Grounds to Kill Page 18

  “Basically you just described every guy living in an alley around this place.” She threw back her head and laughed to show near perfect teeth. And a huge Adam’s apple.

  “How do you know my name and what makes you think I’d know this Jack Hamby?”

  “Well, maybe it’s not Jack you even know.” I swallowed the last mouthful of my beer. “Do you know Misty Nichols?”

  “I think I know a Misty,” she said thoughtfully. “Short, plump black girl with a Jesus tattoo?”

  “No, tall white blonde girl who was killed.”

  “Killed? Are you cops?” She looked at each of us in turn. “Because you sure don’t look like cops.”

  “No, I’m just looking for someone who knew Misty, or knows Jack, because Misty was killed and now Jack’s a suspect. Jack’s my dad. Misty’s my half sister.”

  “Sorry for your loss, but...” she shrugged. “I don’t know how to help you.”

  “I was told you might know the truth about the whole thing.”

  She looked totally taken aback. “Who told you that?”

  “Nobody you know...” I said mysteriously. No way was I sharing details of HOD.

  “I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know these people you’re talking about and I sure as hell don’t know about anybody killing nobody.”

  “What about a storage locker? You know anything about a storage locker that might have something to do with Jack Hamby?”

  She shook her head.

  Where to go from here? I scrawled out my name and number on a napkin and handed it to her.

  “If you hear anything about it, I’d appreciate a call and I’d be willing to pay you for your time.”

  She nodded, got to her feet and waved for a friend who’d been waiting at the door.

  “That’s the tallest woman I’ve ever seen,” Mallory whispered.

  “It’s a guy, idjit,” I whispered back.

  “Wow!” Mallory shouted, causing heads to turn in our direction.

  The waitress returned and asked if we wanted another round. We declined and reconvened back at my apartment where we took Mojo for a walk and thought about our lack of progress.

  “I say we try to talk to Kiki again tomorrow night,” Beth suggested. “Maybe by then she’ll have heard something.”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I pointed out. “She had no idea who the hell I was talking about.”

  “But HOD left that note saying that a hooker named Kiki knows the truth,” Mallory protested.

  “Screw HOD,” I said angrily. “If it’s going to leave a note, how about a note saying exactly who killed Misty and then exactly where the evidence is to prove it?”

  “Well, maybe HOD doesn’t know,” Mallory said. “Or maybe it’s trying to keep you safe.”

  Mojo did her business and I did my job cleaning up after her. Then we headed back to my place.

  “We tried HOD’s way,” Beth said. “Now I think we should try mine.”

  “What’s yours?” I asked.

  “This time instead of hanging out at skuzzy bars, we target a specific bakery.” She poured herself a glass of water at my sink.

  “I understand what you’re saying about Charlie,” I said, keeping my voice down, because Mrs. Rudnicki might be old, but she had the hearing of a bat. “But as much as the guy creeps me out, I can’t see him as a murderer.”

  “That’s what neighbors said about Gary Ridgway,” Beth pointed out.

  Mallory gasped. “You don’t think he’s like the Green River Killer?”

  “So what do you suggest?” I asked Beth.

  “We could do another field trip and follow Charlie and then...” she began.

  “I don’t think Seattle is quite ready for another Tremendous Trio field trip.” But my wheels were spinning and an idea was shaping up in my head. “Do you remember how we caught scum-sucking-toilet-worm when he was cheating on you?”

  Beth was sipping her water and smiled over the glass. “I sure do.”

  “The three of us went to that motel. I lit a piece of paper on fire outside his door and then all three of us screamed fire until the worm and the wormette burst out of the room naked,” Mallory pointed out.

  “Right.” I nodded. “And how did we know the worm was at that particular motel at that exact moment?”

  “We were tracking him on Beth’s home computer using the GPS she hid inside his car,” Mallory said.

  “Bingo.” Beth made her hand into a gun and shot me.

  I smiled.

  “You still have the GPS?” I asked feeling both excited and sick in the pit of my stomach.

  “What are you suggesting?” Mallory asked cautiously.

  “This guy comes to Merlot’s every morning to make a delivery, right?”

  “So?”

  “I’ll get Mitch to accept the delivery inside Merlot’s, and ask him to delay Charlie with a bit of conversation and then I’ll head out into the alley and hide the GPS in his van,” I said as if it was no big deal.

  “That sounds very James Bond,” Mallory said. “Except we don’t have all the fancy gadgets Bond has, and you’re likely to get caught.”

  “It’s a great plan,” Beth said. “It caught the worm, right?”

  That was true. Even though I could think of a million reasons why the plan could blow up in my face, at least it was something. And something was a helluva lot better than nothing.

  I put a call in to Detective Kellum and asked him if he’d looked into Charlie.

  “He comes around Merlot’s and had access to the building so—”

  “I’m not saying we’ve totally ruled him out, but his grandmother alibied him for the time frame when we figured Misty was killed.”

  “You’ve got to have suspects other than my dad,” I said.

  “I’m not discussing my case with you,” Kellum stated evenly. “But new leads are coming in daily.”

  I hung up and told my friends his reply.

  “Sounds like he’s blowing you off,” Beth remarked.

  “Well, we’ll just keep doing investigating on our own then,” I said, now even more determined.

  Beth and Mallory left with Beth dropping Mallory at home, then rushing to her own place to get the GPS. It was decided she’d stay with me for the night. Beth assured me she was staying in order to discuss the tracking device plan in greater detail, but I knew she didn’t want me alone. I was grateful. The longer this went on, the more skittish I became. Also, this way I had a ride into work in the morning.

  I didn’t sleep very well that night. I tossed and turned and worried about our plan. Plans weren’t exactly the Tremendous Trio’s forte. First, I wasn’t entirely sure Charlie had anything to do with Misty’s murder. Second, I wasn’t positive I had what it takes to get into the spy business.

  When I woke up at the crack of dawn, it was because Mojo was barking her fool head off. When a Yorkie barks persistently, it’s equivalent to a high pitched jackhammer.

  I raced into the living room to see what the hell had her so riled.

  “Shut up!” Beth called out from her place on the sofa. She pulled a pillow over her head.

  Mojo had her nose pressed to the underside of my door sniffing and snorting much like a truffle pig.

  “What’s wrong, Lassie. Did Timmy fall in the well again?” Beth groaned.

  “She’s as nervous as I am these days,” I said, scooping up the dog and comforting her.

  “That dog’s the worst alarm clock ever,” Beth grumbled.

  “Go back to sleep,” I told her.

  I glanced through my peep hole and saw nobody outside. I held Mojo’s muzzle to my face.

  “No more barking.”

  She made a grumbli
ng whine and looked longingly at the floor. I put her down then opened the balcony door. After filling her water and food dishes, I headed to the shower then woke Beth to do the same so we could head in to work.

  We went over the plan one more time and suggested locations I could hide the palm-sized GPS tracking device. By then I was running late for work and had no time to take Mojo for her walk.

  Mojo did not look happy to be missing her morning walk, so I dug out an eleven inch veal chew from the back of the cupboard behind the coffee cups. She ran over and sat then looked up at me, hopefully. When I wasn’t quick enough to hand the treat over, she went through her whole arsenal of lay-down, roll-over, sit-up and beg. I applauded, handed her the chew and she scurried off to her princess bed happy as can be. I was now officially forgiven for the lack of a morning walk and was dismissed for the remainder of the day.

  “Let’s go,” Beth urged, slipping a cardigan over her blouse. “I’ve got to get to work too.”

  Hurriedly, I slipped on my worn peep-toe flats and slung my purse over my shoulder. In my attempt to zip out of my apartment, I stepped right onto a massive bouquet of flowers at my door.

  “What the hell?”

  I bent and scooped up the cellophane wrapped package and breathed in the sweet scent of carnations, daisies and irises in delicate pinks and mauves. To anyone else flowers may have meant love, friendship or happy birthday. To me they meant death.

  Nothing reminded me more of my mom’s cancer and eventual demise than the sweet aroma of fresh flowers. It made me want to puke. I sure as hell wasn’t having them in the apartment.

  “Here you go.” I handed the bouquet to Beth.

  “I’d really prefer a coffee, but thanks,” she said dryly. “Who’d do such a terrible thing? Doesn’t everyone on the planet know how much you detest flowers by now?”

  I reached into the fragrant spray and retrieved a small white envelope.

  “I bet it’s from Mitch.” She smiled.

  “If it is, then he’s still pissed at me. He knows how I feel about flowers ever since Mervin Lo sent me a bouquet for being employee of the month a while back.”

  “Open it.”

  As we walked to the elevator, I slid my finger under the envelope flap and pulled out the small card inside.

  “So sorry for everything. Love, Arthur xoxo,” I read aloud.

  “Arthur?” we both chimed.

  “How about that. Guess he didn’t get the message about you hating flowers, but they’ll look great on my desk at work.” She took a sniff of the blooms. “He never once brought you flowers in six whole months?”

  I thought about that and could honestly say that in six months of dating it had never come up. That kind of made me angry all over again, because usually the whole flower thing was at least a second or third date discussion.

  She pressed the key fob to unlock her car and as I climbed in the passenger seat, she put the flowers in the trunk so the smell wouldn’t overpower me.

  “Well, in Arthur’s defense, he bought me lots of other things—chocolate, romantic cards and little pins.”

  “So why now?” she asked. “Does he honestly think that he could sleep with Misty and then get back in your good graces with a bunch of dumb flowers?”

  “I don’t want to think about that now.” I shook my head. “I’m too nervous about what I have to do with the GPS thingamajig.”

  She handed me the black device that fit into the palm of my hand.

  “Just put it somewhere he’s not going to readily find it. For example, you could just toss it in the glove box or under a seat or something. The charge will hold for a few days.”

  “Sounds simple enough. Provided he doesn’t catch me, and you know, murder me on the spot.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe he was the killer?”

  “Thinking about it kept me up most of the night,” I admitted. “I’m warming up to the idea considering my only alternative at the moment is me or my dad.”

  “Okay, once you’ve managed to get the GPS tucked away inside his vehicle text or give me a call and I’ll log in from my computer at work and I’ll keep tabs on him. Once you’re home from work you can get the log-in information from me and see where he goes for yourself.”

  “Sounds like a good plan.”

  We stopped at a Starbucks on our way. I refused to support the mega corporation and instead usually chose to make my own coffee or steal a few espresso shots in the morning off my boss like a normal person. Beth, on the other hand, couldn’t skip her morning fix, so I sat in the car and waited.

  My cell phone rang and I glanced at the display. Detective Kellum. My heart did a little pitter patter and I went back and forth on whether to take the call or let it go to voice mail. I couldn’t stand the suspense—I answered.

  “Hello?” I said breathlessly.

  “Hi, Ms. Hamby, this is Detective Kellum.”

  “Yes.”

  “I understand you reported your Neon stolen.”

  “Yes. Has it turned up? I really hate being without my car. It’s driving me crazy and—”

  “Your car showed up in the parking lot of Hooverville Bar. You know the place?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  Just then Beth hopped back into the car sipping her latte and I said to her, “It’s Detective Kellum. He’s found my car at Hooverville’s.”

  “Wow,” Beth gushed. “I’m impressed. I never thought they’d find it.”

  “So Ms. Hamby,” Kellum continued. “You say you’re familiar with Hooverville’s?”

  “Yeah. It’s just up the road from Safeco field. I’ve gone there for beer before a game on occasion. Guess whoever took my car didn’t realize the Mariners are on a losing streak.”

  Beth and I chuckled a little about that.

  “So you didn’t drive it to that lot a day or two ago and just leave it there?”

  “No. Why would I do that?” I asked.

  “Maybe because you had something in the car you didn’t want someone to find.”

  “Like what?” I asked. “I mean, besides some of the fast food wrappers under the seat, I swear you aren’t going to find any illegal substances of any kind unless they were put there by someone else. I don’t even smoke an occasional joint anymore, Detective. I’m clean.”

  Beth snorted at that and I slugged her in the arm.

  “There weren’t any drugs found inside your car.”

  “Oh good.” I was very relieved. To Beth I said, “No drugs were in my car.”

  She gave me a thumbs up and steered back into traffic. We were a block from Merlot’s now.

  “We did, however, find something in the trunk that shouldn’t have been there.”

  I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “What was there?”

  “The body of a woman named Alison Walker was in the trunk of your car, Ms. Hamby. Her throat had been cut.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was a good thing Beth was driving, because I would’ve run a car up the curb and taken out a few pedestrians after hearing the news. As it was I had to lean forward with my head between my knees trying not to pass out. It took ten minutes before I was able to tell Beth about Alison Walker.

  “She died because she talked to me,” I sobbed.

  “No, she died because there’s a homicidal maniac out there who killed her,” Beth said firmly. “And that same person is out to hang you by placing your laptop in her shopping cart and her body in your car.”

  “I wish this was over.” I hiccupped and sniffed.

  “Why don’t you call Mitch and tell him you need to take the day off. I’m sure he’d understand.”

  “What about getting the GPS into Charlie’s van?”

 
“That can wait.”

  “Not if he’s the murderer,” I said firmly.

  She pulled up to the alley entrance of Merlot’s and gave me a minute to compose myself.

  “Call or text me after it’s done, and if you can’t go through with it for any reason, then that’s fine,” she assured. “Don’t risk your life over this, okay?”

  I nodded and slipped out of her car and into Merlot’s back entrance.

  Mitch was already there and he glanced up.

  “What’s wrong?” Mitch asked. “Your eyes are red and puffy. Either you’ve been crying or you smoked a joint on your way in to work.”

  I took my apron off the hook and slipped it over my head.

  “My car turned up.”

  “Oh good!”

  “There was a body in the trunk.”

  “Not good.”

  I sniffed back a few extra tears and then blurted out the details. By the time I was done describing the fact that my laptop and a bloody knife had turned up in her cart and then Alice Walker had turned up in my car, Mitch looked shocked and appalled. He held up a hand.

  “Enough.” He shook his head. “You need to have a personal day. Go home, or better yet, go and spend the day with a girlfriend so I don’t have to worry about you alone at home.”

  “No. I can work. I have to work.”

  “Then let’s get ready to open before my head explodes.”

  I debated about sharing the tidbit about visiting Kiki the transvestite hooker at McNally’s and the small fact that I planned on slipping a tracking device into the van of our bakery delivery guy. Sometimes a girl just has to know when to leave well enough alone.

  We prepared Merlot’s in silence except for the whir of beans grinding and the sound of water running.

  “By the way, the Times had an article in the paper last night about the benefits of chai,” Mitch said.

  So I was out in hookerville chasing murderers and transvestites with the Tremendous Trio and Mitch spent last night at home quietly reading the newspaper. It sounded so normal. I sighed.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll check the supply.”

  Whenever an article appeared touting the benefits of chai, green tea or any other substance, we’d have a run on it for a day or two.