Footsteps in the Dark

by Josh Lanyon

  “Caleb told me that Jeff made a nuisance of himself, and his sister had to stop coming over.”

  “It was a little more than that.”

  “Was it?” I couldn’t let him leave it at that. “Tell me.”

  He glanced away. “Jeff was an asshole with the girls.”

  “Carla said she called the police on him. Did he physically assault her?”

  Dave took his time replying. “There was never any proof of an assault. Jeff’s parents gave him an alibi. How can it matter now?”

  “Oh, it matters.” Going by Rick’s face when he saw the photographs, it mattered a lot. “The pictures we found might back up her claims.”

  “No shit?” He pushed his coffee away and leaned back. “You don’t think Carla…”

  “She certainly had a motive, but Caleb’s the one who could break into any of the apartments.”

  He startled. “You heard about that?”

  “Carla told me.” I leaned forward. “How bad did things get between Jeff and Caleb’s sister? Could Jeff have assaulted her too?”

  He caught a fleshy lip between his teeth. “I couldn’t say for certain if he did or didn’t.”

  “But Caleb came to you for help, didn’t he? He asked you to throw Jeff out of the apartments.”

  “He did, yes.” Dave’s fingers tightened on his mug. “But he didn’t understand. I couldn’t evict the owners’ kid without a damn good reason. I told him if his sister was assaulted, she should go to the police. That I had no power to change things around here, but if the cops got involved, then maybe…”

  “They didn’t, though, did they? If Carla’s right, Jeff—and his parents—made sure no one believed the girls. Carla bought extra locks. Caleb told his sister not to come around anymore. That’s how they handled it.”

  “God, when you put it like that.” He closed his eyes for a few seconds, opened them, and said angrily, “Yeah. I guess they handled it by avoiding him. And Jeff just set his sights on the next girl, because guys like that? They don’t stop until someone stops them.”

  “Yeah, but who? I hate to believe it, but Caleb might have been that someone. Or Carla. Or maybe they worked together?”

  “No,” he whispered. “Not Carla. She’s not the kind to…”

  “How do you know? I’m not sure about either of them, but I know it wasn’t me.”

  “Don’t make trouble.” His tone got frosty. “You don’t know anything. You just got here.”

  “But this thing is going to hang over my head until the police find the real killer. Don’t you see? I’ve got to turn over every rock until something crawls out.”

  “Look, I understand your anxiety.” He reached over and gave my hand a fatherly pat. “But you’re wrong about Caleb and Carla. I’ve known them a lot longer than you have.”

  “I hope I’m wrong.” We sat there, sipping our coffee, lost to our own thoughts until he spoke again.

  “Any news about the dog?”

  “Pepper? Doc thinks she’s going to be okay. I’m going over there to check on her this morning.”

  “Got any leads on someone to take her yet?”

  I shrugged. “Not yet.”

  “Try putting an ad in the Nextdoor app. Someone will snap her up the minute you give them the chance.”

  “I’ll think about it.” Why was everyone so determined to move Pepper along? Couldn’t they just let her get over losing her human to a grisly murder and then being poisoned? The poor thing had been traumatized enough.

  “I notice you don’t have a dog.” I arched an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

  “I had one.” He pointed to a framed picture of a Jack Russell terrier. “Nipper. He passed away, and I haven’t had the heart to replace him.”

  I was such a clod. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too.” He drummed his fingertips on the table. “About Caleb. You don’t really think it’s him, do you? You met him. He’s no killer.”

  That was guilt talking. He probably didn’t feel right, admitting Caleb had a motive.

  “Just clutching at straws, I guess.” I didn’t want to upset Dave, so I left it at that. He obviously liked Caleb and Carla a lot. The phone on his kitchen wall rang, and I stood. “Thanks. You’ve been a lot of help.”

  “I should get that.” He stood as well. “Probably a tenant with some disaster or other. Always is.”

  “I’ll let myself out.” As I was leaving, the phone on the wall stopped ringing and his cell vibrated. I turned. “Persistent bastard, huh?”

  “Nah. My calls are forwarded, in case I’m on the grounds and I miss one.”

  I nodded. “Good to know. But no rest for the wicked.”

  He grinned. “It’s always something around here.”

  I wanted to go back upstairs and ask Rick if Caleb’s sister was in any of the photographs we’d found in Jeff’s apartment. Rick might not know anyway, if he’d never met her. We could probably find an image of her on Facebook or Instagram so he could compare.

  If there even was a we anymore.

  He’d sounded oddly final, as if he’d made up his mind about questions I didn’t know he’d asked. Like the coward I am, I decided to go check on Pepper instead.

  On my way to the animal hospital, I made several voice notes about Carla, Caleb’s sister, the locks, the photographs, and the timing of Jeff’s death.

  I called Dillon to tell him what I’d learned, but his assistant said he’d be in court all morning. He probably wouldn’t get back to me until late afternoon.

  I wished I could have asked Rick to come to the animal hospital with me. I felt bereft walking into the neat reception area without him. He was not only an ex-cop; he was my mentor with regard to pet ownership. Without Rick to talk to about either the dog or the murder, I felt more alone than I had in a long time.

  I was no less determined to get answers because I still believed Pepper’s poisonous misadventure had something to do with Jeff’s murder, despite Rick’s assumption to the contrary.

  ***

  I arrived while the vet techs were feeding and walking their on-the-mend patients. Pepper seemed fairly lively for a dog who’d been poisoned the day before. As she curled around my ankles, I got a feel for why humans domesticated dogs in the first place. Pretty gratifying, being the center of all that doggy adoration.

  Since I’d had a hard time sleeping all alone at my place the night before, I felt less conflicted about things in general and about Pepper, specifically.

  She wasn’t the dog I’d planned—the perfect, snooty Afghan hound who could take me or leave me.

  Pepper was gangly, sloppy, clumsy, and ill-mannered.

  She was destructive. Needy. She wore her little doggy heart on her furry doggy paw, and that wasn’t want I wanted at all. Or was it?

  Dr. Jones suggested I take her for a sedate walk on the grass path around their little parking lot, potty her, and bring her back.

  While we ambled, I watched her experience every new thing with a kind of exuberant joy I’d never felt, and I started thinking about her in a new way.

  She wasn’t the perfect dog. But maybe she could be perfect for someone like me? Maybe I needed a little chaos in my tightly controlled life?

  She made me wonder about Rick too.

  Did I want him to see me as some hopeless perfectionist loner who didn’t do relationships and didn’t want more out of life than a convenient dog and a convenient fuck? Criminy.

  Maybe I was that guy at one time. Probably, I’d had good reason when I was trying to make it in a business that ate baby chefs alive. But now? I’d earned my place among my peers, and Factory was mine. I didn’t have to spend every waking hour at work because I had a great staff and we made an awesome team.

  Being a workaholic was a habit, not a necessity.

  It was a habit that had nearly killed me.

  Why did I continue pushing away an emotional life when it was clear to me that in my heart, like Rick, I wanted more too?

  I
’d stopped walking at some point. At my heel, Pepper waited, watching me with solemn eyes. I stood there until she sat, panting heavily, patient with me as always.

  Maybe she was a little confused. I certainly was.

  One of us wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box.

  Now that I understood which one, I decided to do something about it.

  ***

  I’d have liked to take Pepper home with me, but Dr. Jones wanted to observe and hydrate her further, if necessary. I felt a little sick, a little disloyal, leaving her behind again.

  When I got to my car, I tried to text Rick about what I’d learned, and also, maybe, to apologize. But after holding my phone for several minutes without typing anything, I realized there was no reason to assume he’d want to hear from me.

  He’d made himself pretty clear. He wanted more than he believed I could give him. He might be right about that. But that didn’t mean I shouldn’t try to talk to him. Instead of messaging him right then, I reverted to type and stopped by Factory.

  My staff was both surprised and unhappy to see me.

  I had to prevent Simone from calling my mother to tell on me, but then I got to spend a pleasant afternoon in the bar. My staff and I chatted, one and two at a time as they broke from work to eat. I caught up on their lives and shared what was happening in mine.

  For the first time ever, I talked about my personal life—about the new place, Rick, Dead Jeff, and Pepper.

  “For someone facing imminent arrest, you seem remarkably relaxed,” Simone mused. “Did you have a personality transplant?”

  “I did not.” I flicked a straw paper at her. “I simply don’t have the energy for drama right now.”

  “Well, watch out. Every word of this will go straight to your mother,” she warned. “She’s got spies everywhere.”

  “I know that. You’re the most egregious of the lot.”

  “So I am. I like her.” She laughed lightly. “This might prompt a visit.”

  “I wonder if she’s ready for a furry grandkid.”

  I could not wait to find out.

  I left Factory at dusk, after persuading the staff to package up potpies and salad for two. A great meal might give me a second chance with Rick. Maybe I could explain myself over dinner. But what should I say?

  I was ready for the possibility of more. If I told him that, maybe Rick and I could find out what “more” meant, together. One meal at a time.

  With that hope in mind, I grabbed the bags and the wine and started up three flights of stairs to my apartment. I broke a sweat, but hardly even had to rest on the way up.

  Progress, not perfection. That’s what they say.

  No one else was around, but it wasn’t even five yet. The girls were probably still at work.

  I keyed my lock, entered my place, turned to close the door behind me, when bam! Someone hit the back of my head with something heavy. It was a glancing blow, but it staggered me.

  What the fuck? Who was in my apartment?

  Dizzy and disoriented, I tried to turn and look. It hurt like ever-loving fuck. Something oozed along my scalp, in my hair, down my neck.

  I lifted my hands to protect myself, but they hit me again, and I sagged to the floor.

  Chapter Fifteen

  On sheer instinct, I began a wobbly crawl toward my door.

  “Oh no you don’t.” Dave grabbed my hands and started hauling me backward, toward the living room.

  “Dave?” I twisted, trying to turn over, struggling to yank my hands out of his grasp. I’m not a small guy. I fought him, but the blows to my head had me seeing double, and my attempts to get loose were no match for his leverage and strength.

  “Just. Stop. Moving.” He swore colorfully and gave my arms another yank.

  “What the hell?” I blinked with confusion. “Why?”

  “Because”—he grunted—“you just won’t leave it alone.”

  “You used my knife.” I grimaced when he got a better grip on my arms. I tried to scratch him, tried to get free. “You framed me.”

  “I didn’t plan it.” He delivered a punch to the side of my head, stunning me momentarily. “I needed you to sign off on the condition of the apartment, but then I saw the box marked knives. The hallway was empty.”

  “But—”

  “I slipped inside Jeff’s place, easy-peasy. Pepper reacted, snarling and barking, but she didn’t go full-on apeshit, like later.”

  “And you stabbed a sleeping man?”

  “I stabbed a monster. In and out. No one even saw me.”

  “But later?” Blood on the hardwood made it hard to get traction. My head throbbed. My arms ached. I twisted and thrashed, but nothing I did got me free. Then it all clicked into place. “It was you in Jeff’s place. I was on the phone with you while you were inside and I heard Pepper, so loud—”

  “That’s right, dumbass.” He punched me again, a glancing blow but still painful. “The second I told you my landline calls get forwarded, I knew I’d fucked up. I had to do something or—”

  “You’ve sure got a lot of faith in me.” I had been oblivious. “You killed Jeff earlier in the day. Why’d you even go back?”

  “Because I heard Jeff brag about his photo collection. I knew he had pictures of Carla.” He kept his steely grip on my arms. “I couldn’t find them earlier, and I couldn’t stay to look because Sharona was downstairs working on my place.”

  “You wanted to protect Carla?”

  “There were a dozen girls.” He grimaced. “A dozen reasons he should be dead, so I’m not sorry.”

  “But why kill Jeff that day? Why not before, when your tenants begged you for help?”

  “Because Sharona was gonna be next.” He punctuated the words by shaking me angrily. “She was falling for Jeff. She believed every lie he told her.”

  Oh God. “You killed Jeff to protect your niece?”

  “Yes, goddamn it. I tried talking to his parents. Guess what? They got pissed! They said they were going to put him in my place.”

  “Your place?” I tried to free myself, but he gripped me tight. I gasped. “Jeff wanted your job?”

  “Of course he didn’t. They thought hard work would cure him. As if he could keep the tenants happy, take care of the building, handle security, and dog crap, and petty disagreements over parking. He wanted pussy and free rent. That’s all Jeff ever cared about.”

  My stomach roiled. “Why plant the pictures for me and Rick to find?”

  “I hoped Rick would think you planted them. You were no trouble until he started going along. Asking questions.”

  “He did?”

  “Sure. And the local cops may not like him, but they’d listen to him…”

  To open the slider, he had to put both my hands in one big paw.

  He literally stepped on my chest while he worked the latch. Then he jerked me up and dragged me over the sharp frame and onto the balcony. Why was he taking me outside? What did he think he was gonna do out there?

  Dave dropped my hands, and I tried to roll over. Before I could do it, meaty arms banded my chest, and he started to lift me up.

  It happened so suddenly, it took me a second to realize he meant to throw me over the railing. I got a look down at the concrete path next to the parking lot below and weakly shoved back on the railing.

  “Stop!” I cried out. “What—”

  “Everyone saw your high-wire act, Lonnie. It’s quite the little party trick.”

  I gave a choked sob. “Dave—”

  “I couldn’t believe you; all the way up on Caleb’s balcony. You’re an even bigger jackass than I am.”

  Privately, I agreed. “So the second time, you left through the balcony door?”

  “Damn right I did. I went over the railing and onto the balcony below. The tenants are away on vacation.”

  I braced my feet against the railing and pushed back. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I don’t have a choice!”

  “You do!�
�� I fought like a wild thing—limbs flailing, teeth gnashing, trying to bite him, anywhere I could get my teeth. “No one will believe I killed myself.”

  “Maybe it was an accident. You wanted to leave more ‘evidence’ in Jeff’s place.” He grunted with the effort of holding on to me. “Or maybe you like visiting the scene of the crime. It’s a shame you didn’t stick the landing.”

  “Rick won’t buy it.” I resisted with everything I had.

  “The cops will.” He slammed my chest onto the wooden railing and pinned me there with his body. “Over you go—”

  “One more question!” Buying time was a gamble. I was getting weaker by the second. “Why poison my fucking dog?”

  He gasped out loud. “I didn’t. I would never hurt a dog.”

  “C’mon—”

  “I. Did. Not. Poison. Pepper.” He shouted. “What the hell kind of man do you think I am? I love dogs.”

  “You—” Wait. What? That was random? It really was random that someone threw meat on my balcony and poisoned my dog? Rick was gonna do some serious gloating about that.

  “How could you even think I’d do something like that?” I tried to look at him, but he gripped my hair and held me tight. Shit. The parking lot seemed to boil beneath the balcony, blurred and swimmy. It was all-too-easy to imagine falling, crashing, and dying below.

  “I look out for the dogs here, just like I look out for the tenants. It’s my job. Nobody’d be better at it than I am.”

  Jesus Christ, I was going to die from the irony before I ever hit the goddamn ground.

  Dave let go of my hair but kept me pinned in place while he took hold of my belt to hoist me over. I gripped the railing tightly and pushed back, terrified that any moment I’d be swept over. How many seconds would I flail before smashing onto the sidewalk? How would I fall? Legs first? Face first?

  Dave gathered his strength to lift me. That gave me a single vulnerable second in which to act. I felt the give in his hold and snapped my head back as hard as I could. His nose made a horrible crunching sound, and he lurched away with a howl.

  A quick glance showed him moving his hands toward his face, but his bulk was still between me and my slider.

  Praying to a God I hardly believed in, I scrambled onto my balcony railing and started moving toward Jeff’s.