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I step around, lift the book from her hands, and turn off her lamp. Dropping my towel, I slide into bed next to her.
Somehow, I doubt she’ll mind I was too tired to put any pants on.
On Saturday afternoon, we drive to the smoke shop Harvey Finklestein owns—our newest lead. I prep Charlie on the way. If asked, she’s Pepper Woods, who is getting married to Chase Reeves of the Denver Kings in two weeks and is looking for her parents.
That’s it. She doesn’t ask questions or say anything else. Especially since I don’t know who we’re dealing with.
A heavy scent of tobacco fills the air as the bell above the door jingles. I glance down at Charlie at my side as she scopes the place out.
Dark wooden shelves line the walls. They’re stacked with rows of wrapped cigars. I squeeze her hand as we approach the man behind the counter, a muscular figure with a graying beard. His eyes narrow with curiosity and I realize we’re not his typical customers.
“Good afternoon.” I keep my voice steady and hand the man my business card. “My name is Noah Reeves. I’m here to see Mr. Harvey.” A personal tactic of mine is to pretend I don't know everything about the person I'm coming to see.
The man scans the card. “First name Harvey.” He corrects gruffly.
“My apologies. Is there a last name, Mr…”
“Harvey.”
“Alright. I'll cut right to the chase, Harvey. I'm working on a case from several years ago. For a man named Robert Woods.”
“You cops?”
“We’re not. You have my word.”
“I don’t sell explosives.”
“We’re not here about any explosives," I lie. "We’re here on a personal matter.” I turn to Charlie. “This…is Pepper Woods.”
“Woods?” Harvey repeats, his eyes shifting to Charlie.
“Yes. She and my brother are getting married in two weeks. About nine years ago, her parents disappeared and I’m told you may have heard from them. Robert and Emma Woods.”
He grunts, softening slightly, but his eyes remain guarded. “I might remember something, but it’s been a long time.”
“How long?” Charlie asks impatiently.
He turns to her. “Two, maybe three years ago, he and his wife came around here. Left a stolen vehicle with me and asked me to return it.”
“What were they doing with a stolen vehicle?”
He shrugs. “All they said is they went to visit a small town not far from here, lookin’ for something…or someone.”
“Why did they come to you?”
He deadpans me. “Maybe they wanted a box of cigars.”
“Right. Of course.”
“Do you know where I can find them?” Charlie asks again, clearly unable to follow directions.
The man turns his gaze to her.
“Please,” she pleads, ignoring my warning glare. “I think they came looking for me. I…I can’t walk down the aisle without them.”
Harvey’s eyes flicker between us. He reaches for a cigar and lights it. “What makes you think I can help?”
“So far you’re the only one who’s admitted to seeing them recently.” I offer.
