Chapter Sixteen
Grayce took the steaming mug of tea from Hollie. Intricate patterns of blue and red tattoos wrapped around her assistant’s arm. “What time is Lieutenant Davis and Mitzi’s appointment this week?”
Hollie pulled the comfy treatment chair from against the wall and sat down across from Grayce. “He and Mitzi are scheduled for Thursday at 4:30.”
“Mitzi will need another treatment. She attacked a homeless man in Belltown.”
“What the f…? Mitzi’s not aggressive.”
“Mitzi jumped on the man to stop him from stabbing Lieutenant Davis.”
The idea that someone tried to kill Davis was doing weird things to her nervous system. She felt jittery, jumpy—like she had chugged a super-sized Diet Coke.
Hollie’s lips, the color of an eggplant, twisted into a smirk. “Mitzi, a street-fighting Poodle. I can just see the gangsters hangin’ with Poodles.”
Grayce laughed at the outrageous image.
“Did Davis know the dude?”
“No.”
“What was he after? Money? Drugs?”
“Neither, according to Davis. He is convinced that the guy was either mentally ill or high on something and didn’t know what he was doing.”
Now came the difficult part. She had never probed Hollie’s past. In their quasi-job interview, Grayce asked if drugs would interfere in Hollie’s ability to work. Hollie had declared “she was clean” and Grayce believed her. In the two months of her employment, Grayce had never had reason to doubt her.
Grayce chose each word carefully. She could feel the red moving into her face to the tops of her ears. “I’m not sure the guy was an addict…my only experience with drug addiction was volunteering at Teen Feed.”
Hollie’s purple lips emitted a brash laugh. “And you thought I’d know about junkies?”
“I wanted to get your perspective.”
Hollie arched her blackened eyebrow. “The dude must have been strung out to take on Davis.”
“That’s my point. Why would anyone take on a man of Davis’ size? There are so many easier targets. This guy didn’t act like an addict. He just didn’t have the detachment I’ve seen in kids who were high.”
Hollie cracked each knuckle painfully slow. The harsh sound punctuated each word. “Nothing matters to an addict ’cuz the junk owns ’em. They don’t care about anyone. My dad only cared about cooking meth.”
Grayce flinched at Hollie’s detached recital. Teen Feed was filled with kids who were running from either their abusive families or their abusive foster care placement.
Hollie sat upright and crossed her leg exposing black combat boots. “What does Davis think?”
“Davis is convinced that the guy is a street druggie with paranoid delusions,” Grayce answered.
“I’m with Davis, sounds like he was paranoid, probably snorting crank.”
“Maybe you’re right, but something felt wrong about the guy.” She envisioned the man’s steely determination. “This guy was focused…as if he was hired to hurt Davis.” As the words left her mouth, she knew. The man was a hired assassin. She took a big gulp of the hot tea, scalding her tongue.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” Except she didn’t feel fine. Her stomach plummeted and sunk to her knees like the drop on the roller coaster.
“Where did it happen?” Hollie asked.
“Second and Bell.”
“I could go down and check it out. See if anyone knows the guy.”
“What?” Grayce jerked her hand and spilled tea on the scattered papers on her desk.
“I’ll ask about the guy.” Hollie had the instincts of a pit bull and the loyalty of a yellow lab. “What did he look like?”
“If anyone is going to ask questions, it’s going to be me. Right now, I’m trying to figure things out.” She blotted the wet papers with Kleenex. She didn’t know exactly what she was trying to figure out.
Hollie flung herself forward in the chair. “The street is no place for you.”
“I’m not going to Belltown. I’m trying to understand what happened.” She didn’t mention that she was trying to gain perspective on her deep belief that someone was hired to kill Davis.
“Let Davis take care of himself. He can definitely handle it.”
“You’re probably right.”
Grayce’s logical brain agreed with Hollie’s take on the situation, but the twisted knot in her stomach vehemently reacted, sending spasms throughout her gut like a bad case of tourista.