Deadline by K.A. Tracy

Author:K.A. Tracy [Tracy, K.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781626817166
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2015-05-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Parked in the shady alley behind the Desert Diner, Sam glanced at the clock on her dashboard. In four and a half hours she’d be at Ellen’s house, and the thought made her stomach flutter in anticipation. Was Ellen really making an overture, or was Sam reading way too much into what was very likely a professional courtesy? More importantly, could she remain objective?

Sam was convinced that Ellen was hiding something. Not about Jeff’s death but about his life. Was she protecting herself in some way or someone else? If so, then who and why? She reread the notes from their interview, but nothing jumped out to shed any new light. She idly ran her finger over Ellen’s phone number. Impulsively she reached for her cell phone and called the house.

“Konrad residence,” a curtly efficient voice answered.

“Hi, is Ellen in?”

“I’m afraid she’s busy. Would you like to leave a message?”

Sam hesitated. “That’s okay. I’ll just catch up with her later.”

She hung up, feeling foolish. She tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and flipped through her notebook to the page with the list of motels to check out. As she shifted into first gear, her phone vibrated and played the incoming call tone: the opening notes of the Hawaii 5-0 theme song.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m sorry about that,” Ellen apologized, sounding slightly winded.

Sam put the car back in park. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“The only thing you interrupted was my indecision between egg salad and yogurt for lunch.”

“And the egg salad no doubt won out.”

“I’m not even going to ask how you knew that,” Ellen said genially. “Do you mind if I eat while we talk? I’m starved.”

“Of course not.” Sam heard a door close and Ellen sigh as she sat down. “Do you always have people screen your calls?”

“Not if I can help it. But Lee sometimes gets…let’s say, overly protective.”

“In other words, she saw who it was on your caller ID and didn’t want the riffraff bothering you.”

“Something like that. Except you’re not a bother at all and hardly riffraff. How’s your story going?”

“Well, so far there are a lot more questions than answers. Jeff Rydell was a man with a lot of secrets.”

“Like what? Or can’t you say?”

Sam debated a moment. “Did you know he was moonlighting at an exotic dance club in Indio?”

“Doing what?”

“He apparently was paid to look after one of the dancers.”

“You mean like a bodyguard?”

“More like a handler. To make sure none of the patrons got out of line with her and that she didn’t break their heads open for trying.”

“When was this?”

“Up until the night he died. In fact, he was killed within hours of leaving the club.”

“A strip club?” There was a pause and a squeak, probably from Ellen leaning back in her chair to absorb the information. “That’s honestly the last place I would picture Jeff.”

“Why?”

“He wasn’t very sure of himself or assertive, which a job like that requires, I would think. Plus, he seemed a bit repressed and inhibited to be comfortable hanging around strippers.

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