“Maybe Samantha can learn a few financial tips from David,” Justin offered.
I felt the skin between my eyes coil up like a snail, “Justin, are you—”
“Certifiably nuts?” Alisa finished the rhetorical question. Her eyes shifted to David to ensure he couldn’t overhear our conversation. “Perhaps, I should have used the singular. One nut.”
Cindy belted out another shriek. I gave her the eye before I remembered I’d made a promise to try to be friends with Henry’s new squeeze…who had a face like a horse.
“Daddy, Daddy.”
Samantha to the rescue, tugging on my shirt again.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Why does everyone call Uncle J ‘One Nut’?”
Cindy’s torso lurched forward, failing to cover an obnoxious snort. I scratched my facial scruff, biding me a precious few seconds to figure out how to dodge this question until about fifteen years in the future.
Resting my hand under her adorable chin, I said, “You know how people get nicknames and sometimes it doesn’t make sense, but people just give them that name because they care about them?”
She scrunched her eyes.
“You know, like your nickname, Mittens.”
Samantha waved me closer so I could hear her whisper in my ear. “Daddy, don’t you remember, I don’t really like to be called Mittens around other people. That’s just between us. Got it?”
Some snickering around us since Samantha’s soft voice was louder than she knew. “Got it. I think I see a piece of cake over there just for you.”
Glancing to our right, Dax was cutting off a slice of red velvet cake. “Extra icing?” he asked Samantha with a smile.
She took two steps, then turned back around. “Daddy, what does the Double Ds mean?”
Alisa and I locked eyes. I could almost picture an enormous timepiece, its big hand shifting one notch, emitting the sound of cathedral bells across the land. My mind had recognized a new milestone in my not-so-little Samantha’s life—she’d reached the age when her perceptiveness had outgrown her age, which led to a flurry of unending questions. I wasn’t sure this was reversible, so we just had to roll with it.
I leaned over and tickled her rib cage. “Double means twice as good, right? So, two Ds are better than one.”
Alisa brought a hand to her stressed face, realizing my line of bullshit made no sense.
“But Daddy, why you do always say that when you talk about Mr. Dax and Mr. David?”
Usually quick-witted, I wasn’t prepared for Samantha at age sixteen, so I acted like I didn’t understand the question. “How about a double tickle attack?” I goosed her with both hands, and her youthful chuckle filled the room.
“But Dad—”
“Can I have your piece of cake, Samantha?” Not exactly my idea of a great role model, Cindy, of all people, had chimed in.
“What?” Samantha instantly became focused on the sugar high that sat ten feet away.
“Did I tell you how cool your fingernails are? I just love that purple.” Cindy draped an arm over Samantha’s shoulder and walked toward the cake plates at the far end of the table.
I think Henry saw wonderment in my eyes. “Can you believe Cindy’s that good with kids?”
I knew my Asian buddy was blind and oblivious when it came to any topic regarding Cindy, but I had to admit he had a point.
“She’s a keeper.” I popped his shoulder, then saw someone enter the room.
“Josh?” Alisa’s voice turned higher as she maneuvered around gifts and chairs to reach her new boy toy. And I do mean boy. At ten…no, make that eleven years younger, Josh had completely captured Alisa’s attention like no one I’d seen.
Almost half a foot taller than Alisa, Josh had the look of a California surfer. I could picture him posing next to a surfboard stuck in the sand while he was being interviewed by Surfer magazine, wiggling his thumb and pinkie while saying, “I’m stoked! I was just shooting the curl and the waves were spitting hard.”
Instead, he held up a courteous hand and said, “Sorry I’m late, everyone.”
Alisa reached her arms around Josh’s neck and planted a smooch on him, her leg kicking back as if it was attached to a pulley in her heart. Or something like that.
“Did you just see her leg pop up? I guess that’s the female version of getting a boner for a guy.” Justin’s version of my thoughts. I smirked and motioned for him to keep his volume down. We weren’t sixteen, although we’d been known to act like it. Still, it was Alisa’s birthday and my five-year-old daughter was in the room. I glanced over at the table and saw her propped on her knees, her Scooby Doo tongue trying to scoop pink frosting off her lips. Now wasn’t the time to yank Alisa’s chain.
I noticed Dax give Josh the snooty onceover, likely because of his attire—sweats, black-and-white-striped shirt, and cleats.
“So, what’s the scoop on Josh?” Henry asked me. He wore a Tommy Bahama silk shirt with a palm tree print and balanced a clear glass of soda with a plate of cake.
While Josh had the boyish looks of a young actor, I couldn’t categorize him as innocent. He’d been convicted of computer hacking. I’d never heard the story behind the story, but he was a felon, at least until he completed his community service, at which time the courts were expected to reduce his conviction to a misdemeanor. His record made him a pariah in the real job world. He’d helped us with a murder case a month or so ago, and I paid him for a few hours of consulting on another case. But mostly, our caseload hadn’t required his skillset, which made Alisa quite sad.
“He’s still refereeing soccer games mostly. That and delivering pizza on the side.”
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 old than your sister?”
“It’s my dad’s second marriage. My mom died in a car accident when I was 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—”
“Almost 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 ind
ependent 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.
BOOKER Box Set #1 (Books 1-3: A Private Investigator Thriller Series of Crime and Suspense) Page 72