Before She Disappeared(94)

He picks up my phone from where it dropped on the ground, flipping it open. His fingers fly across the tiny keys. Then he folds it closed, hands it back to me.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “When the time comes, I’ll find you.”





CHAPTER 33




I feel like I have my breathing relatively under control by the time I dial Lotham, but I must not be as good as I think because in a matter of seconds:

“What’s wrong? Where are you? Is it the guy in the tracksuit?”

“The guy in the tracksuit has a name. Deke. He’s Livia and Johnson Samdi’s older half brother.”

“What?”

“I ran into J.J.”

“What?”

“This would go faster if you’d stop interrupting.”

“Are you okay? Tell me that much.”

“I’m fine. I visited the rec center. Now I’m walking home having made some progress.” I’m not walking home, but I don’t feel like telling Lotham that particular detail. “From the top?”

“Christ,” Lotham says. He sounds exhausted. “From the top.”

“Roseline Samdi has an older son named Deke by another man. Apparently, Deke has been in prison for armed robbery, but he’s clearly out now, and he’s the one who was watching Livia at the rec center.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. According to J.J., his own mother would have nothing to do with Deke, he’s such a cold bastard. But get this. Shortly after Deke went to prison, young J.J. stumbled upon a shoe box filled with counterfeit hundreds. He was working his way through spending them all when he got caught passing forgeries. After that, he tucked the rest away, where I’m guessing Livia discovered them years later.”

“Older brother Deke had a stash of counterfeit hundreds?”

“Apparently he was an aspirational criminal. Wanted to get into the big leagues. Armed robbery was a means to buy his way into another, larger criminal enterprise that offered better career advancement.”

Lotham doesn’t talk right away. It’s a lot to take in, so I don’t blame him.

“You think Deke knew his half siblings were peddling his pre-prison counterfeit stash?”

“I don’t know. Deke is clearly out now and had some kind of interaction with Livia. Livia had clearly discovered the counterfeit bills and passed them along to Angelique. Which leaves us with? Half brother and sister comparing notes on forgeries, bigger criminal enterprises, future career opportunities? Hell if I know. But Marjolie links Livia to Deke, and according to J.J., anything involving Deke is bad news.”

“You got a last name?” Lotham asks.

“I didn’t think to ask that,” I admit.

“Can’t be too hard to track down. One paroled armed robber named Deke. Vice or gang taskforce probably has him on file.”

“But wait, there’s more.”

Another silence. This one radiates tension. As if Lotham is angry at me. Which gets me huffy, because what does he have to be pissed off about? I’m the one doing all the work here.

“Go ahead,” he says at last, and there’s definitely a cool edge to his voice. Big bad Boston cop frustrated that the civilian is making all the cool discoveries? Fuck him, I think. But my feelings are hurt.

“I went to the rec center,” I hear myself say, “to talk with the director again. Turns out, in addition to the summer program, the center offers after-school activities. Including a class in computer design taught by none other than Mr. Riddenscail. Who wrote a grant gifting the center with twelve computers and one 3D printer.”

Lotham manages not to exclaim what this time, but I can tell he’s thinking it.

“Livia Samdi was in that class,” he states.

“Yep.”

“Angelique?”

“I didn’t ask. Livia’s attendance is grounds enough for a warrant, right? I mean, she goes missing, then turns up dead. Surely some judge somewhere will grant you access to the rec center’s computers.”

“I think I can manage that much.”

“Don’t hurt anything.” Now I’m the edgy one.

“I looked up Paul,” Lotham says abruptly. “I found the case, Frankie. I know what happened.”

I don’t say anything. It’s not a question and doesn’t deserve an answer. Besides, it’s none of his business. It’s no one’s business but mine and Paul’s. And yet all these years later, ten long years later, I can feel my throat closing up and my eyes starting to sting.

I think of J.J. and his feral grief. I know exactly how he feels.

“What are you doing?” Lotham asks me quietly. “Between you and me, Frankie. What are you doing here?”

“Finding Angelique Badeau.”

“It won’t change anything.”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“And if you get yourself killed in the process? Is that what you want? You don’t have the courage to do it yourself, so you’ll just keeping chasing this madness till someone does it for you?”

“Fuck you.” But there’s no heat behind the words. He’s not saying anything I haven’t wondered myself. “Don’t you have a murder to investigate?”