Reed Ferguson Mystery series Box Set 2 Read online

  I could tell by her tone that I shouldn’t put off calling her.

  “You.” I jammed a finger at Stephanie. “Wait for me upstairs.” She frowned, but turned and clomped up the stairs. I ran after Willie, catching her on the Goofball Brothers’ porch.

  “Hey!”

  She turned around. “On to the next thing so soon?”

  “Of course not,” I said. “She’s my new case.”

  “And you’re bringing her to your house? Isn’t that a little too much?”

  “You don’t understand,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m her bodyguard.”

  “What?”

  “Her father hired me to be her bodyguard.”

  Her jaw dropped. “That’s a new twist.”

  “I know. And she’s a real pistol so far.”

  “I can see that.” Humor lines crossed her face, then quickly vanished. “Why bring her here?”

  “I have to stay with her 24/7, so I’m getting some things to take back to her place.”

  Willie stared at me. “Excuse me?”

  “Do I detect a hint of jealousy?” I took her hand. “Come on, you know me. I wouldn’t mess around on you.”

  She softened. “You’re right. I’m sorry. But look at her. She’s dressed to the nines, and she’s pretty.”

  “Trust me, anything in the looks department is lost when she opens her mouth. Besides, she’s ten years younger than I am.”

  “Charlie Chaplin’s wife was forty years younger.”

  “I’ll be sleeping on the couch,” I assured her.

  She looked away and chewed her lip, and man, it was cute. How could she think I’d want that immature vixen over her?

  I jerked my head toward the stairs. “I better get back up there. Princess of the Damned has probably broken in and is trashing the place right now.” I threw her my most charming smile. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

  She finally smiled back. “I’ve got a long weekend. I’ve got an extra shift at St. Joe’s today, and then a double shift at Denver Health tomorrow. And you’ll be busy, too, so I’ll call you Monday.”

  “You sure you don’t want to talk sooner? Check up on me?”

  Now I got her trademark tuck-the-blond-hair-behind-the-ears that was so adorable. “I’ll be fine.” She gave me a lingering kiss. “Go on.”

  I watched her walk down the steps and across the street to her condo. She waved and then disappeared inside.

  I rushed upstairs, wondering what hell awaited me. Luckily, Stephanie had not managed to weasel her way past my door, but was waiting impatiently on the landing.

  “Hurry up, it’s cold,” she ordered.

  I unlocked the door and we went inside.

  “Wait here while I get a few things,” I ordered her back.

  “Fine.” She plopped down on the couch, took out her phone and began texting.

  I hurried into the bedroom, grabbed a duffle bag from the closet and packed enough clothes for a few days. I got some toiletries from the bathroom and was putting them in the duffle bag when a flash of light out the window caught my eye.

  I glanced outside. A brand-new black Toyota sedan was parked across the street. I didn’t recognize it as one of my neighbors and I didn’t think much about it. Then I remembered I had Stephanie with me, and someone might be after her. I stepped into the bathroom, then edged my way back toward the window and peeked out. Whose car was it? Someone was in the driver’s seat. I watched for a minute. Were we followed? Was the driver waiting for someone? Was I paranoid? As these thoughts raced around in my brain, a thin guy in dark pants, ski jacket and baseball cap got out of the car and walked up to another building.

  Must’ve been mistaken, I thought. I shrugged and resumed packing. The last thing I did was to go into my office for my Glock. I wasn’t one for guns or shooting people, but my cases were becoming increasingly dangerous, so I thought it’d be in my best interests to take it along. I strapped on a new ankle holster I’d recently bought, then holstered the Glock. Then I returned to the living room. Stephanie had her feet up on the coffee table, fiddling with her phone.

  “Do you know anyone who drives a brand-new black Toyota sedan?” I asked.

  “A sedan? Like a cheap car? Gawd, no,” she said. “Why?”

  “Nothing.” I motioned for her to get up. “I’ve got to let my neighbors know I’ll be gone for a few days.”

  “Whatever.”

  She followed me back downstairs. The sedan stayed put as I knocked on the Goofball Brothers’ door.

  “Hey, Reed, how’s it going?” Deuce greeted me when he opened the door. “Did you get your coat?”

  “Yeah, thanks for bringing it back.” I briefly explained what was going on, and asked him to get the mail and watch my place. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

  “Sure,” he said, trying not to stare at Stephanie.

  Behind him, Ace sauntered up. “What’s going on?”

  “Reed’s on another case,” Deuce said.

  “Kind of like Bogie,” Ace said knowingly.

  A blank look crossed Deuce’s face. “Talking golf again?”

  “No, you moron,” Ace said. “Bogie, like Bogart. That film noir stuff he likes.” I was impressed that Ace remembered any of that.

  “Huh?” Deuce said. Unfortunately, he didn’t.

  “Never mind,” I said. “Call me if you see anything suspicious.”

  “I don’t want any trouble,” Deuce said, nervously pulling whiskers on his chin. They were both wary of helping me out if it involved their being subjected to bodily harm.

  “I doubt anything will happen,” I said, thinking about the sedan. “Don’t do anything, just let me know.”

  “You can count on us.” They both nodded deliberately as the door closed.

  “What a couple of losers,” Stephanie said as we got in the 4-Runner.

  “Back off,” I growled. “They’re my best friends, and two of the greatest guys anyone could know. They’d go to the ends of the earth for me.”

  Stephanie smirked at me. “Got a man-crush on them, huh?”

  I turned on her. “Let’s get some things straight. You don’t want me around, and quite frankly, I’m having second thoughts myself. But we both have to make the best of it, so try to put your bitchy attitude aside, just for a bit, until we get through this.”

  She cocked her head, gazing at me. “What’s my father got on you?” she asked.

  Bitchiness aside, she was shrewd. Or, maybe her father had something on everyone.

  “Nothing,” I said. I started the car and we drove away.

  This case couldn’t end soon enough.

  Chapter Seven

  I pulled into the street, keeping an eye on the sedan. It didn’t move. I reached the end of the street and turned the corner.

  “What now?” I asked as we waited at a stoplight.

  “Huh?” Stephanie stared at me, not unlike the Goofball Brothers.

  I cocked an eyebrow at her. “I’m hired to stay with you. It’s your call. What do you want to do?”

  “Oh, okay. Let’s get some lunch.”

  “Where?”

  “I’m dying for a hamburger. They’re so good when you’re getting over a hangover. You know?”

  I nodded. I did know.

  “Let’s go to the Cherry Cricket,” she said, naming a restaurant famous for its mouth-watering burgers.

  I headed south to the Cherry Creek neighborhood, a high-class neighborhood a few miles southeast of downtown Denver. It’s known for the posh Cherry Creek Mall, full of expensive boutiques, high-end department stores, a large movie theater, and plenty of expensive restaurants, as well as local favorites like the Cherry Cricket.

  A little before two o’clock we were seated in a booth at the Cherry Cricket, munching on burgers. The Cherry Cricket had high ceilings, a huge bar along one wall, booths by the front windows, tables throughout and plenty of television that showed sporting events. I’d eaten here a number of times, and I h
ad to agree with others that their burgers were fantastic.

  “Oh, that hits the spot,” Stephanie moaned as she took another bite.

  I was about to agree when I peered past a couple in a booth. Outside the window, a new black Toyota sedan was parked across the street. I swallowed hard. It couldn’t be coincidence, could it? But how did that guy get back to his car so fast and then find the 4-Runner?

  “What?” Stephanie asked through a mouth full of fries.

  I’d kept an eye out for the sedan, and I never saw it. But then why park right there?

  “Stay here,” I said.

  I slipped out of the booth and moseyed to where I could look out the window without being seen. I studied the car. Someone with a hat and sunglasses was in it, but I couldn’t say for sure if it was the man I’d seen from my condo.

  I’d parked the 4-Runner right around the corner. Whoever was in the car had a view of it, as well as the front entrance to the restaurant. I thought for a moment, then pulled out my cell phone and called Ace. He didn’t answer so I called Deuce.

  “Hey, Reed, long time, no chat,” he said, then guffawed.

  “I need a favor,” I said as I watched the sedan.

  “Sure, as long as it’s not dangerous.”

  “This is easy,” I said. “Is Ace there or is he working?”

  “No, he doesn’t have a job anymore, remember?”

  “Right.” Ace had recently worked at Blockbusters, but since the stores had all closed, he was now unemployed. “Here’s what I need. I’m at the Cherry Cricket. It’s on 2nd and Clayton, in Cherry Creek.”

  “I know where it is,” he said. “I’ve eaten there sometimes.”

  “Great. Can you both come down here and then one of you drive my car home? I’ll treat you to dinner if you can.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Great. I’ll be inside waiting.”

  “Okay,” Deuce said. “We’ll be there soon.”

  I hung up and walked over to the hostess. “Do you have a back way out?”

  “Sure, through the kitchen.”

  “There’s someone I need to avoid,” I said. “I’m going to have a taxi meet me out back, okay?”

  She gave me a funny look. “Uh, I guess it’s all right.”

  “I appreciate your help.” I handed her a twenty. “It’s no big deal, just my girlfriend’s angry ex-boyfriend.”

  She relaxed slightly. “No problem.”

  I called for a taxi, then went back to the booth.

  “What’s going on?” Stephanie asked.

  “I think someone’s been following us.”

  Her face turned three shades lighter. “Who?”

  “Someone your father knows?” I shrugged.

  She lifted her glass to her lips, then set it back down without drinking. “What do we do?”

  “My two friends are going to come here and take my car home. We’ll go out the back and take a taxi to your place.”

  For once she didn’t have a comeback. We sat in silence for a while. She played with her French fries and muttered under her breath. She nibbled at her burger, but finally tossed it back on the plate. Then she grabbed her phone and began texting.

  “Are you telling someone about this?” I asked.

  “None of your business,” she snapped.

  “It is if you foul things up.” I signaled the waiter for the check. When he came over, I handed him a credit card and he sauntered away. “I really don’t want to die today.” And under my breath, I thought, “Certainly not from being your bodyguard.”

  She made a big deal of putting her phone away. “I’m not telling anyone that we’re here, or about your brilliant plan. But I’ll quit texting. Does that make you feel better?”

  “As a matter of fact, it does.” The waiter returned and I signed the bill.

  “How long will it take your friends to get here?”

  “There they are,” I said as Ace and Deuce came through the front door.

  She saw them and snickered with disdain. “You sure they won’t screw things up?”

  I ignored that, got up and waved them over.

  “What’s going on?” Ace asked.

  I explained my plan. “Now the sedan might follow you,” I finished as I handed him the keys.

  Deuce paled. “It’s not dangerous, is it?”

  “It’s okay, Deuce. I’ll have Ace take my car.” I turned to him. “Are you okay doing this?”

  Ace nodded slowly. “What do I do if the car follows me?”

  “Park on the street in front of our building, then call the police and have them meet you there. Stay in your cars until they arrive, and then tell them you thought someone was following you. But I suspect the sedan will leave when the cops arrive.”

  “Right,” Ace said. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

  I handed him a couple of twenties. “This is for dinner.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  Stephanie got up and they took our places at the table. I caught the hostess’s gaze and she came over and led us back through the kitchen. Cooks and wait staff gave us little notice as we passed by.

  “Here’s the alley,” the hostess said, holding open a heavy metal door.

  “Thanks,” I said as we stepped outside.

  The door closed behind us and we stood in the crisp shadows of the building.

  “Now what?” Stephanie asked.

  “We’ll take a cab to your place,” I said.

  “So what happens when I want to go out? Whoever that is will probably be watching my place.”

  I didn’t have an immediate answer to that.

  Chapter Eight

  We made it back to Stephanie’s condo without being tailed. She was in a huff the whole way, complaining about being in a taxi, having a bodyguard, and whatever else she could think of. She gave a curt nod to the doorman as we passed, and then we rode the elevator up to the tenth floor.

  “It’s not much,” she said as we walked in.

  I admit, I was impressed with her condo. It had an open floor plan with white walls, vaulted ceilings, a large kitchen with maple cabinets, stainless steel appliances and granite countertops, floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the downtown skyline, and a huge stone patio. She’d decorated it in a modern style, with furniture that suggested an IKEA store, only it was all way too expensive to be from there.

  “I’m going to my room,” she said as she grabbed a bottled water from the fridge. “There’s a spare bedroom and bathroom down the hall.”

  “Right now I need to get on the computer.”

  “Whatever. You can hang out here.” She made a flourish with her hand at an expensive leather couch. “The TV remote’s in a drawer in the coffee table. There’s a swimming pool on the eighth floor, and a gym.”

  “Uh huh. I’d go use the pool and then you’d bolt right out of here,” I said.

  “And you would tell my father.”

  I shrugged. “Do you have Wi-Fi?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

  I mimicked her. “I need the password so I can get on the Internet. Duh.”

  “You are so not funny.” But she rattled off the password, then stormed down the hall to her bedroom.

  “Peace at last,” I muttered. I stood in front of the windows, gazing out at the Denver skyline. My condo was just past the high-rises, and Willie was just beyond, working at St. Joe’s. And here I was, babysitting Her Huffiness. I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. I could deal with thugs, being followed, and even being shot. But dealing with Stephanie…that was another story.

  I rubbed my hands over my face, trying to clear my thoughts. Then I grabbed my phone and called Cal, but he didn’t answer. The last sixteen hours had been a whirlwind, and one thing had been bugging me since I’d met Forrest McMahon: how did he know about Chancellor Finance? I sat down on the couch, pulled my laptop from my bag and got on the Internet. It was time to dig up a piece of my past that I’d hope would remain hidden
.

  I stared at the screen, thinking. My poor choices were coming back to haunt me. I wasn’t proud of what I’d done at Chancellor Finance, and I’d never told anyone but Cal. My parents never even knew about it. At the time, I’d been hoping to impress my father, show him that I could be successful on my own. When things went bad, I didn’t want them to know. They never understood why I’d not pursued my Wall Street career or became a lawyer, and instead chose to become a detective. Finding out about Chancellor now would crush them.

  My partners had been reckless and I’d been foolish. And we’d all been lucky that Allen Brubaker hadn’t turned us in. I shook my head. I hadn’t thought about him in years. He’d been kind to me, more than I deserved. I started typing. I first Googled his name and checked a few sites, and then found him. He’d risen in the Wall Street world, becoming a partner in a big brokerage firm. He was listed on a page with his partners, Bradford Wellington and Hayward St. Clair. They sounded like wealthy names. I gazed at Brubaker’s picture on the screen. He hadn’t aged much, just some crow’s feet at the edges of his eyes. I poked around more and found a work number for him. It was Saturday and I didn’t expect him to be there, but I called anyway and left a message to return my call. I continued reading up on him, and was surprised when my cell phone rang a few minutes later.

  “Reed, it’s been a long time.”

  After all these years, I still recognized his smooth voice. “Allen, how are you?” I said.

  “I’m doing well, thank you.” His voice was clear and cultured. “I’ve managed to keep this business going, even in the economic downturn. But I suspect this isn’t a social call.”

  “No, it’s not,” I said.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I’ve come into contact with someone who knows about Chancellor Finance.”

  I heard a ‘tsk’ sound through the phone. “And it’s someone who shouldn’t know,” he guessed.

  “This guy doesn’t have any connection to Chancellor, at least not that I can find.”

  “Reed, I haven’t thought about Chancellor Finance in years, since right after it all fell apart,” he said. “I’m sure I said some things to a few friends back then, but I’ve never said anything since, and I’m sure I didn’t use your name. But I did keep tabs on you, and you’ve kept your nose clean. Now, Harris Neeson didn’t.” He mentioned Chancellor’s president, a slick guy who talked me into joining them.