Against the Night (17 page)

The site listed parts in Grand Rapids little theater productions of
South Pacific, Camelot
and
Our Town,
and a couple of TV commercials as credits.

He jotted down a contact number that probably belonged to her missing cell phone, pulled out the copy he had made of her file and saw that he was right, and that the second number listed belonged to her friend Mary Lou Kammer.

He flipped back to the photos, tried to make the woman he had found on the web match the stripper Silky Summers he had once seen onstage. On occasion he used the Kitty Cat Club for a meet with an informant. The owner, Tate Watters, was solidly pro-police, and the place was dark and noisy.

At the time, Rachael hadn’t made much of an impression. In fact, he hadn’t remembered seeing her until he had pulled her file for Johnnie.

He dug around the web a little more, then went to www.KittyCatClub.com just to see what might show up. A number of videos were posted. He recognized the dark-haired dancer, Silky Summers, among a row of video clips, and clicked on the image.

The video lasted only a minute. Rachael had a beautiful body as well as a gorgeous face, but the thing that struck him was the detachment in her eyes, the distant quality that said she was only doing a job. She had no interest, no personal stake in her performance.

Rachael was dancing, but her soul was somewhere else.

Rick reached for the mouse, ready to end the session, paused for an instant, then flipped back to her web page for one last glance. A line at the bottom of the site caught his attention.

Rachael has been a longtime supporter of the Dennison Children’s Shelter. Donations can be made through the following link: www.dennisonchildrensshelter.com.

He clicked on the link, saw that it was a sanctuary for homeless children and jotted down the address.

Rick leaned back in his chair. He was beginning to think there was a lot more to Rachael Brewer than he had believed.

Amy finished her second set for the evening and changed into her cocktail waitress outfit. So far the Realtors who had rented the club for the night had been fairly well behaved, but it wasn’t that late yet. The Kitty Cat wasn’t the kind of place most of the agents frequented and they were dribbling out of the club a little at a time and heading home.

The bridegroom was younger and he and his friends were beginning to get pretty rowdy. Fortunately, there was a limo waiting for anyone who drank too much and needed a ride back to his house.

When Peter Brand excused himself from the group and started for the door, Amy set her drink tray down on an empty table and hurried to intercept him.

“Excuse me, Mr. Brand. I don’t mean to bother you, but I was wondering if you might have a minute to talk before you leave.”

He eyed her with speculation. He had thick salt-and-pepper hair, and though he’d had a couple of glasses of beer, he wasn’t drunk. He was in his forties, attractive in a pair of stylish, silver-rimmed glasses.

“My name is Angel,” she said. “I’m a friend of Silky Summers.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“I’m sorry. I meant to say Rachael Brewer. We were friends. I heard she went out with you a few times. I was wondering if you knew anything about her disappearance.”

He frowned. “The police asked me about Rachael. I told them I hadn’t seen her in a couple of weeks.”

“I know. I was just hoping that maybe you could think of something. I’m really worried about her.”

Brand’s blue eyes softened. “Rachael is a really nice girl, but we never dated. I told the police that. We knew each other through the Dennison Children’s Shelter. Rachael volunteered there and helped us raise money for the home.”

Amy was stunned. And yet it was exactly like her.

“My sis…Rachael worked there?”

He nodded. “Volunteered. Whenever she had the time. She was busy a lot, holding down a job and taking casting calls. I never knew she worked at the club until the police came to see me. As pretty as she was, I was surprised she’d never caught a break.”

“Where…where is the shelter?”

Brand gave her the address, which she jotted on a cocktail napkin.

“Rachael loved the children in the shelter and they loved her,” Peter said. “I’m sure they miss her.”

“We all do. I really appreciate your help, Mr. Brand.”

“It’s just Peter. And I hope they find her.”

Amy watched him walk away, thinking that her sister continued to surprise her. First Jimmy, now the shelter for homeless children. The good news was, in talking to the real estate agent, she had come up with another place to look for information. She couldn’t wait to tell Johnnie. She tried not to wonder what he was doing tonight—which made her think of last night, and color washed into her cheeks.

It was supposed to be a single night of wild, fantasy sex, but here she was, wishing she was with him, wishing he would take her to bed again.

With a sigh, she turned back to the tables surrounded by rowdy men and went to get another round of drinks.

Johnnie shoved through the etched glass doors of the Vieux Carre, a ritzy supper club in downtown L.A. Manny Ortega was the owner of the place, along with a chain of El Pueblo Mexican restaurants that ran along the coast from L.A. to San Diego.

A tuxedo clad maître d’ stopped him as he walked through the door. Obviously, the leather jacket he wore over his T-shirt didn’t meet the dress code for a swanky place like the Vieux Carre.

“May I help you, sir?” Tall and thin, classy but not effeminate. Manny would have chosen him specifically to work the front of the club.

“I’m looking for Manny Ortega. Word is he’s usually here in the evenings.”

“Mr. Ortega takes pride in seeing the restaurant is properly run. Unfortunately, he isn’t here tonight. In fact, he will be out of town for the rest of the week.”

Johnnie glanced around the restaurant, a single large room with an open two-story ceiling surrounded by a dining balcony. It was art deco, with candlelit, linen-draped tables, and an expensive menu that served a combination of French and Cajun food. The internet gave it a five-star rating. Manny had the money to make sure he could offer his customers the best of everything.

The question was where had he gotten it?

“You know where I might be able to find him?” Johnnie held up a hundred dollar bill pinched between his fingers.

The maître d’ eyed the money, but didn’t take the bait and simply shook his head. “I’m sorry. I really don’t know.”

Johnnie stuffed the money into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out one of his nondescript business cards. “Give him this. Tell him I’d like to talk to him.”

“Certainly, Mr.…” The maître d’ looked down at the card. “Riggs.” The man stuck the card into the pocket of his tuxedo and turned his attention to the well-dressed couple who had come in behind Johnnie.

Johnnie headed out into the night. As he handed his parking ticket to the valet and waited for the kid to bring up his car, he ignored an itch to head for the Kitty Cat Club. The urge to watch Angel Fontaine erotically dancing onstage was nearly irresistible.

He reminded himself Brand Realty had rented the place for the night and he wouldn’t be welcome. His jaw tightened as he tipped the kid a five and slid behind the wheel. Since when had he ever given a fat rat’s ass whether he was welcome or not?

Shoving the car into gear, he stepped on the gas, leaving the restaurant rapidly disappearing in his mirror. The urge to see Amy hit him again as he roared up the on-ramp onto the 110 heading north. When he merged onto the Hollywood Freeway and took the exit into Hollywood, it was all he could do not to keep driving until he reached the parking lot of the Kitty Cat Club. Instead, he turned up Laurel Canyon and forced himself to go home.

Little Amy Brewer was getting under his skin and he didn’t like it. Not one bit. He was helping her and that was fine, but he needed to put a little distance between them, keep things businesslike.

Still, as he climbed into bed alone, he thought of Amy and her sweet little body and how good it had been to have her there beside him. It was hours before he fell asleep.

Fifteen

Johnnie didn’t show up at the club last night and he hadn’t called this morning. Maybe their night together had meant a lot more to her than it did to him. Maybe it had only been the fantasy, one-night sex Amy had imagined.

The thought made her stomach churn.

“So where’s lover boy?” Babs asked as Amy was getting dressed to leave the apartment. “I figured he’d show up last night for an encore.”

Amy tried for a nonchalant shrug. “I kind of thought so, too.”

One of Babs’s dark eyebrows went up. “I thought you said the sex was fantastic. Amazing, even.”

Amy looked up at her, hoping her disappointment didn’t show. “It was. At least for me.”

Babs smiled knowingly. “He’ll be back. No way is one night going to be enough for a guy like that.”

Amy made no reply. She had no idea what John Riggs was thinking. She wasn’t that experienced in bed. Maybe she just didn’t do it for him.

“Listen, I’ve got to run,” she told Babs. “I’ve got some things to do before my shift starts.” She worked from six until two tonight and it was already after noon.

“You need my car?”

“I appreciate the offer but I’ve decided to rent one for a couple of days. I printed a coupon off the internet so it isn’t that expensive, and I can go wherever I need.”

Babs shrugged. “Whatever you think.”

“I’ll see you later.” Amy headed out the door then down the block to the National Car Rental place she had occasionally passed on her way to lunch.

Twenty minutes later, she drove out in a little white subcompact that got more than thirty miles to the gallon, and headed for Culver City.

Earlier, she had called Mrs. Zimmer and the woman had been delighted that Angel was coming over again to see little Jimmy. As Amy stood on the porch and knocked on the door, she heard small feet pounding across the carpet.

Jimmy pulled open the door. “Hello.”

“Hi, sweetie.” She went down to his eye level, an arm behind her back, hiding his surprise. “Guess what I brought you?”

The little boy’s eyes widened. “A present?”

“That’s right.” She handed him the box. “It’s a puzzle. I thought maybe you’d let me help you put it together.”

Jimmy studied the box. The picture on the front showed cartoon animals in a jungle setting. Jimmy looked excited and at the same time uncertain.

“Here, let me show you.” Amy took the box from his small hands and pulled off the wrapper. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mrs. Zimmer standing a few feet away, a big smile on her face. “Can we use the coffee table?” Amy asked her.

“Sure. Would you like a cup of tea while you’re putting the puzzle together?”

“I’d love one.”

Mrs. Zimmer disappeared into the kitchen and Jimmy knelt on the carpet next to her as she dumped the puzzle pieces out on top of the table.

“All we have to do is put the puzzle together and we’ll be able to see the picture.” Jimmy watched as Amy stuck a couple of puzzle pieces together. “See how it works?”

She could feel his excitement as he found a piece that locked into another piece. “Look! I did it!”

“Yes, you did.” She had chosen a puzzle that fit Jimmy’s age so it didn’t take him long to see how putting the pieces together worked. Mrs. Zimmer set a steaming mug of tea next to her and she took a warming sip.

“Chamomile… It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

The older woman smiled. “Thank you for coming. Jimmy’s really been looking forward to your visit.”

“So have I,” Amy said, which was true. She loved kids, always had. It was the reason she had decided to become a teacher. She returned her attention to the puzzle. It didn’t take long to put the picture together. Jimmy looked so proud of himself when they finished that Amy reached over and hugged him.

“That was really fun, Miss…Fountain. Can we do it again?”

Fountain?
Amy bit back a smile. “Why don’t you just call me…Angel? And yes, we can do it again.”

They played with the puzzle for an hour. Putting it together, taking it apart then rebuilding it. She made a mental note to buy him some Lincoln Logs. She used to love playing with them when she was a kid.

Then it was time to leave. While Amy was saying her farewells to Mrs. Zimmer, Jimmy raced back to his bedroom.

“I’ve really got to go,” Amy said, checking her watch.

“Jimmy! Come say goodbye to Angel.”

A couple more minutes passed.

“Jimmy!”

The little boy raced out of the bedroom, waving a piece of yellow drawing paper in his hand. “I made a present for you.”

Amy took the paper and unfolded it. There was a stick drawing of a woman holding a little boy’s hand. Both of them were smiling. It was signed with a row of
x
’s and an oddly printed version of his name.

“Those are kisses,” Mrs. Zimmer explained. “His mother taught him that and how to print his name.”

So Bee wasn’t as immune to her son as she wanted people to believe. Interesting.

Amy leaned down and hugged the boy. “Thank you, sweetie. Have fun with the puzzle.”

Jimmy looked up at her, his expression somber. “Are you coming back?”

Amy smiled. “Of course I am. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Jimmy grinned and wildly nodded.

“All right then.” Feeling a lump in her throat, Amy hugged him one last time then waved to Mrs. Zimmer and headed for the door.

Johnnie’s cell phone rang. He recognized the caller ID as belonging to Dev Raines.

“What’s up, Dare?”

“Chaz came up with the info we needed to narrow down the search. We’ve set a time for the meet if it works for you. Tomorrow night at Lark’s condo.” The place they stayed when Dev’s wife was working in L.A.

“I’ll be there with bells on.”

“Since Lark’s here with me, Clive’s bringing Molly. I figured the ladies could talk while we make some plans. You can bring someone if you want.”

Did he want to bring Amy? It would be like taking a woman to meet his family. He shouldn’t do it, he knew, and yet he wanted to. He blew out a breath. Hell, it was just a group of friends. It didn’t mean anything.