Angola LaGrange: Lucky Day Part 6

Before you stumble into the middle of this story, why not make sure you’re all caught up on the beginning? You can find all the previous instalments—with all their twists and turns—Here.

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Bob Silver was dead, and I’d only have a few minutes alone in his apartment before the police arrived. Of course, I had to spend too many precious seconds digging a pair of gloves out of my stupid purse. As my luck was going, I only found one.

I searched the man’s desk, being careful not to disturb his body. The loan shark had kept meticulous notes about his tenants and the finances of the building, but almost half of the folders were empty. Best guess, the juicy stuff had been hidden amid the banal, and perfectly legal, files.

I swore as I slid the drawer closed. Someone took Bob’s books. And given that there’s still at least one goon collecting on them, probably the whole business.

Solving the murder of a loan shark was pretty low on my list of priorities, but I feared the police would feel the same. And my client was counting on me.

When the sirens got close, I had to abandon my search. I tucked the glove back into my purse and returned to the hallway, where the smell was at least bearable…sort of.

Detective Jim Stallings was the first on the scene, followed shortly by a small host of officers and CSIs. After taking a quick look at the body, he came back out to glare at me. “When I gave you my number, this isn’t what I had in mind.”

“I’ve had worse dates.”

“Hardy har.” His tone was all business. “You should know I made some calls after you stopped by. Turns out, you don’t work for the FBI anymore. Haven’t for months.”

I shrugged. “Never said I did. You assumed.”

He sighed and pressed the bridge of his nose. “At least tell me what’s really going on here.”

“I’m working as a private detective. Harold Meyer is—was—a loan shark, operating under the alias Bob Silver. My client owed him money, but couldn’t find him to pay the debt, so I was hired to track him down. Naturally, I started with his home and, well, you saw the state it’s in.”

“Did you kill him?”

“Please, that man’s been dead for days. Do I look like the kind of gal to come back to the scene of the crime and call the cops on myself?”

He gave me a quick once over. “At the moment….”

“Shut up.”

He shrugged. “You asked.”

“So, now what?”

“First, we wait until the CSIs confirm your story that Meyer’s been dead too long for you to have reasonably done it.” He held up a hand to prevent my complaint. “I expect them to, but we’re doing this by the book.”

It was my turn to sigh. “Fine. I suppose that’s reasonable.”

The police kept me at the scene for another two hours, double checking my story with the handful of neighbors who would open their doors. But in the end, the coroner estimated the time of death as a solid week prior, and there was no evidence that I’d ever been there before.

“All right, Ange, it seems your story checks out for now. But don’t go skipping town on me.”

“It’s Angola. And I wouldn’t dream of it.” I headed for the stairs, eager to get out of my streetwalker getup. Not to mention the stink of the apartment building.

“Oh, one more question.” Jim called after me. “What’s with the outfit?”

I shrugged but didn’t turn back. “Criminals are typically a lot less willing to spill secrets to FBI agents than police detectives.”

He laughed as I hurried back down to the street.

Whoever killed Bob Silver must have assumed his business. If Lucky’s going to get out from under his death warrant, that’s the guy to talk to.

#

I got back to the Lorenz Luxury Suites as quickly as my battered, old car would allow. Again I pulled around to the back of the hotel so my piece of junk wouldn’t get noticed too quickly.

Though we’ve probably outstayed our welcome as it is.

That was the trouble with high-end places, they actually paid attention to things. And I doubted that Lucky and I together could afford even one night on the books.

Especially after what he’d done to the mini-fridge.

I wished silently that I’d stolen a key card so I could enter through one of the side doors, rather than marching through the lobby every time. But it was too late to do anything about that.

Several heads turned as I walked quickly through the common space. As long as the elevator is on the ground floor, I shouldn’t have to answer any questions.

Fortunately it was.

I breathed a little easier as the elevator doors slid closed again. I pressed every button so it would be difficult to know where I’d gotten off.

Short of checking the security cameras. I sighed. Criminals or upper crust, I can’t seem to find a disguise that doesn’t draw attention.

I got out on the third floor, but pressed the “close door” button on my way, so the elevator would continue its rise. Just in case.

Out in the hallway proper, a maid was walking toward me from the direction of “my” room. We made eye contact. She blushed and turned away.

I walked all the way to the staircase doors before turning back. The maid had disappeared around a corner. Quickly, I doubled back to room 317.

“Lucky, open up, it’s me.” I pounded on the door.

He answered faster than I expected. “Finally. Did you find Bob?”

“Yeah, I found him.” I pushed past him into the room.

“Great! So when and where can I bring him his money so that we can settle this mess?”

“That’ll be a problem. Bob Silver’s dead.”

“Oh.” He slumped into a chair surrounded by discarded plastic wrappers.

More than there’d been when I’d left. A lot more.

“But if he’s dead, why are his thugs still looking for me? Shouldn’t they, I don’t know, be looking for work with some other crime boss?”

“I think they’ve already done that.” I brushed aside some trash to clear a space for me on the couch. “Whoever killed your loan shark took his books, so I’m thinking they also took over his business. If I can find out who that was, we can go with the original plan—you pay back the money.”

“And if not?”

“Then you try to disappear. And spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder.”

“I like the first plan better.”

“I thought you might.” Plastic crinkled as I shifted to a more comfortable position. “What’s with this mess anyway?”

“The maid tried to come by, but you said not to let anyone in, so I sent her away.”

“Wait, you spoke with her?” I jumped to my feet.

“Yeah, she knocked, so I told her we didn’t need anything. What of it?”

“We’re leaving. Now!” I quickly zipped up my bag and shoved it toward the bedroom door.

“Is something wrong?” Lucky got up, a confused look on his face.

I grabbed the chair he’d been sitting in and wedged it under the door knob. “No one’s supposed to be in here, so why bother knocking? If she really works for the hotel, she’d have just come in, sign or no. Sending her away is only going to last long enough for her to find a manager. If not, then you just gave away our room number to someone who’s looking to kill you. Either way, we shouldn’t be here when they arrive.”

“Then shouldn’t we be going through the door, not barricading it?”

“By now, whoever it is will know we’re on this floor. That hallway is the last place we want to be.” I grabbed my bag and led Lucky through the bedroom to the small balcony that overlooked the courtyard.

“You aren’t thinking to jump?”

“From three stories up? No way.” I pointed. “We’re going up.”

To Be Continued…