No Such Thing As a Good Blind Date: A Brandy Alexander Mystery (No Such Thing As: A Brandy Alexander Mystery) (21 page)

I knew I probably shouldn’t be there, but it’s not like I broke in or anything. I was invited—sort of. I began fiddling with the bottom drawer of Keith’s desk, which wasn’t locked, so much as stuck. After a few minutes of yanking, the door sprung open.

It looked like my kitchen junk drawer, filled with all the crap you pick up in the course of a year and don’t know what to do with but can’t bring yourself to throw out. There was a photograph of Keith and Connie, in happier days, smiling into the camera. The picture was bent and crinkled and it made me sad. These people really liked each other, once upon a time. I also found a deck of cards, some gum, a car owners’manual, a Phillies’ baseball cap and a casino chip.

I picked up the chip and examined it. There were no identifying marks advertising the place it came from, but something in the back of my mind told me this was important. Keith is having financial trouble. Could this be the source of his money problems?

I’d been in Keith’s office for almost a half an hour. Time to leave before I pressed my luck. Taking the chip with me, I put everything else back in its place, locked the outer door and left.

Bobby called me as I walked back to the car. “It sounds like you’re outside. Please tell me you’re not alone.”

“I’m not alone. There is an entire squadron of Philadelphians out here with me.”

“Oh, good. Well my mind’s at ease now.”

“Look, let’s not get into a fight over this. I’m fine. Is there a reason for the call?”

“Two, actually. I spoke to my wife. She denied following you, of course, but I think I’ve put an end to it. I’m sorry,” he added.

“Don’t be. You’re not responsible for her behavior. What’s the other thing?”

“They just picked up a suspect in those neighborhood burglaries.”

“They caught Bulldog?”

“I wish it were that simple.” He let out a deep breath, a prelude to more bad news. “It wasn’t Sandmeyer, Brandy, which means either Bulldog’s just another burglar working the neighborhood, or—”

“Or he was targeting me specifically,” I finished for him. I’d reached the truck, took a quick scan around and climbed in, locking the doors behind me.

“That seems the more likely scenario. You said nothing was taken, right? Plus, he works all the way out in Jersey. It’s not likely that he’d drive all the way up here for a random burglary.”

It felt good to be on the same side of a discussion as Bobby for a change, and I wished we could’ve talked more, but he got called away on an emergency.
I didn’t even get a chance to tell him about Keith Harrison,
I thought, when suddenly I had an idea that was so vivid I could actually
see
the light bulb hanging over my head like in a cartoon bubble. Pieces of a complicated puzzle were beginning to fall into place, and I needed time to think things through. But first I had to take care of business.

I stopped home on my way back to Nick’s so that I could pick up my mail. Mrs. Gentile stuck her head out her storm door as I drove up in the truck.

“Hey you,” she called out. “Girly.” Never mind that in over two decades she’d never managed to learn my name. Be nice. You’ll be old too some day.

I put the truck in park and ran up the steps to my house. “Yes, Mrs. Gentile?” I said, opening up the storm door. There was a pile of mail stuck inside, including a rather bulky manila envelope, devoid of an address or postage. I scooped everything up and stuffed it in my bag.

Mrs. Gentile leaned over the railing, hunkering so close to me I could smell the mothballs on her breath. “You said you’d help me get rid of the you-know-what,” she whispered.

“The you-know-what
what?”
I knew what she meant, but I wanted to hear her say it.

“Shh!” She leaned over so far I thought she’d take a header over the railing. “The rat,” she hissed.

“Oh.
That
you-know-what.” I looked at my watch. It was getting late and I still had to stop by Janine’s on the way back to Nick’s to borrow an outfit for tonight’s performance. My wardrobe would make any ten-year-old boy green with envy, but when I sang with the band, baggy blue jeans and a Bart Simpson t-shirt weren’t going to cut it. I wanted to look
hot.
On the other hand, this was my chance to win the old gal over.

“Mrs. Gentile, I’m a little busy right now, but I promise I’ll come back tomorrow and set those traps for you.”

She straightened up, turning her back to me. “If that’s the best you can do,” she muttered, closing her door in my face.

“You’re welcome. See you tomorrow.”
All right! Mrs. Gentile likes me!

I sat cross-legged on the Persian rug in Nick’s living room, a legal pad balanced on my knees. Late afternoon sunlight filtered in from the big bay window, casting weird shadows on the wall. I got up and turned on a lamp.

I had spent the last hour filling up the legal pad with ideas. Connections, as Bobby would say. Whenever he had a case to solve, he’d always look for common threads. And today, when I was on the phone with him, I’d found one. I’d been thinking of Keith Harrison’s money troubles. Why would a man with a thriving law practice be in such dire financial straits? Where was his money going?

For the sake of argument, I ruled out blackmail. This is a guy with an addictive personality. His wife admitted, in less delicate terms, that he had an obsession with women. My Uncle Frankie told me that when a person has one obvious addiction, there are usually a few more hanging around in the closet. Uncle Frankie should know. He’s had more than his share himself.

Okay, so what, if any, were Keith’s other addictions? I thought back to the casino chip I’d found in the drawer. Is it possible that Keith is a compulsive gambler? Granted, one lone casino chip did not a compulsion make, but it was a start. And that’s when the connection kicked in. Ivan “Bulldog” Sandmeyer’s last known employer was the Diamond Casino, in Atlantic City, New Jersey.

Well, big whoop. So Bulldog worked at a casino, and Keith visited one once. But what else did they have in common? As if in answer to that question, Adrian strolled into the living room and curled up on my legs. Boy, talk about clues falling right into your lap! Keith was desperate to get his hands on the
dog
—that had already been established, and now that I looked back on it, Sandmeyer was too. And it wasn’t for their mutual love of canines either.

There was no evidence that Bulldog had broken into my house in order to burglarize it. He hadn’t taken a thing. He wasn’t after anything but the dog. Adrian was afraid of Sandmeyer. That’s why he was cowering under the couch. Sandmeyer and Harrison both wanted the thumb drive. It was the only thing that made sense.

I started to wonder if maybe Bulldog had been the one to beat up Keith at the restaurant. Maybe they were partners and he thought Keith was holding out on him. I had to get some real answers. All this speculation was making me nuts.

I’d started setting out some food for dinner when Nick walked in the door. He was in workout clothes, a tight black t-shirt and gray camouflage pants. His shirt was soaked in perspiration and the scent wafting off his skin produced a bolt of desire in me so strong I nearly fell off the kitchen stool. I never dreamed I could have such animalistic urges, and, frankly, it scared the hell out of me.

“What’s all this?” Nick asked, smiling with pleasure.

“Oh, I noticed you were a little low on some of the essentials, so I went food shopping for you.”

“Pat’s steaks. The staff of life.” He picked up a sandwich and took a bite. “Cheez-whiz. Good choice.”

While he ate I filled him in on what I’d learned at Keith’s office and my theory that tied in Harrison with Bulldog. “I think they’re both linked to the Diamond Casino and they’re both desperate to get their hands on that drive. Maybe your friend will be able to figure out what’s so special about it. But in the mean time, Bobby’s been wanting me to leave town for a while. Maybe I’ll take Franny on a day trip to A.C. I can check out the casino, ask around about Harrison and Sandmeyer. Franny can play the slots and feel like she’s having an adventure. What do you think?”

Nick eyed me with amusement tinged with exasperation. “What I think is you’re going to do whatever you want to do, so just be smart and stay safe.”

That was my plan.

I didn’t get back from the club until after two. Nick had offered to take me there, but I ended up hitching a ride with Janine.

“That man is so hot! Why didn’t you want him to come tonight?”

We were sitting in a booth in the back of the club; at least I was
trying
to sit. Janine had picked out a skirt for me that was so short it looked like a sweatband wrapped around my ass. She said I looked great. I told her the guys sitting in front were looking up my crotch.

“Oh, I get it,” she said. “You’re embarrassed for Nick to see your wild, sexy side.”

“Pfft. That is ridiculous, Janine.”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t ‘uh huh’ me. I am not afraid to show off my ‘wild, sexy’ side…”
I’m freakin’ petrified! This outfit is a promise of good times to come. What if I can’t deliver the goods? I need a LOT more practice before I can live up to this skirt’s reputation.

“Bran—Bobby.”

“And don’t start in on me with Bobby.”

Janine jerked her head sideways. “Will ya shut up? Bobby just walked in the door.”

“Get out!” I turned slowly, as if by making minimal movement it would turn out not to be true. It didn’t work. “What is he doing here?”

He was with a bunch of other cops—Boys’ Night Out, I guess. Paul headed him off at the pass, while Vince Giancola made his way to our table.

“What’s the occasion, Vince?” I asked, nodding towards Philly’s Finest.

“You are. We heard you were singing tonight.” He leaned over and gave me a big brotherly kiss on the cheek.

“I’m surprised DiCarlo’s here,” Janine piped in. She was on her third Mai Tai and didn’t know the meaning of discretion when she was sober. I helped her along by kicking her under the table. “What? What’d I say?”

Vince laughed. “Don’t worry about it, Neenie. He’s here because he got fed up with the guys calling him ‘whipped’. That bitch has his balls in such a knot he doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going.”

It was time for the second set, only knowing Bobby was in the audience changed everything. I was singing the songs I used to sing for him. And everybody knew it.

“Hey Taco, how about we drop ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’? I’m in the mood for something more upbeat.”

“You kiddin’me? The crowd loves this sappy shit. Plus it’s the only slow one we’ve got.”

I was going to argue the point, but Chris and Kenny had already started playing the damn thing.
“And I need you now tonight, and I need you more than ever.”
Okay, I can do this. It’s just a song.
“And if you only hold me tight we’ll be holding on forever.”
No, I can’t. I’m losin’ it.

Bobby stood alone in the back of the room, arms folded across his chest, his face so full of longing it tore me apart. Oh shit. I can take my own pain but I can’t take his too. Tears welled up in me as I choked out the last few notes. I closed my eyes, hoping it would stem the flow. When I opened them again, he was gone.

When I got back to the table Vince and Janine were head to head. They straightened up when they saw me, pretending that that didn’t notice my red eyes or that they weren’t just talking about me and Bobby. Bobby and Marie. The whole stinking mess.

“It’s okay, you guys. I’m going to be the talk of the town tomorrow, you might as well get a head start on it.”

Vince scooted over in the booth, making room for me. He put his arm around me and I laid my head on his substantial shoulder. “It’s not like I even want him back,” I sniffed. “It’s the not being able to be his friend part that’s so hard.”

“It’s been murder on him, too, Bran,” Janine told me. “The guy’s always been intense—even as a kid, but you knew how to bring out the best in him. You grounded him like nobody else could.”

“He’s pissed off all the time now,” Vince added. He’s so afraid Marie will take off with his daughter he’s putting up with shit I never dreamed possible. But ya know it’s only a matter of time before he blows.” I did know. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

Janine dropped me off in front of Nick’s building and waited until I got safely through the doors. I entered the apartment as quietly as I could. He’d left the living room light on and one in the spare bedroom. His pillow was there where I’d left it.
Oh no. Now he knows I stole his pillow. How embarrassing is that?

I pulled on a t-shirt and some Hello Kitty pajama bottoms and crawled into bed, but I was so keyed up from the evening I couldn’t fall asleep. I got up, remembering the stack of mail I’d retrieved from inside my screen door.

The manila envelope fell out of my bag as I dragged it onto the bed. Must be another one of Carla’s care packages. Last month she’d left me a bag of sample hair products, in the hopes that I’d discover the joys of “moussing.” I tore open the envelope and spilled the contents onto the bed. It wasn’t hair products. And I’d bet money it wasn’t from Carla either.

I sat cross-legged on the bed, staring at a plastic doll, its arms and legs torn from its torso, the head detached and sprouting a mass of long, brown hair and crudely cut bangs. She was naked, with deep knife wounds sliced across her throat and breasts, and streaked with red paint, simulating the flow of blood.

On her stomach someone had scrawled in permanent marker, “This is you.”
Hmm. No name. Maybe this was really meant for Mrs. Gentile. She’s made a lot of enemies in the neighborhood over the years.
I knew the possibility of that being the case was slim, but it never hurts to be optimistic.

A strange detachment settled over me, as if I were watching the scene unfold on television. Rocky poked her chin out from under the bed and jumped up next to me. She sniffed at the head and then with a low, guttural growl, she pounced on it. Grabbing it by the hair, she raced about the room carting the damn thing around in her mouth like a prize mouse.
So much for detachment.