Born Under a Blond Sign Page 17

  But I took that one more slowly, looking carefully in each cage.

  And when I got to the end, and I hadn’t seen her anywhere, I checked all of the cages again.

  No Regan.

  Had she already been put to sleep?

  Speaking of which, that euphemism was pretty awful. I should just call a spade a spade. Had she already been killed?

  I scurried out to the desk again. “How long are dogs kept here before they get, you know, killed?”

  The woman raised her eyebrows. “Honestly, we very rarely have to do that here. We have a system of foster families who will take dogs if we don’t have enough room for them. Generally, we only have to put dogs down if they’re quite ill and suffering.”

  Well, that was a relief. “So, was she adopted then?”

  “The dog you’re looking for isn’t here?”

  “No,” I said. “She belonged to my neighbor, but my neighbor died, and then they said they were going to take her to the shelter, and I should have spoken up then, I should have said that I wanted her, but I have this tiny apartment with no yard, and I just… I don’t know. I should have spoken up. I should have said something, because I want her. I want that dog. I love that dog, if I’m being honest, and…” I was starting to cry.

  “Let me check, okay? We’ve had a few adoptions recently. I’ll look at the records and you can tell me if any of the dogs match the description of your dog.”

  “Okay.” I nodded, sniffling a little, but swallowing my tears.

  But none of the descriptions were right. The dogs were completely off—the wrong colors, the wrong breeds.

  “Then where is she?” I said.

  “Well, maybe you were misinformed,” she said. “Are you sure they said they’d bring the dog to this shelter?”

  “They didn’t say this specific shelter,” I said. “But isn’t this the only animal shelter in Renmawr?”

  “No, there’s one out by the interstate,” she said. “Would you like me to give you the address?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  She did, and I was back in my car within minutes, pulling out of the driveway.

  But then my phone rang.

  I looked at it, and it was Brigit.

  I pulled over to answer the phone, thinking to myself that maybe I didn’t care whether or not it was dangerous to talk on the phone and drive, because pulling over to talk was really inconvenient.

  “Everything okay, Brigit?” I said.

  “Um, I think you’re going to be annoyed with me,” she said.

  Great. I did so love conversations that began this way. “Why am I going to be annoyed with you?”

  “Well, I know you said that we don’t know if we’re still on the Gilbert Pike case, and so we shouldn’t be doing anything else on it until you talk to Miles.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, before you said that, I sort of, might have called that number that Gilbert was always calling on his phone. The one that didn’t have a label.”

  I sighed. “That’s okay.”

  “Is it? Because I left a message, and the person called me back this morning.”

  “Okay,” I said. “So, who was it?”

  “A journalist,” she said. “His name’s Stanley Walter, and he was in touch with Gilbert, but he didn’t want to talk about it over the phone. He wanted to meet, so I set up a time with him to meet. Is that okay, or should I call him back and cancel?”

  “Don’t cancel,” I said. “Even if Miles fires us, if we can find evidence that this was really a murder, then we could turn that over to the police. That would be justice served.”

  “I know, but we’d be doing work that we wouldn’t be getting paid for.”

  “Brigit, am I really the kind of person who cares about that shit?”

  “I guess not.”

  “So, um, what did the journalist say?”

  “Not much, like I said. But he did say that he and Gilbert had been talking.”

  “You know what?” I said. “I’m coming back to the office now. Let me hang up, and we’ll talk when I get back.”

  “Are you sure, because you seemed pretty upset when you left, and if you’re already drunk, you probably shouldn’t drive—”

  “I’m not drunk, Brigit,” I said.

  “Really?”

  I let out an annoyed sigh. Was that so difficult to believe?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  After going back to the office to talk to Brigit, I tried calling Miles again. No answer.

  Since Miles wasn’t answering my calls, I decided to go looking for him. I figured he didn’t want to talk to me, and that was all fine and good. We didn’t have to work out all our personal issues right then and there. But I did want to know if I was still on this case or not. I was moving forward with interviewing the journalist, but I couldn’t devote all my time to working on his case if he wasn’t going to pay me. I’d have to try to shuffle in some paying gigs, which I could sometimes scare up with a few well-placed advertisements. Sometimes. If I was desperate.

  Before this case, everything had been dead, so I was getting close to desperate.

  Brigit wasn’t wrong to be concerned about the money. I wasn’t destitute or anything like that, but the thing about being self-employed is that money comes in very sporadically, so I might get a mountain of cash one month and then nothing the next. The trick was not to spend the mountain of cash, to stretch that as far as it would go. Sometimes, that was maddening, though, having so much money in the bank and still living like I was poor. Sometimes, I couldn’t help it, and I gave in, spending more than I should have.

  Anyway, we were okay for the time being, but I could definitely use this payday.

  So, I needed to know from Miles.

  Well, that was my excuse, anyway.

  Maybe I hunted him down because I wanted to see him, plain and simple.

  Hard to say, really.

  He wasn’t at home. I went by two or three times. Car was never in the driveway, and the place was locked up tight.

  He wasn’t at work. I went to the police department and risked the wrath of Linda to find out that she hadn’t seen him since the night he pulled all the O’Shaunessy files for me.

  I didn’t know where else to look, so I went back to the Pike mansion. I didn’t bother to go in the front door this time. I knew that guests parked out front of the house, but the family’s cars were never there, leading me to believe that there was somewhere else that Miles’s car might be. I wandered around the house until I found the garage.

  And sure enough, there was Miles’s car.

  He was here.

  So, I needed to get in there and find him. But I didn’t think having the maid take my coat and announce me was going to go over very well. He’d probably just have the maid lie and say he wasn’t there anyway.

  “Excuse me, ma’am?” said a voice.

  I turned to see an elderly man coming out of the garage. He was wearing coveralls and holding a wrench.

  “Can I help you?” he said.

  “I’m just looking for Miles Pike,” I said. “I was checking to make sure his car was here.”

  “Ah,” said the man. “Well, he’s here, all right. But why didn’t you just go to the front door and ask for him?”

  “Well, he’s a little angry with me at the moment.”

  The man furrowed his brow. “You’re Ivy, aren’t you?”

  “You know me?”

  “I know things about the family,” he said, chuckling. “I’m Craig Downs, and I’ve been working for the Pikes since I was twenty-five years old. I do a bit of landscaping, bit of fixing up, bit of car work. Just an all around handyman, basically. Still, you’re around this place that long, you start to become like scenery to the family. They’re so used to seeing you around they don’t always see you and they talk in front of you like you’re not there. So, I know things.”

  I nodded slowly. “You do, huh?”

  “Yes.”

/>   “Could I maybe ask you a few questions, then?” I said. I was here to talk to Miles, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t intrigued by this case.

  “I don’t see why not,” he said.

  “About Cal,” I said. “What would you say his relationship was with Gilbert?”

  Craig shook his head, “Oh, that Cal. That boy’s a mess, and he’s just been getting worse lately. He was always the wild one in the bunch, you know. Always getting in trouble, getting kicked out of private schools, wrecking cars, getting arrested for public intoxication. You name it, Cal did it. And poor Louis worked overtime keeping all of that out of the papers. Then last year, Cal went through some kind of break down. He wasn’t at work for nearly a month, and Louis was talking about firing him. Then he came back. To work, that is. But even though he’s doubled down at the company, gotten real serious there, he’s still quite the troublemaker. As for him and Gilbert, I think he was always a little jealous of the boy. Gilbert was the baby, after all.”

  Hmm. Jealous? Fiercely protective of the business? It wasn’t looking good for Cal, I had to admit.

  But I hadn’t quite closed the door on Louis, either.

  “Let me ask you something else,” I said. “About Louis Pike. Would you say he values his reputation more than he values his family?”

  “Oh, absolutely not,” said Craig. “And I don’t say that lightly. Louis is the only family member who always notices me, and he sometimes even speaks to me about his personal life. He’s a good man, and I’m not just saying that because he pays my salary. He’s got a good heart. He loves his boys. After what happened with Gilbert… well, he’s heartbroken.”

  Interesting. Looking worse and worse for Cal, then.

  “Can I ask you something?” Craig said.

  “Oh, I guess so.”

  “Why are you so curious?” he said. “I know you’re some hotshot private detective that hunts down serial killers or something. What’s your interest in what happened to Gilbert?”

  “I’m looking into it for Miles.”

  “He thinks there’s something fishy about it?”

  “Well, I do, I guess,” I said. “Seems the more I look into it, the more nasty secrets I find.”

  “Oh, you’ll find a lot of that if you keep poking down the Pike hole,” he said. “Secrets galore. There’s a lot of things hidden behind the windows of that house.” He gestured.

  I turned to look at the mansion.

  But as I did, I caught sight of Miles himself, coming out of the main house and heading for the garage. I waved at him. “Miles!” I yelled.

  He saw me and stopped, stricken. He looked back at the house, almost as if he wanted to run from me. But then, resolute, he put down his head and trudged over to me.

  Craig put a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll let you talk to Miles, shall I?”

  I nodded at him, and then turned my attention back to Miles. I held up my hands as he approached, an I-surrender pose. “I know I’m the last person you want to see, but I’m only here to find out if you still want me investigating Gilbert’s case.”

  He stopped in front of me and raised his gaze to meet mine. One look at his face, and I could see he was enraged. But it was the kind of anger that smoldered, not the kind that exploded. He was completely under control. “Oh, that’s all?” He was bitingly sarcastic.

  “Yes,” I said. “I’d understand if you didn’t want me working for you anymore. I’d understand if you never wanted to see me again. Say the word, and I’ll go, and I won’t come back. We’ll be done.”

  He sucked in breath through his nose, and then he chuckled bitterly. “Don’t lie to me, Ivy, and don’t lie to yourself. Now that you’re waist deep in this case, we both know you won’t let it go.”

  Well, he was probably right about that.

  “And now, you’re investigating my family,” he said. “First my father, then my brother. Who’s next? Me?”

  “No,” I said, taking two steps back. “I wouldn’t ever… I’m just trying to get to the truth.”

  He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me away from the garage.

  I tried to struggle, to get free. “I can walk on my own!”

  He held tight, yanking me along until we got back to my car. Then he let go of me.

  “Look, your brother is the one who was in charge of the energy shake,” I said. “It was his product, and he was apparently jealous of Gilbert his whole life—”

  “Stop,” thundered Miles, his voice a roar, as if his sleeping anger had awakened like a dragon.

  I cowered from him. I couldn’t help it. His tone frightened me.

  But then, it was as if everything drained out of him, and he stood slump shouldered next to me, beaten and sad. “I feel like I’m falling apart. Do you get that at all?”

  “Well… sure. I mean—”

  “No, stop.” He looked deep into my eyes, pleading with me. “My brother is dead. I’m back in touch with my family, who make me insane. I can’t go to work. And you… You’re accusing everyone in my family of murder and alternating sleeping with them.”

  I looked at the ground.

  “Look at me, Ivy.”

  I looked back up at him.

  “Can you see how that might make me feel a little… unhinged?”

  I nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know you are.”

  “I’m really, really sorry.”

  He nodded. “I believe you. But that doesn’t really make me feel any better. Maybe if I forgive you, then you’ll feel better, but I’ll still feel like crap.”

  He had a point. I didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything to say.

  Miles sighed. “Walk with me.”

  “What?”

  “Just come on a walk with me.”

  “Okay.”

  At first, we walked in silence. Miles took the lead, and I followed him as we threaded through the gardens.

  Then, he started talking. He kept walking, and he was still a step ahead of me, and he didn’t turn to look back, so I couldn’t see his face.

  “I don’t want to fight with you, Ivy. I really don’t want to fight. I wish we could have an honest conversation without it blowing up.”

  “I want that too.”

  “Okay, then,” he said. “Try not to act like I’m accusing you of something when I’m just telling the truth.”

  “Um.”

  “What?”

  “You were kind of just accusing me there.”

  A heavy sigh.

  “Okay,” I said, giving in. “I’m sorry. Say what you need to. I won’t get offended.”

  “You hurt me,” he said.

  I bit my lip. “Miles—”

  “You hurt me.” There was a crack in his voice now. “You know that I don’t want you to be with other men, and yet you do it anyway. And you do it no matter how many times I ask you not to do it.”

  I was quiet for a minute. I thought of seventy zillion things to say. Defensive things. Excuses to make for myself. Things I could accuse him of.

  There were bushes of roses on either side of us now. The roses were in bloom, and they were pink and yellow and white.

  I just said, “I know.”

  “It feels like betrayal to me,” he said, still moving ahead of me. “I know you say that it’s not about anything emotional, that it’s just this physical release—”

  “I think it’s different than that,” I said. “I think it’s like when you can’t stand it when your house is dirty.”

  He stopped. He turned to look at me. “What? How do you figure that?”

  “Well… you keep your house clean, but it’s not really about your house, right? It’s about everything else, all the other things you can’t control, all the uncertainty in the world, from your job to me to the news. It’s overwhelming, so you clean, and it’s better. At least temporarily, right?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Exactly right.”

  I nodded. “Well, I fuck people.”

 
He rolled his eyes and turned away again.

  I caught him by the shoulder. “Wait. I know it sounds stupid and unrelated and ridiculous, but when you’re stressed out about your brother dying, keeping your house clean isn’t really related to that either, is it?”

  He shrugged away from my touch.

  I winced. “You know that hurts me,” I whispered.

  “I do know,” he said softly.

  “Because it feels like you’re rejecting me.”

  “I’m not,” he said.

  “I know,” I said.

  He sighed. “You’re saying that resisting having sex with men is as hard for you as it is hard for me to not scrub my toilet?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Well, that’s shit, then.”

  I hung my head.

  He started walking again.

  I went after him. “Wait, Miles, what you said before about how you were trying to change and I wasn’t? You were right. I never even tried to stop. I’m terrified of stopping.”

  He kept going. “Every time we have this conversation we just end up in the same place, don’t we? It’s pointless. It’s boring.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “But maybe if I did try. Maybe if instead of having sex with someone, I called you or I…” I didn’t know. Honestly, I couldn’t figure out how exactly I was going to make this happen. Resisting that temptation was something I’d never been able to do. It wasn’t as if I didn’t know that it was bad. I always did it anyway. So, it was a problem, but it was insurmountable.

  He didn’t seem to be listening to me. “We keep saying it’s impossible for us to be together, but we can’t let each other go either. So, maybe it is impossible, but maybe we need to figure out how to do the impossible. Because, hell, Ivy, if I have one more conversation with you about how we can’t make things work, I might just die from the monotony of it all.”

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Do you mean that?”

  “Yes.” He looked at me. “I mean it.”

  “But I just slept with your brother. Shouldn’t you be… enraged?”

  “Sure,” he said. “And I am. But I’ve been angry with you so many times for doing this same thing—”

  “Not with your brother.”

  “No,” he admitted. “Not with my brother. But honestly, that makes it a little better, because he’s a dick, and I can kind of blame him for most of it. He did it to get under my skin. He manipulated you. So, yes, I’m angry. Yes, I’m hurt. But the tedium, Ivy. I’m bored with being angry and hurt. Let’s do something else.”