Angel Dance (Danny Logan Mystery #1) (25 page)

“Okay,” I said. My mind was spinning, and I needed time to think. I offered to walk back, but he insisted on having a uniformed officer drive us to the Community Center to pick up my Jeep.

“Why don’t you plan on coming by the office tomorrow morning?” he asked.

“We can’t meet in the morning,” Gus said. “We’ve got court.”

“Oh shit, that’s right,” Dwayne said. He thought for a second, then said, “Do you know where Marinepolis is?”

“The sushi joint?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Gus is on a sushi kick. He’s even got me liking this crab-and-avocado thing.”

“Isn’t it on Fifth Ave and Valley?”

“That’s the place,” he said. “How about tomorrow for lunch at twelve thirty?”

“We’ll be there,” I said. I shook my head. “Based on all this, I have to say I’ve got way more questions than answers. I think I’m going to go home where it’s quiet and try to figure out what the hell is going on here.”

“Good idea. Call me if you come up with something brilliant,” he said.

~~~~

Driving back to the office, my mind raced, unable to find a direction, unable to land on a rational explanation of today’s discovery. I guess Toni was doing the same, because she didn’t have anything to say either. Except for the traffic noise, it was silent in the Jeep the whole way back. We got to the office at twelve thirty, and I said good-bye in the parking lot. I didn’t even want to go in.

I swung down Northlake, turned and went up the hill to my apartment. I changed into gym shorts and a T-shirt, poured a Mac & Jack’s African Amber, turned on Diana Krall and went outside on the balcony, where I plopped into a lounge chair. Took less than two minutes from the time I hit the front door.

I had my last physical about a year ago. When I asked my doc about feeling fatigued more than I thought I should, she said I was fine, physiologically speaking, but that I was likely reacting to an excess amount of stress. I can’t really exercise anymore than I already do since I like to run five to ten miles every morning as it is. But she told me to get to bed earlier, eat healthier, and take a nap in the afternoon. I decided to charge this afternoon off to complying with her instructions. Disregard the brew.

Son of a bitch! My main theory—my main plan—was blown! Don’t get me wrong, I was delighted to see a douche bag like Eddie Salazar get his comeuppance, but I’d sure have liked the opportunity to talk to him and figure out where in the name of God Gina was. Where did this little turn of events leave her? Had he known anything about her present whereabouts? If he had, we sure weren’t going to find out now.

Martinez said she was doing the angel dance, which I guess means she’s dead. But I didn’t know that. I didn’t trust that fat asshole any further than I could toss him. All of his type lie, cheat, steal, and say anything they think will help them manipulate people to their own ends. I wasn’t worried about Martinez trying to make good on his threat. But none of that helped me now when I needed to figure out what had happened to Gina. Where was she? How was I going to find her? Now that I didn’t have Eddie Salazar to squeeze, I was back to square one.

I mulled these thoughts over and over as I basked in the warm sun and subconsciously watched the boats out on Lake Union. Two beers later, and I was done. The doc was right. Stress leads to fatigue, and fatigue leads to sleep. A snooze in the afternoon was something I never did. Not until today, anyway.

~~~~

In my dream, I was running. I was competing in a high school track meet I suppose, but it wasn’t totally clear. Gina was in the stands cheering for me. Rita ran by my side, glaring at me. She wore a yellow T-shirt with a butterfly print. A lone runner wearing red shorts was in front of us, on the distant blue horizon, impossibly far away. Still, we were on him in an instant. We blew past, but as we did, bullets whizzed by us, and I felt my army Kevlar helmet bouncing on my head, my tac vest buckles jingling, my boots heavy on my feet. I was back in Iraq. Artillery shells boomed all around me. Boom! Boom! Boom! The noise was deafening. Gina was there again, standing on a wall in front of me, urging me on. I was confused. She shouldn’t be there. I stirred and began to drift back into reality. The shelling didn’t stop. Boom! Boom! Boom! Gradually, the dream-haze lifted enough for me to realize that the boom-boom-boom was not artillery shells after all. Someone was pounding on my front door. Regaining consciousness, I got up and rubbed my eyes as I went to see who it was.

Toni. She was not happy.

“Jesus, Logan,” she said, walking in past me as I held the door with one hand and rubbed my eyes with the other. “I was worried shitless about you. I called here—no answer. I called your cell—no answer. I thought Martinez had sent his buddies over here to take you out.”

“Come in,” I said to the doorway she’d just walked through. I rubbed my eyes and yawned. “I’m alive. I fell asleep on the patio.”

She looked at me, and I saw by the flames shooting from her eyes that she was really pissed. I was in trouble.

“You. Are. Alive?” she asked, saying each word slowly and deliberately. “That’s what you have to say? You are alive? Oh, great. I’m so glad to hear it.” She noticed my empty beer mug on the table. “You’ll be just tickled to death, then, to know that while you were over here sleeping and drowning your sorrows away, I was in the office explaining what happened to the other people who work for you—people who are working their asses off on this case. I was the one telling them not to worry, not to give up. Telling them to have faith—telling them we are still going to find Gina.”

She looked at me and said sarcastically, “But I’m glad you’re alive.”

“Give me a break, Blair,” I said, walking back out to the patio. “I took one goddamned afternoon off.”

“Not just any afternoon, Danny boy,” she said as she followed me. Danny boy? She was really pissed. “You took off on an afternoon when you were needed. You should have come inside, reassured everyone, and then, if you felt the need, you could have taken off and gotten as piss-drunk as you liked.”

“I didn’t get drunk. I had two beers, for Christ’s sake.”

She glared at me. I avoided this by turning and staring outside and not speaking for a minute. Then I said, “You’re right. I should have stopped in. I apologize. I’ll apologize to the guys tomorrow.”

“You’d better,” she said, still worked up. “I was worried about you, you dickhead.”

I looked at her for a moment. “You can’t call your boss a dickhead,” I said.

“Fuck you, then,” she answered.

“Oh good, that’s better.” I smiled at her. She tried to remain stone-faced, but a few seconds later she cracked and smiled.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Good. You should be. Don’t wienie out like that again. We need you.”

I nodded.

“We haven’t had a real setback in a case like this before. I didn’t stop to consider the impact it might have on the other guys. I screwed up.”

She stared at me for a few seconds, studying, analyzing. Then she said, “It’s okay. But we needed you today.” She paused, then said, “I needed you.”

“I’m sorry,” I said again. Talk about feeling like a shit-heel.

“Enough,” she said, “we’re moving on.”

Although she’d worked for me for three years, Toni had never been to my apartment before. She looked out over Lake Union and watched a Kenmore plane take off. “Nice view,” she said. “Do you mind if I grab one of those beers?”

“Help yourself. The kitchen’s right over there.”

“You want another one?”

“Pass,” I said. “I hit my limit earlier. Bring me a bottled water, will you?”

A minute later, she joined me on the patio and sat in the other lounge chair. “Any revelations come to you while you were dreaming away the afternoon?” she asked.

I told her about my dream. “I don’t know what to make of it,” I said. “My dreams are usually so strange that it’s impossible to make sense of them.”

“The ancient Chinese said that dreams are expressions of your inner desires,” she said. “You must have some inner desires concerning Gina.”

“She was in it, for sure, but I don’t think it was about her. I haven’t seen her in years,” I said. “Hard to imagine that old baggage still floating around. Anyway, the dream was one of those where you find yourself running—kind of in a fog. You know, images floating past.”

She took a shot from her beer, and studied me for a few seconds. “Just because it might not seem like she was the star character in your dream doesn’t mean you weren’t dreaming about her. Consider that.”

I thought about that for a second. “I suppose,” I said. “Getting a little deep for me there, Ms. Blair.”

She smiled at me. It was silent for a minute, the only sound coming from the continuous comings and goings of the Kenmore seaplanes.

“Anyway, I think she’ll be home today or tomorrow,” Toni said. “As soon as the press cycle runs through announcing Eddie’s death. And as soon as she can confirm it.”

“You think she was hiding from him?” I asked.

“Yep. Eddie’s dead, death threat cancelled—time to come home.”

“Unless he got to her first and killed her. In which case, she won’t be coming home,” I added.

“Odds are on her side,” Toni said. “If she feels the threat to her is gone, she comes in, all by herself.”

That would be alright with me. I’m sure it would work for her family, as well.

Toni suddenly hopped up from her chair.

“What?” I asked.

“All this heavy detective work is making me hungry. You got anything to eat here? I’ll fix it.”

~~~~

Toni found two steaks in the freezer. She thawed them in the microwave—something I’ve not mastered—and grilled them for me on the balcony as we watched the late afternoon sailboat races on the lake. We listened to music—mostly Soundgarden, watched the boats, and talked about things other than Gina Fiore or Eddie Salazar. It was nice. She discovered my emergency bottle of Opus, and we polished it off as well. Altogether, a very fine and relaxing evening. For a while, I was able to forget the fact that our case was blown. All too soon, though, it began to get dark, and Toni left. I felt somewhat more optimistic after her pep talk and her version of how things stood. The logic was sound. It made sense. Yet I still tossed and turned all night long.

~~~~

I like fish, but I’m not a big fan of sushi. I tried a piece of sashimi once when my unit was laid over in Hawaii. It looked a little suspect, and I wasn’t sure I was going to like it, but I wanted to try and see what everyone was raving about. I’d no sooner put it in my mouth than I almost ralphed on the table in front of the whole friggin’ group. Something about the texture, the gooey red flesh. It was all I could do to keep that bad boy from coming back up! My buddies laughed their asses off, but I was forever and permanently cured of eating raw fish. If I’m ever stranded on a desert island with plenty of fish, but no fire to cook them with, I’ll starve.

That said, I can stomach some of the cooked stuff. I have to carefully inspect each piece to make sure it’s not raw, and the overall process slows me down enough to where I feel full quickly. I don’t eat much at a sushi joint. I’ll take a hot dog or a pizza any day. But Gus wanted sushi, and here we were.

We actually got to the restaurant a few minutes early. Toni chose this particular day to wear “The Outfit”—black leather pants, black boots, and black leather vest with a little light blue V-neck sleeveless T-shirt underneath. Her dark hair was brushed down straight. She wore blue eye makeup and dark red lipstick. I’d seen The Outfit before; I’d had a chance to study its effect and slowly acclimate. This is a damn good thing because Toni could flat stop traffic with this getup. No shit, I’ve seen it happen. Unfortunately, poor Gus was caught completely by surprise—he never had a chance. He entered the restaurant, came around the corner, and saw Toni. She was returning from the restroom, walking slowly toward him, smiling. I’m sure that to Gus, it was like Bo Derek running toward Dudley Moore in “
10
.” I thought we were going to lose the poor bastard right there on the floor of the sushi house. He literally stopped and almost stumbled backward. Dwayne caught him from behind and was cracking up by the time we met in front of our table.

“Ms. Blair,” Dwayne said, laughing, “you do make quite an impression.” He looked at Gus, who still had not quite recovered. “My partner here is speechless. This doesn’t happen often.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” Toni answered with a southern lilt. She sat down, and we all followed.

“Sorry,” Gus said, recovering. “Not used to that. Caught me by surprise there, darling.”

“You flatter me, sir,” Toni said to him. I’m not certain, but I think she batted her long dark eyelashes at him. I’d bet my Jeep that if she’d asked Gus to sign over his bank account and the deed to his house, he’d have stolen a pen at gunpoint if necessary to do so. I don’t know if Toni did this because she thought it was fun or because she wanted to keep good relations between us and the SPD. Probably both, I suppose.

The sushi rolled past us in little dishes on a conveyer belt type of deal. We were free to take what we wanted. When we were done, the staff would tally up the damages. The three of them dug right in, but I was more selective, looking for items that were clearly cooked (preferably with grill marks).

“You all have a chance to consider what this little twist means for our case?” Dwayne asked, as he popped something long and stringy with tentacles into his mouth.

I shuddered, and then said, “Yeah, it means we’re back to square friggin’ one,” I said.

“You okay?” he asked, looking at me. “You look like you swallowed a turd.”

“I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t know how you can eat that shit.”

He laughed. “Have you ever considered that if Gina Fiore was hiding from Salazar, and now she finds out he’s dead, she’ll probably come home on her own?” Dwayne said. “Our work here might be done.”

“Yes, we’ve considered it, and we hope that’s exactly what happens,” I said. “Based on what we know, it’s probably the most likely scenario. Trouble is, like Richard told me a couple of days ago, we don’t know what we don’t know. There could still be completely different forces at work here. As a matter of fact, the whole goddamned Eddie Salazar episode might have had nothing to do with Gina, for all we know. Might have been just a coincidence.”