Reed Ferguson Mystery series Box Set 2 Page 5

  I hung up and stood in the hallway for a moment, tempted to go back in the bedroom, tempted by the woman in my bed. But before I could act on that, an even more compelling idea popped into my head. I plodded down the hallway and into my home office. I wasn’t much into decorating, except for this room. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on one wall hold a plethora of books, among them numerous rare first-edition detective novels. A DVD case is filled with my favorite film noir and detective movies, along with an Alfred Hitchcock collection. A glass display case in the corner of the room has a first edition of A Study in Scarlet, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and I’d recently added a beautiful copy of The High Window, by Raymond Chandler. They’re the best things in the room. I dialed Cal as I sat down at my desk.

  “What do you need?” Cal’s abruptness didn’t surprise me; as he wasn’t known for his social graces.

  “Did I wake you?”

  “Of course not,” he snorted. “I’ve been up all night working on tracing this hacker who got into my client’s servers. Really made a mess of things…”

  “Do you have time for something else?”

  “Another bit of detective work?”

  “Nothing hard.”

  “I wasn’t worried about that.”

  “Oh, I forgot, I never challenge you.” I chuckled. “I was wondering if you could check Deuce’s phone again and see if he’s received any more calls.”

  “No problem. You looking for any specific number?”

  “Uh huh. I’ll lay odds that after I visited Gary, he called Deuce.”

  “Let’s see.” I heard clicking sounds and could picture Cal’s fingers dancing across his keyboard. “Here we go.”

  “What’d you find?”

  “Gary called Deuce again, at two-thirty yesterday.”

  “Ha!” I slapped my hand on the desk. “I was right. That’s right after I left Gary’s house.”

  “Looks like Gary left a message.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Hold on.” More taps and clicks. “I’ll hold the phone up to the speaker so you can hear it.”

  I waited a second and then Gary’s voice came through my phone, a bit distorted because it played from Cal’s computer speakers and then through the phone.

  “Dude, what the hell is going on?” the message began. There was a menacing tone in his voice. “I got some detective guy, says he’s your friend, coming by the house and wondering where you are. It wasn’t me who called you, but…what happened last night? I got to see you, man, before you talk to anyone else. We’ll get things fixed, but if you think you can just weasel out of this…” A long pause ensued. “Anyway, we need to talk, so call me.”

  “Wow,” Cal said. “Why would Deuce be friends with someone who talks to him like that?”

  “I don’t know that they’re friends.” I grabbed a pen and paper. “Let me listen to it again.”

  Cal played the message again and I jotted down some notes.

  “I’ll make a recording of it and email to you,” Cal said. “Give me half an hour.”

  “Uh huh,” I said as I contemplated what I’d written down: It wasn’t me who called you. What happened last night?

  “Gary wasn’t at B52’s last night and he didn’t call Deuce,” I said. “He was telling the truth about that.”

  “So who did call Deuce using Gary’s phone?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know, although Gary could still be lying about that. Maybe he set up Deuce and he’s trying to cover his tracks.” I tapped my pen on the paper, thinking. “It sounded like Gary was being cautious, not wanting to say too much.”

  “He knows you’re on to him, and he suspects that you’ve hacked his phone account, so it makes sense he’s being careful.”

  “Too bad,” I said. “I guess it’d be too easy for Gary to confess over the phone and tell us where Deuce is.”

  “Only in the movies.” Cal let out a yawn that sounded like an angry lion.

  “Are you planning on sleeping at all?”

  “Maybe a little bit. I’m close to nailing this hacker, so I’m going to keep at it.” When Cal was working, he tended to forgo sleep.

  “Can you check Deuce’s phone messages every couple of hours and let me know if anyone other than Bob or Ace calls him?” I asked.

  “Sure, no problem. What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to pay Gary another visit,” I said. “And this time, he better have some answers.”

  Willie was still sleeping when I got off the phone, so I dressed as quietly as I could, left her a quick note on the nightstand, then slipped out of the house.

  Chapter Nine

  It was shortly after nine when I parked across from Gary’s house. Maybe you could accuse me of stereotyping, but I somehow didn’t think Gary was the type to be up early. I hoped I was right.

  Typical of Colorado, the weather had changed. Beautiful yesterday, but today gray clouds hung low in the sky and cold moisture clung to the air, the type that signaled snow flurries.

  The street was quiet as I trotted up the walk. I paused at Gary’s front door, listening. Silence. I rang the bell and waited. After a moment, I pressed the button again. Still nothing. I couldn’t bring myself to believe that Gary would be gone already. I yanked open the screen and pounded on the door.

  “Gary?” I called out. It was Sunday, maybe he was at church. Naaah.

  I let the screen door bang shut as I stepped back and surveyed the house. The curtains were pulled closed. I stepped between some overgrown evergreen shrubs and up to the window. I cupped my hands against the glass and peered through, but I couldn’t see anything.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  I jumped back, my feet catching in the bushes. I lost my balance, nearly tumbling on my ass.

  “Who are you?” I asked as I caught a handful of branches. I righted myself and tried to look cool. I’m sure I didn’t succeed.

  “I could ask you the same thing.” The owner of the voice was a tall woman with long wheat-colored hair pulled into a ponytail. She stared at me with dark blue eyes surrounded by equally dark circles. Her lips formed a thin line and her hands were on her hips. Clearly annoyed.

  “I’m looking for Gary,” I said, brushing dead evergreen needles from my jeans.

  “Obviously. But that doesn’t tell me who you are.”

  I introduced myself and handed her a card from my wallet. “And you are?” I asked.

  “Linda.”

  “You live around here?”

  “Next door.” She held up the card, then tapped it on her leg. “A private detective, huh. What do you want with Gary?” Her voice grated, like it hadn’t warmed up yet.

  “A friend of mine’s missing and I think Gary might know something about it.”

  She contemplated me for a moment. “Who’s your friend?”

  “Deuce Smith. Ever heard of him?”

  She shook her head. “What’s he look like?”

  I started to describe Deuce, then pulled out my phone. “Here’s a picture of him.” I scrolled through some photos, found one, and showed it to her.

  “Nope, never seen him.”

  “You sure?”

  The dark eyes grew darker. “Yeah, I’m sure. You wake me up on my day off, making all that racket, and you think I’m gonna give you the runaround? Last thing I need is a sleepless night.” By the looks of her, she’d had more than a few sleepless nights. She yawned and stretched, then pulled the blue scrunchie out of her hair and ran her hands through it. “I barely got any sleep, and I got a hangover, too.”

  “You can go back to bed now,” I said as I walked back to the porch. I glanced around while Linda looked at me. “Gary doesn’t seem to be around,” I said, stating the obvious.

  “He hasn’t been home since he left after you were here yesterday.”

  I jerked my head toward her, surprised. “You saw me?”

  “I heard you.” She paused. “Well, I heard Gary yelling at you. I pe
eked out my window and saw him flip you off as you drove away. You really pissed him off.”

  “I have a way of doing that.”

  “You don’t have to tell me.”

  I rolled my eyes. Everybody’s a critic. “How long have you known Gary?”

  “Let’s see.” She gnawed at her lower lip. “I moved in here right before Gary did, and that was about two years ago.”

  “Are you friends?”

  “No, not really,” she said. “Well, sometimes Gary’ll have me over for a beer or two, and maybe…” she hesitated. “And, you know, maybe something to get high, but I think that’s just so I’ll get off his case.”

  “Why are you on his case?”

  She let out a short, cynical laugh. “Gary can be a real asshole. You know he’s got some kind of construction job, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, I think he does some jobs on the side and he and his friends will sometimes fill up the driveway with all kinds of construction crap.”

  “Like what?”

  “You name it, it’s been here,” she said, waving a hand to indicate where the stuff had been. “Boards, drywall, pipes, wiring. Sometimes they keep it in his garage, other times it’s been in the driveway. I’ve had times where I couldn’t get my car into my garage, and other times I couldn’t get my car out of the garage. Pissed me off, too, when that happens because it’s made me late for work.”

  “That stinks,” I said.

  Her nostrils flared. “And if that wasn’t enough, sometimes when he’s got his friends over to party, they’ve got the music cranked, and they park their big macho trucks in the driveway…”

  “Blocking you,” I finished.

  “Uh huh. I’ve gotten in his face a time or two about it, and threatened to call the cops. Then suddenly he’s nice as pie, offering to have me over for a few beers, maybe a little more.”

  Drugs as a bribe for silence.

  “Doesn’t sound like he’s such a great neighbor.”

  “No, but I’ve had worse.”

  “Has Gary ever been in trouble?”

  She shrugged as she played with the scrunchie. “Not that I know of.”

  “Nobody called about the noise or partying?”

  She jerked her head toward the street. “Nobody around here’s gonna call the cops. People keep to themselves. Except when a detective comes around, banging on doors.”

  I held up my hands. “My timing’s bad. So shoot me.” Then I said, “Have you noticed anything unusual lately?”

  She thought for a moment. “With Gary? No, not really.”

  I took in a breath and let it out slowly. She redid her ponytail, without taking her eyes off me.

  “Are you sure Gary didn’t come home last night? Maybe you didn’t hear him?” I finally asked.

  She shook her head. “If Gary was here on a Saturday night, I’d know it.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “Guys are always coming and going, especially on the weekends. And they aren’t quiet. There’s music or the television, or arguing. This time of year, I keep my windows open.” She tipped her head up toward the gray sky. “At least last night I did. My kitchen window’s in the back and I can hear them in the yard, or the music coming from his house. Trust me, you can hear what goes on around here.”

  “Or,” I hesitated for a second, “maybe you came by, looking for something to spice up the night?”

  She grinned, then gave me an appreciative nod. She’d been caught. “Maybe. So sue me.”

  “Not worth the trouble.” I stepped off the porch. “If Gary comes home, will you give me a call? I really need to talk to him.”

  She held up the card again, considering it. “I might.”

  “It’s important.”

  She made a big deal of looking agreeable. “I’ll call. You could always try to catch him at work.”

  “I thought of that. But that means I have to wait until tomorrow.”

  “I guess you can’t have everything.”

  So true. I waved as I headed down the driveway to my car. When I glanced back, she was gone.

  Chapter Ten

  I ended up spending the day doing one of the least glamorous and most tedious of detective duties: waiting for someone to show up. I sat in my car, listening to music, waiting for Gary to come home. An hour later, Linda finally noticed I was still there. She came out with a cup of coffee.

  “You could be waiting a long time,” she said, holding out the cup. She’d put on some makeup, and the dark circles were gone. She was dressed in black slacks and a white blouse, and the scrunchie in her hair was now black.

  The aroma made my mouth water. “I better pass,” I said. “If I drink that, in an hour I’ll need a bathroom.”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She took a sip. “I’d offer to let you stay with me, but I’ve got to go to work.”

  “You think I have a long wait?” I asked.

  “Yep. If Gary was out partying last night, who knows when he’ll be home.”

  She strolled back inside and a moment later, her garage door opened. A tan, older model Honda Civic backed out. She waved at me as she drove by.

  I yawned. I could’ve used the coffee. Minutes passed, then hours, but still no Gary. I called Willie but she didn’t answer, so I left a message telling her I wasn’t sure when I’d be home but that I hoped to see her today. By noon, my stomach was growling. At two, the Denver Broncos game started and I tuned in to it on the radio. I love football and it was a good game. I wished I was home watching it.

  Three hours later, the game was almost over, with the Broncos ahead, when a black Dodge truck drove down the street. It slowed in front of the driveway, and before I could duck, Gary spied me sitting in the 4Runner. He hollered something at me as he flipped me the finger, gunned the engine, and the truck peeled off down the street.

  “Damn,” I said, starting the 4Runner. I slammed it into gear, cranked a U-turn and hit the gas.

  The truck was at the corner. It turned right and disappeared. I raced to the corner and followed it. Gary was flying down Evans. The truck crossed Broadway, and the light turned yellow. I floored the gas and the 4Runner shot through the intersection. Up ahead, Gary zipped around cars. I glanced down. I was approaching sixty.

  A car turned onto Evans in front of Gary’s truck. He slammed on his brakes, then careened onto a side street with me right behind him. Cars lined either side of the road, leaving a narrow lane in the middle. Halfway down the block, the truck suddenly stopped and I had to hit my brakes hard, skidding to a stop inches from his bumper.

  Gary flew out of the cab, shouting obscenities at me.

  “I just want to talk,” I shouted. I started to get out.

  Gary reached into the truck bed and grabbed a short piece of wood. He stalked toward me, wielding it like a baseball bat.

  “Shit,” I muttered. I jerked the car into reverse and hit the gas. The 4Runner’s wheels squealed as the car shot backward. Gary’s swipe at the hood of the 4Runner missed. I kept backing up with Gary running toward me. I finally found a space between two cars. I veered into it, my rear wheels jumping up on the curb. I spun the steering wheel, put the car into drive, and zoomed back toward Evans. In the rearview mirror, I saw Gary hurl the piece of wood at my car. It clattered harmlessly to the ground. Gary stood in the middle of the road, shouting at me.

  So much for trying to talk to him. I drove home, thinking about Gary. He didn’t know where Deuce was, and he didn’t want to talk to me about it. What was he hiding? How could I get to him? An idea formed: if he didn’t want to talk to me at his house, I’d try his work. I doubted he would threaten me with his coworkers and boss around.

  When I got home, I knocked on Ace’s door, but no one answered. I went upstairs and entered my empty house.

  “Willie?” I called out. I glanced around and saw a note sitting on the coffee table.

  Hey, handsome, sorry I missed your call. I had a great time last night. I check
ed on Ace before he went to work, and unfortunately, I have to go to work, too. I won’t be home until late, so I’ll call you tomorrow.

  She signed it with just a W.

  “Damn,” I said into the silence.

  Willie hated that I was a detective. She worried about me and whether I’d come home safely. She was a nurse at Denver Health, and she worked odd hours and shifts – sometimes nights and weekends – and right now, I hated her job. I tossed the note back on the table. So much for spending the day with her.

  I fixed a sandwich and went into my office. As I ate, I looked up the address for Criss Cross Construction. It was a big company with multiple job sites both in Denver and out of state. The president was Lon Carlson. I had no way of knowing which project Gary worked at, so I figured I’d go by the main office and see if I could talk to Mr. Carlson and get the information that way. I mapped out how to get there, then called Bob.

  “Still no news?” he asked.

  “No,” I said. “Is Ace with you?”

  “Yeah, I don’t want him to be alone.”

  “Good,” I said. “Do you know where Deuce worked?”

  “Yeah, Criss Cross.”

  “I mean which site?”

  “No,” he said slowly. “He was working on a bridge project, but I think that changed recently.”

  “Okay. I’m going to visit Deuce’s work tomorrow, so if it’s okay with you, I’ll let them know what’s going on, and talk to his boss or coworkers. Maybe they know something.”

  “Sure, that’s fine, but couldn’t you just call?”

  “I’m following up on one of his coworkers, too,” I said. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  I hung up, took my plate back to the kitchen, and then went into my bedroom. I sprawled out on the bed, my face in the pillows. I smelled Willie’s perfume and wished she were here. I lay morosely for a minute, then flipped over. I grabbed the remote and turned on the television. The Sunday night game was on. I closed my eyes and listened to it…and soon I dozed off.