Chapter Fourteen
Fourteen
“You sure you don’t want to call her?”
“Call who?”
We’re back at Dane’s friend’s house, and Dane and Miguel are sprawled out across from each other on the identical sofas while I rest next to the vent, where the cool air streams at my face.
“You know I’m not talking about Riley. Though we could call her, too.
” Dane grins as he looks up from his laptop, which is connected to a couple of cables that lead to the wall.
“I’m talking about JMB’s sis, chief. Remember, she gave you her digits?
She can tell us who this Vik dude is, because so far, I can’t find anything online.
Though I guess not everyone has a Friendster profile.
And without a last name to go on, I can’t scour my usual databases. ”
“Given how tight-lipped she was earlier, I don’t think Fiona’s going to suddenly give us a list of her brother’s trusted contacts,” Miguel says.
“Eh, maybe she would. She likes you.”
“She was being nice, Dane.”
“How come she wasn’t that nice to me, then?”
Miguel rolls his eyes. “Because you’re a doofus.”
“You say that like it’s an insult,” says Dane. “Still, if you’re going to call names, I’d rather be known as Lakeside’s idiot savant.”
Miguel’s trying so hard not to laugh that it escapes like a cough. “Consider it done,” he says, hitting his chest with his fist. “But only because you’ve gotten us this far.”
“Yeah, I have.” Dane pulls his laptop closed. “Wanna check out the bookstore everyone says Mr. Future Pulitzer likes before we find some grub? Maybe someone there will know who Vik is.”
“I guess that wouldn’t be the worst thing.”
Dare I trust my ears? Miguel always wanted to visit the local bookstores first when we traveled. And even though he didn’t have to, he often left with a big bag of books. This is an excellent development.
“Sweet. We’ll have to drive over there, since my guy Harold can’t take the L with us, and he probably doesn’t need to keep baking in this heat.”
“I’m up for driving, but we should leave Harold behind. Most bookstores don’t allow dogs inside.”
“You said you were worried about him dropping a pile on the floor here.”
“I was just saying that to get out of dinner.”
“Sharing the trade secrets! I feel special,” says Dane, mussing up his hair.
“Don’t.” Miguel sighs loudly. “Well, Harold, this is more action than you’ll probably get again in this lifetime—but it sounds like you’re coming with us.”
I do wish he wouldn’t talk like that. Of course I’m not excited about heading to the big doghouse in the sky. But I’m far more worried about time—and geography. If Miguel won’t even call Fiona while we’re here, how will I ever get them together?
We pile into the car and drive across town. After enough circling the block to make me worry my kibble’s going to come back up, Miguel finds a parking spot down the street from the bookstore.
The bookstore’s smaller than ours by a lot and has a blue awning and a narrow glass door.
I don’t go inside—as Miguel suspected, this shop isn’t dog-friendly—but Dane waits with me.
It hasn’t cooled much since earlier, so we shelter under the awning, and he lets me drink straight from his water bottle to keep from overheating.
When Miguel emerges fifteen minutes later, he’s carrying a plastic bag with a distinctly rectangular bulge. Is it? Could it be?
But yes: The man has purchased at least one book, and maybe even several! Oh, I’m so happy I could chase my own backside. If the only thing he leaves with is a reignited interest in reading, this trip won’t have been a complete waste.
“Whoa,” says Dane. “You trying to put yourself out of business?” Seeing Miguel’s face fall, he quickly adds, “I’m just kidding, chief. You know there’s no such thing as too many books.”
“There is such a thing as too little money, though,” says Miguel, frowning. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. It’s long and thin, like the paper that our cash register spits out. He waves it at Dane. “I do have some good news.”
“They gave you Vik’s number!”
“No, but almost as good. I have his full name.”
Dane lifts his hand to high-five Miguel, who hesitates but then slaps his palm against Dane’s. “How do you feel about sushi, chief?”
“Uh…what does that have to do with this?”
“It doesn’t, but there’s a killer takeout place right around the corner, and my stomach is about to eat itself. Let’s go get some food—my treat—then we’ll head home so I can find this Vik fella.”
An hour later, I have learned the hard way not to eat the spicy paste that’s served with sushi, but I can’t bring myself to care too much about the stuff that’s still stuck at the top of my mouth. Not when we’re back in the car and off to yet another adventure.
“You’re positive it’s the same Vikram Choudhary?” says Miguel, hands wrapped tight around the steering wheel.
“Positive? No, sir. But he’s the right age, and I’d rather start in Lincoln Park than drive all the way to Naperville.”
“I hope this isn’t a dead end,” says Miguel.
“It’s only dead if we stop trying. Let’s go.”
Traffic’s far worse than when we arrived, and it takes a good half hour to go just a couple miles.
Miguel can’t find parking, so Dane offers to circle the block to look for something while he goes up to the apartment.
To my surprise, he takes me out of the car with him.
“You’ve been my lucky charm so far, Harold. ”
Have I? Come to think of it, I am rather fortunate.
“Maybe we can finally make real progress this time,” he adds as we climb the steep cement stairs to the large stone building where Vik supposedly lives.
When we reach the door, Miguel hits one of the many buttons on the panel. There’s a loud buzzing noise, but no one lets us in. He hits the button again. “He must be out right now,” he murmurs. “Wonder if he went with JMB to…well, wherever he is now.”
“Excuse me.”
There’s a guy behind us dressed in an all-blue outfit, the same kind Raina wears to her job at the hospital. I can’t be certain, but the man’s long, straight nose and bulgy arms make me think people would describe him as handsome. In fact, I can imagine him in one of Amelia’s stories.
“Sorry,” Miguel tells him, stepping out of the way.
“No worries,” says the man, sticking his key in the lock. He’s nearly inside the lobby when Miguel shoves his foot in the door to keep it open.
“Hey,” says the man, spinning around. Miguel’s tall, but this man is taller. “I can’t let you inside—building policy. You’ll have to wait for whoever you’re trying to visit to buzz you in.”
“I’m looking for Vik. Are you him? You fit the description I was given.”
The man frowns.
Miguel tries again. “Vik Choudhary?”
“I’m not sure what this is about, but I’m not interested,” says the man, pulling the door closed.
Miguel moves his foot, so it doesn’t get slammed in the doorframe. Instead of leaving, though, he taps on the glass. The man spins and looks at him. He shakes his head. After a moment, he opens the door again and steps onto the stoop. “What do you want?” he says wearily.
Miguel seems surprised. “Um, to ask you a few questions about your friend Jonathan Middleton-Biggs.”
Vik’s eyes immediately drop to Miguel’s waist, like he’s expecting him to pull something out of his pocket.
Miguel must notice this, too, because he raises both of his hands.
“I’m not sure what you’re thinking, but I’m just a bookseller—I own Lakeside Books in West Haven, Michigan. My name’s Miguel Rivera.”
“Okay…” Vik’s frowning, but he doesn’t smell so nervous anymore. “Why are you here to see me, then? I’m not an author, and I don’t have enough time to read all that much.”
“Because we’re trying to find Jonathan.”
Vik laughs bitterly. “He’s definitely not here.”
Miguel examines Vik. “I got your name from Enrique. Well, your first name, and then we went to Roundabout Books, and a woman named Keisha knew who you were.”
“Ah, that explains a lot. She and my sister went to school together.” Vik glances away. “I’m still surprised you got this far. Jon doesn’t like anyone prying into his personal life. Everyone who knows him knows that. Including Keisha.”
“I gathered, and believe me, I had no intention of poking into his affairs until he didn’t show up for his event earlier this week.
I’m now on the hook for thousands of dollars, and it might put my bookstore out of business.
I’m just trying to find Jonathan so I can convince him to come in and do the reading and signing like he said he would. ”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but I have no idea how I could possibly help you when I haven’t seen Jon in a month.”
Dane’s making his way around the block again, and he rolls down the window and sticks his head out. “Everything good, chief?”
Miguel flashes him a thumbs-up. Dane must not believe him because he frowns, but the car behind him is honking now, so he rolls the window back up and drives away.
“Did something happen, that you stopped talking?” Miguel asks Vik.
“Something happened, all right—but I’m not so pissed that I’m going to run my mouth about it, even if you do seem innocuous.
Or at least more so than most of his stalkers.
” Vik adjusts the strap of the bag on his shoulder, then looks down his perfectly straight nose at Miguel.
“I wish I could help you. I really do. But if you want more information, you’ll have to ask Fiona. ”