Read Online Blood Stains by Sharon Sala - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sharon Sala
Tags: Suspense
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Carl Finley’s retirement party a couple of years ago.”
“Yeah, yeah, I remember you,” Shorty said. “The cowboy.”
Bodie grinned. His penchant for boots and Stetsons had quickly earned him the nickname.
“Yeah, thanks for getting back to me so quickly.”
“No problem. What’s up?”
“I’m working a cold case. It’s a homicide from twenty years ago, when you were still with the department, but there’s not much in the file to go on.”
“So what’s the name of the vic?”
“Sally Blake. She was a twentysomething hooker who was murdered in her room at the Hampton Arms.”
“That old hotel used to be over on the north side?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry, the name doesn’t ring a bell,” Shorty said.
“I wasn’t calling you about the vic. I’m running down leads, and a name popped up that I thought you might know. It was the name of her pimp. A man named Tank Vincent.”
“Vincent…Tank Vincent? I don’t think… Oh! Wait. I do remember him. Great big good-looking guy at the time. Think a young Nick Nolte and you got the gist. Had his hair bleached blond, and wore it straight and long, like a woman’s. Hung way below his shoulders. Yeah, I remember Tank. He came by the name honestly. Had the upper body strength of a weight lifter.”
Bodie’s pulse kicked up a notch. Bingo.
“In that case, I don’t suppose you know what he’s up to now? He isn’t coming up on any of our databases, and I was afraid he might be dead.”
“Oddly enough, I ran into him about five years ago when I was fishing down at Lake Eufaula. He was running a bait shop. Couldn’t believe my eyes when I walked in to buy some stink bait. I almost didn’t recognize him. The young Nolte had morphed into a bad version of the older one. We had a beer and a couple of laughs. But after I hurt my back in 2008 I haven’t been able to make the drive anymore. Don’t know whether he’s still there or not.”
Bodie was taking notes. The thrill of the hunt was kicking in.
“I don’t suppose you remember the name of that bait shop?”
Shorty laughed. “Yeah. It was one of those real memorable names. Bait and Beer.”
Bodie grinned. “Thanks, Shorty. Take care.”
“You, too,” Shorty said, and disconnected.
Bodie hung up the phone, then turned to his computer, pulled up the phone records for Eufaula and began scanning the yellow pages for a bait shop called Bait and Beer. He found one, then began looking for the owner by cross-checking against a list of businesses with liquor licenses, which the owner would have needed to sell beer. When the name Samuel Gene Vincent popped up as having a liquor license for Bait and Beer, he printed out the info. Then he tapped into the Oklahoma Department of Motor Vehicles, found a corresponding name with an accompanying photo and printed that out, as well. Now he had a picture and an address. Shorty was right. Vincent did bear a striking resemblance to present-day Nick Nolte.
He slid the info into the cold case file, along with his notes, and headed for the parking lot. He planned to contact Maria Slade tomorrow, but he was too hyped to go home. He wanted to show her the DMV photo and see if it rang any bells. He pulled the card she’d given him out of his pocket, dialed her cell phone and waited for her to answer.
Maria was just about to go downstairs to the hotel restaurant when her cell phone rang. The caller ID came up as the Tulsa Police Department. Suddenly there was a knot in her stomach. She answered quickly.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Slade. This is Detective Scott.”
Maria sat down on the side of the bed. “Yes? Is something wrong?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
She sighed. “Oh, okay, it’s just that I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight, so of course the first thing I thought was that you’d changed your mind. Sorry. That’s how my brain’s been working these days.”
“No problem. Say, listen…would it be all right if I came by? I have a couple of
“Yeah, yeah, I remember you,” Shorty said. “The cowboy.”
Bodie grinned. His penchant for boots and Stetsons had quickly earned him the nickname.
“Yeah, thanks for getting back to me so quickly.”
“No problem. What’s up?”
“I’m working a cold case. It’s a homicide from twenty years ago, when you were still with the department, but there’s not much in the file to go on.”
“So what’s the name of the vic?”
“Sally Blake. She was a twentysomething hooker who was murdered in her room at the Hampton Arms.”
“That old hotel used to be over on the north side?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry, the name doesn’t ring a bell,” Shorty said.
“I wasn’t calling you about the vic. I’m running down leads, and a name popped up that I thought you might know. It was the name of her pimp. A man named Tank Vincent.”
“Vincent…Tank Vincent? I don’t think… Oh! Wait. I do remember him. Great big good-looking guy at the time. Think a young Nick Nolte and you got the gist. Had his hair bleached blond, and wore it straight and long, like a woman’s. Hung way below his shoulders. Yeah, I remember Tank. He came by the name honestly. Had the upper body strength of a weight lifter.”
Bodie’s pulse kicked up a notch. Bingo.
“In that case, I don’t suppose you know what he’s up to now? He isn’t coming up on any of our databases, and I was afraid he might be dead.”
“Oddly enough, I ran into him about five years ago when I was fishing down at Lake Eufaula. He was running a bait shop. Couldn’t believe my eyes when I walked in to buy some stink bait. I almost didn’t recognize him. The young Nolte had morphed into a bad version of the older one. We had a beer and a couple of laughs. But after I hurt my back in 2008 I haven’t been able to make the drive anymore. Don’t know whether he’s still there or not.”
Bodie was taking notes. The thrill of the hunt was kicking in.
“I don’t suppose you remember the name of that bait shop?”
Shorty laughed. “Yeah. It was one of those real memorable names. Bait and Beer.”
Bodie grinned. “Thanks, Shorty. Take care.”
“You, too,” Shorty said, and disconnected.
Bodie hung up the phone, then turned to his computer, pulled up the phone records for Eufaula and began scanning the yellow pages for a bait shop called Bait and Beer. He found one, then began looking for the owner by cross-checking against a list of businesses with liquor licenses, which the owner would have needed to sell beer. When the name Samuel Gene Vincent popped up as having a liquor license for Bait and Beer, he printed out the info. Then he tapped into the Oklahoma Department of Motor Vehicles, found a corresponding name with an accompanying photo and printed that out, as well. Now he had a picture and an address. Shorty was right. Vincent did bear a striking resemblance to present-day Nick Nolte.
He slid the info into the cold case file, along with his notes, and headed for the parking lot. He planned to contact Maria Slade tomorrow, but he was too hyped to go home. He wanted to show her the DMV photo and see if it rang any bells. He pulled the card she’d given him out of his pocket, dialed her cell phone and waited for her to answer.
Maria was just about to go downstairs to the hotel restaurant when her cell phone rang. The caller ID came up as the Tulsa Police Department. Suddenly there was a knot in her stomach. She answered quickly.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Slade. This is Detective Scott.”
Maria sat down on the side of the bed. “Yes? Is something wrong?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
She sighed. “Oh, okay, it’s just that I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight, so of course the first thing I thought was that you’d changed your mind. Sorry. That’s how my brain’s been working these days.”
“No problem. Say, listen…would it be all right if I came by? I have a couple of
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