Murder at The Blues Stop Read online

  Cara laughed. “Sounds like Shane. I’m surprised he didn’t show you a spreadsheet where he’d worked out all the variables.”

  “He more or less did that verbally.” I’d rather talk about anything other than how I hadn’t gotten lucky last night. “I’m starving. How about you?” Gabriella pointed toward the diner.

  Cara nodded. “I’ll pick up lunch if you’ll watch the phones. I have to get out of here for a minute or two, or I’ll go stir-crazy.”

  “No problem.”

  “Do you mind if I use your slicker? My umbrella is no good with this kind of wind.”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  I didn’t think much of it until seconds later when the unimaginable happened.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The sound raised the hair on the back of my neck. I couldn’t describe what I’d heard other than to say a thud, a squeal of tires, and horns blaring. But an ominous premonition skittered through my mind.

  I raced to the window and spotted a body lying in the street. The bright orange of the slicker told the story.

  Sprinting across the street, I elbowed my way through the gathering crowd. As I knelt beside Cara, my tears mixed with the steady rain.

  “Cara.” My heart beat so hard I thought it might jump out of my chest. As I felt for and found a pulse, I let go of the breath I’d been holding. Cara was alive. That was all that mattered. I held on to her hand, willing Cara’s heart to continue pumping blood and sustaining life.

  Keeping my focus on her while hoping her eyes would flutter open, I felt rather than saw the crowd part to allow the paramedics access. I wouldn’t let go of Cara’s hand even when they asked. Instead, I shook my head and kept calling Cara’s name over and over again, hoping she’d show that sly, little smile. But she didn’t. Nor did she open her eyes.

  “You’re going to have to move back, ma’am.” One of the paramedics touched my shoulder as he spoke. “We need to be able to do our job.”

  Reluctantly, I moved away, but only enough to appease them. I didn’t want to lose sight for fear the poor girl would die.

  They strapped a surgical collar about Cara’s neck and put her on a stretcher board. They’d already started an IV by the time they hoisted her into the back of the waiting ambulance.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Cara Evans.” Although my mind could barely focus, I managed to give them the little information I had. I didn’t have James’ phone number, but I suspected Shane would. “Where are you taking her?”

  “Northwestern Hospital.”

  “Don’t let her die.” Fear rattled through me as I selected his number on my phone. “Shane, there’s been an accident.” As I related the facts, he remained eerily quiet.

  “I’ll call James and go to the hospital.” His voice broke.

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  Although the cab ride couldn’t have been far, traffic, red lights, and worry made the trip interminable. Shane was already at the hospital by the time I arrived. He talked to a young man who could only be James. After an introduction, I hugged him, knowing there was nothing I could say to make anything easier. Then I hugged Shane because it made me feel better. Based on the warmth in his hug, I thought it might have done the same thing for him.

  A young cop named Nathan Gill introduced himself. “Ma’am, I understand from the paramedics you were at the scene of the accident. Could you tell me what happened?”

  I shook my head. “She went across the street to grab some lunch, but I didn’t see anything. Can’t the driver of the car tell you what happened?”

  “It was a hit and run. We found the car abandoned a couple of blocks away. It had been reported stolen earlier in the day, so it doesn’t do us much good.”

  My breath caught. Why would anybody do that? Were they drunk, drugged, or something else?

  Instead of focusing on the endless questions invading my thoughts, I went to James and held his hand, while Shane paced the length of the room. None of us spoke.

  It was four thirty before the doctor came through the doors. We rushed to meet him. I couldn’t tell a thing from the expression on the man’s face and held my breath.

  Despite the hyperactivity around them, I could have sworn the doctor’s mouth moved in slow motion. Each word seemed truncated. It took my brain several seconds to register what he’d said.

  “She’s in intensive care. She has a broken femur in each leg. We’ve removed her spleen, and she has a concussion. The good news is there is definite brain activity.”

  “Is she going to make it?” James’ voice shook as tears welled like giant droplets of water in his eyes.

  “I can’t say for sure, but I’m optimistic. She’s young. She’s healthy. All things are in her favor. I expect she’ll be in a coma for a while, but that means her brain is healing. It could be a couple of hours or days. You never know with head injuries.”

  “Can I see her?”

  “You’re her husband, right?” The doctor looked at James, who nodded in reply. “Of course. I’ll take you to her room.”

  Shane finally spoke. “You’d better get ready. I called Mack, and he has his friend Stu coming in to bartend for me tonight. I’m going to stay at the hospital.”

  The last place I wanted to be was at The Blues Stop, but I knew at the same time I had to go. I couldn’t do anything here.

  “I’ll take a cab and get dressed.”

  “If you don’t mind packing the rest of your things and bringing them to the club, I’ll pick you up later and bring everything to my place.”

  “No problem.” Because I saw he needed it more than he realized, I hugged him and gave him a peck on the cheek.

  ***

  The next morning, I awoke to find a note from Shane, along with instructions on using his fancy in-the-wall coffee maker. Opting for a freshly brewed cup of espresso, I sipped at it before walking onto the back porch.

  I took a seat in one of the two cushioned chairs. The neighborhood was quiet, despite the number of people living in the area. If I leaned over the railing slightly, I could see the lake and park a couple of blocks over. I couldn’t help but wonder if this moment of peace might be my last for a while. Then again, maybe Shane’s pessimism had rubbed off on me.

  Shortly after ten, the phone rang. “Hello.”

  “Cara’s showing signs of coming out of the coma.” I heard the relief intermixed with hopefulness in Shane’s voice.

  “That’s incredible news. James must be ecstatic.”

  “Understatement. Listen, I’ve got a lot of appointments today, and then I’ve got the classes at the school this afternoon. I’d like to stop by the hospital after that. Could you catch a cab to the club tonight?”

  “No problem. Maybe I can go to the office and answer the phones. That way everything won’t be getting transferred to your cell.”

  “That would be great. I left the new key card on the kitchen counter. I’ll swing by the club later and pick you up.”

  “Sounds good.”

  After dressing and taking a cab to the office, I went inside. While I didn’t know much about computers or typing, I could answer the phones and refer anything difficult to Shane. I was doing just that when a man walked through the door.

  “May I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Shane.” The guy scanned the office, taking note of everything. After the other night, his behavior made me nervous, or maybe the combination of all that had happened over the last day and a half had made even inconsequential gestures seem ominous.

  “I’m sorry, but he’s on a case. May I have him call you?”

  “Don’t bother.” He placed his hands on his hips. “Give him a message for me, will you?”

  “Sure.” I took out a piece of paper and pen, ready to jot down the information.

  “Tell him to drop the case he’s working on for Vince Perry. It will only land him in trouble.”

  Not quite expecting that kind of message, I gulped back the fear b
locking my throat. “And you are?”

  “Daniel O’Neil.”

  Without another word, the man walked back out the door. Not just any man—Shane’s stepfather. Now that I knew that, the resemblance to Patrick was unmistakable.

  Immediately, I picked up the phone to call Shane. Instead, I got his voice mail and left a message about Daniel’s visit. I’d try him later. But I needed to tell somebody about the visit.

  Vince Perry? That had to be the Marcos case. The defendant was still in a coma as far as I knew. Why hadn’t I paid more attention in court?

  I went through the Rolodex next to the phone, spotting Vince Perry’s name and putting in the number. “I’m calling from O’Neil & Ryan Investigations and would like to talk with Mr. Perry please.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Perry is out of the office currently. Would you like his voice mail?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll try back later.” With that, I hung up. Turning over the card, I saw a small notation on the back—CP 555-6341. Cell phone?

  I punched in the numbers. After a few rings, voice mail kicked in, and I left a message.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Where the hell was he?

  It was nearly eleven, and Shane hadn’t shown up at the club. I had tried to call him several times on his cell phone during the course of the night, but voice mail kept picking up.

  Then I called the hospital and asked them to page him, thinking he might have stopped by—or God forbid—Cara had taken a turn for the worse. When he didn’t answer the page, I asked the duty nurse in intensive care if Shane was there.

  When he wasn’t, I asked to talk to James. He filled me in with good news about Cara. But he hadn’t seen or heard from Shane since earlier that morning. I thanked him and told him to keep in touch before I hung up.

  Then I worried.

  Shane was always at The Blues Stop. Except for last night when he stayed with Cara and James. If he wasn’t going to show for one reason or another, he would have called. And he also hadn’t visited Cara. Something must have happened.

  Then again, maybe he was at home, getting a good night’s sleep and had turned off his phone. Maybe he was out on a date and saw my number pop up and didn’t want to be disturbed. But wouldn’t he have checked his messages? And wouldn’t he have checked in with James this evening?

  Why did he blow off my message? Didn’t Shane understand I wouldn’t have called unless I needed to talk to him? I didn’t figure his stepfather’s warning was for show. Since Vince Perry hadn’t returned my phone call either, my nervousness ratcheted up another notch or two.

  I had a horrible thought. What if Shane had had a giant fight with Daniel, his stepfather, and things had gotten ugly and one or the other was now dead? Based on the level of dysfunction between them, anything could have happened. Shane might have listened to my message, but instead of calling back, headed right over to Daniel’s. I hadn’t considered that possibility.

  I would feel awful if something went horribly out of control between the two men. How could I find out if something bad had happened? I opened my purse and fingered the card with Patrick’s number on it. But how would I broach the subject? I chewed on my lip and tried to think of a way to phrase the question that didn’t sound too accusatory or scary.

  I didn’t like having all this speculation simmering around my brain without anyone to talk to about it. It could be nothing, or it might very well be something really serious.

  Either way, with only partial facts, I couldn’t possibly know. This whole thing was nerve-wracking.

  Even Donna noticed my distraction. “What’s going on with you tonight?” Since her son had been casted and was back to normal, she’d come to work tonight.

  I filled her in on everything, especially Daniel’s visit. “That’s why I’m so worried. For all I know, both Shane and Daniel could have had a shoot-out or something. Why else wouldn’t he have shown up tonight?”

  Donna shook his head. “He’s probably knee-deep in one of his cases. With Garrett gone, I’m sure he’s extra busy. To be honest, I’m surprised he’s been around here as much as he has. Then again, I shouldn’t be.” She stretched her short legs out in front of her. “What’s with it between you two?”

  Good question. Every time it felt as if we were making progress, coming to some kind of weird agreement, there’d be a huge backslide. His not checking in with me was a typical example. I tried to work myself into an angry lather over his inconsiderate behavior, but I didn’t manage to get too far before worry took over.

  “We kind of had a moment the other night. It’s a long story, but suffice it to say I threw myself at him, and he shut me down.” I shook my head. “Embarrassing but true.”

  Donna lit up with a spark of energy. “So how far did you get exactly? Any near nakedness involved?”

  “Not even close. Only some intense kissing...”

  “Now that’s a damn shame.” She shook her head.

  “You’re telling me.” How could I explain the chills that raced up and down my arms every time I relived that brief but intense kiss?

  She laughed. “Talking about sex isn’t going to get the next set planned.”

  “True.” I nodded and forced my mind to focus. “I was thinking about incorporating the guitar.” I pointed toward the corner, but it wasn’t there. “Where did it go?”

  “It hasn’t been there since I came in tonight.”

  “Mack must have put it back.” I stood and walked down the hall toward the closet. Donna followed.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Mack’s near scream made me jump as if I’d done something wrong.

  “I was trying to find the guitar. It wasn’t in the room so I thought you might have put it back in the closet.” My already frayed nerves were strained to near the breaking point.

  “I didn’t touch the damn thing. Besides, it’s time for your next set,” he barked in response.

  “Geez, Mack, you need to chill. You scared the poor girl half to death.” Donna scowled at him, and he retreated.

  When I came out for the next set, I noticed Patrick in the audience. I waved, and he responded, but he seemed preoccupied. In fact, he didn’t seem to be drinking if the can of pop at his fingertips was any indication. I almost got the impression he was on duty, based on the way he observed the crowd as if looking for something or someone. Each time the door opened, his glance shifted in that direction. He had to be waiting for somebody. But then, about ten minutes before close, he left without a word.

  I glanced at the clock. Two a.m. and still no Shane.

  Unease and fear had worked through me during the course of the evening with each passing moment that he’d remained a ‘no show.’ Now that it was time to go home, and he still hadn’t arrived and hadn’t called, my discomfort escalated. Something was wrong. I could feel it.

  “Shane didn’t call, did he?” I finally asked Mack while I waited for Donna.

  Despite his normal nosiness when Shane wasn’t around, tonight he’d kept a relatively low profile except for his earlier outburst. “Nope, but with Stu tending bar, he doesn’t need to be here.” He shifted back and forth from one foot to the other.

  Donna emerged from the back, and I picked up my purse and got ready to leave. “We’re out of here.”

  Once outside, I glanced up and down the street, searching for Shane’s car. The black one down the block looked like his, but there were probably a lot of the same cars around Chicago. But maybe I should walk over and check it out.

  A shiver rumbled along my spine. I’d had enough intrigue to last a lifetime. Right now, I wished I could conjure up Shane on the spot. It would have made me feel a whole lot better.

  “Do you think Mack had anything to do with Shane not being here tonight?” They didn’t like each other. They could have had a ginormous fight. The idea grew by leaps and bounds inside my brain until I was halfway certain I might start screaming or singing at any moment.

  “Like a fistfight or something?�
� Donna spurted out a laugh. “Reality check, Gabriella. Mack could be wielding a machine gun, and Shane would still find a way to beat the crap out of him.”

  “Hmmmm. I guess you’re right.” Still, doubt lingered in the back of my mind. “Where do you suppose he is then?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe he was feeling kind of awkward at not taking you up on your offer the other day and needed to protect himself from your advances.” Donna snickered as she walked toward her car. “Do you want me to give you a ride?”

  I thought about her flippant words...wouldn’t that be embarrassing? Then again, Shane wasn’t the type to beat around the bush. He’d straight up tell me to back off, wouldn’t he? I know damn well he wouldn’t worry about hurting my feelings.

  “You coming?” Donna’s voice pulled me back to the problem at hand.

  “That’s okay. I’ll take a cab. I think I see one coming now.” And I really wanted to check out that car to see if it was Shane’s. Then I’d go wherever it made the most sense to look for him—starting with the hospital.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Maybe we can check on Vanessa Young and see if she’s able to talk to us yet.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  After Donna pulled away, I made my way down the block. The closer I got to the car, the more convinced I became that it was Shane’s. While I didn’t know his license plate number, the back window had been replaced after the gunshot incident, and there was still a sticker from the installation company in the right-hand corner.

  But as I got closer, nerves began to take over. The eerie silence on the street in combination with the light breeze brought goose bumps to my arms.

  Hustling along the last fifty feet or so in my heels, which weren’t meant for doing anything even resembling running, I spotted what I’d suspected, the small decal advertising A-1 Auto Glass Company affixed to the corner in back.

  At that moment, I knew deep inside my bones something had happened. Where could he be? I peered inside, thinking maybe he’d passed out or was hurt. But no Shane. Maybe he’d just pulled up and we’d somehow missed each other. I shook my head. That would be virtually impossible. Something had happened to him.