Killer Beach Reads

by Gemma Halliday Publishing

  Tyler put his hands on his hips and stared at something behind me. "Do you have your gun?"

  "Of course I do." I patted the small of my back and felt the reassuring hardness of the weapon against my back. "What are you not telling me?" I pressed again.

  "There are some things I can't tell you. You know that."

  I nodded.

  "I'd feel more comfortable if you'd just go home and let me handle this, but I know you won't."

  "No, I won't."

  He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead. "Just be careful, and would it be too much to ask for you to check in with me now and then so that I know you're alright? Every couple of hours?"

  I studied his face. He was serious. His worry about me was evident in his expression. I didn't know what he was sitting on, but it was big.

  "I'll text," I promised. "Be careful."

  "Will do." He saluted me and turned back toward the office while I made my way back to my car.

  "What happened?" Kelly asked anxiously.

  "Get in the car," I said, then hurried to the driver's side, opened the door, and slid behind the wheel.

  Once Kelly was settled in the car beside me, I started the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot.

  We drove in silence for the next few minutes. I spotted a Dairy Hut ice cream shop and pulled into the parking lot.

  "What is going on?" Kelly waved her hands in the air.

  "Tyler knows something, but he's sitting on it. He told me to be careful and asked me to check in with him."

  "Whoa, he knows you don't take orders well."

  "Yeah, which means that if he's willing to ask me to do something like check in with him so that he knows I'm safe, then whatever it is, it's dangerous."

  "And that you're on to it!"

  "What?" I cocked a brow.

  "Look, Barb, I know you're running on zero sleep and all, but if Tyler is warning you to be careful, isn't it safe to assume that you're on to the same thing he is? I mean, he did find us at the apartments."

  "So? Wasn't he there to talk to the manager and search Derek's apartment?" I asked.

  "No, he told me he was there looking for you."

  I sat back in my seat. I really was going in the right direction. With a little luck I'd find the killer and have Mandy back at her desk by Monday morning.

  "I found this in Derek's apartment." I pulled out the little black book.

  "An address book?" Kelly scrunched her brow. "Is there anything in there that we can use?"

  "I don't know," I answered truthfully and flipped the book open. "These aren't addresses. Well, not all of them anyway." I looked closer at the nearly illegible scribbling. "These are odds."

  "Odds?"

  "He was a gambler, Wanda said so. This is his book of odds. There are odds on horse racing, car racing, and phone numbers with only initials next to them." I shook my head and blew out a breath. "And this," I leaned over and pointed to a column of numbers, "Are his winnings and losses."

  "Sure looks as if he lost more than he won," Kelly mused.

  "He did," I answered. "Look at this last entry. This says that he lost ten grand on Wild Lotus."

  "I always sucked at picking the ponies."

  "Yeah, well, apparently Derek did too," I said.

  "This is a fountain of information, but what good does any of it do us?"

  "This shows that he lost ten grand at the track, and it's dated for around the same time that Derek went to Wanda for a loan, but she turned him away."

  "So you think he went to Dickie the Bookie and got a loan," Kelly said.

  "It would make sense." I closed the book and tapped it against the palm of my hand, lost in thought.

  My cell buzzed. I grabbed it out of my purse.

  "It's a text from Mona. She said she's still working to get the witness' name and that she'll let us know as soon as she does." I fired off a thank you text and tossed the phone back in my purse.

  "What do we do now?"

  I stared at the Dairy Hut sign, my eyes going bleary, and shook my head. I was exhausted, worried, and, according to the growling in my stomach, starving.

  "First, grab another coffee and eat."

  "Sounds good to me," Kelly agreed. "Then what?"

  "What do you say we take a drive out to Long End?"

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Long End was a forty-five minute drive from the city and on the other side of the nearby sleepy summer town of Trinity Grove.

  It was close to five o'clock when we passed the Long End city limits sign.

  "Where do we look to find Dickie the Bookie? His address wasn't in that little book." Kelly shifted in her seat and tucked one leg under the other.

  "It's a sunny Saturday afternoon, and Dickie is a bookie. Where would you be?"

  She puckered her lips for a moment then grinned. "We're going to the race track, aren't we?"

  I grinned and nodded. I had the overwhelming feeling that we were on the right track. I couldn't keep the hopeful smile off my face when I said, "And with any luck, Dickie will be a fountain of information."

  "You don't just expect him to rattle off that he killed Derek, do you? Because you know that's not going to happen."

  I was under no illusion that Dickie would be that cooperative, but a single shred of information from him could lead us to the actual killer, if that killer wasn't Dickie himself. If that were the case, we could be in some danger.

  "No, but he might be able to point us in the direction of who did. We need to be careful. Dickie isn't someone to mess with."

  Kelly nodded and sat up a little straighter in her seat as we approached the Long End Race Track.

  I drove under the banner and found a decently shaded parking spot. We got out of the car and made our way up to the entrance.

  Once inside, we followed the signs to the outside seating area.

  "Is this a nursing home or a race track?"

  I shook my head. Tact was a thing Kelly often left at home under the bed.

  "A lot of seniors spend their time at the race track."

  I scanned the area discreetly until my eyes landed on one particular man. He was short, round, bald, and wore a black suit, complete with matching fedora. He also had two hulking bodyguards flanking him on either side.

  "That's him." I subtly nodded in the man's direction.

  "How on earth could you possibly think that that's Dickie Myers?"

  "Okay, it might not be him, but looking at this crowd, I'm thinking that the guy with the most expensive suit and bodyguards is our best bet."

  She rolled her eyes. "If you say so. You're the PI. What are you going to do?"

  "Come on." I nudged her toward the table where maybe-Dickie was seated.

  As we approached, one of the guards stepped forward and held up a hand.

  "Can I help you?" His voice was a low rumble. He was well over six-feet tall, had black hair, wore black slacks and a matching black button-down shirt, and had a gnarly scar that sliced down the side of his face.

  I didn't want to think about how he'd gotten it, or what the other guy who gave it to him looked like. Despite the scar, he was pretty freaking hot in a crazy I-might-kill-you kind of way.

  I seriously needed some sleep.

  "I need to speak to Mr. Myers," I said with false bravado.

  "What about?" Scarface asked.

  "Business."

  "What kind of business?" He clenched his jaw.

  "Let the little filly through, Gerald."

  I glanced at Kelly, then smiled up at Scarface whose name was apparently Gerald.

  "Arms out," he grumbled.

  "Excuse me?"

  "You're not getting through until I frisk you."

  As much as I might welcome a big strong man frisking me, Scarface wasn't that man, and I was too tired to enjoy it anyway.

  "There's a small gun against my back." I shrugged and turned around.

  He removed my gun, shoved it in his pocket, then stepped aside.
<
br />   I hated being without my weapon, but what could I do? If I wanted to get to the bottom of Derek and Dickie's relationship, I needed to speak to Dickie, and that wasn't possible unless I gave up the gun for a few minutes.

  Kelly and I approached the table.

  "Have a seat, ladies. Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? Something to eat perhaps?"

  I was a bit taken aback by his politeness. Wanda had said he was a gentleman, I just hadn't believed her at the time. I mean really, how many gentleman bookies were there in the world? I hadn't even seen one on television, but then again, I'd only really started watching television on movie night with Tyler.

  "Um, no thanks," I answered.

  Kelly smiled and shook her head no.

  "Very well then. Now, what's all of this about?" he asked as he sat the dinner roll he'd been buttering down. "I don't know either of you, but you apparently know me. That's not usually how things work where I'm concerned." He leaned back in his seat and laced his fingers together over his rounded belly.

  A diamond pinky ring the size of a Chiclet glinted in the light. I was definitely in the wrong line of work. That ring probably cost more than my tiny little house.

  I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. "We don't actually know you."

  He raised a brow in question.

  "I'm Barb Jackson, and this is my partner, Kelly. We took a guess when we walked in here that you were Dickie Myers, and fortunately we were right."

  He nodded. "And what can I do for you ladies?"

  My palms started to sweat. "I'm a private investigator. I'm working a case that led me to a friend of yours' daughter, Wanda Hamilton."

  He scowled at me. "Is Wanda in some kind of trouble?"

  I shook my head. "No, she isn't, but our friend is."

  "Explain," he said.

  I told him about our girls' night out, Derek's murder, Mandy's arrest, and how we'd come to find him. He sat unmoving as he listened to my tale. His expression never wavered.

  "And that's where you come in. I found Derek's betting book in his apartment."

  "You broke into his apartment?"

  "Sort of." I nodded.

  He smiled. "Go on."

  "His last entry said he lost ten thousand dollars right around the time he went to Wanda asking for a loan in the same amount. She told us that Derek told her he was in trouble with you. That he owed you money."

  "And you thought you'd just walk in here and ask me if I killed him over ten grand?" He tapped his finger against his protruding belly.

  My thin T-shirt was once again clinging to my back.

  "Not exactly," Kelly spoke up. "Our friend didn't kill Derek, and to be honest, we don't know if you did either." She leaned forward. "We came here hoping to get anything from you that would help us prove our friend innocent. Anything to take the heat off her."

  Dickie stared at Kelly so long and hard that I thought she'd explode from the force of his gaze.

  Finally, he unlaced his fingers and sat up straight. "I'll tell you what I told the detective who paid me a visit a couple of hours before you got here. I didn't kill that scumbag, and before you ask," he held up his hand, "I didn't have him killed either."

  So, I was on the right track. If Tyler had been here to question Dickie, then we were thinking along the same lines, and if that were the case, then Mandy stood a chance of not staying in jail.

  "Do you have any idea who did?" I asked.

  He pressed his lips together then blew out a breath. "I don't make a habit of talking to people in your line of work. This one time I'll make an exception, but you'll owe me."

  I didn't like the sound of owing someone known as Dickie the Bookie, but what other choice did I have? He was pleasant enough, but then again, lions looked like big cuddly kittens.

  "Nothing illegal." I threw the demand out there.

  He held up his hands and nodded. "Absolutely. Nothing illegal," he agreed.

  "So, what do you know about our dead cop?" Kelly asked.

  "He was a real piece of work, that one. I met him a few years back when he first married Wanda. She's a sweet girl, but naive at times, especially where Derek was concerned. I'm sure she told you that he married her for her money?"

  I nodded. "She did."

  "Wanda's pops and I were just getting acquainted with each other, but we've become good friends over the last few years. We have some business together in the works, so I've grown fond of Wanda on the few occasions that we've met." He took a drink of his coffee. "To be honest, on any other occasion I would've knocked Derek off for skipping out on paying me, but I worried that his untimely demise might distress Wanda, so I gave him another two weeks."

  "And what if he didn't get your money on time?" Kelly asked.

  "Use your imagination. I'm a man. I have to keep my word, don't I?"

  "So, who do you think killed him?" I asked as I crossed my legs and leaned back in the chair.

  "There's a list a mile long, but if I had to guess, I'd say one of the husbands or boyfriends of one of the women he was sleeping with. That man couldn't keep it in his pants if his life depended on it."

  "He was found in the women's room of that nightclub," Kelly stated.

  "I never said it couldn't have been one of the women who did him in." He chuckled. "That guy was a use 'em and leave 'em kind of guy. I can see one of his women knocking him off."

  "Did he owe anyone else money? Was anyone else looking for him?"

  He shook his head. "Look girls, I'm sorry, but as far as I know I'm the only bookie he used, and he was in deep with me. If someone else in the business was looking for him, I would've heard about it. If I were you, I'd follow the string of women he left behind."

  "Any idea where to start?"

  "The Double Down Club over off Wilshire."

  "Is the Double Down Club what I think it is?" Kelly asked.

  Dickie laughed. "Absolutely."

  "Where were you last night?"

  "Home with my wife. All night." He grinned.

  I stood and offered Dickie my hand. "Thanks for your help."

  He shook my hand and smiled, displaying his perfect, even, white teeth. "It was my pleasure. I'll be in touch."

  I was already regretting getting into business with Dickie, but a girl has to do what a girl has to do.

  "My gun, please?"

  Scarface looked at Dickie. Dickie nodded and halfheartedly motioned with his fork toward me.

  "Be careful." He scowled down at me.

  "Thanks." I shoved the gun back into my waistband and hurried toward the exit.

  Once outside, Kelly and I made our way to the car. "Did you believe Dickie when he said he had nothing to do with Derek's murder?"

  Kelly nodded. "Strangely enough, I did. He was upfront with us about everything. He even admitted that he gave Derek a deadline to get him his money, or else."

  I opened the car door and slid behind the wheel. "True. I can't see him admitting that to me if he was the one who killed Derek. I'm sure he probably left that part out when Tyler talked to him. That would've put all of the heat on him."

  "Well, Dickie has a solid alibi in his wife. So now what? Where does that leave us?"

  It left me wondering what in the heck was taking Mona so long getting us the name of that witness.

  "I say we put on our big girl panties and pay the Double Down Club a visit until Mona gets us the name of that witness. Then I think we should go back and question the apartment manager one more time. I know what the maid said, but the manager might be able to give us more of an idea as to who might've been coming and going at Derek's apartment."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Double Down Club was about as hard to find as an elephant in a closet.

  The building was a brilliant shade of pink, with black trim. The windows were blacked out, and there was a line of cars streaming around the block.

  "It's only seven o'clock," Kelly said with confusion.

  I shrugged. "Popular place I gu
ess." I circled the block a couple of times and finally found a space a little more than a block away. We climbed out of the car and worked our way to the entrance of the club. The building was huge, and despite the line of cars, there wasn't a long line at the door.

  Kelly and I got in line behind a couple of guys wearing low-slung jeans and too-tight T-shirts. Their hair had way too much gel, and I was about to get high off of the scent of their cologne. If these guys were looking to score, someone needed to tell them that they'd have a better shot if their dates didn't choke to death on their Axe body spray before they could make their move.

  We'd only been waiting a matter of minutes when we reached the front of the line, where we were greeted by a short, thin man with a thinning halo of hair.

  "Welcome to the ladies' night at the Double Down Club," he said with a grin. "Admission and drinks are free. Have a great time!" he waved us through the entrance.

  We were assaulted by the smell of strawberry body oil and body odor as soon as we walked in the door. The lights were lowered, and a giant disco ball twirled around a brightly lit stage currently occupied by a rail-thin blonde woman holding a rather large snake.

  We stared for a long moment, in amazement or disbelief. I'm still not sure.

  "How are we supposed to figure out who was seeing Derek?"

  "Come on." I grabbed Kelly's arm and led her to the bar. "There's one person in every club who knows what's going on."

  Kelly grinned. "The bartender."

  I nodded and slid onto one of the only two stools available at the bar.

  A petite brunette approached us from behind the bar. "What can I get you ladies?" she grinned.

  She was gorgeous. Full, red lips, high cheekbones, legs up to here, and breasts out to there. I thought about my own appearance. Last night's barely there makeup, a Ramones T-shirt, a pair of broken in jeans, and my favorite blue Converse, and wanted to crawl in a hole somewhere.

  "I'm driving, so just a water with lemon please," I said and smiled.

  "Make that two," Kelly answered.

  "You got it. I'm Cindy, by the way." Her bubbly attitude was infectious and I felt a little bit better just being around her. "What brings you ladies in tonight?" she asked as she sat our glasses down on the bar in front of us.