“I don’t want to. I want you to tell me what the hell goes on in your life. Is that too much to ask?” Lane shuffled from foot to foot as he tried to calm down. “Will you just look at me?”
Amelia made herself raise her head to look at him defiantly. She never said a word.
“Tell me what this is all about,” Lane demanded, trying so hard to keep the anger out of his voice. When she didn’t speak, he continued on anyway. “Jeez, Amelia. I’m not asking for much.”
“No, but I don’t have to tell you every little detail of my life,” she replied. She didn’t wait around to hear any more. She grabbed her keys and went outside again. Jumping into her car, her last glimpse of Lane was him standing in the doorway and watching her leave.
* * *
Amelia had no idea where she was going to go. All she knew was she didn’t want to fight with Lane anymore and the only way to avoid the conversation was to remove herself from it. The logic wasn’t entirely sound but she didn’t care.
Driving around absentmindedly, refusing to cry, she found herself in a strange but familiar neighborhood. It wasn’t until she pulled up outside the Armstrong Inn did she realize where she was. That was the same pub she had visited with Leo. The dirty, filthy place where Blake Turner had tried to get a job.
She knew she shouldn’t go inside, she knew she didn’t even really want to. But her anger was blinding her and turning off all those warning bells. She parked her car as close to the door as she could and stomped her way inside.
The dimness of the overhead lights helped to disguise the grime but it did nothing to make the other patrons any more attractive. Burly men sat around tables, booths, and at the bar. The beer was flowing freely, only rivaled for attention by the loud voices.
Amelia took a seat at the bar, trying not to notice the eyes on her. There were more people filling the bar than there was when she visited with Leo. She searched around for another female and found none. Unless they were blending in with the men, she was possibly the only one of the fairer sex there. It didn’t make her any more comfortable.
Without asking for it, the barman delivered her an ice cold beer, pointing to the guy three seats down from her. She didn’t normally drink but it was better than sitting there doing nothing. She stuck out enough as it was.
She stole a glance at the man who had bought her drink. He smiled hopefully, waiting for the signal for him to approach. She didn’t give it to him. She may be mad with Lane but she wasn’t stupid.
“Nice night out, eh?” The guy sitting on the stool next to hers said. Amelia looked him over before she replied. He was wearing a dark blue coverall, paint splatters covering every inch of it. He was probably in his thirties and looked harmless enough.
“I guess so.”
“What brings you out tonight?”
The last thing Amelia wanted to do was engage in a conversation with anyone at the bar. Yet she didn’t know how to remove herself from it. “I just went for a drive. And got thirsty.”
“How about I shout you something a bit stronger?” He asked, cocking his head to one side with the question. It was kind of creepy.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“Go on, let me.”
Creepy quickly turned into outright sleazy. Unsure what to do and wanting to run away as quickly as her legs could take her, Amelia’s mind raced. She needed to talk her way out of the situation and she used the best weapon she had – deflection. It nearly always worked with Lane.
“No, the beer is fine, thank you,” she started, crossing her fingers. “I heard my friend Blake Turner hangs out here sometimes. Do you know him?”
The guy nodded slowly, pursing his lips with the thought. “Blake’s in here all the time. I haven’t seen him for a few days though. He’s really a friend of yours?”
“Yeah, I know his girlfriend Mandy. We go way back.” Way back to a few days ago, anyway.
“Nice girl.” Terrible woman. Amelia chuckled to herself, he obviously wasn’t a fan of Mandy Parkes. “I’m Joe, by the way.”
“Amelia. How do you know Blake?”
“We’re friends.” We’re not friends.
“I hear he’s been having a problem getting work?” Amelia prodded, hoping something good might come from her otherwise horrible evening.
“No-one wants to hire him.”
“Why’s that?”
“Good for nothing.” Joe shifted his weight on the stool, circling the rim of his glass with his finger. “But I don’t want to talk about Blake all night. I’d much rather know more about you.”
“There really isn’t much to know. My husband keeps me on a tight leash.” She desperately hoped he didn’t have the same abilities as her. The lies were flowing free and fast – both ways.
“Husband, eh? Where’s your wedding ring?”
“I take it off when I go to work. The safety officer deems it dangerous, it could get caught in the equipment.”
“Pencil pushers. Sounds like you need to cut that leash of yours. I can help you with that. I can think of dozens of other things to do with leather,” he tried to make it sound sexy and would have pulled it off except for the wink at the end. It only made Amelia think of a cartoon character. She had to suppress the laughter.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Are any of Blake’s other friends here tonight?” She spun around to face the room, looking for an exit from the man. She would need to take a shower to fully get rid of him.
“You’re friends with him, you should know,” Joe didn’t even try to keep the grumpiness out of his voice. He had given up on her, ready to find a new target. He stood and left her there.
Amelia was relieved, she let out the breath she was holding and surveyed the room. Everyone looked just as intimidating as Joe and she didn’t really want to push her luck by playing them. It would only take one to follow her back to her car. Maybe she should quit while she was ahead.
“Liar.” The voice came from her left, startling her. Amelia spun back around to face the bar, searching for the man who had spoken to her. She found him on the stool beside hers. He grinned.
“Excuse me?” She asked, her mind racing with thoughts of all her truths being exposed. She prayed he didn’t know of her lies.
“You’re not married,” he continued, looking at her left hand. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five – a few years younger than her – and his blonde hair was covered in dirt, along with his shorts. Either he was a landscaper or he just rolled around in a garden.
“You don’t know that,” Amelia replied indignantly. Nobody accused her of lying, it was the whole living in a glass house thing. “I could be married.”
“You don’t have a tan line on your wedding finger. And you don’t look like the type of woman who has a manual laborer’s job. You’re not married.”
Amelia relaxed, he was only using logic to see through her tale. “Fine. I’m not married. Happy?”
“Not as happy as you could be, looking up at my bedroom ceiling and seeing stars.”
This time, she couldn’t suppress the laughter. “That’s the worst pick up line I have ever heard.”
“But it made you laugh so I guess it worked.” He wasn’t going to give up. There was a male to female ratio of about fifty to one in the pub, he didn’t have much to lose.
“Keep dreaming,” she said with a hint of playfulness in her voice. She didn’t get any threatening vibes off the guy, he was as harmless as they came.
He stared at her, trying to calculate his next big move. “You really do have remarkable eyes.” You have ordinary eyes. His compliment was drowned out by the truth. It instantly made Amelia think of Lane. Every time he complimented her, she couldn’t hear the truth because he truly believed it. Guilt started to creep in on her.
“And you’re a terrible liar,” she retorted. “I may not be married, but I do have a boyfriend. A good one, sorry.”
“I should have known,” he sighed. “So why are you here when you have a good
boyfriend at home? Probably waiting for you? Wondering where you are?”
She decided to go with the truth. “I was looking for people that might know Blake Turner. Do you fall into that category?”
“He worked on a jobsite I was working on once. He’s bad news. What business is it of yours?”
“He may have done something really stupid. What was he like to work with?”
The guy stared at her, sizing up what kind of trouble he could get into for speaking with her. She seemed harmless too but those were normally the ones you had to watch out for. He had come to know that it was the quiet women that screamed the loudest. Still, he was bored and curious so he stretched himself a little, waiting to see how far he could go before he snapped back.
“Blake was a lazy son of a bitch. He lasted a day and got the flick. I told the boss not to hire him but nobody ever listens.”
“I’m listening,” Amelia pointed out, trying to keep him going. “How did you know he wouldn’t work out?”
“Because every guy in here knows that.”
“So why is he bad news? Was it just his work ethic?”
The guy shrugged. “Anyone who speaks with that guy is bad news in my books.” He pointed to a man sitting in a booth, surrounded by three others. He was slightly overweight, his belly being held in with his silver belt buckle. He held a scotch in one hand and was gesturing wildly with the other. Whatever story he was telling, he had his audience engaged.
“Who is he?” Amelia asked, trying not to stare but finding it difficult to look away. There was something about the man, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“Don’t know. All I know is that Blake had a long conversation with him last time I saw him. There is something not quite right about the guy.”
Amelia had to agree. “He looks a bit scary.”
“Probably is a bit scary,” the guy replied, a smile skimming his lips. His attention turned to the door where a pair of women entered the pub. “Excuse me. Have a good night.”
“Thanks, you too.”
She tried to keep her gaze away from the man in the booth but stole the occasional glance when she could. The man never looked her way, not catching her even once.
“Can I get you anything, Miss?” The barman asked when her glass was almost empty.
“No, I don’t think so,” she replied, thinking she would have to return home and face Lane sooner or later. But not yet, she could delay for a little bit longer. She grabbed the barman before he could leave. “Do you know that man over there?”
She pointed to the booth, he had a good look before replying. “I don’t think he’s a regular. I’ve probably only seen him once or twice, maybe a bit more.”
“You don’t know his name?”
“Miss, I don’t even know the name of my regulars. Everyone is Miss or Mate, got it?”
“Sure, thanks.”
She let him go, weighing up her options. She hadn’t drunk enough to go talk to the man in the booth herself. Instead, she slipped out her cell phone and discreetly took a photo. It may be nothing, but at least she had something to take away and tell Leo about.
Amelia slipped out of the bar unnoticed and returned to her car. Every mile she drove made her dread going home even more. She was too tired to resume her argument with Lane and she wasn’t ready to give in and apologize yet. Plus, she wasn’t certain she should have to apologize. He was the one being nosy and poking into her business. It wasn’t her fault if he felt shut out, that was his problem. Right? She didn’t think he would see it that way.
The house was in complete darkness, a beautiful sight. She crept in and showered in the main bathroom, doing all she could not to wake the sleeping beast. As she slipped into the sheets, she was grateful for the momentary reprieve.
CHAPTER 8
“I don’t recognize him,” Leo said as he studied the photo in Amelia’s phone.
She had shown him as soon as he picked her up that morning. Lane had left before she awoke, obviously still mad. She was happy she didn’t have to see him, even though she was trying to push the guilt away. He was a good guy, she didn’t give him enough credit. After the sleaze balls in the Armstrong Inn the previous night, she knew she should be nicer to him.
But he was still a human, she argued with herself, and that meant he was likely to disappoint her at some stage. Perhaps she was better off without him, inflict the pain before he could do the same to her. She sighed with the thought.
“Is everything alright?” Leo asked, noticing her nonchalant attitude as they sat in the morning traffic. They were only inching their way toward their destination, allowing plenty of pondering time.
“It’s fine,” Amelia replied, wishing she didn’t have to lie to him. For some reason, she found it difficult telling him fibs. Much more so than anyone else. “So you really don’t recognize the guy from the pub?”
“No. I don’t remember seeing him before. You shouldn’t have been there by yourself. Why’d you go back anyway?”
She needed another lie. “I had a hunch.”
Leo nodded, as if he completely understood how psychic intuition worked. He was doing a good job of pretending. “Still, it could have been dangerous. Next time, give me a call and we’ll go together. Got it?”
“Sure.”
“I mean it, Amelia. A situation can turn dangerous in an instant.”
“I know, I promise.” She wasn’t sure if that was a lie yet or not, she hadn’t decided. “I’ll call you next time.”
“I’ll have my buddy at the station run the photograph and see if anything pops in the database. We might be able to get a name to go with the face. I might even pay the bar a visit,” Leo explained, getting her to email the photograph to his personal account. He was using up a lot of favors with the investigation, he hoped it would be worth it in the end. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling Amelia was keeping something from him. “Are you sure everything is alright with you?”
She couldn’t lie again and he didn’t seem like he was going to drop it. She tried the truth for a change. “I had a fight with my boyfriend last night, that’s all. It’s nothing, really.”
“I hope I didn’t cause anything.”
“No, it was something else.” Technically that wasn’t a lie. Lane’s problem wasn’t with the detective, it was the fact she had kept everything from him.
“Okay, well if you want to talk about it-”
“I know, thanks.”
An awkward silence hung in the car, both Leo and Amelia grasping for something else to talk about. The snail’s pace of the traffic wasn’t helping either.
“So where are we going?” Amelia asked, finding that elusive change of topic. “You said you found something?”
“I did.” Leo instantly perked up. “I was up all night going through Turner’s financial records, his credit card statements in particular.”
“He owed about two hundred and fifty thousand, didn’t he?”
“Yep. But the balance kept going up with interest and late fees, he hadn’t made any payments in seven months. But that wasn’t the interesting part.” He paused for dramatic effect. When he was satisfied he had her on tenterhooks, he continued. “Turner made several purchases a week at a pharmacy in mid-town.”
Amelia didn’t grasp the significance. “What does that mean?”
“Why would you go to the pharmacy every week for five months straight?”
“Because you’re sick?”
Leo nodded happily. “Because you’ve got an illness. And if you’re sick…”
“You wouldn’t be able to work,” she finished for him. “You think Turner was ill and that’s why he couldn’t keep any of the jobs he picked up?”
“I do. I can’t imagine any other reason why someone in such a dire financial situation would spend upwards of fifty dollars a week if he didn’t need to. Blake Turner was ill.”
She thought it through. It would make sense if he had a reason for being unable to wor
k. When she saw Turner on the news he didn’t look ill, however he was rake thin. She hadn’t given it any thought before. It would be a horrible situation to be in, needing money desperately and not being well enough to go out and earn it.
“Why didn’t he claim sickness benefits?” She asked, curious. “It could have helped with the bills.”
“One step ahead of you.” Leo grinned. “I contacted the Department of Social Security this morning and they said he was knocked back because he didn’t complete all the forms he needed to.”
“Why wouldn’t he do that?”
“I guess some people really hate filling in forms. Or there was something he didn’t want to declare.” He shrugged, not having all the answers yet. Details were easy, but working out the logic of another human being wasn’t. “This traffic is going nowhere. Hold on.”
With a flip of a button, his siren whirled to life. Using one hand to stick a flashing light on his roof, he steered the car through the traffic. Cars moved to each side to let him through, horns honked to make room. Using every skill he learned in his defensive driving course, Leo guided the car until he reached the exit he was after.
“Was that allowed?” Amelia asked, still hanging on to the seat for her life.
“No, it was against about three different laws but I’m not going to tell anyone. Are you?”
“Not if it means we don’t have to wait in traffic.”
Down the off ramp, he cut the siren and flashing lights. The cars were moving at a reasonable pace, he didn’t need to show his impatience anymore.
They pulled up outside an industrial building, a gigantic monster of a place covering a whole block. The sign outside declared it as Moreton Building Supplies. A series of orange trucks lined the parking lot with the matching insignia.
“What are we doing here?” Amelia asked, realizing Leo hadn’t answered her question when she first raised it.
“This is where Turner worked for three years,” he replied, leading her inside.
They were directed to a small mezzanine office over the showroom. The room was far too small to be comfortable and the floor creaked when they entered, as if any moment they could fall through. It was distracting as well as disconcerting, Amelia tried to focus on the man that greeted them.
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