He wore a stained wife beater T-shirt with baggy sweatpants. His hair was dark and curly and formed an almost cone-like style on the sides, reminding me of the topography of the US—mountains near the coast, plains in the middle. BO emanated from him—I could smell it even from where I stood.
“Did you just come from Patrick’s apartment?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously before he raised the beer in his hand and took a long swig. “I thought I saw you go in earlier.”
Who started drinking before noon? Someone with problems, that was who.
I glanced up. Based on the way the building was laid out, he would have a bird’s eye view of Patrick’s apartment door from here. The second and third floors were surrounded by balconies and narrow walkways, only broken up by the sweeping staircase between them.
I nodded, resisting the urge to glance at my watch. I had so much to do at work. And I hoped I’d have a moment to swing by the apartment and check on Chad and Reef. And maybe take a shower. And find something other than the week-old apple I’d found on my desk and consumed for breakfast.
For a moment, and just a moment, I imagined what it would be like to pare down my responsibilities. To focus only on Reef for a while. To put my job on hold.
I sighed. I couldn’t do that. Not only did I love my job, but Chad and I had bills to pay. Plus, I’d always been so career-oriented. Could I really ever consider giving that up? The decision seemed complex, without an easy answer.
The man at the door waited for my answer.
I snapped back to reality for long enough to state the obvious. “I did just come from Patrick’s apartment. Yes.”
He continued to eyeball me like I was a lion plotting to overthrow leadership of his pride. “Are you friends with Patrick?” He said his name like it was a bad word.
“I am not.” If he thought I was going to offer more information than necessary, he was wrong. I didn’t mind awkward silence. Bring it.
He continued to stare as if I might be a killer. “Are you with the police?”
“No.” I didn’t offer any more information.
After several seconds of silence, he finally said, “I heard one of his snakes killed Tag.”
I nodded slowly, careful not to show any emotion that could be misinterpreted. As Mandee’s friend, I had to be aware of each of my actions and every word I said. “That is true.”
He shifted, his lips wrinkled as he observed me. “You know how that happened?”
“The police are looking into it.”
“I heard there was malicious intent involved.”
I sucked in a long breath and attempted to gather my patience. “As far as I know, no one would want to kill your neighbor. It was just a terrible accident.”
He shrugged, still looking partly unconvinced and partly suspicious. “Maybe.”
You know, maybe this was my chance to find out more information on Tag. Not that I was investigating. But maybe this could be my way of helping Mandee out. She may lack common sense, but that didn’t mean she deserved to spend her future in prison for a crime she didn’t commit.
I shifted, trying to look friendlier than I actually felt. “Speaking of Tag, what did he do for a living? Do you know?”
He pulled his head back, revealing several chins. “Of course, I know. We watch football together all the time. It gets me out of this apartment. I’m living with my mom right now while I’m on disability.”
That explained why I hadn’t seen him on Thursday when I questioned everyone at the apartment building. I’d talked to a sweet old lady who lived here. His mom.
“He’s my friend.” The man’s voice caught. “He was my friend.”
My heart panged with a moment of compassion. A man was dead. People mourned for him. And the loss was so senseless, at that. No one deserved to die at the hands—er, squeezing?—of a snake. Despite this man’s off-putting manner, I could be cordial.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said.
He swallowed hard, as if trying to compose himself, and waved his hand in front of his face as if embarrassed. “Thank you. Tag installed home security for Bunch Systems. He didn’t love his job, but it was a paycheck. That’s life sometimes, you know?”
“I understand. Any idea why he had manure on his feet?”
“Manure? What? No, I have no idea. Maybe he was installing security at a farm or something.”
“Does he have family coming to make final arrangements?” The question had pressed on me. Were there people out there who cared about him? Who were mourning his death right now?
“Angel from upstairs told me that his mom is flying in from Washington State next week. He’s all she has . . . had.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” How awful for his mom. Losing her only son. All she had in the world. Reef’s picture came to mind. Motherhood was really messing with my mojo lately. It was gradually altering my worldview, and, as a result, I felt off balance and uncertain. I wasn’t used to feeling this way. “I realize this seems out of the blue, but did anyone dislike Tag?”
He stared me down, making it obvious that I was missing something. I had no idea what that might be until he said, “You mean, besides Patrick?”
I tried to remain neutral and not show my cluelessness. I hated being clueless. Absolutely hated it. “Patrick didn’t like him?”
The man smirked. “Tag threatened to turn Patrick in to Animal Control. He hated those snakes. Had a fear of snakes, for that matter.”
If I’d been wearing a tight collar, I might have tugged on it. How was it possible that a man who hated snakes and who hated Patrick for having snakes had been killed by one of those very snakes? It was sadly poetic. “Did he?”
“He thought it should be illegal to keep so many in one apartment. He said it was inhumane, not to mention a safety risk for the other people who lived in this building. The two never quite saw eye to eye, and those snakes just added to the tension.”
I nodded as I thought everything through. “It’s a good thing Patrick wasn’t in town. Otherwise, it sounds like he’d be the number one suspect.”
The man flickered his eyebrows upward. “Yeah, I guess so. Or maybe he sent his minions to do his work.”
“His minions?”
“That ditzy girl he had staying here. She’d be perfect for taking the fall. It looks like she did.”
Chapter Six
“Reef is doing okay?” I repeated.
I’d already asked Chad twice as I sat in my car outside Patrick’s apartment building. I trusted my husband. I really did. But no one knew Reef quite the way I did. I had carried him for nine months in my womb, which lent to my credibility.
“He’s fine, Sierra,” Chad said again. “Don’t worry about us.”
I could hear my baby cooing in the background, and my heart nearly melted. “But I know you have to work, and it’s almost ten.”
“Gabby actually said she’d watch him until two while I run to the hardware store. She’s leaving later this evening to do a training workshop up in Delaware, but she said she has time until then.”
Good old Gabby. If there was one thing I was certain about when it came to my friend it was that she’d fight with every last ounce of energy to protect the people she loved. Thank goodness, Reef was at the top of that list.
“Okay,” I finally said. “If you’re sure that everything’s under control, I have a couple more things to do.”
“With work or with your intern’s trouble with the law?”
I frowned. “With Mandee. I just can’t let this drop.”
“Let what drop?”
I gave him an update on what I’d learned. He groaned toward the end. “That sounds like a mess, Sierra. You sure you want to get involved?”
“There’s one thing I’ve learned over the past several months.” I took a long sip of my water, feeling unusually dehydrated.
“What’s that?”
I glanced at the picture of Reef I’d placed by my radio. “I fight for the
lives of animals all the time, but humans should be included in that equation. Maybe at the top of it, for that matter. Just don’t tell some of my coworkers because I might lose my job if they ever heard me admit that.”
He chuckled. “I get it, and I’ll keep that in mind. I think that’s pretty wise of you, Sierra. It sounds like the girl needs help. Everybody needs somebody in their life who’s willing to fight for them.”
I hadn’t been able to decide whether or not I should investigate who had access to the snake first or if I should investigate whether or not Tag had any enemies. I decided to start with Tag.
“I’m going to swing by the office of the guy who died and see if I can find out anything,” I finally said. “It’s on my way to the bank anyway since I need to go there for work. By the way, do you know if Riley will be in tonight? I’ve been trying to call him, but he hasn’t answered.”
“I know he’s working a lot of late days with this new law firm and he’s been in court all week, but as far as I know he’ll be home sometime this evening. Why?”
“Because I’m hoping he might represent Mandee. She can’t go at this alone. She’ll only make things worse for herself. I know he’s busy, but it can’t hurt to ask, right?”
“Ask Gabby. She’d tell you that asking questions can lead to a lot of trouble.”
Bunch Systems was located in a strip of shops in Virginia Beach, in the shadow of a city park called Mt. Trashmore. The local landmark was a former trash dump that had been converted into a grass-covered hill—one of the only hills in the otherwise flat tidewater region of Virginia Beach. Located right off the interstate, it was quite the sight to see.
I parked in front of the business and hurried toward the front door. Inside, an older, grandmotherly looking woman sat behind the front desk laughing at something on the computer screen while she polished something in her hands. Was that a cane?
At first glance, I could easily imagine the woman attacking someone with that very cane if they tried to break in to these facilities. I wasn’t sure why I found it so mentally amusing that a security company had a grandmother out front, but I did. Maybe I’d expected a burly-looking guy with a badge and stun gun. Or maybe I was just so incredibly tired that my mind was going loopy on me. That was the more likely choice.
“What can I do for you?” When the woman spoke, I knew she was no joke. She may have looked small and sweet, but her voice held a dark side. It was gravelly, gruff, and almost menacing. She definitely had the “I was married to the mob, and I’m proud of it” vibe. It was a combination unlike any I’d ever seen before, and I was fascinated.
Or tired. Most likely tired.
“Well?” She didn’t smile, only glared as she waited for my response.
I cleared my throat and approached the desk. “I was hoping to talk to a manager.”
Ever so slightly, her eyebrow flickered upward in distrust. “About?”
“About Tag Wilson.”
“Tag, huh?” Something shimmered across her gaze. “God rest his soul.”
I nodded. “It’s terrible what happened to him.”
Her laser-like gaze remained on me. “Are you with the police?”
“No. But I have a few questions, if someone’s willing to talk to me.”
“I doubt anyone is.”
The ease with which she brushed me off caused fire to ignite in my blood. I could be very persuasive when I needed to be. Like when animals were mistreated and I wanted people to see my point of view. Or when someone dismissed me. I hated being dismissed.
I tapped into that side of me now and nodded toward the limited green space out front. “Someone’s dog has been defecating outside in front of the building for what appears to be weeks on end now,” I started, playing on my powers of observation.
“What of it?”
“I do believe that’s illegal. I can only assume, from both the feces and the smell of this building, that the dog is yours. Perhaps the manager would like to speak to me about that? I happen to know someone with Animal Control who would find that fact very interesting. He has a special fondness for people who forget to scoop the poop. The fines are . . . stinky, to put it lightly.”
She pulled her chin back, as if my words had completely taken her off-guard. Finally, a smile cracked her wrinkled face, and she chuckled. “I like you. You’ve got guts and brains, and you’re not afraid to use them. Good for you. Now,” she slowly stood, “let me go see if I can find Brian.”
I thought she would never reach the back hallway the way she shuffled there. But, eventually she did, and eventually a man came out. He was on the short side and had thick blond hair and a bushy mustache to match.
“Can I help you?” the man asked.
I raised my chin, wishing I’d had time to don a more professional outfit than my jeans and knit top. This moment really could use a power suit to up the pressure and my overall appearance. “Brian?”
He extended his hand, distrust lingering in his gaze. “The one-and-only Brian Bunch.”
I shook his hand. “Sierra Davis. I’m looking into the death of Tag Wilson, and I was hoping you could help me.”
“I thought you said you weren’t with the police,” the woman behind the desk quipped, her voice more scratchy and high-pitched with each word.
“I’m not.”
“Then who’re you working for?” she continued.
I let out a small sigh. “Do I need to remind you about the dog poop?”
She scowled and went back to polishing her cane, mumbling something incoherent under her breath.
“What can I help you with?” Brian said, looking slightly uncomfortable with my interaction with the woman I assumed to be his grandmother. I wasn’t sure if he was afraid of me or of her, but my bets were on her.
“I was wondering if Tag had any problems with anyone here at work.”
“Tag?” He blanched. “Why would you ask?”
“Because this is a criminal investigation. The police believe that a snake was purposefully set free in his apartment by someone with the intent to kill.” I was overstating it a bit, but I didn’t have time to waste words.
His eyes widened. “How . . . horrible. I have to be honest—I fired Tag last week. He was a nice enough guy. He even had my grandma and me over to eat a couple of times. But, the truth is, a lot of people here had problems with him, though I don’t think anyone would kill him.”
Now he had my attention. “Why did people have problems with Tag?”
He licked his lips before answering. “He was opinionated and hard to get along with. No one wanted to be on his team. Our clients complained about him. I gave him the chance to correct himself several times, but he was unwilling.”
“Are you sure no one would want to kill him? It sounds like there were a lot of negative feelings, and negative feelings can lead to negative actions—actions like murder.”
Brian raised his hands, probably mentally calculating the public-relations nightmare of my statement. It was enough to terrify any small-business owner. “Whoa. Slow down a minute. Those feelings didn’t run that deep—not to my knowledge, at least.”
I crossed my arms. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Let’s be honest,” Grandma yelled. “Tag Wilson was a lousy excuse for a human being. He didn’t care about anyone else’s feelings; he didn’t care if he did a good job at work; and he felt entitled to get paid more than he was worth. I’m not saying I wanted the man to die, but I am saying that no one’s going to miss him.”
“Grandma. Please. This would be a great time for you to play on the computer. Facebook is anxiously awaiting for your latest update.” Brian shifted as he looked back at me. “Please ignore her. She thinks now that she’s gotten up in years that she can say anything she wants any time she wants.”
I actually kind of liked Grandma, but this wasn’t the time to discuss it.
“Let me ask you this,” Brian continued. “Maybe it can clear the air some. When did he pa
ss?”
“Yesterday.”
“My whole crew was up in Richmond working on a big job for a new mega jewelry store opening there. None of us were in town, and we all have alibis.”
My heart sank a minute. I’d really hoped Brian might offer me a clue of some sort, but, if his words were true, that wasn’t the case. “I see. Can you think of anything Tag mentioned that might give us an idea as to what happened?”
He drew in a long breath and stared off into the distance a moment. The early-morning sun crept in through the windows composing the front wall of the building and bathed the man in blinding brightness. “You know, now that I’m thinking about it, you might want to talk to Jim from Jungle Jim’s.”
“The pet shop?” Disgust dripped from my lips as I said the words. I’d opposed the shop many, many times for their treatment of animals. They viewed animals as products and merchandise instead of living beings, and I loathed them for it. They were at the top of my most-despised list.
“Yes, the pet shop. Last week, before I fired Tag, I caught him on the phone several times. He was talking with Jim, and it sounded rather heated. I asked Tag what was going on once, but he wouldn’t tell me. I only know he looked ticked.”
I nodded. I knew exactly whom I had to talk to next.
And maybe I could find a few pet store violations while I was there. That alone could redeem my day.
Chapter Seven
Against my better instincts, I found myself at Jungle Jim’s twenty minutes later, after I’d swung by the bank. I spotted Jim Benson right away by the aquariums and fish. The fifty-something man was short and on the thicker side. He’d always reminded me a tad of a monkey, mostly because his lips seemed to overly extend themselves as he spoke.
At the moment, he was directing some of his employees on how to properly clean the tanks, and he looked none too happy about it.
“The directions on the bottle are simple. One drop for every gallon. Not a whole capful just because you feel like it! Do you know what an overabundance of chemicals can do to these fish?”
The Sierra Files Box Set: Books 1-3: Plus a bonus Christmas novella! Page 39