Chapter 15 The Hate U Give #2
On his first excursion, Mitch had managed to follow the prosecutor into the parking garage beneath the courtroom, where Salinas had driven off in a sleek navy-blue sedan, leaving no doubt that his salary vastly eclipsed that of a bookseller’s.
Thanks to the heavy traffic, Mitch was able to keep him in sight for a good part of the journey, but eventually the car outpaced him.
The second time, he had come better prepared, having bought himself a bicycle: he successfully tailed the sedan all the way to a private road in a neighbouring district, where he was thwarted by a gate.
Salinas parked his car at the end of a long driveway before vanishing into an opulent mansion.
Two days after that, Mitch returned during his lunch break to scout the area.
He chained his bike to the gate before venturing onto the private road.
Standing on the sidewalk across from Salinas’s villa, he jotted down any details of interest into a small notebook.
The house had three stories, with a blue-tiled roof.
Wisteria draped the front wall in purple clusters along a vine that twisted up the first-floor balcony rail.
Behind the balcony stood three French doors.
Mitch noted the lack of security cameras on the front door.
He had made a quick sketch of the grounds, tucked the notebook in his coat, and returned to the shop on foot – having found nothing left of his bicycle but the front wheel, still chained to the privacy gate.
The fourth time he tailed Salinas, the trail ended in a narrow alley not far from the courthouse. The prosecutor looked over his shoulder twice, and Mitch, afraid of being spotted, had to abandon the mission.
As a precautionary measure, he waited several days before resuming the hunt.
That Thursday evening, as the prosecutor emerged from the courthouse, Mitch fell into step behind him once again, careful to keep a safe distance.
Salinas initially set off toward the same side street but kept turning around, and then abruptly changed direction.
Instead of following him, Mitch kept going straight and ducked into the alcove of a pair of double-doors facing the side street to keep watch.
A risky move, but it turned out to be the right one, as Salinas reappeared shortly afterwards and went into a club.
Rather than following him inside, Mitch strolled past the club entrance and stopped further along the street, leaning against a street lamp and jotting down the name of the club.
After an hour or so of feeling like a third-rate spy, he called it a night.
The conservatory wasn’t far, so he decided to drop in on Verner, whose evening classes would be wrapping up.
In the main auditorium, four students were rehearsing the first movement of the Concierto de Aranjuez.
Verner stood nearby, listening closely. The harmony was tight, and Mitch, who had a soft spot for music, eased into one of the plush theatre seats and let himself be swept up in the sound.
A few moments later, he felt someone tap him on the shoulder.
“If you need a hotel room, just say so.”
Mitch sat up straight, rubbing his eyes. Verner was glaring at him with palpable hostility.
“Don’t expect tickets to opening night,” Verner said. “You snore like a buzz saw. Very off-putting.”
“Sorry. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Then come to my rehearsals more often. You’ll catch up on all the sleep you’ve missed.” Verner checked the clock. “Time’s up – we’ve got to clear the room for the dance class. So, that drink you owe me?”
“I thought you were buying me one.”
“That was before you came here and snored in my class.”
They walked out through the backstage corridor, passing a line of young ballerinas doing their warm-up exercises. Their movements were strikingly graceful, and Mitch slowed to watch them. Verner pulled him along, and they left through the stage door.
Night was falling over the city, and the sky had turned a heavy grey. Mitch limped as fast as he could to match Verner’s brisk stride.
“You know that private club behind the courthouse? The Anaconda, is it?”
“You mean the Annapurna?” Verner raised a brow.
“That’s it. Annapurna.”
“Used to be a brothel. A bit run-down now, but in its day it had quite the reputation. The rich and powerful flocked there when the former governor was in office. Funny how conservatives always believe their high-and-mighty morals only apply to other people. Anything goes during the week, as long as they pray hard enough on Sundays. Those must have been some confessions.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Come now, you don’t think you can trip up an old fox like me with such a clumsy question, do you?
I used to give guitar lessons to the landlady.
I did. And wipe that look off your face: I find it frankly offensive that you doubt me.
It’s a private establishment, but I can get you in – though at your age, and with your physique, it seems a bit unnecessary. ”
“Prosecutor Salinas goes there every Thursday night.”
“Ah. Now it’s my turn to ask how you know that.” Verner stopped mid-step and turned. “You followed him, didn’t you!”
“No… I just happened to see him going inside.”
“You’re a pathetic liar. Good lord, what are you playing at? Haven’t you had enough trouble?”
“Probably,” Mitch conceded.
“If you’ll allow me to give you a little advice – I don’t know what scheme you’re cooking up, but you have your whole life ahead of you.
Don’t throw it all away now. And that’s coming from someone who’s made more than his fair share of mistakes.
Now let’s go and toast to the future. I know a place not far from here, and their food’s also very good, in case you’re feeling a sudden urge to buy me dinner, too. ”
Mitch enjoyed Verner’s company, but the older man delighted in the sound of his own wisdom. When he got into one of his lectures, it drove Mitch up the wall.
They crossed an intersection and headed up the avenue. Verner led them down a side street lined with shops and restaurants, one of which was clearly midway through a major renovation.