No Such Thing As a Good Blind Date: A Brandy Alexander Mystery (No Such Thing As: A Brandy Alexander Mystery) (32 page)

The warehouse door screeched open with a wrench of its rusty hinge and Marie slipped through the crack.

“Goddamit,” Keith yelled, slapping Glen on the shoulder. “Go after her.”

Glen shook Keith’s hand off of him, a pronounced twitch pulsing above his left eye “Why don’t you?” His voice was steely and left no room for argument. Harrison swore and lunged for the opening. I prayed that Marie would reach her car and drive her daughter to safety.

Glen turned back to me. “What do you know about Harrison and my girlfriend?”

The gun was trained on my temple so I chose my words carefully. “Nothing, I swear it. But haven’t you ever wondered why Keith is so willing to help you cover up her murder? Let’s face it, you don’t exactly run in the same social circles.”

“I do good work for him. He doesn’t want to lose me.”

“Yeah, but kidnapping is a federal crime. Not to mention accessory to murder. I’m sure you’re one hell of a worker, but I’m afraid your pal Keith has an ulterior motive.”

“Is that so?”

I nodded. “Keith kidnapped me because I have some information he wants to keep private. If you kill me, you’ll be doing him an enormous favor.”

The hand that held the gun shook and he placed the other one on top to steady it. His eyes had that glazed “overdue for a fix” look I recognized from my volunteer work at the mission in downtown Los Angeles.

“Ask him yourself.”

Glen got quiet, his poor, drug-addled brain hard at work, trying to digest this new information.

“Tell me something.” He didn’t respond, so I plunged right in.

“Why
did
you kill Ilene? I mean I get the feeling you really liked her.”

Davis seemed rooted to the spot, lost in thought. In the failing light, he didn’t look quite so cadaverous, and I could see faint traces of the little brother Turk had once adored.

He lowered his head, the gun still trained on me. His entire body began to quiver, and I realized with a mixture of equal parts horror and fascination that he was crying. I held my breath, not daring to move a muscle.

“I don’t know why I killed her. I loved her.”

My butt was growing numb from the icy cold floor, but I didn’t think now would be a good time to mention it. I shifted minimally and when Glen didn’t protest, I raised myself up on my knees.

“What happened?” I asked, in what I’d hoped was a soothing, “Dr. Phil” sort of tone.

Glen rubbed at his eyes, as if trying to erase the memory. “All I know is Harrison called and was coming over to pay me for a job. Ilene had come by earlier. I was in my bedroom, getting high. The next thing I know, I’m lying on the ground next to her with a knife in my hand. Keith is standing over me, trying to wake me up, and Ilene’s body is full of stab wounds.” His voice broke and it was all I could do to keep from patting him on the shoulder and murmuring, “there, there.”

“Keith told me what happened,” Glen continued. “He’d walked in on us just as I was sticking the knife in her. He said I must’ve stabbed her like about twelve times before she died. He said he tried to stop me, but I was too fucked up to listen.”

Something clicked in my brain. “He said he saw you stab her to death?” I repeated.

The warehouse door flung open, and Keith reappeared hauling Marie in with him. Sophia wailed in her arms as Marie desperately tried to quiet her.

“If you can’t make her stop screaming, I will,” Keith said, taking aim at the toddler. He was sweating like a pig, his bum leg dragging behind him.

He turned to Glen. “Let’s get this thing over with.”

“What do we do with the kid?” Glen asked.

“She’s a witness.” He didn’t need to finish his thought. Even Glen got the implication. Keith pulled Sophie from his mother’s arms and set her on the ground. The little girl began to wail again.

“You bastard,” Marie screamed. She pounded Keith’s chest with her fists, stopping only when he wrenched her arm completely out of its socket.

“Just shoot them, already,” he told Glen. “We’ll figure out the logistics afterwards.”

There was dead silence in the room as Glen took aim at me and released the safety. Even the baby had stopped crying. Glen paused.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, Davis. She knows you stabbed your girlfriend to death. If you don’t kill her, you’ll get ‘life’ or worse. Do it,” he urged.

“Wait,” I screamed, scrambling to my feet. My heart was in my mouth, making it difficult to speak. “Glen, you deserve to know the truth about the way Ilene died.”

Keith dragged me up off the ground, his face distorted by rage.
How could I ever have found him attractive?
“Can’t you
ever
just shut the fuck up?” he yelled.

“What’s the matter, Keith, the truth make you nervous? Glen, Ilene was murdered all right, only you didn’t do it.”

“Don’t mess with me, bitch.”

“I’m not messing with you. You told me that Keith saw you fighting with Ilene. That he saw you stab her a bunch of times. Only that’s not how she died.”

Keith leveled his gun at me, but in a sudden gesture, Glen knocked it out of his hand. It landed at Keith’s feet. “Keep talking,” Glen said to me.

I breathed deeply, willing myself to stay calm. “The detective told me that Ilene died of severe head trauma. Not stab wounds. Keith couldn’t possibly have seen you stab her while she was still alive.”

“But I saw her when I woke up. There were wounds all over her body.”

“Think back, Glen. Did you see any blood?”

“I can’t remember.” He was straining so hard he was on the verge of a mental collapse.

“You’d remember if she were lying in a pool of blood. Those wounds were inflicted
after
she was already dead. That’s why there was no blood flow.”

“Glen, she’s lying. Kill her. Do it now.”

Keith bent down to pick up his gun, but Glen kicked it across the room.

I kept a steady eye on Harrison.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Keith sneered. “Why would I concoct such an elaborate ruse?”

“Because you wanted to make sure people knew it was Glen’s handiwork, not yours. If you were identified as being at the scene, no one would suspect you of doing something so heinous. Glen, on the other hand, was a natural. No offence,” I added, giving a nod to Glen.

“That’s crazy.” Keith spun around, addressing Glen with an air of superiority. “Look, Glen, you’re the one in trouble, not me. But if you choose to believe this lying cunt—”

“Excuse me?”
I exploded. “Listen, you vile, disgusting, piece of—”

“Everybody just shut up, okay!” Glen suddenly snapped, breathing hard. He got up close to Keith, seemingly unaware of the tears that were now streaming down his ravaged face. “Why’d you do it, Keith?” he asked. Why’d you kill her?”

“I didn’t. I—”

Glen backhanded him so hard I heard teeth crack.

Keith seemed to shrink before my eyes. His voice was small and thick with pain. “It wasn’t my fault. Her—her dog ate something I needed. I threatened to cut him open to get it back. Ilene went crazy. She attacked me. I was just defending myself, when she fell back and hit her head on the kitchen counter. I didn’t mean to do it,” he ended, pathetically.”

Glen stood over him, his rail thin body swaying slightly. His voice was calm, but his eyes were not. They did a manic dance over Harrison’s face. “You set me up. You made me believe I’d killed her. I even killed that other girl just to cover my tracks. You said it was a good idea.”

Keith took an automatic step back. “I—I was scared. I—”

Glen closed the gap between them, his finger resting on the trigger. “Are you scared now, Keith? You should be.”

The sound of gunfire reverberated like a sonic boom in the empty warehouse. Keith’s eyes grew wide with surprise as his brain fought to catch up with what his body already knew. He reeled back from the force of the impact, simultaneously clutching his chest as the bullet penetrated its target. A dark stain appeared and rapidly began to spread. Blood seeped through his fingers as he tried to stem the flow. It was such an ineffectual gesture, I actually felt sorry for him and I blinked back hot tears.

Glen watched with detached interest as Harrison fell backwards, landing face up on the floor. I gagged at the sight of Keith’s eyes, unmoving, still wide open.

There was blood everywhere. Glen stretched out his foot and deployed a vicious kick to Harrison’s lifeless body. I shuddered with the realization that I would be next, and the thought propelled me into action.

I lunged for him, landing square on his back. He twisted violently as I latched onto his wrist and tried to wrestle the gun out of his hand. He wouldn’t let go, so I grabbed him by the hair. “Marie, get Harrison’s gun,” I screamed. “It’s over there on the floor.”

Marie rushed forward, but instead of picking up the pistol, she scooped Sophia up with her good arm and bolted out the warehouse door. Boy, that woman is
so
not a team player.

By this time, Glen was spinning around like a rodeo bull, trying to buck me off him. I hung on as best I could, but I didn’t have the advantage of the super-strength that comes with being a meth freak. He dug his nails into my arms, drawing blood. I let go of his hair and aimed instead for his face, clawing viciously at his eyes.

Enraged, he shoved the barrel of the gun under my breastbone. I held my breath and hurled myself sideways. Glen lost his grip and dropped the revolver. As it clattered to the floor, he reached up for me, locking his bony hands around my neck, choking the life out of me. I drew my arms up and quickly clamped down on his, breaking the hold, the way I’d seen on an old episode of Baretta. We hit the ground hard, and I landed on top of him.

A shot rang out, accompanied by a searing pain in my side. I tried to roll off him, but Glen’s arms were rigid around me. When his grip suddenly loosened and unfolded from my waist I knew the struggle was over but had no idea why—and frankly, thanks to the dime-sized hole in my side, I didn’t particularly care.

“The bullet went clean through me without hitting any vital organs,” I stated with pride, as if somehow I’d had something to do with it. Glen hadn’t been so lucky. When we fell, we landed on the gun, causing it to discharge. It hit both of us, lodging in his aorta. He died instantly.

I dispensed this information to Fran and Janine from my hospital bed. The doctors had insisted I stay overnight to make sure no infections set in. Franny wanted to stay with me, but the hospital staff wouldn’t let her. They were afraid of her picking up an infection—ironic, isn’t it? And what with her being pregnant and all…

“Per usual, I miss all the fun,” she said, doing her best imitation of Eeyore.

“Don’t worry, Franny, when I get home I’ll make you a nice bowl of Jell-o. It’ll be just like being here.”

The events of the evening were hazy. After I was shot, I’d passed out from the intense pain in my gut. Upon waking, my first rational thought was, “I’m lying in the arms of a dead man. Eewww!” My next, less rational thought was, “I’ve got to clean up this mess. What will people think?”

I didn’t have time to dwell on either one. There was a sudden explosion of light and sound as a caravan of police cars pulled up just outside the warehouse.

Nick was the first one through the door. His normally neutral expression gave way to controlled concern, until I lifted my head from Glen’s prone body. Nick quickly assessed the room, noting with grim satisfaction that the two new men in my life were dead.

“You’re really rough on your dates, aren’t you, sport?” he said, kneeling down beside me.

I tried to laugh, but the effort it took was monumental.

Nick lifted my hand from the bullet wound and placed it in his own. Blood stained his fingers, but it he didn’t seem to take notice.

Bobby appeared on the other side of me, along with two uniformed officers and a couple of paramedics. I recognized the one from that time in my basement. “Hey,” I said. “Good to see you again.”

“She’s in shock,” he explained, covering me with a blanket, “but the wound doesn’t appear life-threatening.”

Nick relinquished my hand and disappeared outside to speak to the hordes of reporters who had appeared like vultures, at the first whiff of human sacrifice. With any luck, some day I’d be one of them.

I looked up at Bobby. “Did Marie call you?”

“No.” His tone was tense.

“Then how—”

Bobby reached over and swept my bangs out of my eyes, something he’d done a thousand times when we used to be together. “I stopped by DiVinci’s about twenty minutes after you left there, this afternoon. Lindsay told me you’d been in with a guy who fit Harrison’s description. The bartender said you left with him. The truck wasn’t in the parking lot and I was afraid you’d taken off with Harrison, so I got in touch with Santiago and we located you through the truck’s GPS.”

“See, I knew you’d learn to get along with Nick. All you needed was a common project.”

His smile was wan. He’d been sick with worry, and it was about to get worse.

Over in the corner, the forensics team busied themselves with Harrison’s body. I tried not to think about it or the fact that it so easily could have been me. “Bobby, there’s something I need to tell you about what happened here, today. I wasn’t alone. Marie—”

He cut me off, barely contained anger etched on his face. “I know all about Marie. She jeopardized my daughter’s life and she left you here to die.” His deep blue eyes watered and he turned away. It was the last thing I remember before being lifted onto the stretcher and carried out the door.

Visitors spilled out into the hospital corridor. Predictably, the police showed up and the FBI, once they got wind of the thumb drive. When I was feeling better we’d be having a nice long chat, they assured me. For now they seemed content with restoring national security.

Barry Kaminski sent a tasteful bouquet of seasonal flowers along with a request for an exclusive. He sweetened the deal by alluding to a reporter’s job that was about to open up on his network. I’m totally bribable and couldn’t wait to meet with him.