Illegally Blonde

by anna snow

  Silas was waiting for me at the curb again when I pulled up. He got in, handed me a coffee, and glared at me.

  "What?" I asked defensively.

  "It's almost noon. Where in the heck were you? You went to Mark's apartment alone. Didn't you?" he accused.

  I set my iced coffee in the cup holder and groaned. "Yes," I admitted. "I did. Don't get your panties all in a twist. I knew it was safe since the cops had been crawling all over the place."

  "Well?"

  "Well, what?" I asked.

  "Did you find anything?"

  "A kitten."

  "Excuse me?" Silas asked, surprised.

  I told Silas about the weird window locks and the kitten that I'd found at Mark's place.

  "It certainly sounds like someone was in the apartment after the cops combed the place. How else would the kitten have gotten in?"

  "Precisely. We still need to question the remaining band member."

  Silas reached over into the backseat and grabbed our list of band members.

  "That would be Toby Dobbs. Fortunately for us, he lives not far from the office."

  "That is fortunate," I said and steered back toward the office.

  Silas rattled off the address. I'd driven past the apartment building several times, so I knew the exact building he was talking about.

  We pulled up outside the building and parked by the curb. Silas fed the meter, and we crossed the sidewalk to the main entrance.

  A tall doorman in a crisp black suit and uniform hat stepped away from the wall and stopped us.

  "May I help you?" he asked politely.

  "I'm Barb Jackson. I'm a private investigator. I'm working on a case and need to ask a resident here some questions," I explained.

  He nodded his understanding. "I'm not permitted to let just anyone go up. I'll have to ring the resident for their permission. You understand," he said gently.

  "Of course," I said. "We need to speak with Toby Dobbs."

  "I'll be just a moment." He tipped his hat then strode to the reception desk with purpose.

  "Think we'll get to go up?" Silas leaned down and asked.

  "I hope so. We need to rule this Toby guy out. If we can do that, then we're back to Melody and Two-Toes as our prime suspects."

  "At least we would have it narrowed down." Silas tried to sound optimistic.

  I was beginning to think we had wasted our time, and Toby was going to turn us away when the man at the reception desk waved us over.

  We crossed the lobby to the glass reception desk.

  "You'll need to sign in." He slid a paper on a clipboard across the countertop to us.

  I signed my name then slid the board to Silas so he could do the same. Once signed, I handed it back to the man.

  "You'll take that elevator up." He pointed a long thin finger to a pair of elevators to our left. "When you come back down, you'll need to stop by this desk and sign out."

  "We will. Thank you," I said then crossed the lobby to the elevator.

  "This place is pretty swanky," Silas said once we boarded the elevator.

  "Yeah, and I thought your place was stuffy. Boy, was I wrong," I said then whistled low.

  The elevator stopped on the top floor, and the doors dinged open. We stepped off onto plush red carpet illuminated by bright overhead lights dangling from the ceiling.

  The paintings on the wall looked expensive, but what did I know? I was artistically challenged. I couldn't tell a Monet from one of Mandy's little nephew's finger paintings.

  "Great artwork," Silas said quietly. "I like this guy already. From the looks of the art in this building and the layout, he has some great taste."

  "Your artist is showing. Better tuck it back in," I teased.

  "Smartass." He laughed.

  We passed the first three doors. "That's it," I said and pointed to the door marked 1247.

  Silas reached out and knocked on the door. A few seconds later it opened, and for a moment I wondered if I happened to be drooling.

  "I'm Toby, and you must be Barb," the tall, tan, muscular man with sharp cheekbones, biceps that looked as hard as rocks, and thick auburn hair said.

  I tried not to, but I let my eyes roam over him quickly. He was an impressive man.

  "That's right. I'm Barb," I said and gathered myself. After all, yeah he was handsome, but he wasn't nearly as hot as Tyler. "This is my partner, Silas Thorne," I introduced.

  "It's a pleasure to meet you. Come on in." He stepped to the side and waved us past.

  "Can I get you anything? Water, tea?"

  "No, thank you," I said and followed Toby to the living area. "We just need to ask you a few questions about your friend Mark Reynolds."

  "Bandmate."

  "Pardon?" I said as I took a seat on the cushy sofa he'd motioned toward. Silas sat beside me.

  "You said, 'my friend.' We weren't friends. We were members of the same band. That's all."

  I glanced at Silas then back at Toby.

  "So I take it you didn't like the guy?"

  He chuckled and leaned back in the plush leather chair he occupied then kicked his feet up on the heavy wooden coffee table. "Not even a little. You're Kelly's friend, aren't you?"

  I nodded.

  "Then you met the guy. He was a major ass. I don't know of a single person who liked the guy. Even Kelly didn't like him. She was just too afraid to leave what she knew."

  Dang. This guy was insightful.

  "That may be true, but it doesn't help me find who killed him. The cops aren't moving fast enough, and Kelly's time is running out."

  He shrugged. "Maybe she did kill him," he said easily. "Hell, no one would blame her with the way he treated her."

  "Do you really believe that she could have killed him? Do you really think she has it in her to murder another living person?" I asked.

  "It doesn't matter what I believe."

  "That's true," I agreed. "But like I said, I need help finding who really killed Mark. Do you know a woman named Melody Thompson?"

  "We all know Melody." He said in a tone that made my skin crawl. I had the feeling that beyond his good looks and cool demeanor, a pervert lurked beneath.

  "Do you think she would have any reason to kill Mark?"

  "Other than the fact that she was obsessed with him, and he only wanted her as a side chick?" he reached forward, picked up the beer from the table, and took a drink before setting it back down and relaxing in the chair.

  "What about someone in the band," I pressed. "Do you think anyone else in the band would have reason to knock him off?" I asked bluntly. I had dealt with guys like Toby in the past. They thought they were hot stuff, and the only way to get any information out of them was to beat them over the head with straightforward questions.

  He shrugged again then leaned forward and rested his muscular arms on his knees. "Look. Here's the deal. None of us liked Mark. He was rude, selfish, a total dope fiend, and slept with every woman he could just to say he did. He made fun of Dale and his partner, calling them names and telling them that they were gross because of their lifestyle. And to be totally honest with you here—" He looked me in the eyes. "—none of us in the band really give a crap about each other. But we all agreed on two things."

  "Which were?"

  "We could tolerate each other because the music and our careers were bigger than our dislike of each other and that we couldn't stand Mark."

  "Where were you the night of Mark's death?" I asked.

  "Down at the club on Industrial Avenue. You know—the one with live music.

  "So that's where you were that night? Partying?"

  "Yeah." he grinned. "Hooked up with a wild one if you know what I mean."

  I raised an eyebrow at him. "Is there anyone else who can back up your story, other than the woman you met?"

  "Sure. Dale was there."

  Silas and I shared a look.

  "From what I understand, Dale was home the night of the murder."

  "Hell no,
he wasn't at home." He tossed a hand in the air. "I saw him that night partying his ass off." He met my gaze. Hey, if you don't believe me, ask Jamie. I don't know why you think Dale was at home, but the three of us were all at the club that night."

  I was so confused. Why did Dale lie to me about his whereabouts that night? Why wouldn't he tell me he had an alibi?

  I stood up and pulled a business card out of my purse. "Thanks for taking the time to talk to us. If you think of anything else that might help, give me a call," I said then turned and started toward the door.

  "I might just call you anyway," Toby called out behind me.

  "That's fine, but I have to warn you my boyfriend might answer." I turned back and smiled at him. "He's a cop."

  The smile that was spread across his face fell, and his expression turned sullen. "Don't forget to sign out."

  We left the apartment and rode the elevator down to the lobby, signed out then hurried out to the car.

  "Why would Dale lie about his alibi?" Silas asked as I buckled my seat belt and pulled away from the curb.

  "I don't know, but something is fishy here. It wasn't only Dale who lied about his whereabouts at the time of the murder. Jamie did as well. He said he was home with his wife and kids, but Toby said they all were at the club."

  "So what are we going to do now? Everyone hated Mark, two of the three band members we've questioned lied about their alibi, and we can't get into Melody's apartment until she's back at work tomorrow."

  I drove back to the office. The street was clear of The Rebels fans, so I parked at the curb, got out, jogged across the street, and let myself inside.

  "What are we doing here?" Silas asked and followed me into my office.

  I plopped down in my desk chair and fired up my computer. "Do you remember how I asked Mona and Mandy to check the band members Facebook pages to see if they were home or out of town?"

  "Yeah," Silas said from the side bar where he was setting up the Keurig to make two iced coffees.

  "Well, I was thinking that not everyone uses Facebook. Just a couple of weeks ago Kelly told me about Instagram. From what Kelly said, people upload pictures of every aspect of their lives on there. I figured I'd take a look and see if Jamie, Dale, or Toby posted any pictures of themselves at the club the night Mark was killed."

  "I see," Silas said and carried my coffee over and set it on the desk beside my keyboard. "And if there're pictures of the three of them, that could rule them out, and if not…"

  "If not, then the three amigos got some splainin' to do," I said in my best Ricky Ricardo voice.

  I pulled up the never-used Instagram account Kelly had set up for me and started snooping on Dale first.

  Silas pulled a chair around the desk to sit beside me and sipped his coffee while watching the screen.

  "It looks like Dale's last post was the day before Mark's death. It's this picture of himself and the little dog he was holding beside a pool."

  "Nothing the following night?" Silas asked.

  I shook my head. "Nothing, but that doesn't mean he wasn't there, it just means he didn't post anything from that night."

  I looked up Jamie next and found absolutely nothing. I was beginning to think this was a huge waste of time when I clicked on Toby's profile.

  "Bingo," I said with a grin. There were more than a dozen pictures of Toby at the club the night of Mark's murder. "This proves that Toby was telling the truth about his whereabouts," I said. "Now if only we can find the others in these pictures."

  I scrolled down through the pictures of Toby letting some woman with bobbed, platinum blonde hair grind against his lap. Pictures of Toby doing shots with what I assumed were his fans. Pictures of Toby partying with whoever came along.

  "Stop," Silas said suddenly. "Go back up."

  I scrolled to the previous picture. "What did you see?" I asked.

  Silas leaned forward and pointed to the picture. "Isn't that the guy, Henry, we talked to the other day?"

  I zoomed in on the picture and nodded. "It is. And it looks like he's talking to a reporter just like he said he was."

  "So that's two alibis confirmed," Silas said. "That leaves Jamie, Dale, and Melody."

  I looked at the next picture and spotted Dale in the background dancing with a man I figured was his partner. "And that confirms an alibi for Dale but doesn't explain why he lied to us."

  The next three pictures showed Jamie talking to Dale, Silvia talking to Toby, and Henry signing autographs. "Okay. So we know that all of the band was at this club the night Mark was murdered."

  "That leaves only Melody without an alibi," I said. "We need to get into her place and look around."

  "What do you say we take our chances and take a drive to her place? Maybe she stepped out. If so, we can step in."

  "Sounds like a plan to me."

  I shut down my computer and grabbed my purse. We had already left the office and hopped into the car when my phone rang.

  "Barb Jackson."

  "Hey, babe," Tyler said in his deep voice. "I hate to do this," he said, and by the jaded tone of his voice, I could already tell that something was wrong.

  "What is it?"

  "The test results are back."

  My heart dropped, and I felt my palms begin to sweat. This was it. What we'd feared and expected all along. "And?"

  "The blood on Kelly's hands was a match for Mark's. Her toxicology test came back as well. It looks like she had Rohypnol in her system."

  "Someone roofied her?" I asked with disbelief.

  "They could have, but roofies aren't a rare drug, and believe it or not, people use them recreationally. With Mark's blood on her hands and Rohypnol in her system—"

  "It looks like she got high and killed him," I finished his sentence for him. "She's going to be charged. Isn't she?" I asked and heard the distress in my own voice.

  "I'm on my way to pick her up now," he said gently. "I'm sorry, babe. I'm doing everything I can, but if she didn't kill Mark, whoever is setting her up is doing a spectacular job. I'm hitting a dead end everywhere I look, and I can't seem to catch their manager."

  "I would like to talk to her, too." I agreed.

  "Well, good luck because I can't pin her down long enough to talk to her," Tyler said with irritation.

  Tyler might have to go about gathering information by flashing his badge and going about business the legal way, but that wasn't how I rolled.

  I had something Tyler didn't have. I had Mandy.

  I worked to keep my cool and started the car. "I'll see you at Silas's apartment. I'm on my way there now," I told him and hung up then turned in the direction of Silas's place.

  "They're arresting Kelly. Aren't they?" Silas asked and gripped the handle above the door.

  I nodded, too afraid that I'd break down if I chanced talking.

  "This can't be happening. Not Kelly." Silas rubbed his hand over his face. "Barb, I can't let her go to jail. I just can't." he said. The hopeless tone of his voice almost undid the calm I'd been struggling to maintain.

  "All we can do is work faster and hope we catch a break that will free her," I said and changed lanes. "I know you care about her, so do I, but we can't keep Tyler from taking her in."

  "I know," he said and stared out the windshield.

  Cars honked, and a few people gave me the finger as I wove in and out of traffic. Less than ten minutes later, we screeched to a stop in the underground parking garage then jumped out of the car and ran to the elevator. The doors slid closed, and I did a little impatient dance until the doors dinged open. We ran off the elevator and barged through the door. I figured I had about fifteen minutes before Tyler strode in and put Kelly in handcuffs.

  Everyone froze in place. Mona was back on the Wii belting out a Whitney Houston tune, while Kelly and Mandy were in the middle of a game of Monopoly.

  "What is it? What's happening?" Mandy said and jumped up from the sofa.

  "Mona, get Lopez on the phone. Tell him it's an emer
gency, and get him here now."

  "Barb, what in the heck is going on?" Mandy asked.

  "Tyler just called me. The test results came back. The blood on Kelly's hands was Mark's, and she had roofies in her system."

  "Roofies? That's good, right? It means someone drugged her," Mandy said hopefully, and I felt like a jerk for bursting her bubble.

  "No. Not necessarily. Roofies aren't uncommon, and people actually use them recreationally more often than you would think," I explained. "The police have no way of knowing if Kelly took the drug herself or if someone drugged her. They won't take her word for it. With Mark's blood on her, they have enough evidence to charge her."

  "We all know I don't do drugs. I never have." She jumped to her feet and started pacing angrily. "I can't believe this is happening. I didn't kill Mark." She raised her voice. "And now I'm going to jail for something I didn't do. How is this even possible?"

  If the situation hadn't been so serious, I would have smiled. This was the Kelly I knew and loved. My blunt, strong, independent best friend.

  "I don't know who's doing this to you or why, but I will find out, Kelly. You're not going to prison for this."

  "You can't make that promise. I know you're doing the best you can, Barb. I know that."

  "Lopez is on his way. He said he'll be here in about five minutes." Mona tossed the phone onto the sofa and hurried toward Kelly. "How much time do we have?" she asked.

  "Not long. Tyler will be here any minute."

  "At least Tyler is the one taking me in and not some stranger," Kelly said. "If they think I'm going to take this lying down, they're crazy." She said heatedly.

  "Kelly, you can't do anything to get yourself into any more trouble. If you do, it'll just make things worse for you." Mandy said.

  "Oh, I'm not going to do anything to get myself into trouble." She shook her head. "But if they're going to arrest me and expect me to be a docile little lamb, they're in for one heck of a surprise."

  We stood silent, looking back and forth at each other wondering, now that Kelly was back, what in the heck she was going to do.