She rolled her eyes and shook her head as she turned and locked the door.

  I SAT SHOTGUN IN THE passenger seat as we headed south on 295 toward the address Alex’s friend from the DMV had given us. It was Frank’s last known address on file, and it seemed to be the only one we could find.

  Just off the highway and after a couple of quick turns, we pulled into what we hoped was Frank’s apartment complex. It was an older, brick building with concrete and steel steps leading up three stories. The wood trim on the windows was a faded gray with peeling paint. There wasn’t much color to the place other than potted flowers out on a handful of the concrete patios on the ground floor.

  Alex walked ahead of me on our way up the stairs to the third floor. I tried to hide my limp as I followed behind her, but my thigh burned with each step I took.

  We stood side-by-side at the door to apartment three-one-oh-two. I checked the folded paper I had in my pocket. “This is the place.”

  Alex adjusted the holster she wore under her shirt as I knocked on the door. I had the Glock—the one Alex gave me—tucked in the waist of my pants. Both of us were prepared for Frank, who’d already waved his gun around when he first jumped in my car.

  I put my ear against the door to listen, but couldn’t hear anything inside. I knocked.

  Nobody came to the door.

  I knocked again. I walked across the decking outside the apartment, leaned on the railing and looked down over the parking lot. I turned to Alex. “Did she tell you what kind of car he drove?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing registered under his name,” she said. “His license expired.”

  A woman with two kids in tow and what looked like another one in the oven—at least from where I stood on the third floor—walked across the parking lot from the apartments. She opened the back door of a small blue Toyota Corolla and helped each kid into the back seat. She reached inside the driver’s side and the trunk popped open.

  Voices came from the stairway, getting louder along with footsteps coming up the stairs.

  A male voice said, “Then what about Goodfellas?”

  Another man’s voice answered, “Nope, doesn’t even compare. You’re just a racist. Just because the man’s black, you think—”

  Frank and a younger man, thin and tall with a white tank top and red shorts that went far past his knees, stood in front of me at the top of the stairs. Neither said a word.

  Frank was in the middle of eating a burger. His chewing slowed as he stared back at me.

  The other one—a kid who looked a lot younger than Frank— was eating fries from a bag that had Burger Brothers printed on the side.

  “Good to see you, Frank,” I said.

  Without saying another word he threw his half-eaten burger at me. Ketchup and mustard exploded on my shirt.

  Frank took off down the stairs.

  The kid’s eyes widened, a fry hanging from his mouth. Before I had a chance to move he turned and ran down the stairs right behind Frank. He dropped his bag...fries went everywhere.

  Alex and I ran down the stairs after them, although Frank and the kid had a pretty good lead.

  “Frank!” I yelled. “I just want to talk.” I looked out toward the parking lot and saw Frank was running fast, moving well between the cars for someone who didn’t appear to be in the best physical shape.

  I moved like the gimp but ran as fast as I could. The pain in my leg shot through my body. I looked down as blood seeped through the bandage on my leg.

  Alex passed me on the stairs and reached for the kid’s shirt as he lost his footing and hit the sidewalk after the last step. He tumbled forward and skidded along the ground into a small strip of grass on the edge of the parking lot.

  Alex pulled her gun and held it over him. “Stay down,” she snapped.

  I stopped on the third step, just above Alex and the kid, and looked across the parking lot as Frank grabbed the pregnant woman with the two kids, pulled her from the car and threw her to the ground.

  I ran toward them. The women’s two kids jumped from the back seat, screaming for their mother, helping her from the ground.

  Frank jumped in the front seat, started the car, and took off for the exit. The engine made a whining sound as he gave it more than it could handle, driving full speed across the lot. The tires squealed when Frank took a sharp turn. He jumped the curb and the car bounced from the lot and disappeared onto Firestone Road.

  I helped the woman to her feet as she cried and spoke to her children in Spanish. I raised my voice not only because I assumed she didn’t speak English but because I thought, for some reason, speaking louder helped the language barrier. “Are you okay?” I said. Her two children cried.

  “Yes, I am okay,” she said in perfect English. She shook her head. “My car...”

  Chapter 16

  WE STOOD WITH THE KID by Alex’s Jeep, blood dripping from his knees after his fall at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Looks like Frank left you high and dry,” I said.

  He turned over his elbow and looked at the blood dripping down toward his wrist. “You cops?”

  Alex and I gave each other a look. I thought maybe we should tell him we were.

  “No, we’re not cops,” Alex said.

  I gave him a nod with my chin. “You got a name?”

  “I got a name? What kinda question is that?”

  With a stare I thought might intimidate him—but didn’t—I said, “Can you just tell me your name?”

  “If you ain’t cops, I don’t gotta tell you shit.”

  Alex waved her 9mm toward him. “This enough for you to talk?”

  “What, you gonna shoot me, I don’t talk?” He looked down toward the ground. “Name’s Jayray.”

  “Jayray?” I said. “Your middle name’s Ray?”

  He shook his head. “Unh uh. Jayray. Just like it sounds.”

  I paused a moment. “Is that your apartment up there?”

  He shook his head. “No. It’s Frank’s.”

  I narrowed my eyes, looking down at the kid. “So why’d you run when you saw us?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Frank ran. Figured he knew something...thought you were cops I guess.”

  “Good guy like that, huh? Takes off on you.” Jayray leaned back against the back of Alex’s Jeep, his arms crossed, his eyes moving around the parking lot. “So what do you need me for? I gotta be somewhere.”

  “I’m looking for someone and I thought Frank might be able to help. Happens to be Frank’s brother’s fiancé. You know Frank’s brother?”

  Jayray shook his head.

  I wasn’t buying it. “No?” I said. “You don’t know Philip?”

  Jayray kept his arms folded below his chest, the muscles on his boney arms tense.

  “We came by to see if Frank knew anything about Philip’s fiancé. Also thought I’d see how he made out after he came to see me the other day.”

  “He know who you are?”

  I nodded. “He found me, said he was looking for Philip.” I stepped toward him, my face not far from his. “You know nothing about any of this?”

  Jayray stepped aside and took a couple of steps away from me. “Why you askin’ all these questions like you a cop...but you say you ain’t?”

  “We’re private investigators.”

  Jayray shrugged. “Same thing, ain’it?” He gave Alex a quick look. “Frank mentioned something about going to see some investigator the other day. Must’ve been you. Came back all banged up, like it didn’t go too well. Said he had to walk ten miles home. But Frank exaggerates a bit. Never know what he’s sayin’s true or not.”

  “So what’s a kid like you doing, hanging around a guy like Frank? Don’t tell me you’re just some innocent kid, looking for a father-figure.”

  Jayray looked past me, his eyes again shifted around the lot.

  I gave Alex a nod and she stepped behind him, making sure he didn’t try to get too far. She said, “If you’d rather talk to someone from the Sheriff’s Office—answer their questions—I can arrange that. I have good friends over there, you know.”

  I nodded, looking right at Jayray. “She does know a lot of people there. But I’m thinking you’re better off talking to us.”

  Jayray looked down toward the ground but didn’t speak.

  I leaned my back against the Jeep. “How old are you?” I said.

  His eyes jumped to mine. He paused and said, “Twenty-three.”

  I straightened myself up off the back of the Jeep. “Yeah? You don’t look a day over seventeen.”

  “You don’t look a day under forty,” he said.

  I nodded, my eyes right on his. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  Jayray’s eyes were all over the lot, and I was sure he was waiting for the right time to make a break.

  “So, go ahead and tell me. What is it you do with Frank, just kidnappings? Or are you helping Frank get money from his only brother?”

  Jayray stared straight back at me without answering.

  I turned to Alex. “Why don’t you give Detective Stone a call, see if he’d like a chat with Jayray, maybe he can get him to talk?”

  “I didn’t do nothin’,” Jayray said.

  “Go ahead, Alex, give him the detective a call.” I pulled out the Glock Alex had given me, held it down by my side. I said to Alex, “I’ll make sure Jayray doesn’t go anywhere.”

  Jayray looked down at my gun. “You don’t need that thing. I ain’t goin’ no-where.” He put up his hands near his shoulders. “Okay, listen. I don’t know the whole story, but I guess Frank’s involved in something that has to do with some crystal bird or...something like that.”

  I turned, Alex and I exchanged looks.

  “You know where it is?” I said.

  Jayray shook his head. “I don’t know much about it at all. Frank doesn’t tell me everything.”

  “Does he know where it is?”

  Jayray shook his head. “He’s looking for it.”

  “Did you help Frank kidnap Victoria? Frank hoping his brother’d lead him to the sculpture?”

  “No, man, I’m telling you. I got nothing to do with that.”

  “But you know about the bird.”

  “I only heard about it. I got nothing to do with it.” Jayray looked me straight in the eye without flinching. I didn’t want to believe him but something told me he was telling the truth.

  “You got a key?” I said.

  “Key to what?”

  I folded my arms in front of my chest, still holding the Glock in my hand, shaking the muzzle toward Jayray. “Next time you answer another question with a question I’m going to be forced to use this thing.” I looked down at the gun in my hand. “And I don’t like shooting people. I don’t even like guns.”

  He gave me a cool nod, cracked a piece of a smile. He turned to Alex, gave her the same cool look.

  I said, “Come on, Jayray. I’d like to get inside that apartment. You got a key or not?”

  Jayray shook his head. “I don’t have a key.”

  I turned to Alex and as soon as I moved my head, Jayray took off like a bullet. He was across the lot and straight out into the street. He ran across oncoming cars and somehow made it to the other side.

  He didn’t look back.

  “Shit,” I said.

  Alex gave me a look. “I turned my back for one second...you let him get away?”

  “What was I supposed to do?” I said. “Shoot him?”

  WE FOLLOWED THE SIGN toward the office of the apartment complex, around the other side of the building.

  We walked in the office and behind a desk was a woman who didn’t look like she wanted to be bothered.

  “Yes?” she said, barely making any eye contact.

  “My name’s Henry Walsh. I’m a private investigator investigating a possible kidnapping. And I’m afraid one of your tenants may be involved.”

  “Got a badge?”

  “I’m a private investigator.” I pulled out my card and placed it on her desk. She picked it up, took a quick look and handed it back to me.

  “You can keep it,” I said. “You never know.”

  She lifted her eyes toward me, her elbow on the desk and her chin in her hand. “Sorry, unless you’re with the Sheriff’s Office I can’t let you in. I don’t care if you’re a private detective or whatever you might be. Can’t do it.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but Alex grabbed me by the arm. “Come on.” She dragged me backwards toward the door, the woman behind the desk already back to what she was doing when we walked in.

  We stepped outside.

  “She was very pleasant,” I said and rolled my eyes. “You know how to pick a lock?”

  Alex gave me a look, not saying a word.

  “Is that a yes?”

  She nodded. “Of course I do.”

  “What do you mean ‘of course you do’?”

  “I mean it as I said it. Of course I know how to pick a lock.” She walked ahead of me on the stairs and over her shoulder said, “You’ve never picked a lock?”

  I didn’t bother answering.

  We made it up to the third floor and put her hand out. “Give me a credit card.”

  I pulled my wallet from my pants, removed a card and placed it in her hand. “You’re going to get in with this?”

  She didn’t answer, her back to me as she slid the card in the crack of the door. “The way they make the lock on these cheap apartments, if they didn’t slide the bolt closed we can get it. And if they just went down the street for a burger...” I tried to look over her shoulder, her body pressed tight against the door. Her arms moved up and down from behind, like she was doing surgery or something. She had one hand on the knob, the other moved the card up and down.

  “Don’t ruin my card,” I said. “It’s the only one I have.”

  She ignored me and kept working the door. Turned and looked at me with a smile and pushed the door open wide.

  I stepped sideways and brushed past her to go inside.

  A TV was on, but the volume was down. It was set up across from a couch against the opposite wall. The standard apartment set up, I guessed. There was a white pillow that belonged to a bed and a sheet in a ball, pushed to the far side on the couch.

  We walked through the room and I opened the first door I saw. It was an empty closet, although it had a horrible smell to it, one that was trapped inside until I let it out.

  I closed the door and walked past the TV.

  I opened another door that led to a bedroom with a mattress on the floor, pushed up in the far corner. There was a small lamp on the floor next to it and a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon tipped on its side.

  Alex walked past me and opened a door from the bedroom. It opened to a bathroom. I peaked inside as she crouched down and opened the doors on a vanity. “It’s empty,” she said. “Not even a towel or bar of soap.”

  “What’s this guy’s deal?” I said. “Lives like a homeless person. But with an apartment.”

  Chapter 17

  ALEX STOOD AGAINST the wall to the side of the door to Carla’s apartment, number three-oh-four. Loud music played on the other side of the door, but went quiet as I was about to knock.

  As my knuckles were about to tap the door it opened in front of me.

  Carla stood in the doorway with a purse over her shoulder and a tight skirt that stopped halfway down her thighs. I looked past her, the lights in the apartment off but the sunlight kept the place bright.

  “Oh, hello. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be standing at my door.” She squinted. “Harry, right?”

  I glanced at Alex with a look on her face like she was trying to hold back a smile.

  “Henry.” I tilted a nod to my right. “This is Alex.”

  Carla stepped over the threshold and gave Alex a quick look. The strong smell of weed floated from the inside of her apartment, but almost covered up by the strong, sweet smell of perfume.

  “I’m on my way out,” she said as she pulled the door closed behind her. She turned and locked the door with her key. “I’m not sure if you’re looking for something, but I—”

  “Actually, I’d like to know who you told I was here the other day.”

  She started for the stairs. “I’m sorry, I’m kind of in a hurry.”

  Alex and I followed behind her.

  Her heals clanked on each step. “I didn’t tell anyone you were here.” She gave me a quick look over her shoulder. “Why?”

  “Well, someone came after me. After I’d left.”

  She got to the bottom of the stairs, turned and looked down at my leg and the blood that had seeped through the bandage after chasing Frank and Jayray. She lifted her sunglasses from her tired, bloodshot eyes. “What happened?”

  “Like I said. Someone came after me. And this is why I’d like to know who you told I was here. Because it’s from a bullet. You know? From a gun?”

  She turned toward the parking lot, up on her toes, scanning the area and looking past the line of tall bushes in front of us, separating the sidewalk from the lot.

  A cab pulled up and stopped at the end of the walkway. “I’m sorry about your leg,” she said as she walked toward the cab. She didn’t look back, ducked inside the cab and took off.

  Alex said, “If I had to guess, she knows something.”

  WE STOPPED AT SKIP's Bar. The crowd was much thinner than it was the day before. Jackson sat at a stool at the far end of the bar drinking from a coffee cup and a cigarette in his hand.

  I sat on the stool beside him. “Jackson, remember me?”

  He turned and looked at me for a moment, his eyes narrowed a bit. The bags under his eyes and unshaved face made him look like he’d aged ten years from when I’d first met him.

  “I was here yesterday, asking about Charles Weiss.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry. A little out of it today.” Jackson took a deep drag of his cigarette, drew it all the way down to the filter, then crushed it out in the ashtray. “Henry, right?” He grabbed his cup and stepped around to the other side of the bar.

  We ordered drinks, and Jackson put them down on the bar in front of us. He leaned with his hands wide on the bar. “Someone came in asking about you last night.”

 

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