Did Marcus run me off the road? Could have been a black tow truck. What had he been doing those days he called in sick? Killing Crystal?
I tossed everything except the claim ticket—which I tucked in my pocket—into the box. I poked my head around the side of the building to get a look at the tow truck, but it was gone. Damn.
Once in the car with Roxy, I checked Marcus’ jacket pockets. Gum wrappers and a used Kleenex. Ugh.
Roxy dropped me back at the diner. She said she’d go with me to the pawn shop, but I knew she had a hot date with Tariq. Usually, she kept me abreast of her love life, but she was keeping mum about Tariq. Either she was getting serious about him or they were on a shoplifting spree I didn’t want to know about.
It took me twenty minutes to make it downtown to the pawn shop. Web Head worked the counter.
He frowned at the horn on my forehead. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Car accident.”
“Are you all right?”
I nodded. “I found the claim ticket.” I waved it at him.
He snatched it and skimmed it. “Be right back.” He walked to a locked door, took a key from the chain hooked to his belt, and disappeared inside.
He stepped out a moment later. “Here they are.” He held up a clear plastic jewelry bag. Inside was a pair of oval diamond hoops, about an inch and a half long.
“How much?” I asked.
“Two hundred and twenty five. But have a drink with me and I’ll cut it to one-fifty.”
I tried to look sad. “I still don’t have enough. I’ll just have to come back next week. Thanks, though.”
I left and hurried along the darkened street to Axton’s car, my head swiveling back and forth to make sure I wasn’t being watched.
As fast as the congested Christmas traffic would allow, I sped back to Axton’s house, ready to burst.
I tried the door handle, but it was locked, so I pounded on the door and rang the bell repeatedly until Ax finally answered.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you okay?” He took in the bruise on my head. “Get in here. Are you going to pass out?”
Sullivan moved Ax aside and took my hand, pulling me to him. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
Stoner Joe stared at the TV without blinking.
Henry poked his head out of the kitchen. “Everything okay, boss?”
I moved in his direction and passed him, tossing my purse on the kitchen table. “I stopped by the pawn shop with Marcus’ ticket. I couldn’t afford to buy them back.” I dug in my purse and pulled out the photo of Brent Crandall and Crystal. “But see these earrings? Marcus pawned these four days ago. Crystal was already dead.”
Sullivan took the photo from me. It finally hit me, what had been niggling my brain since yesterday. “Shit, I can’t believe I forgot. The money. Crystal found it. She gave it to Kyle to hide.”
Henry stepped away to stir something on the stove. Something that smelled delicious.
“Where’s the money?” Sullivan asked. He handed the photo off to Ax.
“He said it was locked away.” I rubbed my temples. Maybe I did have a concussion that night. Why else would something so important slip my brain?
“Let’s go talk to Kyle,” Sullivan said.
“I can’t. I have to go to my sister’s cookie exchange.”
“They’re all ready and they’re delicious,” Henry said.
“He wouldn’t let me try any. By the way, I found out a little info on Tammy Amsted.” Ax handed the photo back to me and walked out of the kitchen.
Sullivan brushed his thumb across the goose egg on my forehead. “Still hurt?”
“Only when you touch it.”
“Smart ass. You can’t get out of the cookie thing?”
“I would if I could. But my sister will be very hurt, I’ve already pissed off my mom, and Christmas—”
He held up his hand to stop my flow. “I get it. How about I pick you up at your apartment afterward? We’ll go question Kyle then. Axton found his address. He’s very good, your IT buddy. I’m thinking about recruiting him.”
I slapped my palm on his chest. “Don’t you even think about it. Axton controls the force for good. He’d never go over to the dark side.”
Ax returned and carried a red folder. “Miss Scarlet?” I asked.
He grinned. “You got it. Everything about Tammy Amsted.”
“That was Crystal’s real name?” Sullivan asked.
He leaned over my shoulder and read the info. Crystal grew up in St. Louis with her addicted, neglectful mother and a slap happy father who had been to jail three times for domestic assault. They eventually lost custody when Crystal was twelve and she went to live with her grandmother. She’d had a very short, sad life.
Ax also found the trip to California that Martin Mathers had taken. An all-expense, taxpayer-funded trip to some kind of cop conference in L.A.
“I know who owns the Huntingford Motor Lodge,” Sullivan said. He leaned against the kitchen wall and watched me.
“Well?” I asked.
“Her name’s Annabelle Weiner. She’s Stuart’s great aunt. Eighty-three years old. She bought it two years ago.”
“I take it Clay is the real owner?” I asked.
“I would think so, yes.”
“He must have been filming Martin Mathers’ and Crystal’s little Wednesday afternooners.” I pointed a finger at him. “You’re not the only one who has dirt on the police chief. He’s in Clay’s pocket, too.”
Sullivan shrugged. “That’s the risk you take when you make a deal with a dirty cop. Call me after the cookie thing.” He squeezed my shoulder and then headed down to the basement.
“You want some Beer Cheese soup?” Henry asked.
I glanced at my watch. “I have just enough time for a bowl.”
He placed a bowls of hot yellow-orange soup in front of Ax and me. The surface was decorated with a sprig of some kind of herb and it smelled so good. Then he plated up thick slices of homemade bread. If Henry wasn’t the scariest mofo I knew, I’d get him a job at Ma’s.
Twenty minutes later I was on my way to Jacks’ house with two huge plastic containers on the passenger seat next to me. At a red light, I pried open the lid and liberated a cookie. It was chocolate mixed with coffee and equaled heaven.
At my sister’s house, cars filled the drive and spilled out onto the street. With my hands full, I walked up to the front door and pushed the bell with my nose.
These little get-togethers weren’t my fave. My sister’s friends all had kids or were pregnant. Sometimes both. And that’s all they wanted to talk about. Either that or their doctor husbands worked too hard and played too much golf. But, if it made Jacks happy, I’d make an effort.
She answered the door sporting a Santa hat. She took one look at me and froze. “Oh my God, what happened?” She took the containers and handed them off to one of her friends then pulled me into the house and examined me under the foyer chandelier. “What did you do?”
“I had a little fender bender. No biggie.”
She grabbed my chin and tilted my head toward the light. “Did you go to the hospital?”
I pulled my chin from her hand. “I’m fine.”
One of her friends, Marcy something, approached. “You should let my husband take a look at it. Just to make sure there’s no scarring. Let me get you his card.” She examined my forehead.
“Thanks, but really, it’s okay.”
Another woman in a pair of leather black boots stepped out of the living room. “Wow, what happened to you?”
It was going to be a long night.
Jacks hooked her arm through mine and led me to the living room where eleven women stood and gabbled. “Rose is here,” she an
nounced.
One by one, they stopped yakking as they gazed at me in horror. Silence reigned. It was just an ugly knot on my forehead. I didn’t lose an arm, for God’s sake.
“She had a car accident,” Jacks said.
They started talking all at once. ‘How are you? What happened? Is the car totaled? That curve’s always been dangerous.’
I smiled and tried to answer all their questions.
I always felt out of place at these things. My usual strategy was to stay in the corner or ask someone about a recipe. That usually led to a long, boring discussion about how Grandma Mimi always made this cookie, but it was laden with fat …blah, blah.
But this year, here I stood, front and center, banged up and bruised, wearing a faded forest green Hanes For Her t-shirt with a coffee stain over one boob.
Eventually talk settled to the familiar. Kids. Husbands. Christmas vacations.
I walked to the kitchen and grabbed a tray for my cookies. Jacks followed. “That was probably a little overwhelming, huh?”
I smiled. “It was okay. Your friends mean well.”
She grabbed the containers of cookies and we wandered to the dining room. “You couldn’t afford the hospital, could you? I didn’t even think about it until Marcy told you to call her husband. I thought, ‘Rose can’t afford a plastic surgeon.’ You didn’t even go to the emergency room.” She gazed at me with sadness and a hint of disappointment.
I placed Henry’s chocolate cookies on the tray. “I would have gone if I’d been really hurt, Jacks.”
She grabbed my hand. “I want you to do something for me.”
Wary, I pulled my hand from hers and continued stacking cookies. “What?”
“Allen and I want to buy you a car for Christmas. Nothing fancy, just something reliable. I worry about you.”
I knew my sister’s intention wasn’t to make me feel like shit, but it happened all the same. I didn’t need her to take care of me. I wasn’t poor little Rose. I’d chosen my life. It wasn’t perfect. Sometimes it was a crap storm. I had setbacks like everyone else, but I hadn’t taken handouts in the last five years, and I wasn’t about to start now.
“Thanks, but no. I’ll make it on my own.”
“If you change your mind…” She looked down at the platter of cookies. “Did you bake these?”
“No, a friend did. And they’re delicious.”
I snagged a plate and spent the next forty-five minutes chatting and eating finger foods. I wondered when I could break loose without hurting my sis’s feelings. As I listened to two women discuss the merits of a drug-free birth, my butt vibrated.
I sighed with relief. I set down my cup of nog and made my excuses as I moved into the formal living room.
“Hey Dane, what’s up?” I hadn’t heard from him in days. I hoped he was progressing with the case.
“Janelle’s been arrested for the murder of Crystal Waters.”
Chapter 27
“What the hell? I know of at least four other people who had a motive. Are the police looking into any of that? And what about her kids? Is Sondra with them?”
“Slow down, Rose. Tariq and Roxy are with the kids. I’ve been to see Janelle. I know there are other suspects. I told my boss I was going full throttle with this case. I know she’s innocent. I’m going to do what I can for her.”
Tears filled my eyes. I’d failed her. I told her I would find who attacked Asshat, but I hadn’t. And in a way, I’d let Crystal down, too.
“She can’t stay in there. What’s bail going to be this time?”
“I don’t know. She barely made bail before and this will be higher since it’s a murder case and she’s already been charged with assault. The judge may deny bail altogether. We’ll have to get a temporary custody hearing so Sondra can officially take the kids.”
I sank down onto the tufted sofa.
“Are you still there? Rose?”
“Call me when you learn anything new.” I hung up and touched the lump on my head and groaned. Janelle was going to spend the rest of her life in prison. And Crystal’s murderer was going to go free.
I sat on the sofa, feeling numb and sick to my stomach, when a blonde whose name I couldn’t remember walked into the room.
“Are you all right?”
I shook my head. “No. Not even close.”
She sat next to me and grabbed my hand. “You’re very pale. Are you having an anxiety attack?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“I have them all the time. Are you taking anything?”
I felt like I was out of my body as I stared at her.
“Do you take anything for them? Valium, Zoloft?”
I shook my head.
“Here.” She opened her Coach bag and pulled out a blister pack. “Hold out your hand.”
I obeyed instead of arguing.
“This is the good stuff, Clonazepam. Start with half a pill. Don’t take this on an empty stomach or with booze. It’ll knock you on your bum.” She popped six pills into my palm. “Just take it when you think you’re going to die. You’re not going to die, by the way, it just feels that way.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Do me a favor? Don’t tell anyone I gave those to you. I don’t want the other girls to think I’m a walking pharmacy. My husband’s a shrink and I get requests all the time.” She patted my leg and left.
I stared down at the pills. I shoved them in my front pocket and dialed Sullivan.
“Dane just called. Janelle’s been arrested for Crystal’s murder.”
The usual pause. “I’m sorry.”
“We have to get her out. She has little kids, she’s innocent.”
“You know that’s not my priority.”
“I’m asking you to make it a priority. She’s going to need bail money and even though Dane says he’s taking this seriously, I wonder if she needs a better attorney. One who’s taken on murder cases.”
He said nothing for a minute. Then, “Do you have any idea of what you’re asking? There’s no way you can pay off that kind of debt.”
Right now I didn’t give a good goddamn how I was going to pay off anything. I just needed Janelle to have a fighting chance.
“I don’t care. That’s what I need.”
“All right. I’m coming to pick you up now. I don’t want you to drive.”
I pulled myself together and made my excuses to my sister—said I had a terrible headache and needed a good night’s sleep. The ladies piled me up with decorative Christmas cookies before I walked out of the house to wait for Sullivan.
He pulled the Mercedes up to the curb and got out, taking the cookies from me and shoving them in the backseat. “Come here.” He pulled me into a brief hug, but said nothing—no words of comfort, no platitudes. I breathed deeply, taking in his intoxicating scent before he pulled away and settled me into the car.
By the time we pulled up to Fit and Flex, I really did have a headache. The kind that makes it hard to concentrate on anything else.
Sullivan followed me as I walked to the counter. Zeke smiled when he saw me. “You’re back.” Then he glanced over the horn on my head. “What happened?”
“Is Kyle around?”
“No, no one’s heard from him for the last two days. It’s not like him. The boss is worried. Said if he didn’t hear from Kyle by tomorrow, he was going to call the police.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Sullivan.
“We’ll need his address,” he said.
Zeke appeared startled at the request. “I can’t do that. That’s private information.”
“Zeke,” I said, “I don’t know if Kyle told you this, but his sister was murdered this week.”
Zeke’s eyes grew wide. “I didn�
��t know he had a sister.”
“Her name was Crystal.” I leaned on the counter. Seriously, I needed a Tylenol or something. I rubbed circles in the space between my eyes.
“Crystal was his sister? He never said.”
“We need his address. He might be in trouble.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll be right back.” He jogged to the office.
Sullivan grasped my nape and gently massaged. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” His fingers pressed into the sides of my neck. I closed my eyes and tried to relax my muscles.
“We’ll stop and get some pain relievers.”
“No, I want to keep going.”
Zeke came back with a Post-it note in his hand. “I dug his chart out of the personnel file. Here you go. Let me know if you need anything else.”
I smiled and thanked him. I handed the note off to Sullivan.
Back in the car, he glanced at the yellow sheet. “This isn’t too far from here.”
I nodded.
Sullivan placed his hand on the top of my head. “Let me take you home.”
“No.”
I closed my eyes and rested my head against the window. The cool glass felt good on my temple.
Sullivan drove to a small apartment complex similar to mine—two stories, probably eight units. Kyle lived on the first floor, in the back of the building. We knocked, but no one answered.
“I’m going to break in,” he said.
I rested my hand on his arm. “He might have nosy neighbors.” I needed to have Roxy teach me how to use lock picks ASAP. You never knew when that type of crap might come in handy.
I knocked on the door across the hall and waved Sullivan off. He moved out of sight.
I knocked again and finally, an older man, his bald head covered in liver spots, answered. “What?”
“I’m looking for Kyle.”
“What?” He peered at me through his thick lenses. “Who are you?”
“His cousin, Jane.”
“Who? What happened to your head?” he asked, curling his upper lip.
2 Last Diner Standing Page 22