Henry popped my chest. “Booker, I know he’s struggling to make it right now. But I wasn’t talking about that. He and Alisa. She’s a cougar, eh?”
“He’s smitten, I will say that. Sometimes it is a bit strange, almost like a kid who has a crush on his school teacher,” I said, all too transparently.
Henry giggled, squirming left and right. Suddenly, Horse Face appeared around Henry’s arm. While the pairing of Alisa and Josh elicited memories of Dustin Hoffman and Mrs. Robinson in The Graduate, Henry and Cindy reminded me of Kermit and Miss Piggy. Although with Cindy’s aggressive personality, she definitely held the reins in this relationship.
“You having any cake, baby?”
Did I just hear a cutesy name? Oh, brother.
“Not a chance,” Cindy said. “I’ve got to bring it when I’m strutting down the beach in Maui.”
Henry’s thin eyes lit up, a piece of cake stuck halfway in his mouth.
There was no mistaking Cindy had a body that most women would pay to have. But it takes the whole package. I’d learned that, not just from interacting with Cindy, but also from a psychopath, murdering ex-girlfriend.
“When do you guys take off?” I asked.
“Taking the red eye. Flight leaves at eleven thirty tonight.”
“I’ve never been to Hawaii before. I just can’t wait.” Cindy squeezed her arms together, creating a breast tidal wave; then she clapped her hands a dozen times in three seconds.
A spoon dinged the side of a champagne glass. “I’d like to make a toast,” Justin said. “Everyone, let Dax fill up your glasses.”
The JCPenney cover boy poured the champagne.
“Here’s some sparkling cider, Samantha,” Dax said.
She looked over at me and smiled, feeling so grown up. I wondered if I could tie a brick on top of her head. But that wouldn’t impede her inquisitive mind. This Samantha growing up thing…I just wasn’t ready yet.
Justin cleared his throat. “Henry, Cindy, this is also for you guys as you prepare for your little voyage to Hawaii. ‘There are good ships, there are wood ships, the ships that sail to sea, but the best ships are friendships, and forever may they be.’”
“Cheers,” we all said in unison as I made the effort to reach over and clink glasses with Cindy.
Out of the corner of my eye, Alisa had a cell phone pressed against her ear, her face hard with stress. She grabbed a fistful of golden locks, and I ambled toward her.
“What do you mean you haven’t seen her in almost a week?” Her tone cut through the jovial atmosphere.
I glanced at Josh, who had a hand on her shoulder. He seemed as bewildered as I was.
A moment later, Alisa ended the call, brought a jittery hand to her head.
“My little sister is missing.”
4
A repetitive beeping sound had been echoing across the intersection at Lemmon and Oak Lawn for a good ten minutes, delaying our trip downtown to the sister’s apartment to speak with her roommates. The unrelenting noise itself was enough to cause a headache. But watching a road construction crew fill potholes in a fashion that resembled the Keystone Cops, I’d begun to wonder if this was some type of clandestine TV production we weren’t aware of. No team of people could be this clueless…annoyingly so, given the air of anxiety that filled my Saab.
“What the hell are they doing filling potholes at this hour of the night?” Alisa ran fingers through her endless bed of curls.
I turned to the passenger seat. “I’m as pissed as you, but if they were doing this at three in the afternoon, there would be so many pissed-off drivers the city would have to call out a platoon of cops to protect the road crew.”
The birthday girl set her jaw, as if she were about to explode from the car and take matters into her own hands.
I couldn’t let that happen. Rolling down my window, I waved at a man with baggy jeans, an iridescent orange vest, and a hard hat. He held a two-sided sign. The one pointing in our southbound direction read STOP. We were at the front of the traffic, ahead of about five or six cars. The man nodded, then held up a single finger. “Uno mas.”
“One more pothole,” I said, turning back to Alisa.
“I heard the man. Do you think I’m deaf?”
The edge to Alisa’s voice had sucked the Southern belle away and replaced it with a healthy dose of bitchiness. But I understood, at least at a surface level.
“What’s your sister’s name?” I asked, watching two men pound steel flatteners into moist, cooling pavement.
“Natalie. She’s only nineteen years old.”
I allowed her reply to resonate for a moment, my mind stuck on the math. “I’m not trying to poke you like Justin about your age, but if you turned thirty-seven today, you’re eighteen years older than your sister?”
“It’s my dad’s second marriage. My mom died in a car accident when I was a teenager. I think my dad got lonely after a couple of years, and he found Lola, fifteen years his junior. So technically, Natalie is my half-sister.”
Maybe I now understood Alisa’s openness to dating a guy more than a decade younger. It was more about happiness, finding the special someone, not necessarily following the social norm…even if people were calling her a cougar behind her back. I better not let Samantha hear that term. Given her recent track record, she’d ask questions at just the wrong time.
“You guys close?”
“She’s the only sister I have. Even though we’ve had our moments, especially in the last couple of years, I’m her big sis. I feel at least partially responsible for her life. Or what’s she’s made of it.”
A tear bubbled in the corner of her eye, and Alisa brushed a quick finger along her face.
Josh had asked to ride along to support his girlfriend. I advised that he hang back since the nature of our visit, at least for me, would have to be business-focused. Alisa was too scattered to notice one way or the other. Fortunately, Justin offered to drop Samantha at her mom’s place.
I put my hand on top of hers, looked her in the eye. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll talk to Natalie’s roommates, do what we do, and we’ll find her. I know it.”
She pressed her lips against her teeth. I think she was trying like hell to not uncork her tear box.
Just then, the man in the orange hat flapped his arms, and I popped the clutch, launching the Silver Streak across Oak Lawn. The g-force thrust Alisa against the headrest. We got lucky, catching a green light at Turtle Creek Boulevard, then I downshifted into second gear and hung a right onto Carlisle.
My window partially down, wind whipped my face, creating some good white noise in the car. I could see Alisa’s eyes drift from light to light, perhaps a million thoughts pinging her mind. I needed to understand a few of those thoughts.
“Are you going to tell me the scoop on Natalie before we start asking questions of her roommates?”
Alisa ran her fingers through her hair, again, then massaged the top of her own neck.
“Something just hasn’t been right the last few months.” She huffed out a breath, trying to calm her nerves, it appeared.
“With Natalie?”
She turned her head, her pursed lips telling me that wasn’t a bright question. “Yes, with Natalie.”
I realized I had to probe to get some real answers. “In the last two years, you and Natalie may not have seen eye to eye?”
“You could say that.” I could see the reflection of her eyes staring out the window as we passed Greenwood Cemetery on the left before turning due south on McKinney, colorful bars and restaurants on either side.
Her monotone responses were almost comical. “Alisa, I can tell this is difficult for you. I want to help.”
“I know,” she said softly.
“Can you—”
“Two years ago Natalie frickin’ quit high school. Just like that.” She snapped her fingers.
“Why?”
“Made no sense. Still doesn’t to this day. She’d just started her
senior year, had good grades, seemed to like school okay, from what I could tell. She visited colleges. We had high hopes she’d graduate, go to UT or SMU, get a degree. She was sharp…is sharp, I should say.”
“What did she do at age seventeen with no high school diploma? Live off daddy’s dime?”
“I wish. Then she’d probably still be safe. No, she wanted to move to the big city, thinking it could open up new opportunities for her. It’s like she wanted to skip ten years of her life.”
I kept the references to Natalie in the present tense, maintaining hope that she was still with us. “I think you just told me why she dropped out of high school. The glitz and glamour of the big city.”
“True.” She looked my way. “Natalie didn’t just drop out of school. She left home. My dad and stepmom were upset when Natalie blew off high school, but they didn’t kick her out of the house. Natalie did that all on her own.”
I’d heard way too many similar stories—kids who just couldn’t wait to grow up, experience a life they’d envisioned through TV or the movies, propagated by umpteen blogs and vlogs. The lifestyle seduced kids who didn’t understand that maturity had nothing to do with the hair on their chest or the size of their boobs.
“Where was home?”
“Nacogdoches,” she said again in a flat tone. “East Texas is a whole different world than the rest of Texas. Being a hick is an honor.”
Alisa released a slight grin, then thumbed through images on her phone. She held it up for me.
“This is Natalie about six months ago.”
She looked like a young Hollywood actress, golden locks not as wild and curly as Alisa’s, but longer, framing an All-American face that could be on the cover of Glamour magazine.
“Are you saying she didn’t fit in with the East Texas ropers?”
“Hell no. Many years before her, I didn’t exactly fit in either, but Natalie’s aversion to all things Nacogdoches took it to another level.”
Traffic slowed as cars turned into the bowels of the Crescent Hotel.
“She moved to Dallas?” I asked.
“Houston was too close, New Orleans too dirty. Yes, Dallas. She actually moved in with me.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“It lasted for all of two months.” Alisa swallowed hard. “She had such an independent streak; she never wanted to listen to my advice, about anything or anyone.”
“Boys?” I asked.
“Boys…or in her case, men. And her jobs.”
“She was so young. Still is.”
“I know. She should have been dating guys her own age, college age at least. But no, they weren’t good enough for Natalie Lopes.”
It was easy to recognize the resentment in Alisa’s voice, but I couldn’t resolve years of regrets and bitterness, on either side.
I turned the 9-3 sedan left on North St. Paul, crossing Woodall Rodgers Freeway. “Her jobs. Anything noteworthy?”
“She started off working at a coffee shop. Pretty harmless. It was going to help her learn a better work ethic. Natalie has a…rather vivacious personality. No surprise that she met someone who told her she was the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen. The lady ran a talent and modeling agency.”
I nodded.
“I guess Natalie took the bait?”
“She’s never been one to dip a toe in the pool. She closes her eyes and makes a swan dive. There’s probably something cool about that, if we weren’t talking about my little sister and the decisions she’s made.”
We cut through the heart of downtown, passing the Dallas Museum of Art, the ancient Majestic Theatre, and then the Main Street Garden Park.
“Did it pan out?” The brakes squeaked as I pulled the car to a stop in the visitor parking at Lone Star Lofts.
Alisa seemed to be mulling that question over as we shut the car doors and approached the entryway.
“Hard to say. I haven’t talked to her a great deal. When we do talk, the conversations are quick. Otherwise, we seem to end up arguing. I just can’t keep my mouth shut about the decisions she makes.”
“I hear ya.”
An ambulance screamed by going about sixty in a thirty, sirens blazing an audible trail. Alisa and I looked at each other, but neither of us addressed the irony.
“Natalie did have some success, I suppose. I saw her in a D Magazine realtor ad. I also saw her in a locally produced commercial about the Texas lottery. It was kind of cool, but neither paid much. From what I could glean from Natalie, big opportunities weren’t knocking on her door just yet. And that didn’t fit her supersonic master plan.”
Alisa used air quotes and I nodded as she continued. “I really believe she thought she’d go straight from Dallas to the runways of Paris, or even Hollywood or New York, with everyone begging for a piece of Natalie. She was damn naïve. Clueless.”
Alisa’s perspective seemed harsh, but when I thought about my Samantha going down the same path, it would be difficult to watch without trying to steer her in a different direction.
I glanced up and noticed a gray and black plaque affixed above fifteen-foot glass and wrought-iron double doors, flanked on either side by black wrought iron lanterns dangling off the side of the granite building. The small sign read Established in 1932. I’d seen this structure at various stages in the last few years, from abandoned and rundown to cranes and debris littering the area during an extended refurbishment project, and now serving as a contemporary high-rise residence in the art deco building that once housed the offices of Lone Star Cattle.
I held the door for Alisa, and we both gazed across the lobby full of black and white marble.
“What floor?” I asked as the elevator doors shut behind us.
Alisa dug in her purse and found a piece of paper. “Four. Apartment four twelve.”
“You’ve never been here?”
She shook her head, her eyes glancing at the floor. “I think it’s been a month, maybe two since I last spoke to her. A quick phone conversation. Sounded like she was drunk, at some party.”
The elevator dinged, and we stepped onto the fourth floor landing and veered left.
“She’s only nineteen. Anything besides alcohol?”
Alisa’s hands found her hair, but this time she just flipped the mess back over her shoulder. “Like a lot of young people, I think she experimented, but I’m only certain about pot. I caught her smoking a joint one night at my place. She was in the bathroom, but my cat Chloe was in there with her. The cat actually got high and couldn’t stay upright long enough to make it into her litter box.”
Lifting her eyes toward me, we both held back a chortle. I gave her a wink as I knocked on the door.
“Yeah, what you want?” The door flew open. A young man dressed in a 1990s mesh T-shirt and running shorts held an arm behind his head. His skin tone made me look like an albino.
“We do have the right place?” I looked at Alisa.
“You must be Dominique?” Alisa asked.
He shook his head. “Girlfriend, you didn’t just call me Dominique?”
I saw Alisa’s eyes shift to mine, a signal that she didn’t have the patience to deal with this crap.
“I guess you didn’t talk to Dominique earlier?” I asked Alisa.
A quick shake of her head. “Natalie’s other roommate, Sarah.”
“You two got something going on?” He wiggled a finger covered in white paste at both of us.
“Nothing for you to worry about, Dominique,” I said. “We’re here to—”
“My name is Monique. I dropped the Dom. Don’t forget that.” Now he pointed a finger while he arched an eyebrow so high I thought it might merge with his hairline. He reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t make the connection. Someone from my hood back in the day?
“Dominique, that’s Natalie’s sister. Let them in, asshole.”
The raspy demand came from inside the apartment. A third of Monique’s upper lip lifted like it was attached to a pulley. “Why didn’
t you say somethin’?”
“Seriously?” Alisa stuck out a hip, then pushed by Monique.
I followed my partner-assistant down a short hallway, passing a small utility room on the left. Framed black-and-white photographs lined both sides, each set off with dramatic lighting. Turning left, I spotted the door to one bedroom as we spilled into a giant room that included an upgraded kitchen with granite countertops and black appliances. White framed windows outlined the two walls of the living room and what I assumed would normally be a dining room, but I only saw sheets covered with a rainbow of paint colors, a sculpting wheel, and more crap scattered on the floor than I thought possible.
Monique padded by in bare feet just as Sarah made an appearance from the far bedroom. I think my eyes bugged out. Besides her pajamas with a puffy cloud print, she could have doubled as a mime.
“Sorry, you caught me in the middle of my face-cleansing routine. Gotta wear the mask for another hour.”
Monique lifted a finger toward Sarah’s face, as if he were going to edit her face painting effort. She swatted his hand away.
“Whatever, girl. You go ahead and do it your way. Don’t make no difference to me if you turn out looking like the Beast from the East.”
“Funny, Dominique.” Her eyes rolled so far I only saw solid white across her face.
Monique disappeared behind us.
“I’m from Tyler, which is why he felt it necessary to give me that unflattering label. I’ve heard it many times before. Too many.”
Alisa’s eyes wandered across the large room, taking in Natalie’s world. The whole place had a very Bohemian, artsy vibe. I also caught a waft of Italian spices. Looking over my shoulder, I noticed a bevy of unwashed plates on the counter, scattered remnants of spaghetti and meatballs.
“We might ask to take a look around later, if that’s okay, but for right now, can you tell us the last time you saw or spoke with Natalie?”
Sarah pushed a breath through her nose, then carefully sat down on an ottoman, placing ashen hands on her knees.
“Natalie blew through here early Monday morning last week. I even think she was wearing some type of mink shawl. It was all very strange. I was getting ready for work…my day job, so to speak,” Sarah said, her hands moving as she told the story.
BOOKER Box Set #2 (A Private Investigator Thriller Series of Crime and Suspense): Volumes 4-6 Page 3