Chapter Twelve

Jamie arrived at Tricky Dick’s just as the lunch crowd arrived. Dressed in a navy T-shirt, khaki shorts, and running shoes, she served as a poster child for island couture. Jamie felt fairly sure she owned a pair of heels, but she had no idea where they were. She only wore them if a role required it or if she was going on a date. Neither opportunity had presented itself in some time.

Jamie entered the restaurant and nodded at the hostess. The bar always staffed several attractive women to work the front of the house. Good Business 101. She also suspected that Dick personally hired every hot blonde, at least that was her professional hunch. She spotted Dick speaking with one hostess, but he stopped the conversation to greet Jamie as she stood taking in the décor Marty found offensive—for good reason. Wall space was violated by plastic kingfish, battered fishing poles, and enough pirate kitsch to offend Robert Louis Stevenson, even in death.

Dick lumbered toward her, his beer belly leading the way, affecting his gait, and arriving slightly ahead of the rest of his body. Dick Dobbs took his sweet time getting to Jamie. With his size, he had no choice.

He wrapped his burly arms around her in a full bear hug. Jamie wondered if that was how she had obtained her traitor’s whiff. Maybe it had been transferred from foe to friend, then she’d carried home evidence of their illicit food tryst with the scent of fried betrayal.

“Jamie, sweetie. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” He stepped back and looked her up and down for a moment, but not in a sleazy way. He seemed more like a father who was appraising a child’s appearance. “You’re getting too skinny, you know. It’s because they don’t feed you right at Hemingway’s. Marty always shorts on the serving size. Cheap bastard.”

Jamie had to laugh. “Don’t tell him I was here. You know how jealous he gets.” She glanced at the busy back of the house, crowded with wall-to-wall customers. “So, how’re you doing?”

Dick gestured toward the full seating room. “Business is good, can’t complain. We got all the snowbirds coming back for the season, so we’re ramping up our senior specials. So damn competitive now, you know? Did you hear that Arnold’s Cafe is offering an all-you-can-eat buffet for four bucks? That’s just crazy. It doesn’t matter, though. We’ve got all the atmosphere.”

Jamie had to agree with him. The place was a tourist’s dream with TVs broadcasting football, baseball, and other games on sets mounted throughout the restaurant.

“So, what brings you to my fine establishment? Need a burger to fatten up those bones?”

“I’m looking for one of your waitresses. Connie? Is she working tonight?”

He nodded. “Yeah, she’s working. I’ll go get her for you.” Dick turned and walked past the hostess stand toward the back bar, waving down a waitress who was standing in the wait well. Jamie noted Dick pointing in her direction, and Connie nodded, soon making her way to the front.

She was heavyset and short by most standards at barely five feet tall. Her long black hair was secured with a hairband glittery enough to have been plucked right out of the seventies. She wore a denim skirt, flip-flops, and a shirt that read, “I’m not short. I’m fun-sized.” She had full-sleeve tats down both arms and was pretty in a most unconventional way. Her smile was sincere, and she had a hint of dimples surfacing. The girl would have been easy to pick out in a lineup.

“Connie?”

She nodded. “That’s me.”

“Can you set us up with a table that’s out of the way? I need to talk with you for a minute.”

Connie’s expression morphed from casual to cautious. “What’s this about?”

“I’m Kristen’s aunt.”

Connie’s confusion turned to empathy. She reached for Jamie’s hand and squeezed briefly before releasing it, a sort of momentary commiseration of shared grief. “I’m so sorry about what happened to her.”

Connie’s knowledge of Kristen’s death caught Jamie off guard. She then scolded herself for showing any surprise. Rookie mistake. “How did you hear about it?”

“You know, it’s the island. Bad news travels fast.” She stepped in closer to Jamie and whispered, “I’m glad you’re here. I was worried who might show up.”

Maybe Kristen confided in Connie after all. Jamie glanced around the restaurant. “Can we talk someplace a little more private?”

Connie led Jamie to the back of the main dining hall, to a place better suited for a clandestine discussion. Slightly secluded from other tables, the table they chose was tucked in the corner with no one on either side of them and a sixty-inch television above them broadcasting horse races.

I might have to hang out here more often. Jamie could almost feel Marty on her shoulder like a foul-mouthed conscience, spewing obscenities at her.

Dick personally came to check on their table, took their drink orders, and advised Connie not to spend too long off the clock. He then went off to tend to his flock.

Connie had an honest, sweet face, an odd contrast to her outrageous clothing. Of course, Jamie had been fooled by such contradictions before.

“So, you’re Kristen’s aunt?” Connie smiled. “You know, it’s funny because I see you now and then, but I never made the connection between you and Kristen.”

Jamie tapped her forefinger on the table. “Yes, but I’m her aunt in name mostly. We weren’t as close as we were when she was younger, and I didn’t know she had been in the area until recently.” Jamie leaned forward. “How did you and Kristen meet?”

Connie’s eyes lit up. “We met at a Comic-Con in Austin, if you can believe that. We met at one of the panels and just hit it off. We got together for drinks or dinner now and then.”

Just as Connie finished her sentence, another waitress placed two water glasses on the table, plastic tumblers with the Tricky Dick’s logo. She smiled briefly at both ladies before leaving to tend to her other tables.

Jamie took her notepad and pen from her bag. “Can you tell me about the last time you saw Kristen?”

Connie nodded. “Yeah, I saw her over a week ago.”

“Did she say anything unusual?”

Connie hedged, her eyes looking past Jamie and into the crowd. “Not really. Why?”

Jamie felt that she could be open with Connie about her suspicions. “I’m sure you’ve heard some speculation about how Kristen died.”

Connie nodded. “You know how talk travels on the island.”

“I absolutely do.” Jamie tapped her finger on the table, considering how to best explain the situation to Kristen’s friend. “I’m not sure her death is what it seems—whether drugs were involved—but I need to know if you remember anything she said, any fights she had with friends, anything that might help me prove her death wasn’t accidental.”

Connie leaned in closer. “I think you’re right.” She quickly surveyed her surroundings before continuing. “Look, Kristen had a lot going on in her life, sure, but she was also pretty ambitious. She might have gotten drunk partying sometimes, but she made it clear that she wasn’t interested in hard drugs, especially anything with needles. She’s seen firsthand what that looks like.”

“Did she know someone who got hooked?”

“Her mom. She didn’t talk about it much. She just said that she didn’t have any intention of ending up like her.”

“Her mom is still alive, though, isn’t she?” Jamie wondered how dysfunctional that question sounded, considering the inquiry was technically about her sister-in-law. In truth, Jamie had only met the woman once, and that had been enough. Pamela Thorn was a thorn in every sense of the word—prickly, rude, and painful. And that was when she was sober.

“Yeah, she’s alive, if that’s what you want to call it. Kristen didn’t like to talk about her, but she said once that she is just always high out of her mind, and Kristen didn’t want to know what her mom had to do to earn money to stay that way.”

“I saw that you and Kristen had a conversation on FriendConnect, but I couldn’t tell if you two ever met up. It seemed to just drop off.”

Connie shook her head. “No, we never did. I had something of hers, and I was supposed to give it back to her. I never had the chance.” Connie reached for the plain silver chain around her neck and began fiddling with it.

Jamie prodded her. “What did she give you?”

She pulled on the chain slightly to reveal a single small key that had been tucked underneath her shirt. “Kristen gave this to me last time we spoke. She said she needed me to keep it safe and she’d get it back from me when things cooled down. Gave it to me when we met last week. Ever since I heard what happened, I haven’t known what to do.” She touched the key dangling at the end. “I was afraid to hide it and afraid to take it off.”

Jamie stared at the necklace, wondering what the key opened, imagining how hard it must have been for Connie to keep it after hearing of Kristen’s death. “You must have been pretty scared.”

Connie nodded but said nothing.

“Did she say what she was waiting for to cool down?” Jamie asked.

Connie shook her head, her hand still protectively covering the key. “No idea. She wouldn’t talk about it. She said that it was better if I didn’t know anything.”

“May I?” Jamie held her hand out to receive the key, although she wasn’t yet sure Connie was ready for it to leave her possession. When the girl hesitated, Jamie consoled her. “I’m the best person to keep this key, trust me. In addition to being Kristen’s aunt, I’m also a private investigator.”

“You’re a PI, and you didn’t know that Kristen was back in the area?” Connie pursed her lips together and leaned back in her seat. “I didn’t mean that how it sounded. I just meant—”

Jamie held her hand up. “It’s okay. Kristen and I are both very well-trained at staying out of each other’s circle, and it seems that she was spending more time in Corpus. You know how easy it is to hide in the big city.”

“She did always want to meet in Corpus,” Connie noted. Seeming satisfied, Connie slipped the key and chain over her head. Her dark hair momentarily tangled itself in the chain, so she reached behind her neck and unhooked the fastening. She placed the key on the table and slid it across to Jamie, her hand concealing the key.

“I actually feel better now that this isn’t around my neck. I thought about taking it to the cops, but I had no idea what I’d even tell them.”

Jamie wanted to comfort her, to tell Connie everything would be okay, but she knew better than to offer such things. Instead, she said, “I promise I’ll let you know if anything comes of it.” She then continued her questioning. “So, what was the deal with her FriendConnect account? Calling herself Natasha Irons? Was that just part of the Comic-Con thing?”

Connie smiled. “It was just a funny thing for her. She loved comic books—the alternate identities and walking between two worlds. She didn’t want to use her real name—said it wasn’t smart.” Her smile dissolved as she spoke of Kristen. “She said someday she would just start over and I’d never hear from her again and that I should be happy for her because it meant she was free.”

“Free from what?”

“She didn’t say. She’d ramble on sometimes. I know she was working some with her dad, but she never discussed the work. I just assumed it wasn’t really… legal.”

And your assumption would be right on. Jamie wondered if the Natasha Irons identity had more clues to share since it was how she had found Connie. She reached over and touched Connie’s hand. “I’m going to figure this out, okay? But you need to be honest with me and not hold anything back, even the bad stuff. Trust me, with my family history, I’m in no position to judge.”

“I can’t really think of anything. We didn’t have big, important conversations.”

“What about Dylan? Did you know him or anything about him?”

Connie continued to origami the hell out of her napkin. “He was okay most of the time, but he had a wandering eye. She didn’t like it, but she didn’t like him enough to get jealous. She was ready to move on.”

“Was he dangerous? Angry ever?”

“I never saw him out of control. He keeps his head on straight. Those other losers do whatever he tells them to do.”

Connie’s description of Dylan matched Jamie’s gut reaction to their meeting. No big surprises there so far. She then asked, “Did she have any other men in her life?”

Connie hesitated, and Jamie picked up on it immediately, in the same way Deuce instantly knew if she had jalapeno poppers in her bag.

Connie sat silently for another few moments. “I don’t know if there was actually another guy in her life, but I do know that there was someone she had her eye on. She’d usually tell me everything, but with this guy, she was real secretive. I tried to get her drunk once, and she still didn’t cave. It could have just been a crush, or it could have been something more. Don’t know for sure.”

Jamie continued making notes. “Anything else? I mean, I know a girl like that may not have traditional hobbies, but did she do anything else?”

“She loved to draw and loved photography. She was always drawing, doodling. She was spending some time at the Youth Art Center. You know the owner? Marcus Holliday?”

Jamie nodded. “Of course. His father owns half the coast.”

“Well, I think he was taking an interest in her work. She had me drive her to the gallery sometimes, and she’d stay there for hours. I know she was working on a portfolio, and he was helping her with it.”

The silence sat between them for a moment, then Connie added, “But Kristen was a pretty talented artist. I know she hoped her art would be shown there one day. She never took it seriously before, but she seemed to be into it lately. He paid attention to her, and I think she liked it.”

Jamie considered the possibility of a relationship between Kristen and Marcus, but it didn’t seem likely. Someone with his money and recognition could have anyone he wanted. Why would he be interested in Kristen? What did she have to offer that Corpus Christi’s socialites lacked?

Connie’s eyes followed Jamie’s hand as she made notes. “A lefty, eh?”

Jamie nodded. “Yep. I’ve got handwriting that would put a doctor to shame.”

Connie checked her penmanship. “That’s pretty scrappy.”

Jamie wanted to keep Connie talking. “So did you ever see the two of them together together?” Jamie put added emphasis on the first “together.”

“Maybe Kristen was a little starstruck. He’s in the papers, he’s got money, knows everyone. She loved celebrities. Easily impressed. She thought being close to them made her more special, too.”

Jamie decided to move to the family. She had only heard Brian’s side of things and wondered if he had any skeletons that needed to be freed from the closet. “So, tell me about Kristen’s home life.”

“What home life?” Connie deadpanned.

“What about her dad?”

Connie shrugged. “He seems like he’s good at getting Kristen to do what he wants.”

Jamie felt as though she knew Kristen better through Connie’s descriptions. The girl certainly divulged more than Brian had, which sadly, wasn’t unexpected.

“She had a locker at the Youth Art Center,” Connie replied. “Maybe she left some stuff there.” She thought for a moment. “Maybe that’s what the key is for.”

“It’s possible.”

Jamie reached into her back pocket and pulled out a business card. She slid it across the table. “Give me a call if you think of anything else.”

The two women parted ways. Connie returned to her waitressing duties, while Jamie found herself stepping more deeply into Kristen’s life, unsure of where the road would lead next.

Jamie returned to Hemingway’s, opting for the back door in an effort to sneak up the stairs to her loft without Marty getting wind of where she had just spent her time. She opened the door to find Cookie gone and Deuce sleeping atop a pile of Jamie’s dirty laundry. She opted for a long, hot shower and a change of clothes. After that, she felt she had appropriately covered her tracks and could get back to work.

Several hours passed as she searched through Kristen’s FriendConnect account as well as other online sites her niece might have used. Not having Kristen’s cell phone or laptop made the task far more difficult, but Jamie patiently sifted through one digital dead-end after the next. It was soon dark, and Jamie had little to show for her efforts other than a headache from staring at her computer screen.

Jamie’s cell phone chimed, diverting her attention away from her investigation. She picked up the phone and saw a text from Erin.

Get to my warehouse now.

Erin was by far the most diplomatic member of her small circle of friends, so Jamie knew something was wrong. Erin never issued orders or missives to her friends. The girl would use smiley-face emojis at least once in almost any text conversation. Jamie responded, letting her friend know she was on the way. Then she sent Cookie a text.

Meet me at Erin’s warehouse.

And bring Arnold.

Just in case.