“Yeah, I guess not. None of the guys ever mentioned hanging out with her at the Crow’s Nest?”
“Nah. Only guy I ever watched her leave with was that older guy. You sure everything is okay?”
I nod, rolling my shoulders back. “Just kind of a shock.”
“Was to us, too. Don’t get a dead body like that very often. Not the young ones, anyway.” Staring off in silence, she blinks out of her thoughts. “So, you stayin’ this weekend? Thought I’d cook up a pot of chili tomorrow.”
“Yes. I just have to … deal with something first.”
“Nothing serious?”
Just an enormous Hawaiian bodyguard who refuses to leave.
I shake my head, pulling my duffel bag higher up onto my shoulder. “Hey, you think I can use Jack’s computer for a bit?” I’m curious to know if Nell ended up in the news, and if they happened to mention anything about her son. The owner of The Shoal often let me use his computer for school, when I couldn’t get to the library, for whatever reason.
“Knock yourself out. You want anything?”
“Maybe just some cheese fries and a Sprite?” It was a go-to favorite of mine when I was in high school, and the smile that lights up Aunt Midge’s face tells me she appreciates the nostalgic request.
“On it.”
The wooden chair creaks when I sit down at the dinosaur computer that’s still equipped with a disk- and CD-drive. Ages seem to pass before the internet browser finally pops up onto the screen, and when I click the search bar, it’s a ten second pause before I can type in the first inquiry.
Anelle Anders Crow’s Nest Death.
The only relevant result that pops up is a brief article in the Gazette that mentions she died of a drug overdose, and that police are investigating. Nothing more. No mention of her son, or how long she’s been a resident on the island. Nothing but a small bulletin on her death.
There’s also no other trace of her. No Facebook. No Instagram. No social media, at all, which isn’t exactly strange to me, seeing as I don’t keep up with that myself. Mostly, I’m just struck by how little there is on her death.
Just another junkie.
It’s sad to me, that someone can live and work hard, and the most anyone can say about her is that she died of an overdose.
Aunt Midge enters the office, the concern on her face creasing her forehead as she sets the food down on the desk. “Hey, there’s a man out there. The one I was telling you about, who came in with that girl. Says he’s an investigator. Wants to ask you some questions about her, I guess. If you don’t want to talk to him, I’ll throw him out. Must’ve known you two worked together, or something?”
“I’ll talk to him.” I push up from the chair and follow Aunt Midge into the bar, taking note of only a handful of regulars scattered about, though it’ll soon be packed with tourists.
Standing off from them is a heavyset man with gray hair and glasses, exactly as Aunt Midge described, who waves with what seems like a friendly smile. As I approach, he holds out a hand toward me, which I shake with some reluctance. “Al Goodman. You’re Isadora?”
“Izzy is fine.”
“Nell told me a lot about you. Can I have just a quick minute of your time?”
“Sure.”
We find a booth toward the back, and I scan the room to make sure Makaio hasn’t wandered in. The last thing I need is to have him report back to Lucian that I met with the same investigator Nell was fired for chatting with.
Aunt Midge shuffles over with my fries and Sprite, setting them down on the table. “Can I get you anything?” she asks the stranger.
“Just a Coke.” As soon as she walks off, he leans in. “I’m assuming you’ve heard about your co-worker, Nell?”
“It’s a small town. I’d venture to say most know about it by now.”
“I’m just going to get straight to the point.” His eyes scan the room, before he leans in closer. “In spite of what you’ve been told, Nell didn’t die specifically from a heroin overdose.”
Branches of ice climb my spine as I stare back at him, searching his eyes for a lie. “She told me she abused drugs in the past.”
“She did, yes. Which made this awfully convenient. But she did not overdose on heroin. My sources are sketchy, at best, but that much was confirmed. On the streets, it’s called gray death because it looks like concrete. It’s heroin, fentanyl, and an elephant tranquilizer. Dangerous and deadly. Therefore, I have reason to believe she was murdered.”
“By?” My heart gallops inside my chest, and I wonder if he’ll come out and tell me it was Lucian.
“If I knew, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you now.”
“You think I know who killed her?”
“I think if anyone has insight into who might’ve wanted to kill her, it’s you.”
“I hardly knew her. We worked together for a few weeks, is all.”
“And I know the nature of your working together, for the most part. What I don’t know is what led to her being fired.”
I don’t even know if this guy is the real deal. He could be a reporter. “She was skimming pills and spreading rumors. Look, I’ll admit, I only have a vague understanding of what you do from old eighties shows, but don’t you have access to police reports and stuff? I don’t think the Blackthornes decided to show up at her motel room and pump her full of drugs.”
“She didn’t rent that room. It was under a different name. One I can’t seem to track down, because it doesn’t seem to be associated with an actual body. And in this case, the police haven’t been playing nice with me.”
“Can you just … tell me what you’re thinking, then? Because I really hate puzzles.”
“Are you familiar with Schadenfreude?” Once again, his eyes make a sweep of our surroundings, and he’s practically stretched across the table, leaning into me.
“No. What is that? German, or something?”
“It’s a German word, yes. In essence, it means finding pleasure in another’s suffering. It’s also the name of a secret group I’ve been investigating for a while now. Would you know of any group that might pay for the pleasure of watching someone suffer?”
Again, I find myself contemplating how much I want to tell this guy, and thoughts of Giulia and her daughter pop into my head. “I might’ve heard of it. But I wouldn’t know anything about it.”
“Assuming you did hear about it, how would you have learned of it?”
As paranoid as Giulia was, I’m not going to throw her into this guy’s lap. “Who hasn’t heard of it?”
“A number of people, that’s who. They happen to be very good at keeping themselves hidden below the radar. I’m only privy to their name through a contact who was found dead in a New York hotel room, a month ago. I’m here to investigate the activities of this group.”
“Who hired you?”
“I can’t divulge names, but it’s the family of a girl who ended up dead.”
“Local?”
“Again, I’ll not go into detail, except to say, I believe she may have somehow gotten tangled up in this group.”