Finders Keepers Losers Die (16 page)

"I hear you quit," she said, deigning to
speak to me but not help me up.

I blinked at her like an animal caught in
headlights. If she knew that, then Tanya must have seen Will since
Friday morning. Strange he never mentioned it, although I suppose
it was none of my business what he did. Still, it would have been
nice to be informed so I didn't look like an idiot in front of his
ex.

"Actually, Will fired me," I said, taking
Gina's offered hand and standing. "But he's reinstated me."

"Really? He didn't mention it last night."
She shook her head slightly. "I find that very hard to
believe."

"Last night?"

"Yes, we had dinner. A
late
dinner."
The emphasis didn't leave any room for misunderstanding.

And he'd said he'd been working! The
bastard!

Tanya strode off before either Gina or I
could get our tongues to work.

"B-but…" Gina managed.

"I know," I said flatly. "Let's get out of
here before I run after her and tell her about Will and me."

With my shopping bags piled into the trunk
of the Civic, we took off, tires squealing their protest at my lead
foot.

"Slow down!" Gina yelled.

"Sorry, she just gets to me."

"Sure it's not Will you're mad at?"

I didn't answer.

"So why didn't you tell her about last
night?" she persisted. "It's not like you to back down from a
confrontation."

"I needed time to digest what she said."

What had started out as a good day had
suddenly turned into a crappy one. As Scarlett O'Hara said,
tomorrow is another day. And it had the potential to be worse in so
many ways.

Just when I thought my day had hit rock
bottom, we stopped at a red light and a car pulled up beside us. I
casually glanced over and spotted someone that made my skin
crawl.

It wasn't Tanya.

CHAPTER 9

Barry Grimes sat in profile in the driver's
seat of a rusty, burnt orange Ford pickup. He looked straight ahead
at the road but I sank into my seat anyway in case he glanced
over.

"What are you doing?" Gina asked, looking at
me like I'd gone nuts.

The lights turned green and Barry Grimes
accelerated. I stayed a safe distance behind and sat up straight
again. "That man is a suspect in Lou Scarletti's murder."

"The police told you that much?"

"Not exactly."

"So how do you know he's a suspect?"

"I'm guessing. My gut instinct says he can't
be trusted." The pickup turned right. So did I.

"You're following him?"

I nodded, completely focused on the rear
lights of the pickup. Cars buzzed around us like annoying flies,
but I barely noticed them. Gina said nothing until we stopped at a
set of lights again. We were two cars back on a main street
somewhere north of where we'd started. I vaguely knew the area but
couldn't name the street and probably wouldn't be able to find my
way home again.

"So, apart from intuition, what makes you
think he's a suspect?"

I couldn't blame her for being skeptical. I
would be too. People who followed their instincts usually ended up
with the wrong guy, in the wrong job or buying the wrong shoes. I
prefer good, solid, no bullshit, logic.

Funny, I never realized that before.

"I
think
he's a suspect because he
gave Lou a job in his shop when there's barely enough sales to keep
afloat which says to me he wanted to keep him close. And I
know
he's untrustworthy because he attacked me."

She spun in her seat to look at me. "He did
what! When? Why didn't you tell me?"

"This is why. I didn't want to freak you
out." I glanced at her. "And close your mouth. You look like a
blow-up sex doll."

"Cat, be serious. Tell me what
happened."

I told her about my interview with Grimes,
not leaving out any of the gory details. My gut churned as I
recalled his hot, slippery hands groping me.

"Cat, you should call the police. He doesn't
sound like someone you want to mess with."

I said nothing. The pickup turned down a
couple of narrow side streets. I concentrated on staying far enough
behind that I wouldn't be seen but close enough not to lose
him.

"Cat!"

Sheesh
. "If I go to the police, I'll
look like I can't handle myself. That's not the image I want to
portray in my new job as assistant P.I. And Will would find out and
he'd make me stop working this case."

"Maybe you should."

"Nuh-uh. No way. I need to do this."

"Why?"

I sighed. "Dad put Scarletti away when he
was a cop but he never really finished with the case. For some
reason, he couldn't let it go, Mom said. I want to find out why." I
needed to. Not for Dad—I wasn't that noble—but for me. For my
self-respect. To prove to him and the world that I wasn't
hopeless.

Phew, as epiphanies go, that was a biggie.
But it felt good to get it off my chest, put it out there in the
open where I couldn't back away from it.

Gina made a noise that was somewhere between
a sigh and a grunt. "Cat, you're so goddamn stubborn."

"Language, Gina."

"Sorry. Fucking stubborn. Better?"

"Now that's more like the Gina I know."

The pickup turned into a street I
recognized, Dyson Street. I'd been down it only a few nights
earlier. The Grotto was on the left. Dyson Street was lined with
cheap clothing and bric-a-brac stores that had seen better days.
The sort that kept the Closing Down Sale sign up all year
round.

The Grotto looked different during the day.
Not so scary, just dirty. The windows needed washing and strips of
faded gray-green paint peeled off revealing the red brick
underneath.

Grimes drove into the near-empty parking
lot. I parked down the road behind a white van and watched.

"Do you think he set fire to your
apartment?" Gina asked.

"Possibly."

"But why? To get the jewelry box?" She shook
her head. "No, that can't be right. He would've just broken in and
taken it. He could overpower you easily enough."

"Gee, thanks. And I'll have you know I
tackled Will to the ground last night."

"Yeah, but that was kinky."

I didn't bother to set her straight because
she probably wouldn't believe me. But her point had been bugging me
ever since the fire. If someone was after the box and its contents,
why would they set my apartment alight then run? Why not try to
steal it first?

I didn't get a chance to talk it through
with her because Grimes had approached the door to The Grotto. I
opened the car door but Gina grabbed my arm and held me back.

"Are you insane?" she said. "What are you
doing?"

"Following him."

"Why?"

I shrugged. "See if he meets with the same
characters Lou knows. Barry Grimes wasn't here the other night but
he's familiar enough with the bar to be here during the day."

She didn't look convinced. "Cat, we are
not
going in there. That man's dangerous."

"You're right.
We
aren't, I am." The
horror on her face made me hesitate. "Don't worry. It's broad
daylight. What could happen? Anyway, I'm not going to talk to him.
I'll just watch through the window."

"And if he sees you? Cat, think about it.
He's attacked you once. He could do it again. And this time he's
got a friend." She nodded toward the front door of The Grotto where
Grimes had stopped to talk to a tall man dressed in army khakis.
Mad Max. Curiouser and curiouser.

"I didn't know they knew each other," I
said.

"Who is he?"

"A jail buddy of Lou's. Okay, now I've
really got to find out what's going on."

"Cat—"

I took her hand. "If I don't do this now,
Gina, I'll never be able to go through with being a P.I. I'm shit
scared, but you know what they say about facing your fear."

She frowned. "Sometimes fear is a healthy
emotion, especially if it stops you from getting raped, or worse.
Maybe you shouldn't face it but embrace it and get out of
here."

Max and Grimes went inside. I got out of the
car. "I'll be back soon."

"No way am I letting you go in there
alone."

"No, you stay here. I might need someone to
call for help if I don't come back." Gina was way too paranoid to
be of any use to me. The best option was to keep her safe in the
car and out of my way.

She sighed heavily. "I'll give you fifteen
minutes. Get my number on your cell phone and keep your thumb over
the call button. If something goes wrong, let it ring once, hang up
and I'll call the cops."

Oh, yeah, paranoia city. I nodded, did as
she said because she wouldn't let me go until I'd shown her the
number on my screen, then pulled the baseball cap I'd found in the
back seat low over my eyes.

I crossed the road and approached The
Grotto's side window. Thick bushes grew beneath it, providing good
cover. I stepped through the overgrown garden bed but the soggy
soil swallowed my dainty heels and I lost my balance. Flapping my
arms like a flightless bird, I reached for the nearest bush.

Aagh
! It was covered in thorns. I let
go and toppled over, landing in the muddiest patch, of course.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK!

My clothes—Gina's clothes—were ruined, not
to mention my hand was scratched and bleeding and my right shoe had
been swallowed by the mud.

On the up side, I was well covered by the
bushes and right underneath the window. I peeked through. Grimes
and Max sat at the bar, nursing drinks. Sunday afternoon must be
The Grotto's slow time. The only other occupants were the bartender
and two male drinkers who looked as gray and worn out as the
furniture. They stared into their beers as if God himself could be
found there.

I watched for fifteen minutes while Grimes
and Max exchanged conversation and furtive glances. Not friends
then, but uneasy allies.

Gina would be getting worried so I
extricated my shoe and took the other one off, then stood to leave.
It felt like a couple of thorns were still stuck under the flesh in
my palm. It stung like crazy. I inspected it as I walked which was
probably why I didn't notice the door opening as I rounded the
corner.

"You!" Grimes snatched the cap off my head.
I quickly smoothed my hair down in a reflex action. Surprise
registered on Grimes' leathery features, quickly followed by
amusement. "Can't get enough of me, eh?"

"Hey, I know you," Max said. "Yep, yep,
yep." He nodded vigorously. "You're that s-stripper. Nice ass. Yep,
n-nice ass."

"She's no stripper," Grimes said, no longer
finding my presence funny. "She's a cop."

"I'm not a cop."
But I am outa here
.
"Sorry, can't stay. My friend's waiting for me in the car."

Max grabbed the back of my top as I turned,
and for a horrible moment, I dangled like a puppet unable to move.
"M-mud wrestling," he said as if he hadn't heard Grimes. "M-m-makes
your skirt stick to your ass. N-nice ass. Yep, yep."

"Let go!" I swatted at him but he kept me at
arm's length, laughing. "If you don't let me go, my friend will be
over here in a flash. And you don't want to mess with him. He's
ex-army, has a black belt in—"

"She's hot." Grimes licked his lips as Gina
toddled over on her heels, cell phone in one hand, no doubt with
her thumb poised to dial 9-1-1.

"Is sh-sh-she a stripper?" asked Max,
staring at Gina's bouncing chest. "M-m-mud wrestler?"

His grip loosened and I smacked his hand
away with the shoes I was holding. The heel of one connected with
his cheek and he cried out, clutching his face.

"Run!" I shouted.

Gina was closer to the car than me but I had
bare feet and my boobs didn't smack me in the chin so I got there
first. I started the Civic and we were half way down the road when
I gathered enough courage to look back.

Mad Max touched his cheek gingerly as if
checking to see if it was broken. Grimes was nowhere to be seen.
His car had already left the parking lot. For the next three
suburbs, I checked my mirrors but no one seemed to be following
us.

When we got back to Gina's, I let out a pent
up breath. "Christ, that was scary."

Gina glared at me, arms crossed. "Oh, you
think?"

"Gina—"

"Cat, those men are dangerous. One or both
of them could be murderers." She shook her head. "I've decided. You
can't do this."

"What?"

"Investigate them. Be a P.I. or whatever.
Stick to being a secretary. It's easier and safer."

My eyebrows shot up to my hairline. I
couldn't believe what my best friend was saying. So much for moral
support. "I don't want easy. I hate easy. It's boring and driving
me nuts."

"But it's safer." She held up her hands to
stop me. "Before you rant and rave, I'm just thinking of you. I
mean, who wouldn't be concerned about their best friend dying?"

"I don't have a terminal illness."

She humphed and got out of the car. No
matter how much I tried to get her to see my point, she refused to
speak about it further. In the end, I gave up and went to Mom's
after a quick shower. At least she didn't know the full story so
the visit would be lecture-free.

Or so I thought. I was confronted with more
arm-crossing at her front door.

"The police called," she said through tight
lips. "They want to talk to you about the
fire
at your
place."

"Oh, yeah, thanks. Can I use your phone to
call them back?"

The glare she gave me could have sliced
through metal. "Talk to me. Now."

I told her I'd left the iron on and I'd be
more careful next time.

She eyed me suspiciously. "I didn't think
you were that ditzy."

Uh-oh, game over. "Okay, I'll tell you. But
you have to promise you won't get mad or try and talk me out of
what I'm doing."