Page 46 of 1st Shock
"Yes," Charlie says. "He protected the girls. JJ, have you talked to the sisters?"
"Not yet."
At this, I'm already out of my seat, folder in hand and heading for the door.
"Meg?" Charlie calls. "What are you doing?"
"We need to talk to the family. Who's coming?"
"I'm out," Matt says. "Gotta check in with our paying clients."
"I can't," JJ says. "I have a meeting with the AG in an hour. Will you two be all right on your own?"
The Attorney General. On a Sunday.Thatcan't be good.
Charlie nods. "We'll be fine. From my research, it looks like Dixie still lives in the area. Meg and I will talk to her and call you when we're done."
"All right. Be careful. And good luck. You'll need it with this bunch."
* * *
We arrive in Arlandria, a diverse multi-cultural neighborhood nestled on the border of Arlington and Alexandria counties, just before noon. As usual, JJ came through and supplied Dixie's address, which appears to be an apartment over a Peruvian restaurant. All I know is I haven't eaten yet today, and we'll be stopping for a to-go order before leaving.
Assuming she’s even home. For this house call, Charlie favored the drop-in-unannounced strategy in an effort to avoid potential witnesses playing hide and seek with us.
We snag street parking and walk by a series of two-story connected brick buildings that boast a bar, a small Latino food market, and the restaurant. On the far end of the latter is a door marked 2A, B, and C. Charlie checks and finds it unlocked then opens it to reveal a set of stairs.
We're looking for 2A, so we make our way up while the aroma of cooking meat and rich spices make my stomach howl.
"When did you eat last?"
I wince and curse myself because I know what's coming and Charlie's lectures on proper nutrition can be epic. Absolutely turn-me-to-stone harsh. In light of that, I choose not to answer.
"Meg!"
"I know, I know. When we're done, we'll stop and grab something."
"You're unbelievable. One day you’ll fall over."
Probably. But it won't be today so I can't worry about it now.
Charlie reaches the top and points at the first door on the left. "Here we go." She knocks lightly and puts her ear to the wood. "Movement. Bingo."
Anticipating the door swinging open, she steps back, faces it and straightens her shoulders.
"Who is it?" A woman calls from inside.
"Hi, Dixie. My name is Charlie Schock. I'm a private investigator working on a cold case. My sister, Meg, is with me."
"What do you want with me?"
"We're hoping you can give us some information about Mickey."
The long, ensuing pause is interrupted by my rumbling stomach. My sister gives me the side eye, reminding me she has issues with my lack of concern for myself. What she doesn't understand is it’s not that I don't care, but it's damned difficult to stop and nourish myself when there are dead women who deserve justice.
"As soon as we're done here," she says, "you're eating. I don't care if I have to shove it down your throat."
A second later, Dixie's door swings open, revealing a woman in her late thirties with shoulder length auburn hair set off by crystalline blue eyes. Wisps of cloudy gray float between the auburn strands giving a tonal effect that provides warmth.
