9 Hell on Wheels by Sue Ann Jaffarian Page A

Wainwright was on his rug at the foot of our bed. Both seemed very happy to have us home, even though they were sad to see Mom leave. Our little family was in place for the night.
    Right before I turned off the lamp on my side to go to sleep, I picked up my cell phone.
    “Who are you calling at this hour?” Greg asked.
    “No one. I’m texting Zee to let her know we’re home. She’d left me one earlier about getting together for lunch tomorrow, and I’d forgotten to respond. Lunch will depend on my workload with Steele out of the office.”
    Finished, I put the phone back, then grabbed it again.
    “Now what did you forget?”
    “Nothing—now I’m texting Steele, checking to make sure he’s okay.”
    “Ah,” said Greg, not taking his eyes off his book. “You’re feeling guilty again.”
    “Can’t I just check up on someone without a reason?”
    “Sure, but not in this case. This smacks of guilt.” There was a slight snicker in his voice.
    Less than thirty seconds later, my phone vibrated a reply. I read it, then put the phone on its charger and turned off the light. “He said he’s fine but getting sick of protein shakes. And he sent me three more work-related emails.”
    Greg laughed.
    A few seconds later, Greg’s phone vibrated. “It’s probably Steele,” I said, turning over to face Greg while he checked it out. “He probably wants to ask you again if you think the car accident story will fly.”
    “No,” Greg told me, studying the display. “It’s a text from Dev. He said Rocky Henderson has been released.”
    “Really? That’s great news.”
    “I’ll give Rocky a call in the morning and see how he’s doing.” Greg started to put his phone back on his nightstand when it vibrated again.
    “Steele or Dev?” Our phones were getting more late-night action that we were.
    “Neither,” said Greg with surprise. “It’s Rocky. He wants me to call him in the morning.”
    When Greg finished reading the text, he immediately hit the call button and put the phone on speaker. “Hey, buddy,” he said when Rocky answered. “Just got your text, but we’re still up. I’m here with Odelia. Your text said you’re home and you wanted to talk.”
    “Yeah,” answered Rocky, his voice slow with exhaustion. “Actually, I’m at Lance’s right now, but I wanted you guys to know I’m out of the clink. Thanks for everything.”
    I scooted my face closer to the phone. “Did you make bail?”
    “I actually didn’t get that far; they let me go. Lucky for me, the beating didn’t kill Tanaka. The cops said he was poisoned.”
    “Poisoned?” My voice squeaked in surprise.
    “Yep. They think it’s cyanide, but they’re not sure yet. Guess it takes a few days for the tests to confirm it.”
    “Wow!” Greg ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sure glad that’s over, at least for you.”
    “It’s not exactly over, which is what I wanted to talk to you about. I need a really big favor.”
    “Anything,” Greg said, meaning it.
    “The cops said they found the poison in Tanaka’s water bottle and prints on the bottle. They say the prints belong to Miranda.”
    Greg and I were stunned into silence.
    “They still can’t find Miranda. I know you guys have done some detective work in the past. Do you think you could snoop around and see if there might have been anyone else with a reason to kill Tanaka?”
    “Seems like it would be a pretty long list,” Greg said.
    “True,” Rocky snorted. “I’m thinking no one would notice you asking a few questions here and there, but they might me. I can’t believe Miranda would do something like that, no matter what else she’s done.”
    I finally found my voice. “What exactly did Peter say to you on the court that made you so angry?”
    “Let’s talk about that tomorrow—if you guys are free, that is.”
    “What time is good for you?” asked Greg.
    “How about after work? I really need to show up at my office tomorrow, and you guys probably do