The Sierra Files Box Set: Books 1-3: Plus a bonus Christmas novella!

by Christy Barritt

  Before the conversation started, something in the corner of the room caught my eye. It was a pole with a rope on the end. The kind people used when handling snakes or other animals. Interesting. Did Jim really need one of these here? He mostly carried small animals and puppies.

  “What in the world are you talking about?” Jim roared when we were out of sight. “I knew you were crazy, but I had no idea you were that crazy.”

  If he thought he was insulting me, he was wrong. I was okay with being called crazy. In fact, I’d been called much, much worse. I did have the impulse to cover Reef’s ears, however. He shouldn’t have to hear his mother being talked to like this.

  “You sold Patrick that snake, and then you wanted it back because you got a higher bidder.” I put it all out there and watched his reaction.

  He pulled his face back, the action creating multiple chins. But he wasn’t fooling me. His surprise was staged. He had to have known all this was coming.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

  I locked him in place with my gaze. “I think you do. What I’m trying to figure out is why you’d kill to get what you wanted.”

  He raised his hands in the air, his emotions suddenly springing to life. “I didn’t kill no one.”

  I leaned closer. “Let’s face it: Patrick wasn’t willing to sell you back that snake. He loved Chalice too much. That’s why you took matters into your own hands.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, why would I murder Tag to get Chalice?”

  That was an excellent question. I had no idea. But I wasn’t dropping this. “I think what you really wanted was for Chalice to escape to Tag’s apartment. Maybe you never meant for things to go so terribly wrong. You never thought your friend would be murdered. Instead, you thought you’d get the snake and sell it to this guy for a nice profit.”

  One of his eyebrows twitched up as a thoughtful expression captured his face. “It’s not a bad idea. But I didn’t do it. Do you know how hard it would be to steal a snake that weighs as much as Chalice? It would be impossible. I couldn’t exactly sneak Chalice into my coat and be on my way.”

  “But if the snake was in Tag’s apartment, it would be much easier.”

  He shrugged stiffly. “Maybe. But I didn’t do it.”

  “You did want the snake back, didn’t you? Can you at least own up to that?”

  He let out a long sigh. “Fine. I did offer to buy it back. I’d found a buyer willing to pay top dollar for a snake like Chalice, so I tried to buy the snake back from Patrick. I told him the snake was too dangerous to have in an apartment building like that. But Patrick wasn’t falling for it. He wanted Chalice all for himself.”

  Well, that was one answer, but I still had more questions. “So you’re telling me you know nothing about how Chalice got into your friend’s apartment?”

  He maintained eye contact with me. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

  “Do you have an alibi for the evening Tag died?”

  He sat back and nodded, a satisfied expression on his face. “As a matter of fact, I do. One of the dogs here hurt his leg right before closing. I was here with the vet all night. I’ll give you his number.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  As I stepped out of Jungle Jim’s, I called Patrick. He couldn’t hide behind the excuse that he was out of the country and without cell service any more.

  That said, I was surprised when he actually answered.

  “It’s Sierra,” I said.

  “Who?”

  “We met yesterday. I’m Mandee’s friend. I saved you before the Vikings could tear your head off.”

  “Oh yeah. Right. Thanks again for that.”

  “We need to talk,” I said, trying to put Reef into the car without dropping the phone.

  “That can’t happen. I have to remain out of sight. There are still Vikings out there who’d love nothing more than to beat me to a pulp.”

  “It’s of vital importance, Patrick. Do you really want Mandee to go the prison for something you did?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then meet me.”

  “How do I know you’re not being followed?”

  “You don’t.”

  “I’ll meet you at The Grounds in ten minutes. Make sure no one is tailing you, though. My life depends on it.”

  I really had no idea if anyone was tailing me or not, but I did glance in the rearview mirror several times on my way through downtown Norfolk. Best I could tell, I was okay. Besides, wouldn’t a member of the Vikings be on a motorcycle? Certainly I would spot them then.

  When I walked into The Grounds, I didn’t see Patrick. I saw college kids and some young adults and an older couple with an elementary-aged grandson. I saw Sharon, Clarice, and a homeless guy in the corner.

  No Patrick.

  I frowned.

  “Can I hold Reef?” Clarice asked, rushing over.

  I nodded and helped Clarice get him out of the car seat. She took him over to the pastries to show him what he had to look forward to one day when he could chew.

  While she did that, I scanned the crowds one more time. My gaze stopped on the homeless man. He looked up at me, and that’s when the first spark of recognition hit me.

  It was Patrick.

  What?

  “Can you watch Reef for a minute, Clarice?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Take as much time as you want.”

  I hurried across the coffee shop and slid into the chair across from him. Though he was dressed like a homeless man, a close inspection belied his true state. His clothes were old, but the tears were purposeful. He didn’t even smell like someone who lived on the streets.

  “Patrick?”

  He shrugged. “This is my disguise for now. I have nowhere else to go.”

  “Really? Nowhere at all? Your parents’ house maybe?”

  “Wherever I go, people will be in danger. So I’m dressing like this and staying on the streets for a while. It’s actually been very enlightening.”

  I didn’t have time to converse with him about it now. I had other questions for him. “I need you to tell me what’s really going on.”

  “I already did.”

  “I need you to tell me everything. There’s something you’re leaving out.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted.

  “Please, Patrick. I’m only trying to help Mandee. I know that Tag told you his friend Jim had a python he’d just gotten in that he was trying to sell. You bought Chalice for less than three hundred dollars. But then, for some reason, Tag flipped. He was suddenly afraid of the snake and wanted you to sell it back to Jim. Why is that?”

  Patrick frowned and stared at the tabletop a moment. “There is more to the story,” he finally said.

  “Please tell me what. I need to know, Patrick.”

  “The first part of the story is true. Tag and I got along just fine at the beginning. And that whole thing about hating snakes—it was partially true—but as long as I kept the snakes to myself, Tag was fine with them.”

  “But something changed,” I prodded.

  He nodded. “That’s right. Jim came to me and wanted to buy Chalice back. He said she was a safety risk. That the snake was too big to be kept in a residential apartment complex. Tag got in on it also and even threatened to call Animal Control. It was weird.”

  “What happened next?”

  “Jim kept pressing, and I kept saying no. He even offered one thousand dollars to me at one point, which I thought was suspicious. I mean, it seemed over the top and not like the Jim I first met.”

  “I agree. He offered you almost three times what you paid. It was enough to raise red flags for anyone.”

  Patrick nodded. “Exactly!”

  Before he could finish, Sharon placed some coffee in front of Patrick. “Another customer wanted you to have this,” she said.

  The grandparents across the room waved
to him. Patrick waved back. “People really can be kind. It almost makes me want to turn my focus from photographing animals to people. But that’s not what you want to talk to me about.”

  “No, please continue.” Although, I had to admit the subject was interesting to me because I understood the pull between pouring everything into people or pouring it into animals.

  “Finally, one day Tag came to me. He told me that Jim had confided in him that someone offered to buy Chalice for a hefty price tag. He was talking thousands of dollars.”

  “Twenty thousand?”

  Patrick’s eyes widened. “How’d you know? Actually, never mind. Anyway, Tag said he would find out the name of this buyer for me if I would split part of the profit. He wanted 40 percent.”

  “That’s quite the commission.”

  Patrick nodded. “It is. But then I started thinking about it. As much as I love Chalice, I could really use that money. I could pay my gambling debt and start my photography business. It would have really gone a long way.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Then I realized that I really shouldn’t have to pay Tag that much. I did some research and found the name of this guy myself. I emailed him about buying Chalice.”

  “Did Tag find out?”

  Patrick grimaced. “He did. And he wasn’t happy. He wasn’t happy at all. That’s when he started causing a ruckus. He told everyone in the apartment building how dangerous Chalice was. He called Animal Control on me, and they sent me a warning. I think Jim and Tag thought that as soon as I got a warning, I would automatically want to sell Chalice back to Jim. But I didn’t. Tag was mad.”

  “Whatever happened to this buyer?”

  “The timing was awful. He had to take a business trip to India, and it was right when I needed the money. He’s supposed to get back on Wednesday. Of course, now they’re talking about putting Chalice down, so any hope I have of selling her went down the toilet.”

  “Tag did threaten to ruin your plan, Patrick. Killing him would ensure the money remained all yours.”

  Patrick shook his head. “But killing him with Chalice would only ensure my snake ended up on death row. It would have been a bad plan.”

  I frowned, unable to argue. “You’re right.”

  He picked up his disposable coffee cup and nodded. “I’ve got to run now before I’m spotted.”

  “Thanks for meeting with me.”

  He took a step away but paused. “One more thing.”

  “What’s that?” I hoped it was something useful.

  “Would you feed my geckos for me?”

  I’d been hoping that Mandee might try to call me again because I had a question for her.

  That evening, she did. She seemed intent on using her one phone call a day to call me. I didn’t even want to think about how much all these collect calls were costing.

  I just happened to be at Patrick’s apartment feeding his geckos and frogs again when she phoned.

  Gabby had agreed to postpone our walk and had come with me to Patrick’s place. She stayed in the living room with Reef as I dropped some crickets into the tank.

  I shoved my cell phone between my shoulder and ear. “Mandee, I need you to think carefully. Did anyone stop by while you were at Patrick’s taking care of his animals?”

  “They’re not really his animals. I mean, he doesn’t own them because you can’t own animals—”

  “Mandee, I need you to focus.” Irritation pinched my spine, but I had to admit—she’d caught me. I needed to watch my wording. I was slipping lately. “Did anyone stop by Patrick’s apartment?”

  She paused a moment. “Not really. I mean, I guess there were those motorcycle guys.”

  The irritation pinched harder at my spine as I closed the lid to the gecko’s enclosure. “Motorcycle guys stopped by?”

  “I didn’t mention that?”

  “No, you didn’t.” Mandee had an amazing knack for forgetting important details.

  “Oh, well, they did. They were looking for Patrick, but I told them he was out of town.”

  “How did they handle that news?”

  She paused a moment. “Okay, I guess. I mean, they mostly grunted. I think they said they would come back later or something.”

  “I see. Anyone else you can think of?” I waved at the little corn snake who still swayed his body against the glass like he needed some attention. Poor thing.

  “Hmm . . . the landlord stopped by once. He seemed like a nice guy.”

  It took a moment for her words to settle into my thoughts that something was wrong with her statement. “The landlord is a woman.”

  “No, he’s not,” she said it in a singsong voice that made me want to reach through the phone line and give her a wet willie.

  “I met her. She’s a woman. In her sixties.” I clearly remembered the encounter when I’d told her I’d be checking out Patrick’s apartment.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s a man. In his early forties maybe? He had a big, bushy mustache just like my Uncle Will used to have.”

  Big, bushy mustache? I’d only met one person recently with a mustache like that.

  Brian Bunch.

  It looked like I needed to pay him another visit.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Sierra, check this out,” Gabby said when I stepped out of the reptile room.

  She was kneeling on the floor, which was wooden and painted a dark red color.

  “What is it?” I didn’t see anything, even when I stooped closer. I expected to see a hair or some other kind of trace evidence that someone like Gabby was trained to look for. All I saw was the wooden planks, the ugly paint job, and a bit of dirt.

  “Look at these indentations.” She pointed at something. “Do you see them?”

  I looked more closely, squinting to see beyond the shadows being cast by the dim overhead light. “Yeah, I guess I do see them, now that you mention it.”

  They were about the size of a nickel, and I could see the mark every foot or so. They seemed to lead from the front door all the way to the hallway where the bedrooms were.

  “I don’t see how these marks are relevant,” I finished.

  Gabby twisted her lips in thought and stood. “I don’t know either. But I think they’re new. The wood still looks fresh where the indentions were made. The wood these floors are made of is soft so anything could have done this.”

  “Like what?”

  She drew in a long breath. “Well, high heels—except they’re too far apart to be high heels.”

  “I concur.”

  “Chair legs?” she continued.

  “The spacing is odd for chair legs.”

  Gabby’s eyes lit. “What about one of those snake hooks?”

  “A snake hook?” Realization swarmed through me. “Jim had one in his office.”

  “Could he have come here to try and steal the snake, only things went wrong?”

  “It’s something to think about.”

  Gabby stood and leaned against the wall, staring off in the distance in thought. “But there’s one other thing I can’t figure out. It’s the fact that this Brian Bunch guy showed up at Patrick’s door pretending to be the landlord. Why would he do that? Does it tie in with the death of Tag Wilson?”

  “I have no idea. Maybe he was secretly seeing if anyone was at home. If Mandee hadn’t answered, maybe he would have tried to get inside himself.”

  “To get to the snake?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not even sure he knew about the snake. However, Mandee said when she made the idle threat against Tag that she posted it on Facebook. She could have even tagged his name on there, for all I know. If she did, any of Tag’s enemies who saw his page would have known that someone with a snake was angry at him.”

  Gabby looked uncertain, but I could tell her mind was processing everything and formulating ideas and theories. “He could have done that, but he would need a strong motive. I mean, he knew Tag, not Patrick, right?”

  I
nodded. “As far as I know, the two of them didn’t know each other.”

  “I’m not saying Brian doesn’t have some kind of reason for coming to Patrick’s. But we’re just taking stabs at things at this point.”

  “I agree. I have only guesses.”

  She started pacing. She’d been doing that lately when she was thinking things through. “He would also have to know that Patrick had snakes, that he lived above Tag, and he would be operating on the hope that the snake would actually drop into the vent and into the neighbor’s apartment. There are a lot of probabilities there. If someone really wanted to kill this guy, this wasn’t the best plan, except for the fact that it would be difficult not to get caught.”

  “How would we even begin to find out what his motive might be?” I sighed and plopped down onto Patrick’s couch.

  “The only way to do that would be to talk to people who know Brian,” Gabby said. “You could check his social media account. His friends should be listed. It’s surprising how many times you may have mutual friends or recognize people there. It would be a good place to start.”

  I stood. “Let’s do it.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re going to use Patrick’s computer?”

  “Why not?” I sat at his desk, which was still cleared from the last time I was here. I turned on his computer. Just as I hoped, he didn’t have it password protected. I opened the Internet and typed in Brian Bunch’s name.

  The first results that popped up were mostly his business: Bunch Systems. But as I scrolled farther, his name came up attached to a video on a social media site. Out of curiosity, I clicked on it.

  My eyes widened as I realized what I was watching.

  Gabby appeared behind me. “What are you doing?”

  “Um . . . it said Brian Bunch, so I clicked on it.”

  It was some kind of recording, probably taken on a cell phone camera. In the background, there were various people milling around . . . except I wasn’t sure they were people. They almost looked like . . . superheroes?

  “This is weird,” Gabby muttered, leaning closer.

  “Tell me about it.” I continued to watch, more curious than ever, about where this video was going.