CHAPTER 44 JERRY
JERRY
“The loan shark just rolled into town,” Ari said.
Oh, really? Jez perked up—she needed something to fill the time while they waited for the DNA results. The preliminary autopsy report was…interesting. And signified a bigger problem than they’d initially anticipated.
“What a coincidence—so did I. Want me to meet you there?”
Was that a groan? “Sure, why not? He’s lurking outside Sophy’s apartment. I figured I could get Echo to run his licence plate.”
Run the licence plate? Cute. Maybe they could write him a strongly worded letter while they were at it.
Five minutes later, Jez pulled in beside Ari’s Ford compact at the rear of the building.
They had differences of opinion about vehicles.
Ari liked a small car that blended in during surveillance and was easy to park.
Jez preferred an SUV big enough to carry a sniper rifle, an assault team, and a body, bonus if it was heavy enough to ram another vehicle off the road.
She wedged her Escalade between a Fiat 500 and a dumpster, checked the batteries on her stun gun and the magazine on her Glock, pulled her ball cap low over her eyes, and hopped out as Ari meandered around the corner carrying two takeout coffees.
“Here.” She held out a cup. “There’s a motorcycle parked around the front. I’ve taken photos and sent them to Echo.”
“Is the guy still inside?”
“There’s a figure loitering in the third-floor hallway.” Ari gestured to the rear of the lot. “If you stand back there, you can see him.”
“So let’s go have a chat.”
“Is it wise to tip our hand?”
“Is it wise to waste half a day waiting around in a parking lot? Are you getting paid by the hour for this?”
It was cold. It was raining. It was really fucking boring.
“Technically, yes, but I was planning to give Justin a discount.”
“Well, I’m on a salary. Demelza cuts us slack for personal projects, but if some tinpot dictator kicks off overseas, I’ll have to ditch this shitshow and deal with it. So I’m going in.”
“I was afraid of that,” Ari muttered.
“Are you coming?”
“Someone has to help you hide the body.”
“Attagirl.”
Jez drank half the coffee and tossed the cup into the dumpster, then thanked a guy who held the building’s door open for her.
Boobs had advantages. Choir: one, inadequate security measures: nil.
On the third floor, the loan shark saw them coming and pretended to check his phone, leaning against the wall, faking casual.
Jez sized him up. Six feet of gym muscles wrapped in a pristine leather jacket.
Artfully tousled hair, cowboy boots that had never been near a horse, and a fucking manicure.
“Hey, is this Sophy’s apartment?”
“Uh…”
“She’s selling a Pilates reformer.” Jez checked her watch and nodded toward the door. “We’re a little early.”
Ari took the hint and knocked. “Hey, Sophy?”
A chain rattled, and the door swung open. Jez waited for the cowboy-biker to seize the opportunity and step forward, then zapped him with eighty thousand volts and shoved him into the apartment. Sophy leapt sideways with a panicked squeak as his head hit the tile floor with a crack.
“What the…?”
It took ten seconds to zip-tie the guy’s wrists and ankles—Jez had practised plenty—and another five seconds to trap him under a chair.
“Why don’t you sit down?” Ari suggested to Sophy.
“What’s happening? Who is this crazy woman? Why is she here?”
“Shh, we just want to ask him a few questions.” Ari’s phone buzzed, and she checked the screen. “His name is Tucker Levins.”
“Sh-sh-should you be doing that?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
Jez took a seat and waited for the asshole to rejoin the land of the living. His eyelids finally flickered open, and he coughed a couple of times.
“Hey, Tucker. Did no one ever tell you it’s rude to hang around in hallways?”
“What the fuck?”
“You wanted to speak with Sophy, yes? Well, here she is.”
“Not Sophy. Amie.”
“Amie’s dead.”
Tucker’s eyes widened. “No way. I just saw her.”
Jez glanced to Ari, who shrugged.
“When did you see her?”
“Like, a week ago? Two weeks?”
“Don’t you watch the news?”
“Not much. Too depressing, man.”
“Man?”
“Uh, lady? And I just got back from a wellness retreat—no TV, no internet, no video games. Say, are you definitely gonna buy that reformer?”
“There is no reformer, you imbecile. When and where did you last see Amie?”
“Driving out of that place she works at. I didn’t kill her, ma— lady. She was with some dude.”
Huh. Did this just get a whole lot more interesting than anyone expected?
“What dude?”
“I don’t know!” Tucker was panicking now, as he should be. “Just a dude.”
“What day?”
“I don’t—”
“Think.”
“Uh…uh… Like, Wednesday. Not last Wednesday, the one before that.”
“You were outside Amie’s place of work on Wednesday?”
“Yeah. There’s a nice little grassy spot. I was meditating while I waited.”
“Weren’t you freezing?”
“That’s like the point, lady. Cold therapy gives you an endorphin rush and mental clarity you don’t get from sitting in a studio. You should try it.”
“No, thanks. Why were you there?”
“At the construction place?”
“Yes.”
“Because the home address I had at that time was out of date. So was the work address, but there was a notice on the gate saying Norquist Construction had moved, and it gave the details. I figured it was worth a shot.”
“Tell me what you saw.”
“Just Amie, leaving in her car.”
“In her car? Not his?”
“The black Toyota is hers, right?”
“Who was driving?”
“She was.”
“It was dark when she left the office, so how did you see who was in the car?”
“She stopped before she pulled onto the road, and there are lights at the entrance. I’m not saying I got a good look at them, but there were two people in the car, and the shapes looked like a woman and a guy.”
“So you can’t say for certain that it was Amie?”
“The licence plate matched hers. Who else would it have been?”
“Do you know what Amie’s boss looks like?”
“Why would I care?”
“I’ll rephrase. Did you see an older model pickup leave after her?”
“Yeah, a minute later.”
“Why didn’t you go after Amie? Isn’t that why you were there?”
“I get better results if I talk to gals on their own.”
“I see.” Jez leaned the chair forward, and the stretcher bar pressed on Levins’s neck. “How’s that working out for you?”
“Look, I don’t threaten them, okay? Sometimes we work out an alternate method of payment.”
“Ugh.”
“They seem to enjoy it.”
“Does your father know you’re blackmailing women for sex?” Ari asked. Seemed Echo had sent more intel over.
Levins paled in answer, and it wasn’t just because his blood supply was impaired.
“I see. His dad owns CL Collections,” Ari added for Jez’s benefit. “The company specialises in buying old debt for cents on the dollar and strong-arming struggling families into paying. Tucker here was studying at Princeton before he dropped out.”
“Let me guess, he was a legacy admission?”
“I played baseball,” he said sulkily. “I tore a rotator cuff.”
“And now Daddy makes you work in the family business in return for room and board?”
“Better than working like a dog on Wall Street.”
“Who are you kidding? You’re not smart enough for Wall Street.”
Sophy raised a hand. “Uh, speaking of dogs, Jessalyn’s dog escaped, and she went to look for him. I’m not sure if he might still be missing.”
“She did what?”
“The gate was open.”
Jez turned to Ari, who’d been the last person to leave the house. “Did you leave the gate open?”
“No, I did not.”
Fuck. “Call her.”
“She isn’t answering,” Sophy said. “The call cut out, and when I tried again, it went to voicemail. But I think someone’s there helping her—I heard a man’s voice in the background.”
Double fuck.
“What did he say?”
“Just ‘Hello, Jessalyn,’ and that was it.”
“And what did she say?”
“Nothing. It sounded like she dropped the phone?”
“Call Dawson,” Jez said.
“Dawson’s at the grocery store.”
Triple fuck.
“Okay, get the car.” Jez tossed Ari the key. “Not your car, my car. Meet me out front.”
Ari was smart enough not to question the order. As she jogged out the door, Jez let her gaze bore into Tucker and set out the next steps.
“When we leave, you’re going to ride your motorcycle straight to the nearest police station, and you’re going to tell them what you told me.
And after that, you’re going to get in touch with one of the podcasters whipping up a frenzy around Amie’s death, and you’re going to give them an exclusive interview. ”
“Why would I want to do all that?”
“Because the alternative is being sued for harassment. If you play this right, you won’t come out of this sounding like a total jackass.”
And surely then the cops would have to release Justin?
He had three different alibis versus one anonymous “witness” report, so why was Rimer determined to be difficult?
In Jez’s mind, there could only be one answer.
Rimer thought Justin was guilty of Amie’s murder because she’d always suspected he was guilty of involvement in Ruby’s.
She’d spent a decade waiting to pin something on him, and now she saw an opportunity.
But why?
Jez feared she knew that answer too, and she didn’t like it one bit.
“What about the outstanding debt?” Levins asked.
Clearly, he was determined to embrace douchehood.
“Amie’s dead, Tucker. You can’t collect money from a corpse.”
“It wasn’t even Amie’s debt,” Sophy told him. “Her sister stole her identity.”
Good point. “You can try to collect from sis if you like a challenge. Her name is Saige, and she’s staying at the Holiday Inn. Room 106. But the interviews come first. Do you understand?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
“Perfect. And if you breathe a word about my presence here, I’ll hunt you down and reform your fucking genitals.”
Jez patted him on the cheek—okay, it was more of a slap—then headed out after Ari. The Escalade was waiting, the driver’s door open, Ari already belted in the passenger seat. Dawson called as they were peeling out of the parking lot.
“What’s going on at Justin’s place?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Ari said. “I’m not there.”
“Then where—”
“There was an incident at Amie’s apartment, and I headed over there with Jez. What do you know?”
“Vi just called—she thought she heard a gunshot in the forest out back.”
“Where’s Jessalyn?”
“Vi can’t find her in the house.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.