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“From scratch!” Paige said. “I want to help cook!”
“We’d better get started then,” Grandma Tate said, looking over to Rachel. “Meatballs aren’t exactly the easiest thing to make.”
Rachel nodded and grabbed a cookie from the package on the table. As she bit into it, the sound of her phone ringing filled the kitchen, though she couldn’t remember where she’d left it. She traced the tinging over to the counter where she’d made her sandwich and saw JACK on the caller display.
“Excuse me ladies,” she said. “I need to take this.”
“Tell Mr. Jack I saidhey,” Paige said with a bit of teasing in her tone. Rachel couldn’t help but smile; Jack and the doctors from Emerson’s office were the only calls she got any more, and she was never exactly thrilled to take calls from the doctors.
She took the phone out onto the patio—the location that was starting to feel like the center of her life now—and answered the call. “Hey, Jack. Any breaks yet?”
“Well, I wouldn’t call it a break per se, but we got some information out of Redman for sure. The downside of it is that he’s not our killer. His alibi checks out. And it’s an alibi that’s going to keep him in a holding cell for a bit while keeping a few DEA agents busy for a few days.”
“You’resureit’s not him.”
“Positive. If you’ve got a few minutes, I can walk you through it. I know you wanted to stay updated.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. Where are you?”
“In my car, heading back to Archer Street to meet with some of the DEA guys.”
“Okay… so how’d the interrogation go?”
“It was a lot,” Jack said with a sigh. “It took a medic to get him to calm down. They gave him a shot of something that got him mostly clear-headed within about fifteen minutes and then he threw up twice. So that was fun. After he chugged down a ton of water, I was finally able to get his story out of him. He told it easily enough—like he was almost glad to tell me. He said he’d gone to a support group about three weeks after getting his prostate cancer diagnosis—just wanting to meet some people that could sympathize with him. He said one guy there told him about this house that was essentially like a playground of sorts… a place to ease the pain and live it up during your final stretch of life. That house on Archer Street is basically a brothel and drug den. He said he’s been there only three times but during those visits, he’s seen at least seven different prostitutes there. He said during his second visit, he saw two men gambling for about ten grand over a game of Russian Roulette.”
“My God… likeactualRussian Roulette?”
“Yeah. But he says the guy that set the game up never even put a bullet in the gun. I saw a revolver when I was in there, and I wonder…yeah, so anyway… Redman broke down his visits to this place as follows: the first time he visited, he did heroin for the first time. Hardly any at all, but he said he could tell right away why it’s such a dangerous drug. He said he went back to his place and sold off a lot of things—which I suppose is why his apartment seemed so sparse when he stopped by. The next time he went, he had a nice chunk of money. Shot up again, played some poke and won a few grand, and then paid for a prostitute that was on hand. That was only three days ago… which happens to be the day Leery was killed.”
“That’s his alibi?”
“Yeah. And there’s… well, regrettably, there’s quite a bit of video footage to back it up. We know that Leery was killed in that parking garage somewhere between five and seven. But base don’t wo different eyewitnesses and three different video lips I’ve seen, Seth Redman was at the Archer Street house fromat leasttwo in the afternoon until midnight.”
She was shocked at the news but also couldn’t help but feel a bit happy for Jack. Even if Redman wasn’t their killer, they’d busted up several highly illegal activities in a single location.
“So, how long is the list on that location?” she asked.
“Good grief, where to even start? Heroin, coke, strains of marijuana that are not medicinal, prostitution, unlicensed firearms… and I’m sure the DEA will find more.”
“Sounds like you’ll be busy for the foreseeable future.”
“Well, it sure as hell beats tat white van case,” he said with a laugh. “How are you? Any suspicions from Grandma Tate?”
“No. Just some guilt on my end.”
“Don’t feeltooguilty. It was your hunch that got us this far.” He went quiet for a moment and then said, “I was hoping to sneak by for dinner, maybe bring something. But I don’t know how long I’ll be at Archer Street.”
“Well, you’re welcome to come by to whenever,” she said. “All I ask is that if it’s later eleven, text me or something.”
“You need to sleep.”
“Yeah, but I had a nap right in the middle of the day today, so my sleep schedule is already thrown off.”
“If you say so. Depending on how Archer Street and the follow-up goes, I might just take you up on that.”
“Good. For now, though, I need to go help make some meatballs for dinner. Take care of yourself out there.”
“I always do,” he said with a smile in his voice.
