by Ali Brandon
“So much for a tidy work site,” she ventured.
She earned a polite, momentary flash of white teeth for her attempt at a joke. Then Barry fixed what appeared to be an angry gaze on the Dumpster again. “I thought the police were finished here, but he had a warrant and everything.”
“I hope he had a tetanus shot, too,” Darla answered, cringing a little as she heard Reese curse and then shake one gloved hand like he’d been injured. “There are probably all kinds of nails and stuff in there.”
“Nails, wire, insulation, linoleum.” Barry shrugged in agreement. “You name it, we tore it out of the place. Any idea what’s he’s looking for?”
Darla glanced at him in surprise. Apparently, despite the warrant, Reese had mentioned nothing to the man about Tera or her cell phone. Recalling the lecture that she’d received from Reese the last time that she—as he had so bluntly put it—had blabbed, Darla prudently shook her head.
“I’m just here with Jake.”
Besides, it could all be a false alarm, she reminded herself. No need to distress the man unduly until there was good reason. Then, taking a deep breath, she added, “Sorry about the other night when you stopped by. You took me by surprise. And that whole hiding-out-in-the-powder-room thing was Reese’s idea. He sprang that on me after I’d already buzzed you in. I was kind of caught, and I didn’t know what to do, so I went along with it.”
“Yeah, well, it did feel kind of like an ambush, but I understand where you’re coming from. A cop tells you to jump, you do it.”
Which sounded a bit like Hilda’s attitude, Darla thought, wondering where Barry had gotten his jaundiced view of the police. Then he added, “The thing is, I got the impression you know this cop personally, too.”
Darla blinked. Could Barry be, well, jealous? A bit cheered, she replied, “He’s Jake’s friend, and ex-partner, but that’s as far as it goes.”
“Okay. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t seeing him or anything.” Barry gave another small smile, but this time it appeared genuine. “It’s not a good move, trying to ask out a lady who’s already dating someone . . . especially a cop.”
“Guess not.” Darla smiled a little, too. “But to answer your question, no, I’m not seeing Reese or anyone else at the moment.”
“Great. Then maybe you’d have dinner with me tonight after you close the bookstore. You know, to take our minds off what’s happened.”
Darla considered the offer for a moment. Should the worst happen and they find Tera, she’d need a lot more than a nice meal to get over it. But she’d worry about that when—if—it happened.
“I guess we could do that,” she agreed. “You’ve seen that Greek restaurant a few doors down from the Thai place? I could meet you there at eight.”
“Eight is good.”
His gaze lingered on her long enough for her to feel a bit uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Turning her attention back to the Dumpster, she watched in unwilling fascination as Reese made his way section by section through it.
At least it wasn’t a regular garbage Dumpster he was searching, she thought, or he’d need to be wearing a hazmat suit. Still, it was likely that Reese’s shirt and trousers would be the worse for wear by the time he finished with his hunt. Jake was assisting him, although she’d wisely remained outside the container. Standing on an overturned bucket, she was taking the sections of plaster and board Reese was methodically handing to her. Given the effort they were making, Darla hoped that Reese was pretty darned sure the phone—and perhaps, by extension, the girl—was actually inside the Dumpster.
“Got it!”
The muffled shout came from Reese, who had been almost out of view from Darla’s angle, digging in the container’s depths. Beside her, she felt Barry go tense, his expression grim. Slowly, he rose, seeming to forget Darla was standing beside him. She gazed up at him uncertainly. Had he guessed what Reese was looking for?
Now, Reese popped up again clutching something in one gloved hand, and Darla reflexively jumped to her feet as well.
“What? What does he have?” Barry asked, but Darla was already trotting over to the container.
She halted next to Jake, who apparently now traveled about with small paper bags the way some people carried chewing gum. Carefully holding what Darla saw was a bright pink cell phone in two gloved fingers, the ex-cop slipped it inside the bag she’d pulled from her coat pocket. She sealed its top while Reese extracted himself from the tangle of lumber and broken plasterboard and crawled out of the Dumpster.
“Good job,” Jake congratulated him with a grim smile as she handed the evidence to him. “And thank God Tera wasn’t in there with her phone.”
“Are you sure?” Darla protested in a shaky voice. “I mean, could she possibly be . . .”
“Don’t worry, Red, she’s not in there,” Reese assured her. “I crawled in there pretty sure we were going to find her, but I dug through the whole container, and there wasn’t anything the size and shape of a body that I didn’t pull open. Wherever she is, it’s not here.”
“Thank God,” Darla echoed Jake’s sentiment. “But I guess we should let Hilda know about the phone so she doesn’t waste her time trying to keep calling Tera.”
“We?” Reese said, and Jake coughed and gave Darla a look. “I’d prefer you not discuss anything you know concerning the case with anyone else,” Reese replied, his formal manner suddenly all cop. “I’ll handle any necessary communication with Mrs. Aguilar. Darla, I’m asking this as a favor to me.”
Which, translated from cop-speak, meant that even though he was asking politely, he expected her to keep her mouth shut.
Which further translated to mean Hilda was what the CSI shows called a “person of interest” in regard to Curt’s murder.
“Sure, Reese, no problem,” she managed, feeling her chest tighten.
Until this moment, she’d never truly believed that the elegant Hilda might have been the one to wield the lethal crowbar. But it seemed that Reese had some reason to suspect her. Darla frowned. What had happened to Porn Shop Bill as a suspect? And what did that mean regarding Tera’s disappearance? If Hilda had killed Curt, could Tera have witnessed the crime and then fled lest her mother turn the same weapon on her?
And, most important, what the heck was Tera’s cell phone doing in the Dumpster, when apparently Tera was still out there somewhere walking around?
“Mr. Eisen, thank you for your cooperation,” Reese was now saying to Barry, who had joined them. “We may need to search this container again, so I ask that you not arrange for its pickup without clearing it with me first.”
“Um, sure,” Barry agreed, and then gestured to the debris that Reese and Jake had dragged out of the container. “But what about this stuff? Are you going to put it back where you found it?”
“Sorry for the inconvenience, sir, but I need to get this evidence logged in,” the detective replied, indicating the bagged phone he held. Turning to Jake, he said, “Why don’t I give you a ride back to your place?”
“Sure, if you don’t mind a little cigarette smoke.” Sliding her mirrored sunglasses back into place, she said to Darla, “You don’t mind going home alone, do you?”
“I’ll manage,” she replied, feeling like she had in high school when a friend would ditch her to hang out with a cute guy.
So much for dancing with the one that brung you, she thought with an inner shrug at that old Texas saw as the pair headed toward Reese’s city-issued car. She had seen the look the two had exchanged and understood what was going on. Reese wanted to confer with Jake out of civilian earshot, and that could only happen if Darla hoofed it home alone. Still, she couldn’t let Reese go without mentioning that other bit of information that she’d learned about Bill.
She raced after them, catching the cop as he was sliding into his seat behind the wheel. Swiftly, she repeated the rumor Robert had told her that about the porn shop owner having once attacked a man with a hammer.
When she’d
finished, Reese nodded. “Thanks for the tip, but I already pulled Ferguson’s rap sheet. Just a couple of assault charges that were pleaded down. Don’t worry, though, the guy is still on my list. And feel free to call me if he shows up at your shop again.”
“I will. But, Reese, about Tera’s phone . . . why would it be in the Dumpster?”
“Good question, Red. That’s what I plan to find out.”
He and Jake pulled away from the curb, leaving Darla alone with Barry and the mini–disaster area around them. For the moment, there was nothing she could do about the Tera situation. However . . .
With a rueful look at Barry, she said, “Why don’t I help you clean up this junk before I go? It will be getting dark soon, and you don’t want to accidentally trip over something.”
Then, when he didn’t immediately reply, she reached for his arm and gave it a tentative shake. “Barry, are you all right?”
Barry had been silently staring at the Dumpster. Now, looking rather stunned, he turned and focused on her. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I’m offering you free labor,” she replied. “I’ll help you toss all this junk into the container before I leave.”
Seeming to gather his wits, he managed a feeble smile for her. “What do you think they were looking for besides a cell phone? Whose is it, anyhow?”
She hesitated, Reese’s warning against blabbing ringing in her ears. On the other hand, he’d been speaking about Hilda, not Barry. And despite this unsettling turn of events, he was apparently in the clear regarding Tera, since Reese had no qualms about leaving her alone with the man.
“You know Tera Aguilar, who was dating Curt? They traced her phone to your Dumpster, and I guess Reese thought he might find her in there, too.”
“Tera, in the Dumpster?” Barry shot her an incredulous look. “What would she be doing in there?”
“She’s gone missing, and the last time anyone saw her was the night that Curt was killed. There’s a chance that the same person who murdered him did something to Tera, too.”
“Unless she was the one who clubbed him over the head, and she’s on the run now.”
His tone held a bitter note. Apparently, he hadn’t forgotten the phone argument he’d heard between his partner and the girl. Darla nodded. Then, recalling his original reaction, she asked, “So what did you think Reese was looking for?”
Barry sagged a little and gave her a sheepish look.
“I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t say anything, Darla, but some of that stuff we’re tossing isn’t exactly legal to dump. I figured the building inspector had already been poking around here when we saw him yesterday, and he found something he didn’t like. So he called the cops on me.”
“Illegal?” Darla gave a doubtful look at the debris scattered around the container. Great, last thing she needed was to be handling toxic waste. “Um, maybe I should rescind my offer about helping you pick things up.”
“Actually, I’d appreciate the hand. And I swear, the only thing there’s a problem with is that stack of floor covering.”
He pointed to a small pile of what was arguably the ugliest kitchen linoleum that Darla had ever seen. “Given its age, there’s a good chance that the backing is made with asbestos, but we didn’t take the time to test it. But we did handle it real carefully and cut it up with knives, so there isn’t any dust or fibers.”
When Darla gave him a stern look, he sighed and added, “How about I do it by the book? I’ll bag up the pieces and pay a guy I know to come get it, okay?”
“Forget the asbestos. My eyes will never be the same again now that I’ve seen this stuff. It should be stored in one of those secret government warehouses so it never sees the light of day again,” she replied with another disbelieving glance at the flooring. Seriously, who in their right minds could have thought that pink and purple squiggles on a background of grayish-green made for an attractive pattern?
Barry grinned. “Thanks for understanding. I’m all for safety, but sometimes Big Brother goes a bit overboard, and you get tempted to take a few shortcuts. Now, let me see if there are some extra gloves lying around that will fit you.”
While he went back inside the brownstone to search, Darla stood on tiptoe and gingerly peered inside the container, even though Reese had assured her that Tera’s cell phone was the only thing inside it connected to the girl. The immediate sight of a long and quite body-shaped form wrapped in heavy black sheeting almost gave her a heart attack, until she noticed that the plastic had been pulled open to reveal several more strips of pink insulation. Looking more closely, she could see that Reese apparently had torn into anything that wasn’t solid, for several other bags and bundles of trash had spilled their contents, too.
“Find anything else?”
The sound of Barry’s voice unexpectedly behind her made her yelp in surprise; then, feeling sheepish, she turned to meet his wry gaze.
“Just putting my mind at rest,” she told him as she took the gloves he held out to her and pulled them on. And then, abruptly, she felt a few tears slip down her cheek.
“Sorry,” she added, swiping away the unexpected moisture from her face. “I didn’t know Curt all that well, but this whole thing—his death, Tera going missing—has had a real impact on me. And you probably think I’m just being some sort of drama queen, since you’re standing there all stoic, and you’re the one who was Curt’s friend.”
To her relief, Barry smiled and shook his head. “Frankly, I’d think a whole lot less of you if you didn’t care.”
Darla managed a smile back. “I guess I just need to know that whoever killed him will be punished, and I need Tera to come home safe and sound again. And I’m not sure that’s going to happen . . . not for either of them.”
She gave an idle kick at the nearest pile of debris. “Here, let’s get this cleaned up. I left the store in a bit of a hurry. If I’m not back soon, James will be tracking me down on my cell.”
Together, they began picking up the scattered construction leftovers. They were making swift progress loading the trash back into the Dumpster when a flash of pink wedged in a splintered board caught Darla’s eye and made her pause. Barry didn’t notice she had stopped, as he was wrestling with a heavy coil of electrical wire that had come undone and turned into what looked like an oversized spring toy.
Frowning, she extracted what appeared to be a broken piece of pink plastic about the size of a dime that had been caught in crack in the wood. It was the same bubblegum shade as Tera’s phone and looked like it had probably come from one of those plastic snap-on protectors. The piece she held could have broken off when something heavier landed on the phone. She almost tossed it back into the Dumpster but then shrugged and tucked it into her pants pocket. It probably wouldn’t do Reese any good, but it seemed like evidence. She’d hang on to it anyhow and give it to him next time she saw him.
A few minutes later, they had finished the cleanup and were both sweating despite the coolness of the late afternoon. Barry tossed a final paint roller into the container and then whipped off his gloves to swab his gleaming forehead with the back of his hand. “That’s all of it. Let’s get you back to the store so I can head home for a shower before we meet tonight.”
Darla pulled off her own gloves and used them to slap at the plaster dust that now clung to her blue corduroy pants. “I need to clean up a little, too, after our workout,” she assured him with a smile.
A short time later, she was back at the bookstore. After reconfirming the time for their date and making her hasty good-byes to Barry, she rushed into the store. “Sorry for leaving you in the lurch,” she told James, surprised when she glanced at the wall clock to see that she’d been gone for almost two hours. “I stuck around to help Barry clean up after Reese tossed a Dumpster’s worth of junk into his yard.”
“And what of Ms. Aguilar and her phone?”
“Believe it or not, Reese found the phone in all that mess. Thank God he didn’t find Tera in
there, too. But still, I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
James gave a thoughtful nod. “I agree, the situation is not promising. Do you know if Detective Reese thinks the girl has come to harm?”
“He’s not saying, as usual. The only one he’ll talk to is Jake, and she’s got that whole code-of-silence thing going on, too.”
Idly, she picked up the graphic novel copy of Poe’s work that she had left on the counter in her rush. “Hamlet’s the only one besides the killer who might know what happened, and he’s not talking, either . . . at least, not so I can understand him. How does this”—she waved the novel in her manager’s direction—“tie in with The Man in the Iron Mask?”
James had just assumed the supercilious look of a self-satisfied professor preparing to launch into another lecture, when the shop door jangled and Mark Poole—he of the recent book club flounce—strolled back in. “Hi, Darla . . . hi, James,” he called, “I, er, forgot to pick up that romance novel that my mom wanted. But I can’t remember the title. Maybe you can help?”
“Ten to one he’s buying it for himself,” Darla murmured to her manager while giving the customer a friendly wave. Then, in a normal tone, she added, “I’ll go take care of Mr. Poole. Why don’t you take your break now, James, and I’ll keep an eye on things. But let me know if you think up any clever theories while you’re at it.”
She tossed the graphic novel back on top of the copy of the Dumas book. Passing by Hamlet, who was lounging, paws in the air, atop the green beanbag in the kids’ section, she told him, “Feel free to use the keyboard and just type out a name anytime now.”
Hamlet flipped over onto his side and gave her a cool green look as if to say, I’ve done my part, clueless human. Now go prove why you’re supposedly the dominant species. Which wasn’t much help at all.
Once Darla had rung up her customer and James had returned from his break—minus any additional literary insights, as he made sure to inform her—they agreed he could finish out the shift alone. Darla headed back upstairs to her apartment to shower and rest before her date with Barry later that night.