Into The Heat (Sandy Reid Mystery Series Book 6) (13 page)

T
he young woman came up close beside him at the bar, leaned in and whispered, “You ever get in a crazy mood where you feel like doing something naughty?” She was Martin’s age, about a head shorter and nice-looking, but not remarkable. Neatly dressed in a knee-length blue denim skirt with a white peasant blouse. He had entered Frankie’s Sports Bar a few minutes earlier, and the older woman serving behind the bar had just set a frosty schooner of Bud in front of him. He had almost slipped and ordered a martini.

The woman beside him spoke again, “I noticed you weren’t staring at the game, so I thought I’d bother you.”

“No bother. Who are you rooting for?” he asked to make conversation.

“Me and you circling all the bases.”

“Well, this certainly is a friendly place,” he chuckled.

“You want some company?” She saw the trace of a grimace on his face, and said, “Okay, no conversation. I’ll get right to the point. There are other sociable girls, wives and ex-girlfriends in here tonight. They might be prettier but there’s a lot of game playing. After a ton of money spent on them, you still might strike out. I guess you’ve lived that story yourself.”

“We’ve all been there,” he said, going along with it.

“Hey, if you want to be alone—.”

“If you don’t mind. I guess I don’t feel much like talking right now. Thanks for the welcoming.”

She squeezed his arm and smiled, “That’s cool.” She walked away.

Eight large wall-mounted TVs blared forth from every possible viewing angle around the room. The patrons were garbed in fashions from blue-collar up to the polo club crowd. He need not have worried about his disguise, as he was just one more unremarkable sports fan.

Time to get to business. He made up something to say to the older gentleman on his left, “I didn’t realize this game was on tonight.”

“Yeah, how about that?” the guy said, without taking his eyes away from the TV to even see who was speaking.

“I was looking for one of my buddies, Lester Bardner. You know him?” Martin waited. Finally, the guy absent mindedly shook his head, but showed no inclination to speak one more word. Martin wasn’t there for a chat anyway. He wanted information and talking to these guys engrossed in the game wouldn’t get him there. He needed to chat with someone who wasn’t concentrating on the game.

The woman who had spoken to him earlier probably knew what went on in the place. She was sitting on a bar stool toward the end. He motioned to her.

She hurried over smiling. “You won’t be disappointed.”

“It’s not that at all. And I disagree that the other women in here are prettier.” The woman didn’t have herself on display and except for the vivid red lips wore a minimum of makeup—all to her credit. “What’s your name?”

“You can call me Trixie.”

He looked down at her with a raised eyebrow.

“I didn’t say it was my real name. I said you could call me that. Hey, lots of nice girls are named Trixie. Come on, follow me.”

“No, wait. I don’t want—.”

“Relax, we’re only going over there to that quiet booth in the back.”

When they had settled in, she looked at him expectantly. He said, “Perhaps you can help me with a little problem.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, honey. I’ve seen it all. If you’ve got a bell, I’ll find a way to ring it.”

“I need some information.”

She was disappointed. “Do I look like an information booth?”

“Worth money to me.”

“Better be. Like twenty bucks up front,” she said it with a take it or leave it tone. “I could be doing something else, you know.”

He nodded, took out the photo of Bardner and passed it across the table to her. He watched her eyes, thought he saw a flicker of recognition. When he showed her the photo of Coleman, she definitely widened her eyes. Perhaps in recognition, but more likely because the man’s eyes were closed, his complexion was pasty, and he was lying on a slab. “Have you seen either of these guys in here, maybe together, maybe last Tuesday?”

She pushed the photos back at him. “Have a nice day.”

He relaxed and leaned back, trying to come across as non-threatening as possible. “Let’s say a fifty.” He nudged the photos toward her again.

“You’re serious, aren’t you? Look, honey, I’m not identifying any bad guys for any amount of money.”

“It’s not like that.” He pointed. “This guy’s dead and this other is under suspicion.”

“Oh, that’s a relief, then I got nothing to worry about, do I? And here I thought they were trouble.” She pushed the photos back. “Never saw them in my life.”

“Does this place have a security camera?”

“You mean like a bank or a Stop-and-Rob? No.”

“Okay, can you just tell me if you’ve ever seen either one?”

“You’re not a cop or an ex-cop, I can tell. Probably working for a lawyer or insurance company. And you know, suddenly I don’t like you. You’re trying to trick me. Once I tell you, you can force me to testify—seen that on TV. If I’m lucky the dead guy’s buddies won’t come after me, and all I have to do is take the stand, explain how I supplement my income in a sports bar, then go home and watch my mother while she kills herself.”

“I just need some answers, not your testimony.” However, she was correct, as soon as she spoke, she’d be subject to a subpoena. He did not intend to let that happen, but it could get out of control. He pulled some bills out of his pocket.

She saw the money, looked both ways rapidly and shoved his hands off the table. “For chrissake don’t do that!”

“I’ll give you something anyway for your trouble.”

“Well, don’t pass me money in here, dummy. Let’s go out back.”

He paused and looked around the room. “In the alley? Is it safe back there?”

“It is if you’re with me, provided you don't make me squeal too loud. Half the guys in this room are like big brothers. They know my real name. I’m one of those girls that just seem to be around when you need them. Except I’m not a professional.”

“But you charge?”

“Duh... I’m easy not stupid. No record, never been arrested. The cops don’t know I exist ‘cause Frankie keeps me away from the tourists. They come in and go out never knowing there’s a Trixie around. And the best part is I don’t have to stand around showing a lot of skin or dress slutty. So, I’m sort of naughty, but basically good. The guys are generous. They buy me drinks now and then. They want to keep me around.”

“You trusted talking to me from the start. How come?”

“Frankie, the owner, she’s the one who served you the beer, looked you over and then gave me the okay signal. That’s why I went up to you.” She swung her legs out of the booth.

He followed her down the back hallway, beyond the restrooms and out the rear door.

They stood in the dim light of a feeble lamp hanging crooked by one wire on the building above the back door. He cautiously looked around the alley. Just a few cars and pickups parked back there. No people just shadows. Quiet except for occasional yelling from inside whenever the crowd was aroused by the ball game.

“We’re cool.” She turned to him. “I guess if someone sees you giving me money they won't exactly be surprised, now will they?”

He had put some bills in his front pocket on purpose. Now, he took the money out and peeled off a fifty.

She saw what he was holding. “Holy shit, I could give you a month in wonderland on that.” She took the fifty and stared at the remaining bills in his hand. “One more?”

He gave her another and put the money back in his pocket.

“For chrissake, you're easier than me. You’ve got something coming, honey.”

“Don’t worry about it. Nice of you to stick your neck out as far as you did.”

“No, not that. I won’t embarrass you into turning me down again.” She took a little breath. “This isn’t going to help Lester, is it?”

So, she did know him. “Believe it or not, sometimes the truth turns out to actually help a guilty person in the long run. Is he one of your friends?”

“He’s a jerk, but he’s generous. I never turn him down. He’s in here a lot but hasn’t been calling on me lately. Must have something good going for him. I’d be surprised if he wasn’t here last Tuesday, if you know what I mean. Yes, I’d certainly be surprised.”

“I understand. Thank you for at least that much, and good luck to you, Trixie.” He started to turn.

“Wait. I’m not through.” She peered around into the darkness before moving closer, “That other guy, the dead one? I heard he won a big bet from someone inside last week, might have been Tuesday. Probably was, you know. Anyway, he never showed up for his money. I guess he never will, huh?”

“Was it a very large bet?”

She shook her head. “Nothing special, at least I didn’t hear talk about any big money.”

“Very helpful. One more thing, and this is important, Trixie. Did they leave together?”

She looked as though she wanted to speak but just frowned at first. “You shouldn’t have told me it was important, now I’m really nervous.”

He took out another fifty.

She stared at the bill while shaking her head. “No, I wasn’t hustling you for more. You’ve paid me plenty.”

He pushed the bill at her.

She took it, looking more worried than glad. “Why do I trust you? Okay... they might have been here at the same time. In fact, Lester came in a couple minutes after the dead guy showed up. I remember because Frankie waved me off—didn’t want me to go near the dead guy. She can spot trouble ten miles away and blindfolded. I don’t remember if they talked to each other while they were here. The dead guy left and Lester went out right after.”

Martin had what he wanted and it was good. Yet, a smile didn’t come. Worrying about all the Trixies in the world would do no good, he could do nothing about them. But he did wonder about them and didn’t care to encounter any more of them.

“You know what?” she said. “You could have had me for nothing.” She rested her hand on his arm.” But remember, in case you want something special sometime—bound to happen. Just park in back here, go in and sit in that back booth. You don’t have to say anything. I’ll see you. I know I’m not exactly an oil painting, but we all look alike in the dark. It’s not my face you’re gonna remember anyway.” She grinned as she held the door for him to go back inside and shook the fistful of money high in the air.

T
he following morning, Martin briefed Sandy about his excursion into the sports bar. Any lingering doubts about their client’s guilt had disappeared. “So they were both seen earlier the evening of the murder at Frankie’s,” she said. “You say Lester followed Coleman into and out of Frankie’s? That gives us considerably more information on what went on that fateful evening. Of course, we have that inconvenient video of the shooting on the street later. Who’s this witness?”

“Sort of an extra added attraction there at the bar. Let’s call her a woman of negotiable affections. She’d be an unreliable witness on the stand, but her info was invaluable. She didn’t recall the two men speaking together. We now know Lester was following Coleman, not the other way around, but we don’t know why.”

“Defending him will be a rough go,” she said. “This new information about him following the victim adds to his guilt—looks like premeditation. Regardless, it doesn’t keep us from using the Stand Your Ground defense if that’s what we decide.” Nothing learned at Frankie’s revealed a motive for hunting down Coleman with a gun in hand. And she’d still like to find out how the two men originally came to be connected.

She was on her second cup of coffee when her phone rang. Unmistakably Leo. “Why aren’t you out looking for my money?”

“I’m working hard, Leo. Office research, making calls, trying to link things together.”

“Well, you do get to the office early, I’ll say that. I was hoping you jogged in your neighborhood in the morning, or went to some exercise class every day. What do you call those cute tight things you girls wear?”

“Leo, you stalking me just makes me nervous, and I need to stay focused.” Her eyes were tightly shut the entire time she was talking. “Answer me this, did Coleman ever call you from Park Beach? Did he ever mention any names or places, something that might help me on this?”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re looking for me and not my money. Get with it, Babycakes.”

She called Mel immediately and described the call. “Obviously, he’s been following me around town.”

“Good lord, did you spot him?”

“No, and I usually can tell when someone is tailing me. In any case, you can bet he’s not sitting in a hotel room waiting for his phone to ring. I had trouble sleeping last night, wondering if he was watching my house. I’m usually not like that.” She declined the state attorney’s offer of a police escort and assured him she’d be careful.

“I don’t like using you as bait,” Mel said, “but if you can spot him following you, call me, maybe you can lead him into a trap—such as a dead-end street. We’d at least get a look at the vehicle he’s driving, which might lead to his identity. Just don’t take any chances.”

She agreed to be watchful for such an opportunity. She had no idea where to start looking for Leo’s money. Nigel was already deeply engaged in scouring various databases on the Internet trying to get a lead on him. It seemed more promising for her to concentrate on searching for Leo himself. He had to be somewhere around town, if not actually right behind her. After she had informed Martin of the call, and listened to all his expressions of concern, they agreed he would pursue the connection angle between Lester Bardner and Coleman—what had brought them together

Martin’s phone buzzed. Holly Davies said, “Hey Marty, you said I should wait. It’s been like a total lifetime. Like what happened to you?”

He’d been stalling getting back to her because he had to admit finding almost nothing about Bruce Fowler, the mystery man she had met in the coffee bar. Nigel had come up with some sparse family history in Colorado. However, they weren’t certain it was even the same man. Still no employment history, not even an address. Martin had asked about the Fowler family around town and drew a blank. No one had heard of him or his family. Possibly, he was a thirty-year-old, would-be photographer who, with family money, didn’t have to work. Plenty of wealthy folks in Florida don’t have to work. Nevertheless, Martin didn’t believe the guy was legitimate and cursed finding nothing. He had wanted to overpower Holly with negative details to steer her away from what would surely be a disastrous predicament.

With the Leo threat in front of them, no one in the office had any additional time to pursue the background check on the mystery man, which added to Martin’s guilty feeling. Nigel’s research efforts were pulled off Holly’s situation and given to finding Leo before someone else died. One good excuse for not learning more about the man was no local address. He told her, “I’m afraid we’ve found out almost nothing about the guy. All you’ve given us is his name and photo. You don’t even know where he lives. If he has a car, what’s the license plate number? What’s his phone number?”

“Well, no bad reports that’s cool, isn’t it?” she said. “He comes in more often now, Marty, and we talk. He really rocks. Except, I wish he’d dress a little better. He says when you have a lot of money, you can dress however you want. Eccentric—that’s what he called himself. Never seen him with a phone, don’t know about a car. He talks about all the travel and things we’ll do together and wants me to see his beachfront condo. Says it looks out on the ocean. Imagine me waking up and hearing the ocean. I’ve hinted about him asking me on a date, but the most he says is he wants me to see his condo.”

“Do not go to his condo alone, Holly. You haven’t even had a date, and he wants to get you in his condo?”

“Sounds really awesome.”

“We need more information, especially an address. And be very careful with this guy.”

“Okay, I’ll get you an address somehow—just so you can check in to it and find out how wrong you are. I’m not worried about him, and if you met him you wouldn’t be worried either.”

“Call Nigel with anything you find out about the guy.”

“Hey, listen to this, Marty. Bruce has been taking photos of me. Isn’t that cool? See I told you he was a photographer.”

“What kind of photos?”

“At the beach. It was fun.”

“Wearing a swimsuit?”

“Just my everyday clothes. He said I’m particularly photogenic, and if the photos come out okay, he might consider doing some glamour poses of me in a bikini. Said he had to think about it.”

“Did he drive to the beach? Did you get a look at his car? We need the license plate number so we can check out this guy.”

“I drove my car and met him there. I think he lives nearby.”

“Well, call Nigel anytime, and be very careful with this man.”

“He says his mother wanted to see him married. Break out of his shell, was what she told him. She died still unsuccessful in getting him interested in going out and meeting someone. He’s got this legal trust thing—you know what that is?”

“Go on.”

“To get everything he has coming from the inheritance, we have to get married and live as man and wife for like a year. Said he doesn’t care about the wife part of it, but that’s what the trust requires. He says I’m the first girl he’s seriously considering doing this with. Isn’t that sweet? Do I rock or what? Looks like I’m going to get that money.”

“When do you get the fifty thousand? After he gets his inheritance or immediately? I’m betting he promises it after the inheritance, and you never get it.”

“I’m not sure. Didn’t want to screw up by asking too many questions. Bruce said everything would be clear to me later.”

“Yes, everything will be shockingly clear to you, once he gets his hands on you and it’s too late.”

“I want that money, Marty, I’m willing to take a chance. What’s the worst that can happen? I told my boyfriend, he’s cool with it. Said getting married was okay as long as I didn’t have sex with the guy and continued to have sex with him.”

“You should consider dumping your boyfriend while you’re at it. No one who cares for you would ever approve of such a bizarre arrangement.”

“But you see, later we can use the money to start our new life. Since my boyfriend trusts me, won’t it be all right? Anyway, if all that bad stuff does go down, I can always run to you for help can’t I?”

He regretted what he was about to say, but she needed to be shocked into thinking seriously about the consequences. “No, Holly you can’t run to me. I feel I’ve given you excellent advice. I do wish you luck and happiness, I just don’t believe it will happen. If you’re lucky, it’ll merely be horrible. You have to take responsibility for yourself. Please don’t rely on me, okay?”

He knew he had gone too far as soon as he said it. Somehow, he should have left the door open to her. Yet, he couldn’t leave her thinking she didn’t need to worry for herself because somehow he had the power to make horrible consequences go away.

“So much for all that friend shit you were giving me. Guess I’m not good enough. You don’t want anything more to do with me, and that totally sucks. Then I don’t want anything to do with you, dude. I know what I’m doing and I’m going to do it. You don’t have to bother with me anymore. You can stop worrying about me as of right now. Goodbye.”