With Vics You Get Eggroll (A Mad for Mod Mystery Book 3) (17 page)

TWENTY-FIVE

“Ms. Night, when you made the call to 911, it came up as Big Bro Security. Do you know what that is?” Chief Washington asked.

“No. Do you?”

“Ms. Night, I think you’re going to have to let me take it from here.”

“What about Effie?” I asked. “She’s been living here.”

“Can she stay with you?” he asked.

“We should leave that decision up to her.”

Chief Washington and I walked back out to the living room. “Mr. Keith? We’re going to need to ask you a few questions.”

“Yeah? I want to ask a few questions myself. Like who gave you the right to enter my apartment?”

The chief held up the plastic bag with the knife in it. The color left from Chad’s face, like a glass of Kool-Aid being drained with a straw. His complexion was left a shade of greenish beige. He doubled over and threw up on a plant in the corner. When he stood up, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Are we going to talk here or your place?”

“I think ‘our place’ would be better,” the chief said.

Chad nodded. One of the officers cuffed his hands together and led him out of the room. Effie put her hands over her face and sobbed openly.

I put my hand on her shoulder. “Effie, I think it’s best that you don’t stay here tonight. Do you want to stay with me?”

“I want to go home,” she said between ragged breaths.

“Home? To the apartment on Gaston?”

“No, home. To see my parents. They live in McKinney. It’s about an hour drive in traffic.”

“I can take you. Do you need to pack your things?”

Effie picked up a worn teddy bear—obviously more well-loved than the one I’d seen at her apartment the night she’d been attacked—from the sofa with one hand and her handbag with the other. “I’m ready to go now.”

We left the apartment behind. Effie grabbed the power cord to her phone on the way out. Rocky had calmed down from the melee, but he stayed close to Effie as if he sensed that she needed his company. When we reached my car, I found a piece of paper tucked under the front windshield wiper.

“You didn’t get a ticket, did you?” Effie asked.

I glanced at the writing.
Meet me at the cemetery entrance on Oak Grove at sundown. –T

“Advertisement,” I said. I crumbled the paper into a ball and tossed it onto the floor of my car.

Effie’s parents lived in a small ranch on the outer edge of McKinney, a town about thirty miles north of downtown Dallas. As soon as I saw the house, I knew why she’d wanted to live in my building.

The house was a sprawling ranch. The lines of mid-century were evident in the split of the roof, half on a slope, half flat, and the row of perfectly square windows that lined the right-hand side of the façade. Care had been taken in the form of maintenance and landscaping. Tall stalks of bamboo flanked a bright white door that contrasted nicely with the pink brick. The attached garage was on the right side of the house; a restored yellow Pontiac GTO was parked in the driveway. I pulled in behind it.

The front door opened and a woman in a long olive green linen sundress stepped out. She waved to us and Effie waved back. Even from a distance, I could see the resemblance between mother and daughter.

“Do you want to come in?” Effie asked.

“No, thank you. I need to get back. You have my number, right?” Effie nodded. “I want you to call me if you need anything.”

“I’ll be okay here. They’ve been wanting me to come visit for a while. I would have, except Chad didn’t want me to leave.” Her eyes went red again and filled with tears.

“Effie, it’s okay. Chad’s with the police now, and you’re here.”

“I still can’t believe it was him. Why? Why would he do it?”

“I don’t know.” I smoothed her hair away from her face, and then stopped when I realized what a maternal gesture it was. I glanced back over at the front door and saw Effie’s mom watching us. She smiled. In her arms was a black Shih Tzu as in need of a haircut as Rocky. I smiled back. It didn’t take a mid-century modern interior decorator to recognize that Effie’s parents were good people.

Effie gave Rocky one last hug, and then got out of the car with her teddy bear and her handbag. I waited until she was in her mother’s arms before backing out of the driveway and heading back to Lakewood.

When I reached Mad for Mod, I fished my hand around the floor of the car for the wad of paper I’d thrown there and smoothed the crumpled ball open. I hadn’t wanted to tell Effie that the note was from Tex, but now that I was alone again, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. How had he known I was at Effie’s boyfriend’s apartment? He couldn’t have, not unless he’d followed me there. So, did that mean he’d suspected Chad all along? I didn’t know. Maybe Nasty was right. Maybe I didn’t know Tex as well as I thought.

I got out of the car and walked a circle around it, looking for a tracking device, before giving in to the fact that I wouldn’t know a tracking device if I sat on one. There had to be a rational explanation. I had to wait until sundown to find out what it was. That was, if I decided to meet him in the graveyard in the first place.

Rocky took a bathroom break next to the recycling. I bagged his business and tossed it into the trash bin, and then went inside my studio. The back hallway held the Asian items that I’d accumulated for Dan and Cleo’s house: extra Japanese lanterns, a coromandel screen with a painting of cherry blossoms on rice paper, and several serving sets of Asian-inspired flatware, dishes, and glassware. The resulting mix blurred the lines between Japanese, Chinese, Vietnamese, and Thai, but made a kitschy statement when combined. If things had gone as planned, Cleo Tyler would be throwing her pool party tonight. Instead, she was probably at home, struggling to get over the nightmare of having been abducted by a psycho. I almost couldn’t believe it had been less than twenty-four hours since I’d found her in the Casa Linda parking lot.

I called the Tyler house. Cleo answered. “It’s Madison. How are you doing?”

“I feel like an armadillo that’s been hit and left by the side of the road—all kinds of banged up.”

“Is Dan there with you?”

“He’s been a doll. Attending to my every need since the doctors checked me out.”

“Cleo, what were you doing at the paint store yesterday? That’s where it happened, didn’t it?”

A gruff voice replaced Cleo’s lazy painkiller-induced one. “What did I tell you? My wife has been to hell and back and she doesn’t need to answer to you. Don’t call here again.” He slammed down the phone.

I picked up my notes on the Tyler house and tapped them on the desk until the bottom edges were lined up. No need to keep them out anymore. It pained me to know I’d have to give up on the balance of their payment. Just when I’d gotten comfortable with my income, everything changed. I needed money in the bank to fund my business. The only way to get an infusion of cash was to sell the apartment building.

I pulled up the name of the realtor who had transacted the inheritance of Thelma Johnson’s house to me. I was going to have to bite the bullet and do this. The building held too many bad memories. I had to let it go.

When the realtor answered, I charged ahead. “Mr. O’Hara, this is Madison Night. A few months ago I inherited a house from one of your clients, a Mr. Steve Johnson.”

“Call me Dennis. I remember you—you’re that Doris Day lady who busted up the counterfeiting ring, right? That kind of thing doesn’t happen every day.”

“You’d be surprised,” I said.

“Is there some problem with the house?” he asked after an awkward pause. I was smart enough to know that even if there was, it wouldn’t be his responsibility. He was only being polite.

“I’m not calling about the house. I own an apartment building on Gaston Avenue that I’d like to sell. Can you recommend someone who handles commercial real estate?”

“I’d be happy to help you with that,” he said. I could almost hear the dollar signs in his voice.

“Dennis, it’s not one of the fancy buildings that you might be picturing. It’s a modest twelve unit mid-century building that’s had only very minor updates.”

“Describe ‘minor.’”

“All of the bathrooms have been restored to their original pink commodes, sinks, and tubs.”

Silence.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to recommend someone? I know there are realtors who specialize in this sort of thing. I see their ads in
Atomic Ranch
magazine.”

“I’ll take a look first and see what we can do.”

We made arrangements to meet for a walkthrough on Monday. I had a feeling the realtor was somewhere between determining that my building wasn’t worth his while and wondering if he had somehow lucked into the easiest transaction in history.

I pulled a cold bottle of water from my mini fridge. I poured half of the contents into Rocky’s bowl, and then sat back down at my desk and took a long drink for myself. I put the Tyler folder in my file cabinet and reached out for Effie’s tenant application, still sitting on my desk where I’d left it. A chill swept over me as I thought about the video surveillance I’d seen on the screen at Chad’s apartment. He’d been watching these women, picking out his targets, from the comfort of his own home. With his girlfriend in the next room. It sickened me.

I scanned the application a second time, looking for anything I should have picked up on. Emergency Contact: Chad Keith. Place of Employment: Big Bro Security.

Big Bro Security. Chief Washington had asked me if I’d heard of them. I’d said no, but I should have said yes. They were listed right here.

I leaned forward and picked the receiver off of my yellow donut phone. With the end of a pencil, I dialed the number listed. After four rings, a recording came on. “Thank you for calling Big Bro Security. Home and office security that feels like family.”

I hung up without leaving a message. I jiggled the mouse to my computer and waited a couple of seconds for the screen to wake up. As soon as I had an internet window, I typed “Big Bro Security, Dallas, Texas” into the search field. A website popped up. The main screen of the site was black with white words. A shield, not unlike a police badge, was by the left-hand side of their header.

Our 24-hour integrated monitoring system will identify threats to you and your loved ones before they have a chance to make a move. Going out of town? We’ll watch your house. Don’t trust the babysitter? We’re more accurate than a nanny cam. Think your kids are partying when you’re not there? We’ll catch them in the act. Our cameras can be viewed via remote access or smart phone so we can be there when you need us. Big Bro—home and business security that feels like family.

I surfed the rest of the site, looking for Chad’s name. No names were listed. For an operation that hung its hat on feeling like family, the website was decidedly impersonal. The colors mimicked those of the Lakewood PD: black, red, blue, white. The shield on the upper corner was a clear nod to police departments everywhere. I suspected it had been used for that purpose—to instill a feeling of trust. Their contact page had a web form to be filled out with email and comments, along with the same phone number that I’d called. Instructions on the site said the phone was not monitored by a live person, but that messages would be returned within twenty-four hours.

I clicked back to the About page. Big Bro Security was a relatively new company, started six months ago, but they claimed to have a combined total of fifty years experience. Chad Keith wasn’t even half that old. So who were the other bros behind Big Bro Security?

Halfway down the page I found a barely noticeable link to their management team. I clicked the text and choked on my last swig of water.

Their founder and chief executive officer was former police officer Donna Nast.

TWENTY-SIX

Nasty owned Big Bro Security? With Chad Keith? Who had a computer monitoring the residences of his girlfriend, the exterior of the Landing where she’d been approached, my apartment building, and nine other locations around town?

Something in the water did not compute.

I felt around for my phone and called Nasty. “Donna, this is Madison. I need to talk to you about Big Bro Security. It’s important.” I waited a few seconds, just in case she was screening her calls. “Call me on my cell.” I was halfway through the number when she picked up the phone.

“Madison,” she said. No hello, no what’s up. After all this time, I kind of felt cheated.

“What can you tell me about Big Bro Security?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re listed on their website as the CEO.”

“I’m impressed. You had to spend at least four minutes on the site before you found that link.”

“This is important. Do you know Chad Keith?”

“When I said I couldn’t tell you anything about BBS, I meant it’s none of your business.”

It took me a second to process that BBS meant Big Bro Security.

“Okay, how about this? Chad Keith is in police custody. A carpet knife like the one used to threaten Effie—like the one that was probably used to murder Kate Morrow and Linda Gull, was found in his apartment. And the police discovered a computer room where he was watching illegal video feed of a bunch of places around town. And every one of those places has a connection to the Lakewood Abductor case.”

“If any of this was true, I would have heard about it.”

“How? You’re not a police officer anymore.”

“How do you know about it? I can’t imagine the chief gave you a badge because he likes the way you dress.”

“You know how I know? Because I was there.
I
found the knife under his sink.
I
saw the TV monitor.
I
called the cops.”

“Shit, Madison, are you for real?”

“I wouldn’t lie about something this important. Now, can you tell me anything?”

“Not over the phone. Meet me at the new taco restaurant on Greenville.”

There were dog owners who were comfortable tying their pets up outside when they frequented local Dallas eateries. I was not one of them. Rocky was more a part of my life than most people I met, and if Nasty couldn’t handle a table outside to accommodate his presence, then we were just going to have to take an extra moment to make it a nonissue.

Nasty arrived shortly after I did. She pulled her Saab up to valet parking and handed over her keys. With a toss of her long, brown-streaked-with-honey hair, she headed my way. The valet attendant made no secret of the fact that he was admiring the way she walked away from him. What she lacked in female bonding skills, she made up for with sex appeal.

She lowered herself into a chair and immediately reached for the glass of ice water. Her red lips left a transfer of color on the glass.

“Have you ordered?” she asked. “The tacos here are pretty good.”

“I didn’t come here for food.”

“Fine.” She twisted around and flagged a waiter. “I’ll have the taco special. Carne asada, camarones, and pollo. Cebollitas and mango jicima slaw. And a margarita.” She pronounced the words with the proper Mexican pronunciation, not the Americanized way.

The waiter looked at me and I waved him off. “Not hungry,” I said. He frowned and left. She waited until he was inside before she leaned in close.

“Chad Keith works for me at Big Bro. He’s part of my video surveillance team,” she said, all traces of another language dropped from her speech.

“He’s a college student.”

“Smart one, too. He’s the one who suggested we go remote access. My agents don’t need to sit in front of a desk anymore. They just need access to a smart phone.”

“So you set Chad up with the equipment he used to single out women to abduct and it doesn’t bother you?”

“Keep up here, Madison. Chad wasn’t singling out women to abduct them. He was watching the locations where abductions took place so he could make sure it didn’t happen again.”

“He—” I looked up at a spot on the roof over Nasty’s head and pictured the screens. They had included the Landing. The Casa Linda parking lot. And the apartment building where Effie and I lived until we’d both moved out.

The waiter approached with her margarita and she leaned back so he could set the glass down. She sipped at it while he fussed with the silverware on the neighboring table, then resumed our conversation after he went back inside.

“We’re a relatively new business,” Nasty said. “I need clients. When the first report came in that Kate Morrow was abducted from outside the organic foods store, I approached them. They weren’t interested.”

“You saw the abductions of women around Lakewood as a business opportunity?” I leaned in, and then caught myself. My disgust of the concept had overridden my couth. I made a conscious effort to sit straight in my chair and keep calm.

“I saw the abductions of women around Lakewood as validation that we need more security in this area. I would think you’d appreciate that. You were attacked by a killer in your own apartment. You were shot outside of one of Dallas’s oldest and most respected condominiums. You might be the only woman in Dallas who
doesn’t
think additional security around town is a good idea.”

Her words were cold and calculated, but in a way, accurate. And I hated that about her. Nasty had a way of cutting through the fibers that clustered around rational things and emotional bonds. It was probably what had allowed her to turn her back on Tex. She was a classic Dallas bombshell on the outside, but inside it was like she was a machine.

Except I knew she really wasn’t.

In the past, Nasty and I had had more than one heated exchange about my relationship with Tex. In territorial style, she’d warned me away from him. And when I asked her to help him, she warned me off. Now I knew why.

“You’re doing this to help Tex,” I said suddenly. “You said you wouldn’t get involved. You called me an enabler for trying to help him, but you’re doing it too. Just in your own way.”

She tore her gaze from my face and looked inside, as if her impatience had something to do with her tacos. I knew better. I’d hit the nail on the head.

The waiter saw her and pointed down behind the counter. He used a towel over his hand to pick up a white plate and carried it outside to our table.

“I changed my mind,” I said after he cautioned her that the plate was hot. “Can I have what she’s having?”

Nasty looked up from her food, surprised.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. He disappeared back inside.

“I have a feeling this conversation is going to take longer than I originally anticipated. Please, start without me.” I waited until she’d taken a bite to continue. “I’m right. I know I’m right. You didn’t turn your back on him.”

She chewed silently, and then washed her first swallow down with a gulp of margarita. “I’m not on the force anymore, but I have ways of finding out information. I knew things were bad for him. I didn’t know how bad they were until you called me.” She took another bite of her shrimp taco. Juices from the salsa ran out the end and drizzled on top of the carne asada taco still sitting on the plate. She swallowed a second time and set what was left of the first taco down. “You said you found the curved knife at Chad’s. Tell me about that.”

Swapping stories with Nasty was about as far from normal as I could have planned my evening. I kept thinking about the note from Tex left under my windshield, and the possibility that there was something that I’d be able to report to him if I met up with him at the graveyard. Except it was no longer an if. It was a when.

“There’s not much to tell. Effie moved in with Chad and when I went to visit her yesterday, she asked if I’d come back today with Rocky.” Upon hearing his name, Rocky’s head lifted up and he looked at me expectantly. I bent down and ran my open hand over his fur. “They were having fun getting reacquainted, so I excused myself and went to the bathroom.” I left out the fact that it was an emotional need, not a biological one, that had taken me there. “I looked under the sink for a towel to dry my hands. When the cabinet door opened, the knife fell out.”

She looked at me like I was making it up. “The knife had been wrapped in a towel and propped on top of some rolls of toilet paper. It fell. The towel opened up and I saw the tip of a curved blade, just like Effie described the night she was approached at the Landing.”

Nasty had been reaching for her margarita, but she stopped and looked up at me. “The Landing,” she repeated. “That’s a new gig. That was Chad’s sign-up.”

I didn’t like the look on her face. “Tell me how you approach businesses to hire you.”

“I have a team of security agents—mostly college guys, because they’re hip to computers. Gamers, you know? Security and surveillance are an easy fit for them. There’s an incentive structure, like a bonus system, for anybody who signs up new clients. Chad turned out to be the best, by far. He’s earned over two grand in bonuses this month.”

“So what you’re saying is that the screen I saw that had live feeds watching different residences and businesses in Lakewood was legit. Those companies hired Chad to monitor them.”

The waiter appeared with a second plate of tacos and a margarita. When I ordered what Nasty was having, I hadn’t thought much about the drink, but now, in light of everything, I was happy to have it. I took a sip, set the glass down, and bit into a taco while the waiter dropped off the check.

Nasty’s phone rang with an incoming call. Before she could snatch it off the table, I saw the display: Chief Wash.

“Aren’t you going to take it?” I asked. “Chief Washington has your employee in custody. Chad must have dropped your name by now.”

She wiped her mouth with her napkin and answered. “Donna Nast,” she said. “Hi, Chief. I hear you picked up one of my employees today.” She kept her bright green eyes trained on mine while the chief said something that sounded like one of Charlie Brown’s teachers. “I’m sitting here having drinks with Madison Night.” Pause. “Yeah, I know.” She shook her head and I knew a joke had been made at my expense. “Don’t go holding your breath.” She laughed.

I took another sip of my margarita and pretended I didn’t care.

“Sure. I can confirm that he’s on my payroll, and that the video feed in his apartment is legit, if that’s what you’re asking.” Again with the unintelligible response, and then Nasty pushed her chair out from under the table and jumped up and cursed. She plugged a finger into one ear and walked away from me. The waiter appeared by the door. She shot him a look that told him to go back inside. He did. She walked a few feet away from the restaurant, passing a woman with two children. She said a couple of not particularly ladylike expressions and hung up.

I wasn’t about to let Nasty take off after a reaction like that. I tossed enough cash on the table to cover the bill and tip and grabbed Rocky’s leash. When I caught up with Nasty, she was in the parking lot waiting for the valet attendant to bring her car around.

“What was that?” I asked. “What did he tell you?”

“You’re going to find out anyway.” She shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe what she was about to say. “There’s a reason Chad’s been so successful at signing up new accounts. He and a friend have been using that carpet knife to scare patrons of local businesses, and following up the next day with a boatload of charm and a sales pitch.”

“He’s been—it was—he what?”

“You heard me. The only person Chad Keith has managed to hurt with his actions is me.”