Reed Ferguson Mystery Box Set 5 Read online

  “And what are you going to be doing?” Darcy asked me.

  “I’m going to talk to this guy again and record our conversation,” I said. “If he gives me any indication that he’s involved in this Medicare scam, or in Hinton’s murder, I’ll figure out a way to get out of there.” I gestured at Cal. “It may mean he’ll need to transfer the money. If so, once he does, I’ll leave.”

  “What if he doesn’t let you leave?” Cal asked.

  I shrugged. “That’s what you all are for.”

  “I can’t say I like your plan much,” Darcy observed.

  “Me, neither,” Deuce said. “I think it’d be better if Ace and I had guns.”

  “You’ll be fine without them,” Willie said, and Deuce blushed.

  I pointed at Darcy. “If you don’t hear from one of us by nine o’clock, call Detective Spillman.”

  “Right,” she said, although the look on her face made me think she’d come running to the hotel first to, as she said, kick some ass.

  “If all goes according to plan, I’ll be leaving alone,” I said. “I’ll call everyone and we’ll rendezvous at B 52s. I’ll be watching to make sure this guy isn’t following me. If he is, I’ll also call everyone and let you know.”

  “And if he does follow you?” Cal asked.

  “If I get what I need from him, I’m going to the police,” I said. “And we’ll see what he does then. I highly doubt he’ll follow me into the station.”

  Willie frowned. “And if you don’t get what you need?”

  I gnawed my lip. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  I looked around the room. Five pairs of determined eyes gazed back at me.

  “Okay, let’s go,” I said.

  At seven-thirty, I arrived at the second-floor lounge at the Westin Hotel. It had an open floor plan, with a bar by the escalators, small round tables and chairs situated where patrons could watch two TVs above the bar, and lounge tables with seating near windows that looked down on the street. A few businessmen sat at the bar, and a couple was cozying up to each other in a corner near a grand piano.

  I took a seat at one of the round tables, where I could see the escalators to the left and a bank of elevators to the right. I also saw Cal, who was sitting at a yellow couch near the elevators. He had a backpack with his laptop sitting next to him, and he pretended to be looking at his phone, but I knew he was keeping a careful eye on me.

  I ordered water and sipped it while I waited. A basketball game was on TV and I watched it without really knowing what was going on. My mind was on the Slav. Would this crazy plan of mine work? I frowned and checked my watch. 7:50. A group of guys came into the bar, ordered drinks and started watching the basketball game. They were animated, cheering and clapping as their team played. I couldn’t muster up any interest in the game.

  Time ticked slowly by. I glanced over at Cal. He was doing his best to appear uninterested. Then it was eight o’clock. I looked around for the Slav. Nothing. I texted Willie and then the Goofballs and asked them if they’d seen him around, but they hadn’t. I shrugged and started checking my watch every minute. At 8:15, I was wondering if the Slav had somehow figured out what I was doing. Then I worried that he was setting me up. I studied the people around me, looking to see if I could tell whether they might be working with him. But no one made me suspicious.

  At 8:20, Bogie started talking and I jumped. I grabbed my phone, thinking it would be someone on my team, but I didn’t recognize the number. I glanced around for the Slav. I didn’t want to be on the phone when he arrived. But I didn’t see him, so I answered the phone.

  “Is this Reed Ferguson?” a breathless voice said.

  “Yes?”

  “This is Karen Abram.”

  “Who?” Then it dawned on me. “The billing person for Lakewood Medical Clinic.”

  “Yes. I need your help!”

  I gripped the phone tighter. “What’s going on?”

  “Marshall just called me! He’s fuming because he said I told you about him. He’s going crazy. He says he’s coming over and I’m going to pay for what I’ve done.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “Yes. They said they’d send someone by, but I want you to come over. You can talk to him and tell him I didn’t do anything.”

  “Uh,” I hesitated and looked around for the Slav. “You’re sure he’s coming there?”

  “Yes! Please come over here!” She sounded desperate.

  My mind raced as I glanced around. The Slav wasn’t anywhere in sight. I seemed to be wasting my time here, so maybe I could go to Karen’s and talk to Vanderkamp to find out where he’d gone last night, and what he was up to now. And I had another thought. What if Vanderkamp had a way of contacting the Slav? If so, we could end this thing tonight.

  “All right,” I said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Thank you,” she said, relieved. “Please hurry!”

  “I’m on my way.”

  I ended the call and stood up. “Let’s settle this,” I murmured to myself.

  Once again, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Cal was eyeing me warily, and I dialed his number and watched him pull his phone from his pocket and answer it.

  “What’s up?” he said. Too worried to be glib. At least he didn’t run over to me.

  “I just got a call from Karen Abram.”

  “The woman who does the billing for the clinic?” He didn’t miss a thing.

  “Right.” I filled him in. “I’m going over there.”

  “What about this guy we’re waiting for?”

  “Wait here to see if he shows, and follow him.”

  He bolted up in his chair. “Follow him? Are you nuts?”

  “That’s just if he leaves again,” I said. “Get Willie and the Goofballs to help. But he could stay in for the night, so you can get on the elevator and see what room he goes into.”

  “Are you nuts?” he repeated. “He’ll see me.”

  “But only the one time. You get off on his floor and watch where he goes. Pretend like you’re staying in another room. Once he goes into his, you come back downstairs and leave.”

  “Oh, sure, just like that.”

  “You can do it,” I said.

  He let out a very put-upon sigh. “Fine.”

  “And make sure you keep your phone handy in case I call.”

  “I will not come to your rescue. I’ve done that before, and it was not fun.”

  “Yeah, you would. But it’s not about that. If I can arrange a deal with Vanderkamp and the Slav, I may need you to transfer that money.”

  “Okay, I can do that.”

  “Good.” I slid off my chair and started for the escalators. “I’ll call Willie and let her know to stay outside and watch for him. If she sees him, she’ll alert you. And I’ll let the Goofballs know as well.”

  “Okay.”

  I thanked him and ended the call. As I rode the escalator to the lobby, I called Willie.

  “How’d it go?” she asked when she answered.

  “He didn’t show, but I have to go.”

  I told her everything I’d said to Cal.

  “But what if he shows? You’ll have missed your opportunity.”

  “He didn’t show at eight. That tells me he never planned to. I don’t know what he’s trying to do, but I’m sure I’ll find out. If he doesn’t contact me, I’ll see if I can find him again.” I hurried outside and crossed the hotel drive to the street. A flash of lightning momentarily lit the sky, followed by a clap of thunder that made me jump. “And I suspect Vanderkamp knows how to contact him, so I hope I’ll be able to get this taken care of tonight.”

  “Okay, I’ll stay here.” She didn’t sound thrilled.

  “I’m headed to my car now.”

  “Oh, I see you now.” She paused. “I don’t see anyone following you.”

  “Good. You be careful,” I said, saying
it to her before she could say it to me. “If you see him, don’t do anything that will draw attention to yourself.”

  “I’ll be okay. I’ve still got my team.”

  I thought about the Goofballs and their zeal to get involved no matter what the dangers were. “That’s what I’m afraid of. Don’t let the Goofballs do anything silly.”

  “I should say the same thing to you.”

  “Ouch.”

  She laughed. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I do,” I said.

  I ended the call, then talked to the Goofballs while I walked down Lawrence to my car. They assured me I could count on them, and although I knew I could, I worried they might decide they could handle more than they actually could. The last thing I wanted was for harm to come their way.

  With this new strategy in place, I drove out of downtown.

  On the way to Karen Abram’s house, I called Bernie Shepherd. And this time, he answered.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah, why?”

  I told him what was going on. “I don’t know where this guy is, so you keep out of sight, okay?”

  “I will,” he said, his tone edged with fear. “But it’s been quiet.”

  “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

  I ended the call, and as I headed west on Sixth Avenue, a light rain started to fall, and it grew heavier as I drove into Karen’s neighborhood. I kept my eye out for Vanderkamp’s Mercedes, but didn’t see it. I parked in front of her house and glanced around. The curtains were drawn in Karen’s living room window, but a faint glow of light came from cracks around the edge. Since it was raining, no one was about. I checked my Glock, then set my phone app to “record” so that I would have a record of everything Vanderkamp said. I got out and ducked my head down as I rushed up her drive and to the front porch. I rang the bell and waited. Karen Abram opened the door a few seconds later.

  “Oh, thank God you’re here!” she said as she opened the door. “Get in here.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me into the living room. It was dimly lit with a floor lamp in the corner.

  “Where’s Vanderkamp?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Didn’t you say he was on his way here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where was he?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I stared at the coffee table and rubbed a hand over my jaw. “He’s getting desperate.”

  “I guess.” She was calm, not at all like the woman who’d called me, frantic for me to hurry over.

  I glanced around. “Where’s your dog? I would’ve thought he could protect you against Vanderkamp.”

  “True, but –”

  A cell phone chirped and she held up a hand. “Hold on.” She snatched her phone from a coat pocket, looked at the screen, then dashed into the kitchen.

  I went to the window and peeked out. The rain was falling hard now. Where was Vanderkamp? As I watched, the sound of Karen’s voice drifted in to me. And I realized she was talking in a foreign language. Then the conversation ended. I whirled around. Karen stood in the kitchen doorway with a small revolver in her hand.

  “Don’t move,” she said. She may have been a petite woman, but the gun made her a formidable foe.

  I glanced around, wondering if I could take a chance at getting my Glock, and my eyes fell on the coasters on the table, with their red, green, and white stripes. I’d seen that pattern on TV.

  It was the Chechen flag, not a Christmas decoration, I thought.

  I raced over everything I’d learned. Karen had pointed me toward Vanderkamp, saying he could’ve done all the illegal billing himself. But he’d said that he was splitting the money with someone, only he hadn’t.

  My eyes fell back on Karen. “You and Vanderkamp were both in on the Medicare scam,” I said.

  “That’s right.”

  My mind went to my conversation with Vanderkamp last night. “He said he took all the money, and that’s why he was in trouble.” I stared at her. “He was supposed to be splitting the money with you, but he didn’t.”

  She nodded. “Yes.” She cursed him. “Can you believe that guy? I was the one who was getting him extra Medicare numbers to use, which was getting us a lot more money, and he decides he’s going to take all of it? What a jerk.”

  “Yes,” I sympathized to keep her talking. “So you were in it from the start?”

  “I knew Marshall was having some money trouble, so I approached him about how he could bill some extra things to help out.” The gun never wavered as she talked. “He was outraged at first, but I worked on him and wore him down. Then I billed a few extra things, just so he could see how easy it was. When the money came in and no one was the wiser, he asked me to do more and more. That’s when I told him I could get extra Medicare numbers. He agreed – didn’t even ask me how – and so we billed more and more extra costs. We’d been doing this for a few years, and I decided that it was time to take a break, and that I wanted my money. And he wouldn’t give it to me. So I brought in my … associates to help.”

  “It sounds so simple,” I said. “Let me guess: You’ve done this before, with other doctors.”

  She shrugged. “Something like that.”

  I pointed at the coasters. “You’re Chechen.”

  “Yes. My parents were born there, but I was raised here.”

  “And you’ve got a nice setup with your…associates.”

  “He’s a cousin of mine.”

  I hoped the recorder was picking up all this. “So you’re working with the Chechen gangs?”

  “No, it’s just some cousins and me.”

  “That’s a relief,” I murmured.

  She scrutinized me. “You think we’re part of some gang?” She let out a short laugh. “It’s nothing like that. I just wanted to make some good money, and I have.” She waved a hand around. “I’ll be able to retire soon, somewhere in Mexico, maybe.”

  “Where you won’t be extradited back here.”

  Her lips formed a wicked smile. “That’s right. As long as I can get my money from Marshall.”

  “I can get it, but you need to leave Vanderkamp and Shepherd alone.”

  She snorted. “I don’t know that I can keep Timur from doing that.”

  “Timur? The guy with the large nose?” I cocked an eyebrow. “Your cousin?”

  She gave me another one of those mirthless smiles. “Yes. He’s not very happy with you.”

  I held up my hands. “I’m just the middleman. I don’t care what you do once you get your money, but I told Shepherd I would help keep him alive.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  I didn’t like her tone. “Did you kill Pete Hinton?”

  “Me?” She shook her head. “I sent Timur. He was supposed to handle both guys, but he let Bernie get away.” She sounded disgusted with Timur.

  “Why’d you let Vanderkamp live?”

  “We had to get our money. After that…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Where’s he now?” I asked.

  She gestured with the gun. “Let’s find out. Empty your pockets on the table, and turn them inside out.”

  I took out my cell phone, which I noticed was still recording our conversation, and laid it on the coffee table. Then I pulled out the pockets so she could see they were empty.

  “Turn around and check your back pockets.”

  She wasn’t taking any chances by letting me get close to her. I did as I was told, and pulled out my wallet and placed it next to the phone.

  She nodded toward my feet. “Now the gun.”

  “You saw the Glock.”

  “I’m not stupid.”

  I bent down and took the gun from its holster and laid it on the table as well.

  “Lift up your pant legs, and then your shirt.”

  I did as instructed, so she could see I didn’t have any other weapons on me. She needn’t have worried. She’d cleaned me out.

  “Com
e over here, very carefully. I’m not afraid to shoot you, so don’t try anything funny. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

  I did as she instructed, and started walking toward her. She backed into the kitchen and I followed. A back door in the corner was ajar, and the window was open on the cheap aluminum screen door. Thunder rumbled outside. The rain had intensified, and a cool breeze blew into the room. Even if I could somehow yell for help, no one would be out in this weather to hear me.

  “There.” She pointed with the gun at a door near the screen door. “Go downstairs.”

  I opened the door. A dark set of stairs yawned up at me. “Can I turn on a light?”

  “On the right.”

  I felt along the wall and found a switch. I flicked on the light, which exposed a set of wood stairs.

  “Get going.”

  I started down the stairs, my footsteps echoing loudly in the small space. “I’ve told my associates about you and Timur. You won’t get away with this.”

  “Keep walking.”

  She stayed far enough behind me that I couldn’t try to trip her. And I had no doubt she would follow through on her threat to shoot me. I was stuck. I reached the bottom of the stairs.

  “To the right,” she ordered.

  I turned the corner. The light at the bottom of the stairs barely illuminated a long hallway.

  “Down to the door on the right,” she said.

  I took a few steps forward and stopped at another doorway.

  “Turn on the light.”

  I again felt along the wall by the door and turned on an overhead light. And then I saw him.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I was staring into a small guest room, with a double bed and nightstand, a dresser and vanity with mirror by the door. Marshall Vanderkamp was lying on the bed, tied up with silver duct tape. His left eye was swollen shut and blood trickled from his nose and over tape that covered his mouth. When he saw us, his good eye widened in surprise and fear.

  “Mph,” he mumbled.

  “Shut up,” she snapped at him.

  He did.

  “Sit down on the floor,” she said to me.

  I sat down with my knees bent in front of me. When she got close, my plan was to kick up at her. It was the only thing I could think of to try to get away. But she was ahead of me.