Diners, Dives & Dead Ends

“Would you like some coffee?”

“Sheila, I don’t want to get involved in this.”

She gently shoved him aside and opened the door wider. “You are involved, Pack. He’s your brother.”

I stepped into the house.

“Thanks,” I said, leaving Packard standing by the door. The faint scent of dinner lingered, leaving a garlicky smell behind. Whatever they had, it was better than salmon.

The foyer walls were decorated in soft earth tones and rose into cove ceilings. The wrought iron banister on my right twisted toward the second story.

“As you heard, I’m Sheila.” She walked further into the house. “This way.”

I followed her to the homey kitchen. Copper pans hung on a rack above the island range. Hot pads and a newspaper lay on the granite counter.

Sheila grabbed a mug from the cabinet next to the sink and poured me a cup of coffee. “Cream or sugar?”

“Yes to both, please.” I heard Packard walk in behind me.

“You’d better sit down,” he said.

It was a half-assed invitation, but I took it and hopped up on one of the stools at the island. Sheila passed me the mug and I took a sip. “I take it you haven’t heard from Axton?”

Packard grabbed a stool next to me and Shelia leaned against the sink. There was a long pause. “Actually, he did call me a couple of nights ago,” he said.

“Monday night?”

“Yeah.” He waved his hand dismissively.

My stomach fluttered. “Is he all right? What did he say? Where is he?”

Packard held up a finger. “First of all, I could hardly hear him. And second, he never said where he was.”

“Did he call from his cell?”

“I don’t know. I guess.” He shrugged a beefy shoulder.

“You didn’t tell me Axton called,” Sheila said. “What exactly is going on here, Pack?”

“I didn’t tell you because this isn’t our concern, Sheila.”

“What did he say?” I wanted to beat this guy like a pinata until he spilled all the information he knew.

“He said he needed help. I assumed it was financial and told him no. Either that or he was arrested again. Then we were disconnected. I assumed he hung up.”

“You do a lot of assuming, Packard,” I said. “Are you sure you didn’t hear anything else? Background noises, other voices?”

“God,” he snapped, “I already told you no. I didn’t hear anything else. It was a ten second phone call.”

Sheila crossed her arms. “Again, what is going on?”

I gave them the scoop on Axton’s vanishing act and ended with BJ and Henry breaking into my apartment. When I finished, both Packard and Sheila were silent.

I sipped my coffee and waited.

“He gave you his backpack, but you don’t know why?” Sheila asked.

“The only thing I can figure is there’s something on the computer or the internal hard drive. His boss, Eric, is working on it.”

“And this man who broke into your apartment, he wanted Axton? Did he say why?” Sheila asked.

I thought back to Gold Eyes prowling around my apartment, touching my stuff, making threats. “No, but I need to find Axton before he does.”

“He’s probably a dealer. Axton’s been arrested twice, for God’s sake,” Packard said.

“Oh come on, Pack,” Sheila huffed out a breath, “he was caught with a joint. It’s not like you’ve never done it.”

“Hey,” he pointed a finger at her, “I haven’t made a lifestyle of it.” He was big with the finger pointing.

And okay yes, Ax had been arrested at routine traffic stops last year. Got popped once because of a joint and once with a dime bag.

Since Sheila was the only one who seemed to give a crap, I directed my comment to her. “This isn’t about drugs and Ax always tells me if he’s going somewhere — even if it’s for a couple of days. I really just came by to see if you’d heard from him.” I turned back to Packard. “That’s all he said? You’re not leaving anything out?”

He sighed. “No. Axton and I aren’t exactly close. If there was something wrong, I’d be the last person he’d tell.”

“And yet, he called you.” I set down my mug, picked up my purse, and dug around for a pen and paper. “Thanks for the coffee. If you hear from him again, here’s my home number and my cell.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Sheila asked.

“If I think of anything, I’ll call you. I thought I’d give your mom a call, too. See if she’s heard from Ax.”

“Absolutely not. She’s an elderly woman and I won’t have you dragging her into this.”

Sheila sighed. “She’s in the middle of the Mediterranean anyway. Month long cruise.”

Must be nice. “Then I’m off to file a missing person report.”

Packard swiveled toward me and shoved a finger in my face. “Wait a minute, you can’t go to the police with this.”

I wanted to grab his finger and twist it, but I batted it away with the back of my hand instead. “I told you, it’s been forty-eight hours.”

“This can’t get out. The press will be all over it.” I remembered my mother said Packard was thinking of running for mayor. Well, guess who wasn’t getting my vote? I was beginning to understand why Axton didn’t talk to his brother. Packard was an ass.

“Oh my gosh, Pack, I can’t believe you,” Sheila said. “You’ve gone insane, you know that?”

“I have a certain reputation in this town—”

“Maybe so, but he’s your brother,” Sheila said.

The two continued to argue as I ducked out of the kitchen, down the hall, through the front door and back onto the brick stoop. I wondered if they even noticed I left.

My last stop for the night, despite the fact it was after ten o’clock, was the police station. I didn’t care about Packard or his self-aggrandizing reputation, I just needed help looking for Axton.

Unfortunately, I left the police station feeling helpless and dejected. It had been a complete waste of time. I told my story to some bored desk cop who typed it into his computer. I was starting to get the impression the police weren’t that concerned about a missing stoner. But this wasn’t just any stoner we were talking about. This was my missing stoner. Axton. My bud, my rock, my expert on dorky sci-fi movies from the fifties. I missed eating off-brand pizza rolls with him, missed listening to him lecture about the graphics of game design. I missed him translating English words into Klingon. Sa’Hut was his fave. That’s buttocks to you and me. I just missed him, period.

As I drove home, I was hyperaware of other cars on the road — making sure no one followed me. And when I reached my parking lot, it took ten minutes to work up the nerve to run from my car to the building. I didn’t like this feeling, as if someone was watching me, waiting for me. It was exhausting.

The next morning at the diner, Ma was in bossy mode. “No, Jorge, you need more sugar in the glaze.”

Jorge smiled. “Okay, Ma.”

Ma nodded in satisfaction and moved over by the grill to stand next to Ray. “Are you using too much butter, son?”

Ray grunted.

I pulled an apron around my waist and tied it. Although no unwelcome visitors showed up last night, I still hadn’t gotten much sleep. I tossed and turned and jumped at every little noise while my brain spun in circles over Axton. I was tired and cranky, but I slapped a smile on my face. “Good morning, everyone.”

Jorge waved, Ray mumbled something, and Ma walked over and hugged me. “How you doing this morning, toots?”

“Not so well. I still haven’t heard from Ax, I made a police report last night, and Axton’s brother is an a- hole.”