Wrecked (Josie Gray Mysteries #3)(6)

“She doesn’t want to lose the tips, just the jackass who’s stalking her,” Josie said.

“Exactly. She doesn’t want him breathing down her back the whole way home at two in the morning.”

“All right. Thanks for the update. I’ll see you at three thirty.” Josie hung up the phone. A quick conversation with Roxanne was in order.

Rather than bothering Marta again or checking with the DMV for an address, she called Junior Daggy, a local real estate agent whose propensity for gossip reached beyond Artemis into all of West Texas. He knew an amazing number of people, and delighted in scoring details he could share with his buddies. She scrolled through the contact list on her cell phone and found his number.

“Junior, this is Chief Gray. How are you today?”

“Chief! I haven’t seen you in months! You visit your man friend’s office, right next door to my own, and you never even stop by for a friendly chat? What’s up with that?”

Josie sighed. She considered it a personal shortcoming that she had no patience for small talk, but it was a flaw she had no real desire to correct. “I’ll stop by soon. I actually have a question for you.”

“Let me guess. You and your man friend are looking to invest? There’s some great deals right now. Real money-makers.”

Josie broke in. “No, nothing like that. This is police related.”

“Anything I can do to help. You know that.”

“Do you know Roxanne Spar? Waitress at Mickey’s?”

“Sure. Everybody knows Roxanne. She’s a good gal.”

“Any idea where she lives?”

“Sure. Forest Glen Apartments,” he said. “Although there’s no forest. No glen either.” He laughed at his joke.

“You know which apartment is hers?”

“No, can’t tell you that. You know, Don Carter owns those. And Don will rent to anybody.” He drew the last word out for emphasis. “Not that I’m implying anything about Roxanne.”

“Any chance you have contact information for him?”

“Sure. I can help you out.” Josie listened as Junior dug around his desk, muttering to himself, until he finally came back on the line with a phone number.

After hanging up she called the number Junior gave her, and the landlord answered on the first ring.

“Mr. Carter, this is Chief of Police Josie Gray with the Artemis PD. How are you today?”

“I was doing pretty good. Rest of the day probably depends on you.”

“No trouble. I just need to reach one of your tenants. I don’t have a problem with her, I just need to contact her.”

“All right.”

“Do you have a tenant named Roxanne Spar?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Can you tell me which apartment is hers?”

“She’s in unit four at Forest Glen. And, while I got you on the phone, why don’t you tell the mayor to quit hanging around my parking lot. I don’t think he’s campaigning after midnight, and he’s making my tenants nervous.”

Josie assured him that she would do her best and thanked him for the information.

*

Forest Glen Apartments was located on a downtown street, three blocks over from the county courthouse, with one small pine tree at the center of a grassy strip in front of the complex. The building was a one-story stucco, painted a garish bright blue, with the eight apartment doors that faced the street painted Pepto-Bismol pink.

She knocked on the door with a black plastic FOUR nailed just below the peephole, and Roxanne Spar opened the door. Josie knew her in passing, like she did many of the residents in Artemis. As chief of police, most everyone in town knew her and expected her to know them by name in return. She had a good memory for names and faces, which served her well.

Roxanne was short and full busted, with a heavy application of dark eye makeup. She wore a tight-fitting T-shirt with a roaring lion emblazoned across her chest, and white capri pants with high-heeled shoes that crisscrossed up her leg. In the bright sunlight, Josie figured Roxanne was in her late forties, but in a dark bar Josie was sure Roxanne could pass for early thirties.

Josie showed her badge and introduced herself. The woman eyed Josie for a moment; not unfriendly, but with a look that said she’d seen plenty of cops in her lifetime and had learned to reserve judgment.

“Morning, Roxanne. Would you mind if I came inside for a minute? I just have a few questions.”

The woman whistled. “I am headed out the door right this minute. Got to meet somebody and I’m already late.”

“I’ll walk you to your car then,” Josie said.

Roxanne hesitated. “Well, then, hang on.” She shut the door and came back outside a minute later carrying her purse and a leather cigarette case. She pointed toward a red Chevy Malibu parked in the lot and they started toward it.

“This about last night? I told Marta, I don’t want to make a big fuss.”

“I just want to follow up with a few questions.”

She squinted in Josie’s direction, into the glare of the late morning sun, her expression weary.

“I talked with Officer Cruz this morning. She said the mayor has been following you home. Has he threatened you, tried to force his way into your apartment?”

Roxanne was taking tiny, careful steps across the grass, as if she might trip. She looked up for a moment and frowned at Josie. “I don’t know about threaten. I just want him to back off.”