by anna snow
"Look, lady. I saved your life. You're welcome. Now, I've got work to do," Gerald said, adjusted his black suit jacket, got back into his vehicle, and drove away without saying another word.
I looked over at Silas who was biting his lip trying not to laugh. "Just get in the dang car," I said wearily as I climbed into the passenger seat and did up the seat belt.
Once we were back on the road to my place, Silas asked, "Well, did you find out anything?"
"Not as much as I would have liked," I admitted. "Tommy did say that he knew Mark. He said Mark owed him a lot of money and refused to pay him back, which tells me he was more than likely buying his drugs and probably the gun from Tommy. He also said that he took care of things where Mark was concerned which makes me think Two-Toes might be our guy."
"So now what?"
"First, I'm going to hold off on telling Tyler what I've found until I have something a little more solid that points in Two-Toes' direction. Then I think I need to make a trip to Melody's apartment."
"No can do," Silas said and shook his head.
"Why not?"
"Mandy sent a text and told me not to go to Melody's. She did some investigating of her own and found out that Melody is off work today and tomorrow, and Tyler took her in for questioning just a little while ago. There's no way to know how long Tyler will spend talking to her, and I don't want to chance being caught in her house, so unless you want to camp out across the street from her place in hopes that she'll leave long enough for us to take a good long look around…"
"Shoot." I blew a lock of hair away from my face. "I really wanted to get a look in her house. There has to be something there that would help us figure out if she killed Mark."
I tapped my bottom lip. "Okay, if we can't get into Melody's place today or tomorrow, then let's check out Mark's."
"Why?" Silas glanced at me. "The cops have scoured that place. What are you hoping to find?"
"I want to poke around. I know Tyler said they did a thorough search of the place, but I want to take a look for myself and see if there's any sign of Melody or Tommy's guys being there."
Silas nodded. "As long as the place isn't crawling with cops, I'm in."
"We'll go first thing in the morning. It's late, and I want out of this dress," I said and leaned back in my seat.
Silas chuckled.
"What?" I asked.
"Don't you mean you want out of that dress again?"
CHAPTER TEN
The next morning, I crept past Mark's apartment building and scoped the place out. The flock of fans that had littered the sidewalk the first two days after his demise was gone, and there wasn't a cop in sight. I parked a block away where I had a clear view of the building and got out of the car.
I had skipped picking Silas up. I needed some time alone after being a team all day over the last few days, and checking out Mark's apartment was the least dangerous thing I'd do lately. I had left Silas a quick voicemail that I would come by his place once I was finished, and then I'd headed straight to Mark's place.
I strolled casually down the sidewalk and right into the building. Now that I knew he owed Two-Toes money, I wasn't so surprised that he didn't live in a big fancy house like everyone else in his band. His apartment wasn't shabby by any means, but it wasn't the Hilton either.
I rode the elevator up to Mark's floor and stepped off into a small well-lit hallway.
Everything was quiet as I crossed the hall from the elevator. Wide yellow crime scene tape was secured across the apartment door. I pulled out my small pocketknife, sliced through the tape, and then stuck it back in my pocket.
Leaving my fingerprints all over the place wasn't a good idea, so I pulled on the pair of latex gloves I'd hidden in the waist of my jeans and knelt down then slid the credit card between the door and frame beside the doorknob.
Picking locks wasn't my forte, but I'd gotten better at it over the past few months. The click of the lock disengaging sounded louder than it actually was in the empty hallway, and I caught myself looking about for any sign of someone coming to check out what was going on.
I slid the credit card back into my pocket and twisted the knob. The door didn't creak when I pushed it open slowly as it normally does in the movies, and I was just a little bit disappointed. I smiled at my own silliness and entered the apartment then closed the door and locked it behind me.
I felt along the wall until my fingers brushed up against the light switch then pressed it. The apartment flooded with light, and I pulled a face.
It looked like a bomb had gone off. The couch's cushions were on the floor, clothes were tossed about willy-nilly, and there were numerous takeout containers stacked up along the kitchen counters.
I knew the cops had searched the place, and I was sure they hadn't taken the time to clean up after themselves, but by the looks of the kitchen, Mark didn't do much cleaning either.
I stepped over an empty pizza box and carefully chose my steps toward the bedroom where Mark had been killed.
The apartment was a loft style. The bedroom was situated on a raised platform in the far corner. There was a black metal railing surrounding the "room" separating it from the rest of the space.
I tiptoed over a pair of discarded underwear, a drumstick, and a pair of boots until I reached the bed.
The bed had been stripped of its linens, which didn't surprise me. The sheets and blankets were undoubtedly being tested for any DNA the killer might have accidently left behind.
So what was I looking for? Anything that would say that either Melody or Tommy's guys had ever been in the apartment before or on the night of Mark's murder. There had to be something here that would help lead me to Mark's true killer.
I was torn between Melody and Two-Toes. They both had the means and motive to kill Mark. I just needed evidence.
I looked at the bloody mattress and cringed. What a mess. The person who killed Mark wanted to make darn sure they got the job done. There was a huge bloodstain where Mark's head had rested. I tore my attention away from the bed and knelt down to rifle through the nightstand. When that search turned up nothing but some nudie mags and a comb, I slid the drawer shut and made my way around the bed to search the other nightstand. Once again, I came up empty handed.
Thanks to the open floor plan, I could see every inch of the apartment with the exception of the closet and bathroom. I scanned all of the framed pictures on the walls. Most were of Mark and Kelly or him with his band on the road. None of his lover, Melody, or any other woman for that matter. But then again, what kind of cheater would hang pictures of his paramours where his girlfriend could see them?
The cops had done a good job of combing over the place. It was a total disaster, and the more I looked at it, the more I wondered if I would find anything in the mess at all. Maybe I was just wasting my time.
The closet was open about an inch, so I made my way over and went inside. It was packed with clothes. It looked like Hot Topic had thrown up all over the place. Concert tees, ripped jeans, and black T-shirts as far as the eye could see were strewn all over the space. There was a center island dresser in the middle of the closet. The drawers were partially open, so I figured what the heck and started going through them.
Nothing stuck out to me as odd. I stood and propped my hands on my hips and blew a strand of hair out of my face. I was just about to go take a peek in the bathroom when I heard a faint jingle then it stopped.
Someone else was in the apartment. I heard keys jangle again and crouched down onto my hands and knees then crawled over beside the door and chanced a peek out of the small crack. I heard the jingle again, but I couldn't see anyone. Where in the heck were they, who were they, and how was I going to get out of the closet without dying if it was the killer who had returned?
The jinglejangle was getting closer and closer. My palms started to sweat, and my mind raced. What if the killer had come back for something? I reached down and pulled my gun out of its ankle holster and turned around quietly to press
my back against the wall. I took a deep breath and prepared to burst out of the closet and face the intruder.
3. 2. 1.
I jerked the door open, stepped out into the doorway, and did my best Dirty Harry stance. "Don't move!" I shouted, but there was no one there…then I looked down.
I lowered my weapon and slid it back into the holster.
"Who are you, and where did you come from?" I knelt down and scratched the head of one of the cutest little kittens I'd ever seen.
The fluffy little white and gray ball of fur waddled closer to me and promptly flopped over onto his back and started pawing at my hand.
Kelly never mentioned Mark having a cat. This little guy had a collar but no tags, and he was dirty.
I scooped the little guy up into my arms and looked around. There was no way the cops missed the social little fella currently swiping his claws at my hair. He had to have gotten in the apartment after they left. But how?
I walked into the main area and looked around slowly. Carefully. The only other way into the apartment was the window and the fire escape just beyond.
I hurried across the room and saw the curtain billow away from the frame just a little. I pulled back the curtain and saw that the window was open about an inch. I juggled the squirmy kitty to my other arm so I could examine the window more closely without dropping him. This specific window slid open from side to side like a sliding glass door instead of up and down like most windows and had a lock that twisted much like a door lock. I'd never seen one like that before, so I was a little stumped.
"Looks like someone was paranoid," I said softly to the kitty and scratched his head again. If Mark had gone through the trouble of installing such secure windows, he really must have been worried about his safety, which went along with the way Kelly, Jamie, and Silvia said he'd been acting recently. Kitten in tow, I pushed the window farther open and leaned out to take a closer look at the exterior of the window lock.
I scrunched up my face. The lock took a key from the outside just like a door. I had never seen or heard of anything like it. The longer I thought about it, I guess if Mark wanted to enter through his window from time to time to avoid fans waiting at the front of the building, the setup made sense.
The outside piece around the keyhole was scratched up. It looked as though someone tried several times to unlock the window in the dark before finally succeeding. Someone could have been in the apartment since the police searched the place, or possibly before, or both. Which explained why the place was such a mess.
"That's how you got in here. Isn't it, little guy?" I ran my thumb over the kitty's head, and he meowed softly.
It looked to me like the little kitty had climbed in while the place was being ransacked and got trapped when the intruders left.
I leaned back into the apartment and closed the window. I debated whether or not to call Tyler and tell him what I'd found so he could take a closer look but decided against it. The intruder had to have found whatever he was looking for, like maybe another gun or some drugs, and he beat feet before he got caught. Tyler would be wasting his time.
I made one last quick sweep of the place but didn't find anything but a box of old macaroni in the cabinet, a pantry full of Top Ramen, and a bathroom overflowing with hair care products and a black blow-dryer with little skulls hand painted on it.
"Yeah, Mark. That made it look more manly," I said to myself and shook my head.
I left the apartment, taking the kitty with me, and went downstairs to the manager's office. I was sure the police had already talked to him, but I wanted to see what I could get out of him myself.
I raised my hand to open the door to the main office, but before I could touch the knob, the door swung open, and a short balding man stepped out.
"Hey there. I'm Marty Simon. Can I help you?" He smiled. Marty looked a little like Danny DeVito and Norm from the show Cheers got together and had a baby, but his eyes were kind, and his smile was infectious. I couldn't help but return his smile.
"I hope so," I said. "My name is Barb Jackson." I rearranged the cat and shook his outstretched hand. "I'm a private investigator working on the Mark Reynolds case."
He shook his head. "Sad bit of business that was. But I thought it was being handled by the police?"
"It is." I nodded. "But I'm going to shoot straight with you. My best friend was Mr. Reynolds' girlfriend, and at the moment she's the prime suspect. I know that she didn't kill him, and I'm doing everything I can to clear her of the pending charges."
"Oh," he said, and his eyes lit with recognition. "You're Kelly's friend Barb." He reached out and shook my hand. "Mark lived here for years. Kelly mentioned you often. I don't think she killed him, and I don't know why anyone else would think that either." "What can I do for you?" he propped his meaty hands on his equally meaty hips.
"Did you see anything suspicious the night of Mark's death?"
He shook his head. "No. I saw him and Kelly go up around eleven or so. I even said hi to them. Everything seemed just fine. After that, I went to my apartment and went to bed."
"Did you ever see Mark with a tall blonde woman? Model-looking type. Her name is Melody."
He chuckled with a hint of disgust. "I saw more women than I could count go up to that apartment. But no, I never met any of them, and most of them were blonde, so I don't think I can help you there. How someone could cheat on a sweet girl like Kelly is beyond me."
"That makes two of us," I agreed. "You found his body. Didn't you?"
"I did." He rubbed his balding head. "That's a sight I'll never forget. Blood and…stuff everywhere. I didn't spend much time in there once I saw his body. I just ran out, called the cops, and tried not to yak all over the place."
I couldn't blame the guy. The first time I'd seen a dead body was in my private eye training days. The guy was floating face down in a swimming pool. It was quite a shock to see someone so bloated and discolored, so I could only imagine how Marty was fairing after finding Mark in the shape he was in.
"One last thing." I juggled the kitty around as he tried to climb into my hair. "Do you happen to know who this little guy belongs to?" I held him up so that Marty could see him better.
Marty nodded his head and smiled. "There was an older lady who lived on the second floor for about ten years. She had more cats than I could count, but she didn't have many visitors, so I let it slide because they seemed to make her happy, and she kept the place clean," he explained. "She passed away last week, and her family came and cleaned out the place. They found the cats and kittens new homes before the week's end, but it looks like they missed one." He reached over and scratched the kitty under the chin. "She always put blue collars on her male cats," he explained and touched the collar with his finger. "Are you going to take him with you? I don't like the thought of that little thing out there alone."
I nodded. "Yeah, he's coming home with me. Thanks for your help. If you can think of anything else that might help Kelly, please give me a call." I fished a business card out of my pocket and handed it to him before I turned to walk away.
"I hope you catch the guy," he called out behind me.
I looked over my shoulder. "So do I."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The only thing I'd gained from my visit to Mark's apartment was a new kitty and the slight possibility that someone had broken into his place. Before the murder, I didn't know. After the murder, definitely. I looked over at the little white and gray fluff ball rolling around in my passenger seat and smiled. After being the only kitty in my life for more than twelve years, Mickey was going to be more than a little upset to see our newest addition. My next few days would be spent refereeing Kitty Fight Club if I couldn't get Mickey to warm up to the new fella.
I pulled into my driveway and hopped out of the car, new kitty in hand.
"Look at that, Buster," Mr. Kasmire said, making sure he was loud enough to be heard. "She brought home another one of those things."
I was feeling
saucy. Mr. Kasmire chose the wrong day to have a porky mouth with me. I stopped walking up the pathway to my front porch and turned to look across the street at my crotchety old neighbor and his little dog.
"Oh my gosh! There's a huge rat by your feet! Look out!" I shouted.
Mr. Kasmire jumped and hopped around momentarily then looked over at me. "What in the hell are you talking about, girl? There's no rat here."
I pressed a hand against my chest and breathed a fake sigh of relief. "Sorry. That's just Buster. Oops." I shrugged with one palm pointed toward the sky and then made my way into the house. I could hear Mr. Kasmire grumbling as I unlocked the door and let myself inside.
The minute I stepped into the house, Mickey spotted the kitten. He moaned low in his throat, slicked back his ears, and hissed.
"Not too happy about your new little brother, are you?" I asked as I passed him, patted him on the head, and went into the kitchen.
I ran a sink full of warm water and pulled the berry coconut pet shampoo out of the cabinet.
"What are we going to call you?" I asked as I bathed the squirmy kitten. Once he settled down, it was much easier to wash him. He peered up at me through clear blue eyes, and my heart smiled.
"Blue," I said simply and finished bathing the kitty. Afterward, I carried him to the bathroom and towel dried him, washed his little blue collar, dried it, and put it back around his neck. Mickey had made himself at home on the cabinet to watch what was happening in his home.
I sat freshly clean Blue on the counter in front of Mickey and waited for the fight to ensue so I could break it up before Mickey hurt Blue, but much to my surprise, Mickey sniffed him, meowed then hopped down, and wandered away.
"Looks like I was worried over nothing," I said and set Blue on the floor. He wandered into the bedroom, climbed into Mickey's bed with him, and promptly fell asleep.
Now that the new baby was settled in, and I was sure he was going to be safe with Mickey, I sent Silas a message that I was on my way to pick him up, grabbed my purse, and jogged back out to my car. Mr. Kasmire threw me the finger. I smiled and waved because it always ticked him off then backed out of the driveway and drove out to the highway. Silas and I needed to speak to the remaining member of the band.