Chapter Thirteen Brad #5
“Actually, yeah.” She paused. “He’s at the Velvet Nightclub right now. I work across the street when I’m not working nights there, and I can see him.”
“I’m on my way.” I eased out onto the road. “Whatever you do, don’t engage, and don’t let him see you watching him.”
As I pulled into the driveway of what the media now called the Murder Club, my gut told me something was off.
I could see the owner, Longboard, next to the building.
He had his arms in the air and seemed to be in a heated conversation with a man who I assumed was Jeremy Law wearing a Sea Foam Brew jacket.
I parked and watched them argue as I radioed in my location, then shot Cap off a message about what I had heard, that I was at the club, and that I was going to check it out.
I activated the AirTag that was embedded in the inside of my jacket.
Captain had asked us to wear them given how crazy this case had become.
As I stepped from my vehicle, Longboard suddenly reached out and knocked the man’s clipboard out of his hand; it hit the ground not far from me, and Longboard looked my way, then shook his head and headed inside the club.
“Asshole,” the guy muttered as I grew closer. He picked up the clipboard and started to walk down a narrow alley next to the building where his truck was parked.
“Good afternoon.” I hurried to catch up with him. “Excuse me.”
“What?” he snarled over his shoulder as he reached his truck. He started to load some boxes of beer into the back.
“Looked like you and Longboard had some words back there.”
“Yeah.” He spun around. “And what’s it to you?”
I pulled back my jacket and showed him my badge. “It means a lot to me, and to a case I’m working on.”
His face paled, and he pulled on his gloves with a huff. “You’re a cop?” He lifted the dolly into the truck.
“I’m a detective workin’ on the club murders.” I grabbed hold of the end and helped him load it. “I want to ask you a few questions. What’s your name?”
“Jeremy Law. Haven’t you already asked all your questions? I’ve seen you here a few times talkin’ to people.”
“Yes, but I want to ask you a few questions. We haven’t talked yet.”
He shrugged.
“What’s going on with you and Mr. Longboard?”
He tugged his winter hat down over his ears as I quickly sent his name to Cap to check him out.
“He just canceled our contract. Said our brand reminded his customers of the murders and he doesn’t want to let brew reps advertise in his club anymore.
” He used the back of his hand to wipe his nose like a child.
“Guess we’re in the media too much. I reminded him that any kind of publicity was good publicity, but as you saw, he disagreed, and there went my Christmas bonus. ”
“Well, given that it was one of your young reps who was strangled to death in the guy’s club, I can see where he might be coming from.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged like the whole situation didn’t faze him. He grabbed his clipboard again and started to study it.
“You know what I do find interesting?”
“What’s that?” He didn’t look up.
“The killer knew right where to stand to be out of view of the camera. Like he knew where the blind spots were.”
“Watch any of their videos, not hard to find the blind spots.” He snapped his gloved hands.
“Also, the camera strapped to Sophia’s chest had this odd clasp on the bottom. It took us several tries to open one like it, yet with the timing of how fast he worked, the killer must have known exactly how to unclip the camera case and was able to take it off before anyone saw him.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “And you think we’re the only company that uses those kinds of clasps?”
“Maybe,” I said and went for a lie. “What I found the most interesting was that during their struggle, the camera flickered back on just for a second.” I noticed his pen stopped midstream as he wrote “rejected” over the canceled invoice. “I’d like you to come down to the station for a chat.”
He flipped the clipboard shut. “Do I have to?” He quickly glanced at me. “I’ve still got deliveries to make.” He shifted uncomfortably.
“Unless you have something to hide, Jeremy, it shouldn’t take long.”
“I guess I don’t have a choice.” He looked over his shoulder. “Look, I’m gonna be out my bonus, and I’m about to be on my boss’s radar. Do ya mind if I just grab my phone and let the other bars know that their shipments won’t be arriving on time? Maybe I can at least save my job.”
I understood what the loss of a bonus and a paycheck could mean to a person and their family. I wasn’t heartless. “All right.” I nodded. “Make it quick, though.”
I stepped back and nodded at him to go ahead. As he slipped around the driver’s side of the truck, I noticed a bit of blue paint in a small dent on his bumper. I snapped a quick photo of it and the license plate. A text popped up and pulled my attention.
Captain: Kennedy pulled up that truck driver, Jeremy Law. He’s got priors, I’d say get him down here.
Oh shit. I shoved my phone into my pocket and reached for my cuffs when something hard hit my back, and I went flying into the wall. Everything went black.
A loud engine noise pulled me from the abyss, and I blinked back the fog and quickly took in where I was. Country music played loudly from a set of poorly tuned speakers; every few seconds static took over the words.
My back lay against the cold steel on the floor of the truck.
I tuned into my training and replayed everything that I could remember before I ended up there.
Something wet was on my face, and when I tried to reach up to touch it, my arms jerked and bounced back.
They were held in place. He’d used my own handcuffs to secure me.
Awesome. Little did he know, Kennedy and I had spent endless hours finding ways to get out of handcuffs. I almost laughed.
“Hey.” Jeremy banged on the grate just above my face. “You awake in there?” I didn’t answer and kept still as I assessed the situation. There were boxes of beer bottles by the roll-up door, kegs were locked in place, and twine was thrown about everywhere.
Tink. Something hit my face. A screw had worked its way loose from the grate that covered the opening from where he was to the back, where I was. I awkwardly ran my thumb over the other screws and felt they were all quite loose.
“Hello?” He banged on the grate again, and I stayed quiet.
Then his phone rang. “What?” he barked, and I struggled to keep still to try to make out the words.
“Yeah, well I have an even bigger problem than that Sophia bitch.” The music made the next bit difficult to hear.
Then he paused as he listened to someone.
I took that opportunity to peek out and saw we were on one of the country roads.
Where in the hell was he headed? “No, you need to come!” His raised voice could be easily heard over the music. It was full of anger and frustration.
“Shut up, John! Just fucking meet me where I said and bring the guys—I don’t want to go up against this one alone. He’s fucking built and has at least two feet on me.”
I knew I couldn’t let him get to wherever that was. I’d be outnumbered, and he had my gun. I was as good as dead if I didn’t take action fast.
Inching my thumb around the spare key in my shirt cuff, I managed to free it from the stitching and made short work of getting out of the cuffs. I stayed low and moved to the wall next to the doors.
“Shit.” He had removed the safety release handle on the inside. “I guess you aren’t completely dumb,” I whispered.
We hit a bump, and the bottles rattled together, and it gave me an idea.
I tore open a box and inched the cap upward, letting the carbonation slowly fizzle out.
I emptied the bottle and tucked it in my jacket pocket.
Then, keeping myself low, I crept back to my position by the grate.
He suddenly took a left and headed down an unpaved road.
I slammed down hard and groaned at the impact.
“About time you woke.” He snarled and turned to look over his shoulder through the grate.
I stayed in place so he couldn’t see I wasn’t handcuffed anymore. I used the cap and started to loosen the screws around the grate. They came out easily, and the noise of the bumpy road and music covered any sounds. He suddenly looked in his rearview mirror with a scowl.
“Don’t think of getting clever, Detective!”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I muttered and looked at him through the grate.
“I used to drive trucks.” I needed a distraction so he wouldn’t realize what I was doing.
“Yeah, back before this job I did deliveries, then I worked for a steel company.” The third screw came free in my hand, and I pressed hard on the grate to keep it from rattling.
“I don’t give a shit what you did.”