Tracy Hayes, P.I. to the Rescue (P.I. Tracy Hayes 3) Page 7

  “What about Jarod?”

  “He’s twenty-one. Hardly a kid.” Though he was so impractical the distinction was almost nonexistent.

  Jackson glanced at his watch. “School’s almost out. He should be at the garage by the time you get there, if he’s there every day.”

  “I have a feeling he is.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  I considered it. “He might be more willing to talk to me without you.”

  To my delight he didn’t push the matter. “This time you’ll stay in touch.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  Jackson dropped me off at a subway station nearby that had a direct line to the New Lots Avenue station, and drove away. I hopped on a train and was at the auto body shop ten minutes later.

  Carlos was outside the garage, tinkering with his bike. I didn’t know anything about bikes, but I made an admiring comment about it when I reached him. He grinned, straightening up.

  “You want to go on that ride?”

  “Thanks, but I was hoping I could talk with you.”

  “What about?” He gave me a wary glance that upset me. I liked his open smile more.

  “About one of the boys at the garage you go to.”

  “I don’t know…”

  I pressed on. “He’s the boyfriend of one of the missing girls, but I can’t reach him and I was hoping you’d know him. JT?”

  That made him instantly glower. “He stole my girlfriend.”

  “Latina girl? Short and curvy, about sixteen?”

  “That’s Isabela.”

  “Sorry to hear.” Although I wasn’t entirely sure I meant it. I hadn’t liked her, and I liked Carlos.

  “What was it you said about JT being with that missing girl now?” He looked hopeful, but I had to crush it.

  “Not according to Isabela, but he and Alysha have been spotted together. Do you know which school he goes to, or where he might work or live?”

  “Yeah, I know JT.”

  “Could you tell me anything about him? Is he a good guy?”

  “Apart from stealing my girl?”

  I smiled. “Apart from that.”

  He smiled back, mollified. “His dad’s rich. Owns a transportation company. Large trucks that he still drives himself too. He’s never home so he likes to buy JT stuff, like the bike. It’s not exactly cheap. I fixed up mine from scratch.” He gave a proud look at his bike and I nodded.

  “Takes skill.”

  “It does. JT doesn’t have that skill, but he likes bikes and likes to hang out at the garage. And he has money to buy stuff for girls, so they like him.” He looked bitter about that.

  I patted him on the shoulder. “Not all girls are after baubles. Not the ones worth keeping anyway.”

  He gave me a slow smile that had the makings of a heartbreaker in it. “How about you?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m a bit too old for you.”

  “I like older girls.”

  And that was the best offer I’d had in ages, sadly enough.

  I changed the topic. “Do you know where JT lives?”

  “Yeah, in Marine Park.”

  My brows shot up. “Then why’s he hanging in East New York?” They weren’t exactly next door neighborhoods geographically, and they were worlds apart economically.

  “One of his dad’s garages is on that street.”

  “He has several?”

  “The other is in southern East New York, near Flatlands Avenue.”

  Interesting. “Do you know JT’s dad’s name? And the name of his company?”

  “Brody. John T. And JT’s the same. I think the company is just Brody Transportation.”

  “Do you know what they transport?”

  He shrugged. “Anything, I guess. Mainly from Red Hook Port to warehouses. Food stuff, I think. Coffee from South America, and oranges and other fruits. Long-haul too, to upstate.”

  My mind was racing, trying to come up with anything useful. The drug angle was the most obvious, but I was pretty sure Detective Lawrence would’ve found out who the garage belonged to before raiding it. Besides, there were quite a few garages in the area. Just because JT went into one of them didn’t mean it belonged to his dad.

  But what if the trucks weren’t used for getting stuff in, but the girls out? They could be anywhere.

  Which left me with the problem of why they’d run away in the first place. If I could figure that out, I might be able to narrow the search for them.

  I decided to take the bull by the horns. “Do you know where a girl would go around here to have an abortion without her parents knowing about it?”

  Carlos turned deep red. “I’m Catholic.”

  “Yeah, well, so am I. Doesn’t mean unwanted pregnancies don’t happen.” Though in my neighborhood the fix was usually a quick marriage. Probably here too.

  His hands curled into furious fists. “JT’s got Isabela knocked up?” His face didn’t promise anything good for JT if that ever happened.

  “No, I’m just covering my bases, in case that turned out to be the reason the girls have left home.” Maybe they had hitched a ride in one of JT’s father’s trucks upstate for it. But I didn’t really believe it myself.

  Carlos calmed down. “He’s got money. He could just take her to a clinic somewhere. Doesn’t have to be anywhere illegal.”

  “It’s really expensive in a private clinic. Maybe he didn’t have quite that sort of money at hand.” Unless he was doing well with the drugs. Perhaps that was why he’d started dealing in the first place.

  “Do you want me to ask around at the garage?” Carlos asked. “They might be more willing to talk to me.”

  He was right, but I hesitated. “Have you noticed any drugs changing hands there?”

  He got a hard look in his eyes. “No, not once. I wouldn’t go near it if that were the case.”

  “You said you haven’t really been there since school started, and there’s a new dealer in Brownsville. Might have reached there too.”

  “Shit.”

  “So just in case, maybe it would be best if you don’t go there for a while.”

  He nodded, looking grim. “Just the same. I wouldn’t have wanted to watch Isabela with JT anyway.” Then he shook out his gloom and flashed me his infectious smile. “So maybe I can show you where JT lives instead?” He made a sweeping gesture to his bike.

  Ummm… “Or maybe you can just write the address down for me?”

  “Oh, come on. A girl with hair that sassy has to have a sense of adventure.”

  “The hair is new. I haven’t quite reached the level of adventure it promises.”

  “Just hop on. I’ll go fetch you a helmet.” Flashing another smile, he disappeared into the garage before I could protest.

  I contemplated running away while his back was turned, but took out my phone instead and sent a message to Jackson:

  Bike ride with Carlos unavoidable. He’s driving me to Marine Park. If I make it there alive, come fetch me from your place in forty-five minutes.

  I got a thumbs-up icon back. Very encouraging.

  Carlos returned with the helmets and without the overall he’d had on earlier to protect his clothes. He looked really nice in blue jeans, boots, and a form-fitting biker jacket. He even wore leather gloves. I put my helmet on and felt instant claustrophobia. He got on his bike and grinned.

  “Get behind me. And hold on tightly.”

  “Oh, I intend to.” If I fell, I would take him down with me.

  I got on the bike and wrapped my arms around his waist, wishing he was larger so I’d have something more substantial to hold on to. Although his midsection was tight. Really tight. He started the engine and the bike roared to life between my legs. Very invigorating. Then we were moving and all I could do was to concentrate on keeping my screams in.

  Chapter Thirteen

  By the time Carlos slowed down, my entire body had gone stiff for holding on so tight. I was frozen solid too. It wasn’t a very
cold day for late October, so I had a thin blouse under my velvet jacket—Mom had managed to clean it—and although I had a woolen scarf around my neck—to make me look cool—I had no gloves. On a bike, even the slightest nip in the air multiplied to winter temperatures. I now knew why bikers wore boots instead of—say—sneakers.

  I might need my toes amputated.

  East 33rd Street in Marine Park looked fairly different from the East 38th where Jackson lived. Here they had nice, large one-family houses, and old trees lining the street that had gone beautifully golden and red. Not that I was in any state to appreciate any of it.

  Carlos pointed at a house, a redbrick with mock Tudor extensions and a beautifully landscaped front yard. Then he drove past it onto the next street and pulled over outside a large school. He switched off the engine and took off his helmet.

  “You can let go now,” he said with a grin.

  “I’m never, ever letting go,” I said through my teeth. I was biting them together so hard I could barely open my jaw. But I forced my arms to release their death grip from around Carlos’s waist.

  “That’s why I love bikes. They make chicks really clingy.”

  “I hate them.”

  “Did you squeal at some point?”

  I was pretty sure I’d squealed at many points. “You shouldn’t have accelerated so fast on that stretch.”

  “What’s the point of a bike if you can’t go fast?”

  I concentrated on getting off the bike without falling on my face and didn’t answer. My legs were tottery, shaking for both cold and fear, but they held. I pulled off the helmet and Carlos grinned.

  “Nice hair.”

  I growled. “Another reason to hate bikes.” I ran my fingers through my hair a couple of times. “Better?”

  “Yeah.” But he kept smiling. “Do I get a kiss for my trouble?”

  “You should get your ears boxed,” I said. But I reached up and pecked him on the cheek. “That’s as much as you’ll get.”

  “You don’t know what you’ll miss.”

  I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help grinning. He was such a cutie. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll take it from here.”

  “How will you get home?”

  “My boss will fetch me. He lives on 38th.”

  Even if he didn’t, I’d rather walk than get on that bike again.

  He looked impressed. “Nice. Maybe I could become a private detective too.”

  “You should become a regular cop first. Jackson was a homicide detective before going private.”

  “Do you think I could?” He sounded genuinely interested.

  “Absolutely. But you’ll need your high school diploma and can’t have a criminal record.”

  “So I should stay out of that garage, just in case?” The solemn look in his eyes was much too grownup now.

  “Just in case.” I dug into my messenger bag and gave him my card. “If you come up with new information without getting involved in anything illegal, give us a call. Or if you want to talk with Jackson about becoming a cop.”

  He smiled. “Thanks. Anytime you need a bike ride, remember me.” And then, before I realized what he was about, he put his arm around my waist, pulled me close, and kissed me full on the lips. It was a really good kiss too, and I’m not just saying that because it had been years since I’d been kissed.

  “A little incentive for you,” he said with a wink when he released me.

  “Yeah,” I managed to say. “Maybe you should go now, before I do anything illegal.”

  He grinned. “I’m perfectly legal.” Then he put his helmet on, got on his bike, and was off a moment later in a puff of exhaust fumes.

  I needed a moment to recover. Then I took out my phone and texted Jackson. It required a few tries, as my fingers were still popsicles.

  Survived the bike ride. Not sure I survived Carlos. Am at the corner of Quentin Road and 33rd. JT lives on 33rd. Off to scout the place.

  I walked past the house JT lived in, keeping behind the trees on the opposite side of the street. I held my phone, pretending to be engrossed in it, pausing every few feet, presumably to concentrate better on my phone, but in reality to look at the house.

  There was a family car in the driveway but no bike. Either it was in the garage in the backyard at the end of the narrow driveway, or JT wasn’t home. It was mid-afternoon and all the curtains in the house were open, but there were no lights on and I saw no movement. But just in case, I walked past one more time, considering my options.

  This wasn’t an easy place for surveillance without a car. The house was in the middle of the street and there were no public spaces nearby. The house was separated from its neighbors with a tall fence, so I could perhaps sneak into the backyard and peek in through the windows. But if someone was home, I’d have difficult time explaining what I was doing there. Plus it was sort of illegal to do that too.

  Out of options, decided to wait for Jackson to arrive.

  I was walking back towards Quentin Road to meet him when I became aware of a car slowing to a halt next to me. Thinking it was Jackson, I turned to smile at him, only to see a black Ford instead of Jackson’s steel-gray Toyota Camry. I was about to walk on, slightly embarrassed, when the window on the passenger side rolled down.

  “Get in the car, Miss Hayes.”

  It was Detective Lawrence, looking mouth-wateringly good in a suit. Baffled, I got in the back seat—blessed warmth—and the car drove to the Quentin Road.

  “Jackson’s meeting me here,” I told the driver, whom I recognized as one of the cops who had been with Detective Lawrence the previous day, so likely his partner. He pulled over outside a restaurant right around the corner.

  “And why is it that the two of you are where we are again?” Lawrence asked, turning to face me. To my delight, my brain wasn’t as addled by him as it had been the previous day.

  That is, until I caught a whiff of his aftershave and the scent shot straight to my good place.

  “Bad luck?” I tried, but he had a really good cop stare, so I confessed: “I’m looking for JT.”

  “Here?”

  “He lives on 33rd.”

  “Of course he does. I suppose it would be too much to ask he’s not connected to John Brody?”

  “JT’s his son.”

  Lawrence sighed. “Figures. So what did you think to do?”

  “He didn’t seem to be home, so I thought to wait for Jackson and his car and then set up shop on the street until he shows up. Then I’ll go and talk to him.”

  “About the missing girls?”

  “Yep. Is Brody involved in the drug case?”

  “It’s his truck garage and his trucks that we were trailing.”

  I took that to mean yes. “And he transports coffee from South America.” I didn’t know how easy it would be to smuggle drugs with coffee—not something I’d ever had to handle myself—but the connection was there.

  “How do you know that?”

  “I talked to a friend of JT’s.”

  He looked fed-up. “Is there any way I can stop you from meddling with our case?”

  “We’re not meddling on purpose. But young girls are missing and I can’t stop looking for them just because it inconveniences you.” Then I had to ask what had been bothering me. “What if the girls are involved in drugs too?”

  “Wouldn’t explain why they’d disappear. If they were dealing, they’d be very much present at school.”

  I gave it a thought. “What if they found that JT was involved in drugs and confronted him? What if he did something bad to them?” Like killed them. My stomach clenched.

  Lawrence shook his head. “That’s a bit farfetched. But he could’ve threatened them into running away.”

  I really hoped that was the case. I didn’t want to contemplate the possibility that what I was looking for were dead bodies.

  Jackson’s car pulled over in front of us. Lawrence noticed it too. “There’s no need for all of us to be here. If the boy
shows up, we’ll go talk to him. It’ll give us a plausible cause to get into the house.”

  I took out my card and gave it to him. “Let us know what he says.”

  I exited the car and got into Jackson’s. I turned the heater on full. “How did you know I was in that car?”

  Jackson switched the heater back to more normal temperature to my disappointment. “I’d recognize a cop car anywhere, and your hair isn’t exactly inconspicuous. So what did they want?”

  “Turned out JT’s dad owns the garage where the drugs went in. He’s the main suspect.”

  “That’s a turn of events.”

  “I know. So JT might definitely be involved in drugs. Maybe he’s dealing.”

  Jackson looked grim. “It would explain why he’d hang out so far from home. But it doesn’t promise anything good for the girls.”

  “I know.”

  “Lawrence is keeping an eye on JT’s home?”

  “Yes, and he’ll talk to JT himself if he shows up. He says it’ll give them a plausible cause to get into the house.”

  He nodded. “So home?”

  “Yep. Unless you have work for me?”

  “No, I think we can call it a day.” Then he grinned. “How was the bike ride?”

  I shuddered with fear and the remains of the cold. “Horrible. Never ever let me do that again.”

  “Carlos isn’t such a cute kid anymore?”

  I blushed. I couldn’t help it. “Definitely not a kid.”

  “Tracy…” He sounded admonishing.

  “What? He kissed me, and he was good. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been kissed?”

  “I try not to think of such things.”

  “You and me both, boss. You and me both.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  We were almost on my street when Jarod called. “Are you far?”

  He didn’t usually call me—not even when he actually needed to, like say, when he forgot his keys—so I was puzzled. “No. Have you locked yourself out of the apartment again?”

  “Not this time. I think you’d better come home, like, as fast as you can.” He hung up without explanations.

  By the time Jackson pulled over outside my building, I was taut with worry and curiosity. “Do you want me to come with you?” he asked.