“Boy, you’re getting good at this cloak and dagger stuff. Maybe you ought to go to Washington and apply to the FBI or CIA.”
“Just drive and stop with the wisecracks,” Jenny said with a smile. Amy didn’t realize how close she’d come to the mark, but Jenny held her tongue. However, she felt better about their relationship. She was sure Amy would never forgive her completely, but perhaps they might get past it enough to still be friends. She hoped against hope that could happen. Other than Amy she didn’t have many friends. She knew several girls from her time in school, but they were mostly acquaintances rather than friends. She was generally too busy studying her nursing journals and books to form any close relationships. And though she’d gotten to know other street people, they came and went so fast she had no time to get to know them well and could hardly call any of them friends. Even most of the ones she’d helped over what ailed them had moved on or were now dead of an overdose or maybe something worse.
After about a mile Amy pulled into a small parking lot at a trailhead because there was a car parked in the lot. She remembered Jenny had said the intruder’s car was green and the single car in the parking lot was green. When she pulled up beside it, she noticed that the front bumper had some damage. “Is this his car?”
“I believe it is.”
They both got out and glanced through the car’s windows. Jenny started to reach for the door handle, but Amy slapped her hand. “On second thought, maybe you’re not as good at cloak and dagger as I thought.” Jenny gaped questioningly at Amy pointing at the door handle. “Fingerprints dummy.” She said “dummy” as one friend says otherwise insulting things to another friend.
“You’re right. That was pretty dumb of me.” She checked the coat pockets and found some winter gloves. They were too thick for picking up anything small, but they would have to do for the moment as she didn’t have anything better. She should still have enough dexterity to open the car door. She pulled them on and this time when she reached for the door handle Amy didn’t stop her.
Amy whistled when Jenny opened the door. She pointed at a screen attached to the dashboard. “Do you know what that is?”
“Of course I don’t. You’re the nerd, not me.”
“That must be how our dead friend found us. That’s the screen of a tracking device. He must have put a tracker on your car.”
“Do you really think so?” She thought about it for a few seconds. “But the only time he could have done it was before he broke into your apartment. Unless Ronald had it put on in LA. Maybe that’s how the dead guy found me.”
“Maybe so. We’d better take the tracking stuff out of his car. The less the police find that will generate questions, the better off we’ll be.”
“That’s no doubt true.” Jenny started to climb into the front seat, but Amy stopped her.
“It’s better that I, the nerd, unhook everything.”
“Good idea.” Jenny moved aside so Amy could climb into the front seat. Amy first reached into her pocket and pulled out some utility gloves. She winked at Jenny. “Maybe I should apply to the FBI instead of you.”
“Maybe so.”
When Amy was seated, she reached over to the passenger seat and picked up a couple of pieces of paper. “Why that dirty rat,” she said.
“What?”
“He stole a copy of my registration and a pay stub. He knew where I worked and what car I drove. So maybe…” she paused a few moments in thought. “Maybe he bugged my car before you saw him in the parking lot where I work.”
“Maybe,” Jenny agreed. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”
“Let’s see if we can find a bug anywhere on my car. He probably didn’t hide it too well since he no doubt didn’t think we’d be looking for it.”
Jenny nodded, walked over to Amy’s car, and ran her hands along the inside of the wheel wells.
Amy ran her hands on the inside of the back bumper for a second. “Here it is,” she said staring at a small electronic device she’d pulled from behind the bumper.
“Are they that small?”
“And they’re getting smaller all the time.”
“Well I feel better knowing he didn’t put the bug on my car,” Jenny said. “But I think we should still check when we get back to the cabin.”
Amy nodded and climbed back in the car to finish the removal of the tracking equipment.
Jenny and Amy jointly decided Jenny should leave Monday morning so Amy could call the police in the afternoon. That way Jenny would be long gone and, hopefully, the police would get to the body early enough that removing it and asking Amy the inevitable barrage of question could be done early enough she could go back to Colorado Springs before it got too late and be back at work Tuesday morning. Amy would tell the police she ran across the body while she was out hiking. Logical enough considering her cabin was in the forest.
Chapter 35
Before Adam left Canary Corners, to meet with Carinda on Monday, he asked Marti to look in on the dogs and give Butter and Bagel a bathroom break during her lunch hour. He didn’t know how long he would be gone because he didn’t know where his investigation into Phillip’s death would lead. She said she’d be happy to look in on the dogs because it would give her an opportunity to play with Lox, her puppy. She also said she would go over to his house that evening if she didn’t hear that he would be back in time for dog duty.
Adam opened the office door of Phillip Mardoff Private Investigations at precisely nine o’clock as arranged. He immediately glimpsed a woman in her early thirties, smartly dressed in a business suit with shoulder-length brown hair, expertly applied makeup, and expressive hazel eyes. “You must be Ram, the reporter from the Tweet. I’m pleased to meet you. It’s too bad it took something like this to make that possible.” She held out her hand, and he shook it. She had a firm, no-nonsense grip and her easy smile showed straight gleaming white teeth.
“Yes, I’m Ram, and I’m sorry for what you may be feeling. Phillip was one of the good guys.” Adam sat in the chair she indicated wondering how much her parents had spent on Carinda’s orthodontia. In the real world teeth that straight generally had to have had some help.
“Yes, he was.” She wiped away a tear that had formed in the corner of her eye. “Now, what can I do for you, Ram?”
“Well, as I told you on the phone, I knew Phillip when I was a reporter in New York before he left the force and I met him again at one of the meetings for the reenactment. At the time, he said he needed to discuss something with me, but just then he had to go to his group meeting. After that, we never managed to get together. And now we never will.” Adam hung his head. “I was one of the ones who found Phillip’s body at the reenactment. Were you there?”
“No. My youngest has a cold, and I had to stay home and nurse him through the worst of it. He’s better now.” She paused.
Adam thought maybe she was waiting for him to say something, so he glanced up and said the only thing that came to mind. “I’m glad he’s better. How old?”
“He’s seven, and he was able to go to school today. I knew he was going to be okay when I called you last night otherwise I’d have had to get with you on Tuesday instead of today.”
“And I would have understood. But to business. Do you have any idea what Phillip wanted to discuss with me.”
Carinda shook her head. “No, I’m sorry he didn’t mention anything to me. As a matter of fact, he never mentioned you at all.”
“I’m not surprised he didn’t. He thought I was still working in Chicago and I didn’t know he’d quit the force and moved here. He was as surprised to see me as I was to see him when we bumped into each other. So if you don’t know what he wanted to discuss with me, perhaps we should begin with what he was currently working on.”
She thought for a minute and leaned back in her chair which let out a soft squeal. “Other than a couple of divorce cases, the main thing he was working on recently was Richard Archer’s missing granddaughter. You’
ve probably read about the case or maybe heard about it on the news.”
“Yes, I know a bit about it.” Adam wasn’t about to tell Carinda that he was involved in the case twenty years ago nor that he had been thinking of contacting Richard Archer and offering to help because he was unable to do much good when his granddaughter first went missing. Even after twenty years he still had regrets that he was unable to help try as he might. “As I understand it, Richard Archer’s daughter was murdered and burned up in a car with her former boyfriend, and his granddaughter was kidnapped. No one’s been able to find any trace of the granddaughter since.”
“That’s about it other than that Archer is offering a big reward for anyone who finds his granddaughter.” The shocked look she expected to cross Ram’s face didn’t occur. She thought reporters were always hungry for more than just their next story.
Adam thought about telling her the reward would mean next to nothing to him as he had his own fortune, but that really had no bearing on his investigation, so he didn’t mention it. He didn’t want any money, he only wanted to find out who killed Phillip and if he could help Richard find his granddaughter along the way that would just be a bonus.
“What can you tell me about Phillip’s progress so far?”
“Well, he was pursuing a couple of things. He met with a guy names Anton Varkot who pointed him to a guy named Harold Morgan. Supposedly Morgan was big into kidnapping years ago but, according to what Phillip found out, Morgan died in a fire about ten years ago. And he’d talked to Richard Archer. He was due to talk to the man Archer’s daughter was married to when the baby was snatched, but that meeting had not come about yet.”
Adam pulled out the small notebook he used for taking notes for a story. He didn’t think he would get a story out of Phillip being killed other than what he and other reporters had already written, but one never knew. He did, however, need to make notes of the names Carinda was giving him. “Anton Var…can you repeat that name please.”
Carinda nodded. “Anton Varkot.” She spelled it for him. “Phillip met with him a few weeks ago to try to get a lead on the kidnapping. Varkot is a low-life who’s into drugs, prostitution, you name it. The cops have been after him for years, but he always seems to skate just when they think they have something on him. He’s been linked to a number of murders, but witnesses have had a bad habit of disappearing or getting dead before they could testify. And, as you might expect, a lot of people refuse to testify considering what has happened to those who would have testified. He tried to kill Phillip a few weeks ago and then got killed himself while he was awaiting arrangement.”
Adam nodded his understanding. He was familiar with this scenario from his years as a crime reporter in New York and Chicago. More than one of his leads had failed to give him what he needed because of intimidation even though he guaranteed them anonymity. “I’m more than familiar with those kinds of tactics. Have they found out who killed Varkot?”
“Not that I’ve heard.”
“What about this Morgan character? Harold, did you say?”
Carinda nodded. “That’s it.”
“What can you tell me about him?”
“Not much, I’m afraid. Phillip checked him out with the local Leos, and found out Morgan had died in a fire in Morgantown where Archer’s daughter lived. That’s also where she was killed. I think…” she paused as she pulled a file folder from a two drawer filing cabinet behind her and shuffled through the papers, “yes, here it is.” She handed Adam a printout of a picture. “That’s a mug shot of Morgan. Real purdy ain’t he?” Carinda affected a strong southern accent.
Adam smiled at her contrived accent as he took the picture. “Did Phillip find out how Morgan got this scar?” Adam traced the scar from Morgan’s left eye to his chin.
“Not that I heard and there’s nothing in Phillip’s notes. I know that because I always keyed all his notes into the computer and then printed them out before they went into the file. Why, is that important?”
“Probably not. I was just wondering. Would it be possible to get a copy of this picture?”
“Why? He’s dead.”
“No reason actually. I just like to cross all my T’s and dot all my I’s. Maybe I can find someone who knew Morgan before he died and get some information about the kidnapping. Having the picture just might help someone remember him. He does have a rather distinctive face.” Adam handed the picture back so she could make him a copy.
Carinda stared at the picture she had seen many times before. “That’s putting it mildly. I wonder why he didn’t try to cover up the scar with makeup. I don’t think it would have been all that hard to accomplish. I have a friend who was able to hide a scar on a woman’s face that was hurt in a car accident. She eventually had plastic surgery, but Karen was able to help the woman’s self-esteem until she could afford the surgery.”
“You’d have to ask him that, but he possibly treated the scar as a type of trophy to prove how tough he was. Wouldn’t you be scared if someone with this face approached you on the street? I know I would be.” That was at least partially true. A face like that would, at the very least, make one think twice.
Carinda got up, walked across the room, and made Adam a copy of the picture. “Can you keep me informed about your progress? I’d really like to know who…killed…Phillip.” Carinda choked back a tear and reached for a tissue that she used to wipe her eyes.
“Are you okay,” Adam asked. “Would you like a cup of water?” He had seen a filtered water dispenser when he came into the office.
“No thank you. I’m all right. But what am I going to do now? I needed this job. I’ve got kids to support.”
“You’re not married?” Adam had noticed she was not wearing a ring.
“Not anymore. My deadbeat husband ran away two years ago leaving me with three kids to feed. That was okay because I was pretty much used to taking care of everything myself. At least he’s no longer around drinking up my paychecks. Phillip gave him a good talking to about straightening up and getting a job not expecting he would simply skip leaving me high and dry. But he did and good riddance to the bum, I guess.”
“You sound a little less than sure it was for the best thing if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“I don’t mind. I brought it up. And, to be honest, we had a good marriage for the first five years or so until he was laid off from his factory job. He tried to get another job for a while and got more and more depressed every time he didn’t get a job he tried for. Each rejection hit him harder than the last. I tried to talk to him and convince him that was not the case, but I couldn’t reach him. Then he started drowning his sorrows in a bottle of booze. Then there was another bottle and another.”
“I get the picture. I had a problem with booze before too.” He wasn’t about to elaborate further and hoped she didn’t ask. He and Larry had once celebrated finishing a story by going out on the town, and Adam got so drunk and so sick he temporarily lost the abilities that made Adam who he was. Without his abilities someone he and Larry suspected was about to commit suicide was able to complete the task. Though Larry didn’t blame the failure to stop the suicide on Adam, he blamed himself and swore he’d never drink again. Thus far he’d been able to keep his vow of total sobriety.
“An alcoholic?”
“Yes, but I’m recovered.” His condition was not like one the typical alcoholic would have, but he considered his case just as severe and had so far been able to keep his distance from alcohol. He hoped to be able to continue to do so.
Carinda didn’t want to pry any more than she already had. She knew a lot of alcoholics didn’t want to talk about their addiction, so she moved on. “Is there anything else I can tell you?”
“You don’t think there might be a disgruntled party in Phillip’s divorce cases?”
“I can’t see how there could be. He had been following the wife in one of the cases, but she hadn’t done anything that a normal wife wouldn’t do. So there has been
nothing to report. Phillip had the husband in the office to give him a preliminary report, and the husband was disappointed Phillip had not found anything, but he didn’t seem to be hostile. The other case just started a week or so ago. In that one, Phillip did find out the husband had been cheating on his wife, and Phillip took a few pictures, but he said the husband never saw him, and he had yet to tell the wife so there’s no reason the husband would even know about Phillip. Good enough?”
“That should do, and I don’t know anything else to ask except to ask if I can have a copy of your entire file about Archer.” So far the only thing she had shown him from the file was the picture.
“I don’t see why not. If it helps you in any way, I’m happy to give it to you.” She turned to the computer and pressed a few keys. “It’ll just take me a few minutes. As I told you, I have all his notes in the computer.” True to her word she printed out the file in less than two minutes.
When she handed the printout to him, he quickly scanned the pages with a practiced eye. “I see the name of the daughter’s husband is Detective Robert Drummond on the Morgantown police force.” Adam already knew about Drummond having talked to him when he tried to help twenty years ago but there was no way Carinda would know that, and he didn’t feel that it was pertinent to their current discussion.
“That’s right. Are you going to talk to him too?”
“Probably. One never knows where or who a lead might come from.”
“I suppose that’s true. Anything else?”
“Not that I can think of.” He pulled out one of his business cards and wrote his cell number on the back. The front of the card only had the general number of the Tweet. “If you happen to think of anything else, just give me a call. I wrote my cell phone number on the back.”
Carinda glanced at both sides and then set the card in an empty spot on her desk. “I certainly will. I want to help find whoever killed Phillip.”
The Dog Who Ate The Flintlock Page 25
