Least Wanted (Sam McRae Mystery 2)

“Then someone else drove them. Maybe one of those men. Maybe another girl.”

“One thing’s clear,” I said. “I need to talk to Tina about what she and her so-called friends were up to that night. This appears to be her best—and only—hope of an alibi.”

“Yeah, I’m sure she be happy to tell you all about it, too.” The disgust in Little D’s voice was obvious. “I really don’t believe this shit.”

I heaved a sigh. “We have to take this to the police.”

“Those guys who picked up the package ain’t gonna be too pleased about that.”

“Neither will Diesel,” I said. “Which is why we have to do it as soon as possible.”

“Want me to make a copy for you first?” Little D waved the DVD around.

“That might be a good idea,” I said. “In fact, make three. I have two cases this could affect, and I’ll keep one for my files. I want you to hold onto all of them until I can take them to the police.”

“Sure,” he said. “You gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, unconvinced.

* * * * *

After Little D left, I made a list. Find Tina and find out her whereabouts that night. Get the copies of the DVD to the police. But first, I had to find another place to stay. I wouldn’t sleep a wink in my apartment, knowing Diesel had broken in with such ease.

I glanced at my watch. My downstairs neighbor, Russell Burke, would still be up at 8:00. I took the stairs two at a time.

Russell answered the door wrapped in a royal blue velour robe, clutching his evening drink. Bitsy, his Scottish terrier (‘Scottish terror’ as I like to call her) yapped at his feet.

“You might have noticed the, um, commotion a few hours ago.”

“I was out earlier, having dinner with a friend.” He peered at me. “What the hell happened to your face?”

I raised my hand to touch my cheek, recoiling at the pain shooting through my jaw and cursing myself for not covering the bruise with makeup. “I’m attracting some unwanted attention from the wrong people.” I sighed. “A guy broke into my apartment and attacked me. If a friend hadn’t come along, I’d be a lot worse off. It scared the shit out of me. I’m going to a motel for a few days. I want to make sure Oscar’s out of harm’s way. Could he stay with you while I’m gone?”

“Not again,” he said, with exaggerated annoyance. Russell had once honored a last-minute request to look after Oscar, when I was running from the Mob in another case. “When are you going to learn to stay out of trouble?”

“Not in the next three days or so.”

“Or so?” He raised an eyebrow. His head inclined to peer down his well-sculpted nose at me.

“I don’t think it’ll be more than two or three days. Really.”

“I’ll have to keep him in a room,” he said, in a nasal drone. “Separate from Bitsy.”

“Good idea,” I said. “Oscar has claws. He might mistake Bitsy for one of his toys.”

“Ha ha ha.” With each “ha,” I could smell the Scotch on Russell’s breath.

“One other thing,” I said.

“There’s more?”

“I don’t know if I’ll be back by Monday, and I’m expecting a FedEx that requires a signature. If I give you my spare key, would you sit in my place and sign for the package? It’s due between eight and three o’clock. I’d leave a note on the door, but I’d rather not advertise that I’m away.”

“Lord! Let me check my busy social calendar.”

“I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t extremely important. Please, Russell.”

He heaved a great sigh. “All right. I have nowhere to go. I can hang out in your place as easily as I can in mine.”