by R Weir
His face revealed I was correct. The question is who at the law firm would arrange this. For it seemed unlikely Don Bristol would have done it. He was too carefree with his clients and only worried about making money. His brother was a different story.
“My guess would be Tony. He is having you watch them to make sure his brother isn’t into something?”
I’d heard Adam wasn’t good at keeping his mouth shut. So it didn’t surprise me when he opened up once I nailed whom it was. He looked around to make sure no one else was listening, which was funny, as we were the only two in the place besides the waitress and whoever was running the grill.
“In a way, yes, for he made the final approval. But your girlfriend, Melissa, is the one who called and gave me the details of what the job involved. All my findings, I report to her. Tony thinks fondly of her. Hopes she’ll be a partner someday. Once she is through with school.”
I was surprised by the words, but upon further contemplation I wasn’t. Melissa was a good woman. I know she often worried about me. Even though we weren’t together she would still worry. It was her nature. Her note about who hired Bristol & Bristol to bail out the Platov brothers was proof of that.
“Ex-girlfriend,” I said.
“Sorry to hear. Apparently she still holds a torch. Or doesn’t want you dead. Either way she talked Tony into bringing me in and start digging around.”
“And you kept bugging my client for business?”
“As I told you, she called me. Said she had hired you and even gave you a retainer, but hadn’t heard back. Was exploring her options.”
“She was going to hire you?”
“No, she didn’t. I never heard back, so I called her a couple times to follow-up.”
“Then badmouth me in the process.”
His eyes couldn’t meet mine and he didn’t argue the point.
“You have no class, Adam,” I stated.
“I needed the work. I do what it takes.”
I could call him some other names, but it wouldn’t matter, so I saved my breath. The waitress brought our drinks. The shake was cold and thick, but lacking in chocolate flavor, a no-no for a chocolate shake.
“I go back to what I asked you at the scene. So you didn’t see anyone? By your reaction when I first asked, it appeared you may have. And how did you end up at his office?”
“I was following the two Asian guys, Cong and Lok. Been tailing them when I can. Not much going on, until they pick up this passenger on the street corner. A thick guy, maybe six foot and two hundred pounds or so. Wearing a hat and a long coat, which seemed odd for August, being it was still pretty warm this evening. I figure trying to hide who he was. They drove down to the building there in the Tech Center and dropped the person off. Now I have a choice: either continue to follow the two men or see what this person is up to. Seemed a little suspicious, so I decided to follow him up. When he hits the elevator, I watch the indicator above the door and see it stops on the third floor. So I decide to take the stairs. This building is so open you can pretty much go anywhere. I hit the third floor and start reading the nameplates on the doors. Nothing really stands out, so I wait. After about twenty minutes or so, I hear a noise. Sounds like two people fighting and then a gunshot. The person then runs out a door down the hall, so I yell at them to stop. They hit the stairs on the other side in a flash. I could chase after them, but he moved quickly for a large person, so I thought I should see if I could help who had been shot. Once I get in there I see the body and can tell right away they were dead. He’d been shot in the head. A couple minutes later you show up and I nearly shoot you.”
The waitress arrived with my burger and fries, reminding us once again the place would be closing soon. Apparently they had been rushing, as the burger was barely cooked, bloody red inside and the fries were lukewarm. I hated medium-rare beef. I should have sent it back, but I forced down the sandwich, lots of ketchup and mustard making it bearable.
“Can you identify the person you saw?” I asked.
“No. Like I said, six-foot-tall and a bit chunky. Looked like dark short hair under the hat. But I never saw the face.”
“The security in the building is crap, so I doubt there are any cameras to look at. We need to go back there and tell the police what you know.”
“Hell no. I’m not getting involved in this. I want no part of it.”
“You have an obligation to do this. You are a licensed private detective, and that license says you need to report any crimes you witness.”
“But I didn’t witness it. All I saw was someone leaving. I can’t say for certain they killed the guy. For all I know, he may have killed himself.”
I wanted to take the rest of my food and throw it at it him, for that was all it was worth. King was an ass, and I wondered why he was in the business. Or how he even survived and made a living. My phone was ringing, the number showing it was the Denver police calling me back.
“The cops are calling me now and are going to want to talk with me. You need to ’fess up or I’ll tell them to come see you.”
“I can’t, Jarvis.” He stopped and lowered his head. “I screwed up a couple months back and I can’t afford another mistake. You’ve got to help me here! I’m begging you. I don’t have much other than this job and I’m barely getting by as it is. If I lose my license and my business, I’m out on the street working lowly security jobs.”
I didn’t care for the guy, so why did I feel sorry for him? Sometimes I was too much of a pushover.
“OK. On one condition.”
“You name it.”
“You keep following Cong and Lok, but you will report to me what you find, as well as to Melissa. And I mean regular updates, without holding back any information. Then if I need your help with anything, you will be there to assist. This is getting messy, and I might need some protection for my client. You are about all I have right now.”
“At my regular rates?”
I frowned.
“Bristol & Bristol is paying you. I’m not. I’m doing you a favor here. You don’t like it, then we talk with the police.”
He looked around and nodded his head. Lights starting getting turned off in the building, as they were pushing us to leave. I finished my shake, leaving half the sandwich and nearly all of the fries behind. I paid the bill and left a paltry tip. That will show them! We parted ways, but I made him promise to call me each day. Then I drove back to the scene of the crime, ready to face the Denver police with whatever story I could come up with.
Chapter 38
Arriving on the scene, there were several police cars, an ambulance with paramedics and a tech van. I was greeted by an officer on the scene, where I showed him my ID and told him I was summoned. After a short talk on his radio, I was escorted to the third floor where a buzz of activity filled the halls and the office. I was taken to the man on the scene, who was Detective Mallard. Buildings often didn’t run their cooling systems at night, to save on costs, so the office was hot and he showed it by the sweat on his forehead. This late evening was still toasty, with the temps still in the eighties, all the bodies coming and going not helping any. The heat didn’t seem to calm Mallard’s mood any, as his gruff and growl was in full-on direct mode when he first saw me.
“Are you going to make this difficult for me, as usual?” was his first question. “Because I’m really not in the mood.”
“Wow, Detective, I just got here. Ask me some questions first before accusing me of anything.”
“Well, you called in, worried about this guy, and we find him dead. With your history, this leads me to believe there is more to it than that.”
“He was providing me leads to a case. He called and sounded worried. I couldn’t immediately get here and so I called you guys when he wouldn’t answer my callbacks.”
“What case?”
“Aaron Bailey.”
“I figured as much, but had to ask. From the sign on the door he appeared to be a tech geek.”
“And now he is dead?”
“Exactly. I believe a pattern is appearing. There is little doubt in my mind that Aaron wasn’t killed in a random robbery. And neither was Wilmar.”
“Crap! I was hoping for a quiet night.”
“Working the late shift these days?”
“A double. Been going for twelve straight, with hardly a break. Vacation season will do that. I get back from a sabbatical and already need another. And a vacation from you.”
“Not my intention to make your life miserable. Just lucky, I guess.”
I smiled, but Mallard didn’t, letting out some air in disgust. He pulled off his coat and tossed it to one of the uniforms to hold. He led me back to the office where the body lay. A fifty-something man was kneeling down next to Wilmar, doing a quick exam. I’d seen him around before and only knew him as Floyd.
“Any further conclusions?” asked Mallard.
“Not been dead long. Bullet to the head likely the kill shot. But he was also shot in the stomach, it would appear. Need more time on the order of the wounds, but I imagine stomach first, and then to the head to finish him off.”
“Appears there was a struggle,” said Mallard. “Chair knocked over, papers and a few wall-framed pictures on the floor. Any signs he fought back?”
“Possibly. Some scratches on his hands and arms. They appear to be fresh, with a little bit of blood. Is this the man who called it in? Looks familiar to me.”
“I’ve seen you around too, Floyd. Private Detective Jarvis Mann.”
“Oh, yes. The gumshoe who drives our good detectives crazy. Why did you call in?”
“We were supposed to meet. He didn’t call me back and when I called I got no answer.”
“So do you suspect foul play?” asked Floyd.
“Yes.”
“Jarvis was investigating the killing of Aaron Bailey,” said Mallard. “He believes they are tied together.”
Floyd rubbed at his stubble of gray hair, coaxing a memory from his noggin.
“Computer tech from WANN systems, killed in their parking lot a few months back. What is the connection?”
“He was a friend who was working on something with Aaron. They believed something illegal was going on inside WANN. Software-related hacking or theft. They were working on putting the pieces together when Aaron was killed. Wilmar contacted me but was afraid to dig in too deep. I talked him into working with me to find more evidence.”
“No sign of a computer,” said Mallard. “There is a docking station, monitor and keyboard. But no notebook.”
“Certainly was taken by the killer,” I said. “I doubt a cyber security person would go anywhere without a computer.”
“Could have been killed for the computer,” said Mallard. “Could have been a robbery.”
“I doubt it and so do you. Computers aren’t five grand these days. Hell, I can do amazing things on my phone and it didn’t cost me much. Nobody kills over a notebook computer, unless it has something important on it the killer wanted.”
“Floyd, get him on the table as quickly as possible,” stated Mallard. “We need to fast-track this and have some answers. I’m afraid Jarvis here is correct. This certainly looks like a murder. And if it’s in any way tied to Aaron’s killing, that case needs to be reopened.”
“I will work through the night,” said Floyd. “I will say by the size of the holes in the wound, the caliber of the weapon appears to be smaller. As I recall they were 9mm in the Bailey case. If this were 9mm, one or both likely would have exited from the other side. In this case both are still inside of the body. We’ll know for sure once they are removed and examined.”
We walked out of the room, which was fine with me. I’d seen a few dead bodies, though I handled the sight of them as well as one could. The carnage and blood a bullet could do, viewing a crime scene to this day was still unnerving. Memories of Flynn’s body still crept into my dreams. And there had been enough dead ones over the last few years that I’d not been able to completely shake them from my thoughts. I wondered if I ever would.
“Jarvis,” said Mallard, once we’d hit the hallway. “I’ve dealt with you now on enough of these, to know you are holding out on me. For once, tell me the whole truth. There is more to this than you are revealing.”
“You are so cynical, officer.”
“I prefer the term experienced. My time spent wrangling with you.”
“I’ve given you all I know for certain,” I said, though it was a lie. “But my gut tells me Cong and Lok are involved. It wouldn’t hurt to bring them back in.”
“I doubt your gut is enough to bring them down for questioning. Besides, you were the one that dropped the charges and had them released.”
He had a point.
“There has to be more,” stated Mallard.
“I wish there was. All I have is mostly circumstantial. But I’m close and it has to do with WANN. And they are getting nervous. Someone at the top is directing this to cover up something. When I have it, I’ll let you know.”
“Sure you will. I’m certain you have me number one on your speed dial. This whole situation is leaving a nagging twinge on the back of my neck. You are correct something isn’t right here. And it will now get our full attention. So if I find out you are holding back, which I’d bet my right nut you are, there will be hell to pay. Now get out of here and don’t come back down to the station to bother us unless you provide me something worth the drive.”
I walked out of the room, knowing he’d figure things out eventually. Once he started checking phone and text records he would know I wasn’t on the up and up. I headed home, hoping some new plan would pop in my head while I was sleeping. But I’d not gotten any smarter over the last twenty-four hours, so it wasn’t likely.
Chapter 39
The next day no real answers were coming to me. I’d gone over everything again and again. There were too many mysteries. And like Mallard, I figured someone might be holding out on me. And the best place to start was my client. After checking and double-checking I wasn’t being followed, I stopped by her house for a visit. I was tired and grumpy, for I’d not gotten a lot of sleep. So the first words out of my mouth were pretty cold and straight to the point. But I wanted to read her reaction.
“Mandy, Wilmar Boylan was murdered last night,” I stated.
She was standing when I said it. She immediately sat down, stunned by the statement, her hands covering her mouth. She tried to hold back the tears, but her eyes were moist. She grabbed a tissue from the coffee table and dabbed at her eyes.
“You knew him,” I asked.
She hesitated for a moment before nodding her head.
“How?”
“He was my friend.”
It was a different answer than she had given me before. I was angry, but did my best to hold it back.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She didn’t answer and couldn’t look me in the eye.
“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth. Clients who have lied to me have led to cases that didn’t end well. For me or for them.”
Still no response. She could have been in shock, but I persisted.
“Dammit, Mandy, say something. Give me what is really going on here. You know more than you are telling. And now your friend is dead because of it. I’m walking away from this before anyone else gets hurt, unless you ’fess up.”
Turning, I started for the door. I’d laid the blame on her fully and it broke her down. She started crying, her face in her hands. The sobs were genuine; this I could tell immediately. Never had a crying woman ever made me joyful. I hated it and would rather have bamboo shoots put up my fingernails. Stopping, I walked back towards the sofa and sat down, putting my arm around her, cautious of being lured into any type of physical emotional response. She wasn’t Emily White, a client I’d forever remember and regret my sexual encoun
ter with. Though it was pleasurable up until the point where Emily shot me to exact her revenge for me shooting her. Mandy, though, was different. She wasn’t going to jump my bones at the slightest contact, even pulling away at my touch. Her game and deceit was something very different. I just needed to discover what it was. After a few minutes and several more tissues, she found her composure and walked out of the room. A few minutes later she returned with an oversized notebook computer, placing in on the dining room table, and then waving me to come over and sit next to her. The first thought that overcame me was her earlier statement she didn’t own a computer. But I kept it to myself. The real question was what did this mean.
“I was afraid to say anything,” Mandy said. “Fear took control of me. I was scared of someone finding out the truth. Most wouldn’t believe me anyway without proof. Women in the computer field, especially hackers, are still considered second-class in many circles. So we created a charade. A good one, too. But it ended up getting the man I loved killed. And now a good friend.”
“What charade did you create?” I asked.
“Aaron had computer skills, but not to the level of a master hacker. Neither did Wilmar. I’m the hacking prodigy. I’m the one who helped Aaron get his job, rising quickly in the ranks at WANN. Walking him through areas he needed help with. I was Wilmar’s partner, a silent one, within Colorado Cyber Border Security. I’m the white or black hat, depending on your perspective, who breaks into networks, exploiting and fixing the security holes depending on the job at hand.”
“So you weren’t an administrative assistant. Why lie about it?”
“Look at me. Would you take me seriously as a computer engineer? All anyone would see was a pretty face with an empty brain. I’ve interviewed for jobs in the past and they wouldn’t even call me back. Most think all I’m good for is getting coffee, printing expense reports, translating handwritten memos into Word documents, and filling out a pretty dress to flaunt my body.”
I understood what she meant. With her looks I’d have never suspected a computer hacker lurking inside. Maybe with her hair up and big thick-framed glasses, the stereotypical female nerd look. I guess I, too, had a preconceived notion about beautiful women.
