No Such Thing as a Free Ride (13 page)

“Oh, and did I mention that Bunny practically has the key to my house?”

Crystal walked back into the living room holding one half of a pair of diamond earrings. It was distinctly feminine and mega expensive. I was torn between hoping they were Nick’s, (which would make him a cross-dresser) or left behind by one of his many female admirers. Both alternatives left me wanting to throw up.

“I found this on top of the counter in the bathroom. It’s pretty,” she said. “Can I have it?”

Nick gently took it from her outstretched hand. “I’m afraid the young lady who left it here may want it back.”

She left it here on purpose, just for an excuse to come back, the slut! I would never use such a corny excuse… except for the time I left my Game Boy over at Danny Pelosi’s house—and he wrapped it up and gave it to Tina Delvechhione for her birthday!”

Sal cut me a look.

He couldn’t possibly know my feelings for Nick. My face is the picture of nonchalance.

“Well,” he said, rising off the couch, “I think we’d better head out now if we’re going to beat cross-town traffic.”

I walked Crystal to the front door. “I’ll let you know the minute I hear anything. And you can call me whenever you want… not that you’d need me or anything—”

She cut me off with a brief, embarrassed hug, surprising the heck out of me. Then she opened the door and walked out without a backward glance.

Nick was still on the couch, but he rose as Sal approached. “Mi hermano, gracias por tu ayuda.” I didn’t understand the words, but there was no mistaking the sentiment.

Father Sal grinned. “It’s what I signed up for.”

The two friends clasped hands, ending in a familial embrace. Then Sal walked over to where I was standing at the door. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and leaned in close to my ear.

“Hang in there, Little One. He needs you.”

The air in the room suddenly ceased to exist as the weight of Sal’s words sunk in.

Nick needs me? How could that be? Nick is an island, beautiful and self contained. He doesn’t need anyone, least of all me.

By the time I got my breath back, Sal had left. I returned to the living room feeling confused and not a little pissed off. How long had Nick been back from his trip before the parade of bimbos had begun forming a line at his door? And yet, the person who knew him more intimately than anyone else in the world said he needed
me
. It just didn’t make sense.

Nick had settled on the couch again, a glass of single malt nestled in his hand. His look was pensive, and for a moment I got the feeling he’d forgotten I was still in the room.

I coughed to let him know I was there. He looked up from his drink and smiled, the mood broken.

“Well, I guess I’d better head out too,” I told him, hoping he’d beg me to stay.

He gazed at me with smoldering eyes. “There is no other woman, Brandy. I bought those earrings for you. They’re yours if you want them… as am I.”

“It was good seeing you, Angel. Keep in touch.”

Keep in touch? What the fuck?

“Why do you have that photo of me in your nightstand drawer?”

Oops!
“I mean thanks for helping Crystal out. I’ll see you around.”

I bolted toward the door and I almost made it when a strong hand landed on my shoulder, stopping me dead in my tracks.

“Nice try, darlin’.”

“Nick, I’d love to stay and chat, but John and I have tickets to the uh… The Jackson Family Reunion concert… minus Michael, so it’s not technically the
whole
family…”

“Do you want to tell me how you knew about the photograph?”

“Um, not really.”

He put both arms on my shoulders now and sat me down on the couch.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s not polite to snoop in other people’s belongings?”

I couldn’t tell by his expression if he was amused or mad at me, but I’d had a good three months to sit on this question and I wanted an answer.

“Yeah, okay, the secret’s out. I’m a compulsive drawer opener. But that photo cost $1200 bucks. Why did you buy it, Nick?”

Nick let out a soft sigh. “I saw the photo in the art gallery window and I thought it would embarrass you to have it on display, so I bought it. My intention was to give you the photo but I left town before I had a chance to deliver it. Brandy, I’m sorry if you read more into it than there was.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m fine. It was really thoughtful of you and—
oh hell, Nick! I’m in love with you!”

Shit! Well, ‘in for a penny, in for a pound.’
“I’m in love with you,” I repeated, not bothering to hide the tears that welled up in me. “Look, I know I’m not telling you anything you haven’t already figured out on your own. I’m just tired of pretending, y’know?”

I sat back on the couch, emotionally drained and yet, somehow, relieved. Tossing pride out the window was oddly freeing.

Nick slid over and wrapped himself around me, tucking me into the crook of his arm.

“I wish I could give you what you want, Angel. What you deserve. But it’s just not in me.”

I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder. “You don’t owe me a thing, Nick. You’ve been there for me since the moment I met you, and I couldn’t ask for a better friend. You can’t help how you feel any more than I can. So, if all you have to offer is a friendship with benefits, I’m willing to take it.”

He hugged me closer, his voice filled with extraordinary tenderness. “Do you have any idea how dear you are to me?”

“I’m beginning to.” I sat up, facing him. “And just so’s you know,” I added, wrapping my arms around his neck, “I don’t plan on giving up.” And then I kissed him.

Wow. Who knew that honesty could be so empowering?

I tasted the single malt on his lips as I pressed my mouth against his. He was surprised, but his response was immediate. He groaned and fisted his hands in my hair. Rubbing my lips seductively against his, I delivered the kiss of a lifetime and then I pulled back suddenly and slipped out of his arms. “Gotta go,” I told him, smiling down at the bulge I’d created in the front of his jeans.

“Brandy Alexander, you do not play fair,” he sighed, but he was smiling too.

Nick walked me to the elevator and pressed the button. “So now that Crystal’s safe, what’s next on your agenda?”

I shrugged. “Check the local hospitals and city morgue to see if Star’s turned up there, check out that license plate, find Bunny before she finds me… enroll in Clown College.”

He thought I was joking. Unfortunately, I wasn’t. Eric thought it would be “hilarious” and a real ratings booster.

The elevator doors opened, revealing a fairly hefty, uniformed delivery guy. He was wrestling with an enormous crate that was balanced precariously on a dolly.

“Sorry,” he said, trying to swing past us. “The service elevator is broken.”

As I scooted out of the way, my eyes settled on the top of the box. “Oh, Nick, it’s for you.”

“Nicholas Santiago?” the guy asked.

Nick gave a curt nod, his eyes roving over the crate. His mood, which a moment ago had been light and playful, darkened.

The return address said Bogotá Columbia. My imagination leaped into overdrive.
What could be in the crate? Guns? Well, that didn’t make any sense. Wouldn’t he be sending them to third world countries instead of the other way around? Drugs? No, Nick didn’t seem the type to mess with that. And anyway, I’m sure if he was transporting illegal drugs he wouldn’t use Fed Ex… Eighty pounds of coffee?

“Sign here, please,” the man said. “And I’m going to need some I.D.” He shrugged apologetically. “Special orders.”

“No problem,” Nick said, and took out his wallet.

“That’s a really big box, Nick. I wonder what’s in it.”

Okay, so it wasn’t the most subtle hint in the world, but at least I wasn’t jumping up and down yelling, “Open it, open it,” like I wanted to.

The elevator door began to close. Nick reached out and forced it back open, ushering me inside. “Don’t want you to be late for Clown College, darlin’.”

“But —”

The elevator door closed.
Crap.

*****

Glenda Maroni is my mother’s third cousin and a 40 year employee of the Department of Motor Vehicles. Cousin Glenda has a voice like a chainsaw. She smells like Johnny Walker Red and Dentine Gum and she once set fire to the tip of her nose in an ill-fated attempt to re-enact a classic
I love Lucy
episode. Growing up, I didn’t see much of Cousin Glenda. My mother thought I had enough crazy ideas of my own without adding Glenda’s to the mix.

I found her the next day at her cubicle typing up a report, a lit Marlboro balanced on the edge of an ashtray that sat atop a pile of papers on her desk. She was about to pick it up as I walked over to her, automatically checking to see where the fire extinguisher was located.

“Cousin Glenda, it’s Brandy.”

Glenda looked up. “Brandy?
Get out!
Come here! Give me a hug! Look at you! You’re all grown up. I heard you bought your parents’ place. Are you still going out with the cop? What’s on your face, honey? Is that a pimple?” Before I could squirm out of her grasp, she gave me a “wet thumb cheek rub.” Eewww.

After the preliminary familial catching up, I finally got to the reason for my visit. “Listen, Cousin Glenda.” I shot a discreet look around, lowering my voice to a mere whisper. “I have a huge favor to ask you.”

She compensated for my whisper with a full-on shout. “Anything for you, sweetie. You were always my favorite.”

I tried again, edging closer. “This is kind of a personal matter—”

“Oh my Lord, you’re pregnant! Does your mother know? Don’t worry, honey, in this day and age it’s not the worst thing that could happen.”

“Glenda,” I all but screamed, “I’m not pregnant.”

“You’re not?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Oh, thank God. A kid would make your life miserable. Now, take my Bernardo. Sweetest baby you could imagine, but—”

“Um, Cousin Glenda, I need you to find out who owns a vehicle with a vanity license plate that reads “SLIMEY 1.”

“No problem, hon. I’ll just be a sec.”

The legality of dispensing with private information to anyone that walked through the DMV doors never seemed to cross her mind. And being the non judgmental type, I figured it would be rude to mention it.

Through the magic of technology, Glenda got the information in a matter of minutes. She was frowning.

“What’s wrong?”

“That license plate doesn’t exist, honey. Are you sure you got it right?”

I rooted through my bag and found my notebook. “SLIMEY 1,” I read aloud.

“No good,” she said, double checking.

Oh double crap! Harmony gave me the wrong license plate number. Well, that’s just great. I now have exactly zero leads.
“Listen, thanks for trying, Cousin Glenda.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you, hon. Tell your mother to give me a call.”

*****

After leaving the DMV I swung by the firing range. I still wasn’t loving it, but, basically, I’m a very competitive person, and I kinda dug giving those paper perps “what for!” I could tell I was getting better, too, because this time the guy behind the counter didn’t duck when I handed him back my gun.

Shooting people in their vital organs really worked up an appetite, so I stopped by the Barnes and Noble across from Rittenhouse Square and took the escalator up to the café. Settling in with some decaf and a low fat muffin, I sat at a table near the window and got out my notebook. I took a few sips of decaf and a bite of the muffin and congratulated myself on making such a sensible choice. Then I tossed them both in the trash and got some regular coffee and a pack of chocolate grahams instead.

I was feeling frustrated. It had been days and I still wasn’t any closer to finding Star. If I could just pinpoint when she disappeared, maybe I’d have a place to start.
What was it Harmony had said about the night she saw Star getting into the van? It was a full moon.
I gulped down my coffee and headed for the reference section.

Flipping through the Farmers’ Almanac, I found what I’d been looking for. The date of the last full moon was June 15th. That was about two weeks ago, which fell within the time frame of everyone’s vague recollections of the last time they’d seen Star.

I called Crystal on the cell phone Nick had provided her. She sounded almost happy to hear from me.

“How’s it going?” I asked.

“Okay. The people who run this place are pretty cool. Have you found out anything about Star yet?”

“I’m working on it. Crystal, I know you don’t remember the date of the last time you saw Star, but do you happen to recall if the night she left there was a full moon?”

“I can’t remember. Why?”

“I’m just trying to establish a time line for when she disappeared.”

“Oh,” Crystal said, thinking. “Y’know, on the morning of the night when she didn’t come back, Star left the squat early. I think she told me she had an appointment with her case worker… I’m not really sure though. I was half asleep when she left. I might’ve just dreamed it. Does that help?” she asked. The little girl quality of her voice gave me a pang.

“Yeah, actually, it does. Oh, and one more thing. Do you know if Little Red drives a silver van?”

“Definitely not his style,” Crystal snorted. “He’s a throwback. Drives a black Cadillac El Dorado. He must watch a lot of bad ‘70’s tv.”

“Okay, Crystal, thanks.” I told her I’d keep her posted and hung up.

So Star had an appointment with Olivia Bowen the day she disappeared, and then two weeks later, Olivia turns up dead.

I called DiCarlo and left a message for him to call me back. The cops had to have gone through Olivia’s appointment book. If she’d had a meeting with Star the morning of Star’s disappearance, Bobby would be able to confirm it.

Franny called me on the way out of the bookstore. “You’re not driving, are you?”

“No. What’s up?”

“Bran, I wanted you to hear this from a friend. You know that date Bobby has on Saturday night?”