The Dangerous Edge of Things

CHAPTER 38

Back in his apartment, I remembered the number easily. I’d used it enough.

“I was wondering when you’d call,” Garrity said.

“Dylan Flint’s turned up DOA. You heard?”

“Ear to the ground.”

“Murdered?”

“Looking like. But this is real early to be speculating who or why. I do have one piece of news, however, that’ll make your little heart thump. Eliza’s girlfriend came in this afternoon.”

“Nikki?”

“Now how did you—”

“Doesn’t matter. Just spill.”

He spilled. According to Nikki, the last event Eliza and Dylan went to was the Mardi Gras party. Nikki reported that even though Eliza left with him afterward, the next morning she suddenly called off whatever deal they’d had, which pissed Dylan off royally.

“What made her do that?” I said.

“Nikki thinks it had something to do with the smacking around somebody gave Eliza late Tuesday night.”

I remembered the bruises detailed in the coroner’s report, the ones Bulldog denied inflicting. Eliza had obviously pissed somebody off that night, and if it wasn’t Bulldog—and I was betting it wasn’t—it was somebody at that party.

Garrity agreed. “Somebody who didn’t like her showing up with Camera Boy.”

“But what were those two up to?”

“Nikki had no clue. Eliza never said, not even to Dylan. The boy seemed clueless.”

“If that’s the case, why is he dead?”

“He certainly thought he knew something, and rumor has it he was gonna spill it to the cops. So maybe whatever secret he was close to was the kind of thing people get really paranoid about keeping.”

“You think somebody shot him and dumped him in the Hooch to shut him up?”

“People’ve been dumped in the Hooch for less.”

“Revenge is just a form of wild justice.”

“That right?”

“So they say,”

He exhaled. “Like I told you, ear to the ground. I’ll let you know if we find out something. But right now, all we’ve got is a dead guy who stinks of coincidence.”

“Dead girl. Dead guy. Burned-up meth lab.”

“Yep.”

“Rumors and rumors of rumors.”

“Welcome to my world,” he said.

“You’re welcome to it,” I replied.

***

After that, I went to the convenience store for some Winston Lights and a six-pack of Sam Adams, both of which I took onto Trey’s terrace. It was misty weather, prophetic of rains to come. I sat on a chaise lounge underneath a narrow sliver of roof and took out my phone.

Then I called Eric. To my utter astonishment, he answered. His tone was matter-of-fact, and I kept mine the same as I told him the latest. He didn’t seem surprised.

“Dylan was causing problems for a lot of people. At least the whole mess is over with.”

“Sure it is,” I replied, opening the cigarettes. “Tell me about Gabriella.”

“You know I can’t do that. I work with Trey, he’s—”

“I wasn’t asking you to talk about Trey, just Gabriella. Unless she’s your client too, in which case, just screw it, I don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of figuring any of this out.”

There was a pause. “They met through the Beaumonts, and she took him on as a…project would be the best word. Self-described sexual healer, certified massage therapist. I think she does a little fortune-telling on the side.”

I remembered the tarot deck in Trey’s desk. “Of course she does.” I searched the grocery bag for the lighter. “I cannot believe I am having this conversation.”

“Frankly, neither can I. Why are you?”

“Because she’s connected. I just don’t know how.”

His voice softened a little. “You sound upset.”

“It’s been a long day. I need sleep.”

“So come home. We’ll talk.” A long pause. “There are some things I need to apologize for.”

“It’s okay—”

“No, it’s not. We said some hurtful things to each other, and we need to process that.”

Process. He wanted me to process.

“The thing is, I’m staying over here tonight.”

“That shop isn’t safe, Tai, it’s—”

“I’m not at the shop.”

“Rico’s?”

“No.”

Another pause, this one ripe with unsaid something. He exhaled softly. “Fine. Whatever you decide. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Are you going to the reception tomorrow?”

“I’m guessing I’m not welcome there.” I lit the cigarette, pulled in a soft, deep drag. “You doing okay?”

“I’m fine. I’ve been staying busy.”

“Staying busy is not helping me get to fine. I just keep veering farther and farther away from fine.”

A curious pause. “Are you smoking again?”

“ No.” I tapped ash into an empty Pellegrino bottle. “Listen, I gotta go. But we’ll talk soon, I promise.”

When he was gone, I sat and stared at the phone for a long time, finishing one cigarette and starting another. The smoke felt lovely in my mouth, velvety and warm, as I watched the streetlights and the bruised purple sky beyond. The rain dripped on my hair, my face. I didn’t wipe it away.

***

I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep until my head jerked. The sky had blackened to jet layered with yellow, the infamous Atlanta haze. I checked my watch. Twelve-fifteen. Trey wasn’t back yet.

I slid open the terrace door and ducked inside the darkened apartment. A pencil crunched underfoot next to his desk. When I bent to pick it up, I saw his briefcase lying beside the door, dumped haphazardly on its side. Suddenly I noticed the disarray on his desk, the scattered papers.

“Trey?” I called.

No answer. I closed the terrace door and turned on the light.

I saw him on the kitchen floor, curled on his side, his head at the base of the refrigerator. I ran over and put a hand on his shoulder. He was shaking. Even worse, his breathing was shallow and fast, his arms wrapped tightly around his midsection.

I retrieved my cell phone and dialed Garrity’s number. He’d barely answered when I started in on him.

“Trey is sick, really sick.”

“What do you mean, sick?”

“He’s lying on the floor, he won’t answer me, he’s shaking all over. Damn it, Garrity, I need his doctor.”

“Hold on.” I heard him rummaging through papers. He found the number and gave it to me. “I’ll be right there, okay? Stay with him.”

I hung up the phone. Like I was going anywhere.

I went to Trey and brushed the hair from his forehead. At my touch, his eyes flew open. They were glazed with pain and exhaustion.

“Go away,” he said.

“Not a chance.” I brushed back another piece of hair, and he reached up and knocked my hand away.

“I have to get up.”

“Not now.”

“Now.” He pushed to standing and buckled, catching himself before he hit the ground. I grabbed him, and he put one arm around me, no argument this time. He was almost deadweight, but his legs still worked, so with one arm around his waist and the whole of his upper body leaning against me, I carried him to bed.

“Talk to me, Trey, what happened?”

He mumbled something. It was pretty incoherent, but I got enough to understand that there had been nausea and vomiting and other debilitating stuff.

I sat beside him. “I’ll get a bucket or something. And some more towels. Be still while I call the doctor.”

He babbled a weak protest, something completely incomprehensible, but I caught the last part as I got out my phone.

“It’s too late anyway,” he said. “Too late.”

***

The doctor diagnosed him with probable food poisoning and said the same things doctors always said—watch for fever, keep him in bed, small doses of fluids when he could hold them down. She was calling in a prescription for promethazine, but it wouldn’t do much good until Trey could keep it in down. The worst would be over in six hours, she said.

I called Garrity back and asked him to drop by the pharmacy. He arrived an hour later with the prescription. I took it from his hands without touching him and wouldn’t let him in the door.

“Look, it could be food poisoning, or it could be a virus, in which case, I’m doomed. Which means that the least I can do is not doom you too.”

Garrity gave me that cop look. “So what happened to make you think you’re doomed?”

“Why are you asking me this now? You’re breathing in pathogens as we speak. Go away.”

He crossed his arms and looked at me, hard, but didn’t step over the threshold. “Did you two—”

“No, and stop looking at me like you’re the one who can read minds.” I started to shut the door. He put his foot in it.

“We’re going to talk about this,” he said.

I shoved the door closed, locked it too. And then I went to take care of Trey.