by G. K. Parks
I nodded, not wanting to say the words but needing to tell someone. “She’s not coming back.”
“You could visit her. Go away for romantic weekends every so often. You have the money.”
“Originally, I thought maybe that’d be something she’d want.” Come to think of it, I didn’t know. She said we could be together if and when we were in the same time zone, but then she insisted we had to move on. Perhaps, I’d ask for clarification. “But I’m pretty sure we’re done.”
“In that case, invite someone to drink with you. Miranda might still be in town.”
“No, she’s a client. I’m not crossing that line.”
“Since when?”
“Right now.”
* * *
I stared at the neon sign for Pauley’s Pawn. It was no longer lit. The woman who’d helped me yesterday had left forty-five minutes ago after pulling down the metal gate covering the front door and windows. A few dull lights remained within, probably from the display cases.
The place wouldn’t be easy to breach. They had an alarm system and not a cheap one. The front would be too obvious and draw a lot of attention. Even though the pawn shop closed for the night, several adult shops and a few bars on the street did a good business. Someone would notice the idiot in the suit breaking in. And even if they didn’t, one of the nearby security cameras would. Deciding it was best to rethink my plan of attack, I assessed the neighboring exterior cameras, figuring I might be able to pull footage of the thieves entering Pauley’s Pawn with Knox’s memorabilia instead.
The Stop-n-Shop on the corner had the best angle of the pawn shop’s side door. So I spent the better part of the next two hours attempting to hack into local networks and access the nearby security feeds, but I had no luck. Either I didn’t have nearly as many computer skills as I liked to pretend I did, or the security feeds were hardwired or non-networked. From the looks of the security cameras I’d seen, I was betting on the latter.
That left me with two options, go into the nearby shops and politely ask for access to their exterior security footage for the last few days or wait a few more hours and do it the hard way. The first option would bulk up the incidentals I’d charge Mr. Knox. Also, I didn’t know if the surrounding shop owners would comply with my request. Something told me the nature of their businesses would make them less likely to want to help a private investigator. If they didn’t want to help, I’d have to resort to plan B anyway. So maybe I should just start there.
Circling the block, I entered the Stop-n-Shop. The guy behind the counter was watching a video on his phone but looked up when the bell above my head chimed. He nodded at me and went back to his video. Another employee was mopping around a caution sign where blue slushie covered the floor and continued to drip from the machine.
“Bathroom?” I asked.
The guy with the mop jerked his chin toward the narrow hallway between the coolers and the hot dog machine. “It’s unlocked.”
“Thanks.”
I went down the hall, hoping to find an office or back room where the security system might be. Unfortunately, the only door in the hallway led to a unisex bathroom. Shaking my head at the disgusting smell that assaulted me the moment I pushed open the door, I retreated, having no desire to even pretend to use the john.
Neither man noticed when I returned to the main area, so I went around a few of the shelves until I happened upon another door. This one was open and led to a storage room with janitorial supplies, excess stock, a couple of lawn chairs, and a rusted aluminum TV tray covered in cigarette ashes and squished out butts. Again, no security system.
“Hey, what are you doing?” The guy with the mop wheeled it into the room, not bothering to empty the muddy blue water from the bucket before shoving it into a corner. “The bathroom’s down the other hall.”
“I don’t need the bathroom.”
He sized me up. “So what do you want?”
“I’m looking for your security system.”
“Why?”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. Flipping it open to my P.I. license, I flashed it at him like a TV cop and tucked it back into my pocket before he got a good look at it. “The camera outside covers the street and a few of the other shops. I wanted to check something out. I need your footage from the last two weeks. I can make it worth your while.”
The guy cocked an eyebrow at my jacket. “All our camera shit is behind the counter. You got a warrant or something?”
“I have a few Benjamins to award to anyone who wants to help out.”
“How many?”
Laughing at the shakedown, I pulled out two, crisp one hundred dollar bills. “One for you and one for your pal.” I handed them both to him. “I just need a copy of the footage.”
“You got something I can save it on?”
This wasn’t the first time someone wanted the footage from this shop. I handed him a blank USB drive. He pocketed it.
“All right. Buy some chips or gum or something. I’ll meet you out front,” he said.
Following him out of the storage room, I picked up a bag of pre-popped popcorn and a cola before making my way to the counter. By then, the guy who’d been watching TV had gone to service the coffee machine. I placed the items on the counter for the other guy to ring up. After I paid, he slid the USB back to me with my change.
“Have a nice day.”
I gave him my hard stare, wondering if he’d bilked me out of two hundred dollars. I guess I’d find out soon enough. “Thanks.”
Once I got back to my car, I circled around to another spot farther down the block, grabbed my laptop, and plugged in the drive. The store clerk had copied all the footage from the last fourteen days. I scanned back to the night of the break-in at Trey Knox’s apartment, cracked open the bottle of cola, and wrote down every license plate that parked outside of Pauley’s Pawn.
A white van appeared four different times, every three days since the break-in. The driver, a man wearing a trench coat and bowler hat who kept his face turned away from the cameras, always went to the side door with a large cardboard box. I had no idea what was inside, but since I never spotted anyone else entering the store with anything large enough to hold Knox’s collection or even just the pennant, this had to be one of the thieves. Now I just had to figure out who he was.
Thirteen
The last place I wanted to go was back to the office. Instead, I went to Charlene’s, an upscale speakeasy I used to frequent a lifetime ago. The smell of cigar smoke and expensive liquors permeated the air. I recognized a few faces, but it’d been years since I’d talked to most of those people.
“What’ll it be?” the attractive bartender asked.
“Scotch and soda.”
“Cigar?”
I shook my head.
“Do you want to start a tab?”
“I’ll pay as I go.”
“Great.”
She poured while I fished some cash out of my wallet. I probably should have started a tab since I was running low on green and had no idea how long I’d be here. I gave her a twenty dollar tip, took my drink, and found a comfy chair next to a mahogany side table.
This gave me the perfect spot to drink and work. While I sipped my scotch, I ran the plate number on the van. It was registered to a storage facility. So I did some checking on the storage facility. It was just like every other climate-controlled, self-storage facility around, except it was owned by Lenmere LLC.
Anything could be inside those units. The white van was available for rent from the place. Not only could you pay to store your stuff but you could also rent the van to move your crap to and from the unit. That was genius. The place was full service. Idly, I wondered how to make Cross Security more full service. So far, I offered security consultations, investigations, and protection. What else would clients want or need?
“Mind if I join you?” a woman asked.
I looked up. She wore ridiculously high heels, which made
her already too thin legs look even thinner. She had a cocktail in her hand and practically crawled over my lap to get to the chair on the other side.
“I never said yes.”
She pouted at me. “Don’t you want company? You look lonely.” Her hand ran up my thigh.
I laughed, picking up on just a hint of an accent. “How much?”
“Depends.”
“No, it doesn’t.” I shook my head, feeling like I was being punked. Charlene’s was upscale. Then again, so was the woman in the high heels. I’d crossed plenty of lines in my day, but hiring a sex worker was something I’d never even consider. “What are you drinking?”
“A gimlet.”
“That’s funny. I’m normally a gin guy.”
She smiled demurely. “What else do you like?”
“I’d like you to take your hand off my leg.”
She leaned forward, her cleavage spilling out from the top of her dress. I’d say it was designer, probably last season or the season before. It tied in the front, but it didn’t scream cheap. And until she bent over, it didn’t scream sex either. “Why?”
Looking around the room, I clocked the crowd. The waitstaff appeared attentive. They knew the regulars, the troublemakers, and exactly what was going on. From the glances they kept giving a table near the back, I had my own suspicions. Adjusting in the seat, I closed my laptop and tucked it back in my bag.
A man and woman sat at the back table. He looked comfortable, but they only had water glasses in front of them. He kept stroking her arm, gesturing animatedly with his drink hand and doing his best to appear drunk. She appeared to be bored out of her mind.
Raising my glass in his direction, I smiled and nodded. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember his name, but I remembered his beefy face and the scar tissue around his nose. He’d played high school football and a little in college until he got kicked off the team for a knee injury. I’d heard the story a dozen times in the academy. Ellis, Elvis, Elmer, it was something like that.
“Friend of yours?” she asked.
“Nope.” I scanned the rest of the room, but I didn’t spot her pimp. He might be outside, or she worked for a service or herself. It was hard to tell with the way the sex industry had broken down, but I hoped her actions were her choice, the johns treated her well, and management wasn’t abusive. “I’d suggest you take the night off unless you want to spend it in a cell. I might be lonely, but I don’t pay for company. Call it a pride thing. It’s just how I am. No offense.”
She shrugged it off. “Are you a cop?”
“No,” my gaze remained on the two across the room, “I wasn’t cut out for it.”
“Okay,” she said uncertainly.
Downing the rest of my drink, I grabbed my computer bag and headed for the exit. On my way, I detoured to the table in the back corner and gave Elvis a pat on the shoulder. “You following me?” I asked.
“Shit. Cross? Is that you?”
“In the flesh.”
“Jeez, what’s it been? Like five years?”
“Something like that.”
He gave his head a shake and nudged the woman. “This is Lucien fucking Cross.” He turned back to stare at me. “Are you shitting me right now?”
“Are you following me?”
“You? Fuck no. We’re hoping to find some crumbs that’ll lead us to the big cheese.”
I gave him a cockeyed look.
“This is Tanya, my partner.” He alternated between staring at me and the prostitute who had now moved on to a broker seated at the bar.
“You’re blowing our cover, Mr. Cross,” the other vice cop whispered.
I held up my palms. “You need to dress better if you want to blend in at a bar like this. The place has standards.”
“You always were a dick,” Elvis mumbled.
“Glad I could be of assistance. Have a lovely night, officers.” My voice carried, and half the bar turned to stare at the cops seated at the table.
As I left Charlene’s, Jade’s fears played through my head. She said someone had been following her. My gut said that SUV I spotted last night had been tailing us, even though it broke off pursuit. Could it have been a few police officers hoping to rattle Jade for revenge? They might also want to rattle me, except I didn’t rattle. That might explain Elvis and the prostitute. The working girl could have been an undercover vice cop.
When I made it back to my car, I made a point not to put the keys in the ignition. If the cops were out to get me, I wouldn’t give them a slam dunk on drunk driving charges, even if I doubted I was beyond the legal limit. Instead, I locked the doors and surveyed the area. A silver SUV with a bike rack sat parked a few blocks away. I couldn’t make out much from here, but since I didn’t see any exhaust, I had to assume the engine was off. It could belong to the cops inside. Elvis was enough of a creep to follow me as a form of harassment.
So I waited, wondering if I’d be stopped once I pulled out of the parking space. Maybe Jade’s fears had fueled my paranoia. I couldn’t be sure, so I remained in my car for another thirty minutes while I finished the work I started in the bar before the prostitute interrupted me. Perhaps, she was working with vice in exchange for a reduced sentence, and this was a sting to arrest a few johns. Boy, were they barking up the wrong tree.
My phone rang, and I laughed when I saw Jade’s name on the display. “Hi.”
“You’re in a good mood,” she said.
“I was just propositioned.”
“Wow, you don’t waste any time.” She sounded hurt.
“I said no.”
“Why? I told you to move on.”
“And this morning you were in my bed. I’m not going to move on that quickly. How was your flight? Did you just land?”
“A little while ago. We were redirected. I’m home now.” She sighed. “Tell me about the woman who propositioned you. Was she pretty?”
“She’s a professional.”
“Well, you like professionals.”
“Not a business professional, a sex worker.”
“Oh.” Jade paused, unsure what to say. “Don’t have sex with a prostitute.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Good. Don’t.”
“Any other rules I should be aware of?”
“No.”
“Jade, honey,” I sucked in a breath, “I don’t like how we left things. I want to ask you something. It’s probably too soon, but in the event I find myself out west or traveling somewhere fun and exotic, I was thinking if the two of us are unattached at that time, maybe we could meet up for a few days and have some fun together, like you originally suggested. Is that something you might still consider?”
“Isn’t that counterproductive?”
“I don’t know. Is it? I’m not saying we wait. I’m just saying if I’m free and you’re free and we’re in the same place at the same time, why can’t we make the most of it?”
She didn’t say anything, but I could picture her biting her lip and fidgeting with whatever was nearby. “Let me talk to my therapist about it.”
“Whatever you want. I just wanted some clarification.” I counted to ten. “I’m glad you got home safely.”
“Me too.”
“Before you go, I just had one more question. The guy you thought was following you yesterday, did you see him get into a vehicle?”
“No, why?”
“No reason.” I stared out the windshield at the SUV. “I should let you go. Sweet dreams.”
“Goodbye, Lucien.”
Every time she said it, I hated it more and more. Irritated, I shook off my paranoid thoughts as nothing more than a consequence of my fucked up romantic situation and headed for the gym. If the police wanted to pull me over, I’d make their night a living hell. But I arrived at my destination without incident.
After changing in the locker room, I stretched, warmed up on the treadmill, and hit the free weights. After too many rows and dead lifts, my lower back ache
d, but at least my legs weren’t numb. Too spent to do much else, I showered and headed home.
Fourteen
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I adjusted my rearview mirror so the morning sun wouldn’t be quite so blinding. Could this be a paranoid hallucination? I turned in my seat and looked behind me. Nope, not a hallucination. The silver SUV was two car lengths away. I’d seen it pull out of the parking space across the street from my apartment as soon as I pulled out of the garage. This was no coincidence.
I turned. The SUV turned. This was getting ridiculous. As I approached the next traffic light, the car between us switched lanes, placing the SUV directly behind me. Due to the sun’s glare and that reflective plastic sheet he had over his front plate, I couldn’t get his license plate number.
I kept going straight, but he stayed with me. At the next intersection, I came upon a stale yellow. It’d turn red before I made it to the white lines. Oh well, I needed to get a new car, anyway. Slowing down, I came to a practical crawl as I approached the light. The moment it turned red, I gunned the engine and flew through the intersection.
Despite the angry beeps and shouted expletives, the SUV kept pace with me. Whoever this asshole was, he must not know who he was messing with. At this time of morning, I wasn’t in the mood. I took a sharp turn and another. I thought I lost him, but I spotted the SUV making the first turn I’d already made.
“Nope, we’re not doing this.” I cut through an alley, ignoring the posted signs prohibiting such action, and pulled out directly in front of him. For a moment, I didn’t think the SUV would stop before it T-boned me. But it screeched to a halt. The shriek of the brakes still echoed as I threw open my door and aimed my gun at the driver. “Let me see your hands.”
The driver looked up from whatever it was he’d been staring at on his lap, fear marring his features. He raised both hands as I maneuvered around my car, the engine purring as it idled. He didn’t open his door or make any move whatsoever.
When I got closer, I wondered why some college-aged guy was tailing me. He didn’t look like he posed a threat, but that didn’t mean anything. He could be fresh out of the police academy or a military reject working as a hitman. From the way he trembled, I doubted the likelihood of the second, but it was best to be prepared for anything.