Brain Storm by Cat Gilbert (ebook reader computer .txt) 📕
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- Author: Cat Gilbert
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“OK. I agree. There might be something there,” I hedged, choosing to use her words, as they were obtuse enough for my purpose. It wasn’t exactly a lie. True, my idea of how he might be involved was completely different from hers, but there wasn’t any point in bringing it up and getting into a bigger argument. I weighed my guilt over the small deception and decided I could live with it. I gave her a small smile, hoping to reassure her. “I’ll look into it.”
From the cocky look she threw me, it was obvious she thought she had just solved the whole mystery. I knew better, but she was happy for now, and there was no reason to rain on her parade until I had honed in on what was really going on. My working theory was that if you couldn’t find an obvious answer right off the bat, the best thing to do was start eliminating the alternatives until you could pin it down. Finding out where Denzel fit into this be a good start.
On a better footing, now that I had agreed to take a better look at Denzel, I thought it prudent to change the subject. I filled her in on the latest information I had obtained on our current case and then Trinity and I made plans for dinner at her grandmother’s after church on Sunday.
Trinity’s grandmother, or Mama D, as she was known to those of us who loved her, had pretty much adopted me into the family when I started working with Trinity. She always made sure I had at least one home cooked meal a week and was the only person I knew that could tell you what to do without you realizing she was doing it. I was convinced Trinity got her tricky lawyer ways from Mama D, but Trinity didn’t see it. Good as Trinity was, Mama D could wrap her around her little finger, and Trinity always thought it was her own idea. It was a joy to behold when it was happening to someone else. I couldn’t complain, though. Mama D had what I called ‘wise ways’. She would impart her wisdom and leave it to you to accept it or not, happy to help pick up the pieces when you chose wrongly.
When Trinity had graduated law school and started making some decent money, one of the first things she had done was get Mama D a house all her own. Nothing fancy. Mama D wouldn’t like that. But a cute little house. Neat and tidy with a nice front porch and a swing out front, it was close enough to the old neighborhood that Mama D could visit with her friends, but far enough away to put the memories of barely scraping by and living on welfare behind them. Back then, her brother, Kevin was still alive. He and Trinity had planted trees and bushes and painted the house a pretty pale yellow with black shutters and a red door. Mama D had retired from her multiple jobs and spent her days gardening, gossiping and feeding other people. Namely me, who, she was convinced, was wasting away to nothing but skin and bones although, in my opinion, I could easily drop 5 to 10 pounds and still look quite healthy. Sunday dinner was her opportunity to ply me with fabulous temptations, and I was totally happy to give her a free hand. I wasn’t much for cooking and didn’t give much thought to food, so I could easily make up for the calorie onslaught the following week and be ready for the next Mama D meal.
I assured Trinity I would be there with bells on and headed back to my car, leaving her obsessing over some candlesticks she had spotted in the shop window next to the restaurant. By the time I got the car door open and was settled inside, my mind was already on my next stop, and I had pretty much put the whole telekinesis thing on the back burner.
MY APPOINTMENT EARLIER in the morning with the witness had turned up some interesting information. I was working on finding a divorced father, who had taken a hike on his child support and alimony. Trinity became involved when dear old dad skipped. Ignore a court order and it becomes a crime. A divorce lawyer may get your money, but a criminal lawyer will get your rear thrown in jail.
Trinity works on enough big money cases that she can afford to do some pro bono work, and this was one of those cases. If you can’t afford to put food on the table, you sure can’t afford an investigator to find the bum. I can’t afford to work for free, so Trinity pays me the same for the pro bono work as she does for the big money cases, it just comes out of her pocket. In return, I try to keep expenses down, which was why I was headed back to my condo to make some calls rather than heading to Atlanta myself.
I was back out on Cantrell heading into the downtown area when I noticed the black BMW two cars back in the next lane. That made, what? Four of them this morning. Arkansas doesn’t require a front plate, so there was no way of telling whether this was the same car or not, but being in my line of work, you learn to pay attention. I didn’t know if I was being super sensitive and noticing the car more because of my emotional attachment or if I had picked up a tail, but I like to play it safe. Safety first, that’s my motto. I cranked the Ford over to the left lane and caught the on-ramp to I-30.
The car behind me stayed to the right but the BMW cut left and followed me onto the highway. I sped up and cut right, just making the 630 exit heading west. It would take me past the Children’s Hospital, and onto Chenal Parkway. Little Rock is not a small town, but it’s not large either. If it’s not rush hour, the only place you can count on bad traffic was the Chenal Parkway/Bowman area. I needed traffic to lose the tail and hopefully come back behind to get a plate. I glanced back, and sure enough, he was with me on 630. As I passed the University exit and the zoo, I went over who might be following me. I had one active case right now, which I had started the leg work on this morning. If I was right, I had picked up the tail first thing, before I had interviewed anyone. If Trinity hadn’t told anyone I was working the case, meaning Max Drummond, the husband’s lawyer, then I didn’t see how the BMW tied into the case. I used my Bluetooth to call Trinity.
“What’s up? I’m at the check-out.”
“Did you tell anyone I was on the case yet? Drummond maybe?” I changed lanes and signaled for the exit at Baptist Hospital and watched as the Beamer moved into position three cars back to follow.
“What? Let that jerk know I had an investigator hunting his client? You know better than that. Why? What’s going on?” I had her full attention now as I passed the exit without slowing, the Beamer right behind me.
“I have a tail. Black BMW 325i – no front plate. I’m on 630 crossing 430 now onto Financial.”
“Head back to me!” Trinity practically screamed in my ear. “I’ll get his plate when you drive by. I’m heading to the car now.”
I looked down at her number on my screen and frowned at her through the phone. This seemed a bad idea to me on many levels. First of all, if it was a tail, how stupid would the guy have to be to not figure out I was making a big circle. I was betting as soon as I headed back onto Cantrell, he’d pull off. Second, and more importantly, I hated getting Trinity involved. I was low profile and kept to the shadows. Very few people knew me, or what I did and that worked well for me. Trinity was anything but low profile. She was regularly in the news, in the paper or at some function. If someone were interested in me, I could hide, but Trinity stood out like a sore thumb.
That being said unless I called the police or managed to lose him and sneak up behind him, my chances of getting his plate were slim to none. I could always stop at a light and run back and confront him, but that was a good way to get shot, and I tried to avoid putting myself in those situations as much as possible.
“No,” I told Trinity, making my decision. “You head my way. I’ll head into the bookstore. You come into the parking lot from the Parkway entrance and park on the end facing the exit. Call me when you’re in place and I’ll leave and pull out that way so you can see the plate if he follows me out.”
Trinity agreed and said she was on her way. I came off the highway onto the Parkway and within minutes, was in the bookstore parking lot. I drove around, taking my time to find a space big enough for the Expedition. I had the extended length on it, so I was bigger and higher than most anything else on the road making me easy to see. The size and big V-8 engine meant I paid at the pump, but it was a comfort to know I could also run over almost anything I needed to and live to tell about it. Not that I ran over things on purpose. It was just good to know I could. The Tank, which is what I affectionately called my vehicle of choice, was my personal security blanket.
As innocently as I could, I gathered up my bag and headed into the bookstore. I managed to turn at the display at the door in time to catch the BMW glide past, out of the corner of my eye. Satisfied I wasn’t imagining things, I
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