Tommy shook his head.
“She don’t got no new job.”
“Bridget told people at the office that she went to work for another agency.”
“Nah, I would have known about it. Ever since that chick died she’s kicked it here with me.”
“Did she talk to you about what happened?” I said.
He shook his head.
“She just said that girl died and that was it.”
“Yesterday she went to the office, did you know about that?” I said.
“I took her and sat in the car while she went in. She said she didn’t want to go there by herself so I tagged along. When she came out she was all upset.”
“Did she say why?”
“For a couple cops, you two don’t put much together. Her best friend died, why do you think.”
Best friend. Interesting.
“So she wasn’t just her assistant?” I said.
“Charlotte used to hook up with Bridget’s older brother. They were tight, they always did stuff together.”
“After you left the office, what happened?” Nick said.
“We got into it and then she dropped me off and split.”
I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my business card.
“If you hear from her, will you let us know?”
He took it from my hand and threw it on the coffee table without looking at it.
“Guess so.”
“You better,” Nick said. “And one more thing, we need Bridget’s address and cell phone number.”
Tommy shook his head.
“I dunno about that.”
“Let me put it this way,” Nick said, “you can give us the information we need, or the next time you get a knock at your door, we’ll be having this conversation at the station.”
CHAPTER 36
I typed the address Tommy gave us into my phone.
“Now I know why I couldn’t figure out where she lived,” I said. “She doesn’t own the place at this address, Charles Peters does.”
“Charles could be her father; they share the same last name.”
“Let’s stop by her apartment,” I said to Nick.
“And do what?”
“Take a look,” I said.
“I doubt you’d find her there, she’s on the run.”
I smiled.
“Oh no you don’t.”
“Come on,” I said. “I work for myself, so guess what; I don’t need permission from you or your boss. If she’s not there anyway, what’s the harm––who’s going to know?”
He pointed a finger at himself.
I joined my wrists and held them out.
“Why Detective Calhoun, do you plan to arrest me?”
He stayed quiet.
“Turn here,” I said.
“This isn’t a good idea.”
Nick was far from perfect, but he tried his best to uphold the law, and I respected him for it. It wouldn’t be right not to give him an out.
“Let’s go home, and I’ll do this later.”
“If you mean on your own––I don’t think so,” he said. “You go in, I’ll keep watch. Let me know if you need me.”
“Will do.”
“How do you plan on getting into her apartment anyway?”
I gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Don’t you worry about that, the less you know the better.”
There was only one person seated at the front desk when I entered and his eyes were glued to a device that he clutched in his lap. He couldn’t have been much older than a teenager and he had shiny long hair like a girl on a Pantene commercial. With his eyes sealed shut he lifted his fingers in the air and whipped his head from side-to-side as he strummed to the beat on his air guitar. When his guitar solo was over he opened his eyes and gasped when he saw me standing there.
“I wondered if you could do me a favor,” I said.
He removed his earbuds and looked at me.
“What’s that?”
“I left my wallet in my sister’s place today, and I seem to have lost the key card she gave me as well.”
“Who’s your sister?”
“Bridget Peters,” I said. “Unit 431.”
“I’m not supposed to give another card out without her permission.”
“You could call her,” I said.
I gambled on the fact that she wouldn’t answer.
“I guess I could do that.”
He dialed the number and waited. After about thirty seconds he put the receiver down.
“No answer?” I said.
He shook his head.
“I was afraid of that,” I said. “She told me she had to show some houses today and one of her listings was out of range. I have no idea when to expect her.”
“Can’t you wait until she gets home?” he said.
“I’m headed out to dinner with some friends in a few minutes,” I said. “And well––”
“You can’t go without your wallet.”
“Right,” I said.
The wheels in his head churned and he weighed his options. If there was one thing I’d learned it was not to give people the chance to mull things over for long.
I leaned over the counter and looked at the device that sat on his knee.
“Oh wow, I’ve always wanted to get one of those,” I said. “Is that the new one?”
“Yeah.”
“I heard you can rent movies on it. That must be nice. I expect you sit here all night in this place without much of a distraction.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s cool,” I said. “Do you do that?”
“What?”
“Rent movies on it.”
“All the time.”
“And you don’t think the screen is too small?” I said.
He pulled it from under the desk.
“Wanna see?”
He handed it to me and I put the earbuds in. I cared nothing about the size of the screen, but that wasn’t the point. I watched for a minute and pretended to be engrossed in the fight scene that unraveled on the screen. When enough time had passed, I gave it back to him.
“Thanks, I need to get one of those,” I said.
He ran a plastic card through a machine and handed it to me.
“Here,” he said. “Go get your wallet.”
I stepped into the elevator and my cell phone vibrated.
“How’s it going in there,” Nick said.
“I’m in.”
“Let me know if you need me.”
“Will do.”
“Remember what we agreed on,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“This conversation never happened. Scratch that. This night never happened.”
“10-4 over and out,” I said in a low whisper even though the floor was vacant and I was the only one in sight.
Bridget was clean alright, although to characterize her place in such a way didn’t do it justice. Pristine worked better. There wasn’t a speck of dust, dirt, or grime anywhere. In the kitchen dishes rested in the dish drain. They were dry. The walls in every room were painted a bright white and I was almost afraid to touch anything for fear I would ruin the sterile environment.
In the living room an inlaid bookcase contained a small DVD collection in a wide array of black and whites and about twenty movies which starred the late Marilyn Monroe. The room itself contained one picture. It was a single photo of Marilyn from her early days when her name was still known to those around her as Norma Jeane. She sat on an oversized green ball with a funny looking starfish prop next to her, and her hair was a rusty shade of red and not the lustrous blond she was known for later in life. She wore a white strapless bikini although the bottoms looked a lot more like granny panties than hot pants. It appeared Bridget was fascinated by her.
The shower stall in the bathroom was dry. She hadn’t used it, at least not in the last several hours. On the nightstand in her room a single photo displayed a girl with her arms draped around Tommy. She had light brown hair that was straight and went to her shoulders and greenish-colored eyes that sparkled. She looked happy. On the bed was a duffle bag half full of clothes. I rifled through it and found two pairs of jeans, a few shirts, socks, a pair of Sketchers and several pairs of non-granny style panties. The side pocket contained some travel size shampoo and conditioner bottles, a bag of makeup, and a toothbrush and toothpaste.