Against the Night (37 page)

“I’ll be fine,” Amy argued, clutching the keys against her breast as if they were solid gold.

Johnnie turned to Ty. “I’m just gonna ask Talbot some questions. You stay here with Amy.”

Amy’s pale eyebrows shot up. “Wait a minute—”

“I want you safe,” Johnnie said. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Amy tossed him the keys, turned and stormed back into the house. Ty eyed him strangely. “Dev said you really liked her. Said his wife liked her, too. Looks to me like you’re in love with her.”

Johnnie just shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t work out. Amy’s smart enough to know that.”

“Sometimes smart isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

Johnnie couldn’t think of anything to say so he just kept his mouth shut.

“I’ve got an idea,” Ty said. “Why don’t I take Amy over to visit her friend?”

“That’d be great. Make her happy and keep her busy till I get back.”

“Hey, Amy!” Ty called out to her. “Come on, we’ll go see that friend of yours.” He winked at Johnnie. “I’ll even let you drive my truck.”

Amy raced back outside, her gaze shooting to Brodie’s hot little pickup. “You mean it?”

“Johnnie trusts you to drive his Mustang.” Ty tossed her his keys. “I guess I can trust you with my truck.”

“I’ll let you drive another time,” Johnnie grumbled, not liking the way she was smiling at Ty.

Amy nailed him with a look. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Johnnie turned and started walking. He had almost reached his car when he heard feminine footsteps racing up behind him. When he turned, Amy threw herself into his arms.

“Be careful, okay?”

“I’m always careful,” he said a little gruffly, and kissed her quick and hard. Then she was running back to the pickup, holding up the keys and jiggling them in the air.

Johnnie watched her drive away, trusting Ty to take care of her. As the truck disappeared, he forced his mind away from Amy and focused on finding the man who wanted her sister dead.

On a street above Franklin, Dickie Talbot’s duplex apartment was built into the side of a hill overlooking the city of Glendale. It was only noon on a workday, but a bright yellow Stingray sat in front of the single car garage attached to Dickie’s unit.

As Johnnie climbed out of his Mustang, he noticed a brown, unmarked police car parked on the opposite side of the street a little ways down the block. Looked like the cops were there. He’d only made it halfway to the door when a series of gunshots shattered the quiet and sent him into action.

Johnnie yanked the pistol out of his shoulder holster and cautiously made his way toward the apartment. A guy in a brown suit, young and blond, ran around the corner of the house.

“Police officer!” he shouted, his gun pointed at Johnnie’s chest. “Put down your weapon!”

Johnnie raised his hands, his Beretta dangling from his fingers. “John Riggs. I’m a P.I.” Very slowly, he bent and rested his pistol on the sidewalk, straightened and lifted his hands into the air. “Your partner might need help. Let me get my ID.”

The young detective kept his gun pointed straight at him, but his gaze swung toward the house. “Kick the pistol away and get down on the ground.”

Johnnie used the toe of his boot to slide his weapon out of reach. “Just let me get my ID and you can go help him.”

The kid glanced anxiously toward the door. “Go ahead.”

Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, Johnnie eased his identification out of his pocket and flipped it open.

The young cop breathed a sigh of relief. “Looks okay. I gotta go.”

“I’ll go round back,” Johnnie said as the kid turned and ran to the door. Retrieving his pistol, Johnnie took off toward the back of the duplex, but before he reached the side yard, Mitch Lansky, Vega’s partner, walked out of the house. He looked even thinner than the last time Johnnie had seen him and the little fringe of gray around his bald head did nothing to improve his skeletal appearance.

Johnnie holstered his weapon. “What’s going on, Lansky?”

“Talbot was a suspect in a homicide. He resisted when I tried to bring him in for questioning, pulled a gun on me. I didn’t have any choice.”

“Tell me he’s not dead.”

“’Fraid so.”

Johnnie clamped down on his temper, but not quite enough. “Goddamn it.”

Lansky’s young partner came out of the house and walked toward them, relaxed now that the incident was over. “Gun is still in his hand. Won’t be any doubt it was a righteous shooting.”

“Riggs, this is Detective Brian Mears,” Lansky said.

“We met,” the kid said.

“Why didn’t you go in with Lansky?” Johnnie asked, trying to put the pieces together and when he did, not liking what he saw.

“Mitch sent me round back. I planned to come in from the rear, but then I spotted you coming up the walk.”

On the surface that made sense. Not much else did. “You need me to make a statement?” Johnnie asked the older detective.

“Not at the moment. I’ve called it in. Uniforms will be here any minute. If we need you, I know where to find you.”

“Mears filling in for Vega?” he asked because it was obvious the young detective was as green as grass.

“That’s right. Anything else you’d like to know?”

“Yeah, I’d like to know why the hell Dickie Talbot wanted Rachael Brewer dead.”

“That’s what we came to find out. Looks like it’s a moot point now.”

“Yeah,” Johnnie said darkly. “Just like everything else.”

Thirty-Three

The muffled sound of a cell phone ringing drew Dan’s attention. He grabbed his laptop case off the floor and set it on his desk, unzipped the side pouch and dug out the disposable phone.

He was expecting this call.

He pressed the phone against his ear. “Give me some good news.”

“The good news is the secondary problem is resolved. They can’t get to you through Talbot.”

“I never had any connection to Talbot.”

“No, but I did, and if I go down, you’re going with me.”

Beads of perspiration popped out on Dan’s forehead.

“We need to get rid of the girl,” said the voice on the other end of the line. “So far, everything that’s happened to her points to Ortega. They’ll think his people wanted to keep her quiet. Once she’s out of the way, we’re in the clear.”

“How do you figure?” Dan asked. “Talbot has no connection to Ortega and he’s the one who hired Henley.”

“Talbot’s a lowlife. He was shot resisting arrest. And it was only speculation that he had anything to do with the attempt on Rachael’s life.”

“What about Henley?”

“Henley dealt drugs. He could have been one of Ortega’s underlings. We just need the girl out of the way.”

“Where is she?”

“DEA has her stashed someplace safe.”

“Then how do we get to her?”

“That’s the good news. Like everybody else, the agency hasn’t got much money. They won’t be able to protect her for long. At least not unless her memory returns.”

“So we just sit around and hope it doesn’t?” Dan didn’t like where this was going.

“Unless you can figure some other way to get to her.”

Dan’s stomach churned. Could he use his position to find the girl without raising suspicion he was somehow involved?

“Think about it. Either way, with any luck it’ll only be a couple more days until our problems are over.”

Dan’s jaw tightened. “You’d better hope so. That warning you gave me goes both ways.”

The caller hung up the phone.

Amy sat in the kitchen of Mrs. Zimmer’s cozy little Culver City home, Ty seated across from her. Since Amy couldn’t tell Mrs. Zimmer about Rachael’s safe return, “Angel” had offered to take little Jimmy to the Baskin-Robbins a few blocks away.

“Jimmy likes to go just about anywhere,” the gray-haired woman said. “It doesn’t seem to matter. He just loves riding in the car.”

Ty grinned. “He’s not the only one.” He tipped his head toward Amy, who just smiled.

Mrs. Zimmer’s lips twitched. After introductions had been made, she had brewed a fresh pot of coffee and poured each of them a cup. “I’ll get Jimmy ready to go.” She reached down and took hold of the little boy’s hand. “You’ll find some chocolate-chip cookies in the jar. Help yourself.”

Amy brought Ty a couple and he finished one of them off in a couple of bites. “Man, I’m likin’ this job better all the time.” He polished off the second cookie in record time and drained his coffee mug.

Amy walked over and set their empty mugs in the sink. “Jimmy’s really excited about going to the ice-cream shop. You don’t mind taking us?”

“I like kids. Not a problem.”

A few minutes later, Mrs. Zimmer led Jimmy back into the living room. Dressed in clean blue jeans and a yellow T-shirt with a hot rod on the front, he dashed across the room toward Amy.

She caught hold of his small hand. “Are you ready?”

Jimmy grinned and vigorously nodded.

“Wait till you see Ty’s truck. You’re gonna love it.”

Jimmy tore loose and raced toward the door. When he saw Ty’s snazzy red pickup, his eyes widened. “Can I drive?” he asked.

Ty laughed. “Not quite yet, buddy, but someday you’ll be old enough.” He swung the boy into the air, propped him against his shoulder, and they headed out the door.

At Baskin-Robbins, they placed their order, then sat at a small round table licking double-scoop ice cream cones. Ty lapped at a mint chocolate chip while Amy and Jimmy ate rocky road.

“I love ice cream,” Jimmy said. “This is so good.”

Ty reached over and ruffled the little boy’s red hair. “It sure is, partner.”

When his cell phone started ringing, Ty stood up and dragged it out of the pocket of his faded jeans. “Hey, Johnnie.” He started frowning and then he was nodding. When the call ended, he didn’t look pleased.

Amy grabbed his arm. “Is it Johnnie? Is he all right?”

“He’s fine.” Ty glanced down to make sure Jimmy was busy with his cone and spoke quietly. “Talbot’s dead. Cops shot him for resisting arrest. Johnnie doesn’t like the way things are coming down. He wants us to head back home.”

Amy’s nerves kicked up. She turned to the little boy. “We’re gonna take these home with us, okay?”

Ty looked at the sloppy cones they would be taking in his nice clean truck and grimaced.

Amy laughed. “You let me drive so I owe you. I’ll clean up the truck.”

“Deal,” Ty said.

It didn’t take long to reach the Zimmer house. With the amount of napkins Amy had taken from the ice cream shop, the mess was minimal. By the time she led Jimmy up the steps and across the porch to the door, the boy was finished eating. While Ty waited on the porch, Amy took Jimmy inside and washed the chocolate off his hands and face.

“I’ve got to go but I’ll be back,” she told him. “I promise.”

Mrs. Zimmer walked into the kitchen, catching Amy’s attention, and Jimmy dashed away.

“Something’s come up and I have to go,” Amy said. “I think Jimmy enjoyed the ice cream.”

Mrs. Zimmer smiled. “I’m sure he did.”

“Tell him goodbye for me, will you?”

“Oh, look, here he comes.”

Grinning, the little boy raced toward her, something clutched in his hand.

“I got you a present.” Shyly, Jimmy held out his hand.

Amy’s eyes widened when she saw it was a cell phone. She looked at Mrs. Zimmer for an explanation, but the older woman looked as surprised as she was and just shook her head.

Amy knelt in front of Jimmy. “Where did you get this, sweetheart?”

“I found it on the floor by the sofa. I think it’s Rachael’s.”

Amy’s pulse kicked up. She gently took the phone from the little boy’s hand. “Thank you, Jimmy. I’ll take very good care of it until Rachael gets home.” She looked up at Mrs. Zimmer. “This could really be important.”

“Take it. Maybe it will help them find her.”

Amy leaned over and hugged the older woman, bent down and hugged little Jimmy. “Thank you for the present, sweetheart. I’ll see you again soon.”

So excited her heart was racing, Amy ran out onto the porch. “Ty! Jimmy found Rachael’s cell phone! We need to find a Verizon store and buy a battery charger.”

Ty shoved away from the railing, grinned and pulled out his iPhone to find the nearest location. “No problem.”

A few minutes later, they were flying down the street, Ty behind the wheel, driving even faster than Johnnie.

Johnnie had a stop to make on his way home—the call he had wanted to make last night. Patty Wilkins, the girl Wes Henley had called the night he died, a manicurist who worked at a salon called Epiphany.

The bell above the door at Epiphany salon rang as Johnnie shoved it open, and the smell of ammonia hit him. The sound of hair dryers merged with the chatter of women. He walked over to a buxom blonde who was cutting a woman’s wet black hair.

“I’m looking for Patty Wilkins. You know where I can find her?”

The woman turned, eyeballed him top to bottom, flashed him an interested grin and pointed to a redhead with pretty blue eyes. “That’s her right over there.”

Patty smiled at his approach.

“You’re in luck. I just had a cancellation.” She grabbed his hand and examined his nails, which he kept short and fortunately were clean. “You want a full manicure? Or would you rather just have a buff?”

Johnnie eased his hand away. “Thanks, but not today.” He pulled his ID out of his pocket. “I’m John Riggs. I’d like to talk to you about Wes Henley.”

Her gaze shot to his face. “Wes is dead. The police called me already, a detective named Vega.”

“You know you were the last person Wes talked to the night he was killed.”

“That’s what the cop said, but at the time I didn’t know. Wes called me twice that night, but the truth is we hardly knew each other. That’s what I told the detective. We went out a couple of times and I broke it off. I’m not really into his type.”

“What type is that?”

“I don’t know…guys who shave their heads and cover themselves with tattoos to make them feel macho. A man whose favorite topic is himself.”

“So what did you and Wes talk about that night?”

“Not much. That’s what I told the police. But later, I got to thinking…I remember he told me he was into something big. Said he was going to make a nice chunk of money. I had a feeling it was something illegal.”