Page 34 of Don’t Say a Word (Angelhart Investigations #2)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Margo Angelhart

Angie texted me that she had the yearbooks and would be out after her last class. I arrived early, so parked down the street from the high school.

As kids started to trickle out of the building, my cell phone rang with a blocked number. I answered.

“Angelhart.”

“This is Chris Vallejo. You left a message for me.”

“Thanks for calling me back,” I said. I kept an eye on the exit because I didn’t know how Angie would feel about me talking to her ex-boyfriend.

I gave him the basics about what I was working on, and said, “You graduated, but you knew Elijah pretty well, correct?”

“Yeah. We hung out sometimes with my girlfriend.”

“Angie Williams.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Am I wrong?”

“You’re right. Have you talked to Angie?”

“Yes,” I said. No use lying. If Chris and Angie talked later, I didn’t want either of them to think I was being deceptive. “She’s given me her impressions. I’d like yours.”

“Elijah was a nice guy. I wasn’t close to him, we didn’t have any classes together or anything. He was Angie’s friend. But we hung out.”

“No jealousy on his part? Yours?”

He laughed. “Nothing like that. He had a crush on Gina—Angie’s best friend—but Gina only thinks about volleyball. She plays year-round. There’s no weird love triangle going on. Elijah was a good guy, and I had a job so I was glad Angie had someone else to hang with.”

Very Zen of a teenage boy about his girlfriend and another guy. Men and women could of course be friends, but in high school that acceptance seemed mature.

“Did you ever see Elijah on drugs? Or talk about drugs? Most of the people I’ve spoken to said no, but he died of a drug overdose, so I need to be certain.”

“I never saw him take anything. Angie wouldn’t put up with that shit. Um—well, her mom is an addict. Not like a major addict, she has a job and everything, but she is pretty much drunk or stoned when she’s not working. And probably stoned when she is working.”

“That must be hard on Angie. And on you, dating her.”

“Hey, we’re not our parents. My dad is a prick.

Sure, he works his ass off but he makes sure we know it.

” He paused, as if realizing he hadn’t wanted to say so much.

I read between the lines. “Anyway,” Chris continued, “Angie doesn’t remember a time when her mom was sober.

So yeah, it bothered her. She wouldn’t put up with a friend getting high.

Once I got drunk with some friends of mine, just the guys, but I don’t drink a lot and I was wasted.

I called her, she knew I was drunk, and she didn’t speak to me for a week.

I apologized. She forgave me, but I knew it was a onetime free pass. She doesn’t want to be around that.”

“But you’re not seeing each other now.”

“She—we thought it would be best if we broke up before I went to college.”

I wondered whose idea it really was.

“She didn’t tell me that Elijah died, I heard it from someone else. I tried to call her—but anyway...” He cut himself off.

“Your brother works at the Cactus Stop?” I said, changing subjects. “Did he know Elijah?”

“Sure, through Angie and me. What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m trying to figure out how everyone is connected and who might have known where Elijah went when he got off work the night he died.”

I thought about mentioning the pictures Elijah took of people going in and out of the Cactus Stop, but didn’t really know what to make of it yet. And if I did figure it out, I’d want to talk directly to Benny.

“Benny wasn’t working there at the time,” Chris said.

“He felt like shit when he realized that he probably got the job because Elijah died. He even thought about quitting, but I talked him out of it. Like I said, our dad is an asshole, and even though he has plenty of money to help out, he won’t give us a dime for college or trade school. Benny needs the job.”

I saw Angie exit the school and walk slowly toward my car. I had maybe a minute.

“I don’t want to jam up your brother, I’m just asking questions. Do you remember Coach Bradford?”

“Sure.”

“Did you know any of the students who worked for him?”

“Probably, but I don’t remember anyone specifically.”

“Could you name someone on campus who deals drugs?”

“Now? No. I never bought drugs. I mean—we all kind of knew Scott Jimenez was the go-to guy if you wanted something, but that was three years ago and he went to jail. No one knew Coach Bradford was involved until he was arrested.”

“If you think of anyone, call me, okay?”

“But you’re just trying to find out where Elijah got the drugs, right?”

“That, among other things.”

“I don’t really talk to anyone from high school anymore.”

“Maybe you should touch bases with Angie sometime.”

“I’ve tried,” he said, sounding irritated.

I wanted to follow up, but Angie was approaching my Jeep.

“Thanks for your help,” I said and ended the call just as Angie opened the passenger door.

She put her backpack on the floor and pulled out two yearbooks. “I checked them out of the library,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Why do you want them?”

“I’m looking into the arrest of a coach your freshman year.”

“Coach Bradford,” she said.

“Yep.” I flipped through pages. “Know him?”

“Not really. I remember when he was arrested though, because Gina knew him. Because of volleyball.”

“He coached volleyball too?”

“No, but he would go to the games sometimes.”

There were a lot of photos of the football team, and some of the faces were small. “I need to borrow this,” I said. “I promise I’ll get them back in good condition.”

She shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“Do you need a ride anywhere?”

“I’m going to the volleyball game. It starts in a few minutes. Have you found out what happened to Elijah?”

I hesitated to bring Angie into the investigation. She was seventeen and had already overstepped with Detective King. I didn’t want her to get into trouble—and I didn’t want to put her in danger.

“I’m working on it.”

“Did you talk to Danielle? She hated him.”

“I did. She isn’t involved, and she isn’t holding a grudge.”

“How do you know?” she asked, belligerent.

“Because I sat down with her. I know what I’m doing.” Mostly. I’d made a misstep talking to Ben Bradford today without more information, but the conversation did get me thinking about a wide range of possibilities.

“Whatever,” she said and was about to get out.

I put my hand on her arm. I didn’t want to tell her everything I’d learned because I didn’t know where it would take me, but she could help with one thing.

“What?” she snapped.

I dropped my hand and said, “You need to be careful, okay? I’m asking questions, I’m getting answers, and even when I don’t get answers, that’s okay because then I know where to go next.

” I wasn’t explaining this well. “What I mean to say, I want you to be extra careful. Lena Clark was asking questions and I don’t know if her murder is connected to what happened to Elijah, but I’m assuming it is until I learn different. Just think about that, okay?”

She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t get out of the Jeep either.

I said, “I have some photos Elijah took over the summer.” I wasn’t confident I was making the right call asking her to look at them, but I didn’t know who else to approach who might know these people.

“You found his phone?” she asked.

“His cloud account. They may have nothing to do with his death, but he took pictures of customers at the Cactus Stop. Tell me if you know any of them.”

“Okay.” She leaned forward in anticipation.

“You have to promise me you won’t say anything to anyone—if you see one of these people, don’t talk to them, confront them, give any indication that Elijah took their photo. I don’t know why he took the pictures. Understand?”

“Yes,” she said, exasperated. “I understand . I’ll be careful. I won’t talk to anyone.” She looked at my phone.

I had already sorted the photos on my phone based on estimated age. I only showed Angie those I figured were under nineteen.

There were fifteen photos of four girls and eleven boys.

Angie only recognized one.

“That’s Benny Vallejo,” she said of the second to last picture.

“The kid who was just hired?”

“Yeah.”

“But none of the others?”

She shook her head. “A couple look familiar, but I can’t be sure. SVH is a huge school.”

I looked at Benny. He was a clean-cut kid, tall and gangly, just waiting to grow into his long limbs.

This photo was taken a month before Elijah died.

Maybe he’d gone in and dropped off his application, though most applications were managed online.

Still, I filed the information away to consider later.

“I went to visit Mrs. Martinez last night,” Angie said.

“I’m sure she appreciated that.” I renamed the photo of Benny with his name.

“Elijah’s boss was there. Mr. Ramos.”

“I met him. He owns the Cactus Stops.”

“They were talking. He offered to pay you.”

“Mrs. Martinez didn’t want to accept his money. He already helped with the funeral.”

“Really?”

“He’s a philanthropist.” But now that Angie had mentioned him, it reminded me that I needed to reach out. I didn’t want to wait until Friday to talk to Desi, and Manny Ramos could compel her to talk to me. “How is Mrs. Martinez?”

“Sad,” Angie said. “One minute she was telling me a story about Elijah when he was little, and the next minute she was crying. I didn’t know what to say.”

I caught Angie’s eye. “Just being there meant a lot to her. I think she would like to see his friends every once in a while.”

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat, then asked, “What are you going to do now?”

“Talk to more people.”

“Is that all PIs do? Talk?”

“Actually, we ask questions. Over and over until we get answers.”

She looked skeptical.

“I have a plan. Go to the game, Angie. And remember what I said.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Angie said as she climbed out of my Jeep. “Be careful, don’t ask questions.”

I’d copped an attitude as a teenager, but had I been this rude and dismissive to the adults in my life?

“Angie,” I snapped.

She turned to me, surprised with my tone.

“I’m serious. Keep a low profile. And call me, day or night, if you have questions or get a bad vibe. Understand?”

She nodded, and I think she now took me seriously.