Aphrodisiac by Alicia Street, Roy Street Read Free Book Online

looked at Benita who gave me a just-as-I-thought nod.
    “So?” he said. “You know how she was. So secretive. Probably has it hidden.”
    “Or else it was taken.”
    “Taken? Are you starting up with that ridiculous fanny pack thing again?”
    “Darryl, I realize this may come as a shock, but Gwen may have been the victim of a violent crime. The police haven’t been much help, so Benita and I are doing a little bit of legwork on our own. You see, Gwen’s poem is riddled with clues —”
    “The only thing riddled is your brain. Not only is your idea far-fetched, Saylor, but I’m disappointed in you. Here I am struggling to cope with my sister’s suicide, and you come along and want to turn the picture into a sordid murder story.”
    Guess my approach was a little abrupt. I apologized, telling Darryl I was here for him any time, and I once again recommended a colleague who specialized in grief counseling. As usual, he rebuffed my gestures of friendship as well as my professional advice. What did I expect from Mr. Ultimate Authority? Ever since we were kids he seemed to relish snubbing my ideas.
    Still, I needed some answers. I owed it to Gwen. This time I practiced a little more artistry. Since Darryl’s friend owned the warehouse that Gwen had lived in down in Red Hook, I had to at least find out if those men Ti-Jean saw could be hired workmen or new tenants. Gradually switching subjects, I asked about it in a casual tone. Had it been rented? Was it being fixed up? The answer was “no” to both. That lit a fire under my butt. I ended the call.
    Benita shook her head. “I can’t believe how much you just revealed to Darryl, Ms. Motormouth.”
    “Ms. Motormouth? That’s your nickname not mine.”
    “It’s one thing to pump him for info, but it’s another to go blabbing about our investigation.”
    “So what if Darryl knows what we’re up to? He’s Gwen’s brother.”
    “Saylor, you just don’t have a criminal mind.”
    “Is that a compliment or an insult?”
    She tilted her head, giving me a narrow-eyed look. “You really think the hard drive was missing from her computer? Maybe there’s stuff on that computer he doesn’t want anybody to see. For all we know, Darryl was the one who snuffed Gwen.”
    “Gimme a break. Why would Darryl want to kill his own sister?”
    “Oh, come on, you’re the psychologist. When it comes to sibling rivalry, twins are the worst. Competition starts right in the birth canal with who’s gonna squeeze their way out first.”
    “So much for all those biogenetic studies that suggest just the opposite.”
    Benita kicked off her shoes. “Actually, Rob’s the one I’d like to bring in for questioning. He was Gwen’s last live-in beau.”
    “Really, Binnie, just because the name of his rock group was Bullet 4U doesn’t mean he’d act out. Besides, I ran into the group’s drummer last month, and he told me Rob’s living in Germany with a French lighting designer. And what about the guys Ti-Jean saw in Gwen’s loft?”
    “There are always vandals and crackheads breaking into empty warehouses.”
    “Except his description of them made me think of the men who chased us.”
    “All this talk,” Benita said. “Time to go real. What say we head over to Gwen’s loft tonight and see what’s up?”
    “Let’s do it.”

FOUR

    The July night carried stagnant remnants of week-old humidity. A full moon hung, lethargic, above the rooftops like an oversized dinner plate. Our Camry sailed down Columbia Street on our way to “the Back,” Red Hook’s desolate west side; a timeless place where at four a.m. the ghost of Marlon Brando’s Terry Malloy might be seen, jacket slung over his shoulder, ambling slowly toward those once famous Brooklyn docks.
    A red light nabbed us at the corner of Dwight and Verona. On the sidewalk to our right stood an unshaven elderly man in an undershirt and baggie pants with a crotch that practically hung to his knees. He was a sad sight and