Murder on the Rocks (19 page)

I followed him outside feeling both wary and curious. Both ends of the alley were
cordoned off by police tape and the two garbage Dumpsters that normally sat on one
side of the alley were gone. The space looked much larger without them and in response
my body felt as if it was growing. Duncan walked over to where my Dumpster normally
stood and stopped there. I walked up to his side, stopping a few feet away and giving
him a curious look.

“The evidence has all been removed from here,” he said. “But based on what you told
me about how your synesthesia works, I wanted to see if there are any lingering sensations
you might be able to pick up on. Particularly if any of them are also triggered by
your proximity to other people, mainly your customers or employees.”

His request made me feel awkward, like a side show freak on display. But I did what
he asked and focused on the area, moving a little closer to the spot where cleaner
concrete marked where the Dumpster had been. As I stared at the clean area of pavement,
my fingertips tingled.

“I feel something when I look at the spot where the Dumpster is supposed to be,” I
told Duncan. I rubbed my fingers together. “The tips of my fingers feel rough and
uneven in spots, almost as if some of my skin is missing. It’s a cue to me that something
is different here from what I’m used to.” I scanned the area outside of the clean
part, and the back walls of the building. “There’s also a smell, an earthy, dirt smell,”
I told Duncan. “It’s not unpleasant, but I don’t particularly like it either. I caught
a whiff of something similar earlier when I was with Zach.”

“Your boyfriend smells like dirt?” he said, sounding amused.

“No, but something about him triggered that smell for me. Just like something here
is.”

“What’s triggering it here?” Duncan said, looking around the area.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what triggered it with Zach earlier, either.”

I closed my eyes then and focused on my other senses. Some of the smells, though faint,
were definitely still there. I caught whiffs of rotting food, wet paper, something
stingingly astringent, and a very faint floral smell that might have been lingering
at the site or carried to me on a breeze—I couldn’t tell for sure.

“I can hear the same chiming bell music I heard when I was near Cora, and also the
twangy, out-of-tune sound I heard when I was by Lewis,” I told Duncan. “But they are
very faint. I also feel an odd, cloying sensation along my neck and arms that I felt
when I was with Riley, but I’m pretty sure that’s a manifestation of the musty smell
from his wet books. I can hear a strange oscillating whine, and I heard the same thing
the other night when I was close to Kevin Baldwin, but it’s not as loud here.”

I focused harder, trying to separate out all the different sensations, mentally sorting
them into real and synesthetic as best I could. Over the years I’ve learned how to
tell the difference most of the time—my synesthetic reactions tend to be ephemeral,
lacking in solidity in a way that my real sensations don’t—but sometimes my reactions
are so intense it’s hard to tell them apart from the real sensory input. Some of my
reactions happen so regularly I’m unaware of them, the way others may be unaware of
tics or habits they’ve developed over time.

I opened my eyes and found Duncan staring at me with a curious expression. “That’s
all I’m getting out here for now,” I said. “But I just remembered something, a smell
experience I had when I found Ginny out here, though I’m not having it now. It was
the same smell I always got whenever I looked at Tad when he was wearing those ugly
tortoiseshell glasses of his. I must have seen them in the trash out here.”

“We found them next to Ginny’s body,” Duncan said.

“Yes, and Tad explained how they got there. He said he tossed the broken glasses into
my bathroom trash.”

Duncan nodded. “And that would be a perfectly reasonable explanation for us finding
them where we did except for one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“The evidence techs have been sifting through all the trash that was out here in both
your Dumpster and the one that sits at the other end of the alley, recording not only
what they found, but where they found it. And all of the trash they found that appeared
to have come from your bathrooms most recently was inside your Dumpster. Yet Tad’s
glasses were found outside it, several feet away.”

I sighed and swiped the back of my hand across my forehead, which was beaded with
sweat from the afternoon heat. “This is just great,” I said. “At this rate, it won’t
just be everyone in my bar who’s a potential suspect, it will be the entire city of
Milwaukee.”

I
went back inside and hit up the ladies’ room before heading back out to the main
bar area. I saw Duncan talking with Riley, who was now sitting at Cora’s table and
I walked over in time to overhear part of their conversation.

“I’d love to drop by and see what you have,” Duncan was saying to Riley. “I’m an avid
reader.”

“Are you?” Riley said. “What sort of stuff do you usually go for?”

“Murder mysteries, mostly,” Duncan said with a half-smile. “I enjoy learning all of
the creative ways people can come up with for killing one another.”

“Ah, then I’ve got some lovely first editions you might be interested in. Are you
a Holmes fan perchance?”

“I am.”

“Then I will set some aside for you.”

Cora, who had been tapping away on her laptop, peered over the top of her glasses
at the two men and said, “Hey, if you two are done developing your little bromance,
I could sure use another glass of chardonnay.”

“Coming right up,” Duncan said, heading for the bar.

“He seems like a nice guy,” Riley said, nodding toward Duncan. “I hope he works out
for you. Maybe he can take over for Gary.”

Cora had gone back to typing but she stopped and looked up at me when she heard this.
“Why do you need someone to take over for Gary?” she asked.

“He doesn’t work here anymore,” I said vaguely, not wanting to get into the details.
Hoping to distract her, I asked, “Where are Tad and Kevin? Did they leave?”

“They did, but they both said they might stop back in again later. Why doesn’t Gary
work here anymore?”

Riley, seeming to sense he’d gotten me into a pickle, gave me an apologetic grin and
got up from the table. “I have to get back to the store, Mack. I’ll stop by again
after I close.” With that he left, leaving me alone with Cora’s demanding glare.

“I had to let Gary go,” I told her.

“Why? Did it have anything to do with Ginny’s murder?”

“I can’t discuss that, Cora. I’m sorry.”

“Can’t discuss what?” Duncan said, delivering Cora’s wine.

Cora shifted her gaze from me to Duncan. “Why doesn’t Gary work here anymore?”

“Oh, that,” Duncan said. “Turns out the guy had a prison record he tried to hide and
when Mack found out she fired him.”

Cora’s eyes narrowed as she digested this information. “Interesting,” she said. Then
she went back to her typing, letting us off the hook.

The dinner rush proved to be a busy one. Since I only serve pizzas, sandwiches, and
a few sides to go with them, I don’t typically have a big dinner crowd on the weekends
as most people opt to eat out somewhere fancier and then hit up a bar afterward. But
tonight my menu seemed to be just fine for a number of people and it kept us all hopping,
promising another very profitable night. Missy and Billy came in at five, and in addition
to Pete staying on until eleven to help out, Debra also opted to stay over for a few
hours to help with the rush and earn a little extra for her boys’ college funds.

Zach came in around seven-twenty and I directed him toward the kitchen with a nod
of my head. As soon as we were both inside and knew we were alone, he pulled me into
his arms and kissed me. It was brief and not particularly passionate. Though our lips
touched, the kiss could have been the type of cheek buss one might give to a friend
or family member.

“I’m ravenous,” Zach said once our lips parted. “Can you fix me up one of your famous
BLTs and a big order of fries to go with it?”

“Happy to,” I said. “In fact, I’m kind of hungry myself. What do you say I fix us
both something and we take the food upstairs to my apartment to eat? Pete can cover
for me here in the kitchen for a while.”

Zach seemed surprised but pleased by this as I’d never invited him upstairs before.
We always spent our time together down in the bar or away. I’d been to his apartment
once briefly so he could change clothes, and saw that it was a small, clean, organized
little bachelor pad . . . plain but utilitarian. And while we have kissed and had
a few hot petting sessions—most of them either in his car or in the bar after hours
when everyone else was gone—I hadn’t taken that final step with him yet. Not that
I hadn’t been tempted, but the moment had never felt quite right for reasons I couldn’t
fathom. Zach had been amazingly patient, which made me wonder just how “committed”
he was to me. For all I knew, he could have been getting his needs met on the side
with other girls he saw. I never asked, mainly because I didn’t want to know. Playing
the ostrich again.

“What would you like to drink?” I asked him. “I’ll get you something while I make
the sandwiches.”

He opted for a draft beer and I had Billy pour it for him while I went into the kitchen
and fixed our meal. When I was done I carried both plates out front and told Billy
and Pete that I was going to take a dinner break upstairs for a while. Duncan was
at the other end of the bar serving customers and the two girls were out waiting tables.
“You guys seem to have things under control,” I told Billy, “but call me on my cell
if you need me.” I had him grab a bottled beer for me and give it to Zach, who followed
me down the back hallway to my apartment door. “My keys are in my right pants pocket
here,” I said, holding our plates and raising my arms. Zach reached in and grabbed
the keys, squiggling his fingers around as he did so and wiggling his eyebrows at
me in a mildly lecherous manner. Then he tried to unlock the door, but the key wouldn’t
work.

“Oh, hell,” I said, shaking my head. “I forgot about the locksmith.”

“Locksmith?”

“Yeah, there was a guy in here this morning who changed all the locks in the place.
But I never got the new keys.”

“Didn’t the locksmith give you new ones?”

“He probably gave them to Duncan.”

“You mean the new guy? You seem pretty trusting of him given that you don’t really
know him.”

I felt bad about keeping Zach in the dark as to Duncan’s true identity, but I figured
the fewer people who knew, the better. Plus, his jealous tone irritated me and made
me taste something salty and sour, like a dill pickle. “Wait here,” I said, and then
I carried the plates back out to the main bar area. I walked over to where Duncan
was and set my plates on the bar. “Do you have the keys to my new locks?” I asked
him.

“I do. Why? Do you need them right now?”

“They
are
my keys,” I shot back irritably.

Duncan scowled and reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of loose keys. “I
was going to label them for you and put them back on your ring.”

“No need. I can figure it out.”

“Okay,” he said with a shrug, and then he dumped the loose keys into my hand. I picked
up the plates again, balancing them on one arm, and headed back to Zach. Together
we juggled the plates and drinks as I went to work figuring out which key opened my
apartment door. I got lucky on the second try and Zach and I headed upstairs and set
our stuff down on my dining room table. “This is nice,” Zach said, settling into one
of four chairs and looking around. My dining and living areas were at opposite ends
of one big room, and the kitchen, though it wasn’t huge, was big enough to hold a
small table.

“It works for me,” I said, digging out a candle and setting it on the table. I lit
it and sat down across from Zach. “How about a toast?” I said, holding up my beer.

Zach grabbed his and held it aloft, waiting.

“To enjoying life as much as possible,” I said.

“Can’t argue with that,” Zach said, and he clanked his mug against my bottle.

We ate and chatted about ordinary stuff—the weird weather, current events unrelated
to Ginny’s murder, movies that were playing, and a little bit of city political gossip.
When we were done, I gathered up the plates and carried them into the kitchen. When
I turned around, I saw that Zach had followed me and he pulled me into his arms, bringing
our bodies into full frontal contact.

“Would you care to show me the rest of your apartment?” he said with a suggestive
tone.

My heart began to pound, but from nerves rather than lust. I knew what Zach really
wanted. “I should probably check on things downstairs, to make sure they’re handling
the crowd,” I said. “It’s been a very busy night.”

“I’m sure they’re managing just fine,” Zach said.

“Actually, we could use some help,” said another voice, and it took me a moment to
realize Zach and I were no longer alone. I peered over his shoulder and saw Duncan
standing in the doorway to my kitchen.

I pushed myself away from Zach and gaped at Duncan for a few seconds, irritated and
confused. “What are you doing up here?”

“Looking for you,” Duncan said. “It’s getting kind of crazy down there and you just
disappeared.”

“I told Billy and Pete where I was.”

“Well, you didn’t tell me,” Duncan shot back irritably.

“I wasn’t aware I had to. And how did you get up here? You gave me all the keys, didn’t
you?”

“I did. But you didn’t lock the door downstairs. Rather careless of you. When I found
it unlocked I got worried and came up to see if you were okay.”

“I’m fine. I was simply trying to take a dinner break.” I shifted my attention to
Zach. “I need to get back to work, but let’s do this again.”

“I’d love to,” he said with a wink and a smile.

We all headed downstairs, Duncan in the lead, Zach behind him, me bringing up the
rear. Duncan stopped and made sure I locked the apartment access door before he headed
out to the main bar area, leaving me and Zach alone.

“I had a busy day and I’m pretty beat,” Zach said. “Plus I have to work again tomorrow.”

Though Sunday was the one day Zach and I tried to do things together, I was glad he
had to work for this one. I don’t open the bar on Sundays until five in the evening
so it’s my one day during the week to have a little free time, and this week I felt
like I needed that time to myself.

“But I’m off on Monday so maybe we can get together tomorrow night after you close?”
Zach suggested.

I sensed a hidden meaning behind the words “get together” but figured I could deal
with it later. “Sure, that sounds like fun.”

“Okay, see you then.” He pulled me close and gave me a kiss good-bye, one with a lot
more passion than before. When our lips finally parted, I felt an odd mixture of titillation
and relief. I walked him out to the main bar area and watched as he left. Then I checked
in with Billy, who sent me into the kitchen to help catch up on food orders.

Though Duncan was behind the bar when I went into the kitchen, he joined me seconds
after I dropped the first baskets of fries and curds.

“Billy and Pete said they had a handle on the drinks and suggested I help you back
here until we get caught up,” he said.

I sensed from his tone and the bitter chocolate taste it triggered that he was upset
with me, though I wasn’t sure why. And at the moment, I didn’t really care. So I simply
said, “Okay, can you put together these sandwiches?” I slid two of the food tickets
over to him and then went about gathering the ingredients for the three I kept for
myself to make. For the next few minutes we stood side by side, performing our duties
with silent precision, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with my new set
of mismatched knives. I didn’t realize just how tense I was until the timer on the
fryer dinged and made me nearly jump out of my skin.

We finished the tickets we had and took the food out front for Debra and Missy to
deliver, then we reconvened in the kitchen with a handful of new orders. We worked
side by side in silence, but the tension was getting unbearable. So once the food
prep was caught up I turned to Duncan and said, “Are you upset with me for some reason?”

“Not really. I just wish you would tell me where you’re going before you disappear,”
he said, sounding peevish.

“Why?”

“For one, I’m worried about your safety. Until we know for sure what’s going on and
who’s behind it, I can’t rule out that you’re being targeted somehow. Our prime suspect
at this point is on the lam and we have no idea where he is.”

I was touched by his concern, and if he had stopped there everything would have been
fine. But he didn’t.

“And two, I haven’t ruled you out as a suspect and as such, I need to keep an eye
on you. I don’t want you gallivanting off anywhere you want whenever you feel like
it.”

I gaped at him in disbelief for several seconds. “First off, I didn’t go
gallivanting,
” I said, stressing the word to make it sound even more ridiculous the second time
around. “I went upstairs to my
own
apartment to enjoy a meal break with a friend.”

“Friend?” Duncan scoffed. “I’d wager he’s a bit more than that.”

“So what if he is? Why do you care? What I do with my private life is none of your
business. And secondly, if you’re so convinced that I’m guilty, and so worried that
I’m going to take off and run, why don’t you just put the cuffs on, arrest me now,
and get it over with?”

I held my arms out to him and we stood there, staring at one another. Seconds ticked
by and a flood of emotions surged through me, manifesting themselves in a chaotic
series of synesthetic reactions. Then Duncan reached out and took ahold of my arms
just below my elbows. With gentle pressure he bent my forearms upward and pulled me
toward him. Our eyes remained locked, even as I felt my arms come into contact with
the hard warmth of his chest.

Any anger I’d felt dissipated, but it was replaced by confusion. Because with Duncan’s
touch I felt a hint of that spark I’d waited so long for. All of my other synesthetic
reactions faded away, leaving me with a clear-sighted view of Duncan’s face, and a
sense deep down inside that this man, this touch, was somehow right. I wanted more
of it, more of him.