if he put them at their ease; made sure they knew they wouldn’t be doing her any harm by talking to him. He gave the bartender a reassuring smile. “Nothing at all. Actually I’m interested in someone else she knows.”
The bartender gave him a critical glance, looking unconvinced. “Who are you actually looking for?”
It took him a moment to figure out what she meant. “Oh, uh, I’m looking for information about Kenny Alves.”
She frowned. “Is that the guy she brought in here a few nights ago?”
He nodded with a smile. “The very one. What can you tell me about him?”
She shrugged. “Seemed nice. Obviously into Tanya, but I could tell she didn’t return it. Poor guy. Why you looking for him?”
Gabe peered at her, trying to read the casual façade she’d plastered over her face. “I’m not really looking for him,” he said.
A bleary-eyed man three stools down tapped his empty tumbler on the counter. “Carmen. Another.”
The bartender moved a few feet down the bar and snatched up a tall, dark bottle of liquor. “Why’s that?” she asked Gabe as she refilled the man’s drink.
Gabe waited until she’d replaced the bottle and come to stand in front of him, debating. He made a decision. “Kenny was murdered this morning.”
Carmen froze. When she raised her eyes to him, they were wide with alarm, all vestiges of casualness gone. The man whose drink she’d just refreshed looked downright terrified. Gabe gazed at him until he dropped his eyes, muttering something about how hard the bar stools were and excusing himself. He had a hard time walking in a straight line, though, crashing into three tables and receiving angry comments from their occupants before finding a vacant one in a shadowy corner of the bar.
Gabe turned back to Carmen expectantly.
“You don’t think Tanya had anything to do with it, do you?” she asked.
“No.” Gabe realized he really didn’t, though he had nothing to back it up and no reason to believe it. “But she…may have been the last one to see him alive.”
That was a lie, but Gabe didn’t want Carmen clamming up on him.
She chewed her lip, looking undecided, and glanced up and down the bar, though with the bleary-eyed man gone, there was no one close enough to overhear them. “She works for the Carlottas. Can’t you ask them for her number?”
“Already have. She’s not answering. What I really need is a way to locate her.”
Carmen gave him a mischievous smile. “Come on, Detective. You’re a smart boy. Don’t you know how to take a hint when a girl doesn’t return your calls?”
He grinned at her. “I’m trying to get information from this woman, not date her. It’s a bit of a different playing field.”
She chuckled and leaned her elbows on the counter, seeming more at ease. “Look, you have an honest smile, so I’ll tell you something. Tanya’s work…it can be difficult sometimes.”
“How so?”
“Sometimes she can’t answer her cell phone for a long time. Sometimes for days.”
“Days?” Why would a delivery-truck driver not be able to answer a call for days?
Carmen nodded. “Sometimes when I call her it takes three or four days for her to get back to me, but she always does. Give her time.”
Gabe opened his mouth, but hesitated, not sure how much to say.
“What?” Carmen asked.
“The truth is, Carmen, I already spoke with Tanya once. She was disturbed by Kenny’s death, as you might imagine, but I also distinctly got the impression that she might know something about it. Something that might help us solve it. And now she won’t return my calls. The vibe I’m getting here is avoidance, not preoccupation.”
One side of Carmen’s mouth quirked upward. “I understand why you think that, Detective. Anyone would. But I’m telling you, Tanya’s work…can be risky. She has to protect herself.”
“Isn’t she a delivery driver?”
Carmen’s eyebrows arched in surprise. Understanding came into her face. “Oh. Right. Um…yeah she is.”
“But?” he prodded, leaning closer to her over the bar.
She looked chagrined, and then resigned. “But that’s not her only job.”
“Really.” Gabe fought the urge to crawl over the counter, just to better hear what Carmen’s next words would be. He made his hands stay flat and still on the bar top. “What else does she do?”
Immediately Carmen hesitated, looking distressed.
“Come on, Carmen. Don’t stop now. Tell me what she does.”
She looked him in the eye this time, but it was a troubled look. A slight movement of her body told him she was tapping her toe nervously behind the counter where he couldn’t see. “Tell you what,” she said quietly. “You promise she’s not in trouble?”
“Unless she turns out to have killed Kenny, no.”
Carmen nodded. “If I call her, she’ll probably answer. If she does, I think I can get her to come in here. That way you can talk to her yourself.”
“Why don’t you want to tell me what she does?”
“Because she wouldn’t want me to. At least if you get it out of her yourself she can’t be mad at me for telling you. What do you say?”
After a moment, Gabe nodded reluctantly. “It’s worth a shot. But if she doesn’t pick up for you, I’m not going anywhere.”
Carmen rolled her eyes and moved down the bar. “Give me a minute. Phone’s in the back.”
She disappeared before Gabe could object, though he didn’t like the idea of her going somewhere else to make the call. Praying she wouldn’t tell Tanya he was looking for her and to skip town, he waited, fingers tapping on the bar.
Carmen reappeared after only a few minutes, looking distinctly guilty. “She’s on her way,” she said sulkily when she stood in front of him again.
Gabe straightened in surprise. “It worked?”
“Yeah.”
“What’d you tell her?”
“That I had some information for her.”
“You give her information.” Again, not a question, and Carmen looked sorry that she’d spoken. “What kind of information?” Gabe asked.
Carmen glanced up and down the bar before lowering her voice. “She asks me to keep an out for certain things or people. It’s nothing illegal—just who certain people are, where they work, where they hang out. Nothing that isn’t public knowledge.” She gave him a flat-eyed stare. “I don’t consider myself a snitch.”
Gabe nodded quickly. “Of course not.”
Looking somewhat mollified, Carmen went on. “In return, she sends customers my way, helps promote my bar, even helped me get out of a couple of scrapes.”
“What kind of scrapes?”
She shook her head. “That’s personal.” He opened his mouth to object, but she talked over him. “It’s nothing criminal, Detective. It’s just personal. Nasty ex-boyfriends. That sort of thing. She helped me out with something and I owed her, so now we have an understanding.”
“Do you know what she uses the information you give her for?”
Carmen seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “She’s never told me. Not outright. But I have an idea.”
“And what is that?”
Again Carmen looked reluctant. “Why
don’t you speak to her? She’ll be here in ten minutes.” Carmen lifted her gaze to something over his shoulder and called, “Hey Mark. Harriet. The usual? How about for your friends?”
Gabe turned to see a group of six coming through the door. There were more behind them. He left the bar and found an empty table along the perimeter of the room that had a clear view of both the front door and the bar.
The minutes passed slowly, though he supposed that was always the case when one watched the digital clock on one’s phone. Ten minutes came and went, with still no sign of her. Gabe started to worry. There was no way of knowing whether Carmen had lied or not. Tanya might be boarding a bus even as he sat here. He tapped his foot, scanning what he could see of the street through the dark windows. Shouldn’t she be here by now? How long had it been?
Twelve minutes.
He sighed. He would wait until it had been twenty, then go talk to Carmen again.
Another three minutes passed before Tanya breezed through the door. She looked different than she had that morning. She’d swapped out her jeans and pastel blouse for dark dress pants, and a sleek, black jacket. Her sandy blond hair was still pulled back into a ponytail, but she wore more makeup on her face than she had that morning. She clutched a black shoulder bag to her side as she approached the bar and took an empty stool.
Carmen was down at the other side, filling some orders. Tanya waited patiently for the bartender to notice her.
Gabe got to his feet and walked up behind Tanya, standing at her shoulder. She didn’t sense his presence, and while there was a mirror behind the bar, it was at the wrong angle for Tanya to see Gabe behind her. When Carmen’s gaze fell on Tanya, she froze, eyes flicking back to Gabe before moving forward to where Tanya sat.
“Hi, Carmen,” Tanya said. Gabe strained to hear her over the ruckus in the bar. “What have you got for me? Do we need to go in back?”
Carmen shook her head slowly. “Sorry about this, Tanya. Try not to be angry with me, okay?”
“For what?” Tanya asked.
For answer, Carmen’s eyes shifted back to look at Gabe over Tanya’s shoulder. Tanya suddenly whirled around on her stool to face him, eyes wide with terror. She jumped when she saw him, but immediately relaxed again when recognition flared in her eyes. Her hand went to her chest and she turned an irritated gaze back to Carmen.
“Don’t do that. I thought you were turning me over to a gangster or serial killer or something.”
Carmen gave her a don’t-be-stupid look. “Why would I turn you over to a serial killer? And for that matter, why are you more afraid of serial killers than of cops?”
“Hey, hey!” Gabe chimed in. “Not cool. Cops don’t murder people.”
Carmen rolled her eyes. “Says you.” Gabe opened his mouth to protest, but Carmen was already talking to Tanya again, face contrite. “Sorry again. He came in here asking.” She shrugged, as if it were out of her hands and walked down the bar to take care of her customers.
Heaving a deep, steadying breath, Tanya turned a long-suffering look on Gabe. “So, you found me.”
He kept his face steady. “I’m good at my job.”
She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t reply, instead sweeping her eyes over the bar.
“Why are you avoiding me, Tanya? What do you know about Kenny that you don’t want to say?”
She looked reluctant—pained, even—but when her eyes came back to his, she nodded. She opened her mouth to speak, then winced and shut it when a rowdy group a few feet away started screaming and whooping at something one of their number was doing. Pushing whiskey shots, Gabe thought.
He turned to motion to his table and tell her they could talk there, but in the time it had taken him to walk up to the bar and speak with Tanya, other patrons had moved in and taken over it. There were no free tables in the bar that he could see.
“Can we go outside?” Tanya half-yelled over the noise.
He nodded. “Read my mind.”
Chapter 18
She hopped off the stool and headed for the door. He wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, as much to guide her as to make sure she wouldn’t bolt.
Outside the bar was much quieter. The night was warm and comfortable. Most of the businesses around Big Callie’s were closed, but the street was well-lit. Gabe and Tanya walked down it side by side. Again he noticed the ugly bruises on her neck and eye, and wondered whether or not they had anything to do with her reluctance. He waited, giving her the chance to speak first.
“How did you find me?” she finally said.
“The staff from the Carlotta place said you and Kenny came here a few days ago. You neglected to tell me you were dating Kenny.”
She cast him a sidelong, irritated look. “We weren’t dating. He asked me out all the time and I eventually caved. Agreed to have a drink with him. That doesn’t constitute dating.”
He nodded. “Fair enough. So what happened?”
“You mean on the date?”
He nodded.
“Nothing.” She shrugged. “We talked. He got pretty wasted. I took him home. End of story.”
Gabe sighed. Quite the convenient story. They’d come to a vacant bench that served as a bus stop. “Ms. Roberts, why don’t we sit?”
She moved around to sit on the bench and he followed.
“To be honest, I’ve been trying to figure you out all day.”
His admission didn’t seem to make her anxious or uncomfortable. Rather, she gazed at him steadily. “How do you mean?”
“If that’s really all that happened, and that’s really all you know about Kenny, then why did you react the way you did this morning?” She turned her face away from him as he spoke, looking troubled. “I know seeing a dead body—especially that of someone you know—can be traumatic, but I felt like it was more than that for you. And why did you give me a fake number and address? There must be a reason, Ms. Roberts.”
She didn’t answer right away, but he didn’t press her. Finally, she sighed. “All right.” She turned her body to more fully face him on the bench. “Look, I haven’t lived in Abstreuse long. I moved here a few months ago to…make a fresh start, and I don’t want anything to ruin that.” She paused again, studying the few inches of bench between them before going on. “When Kenny and I were out, he got really drunk. He started saying things. Things that…made me uncomfortable.”
“How so?” Gabe turned more fully to her.
She shrugged. “It’s kind of hard to explain. They were just things I didn’t understand, but they seemed…odd.”
“Like what? Give me an example.”
“He said something about Mr. Carlotta sending a shipment to the Carmichael district. Since you work here, I suppose you know what a bad part of town that is?”
Gabe nodded.
“It was such an innocuous statement at first,” she went on, “that I didn’t think much of it, except that it was a weird place to send a shipment. Mr. Carlotta is a day trader. He owns stocks in lots of businesses, but not much in terms of goods or physical assets. Mrs. Carlotta is part owner of the cosmetic company I work for and uses their products a lot, but why ship high-end cosmetics to the ghetto, you know?”
He nodded, letting her speak uninterrupted.
“So I asked Kenny what Mr. Carlotta would be shipping to the Carmichael district.”
“What’d he say?” Gabe asked.
“He said it was one of those special shipments that was off the books.” She cast him a worried glance. “Now, Detective, I didn’t really know what that meant—maybe I misunderstood—but quite frankly, I didn’t want to know. I just want to keep my head down and work and stay out of any drama. So, I changed the subject. But as the night went on, he said several things like that. Things that were just…odd.”
“What else?” Gabe asked.
“Later he asked if Mrs. Carlotta tipped me. By then, he was already slurring his words. I told him that she was actually a very generous tipper, and he said something abou
t how she probably paid me out of the same fund she used to pay Dave and Carlisle—two guys on the staff.”
Gabe nodded, making a mental note of the names. He remembered seeing them listed among the estate’s workers. He hadn’t interviewed them himself but thought Tyke had. They did odd jobs for the Carlottas.
“Again,” she went on, “just following the thread of conversation, I asked him what she tipped them for.”
“And what did he say?”
“He laughed in this weird way and said, ‘I guess you could call it that. She tips them for keeping the family and the business well-protected.’”
Gabe frowned. “Did you ask him what that meant? Did he say anything else?”
She hesitated a moment before answering, then shook her head. “No. I felt weird about it so I didn’t pursue it.”
Gabe couldn’t help but notice that she hesitated a lot before answering. She spoke fluidly, confidently, and met his eye, but, like this morning, it seemed to him that she still took a longer time than was normal to formulate her answers. Gabe didn’t want to accuse her of anything and have her clam up on him, though. “What else?”
She thought for a moment. “I don’t remember everything. Some of it was so off the wall. Oh, he did ask me, right before we left the bar, if Dave or Carlisle had ever asked me out. I told him they hadn’t, and he said if they did, I shouldn’t go out with them. I think I laughed and asked if that wasn’t pretty self-serving on his part. But, when he answered, he was totally serious—almost lucid. He said it wasn’t self-serving and that I shouldn’t go out with either of them because they weren’t decent guys. He said they did things for the Carlottas that I wouldn’t approve of and that I wouldn’t be safe.” She rubbed her face with one hand. “It was just so...Godfather, you know? It freaked me out. So I told Kenny I was calling it a night and took him home.”
Gabe nodded. Godfather was exactly what he’d been thinking. So, what? The Carlottas were a mob family and their staff doubled as henchmen?
“Now, I didn’t see him again after that,” Tanya touched Gabe’s hand lightly where it rested atop the bench back and he found himself leaning toward her. She lifted her hand again almost immediately to motion while she spoke. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I went to the estate today, thinking I would talk to Kenny about it. Just ask him what it meant and if everything was okay. And then,” she turned to face forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. “He was dead. Not only was I not expecting it, but the first thought I had was that maybe, somehow, by getting him drunk, I’d also gotten him killed.”