Page 75 of Slaughtered Firefly
“Usually. she’s also the nanny,” She lit up a cigarette and puffed a few times, waving the smoke around the room. “want one?”
“No, I’ll pass.” My nose could never get used to the funny tickle of nicotine, but I coughed, blaming it on my sinuses. “I know you probably already went through this with the other detective, but do you mind recounting the details of June 26th for me, just as a follow up, of course.”
“I already told the other detectives I wasn’t here. I was in Vegas having myself a vacation, I didn’t do the whole neighborhood cookout and other barbecue shit. I mean look at these girls, they don’t mix with explosives and fire.” She grabbed her tits like they were her child, and I couldn’t help but wonder where her child was.
“And your daughter? Did you take her to Vegas as well?”
“Who? That little brat? To Vegas? You must be joking, I wouldn’t take that brat anywhere without compensation first.” The appalled look on her face was laughable. It was like looking at old 2000s photos of duck face, but heavy on the constipation look.
“So Gabriella is where now?” The clear lack of children’s toys and the abundance of adult paraphernalia was making me sick to my stomach.
“With the maid, didn’t I just say that? You’d think for a detective you’d have a good memory.” She rolled her eyes and extinguished the remains of her cigarette before lighting another.
“So you haven’t seen your maid or your child in how many dates?”
“I don’t know like three or four. I don’t keep track of the little brat I just collect the checks, and quite frankly I’m tired of having to pretend that little runt is mine.”
“Do you have an address for the maid? “ Isabella rolled her eyes and got out of the chair squeaking as she walked to the kitchen high bar grabbed a stained paper business card with a number and address on it and pulled out a bottle of wine, “are we done here?”
Laughter bubbled up my throat, and I had to cough to cover it, I would have been more agitated with this shit mother but the way that she squeaked every time she walked and the clear hooker with an STI behavior just made me glad to be done with her.
I extracted myself from the room and followed the mounds of garbage to the front. I had to kick away some of the trash to shut the door. I texted Simmons as I got into the car.
ME: Simmons, I need an address lookup and hazmat…
Simmons: Did you slip in blood again? Also, what’s the address?
ME: NO. I just need my entire body and car fumigated after the interview I just did
ME: 1634 Fifth Avenue South
Simmons: Who died?
Simmons: Did you ruin the squad car?
ME: Just my lungs and maybe a few brain cells and my dick shriveled up.
ME: Could you also get a wellness check on Gabriella Campbell? She should be at 2520 Lakeman Circle.
ME: I wish it was the squad car. I hope your wife gives a discount on car detailing.
Simmons: TMI, dude. I did not want THAT imagery.
Simmons: You mean that stick Barbie wannabe’s got a kid?
Simmons: I’ll let Willow know to charge you extra
ME: Apparently… and hey I’m family!
I looked down at the sticky note in my hand, Isabella’s name in bold red letters, a big ‘X’ across her name with a gentler smaller ‘Gabriella’ underneath it circled and a few question marks around it.
Simmons: Address checks out. The owner is named Reyna Flores. Pays taxes, runs a cleaning business, nothing out of the ordinary. Need backup?
ME: Nah, that’s ok. I got this.
I couldn’t get enough speed as I raced through the ritzy neighborhoods towards the highway. The knot that had formed in my stomach the moment that Cole started explaining the crazy connections Summer had built pulled tight. There was no way he would still be at the hospital and the woman who brought him in had the same name as the maid in this rich neighborhood. It all made sense. I pressed the pedal to the floor, urging the car into the overdrive, hoping that I could only make it there in time. But I had to visit an old friend first, and I was not looking forward to that.
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