“You look disappointed,” she said. “If we can’t find an owner for this kitty, don’t you think he’d be a nice addition?”
I shook my head. “It’s not that. I feel like I just wasted a day. I have no idea where Sally or her boyfriend are, and I’m not sure how to find them.”
“You’ll figure it out. You always do.”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t want to think about it right now.”
“You really are bummed.”
I didn’t say anything for a moment. “People call her ‘Nightmare Sally.’ When I hear that, all I can think about is Nightmare Alley.” I told her about the movie, then gestured at the TV. “We could watch it.”
“Oh, babe, that sounds like a pretty grim movie.” She stared into the kitten’s eyes. “Doesn’t that sound like too much tonight?” she asked it.
“It is, but it’s really a film noir gem and –”
“And it won’t help you forget about Sally.”
“That’s true.”
She put her hand on my thigh, and I let my hand slip underneath her robe. The kitten swiped at me.
“Hey,” I said to him.
Willie put the kitten at the other end of the couch. “He’ll fall asleep.”
Then she leaned over and kissed me, and although the kitten interrupted us more than once, I didn’t think about Nightmare Sally again that night.
The next day was Thursday, and I spent that day, and the next three, searching for Sally and Gabe. I watched the apartment building on Columbine Street, thinking Gabe might show up. I asked people in the neighborhood if they’d seen either of them, and I also asked around to see if anyone was missing a black kitten. I received negative answers to both. I also checked some of the businesses in the area, but no one knew of either Sally or Gabe. Brenda gave me her son Wayne’s number and I talked to him, but he hadn’t heard from Sally in weeks. I also spent a lot of time at the Rat Tavern, sitting in the corner, visiting with Ella and drinking Budweiser longnecks, but neither Sally nor Gabe showed up. By Sunday night, I had concluded two things. One, if they didn’t show up tonight, I was going to give up. And two, if I wasn’t careful, I’d turn into the cliché of the alcoholic PI.
It was close to ten p.m. and I was nursing a glass of Coke when Ella came over to me. She locked eyes with me, then gave a little tip of her head, and I knew what she was telling me. I turned around and looked toward the door.
Gabe Culpepper had just walked into the bar.
Chapter Six
Gabe glanced around the room. He was in jeans and a black leather coat that seemed too much given the nice weather, and I thought he looked even younger than when I’d seen him before. He took a seat at one of the tables, then signaled the waitress and ordered. As she walked away, he pulled out his phone and began texting someone.
I grabbed my Coke, ambled over, and sat down across from him. He looked up, and his eyes narrowed. He’d been described as a charmer, and mean, but no one had captured the essence of his eyes. Even in the brief moment when I studied him, I saw a calculating glint in them, as if he was searching for an angle. He may have been young, but he was already dangerous.
“This table’s taken,” he said. The tone was decidedly not friendly.
I stared at him, letting him know I wouldn’t be intimidated. “We need to talk.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Reed,” I said. I wasn’t going to tell him I was a private investigator and have him clam up.
“Okay, Reed, get lost. I’m waiting for someone.”
I ignored that and took a sip of my Coke, then set the glass down. “I’m a friend of Brenda Evans. Do you know who she is?”
He shrugged. “No.”
“She’s Sally’s mother.”
“Oh.”
The waitress returned and set a Corona down on the table. He paid for it, then took a gulp.
“Brenda’s looking for Sally.”
“I haven’t seen her.”
I contemplated him for a long time. He locked eyes with me defiantly, but I knew he was lying. The music, heavy with bass, pounded in the background. He finally looked away.
“You know where she is,” I said.
“Not tonight. I don’t know what she’s up to.”
“Are you living with her?”
He snorted. “No. She’s too crazy.”
“In what way?”
“I dunno. She’s a ditz.” He glanced around, searching for a free table, but there weren’t any. “Go away.”
“Sally recently moved.”
“So?”
“Where’s her new place?”
He suddenly leaned forward. “I don’t know who you are, and I’m not telling you anything.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “But do this for me. When you see Sally – because I’m sure you will – tell her to get in touch with her family. It’s important.”
He gazed at me, his expression neutral. “Yeah, sure,” he finally said. “I’ll do that. Now I’m expecting someone, so beat it.”
I searched his face, doubting he would actually deliver the message to Sally. “Are you seeing her later tonight?”
He glanced away. “No.”
Another lie.
He sat back and took a gulp of beer, then set the bottle down with a thump and crossed his arms, letting me know he was through talking. I signaled the waitress and asked for her pen.
“If Sally doesn’t want to talk to her family,” I said as I took the pen from the waitress, “tell her to call me.” I grabbed a napkin on the table and wrote my number on it.
Just then, a man neatly dressed in black slacks and a blue-striped shirt came through the door. Like me, he immediately stuck out like a sore thumb. Gabe glanced at him, then motioned at me to leave.
“My friend is here,” he said, “so…” He stuffed the napkin in his pocket without looking at it.
“Right.” I got up and walked back to the end of the bar.
The man made his way over to Gabe’s table, threw him a polite nod, then sat down where I’d just been. The waitress went over and took his drink order, and then Gabe and his friend began talking. I watched them for a minute as I sipped my Coke. Then I waved at Ella.
“Does Gabe know where Sally is?” she asked.
“He said no, but he’s lying.”
She pursed her lips, not surprised by my answer.
I jerked my head toward their table. “Do you know who that man is?”
She studied Gabe’s friend in the dim light. “He was in here the last time Gabe was, at least if my memory’s not letting me down. They were talking, just like that, for quite a while.” She stared at them for a moment longer. “He may have been in another time or two, but I can’t be sure.”
“So you don’t know his name.”
“Nope.”
“Thanks.”
She began wiping down the bar, and I took a few pictures of the man with my phone, careful to do it so no one would notice.
The waitress brought the man a Coors, and he took a long drink from it and set it down. I nursed my Coke and watched Gabe and his friend out of the corner of my eye. As the two men talked, they became more animated. The man waved his hands in the air a few times, but the music drowned out their conversation. After a bit, they leaned into the table, their faces close together. Finally, the man reached into his pocket, pulled out something, and slid it across the table. Gabe palmed it and crammed it in his pocket.
A drug exchange? I wondered.
I glanced over at Ella. She’d seen the interaction as well. She came over.
“Drugs?” I said.
She shrugged. “I don’t want that in here.” She put her hands on the bar and stared at the two men.
They talked for a minute longer, then the man suddenly jammed a finger at Gabe. Gabe shrugged, leaned back, and said something. The man leaped to his feet, almost toppling his beer. The music stopped, and their voices cut into the abrupt silence.
“You think that’s the way it works?” he said as he stared down at Gabe. “You don’t tell me how to do things. Are you trying to screw this up?”
People at the other tables hardly noticed them.
Gabe laughed. “Cool it, man.”
“I should –”
Another song began and swallowed their voices. The man yelled something else, then whirled around and stormed out of the bar. Gabe drained his beer, then got on his phone again.
“What was that about?” I mused.
Ella shrugged. “That’s Gabe, always making enemies.”
She busied herself again while I kept my eye on Gabe. He appeared to be texting someone. When he finished, he stood up and headed for the door. I signaled Ella and pointed at the door at the end of the bar.
“Can I go out the back way?”
She shrugged. “Sure.”
“Thanks.”
I hurried through the kitchen and out into the lot at the back of the bar. I slipped around the corner and tiptoed along the side of the building. When I neared the front, I peeked into the street. A man was walking down Steele Street. When he passed under a streetlight, I saw his face.
Gabe.
He crossed the street and got into a dark-colored Ford Tempo. My 4-Runner was parked nearby, and I ran to it. By the time I’d started it and reached the corner, the Tempo was two blocks ahead. I kept my headlights off and followed. The Tempo drove to Colorado Boulevard and turned right. I let Gabe get ahead, then flicked on my headlights and pulled onto Colorado. The street was busy, and it was easy to stay several cars back where Gabe wouldn’t notice me. Gabe didn’t seem to realize he was being tailed, and he stayed in the left lane until he passed Bruce Randolph Avenue. Then he pulled into a McDonald’s.
As I drove past the lot, Gabe was walking inside. I turned at the next street, went around the block, and parked at the other end of the lot from his car. I pulled out binoculars from the back seat and focused through the glass windows. Gabe was standing in line to order. Once he got his meal, he took a seat by the front window, sipped his drink, and waited. A few minutes later, a man wearing jeans and a black hoodie walked up and sat down next to Gabe. I shifted in my seat to get a better look at the man, but I could only see Gabe’s face. They talked for a bit, then both got up and left. I still never saw the man’s face.
Gabe walked back to his car and drove out of the parking lot, then headed south on Colorado. I tossed the binoculars on the passenger seat and followed. Gabe drove a few miles per hour over the speed limit to Eighteenth Avenue, then went west. Less than a mile later, he turned onto Race Street.
I slowed down as I neared Race and glanced in the rearview mirror. No cars were around, so I flicked off my headlights and turned down the street. The Tempo was halfway down the block. Gabe parallel-parked, and then got out and marched up the sidewalk to a four-story apartment building. He flung open a glass door and disappeared inside.
I headed down the block, found a space near the corner, flipped a U-turn and parked. Now I had a good view of the building. I sat back and waited. A dim light over the door to the apartment building barely illuminated a small porch. A few minutes later, a group of people walked down the street and went into the building. I yawned, and another man hurried inside. Ten minutes passed. Two people emerged from the apartments, walked to an SUV in front of the building, and drove away. I waited. It was now just after eleven. Then a white Hyundai drove up and took the spot where the SUV had been, and a woman with shoulder-length hair got out and walked toward the building. I grabbed my binoculars and trained them on her. As she stepped up to the door, she glanced left and right. When she turned my way, her face was briefly illuminated in the porchlight.
Sally Evans.
She opened the door and went inside.
I exchanged the binoculars for my Glock and ankle holster, which I’d stashed under the seat, then got out. I quickly strapped on the gun and holster, and ran to the apartment building. I yanked open the door and entered a small vestibule that had a set of mailboxes to the left and a pegboard with flyers on the right. In front of me was a glass security door. I tried it but it was locked. I peered inside. Hallways led to the left and right, and a stairwell was opposite the door.
I turned to the mailboxes and scanned them. Each one had a small call button below the box, and each box was labeled. One had “Culpepper” on it. Gabe was in apartment 302. Was Sally living here too, or was she just visiting Gabe? It didn’t really matter for my purposes. I just wanted to talk to her, and then I could leave.
I rang the buzzer for Gabe’s apartment and waited. When no one buzzed the door, I pressed the button again, this time holding it for an annoyingly long time. Still nothing. I stood for a moment, mulling over my options. Then the outer door opened and a man strolled in. He used a key to let himself through the security door and headed down the hall to the left. Just before the door closed, I pulled it open and slipped inside. The man had already vanished into an apartment.
I took the stairs to the third floor. Somewhere down the hall, music was playing, the sound not nearly as loud as the Rat Tavern. I walked in the opposite direction to 302, then stopped, put my ear to the door and listened.
Silence.
I reached up to knock, but noticed the door was slightly ajar. I pushed it gently and it swung inward. I found myself looking into a small living room with an old couch, a TV stand, and a large desk in the corner. Near the desk was an open window, and a breeze was gently blowing cheap curtains. Sally Evans was bent down at the desk, searching through some papers. I took a few steps into the room, and then I noticed Gabe.
He was lying on the floor on the other side of the couch, and he had a small black hole in his forehead.
Chapter Seven
I’d found Nightmare Sally – and a whole lot more than I’d bargained for. I quickly reached down and pulled out my Glock, then aimed it at Sally’s back.
“Turn around slowly,” I ordered her.
She whirled around with a gasp. Then she slowly raised her hands. “I didn’t kill him.”
I moved farther into the room and looked at Gabe. His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, and it was clear he was dead. He’d taken off his leather coat and it was draped over the arm of the couch. A small gun lay by his side.
I glanced at Sally. “Did you call the police?”
She shook her head.
“Why not?” I kept my gun on her and pulled out my phone with my other hand.
“I … I was going to …”
I dialed 911 and reported the situation.
“Wait, you’re not the police?”
I shook my head, then introduced myself. “Your mother hired me to find you.” My eyes darted to Gabe, then back at her. “This wasn’t what I expected to find.”
“I didn’t kill him,” she repeated. She stepped away from the desk.
“Stay where you are,” I said.
She stopped and sighed. “Can I at least put my arms down?”
I nodded. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”
She leaned back against the side of the desk and crossed her arms. She had a glazed look in her eyes, as if she were in shock.
“If you didn’t do this,” I gestured at the body, “then who?”
She took a second to answer. “I don’t know. He was like that when I got here.”
“Do you live here?”
She shook her head. “Gabe does. I was just visiting.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?” I asked again.
She hesitated. “I was looking for something. Then I was going to call them.”
“Looking for what?”
“He has some stuff of mine. I figured once the police showed up, I wouldn’t be able to get into the apartment. I watch the cop shows on TV. They’ll seal up the apartment, and no one can get in. Then I’d never get my stuff back.”
“Get what?”
“None of your business.”
I gestured at Gab
e again. “This doesn’t look good for you.”
Her lip trembled. “I know.”
Through the open window, the sound of sirens drifted in. Sally cocked her head.
“I didn’t shoot him,” she whispered. “They’ll know that, right? My prints aren’t on the gun.”
“You could’ve worn gloves.”
“I didn’t.” She stared at me. “What’re you doing here?”
“I’ve been looking for you for a while, and I thought Gabe would lead me to you. Turns out he did.”
Her mouth formed a little O. “Why is my mother looking for me? I’m doing all right.”
“Not anymore, and let me give you a little advice. Call your parents. They can help you with this situation.”
She stared down at the floor and we waited in silence. I was surprised no one else in the building had heard the shot and had come to see what happened. I was also surprised with Sally’s reaction, and I didn’t know whether to believe her or not. She wasn’t crying, and she hadn’t called the police. Was she in shock? Or was she a coldblooded murderer?
A few minutes later, a buzz sounded near the door. I backed up, careful to keep my gun on Sally. I needn’t have worried because she was still staring at the floor, her shoulders stooped.
I pressed a button near a speaker by the door, then opened it. I poked my head out. Hurried footsteps sounded on the stairs, and a moment later, two uniformed officers entered the hallway.
“Down here,” I said, then bent down and holstered my Glock.
They rushed down the hall and through the doorway. One of them cornered me, and I flashed him my PI license. He made me surrender my gun, while the other moved slowly into the apartment. Things happened fast after that. One of them checked Gabe, then called in reinforcements. Sally told the uniforms what she’d told me, and I could tell they were skeptical of her story. They handcuffed her and escorted her from the apartment, then asked me to wait in the hall. Someone came out of an apartment, and the uniforms asked him to go back into his unit. They took Sally outside, and I stood in the hallway while they asked me questions and filled out a report. I explained who I was, showed them the license for my gun, and told them what I knew. By this time, homicide detectives had shown up.
Reed Ferguson Mystery Box Set 5 Page 39