Page 16 of Clubs

“But that was her daylight job. And she took the kids with her there,” Maya said. “It’s the night job she needed a sitter for.”

Which could’ve meant a lot of things. “What’s her night job?”

“Lady of the night, if you know what I mean,” Beatrice said. “We think, at least. Don’t know anything for sure.”

Damn. This was hitting a hell of a lot closer to home all of a sudden. My sister was also a “lady of the night,” a sex worker. Every time she left the house, I was terrified that she wouldn’t make it home. Last night, Alicia left her babies with Maya and Beatrice. She didn’t make it home. Would never make it home. I had spent so many nights worrying over Ria meeting a similar fate.

Their shared profession could be a good thing, though. Ria might be able to tell me more about Alicia. There was a good chance that between their work and the drugs, their paths had crossed. Maybe they at least knew of each other, if nothing else.

“Do you know if she worked with anyone?” I asked. “Other girls?”

“I know she left with a man a lot,” Maya said. “He never got out of the car, so I don’t know what he looked like. Can’t tell you his name either. But he drove something nice.”

“BMW, I think,” Beatrice agreed. “Had those wheels inside the wheels that spin? I don’t know what the hell they’re called.”

Neither did I, but I knew what she was talking about. “Sure. Sure, I gotcha. You never even got a glance at him though?”

“Not clear enough to give to a sketch artist,” Beatrice said. “Saw him hanging his arm out the window smoking a cigar though. Always had a damn cigar. Not those cheap ones from the gas station, either. Smelled pretty damn good, actually. Definitely white. Could be anywhere between thirty and sixty.”

“That helps a lot,” I murmured. “Thanks for all this. The coffee, filling me in. I appreciate it.”

“Thanks for looking into it,” Beatrice said. “Somebody needs to get justice for that girl. She didn’t deserve to die like that.”

“No one does,” I said.

“Doesn’t sound like your friend, huh?” Maya asked. “You still don’t think it was him?”

White guy, BMW, fancy cigars. That was all valuable information. And none of which could be used to describe Declan. The ethnicity could be misconstrued to describe Declan. In the winter, when his skin was lighter, he passed as white. But he was biracial, and none of the other details fit him. He preferred cigarettes to cigars, and there was no denying his choice of vehicle. You wouldn’t catch him dead in a BMW.

“No, definitely not. And I was with him at the time of her death, so I know he didn’t do it.” After a sip of my coffee, I exhaled deeply. “But the cops have it out for him.”

Maya snorted. “They never did it, and it’s always the cops just hating ‘em.”

Beatrice laughed. I couldn’t help laughing myself. I knew the point they were making.

“Look, if he hadn’t been with me, I’d look his way too. But he was with me.”

“Alright, alright.” Maya held up a hand in surrender. “If you say so.”

“Anything else we can help you with?” Standing and resting the baby on her hip, Beatrice gestured inside. “I gotta get these two ready to meet their aunt. She’s next of kin, so it’s on her from here. A nice girl. Young, but better off than Alicia was.”

I was happy to hear that. My next question would’ve been, Where do the kids go now? “One other thing, actually. Do you, by chance, have a key to Alicia’s apartment? I was just hoping to take a look around. That can help in situations like this.”

Maya chuckled. “You a little detective?”

Well, there hadn’t been a job title for what I did for the Chambers, but in essence? Yes, that’s exactly what I’d been. “Just a concerned citizen.”

“Yeah, I got a key. I’m going there to pack their bags up,” Beatrice said. “As long as you don’t take nothing, I’ll let you on in.”

Good. Because key or no key, I would’ve gotten into that apartment.

* * *

The apartment was cute. Basic, but cute. Like most apartments, the walls were a boring shade of beige, but Alicia had decorated with nice stock prints. A few oil paintings hung on the walls as well. They were old, likely purchased at thrift stores or flea markets, but they brought some color and life into the space.

The kitchen was nothing special. Just a galley with enough room to throw a couple meals together. The dining area was about the same. A basic table in the center of the room, a few mismatched chairs scattered about. The place was lived in, with toys and things of that nature sitting around, all of the chaos of having two young children, but overall it was well-kept and clean.

The living room was the most notable space. Instead of a standard sofa, there was a pullout bed in the center. No coffee table, but two bedside tables, a small dresser beneath the window on the right, and a wardrobe beside it that was doing its best to act as a room divider separating the dining space from this one. It was minimally decorated, a few nicknacks on the dresser, a couple of framed pictures of her kids. The bed was made.

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