Nickel City Crossfire by Gary Ross (children's books read aloud TXT) 📕

mounted at calf level. The pale blue wall to my left held shelves of floral arrangements, indoor plants, decorative pots, and a security panel. The opposite wall had three glass-doored floral refrigerators with motors humming and interiors full of color. Mounted above the center refrigerator was an opaque plastic security camera bubble. Ahead was a service counter. The woman behind it was of average height and in her mid-thirties. Clad in a tan pantsuit, she had cocoa skin and black hair teased into a small halo. Looking up from a computer screen, she pulled off her black-framed glasses and let them dangle from a neck chain.

“Good afternoon,” she said.

“Hi,” I said. “Are you Fatimah?”

“I am.” She smiled. “How may I help you today?”

I smiled back and thought about Phoenix, whose smile I cherished. I wondered if maybe the best way to go about my business was to help this woman go about hers.

“I’d like to send flowers.” I unzipped my jacket because the air was so warm.

“Special occasion?”

“Special person.” I let that hang a moment. “Just because.”

Fatimah’s smile widened. “You’ve come to the right place. We even have Just Because cards you can use to personalize your message.” She rotated the countertop display rack and selected three cards, which she spread before me. “Is this special person a woman?”

“Yes, but not my mother or my sister.”

She glanced at my ring-free left hand. “Not a wife but much more than a friend?”

“Yes.” I examined the cards and looked up. “Which would you recommend?”

With an aqua-lacquered nail, she tapped the center card, which depicted two brown hands, fingers interlaced, in the glow of a lit candle. “May I suggest roses?”

“I don’t want her to think I’m too conventional. This is kind of an impulse.”

“Then what about a bouquet of orange and yellow roses? A spontaneous burst of warmth in a cold December—if this is a local order.”

“It is. Can they be delivered today?”

“Our van is out on a funeral run right now but should be back before too long. Same day delivery for an order past noon does cost a little extra though.”

“Fine. I’d like it to reach her office between four-thirty and five. Is that possible?”

“Just late enough for her co-workers to see them but not spend the afternoon gushing over them.” Nodding, Fatimah consulted the computer screen, tapped something in, and tore an order form off the pad to her right. “We can make that happen.”

After I gave the office address and inserted my MasterCard into the chip reader on the counter, I wrote I’m Thinking of You after the elegant Just Because inside the card. I signed G, wrote Phoenix on the envelope, and used the stylus to sign the chip reader screen.

“Is there anything else we can do for you today?”

I handed Fatimah a Driftglass card and took out my notebook. “I wonder if you’ve seen or heard from Keisha Simpkins lately.”

The smile disappeared. She watched me for a long moment, saying nothing, not even blinking. Then she pulled on her glasses to read my card. “You’re a private detective?”

I nodded.

“So somebody’s paying you to look for her. Who?”

“Ordinarily, I don’t give out that information but since I got your name from her parents, I don’t think they’ll mind.” I gazed at her for a long moment, hard. “Who did you think was paying me?”

Fatimah looked away and pulled off her glasses again and took a deep breath before finding her footing. “I don’t know.” She turned back to me, and her voice climbed an unsteady notch. “But if she was into drugs so much that she OD’d, maybe she owes somebody money, so much they’d look for her. Hurt her. Or maybe it was that boyfriend of hers that owed them money. Now that he’s gone, they want her to pay.”

“So you think I’m looking for her to collect?”

“Might could be. You’re big enough to be somebody’s thug nasty.” She swallowed as the weight of what she said sank into her gut. “Now that I’m looking at you, I guess that bulge under your sweater isn’t a cell phone clipped to your belt.” For a few seconds, she didn’t breathe and didn’t move as she considered the possibility I might hurt her in my quest for her friend. “Look, I don’t want no trouble. I don’t know about Keisha and I don’t want her drugs around my kids.”

“I’m a retired army cop,” I said. “You just ran my credit card through your system so if I’m here to do you harm, I’m stupid.” I kept my voice calm to ease the fear and uncertainty in her eyes. “A mutual friend put me in touch with Keisha’s parents. I’m just trying to help. I’m looking for her because her folks are worried sick. Even if she doesn’t ever want to see them again, they just want to know she’s okay.” I paused but never broke eye contact. “Phoenix Trinidad is very real and more than special to me. I know you need to put that bouquet together, and I want you to, so it’s in my best interest to take up as little of your time as possible.” I chanced a smile, a sliver of which she returned. “So, have you seen or heard from Keisha lately?”

She hesitated a fraction of a second, shook her head, and said, “No.”

The eye shift. Was she lying or simply still afraid?

“But you knew she disappeared recently.”

“Yes. Her mother called to ask if I’d seen her. But I hadn’t.”

“Mrs. Simpkins says you and Keisha and Bianca were like sisters growing up. You always had each other’s backs.”

Half-smiling, Fatimah nodded. “My mother used to call us the Three Mouseketeers, which I didn’t understand until I was much older.”

“That’s why I’m here,” I said. “I thought Keisha might reach out to you or Bianca if she was in trouble and needed help.”

“I haven’t talked to Keisha in months. At least three. Been busy with the shop and my kids. She’s always working herself.”

I decided