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Her place is cluttered but surprisingly neat. The dog’s a little white thing, yappy and obnoxious, and it jumps at my legs until I let it sniff my hand and scratch its ear. Sara shies away from it like she’s afraid it’s going to bite her, which is hilarious because the thing’s got a jaw about the size of a mouse. Sheila leads us into the living room and gestures at the couch.
“Sit down, you want anything? Water, iced tea?”
“We’re fine, thanks.” I perch on the edge of the cushion with Sara by my side. Pictures of Sheila’s family line the walls alongside basic art prints from Kohl’s or Home Goods or someplace like that. It smells like old tobacco, and the walls are stained a faint yellow from years and years of cigarettes. The dog runs in little circles and ends up leaping onto Sheila’s lap as she settles into an armchair and puffs out smoke.
“All right, you got me sitting. What do you want to ask me about the Two Lane for?”
Sara speaks up before I can. “How long have you been working there, Ms. Vasquez?”
“Call me Sheila.” She squints at Sara. “Been working at the Two Lane for about five years now, maybe a little more. Hard to keep track.” She clears her throat. “Are you two with someone or something like that?”
“I work for Klein and Houndson, and Angelo here is my assistant,” Sara says.
“Lawyer, huh.” Sheila takes a drag. “And you’ve got an assistant that looks like this? You must be expensive.”
“Very.” Sara leans forward. “Sheila, do you know why we’re here?”
“I can take a few guesses. You finally looking into all the shady shit happening at the Two Lane? The fucking hookers and the drugs?”
“No, not the hookers and the drugs,” Sara says. “The dead bodies.”
Sheila wilts slightly. She leans further back into her chair and takes two quick puffs. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“You were working that day, weren’t you?”
“Yes, but I don’t know anything.”
“The maintenance man said he heard fighting and shouting.”
“Roger’s got better ears than me.”
“Where were you when the incident happened?”
“Don’t remember. Like I said, I don’t know anything.” She sucks down her cigarette and shifts forward. The little dog burrows into her lap as she strokes his back with rough fingers. “If that’s all you wanted then sorry I wasted your time, but it’s better if you both left.”
“Sheila,” I say before Sara can dig us deeper into a hole. “We’re not cops. You know that, right?”
“I know she’s a lawyer. I don’t know what you are. Never seen a law assistant or whatever with so many tattoos.”
I laugh, unable to help it. Sheila’s clever. “You’re not wrong about that.”
“So what are you then, huh?”
Angelo wipes invisible dirt from his sleeve. “Let’s say I have a vested interest in this case. What can you tell us?”
She sighs and shakes her head slowly, cigarette dangling between her lips again as she tosses the dog gently onto the floor. Burger whines and walks in circles but settles at the chair’s side.
“I remember the guys showed up in a van. They checked in, got a key, and headed upstairs. That was early in the morning right around when my shift started at five. They went in that room and never came out for the rest of the day, and I didn’t see anyone come or go. Then they were dead and everyone was freaking out. And you know who’s got to clean that room? Go ahead, take a fucking guess.”
“You’re sure you didn’t see or hear anything?” Sara asks.
“I’m positive.” Sheila finishes her cigarette and stubs it out in a half-full ashtray on the coffee table. “And that’s all I’ve got to say.”
“Thanks for your time.” I stand up and slip a card from my pocket. “This has my personal cell on it. You want to talk, you remember something, or if you really want to watch me mow your lawn without a shirt, you call me.”
“Just might do that,” she says, taking it and slipping it into her pocket.
“Have a nice day, Sheila.” I head out. Sara hesitates like she wants to say more, but she gathers her things and follows. Once we’re outside and the door’s firmly shut behind us, the lock thumping shut with a loud slam, I want over to the driveway and pause there in the sunshine.
“What the hell was all that?” Sara whispers, glaring at me. “You just ran out of there before she said anything. We barely asked her any questions.”
“She wasn’t going to talk.”
“But you don’t know that.”
“She already said too much.” I take her arm and pull her against me. She yelps in surprise. “They showed up early. You heard that. Around five in the morning. Which means they’d been in that room for hours before Nicolas showed up and anything could’ve happened in that time.”
