Last Diner Standing (21 page)

It was every bit as tacky as I imagined. Ugly blue carpet, a polyester bedspread in stale hues of gray, a floating laminate desk.

“Okay, now what?” Axton shut the door and moved into the room. “Surely they clean this place at least once a week, right?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” I walked to the bed and threw back the bedspread. “Help me lift up the mattress.”

Together, Ax and I hoisted the mattress and I checked underneath. Nothing. We let it fall back in place.

“I’ll get the bathroom, you check under the bed?”

“Yep,” he said.

I checked behind the shower curtain, lifted the lid on the toilet tank. This was a waste of time and twenty-six bucks.

“Hey Rose, bring me the roll of toilet paper.”

I stuck my head out of the bathroom. “We are not stealing the toilet paper.”

“Just toss it here. Do you still have a flashlight from the other night?”

“Yeah.” I popped off the half-roll of paper and tossed it at Ax. “What are you doing?”

“Remember I told you that I’ve been checking for porn violators at work?”

“Ax, is there something you need to tell me?”

He scoffed. “Anyway, the philosophy prof digs these sites with amateur, hidden camera crap. Girls in bathrooms, dressing rooms. It’s creepy. So I checked with some of my techie friends on how to tell if there’s a camera in the room, because now I’m all, like, paranoid.”

I dug out my flashlight and handed it over. “How often does that happen, people using a hidden camera?”

“More often than you think.” He shut off the light switch and slowly panned the flashlight over the room. “Dude. You have to see this.”

“I can’t see anything.”

“Don’t move.” He pointed the light at my face.

I held up a hand to shield my eyes. Then he was next to me, shoving the flashlight into my hand.

“Hold the toilet paper roll up to your eye.”

I felt like an idiot, but I complied. “Now what?”

He spun me in the opposite direction. “Flash the light up there.” He guided my hand.

“The smoke detector?”

He moved the light around, flashing it at different angles. “Do you see the light reflect back at you?”

I moved the light in a circle, beaming it on the detector. There was a little spot that seemed brighter. “Oh my God. I think I did.”

“I did, too,” he said.

He moved away from me and hit the light switch. “Now, let’s check it out.” He grabbed a chair from the floating desk and pulled it over to the smoke detector. He climbed up, pried the detector from the wall, and peered at the back. “Yep.”

“Let’s see.” I grabbed the detector while he jumped down.

The camera was a small black square and attached to a circuit board. Bigger than a postage stamp, but not by much.

A knock sounded at the door. “Open up, please. This is management.”

I glanced at Ax. “Shit.”

Ax ripped out the camera and shoved it in his pocket. “Play it cool. Just maintain.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll be fine.” I took the smoke detector and opened the door.

A man in a maroon vest and navy slacks with a severely receding hairline stood before me. “The computer alerted us to an error with the smoke detector. Is there a problem here?”

I thrust it at him. “Yeah, check the battery. It kept beeping every ten seconds. Totally blew the mood for this one.” I wagged a finger at Ax.

“Yeah, thanks a lot, dude.”

We shoved past him and walked at a normal pace toward Stoner Joe’s truck. The manager watched as we drove out of the lot.

“So they have old fashioned keys, but updated computers?” I asked.

“Maybe it’s a law. The detectors have to be monitored or something.”

“Crystal and Martin Mathers had room six every week. Never deviated. So was he taping her? Or was she taping him?”

“Maybe a third party was taping them both,” Ax said.

Chapter 22

We pulled up to Axton’s house and he practically sprinted inside, convinced Joe had scarfed up all the Better Than Sex cake. I followed at a more sedate pace.

When I entered the living room, Sullivan waited for me in the dining alcove. “How’d it go?”

“Oh my God.” Axton walked out of the kitchen with a slab of cake on a plate and a full mouth. “This is literally almost better than sex, Rose. You have to try this.”

I glanced at Sullivan and saw a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Let’s go downstairs and talk.” He gestured for me to lead the way to the basement.

“Take a piece of cake with you,” Axton called after us.

“I found out lots of interesting things today,” I said.

Sullivan sat on a folding chair and crossed his legs. “Do tell.”

I walked to a Chewbacca sleeping bag and collapsed on top of it. It smelled like citrus and sandalwood. I wrapped my arms around the pillow and gazed at Sullivan. “Your boy, Martin Mathers, was Crystal’s sugar daddy. And Ax and I just checked out their love nest, better known as the Huntingford Motor Lodge. Always room six, which just so happened to contain a hidden camera in the smoke detector. What do you think about that?”

“You’re sure about this? That it was Martin Mathers?”

I yawned. “As sure as I can be. He sleeps with strippers, he gambles. How can you trust someone like that?”

“Who says I trust him?”

“I thought you owned his ass. What with his gambling debt and all.”

“Let me tell you about men like Martin Mathers. They play all sides. You can never trust a dirty cop. Not unless you have a lot of information that could ruin him. And even then, if a cop’s on the take, you have to be on your guard.”

“Do you? Have a lot of information that could ruin him?”

He raised a brow. A Sullivanism for ‘duh, of course I do.’

“Well, someone recorded his little trysts with Crystal. That wasn’t you, was it?”

“No. So what else did you find out today?” he asked.

“Crystal’s ex, Brent Crandall, is one angry jilted lover. Diane, his ex and Crystal’s fellow stripper, hated her guts. And the police know that Crystal is dead. They took Janelle in for questioning and released her two hours later.”

“You did have a busy day,” he said.

I rose on my elbow and watched him. “I’ve been thinking about your situation. Why would Clay go to all that trouble to put a hit on you? Why wouldn’t he just have Stuart do the deed? Why outsource when he already has Stuart on the payroll?”

He stroked his chin with his thumb. “I’ve thought about that. Maybe Clay wanted someone down the chain so it couldn’t be linked back to him. Or maybe he wanted Stuart’s hands clean for some reason.”

“No, Stuart is hired muscle, just like Henry.”

“Henry’s more than just muscle,” he said.

“Do you two have a bromance I should know about?” I flopped my head back on the pillow. “I keep thinking about Crystal’s ex, Brent. He went from boyfriend status to customer. That had to suck. Crystal dumped Brent for Sheik. Brent could have attacked Sheik in jealous fit and then when Crystal wouldn’t take him back, he killed her.”

“Jealousy’s a powerful motivator. So where’s the missing money in this scenario?”

“Crime of opportunity. Brent took it because it was there. But if Clay isn’t behind the hit, who is? Just how many enemies do you have?”

He narrowed his eyes in thought. That was troublesome. Did he have so many enemies he needed to stop and think about it?

“Did you ever do something stupid over a girl?” I asked.

His expression changed and a grin spread across his face, causing little creases to appear around his mouth. “What do you think?” he asked.

“I think you probably ruined your rival’s life and crushed his soul.”

“That sounds about right.”

“So, what did this girl look like?” I don’t remember his answer, because I zonked out.

When I awoke, I was sore, stiff, and starving. I blinked at the sleeping face two feet away from me. 

Henry was a drooler.

I sat up and arched my back as I glanced around the basement. No Sullivan.

A horrible stench rose from Henry’s sleeping bag. The fart of death.

I scrambled up the stairs, readjusting my ponytail as I climbed. I walked through the kitchen door and the bracing scent of brewed coffee hit me in the face. I need a cup or six.

I glanced at the wall clock—five-twenty. I still had time to get to work.

Sullivan walked into the kitchen, dressed in the clothes he wore the night before. He looked good in the morning. The beginnings of a beard covered the planes of his face and his longish hair was in disarray. 

“Good morning.” He walked toward me and reaching out, brushed my upper cheek.

“Sorry I stole your sleeping bag.”

“You were tired. I did all right on the couch,” he said.

“But you stuck me next to Henry. He’s smelly and he slobbers like a dog.”

“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear that.”

“Is Ax up?” I asked. “I need to bum a ride to work. I left his Honda at the diner yesterday and never went back for it.”

“I’ll take you. Want to run home and change first?”

Is this what a morning after would be like? Tender caresses and driving me home? No, in my fantasies there were way more sexy parts. Plus, I wore fancy lingerie and my hair looked fabulous.

“Yeah, that’d be great.” I used the bathroom and when I came out, Sullivan handed me a travel mug of coffee. I would have kissed him if—A) we had that kind of relationship and B) I didn’t have morning breath. So I said thanks and let it go at that.

Instead of heading outside to Stoner Joe’s truck, Sullivan used the connecting door from the kitchen to the garage. I grabbed my purse and followed.

A black Mercedes with tinted windows sat where the SUV with the shattered back window used to be.

“When did you get this?” I climbed into the passenger seat. The interior smelled delicious. A combination of new car, leather, and Sullivan.

“Yesterday.”

As we drove, I dug out my notebook and made a few notes from last night. “Feel like calling Martin Mathers today and questioning him about Crystal?”

“Absolutely not. And you’re not going to either.” He shot me a warning look that I could see, even in the dark. “He may be a crook, but he’s still the chief of police.”

He pulled into my apartment lot. Expecting Sullivan to wait in the car, I was surprised when he cut the engine and followed me inside. I hoped I didn’t leave any unmentionables lying around. I peeked in the door before entering. No bras or panties visible, thank goodness.

Sullivan made himself at home on my futon while I took a speedy shower and threw on some jeans and a sweatshirt. For vanity’s sake, I even put on a little makeup and lip gloss.

When I emerged from the steamy bathroom, Sullivan eyed me from head to toe. He also held my phone in one hand, wiggling it between his thumb and forefinger. “Roxy just called. Wondered why you were late. Your mother left a bitchy voicemail, said you were rude last night. Dane left a message and said he’s looking into the list of suspects you sent. How sweet.”

“Give me that.” I made a grab for the phone, but Sullivan held it out of reach. I extended my arm further, lost my footing, and wound up sprawled across his lap. We stared at each other for one long moment before I hastily climbed off him and tugged down the hem of my shirt. “Give me the damn phone.” I held out my hand, palm up.

He continued to gaze at me, his eyes turning to a darker, burnished gold before he dropped it in my hand. I grabbed my jacket and didn’t look at him again as I walked out the door.

We didn’t speak on the ride to the diner. But when he parked at the back door, he placed a hand on my arm. “I’ll be busy today. If you find out anything new, call Henry.”

“Do you really think you should be driving around in broad daylight? You’re a target. And not just to the hit man, but with the police.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I can’t stay cooped up in that house one more day.”

I understood his predicament and would have felt the same way, still I worried. “Be safe,” I said.

“You, too.”

I hopped out of the car and strode in through the kitchen.

Ray stood at the counter rolling out biscuits. He hadn’t shaved. His shaggy mane was a tangled mess beneath his hairnet and his black t-shirt was inside out.

Jorge brushed glaze on cinnamon rolls. “Hey Rose. Ray and Ma were up all night roasting chickens.” No wonder Ray looked exhausted.

I grabbed an apron and tied it as I walked into the dining room. Ma sat at the counter. With her eyes closed and her chin propped on her crossed arms, she snorted softly. Once again, no Dillon.

I gazed past her to Roxy, who made the shushing gesture. “She’s worn out.” She waved me over to the window.

I kept an eye on Ma as I walked from behind the counter. “How long has she been like that?”

“Half an hour. I didn’t have the heart to wake her.” Then she smacked my arm. “You had sex with Sullivan and didn’t tell me? WTF, Rose?”

“I didn’t have sex with him,” I kept my voice low.

“Then why did he answer your phone this morning?” she hissed.

“Because he’s an intrusive ass. And what about you and Tariq?”

Her cheeks turned red, clashing with her blue hair. “Not yet.”

I raised a brow. “Oh, really?”

“Fine, not technically.”

I wasn’t sure what that meant, but before I could question her further, Ma suddenly popped up. “What?” She whipped her head around and spied us. “What happened?”

“You took a snooze, Ma,” I said.

She sniffed and rubbed her tired eyes beneath her frames. “I don’t have time to snooze. I’ve got chicken and rice to get in the oven.” She slid off her stool and slowly made her way to the kitchen.

“I’m worried about her,” Roxy said.

“Me, too. She’s not going to be able to keep up this crazy pace.”

Roxy smacked her gum. “She won’t listen to us. Rudy’s going to have to call off this breakfast crap first.”