What Dale Morgan and I talked about for the next forty-five minutes isn’t the least bit important. Neither is the fact that as soon as I got back to my hotel, I changed into the real clothes I’d worn to northern Ohio the day before. My purchased-just-for-the-occasion outfit went in the trash, and I hightailed it back to Cleveland as fast as I could.
I had plenty to do. The last episode of Cemetery Survivor was scheduled to start shooting, and we had to put the finishing touches on our section before the judges made their final sweep. Once that was done, and we handed our money over to the volunteers who would be continuing our work, the winners of the show would be announced.
A couple weeks ago, I cared. A lot. The Monday after I met with Dale Morgan, I drummed my fingers on the table of the McDonald’s where I was sitting. Yes, it was the one across the street from Bad Dog’s Big Car Nation, and no, I didn’t feel guilty sitting there when there was so much to do back at Monroe Street. I’d left Absalom in charge, and besides, I had to figure out what I was going to do next.
It was five minutes later, and I was no closer to a solution, when Absalom and Reggie slid into the booth across from me. Delmar and Crazy Jake were there, too. They sat in the next booth over.
“You were supposed to keep these guys working back at the cemetery,” I told Absalom.
He grinned and grabbed a handful of my fries. He pointed toward me with one of them. “You’re up to something. Except to keep an eye on Bad Dog, why else would you be hanging out here? You got your voodoo doll?”
I did, and to prove it, I pulled it out of my pocket and showed it to him, and he nodded, satisfied.
I wished things were that easy. “Keeping an eye on Bad Dog isn’t getting me anywhere,” I grumbled. The food on my tray was cold. That didn’t stop Absalom from polishing off the fries, or Reggie from grabbing the double cheeseburger. Jake had his own chocolate shake, so Delmar took mine. Since the food was all just a decoy to make me look like I belonged there, and I had no intention of eating that many empty calories, anyway, I didn’t mind. “I haven’t seen anything unusual or suspicious.”
“Like you thought you would?” Reggie chuckled. “You don’t think the guy’s actually going to come right out and admit he killed Sammi when he was trying to kill you, do you?”
I hadn’t told them why I was there. In fact, I hadn’t told them where I was going when I left the cemetery at lunchtime.
“She’s not the only one he killed,” I said, sure to keep my voice down. “I think he’s responsible for another murder, too, and for Warden Lamar’s death, since he died of embarrassment his first night in prison.”
Absalom didn’t look surprised. “So what are we going to do about it?”
“Well, for one thing, we can figure out the weird thing Bad Dog told somebody in prison. He said he had proof of who committed that murder twenty-five years ago. He said Bad Dog was sitting on the proof and laughing his ass off. What do you suppose that means?”
Not one of them had an answer.
I drummed my fingers some more, staring at the car lot while I thought about everything Dale Morgan told me. I watched the office and saw a couple people walk back and forth, including Bad Dog himself. I paid attention to the skillful way the salesman, Bud, ambushed a couple strolling by and dragged them around to the side of the lot to show them a car. I glanced up at the mechanical dog atop that pole.
And that’s when it hit me.
“Bad Dog’s sitting on the evidence and laughing his ass off,” I mumbled. Right before I popped out of my seat and headed for the door.
“Hey! What are you doing? Where are you going?” Absalom and the others scrambled to catch up.
“Back to Monroe Street,” I told them. “We’ve got work to do.” I would have gone right on sounding upbeat and confident if another thought hadn’t struck.
I craned my neck and looked up at that smiling, mechanical dog.
It was a long way to the top of that pole.
19
By this time, I knew better than to try and go anywhere without my team. They were going to follow me, anyway, whether I wanted them to or not. I figured it was easier and would cause less commotion if I just told them to meet me at the cemetery at two in the morning. They were dying to know what was up, but I refused to give anything away. We gathered outside the gates of Monroe Street, piled into my car, and we were back at Bad Dog’s Big Car Nation by two fifteen.
At that time of night, the neighborhood wasn’t exactly hopping, but it wasn’t dead quiet, either. The Mc-Donald’s had just closed, and we parked on a side street where we could watch the workers sweep up, turn out the lights, and drag to their cars. A couple lowriders bounced by, their radios blaring. We waited for them to pass before we got out of the car.
“You’re not plannin’ on breakin’ and enterin’, are you?” Absalom walked at my side, eyeing the darkened office. There were a couple security lights shining on the used car lot, one near the office door, and another aimed at the double doors that led into a side garage. There was a spotlight high up on the pole to illuminate the mechanical dog. He was doing his job, still waving. The blue neon light in the office window was on, too. Other than that, the place was as dark and as quiet as I’d hoped it would be. “You’re gonna get caught,” Absalom warned. “You’re gonna get in trouble. You are not the kind of woman who will do well in jail, I’ll tell you that. You’re gonna-”
“Trust me, I’m not even thinking about going inside the office.” I gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder at the same time I craned my neck to see to the top of the pole and the laughing, waving dog. “All I want to do is get a closer look.”
“At that?” Except for a cat mewling nearby, it was pretty quiet. Which is why I heard Delmar gulp. “It’s awfully high up.”
By this time we were standing at the bottom of the pole. I glanced up at the metal handholds that started four feet above my head, then down at the sneakers I’d been sensible enough to wear, then around at my team. “If one of you could give me a boost…”
“Up there?”
Since the question burst out of Absalom and Reggie at the same time, I wasn’t sure which of them to answer. “It’s the only way I’m going to be able to check out my theory. Dale Morgan said that Bad Dog said he had proof that he killed Vera. Well, Morgan didn’t exactly say it. I mean, he didn’t want to come right out and say it. But he sort of said it. He said that Raphael said that Bad Dog was sitting on the evidence and laughing his ass off.”
Reggie’s brow creased. The pit bull tattoo frowned. He crossed his arms over his chest. “If you think there’s evidence, then you should tell the cops and have them come look for it.”
“And they’d listen, right?” Nobody answered, but just in case any one of them was formulating a comeback, I supplied my logic. “Dale Morgan is never going to come out and admit what he told me about Bad Dog. He’s too scared, and I don’t blame him. Apparently, Bad Dog’s got a network that extends into prisons, and if word gets out that Morgan led the cops to this evidence, he’s dead meat. That means the cops won’t hear it from Morgan. And they’re not going to hear about Morgan from me. I’m already responsible for what happened to Sammi. I’m not going to let the same thing happen to Morgan. Even if he is smarmy.”
The Big Car Nation sign in the office window washed an icy blue color over Absalom’s face. “You can’t climb up there.”
“You’ll kill yourself,” Delmar chimed in.
It was, of course, a scenario I’d already considered, and rather than think about it again and chicken out the way I’d been tempted to chicken out ever since I came up with this plan, I closed in on the pole. “Come on, somebody help me out here. I don’t want to have to climb on the roof of a car to reach the bottom rung, but I’ll do it if I need to.”