Read Online The Night Watchman by Mark Mynheir - Free Book Online Page B

it was in the parrot family, and the thing had a huge hooked beak that could remove a finger with ease. As I sat next to it, it squawked and waddled across its little perch to the edge of the cage in an attempt to stare me down. If Ashley weren't watching, I would have pacified it with my cane.
    She pulled up the chair next to mine. She wore a pink muscle T-shirt, and I use the term wore in loosest sense of the word, as it just barely covered her, depending on how she shifted in the chair. The well-maintained chemical-blond hair from her driver's license picture had been replaced with a bed-head mess I suspected she used to house the bird at night. She didn't seem concerned about her appearance. Maybe working all night trying to attract men to make a buck numbs a girl to prettying up in the off-hours. She pulled a cigarette from her purse.
    “What did you do to your leg?” Her raspy voice seemed too old for her.
    “Long story. I wanted to talk with you about Jamie. Tie up some loose ends and all.”
    “I already told you guys about Jamie.” The cigarette smoke mixed with an overpowering odor from my feathered friend to the point that I wanted to cut the interview short. “I'm still pretty upset. She was a good girl and didn't deserve that.”
    “I'm doing some follow-up on the case and wanted to make sure I have everything.” I turned on my thin digital recorder and placed it on the table. I explained the formalities of the statement, then asked her name and date of birth for the record. She raised her right hand as she answered. Since I was looking into this, I might as well do it right. I like having details on tape, so there's no arguing later about who said what. Memory can be imprecise.
    “You were friends with Jamie DeAngelo when this murder happened, correct?”
    “Yeah. We worked together at Club Venus. I still work there.” She glanced at the clock. “I had a shift last night and didn't get off until early this morning, so I'm still a little outta sorts.”
    “Did you ever see this guy there?” I held out a photo of David Hendricks.
    “No. Like I told the other cop, he never came to the club.”
    “But you do know him?”
    “Jamie and I met him at Starbucks one morning. He was in line behind us and started up a conversation. He and Jamie chatted away, but I thought he was hitting on us, so I didn't say much. Then he started with the God and Jesus stuff. I just let her do the talking, if you know what I mean.”
    “How long was this before the murder?”
    “Maybe two or three months.” Ashley extinguished the butt of the cancer stick while reaching for another. A veil of tobacco residue hovered around me; my eyes watered.
    “What was their relationship like after that?” I coughed. “Were they seeing each other?”
    “I guess so. Why else would he hang around her?”
    Big Bird shrieked in my ear, and I jerked in my chair.
    “Oh, pipe down, you big bundle of feathers. We have a guest.” She smiled at me. “He's harmless.”
    I squeezed the brass handle of my cane and waged a valiant fight not to play an inning of birdie baseball with my noisy friend. Between Big Bird and Puff the Magic Dancer, my filter was facing its greatest challenge in some time. I needed to get back on track.
    “Was there anyone who'd want to hurt her?”
    “Jamie was sweet but a real bum magnet. She loved the losers. She was seeing a guy about a year ago, a bad drug-dealer type. He'd knock her around quite a bit. One night, he beat her so bad she had to go to the hospital.”
    “Who is this guy?”
    “Tay or something like that,” Ashley said. “She stopped hanging out with him shortly after she came to the club.”
    “Is Tay his street name, real name, last name, or what?”
    She shrugged. “I only know Tay. Never saw or met the guy.”
    I pulled a notepad from my pocket and jotted down some names. I'd try to catch up with this Tay later. “Was she dating anyone else?”
    “She mentioned a couple of guys. I