by Diane Rapp
As they stepped into the vacant elevator, Paxton grumbled, “This visit was a waste of time. I’d be more suspicious of Dana Thompson if we were searching for a vampire. Her skin looks so pale and taut, I doubt she ever goes out into the sun.”
Tamara chuckled. “Maybe we’ll find zombies at the next office.” Bentley tilted his head as if he were trying to understand the words vampires and zombies. He grew bored and scratched his ear.
“Don’t add the undead to our list of perps. We only have time for human suspects today,” Paxton said as the elevator opened.
The next office was located two blocks away, on a street between residential and commercial buildings. It was a charming little Spanish-style stucco building with a red tile roof and arched doorways. As they entered the front door, Bentley trotted up to the receptionist and gave her a doggie smile.
“Oh, he’s so cute! Can I give him a biscuit? I keep a supply just in case a customer comes in with a pooch.” The middle-aged woman reached into a crockery pot marked “dog” and pulled out a tempting treat.
“Okay, Bentley,” Tamara said and the dog politely took the cookie from the woman’s fingers.
“He’s so polite. Some dogs snap at the treat, and I worry about my fingertips. What can I do for you?”
Paxton handed her a business card. “We’d like to speak with your broker, Stephen James. Is he in?”
“Let me tell him you’re here. I’ll be right back.”
The receptionist waddled down the hallway, the soles of her sensible shoes squeaking on the tile flooring. A few minutes later, a silver-haired man in a wheelchair followed her back down the hall. He gestured toward the roomy conference room across from the reception desk and waited for them to enter. He wheeled himself inside and took a position obviously cleared for his chair.
“I take it you’re investigating those kidnappings. Such a bad business. What can I do to help you?” Stephen leaned forward with his elbows resting on the table and his hands clasped.
Paxton explained, “We’re touching base with realtors who maintain memberships in the boards of all four cities involved. Your name came up in our computer search.”
“I’m a suspect?” He sat back and laughed, gesturing at his wheelchair. “I’m not very dangerous in this contraption, now, am I?”
“You could employ an accomplice, but I agree, the likelihood seems remote.” Paxton opened his file. “How many employees do you keep on staff and what is the reason for the membership on so many boards?”
Stephen rubbed his chin. “We manage rental properties, both residential and commercial, owned by large corporations. We hire bookkeepers, maintenance workers, and advertising staff in all four cities. I pay commissions to realtors who secure good tenants for us, and we perform background checks before signing the paperwork. All my permanent office staff are women near retirement age.”
Tamara noticed how comfortable Bentley seemed with the gregarious man and nudged Paxton.
He stood. “We won’t waste any more of your time, but if you think of anything helpful, please give us a call,” Paxton said, gesturing at the card in Stephen’s hand.
The man laughed. “It was an interesting break in a very dull day, I’m afraid. I’ve never been a suspect before.” He fingered the card. “I wish you luck in your search.”
Back in the car, Paxton rubbed Bentley’s ear as the dog leaned through the space between the front seats. “Is he asking for a treat or wondering where we’re going next?”
Tamara handed the dog a cookie. “He expects a treat after every stop, I’m afraid. I’m not sure whether he trained me to give him cookies, or if I inadvertently trained him to expect them.”
“Doesn’t matter now.” Paxton pulled into traffic and asked, “Which way, navigator?”
Tamara said, “Jasper Martin’s office is located south of the freeway, so head down State Street.”
Realty Four was sandwiched between a nail salon and bicycle rental shop in a shabby strip mall near the railroad tracks. Signs shouting about discounted real estate fees were plastered across the grimy windows.
Tamara sighed. “I didn’t realize Jasper was the broker of a cut-rate real estate office. They get sellers to list by cutting commissions to four percent and list the property in the MLS. No advertising is offered and the poor sellers must do all the work themselves. Sellers must pay for the shabby signs posted on their properties, and most realtors don’t show property listed by them.”
“You get what you pay for,” Paxton murmured as they entered the shop. There were three metal desks with laminate tops inside the shoebox-shaped room. A coffee pot sat on the counter next to the sink in the back, next to a door for the restroom.
A haggard-looking pregnant woman flashed a meek smile. “May I help you?” she asked. The name “Sheila” was printed on her lapel pin.
“Hi Sheila,” Paxton held out a business card. “We’re here to see Jasper Martin.” His gaze scanned the empty office, noting pictures of tract homes with prices taped to the avocado green paint on the walls.
“Sorry, Jasper only stops by once a week to sign paperwork. That’s his desk, but he’s not due back until day after tomorrow.”
Tamara noticed Jasper’s desk was piled with folders, and a thin film of dust covered the faux wood top. Bentley pulled against the leash to sniff the metal legs of the nearest desk. Tamara asked, “Who uses this desk?”
Sheila frowned. “My sister Peggy is usually in the office by now, but her kids have the flu. I don’t think we’ll see her for a few days.”
Paxton walked over to Jasper’s desk, wrote a note on a pad of paper, and placed his card on top. “Tell Jasper we need to ask a few questions when he comes in.”
“What kind of questions?” Sheila asked nervously.
“Nothing much. We’re investigating the realtor kidnappings and need to know why he has offices in each of the cities involved.” He gave Sheila a comforting smile and waited.
“Oh! I heard about those poor women. To answer your question, Jasper is opening offices all around the state. He hopes to offer discounted real estate commissions to people who can’t afford those high rates. He hires two or three agents to work in each office and spends his time reviewing the paperwork. He’s never here for more than an hour or two each week.”
Tamara nodded. “When did he last stop by?”
Sheila swiped stray hair away from her eyes and sighed. “I’m afraid it’s been about two weeks. He tries to make the drive regularly, but it’s a long way from his home in Bakersfield.” She leaned forward and admitted, “Business has been slow, so he works a second job in construction.”
“Can you give me his phone number? I could probably get all the information I need over the phone,” Paxton said.
Sheila pulled her body out of a creaky task chair and fetched a business card from Jasper’s desk. “Use the bottom number after six in the evening. He can’t hear the cellphone ringing on the construction site, I’m afraid.”
Bentley pulled on the leash as they headed out the door. He sniffed the sidewalk outside but no interesting scents attracted his attention. Sitting next to the car, he seemed eager to go for another ride.
“I don’t think their office will be open for long, I saw several envelopes marked past due in his basket,” Paxton told Tamara.
“I feel sorry for Sheila and her sister. Maybe I can help them find better jobs.” Tamara made a note to herself on her phone.”
Paxton started the car and turned up the air conditioning to cool off the hot interior as Bentley lapped water from his dog dish. “Our list is getting pretty short. I don’t think Jasper had the time to execute any kidnappings, but I’ll have someone interview him in Bakersfield.”
Tamara clicked her seat belt into place. “Get on the freeway and head south. We need to talk to Travis Jenkins and his office is located near a pricey grocery store in Montecito.”
“He’s the guy who made you nervous, right?” Paxton’s eyes turned ste
ely and his jaw clenched. “I’m not sure I should take you along on this interview.”
Tamara shook her head and pointed at the freeway entrance. “With you and Bentley at my side, I’m not worried. Besides, Bentley needs to sniff around his office.”
Ten minutes south of Santa Barbara, Montecito was home to the rich and famous. An upscale shopping center was filled with Mercedes, Cadillacs, and Lexus automobiles. Paxton parked and waited while Tamara clipped the leash onto Bentley’s harness. The dog immediately became alert as they zigzagged through cars toward the office door.
Tamara felt the dog’s tension and heard a low growl as Bentley caught a familiar scent. “He’s getting the scent of someone he doesn’t like,” Tamara said, pointing at Bentley. His short tail stood straight up, as Bentley walked forward with his head held high and chest rumbling.
“The office is closed and it’s dark inside.” Paxton checked his watch and frowned. “It’s barely 5:00 p.m. Why would a broker close up so early in a high-priced location?”
Tamara shaded her eyes with her hands and peered through the plate-glass window. “It’s too neat inside. I don’t see any files piled on the desks and the wood furniture looks dusty. I don’t think anyone works in this place.”
“Why pay these prices if you don’t plan to attract customers?” Paxton asked.
The sound of a telephone ringing inside the office drew their attention. They listened to an answering machine spew a recorded message. After the beep, the caller left a cryptic message filled with numbers and dates but no names.
“We need to secure a warrant to search this place and hear those messages. We can’t afford to blow the case,” Paxton said as he tapped an app on his phone. “Shirley, we need a search warrant as soon as possible. Do you have all the details for Travis Jenkins, including his residence?” After listening for a moment, he hung up.
“Can they get a warrant tonight?” Tamara asked.
His shoulders slumping, Paxton shook his head. “Won’t happen until the morning. The wheels of justice spin very slowly. Why don’t we go into the bakery next door and see if someone knows anything?”
Tamara tied Bentley’s leash onto a sturdy chair outside the bakery and walked inside with Paxton. A cheery woman with bright pink lipstick greeted them as they entered the door. “Can I get you something yummy?” she asked.
Max Jacobs walked through the automatic doors of the nearby pharmacy. He was dressed in blue jeans and sweatshirt with a hood pulled up to hide his bandaged face. He clutched a sack filled with ointments and fresh bandages in an injured hand and walked with a slight limp.
When he spotted the young couple tying a white poodle to a chair outside the bakery, he clenched his teeth and curled his hand into a fist. A jolt of pain shot up his arm and spread across his face. A rush of bubbles fizzled in his ears, and he leaned against the nearest brick wall until the wave of nausea passed.
Max yearned to kill the dog with his bare hands, but he was in no shape right now. Staring into the well-lit bakery, he saw Suzanne and a strange man speaking to the nosy baker. The blabbermouth probably spewed everything she knew about their setup! He wanted to shoot them all, but the new gun he bought was locked in the car.
If he ran across the parking lot, they’d spot him for sure. He controlled his anger and watched from the shade of an overhang. Who was the guy with her? Max gazed at Suzanne and decided the man must be the one who showed up at the carriage house in a sports car. Was he Jeffrey?
The blasted poodle raised his nose to sniff and stared straight at him! He shrank back into the shadows, hoping the couple wouldn’t see him as they left the bakery.
Inside the bakery, Tamara pointed toward the decorated cupcakes on display. “I’d like a box filled with two of each flavor, please.”
Paxton grinned and nodded. Buying baked goods might loosen the woman’s tongue, so he added, “We’ve got a bunch of hungry folks back at the office. I’d also like a cup of your enticing coffee. It smells wonderful.” He paid for the food and joined Bentley outside. “We’ll give Tamara time to talk with the woman alone,” he told the poodle.
Tamara chewed on her bottom lip as she decided what she wanted to drink. “Do you serve chai tea by any chance?” she asked the baker.
The woman beamed. “Oh, yes. It’s my favorite. Here, take a cup on the house. You’ve already bought enough goodies for today.”
Tamara took a tentative sip of the hot beverage and sighed with pleasure. “We came by to talk with the real estate broker next door, but his office looks closed.”
Frowning, the woman nodded. “They never seem to be open for business, but I see people go inside quite often, mostly late in the evening before I close up. They never buy anything here and act real sneaky. It’s not normal if you ask me.”
“Really?” Tamara leaned closer. “I was supposed to meet Travis Jenkins, but I got a creepy vibe from him. It’s why I brought my dog and my boyfriend along. I didn’t want to be alone with the man.”
“I understand how you feel, but he’s not the worst of the lot. His employee looks like a real goon, big, mean, and scary. On Saturday night he showed up with bandages all over his face and hand—looked like someone beat him up or something. You’d better steer clear of them all, sugar.”
“Thanks for the warning. If you ever need a realtor who actually works, give me a call.” She handed the woman her business card and walked outside. As she sipped the chai tea, she told Paxton what she’d learned. “Our guy works for Travis Jenkins. She described a burly man with bandages on his face and hand. The guy was here Saturday, and Bentley recognized his scent. So now what do we do?”
“We get a warrant for the office and start a man hunt. He won’t get away from us for long.” He draped his arm across her shoulders as they walked back to the car.
Max stood in the shadows and waited until the couple headed to their car, and then he took a chance and sprinted toward his blue Mercedes. Earlier Travis had dropped him off here and taken the van to deliver the new Suzanne to the farmhouse. Max had switched license plates with another Mercedes in the parking lot last night, so the cops shouldn’t be looking for this car. Max glanced over and saw the man hug the girl as he climbed into the car to start the engine.
He backed out of the parking space and inched forward, waiting to see where they were headed. The poodle’s head popped up in the back window and stared at him.
Max drove slowly out of the parking lot, keeping a couple of cars between him and the quarry. The Boss would be so pleased he found Suzanne!
Pressing the speed dial on his phone, Max listened on the car’s Bluetooth until a familiar voice answered. “Hey, Boss, I’ve got good news. I found our original Suzanne, and I’m following her car right now.”
“What? Where are you?” the voice asked, sounding upset.
“I went into the pharmacy to buy more bandages and saw them lurking around the Montecito office. They didn’t see me, but I recognized Suzanne and her blasted white dog. Her husband, Jeffrey, was with her and they asked questions at the bakery. I think we’d better clear the office out right away.”
“You idiot! He’s not her husband! If you’d done your homework right, you’d know she was a widow.”
“Then who is he? They looked pretty chummy to me,” Max said, a pang of jealousy heating his anger.
“The guy is Paxton Johnson, a cop who works for the state CBI. You’d better be careful or you’ll land in jail. I won’t bail you out, so you’ll be on your own, Max.”
“Don’t worry about me, Boss,” Max blustered. “I’ve got me a gun, so he won’t take me down next time.”
Silence on the line caused sweat to bead on his forehead. Then the calm voice on the other end of the line made his stomach clench. “If you do get caught, you won’t talk about me. I have plenty of friends inside, and you wouldn’t live very long if I hear you’ve copped a plea.”
“I’d never do nothing to cross you, Boss. You can count on me,” Max kn
ew his voice sounded too pleading, but he couldn’t help it.
“Find out where they go and get back to me.” The line went dead and Max exhaled a pent up breath.
“Don’t get startled but someone is following us,” Paxton said calmly. His eyes flicked from the rearview mirror to the road ahead. “I noticed a blue Mercedes follow us out of the parking lot, so give your aunt a call and let her know the situation.”
Tamara took out her new phone and swiped the phone app. Her hands shook as she found Aunt Jessica’s number in the contacts list. The phone rang twice and a sense of relief swept over Tamara as she heard her aunt’s warm voice.
“We’re on our way, but we picked up a tail. We’ll try to lose him but it might take some time,” Tamara said, her voice sounding squeaky.
“It might be better if you guide him back here,” Aunt Jessica said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“But he’s extremely dangerous. I don’t want to lead him to your house,” Tamara’s voice raised in pitch.
“My dear, I’m more than capable of trapping a reckless crook inside this house with all my electronic gadgets. Let me speak with Paxton and we’ll make some definite plans.” Tamara nodded and activated the speaker on the phone.
Paxton asked, “What do you have in mind?”
“You have a team of investigators in town, right? I think we should set a trap and lead the kidnapper inside my house. Would one of your people be convincing as a pizza delivery boy?” Jessica asked.
Paxton’s lips curled in to a wry grin as he said, “Troy would be perfect for the part. Do you want to call him and explain the plan yourself?”
They could hear her chuckle. “It might be easier. Text me his number and I’ll give the boy a call. In the meantime, take our crook on a tour of downtown Santa Barbara. We’ll need you to delay the man for about thirty minutes and then lead him right to my front door.”
“I was impressed by the security at your house, Jessica, so I’m sure we can set a trap. You’re one gusty lady.” Paxton smiled at Tamara who remained quiet after she disconnected the call. “Text Troy’s phone number to your aunt, and also text him to expect her call.”
