My first stop at the diner was to pour an enormous cup of boiling hot coffee from the fresh pot. Roxy had gone home to change, and walked in a few minutes later. Two blue braids dangled on either side of her face and she wore a dress with blue birds embroidered on the hem. She looked like a strung out Heidi on crank.
Ma stared at us. “What in the world happened to the pair of you? You look like you’ve been to hell and back. And Rose, why are you wearing that outfit from last night?”
Ma’s face lost its color as I described the apocalypse that was my apartment. “What is going on? First Axton, then your car, and now this? What did the police say?”
“Not a whole lot. They took prints, questioned my neighbors. They don’t know why I was targeted.”
“It must have been that Sullivan,” she said.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Probably.” I rubbed my bleary eyes with both hands.
“Take the morning off, honey, and go get a new bed. She pointed a finger, wagging it between Roxy and me. “I want both of you to come to dinner tonight. You girls need a good meal.”
“Thank you, Ma, but I can’t. And I don’t want the day off.”
She pursed her lips. “I don’t like this. Not one little bit. I don’t want anyone to hurt my girls.” She pulled Roxy and me into a hug.
I hugged her back and Roxy patted Ma’s shoulder.
“Now,” she said, briskly, releasing us, “Ray will put new locks on your door. They’re on me.” When I opened my mouth to protest, she cut me off. “Ah, ah, ah, no arguing.”
“Thanks, Ma, but I left a message with the super this morning. He’ll take care of it. The doorjamb was busted, too, so he needs to fix it.”
“You won’t let me do anything for you. You’re too independent for your own good, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told.”
I canceled my study date with Janelle. Too much drama, I tapped out on my phone’s tiny keyboard. Then I busied myself with customers and coffee, trying not to dwell on the mountain of problems crashing down on me. Apparently I didn’t do so hot. Said customers weren’t impressed with my disposition and my tips sucked.
Janelle walked in a half hour before closing. She’d never been here before and she surveyed the room as she walked up to the counter and took a seat. “So this is where the magic happens, huh?”
I smiled, happy to see her, and poured her a cup of coffee. “This is it.”
“It could use a little freshening up.” She glanced at the photo of a younger Ma, Frank, and little boy Ray hanging next to the cash register.
“Nah. I think it’s perfect like this.”
She took a sip of coffee and appraised me. “You look like shit on a shingle, girl, and you’re paler than usual. What have you been up to?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Try me. Any news on Axton?”
In between taking care of my last customer and introducing her to Ma, I filled Janelle in on the shit storm my life had become.
She nodded at my now lukewarm cup of Joe. “You may need something stronger than that after the week you’ve had.”
“I hear you.”
Ma came up and patted my butt. “Take it easy, toots. Roxy and I will clean up.”
Roxy stuck her tongue out at me. I was going to have to make it up to them at some point. They’d been shouldering the load for a week now.
Janelle brushed a braid over her shoulder. “So, let me get this straight. You’ve got a missing friend, a crazy ex, a cute lawyer, a hot guy busting down your door, you beat the shit out of Ben Franklin, and everything you own, except that trashy car, has been destroyed? That’s what you’re telling me?”
“Yep,” I said, “that about covers it.”
“Sounds to me like you need some personal protection and I am not talking about a love glove. What if this asshole breaks in again? Or that guy who was with him?”
“Henry?”
“Yeah, Henry. What if Henry comes back? You need to be able to protect your shit, girl.”
“Are you talking about a gun?” I think my voice went up an octave. “Because I don’t know about that.”
“Hell yes, I’m talking about a gun.” She poked me in the arm with a blue-tipped nail. “You pull a gun on his ass, he’ll think twice about fucking with you.”
I imagined toting a big honking six-shooter in my backpack. “I’d probably wind up shooting myself in the elbow. Lose my good texting arm.”
Roxy glanced up from the table she was wiping. “I think it’s a good idea.”
I pressed my lips together and shook my head. “No way.”
“Fine,” Janelle said. “How about a stun gun? Zap him right in the balls, see how he likes that.”
Now we’re talking. The thought of zapping Henry in the balls filled me with delight. “Where do I get one of those?”
“My cousin sells them. He’ll give you a deal.”
Ma put her hands on her hips. “I think we all need some kind of protection. Get me some of that pepper spray.” She walked behind the counter and scrounged around in her purse, pulling out two twenties. “And see if they have a rape whistle. A girl can’t be too careful.”
I shoved the bills in my pocket. “Roxy, you in?”
“Hell yes.”
So I’d eat ramen noodles for the next two weeks. Feeling protected would be worth it. “Where’s his store?”
“He doesn’t have a store so much as a full trunk. I’ll have him meet us at school in an hour. Bring cash.”
Roxy and I drove out to the college the second we locked up the diner. We found Janelle and her cousin waiting for us in the parking lot. Tariq wore jeans and a striped polo that looked four sizes too big. Dozens of little braids covered his head and large diamond adorned his right earlobe. He shook our hands when we met, his gaze lingering on Roxy.
“Blue’s a good color on you,” he said.
Twisting a braid around her finger, she smiled. “Thanks.”
“Come on, Tariq,” Janelle said. “I don’t have all damn day. I’ve got a class to get to.” Unlike me, Janelle was a full time student.
Tariq held up his hands. “All right, cuz, calm down.” He turned back to Roxy and me. “I hear you ladies are in the market for a little personal protection.”
“First I want a can of pepper spray and a rape whistle for my boss,” I said.
He opened the trunk of his silver Ford sedan to a large display of miscellaneous self-defense items. “I don’t have a rape whistle,” he said. He handed me a can of pepper spray, then reached back into the trunk and came out with a black leather pouch. He pulled a shiny four-sided weapon out of it. “I got a Chinese throwing star, though.”
“Aren’t those illegal?” I asked.
Tariq shrugged.
It seemed like something Ma would like. “Okay, I’ll take it.”
“Fifty.”
“All I have is twenty.”
“Since you’re a friend of Janelle’s, I’m willing to work with you.”
For myself, I bought a can of pepper spray I could hang from my key chain, then Tariq handed me a stun gun. “You got to be careful with this.”
I pressed the trigger, jumping as a current shot between the two points. “I’ll take it.” I forked over forty dollars — mostly in ones from my tip money.
“Now,” he focused on Roxy, “what do you need, baby?” I could tell by the way his eyes swept over her, he wasn’t just talking about the stuff in his trunk, he was talking about the junk in hers.
“A cigarette,” she said in a husky voice.
Tariq smiled. “I can get you one of those.”
Oh boy. “No,” I said. “She’s quitting.”
She blew out a breath. “All right, I’ll take some pepper spray.”
“For you, my blue-haired beauty, ten dollars.” She handed it to him with a smile.
Janelle rolled her eyes. “I’ve got to go. Rose, I’ll see you at class tomorrow night?”
I sighed. “Probably not.”
She said she’d take notes for me and walked off.
“Thanks a lot, Tariq.” I tucked everything in my purse.
He shut the trunk lid, his eyes never leaving Roxy. “My pleasure, ladies.”
Roxy grinned as I pulled her away from Tariq’s car. With her love of breaking and entering, and his love of selling possibly — okay totally— stolen goods, this was not a relationship I wanted to encourage.
I needed to stop by the IT office while I was here to see if Eric could fix my computer. We walked toward Blake Hall and ran in to Steve near the entrance.
“Hey, Rose,” he said, adjusting his messenger bag. “Roxy. Any news on Axton?”
“We’re still working on it,” I said.
He reached out and touched my shoulder. “I meant what I said the other day. Anything I can do to help.”
“I appreciate that.”
He gave me a squeeze and with a crooked grin walked off.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Roxy nudged me. “Someone has a little crush on my Rose.”
“He’s a nice guy.”
She wrapped her hands around her throat. “The kiss of death.”
In the IT office, Eric sat at his desk, rubbing his head. He looked up and smiled when I entered. “Hey, Rose, you’re becoming quite a regular around here.”
“Actually, today I have a different favor to ask you.”
“I don’t know. This might cost you another sandwich.” When I handed him my computer his smile changed to a look of horror. “What the hell did you do, hurl it off a building?”
“My apartment was ransacked last night. Everything I own was broken, smashed or shredded.” I ran my fingers over my ponytail.
Eric jumped out of his seat and rounded the desk. “My God, Rose, are you all right?” Placing his hands on my arms, gave me a once over.
“I’m fine. I was at your place when it happened. Really, I’m fine.”
“You think Sullivan did this?” Eric asked.
Roxy propped her hip on the edge of his desk. “Yes.”
I stepped out of Eric’s hold, pulled up a chair, and dropped into it, rubbing a hand over my eyes. I was tired beyond belief. “I don’t know for sure. Probably.”
“Why?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Another warning? Quit looking for Axton, quit asking questions, blah blah blah. Anyway, I can’t afford a new laptop. Is this one fixable?”
Eric glanced down at the broken hinge and hit the power button. “I’ll do what I can.”
“Thanks. I get paid next week, so let me know how much—”
“Rose, stop. I’m not charging you. This will be a test of my skills. I welcome it.” He stepped back to the desk and dismissed me, focusing instead on the laptop.
“Thanks, Eric, I’ll see you later.”
I dropped Roxy off at Ma’s and headed to Walmart, where I bought makeup, toiletries, two pillows, two bras, two packages of underwear and socks, a phone charger, and the largest coffee pot on the shelf. I swung by the grocery store and stocked up on generic pop tarts and ramen noodles, then I stopped by a mattress store and bought a new firm futon, which the salesman promised, would be delivered the next day. My last pit stop was Goodwill where I scoured the racks for a limited amount of jeans, t-shirts, and sweats. With my depleted bank account, I was lucky the volunteer at the counter took pity on me and tossed in two blankets.
Back at my apartment, the super left the new keys in my mailbox as promised. I hauled all the bags up the stairs. I didn’t even hesitate at the door. I was operating on fifteen cups of high octane coffee and zero sleep. If there was a destructive maniac waiting for me, I’d whack him over the head with my Walmart bags, then tase the crap out of him with my new stun gun for good measure.
It took less than twenty minutes to unpack my worldly goods. Wasn’t too hard since I didn’t even have a dresser to unpack things into. As I looked around my barren apartment and the empty futon frame, my anger grew. It was a craptastic futon, but it was mine. My futon, my clothes, my milk. Someone invaded my privacy and not only destroyed my stuff, but my peace of mind. Not someone. Sullivan. He followed me, kidnapped me, threatened my friends and family.
I whipped out my cell and the notebook paper Sheila gave and punched in the number I’d dialed just two days ago.
He didn’t answer, went straight to voice mail. Which pissed me off even more.
“Hey asshole,” I yelled into the phone. I paced from my bathroom door to my kitchenette and back again, my phone hand shaking with agitation. “I just want to know one thing. Did you get your rocks off when you slashed my panties, you perv?” I jabbed the end button and paced back to the living room. I was fired up and needed to get out of there.
I jumped in my car and drove to Roxy’s. She answered the door wearing a traditional, but super short pink and white kimono. “I’m going to talk to Sheila. You in?”
“Yep.” She slipped her feet into wooden sandals.
“Don’t you want to change?
“No, why?”
When we got to Sheila’s house, I parked on the street. Roxy whistled as we walked up to the front door. “Nice digs, huh? And you grew up in a place like this?”
“Not exactly, but close enough.”
“Do you miss it?”
I thought back to the house where I’d been raised with my mother’s coldness and my dad’s apathy. I’d never felt at home there. “No.”
“Well, I’d miss it.”
Sheila answered the door and she didn’t look good. Instead of the pulled together, suburban mom outfit she usually sported, she wore dirty jeans and a faded green t-shirt. Her hair looked limp and there were dark circles under her eyes.
“Hi, Sheila. This is my friend Roxy. We need to talk.”
Sheila’s gaze flicked from Roxy’s bright blue hair, down to her kimono, her bare legs, to the sandals on her feet. She paused a beat before her ingrained manners kicked in. “Hello, Roxy. Nice to meet you. Come in.”
Roxy openly looked around the foyer, taking in the marble tile and the crystal chandelier. “This is really nice,” she said, her voice a little hushed.
“Thanks. Would you like some tea or coffee?”
“Coffee would be great,” I said.
“This way.” She turned and walked toward the kitchen.
I spotted a pile of mail on a small table in the foyer. On top was a letter from Huntingford Bank and Trust.
“Roxy.” I pulled her next to me. “Keep her busy for a second.”
Roxy nodded and followed Sheila.
I quickly rifled through the mail. There were several bills from different credit card companies. I held the letter from the bank up to the light, but couldn’t see a thing.
I desperately wanted to know what was inside. If Packard had a gambling problem, a bank statement would reflect that. If he owed one hundred ninety-six thousand dollars to someone — cough, Sullivan, cough — he must be in real financial trouble.
“Rose,” Sheila called from the kitchen.
I jammed the letter in my purse, my heart beating so fast I thought I might have a heart attack there on the spot.
“Sorry,” I said, hustling into the kitchen, “I have to keep retying these stupid shoelaces.”
“I keep telling you to get new laces. Ones that aren’t so long,” Roxy said. She pointed to me and shook her head. “Every day we go through this.”
Sheila poured two cups of coffee and set them on the counter in front of us. She grabbed a bowl of sugar and a carton of creamer from the fridge and placed them with a couple of spoons next to the coffee. “Any news on Axton?”
“We’re making progress,” I said. “Are you okay, Sheila? You look tired.”
She ran a shaky hand through her hair and tried to smile. She failed. “I don’t know what’s going on with Pack.”
“I came to tell you we followed him last night.”
“He said he had a city council meeting.”
“Yeah, well he lied,” Roxy said.
I dug my elbow into her side and frowned.
“What’d I say?” she asked.
“He lied to me?” Sheila placed a hand over her heart. “If he didn’t go to the meeting, where did he go?”
“There’s an old school out in the country,” I said. “They have illegal gambling there.”
“I know Pack likes to gamble a little. Why would he lie to me about it?”
“I think he likes to gamble more than a little, Sheila. I think Packard has a problem.” I felt like crap springing this on her, but I knew that somehow it was all tied up with Axton’s kidnapping.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know my husband.” She grabbed a hand towel from the counter and refolded it. “He likes to play a little poker. He likes to go to Vegas a couple of times a year. That’s not a problem.”
“Then why did he lie about it?” I asked.
She threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know. Maybe he just wanted to have a few hours to himself. He deserves it, you know. He works really hard.”
“Why wouldn’t he just go to a casino then?” Roxy asked.
Sheila put her hands on her hips. “How do I know you’re not lying? You could be making all this up. And Axton’s probably not even missing, he’s probably out somewhere living it up while Packard’s getting questioned by the police.”
“Why would we lie about this, Sheila?” I asked. “What would we have to gain from it?”
“I don’t know. But following my husband is…intrusive.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “You came to me.”
“Well, that was a mistake. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. He’s just stressed from work.”
“Sheila—”
She crossed her arms over her chest and jutted her chin toward the door. “You need to leave.”
I shot Roxy a look. We hopped off the barstools and headed for the door. As we walked to the car, I glanced back. “That woman is in deep denial.”
“Yep. She’s also in deep shit,” Roxy said.
I nodded in agreement. “By the way, I stole her bank statement.”