by Jim Heskett
Harry definitely didn’t know what to do.
They looked like they were strolling deeper into the hotel, most likely. That told Harry to stay away from the elevators. Staying low, he pushed toward the eastern wing of the courtyard, and slid inside the back door to the restaurant’s dining hall. A little early for lunch, but there were enough guests sipping ice water and munching on bread rolls that no one seemed to notice the man sliding inside the back door.
Harry lifted a hand in a general wave to the room, which no one reciprocated. Then he pushed toward the front. He could exit out the kitchen or walk straight out the front of the restaurant. If he did the latter, he could march about fifty paces to the front door, then meet Serena by the car.
He sent his partner a text message to inform her, then he glanced to his right to see Neva and Phil about to walk into the restaurant. Less than twenty paces away.
Harry darted right, toward the kitchen. He didn’t care about looking strange to the diners any longer. With his palms full of sweat, he booked it toward a set of swinging doors. Heart racing, bile hovering in his throat, he threw a shoulder into one swinging door to find himself in another world. Tile floors, bright lights, stainless steel appliances everywhere. Booming music came from speakers, steam from an industrial dishwasher covered the room in a moist fog.
A dozen heads turned toward Harry. Some in white coats, some with hairnets. All eyes on the newcomer.
Harry hoisted a thumbs up. “Excellent breakfast today, guys. My compliments.”
A few eyebrows raised, but Harry didn’t wait for their reactions. He raced toward the back door, and only a set of rubber mats kept him from a wipeout on the slick floor. No one prevented him from leaving, but they all stopped what they were doing to watch the chubby guy run for his life through the kitchen.
As he pushed open the back door to the rear, he traded the indoor world for the outdoor world, and this one felt much better. Clean air, open spaces, fewer Dugan Agency jerks to be found.
Harry skidded to a stop in the parking lot behind the hotel. The pavement felt good under his feet. His car keys were in his pocket, and he could easily round the hotel and slip inside in his car within thirty seconds, if need be.
To his right was a path that led back around the hotel, crisscrossing up and down the surrounding hill, like a mini hiking trail.
To his left was open hill facing the rear of the hotel, with—
And there she was. Ginnifer Applewhite or Appleweiss, sitting on the side of a hill behind the hotel, smoking a cigarette.
29
Harry descended the hill about fifty feet to put him on a parallel path with Ginnifer. The hill extended the broad length of the hotel’s backside, a plain green surface of grass that reached to hotel satellite parking near the top, and the immediate rear courtyard at the bottom. There were concrete steps at either end.
He stayed visible because he didn’t want to come up behind her and scare her off. Or provoke her. For all he knew, this woman killed Lukas Maslow. It didn’t seem likely, but it seemed possible, so Harry had to keep it in mind.
And while keeping it in mind, he drew his phone and sent a text to Serena:
Hill behind hotel. Come quick.
Now Ginny looked up at him, thirty feet apart. While undeniably attractive in a traditionally statuesque way, Harry noticed her feet seemed large, even for someone at her excessive height. She looked the sort of person who always had trouble finding her size at regular shoe stores. Ginny had impossibly good genes that could have made her an actor if the stars had aligned, or maybe a social media influencer, hawking skin care products between bikini photos.
“Hi?” she said as she pulled on her cigarette. She had a bit of a smoker’s rasp, although she looked too young to be afflicted with that condition.
“Are you Ginnifer?”
She immediately put one hand on the ground, as if poised to push herself to her feet and flee. Her head stayed still, but her eyes darted left and right.
Harry held his hands out as he studied her for weapon bulges in her clothes. She had no purse or bag nearby. Just a pack of cigarettes and a lighter sitting in the grass next to her. No phone.
“Wait, wait. It’s okay. There’s no reason to be scared. I just want to talk to you.”
“About what?” she asked, but kept her hand there, elbow cocked, ready to launch.
Harry sat about ten feet away in the grass. He positioned his legs crisscross-applesauce and pointed himself toward her, trying to don a soothing smile. All the while, wondering when Serena would arrive. Ginny was far enough away that it would take her a couple steps to reach Harry, if she decided to attack. He outweighed this woman by probably eighty pounds, but that didn’t mean he could take her if a fight broke out.
“Do you go by Ginnifer, or Ginny?”
“Ginny, usually. My brother always called me “Fer,” and it mostly stuck. That’s the thing about nicknames, right? You don’t always get a say.”
Harry couldn’t help notice how melancholy she seemed, while also being inexplicably chatty. Eyes cast down, with dark bags under them. She flexed her jaw over and over as she stared at the grass.
“Ginny, my name is Harry Boukadakis,” he said as he held up his business card. Number four of one thousand. “I’m investigating a break-in and theft at a barbershop three days ago. Do you know the one I’m talking about?”
“Are you a cop?”
“No, I’m a private investigator. I think we know who stole the items, and I’m just wrapping up the investigation.”
When he’d said he knew the thief’s identity, he watched her. There may have been a slight twitch in her right eye. Harry was almost certain of it. But, he averted his gaze because he didn’t want to freak her out by staring too long or too hard.
“I apologize if this breaks your Alcoholics Anonymous code, but I know you’re here for the conference.”
She leaned away from him a little, probably unconsciously. “Yeah, okay…?”
“I wanted to ask you why you’re staying at the Sunrise when the sessions are all across town at the Motorway?”
She shrugged. “I had a coupon. What do you want from me?”
“Is it too much if I ask how long you’ve been sober?”
Ginny drew on her cigarette and then let the smoke drift outward in a long, slow sigh. “I’ve put together as much as six months before. That’s my record. This time, I’ve been on the wagon for nineteen days.”
“Do you count every day?”
“When you only have nineteen of them, you do.”
Harry resisted both the urge to cough, as well as to scoot closer as he dropped the bait. “I wanted to ask you a couple things about people at that conference.” Now, she looked up, a little curious. Harry wanted to give the impression he was casting a wide net, not considering her a suspect.
“I was wondering if you’ve seen anyone suspicious walking around the Motorway during your days there.”
For a few seconds, she seemed frozen, staring. She appeared to be evaluating the questions as much as she was considering her answer. Or maybe Harry had imagined that particular reaction.
“I don’t think so,” she said in a sleepy drawl. “But it is too bad about that guy dying in the woods, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
Harry tried to keep his face flat, but he couldn’t help his lips parting. He hadn’t planned on bringing up Lukas for at least four or five more questions. The words hung there in the air for a few seconds, then Harry decided to seize the day.
“Well, it’s interesting you say that, Ginny, because…”
Harry looked up when he sensed something out of his peripheral vision. Serena, coming up the hill. From her angle, Harry assumed she hadn’t seen Ginny yet. Serena certainly wasn’t approaching stealthily, and now Harry wished he’d been more explicit when texting her. She made eye contact, and he tried to wave her off with a pointed shake of the head, but Ginny looked at him. She’d seen it. Then she l
ooked at Serena.
Ginny stood, and Harry stood, and Serena stopped advancing. Ginny pointed at the woman standing below her on the hill. They were in an isosceles triangle with Serena on the long end.
“What is this?” Ginny said, her eyes flicking back and forth between them. “You know her? Who are you people?”
Harry tried to take a step in her direction and she backed up. Her head began to shake and her eyes went wide, and Harry felt the situation quickly slipping out of control. Waves of deep paranoia seemed to radiate from the tall blonde.
“Wait—“
But she didn’t. She turned and fled up the hill. Serena started, but Harry held up a hand. Something told him this fragile flower was not the kind to respond well to being pursued. She wouldn’t be one to crack when sweating under the lights of a cramped interrogation room. Besides, what would they do? Tackle her and threaten her with violence if she didn’t reveal all of her secrets?
Serena climbed the hill at a normal pace while Ginny absconded back toward the front of the hotel.
“Didn’t mean to scare her,” Serena said. “You told me to come quick.”
“That was my fault. Sorry.”
He ducked down and picked up her pack of cigarettes and lighter she’d left behind. He opened the box and found nothing of interest. Only a handful of smokes left, including a few broken ones. He sniffed and detected only tobacco, so he put the pack back down, in case she decided to return for it later.
Harry now noticed Serena was holding a folded stack of papers in one hand. “What’s that?”
Serena almost cracked a smile. “Printout of Ginnifer Applewhite—Appleweiss is an alias—and her hotel info.”
“Did you seduce another hapless young hotel clerk and leave him with unfulfilled expectations?”
Serena actually did smile a little as she tilted her head back and forth. “I might go out with this one. He’s pretty cute, and he’s closer to my age bracket. Anyway, the important part is the emergency contact listed on the second page.”
Harry flipped to it. “Alan Applewhite?”
Serena nodded. “Her brother. And do you know what a quick internet search revealed about Alan Applewhite?”
“I don’t, but hopefully, you’re going to tell me.”
“Alan Applewhite passed away two years ago from a heart attack. But before that? He did some time in prison for selling black market vape cartridges.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Not even a little bit.”
“The same kind found in the foot locker?”
Serena shrugged. “We could find out.”
He turned to look at the path Ginny had taken. He checked his watch and when he realized the date, he winced. “If Ginny Applewhite is mixed up in this, we have to move fast. This is the last day of the conference.”
30
In his basement, Harry waited for his computer station to power up. He usually kept it running in low-power mode whenever he left the house, which meant some app had crashed and forced his computer to restart. As he waited, he listened to the whir of the microwave heating up his afternoon snack Hot Pocket. His computer tower clicked and chugged, the screen flashed lines of text during the boot sequence.
Outside, Serena was performing another sweep, which Harry both appreciated and thought was overkill. It’s not as if this neighborhood was an active war zone with dozens of insurgents in the surrounding houses.
“The HOA probably wouldn’t even allow something like that,” he muttered.
But he could still feel a little residual tension in his neck from the meeting last night with the two unwelcome visitors to his home. Harry liked to pretend he wasn’t in much danger, although he had been parrying a sense of dread since this thing had started. He’d been attacked twice in two days. His stomach still ached from the baseball bat.
Above all, he could feel a time crunch. He wasn’t as worried about the killer slipping town as he was them deciding to intervene in a lethal way. This case had secrets attached, and someone wanted very much to keep those secrets buried.
The screen flashed the welcome message and Harry cracked his knuckles before placing his eye to the retinal scanner to unlock the computer. Every time he did, it reminded him of years back, when Harry’s son had been nine years old, and had developed an infection similar to pink eye. He had to keep his eyes closed for several days, effectively making the young child blind. The kid hated it. Harry and his wife had led the boy around during his recovery, acting as his eyes. Although Harry sympathized with his poor son’s plight, he secretly enjoyed being so needed for a few days.
Footsteps halted at the top of the basement stairs. “Perimeter is clear. Can I enter?”
“Yep.”
She shuffled down the stairs, seeming both weary and wary. Harry knew the feeling.
“What do you think of Ginnifer Applewhite?” Serena asked.
“I think she’s sad,” he said as apps loaded in the background. “I think she’s a very sad person. She strikes me as the sort who once had a promising career in something or other, but then alcohol and unfortunate circumstances took it all away. And the comment she made about a dead guy in the woods seemed more than a little hinky.”
Serena settled into a chair next to the computer desk. “Lukas’ death isn’t a secret. She could have easily found out by searching the local news reports.”
“Yeah, but it’s the fact that she brought it up first. She knew I was probing around the robbery because I would ask about Lukas. The news outlets haven’t linked the robbery to Lukas’ murder, as far as I know. That’s the sort of detail the cops keep quiet, so they can use it to sort out useful tips from innocent people who confess to the crime because they’re feeling guilty about something else.”
Serena shrugged. “Could have just been her intuition.”
“Could have been.”
“So the barber is fully off the suspect list?”
Harry adjusted his glasses. “I’m about 95% sure. Despite having a couple of major skeletons in his closet, Kemba is not a bad guy. At least, I’m coming around to that conclusion.”
“Good. No one wants to tussle with a man of that size.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “My, my, Serena Rojas, are you admitting there’s someone out there you can’t beat?”
She scoffed, but Harry thought he also detected a few shades of blush there, too. “There are plenty of adversaries out there I can’t ‘beat.’ I’m just saying I’d rather be fighting on the same side as him, not against him.”
“I can’t argue with that logic.”
She stood and then pulled the heel of one foot toward her butt to stretch. “Okay, so, if Ginnifer is our primary suspect, what are the next steps with her?”
“Digging, mostly. I don’t even know if she has an alibi for that night. I’ve tried to find some link between her brother and her and vaping, but everything so far is circumstantial.”
Serena strolled around the room, stopping in front of the video screen Harry kept for displaying the day/night cycle. Her eyes trailed over a digital sun and slow-moving clouds. “So do we go talk to her again? I’m honestly not very experienced in doing this in a non-convert, non-espionage, above-board sort of way. In the old days, we would just drop her in a room and play death metal over loudspeakers until she decided to talk.”
“Yeah, you can’t really do that in the civilian world. We have a lot more rules to play by. But, to answer your question: no, I’m not planning to ask her to come in for a conversation. She strikes me as the sort of turtle who pulls back into her shell the instant something ‘official’ is going on.”
“We tail her, then.”
Harry nodded as he retrieved his Hot Pocket from the microwave. “That’s what I was thinking. The main problem I have with Ginnifer Applewhite as a suspect is her motive. Killing Lukas to smash up the liquor bottles is too thin. Maybe if she were stark, raving mad, it would make sense. But it doesn’t here. So there has to be some s
ort of link between Ginnifer and Lukas, or Ginnifer and the two goons from last night, or Ginnifer and this vaping company. Right now, I have links to none of those things. We’ll keep our distance and see where she takes us. Especially now that she knows who we are, she’ll be spooked. If she’s involved, she’ll want to reach out to her contact to let them know we know.”
Serena put her hands on her hips. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go find her.”
“One second. Just waiting for some search results to come back.”
Harry opened an app and grinned when he noted the result search listed as complete. He clicked into the app and browsed to find a composite image of one of the two men who had invaded his house the night before. Across all of the surveillance options in Harry’s house, the two goons had appeared on forty-seven distinct video frames. Forty-four of those frames had been unusable—the “enhance” stuff from the CSI shows to fix blurry pictures didn’t exist in real life.
But he’d ended up with three useful screengrabs where the face was clearly visible through the pantyhose mask, all three of goon one Harry had dubbed Sneer. Harry had used these pictures to create a search that had been running since early this morning. And it had finished.
Serena leaned in to spy the screen. “That looks like an IDCRD search.“
He nodded. “It is.”
Serena hinted at a grin. “Harry Boukadakis, it’s illegal for a US citizen with no security clearance to access this particular criminal records database.”
“You going to turn me in?”
“No. Just surprised.”
He turned toward her, mouth full of Hot Pocket filling. “This is how I see it: when I worked for the government, I spent time in this database at least once a week. I know how to do it responsibly. I still need to access it, even if the occupation field on my taxes is different than a few years ago. In D&D terms, it’s not exactly lawful good, but I’m still using it in a just manner, so I’d call it chaotic good.”