Mama Said (8 page)

But why had she been killed? If, in fact, Annie had been in recovery and going through a methadone clinic, why would she be searching for drugs? Could it be that she had seen or heard something she shouldn’t have? Then again, maybe Annie had lied to Donna. Perhaps she had disappeared because she’d gone back to her drug use and ceased caring about anything else, including the Blues Stop.

When living with Terence, her drug-addict-ex-boyfriend, Gabriella hadn’t recognized that he was still using until the evidence slapped her in the face. Maybe Donna had been as bad as she had been in recognizing what was really going on. Addicts were good at hiding the truth until they got caught. Then they’d squirm, deny, and blame everyone but themselves for what happened. She knew the ritual all too well.

Would anyone ever know what had happened to poor Annie? Would the police continue to pepper Shane with questions until he finally lost his temper and got arrested?

And what, if any, role had Mack played in what happened? She couldn’t help thinking of him differently after what she’d seen in the alley. No doubt he was guilty of something, but she didn’t know what.

Donna’s hands were shaking as they got up to go back on stage. Gabriella took her hand. “Why don’t you go home early? I can handle this last set alone.”

The tears started to flow again. “Are you sure?” When Gabriella nodded, she continued, “But could I ask you a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Would you mind coming with me tomorrow to snoop around about Annie? I’m sure the police aren’t going to do anything about it. They’ll just chalk it up to a druggie’s inconsequential death. I can’t let it…”

“No problem.” She wanted to suggest Shane help as well. He was the private dick, after all, not her. But whether it was oversight or intentional, the idea didn’t seem to be on Donna’s radar at the moment. So, for once in her life, Gabriella went with the flow, consoling herself with the thought that Donna actually thought she could help.

Mack peeked his head inside the dressing room. “What’s going on?”

“Donna’s sick. She’s got to go home.” Gabriella chewed her lip. “Is there a guitar somewhere around here? I’m better on that than the keyboard.”

He gave her a weird look, then shrugged. “In the back hall closet.”

She followed him there and got the guitar. While it had definitely seen better days, with a little tuning, she could make it work.

When she returned to the stage, she was a little surprised but relieved to find out Patrick and his friends were gone. She figured they’d stick around to the bitter end, if only to finish off this crazy night with a bang.

Thankfully, the night petered out uneventfully, although Mack was acting weirder than usual. She tried to ignore him as much as she could but noticed he was watching her more closely than normal. She couldn’t help wondering if he was still bothered by the encounter in the alley.

More than likely he’d been smoking weed or doing some coke and thought if she told Shane, he’d be fired on the spot. Which he probably would be. She had more than enough trouble dealing with Shane as it was. She didn’t need an angry Mack on her back.

Then again, Mack hadn’t seemed overly weird when she’d asked him about the spot on the floor. Spilled wine made a lot more sense than dried blood. And the note was probably nothing.

Satisfied things were hunky dory again, and that Shane would be taking her home as per usual, she walked up to the bar after the club closed.

Before she got even close to the bar, Shane blurted, “You screwing my brother?”

“Excuse me?” That wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting.

In fact, she’d had this lovely fantasy in her head in which Shane would confide in her and divulge all about O’Brien and his threat. And she’d tell him about the weird note and spot and they’d laugh about her overactive imagination. Then they’d work together to figure out what was really going on. Instead, she’d gotten Mr. Crazy Paranoid Macho Man once again.

“He had his hands all over you while you were dancing.” His eyes narrowed to slits. “Not that I care. I just want to know if the asshole is going to come sniffing around here often.”

Where was all this coming from? Had some kind of weird spell been placed on this club or had she somehow been transported to an alternate universe where everyone was crazy, cranky, and paranoid? “Don’t be ridiculous. He was drunk.”

“I didn’t see you fighting him off.”

“Not that it’s any business of yours, but there was nothing to fight off.”

“Oh, I get it. You’re doing the O’Neil brothers comparison. You won’t be the first. It happened when we were in high school, too.”

“You’re in a foul mood and taking it out on me. I’m sorry your singer was killed. I’m sorry you, for some reason, feel responsible. I’m sorry a cop wants to see you dead. I’m sorry Tony got stabbed. But don’t think you can catch me in the middle of your drama.” She pulled the strap of her purse onto her shoulder. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll take a cab home.”

She stormed out, half expecting him to stop her and apologize. At least in her fantasy version, he did. Instead, Mack followed her out.

“I’ll give you a ride, Gabriella.”

Like hell. “No thanks.” She flagged down a passing cab which, through some miracle, was nearby. Still steaming from Shane’s over-the-top behavior, it took her a few minutes to recognize she was being followed.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Shane chastised himself as he opened the front door to apologize. It wasn’t her fault he had issues. But instead of getting a chance to talk, he spotted her getting into a cab. Probably a good thing.

Everything he might say now would more than likely come out wrong. Seeing Patrick always made him spin off into some weird place from his childhood, and today wasn’t any exception. Patrick had always brought out the worst in him. Competitive by nature, Shane had always felt a need to best Patrick in sports, academics, girls, and then rub his face in it. To this day, whenever he saw Patrick, he had a perverse need to one-up him. This time Gabriella had ended up in the middle of it.

While he couldn’t rewrite history, he didn’t have a burning desire to live his life any differently now. After getting on the force, Patrick seemed to want to mess with Shane whenever he had the opportunity. Going after Gabriella was a perfect example.

When Shane’s mother was alive, she’d kept the peace. His stepdad, Daniel, would come down on him when she wasn’t around, but as he got older he learned to make himself scarce when necessary. Then, just as he was about to prove himself worthy of the love his mother showered him with, his world shattered.

Although that description might sound melodramatic, there was no other explanation for what happened that day. He’d gone from a ‘gotcha’ moment involving Daniel to sinking into the bottom of a deep, dark well when his mother died.

If it weren’t for his friendship with Garrett and the Ryan family taking him in for the last few months of high school, he wasn’t sure what would have happened to him. More than likely, he would have ended up like one of those runaway kids he now tried to help.

He had to figure out a way to make it up to Gabriella. For some strange reason, he didn’t want her to think he was an ass, even when he acted like one.

* * *

Gabriella wouldn’t have noticed that somebody was following her except she kept glancing out the rear window with the crazy optimistic idea Shane might have reconsidered his earlier irrational behavior and come after her to apologize. But the car behind them wasn’t the low-slung profile of his Porsche.

“I think one of the customers from the bar is following us. Could you drive around a bit and try to lose them before you drop me off? I don’t need all the barflies in town to know where I’m staying.” Another reason she should be staying in a hotel. They had security to make this kind of thing disappear. But nooooo, Shane had to be a cheapskate. With some effort, she willed her mind away from him and onto the present situation.

The cabbie glanced in his rearview mirror and nodded. “Sure thing. As long as you’re paying, we’ll do the tour. I’ll show you all the spots where movies in Chicago have been filmed, everything from
The Blues Brothers
to
Batman
….”

The cabbie’s rambling relaxed her. He continued to talk while they drove toward downtown, circling Michigan Avenue, then entering a ramp leading to a cavernous maze of streets. The area was nearly deserted and she gave another quick look behind. Not a headlight in sight.

This guy was good.

* * *

Sleeping was overrated. At least that’s what Gabriella told herself as she tossed and turned most of the night. She vacillated between believing she had imagined being followed to hearing a whole slew of unexplained noises during the course of the night. All told she’d probably had no more than four hours of sleep when she slipped from beneath the covers. She put on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, pulled her hair into a ponytail, and visited the diner for a couple cups of coffee.

An hour later, wired on caffeine, she contemplated how much damage she could do on her credit cards. She’d never been to Michigan Avenue and heard the shopping there was to-die-for. Before she had a chance to put that excellent idea into motion, her phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Gabriella, this is Donna.” She sounded horrible.

“How are you?” Silly question, but she had to ask if nothing more than to be polite.

“Like crap.” She sucked in a deep breath. “When I get upset, I tend to get sick to my stomach. But I can’t let what happened to Annie go.”

“What do you have in mind?” Last night when Donna mentioned her hare-brained idea, Gabriella had contemplated asking Shane for help. That idea went to hell when he acted like an idiot. Now Donna was stuck with Gabriella as a partner.

“I need to ask some questions.”

“Maybe when you’re feeling better we can ask around.” She was all about procrastinating. Besides, she had visions of a great new dress and a pair of shoes waiting for her somewhere on the Magnificent Mile.

“No, I can’t stop thinking about her. I need to do it today. Will you come with me?”

“Now? Ah…sure…but are you up to it?”

“I have no choice. I’ll come pick you up in fifteen minutes.” Without another word, she hung up.

After taking the quickest shower on record, she rummaged through her clothes to find a detectivey-looking outfit. In the end she decided on jeans and a t-shirt, mimicking Shane’s normal attire, except for a great pair of wedge sandals.

She glanced out the window and spotted Donna’s white Altima at the curb. The driver’s door was slightly open. Gabriella was pretty sure Donna was tossing her cookies onto the pavement. She couldn’t help admiring the woman’s fortitude.

Gabriella opened the passenger door. One look at Donna and she had an overwhelming urge to send the poor thing right back home.

“Good morning.” She didn’t bother to ask if Donna was sure she was up for it because she clearly wasn’t. “Where are we headed first?”

“Let’s try to talk to her drug counselor at Haymarket. Maybe we can get them to tell us something.”

Gabriella didn’t want to burst her bubble and mention the confidentiality issue. She’d had enough experience with those sorts of things to know that a drug counselor never talked to anybody about a client unless all the proper forms had been signed. Then again, she wasn’t sure if confidentiality came into play when the person in question was deceased.

Donna negotiated her way through the streets and made it to the drug rehab place in about ten minutes. The small crowd of people mingling outside eyed them suspiciously as they got out of the car and walked through the front door.

Inside, the place appeared run down, needing both a good cleaning and a fresh coat of paint. Walls had yellowed from years of neglect, plus a whole lot of cigarette smoke. Small cubbyhole offices lined the perimeter. Everyone who worked there was either on the phone or talking to someone inside their office. A lone receptionist with really bad hair answered the constantly ringing phone.

Finally the gum-chewing receptionist with big hair had a break from the ringing phone and looked at them. “Are you two here for drug testing?”

While Gabriella shook her head in disbelief, Donna responded, “We’d like to talk to Annie Taylor’s counselor.”

“You two don’t look like cops.”

But we look like druggies?

“We’re not. We’re friends of the deceased.”

“Annie’s dead?” Judging from the girl’s expression, she was shocked. “I thought she was going to make it.”

“The cops haven’t been here?”

“Not that I know of. Let me get Gina. She might be able to help you more.”

They waited in silence a few minutes as the receptionist went to one of the offices, then motioned them over.

A woman with short dark hair stood when they walked inside. “I’m Gina. Have a seat. Lucy tells me you two are here about Annie Taylor.” She shook her head. “It’s a shame what happened to her. Even though relapse is a part of the recovery process, it still gets me every time I hear about it, especially when Annie was doing so well.”

Donna nodded. “That’s what I thought, too.” She stopped and gulped as if fighting back the nausea. “Was she friendly with anyone here that maybe we could talk to?”

“She had a sponsor.” Gina glanced around as if she were divulging a national secret. “Her name is Vanessa Young. I’m not sure where she lives, but she works as a waitress at Johnny’s on Canal.”

Donna stood and Gabriella followed suit. “Thanks for your help.”

“You’ll let me know if you find out anything, won’t you? Annie was a good kid. She was excited about this great guy she was seeing.”

“You don’t happen to know his name, do you?”

“I don’t think she ever said. She said that he had money and that he told her he’d take care of her and she’d be okay. I got the impression he might have been older, more mature than her, you know what I mean.”

They both nodded, then left the building and walked to the car. A little color had returned to Donna’s face, probably more from excitement than a miraculous cure. “We’ll head to Johnny’s and see if we can locate Vanessa. Maybe she knows something more about this elusive boyfriend. He’s got to be a good place to start.”

A few minutes later, they parked outside of Johnny’s. Donna’s burst of energy seemed to be fading fast as they walked inside. Immediately, she headed to the bathrooms in back.

Gabriella took a seat at one of the open tables and waited for the waitress to come around. While she didn’t know exactly how these things normally worked, she figured they couldn’t push their way in and start asking questions. They weren’t cops. They weren’t even private detectives.

The way she figured it, they had to be more subtle about their questions. Not for the first time, she wished she weren’t so mad at Shane. She’d like to ask his advice.

While she was trying to think of a way to call Shane without apologizing for something she didn’t do, Donna joined her at the table.

When the waitress got to their table, she filled their coffee cups. Donna’s phone rang and she glanced at the readout. “Oh, no, that’s my son’s school.” She opened the phone. After talking for a few seconds, she closed it. “My son got hurt at school. They think he might have broken his arm playing baseball in gym class. They’ve taken him to the hospital.” She stood. “I’ve got to go.” Her fingertips lingered on the table as she hesitated. “Would you—”

“Absolutely. How hard can it be? If I find out anything, like the name of the boyfriend, I’ll call you right away.”

“Thanks. I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it in tonight.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a silver cylinder. “Here’s some pepper spray just in case you run into trouble.”

Gabriella wasn’t sure what she meant, but appreciated her concern. “And don’t worry about tonight. Mack found me a guitar, and I’ll do my thing at the Blues Stop. The show must go on and all that stuff.” She smiled and hoped Donna bought her bravado.

Maybe she had, because she looked relieved. “Thanks a million, Gabriella. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” With that she stumbled back to her car and drove off.

When the waitress returned, Gabriella asked, “Is Vanessa here?”

The woman shook her head. “She’s not coming in today.”

When the woman started to walk away, Gabriella stopped her. “You don’t happen to know her address, do you? I owe her some money, and I’d hate like heck for her to go without.” Maybe she was more devious than she’d thought. The lie had easily sprung to her lips. She was determined to talk to this woman, if for no other reason than to prove something to herself.

The girl hesitated. “Let me try to get her on her cell.” She pulled a phone out of her pocket and keyed in a number. Finally, the girl spoke. “It’s going right to voice mail.” She gave Gabriella the once-over, as if trying to gauge her trustworthiness. “I guess it won’t hurt. I know she could use the money. Jake had to go on asthma meds, and I know that costs a fortune.” She jotted the information down on a napkin and sent Gabriella on her way.

She went outside and hailed a cab, reciting the address to him. Baby steps. This seemed like a simple enough project to tackle alone.

She didn’t know much about the neighborhoods in Chicago, but this one seemed to be teetering on the brink. Unkempt lawns were the norm rather than the exception. But kids playing in the front yards were being supervised by mothers or fathers, which was a good sign.

She got out and walked to the building. Judging by the number of different doorbells along the side, there were about twelve apartments. Luckily, the downstairs security door wasn’t quite closed so she was able to slip inside. She couldn’t be sure Vanessa would let her in. Besides, it would be harder to turn her down in person.

She knocked on Vanessa’s door, her back straight, her confidence solid. She could do this. She wasn’t the irresponsible flake everybody thought.

“Vanessa,” she called and knocked again. This time, the door squeaked open. “Vanessa?” She peered around the door and slipped inside.

And spotted the body lying on the floor. The scream originated somewhere near her toes and ripped through her body and out of her mouth. It reverberated in the tiny apartment like thousands of ping pong balls bouncing off the walls.

It wasn’t one of those bad actress movie screams. Singing gave her the lung capacity of a long-distance swimmer, so it was near deafening.

She rushed to the woman’s side, despite the blood pooling on the floor around her. When the woman turned her head and opened her eyes, Gabriella screamed again. Runaway adrenaline fueled by overwhelming fear had her body trembling.