Diners, Dives & Dead Ends

by Terri L. Austin

  “You’ve never appreciated anything we did for you. We spent a fortune on that school, but of course, that wasn’t good enough.” She stood a little straighter. “And now you’re paying us back. That’s what all this ‘acting out’ is about, isn’t it? Punishing your father and me?”

  “You got me. It’s all about you.” I put my hands on my hips. “You may not like what I do or who my friends are. But that is just too damn bad. If I want to dry hump Dane Harker in the middle of the Apple Tree Boulevard, that’s none of your business.” I had lifted the lid off the pot of my boiling emotions and now they were bubbling over.

  “Guess what? I don’t care that you don’t approve of me. And I could care even less about your snotty tight-assed friends. My life is just that. Mine. I’ve made it on my own, no thanks to you. And I will not have you waltz into my place of employment again with your little tirades and lectures, treating me like I am a child. Is that clear?”

  She stared at me through slitted eyes. “Crystal.” She flung open the door and walked out of the office, her head held high.

  “And by the way,” I called after her, “air quotes are pretentious.”

  I sagged against the desk and gulped down the stale air. I felt a little dizzy and relieved and sick to my stomach all at the same time.

  I didn’t know what the fallout would be, but it wouldn’t be good. Jacks might have to sneak around to see me. As far as my dad went, he just tried to keep my mom happy. It still stung that I didn’t have her love and support, but it was time I got over it.

  I walked back into the dining area. Ma looked concerned. Jorge looked curious. And Roxy looked at me with mixture of both.

  “Your mom was really pissed,” Roxy said.

  “Yeah,” said Jorge, wiping his hands on his apron. “She almost knocked me down as she left. Like she didn’t even see me.”

  “Are you okay, toots?” asked Ma.

  “I am,” I said, nodding. “I just got some things off my chest.”

  “Do you need anything?” Jorge asked.

  I smiled and shook my head.

  “Okay, I’m going to help Ray with the kitchen, then.” He turned and left.

  “Start talking,” Roxy said. “I want to know every detail.”

  Just then my phone vibrated. It was Sheila Graystone, so I answered.

  “Rose! Some guy just towed my effing car.”

  Chapter 25

  “Why did someone tow your car?”

  “They said they were repossessing it. They repossessed my effing car. How the eff am I supposed to get home?”

  “Um, do you want me to give you a ride?”

  “Yes, I’m at the mall in front of Jamba Juice.” She hung up.

  I turned to Ma. “Sheila needs a ride. You mind if I go right now?” I hated to skip out on work, but I didn’t want to leave Sheila stranded.

  Ma patted my head. “Rose, honey, you go do what you need to do.”

  I drove to the mall, snagged a parking place near Macy’s, and found Sheila in the food court sitting at a table between Jamba Juice and Panda Express.

  “Sorry, Rose, but I didn’t know who else to call. I was too embarrassed to call my friends, and Pack isn’t answering his cell.”

  I didn’t know if I should be flattered or insulted. “No problem. What happened?”

  We walked toward the main entrance. “First I tried to buy some sheets,” she said, her arms flapping in the air, “sheets. But two of my cards were declined. In fact, they cut them up.” Her voice got higher with every word. “I thought it must be a mistake. But then I go out to the parking lot and find this fat man with tattoos hooking my car to a tow truck. He had paperwork and everything. Said we were four months late with the payments. Four months!”

  I guided her to my car and opened the passenger door for her before sliding into my seat and starting the engine. The temperature had been dropping all day and the sky was overcast. I flipped the heater on and hoped it worked.

  “Why don’t you have a window?”

  “Long story. Does Packard handle all the money?”

  She looked at me with her mouth open. “Of course.”

  “Sheila, I told you, Packard has a gambling addiction. The night we followed him, he was losing. Big time. When he asked for more credit, he was thrown out.”

  I glanced over at her. Her skin was ghostly white. She held a shaking hand to her mouth. “Oh my gosh. What am I going to do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She was quiet as I pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward her house. Then she suddenly sat up straighter than my mother in the Episcopalian church on Easter morning. “No, not home. Take me to his office. That son-of-a-bee has some explaining to do.”

  “I don’t think that is such a good idea right now. Maybe you need to wait until you’ve calmed down a little.”

  Her light brown eyes sparkled with anger. “Take me to his office. Now.”

  I didn’t argue any further but drove to a tall office building next to the highway. The mirrored windows reflected the stormy gray clouds overhead. If Sheila was going to confront Packard, now might be a good time for me to do the same.

  I had barely pulled into a parking spot before Sheila leaped out of the car. I quickly shut off the ignition and ran to catch up to her.

  Marching into the office building, she made her way to the elevator and punched the button. Tension and anger made her petite frame stiff, and as we stepped into the elevator and waited for it to slowly climb to the fifth floor, she crossed her arms and tapped her foot. Phil Collins sang a tune as we made our journey upward.

  As soon as the doors slid open, she stalked toward the glass office door that bore Packard’s name and threw it open. The receptionist looked up, startled. “Mrs. Graystone?”

  The waiting room was full. Two teenagers with bad skin, their mothers, an elderly man, and a woman in a business suit. All eyes were riveted on Sheila.

  “Where is he?” she asked the receptionist.

  “He’s…he’s with a patient.”

  Sheila stormed through the waiting room door that led to the back.

  “Packard,” Sheila called out. She began opening doors, one after the other. I heard the startled voices. I followed along and kept quiet. “Where are you, Packard?” She was definitely using her outside voice.

  The door to the fourth room on the right opened and Packard stepped out, holding one of those long Q-tips in his hand. “Sheila? What are you doing here?”

  “I want some answers,” she said.

  Packard glanced at me, before looking around. All of the patients had come out of their rooms and stared at us.

  “Sheila,” Packard whispered, “I’m with a patient. Go home and I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

  “No,” she said, loudly, “either we talk right here in this hallway or we go to your office.”

  An elderly man stood next to me. He had on a hospital gown and a pair of dark socks. “What the hell is all the shouting for?” he asked.

  “Right now, Packard. Choose,” Sheila said.

  Packard’s ears turned red. “Everything’s fine, everyone. Go back into your rooms and I’ll be with you in a few minutes. Just a small family emergency.”

  A nurse in pink scrubs covered with cartoon kittens rushed down the hall and began ushering patients back into their rooms. The elderly man next to me turned around and I saw his ass. His bare, wrinkly, saggy ass. I shuddered thinking about why he was pants down in a dermatologist’s office.

  Packard and Sheila were already at the far end of the hall, so I hurried to catch up. Packard opened the door for Sheila, but glowered at me. “You,” he pointed a finger in my face, “stay out.”

  Sheila grabbed my hand. “Oh no. She’s coming, too.” She pulled me into his office.

  A large picture window looked out over the parking lot. The walls were painted hunter green and covered with framed diplomas and pictures of Packard with various political leaders, including M
ayor Briggs and the governor.

  Packard retreated behind his desk. Sheila plopped into one of the chairs in front of it and yanked me down into the other.

  Photos of Sheila and Jordan, their mysteriously gendered child, sat on the desktop. There was also a picture of Mary Graystone and a man I figured was her current husband, because he wasn’t Axton’s dad. And no pictures of Axton at all.

  “What is so important that it couldn’t wait until I got home, Sheila? And what is she doing here?” He stabbed a finger in my direction.

  She sat on the edge of her chair, leaning forward. “Two of my credit cards were declined today.”

  “Is that all? It was probably a misunderstanding.” He pushed away from his desk and started to rise.

  “No, that is not all. They cut them up. And then, I went to the parking lot, the car was being towed. Repossessed, Packard. What the h-e-double-l is going on?”

  He sank back into his chair, distracted and pale as all the color drained from his face. “I just needed a little more time. I could have paid them if they gave me a little more time.”

  Sheila jabbed a thumb at me. “She saw you the other night. Gambling. You didn’t have a committee meeting, did you?”

  He started to bluster, his eyes fixed on me. “You followed me? How dare you? Who do you think you are?”

  I glared back at him. “The only one who cares about Axton. And you know exactly why he was kidnapped.”

  “Who said he was kidnapped? He’s probably just done a runner.”

  “Cut the crap. I know about Sullivan.”

  All the bluster went out of him like a deflated balloon. His eyes skittered between me and the door, as if he was thinking about making a run for it.

  “Wait,” Sheila turned to me, “who is Sullivan?” She glanced back at Packard. “That’s the guy who called nine times, right?”

  “You checked my phone? My God, Sheila—”

  “Oh, shut the eff up, Pack, and answer the question.”

  Since I wanted to know more about Sullivan, too, I sat back in my seat and crossed my legs. “Yes, Pack, tell her who Sullivan is.”

  “He’s a guy I owe money to,” he choked out.

  “That’s not the whole story, though, is it?”

  “Someone tell me what is going on. Who is this Sullivan? And how much do you owe him?”

  “Almost two hundred thousand,” he said. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. One hundred ninety-six thousand to be exact, but I didn’t correct him.

  “But why did he take Axton?” I asked.

  He lowered his hands and tears welled up in his eyes. “I didn’t know they would kidnap him. I needed Ax to do me a favor. I didn’t know it would go so wrong.”

  Finally, I was getting somewhere. “What favor?

  “There’s a rumor Sullivan keeps a list of all the people who owe him money. Prominent people. Sometimes he takes favors in lieu of payments. I thought if I had the list, I’d have leverage over Sullivan. So I asked Axton to get me the list.”

  “Is that what’s on the hard drive in Axton’s backpack?” I knew it was, but I was playing dumb. Sadly, it wasn’t that much of a stretch.

  “Yeah. Axton was supposed to make a copy of Sullivan’s drive, not take the whole thing. Idiot. He ruined a perfectly good plan.”

  Sheila looked back and forth between us. “I don’t understand. This is why Axton is missing?”

  I glanced at Sheila. “Axton stole a hard drive from Sullivan’s computer so Sullivan kidnapped him to get it back.” I shook my head at Packard. “Ax even called you for help.”

  He shrugged. “How was I supposed to help him? If he’d followed my instructions, he’d be fine.”

  “You knew I had the hard drive,” I said. “But you broke into my apartment and destroyed everything.”

  Packard eyed me like I was crazy. “What are you talking about? I never broke into your apartment.”

  Damn. He sounded sincere. I now officially believed in the innocence of all my suspects. But someone sure as shit broke in and spilled my milk. Who did that leave? Manny?

  “By the way, was anything on the hard drive?” Packard asked.

  “No.” The last thing I needed was Packard getting his hands on that list. I didn’t trust him with even the smallest amount of information. He was a screw-up and he’d gotten Ax kidnapped.

  Packard ran a hand through his hair.

  There was a knock at the door. We all turned to stare at it. The nurse with the cartoon cats poked her head in. “Doctor Graystone? The patients are getting restless.”

  Packard sighed and slumped in his chair, rubbing his forehead. He appeared tired and drawn.

  Sheila didn’t look much better. Her skin was ashen and her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. Poor Sheila. This son-of-a-bee just crushed her whole world.

  “I’ll get there when I can, Jean.” He held his hand up and gestured, like he was trying to push her out of the office. “Give me a minute, okay?”

  She withdrew her head and shut the door.

  “Exactly how damaging is this list supposed to be?” I said.

  “It gives details about everyone who owes Sullivan money. I was hoping it had the favors people had done for Sullivan, too.”

  I knew it didn’t. “Go on.”

  “I know for a fact that Charles Beaumont rammed through a development deal for the Crab Apple apartment complex. There’s been debate about that complex for the last year, but all of the sudden Charles has the votes to make it happen. And he was against it in the first place. I can’t prove it, but I think Sullivan owns it.

  “And a new construction company nobody’s ever heard of got a contracting bid to renovate the country club. They weren’t the lowest bid, either. I can’t prove the construction company is owned by Sullivan, but I do know that two of the board members who pushed for approval spent a lot of time losing money at Sullivan’s tables.”

  I agreed with Packard. Sullivan probably did own that construction company, and he probably was behind the apartment complex approval. But the man was too damn wily to leave an evidence trail.

  “So Sullivan just wants the hard drive back?” I asked. “Then he’ll let Axton go?”

  “And a quarter of a million dollars,” he said bitterly.

  My jaw dropped. “Wait, you said you owed two hundred thousand.”

  “Sullivan says I owe more for all the aggravation I’ve caused.”

  Yeah, I could see Sullivan saying that. For some reason it almost made me smile.

  “Well, I can get the hard drive.”

  Sheila finally piped in. “We need to go to the police.” It was as if someone had flipped her “on” switch.

  “No.” Packard pointed a finger at his wife. “We are absolutely not going to the police. Don’t even think about it, do you hear me?”

  Sheila stared at him defiantly, lifting her chin in the air. “Why not?”

  “Shit, Sheila, he has all sorts of people in his pocket. Powerful people. We do not want to piss this guy off.”

  “Maybe you should have thought about that before you lost so much money,” I said. “What else do you know about Sullivan?”

  Packard frowned at me. “What the hell does it matter? He’s the kind of guy you don’t want to be indebted to.”

  “Answer the question, Packard,” Sheila said.

  “He runs floating poker games. I don’t really know him, okay?”

  She jumped up, pounded her hands on the desk, and leaned forward. “You don’t really know him? You don’t really know a man you owe hundreds of thousands of dollars to? A man you gambled our son’s future on?”

  Okay then. Jordan was a boy. Good to know.

  “A man who kidnapped your brother? Who could have kidnapped our son?” Sheila’s voice rose to practically a screech. “All this for a man you don’t even effing know?”

  Packard rolled his chair back a few inches. “Honey, I can make this right. I know I can. I just need a little time.”

&nbs
p; She lowered her voice. “You’ve had time. You’ve had time to tell me we’re in debt up to here.” She put a hand over her head. “You’ve had time to go to the police and tell them about Axton. You’ve had time to do the right thing. You don’t get any more time. Just tell her what she wants to know.” Breathing hard, she fell back into her chair and glared at her husband.

  Sliding a finger inside his collar, he pulled it away from his throat. “Okay, sweetheart. Just calm down, okay?”

  Oh boy. For a doctor, Packard was really, really stupid.

  Sheila uncrossed herself and scooted to the edge of her seat. “Do not tell me to calm down. Do you hear me? You do not tell me to calm down.” Her finger punched the air with each word.

  “Okay.” He bobbed his head up and down. I’m guessing this was a side to Sheila he’d never seen.

  “Now tell her about Sullivan,” she said through clenched teeth.

  Packard rotated his shoulders, cleared his throat. “Sullivan started running poker games out of Penn’s, you know the cigar bar?” I nodded. “That was about three years ago. Before that, I’d never heard of him. Bernard Penn owned it. His grandfather was a founding member of the Huntingford Golf and Country Club.”

  I made a circular motion with my finger. “Move it along. I don’t need a Huntingford history lesson here.”

  “One day, three years ago, Penn up and sells. Never said why, but he moved to Florida soon after. Then this Sullivan comes in. Starts holding these friendly little poker games. Low stakes, no big deal. Not much different from playing at the club.

  “But the new manager let it be known to a few people, myself included, when a game with higher stakes was being played. Usually in these out-of-the-way bars.

  “Except for that place you followed me to the other night, the games always rotated. One week it might be in the city, the next week it might be a country bar, the next a sports bar in a strip mall. They would always advance you credit when you were down.”

  “But do you know anything about Sullivan himself?”

  “Not really.” His gaze shifted quickly to Sheila before resting on me. “He’s always around, but no one ever really talks to him. And he’d never called me directly for money before. This guy who works for him, Henry, he always acted as a go-between. Until Axton took the hard drive, that is. Then Sullivan himself called me.”