The Night Stalker_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [106]
The minutes ticked by. Buster sat on the passenger seat, and I rolled down his window so he could stick his head out. I’d given him a pain pill, and he was acting fine.
I called my voice mail. Sometimes people called me, and my cell phone didn’t ring, and the caller ended up leaving a message. I was hoping that was what had happened now.
There were no messages.
I stared at the front of the grocery. More shoppers were coming out than going in. Most were women, and I guessed they were grabbing food to take home for dinner. Soon there was no one coming out.
I weighed what my next step should be. Part of me wanted to go inside and grill the store manager, only my recent arrest told me this wasn’t a smart idea. I needed to take the proper channels with this, or risk getting myself in more trouble.
Buster let out a menacing growl. A woman pushing a shopping cart had come out of the store, and was heading straight toward us. She was yakking on her cell phone while talking to a small infant riding in the cart. There was absolutely nothing threatening about her.
Buster started barking.
A loud tapping on my window made me jump. I jerked my head sideways. There was a man standing next to my car. It was Jean-Baptiste Vorbe, the store manager.
“Hello,” Vorbe said through the glass.
I quieted Buster down, and lowered my window. Vorbe was carrying his cane, which he leaned against.
“You scared my dog,” I said.
“I am sorry,” Vorbe said. “I came out to my car to get some papers, and I saw you sitting here. Is something wrong?”
I shook my head. I hadn’t seen Vorbe come through the front doors, and guessed he’d come through the back, and walked around the side of the building. Had Vorbe seen me sitting in my car through one of the store’s surveillance cameras, and decided to check up on me? Something told me that he had.
“If you will excuse me, I must get back to work,” Vorbe said.
“Have a nice night,” I said.
“You, too,” he said.
I watched him limp inside. A person’s walk can be as telling as his voice. His was animated, and had a bounce to it, despite his infirmity. My gut told me he was going to make a run for it. I leashed Buster and followed him inside.
The store was dead. The checkout lines were empty, and several cashiers were chatting. Through the aisles, I caught a glimpse of Vorbe heading for the back of the store. He was still moving fast. I hurried after him.
I saw Vorbe push open a swinging door next to the meat section. I was ten steps behind him, and as I reached the door, a big man wearing a bloodied apron blocked me from going any further. A plastic name tag identified him as the store’s meat manager.
“Dogs aren’t allowed in the store,” the meat manager said.
Vorbe was running away. I said the first thing that came to mind.
“I’m legally blind.”
“And I’m Mother Teresa. Get the dog out of here.”
I kept moving forward. The meat manager spread his arms like a linebacker. There was no room around him, and I nudged Buster with my foot. My dog showed his teeth, and the meat manager sprang back.
“You’re asking for trouble,” the meat manager said.
“Go back to your station,” I said.
“Who the hell do you think—”
“Just do as I say.”
The meat manager got out of my way, and I hit the swinging door with my shoulder. Vorbe’s office was in the rear of the store, and I spied a light shining through the open door. I went to the office, and stuck my head in. Vorbe sat at his desk, wiping his sweaty face with a hanky. He looked at me in alarm.
“Can I help you?” Vorbe asked.
I entered, and sat down across from him. “You lied to me.”
Vorbe started to protest. I held up my hand like I was directing traffic.
“You told me a store employee saw Jed Grimes hanging around the Dumpsters the morning Piper Stone was murdered,” I said. “But you told Detective Cobb that you saw Jed. Why did you change your story?”
Vorbe gave me a scolding look. “I think you misheard me.”
“My ears are fine. You changed your story because you were afraid Detective Cobb would want to speak to that employee, and confirm what you