I took a hurried sip of coffee. “He had a high spatial intelligence. He could solve puzzles and work with his hands. Mrs. Trojak said that Darryl Chambers was no slouch. I believe her. I also think that whoever killed him knew about his lock-picking skills-”
“Because they tried to take the tools with them when they left through the back door,” Teague added, “but one slid out-”
“And landed under the filing cabinet.” I smiled, hoping that I hadn’t just shot internal organs out of my anus, but rather said something that actually made sense to Teague, who clearly wasn’t thinking too highly of me at the moment.
He said nothing for several seconds, eyeing me in contemplation. I sipped my coffee, feeling both wired and exhausted simultaneously.
“I need you to do two things for me,” he said. “First, you’re going to have to share this information with Lewis-”
“Oh, come on. He is so unreasonable,” I complained.
“You have to give him a chance,” Teague replied. “He wants to see you tomorrow. You have to tell him what you found out. It’ll help him get on the right track with the case.”
“Fine,” I said. “What’s the second thing?”
“No more asking questions,” he replied quickly, “or doing anything concerning Darryl Chambers. You’re in danger.” I was about to protest when he added, “Delilah, please.”
I shrugged. I considered Jonathan Dekker’s information that Principal Becker would be returning to work in the next couple of days. My time was evaporating. If Becker got on the phone with Lewis, two careless seahorses with nothing better to do, all would be lost. Beach Read would not reopen. And, the only way to prevent such an occurrence, I began to realize, was to do my best to push the police off of me by steering them to the right suspect. If Lewis had no reason to call Becker, then my secret might be safe.
Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive!
Still, Teague’s pleading face wore on my heart, and felt abrasive, like sandpaper, against my resolve.
“I’ll talk to Lewis,” I said, “and I’ll be as safe as I possibly can be-”
“By not asking questions,” he added.
“By being smart,” I returned. “I don’t want to lie to you again and making that promise would just be lying. Don’t make me. I accept that I’m in danger. I’ll be okay. I have my own reasons-”
“What reasons?”
“Teague, I don’t want to talk about it,” I said.
He stood up, and gathered his things, shaking his head the whole time. “Maybe you should start opening up to the people who want to help you, if only to save you from the ones who don’t.”
Teague left. I stared into my coffee cup in exhausted contemplation. I’d learned more about Darryl Chambers than I had told Teague, and of course there was the sand dollar my conscience was still contending with. Why I hadn’t told him about the conversation with Megan Masters, I don’t know, except to say that it was simply a gossip session between girls, and that if the police were doing anything right, they’d already know about Darryl’s attempt to buy a house. After all, I told them that he’d had an argument with Megan Masters myself. Had they even checked into it?
Putting the pieces of Darryl’s lock-picking abilities together, thanks to Teague, made me wonder about him even more. Darryl dared to disturb his universe. Whatever bad business he’d gotten himself into, he was trying to make a break from it. But, joining the army seemed like a stretch, especially for someone who only a few years ago had full rides to college on football scholarships. Why not then? Why now? I thought of T.S. Eliot’s The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.
“And indeed there will be time,” I recited tiredly. “There will be time to prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet… And time for all the works and days of hands… time for you and time for me… And indeed there will be time to wonder, “Do I dare?” and “Do I dare?”.” I sighed, lamenting that Darryl’s time was gone, perhaps because he dared.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Low
“It’s thrilling to see you again, Ms. Duffy,” Detective Harlan Lewis said as I approached his gray cubicle. He shook my hand, but didn’t smile. “I appreciate you meeting me like this.”
“Did I have a choice?” I replied, sitting down in my familiar seat.
“Thanks for alerting Officer Teague to the snake rake,” he continued. “We’re a small department here. A handful of detectives, patrol officers. All of our crime scene techs are laypeople. That’s the way it is with small town departments. You use what you can. Our crime scene photographer works for the local paper. Our coroner is also our town doctor. Our evidence collection guys are only part time. They’re all trained, mind you. But, they aren’t policemen, like the rest of us.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Evidence can sometimes get overlooked,” he admitted, “especially by laypeople.”
“I’m a layperson,” I reminded him.
“At any rate, I’m sure your uncle doesn’t have to hear about our oversight.” Lewis shuffled in his rolling chair and grabbed his pencil. “Thank you for being so observant. If witnesses could just be more observant, like you, well, it’d make my job a whole helluva lot easier. Just like with them damn granny bandits. Part of the reason they’ve been so hard to catch is because the victims didn’t even realize they’d been robbed-”
“How could they not know they’d been robbed?”
Lewis shrugged and leaned forward. “No forced entry. Nothing outta place. Always specific items taken, and unless those things were in plain sight, owners just didn’t notice right away. Not everyone checks on their pearls and old coin collections every time they walk in the door. They’re ghosts, but I’m hot on their trail. They’ve gotten sloppy, expanded their take. Won’t be long now.”
“Well, anyways, I hope this means that you can move past me as a suspect and give your attention to real leads. You’ve already wasted-”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Ms. Duffy,” Lewis stopped me. “I’m still waiting to get that information from Mr. Dekker, and I’ve put in a call to your former principal as well.”
“Knock yourself out,” I returned, though my stomach twisted into knots.
Lewis went on to ask some questions about the would-be intruder, the snake rake, and events surrounding the discovery. I answered diligently, and went on to tell him what I had learned about Darryl Chambers from his coach and English teacher. He jotted down notes, but said little.
Seeing that I hadn’t impressed him much, I added, “Megan Masters tells me that Darryl tried to buy a house. He said he had a large cash down payment to put on it. Maybe you should look into his money-”
“I’d really rather you didn’t try to involve yourself in this case, Ms. Duffy,” Lewis remarked after he’d written what he wanted. “Folks tend to watch a lot of TV these days, have illusions of grandeur about their abilities, and wind up at best wasting their time and at worst wasting my time.”
“Teague’s already had this talk with me,” I noted with irritation. “And for the record, I didn’t involve myself. The case involved me. I’m certainly not trying to play detective. Who’d want to be like you?”
Lewis winced. He pulled his arms back behind his head, as if he were under arrest, and I noticed sweat circles under his arms. I cringed.
“Officer Teague suggested a protective detail for you,” Lewis said.
I shook my head. “I don’t want anyone following me around.”
“Fine,” Lewis said. “But, I suggest some extra security for that apartment of yours. It’s not a safe location anyway, right behind the strip club. You know, I hear they’re hiring.” A short grin eased up on the corner of his mouth. A chill passed through my bones.
I got up to leave, realizing that if I stayed any longer I might start to feel sick. But, then I remembered that I wanted to tell him one more thing before I left, even if it meant delaying my exit. I turned
back to him.
“Officers Williams and Teague were amazing, by the way,” I reported. “They responded to my call so fast. Well, I don’t know what I would’ve done-”
“They didn’t respond to your call actually,” Lewis informed.
“What do you mean?”
“Teague and Williams responded to an intruder called in by Lenny Jackson at Via’s,” Lewis recited, glancing down at the file on his desk. He smiled slyly. “Looks like you already have friends in low places, Ms. Duffy. Let me know when the first show is. I’ll be front row, center.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Sea Snakes
Sea snakes don’t live in the Atlantic Ocean. What we do have are the snakes’ slimy cousins, eels. Eels aren’t so deadly, but are just as gross. The American Eel lives in fresh water, but ventures into the ocean for spawning. They have sharp, pointed teeth in their tiny, pointed heads, and though it’s hard to imagine, some people eat them and others keep them as pets. Like vampires, they hunt at night and hide during the day, usually under the sand near the shoreline. Often, they clean up the bottom of the sea by eating dead things, and if hungry enough, they will eat each other.
Slimy, cannibalistic, nocturnal, gross creatures came to mind as I stood outside the entrance of Via’s Sports Bar and Gentleman’s Club.
I took a deep breath and tried to shake off my preconceived notions. It was late Saturday afternoon. It had taken me several hours of extreme self-convincing to get to this point. I carried a store bakery tray of assorted cookies and a growing feeling of stupidity.
The street side of Via’s isn’t like most stores. You can’t see in. What would be windows are blocked out by black silhouettes of naked ladies against hot pink backgrounds surrounding a black door. A tubby bouncer stood guard, arms folded and expression grim. He reminded me of one of Tolkien’s trolls.
“Hot ladies get in free,” the troll said gruffly. I entered the dark cavern.
I expected the place to smell like beer, puke, and semen, but it was strangely normal. There was a stage, which except for the poles, could have just as easily been home to comedians or singers. Presently, a stripper in a red devil outfit danced to an extremely loud “Devil Inside” by INXS. I averted my eyes.
Round tables and chairs dominated most of the red carpeted room. A bar took up the far wall. Private rooms lined the right side. A disco ball hung from the ceiling, pretzels littered the tables, and it smelled like French fries. Only a few “gentlemen” were in attendance, quietly drinking and observing the show. A suited man at the bar, uninterested in the show, struck me as the man in charge. He had his dark hair slicked back, gangsta style, and about two days worth of stubble on his face. He was thin, not unattractive, approaching forty. He wasn’t quite as greasy as I would’ve expected, or maybe would have hoped.
“Excuse me,” I said. He brought his head up with a sigh of annoyance. Yet, when he set his eyes on me, he smiled. I shivered.
“I’m Delilah Duffy,” I said, nervousness gripping my stomach as his eyes went up and down. “I’m the manager of Beach Read, the store behind you.”
He brought his attention back to my face, and his smile dropped. “Oh, what’s the problem?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself. And to thank you.”
“That’s a first,” he said. “For what?”
“I live in the upstairs apartment, and last night someone tried to break in,” I explained. “Your bouncer, Lenny Jackson, saw the guy and called the police. He really saved my ass. I wanted to come by and tell him and all of you thanks. I brought cookies.” I ended with a smile. He extended his hand.
“I’m David Via.”
“Delilah Duffy,” I said again. I set the cookies on the bar.
“Drink?” he asked, snapping his fingers for the bartender.
“Diet Coke?” The bartender set about his mission.
“The alley poses a problem from time to time,” David Via explained as the bartender placed my frosty Diet Coke on a red coaster. “People trying to gain access to the club by way of the back exit door. Others trying to slip out without paying their tabs. Drugs being sold in the back. Hard to run an honest business with so much devilry going on.” I almost choked on my Diet Coke to hear him speak this way.
“I can imagine,” I said.
“My security team checks the perimeter every hour on the hour during our night shifts,” he added, “as a crime deterrent.”
“That’s an intelligent policy,” I returned. “And I appreciate it very much because, like I said, your man saved me from, well, who knows what.”
“I’ll have to pass along your gratitude and the cookies. His shift doesn’t start until 9:00.”
“I know Lenny,” I said. “He sold me some lamps. Looks like Mr. Clean, right?”
Via chuckled. “Yeah, that’s the guy. Selling junk is his side job.”
“Well, I am so relieved to know that you do checks in the alley every hour,” I said truthfully. “After last night and of course the murder, I can’t tell you how comforting it is to know that at least you guys are protecting the area.”
“More than we can say for the damn cops,” David Via nodded, “That’s right. You’re in the building where Chambers was killed. Oh, I know who you are now. I saw that gorgeous shot of you in the paper. My, oh, my. You’re like a celebrity around here.” Inside, I cringed as though American eels were circling around my feet, but I kept a smile on my face.
“Thanks. Chambers worked here, didn’t he?” I asked. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
David Via shrugged. “That rat fuck son of a bitch? He wasn’t an employee of mine any more. He quit three hours before his shift. Left me hanging out to dry, bastard.”
“He quit?”
“A couple of days before he got off-ed. His brother still works here though, but not for long. He’s useless.”
“Why’s that?”
“He doesn’t have the physique for the job,” Via explained. “I only hired Ronnie because Darryl begged me, said they worked better as a team. I’m such a soft hearted guy. But, nobody’s intimidated by a hundred pound weasel.” The bartender laughed in support.
“Well, you certainly seem to know a lot about people,” I said. “Any theories on who killed him?”
David Via grinned. “I thought you did it, sweetheart.”
“No, it wasn’t me,” I said.
“Police jacking you up?” he replied. “They do that shit to me all the time. I don’t know who killed the bastard. Maybe you should talk to his old girlfriend.” The bartender chuckled. “Miss Angel. I can take you to see her. She’s backstage.”
Teague told me not to ask any more questions about Darryl Chambers, but I couldn’t refuse Via’s offer. My tummy did somersaults as we neared a narrow hallway. Lighting was scarce. The walls were littered with pictures of various stripping stars.
“You know, you’ve got just the right physique for Via’s,” he grinned. “You ever dance before?”
“No,” I answered quickly.
“If you need to make a little extra money, you just let me know. Delicious Delilah… Dangerous Delilah… Delilah the Dancer.” He licked his lips and I felt queasy. Alliteration was ruined forever.
“No, thanks. I’m trying for Delilah the Decent,” I said. Still, after saying it, I knew I didn’t live up to that name either.
Chapter Forty
Renaissance Women
“Wake up, ladies,” David Via announced, barging in a closed door at the end of the hall. “You have a visitor.” Turning to me, he said, “I’ll be at the bar if you need me. Have fun.” He winked and left.
“Who the hell are you?” a gruff voice demanded. Two scantily clad women occupied chairs in front of large, well-lit vanities in a cluttered, cramped room no bigger than a small bedroom.
“I’m Delilah,” I said.
“Great, a new one,” the gruff one complained. She wore a turquoise sequined baby
doll dress, heavy make-up, a dragon tattoo on her left arm, and about one hundred more pounds than an average stripper (I’d guess). “What the hell are you staring at?”
“I’m looking for Angel,” I said quickly.
“You got a problem with my weight?” she insisted. She slammed her powder puff down on the counter so that a plume of dust billowed up from it. “Guys love fat girls.”
“I know they do,” I said. “You’re a Renaissance woman.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she shot back angrily.
“In the Renaissance, larger women were preferred,” I told her. “That’s why all their art shows women with more to hold on to. You would have been like a supermodel then. Larger women represented wealth and status. Higher class. Nobility.” A wide red smile blanketed her chubby face.
“Nobility?” she said.
I nodded. “It’s no surprise to me that you’re a dancer here,” I added. “Beauty comes in many forms and sizes. It’s an honor to meet both of you. I’ve never met dancers before.” I extended my hand to the heavyset lady. She shook it daintily.
“I’m Sadie. What’d you say your name was again?” she questioned.
“Delilah, and don’t worry,” I said, “I’m not here for a job.”
“Then why are you here?” the other one asked meekly. She wore a white negligee, platform, thigh-high boots, Christmas tinsel in her hair, and silver gems around her eyes. She had delicate features, a petite frame, and heavy red lipstick.
“Your boss said I could talk to Angel,” I said. “You must be her.”
“I’m Angel,” she said, checking her face in the mirror. “About to go on so you better make it snappy. I gotta make rent tonight.”
“I’m opening the store across the alley, Beach Read,” I told them.
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