Killing Ways

48

Ren sat in the Jeep at a red light with another of Chloe Farraday’s notebooks open on the passenger seat beside her. She was flicking through it, and stopped when she came to a poster similar in style to one of Vincent Farraday’s concert posters, but hand-drawn by Chloe — it was a crude self-portrait, framed with lights, but instead of the name Chloe Farraday on the bottom, she had signed it ‘Dainty’ in fancy, teenage cursive. Dainty — just one word.

Jonathan Briar... the girl... the threesome... her name was Day Something — not Daisy, but... Dainty.

Ren’s cell phone rang. My dear Everett. ‘Hey, there, Renaldino. How was TX?’

‘It was XXL fun.’

‘That was an L at the end, right?’

‘Why, of course.’

‘So, I was calling you to give you a lil sum-sum...’

‘I think that’s a euphemism for sex, but go ahead.’

‘I followed up on your text on the roadie guy, and I have an address in Denver. I’m emailing it now.’

‘Anything on him?’

‘No priors, nothing shady. Respectable man, retired, sixty-eight years old, seems to spend his time in libraries and at readings, cultural stuff, music stuff, nothing weird.’

Ren checked Everett’s email and drove to Benny Jakes’ apartment building. She parked across the street, sat low in the seat watching people come and go. Every movement in her peripheral vision was making her twitch.

Not good.

She checked her watch. It was nine a.m. Not a good time to be watching for a girl who might sing in bars. She likely wouldn’t surface until midday. Unless she had another job. Unless she was working as a nurse or a carer. Fifteen minutes later, the door to the apartment building opened.

Ren sat up. ‘Yes.’ She took a photo on her phone.

She got out of the Jeep, let Chloe walk down the street a short distance, and crossed to meet her.

‘Chloe Farraday?’ said Ren. ‘Could I talk to you for a minute, please?’

‘It’s Dainty,’ she said.

Nasty. Mean. Like yo’ mama.

‘And who are you?’ said Dainty.

‘I’m a friend of your father’s,’ said Ren. ‘I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but he’s not a well man. He’s got some money he’d like to pass along to you before he dies, before the lawyers get at it.’

Dainty looked left and right. She shrugged. ‘What do I have to do?’

‘First, I want you to know that there is someone else who is showing an interest in that money, and might like a piece of it. I’m wondering has he already approached you in any capacity? His name is Duke Rawlins.’

She showed Dainty the photo of Duke.

Dainty’s face lit up. She started laughing. ‘You’re all confused. That’s my boyfriend.’

The what now?

‘Your boyfriend?’ said Ren. ‘Since when?’

‘Like, two years.’

Oh. Fuck.

‘And what has he told you his name is?’ said Ren.

‘Told me?’ said Dainty. ‘No. His name just is. It’s Harris Riggs.’

Harris Hawks. Donald Riggs.

Jesus Christ.