"Just the weekends. Nice kid. She okay? Something wrong with her?"
"I have no idea. I haven't seen her." I didn't add, ever.
"I asked only because a cop came around earlier asking about her and when I got here tonight, I noticed her car was still parked in the lot. She should pick it up."
"A cop?" I prompted. Ashleigh didn't mention a car when I spoke to her.
"Yeah. Said she's been reported missing but I figure if she's your friend and you spoke to her, maybe that wasn't the case. Oh, man, I'm sorry. I don't feel like I should be the one breaking this information to you, given that she's your friend. Unless the cop got it wrong?"
"I had no idea about any of this. Her car still there?" I frowned.
"Yeah, been there since she finished her shift that last night."
"Do you mind if we take a look at it? Make sure it's hers?" I asked. "I could call her roommate about it."
"I'll take you back there." Kelvin waved to the alternate bartender currently working the other end of the bar and indicated he was taking a break. "Follow me."
We followed him through a paneled corridor that led to the restrooms and then through a door marked "employees only." After we rounded a corner, going past some metal shelving, he pushed a thick door open into the parking lot. "That's hers in the corner over there," he said, pointing to an old Toyota.
"So it is," I agreed. "I'll just be a second." I didn't know what I was looking for but I walked over anyway, Mike right behind me.
"The boss is getting pissed about it sitting there," called the bartender. "He said he's going to get it towed if she doesn't pick it up soon. Parking is a pretty high priority around here."
"You don't think it's odd someone left their car here?" asked Mike.
"Now you mention it, it's strange, but I've been on vacation a week so I guess I didn't even think about it until now," Kelvin called back.
I walked around the front of the car. The passenger side door was parked too close to the brick wall for me to walk around so I inspected the drivers' side, stooping to look in the windows. There wasn't much to see. No purse or jacket tossed casually on a seat, no drinks or snacks. Sammy kept her car tidy. As I returned to the front, I noticed something glinting against the blacktop. When I dropped to one knee to check it out, I found a small bunch of keys. I snatched them up and tried a key in the door. The lock popped up.
"Shayne," said Mike softly, when I shut the door and locked it again.
"Who leaves their keys?" I asked him. "There's a car key and what looks like her apartment keys."
"The hood is partially open," he said, running his fingers under the metal. There was a barely audible click, then he pushed the hood up.
"So?" I asked.
Mike was quiet a few seconds. "Take a look at this," he said.
I joined him, unsure of what I was looking at and a moment later, Kelvin crowded behind us. "What?" he asked.
"Someone pulled all the spark plug cables out." Mike pointed to the engine but I wasn't sure what he could see that I couldn't.
"They couldn't have fallen out?" I asked but I already knew the answer.
Mike raised his eyebrows as he glanced at me. "Someone deliberately sabotaged this car."
Chapter Thirteen
"We really need to see your security tapes," I told Kelvin.
He stood in the parking lot scratching his head, still staring at the open hood of Sammy's car. "Who the hell would sabotage her car?" he asked.
I snapped my fingers, pulling his attention to me. It wasn't polite but quick. Kelvin dropped his hand but the confused expression remained. "That's what the security footage might tell us. I noticed there were cameras in the bar. Is there one out here?" I looked around, searching for one outside and saw the red blinking light above the door we recently exited. That answered my question but turning from the camera to the car, I wondered if its trajectory covered this corner of the parking lot. Would it be too much to hope that the camera caught an image of the car's saboteur? Possibly even Sammy's kidnapper? As that thought crossed my mind, I couldn't help thinking it was too much of a coincidence for the two events not to be linked. And what did Colette Jones say about her sister's car? That it was abandoned on the side of a road?
"Well, yeah," said Kelvin, waving towards the camera I already spotted. "Though, truthfully, it's always malfunctioning and the owner doesn't want to spend the money to replace it since only the employees park back here. It wasn't working at all when I left for my vacation."
"But the light is blinking," said Mike.
Kelvin shrugged. "I don't know jack-diddly about electronics, man."
"Can you remember if it was working on Sammy's last night here?" I asked.
"I don't know. Maybe."
"Just show us the footage," said Mike. "You do keep it?"
"Sure, the owner says we have to keep it in case of theft or bar fights. There was this one dude who smashed a glass in another dude's face last year and the injured guy claimed one of the bartenders did it. He got a lawyer and filed a complaint against us. He even got his buddies to be witnesses. Without that footage, he might have won his case. My boss showed it to his lawyer and bam! No lawsuit! Turns out the so-called victim had been trying that scam all over the state."
"That's fascinating," I said. "Show us the footage and while we're on the way, you can tell us why no one showed it to the police officer that came around asking about Sammy."
"He never asked," said Kelvin with a shrug. "He was in the bar five minutes at most when he got a call on his radio and left."
I glanced at Mike and rolled my eyes.
"You know, I don't know if I should…" Kelvin stuck his hands in his pockets and glanced at Sammy's car again.
"We're her friends. If something happened to her, we need to know so we can tell the police," I told him. "I'm sure you want to help her too."
"Okay." Kelvin nodded. "It's in the back office but you gotta swear I never took you back there."
"We won't tell the owner," I told him.
"I'm not worried about him. He's been in Hawaii for the past three weeks. I just don't want to look like I'm doing anyone special favors. We've had problems with bar staff stealing inventory."
We followed Kelvin inside to a stockroom that had two computers set up on a long desk against a wall. The monitor closest to us had a screen divided into four views but it only showed three pictures. The fourth was white noise. The monitor sat on top of an actual video recorder. "Is this current?" asked Mike, bending to get a closer look.
"It's like, fifty years old, man," said Kelvin. "It doesn't work. It's hooked up to another recording device."
"I meant, is it showing what's happening in the bar now?" Mike clarified.
"Oh! Yeah. That's the bar, that's the main room, that's the parking lot and that camera is supposed to cover the front doors but it got smashed about a month ago," Kelvin said, pointing to each of the quarters in turn.
"Did you think about replacing that camera?" I asked.
"Not my job.
"How do you record stuff?"
"It all gets written to a CD. Whoever is closing up pops the CD out and puts it in a sleeve, writes on the date, and puts it in here," he said, tapping an open shelf built into the cabinet next to the desk.
"Can you get me the recording of Sammy's last night?" I asked. I checked my phone calendar and read the date to him.
Kelvin rifled through the shelf, looking for the correct sleeve, and halfway along, produced it with a flourish. "Here," he said, "although I don't know if I should give it to you."
"You can give it to the police," said Mike. To me, he added, "Chain of command for custody or something."
"Do you have any idea what you're saying?" I asked.
Mike shook his head. "No clue but it sounds right. Also, they'll probably want to interview everyone. Maybe even close the bar down for the weekend. How much money does this bar make on a weekend?"
"Oh, man," said Kelvi
n.
"Can you make us a copy?" I asked, jumping onto Mike's idea. No way would Kelvin want to be held responsible for the police closing the bar on a weekend. "That way, if there's nothing, no one's time is wasted. Not the police. Not yours. Certainly not your boss’s."
"I… uh…"
"Or you can explain all of this to the police." I held up my phone. "I'm ready to call them and tell them you’re withholding evidence in a possible crime."
"Don't do that! I can copy it. Is it legal?"
"Yes," I said, although like Mike, I had no clue about the legality of any of this.
Kelvin put the CD into the second computer, and the monitor came to life. He typed in a password and set the CD to write a copy. A minute later, he handed us the duplicate.
"What do I do now?" he asked. "My break's over and I can't leave you guys back here."
"Two beers would be great," said Mike. "Let's head back to the bar and if you're quick, I’m a generous tipper."
The bartender's face lit up in a dopey grin as he realized his ordeal was over. "Cool."
Mike and I sat at the bar, talking. I was impressed with Mike's quick thinking and Mike was impressed with my noticing the cameras. Both of us, however, were sobered by what the footage might mean. Part of me wanted to rush to Ashleigh straightaway but I knew I had to review the footage first. If I sent her on a wild goose chase, she would not thank me. However, I couldn't help thinking any delay in calling her could mean I was withholding potentially vital information. Guilt won over and I called her, leaving a message explaining what we discovered and where we were.
As our drinks were served, Jenna texted to say her arrival was imminent. While we waited for her, we tried to make sense of the sabotage to Sammy's car. I didn't know much about cars but I knew what sabotage meant. So far, we arrived at the conclusion that someone had deliberately disabled Sammy's car in order to prevent her from leaving the parking lot. There could be no other reason. We also decided that Ashleigh had to be informed that the officer who visited the bar before us clearly missed vital pieces of evidence, and if he overlooked something as big as the car, and the cameras, where else were they getting sloppy?
"Why wouldn't someone want Sammy to leave?" asked Mike. "Trying to abduct someone from their workplace is risky. Plus, she could easily have gotten into a car with one of her co-workers."
I waved Kelvin over. "Who else was working on Sammy's shift last night?" I asked.
"A few of us. The guys bussing the tables. Marika, Sammy and I were the only ones bartending that night."
"What about cleaners?"
"They don't come in until the morning."
"No one else?"
"Just my girlfriend, Marika. She didn’t start until eight and we were altogether while we closed up. Sammy left, then Marika and I left together."
I pulled out my phone and found the screenshot of Ryan Ellison. "Has this guy ever come into the bar? Perhaps he took a special interest in Sammy? Always asked to be served by her or inquired about her?"
Kelvin peered closer. "I don't think so but we get a lot of people in here. I gotta get back to it," he added as a gaggle of women arrived at the bar.
"Who's in the photo?" asked Mike.
"A lead I'm looking into. Might be nothing," I told him, thinking more about what could have occurred when Sammy realized she couldn't drive home. "Perhaps her abductor thought he would easily pretend to help without arousing her suspicion? You know, they just happen to be strolling by at the exact moment Sammy needs help?" I suggested.
"Be the hero? That kind of thing?" asked Mike.
"Yeah." Then a light bulb pinged in my head. "Her car doesn't start in the early hours of the morning. Someone she knows happens by at the exact moment she needs help. What would you do?"
"Ask them to call Triple A?"
"Maybe they’d pretend to do that. Or maybe they’d do something else helpful. Like offer her a ride home."
"She wouldn't be suspicious about that?"
"Not if it were someone she knows. How many times have you offered a girl a lift?" I wondered.
"Plenty but I've never had to pull their spark plugs out. I just turn on the ol’ charm."
I raised my eyebrows. "Sure."
"It works on the less cynical," said Mike, with a shrug. "Do you think it's a guy?"
"Statistically, serial killers are usually men." I thought about Ryan Ellison. He was easily strong enough to abduct a woman.
"Depressing."
"But true. So, this is a man who knows his way around engines."
"He probably took auto shop at school. That doesn't narrow it down much."
"Okay, fine. Although, auto shop is kind of old-fashioned so that suggests an older man. It could be that she trusted an older guy, someone she would consider a safe dad-type? But I guess sabotaging a car engine is the kind of thing you could learn on YouTube too?"
"I think you can learn everything on YouTube, including things you never knew you wanted to know," said Mike. "I use it all the time for plumbing issues at the apartments."
"We can't narrow down the age then," I said, brushing away the mental image of Mike dressed as a plumber. My brain couldn't decide if that meant he should be dressed as a porn star or Super Mario, which was spectacularly distracting. "What kind of man would a young woman trust?"
"The dad-type you just mentioned. Cardigan, glasses, probably never seen an iron, never mind used one, and carrying a battered leather briefcase."
"At two AM?" I gave Mike a skeptical look.
"I'm evoking an image!"
"I don't think all dad-types wear cardigans."
"I plan to when I become a dad."
"Are you planning on becoming a dad anytime soon?"
Mike snorted. "No. I use protection. I'm no fool."
I shook my head. It was easy to get sidetracked onto another topic and I needed to keep focused. "We've got the dad-type… Someone she looked up to, trusted, a neighborly, fatherly type that didn't appear to pose a threat. If that's the case, I'm sure she must have known him a while to be that trusting."
"What about a guy she had a romantic interest in? Around her age, or maybe a bit older? Good looking, friendly, charming. They flirt a bit but he never pushes the boundaries. She could get into a car with him. Maybe she even hoped they would make out."
I nodded. That sounded more like Ryan Ellison than the dad-type. He was good-looking, successful, rich and had access to the kind of clout that could propel someone he was interested in to stardom. All that would make him an attractive prospect to a new actress. "That's a possibility. Also, he could be someone she didn't find threatening," I said.
"Aren't all women primed to think of men as threats in certain situations?" asked Mike.
"Sure, but not a gay guy. She would think he had no romantic interest in her, nor any sexual interest. He might not be gay, just posing to be in order to win her trust."
"Seems complicated."
"What seems complicated?" asked Jenna. She plunked her purse on the bar stool and wriggled out of her leather jacket, before leaning over to hug us both.
"We're brainstorming what kind of guy would make a woman feel safe at night when her car breaks down," I told her.
"A boyfriend. A friend. A relative. A friend's relative. Someone in uniform like a police officer or EMT. A co-worker. An employer. A neighbor. Another woman," rattled off Jenna.
"That's quite the list," said Mike, regarding her with suspicion. "You're very trusting. You should stop that."
"Most of those people would already be known to the woman who needs help. Whichever way we look at this, we keep coming back to the idea that Sammy got into a car with someone she knew. Hey!" I sat up straighter as another idea crossed my mind. "What about the other way round? What if he appeared to have a breakdown and asked for help before incapacitating his target some how and bundling her into his car?" That made sense to me. That would explain how young women got off buses and parked their cars and neve
r made it home.
"Why pull out her sparkplugs if he was pretending to be incapacitated?" asked Mike.
"I don't know. Maybe he changed his MO to fit the circumstances. What worked a couple years ago might not have worked on Sammy."
"She lost me," Jenna said, looking from me to Mike. "What is she talking about?" She waved to Kelvin, pointing at our bottles and held up three fingers. Kelvin nodded and hurried to get them, setting them down on the bar next to us.
"It's not enough to know that young women are seeming to disappear. We need to work out what's happening and now I think I know how." My smile dropped. "I just don't know who."
"Hey, there's Ashleigh!" Jenna stood and waved as Ashleigh walked directly towards us. Dressed in a dark gray pantsuit, her badge visible, she was clearly on duty.
"This is your idea of an investigation," she said, circling her finger over the drinks on our table.
"How else are we going to become gnarly alcoholic detectives?" asked Mike.
"We did the investigating first," I explained, "and as soon as we had anything, we called you. It might be nothing, or it might be something."
"Apparently, I missed everything," added Jenna. "Can someone please explain what's going on?"
While Ashleigh waited, I updated Jenna on what Mike and I found. She listened with rapt attention, nodding as we explained our discoveries.
"You know what really gets me?" said Jenna when I finished. Without waiting, she continued, "These girls come here to live out their dreams and no one is taking care of them. They're immediately taken advantage of by so many people, from their agents to their landlords, even their friends, and if they complain, where does it get them? Nowhere."
"At least you're not that kind of agent," I told her. "There're plenty of other good ones too."
"Yeah, but does it matter when the whole industry has a rotten side? A few people can't change it. It needs a fundamental overhaul."
"Not overnight," agreed Ashleigh, "but there are plenty of people trying. Shayne, Mike, you did some good work here. I can tell you now I'll be calling that officer's captain and telling him exactly what I think of his work. If there's any evidence to be had here, it's already old but at least it's not completely lost. I'm going to take a look at the car, then get it towed to our lab. Then I'll take that guy's statement."
Dead Ringers Page 14