The Tangerine Killer Page 5

  “She’s dead. Why does she matter to you now?”

  I thought of how I’d reluctantly taken the job. Had I really done my best to find Lisa? I told myself I had but deep down perhaps my heart hadn’t been in it. I thought of the note. Now I was the one on someone’s hit list. If I told my mother I was in danger, would it make her care about me again? I highly doubted it. She’d never cared before.

  “It’s just a hunch I’m following,” I paused. “Did you know they had a baby?”

  Silence and static filled the line. I held my breath.

  “Go home Sam. There is nothing for you here,” she said.

  Then she hung up.

  FOURTEEN

  I took the phone off the hook. My mother’s trick was to mull over all the things she should have said, then she’d usually call back to say them. The phone buzzed for a while like an irritated bee and then it went silent. I fell asleep with my gun in one hand and the empty bottle of Jack Daniels in the other.

  Dreams slipped through my mind like quicksilver. Lisa’s body submerged in the murky river. Her eyes gaping holes that stared blankly up at me as I held her under the water. Only now they weren’t gone at all. Made of orange glass they blinked mechanically up at me, questioning why I was doing this to her. Frank crumpling lifelessly in front of me as blood poured from the hole in his head, telling me I shouldn’t have trusted him. Someone in the shadows, watching me.

  I woke with a start. The room was dark and musty. My hand shook as I reached for a cigarette. If I didn’t go home soon, this town was going to finish me off one way or another.

  I opened the door and stepped out into the cool, damp air. A few solitary crickets chirped in the darkness. By the time summer arrived the night would come alive with the symphony of a million bugs. Distracted by my own spluttering lighter, I failed to see the man lurking in the shadows of my Jeep until he jumped out at me.

  “Move into the light,” I barked. My gun was poised and aimed to fire. I may have still been caught in the trailing fear of my nightmare but this time I was prepared. If this was the person who wanted me dead, they wouldn’t stand a chance.

  The shadow stepped out into a circle of light from an overhead lamp with a wobble in their step. I took a deep breath and holstered my gun. It wasn’t a credible threat, just a man with a penis for brains.

  “For God’s sake Joe, you’re still here?”

  He nodded.

  “I guess that means your injuries weren’t life threatening then?”

  “No,” he said. “But my head still hurts.”

  He rubbed a spot on his forehead where a couple of butterfly strips had been stuck over a superficial wound. Thank God. The last thing I needed in Tangerine was another police charge with my name on it.

  “So no harm, no foul,” I said. “We’re good now right? You’re going to go home?”

  “Maybe. But what if I don’t want to? You’d shoot me here in the parking lot in full view of everybody?”

  I looked around the deserted lot where my Jeep and Joe’s truck were parked. They were only accompanied by a dilapidated car that belonged to the desk clerk and a couple of rusted frames propped up on cinder blocks.

  “Who’s everybody Joe?”

  “Well the desk clerk knows I’m here.”

  “He does?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You tried to get the key to my room didn’t you.”

  “No.”

  “Yes you did and he wouldn‘t give it to you,” I laughed.

  He stood under the light with his arms crossed, looking like a petulant child. I couldn’t imagine what I’d ever been attracted to in the first place. I must have been drunk off my ass.

  “You’re just lucky I didn’t press charges,” he said.

  “I’m lucky?” I lit up another cigarette. “I could have had you arrested for sexual assault. That detective was quite keen for me to fill out a report.”

  “Sexual assault?” he snorted. “Come on Sam. You know you wanted me.”

  “Here’s a little bit of free advice Joe. When a woman says no, she means it.”

  “Except when she means yes,” he winked.

  “For God’s sake. One of these days you’re going to get yourself in a shitload of trouble, you idiot.”

  “I thought you liked trouble babe.”

  “Not your kind of trouble. Come on, I need a drink. Then you’re going home.”

  “What?”

  He looked wary as I slid the gun back out of sight, apparently not convinced that I wouldn’t still shoot him.

  “I’m serious,” I said.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Look Joe, last time you were here I hit you on the head with a telephone. Surely you didn’t think this time would work out any better?”

  “I was just going to leave you a note,” he stuttered.

  “And that’s why you needed the key to my room?”

  “Oh crap.”

  “Yeah. Let’s go, hot shot.”

  I felt kind of sorry for him, standing out there in the dark with a dumb expression on his face. Perhaps after one or two drinks I could get him to go home. Besides, I needed the drink more than he did. My mother’s words still hung all around me, twisted up in the nightmare I still hadn’t shaken off yet. There was only one way to drown that shit out.

  The Eight Ball Bar had a flashing neon sign, cheap beer and lousy waitresses. Ours kept pestering us with offers of cheese fried potato skins and alligator pizza. Just the thought made me nauseous. I gave her ten bucks and told her not to bother us again.

  “I miss the good old days when bars were just bars,” I said. “If I wanted to eat I’d go to a restaurant.”

  “You should eat,” Joe picked at the label on his bottle of beer. “You look like shit.”

  “That’s what I keep hearing. Anyway, now you can see that I’m not so appealing when you’re sober.”

  “That’s not true.”

  But the look in his eyes told me otherwise. They took in my crumpled jeans, the white shirt with the mystery stain over my left breast and the tired lines on my face. Somewhere in the last week I’d developed my first wrinkle. I knew once Joe had experienced the normal, boring me then I would lose the exciting, mysterious aura he imagined orbited around me.

  “You haven’t drunk any of your beer.”

  “Neither have you.”

  I couldn’t skirt around the issue any longer. It was time for brutal honesty.

  “I can’t sleep with you again Joe.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t love you.”

  I said the words as though they actually meant something. The truth was I’d never loved anyone. In fact deep down I didn’t think I was capable of love. Sex wasn’t synonymous with love in my universe and I knew it wasn’t in his either.

  “Who cares? I don’t love my wife and I still sleep with her.”

  “Yes but I don’t even like you Joe.”

  There it was. That tiny flexion of the muscle in his jaw. The way he quickly clenched it so I wouldn’t see. I’d hurt his feelings.

  “I was drunk, you were drunk. Why can’t you just let it go? My life is complicated. My job makes it impossible to care for anyone. I don’t even have a cat.”

  “What do you do that’s so important? You’re a private investigator. So what?”

  “It’s more than that.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “I can’t.”

  He kicked the table leg and sent napkins fluttering onto the cracked linoleum floor.

  “You’re fucked up Sam.”

  I was glad he was angry, it was easier to handle. The love sick puppy dog act was the thing that drove me crazy.

  “I know and that’s why you have to leave me alone.”

  “Fine.”

  He stood up and slammed a wad of cash on the table. Two fat old men playing pool over in the corner looked up, eager for action.

  “That’s for the beer and the sex,” Joe s
houted.

  The two men cheered and smashed their pool cues together like swords. The larger one wasn’t content to leave it at that. He also grabbed his crotch and grunted loudly.

  “Don’t get any ideas, you couldn’t afford me.” I said to them.

  Joe stalked off. He slammed the door of the diner and then punched a rusty blue newspaper stand that was bolted to the ground. I heard the dull thud as his hand connected and watched him clutch his hand in pain as he stumbled away. The guy was a ticking time bomb. One of these days he was going to do something really stupid.

  As I downed the rest of the beer, I contemplated leaving Joe’s cash on the table for the waitress. She needed it more than I did and there was no way I was taking Joe’s money. All I needed was for him to fabricate some trumped up prostitution charge, backed by the pool players who’d say I received money for sex. I had to get rid of it. I saw our waitress step out the door with a pack of cigarettes in her hand. I picked up the cash and called after her.

  “Hey, this is for you.”

  I followed her out of the door. Hopefully I’d done enough to discredit any lies Joe would spread.

  Outside it was quiet. The smell of greasy food wafted out into the night from a vent in the roof, filling the sky with smells better left to the imagination. My stomach churned uneasily.

  “Bet you’re glad you didn’t try the pizza now, aren’t you?”

  She stood against the crumbling wall of the derelict bar, her cigarette held elegantly between finger and thumb. The smoke rings drifted upward lazily before finally dissipating.

  “This is for you.”

  I shoved the cash into her hand.

  “What for?”

  “For nothing.”

  I knew she was wary and I didn’t blame her. She was probably wondering why a complete stranger would offer her such a large wad of cash and what I wanted in return.

  “I don’t need your charity.”

  “It’s not charity, please take it.”

  “No.”

  She glared at me in the dark. Her tired, glazed eyes adamant that she wouldn’t take the help I offered. She was a small woman, shorter than I was by almost a foot. She shoved the cash back in my pocket and as I went to pull it out again, I felt the curling edges of the photograph I stuffed in there earlier.

  “Okay, listen. Maybe you could help me out. Do you recognize these people? Did you ever see them here at the bar or around town?”

  As I showed her the photograph in the dull electric light, her face softened slightly. She reached out and traced the outline of Frank’s face with a red polished fingernail.

  “Sure, I knew Frank. He used to come in here all the time but that was a while ago. Bit of a womanizer if you ask me. Always had an eye on whoever was up at the bar, waiting to be picked up.”

  “And?”

  “And then he stopped coming around as much. I guess this was why.”

  She flicked the baby with her nail and choked on her next drag.

  “He never mentioned the baby or his wife?”

  “Nope.”

  “And you never saw him after that?”

  “He’d still come every once in a while, pick up some girl and then leave. I guess the little wife here was too busy with the baby to keep hubby happy.”

  There was a hint of sarcasm laced with jealousy in her voice. I wondered how many times she’d flirted with him, hoping to be the one he took home.

  “Was there anyone in particular you noticed he hung out with? Anyone you recognized?”

  “Not in the beginning.”

  She paused to finish her cigarette, then tossed the butt into a nearby puddle where it sizzled into oblivion.

  “Later, when he started coming back, there was one chick. I don’t know who she was but she was a nasty piece of work.”

  “Do you remember what she looked like?”

  “Exotic, sexy and a total bitch. Never tipped. Always complained.”

  “Black hair?”

  “Yeah.”

  She was wary again now, thinking perhaps she had said too much to a stranger she didn’t know. I might have been a psycho or some nut job out with a vendetta. She pursed her lips tight and I knew she was done. She took the cash and shoved it in her pocket without a word of thanks. As far as I was concerned, she’d earned it.

  FIFTEEN

  I had three messages blinking on my phone when I got back to my room. The first was from Detective Olin who wanted to know why I wasn’t answering my new cell phone. The second was one minute of static and the third a drunken ramble from my new best friend Harvey. He begged me to meet him for lunch tomorrow because he had something to tell me. I had so much to look forward to.

  I pulled out my cell phone to check my messages. The stupid thing had turned itself off for the second time since I’d bought it. The damn thing was a lemon. I left it off. Tonight I didn’t care if anyone could reach me or not.

  I woke up with a headache. I was lucky I didn‘t have a hangover. That was what I got for mixing my liquors. Just as well I left the bar when I did. I needed to be alert and focused. I would meet Harvey for lunch, run by the station and give Olin the low down, and then Tangerine could kiss my ass goodbye.

  “You really want to meet me?” Harvey sounded surprised. He clearly hadn’t expected me to call.

  “Yes.”

  “Right then. One o’clock at Bistro, that new Italian on Wiltshire. You know it?”

  “No but I’ll be there.”

  I slammed down the phone. The creep had better have something decent to tell me. If this was just a ploy to try and make another move, I’d be really pissed. But his words still stuck in my head. How begging hadn’t become Lisa. I wanted to know what he meant. He was far too dimwitted to be the person behind the death threat but I had a niggling feeling that he was somehow involved. I would have to bite my tongue and play nice for a change. It wasn’t going to be easy.

  I arrived early so I could scope out the area. Harvey was standing out in front of the restaurant, fresh shaven and clean. He paced back and forth with a frown on his face, hands stuffed into his pockets. Then he glanced at his watch and shook his head.

  I studied him from the shadows across the street, noticing the way women flashed smiles at him as they passed. He didn’t seem to notice them. On any other day I’m sure he would have reciprocated their advances but today he was distracted. Today he was waiting for me.

  I crossed the street with my heart lurking somewhere in the pit of my stomach.

  “Shall we go in?” I greeted him with a fake smile.

  “There you are,” he sounded relieved. “You look nice.”

  “Is that a note of sarcasm I detect in your voice Harvey?”

  “No,” he pouted. “Just trying to be nice, that’s all.”

  The jerk couldn’t flirt to save his life. He’d better watch out. This time I brought my knife and my gun.

  “So are we going in or what?” I asked after a few awkward seconds.

  “Yes.”

  He glanced around nervously and then ushered me inside. I stole a look behind me as we went in. I don’t know who I expected to see. Perhaps the shadow person I’d seen in my dreams. There was no one there but as shiver ran down my spine.

  I let Harvey take my arm and escort me into the dark, crowded restaurant. It looked like a popular lunch hang out for the locals. Faux grape vines hung from the ceiling and ivy entwined earthen pillars with surprising realism.

  We were ushered to a table in the back where Harvey held out a chair for me, something I couldn’t recall anyone ever having done before.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  I was trying to be polite. To break the ice and draw Harvey’s stare away from where it had fallen, which was onto my breasts.

  “Do you come here often?” I asked.

  “Um yeah, I suppose,” he said.

  Still no eye contact. He was getting on my nerves already.

  “Then you must have brought yo
ur wife here or do you just save it for your mistresses?”

  That broke the spell. His head snapped back and a red flush spread up his neck. He reached up to smooth his missing hair, the nervous tick I noticed before.

  “I never cheated on my wife.”

  “Really?” I leant forward. “I have yet to meet a man who has not at one time or another fallen off the monogamy wagon.”

  “You haven’t met many decent men then.”

  “Is there such a thing as a decent man?”

  “Let me prove it to you.”

  I forced a smile. The only thing I wanted Harvey to prove to me was that he wasn’t a killer. I ordered a chicken salad, not because I was watching my weight but because I didn’t think I could stomach anything else. Every time I took a bite, Harvey watched my mouth like a hawk, licking his lips as he devoured his giant plate of food.

  “Tour of Italy.” He stuck a loaded forkful into his mouth with delight.

  “Aren’t you supposed to share that with someone?”

  “Why? Do you want some?”

  He completely missed the point.

  “No thanks.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Everyone else in the restaurant was deep in conversation, some low and mumbled, others loud and raucous. We ate in silence. It didn’t seem physically possible for Harvey to eat and talk at the same time. I had a million sensitive questions burning in my head. Thoughtful lines of conversation that would lead to the answers I needed. But I didn’t seem to be able to get anything out of Harvey except a few errant grunts.

  “Can we talk about Lisa?” I asked.

  He finally put down his fork with the look of a satisfied man. Probably the same one he had after sex with one of his girlfriends, all red faced and sweaty.

  “Why?”

  He gulped the wine left in his glass, his hand a little less steady.

  “Because I want to understand,” I said.

  “I don’t,” he mumbled.

  “Why not?”

  “I guess I feel guilty.”

  “We all do,” I coaxed. “That’s what happens when someone kills themselves. Everyone is left behind scratching their heads and wondering why they never saw it coming.”