Leave Her Hanging: A Noir Thriller

Chapter Seventeen

Dad and Leanne spent most of Saturday afternoon fussing and interrogating me. I got away from them when I could, checking my phone to see if Alex had had a change of heart and called me about what she knew, and going online to see what I could find out about Malcolm Barker and the Deepest Desires adult store.

Malcolm Barker had a Facebook profile with a few dozen friends and the usual meaningless chatter, but aside from a few pictures of himself on around-the-world trips, it was a dead end. No employment information listed, no address, no nothing. Googling him didn’t get me any further either. So I put him aside for now and looked up Deepest Desires. The place had a couple of listings on the business finder sites, but no dedicated website of their own. There was probably a way to track down ownership information and all that good stuff, but I wasn’t smart enough to figure it out.

My phone rang while I was going through Malcolm Barker’s Facebook friends. I nearly dived across the room to get to my phone, but when I checked the caller ID, it wasn’t Alex.

“Spade,” Megan said.

“Hey.” I sat down at my desk and studied what was left of my two-masted schooner model. “What’s up?”

“You walked out of the memorial yesterday.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay?”

“Peachy,” I said.

“Are you at home?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Can you get away? I have something for you.”

I paused and spun around slowly in my chair. “What do you mean?”

“Do you remember where I live? Ella’s mum’s been giving away some of her things. She gave me a whole lot of stuff, but some of it should go to you.”

“I don’t really have time for this, Megan. Can’t we do this on Monday at school?”

She was quiet for a minute, but I could hear her breathing. Then she said, “I’m worried about you, Spade.”

“You guys should start a club and get matching tattoos.”

“I’m serious. Please. I’m asking as a friend. I’ll order a pizza, you can come around and have dinner and take some of this stuff. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. But I think you should.”

Goddamn it. The last thing I wanted was to go out right now, and especially not so Megan could play therapist. But there was a note of desperation in her voice that stuck a fork in my guts and twisted. Megan and I had never really been that close, but we’d spent enough time together that I couldn’t just ignore her now.

“All right,” I said finally. “Give me half an hour. I’ve just gotta let Dad know as gently as possible that I won’t be sticking around to try his latest failed attempt at culinary brilliance.”

“Thanks, Spade,” she said.

“No problem.”

I hung up, stared at the face of Malcolm Barker on his Facebook page a few seconds longer, then closed my laptop and grabbed my jacket.

~~~

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