Page 19 of Spade
“Yes,” Cynthia said, “she's standing at the end of the bar watching the bartender making the specialty drinks for that night. It’s what Charlie was drinking and what Ink brought me.”
“You’re doing great,” Naomi praised. “Can you tell if she’s putting anything in the drinks?”
“I didn’t see her put anything in the drinks. I only saw her standing there. She looks so out of place,” Cynthia said.
“Okay, Cynthia. When I clap my hands twice, I want you to wake up and remember everything that we just talked about.” Naomi clapped twice and on cue, Cynthia opened her eyes.
“How do you feel?” Spade asked.
“Relaxed, even rested,” Cynthia admitted. “I can’t believe that she was there. I’ve known it this whole time but must have blocked out the memory.”
“That’s usually how it works. That’s why hypnosis is sometimes needed—to help patients remember something that they didn’t know they saw,” Naomi said.
“I’m going to fill Razor and Mace in,” Spade said, not wanting to waste any more time. “Do you remember her name?” he asked.
Cynthia yawned and stretched, “It’s Melissa Santos. Well, that was her name on Facebook, but she might have taken Eric’s last name which is Dixon.”
“We’ll put out a warrant for Melissa Santos Dixon and see what we come up with. She’ll need to come in for questioning before we can charge her with anything,” Spade said. The issue might be finding her. If Melissa was smart, she’d already have an alibi or left town. Either way, charging her with the crime of drugging the drinks down at Road Reapers was going to be tough.
They walked out to the main barroom and found Mace and Razor sitting at the bar, waiting for them. “Did she remember anything?” Razor asked Spade.
“Yes, and we have a name,” Spade said. “You’re looking for a woman named Melissa Santos Dixon. She might be going by either last name. The woman is Cynthia’s ex’s new wife. She remembered her being there that night, and she was hanging around the bar.”
“Great,” Razor said, “that’s enough to at least bring her in for questioning. Good job, Cynthia. You too, doctor.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Naomi insisted. “I’ll be sending you a bill. Paying that will be thanks enough.” Razor rolled his eyes at the doctor. “Just call me if you need me,” she said. “It was nice meeting you all. Good luck, Cynthia.” She turned to leave through the back door of the bar before getting back to their conversation.
“Well, at least we know that she was trying to hurt you, and not just randomly drugging drinks at the bar,” Razor said.
“Yeah, it makes me feel so much better knowing that my ex’s new wife is out to hurt me—or worse. Why would she roofie my drink though? What was the point of all that?” Cynthia asked.
“Maybe she was going to try to kidnap you from the bar. You did say that you were there alone that night, initially,” Razorsaid. “Maybe she was going to wait in the parking lot for you to leave and force you into her car. A person who has been roofied is easy prey.” The thought of that woman getting her hands on Cynthia scared the hell out of Spade. But if he wasn’t there that night, that’s exactly what would have happened.
“You will have the club’s help,” he said to Spade. “What ever you guys need, all you have to do is ask.”
“Great,” Spade said, “we will need any video surveillance that you have from that night—inside and outside cameras. If we can prove that she was here, it will help us with making an arrest. We’ll need more than just Cynthia’s memories from that night to build a case against her.”
“You’ve got it,” Mace said. “I’ll send everything to you by this afternoon.”
“Thanks, man,” Spade said. “I won’t let Melissa near Cynthia again, so I might need to borrow a few guys.” Mace nodded is approval and Spade had to admit that he was grateful for the help. He wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating Melissa. Now that they knew who she was, he was going to make sure that Cynthia had round-the-clock security detail. If he couldn’t be there, he’d either get one of the guys from the club to watch her, or one of his buddies on the force. There was no way that he’d let Melissa get close enough to hurt her ever again.
Cynthia
Spade was working on a case, and he couldn’t stay home with her. She didn’t blame him for not wanting to sit around and wait for something to happen. She had been doing that for weeks now, and it grated on her last nerve. Ink was trying to handle her clients and his own, and she knew that sooner or later, he was going to fire her and find someone else to take her place. Business was business, and their friendship wasn’t going to help her keep her job. So, about three weeks ago, she convinced Spade to let her go back to work. He had worked things out with Ink to have someone guarding the front and back doors to his shop, and although she hated having babysitters, this was the only way that she’d be able to go back to work.
Every time Spade headed into work, he’d get one of the guys from the Road Reapers or one of his cop buddies to babysit her. She felt so helpless and having someone sitting outside of his house made her feel like she was completely useless.
She decided to try to be more useful around Spade’s house, making dinner every night and keeping the place clean. He told her that she didn’t have to do any of that stuff, but sheat least felt like she was contributing. Tonight, she planned on surprising him with his favorite pasta dish that she made. It was the only pasta dish she knew how to make, so it helped that he loved it so much. She put the pot of water on the stove, salted the water, and stood back to wait for it to come to a boil when the doorbell rang. When the guys needed to use the bathroom, they’d ring the doorbell and no matter how many times she told them to just come on in, they still rang the bell.
“Come on in,” she yelled. She heard the front door open and close and was happy that he had heard her. “You know where the bathroom is,” she called. There was no reply and for a split second, she wondered if he had heard that last part. Cynthia put her spoon down and turned down the flame under the pot of water.
“Did you hear me?” she shouted down the hallway. Still no answer. “Hello,” she yelled. Cynthia gave up trying to yell at him and walked down the hallway to the bathroom and knocked on the door. When Melissa walked out of the bathroom holding a gun, she should have been surprised, but for some reason, she wasn’t. A part of her worried that it was only a matter of time before she’d catch up with Cynthia. She was just happy that Spade wasn’t home because he’d be in harm’s way, and that was the last thing she wanted. Melissa was her problem, and although Spade had vowed to protect her, she didn’t want him caught up in the middle of everything, getting shot.
“You don’t look surprised to see me,” Melissa taunted.
“Because I’m not surprised,” she admitted. “I knew that sooner or later, you’d show up here to finish the job that you started. The cops are looking for you, Melissa. You won’t get far, no matter what you do to me, they’ll find you. Right now, you’ll only be charged with slipping me a roofie. Why make things worse?” Cynthia knew that her only option was to keep hertalking until the guy at the front door realized that Melissa had gotten into the house.
“Because you deserve worse—you deserve so much worse, but your stupid biker got in the way. Does Eric know that you’re seeing that big, dumb biker?” Melissa spat.
