The Dangerous Edge of Things - By Tina Whittle Page 0,66
Rico.”
He looked at me for a long second, then the gravity melted from his face. He made a fist and punched it at my chest, fast, like a snake striking. I put my hands up and smacked it away.
He grinned. “Look at you, getting all dangerous and shit.”
Chapter 34
The first thing I did was try Dylan Flint at his Snoopshot’s number, but he wasn’t answering—again. I left a message asking him to please get in touch with me, then spent the rest of the afternoon with a bunch of manila folders and a note pad. And it gave me a lot to think about.
If Eliza was lesbian, she’d been hiding it, which meant she thought it was something to hide. Which put a whole new spin on Jake Whitaker’s comments. Was this the reason he didn’t believe the rumors about her and Mark? Was that what he’d been being “technically true but deliberately evasive” about? It made sense, especially considering some of the things Nikki had said about him, like how Eliza had caught him peeping into windows.
Still, I knew that people were too complicated to jam into rigid sexual categories. Even Rico had had a girlfriend once, back when we were in high school, when he was still Richard Worthington and I was still…confused.
I smiled at the memory. I’d learned a lot since then. Of course, none of that mattered. I needed smarts beyond what I’d gotten in Sex Ed 101 to explain Eliza. I didn’t have time to ponder the possibilities, however. It was two-thirty, and I had a 302 to complete.
Whatever the hell that was.
***
Trey showed up in the copy room an hour later, 302 report in hand. I had just slipped mine into the feeder, and the copy machine was humming itself to life. I hopped onto a work table. “Got a quick question for you, Mr. Seaver. Did you know Eliza was lesbian?”
“No.” Trey’s expression sharpened. “Do you know that?”
“It’s a theory at this point.”
The machine coughed and clunked to a stop. Trey knelt and opened the doors to find about seven million little lights blinking at him. He started turning knobs and rollers, threading his fingers into dark hot metal places.
“A theory requires evidence.”
“I’m getting to that. But first things first—Garrity called.”
“I know.” He pulled out a mangled, blackened piece of paper and handed it to me. “He called me first.”
I threw the paper in the trash. “Then you know that story. Factor in this—I called Whitaker. He said that the police told him that Bulldog was trying to break into Eliza’s apartment.”
Trey fished the paper out of the trash and put it in the recycling box. “Had broken into. He was hoping to retrieve the drugs he’d sold Eliza, but he couldn’t find them.”
I snorted. “Did it not occur to him that the police would have confiscated any drugs when they searched the place?”
“He thought she might have hidden them well enough that the police had missed them.”
“Had they?”
“No.”
I put a hand on his elbow. He looked at it, then looked at me.
“This lesbian thing is a big deal, Trey. A very big deal.”
“If it’s true.”
“I know of only one way to find out.”
The copy machine whirred and spat out my report, along with its duplicate. Trey fed his in next. I was expecting it to wheeze and rattle, but the contraption practically purred as it got to work.
“And that would be?” he said.
“We need to talk to Eliza’s friend Nikki. I think they were lovers.”
Trey shook his head, but I interrupted whatever he was about to say.
“Just come with me and talk to her, okay? Call it personal protection, call it whatever you have to, but I need you there to tell me if she’s telling the truth.”
“I’m in a meeting until six.”
“When you’re done then. I’ll go back to the shop, change into something less corporate agenty, then pick you up on the way.”
He collected his report from the tray and tucked it into a file folder. I noticed that it already had a label on it, neatly typed.
“Look,” I said. “Even if you don’t come along, I’m just going to do it anyway, and then who knows what will happen. You might end up bailing me out of jail tonight. Or worse. I mean, I’m not an idiot, but I’m no investigator either.”
“Fine. I’ll do it. You’ve made a compelling case that you’re in need of professional supervision. But we’re doing this on my terms.”