Reggi gasped. My lip trembled and I nodded.
“She looked so healthy,” he exclaimed.
“Her cancer is spreading fast,” I said. “The thing is, she doesn’t have enough money for the treatment. I don't either.” This is when I laid it on thick. “And…” dramatic pause, “we’re both orphans and have been taking care of each other our whole lives. I can’t imagine a day without her.” I covered my mouth with my hand.
“But what does that have to do with the Blondes?” Reggi asked.
“If only I could contact them and ask for some money for her treatment.” I took a hiccup-breath and dabbed at my eyes. “I know they give money to orphanages and churches—they could save her life.”
“Of course, buttercup. They’d do that in a heartbeat, I know. Especially Emilia.”
Hope lit up in me at the mention of a name. “You know them?”
“No, no—uh, I don’t know them personally.”
“Where can I reach Emilia? Can I leave her a note … anything?”
He stood up and rocked back on his heels, thinking. He turned me back around and started on my hair again. Frowning, I let another tear slip down my face.
Biting my lip, I asked, “Is it because they’re changing? I mean, it’s not like them to kill.”
He lowered his voice and leaned in. “Look, Sarah, their leader is getting crazy. I mean, off-the-rails crazy. They were just girls out having fun and making some money, but she’s the one doing the killing.”
“I promise I won’t—”
Reggi interrupted. “If I help you, what are you gonna do?” He ran a comb through my hair, which was now dark black with a hint of blue. “I want to help you, but I have to trust you.”
“I’ll just leave her a note. I don’t even have to see them or anything.”
His face closed in thought.
“Reggi, if Emilia is a good one, she could save my friend’s life.”
He blow-dried my hair in silence for what seemed like an hour. I didn’t want to say anything. I learned a long time ago from working with witnesses that once I asked for a commitment, I should shut up. Whoever talked first lost.
Finally, he shut off the blow dryer. “I’ll give you an address—not for Emilia, but for someone who can reach her. You can drop the letter off there. Don’t go inside or talk to anyone or even knock on the door, understand?”
I stood up and threw my arms around him. “Thanks, Reggi.”
He grunted and turned me toward the mirror. “There, you look even more beautiful than before. Dark hair suits you.”
I did look good. My hair was styled with part of it piled high in a messy bun and the rest curled just past my shoulders. “You’re a magician.”
Mandy walked up to us, and Reggi rushed to her and nearly started crying. “I'm so sorry to hear about your health … such a lovely girl… so young. Stay brave, okay? We’ll get you some help.”
Her jaw dropped and she looked to me in shock. “Act sick,” I mouthed.
She instantly drooped, putting her hand on her head. “It’s kind people like you who make me want to keep up the fight. Bless you for your kindness.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Bless you.”
I gave her a thumbs-up. Mandy really was the best friend a girl could ask for.
Now I had a decision to make. Should I take the address straight to the FBI, or should I do this on my own?
“THAT WAS FUN. LOOK.” She held out her hands and I cooed over her polished nails, which had a garish palm tree painted on each one.
“You look like an official tourist now, but I’m glad you had fun. I got a lot done.”
“Only you would say that after going to the salon.” Mandy eyed me as I climbed on my scooter. “So what did you get? You have that look again, like you just kissed a boy or robbed a bank.”
“I have an address.” I waved a piece of paper and grinned.
“Whose address?”
“Oh, just an associate of one of the Blondes.”
“You’re like a magnet for this stuff. You sure you don’t want to open up our own private investigator agency? We could solve, like, three cases a day with your ability to dredge up information.”
“But I like my job, and I like having money to buy food and pay bills and go to movies and stuff. Now tell me your findings. We had our fun and you promised.”
Mandy put on her helmet. “I tracked down all the places where Mrs. Lofton’s credit cards were used and put together a list. I bet one of the stores has a security camera. And if we’re real lucky, we can get a look at one or more of our blonde friends.”
I whistled. “Good job, Mandy. Where to first?”
“What do you mean? Your address is a way better lead—we should go there.”
“I want to find a face for one of the Blondes first. And then I want to take it and the address to Solomon.” As soon as I said it, I knew it was the right decision, the wise one. After all my dark musings about what I’d do if I caught the Blondes, I knew I shouldn’t meet one face-to-face.
Mandy agreed and I texted Solomon to meet us for dinner. I looked at my watch. “Well, it’s a long time to wait for him. Let’s run your leads.”
“You know it—don’t mess with Idaho girls.” Mandy started up her scooter.
I snapped a picture of her and texted it to Rick before she could stop me. She’d probably be more embarrassed by that picture than if I’d snapped one with her next to a male stripper.
WE DROVE ALL OVER town from one end to the other. I was sweating so much that the front of my shirt was soaked—not an attractive accent to my outfit. Sitting on a scooter was more exhausting than it should’ve been—perhaps because of the stress of driving through traffic. The other vehicles seemed like they purposely aimed to run us over.
After a bus turned into our lane, forcing us onto the sidewalk, I screamed at Mandy over the road noise, “We’re using the metro tomorrow.”
We were striking out big time. Most of the stores didn’t have cameras, or they didn’t have a clear shot of the Blondes. Or so they said.
We pulled into a gas station to fill up and Mandy stretched. “This is not going as well as I hoped. The last one is a motorcycle dealership. If we strike out there, we’re up a creek.”
I was so glad I had GPS on my phone—getting around would be a nightmare otherwise. We would take the metro tomorrow if we went anywhere, but I was glad we’d tried the scooter thing today. Seeing the city from the street level made me feel more connected, mainly because my life was flashing before my eyes every three seconds.
After buying some junk food to settle our nerves, we followed my GPS to a large dealership. Bikes of all sizes and shapes took up the oversized lot.
As we rode in, a few salesmen looked at us as if we had just defiled their temple with our scooters. Mandy was blushing to the roots of her red hair, and I felt a twinge of compassion for her bruised pride. She usually rode a badass Deus Grievous Angel, which she and Rick had saved up years to buy.
“I hope they don’t kill us and burn our scooters,” I said. “I don’t think our insurance will cover it.”
“I don’t care if they kill us,” Mandy said morosely. “We deserve it.” And then her eyes lit on a motorcycle. “Hey, look. Is that a Street Tracker?” Her embarrassment forgotten, she went to pore over the bike’s engine.
After I dragged her away from it, we went into the office. “I’ll take front man on this, okay?” I whispered, and she nodded.
The air conditioning hit me hard, making me shiver. A tall black man with a huge smile held out his hand and I shook it.
“Welcome. I see you girls like to ride.” I wasn’t sure if he was making fun or not, but under the circumstances, I assumed he was.
“I’m a casual rider, but Mandy here likes all kinds.”
“You have a nice selection,” Mandy said.
“We do. We are the largest dealership in Rio. May I ask, if you two aren’t looking to buy, what brings you in today?”
I cleared my throat. “We’re working for the FBI as consultants on a case concerning the Blondes and the murder of Mrs. Lofton.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mandy grit her teeth. Oops. I should have warned her about our cover.
The tall man put his hands on his hips and his smile faded. “I’m not sure what we have to do with that.”
But Mandy was nothing if not flexible, and she jumped in. “We followed one of the stolen credit cards here. It seems that one of the gang members used it to buy a bike.” Mandy pulled out her phone, punched a few buttons, and said, “It was last week. Let me get you the date and time.”
“Do you have security cameras?” I asked.
“We do. We have four on the lot and three inside. As you can see, we have a lot of property to protect.”
“Could we take a look at the tapes?” I crossed my fingers, hoping this man was not a Blonde sympathizer.
“I would need to see some kind of ID. I can’t give out information like that.”
My anger began to boil. I was hot, sweaty and tired. “Look, you can deal with us or you can deal with the FBI and the police. Do you want the police all over this place, scaring your paying customers, taking official statements, making you go in for questioning?” I took out my phone and pretended to put in a number. “I can call them right now, have them force you to give up your tapes …” I looked up. “Or you can let us see them—no hassle, no mess.”
He held up his hands. “No, no, don’t call.” He took a long breath and looked around. “Truth is, the manager isn’t here. I’m in charge, and he would kill me if he knew I was talking to you. You can look at the tapes, but you can’t take any of them—just look.” He rubbed his hands together nervously. “And if you see anything in the tapes that would be of interest to the police besides the Blondes …”
Mandy smiled coyly. “We won’t say a thing.”
IT TOOK THIRTY MINUTES to find the right tape. Mandy kept our nervous salesman busy as I watched the videos. I fast-forwarded to the time of the sale and watched two blonde women walk up to the register. Both kept their heads down as if they knew where the camera was.
“Dang it.” Just as I was about to give up on getting the money shot, one looked up, exposing a clear view of her face. She had smooth brown skin, a mouth that looked comfortable in the frown position, a cute little-girl nose, and empty black eyes. They made the deal quickly and left.
Turning, I gave Mandy a look. She got the hint and asked if he sold any Harleys. “Sure, I’ll show you.” They both left the small back room. I backed up the tape and paused it right when the blonde woman was looking up. I took a picture with my phone, fast-forwarded the tape, and left the room.
We thanked the salesman and hustled out of there before his boss came back.
“What’d you get? Did you see anything?”
I took out my phone and showed her. “Looks like we have our first picture of one of the Blondes.”
WE WENT BACK TO the hotel to shower and change before dinner with Solomon. I also needed to keep my promise to Mandy about looking for her bracelet, which she reminded me about every five minutes or so.
Putting on a plain, button-up white shirt, black pants, and tennis shoes, I followed one of the bellhops down to the basement. I tried to look all business, and I griped with him about the lack of tourists as we rode the elevator down.
The place was buzzing with laundry bins, rows of warehouse racks full of cleaning products and supplies, and about two dozen staff hard at work while the managers barked orders. Everyone spoke English, even down here, as it was required at the hotel.
I quickly found the women’s locker room. Just as I slipped in, I sneezed. Then I leaned against the wall and put my head in my hands. Stumbling forward, I “accidentally” brushed a woman’s shoulder.
“Oh, so sorry,” I said. Then I sneezed again for dramatic effect.
She took a step back. “You not feeling well?”
I shook my head miserably. “I’m so sick and I really need to slip a note to my sister, who’s working. But she won’t answer her cell, of course, and I need to know what locker she’s in. I wouldn’t even go to the trouble except I’m watching her kids, and I can’t leave them alone with my cousin for long …”
“Don’t worry, honey. I will help you.”
I was always a bit surprised when people were eager to help. I wished I were as open to the world. Holding back a sneeze, I said through a stuffed nose, “Her name is Lucy.”
For a second, the woman narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t know Lucy had kids.”
“Maybe because I’m the one who takes care of them all the time.”
Her eyes lit with understanding. “Yeah, Lucy seems the wild type, not exactly one to sit at home with toddlers. She’s always rushing from one adventure to the next with that husband of hers. That’s her locker.” She pointed. “227U.”
“Thank you very much. You saved me so much trouble.”
“Feel better soon, okay? Drink lots of fluids and orange juice.”
Her kind, motherly advice almost made me feel bad for being such a total liar. I gave her a smile. She watched me walk to the locker, and I slipped a blank piece of paper from my pocket through the opening at the top.
I sighed with relief when I heard her leave the locker room. Only a few women were showering in the back, so I had the place mostly to myself.
The lock had a three-digit combination. Easy peasy. Most people only twirl the first number after they lock it and don’t worry about changing the rest. It’d take one out of nine tries. On the fourth try, the lock popped open.
The locker was neat. It had an expensive mountain trekking backpack, and … ah. Her bruises suddenly made sense. There was a paragliding shoulder harness hanging on one of the hooks. That would definitely cause some bruising, even on the smoothest of trips.
I dutifully went through the rest of her bag, but no dragon bracelet showed up. Looked like Mandy was wrong. Our vision of things could get so screwed up—we see what we want to see. Because this girl was a bellhop, we thought she was in need of our compassion. Instead, she was happily engaged in a hobby.
Guess I’d just have to tell Mandy her bracelet was gone for good. I frowned. I hated being the bearer of bad news.
WHEN WE WALKED INTO the restaurant, my eyes caught on Solomon’s figure in a polo shirt and khakis. He looked like he was about to play a round. Mandy’s eyes caught on something else. She clasped her hands together as if she were in a fairy princess movie and then pointed.
A huge macaw, as big as my forearm, with bright green feathers and a gorgeous red chest, was sitting on a perch on the hostess’s table. “Oh my God,” she breathed. “He’s beautiful.”
“He’s beautiful,” came the bird-voice reply. It eyed her with interest. “Polly got a cracker?”
Mandy gasped and surged forward. The bird took a few cautious steps back on the perch and I laughed.
“If you say ‘Mandy,’ I’ll give you all the crackers in the world.”
The parrot nodded its head up and down. “Sandy.”
“No, Mandy.”
“Candy,” the bird repeated.
“Mannnn-deeeee,” she annunciated loudly.
“Dandy.”
Mandy exchanged a glance with me. “Okay, now it’s just messing with me.”
I laughed. “I’ll leave you to your bird-talk. I’m going to Solomon.” I left her repeating her name, her nose two inches from the bird’s face.
As I made my way across the room, I checked out the restaurant, wondering if Solomon had any backup or partners around. The place was almost empty—an elderly couple crooned sweet nothings in each other’s ears at a booth, five young men laughed and drank more than their share at the bar, and a family of four sat at a table beside Solomon’s, sharing a bucket of shrimp. I guess he came alone.
Before I sat down, I knew Solomon was angry, but he tried to hide it by not looking at me. What did he have to be mad about? Brazil w
as a free country too. I knew he wanted me to stay out of all this, but now it was in my blood. I had to see it through. Or maybe he was angry that I’d dyed my hair. It was a toss-up.
After I gave him the information I’d gathered from Reggi and the bike shop, I looked away as if I didn’t care whether he took it or left it.
He spoke grudgingly. “As much as I hate the fact that you two played detectives, I think I can use what you gave me.”
“If by that you mean ‘thank you’ and ‘I’m super impressed at your skills,’ then you’re welcome.”
He took a big gulp of his red wine. “Right place, right time?”
I held back a smile. “It’s a gift.”
Mandy’s voice was getting louder and louder. I wondered for a second if I should intervene, for the bird’s sake, but then decided I shouldn’t spoil her fun.
The waiter came and took my order—a white sangria and a tall glass of water, no ice. I’d heard that some restaurants made ice with unfiltered tap water. “So what’s next?”
He replied without thinking. “I think we should get the locals in on this. They may know the blonde woman by sight. She probably wouldn’t be in any of our systems. And I’m sure they’ll have information on the address you got.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You think they’ll do a sting, maybe go in with guns blazing?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Solomon said, not realizing I was joking. “We need to find out who lives there first. With the picture and the address, I think we have a good shot at bringing them all in. I’ll tell Eddie it was thanks to you.”
I couldn’t help but feel proud. And a bit more partial to Solomon than I had realized. Maybe we would never be close, but this—sharing a meal and talking about evidence—this was fun.
Solomon took a bite out of his rockfish and I followed the movement of his jaw. When he glanced up, I quickly looked away.
“I like your hair. It looks good dark.”
I smiled and looked down at my fork. “Thanks.”
The Steele Collection Books 1-3: Sarah Steele Legal Thrillers Page 23