Stolen Secrets

by Nancy Radke

  “On the sidewalk, outside your building. I was trying to catch my bus— it’d just pulled into the stop. Some other guy running full tilt almost knocked me down. We did a little dance— you know, the side-step shuffle— and I stepped off into the snow to let him pass. Then Scott came barreling around the corner and ran into me. I was standing in a hole, and my ankle twisted on the impact.”

  “You were still on the sidewalk?”

  “Yes.”

  “Strange. Scott always parks in the lot. He has an assigned place.”

  “Maybe someone parked in it.”

  “Maybe. Not likely. Why run?”

  “Everyone was running, or walking fast. Hurrying to get home.”

  “Scott wasn’t going home. He came out to pick me up. When exactly was this?”

  “Four-ten. He seemed to be in a big hurry when he ran into me.”

  “He may’ve been borrowing chains. He doesn’t usually use them, but this time his car had some on.”

  “Whatever. The next group of people included the messenger.”

  “We’ll find him. Shouldn’t be too hard. There’s about a dozen— maybe two— messenger services in the Seattle area.”

  * * *

  Monday morning Ryan met with the guard and arranged for their service. Next he called each messenger company and asked them to check their orders. One said they had sent a messenger to the building that day to pick up a package, but her hair was black. The rest said “no.” So with an ecstatic Tag riding at Angie’s feet, they drove to all of them. In the twelfth one visited, they got a “Yes.”

  “Yes, we had a messenger in that building and he does have red hair. But he wasn’t requested. Someone sent a package there.”

  Ryan realized he’d been asking the wrong question. “Sent. Okay... to whom?”

  “To the office of J.L. Gordon. There’s Gordon’s signature, you see, along with the date.”

  “But your man left carrying a package. Did Gordon send something out with him?”

  “Not that I know. You can ask him, he’s here— in the employees’ lounge.”

  “Where?”

  “Through there.” The dispatcher pointed toward a half-shut door.

  Ryan led the way, Angie following. He stopped at the door. “If he’s here and gives us any information, I want you to write it down. Names especially.”

  “Will do.” She pulled out the notebook he had given her and reached for her pen.

  “Keep it out of sight until he gives us some solid information. I don’t want to scare him.” She nodded and Ryan pushed open the door.

  “That’s him,” she murmured as soon as they entered the small room. The TV was on, and the redheaded youth and another employee were watching an old movie. Ryan walked over to the youth who had his feet up on an old cluttered coffee table, a bottle of water in his hand.

  “Hi. I’m Mark Russell,” he said, using the alias he always used when he did an investigation. “I’m checking out an incident in an elevator that took place on the afternoon of the snowstorm. I’m hoping you can help us.”

  The youth took his feet down, sat up. “Sure. I’ll try.”

  “You delivered a message to the office of J.L. Gordon?”

  “Yes.”

  “You took the elevator to his office?”

  “Yes.”

  “And back down?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he send something out with you?”

  “No.”

  “But you were carrying a package when you left. At least the witness said so.”

  The redhead shifted uneasily in his chair and stood up. “Uh, yes. Uh... Hank, would you blow for a while? I need to talk to this guy.”

  The second youth shrugged, got up, and turned off the TV as he exited.

  Once he was gone, the redhead spoke quietly. “I didn’t see anything happen on the elevator.”

  “It happened just as you left. I need to know who came down with you. You fit the messenger described. And the time is right. But the person involved said you had a package— an envelope— in your hand.”

  “Right. You see, I tried to deliver it to Mr. Gordon.”

  “But you said— “

  “I know I did. But I didn’t deliver it then.”

  “It’s checked off as delivered, on your form.”

  “The office was locked. I took the envelope home with me and called Mr. Gordon. He had me deliver it to his home, the next day. First thing. On my own time.”

  “I see.”

  “I’m not supposed to take stuff home, but there was no way I was going to fight my way back to an empty office and then go home with it anyway. So I just marked it down as delivered on time. I’m not in trouble, am I?”

  “No. Not with me. Can you tell me the names of any others on that elevator?”

  “Two secretaries from the third floor— Jennie and Martha. I don’t know their last names. Their boss, John Davidson. And a couple of suits. Most of them were from the third floor. When I got on, there was only room for me and three gals from the magazine company. And a computer repair guy I see ever so often— his name’s Brian something.”

  “This Brian. What company is he with?”

  “‘Re-Lease Me.’ They lease computers.”

  Ryan glanced back at Angie, who was busy writing. Good. He looked back at the youth and decided to ask one more question. “Did you notice anything unusual happening when you passed Scott Sunderstrom’s office?”

  “Unusual? No. A woman came out just as I walked by.”

  “What did she look like?”

  “Like she’d cost some man a mint.”

  “Kathleen,” Ryan said. The other two just looked at him.

  “She didn’t get on the elevator with me— probably didn’t want to crowd in.”

  “I think I saw her on my way up,” Angie interjected. “She had dark hair and was dressed better than she would for work in an office, with a lot of jewelry.”

  The redhead nodded. “Yeah. That’s her.”

  “It sounds like Kathleen,” Ryan said and Angie looked at him quizzically. “Scott said he had a meeting with her and her lawyer.”

  “Then that explains her being there. Maybe she saw what happened.”

  “We’ll ask her. Or have Scott do it.” He turned back to the messenger. “Thanks for all your help. Would you mind giving me your name and phone number so I can call if there’re any more questions?”

  “My name’s Charlie Brooks, and I don’t have a home phone, only my cell. But you can reach me here. I’m either here, out on the job, or at college.” He motioned to the cluttered coffee table, which had three textbooks stacked on top of the magazines.

  “Fine. Thanks.”

  They left the building and opened the car door, Ryan catching Tag as she jumped out. He looked inside as he handed the pup’s leash to Angie. No puddles. Good. He’d take Tag along more often.

  Angie wisely walked her over to a nearby grass strip. Returning she got into the car with him, making Tag sit on the floor between her legs by stepping on the leash.

  “You’re learning,” Ryan nodded approvingly.

  Angie laughed. “Your book helped a lot. ‘Don’t allow in a pup what you don’t want in a large dog.’ I don’t want her jumping in my lap when I’ve got good clothes on. Even these don’t need paw prints on them.” She brushed down her dark pants— now adorned with dog hair. “Did I go in looking like this?”

  He grinned. She was learning. “Uh, huh. Dark pants and light-haired dogs don’t mix.”

  “Ahhh.” She brushed futilely at it, but soon gave up and sat back. “That’s a lost cause. So now what? You’ve ruled out the messenger.”

  “Not quite.” Reaching under his seat, he pulled out a tattered phone book. He knew Gordon personally, and a call to his office brought a quick answer.

  “Now there’s no messenger in the equation. It’s just as Charlie said.”

  “So what do we do next?”

  “G
o home, get a good night’s sleep and check out Brian tomorrow.”

  “Brian? Oh, the computer repair man. I had forgotten about him. I saw him in the elevator, too.”

  “Anything you remember?”

  “Just that he’s the right height to be our houseboat caller.”

  21

  The day of Patti’s funeral dawned overcast and windy, with a major storm blowing in. Ryan put on a dark pinstripe wool suit and reminded himself to stay away from Tag. He looked up the address of both the funeral home and the Re-Lease Me company, figuring he and Angie could stop there afterwards.

  Out the window, he spotted Angie taking Tag for her morning walk. She brought Tag in with her, and Ryan backed up quickly, putting out his hands to keep the pup down as Tag greeted him joyously. Tag took that as an indication that Ryan wanted to play. Angie had to pull her away.

  Angie laughed. “I did that, too. It doesn’t work.”

  “Right. The book says to bring your knee up quickly under a dog when it jumps at you, but I’m not dressed for training her right now. Are you going to be warm enough?”

  “I think so. My skirt and sweater are wool. And of course the boots are warm.”

  “We’ll hit the mall after the funeral and get you a good winter coat. Then go interview the man at Re-Lease Me. Tag had better stay here today. Do my socks match?” He pulled up his pants leg. At her nod, he got his keys and followed her to the car, Tag’s shrill bark letting them know how she felt.

  The funeral took place in a small funeral home in Renton, located at a hillside cemetery. Few mourners showed up beyond Patti’s mother and the office workers. Ryan started to take a seat just as the funeral director came in and asked him to say a few words.

  He felt the familiar chill of aversion— he hated public speaking— and motioned quickly toward Scott who had just arrived. “Not me. Ask him. He knew her best.”

  As usual Scott gave an eloquent speech, covering Patti’s helpfulness, her cheerful nature which made the office pleasant, her orderly mind. The loss he felt. He didn’t mention the tragic way she died and Ryan decided that was best. Her mother appeared still in shock, sleep-walking through the short service.

  They filed past the closed casket and out to the gravesite. After the brief service the people filed away, many still shaken by the suddenness of violence.

  Leaving Angie comforting Patti’s mother, Ryan followed Scott and caught up to him at his car. “I need you to do something for me, buddy.”

  “Sure. Anything.” Scott placed his key in the door, finished opening it, then waited for Ryan to continue.

  “We found the messenger and he checks out okay. But he saw Kathleen there and I'm wondering if she saw anything unusual. Could you ask her? Maybe she overheard Patti say something— ” He stopped as he suddenly put together the time sequence. “She came down the elevator after you left. So what was she doing? She came out your door, but you were already in the parking lot.”

  Scott straightened up, releasing the door. “That’s right. I forgot. She went back in to use my restroom. I ran out to see if I could catch that weasel lawyer of hers.”

  “You ran over Ang— .”

  “Knocked that girl flying, and never did catch up with him. So I got in my car and left.”

  “You said you had locked your door.”

  “I did. I told Kathleen all she had to do was close it.”

  “She could’ve taken the CD.”

  “Kathleen?” Scott chuckled, shaking his head. “Not her. She likes money, but legally. I’m still paying her alimony. But I’ll ask her if she heard Patti say anything. If that girl was right, Patti may have started her phone call while Kathleen was still there.”

  “Good.”

  “I’ll go to Kathleen’s apartment now. I haven’t been there since I moved out. But I tell you, Ry, if she really wanted to take the CDs, she would’ve taken them all. Kathleen doesn’t do things half-way.”

  Ryan nodded, agreeing to the assessment. “You have a point. See you.” He walked away, anxious to get back to Angie to tell her the problem of the locked door on Scott’s office was once and for all solved.

  It had always been hard to get Scott to tell him the whole story. This time he had probably felt the need to keep his ex-wife out of this, not involve her. More likely, Scott hadn’t wanted to admit that he hadn’t actually closed the door himself. He had been that way since Ryan had known him, a person who talked a lot, but sometimes didn’t give out all the information needed. Scott had helped finance the company when they had first started, bringing in capital as well as his skill in securing new clients.

  “Any luck in Anchorage?” Scott called, almost at his left elbow. He had driven his car down the road, catching up to Ryan, and was right beside him.

  “Yes. The cracker used Ted’s phone number,” he replied, leaning down to speak through the open passenger window.

  “The devil you say? Coincidence?” Scott pulled over and stopped.

  Ryan walked around to the driver’s side and rested his hand on the open window after Scott rolled it down. “I don’t see how it could be. I’m going to look for Ted’s bookie. I think he may be our culprit.”

  “Good idea. A large amount of money can make a man do foolish things.”

  “Like murder.”

  “That’s not foolish. That’s stupid.”

  “Or desperate.”

  “Well, let’s put this together,” Scott said. “The bookie threatens Ted, so he gets Patti to watch for an opportunity to steal something of value.”

  “He doesn’t end up with anything.”

  “So when the bookie threatens him again, he goes to the jewelry store to rob it.”

  “He fails, shoots Warren, and in fleeing, crashes.”

  “That’s about it. Sounds right to me.”

  It did to Ryan, except for one thing. “But why kill Ted’s partner?”

  “Who?”

  “Ted had a partner. A second man who helped him try to rob us.”

  “Oh, yeah. That girl did say there were two men. But killed? When did this happen?” Scott shook his head, as if not quite able to handle the news.

  “He turned up dead in a south Seattle park the same day Ted died. Body had been dumped there.”

  “How do you know— “

  “The bullets were from the same gun as killed Patti.”

  “So this... this bookie killed two people. I hadn’t realized... The partner, too?” Scott rubbed his forehead. “Why do you think he got killed?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he owed the bookie money.”

  “But if he— “

  “What?”

  “Why kill Patti? Such a senseless waste. Two people.”

  “In a way, three. Warren’s funeral is tomorrow, you know.”

  “Yes. Poor Mary.” Shaking his head, Scott rolled up the window and drove away.

  Ryan waited until Angie was ready to go, then drove her to the mall. Her eyes were red from crying, but she brightened when Ryan told her about Kathleen. “She probably unlocked it. You know— thinking she had to turn the knob a certain way to get out.”

  They walked through the mall and Angie tried on coats. One had a white fake-fur collar that reminded Ryan of the white rug in Scott’s office. He vetoed that coat— it swamped her anyway— and pulled out one that fit well and would serve Angie in all kinds of weather. It had a zippered lining, down-filled, and Ryan decided to keep it in the car along with their kits for emergencies.

  “Pick out another for your general use,” he suggested. “I’ll pay for this one. You’ll need it in my line of work.”

  She started to protest, then continued looking through the selection. At last she found one, much warmer than what she had been wearing.

  “I wished I had this at the funeral this morning. My teeth were rattling like a typist’s fingers.”

  “I noticed.” He noticed everything about her. She hadn’t known Patti that well, but cried in sympathy for Patti’s
mother. And for a life ended before its time. Angie empathized with people, and at a funeral she connected with the bereaved and comforted them. Just as she had connected with the red-haired woman who knew Warren. And Mary. And himself.

  Was he any different from the others whose lives she touched? Was he reading too much into the tenderness she showed him? Maybe she empathized with him as another lost soul, and that was all. He hoped not. His heart already belonged to her. If... when she left him.... he couldn’t imagine what he would do. How he’d ever go on.

  She wore the coat from the store and over to the Re-Lease Me office. The computer repairman didn’t happen to be in and the manager wouldn’t give out his last name or address, saying that if they wanted to see Brian, they should come in Monday before he went out on his rounds.

  Shrugging, Ryan told Angie they’d call it a day and go home. She stayed quiet as they drove back, and Ryan enjoyed her stillness next to him.

  The wind was blowing fiercely by the time they arrived at the boathouses, splashing the water onto the decks. The homes were sheltered here, but the waves came in in succession from the lake, tossing the houses about in their moorings.

  The light blinked on his answering machine and he played the message. Mary had collapsed. Robyn wondered if they should have Warren’s funeral without her.

  Ryan looked at Angie. “Do you think she should go?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we should have it delayed until she’s more able. Will they do that?”

  “I suppose so.” He picked up the phone, then put it back down again. “I’ll ask Grandma. She went through the deaths of her husband and several good friends. She’ll know.”

  They walked over to Grandma Miller’s. She didn’t answer the door, so Angie unlocked it with her key. She cried out at the sight of the small thin figure lying at the bottom of the stairs.

  “You all right?” Ryan asked, hurrying to her side.

  “Yes.” Grandma sounded angry at herself. “The storm made the floor shift under me and I lost my balance. Then I decided not to get up again until you came. I didn’t want to fall a second time, maybe really hurt myself. As it is, I’m going to be black and blue tomorrow.”

  “You didn’t fall down the stairs?” Angie asked.