‘I believe so, yes,’ said Williams. ‘The police are in on it and maybe others in the community too. Rodriguez is doing exactly what he did back in Mexico. Making friends, oiling the right palms, but also speaking up for the underclass – his customer base.’
Registering Nikki’s skeptical face Williams doubled down on his theory.
‘I’m certain the Mexican cartels are a part of this. That they’re involved in Trey’s death, and Lisa’s. You should prepare yourself for the possibility that they had something to do with your husband’s “accident” as well.’
Nikki’s eyes glazed over. She let the PI’s words wash over her, retreating into self-protection mode. She didn’t want Doug’s death to be a part of this spider web. His accident, his mistress, had nothing to do with Anne Bateman’s ex-husband. How could they possibly?
‘So. That’s the summary so far.’ Williams sat back in his chair, satisfied. ‘What would you like me to focus on next?’
Nikki looked at him blankly.
‘This week I focused on Trey,’ Williams recapped. ‘Starting tomorrow, I could dig deeper into Lisa Flannagan. Her past drug use – maybe find a connection to one of the cartel’s dealers? Or her affair with Willie Baden. Maybe Willie and Valentina are a bigger part of this than I realized. Or I could try to find out why the police are so interested in your old patient, Brandon Grolsch. Or, I could keep following our friend Detective Johnson, see if his corrupt, racist fingers are jammed anywhere in this shit-pie? You’re the boss,’ Williams reminded Nikki. ‘She who pays the piper calls the tune.’
The old-fashioned expression made Nikki smile.
‘Is something funny?’
‘No, not really,’ said Nikki, still smiling. ‘It’s just … you’re a nice man, Derek. You’re working really hard on this, and you seem to have so much energy. My head is spinning, but I’m grateful, that’s all. I trust you.’
Williams looked down awkwardly. It had been a long time since anybody had paid him a compliment, never mind a beautiful woman.
‘Well. Thank you.’ He cleared his throat, visibly embarrassed. ‘I appreciate that. Could you maybe put that in writing to my ex-wife? The “nice man” part? I’ll waive next month’s fees.’
‘Really?’ asked Nikki.
‘Nah, not really. I need the money,’ Williams grinned. ‘Speaki
ng of which, I could use a tiny top-up on expenses …’
Nikki pulled out her checkbook. She was well aware she was paying over the odds, but she didn’t care. In four days, Williams had achieved more than Johnson and Goodman had in almost two weeks. Although exactly what she was supposed to do with all his half-baked rumors, theories and connections she wasn’t sure. Yet.
‘This week I’d like you to focus on my husband’s accident,’ she told him, tearing off the check and pressing it into his clammy palm. ‘I want to know more about Lenka.’
Williams considered this. ‘Are you sure? That’s your priority?’
‘That’s my priority,’ said Nikki.
‘You do realize that your own life is probably still in danger?’ Williams pointed out, reasonably. ‘These cartels are multimillion-dollar businesses. And they’re run by psychopaths. I’m not only talking about Luis Rodriguez here. The Russians, Mexicans, Chinese, they’re all the same when it comes to disposing of their enemies.’
‘How am I their enemy?’ asked Nikki.
‘I don’t know yet,’ replied Williams. ‘But I’d like to spend this week trying to find that out – before you wind up cut to ribbons and dumped by the side of the freeway, or knocked down like a bowling pin on the road. No offense.’
‘None taken,’ said Nikki. ‘And I appreciate your concern, Derek, I really do. But if there’s a risk I might die tomorrow, what I actually need more than anything is to know the truth about my husband. This other woman, this Lenka – who was she? Surely that shouldn’t be so hard a question to answer?’
‘You’re the boss,’ said Williams again.
He watched from the window while Nikki drove off. She was a strange one, Dr Nikki Roberts. Then again, everyone was strange in their own way. He liked her. He especially liked the fact that she’d called him a ‘nice man’. Not the most earth-shattering of compliments, perhaps. But it was sincere and it had touched him, more than he liked to admit.
As he drove home, Williams tried the words on for size, repeating them out loud to himself:
‘You’re a nice man. You’re a nice man, Derek.’
I’m a nice man.
He would find out the story behind Doug Roberts’ mistress. Because Nikki was right, really – how hard could that be? And he would find this killer too, and the people behind him, the dark forces threatening Nikki. The Badens were caught up in it somehow. And Rodriguez of course. Although, as with Charlotte Clancy, Williams suspected Luis was probably only one player in a larger, more sinister play. He, Derek Williams, would solve the mystery of the Zombie Killings and save the day and make everything OK for his beautiful client.
Not because she paid him.