He shrugged. “She was short, kind of skinny, I guess, and her hair was maybe brownish.”
“What was she wearing?”
“I dunno… clothes.”
“What kind of clothes?” Callaway said, feeling exasperated.
“I dunno… girl clothes.”
Callaway exhaled. “Did you get the taxi’s license plate number?”
The man smiled. “That I got.”
“You did?” Callaway was shocked and relieved.
“Yeah, man. I was like five feet away when the taxi drove off.”
“Give me the license plate number.”
SIXTY-FIVE
Detective Armen Woodley was five-ten with a medium build, and his head was shaved clean. His eyes were black and haunting, as if he could see into people’s souls.
Before returning to Milton, Fisher decided to visit the Bayview Police Department. She was now seated before Woodley’s desk as he went over Gail Roberts’s case with her. Woodley was the lead detective on her death.
Woodley had a wedding ring on his left hand, and there were photos of young children on his desk. These eased her comfort as his eyes bore into her.
“It’s not a murder, I’m afraid,” he said. “I’ve looked into it from all angles.”
“Gail’s family thinks otherwise.”
“They do, of course,” he agreed with a nod. “They want to make sense of what happened. They just don’t want to face the truth that her death was perhaps an accident, or even worse, a suicide.”
“Do you believe it was a suicide?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think she was depressed. I think she was of clear mind on the night she died.”
“Then what happened?” Fisher asked.
“It’s something that still baffles me,” Woodley replied. “I’ve spoken to her neighbors, and they don’t remember seeing anyone in her apartment. They are certain they heard no voices from inside. If there was an argument, then we would know she was not alone, and that someone may have pushed her over the balcony. But again, we have nothing.”
“What about security cameras in the apartment?”
“They are located in the main lobby of the building, right by the elevators. I checked them myself, and there was no one suspicious entering or exiting the building at the time of her death. In fact, the cameras caught Gail Roberts taking the elevator up to her apartment, but no one racing out after she had fallen, which would be the normal course of action for someone fleeing the scene.”
Fisher absorbed this information.
Woodley said, “We do have a witness who was walking his dog at the time of the incident. He remembered hearing a scream, followed by a noise. When he went to check, he saw Gail Roberts’s body on the ground. He then saw a woman run out the back of the building.”
Fisher sat up straight. “Did you speak to this woman?”
“We tried to locate her, but it was not possible. The residents of the building told me they had seen her sleeping in the stairwell on a number of occasions. She was homeless, and an addict. On a number of occasions, police were called to remove her from the property. She was harmless from what I’ve been told.”
“Why was she running away when Gail died?” Fisher asked.
“I don’t know. Like I said, I never interviewed her, but if I can take a guess, I’ll say that she must have heard the commotion outside and thought it might be the police looking for her, so she ran.”
“Why couldn’t you find her?”
“I looked everywhere. It was like she just disappeared. I even had a name.”
“What was it?”
“Tamara Davis.”
Fisher quickly pulled out her pocket-size notepad to jot the name down.
“It won’t do you any good now,” Woodley said.
“Why not?”
“Tamara Davis was found dead in a crack house from an overdose.”
“Oh.”
Woodley put his hands together. “Why are you so interested in Gail Roberts? I know you are investigating Dillon Scott’s murder, but I don’t see how it is linked to hers.”
“Gail’s family hired someone to look into her—”
“Jimmy Keith,” Woodley said with a smile.
“You know him?” she asked.
“I do, and I’ve worked with him.” He paused and said, “I know this may come as a surprise to you, but a police detective normally doesn’t share information with a private investigator.”
“I’m not surprised, I assure you,” she said, thinking of Callaway.
“Jimmy is a good PI,” Woodley said. “I’ve had to seek his help on a number of cases. He doesn’t care for the recognition, he just cares about doing his job and getting paid. This suits me nicely because I don’t have to explain to my superiors how I came to know certain information.”
“Were you aware that someone was blackmailing Dillon Scott?” Fisher asked. Woodley shook his head. “That’s the first time I’ve heard of this.”
Fisher thanked him and left.
SIXTY-SIX
Callaway was excited. He and Jimmy were driving back from Yonge Avenue when he said, “This could be the break we’ve been looking for.”
“How can you be so sure?” Jimmy asked.
“Come on, you don’t see it?”
Jimmy shrugged.
Callaway continued. “We have a witness who saw Dillon Scott leave in a taxi with a girl. This means there was someone else other than the reporter who saw Scott before his death.”
“You’re forgetting the blackmailer. He may have also seen Scott. In fact, there is a possibility Scott could have died at the hands of this person. What if the blackmailer picked up the backpack from the park, realized Scott did not bring all the money that he demanded—we know Scott was having financial troubles—and then went to his house to get the rest of the money?”
Callaway shook his head. “It sounds plausible, but I don’t think that’s what happened.”
“Why not?”
“If the blackmailer already knew where Scott lived, then why not just go there and pick up the money himself? Also, I don’t think the blackmailer would expose himself to Scott out of fear that Scott would turn him in to the police.”
“What if the blackmailer had something on Scott that would prevent him from going to the police in the first place?” Jimmy asked.
“True, but then why go through the trouble of driving to Yonge Avenue, dropping the backpack under a park bench, and then leaving?” Callaway replied.
Jimmy thought for a moment. “You’ve got a point there.”
“Also,” Callaway added, “we don’t know who this blackmailer is, and so we have no idea where to find him, but we do know something about this girl. She got in the same taxi with Scott. We find this girl, and she might tell us more about what happened that night.”
“How do we do that?”
“Simple. We have the license plate number. We contact the taxi driver and we get access to his CCTV footage.”
“Okay, but how does the footage from the taxi help us identify this girl?” Jimmy asked.
Callaway pondered this. “The witness said the girl looked like a fan. Let’s assume that Scott had offered to share the taxi with her. If he did, then the taxi driver must have dropped her off somewhere, presumably at her house.”
“What if he dropped her off at the bus stop or subway station?”
“Even if the taxi driver dropped her off somewhere other than her house, the footage from the taxi will still be useful. Fisher can release it to the press in order for someone to identify her.”
They were silent for a moment.
Jimmy broke into a smile. “Good job, kid. I knew you still had it in you. That whole bit with Frank Henderson had me worried. I thought you had lost your touch and were now scraping the bottom of the barrel for any case that came through your door.”
“I was desperate and still am,” Callaway corrected him. “The five hundred dollars Betty He
nderson gave me was a lifesaver at the time.”
“I’m sure it was. Don’t get me wrong, but you have it in you to do greater things. The way you see the forest for the trees. Even I can’t do that at times,” Jimmy said. “I get obsessed about minor details. But you, you see the bigger picture. Nice work.”
Callaway didn’t know why, but his chest swelled with pride. Jimmy rarely showered praise, and to have Jimmy compliment him like that meant a lot to him. Callaway felt like a boy who had shown his father that he can be a man too.
“We have to go tell Fisher,” Callaway said. “I think it might be better if we do it in person.”
Jimmy pulled out his cell phone. After reading a message, he frowned.
“Everything okay?” Callaway asked.
“Yeah, yeah, everything is fine. Why don’t you go meet Fisher and I’ll see you later.”
Callaway stopped the Charger by the side of the road. Jimmy got out, waved goodbye, and walked away.
It was typical of Jimmy to disappear unexpectedly. Callaway could have queried Jimmy as to where he was going, but the old man would have quipped, There’s a reason I didn’t get married. I didn’t want my wife asking me too many questions, so don’t start asking me questions, either.
Callaway shook his head and drove away.
SIXTY-SEVEN
Osman had just gotten off the phone with his contact. As agreed, Osman had dropped off his contact’s share of the money in the bathroom at the Bayview Central train station. The cellophane-wrapped bundle of cash was placed inside the toilet bowl of stall number three. His contact would know where to find it.
Osman had considered skipping down with all the money, but his contact knew his identity. Osman doubted his contact would expose him if he did that. It was his contact’s plan to blackmail Dillon Scott, after all. But his contact owed money to the wrong people, which made him a desperate man. There was no telling what he would do—even go to the police and squeal on him if Osman tried to swindle him.
The police would believe his contact over a low-level drug dealer, but Osman had taken precautions. Even though he used a prepaid phone as his contact had instructed him, Osman had recorded all their telephone conversations.
In his line of work, you only watched your back and no one else’s. Backstabbers were all too common. This made him suspicious of those around him. It was also how he survived on the streets this long.
His contact had told him to destroy the prepaid phone, but Osman would do no such thing. He would keep it, along with everything else he had on his contact.
His contact had set up the entire blackmail scheme, and Osman followed it to perfection. Osman had called Dillon Scott and told him to bring the money to a park in Milton. Osman would have preferred to have him deliver the money in Bayview, but his contact believed a change of venue was for the best. It would keep Scott on his toes.
Also, if Scott decided to involve the police or the FBI, the new location would require extra time to mobilize a new plan. By then, Osman would have picked up the money or, at the very least, known something was up and aborted the mission.
Osman walked out of the train station and straight to a bus stop. He knew the station had cameras at every corner. They would capture his license plate number if he drove here.
When his contact had instructed him to wrap the money in cellophane and leave it in the bathroom, Osman rolled his eyes. It was too over the top, akin to something he had seen in the movies.
But now he realized why all the extra steps were necessary. His contact was protecting himself, but in a different way, he was also protecting Osman. If someone caught them together, they would be guilty by association. By separating their actions, nothing would lead back to either of them.
Osman cared little for what happened to his contact, but he cared immensely about what happened to him. If his contact was being careful, so would Osman.
His contact was pleased, though, when Osman had told him Tamara was out of the picture. After Scott’s death, she was no longer useful in their plans. She had to be taken care of before she became a bigger problem for either of them.
Osman had initially offered to get rid of her for a fee, but it was his contact who had devised a plan to get money out of Scott. It was a risky move, one even Osman would have hesitated making. Tamara knew too much, and what she knew would send his contact to prison for life.
Tamara’s death had not appeared in the newspapers, which told him the police did not suspect foul play.
The bus approached the stop. Osman lined up to get inside.
He smiled.
The job was done, and he was glad to leave it behind him. He could now take his share of the money and do whatever he wanted with his life.
SIXTY-EIGHT
Callaway returned to his office and sat down behind his desk. He was fortunate to catch Fisher at the Milton PD. She had just returned from Bayview. She was unable to get much information on Gail Roberts’s death. Callaway could see her disappointment. Fisher took her job seriously. She wanted to help him and, in the process, also help Jimmy with his case.
Callaway had asked if she found anything on Scott’s blackmail. She told him she had discovered that the money had come from Scott’s business partner, Brad Kirkman. This solved the mystery as to how Scott got his hands on the cash, but it still did not solve who the blackmailer was.
Callaway then told Fisher about the girl who was last seen getting in a taxi with Scott. He also gave her the taxi cab’s license plate number. The moment Fisher heard this, she was out the door. She didn’t even wave goodbye.
Callaway smiled. The excitement on her face was worth telling her in person. Sometimes detective work or PI work required a heavy dose of luck. If that man on Yonge Avenue had not approached Callaway and Jimmy, they would not have caught a break.
The girl in the taxi was the key to this whole investigation. Callaway had no doubt Fisher would find her, and quick.
He turned on his laptop to check his messages.
He heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
His smile widened. Jimmy’s back so soon, he thought.
His smile dropped when he saw it was his landlady. Ms. Chen was short, slim, and she had her hair tied into a ponytail. She wore a loose dress, heels, and around her neck was a string necklace which had a small marble animal. According to the Chinese calendar, Ms. Chen was born in the year of the dog.
Per Ms. Chen, people born in the year of the dog were cautious, and they did not trust very easily, but when they did, they were loyal to a fault.
Callaway never gave her much reason to trust him. He was always feeding her lies about when he would have the rent money, or when he would do something he agreed to do. Ms. Chen owned the noodle restaurant below his office. He once offered to help her clean out the restaurant’s freezer. He was way behind on rent, and it was his way to repay her. Instead of doing the work, however, he avoided her like the Black Plague.
“What can I do for you, Ms. Chen?” he asked.
“Someone wants to see you. They are in the restaurant,” she replied.
“Who?”
“I don’t know, but they bring their whole family and they eat a lot of food. You bring more people like that, and I’ll think about giving you a discount on your rent.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
She laughed. “Of course not. Your rent is already too cheap. You want to pay no rent?”
“That would be nice.”
“In your dreams, buddy.”
She turned around and disappeared down the stairs.
He frowned. He was not expecting anyone. The frown quickly turned into a smile. If these people ordered a lot of food, then that means they have money, he thought.
He rushed downstairs. When he entered the restaurant, he found Frank and Betty Henderson seated at a table with their four children. Frank stood up the moment he saw him. He came over and shook his hand.
“I’m not sure what you did,
Mr. Callaway,” he said, smiling, “but Sandra and Carl quit the company, and they even forgave my loan before they left.”
“Hey, that’s great news,” Callaway said. “I’m so happy for you.”
Betty came over with tears in her eyes. She gave him a big hug. “Thank you for giving me back my husband and for not letting my family fall apart.”
Callaway’s eyes moistened too. The Hendersons were good people who never wanted to harm anyone. They were just pushed into a difficult situation where they had no choice but to work with bad people.
Frank stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “This is for you, Mr. Callaway.”
Callaway stared at it. “What is it?”
“Betty gave you five hundred, which I know was not nearly enough for the service you provided. It’s not a lot, but we managed to come up with another five hundred as our appreciation for what you did for us.”
Callaway opened his mouth but no words came out. He choked up. He had done work for the rich and wealthy. What he dug up for them in the course of his investigations enabled them to get a significant divorce settlement. Even then, some of those people would try to cheat him out of his fees. The Hendersons had very little, but they were willing to give whatever they had.
“Thank you,” he said, taking the envelope.
SIXTY-NINE
Callaway went back up to his office in a euphoric daze. Not only was he able to help nice people, he was also compensated for it. The additional five hundred was nothing to crow about, but it was money he desperately needed.
Normally he would go to a bar and celebrate, but he didn’t want to burn through a significant chunk on alcohol. Now he could meet his obligations and still have some left over until his next case.
The laptop was fully booted, and he decided to quickly check his emails. Luck had struck him twice already. First there was the girl in the taxi with Dillon Scott, and now the Hendersons appearing out of nowhere to give him money. He wanted to see if he could ride this luck out.
He quickly went through the messages and sighed. People were asking about his services, but none of the prospects sounded promising. While the Hendersons’ case turned out well for everyone involved, he did not want another case where the financial reward was minimal.
The Falling Girl (A Private Investigator Mystery Series of Crime and Suspense, Lee Callaway #3) Page 15
