Fraud Twice Felt, page 9
Was this just some paranoid fear because of that and the way he’d lost Grady? Or was there something more, a premonition?
He sat up. The euphoria from before was gone, and his stomach was turning circles. “You’ll be fine on your own, over at Nis University. Right?” He hated that his voice quavered.
Elliot peeked around the corner. “Of course I will. Remember, I lived on the streets by myself for over five years. I’ll keep my eyes open. You take care of yourself too, okay? No hospital trips for either of us for the next ten years.”
Derwin swore he felt every heartbeat thudding in his chest. He looked at Elliot’s eyes, those blue, blue eyes. He had to trust that this time the universe wouldn’t take from him. “Sounds good.” Groaning, he got up.
They had work to do.
Elliot arrived by bus to the campus of Nis University, home of the Grizzly Bears. He was dressed as he imagined a student would dress, which wasn’t much different than how he’d dressed as a freshman in high school. No backpack, but he’d chosen jeans, and gotten himself a school sweatshirt. Nothing like the leather pants and silk shirts that he’d worn as a rentboy when on the job or cruising the bars.
I look like a dork.
Nis University was one of the few areas inside the inner city with lots of trees and grass; the greenery reminded him of the suburbs where he’d grown up. With so much plant life, the university security had to be extra vigilant about demon spirits, since they seemed linked to nature. He spotted a patrolling officer almost immediately, and the hair on the back of his neck rose.
Two things he’d never grow comfortable with were law enforcement agents and agents of the government. It wasn’t like his Oddity would ever go away. Who knew? It might strengthen with age. He could imagine being captured when he was seventy years old and the government trying to use him. Elliot shuddered.
Focus on the task. Connie had given him Billy’s class schedule. She’d mentioned art was Billy’s major, which was a pretty stupid major—not much earning potential. If art was Billy’s favorite subject, then his art professor might know more about him than his other teachers. Plus Billy might have friends in the class to question. Elliot checked his pocket for the photo of Billy that Connie had given him. He’d use it if people couldn’t recall Billy by name.
Hope everything is safe with you, Derwin. This whole plan was making him nervous. Still, it made sense. Elliot hurried across the campus and found the art building, tucked away behind several other buildings. He passed by displays of student artwork, and climbed the stairs to the third floor to find the first classroom.
Mr. Brunswick was the Illustration instructor, and he didn’t look like an artist; he looked like a businessman, in a suit and tie. In the classroom, students were packing up their things and preparing to leave.
Nervously, Elliot approached him once class was out. “Mr. Brunswick? I was wondering if you could help me. I’m searching for a friend, Billy Barton.”
The professor whirled and glared at him, then threw a piece of charcoal at one of the easels. “Do you realize your friend has missed an entire week of class? I’m about ready to drop his ass from the roster. I told all my students at the beginning of the semester that I expect them to be on time, every period, and that they’d better have a really great excuse, like they’re having an appendix removed, if they miss my class. So many kids think they have talent, think that it takes nothing to become a successful artist. Well I have news for them! It takes dedication and hard work. Your friend Billy is a brilliant sketcher but a terrible slacker, as far as I’m concerned. I don’t care how excellent his rendering skills are.”
Elliot winced but stood still during the rant, keeping his expression neutral and his mouth shut. Once Mr. Brunswick paused for breath, he spoke. “Actually, professor, I was hoping you’d heard something from him. He’s missing. Do you know if any of his friends are in this class with him?”
And like that, the professor clammed up. “Missing? As in truly missing?” He flushed, bending to pick up the piece of charcoal. “Has anyone contacted the police?”
Ugh, just what Elliot didn’t want. “I’m working with a private detective who’s investigating the case. The family doesn’t want the police involved yet. If you have any information, I’d appreciate it.”
Mr. Brunswick eyed him. “You seem rather young. An intern, perhaps?”
Elliot fought the urge to roll his eyes. Here was one reason why it might not be so easy to pursue a career as a private investigator. “Yes, that’s it.” He glanced at the easels around the studio classroom, wondering if each student got their own place, or if they shared them with others. If Billy had his own area, then it might be possible to check the objects there.
The professor seemed to ponder for a moment, rubbing his neatly trimmed beard. “He took his art supplies home with him last week. His current projects too. Maybe he was running away? All I know is that I haven’t heard from him, and I don’t know who his friends are. Try his sculpting instructor. He was a fine arts major, not an illustration major.” Mr. Brunswick sniffed derisively.
“Thank you,” Elliot said. If Billy had taken all his things with him, then he’d known he was going to be hiding out. It also meant there wasn’t anything here for Elliot to read.
He checked Billy’s schedule, and sure enough, there was another art class today, but it was actually engraving, not sculpting. On the way there, Elliot kept his ears open, hoping for a snatch of conversation from the other art students about Billy.
Fuck it. It’s going to take me all day if I don’t get obnoxious about this. On a whim, Elliot took out the photo of Billy. He waved it around, putting it in people’s faces as they passed him in the hallway, calling in a loud voice, “Hey, anyone seen a friend of mine? Art student, Billy Barton—here take a look! He’s been missing for several days now. Anyone know him?”
He walked up to people, showing them the picture. No surprise when a lot of them turned away uncomfortably, avoiding him, but he caught one guy looking at him with a little more calculation, even worry. The kid was about the same age as Elliot, with olive skin and an unkempt head of blond curls. He wore Bermuda shorts, with a blue hoodie and sandals.
Worth investigating. Elliot strode over.
The guy’s eyes widened in panic. He took off running, his sandals slapping against the tile floors.
Elliot groaned. The engraving teacher would have to wait. He sprinted after Bermuda Shorts. If he’s that nervous, he must know something. Maybe where Billy was right now.
“Dude, wait!” Elliot called, but the guy grabbed the railing to the stairs, pivoting to hurry down to the first floor. Despite his poor choice of footwear, he was pretty fast. If Elliot didn’t catch up with him inside the building, he might lose him altogether.
Elliot scrambled to the stairs, wincing as he bumped his knee on the corner. A couple of girls were making their way up, complaining about stupid freshmen. Elliot grabbed onto the railing and swung himself over the side, heedless of the fall. He wished he had Derwin’s Oddity, that he could pull stunts like this and not get hurt. If he broke another bone, Derwin would be pissed.
He stumbled as he landed, winded but fine. The mending rib was holding up for the moment. The girls laughed at him, shaking their heads.
Smirking, he began running again. It was more crowded on the ground floor of the art building, and there weren’t just people to avoid; here and there were the featured art projects from the students, which seemed kind of stupid as far as Elliot was concerned. Somebody could steal one of them.
Or crash into them.
He slid on the slick tile floor, and narrowly avoided a sculpture that looked like it was made of old car parts. Why would anyone want to make art out of a muffler? Up ahead, he spotted Bermuda Shorts.
Apparently the guy hadn’t been as lucky as Elliot. He’d collided into a pedestal of some kind. There were pieces of broken pottery scattered on the floor around him. A couple of students were screaming.
Elliot winced, hurrying over.
Bermuda Shorts was trying to get up, dusting fragments off himself, as the two girls yelled at him. “That was Alicia’s urn! She was going to win first place in the county art show with that piece.” One of them hit the guy over the head with her notebook, her blond hair flying. The other girl tried to pick up all the broken pieces. It seemed like a lost cause.
The guy threw an arm up to defend himself. “Sorry! Gotta go! It’s an emergency!”
Elliot sprinted up to them and grabbed the guy’s arm. “Oh no you don’t! You need to give me some answers. Billy’s mom is going out of her mind.” While Elliot was shorter than Bermuda Shorts, he was stronger.
After a few unsuccessful attempts to pull away, the guy wilted and turned to Elliot in anguish. “Billy’s mom? Oh hell. You know her?”
Elliot glanced at the girls. This wasn’t the place for talking. “Sorry about your friend’s art. This might be a life-or-death situation. You’ll have to take this up with him later.” He tightened his grip on the guy. “I’m a private investigator for Connie Barton. She hired me to help find her missing son, Billy. You and I need to talk—right now.”
Before Bermuda Shorts had a chance to protest, Elliot pulled him away, toward the exit. The girls stood staring at him with open mouths, probably wondering if he was for real. Elliot couldn’t risk them actually calling the university police. Best to get out before they got involved.
As soon as they were outside, he asked, “What’s your name? You usually run when somebody mentions Billy?”
The guy shrugged shamefacedly, and dragged his free hand through his hair, making it stick out. “Dude, you don’t understand. Billy got himself into trouble with a gang. They’ve been hunting for him. That’s why I took off like that.” He sized up Elliot. “You don’t look like a private detective. You’re not with the gang, are you?”
Elliot gave him the icy stare that he’d used for clients who thought he was too young to be out late. “You think I’d be talking to you like this if I were? I’d be holding a gun to your head and I’d have two really big guys on either side of me to throw you into the back of my car. But no. I’m a friend of Billy’s mom. So spill already. We know that Billy’s in trouble. They’re asking his mom for a fucking ransom. Do you know where Billy is?”
Bermuda Shorts scanned the area and pointed at a small stand of trees. Elliot led him over there, not taking his hands off the guy, even when he started talking. “Sorry. Name’s Chett. Me and Billy became friends in English class because neither of us can understand the professor. I did know where Billy was—he’s been staying with me for the last week and a half, along with his girlfriend. But something went wrong. Last night he went out, to take care of things, he said. But he didn’t come home. Mei’s going apeshit with worry, man.”
So the gang might have nabbed Billy last night after all. That meant Derwin had a chance to rescue him, if things went well. Elliot nodded. “My partner’s with Billy’s mom at this moment. The gang called her and said they have Billy. But Mei’s with you?”
Chett paled, his eyes growing huge. “No way! They said that? Shit! You gotta come with me. Billy said if something went wrong, I had to do something with this thing, but I have no clue what I’m supposed to do. He said he didn’t want the police, though. You’re not the police, right?”
Elliot fought the urge to roll his eyes. It seemed Chett wasn’t the brightest bulb in the batch. “No, I’m not the police. I’m just a private investigator that was hired to help. My partner is a bounty hunter, but again, we’re not involving the police on this unless we have to. How far from here do you live?”
While Elliot talked, he kept an eye out for anyone who might be with one of the gangs. He didn’t see anyone, but it was possible that they’d grown wiser about not using conspicuous thugs. He hoped Chett wasn’t in league with them either. It would be smart to check in with Derwin before deviating from the plan and heading off to some apartment. But then again, this might be his best chance at finding Mei and learning exactly what trouble they’d been hiding from this whole time.
Exhaling, Chett pointed. “About two blocks from here. Student apartments. I’ll take you there.” He glanced over at the art building. “If you’ll help me out with some cash to pay off that unhappy student I pissed off. Deal?”
Elliot shrugged. “You only ran into it because you decided to take off instead of talking with me. But I’ll give you twenty. Just remember that helping me may lead to some protection for you. I doubt the gang muscle will offer you anything, other than broken bones.”
Chett gulped, nodding. “Cool. I mean cool that I’m talking to you and not them. Follow me.”
It didn’t take them long. Along the way, Elliot attempted to keep track of people around them, but it was impossible. Midmorning classes must have ended, because suddenly there were a ton of people everywhere, of all ages and sizes. He sweated, keeping close to Chett, and tried to look normal.
The farther they went from the school, the more Chett relaxed. He went on about how he wanted to become a game designer or perhaps a personal trainer, except that he didn’t really like exercise for exercise’s sake, for instance at a gym. He liked hiking and climbing, and had an older brother in the military who came with him whenever he wanted to travel, which was nice because the brother was good at killing any demons who tried to bother them. Elliot wished he had a notepad. Not to take notes of what Chett was saying, which was mostly rubbish, but to keep track of the street names as they walked.
“So tell me about Mei and Billy,” Elliot urged as they crossed another intersection. By his reckoning, they’d walked about half a mile.
“Like I said, I met Billy in English class. He wanted to become an artist of some kind—maybe comic books, maybe tattoos, maybe an illustrator, maybe a digital artist for games. But then he found out he was absolutely stellar at making engravings. He did one for me once with my name and this guy climbing a mountain. Totally cool. I guess he took a job down by the docks, and somehow he met Mei. She wants to be a student at the university too, but she can’t since she’s got no ID. Billy was working some deal, trying to earn money to get one for her. He told me he did an engraving project for these Chinese dudes. That’s all I know.”
Elliot stared at Chett. An engraving project for the gang? That sounded like the weirdest thing ever. Did Chett know what he was talking about? “Okay. And Billy’s been freaking out that they’re looking for him? What about Mei?” It unnerved him that he’d gotten her name out of a vision, without ever having met her. Stranger still was how he felt like he knew her, having been inside her head, or at least her memories.
Chett shrugged. “Mei doesn’t talk a lot—at least not to me. You’ll have to ask her yourself.” He pointed to a small red-stone building across the street, near a sandwich stand and a doughnut shop. “That’s my place there. Let’s get inside.”
It was almost like there was a bull’s-eye painted on Elliot’s back. He swore he could feel eyes on them, but he didn’t spot anything out of the ordinary in the people on the streets. A mother was walking a stroller with two children tagging along behind her. A group of students stood gathered around a car, chatting and laughing. Two men were hauling out a big box from an apartment. He felt naked without Derwin there, and wished he had a phone. Not that he’d have been able to text or call. Derwin should be hiding out about now, watching over Connie. “Sounds good. You go, and I’ll follow.”
Nodding, Chett cut across the street.
Taking a deep breath, Elliot hurried after him. He caught the security door before it closed, just in case Chett tried to ditch him last minute. Three stories up, to a little apartment facing the street. Chett unlocked the door and waved Elliot inside. “Welcome to mi casa, home of the best brownies you’ll ever taste and some really great organic spinach pasta. We’re all chill here. Hey Mei! I got someone you need to meet.”
Elliot glanced at the small living room, with scattered bean bags and a low futon with throw pillows. A petite woman stood up, her dark eyes widening as Elliot approached. She bowed hesitantly, which looked strange, considering that she was wearing a Nis University sweatshirt and pants. “Mei Chun?”
She gazed into his eyes and a shiver went through Elliot, but he couldn’t say why. Her hair was shorter, but she was definitely the girl from his visions. Must have cut it. Her lips were pursed in confusion.
“Do I know you?” Her voice, the voice he recalled, was heavy with an accent. Déjà vu sent a wave of dizziness through Elliot.
He shrugged. “Not exactly. But I’ve seen you before. I’ve been searching for Billy. I’m a friend of Billy’s mother.”
She gasped. “Have you found him? He’s in terrible danger!”
“I’ll take good care of her.” Derwin picked up the briefcase and handed it to Connie, who took it gingerly, like it might bite her. She was wearing what she called her church clothes, meaning they were dark, not as form fitting as her other outfits, and didn’t show any cleavage. She’d managed to wrestle her curly hair into behaving as well. To Derwin, she looked like a school teacher; all she was missing were the horn-rimmed glasses.
Bob seemed ready to cry. He wiped at his bald head, then rubbed his eyes. “Yes, do that. We need to get these guys somehow. I can’t afford to be giving away money like this.”
Connie punched his arm. “It’s for my son! I’ll pay you back, Bob. If I have to take it out of my retirement, I will.”
That turned Bob’s expression to alarm. “No! I just hate giving money to bad men. You don’t owe me a thing.” He grimaced. “They do. You hear me, Derwin? Get them arrested, somehow. Make them pay for messing with us.”
A surge of uneasiness went through Derwin. Bob had his own checkered past, which he didn’t often talk about. One thing was certain—family and friends were important to him. “I will.” Derwin turned to Connie. “I want to keep an eye on you the whole time. Therefore, I’m going to follow you, but I’ll stay several cars behind and park away from your meeting place. Then I’ll take the rest of the way by foot. That should help throw off people so they think you’re alone.”
