And Now She's Gone(40)
21
The day had been full of unsettling surprises—Sean’s text message, then unsettling surprises one through six—and it wasn’t even noon yet. That’s what Gray was thinking as she plodded back to Isabel Lincoln’s condominium. That, and then, Who the hell…?
A white guy was now banging on Isabel’s front door with one meaty fist while the other fist hung at his waist like a rump roast. He was an English bulldog come to life, stuck in an ill-fitting blue suit. He looked moist and sticky, like he smelled of beer and bananas.
Gray crept past the gate, tiptoed to the end of the block, and slipped back into the Camry.
If Bulldog didn’t exit from the security gate, that meant he’d been let in. But by whom?
If he did leave, well, why had he come here in the first place?
She stowed the Target bag beneath the front passenger seat, then checked her phone’s charge—80 percent. She aimed the camera lens at the gate, being sure this time to press the red Record button. She stated the time, the date, and all that she’d observed up to this point on this, the twelfth day of July. Then she shut up and waited to see what Bulldog would do next.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait long. The man stomped out of the gate with a phone to his ear. He tromped across the street, then climbed into the black Chevy Malibu. Still talking on the phone, he started the car’s engine, but he didn’t drive away.
As he sat there, Gray scribbled down his license plate number, then called Clarissa.
“Hey,” the younger woman chirped, “I’m about to find the Omar number—”
“Awesome. I’m doing surveillance and I need you to run this plate for me right now.”
Seconds later, Clarissa said, “2008 Chevy Malibu … registered to … Stuart Ardizzone.”
“Can you run that name through, please?”
“Run it where?”
“I don’t know—whichever database tells you shit.”
“Umm…”
“Lady’s choice. I’ll be in the office in a couple of hours.”
“Oh! I made reservations at that French restaurant? Bardot Brasserie at the Aria? We can go there for my bachelorette—”
“Sounds good. Gotta go. See you soon.”
The Malibu made a three-point turn in the middle of Don Lorenzo Drive, then sped past Gray’s Camry. He didn’t even look in her direction.
But she saw more of him—his unfortunate underbite and a cauliflower ear that looked as meaty as his hands. With that ear, he could’ve been a cop or a boxer. He may not have been Stuart Ardizzone—could be just driving the man’s Malibu. Whoever he was, he obviously didn’t know that Isabel Lincoln hadn’t entered or exited that condo since May 27.
Should I follow him, or … She sat there, clutching the steering wheel, not sure what to do next. She’d had a plan, but now, with Bulldog’s arrival … More than a minute passed while she sat there, wondering. And then the question of whether to follow the mysterious man no longer mattered—he was long gone.
Mrs. Tompkins didn’t like the looks of the man at all. The old woman had come out to the breezeway as soon as Gray closed the security gate.
“You see that guy who just left?” Gray asked her.
Mrs. Tompkins nodded. “He kept banging on the door like she would be off in there.”
“Izzy would never hang out with a guy like that. You ever see him before?”
“Once. Week before the Fourth of July. I ain’t like the looks of him then and I don’t like the looks of him now.”
“Have you noticed any other strange people dropping by?”
“Oh…” The old woman rubbed her chin. “There’s the girl with purple braids—she used to stay with Isabel from time to time.”
Noelle Lawrence had purple locks.
“She came ringing my doorbell after she tried to get into Isabel’s condo. I ain’t open my door, not with her looking all crazy, with them things stuck in her lips and her nose and all them tattoos … Ugh.” Mrs. Tompkins frowned. “She could’ve come in here and stabbed me. Nuh-uh.”
Was Noelle supposed to claim the mail Mrs. Tompkins had kept for Isabel?
The old woman was shaking her head. “I can’t even understand how Isabel had her living off in the Gardners’ place anyway. They used to argue, too, and Isabel kicked her out.”
“When was the last time the purple braids lady come by?”
“Maybe a week or two after Isabel left. Looking crazy like always.”
“Anyone else?”
“I already told you about the other man. The big, black, rough-looking one. He knew better than to knock on my door.” She sucked her teeth. “All of a sudden, I’m seeing all these shady-looking people around here.”
“And when was that? When the big black dude stopped by?”
“A week after the purple-haired girl came round.”
Had that been Noelle’s thug boyfriend?
“Anyone else?” Gray asked.
“Nah. I try to stay outta people’s business.”
Gray offered an apologetic smile. “I hate to be a bother, but could you let me in? I—”
“Of course, Maya.” She reached into her housecoat and plucked out two wrapped cough drops, a neatly folded handkerchief, and that pink ribbon holding three keys. “Just give ’em back to me later. One of those is the mailbox key, another one is the house key, and the third one … I don’t know what the third one’s for. Anyway, don’t lose ’em. I’d hate for her to think that she can’t trust me. Oh. Before I forget.” The old woman ducked back into her condo.