“I’m positive he did unless he was smart enough to figure out the map was a fake,” he said. Hearing the words out loud elevated his thoughts to a new level. “That’s what we need to do. We need to tell him it was a fake.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.” A beat then, “Dayton River has some kind of connection to this guy. Alabama has River’s place staked out. If the guy shows up, maybe we can communicate with him-tell him he’s got a fake.”
London pulled back and looked into Wilde’s eyes.
“Why don’t we just tell River to give the guy the message?”
Wilde considered it.
He’d been hoping to ambush the guy.
The problem now was time.
Time was critical.
He lit a pack of matches on fire and watched the flames.
“Even if we get the message to him, he’ll think it’s a trick. He’ll probably think we’re just trying to draw him out.”
“We’ll get the real one back from Bluetone,” she said. “Then we’ll tell him what the problem was. The story’s the truth and he’s got to recognize it. It’s too convoluted to make up.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
Wilde paced.
“The other option is to wait and hope he shows up,” he said. “I’m tired of him being the one in control.”
119
Waverly called the Chicago investigator, Drew Blackwater, to see if he’d found out anything about Bristol or the tattoo guy who broke into Waverly’s apartment. It turned out that he had.
“The guy you described with the scar and tattoo-the one I thought sounded vaguely familiar-he’s been around town before,” he said.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“You got a name?”
“Not yet,” Blackwater said. “What I have is a bartender who remembers him. That’s all.”
“Did you check the hotels?”
“Yes, for him and Bristol. Nada on both of them.”
“Can you keep digging?
“I can but the bill’s racking up.”
“I’m good for it, I promise.”
Silence.
“Where can I contact you?”
“You can’t.”
“Then call me in a couple of hours.”
“Thanks.” She almost hung up but pulled the phone back and said, “Drew, you still there?”
He was.
“When did that bartender see the tattoo guy?”
“He wasn’t certain but it was a ways back,” he said. “More than a year.”
“Two years?”
“Possibly.”
“August of ’50?”
“Possibly.”
“So he’s the one.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Well he certainly could be the one.”
“I’ll give you that much,” he said. “Maybe he works for this Bristol guy.”
“Maybe.”
“Can I give you a piece of advice?”
“No.”
He laughed.
“Good, because here it comes. Let it go. That’s my advice, let it go.”
“Someday.”
“If you don’t it will kill you,” he said. “Either from the inside or the outside, but one or the other for sure.”
“I’ll call you later today. Have something for me.”
Waverly’s stomach growled and she ended up at a ratty diner with a plate full of meatloaf and mashed potatoes in front of her and a glass of milk at the side.
She needed to check in with the boss man Shelby Tilt but couldn’t.
If he had any idea how deep she was, he’d pull her off faster than he’d yank her panties down if she ever gave him half a chance.
His cigar-stained face was best left in the dark for right now.
Clouds were building up outside.
Their bellies were black.
A storm was coming.
When she got back to her hotel, Su-Moon was sitting on the sidewalk, leaning against the building with her knees hugged up.
“Big news,” she said. “I just called my investigator back in Cleveland to see if he had anything else for me. It turns out that Bristol wasn’t just in town the exact same day as when that woman-Bobbi Litton-got dropped off a roof, but there was a piece of paper in her purse that said:
Tom.B.
Monday, 1:00
Euclid and 9th
Tom B has to stand for Tom Bristol. Do you understand what I’m saying? He actually knew the woman. He was in town to meet her about something.”
“How did the PI find that out?”
“He has connections down at the police department,” Su-Moon said. “He called and asked if the name Bristol ever came up in the Bobbi Litton investigation. It didn’t specifically but they had this mysterious Tom B. note that never made any sense.”
Waverly wrinkled her brow.
“The blond with Bristol, Jaden, had an interesting theory,” she said. “She said someone might be setting Bristol up. If that’s true, maybe he planted the note in the woman’s purse. Jaden’s running it down this afternoon. I’m going to meet her at four.”
Su-Moon looked at the sky.
“I thought it was supposed to be sunny in Denver,” she said. “I can get this back in San Francisco.” A beat
