Laugh or Death (Lexi Graves Mysteries Book 6) Page 11

  "That I can do. He's had me breach a hotel firewall and check into the background of a man."

  Apparently, Leo Chandler's every move was being monitored at the hotel and Solomon was picking through his history with a fine-toothed comb. I had to assume that so far, everything added up because he didn't say otherwise. That lifted my spirits. I might not have been winning the bet yet, but neither was Solomon.

  I thanked Lucas for his help and left the quiet risk management floor, returning to the PI office, which now seemed so much smaller and worse equipped. It didn't take me long to log into my laptop and run the license plate through the DMV program I wasn't supposed to have access to, returning with a not-so-surprising name.

  "Joelle Brennan. Well, what do you know?" I said to the screen. "Why did you pick up Nancy and where did you take her?"

  "Um, gee, I don't know," said a high-pitched voice behind me.

  I looked over my shoulder and stuck out my tongue, which wasn't especially clever, but still felt appropriate. "Very funny, Fletch."

  "I thought so. What's eating you? Why are you talking to yourself?" asked Fletcher. I used to think of him as a tough nut. He was a few years older than I and ex-CIA. Since his CIA days, he walked with a limp, but smiled a lot more now than when I first met him. He mellowed towards me too. I might have even called us almost friends.

  "This woman, Joelle," I said, nodding at Joelle's unsmiling face on the screen, "claims to know nothing about my missing woman case, but I just got traffic cam footage of her car picking up my mystery woman."

  "So she's lying. People do."

  "I wish they didn't. It would cut my legwork in half if I didn't have to chase red herrings back and forth."

  "Take your evidence and get over there. Tell her what you know and make her squeal."

  "You have such a colorful way with words."

  "Squeal like a piggy," Fletcher continued.

  "Nice. But you know what? I am going to get some answers," I decided, gathering my purse and the evidence Lucas collected for me. "I'm getting the runaround and I want to know what's going on."

  "Have a great day!" Fletcher ended faux-cheerfully, stepping around me to walk to his own desk.

  "I will," I said, feeling more than determined to counteract his sarcasm with my cheerful, ambitious attitude as I headed out. From the depths of my purse my cell phone rang like a theme tune. I scrabbled for it, saw it was my mother, and returned the phone to my purse to deal with later.

  I dropped my purse on the passenger seat and checked the printout of Joelle's license one more time. Her residence was listed as an apartment in West Montgomery, a few blocks from the building I once shared with Lily. It wasn't the cheapest part of town, and I wondered how Joelle could afford the rent on what, I could only assume, was a minimum wage salary. I aimed for the apartment, figuring I was likely to find Joelle there since her place of employment was now in cinders.

  Thanks to light traffic, I was parked outside shortly afterwards, trying to work out which windows were Joelle's. Unfortunately, there was no way to tell, and even as I watched, I couldn't see any signs of life in any apartment. Curtains remained unmoved, and no shadows passed the windows.

  Before I could steel myself to climb out of the car and demand some answers, my phone rang, and my dad's photo flashed onto the screen.

  "Hi, Dad," I answered brightly since it was a rare occasion for my father to call. Usually, my mother made all the social calls, but since I apparently already committed myself to our next family dinner, and baking a cake, and avoided her call, I hadn't heard anything from her.

  "Help," he said, "I think I've been kidnapped?"

  "What?"

  "I'm in Banana Republic. Your mother is ‘smartening’ me. What does that mean? Why am I wearing such luxurious pants? Can you rescue me? She's coming!" The phone cut off and I looked at it blankly for a moment. With a deep sigh, I wondered what the hell I was getting myself into. but I called my mother.

  "Hi, Mom. How's it going?"

  "I'm having a fabulous day. You're alive. Your father is getting a new wardrobe. He looks so dashing!"

  "Really?"

  "I'll send you a photo. Did you know cell phones take photos?"

  "Yes, they have for years."

  "What else do they do that I don't know about?"

  "Um, all kinds of stuff. Calendar, instant messaging, video. Mom, where are you?"

  "At the mall. I'm sending you a photo now. Tell me what you think!" The phone cut out, but a moment later, a photo of my terrified-looking father flashed onto the screen. He wore a smart pair of black pants, a blue shirt and a navy sweater vest. Aside from his expression, he looked pretty nice.

  My cell phone rang again. "I didn't mean to hang up on you. I have a smartphone, you know. It's very clever, but not clever enough to stay on and send a photo at the same time. Doesn't your father look nice?"

  "He does," I admitted. "But do you think he's enjoying himself?"

  "Heavens, no, but he's worn the same clothes for ten years and he needs to buy new ones. Plus, we're going on a cruise."

  "Does Dad know?"

  "I might have mentioned it. I sent him an invite from my phone to his. Isn't that clever? I don't even have to let him know what we're doing, I just send a meeting request."

  "That's romantic."

  "I wouldn't go so far as to say that, darling. Are you still joining us for dinner?"

  "Wouldn't miss it. How long are you and Dad shopping?"

  "Until he chooses a few nice outfits. Yes, yes, the coral, not the salmon pants."

  "What?"

  "Not you, Alexandra. I'm talking to the sales assistant. I have to go. I'm very busy. You'll have to tell me about your life at dinner. Don't get shot." My mother hung up and a moment later, seven more photos of my father, captured in various states of fear, pinged onto my phone. I browsed them all, frowning at the checked pants and taking a sharp intake of breath at the toxic-yellow cardigan. My mother's taste in men's fashion could be fairly counted as hit-or-miss.

  I sighed again and called my father back. "Don't worry," I told him. "You'll be out of there soon."

  "When? What are the terms of my surrender?"

  "Pick four outfits and tell Mom she's got great taste. Get the navy sweater vest set and the black pants, the white shirt and the red sweater, the green checked shirt and the jeans and the navy suit."

  I heard rustling of hangers and some frightened breathing. "Okay, I got all of them. Are you sure? Will this sate the beast?"

  "Yes, but then you have to take her to lunch. Whatever you do, do not buy anything in coral or yellow."

  "No coral, no yellow. Lunch. Got it. Why am I buying this stuff?"

  "For your cruise."

  "I'm going on a cruise?"

  "Dad, check your calendar." I rolled my eyes at the small flap mirror as I checked my mascara (perfect) and lip gloss status (needing more).

  "On the fridge?"

  "On your phone."

  "Got it." Dad paused. "How did it get on there?"

  "Steve," I heard my mother yell before there was more rustling.

  "I have to go," said Dad. "She might take photos again. I don't know why. Who does that?"

  "Everyone, Dad. I've already seen them. Remember, no, coral, no yellow," we chorused. My father hung up and all I could do was shake my head and apply another slick of pink gloss.

  All the door buzzers were unmarked, and the door was locked. The lobby appeared unmanned as I expected. I hit the sixth door buzzer and waited for Joelle to answer. "Hello?" came her voice through the speaker above the buzzers.

  "Joelle? It's Lexi Graves. I need to speak with you."

  "No, you don't," said Joelle.

  "Yes, I do. It's about Nancy."

  "I don't know anything about Nancy."

  "Yes, I think you..."

  "Go away," Joelle cut in. "I don't want to talk to you." The speaker went dead.

  I tried pressing it a few more times, but ev
en if it irritated Joelle, she didn't answer. I gave up buzzing, but waited in the entryway. The thing with PI work was that no matter how it always looked glamorous and fun on TV shows, in reality, it was a lot of waiting around and watching and waiting some more. I could only wish I had an upcoming segue to spring me right into the middle of the action again.

  As I waited, I looked around, thinking. Despite her current lack of employment, unless Pretty Paws was temporarily mobile, I had to assume that Joelle no longer had anywhere pressing to go. However, she would still have to leave her apartment some time, I decided. She probably had to go out to buy food, or run an errand. Fortunately, I spotted her car, parked in front of the building, so it was most likely Joelle would exit via the front. Then I could hopefully catch her and try and squeeze a few answers out of her.

  I decided I'd drive my car around the block, hoping Joelle might see my defeated exit without realizing that I was simply circling around and parking out of sight of her building. I had an additional stroke of luck when another resident descended the stairs and pushed the door open.

  "Oh, thank you," I breathed, grabbing it and opening it all the way. "Can't find my keys."

  "Didn't want to call the super, huh?" the guy nodded, knowingly. "Unbelievably crabby guy."

  "Unbelievably," I echoed, smiling broadly as I entered before giving him a cheery wave. I took the stairs to the top floor and found apartment six at the end of the hallway. I knocked and waited. After a moment, the door opened. As soon as Joelle saw me, she prepared to slam it shut. Unfortunately for me, she slammed it on my foot, which was encased in a really nice pump.

  "Joelle, I just need to talk to you," I told her, wincing at the sudden pain that shot up my right leg.

  "I already said I don't want to talk to you. I don't know how you got in, but if you don't leave, I'll call the police."

  "Sure, whatever," I said, gritting my teeth. "Call Detective Graves, any one of them, and they'll vouch for me." The pressure on my foot lessened slightly.

  "Detective Graves?"

  "Sure. There're three of them and they're all my brothers."

  Joelle looked me up and down. "How come you're not a detective?"

  "Have you seen the footwear? C'mon! Listen, I know you know where Nancy is."

  "I don't!"

  "Drop it. I know you picked her up at seven am yesterday morning." I tugged the traffic cam printout from my purse and thrust it at her. "That's your car and that's Nancy. I need to know where she is."

  "Fine. Take your foot out of the door and I'll talk to you."

  "Okay, okay then." The pressure let up and I slid my foot backwards. The door slammed in my face and I sighed. It was a day for sighing. Raising my fist, I hammered on the door. "I just need to speak to Nancy to find out if she's okay. She's a missing person. I'm leaving my card, okay? And I might send you a hospital bill for a broken toe so don't be surprised if you get one!" I grabbed a business card from my wallet and slipped it under the door. A moment later, it shot back. I pushed it back under, and it shot back again. "Joelle," I said, louder than necessary, "keep the card. Give it to Nancy. If it comes back again, I'm going to plaster my business cards all over your building and tell all your neighbors you're a wanted fugitive." This time, the card didn't come back.

  I hobbled downstairs, wishing it were a flats day as I exited the building. I fully assumed Joelle was watching every painful step I took as I limped to my car. Safely inside, the pain dissipating, I called Solomon. "I need to requisition someone to watch Joelle Brennan," I told him. "She knows where Nancy is and she's not giving up the goods."

  "I'll send Fletcher."

  Hah! I thought. That was a good payback for Fletcher being so sarcastic earlier.

  ~

  Fletcher’s arrival was my cue to leave. Given the unmitigated throbbing in my foot, it wasn't a moment too soon. Instead of heading back to the office, I decided to run a few errands I'd been putting off before hitting Lily up at the bar. Picking up my dry cleaning and browsing the sale rail in a few clothing stores did a lot for my mood, but not much for my foot. The validity of my threat to send Joelle a hospital bill was growing rapidly.

  I paused outside the coffee shop I sat in with Maddox only the day before and rummaged in my purse for my cell phone. Feeling it vibrate, I looked up as a shadow fell over me.

  "You look like you could do with one of these," said Leo, handing me a tall, cardboard cup. "I was just inside the coffee shop, when I saw you, and I thought, there's a woman who looks like she needs her coffee. It's your favorite."

  "I... I..." I stuttered in surprise.

  "Please, I insist. Maybe you can catch me up on the case? Have you found out anything new about Nancy?"

  "No, I'm sorry, I haven't," I said, taking the coffee, and giving him a semi-truth in return.

  "No, I'm the one who's sorry. I keep pestering you about the case, and you've just gone through that scary ordeal and... are you limping?"

  "Stubbed toe," I lied.

  "Occupational hazard?"

  "More like a hazard of being human."

  "I was worried it was because of the robbery, but I guess a stubbed toe will heal soon. I won't trouble you anymore. I don't want to pester you."

  Guilt gnawed at me. Leo was just trying to be nice, and all I could be was snippy. I felt bad and it probably showed. "You're not pestering me. I'm following up new leads, but it's not easy, and I don't have anything to tell you right now."

  "Message received." He stepped away, crestfallen, his head hanging. "I can see I'm getting in your way."

  "I'm sorry, Leo, don't be disheartened. I'll call you soon, okay?"

  "Okay. Look forward to it." Leo stepped around me and walked away down the street. Just as he reached the crosswalk, my phone began to vibrate again. This time, I found it, and answered.

  "What did he want?" asked Solomon.

  I looked around. "Huh? What? Where are you?"

  "Behind you, across the street. Don't wave!"

  I put my hand down. "Oops, sorry. What did Leo want?"

  "He wanted to know about any new information. I told him I was following up new leads, but didn't have anything to tell him."

  "Good. Don't tell him anything, ever, unless I'm there."

  "Oookay. Why are you here anyway?"

  "Following Leo."

  "You know who walked away down the street, don't you?"

  Solomon laughed. "I noticed. Delgado is following him. Did he buy you a coffee?"

  I looked at my cup. "That's what he said. He said he saw me from the coffee shop."

  "He saw you before that. I saw him notice you when you went into the dry cleaners. He waited a moment, then walked past and went into the coffee shop."

  "So what? Maybe it reminded him to get his laundry done while he's in town."

  "Maybe," said Solomon, but he didn't sound convinced. "Why are you limping?"

  "Joelle slammed my foot in the door and it hurts like crazy."

  "Do you want to go to the hospital?"

  "No, I'm sure it's just bruised."

  "Take the rest of the day off. Put your foot up and ice it. You can fill me in on Joelle later. Did you..."

  "Get your suit from the cleaners? Yes, I did. I'll bring it over."

  "No, stay there, I'll come get it from you. I don't like seeing you limp." The door to Solomon's SUV opened and he jogged across the street, stopping in front of me. He relieved me of his suit, wrapped his arms around me, and gave me the kiss to end all kisses before pulling away as my brain froze momentarily. While I gazed up at him with unabashed delight, he took the coffee and dropped it in the trash, replacing it with his coffee loyalty card.

  "Hey, that was my favorite!" I protested.

  "Never take candy from strangers, even if that candy is coffee," Solomon warned. "And rest. That's an order."

  ~

  Since rest was a high point of my life, right after shoe shopping, dress shopping, and catching criminals, I hightailed it over
to Lily's bar. I was glad that Solomon didn't add "go home" to his command. That was why my foot was now submerged in a champagne bucket, the crushed ice inside simultaneously soothing my foot and relieving it of all sensation.

  "I thought my day was bad," said Lily as she stared at my injured foot. We were sitting in her office at the back of the bar, away from prying eyes, and Lily appeared to be in a mood as we drank our virgin Long Islands. I guessed that when she didn't offer me a cocktail as soon as I entered.

  "What happened?"

  "Kyle Emerson quit."

  "He quit?"

  Lily nodded. "Yup. He was supposed to come back to work today. I sent the asshole a candy basket even though that was more money on top of what he let get stolen."

  "That was nice of you."

  "I know. I'm too nice. I hate my employees. No, I hate my ex-employee. The jerk."

  "Maybe he was too embarrassed to show his face."

  "He wasn't too embarrassed to send a text saying he might sue for his injuries."

  "Sue who? The thieves?"

  "Me!"

  "Get! Out!" I replied with as much indignation as I could muster.

  Lily plucked her cell phone off her desk and leaned forwards, turning the screen towards me. There was a simple text message: "I quit. You're too dangerous to work for. I got injured in the line of duty and I'm gonna sue. Kyle."

  "In the line of duty?" I repeated. "Is he for real?"

  "Who knows? I contacted my lawyer and he said it's all hot air. Kyle has no grounds to sue us. If anything, I could sue him for not following my rules in light of the bar robberies. You know, I had a bad feeling about him. He's always been kind of a jerk, and Ruby swore she saw him take a bottle of vodka from the stockroom two weeks ago."

  "Why did you have a bad feeling about him?"

  "Just his attitude. He was nice to the customers, but he always had this kind of entitled way of talking back to me. Like he could run this bar better than I could, and it pissed him off that I owned it and he didn't. I overheard him call me a ‘spoiled, rich brat’ once."

  "You are not spoiled!"

  "I'm not a brat or rich either. I know my parents help me out from time to time, but I'm paying them back and I have to make this bar work. It sticks in my craw to hear someone trying to reduce me to some preppy, entitled airhead spawned by rich, overbearing parents just because I have fabulous hair and my own business." Lily pulled one blonde curl and it bounced back into the perfect position.