No Such Thing As a Good Blind Date: A Brandy Alexander Mystery (No Such Thing As: A Brandy Alexander Mystery) (16 page)

“Yeah, but it
is
possible, right?” I argued. “Mike, the guy is obviously lying. Harrison was almost beaten to death and yet nothing was taken. His wife admitted he cheats on her constantly. The witness overheard something about ‘Conley,’ which could easily have been ‘Connie.’ She’s rich enough, or at least her father is, to hire someone to scare her husband into fidelity. The person who did this could have killed him, but he didn’t. I think this was a warning.”

Mike said he’d run it by his superiors and see what they had to say, but not to hold my breath.

There was no parking the entire length of John’s block. I ended up around the corner on a side street, which didn’t thrill me, but I parked right under a street lamp and ran like crazy until I reached John’s door.

“Hey, Sunshine. Sorry about the parking. My neighbor is having a party.”

“No problem.”

“So let’s see this mysterious thumb drive.”

I spent the next few minutes hanging around while John booted up his computer, but he has a new flat screen television and pretty soon I was ensconced on his couch, watching Blossom—The E! True Hollywood Story.

There was a sudden explosion of laughter from John’s bedroom and then, “Come here, you’ve got to see this.”

I took one look at the screen and sank back onto the bed. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding. Porn? My dog swallowed a skin flick?” Unless Keith was starring in the damn thing, I just couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about.
Ooh! Maybe he is starring in the damn thing!
John and I watched until it got really embarrassing and then he pulled the plug on it.

“Mystery solved,” John said.

“I guess.”

He gave me back the thumb drive. “Okay, I know that look,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Well, there are just too many unanswered questions, John. For instance, why did Keith pretend the dog was his, when his wife said they didn’t even own a dog? And does the drive belong to Keith? And if so, why would he go to all that trouble just to retrieve porn? I mean he could easily get another copy…and how the heck did the dog end up swallowing the drive in the first place? And another thing, who is Adrian’s real owner?”

“You named the dog Adrian?”

“Yeah, you know—Adrian! Adrian!”

John rolled his eyes. “You are seriously weird.”

“I’m also starving. You need to feed me.”

It was after eleven when I left John’s apartment. He’d made pasta primavera, which, after I picked out the cauliflower, was delicious. In my opinion, cauliflower is the devil’s work. It smells awful, tastes worse and looks like an albino brain. There is absolutely nothing redeeming about it.

The street was deserted so I stepped up my pace until I reached the car. I had my keys in my hand, sticking out from between my fingers like some funky brass knuckles, the way my mom taught me. I knew I was safe; this was one of the better neighborhoods, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I felt anxious and scared but I didn’t know why. And it didn’t help that the street lamp I’d parked under had been blown out. Damn kids and their BB guns.

My phone rang and I jumped a mile. “Hello?” I said, fumbling with the keys in the lock. I opened the car and slammed the door behind me.

“It’s Bobby.” His voice was hard and professional. “You got lucky,” he started, before I could tell him I was sorry about last night. If I was going to admit I was wrong, I wanted to get it over with.

Bobby continued in that same professional drone. “One of the regulars from Jolly Jack’s called the station and said he’d seen Davis arguing with the victim the same day she was killed. When she tried to walk away from him, he grabbed her by the hair. He also stated that Davis is notorious for his abuse against women. There’s an APB out on him, so there’s no need to mention your involvement.”

Tears sprang to my eyes and I quickly wiped them away. “What was her name?” I asked quietly.

His voice softened. “Andi. Her name was Andi.”

“You were right, Bobby,” I said, swallowing hard. “I made some really dumb mistakes, but I’ve stopped looking for Glen. And as for Toodie, I haven’t heard from him in days. I don’t know where he is, I swear, but if he does call I’ll urge him to turn himself in.” That was all I could think of to make amends, short of reciting a couple of Hail Mary’s and offering to do his laundry. But Marie would probably take issue with that.

“Brandy, I just want you to be safe.”

“I know you do. And I know I just said I’d butt out, but do you think this new info on Glen will help Toodie?”

“Beats me. They could have been in on this thing together. I’m still on the case, by the way. We’re short-handed down at the station, and the chief says unless Toodie is my long-lost brother, I’m stuck working it.”

“I understand.” I just hope Marie will be equally understanding.

Ten seconds after we hung up, the phone rang. “What’d you forget to tell me, DiCarlo?”

“Guess again.” The voice was male, unfamiliar and hair-raising creepy.

“Who is this?” I turned my head automatically to check the locks and started the engine.

“You were supposed to guess, bitch.” My heart rate tripled as I struggled to keep down dinner. I didn’t need to guess. I knew.

“Glen.”

“You’re quite the little detective, aren’t ya? Ya know it’s really unfortunate what happened to your new girlfriend. But guess what? You’re next.”

Before I could take a breath something slammed hard into the back of Paul’s car and I flew forward, hitting my head on the steering wheel.
Oh my God, he’s right behind me.
Reeling from the impact, I floored the engine and peeled out of the spot, too scared to see if he was following. I drove like a maniac; my only thought being to create as much distance as possible between us. With my free hand I tried to punch in 911 on my cell, but I dropped the phone under the seat and no way would I stop and look for it.

He kept pace with me for about ten blocks, his black Chevy Malibu shadowing my every move. How did he know where to find me?
And why couldn’t I shake the son of a bitch?
I cut a sharp left and barreled headlong down a oneway street. Glen’s headlights loomed in my rearview mirror for a brief moment and then—out of the blue—he was gone.

For some reason, his sudden disappearance panicked me even more. I knew I should go to the police, but there was no comfort in that thought. After all that’s happened in the last several days, the cops think I’m some kind of whack-o and I could hardly blame them. I pulled over and kept the car idling while I searched for my cell phone. Then I punched in Bobby’s direct line at the station. He didn’t pick up.

The adrenaline had worn off, leaving me drenched in sweat and shaking uncontrollably. I couldn’t go home. He could be waiting for me. Paul’s club was still open, but how could I put my own brother in danger? My life was no longer in my control and I hated feeling so helpless. I needed a safe haven. I needed Nick.

I swung the car around and headed in the opposite direction.

When I got to his apartment building, I picked up my phone and punched in his number. He answered on the first ring. Caller I.D. told him it was me.

“Hey, angel.” His voice was low and relaxed. “What’s up?”

“I’m parked out front. Can I come up?”

Nick was waiting for me at the door when I got there. It took every ounce of strength I had not to throw myself into his arms and cry myself silly. He was wearing a pale blue crew neck sweater, which brought out the rich chocolate brown of his eyes, and charcoal gray slacks. His face was newly shaved, accentuating his high cheekbones and angular jaw. For a moment I forgot all about the homicidal maniac who was out to get me, as I stood transfixed by Nick’s extraordinary presence.

“Come on in,” he said. “You sounded upset over the phone.”

I was about to launch into the entire terrifying ordeal, when I saw her. She was sitting on Nick’s beige leather couch, looking stunning in a simple, form fitting black dress and Jimmy Choo high heel pumps that cost more than I made in a week as a news reporter in L.A. Her hair was spun silk; a sharp contrast to my own disheveled mess. She was holding a wine goblet in her beautifully manicured hand. A small furrow in her brow creased an otherwise perfect, heart-shaped face.

She remained seated as Nick ushered me into the room and I felt a flush of embarrassment sweep over me.
Nick was on a date.

“Brandy, this is Alana,” he said, apparently completely unaware of the awkwardness I was feeling. “Alana, this is my friend, Brandy.”

I felt like I’d been sucker punched. Just so that the Goddess Alana didn’t get any wrong ideas, Nick let her know in a hurry I was just a “friend.” At that moment I hated him, I hated her and I actually contemplated the possibility of going out with Raoul.

I grunted hello to Alana and she nodded vaguely in my direction.

“Can I get you some wine?” Nick asked.

“Um, no thanks. I can’t stay. I was in the neighborhood and, uh, I thought I’d stop by to get that Shrimp Creole recipe. You know how it is when the old cooking bug bites you.”
Oh my God. Somebody stop me.

Alana eyed me coolly. “Yes, I often get the urge for crustacean at midnight.”

Nick laughed and I wanted to punch her. And him too while I was at it. I fought the urge and headed towards the front door.

“I’ve got to go. Sorry to burst in like this.”

Nick murmured something to Alana and then his arm was around my waist, guiding me back into the living room.

“You’re obviously upset,” he whispered, his mouth pressed to my ear. “You’re not going anywhere until I find out why. Give me a minute.”

I wanted to storm out of there on principle, but that only worked if he knew why I was mad, and I’d rather die than have him know how jealous I felt. Plus, the alternative was to sit home and wait for Glen to make an appearance. I wandered over to the baby grand and gazed out the window, too frightened and exhausted to argue.

They spoke in hushed tones on the other side of the room, and then Alana walked over to the couch and picked up her coat, and held it out to Nick. He draped it around her shoulders and flashed her an apologetic smile. When they got to the foyer, she stopped and turned to face him. “I had planned on making you very happy tonight, Nicholas. Call me.” She placed a lingering kiss on his mouth and walked out the door.

My stomach did a one-eighty at the sight of her lips plastered to his.
What was I doing here? I never should have just shown up at his place. He doesn’t care about me. I’m just some hapless idiot he feels sorry for.

“Nick, wait,” I yelled, racing towards the foyer. “This is ridiculous. You were in the middle of—whatever—with Alana. I should be the one to leave.” I yanked open the door and headed down the hall. “Maybe I can still catch her.”

He grabbed me around the middle, hoisting me off the ground. My mind just snapped and I kicked out my legs, screaming for him to let me go.

“Are you aware that you’re acting just a tad on the nutty side?” he asked mildly.

I did know. I just didn’t know how to stop. Nick turned and dropped me gently onto the couch and sat down beside me.

“I’m sorry,” I said, awash in abject misery. “I should have called first. It’s just that I was so scared.”

“What scared you, angel?” Just then he noticed the knot on my forehead. He reached over and brushed his thumb lightly over it and I flinched. Nick’s voice took on a hard edge. “Who did this to you?”

So I told him.

“You’re sure it was Glen?” It was a legitimate question. I seem to have pissed off a lot of people lately—through no fault of my own, of course.

“I’m positive. He killed that girl, Andi, he probably killed the woman in the freezer—although I haven’t figured out a motive for that one yet—and now he wants to kill me too.”

I made my voice as flat as possible, but the involuntary trembling in my legs gave me away. Nick poured me a shot of single malt and waited while I tossed it back.

“Thanks. Christ, I don’t believe this is happening just when I’d given up looking for the jerk.”

“You’d already gotten the ball rolling and now the police have taken notice. In his mind you’re responsible for all the bad press.”

Just my luck, I’m taking all the heat of an investigative reporter, without any of the perks—like a paycheck.

“So—Davis was right on your tail and then suddenly he just vanished?”

I nodded.

“He’s toying with you, angel. If he had wanted to finish you off tonight, you’d be dead.”

“But why play around like that?”

“Think about it,” Nick said. “It’s actually pretty brilliant. He’s screwing with your brain, making you look unstable. If you go to the cops with some story about him harassing you, there’s no proof.”

“But wait. What about the cell phone? His number would come up on my phone.”

“Maybe. But I’m willing to bet he’s using a stolen phone. My guess is he’ll keep this up for a while until you’re good and rattled, and then move in for the kill.”

Wow, what a sad commentary on my life, that, compared to an ice freak,
I
look unstable.

It all seemed to make sense, except for one thing. From what I’ve learned about Glen, he’s got a mean streak a mile long, but nobody’s ever accused him of being an Einstein. I couldn’t imagine him being the brains behind his own operation.

“I’m not trying to scare you, darlin’, but Davis is probably tweaking, which means he hasn’t slept, he’s highly volatile, erratic and paranoid. A real hit could come at any time.”

“What am I going to do, Nick? I feel like a sitting duck.”

Nick drew me to him and wrapped me in his arms. It was the safest and most content I’d felt in weeks. “You’re not going to do anything tonight except get a good night’s sleep. The single malt should help.”

I glanced over at the clock in the kitchen. It was one in the morning. “I have to go,” I said, struggling to sit up.

Nick shook his head. “You can’t go home. Not unless I go with you. Stay here for the night and we’ll figure it out in the morning.”

“But what about Rocky and Adrian?”