Deadly Target (Detective Sarah Spillman Mystery Series Book 6) Read online

  Spats glanced at the manager, McBain. “Thanks, I appreciate your help.”

  “It’s no problem.” McBain stayed in place against the wall. Nosy.

  “You can go now,” Spats said.

  It was bordering on a polite order, but it took McBain a second to realize it. Disappointment washed over his face. He wanted to listen in, but Spats wasn’t going to let him, unless Austin chose to. But Austin looked at McBain, and when McBain still didn’t move, Austin jerked his head toward the door.

  McBain held up his hands. “Okay. If you need anything else, let me know.”

  Spats thanked McBain again and watched as he slid his back to the door and left the apartment.

  Austin went over and slammed the door shut. He made a show of looking past Spats. “You look through everything?”

  Spats turned to encompass the room. “Yes, I did. I was careful.”

  Austin narrowed his eyes. “What did you find?”

  Spats studied him closely. The kid was nervous, and if Spats guessed correctly, he was high, too. “What can you tell me about Cody?”

  Austin shrugged. “He was all right, I guess.”

  Noncommittal. Spats sighed inwardly. He was going to have to drag information out of the kid.

  “How long have you known him?” Spats began the dragging and tried to use open-ended questions when he could, so that Austin couldn’t revert to yes-no answers.

  Austin pulled at his hair again. “I guess we’ve been friends for a couple of years now. We went to high school together, but we didn’t hang out much then. But towards the end of our senior year, I found out he was going to Metro, and I was, too. Neither one of us wanted to live at home anymore, so we thought we could get an apartment. It’s working out pretty good, I guess.”

  “You know Cody’s parents, and his sister?”

  “Not really. I mean, I met them a time or two, but that’s all.”

  “You talk to Caitlyn?”

  “Not really.”

  Spats switched subjects. “What’s your major?”

  “I don’t have one yet.”

  “What kind of classes are you in?”

  “Just general classes.”

  Spats frowned. His attempts to break the ice weren’t working. He gestured. “Your parents help you pay for this?”

  His chin jutted out. “Yeah, so what?”

  Spats smiled. “I was just asking a question.”

  Austin glared at him. “Yeah, it’s no big deal.”

  “I hear you and Cody had a couple of fights lately.”

  Austin stuck his hands in his jeans pockets. “Yeah, so what?”

  Spats looked at him, amused. His favorite phrases seemed to be “so what” and “I guess.” Spats could work with that. “What were the fights about?”

  “Just stuff.”

  “What stuff?”

  He gave a “whatever” kind of look. “It was about a … girl. Someone we were both interested in. But it’s over.”

  Spats thought it was a lie. He studied Austin until the kid grew uncomfortable.

  “What?” Austin asked.

  “I’m trying to figure out why someone would want to shoot Cody,” Spats said. “Someone was sure angry with him.”

  “You think I had something to do with it?” Austin snapped.

  Spats gazed around the room again. “Let’s just say, you’re not making me feel less suspicious.”

  Austin shrugged and sat down on the couch. “Well, it ain’t cool to come home and a cop’s here.”

  “I can see that.” Spats eyed the skis. “Who’s the skier?”

  “Me.”

  “Are you good?”

  “I guess. I go as often as I can.”

  “That can get expensive.”

  Austin glared at him. “I get a pass.”

  Spats put his hands on his hips. “What about Cody? You go with him?”

  “Nah, he didn’t ski.”

  “Did you guys hang out much?”

  “I guess. When our schedules allow it. We have different classes in school, and he works a lot of nights.”

  “What do you do, besides take classes?”

  Austin looked a little embarrassed. “I just take classes.”

  Spats thought about the cash in Austin’s dresser. “What do you do for money?”

  He hesitated. “My dad helps me out.”

  Spats was sure that was only part of it, but for the moment, he let it go. “Was Cody in a relationship?”

  He shook his head. “Not that I know of. Cody was a bit of a loner.”

  “You know about his past?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, he had some drug issues, but he was okay now.”

  “He wasn’t using?”

  “Nah, man, he was clean.”

  “You try to get him to use?”

  “A time or two. He didn’t want to, so I let it go.”

  “How was his work?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t talk about it much.”

  “What specifically did he say?” Spats pushed him.

  Austin huffed. “Just that he didn’t like it that much.” He rolled his eyes. “I mean, he liked some of the people that he worked with, but he said it wasn’t what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, you know?”

  “What did he want to do?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not sure he knew.”

  “Did Cody say anything about a co-worker named Rob?”

  Austin shook his head.

  “You’re sure?” Spats asked. “Something going on with Cody and Rob?”

  “No, nothing.”

  Spats wasn’t sure he believed that, either, but he moved on. “You and Cody weren’t too close?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Spats put a hand on his chin, making a show that he wasn’t sure what he thought of Austin or his answers. Austin gulped.

  “What about Samantha?” Spats eyed him.

  “No, he broke up with her, and he didn’t talk about her anymore.”

  “Who might’ve been after Cody?” Spats asked.

  He hesitated and glanced away. “I’m not sure.”

  “Really?”

  Austin looked out at the balcony. “I said I don’t know.”

  “Did you and Cody use together?” Spats asked the question out of the blue, hoping to catch Austin off-guard.

  Austin shook his head. “I told you, he was clean.”

  Spats took a couple of steps toward him. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Austin scooted a little on the couch. “Hey, man, take it easy.” He was scared.

  Spats moved to the couch and stood near him. “I just want to know what you’re holding back.” He could smell the cologne that Austin used.

  “I’m telling you everything.”

  “Cody was in some kind of trouble, wasn’t he?” It was a guess, but Spats wanted to see what the kid would do. He was rewarded.

  Austin’s gaze darted in another direction. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Spats narrowed his eyes. “I’ll ask again. What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing.”

  The kid thought he could joust with Spats, but Spats was way better at playing this game.

  Spats bent down, his face close to Austin’s. “I’m going to win,” Spats said in a haunting whisper. It had the effect he wanted. Austin’s face pinched. Spats went on. “You’ll tell me what I want to know.”

  “Hey, man, why don’t you back off.” Austin’s voice warbled.

  Instead of doing that, Spats leaned even closer. He smelled the kid’s foul breath. “How much money are you making dealing? You have a lot of cash in your room, and so does Cody.”

  “I’m not doing that.”

  “I know you were in trouble in high school. You have a rap sheet, drug possession. You were selling, too. Right? I talked to Cody’s parents. They know all about you.” It wasn’t true, but Spats went with it.

&n
bsp; “What did they tell you?”

  “Not as much as you did just now.” Spats looked him in the eye. “Maybe we should go down to the station to talk.” He knew it was a bit of an empty threat, that he couldn’t compel the kid to come to the station, but it worked.

  Austin pressed himself into the couch. He had nowhere to go. “Hey, man, I don’t want to get in any trouble.”

  “Then tell me what’s going on,” Spats snapped.

  The kid finally broke. “Okay, Cody and I were dealing drugs. Some weed is all. It’s good money, all right?”

  “Just weed?”

  “Yeah.” The kid was full of lies. “Come on, weed is easy to get.”

  “I’m telling you, just weed.”

  Spats let the lie go. He’d find out what they were really dealing. “Are you using?”

  “Not the –” He caught himself before he said something else. “I just smoke weed.”

  Spats believed that. “What about Cody?”

  He sighed. “I’m telling you, he didn’t use. He was clean. He just wanted to make extra cash. You know, like at the restaurant.”

  “He dealt there?”

  “Yeah.”

  Spats thought fast. “Were you and Cody in some trouble with your dealer?”

  He hesitated. “The guy that we buy from, we owe him some money.”

  “It’s not smart to stiff your dealer.”

  “Man, we just ran into a little trouble,” he whined. “We came up a little short. It’s not any big deal.”

  Spats let out a little laugh. “Everything is a big deal when you’re in the drug business. People want their money.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He glanced away.

  Spats thought for a second. “How much?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “You better.” Spats made sure the threat in his voice was clear.

  “Ten grand.” Austin pressed his lips together. “Man, you don’t get it. This guy we work with is crazy. I don’t know what he’ll do.”

  Spats whistled. “Did Cody have a problem with this guy? Or just you?”

  “He wants Cody. He wants his money.”

  “He wanted Cody, not you?” Spats wasn’t sure if Austin was the one in trouble. Was that the case, and he was trying to lay the blame with Cody?

  Austin nodded his head vigorously. “Yeah, Cody did it, not me.”

  “What’s the guy’s name?”

  He shook his head. “Man, I can’t tell you. I don’t know.”

  “What if this guy killed Cody, and maybe he’s gunning for you. Did you think about that?”

  Austin went white. “I didn’t have anything to do with it. It wasn’t me.”

  “You’re messing with drug dealers. You think they care? They only care about one thing. Money. If they think you were involved in stiffing them …” Spats left the rest unsaid.

  Austin scratched at his arms, nervous and unsure what to do. He slid off the end of the couch and backed away from Spats. Then he finally made a decision. “His name is Shrimp. I don’t know his real name, so don’t ask.”

  “Shrimp?”

  He shrugged. “You know, like weed. And it’s a joke, because he’s not a big guy.”

  Spats nodded. “Where do I find … Shrimp?”

  “Cody and I meet him at a 7-11 on Colorado Boulevard, near Bruce Randolph Avenue. He usually hangs around there. That’s where we make our deals.”

  “What does this guy look like?”

  “He’s not very tall, but big around.” He put his arms out to indicate someone stocky. “He’s got black hair, spiky, and he’s got a tattoo that runs up the side of his neck.” He pointed. “Man, you better be careful around him. He’s not a nice guy.”

  “And yet you choose to do business with him.”

  Austin glared at him. “Yeah, whatever. You better watch out. Shrimp is crazy. He’ll take you out just as soon as talk to you. He’s flat-out insane.”

  “If you’re lying to me …” Spats said.

  “If you find Shrimp, you’ll see what I mean. I wasn’t doing anything. It was Cody.”

  “Where were you last night around 5:30?”

  “You think I killed Cody?” Austin stared at him and Spats shrugged. “I have a class at Auraria from five to seven. My professor, and I’m sure some of the students, can tell you that I was there.” He rattled off the class name and the building where the class was held.

  “I’ll check.”

  “I’m telling the truth.”

  “About that,” Spats said.

  Austin didn’t say anything.

  “Do you own a dark SUV?” Spats asked.

  “No.” Back to the sullen answers.

  “What kind of car does Shrimp drive?”

  Austin thought about that. “I’ve seen him getting in a big SUV.”

  “Color?” Spats prompted.

  “It was dark.”

  Spats filed that away and fired the next question quickly. “Tell me about Sarah Spillman and Nick Armistead.”

  “Who?”

  Spats thought that answer seemed to be genuine. “Anything else you want to tell me?” he asked.

  Austin shook his head. “You didn’t take anything from the apartment?”

  “No,” Spats said. “What’re you hiding?”

  “Nothing.”

  Spats stared at him, then waved a hand to encompass the room. “You’ve got a good thing here. Why mess it up?”

  Austin just stared at him as Spats went out the door.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I keep going in and out of the fog. Harry is still here. That’s good. The room smells so clean. I hear voices filtering in from the hall. Familiar voices. Then Ernie and Spats are talking to me. They’re asking questions, how am I, what do I remember from last night. I lean my head back against the pillow, close my eyes, and work to gather my thoughts. Last night seems so long ago.

  Spats, I think, asks me about the street. Which street? The street where I was shot. He’s asking about cars, vehicles on the street. Did I see any? I don’t know. I don’t think so. I saw our neighbor’s car, the Prestons. No, that isn’t what Spats is looking for. An SUV? Did I see a dark SUV? No, I don’t remember seeing a dark SUV. They think the shooter might have been in it.

  The other detective sitting in the room, the one I don’t know, what’s his name? Esposito. He’s just sitting over there, seeming indifferent, but I can tell he’s listening to everything. I’m tired. I stifle a yawn.

  Ernie is telling me about two people who’d helped me after I’d been shot. He says they may have saved my life. I can’t even remember their names now. Ernie told me, but I can’t remember what he said. I don’t know either of them. Does Harry know them? No, he doesn’t.

  I am so drowsy, but I’m trying not to show it. I want to help, but I don’t know anything, can’t answer any of their questions. They seem disappointed. I am of no help to my partners. I am letting everyone down. I’m sorry, guys.

  Then I remember Spats doing his best to give me the lowdown on the other two shootings, taking his time with me as I struggle to process and retain the details. When he finishes, I’m exhausted, but I’m also beginning to feel a sense of urgency, and I tell Spats to keep going, what else could I help with maybe. So he holds his phone over where I can see it, shows me pictures of the other victims – a young blond man, Cody something? and another man with short dark hair, handsome, I think, sorta like Harry. His name is … c’mon, focus, Sarah, you can do this. Nick. Do I recognize either of them? No. Does Harry recognize either of them? No, he doesn’t recognize them.

  Ernie asks about Charlie’s Restaurant. I hadn’t been there. Oh, and strange phone calls or strangers in the neighborhood. So many questions, and I can’t help them.

  Now Ernie’s talking about my old cases, asks about ‘Katzenbaugh.’ I don’t know who that is. Harry tells him it’s a caterer we talked to, for the wedding. They’re smiling at that. Then Spats grows serious. They mention Pete
Olinger. They should look into his wife. And now a question about Monica Walker.

  I don’t want to think about Monica. I just want to rest. But instead, at the mention of her, I’m jolted awake, adrenaline maybe, and I remember too clearly that awful episode, my shameful treatment of her, so long ago, one night at college. I helped Diane cover up a cruel and crazy thing she’d done to Monica, and, as a part of it, I’d abandoned Monica on a hiking trail at night, instead of giving her the help she needed. Not long ago, I’d confessed to Monica about my part in the whole sordid story and tried to make amends to her. She had listened to me, but she hadn’t forgiven me. No, she hadn’t even pretended to forgive me.

  I sink back and sigh. I look at the blanket covering me. Then I tell them Monica wouldn’t try to harm me. They say they’ll talk to her anyway. And then I hear Ernie say he’s going to visit Lawrence Ridley. Ridley. I shudder as I remember that name. Would Ridley come after me? Would he be that stupid?

  Ernie asks me something about other cases. I can’t seem to help them with answers. I don’t know. I close my eyes for a second. Nothing makes sense right now. I feel so helpless. And the pain is coming back. Where’s the nurse?

  I put my head back on the pillow and close my eyes, feeling suddenly exhausted. I hear Harry asking them to give me a break, and I hear a chair scrape the floor as Ernie gets up. He says they’ll keep an officer at the door round-the-clock. They think someone still wants to kill me.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ernie and Spats were walking out of Denver Health when Oakley called.

  “Hey,” Oakley said to Ernie. For some reason his Boston accent sounded even thicker than usual, maybe because he seemed tired. “Where are you?”

  “Spats and I are just leaving the hospital,” Ernie said. “Sarah was awake, so we talked to her.”

  Ernie continued the call with Oakley as he and Spats walked to the parking garage. Spats glanced curiously at Ernie, and Ernie mouthed “Oakley.” Spats nodded.

  “How’s she doing?” Oakley asked.

  “Not too bad, given the circumstances. She’s tired and still pretty groggy. She’s on some powerful pain meds.” Ernie gave Oakley a rundown of what Sarah had said, then asked, “You have an update for me on the Armistead murder?”