Later

This has been the longest couple of weeks of my entire life.

I just have to make it through one more day of this bullshit. After that, I’ll have Maise in my hands and my problems will all be solved. Maise will lead me to the killer. I’ll have Veronica off my back. The mint green envelopes will cease. Then I can get back to hiring myself out instead of watching out for my own ass constantly. I don’t like to have to focus solely on that. It’s not in my job description.

Something is itching at the back of my mind as I’m driving. Megan. Chenille obviously hasn’t found anything at all. If she had, I would’ve received a phone call at the bare minimum. In all actuality, I would’ve received several phone calls over the course of a few minutes.

I’m back driving on streets that I recognize now, which means that I’m almost home. I just want to get back to my apartment and fall asleep. I have to be at my best tomorrow when I pick up Maise. Once I get her, there is no room for slipups. If I lose her, I’m done. I glance out my window and almost break my neck to do a double take.

Megan’s car is parked at the gym.

I check the clock on the dashboard to make sure that I haven’t completely lost track of time. It’s after one A.M. There’s no reason that there should be any cars in the gym parking lot this late. Even the custodial staff would be at home by now. Unless the gym is running some late night special. I get the feeling that this isn’t the case. I run through my options in my head. Go home, go to bed, and hash all of this out tomorrow or hit the brakes and check it out now.

I pull the car to the side of the road and slip out the door. Thankfully there’s not a lot of traffic at this time of night. I slink, unnoticed, across the street to the gym’s parking lot. Going home and going to sleep is not even in the running at this point. Not anymore.

I move like a ghost across the barren parking lot. I let my eyes wander over the pale blue Neon in the lot. Dent in the back. Bumper sticker. License plates. It’s definitely Megan’s car. I reach the gym and put my back against the wall. No one’s shooting, so, for the time being at least, I must be in the clear. I do a quick take of my surroundings, looking for an out-of-place shadow. I find nothing. I ease my way to the gym window and peek inside. No movement. I have to case the building. Megan is here someplace. I move quietly across the front of the building, and as I slip around the corner, I hear the sound of the front door opening.

I drop to the ground behind the moistened hydrangea bushes. I can’t very well get caught now. That would put quite a cramp in my style. A cramp that would probably leave me six feet under. I can hear voices. A man and a woman. I recognize the dame’s voice immediately. Megan. I can’t place the man’s. I inch forward slightly to catch a glimpse of the bodies that the voices belong to. Even though it shouldn’t catch me off guard, somehow it does. Chenille was right.

Megan is talking with Bruiser.

They’re too far away for me to hear what they’re saying. I can’t inch any closer or I may as well be wearing a neon sign with an arrow saying, “Here I am.” I can pick out the occasional word, but nothing hits home. Mostly adjectives. That doesn’t help in the least. I have to get closer if I want to find out anything at all. I inch along on my belly like a serpent.

“. . . Vincent was . . .”

I stop, midcrawl. My stomach drops. My initial thought is that my ears are playing tricks on me. Megan didn’t just use the name Vincent. Even if she did, there’s gotta be a million different people with the same name. It’s just an obvious coincidence.

“. . . Drug deals . . .”

It’s not. You’d think that I’d listen to the brick in my gut by now. Megan and Bruiser are at her car. Megan opens the door and turns. My stomach drops even further. I can feel my trigger finger itching incessantly as she kisses Bruiser heartily on the mouth before she gets into her car. Before she puts her car in drive, Megan winds down the window and I hear one last snippet of their conversation.

“. . . Find that bitch.”

Never trust a dame. I should have cards printed up to remind myself. Bruiser watches her drive off, and as soon as her taillights are gone from view, he puts his fingers in his mouth and whistles. A Cadillac comes around the corner from the back of the building. Its wheels are so close that I could stick my tongue out and lick the asphalt off them. It’s a good thing I didn’t continue around. I would’ve walked right into a firefight I wasn’t prepared for.

Bruiser gets into the car. They drive out of the lot and disappear into the night. I give them a good five minutes, lying in the mulch, before I stand up and shake the wood chips from my clothes.

How does Megan know Vincent?

The only answer to my question is a simple one.

I need a drink.