Chapter Ten

It was about fifteen minutes after Lukowski and MacNab left the lower parking area at Alba that Tyler pulled his car into a slot there. He was making his way past the Dumpster area, when he noticed a skinny blond girl and a guy who seemed to be an elderly street drunk, with a horrible-looking white beard and a big overcoat that Tyler imagined he’d picked up at some mission somewhere.

Suddenly he heard her scream, “Give it to me!”

“No,” said the old man. “I found it. It’s mine.”

The girl lunged at the old man. If it had been the other way around he supposed he’d have to come to her aid. But then he saw what they were struggling over. The old bum was holding a gun in his hand, high above his head, and she was scrabbling at his arm.

Without thinking, Tyler approached them. “Stop it. You’ll kill someone!”

Both of them turned to look at him and he wondered what he had been thinking.

“I found it, fair and square,” said the old man. To Tyler’s relief, the old guy lowered his arm and examined the gun, a snub-nosed revolver, with a happy, toothless smile. The barrel was now pointing away from the girl and from Tyler.

“I was just trying to take it away from him before he kills someone,” said the girl unconvincingly.

The old man laughed. “The cops tried to take it away from me, too, but this coat is top quality. It has an inside pocket.”

He flapped it open to show a pocket in the stained silk lining, and then waved the gun in the girl’s direction.

“Give it to me,” she said.

“Ah, hell,” said the old man. “You just want to sell it for some of that shit you’re strung out on. It’s worth something all right.”

“Let’s see it,” said Tyler, in a friendly tone meant to convey he might be a buyer.

The old drunk handed it to him. The girl turned and said accusingly, “Who the fuck are you anyway?” to Tyler. “Why are you wearing that stupid jacket?”

“I’m in charge of this parking lot,” said Tyler, stepping away and putting the gun in his jacket pocket. He didn’t know enough about guns to know how to open it up and see if it was loaded. He strode purposefully away. The girl scampered back down the alley, and the old man said, “Hey. That’s mine, I found it,” but he didn’t seem to be interested in taking any action to reclaim his possession.

Tyler would turn it over to Alba security, if there was such a thing, as soon as he could. He’d suggest they move that Dumpster closer to the kitchen, where maybe they could get a security camera pointed at it. If people just thought about it a little bit, everything could be better organized around here. Alba might seem slick with that Italian hostess and all, but in some ways it was creepier than Donna’s.

———

MacNab and Lukowski were in front of Alba. They were showing driver’s license photos of both Smethursts to a valet named James Sorensen. Shift Lead Vic Gelashvili, sporting a swollen lip and a bruise on his cheekbone, stood by. James was drawing a blank.

“What kind of car are we talking about?” he asked.

“Audi S4, gray.”

James perked up and handed back the photos. “Oh. Yeah. It had the XM satellite radio and the GPS was going with a big ­arrow pointed to here. There was dog hair and that kind of dog funk smell. The transmission was sticky.”

A car pulled up and James grabbed a ticket from the box behind him and bounded toward the passenger door.

“Good evening. Welcome to Alba,” he said with what Lukowski thought looked like a totally fake smile. A woman got out of the passenger side and James zipped around to the driver’s side, where a fat man struggled to get out from behind the wheel. James grabbed the keys with a flourish, handed over half a ticket, and said, “Welcome to Ristorante Alba, sir.” He got into the car and started the engine, but Lukowski yelled, “Hey! Come back here.”

“I gotta park this car,” said James nervously. “If they pile up here, it’s a real problem. ’Cause people want to get out of the car right in front of the door. They get seriously annoyed.”

Lukowski ignored this. “Yes, that sounds like the car. A gray Audi. Do you remember anything else?”

James scrunched his eyes closed to indicate he was trying hard to remember.

“I think there was maybe a Diet Coke can in the beverage holder.”

“What about the people?” Lukowski said.

“I don’t know,” said James. “A man and a lady?” Detective Lukowski sighed. To this kid, all adults were the same.

“Do you remember when you parked the car?”

James said, “Well actually, I didn’t park it. Like I said, it had a sticky trans—”

Vic Gelashvili spoke up. “I parked it for him,” he said. “James has trouble with standard transmissions.” James looked away, clearly humiliated, and Vic said, “I think I parked it around six.”

MacNab rolled his eyes impatiently. “So do you remember these folks?” he flashed the Smethursts’ pictures at Vic.

Vic shrugged. “No. Mostly I remember the bad transmission. James had contact with the customers.”

“Did you go get it when they left?”

“No. Someone else must have got the car when they left.”

“Any idea who?”

James and Vic looked at each other. “Maybe Tyler,” said James.

Lukowski showed James the valet tag he’d gotten from the Smethursts’ key chain. “So you can’t tell from this when he left or anything?” Jessica at the Elite Valet office had already told him that, but experience had told him that people who did the real work often knew more about the details of an operation than their managers. These kids, however, especially James, seemed to grasp very little.

———

When Tyler arrived at the valet station in front of Alba he was startled to see the two detectives he’d seen earlier at Jessica’s office—the tall one with silver hair and the older, barrel-chested one in the orange jacket. They were talking to another valet Tyler knew was called James. The dark-eyed Vic hovered nearby.

The taller detective, the one with the silvery hair, turned toward Tyler. “I remember you,” he said. “From over at the Elite Valet office.” He handed Tyler a business card and said, “Seattle Police. We need to ask you guys a few questions. I’m Detective Lukowski, and this is Detective MacNab. Are you Tyler?”

Tyler was stunned. He’d assumed they were private detectives, working for the gray Audi guy’s wife. But apparently they were actual cops. He felt himself gasp, and he hoped it wasn’t audible. But apparently it was, because the other detective, MacNab, turned and gave him a sharp, kind of mean look.

Tyler nodded.

“Vic here says he parked this couple’s car night before last. A gray Audi,” said Lukowski. He showed Tyler the pictures of the Smethursts. “Did you deliver the car to him?”

“Yes, I did,” said Tyler, who immediately felt himself blushing, probably because he felt weird about the three hundred bucks the guy had given him.

“Do you remember what time they left?” asked Lukowski.

“No, not really.” Why was Tyler so rattled? It was something about the way the detective named MacNab was looking at him.

“Do you remember anything about them? Did they seem nervous or anything?” asked MacNab.

“The guy was complaining, to his wife,” said Tyler. “He said she’d wrecked their dinner, and she said they had no choice. They had to leave early.”

“What do you mean ‘no choice’?” asked MacNab.

“Well, I just heard part of it while I was getting the keys off the board. She was talking to her husband and what sounded like a kid on her cell at the same time. She told her husband they had to leave because the kid’s homework was really important.”

Tyler felt he was babbling—overcompensating because he thought he’d come across as evasive in some way, thus getting the dirty looks the older guy was giving him. But he seemed unable to stop himself. “I’m sorry I don’t remember when they left, but the guy said he’d only had time for their appetizer. But I bet if you talk to the hostess in there, she can figure out how long they were here based on that and when his reservation was for.” Tyler now felt an urge to tell him all about the fact that the guy was a regular at the casino and had been concerned about his wife finding out, but he wasn’t quite sure how to bring this up. Instead, Tyler supplied more detail about the transaction here at Alba. “I remember the guy saying something about a diorama. ‘Can’t the little brat make her own goddamn diorama?’ and ‘I did just fine doing my own damn homework.’ And his wife was all stressed out.”

“And what happened when you got their car back to them?” said Lukowski.

“Not much. They got in and drove off.” Tyler had to stop babbling, but he was also overwhelmed with curiosity. “What happened?” he asked the detectives. “What did the guy do?” Maybe the gray Audi guy went home and punched out the kid or killed his wife. Or maybe it had something to do with the shooting. But how could that be?

Lukowski said, “These folks found a dead body in the trunk of their car. And they said the vehicle had been out of their hands for just about half an hour, when it was parked here.”

“What?” said Tyler. “There was a body in the gray Audi’s trunk?” Tyler started to tell the cops he’d seen the trunk partially open and had closed it. It might be important.

But before had a chance to bring this up, Lukowski said, “I want you to take me down to the lot and show me where you picked up the car.”

A VW Golf pulled up and Vic interrupted. “Tyler, take this car. I’ll check and see if it’s okay to take them back to the lot.” He turned back to the cops. “I’ll ask the restaurant manager if it’s okay to show you the area.”

“We’re the police,” said MacNab to Vic, stepping forward and getting in his face. “We’re investigating a homicide. We outrank some guy holding a velvet rope.” Now he turned to Tyler. “Any reason you didn’t tell us that you delivered that car to them when we were talking to your boss up at the Elite Valet office? Earlier today. You were sitting right there. You heard us say it was a gray Audi.”

“I don’t know,” stammered Tyler. “There’s lots of gray ­Audis. I didn’t know you were the police. I thought you were private detectives.”

“Why did you think that?” said MacNab.

Tyler decided he’d better go into all that detail about the three-hundred-dollar tip.

Just then however, he was startled to see his mother pull up in the family PT Cruiser. “Hi sweetie,” she said out the window. “Sorry to interrupt you, but I wondered if you found Daddy’s slipper. The Ugg slippers I got him for Christmas? I know it sounds ridiculous but he said he left it here!”

The two detectives exchanged glances. Lukowski stepped ­forward.

“What’s your full name, son?” he said. “Can I see some ID?”

Tyler reached into his back pocket for his wallet. As he did so, his jacket pocket gaped open.

Before he knew what had happened, Detective MacNab had pinned one of Tyler’s arms behind his back, grabbed his face, and yanked his head back while Lukowski reached into his pocket and his mother screamed from the window of the PT Cruiser.

“I was just going to hand that over to you,” said Tyler breathlessly. Lukowski had stepped backward and Tyler could see the snub-nosed revolver in his hand.