The CEO Came DOA (The Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries Book 5)

by Heather Haven

  He was teasing me about a pair of cowgirl boots I’d had to buy real fast after I lost my shoes in a chase. It was another story, another time, but it still rankled. Six hundred dollars for a pair of boots I wouldn’t be caught wearing dead in a ditch.

  “They’ve been donated to Goodwill, brother mine, and I will thank you not to bring them up again.”

  Richard held his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, whatever you say. Where to now?”

  We arrived at the Chevy and I turned to my brother abruptly. “We should call Penske about the truck, now that it’s been checked over.” We both opened the front doors of my car simultaneously, me at the driver’s side.

  “The company is set to pick it up from here in about an hour,” Richard said. “They’re just glad to get it back. We had some paperwork to fill out, but Andy took care of it.”

  “You find out who rented it?” I swung myself in the seat and started up the motor.

  “Complete dead end. Rented over a month ago. Phony ID and stolen credit card. All we know is it was a man.”

  Hollywood used to control the distribution;

  now Silicon Valley does.

  Dana Brunetti

  Chapter Seventeen

  Richard slammed the door shut after those cryptic words and turned to me in frustration. I, in turn, struck my hand against the steering wheel in a like emotion.

  “Damn! We just cannot get a break, Richard. We have to find those chips and tester or we might lose D. I.”

  “You’ll get them back. Finding stuff after the fact is your specialty,” he added.

  “Oh, great. No pressure there.” I pulled out onto the street.

  “I’m giving you positive feedback. It’s supposed to keep workers motivated.”

  “I see you’ve been taking management classes again.”

  Richard laughed. “Only when forced. But seriously, you know it’s not totally up to you. We’ll all do our part. Meanwhile, the chips haven’t been offered for sale on the internet. I’ve had the team looking.”

  “That’s something, at least.”

  “Of course, they could go to a private buyer.”

  “Oh, yippee. Here’s a thought. Maybe the thieves will contact Read-Out and try to sell them back.”

  “You think they might have been stolen to hold for ransom? Wouldn’t Rameen Patel have heard something by now?”

  “Yes, but would he tell us? He’s hiding something. As far as I’m concerned, he might have engineered the theft, himself. He knows a lot more than he says unless he’s pressed against the proverbial wall. For instance, he knew Collier was coming back five days earlier from Switzerland, and he was one of the few people who did.”

  “Did he now?” I could almost hear the wheels in Richard’s head turning. “That’s a biggie.”

  “I still think the stolen booty and Collier’s murder are linked. And that means Patel, Eastham, and Read-Out are very likely a part of it. But Rameen Patel is the front runner. He has a temper and a keen sense of entitlement. But let’s put that on a back burner for the moment.”

  “Okay. Where are we headed now?”

  “Best Choice Motel, about half a mile from here. Where Jake died. He walked to there from here, because his rental car was delivered to the motel.”

  “What do you think happened, Lee? Give us one of your past scenarios.”

  “This had to have been planned for awhile. The thieves rented the truck a month ago with phony documents, probably hiding it in the Fremont garage the entire time. So someone not only knew Collier owned the house, but also that he didn’t check on it with any regularity. Maybe he never did; just another piece of property he owned in a long succession.

  “So it was the perfect place to hide the truck, especially as he was in Switzerland for over two weeks.”

  “Another thing they seemed to know, Richard. Yesterday they hired two stupid kids to drive the truck to Sunnyvale, steal the chips and tester then drive back to the Fremont house with the stash and stay there. Because the truck was bugged, they knew its whereabouts at all times. As long as it went to where they sent it or remained in the Fremont garage, they were safe. They stayed in the background and waited.”

  “Waited for what?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know yet. There’s a lot of missing pieces.”

  We came to one of those long red lights that appear out of nowhere for nonexistent traffic. Richard continued our conversation as we sat idling, the only car within sight.

  “So once you took the truck, Lee, they had a way of tracking it, no matter what maneuvers you or Jake did.”

  “And they came out of hiding, which means they have to be fairly close by, in the East Bay or the Peninsula.”

  The Peninsula is what Bay Area people call any place south of San Francisco and north of San Jose. I don’t know why, we just do.

  Richard looked at me in appreciation. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “They probably didn’t try to get the truck from our house because too many workers were milling around. When Jake headed for Redding, though, they followed him.”

  The light finally changed to green and we continued on our journey.

  “You keep saying ‘they’, Lee, but so far the only one we know about is a redheaded woman.”

  “Not true, Richard. You just told me the truck was rented a month ago by a man. And our Russian friend mentioned someone waiting in the car for the blue cowgirl. Besides, everything seems too complex for one person to manage.”

  “I’ll buy that.”

  “Here’s what I think happened yesterday. Jake was followed to Wannamaker’s Storage. They watched him hide the truck in the storage unit, and lock up. Then they followed him while he walked to the motel, in case they needed his help later on. Remember, they’ve no doubt got the drug with them, so they can make him do whatever they want.”

  Richard nodded. “Devil’s Breath.”

  “Once they knew where he was and what room he was staying in, they returned to Wannamaker’s. They tried to break in; not realizing it was locked with one of D. I.’s special locks.”

  Richard shook his head. “Man, they don’t know our locks. They don’t break for nothing.”

  “I’m thinking Gregor was on his errand when the truck first arrived and, to our killers, it looked like nobody was watching the place. Once our Russian friend returned, however, and the redhead almost got caught, they had to wait until Gregor left for the night. You said that was around nine o’clock, right?”

  Richard nodded.

  “Okay, they disarm the video cams, but not the same way they did with the ones in Sunnyvale.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In Sunnyvale they used digital equipment to redirect the images. Here, they climbed onto the roof and probably used a hammer. Whatever they used, it had no hi-tech understanding.”

  “Why?” Richard looked at me questioningly.

  “I wish I knew, brother mine. But to continue, they soon discover they can’t get into the unit without the combination to the lock. They wait until Gregor closes up for the night then go back to the motel. Using the blue cowgirl as bait, she or they knock on Jake’s door.”

  “He always went for a pretty face,” Richard interjected with sadness.

  “He opens the door. She either blows the drug in his face or asks him to read something from a piece of paper treated with the stuff. Maybe she even talks him into having a drink with her.”

  “So when the drug takes effect, they take him back to Wannamaker’s?”

  “Where they not only make him open the lock, but help load the chips into the black van. But something went wrong or maybe they planned on killing him the whole time.”

  “So why are we going to the motel, Lee?”

  “I’m hoping the desk clerk saw something. We have to go there, anyway. The police released the room about an hour ago. Lila called the motel, paid for another night, and told them we’d be picking up Jake’s personal eff
ects.”

  “After that we need to get back.” Richard looked anxious. “I’d like to see Vicki and the baby soon.”

  “Como no. And we’re here,” I said, pulling into the driveway of Best Choice Motel. I stopped under the overhang with the blinking Office Open sign. “We’ll get this over with as soon as possible, and head back to Palo Alto.”

  The Best Choice Motel was a fairly new motel, three stories high with both outside stairs and elevators to the upper floors. It was hard to tell what the light-colored paint specifically was, as it was already dark, but there was landscaping and the place seemed well kept up.

  I took out my phone and read the text from Lila again. The clerk’s name was Mrs. Annette Dowis, and she’d been the one on duty the night before.

  Mrs. Dowis was a chubby, middle-aged black woman. She wore her hair so short it looked like it had been shorn, but it suited her. She looked up from her computer when the bell announced our entrance, with a pleasant smile and intelligent eyes.

  “Good evening. How may I help you?”

  “Mrs. Dowis?” She nodded. “My name is Lee Alvarez. I’m here --”

  “Oh, yes,” she interrupted, her friendly demeanor overcome by sympathy. “Mrs. Alvarez called to say you would be coming by to pick up the gentleman’s things. My deepest condolences for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” I said, realizing I was feeling a sense of loss. I squashed it back down again.

  “Thanks,” echoed Richard. His voice carried the same sentiment. I tried to bring us back to business.

  “The room hasn’t been cleaned, has it?” I was concerned any clues might have found their way to a mopper’s demise.

  “Oh, no, Miss Alvarez. Your mother was explicit in her request that we didn’t clean the room until after you came by for his things. I was in there, but didn’t touch anything. Of course, the police were there, too, and dirtied up the surfaces with their fingerprinting kits, but other than that, they left it neat enough. Such a sad thing.”

  “Yes, it was. Can you tell me what happened, Mrs. Dowis?” I gave her a smile, which she returned fleetingly, her eyes filled with tears.

  “I tried to help him, but I’ve never seen anything like it. He was flailing around the room and he was so disoriented nothing he said made any sense. Then he just fell over and never got up. I called the medics then sat holding his hand until they came.” She brushed away a tear.

  “Thank you for being with him. I can see it was hard,” I said.

  She nodded and took a deep breath, obviously distressed by the memory. I pushed her nonetheless.

  “You said nothing he said made any sense, Mrs. Dowis. What did he say?”

  She thought for a moment. I stood watching her, aware of my heartbeat.

  “He muttered something about a tire.” Mrs. Dowis looked at me.

  “A tire?” I repeated the words. “Like a car’s tire?”

  She nodded. “He said it again and again. But I couldn’t make head nor tail of it.”

  “Was that all?”

  “Yes. The rest was just gibberish. I couldn’t understand any words.”

  Richard entered the conversation. “Did you see anyone suspicious loitering around, Mrs. Dowis? You know, more weird-looking than you usually get?” His attempt at sleuthing was commendable, if not a little wanting.

  Somewhat taken aback, Mrs. Dowis stuttered a denial with a shake of her head.

  “Maybe you could tell me,” I said, shooting Richard a quick ‘shut up’ look. “If our friend…ah…Vivian visited him? You may have seen her, a redheaded girl, a little shorter than me, dressed like a cowgirl?”

  Mrs. Dowis jumped right in. “I think I did see your friend. It was pretty late, and I only saw her from across the parking lot. Over there.”

  She pointed a finger ending with a long, lacquered nail painted with pink flowers. Richard and I turned and looked through the plate glass window at the parking lot catty-corner to the office.

  “Can’t swear about the colors, because the yellow lights in the parking lot distort things. Her hair could have been red, but it was real long, almost down to the bottom of her short skirt.“

  She leaned over the counter, her demeanor taking on a conspiratorial bend. I leaned in, also, encouraging her with my body language to conspire away. Mrs. Dowis went on.

  “At the time, I remembered thinking just who in the world she was going to see in that outfit, especially in this weather. I hoped it wasn’t for…well…you know. A motel can get some pretty unsavory characters late at night even though we try to discourage that sort of thing.”

  She gave me a knowing look. I gave her a knowing look. Richard, just watching.

  “Did you happen to see what time that was? It’s important,” I said.

  “A little before ten, maybe nine-thirty. I can’t remember exactly. But that’s when I think it was. I work until two AM. I see a lot at night.” She gave me another knowing look.

  “I’ll bet,” I said. “We’ll just go and check it out. May I have the keycard?”

  I reached out my hand. She gave it to me with a smile.

  “I’d go with you, but I have about thirty people arriving in about ten minutes, The American Taffy Union. I have to be here in case they need anything. Here’s a map of the room numbers, though. I’ve circled the poor man’s room.” She handed us a paper that when unfolded was about the size of a placemat. It had a drawing of the hotel’s numbered rooms with one circled number.

  “No worries,” I said. “We’ll find it.”

  “Thank you,” Richard said to Mrs. Dowis, opening the door to the hallway. I stepped over the transom.

  “If you could just let me know when you’ve finished,” Mrs. Dowis’ voice stopped us. “I’ll get the girl in there to clean up, if that’s all right.”

  “Sure thing,” I said. ”We’ll let you know.”

  The room was on the third floor and in a corner as far away from prying eyes as you could get. Unless you were followed a short time before and they knew exactly where you were.

  I used the keycard and we entered a room done in rusts and browns, but managing to be bland at the same time. Jake’s suitcase, like the one most investigators kept packed and in the trunk of our car for such times, sat open on the small desk against the wall. It looked pilfered through. Whether it was the lady in blue or the cops, I had no way of knowing.

  Jake’s car flashed in my mind. It still sat in our driveway. We’d have to do something about that, and his apartment, too. His mother was in a nursing home in Liverpool and that was all the family he had.

  A wave of emotions overcame me and I sat down on the bed. Jake Gold had been peripherally in the family’s life for decades. Maybe more than I’d realized.

  “Lee, you all right?” Richard’s voice brought me back.

  I couldn’t speak right away; my throat hot and tight. I cleared it once or twice and found my voice.

  “I was just thinking about a Christmas decades ago, when Dad invited Jake for dinner.”

  Richard sat down on the bed next to me and put an arm around my shoulders. “I remember that Christmas.”

  “He brought me a doll for a present. It was really cute, but I was thirteen at the time, feeling all grown up.” I let out a soft laugh. “I mean, here I was a teenager and somebody gives me a doll, like I’m a little kid. Anyway, I tried to look appreciative, but I guess it showed on my face. He opened his wallet, pulled out a twenty dollar bill, gave it to me, and took back the doll. He said Jews didn’t celebrate Christmas, he didn’t know much about kids, and for me to forgive him. It was really very sweet.”

  I stopped talking. My brother squeezed my shoulders then turned and angled himself so he could look directly at me.

  “He gave me a pocket knife. The minute he left that night Mom took it away. I never saw it again. At least you got twenty bucks. I got nothing.”

  He leaned forward and butted his forehead against mine, trying to cajole me into a lighter mood. I gather
ed up a smile from somewhere, and gave it to him. We sat for a moment in silence, but my mind was racing. Finally, I spoke again.

  “Richard, remember how I told you finding the chips and the tester was easy peezy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, maybe it was set up that way. Maybe someone wanted me to find them. Maybe it was supposed to be me in this room, and not Jake.”

  “Jesus Christ, Lee, don’t scare me like that.” He got up from the bed and crossed to the dresser. He turned and looked down at me, folding his arms against his chest. “Why do you say that?”

  “Think about how Devil’s Breath works. I hadn’t realized this before, but a big drawback to using it is you have to be in close physical proximity to the victim.”

  “You mean blow it on them, touch them with it, or put it in a drink of theirs.”

  “Yes. I’m hard to get to. I’m either with my family or Gurn or working. Most hours of the day or night others surround me. I’m hardly ever alone. Now with all the workmen at home, it’s like parade city.”

  “Why would someone want to ‘get to you’? Isn’t that being a little paranoid?” Richard wrinkled his nose the way he does when not following something.

  “I’m sure this revolves around my investigations at Read-Out. Maybe I was getting too close to something.”

  “Like what?” Richard’s question was quick and sharp.

  “Duh. If I knew that, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But maybe if I had driven the truck to Redding, I would be the one in the morgue right now.”

  “You think you were the intended victim? All this was to get to you?” His arms opened wide and he gestured to our surroundings.

  “When you say it like that, it does sound paranoid.” I roused myself and began to look around. “We’ll find out soon enough. Let’s shelve it for now. Why don’t you check out the bathroom? See if anything is there that shouldn’t be.”

  My brother nodded and went into the small bathroom. I checked out the dresser drawers – empty - and looked under the bed. Two glasses seemed to be missing from a tray next to the water pitcher, only dried water rings remaining. Richard came out of the bathroom and leaned against the door frame.