Two Days Gone (Ryan DeMarco Mystery #1)(55)
Bowen grinned, lifted the spinach roll to his mouth, and bit off the end. “She wasn’t getting it on with the suspect?”
“Says no. I’m inclined to believe her.”
“And why is that?”
“Can we have this conversation when there’s not cheese and spinach hanging out of your mouth?”
“I want you to know that I still have my concerns.”
“Hemorrhoid cream, liberally applied. Works every time.”
“All I’m saying is you knew the guy. Maybe it colors your judgment, maybe it doesn’t.”
“Maybe you wouldn’t get hemorrhoids if you didn’t sit around on your flat ass all day.”
Bowen waved him away. “Go. I’d rather be alone with this beauty anyway. I’m in heaven here.”
In his own office, DeMarco sat at his desk and stared at the screen saver on his monitor, a black background with what were supposed to be stars rushing forward as if he were speeding through deep space. To DeMarco it looked more like a snowstorm at night, the Arctic Express blasting toward him off Lake Erie.
He asked himself why he felt so tense. Ever since leaving Albion, his nerves had felt raw and abraded. Something sat leering at him from the edge of his consciousness, something he could not quite identify—something he should know, almost knew, but couldn’t quite put his finger on.
He reached for a legal pad, turned to a clean sheet, laid the tablet horizontal. Across the top he wrote three names, evenly spaced: Danni. Bonnie. Huston.
Under Danni’s name he wrote a.k.a. Annabel. And under that, I believe her.
Under Bonnie’s name he wrote don’t trust her.
And under Huston’s name why Shadytown at dawn? missed one Thursday at Whispers why? told Danni out of town on business. Bonnie failed to mention the missing night.
But Bonnie hadn’t failed to mention Danni. She could have given him the names of any two dancers. Instead, one of them just happened to be Huston’s connection. Why had Bonnie done that? She could have protected Danni, provided another’s name. Was it a gift? Or was it a diversion?
He stared at the paper. There was more to the situation than what he had written, he knew there was. But what was he missing? His brain wasn’t working right, wasn’t seeing the connections. He got out his cell phone, called Danni’s number. This time he didn’t bother to block his own.
“Two questions,” he said after her hello. “Who’s the bouncer at the club?”
“You mean Tex?” she said.
“Kind of scrawny, mouthful of crooked teeth. Collects the money at the entrance.”
“That’s Moby,” she said.
“So who’s Tex?”
“He’s kind of big? Not tall but beefy, you know? Shaved head, looks like a butcher?”
“There wasn’t anybody like that around when I was there.”
“You might not have seen him, I guess. He spends most of his time upstairs, watching everything through the one-way glass.”
“You know his last name? Where he lives maybe?”
“No, but Bonnie would. I’m pretty sure there’s something going on between them.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Just a feeling, I guess. The way they stand when they’re talking to each other, you know? The way he looks at her.”
DeMarco wrote Tex on his tablet. Then Moby. “And Moby?” he said. “What can you tell me about him?”
“Just that he’s a sweetheart. Oh, and that he’s Bonnie’s brother.”
“So what makes him such a sweetheart?”
“He just is. I mean it used to worry some of the girls, him being so scrawny and sweet and all.”
“Why would that worry them?”
“Until Tex came, I mean. Everybody feels safer now with him upstairs this past couple of months. Moby couldn’t hurt a fly, but Tex…”
“Tex is new?”
“I don’t know the exact date when he started, but it wasn’t more than two, at most three, months ago.”
“Okay, good. Thank you for this. One last thing.”
“Am I going to get in trouble with Bonnie for talking to you?”
“Are you going to tell her you’ve been talking to me?”
“No way.”
“No way will I either, Danni.”
“You promise?”
“You have my word.”
“Because I need this job. Just a little while longer. Just until I start my student teaching. Then I’m going to have to quit anyway. I mean I can just imagine what could happen. Parent-teacher conference in the afternoon…”
“Champagne room conference with the father that night.”
“There you go.”
“So listen,” he said. “Final question. The night Huston didn’t show up as usual.”
“Two Thursdays ago.”
“Right. Did all of the other regular girls work that night?”
“Geez, I don’t know. They sort of come and go, you know?”
“Try to remember, okay? Was there anybody missing the same night as Thomas? Anybody who is usually there when he is?”
Silence for fifteen seconds. Then, “I’m pretty sure that was the night Bonnie missed too.”