But I’d lied about not needing work. Truth was, I hadn’t seen any good money in a while. A new Jeep payment and a surf trip to Cabo had eaten quickly through my small savings account. I was going to need to do something soon.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so personal, though. Do the work, find the kid, get paid. I didn’t know Peter or his brother. I figured my past would have a tough time getting in the middle of this one.
And there was something about standing on a quiet beach under thick gray clouds with a man who clearly cared about his brother that made me vulnerable.
“Give me the address,” I said to Peter Pluto.
Two
I asked Peter a few more questions about the guns he’d seen because I wanted a better idea of what I might be getting myself into. But he clearly knew nothing about guns and the tension on his face told me that finding them had really shocked the hell out of him. I knew I’d have to go look for myself. He gave me a wallet-sized photo of Linc and I told him I’d be in touch after I checked out the apartment.
I went back to my place, dropping my board on the patio that faced the beach. Carter had apparently anticipated my irritation with him and vacated the premises. Not as dumb as he looked.
I showered and changed into a pair of corduroy board shorts and a T-shirt. I grabbed an apple and a soda from the fridge and headed out to see where Linc Pluto lived.
I pointed my Jeep east, going past the Bahia and the bay, getting onto Interstate 8 behind the old Sports Arena. The freeway cut through Mission Valley, bisecting the giant canyon that now housed a golf course, several shopping centers, and Qualcomm Stadium. Just before I hit La Mesa, I took the College Avenue exit and headed south.
The area around San Diego State was trying to reinvent itself, just like other older parts of the city. The university wanted to sell itself as a destination school rather than a state school and they were hoping to create a college-town feel. Abandoned strip malls had been rebuilt with fast-food joints and cafes. But the new neon of the signs in the windows hadn’t deterred those who had been used to the old ways of the neighborhood. You were safe during the day, but you didn’t venture out at night unless you were with your frat pals.
I hung a left on El Cajon Boulevard and found Linc’s address just past the old Campus Drive-in. His apartment was in an ugly L-shaped two-story building, with an old asphalt lot in front. The stucco exterior was painted drab brown and the doors were a shade darker. Could’ve been an old motel.
I parked in the lot and found Linc’s door on the ground level. A small window sat just to the right of the door.
I knocked, but got no answer.
I tried the door, but it didn’t open.
I looked in the window, but saw no one.
Nowhere fast.
I walked down to the next door. Bob Marley crooned softly behind it.
I knocked.
Footsteps came closer and the door swung open.
A girl of about twenty or so stood in front of me. A tight olive tank top hugged the curves of her chest, cutoff cargo shorts exposed long tan legs. Her hair was a mess of dirty brown dreadlocks piled on top of her head. The thin silver hoops in her earlobes matched the ones in her eyebrow and bottom lip. She was attractive in an I’m-in- college-and-rebelling kind of way.
Her emerald eyes flashed and she looked annoyed. “What?”
“I’m looking for your neighbor.”
“Did you try his place?”
I smiled. “Yeah. He’s not there. Any idea where I could find him?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Who are you?”
“Noah Braddock. I’m an investigator. Who are you?”
“Dana Madison.” She looked at me with new interest. “An investigator. No shit?”
“None whatsoever.”
“And you’re looking for Linc?”
“I am.”
“Well, I don’t know where he is,” she said. “But Rachel might.”
“Rachel?”
“My roommate.” She looked me up and down with a confidence she couldn’t possibly have been old enough to possess. A slow smile emerged on her face and she stepped to the side. “Right this way, stud.”
I felt dirty, but in a good way, and stepped past her into the apartment.
Dana went and turned down the stereo in the corner. The interior was sparsely furnished and the white paint on the walls was cracking. The aroma of freshly smoked marijuana filled the room. A small television sat on a banged-up hutch. A worn wooden coffee table stood in the middle of the room just across from a tattered brown sofa. A Donald Duck bong grinned at me from the table-top.
First Pluto, now Donald.
Disney appeared to be overtaking my life.
“You see where the spout is on him?” Dana said, coming over to the sofa and noticing I was looking at Donald.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Makes it look like you’re giving him a hummer when you spark up.”
“Cool.”
“I know,” she said, missing my sarcasm.
“So. Rachel?”
Dana nodded, still looking at me. “You have to be in such a hurry?”
“Busy, busy.”
A smile curled onto her lips. “I’d like to see you get busy.” She turned toward the hallway that extended off the room and yelled, “Rachel. Somebody here for you.”
A scuffling sound came from down the hallway, followed by footsteps. Rachel emerged.
If Dana was attractive, Rachel was a flat-out knockout. A fiery mane of red hair cascaded around her tan, oval face. She wore jean shorts frayed at the ends and a tight black top, exposing a drum-tight abdomen and a tiny diamond in her navel. Her arms and legs were as tan as her face, toned like her stomach. The only imperfection I could see was that her large brown eyes were ringed with bright red blood vessels.
She looked at me, confused. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“This is Noah,” Dana said. “He’s a private investigator.”
Rachel gave me a blank stare. “Oh.”
“I’m looking for Linc,” I said. “Next door.”
“Oh.”
“You know him?”
“Yeah, she does,” Dana said, then giggled.
Rachel looked at her. “Yeah, I do.” Then she giggled.
Stoners can be frustrating.
I took a deep breath. “How do you know him?”
Rachel folded her arms across her chest. “From school.”
“And you guys are friends?”
“Yeah, they are,” Dana said, and snickered again.
“Shut up,” Rachel said to her, then burst into giggles again as well. She composed herself quickly. “We’re friends.”
