Trouble Comes Knocking

by Mary Malcolm

  “Lucy, I hope you don’t think I’m involved.”

  I waited, not sure how to respond. I prayed he wasn’t involved, but how was I to know for sure at this point?

  “Lucy, I swear I don’t know who is doin’ this to you. If I did, I would kill them myself. I would never hurt you.” He was silent for a few moments. “When you texted me to say you were spending the night at Eli’s, Lucy, it hurt my feelings. I know I’m not as manly or macho, but I can protect you too. I mean, I know I’m not a cop or anything, and I certainly wouldn’t have known what to do if someone was shooting at you, but I would do everything I could to protect you. Don’t you get that?”

  I hadn’t thought about it. I only wanted to be honest with him, not hurt him. “I’m sorry.”

  He was quiet again. I let the silence settle between us. “I guess I’m saying give me a chance next time, okay? I mean, not that I want there to be a next time.”

  I nodded but knew he couldn’t see me. “Okay.”

  He came to my house to pick me up for breakfast before work, but I took his hand and led him up to my room instead. Dee went grocery shopping early, but I didn’t want to risk being interrupted. “You mean so much to me.” I sat next to John on my bed, holding his hand. “I don’t think I’m the best at showing my emotions, but you need to know I think about you all the time.”

  He squeezed my hand, which was enough to propel me forward.

  “I lost my parents when I was sixteen. I only now found out I had sisters I didn’t get to know.” I looked him in the eye. “I can’t say I love you yet, but I don’t want to lose you. Do you understand that?”

  He pushed his hand into my hair and held my face. “I don’t need you to love me yet, Lucy. And you aren’t losing me.”

  He kissed me, gently at first and then with a little more urgency. We’d had our few stolen moments at work, and a couple of amazing kisses beyond, but this one reminded me he was mine.

  He pulled me to his shoulder, rubbed my back, and held me close. “You aren’t losing me,” he said again.

  We stayed like that for a few minutes before he spoke again. “So this is your room, huh?”

  I laughed a little and sat up. “In all of its glory.”

  “Lots of notebooks,” he noted.

  I nodded. I’d already told him about my family, I didn’t want to get into my obsessive journaling too. “At least my pony figurine collection has been packed away.”

  He rubbed my back for a second before finally taking my hand and leading me downstairs to go to breakfast.

  “So The Slotted Spoon,” I said between sips of coffee. “We know Mr. Winters owned it with Mr. Smith, but the place doesn’t seem like it turns a profit. What are we missing?”

  “One question I have,” John said, taking a bite of sausage, “is, why was Mr. Winters doing anything separate from HGR in the first place? I mean, did he have some great passion for soup or was it only because of his mistress? Or did he owe his friend something?”

  “Or was he being blackmailed?” I asked.

  Plausible as anything.

  “Over a restaurant?” John asked skeptically. “No way. There has to be more to it.”

  “Maybe. We know he and Bonnie Kent went there for their affair, but maybe the business is a front for something else.”

  “Can you get Detective Reyes to look into it?” John’s face lit up, his eyes sparkled. This all excited him. I could see the younger John walking around with a magnifying glass piecing together clues regarding the mysteriously missing leftovers.

  “Probably not,” I said, hating to burst his bubble. “We haven’t talked since the day he was shot. I know he’s in trouble at work because of me, so I don’t want to get him into any more.”

  John smiled, seeming to shrug it off. “I’m pretty good with computers. Want to come over tonight and see if we can find anything?”

  “Think we can?”

  He shrugged and took a big bite of his hash browns, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

  I giggled. “Okay. So tonight, you can show me your stuff.” I said it as suggestively as I could. Truth is, I’d been thinking about John’s stuff since our first night together. I’d wanted another opportunity to finish what we started that night, so this seemed as good an excuse as any. Even if he couldn’t ferret anything out, maybe we could find some other wonderful way to fill our time.

  ****

  John wasn’t good at computers. He made love to computers the way Dee made love to her kitchen. He worked sweet magic with them and created life. The first time I’d been in his room and saw several monitors, I figured he was a big gamer, or he used the set-up for writing music or something. No. Calling John a computer genius would be a bit akin to saying I could remember things okay or that Picasso liked to doodle in his spare time. Why was John wasting his time as a security guard when he could easily be so much more?

  Watching his fingers whiz over the keyboard gave me girl wood.

  “Let’s start with searches for Simon Winters and Ulysses Smith together.”

  I sat back and let him do his thing. His eyes scanned between the screens, and boxes popped up that I’d never knew existed. “What kind of system is this?” I asked.

  “Completely Linux based. I built it myself.” He turned to face me. “Truth is, I love my music, but I’m a realist too. I know I’m not going to make a living as a musician.”

  “No,” I argued, ever the optimist. “You can if you work at it.”

  He laughed and arched, his long legs stretching out in front of him. “No, I can’t. So let’s call this my insurance policy. Security is a great job for benefits, but I’m going to make my real money here.”

  “Hacking?” I asked, wondering about the data at work. I hated that John’s name kept coming into the investigation, kept coming into my mind when things looked off. I wanted so much to believe in his innocence. Why did he have to seem so damn guilty?

  “No, I mean, yeah, I pirate movies, but no. I design apps, websites. Games, sometimes. I’m teaching myself, but someday I’m going to make something that’ll take off and then…”

  I grinned, getting it. “Your Angry Birds.”

  “Hell yes. My Angry Birds.”

  “All right.”

  He turned back to the screen and clicked a few more keys, then slowed. “This is something,” he said, motioning me closer. “Look at this. Closed records about Mr. Winters. Seems his first university expelled him for running an underground poker ring. Ohio State accepted him after that.”

  “Can you look to see if Ulysses went to that same first school?”

  “One step ahead of you.” He clicked a few more buttons, and then it popped up. “Bingo. They were kicked out together for the same thing.”

  I moved forward from my place on his bed and knelt next to him. “Do you think they were involved in something similar here?”

  “Could be.” John looked at me. “I can hack. I’ve done it before, but I don’t do bad things with it. I mean, I don’t try to cause havoc or anything. Mostly look things up for people sometimes, or things like this.”

  I frowned, moving back to the bed. “What are you trying not to say?”

  He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You told me about what happened with the data entry, and I wanted you to know Natalie isn’t involved.”

  “I didn’t think so,” I said with a frown.

  “But Mr. Winters absolutely was. And there is still someone working at HGR trying to cover his tracks. I’ve been able to trace a little of it, but whoever it is, they’re good.”

  Shaking my head, I stood and paced the room. “So how do we find out who?”

  “Problem is they’re using Natalie’s log-in. That’s why it’s tracing to her. I have to find a time that they logged in when Natalie wasn’t there or something that will prove beyond a doubt she isn’t the one.”

  “There hasn’t been anything since she’s been gone?”

  “No,” he said, puffing his
cheeks for a moment while he thought. “What’s so annoying is I found it going to Natalie before the police did, but now I can’t track it anymore. And I can’t go to the police with what I’ve found because what I’m doing here isn’t exactly legal.”

  By exactly legal I knew he was telling me it was completely illegal, and while it tied our hands, it still gave us something to work from. I stopped pacing and faced him. “Let’s go back to The Slotted Spoon.” I scraped my hands over my hair. “Right now. Let’s see if we can find something there, or maybe figure out what’s going on.”

  “Do you think they’d do something at the restaurant?” he asked, skepticism written across his face like a graphic novel.

  “Why else would they have a restaurant that no one eats at? Maybe they’re running the same kind of thing, and they had a falling out.”

  John shrugged and pulled me into a kiss.

  Our second of the night, and my head spun as his kiss electrified and excited me—tongues dancing, his hand massaging my neck. It took all my effort not to push him onto the bed right that minute.

  He pulled back and brushed a fingertip across my nose. “Let’s go.”

  ****

  Inside the restaurant, there still weren’t any customers. Only me, John, and the same waitress from the other night. She brought waters and later our soups, and nothing at all stood out.

  “I don’t know,” I told John. “I mean, maybe Ulysses has family money, or maybe Mr. Winters was fronting or something.”

  “Why would he risk his career for the sake of an old college friend?”

  All I knew was even though the soup didn’t suck it certainly wouldn’t win any awards, either. We finished eating and sat around wasting time to see if any customers showed up. Baby’s first stakeout, I thought with a little mental giggle. Not a single other person arrived. “Look, I’m going to the restroom, and then I think we should skedaddle.”

  Some guys do what you want just to get something from you. John had spent several hours sitting in an abandoned restaurant with me. Not only to support me but because he clearly had sleuthing in his blood. His deflation at our lack of action couldn’t be hidden if he’d tried. “Sorry, Lucy, I thought we’d see something. Maybe like a trail of guys going to the back or something.”

  Poor John, poor us. I’d been waiting for the same exact thing, though I hoped I hid my disappointment better. “Perhaps you and I watch way too much television. Be right back.”

  I walked down the hallway and found the women’s room easily enough. It didn’t occur to me until right then that people might have been walking in and out the back door this entire time, but it was too late to do anything about that now. Sitting down in a stall, I listened for a second. The sound of voices filtered through the vent above the stall. I held my breath as I tried to make out the words.

  It didn’t help. They were too muffled. I finished and washed my hands. Stepping out of the restroom, I saw a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. Which, of course, in every movie is where they hide the bad guys, and the good guys only go if they want to be attacked by eight evil ninjas. It took me only a second’s hesitation to turn the handle and peek inside.

  I expected a janitor’s closet and instead found that the hallway continued. Why is this Employees Only?

  A door at the end opened. I stumbled back shutting the door as quietly as possible. I waited for a second or two to see if the footsteps came in my direction, but they stopped.

  Inching it open again I saw a man hesitate before knocking on a door I completely missed, tentatively at first, then with determination.

  The door opened, and a man about the size of a refrigerator stepped through and blocked the entrance. “Name,” he demanded in a terrifying voice—deep and not to be trifled with. He crossed his arms, and his body filled the entire doorway, spilling over like a woman in the wrong size Spanx.

  “Tom Schmidt. Frank sent me? I’m here for poker. This is the place, right? I mean, Frank said I just had to bring the money and I could play? Said there were games nine o’clock every night,” the man spoke as fast as possible, and his voice ended in what sounded like questions rather than statements.

  He was new to this. He wouldn’t have to explain any of that had he been there before. I could nearly hear the sweat drip from his body.

  “You have the money?”

  I heard a slight rustling and something fell to the floor. Tom Schmidt let out an expletive. “Sorry.” He dropped to his knees before finally gathering everything and handing it over. What a Melvin. This all might be illegal, but he certainly wasn’t some criminal mastermind or anything. More some poor schmuck who liked playing poker and had money to burn.

  The refrigerator let him into the room, and the door shut, a loud clink sounding as a deadbolt slid into place.

  Shutting the door, I turned and leaned against it, breathing a sigh of relief. I wasn’t crazy; there was something going on here. Not a little something either. Another poker ring, only more organized and much more expensive. An electrifying energy raced through my body like a panic attack or a jellyfish sting. My heart pounded, and I settled my hand over my chest to try to calm it. I had to tell John.

  The door to the kitchen opened, and the waitress spotted me. “What are you doing at that door? That’s for employees.” She reached into the pocket of her smock and pulled out a cell phone.

  Suddenly my pounding heart was the least of my concerns. I would see those ninjas after all. I was about to be whacked, Dee would have to ID my body, Eli would feel guilty for the ignored calls. “Sorry, I didn’t feel too great when I left the restroom. I had to take a minute before I went back to my date.” I motioned her closer and whispered, “You know, gas.”

  She took an immediate step back and dropped the phone into her smock. “You don’t need to be here. Finish up and get out front before you get hurt.” She stepped past me and into the EMPLOYEE’S ONLY area.

  Hurrying to our table, I hissed to John, “We have to go! Now!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Officer Len, I needed Eli’s help at that point. You understand that, don’t you?”

  He scraped his finger across his eyelid and then tugged at his earlobe. “What I understand is that you went into a dangerous situation even after you were told to keep your nose out of it.”

  My hackles rose. “An innocent woman, a friend of mine, was being accused of something she didn’t do. A man was murdered and his killer still at large. And Captain Matheson practically wanted to package up Natalie for the DA, wrap a big red bow around her, and let things fall as they may. I couldn’t allow that.”

  Officer Len made a few notes on his notepad and spoke under his breath.

  “I heard what you said.”

  He looked up. Squinted his eyes. “Okay, so tell me, why do you think you’re better than an entire police force? Why did you have to be the one to go about saving the day?” this time saying it out loud.

  “I had to be the one because she’s my friend. I knew in my heart she was innocent when no one else did, when no one else wanted to help her. Captain Matheson what happy letting her take the fall for something she didn’t do. Of course I had to be the one.”

  ****

  “Eli, please call me. It’s urgent. Please. We need to talk.” I hung up and paced back and forth in John’s bedroom. I stopped and stared into the space above his head. “What are we going to do if he doesn’t get back to me? Obviously the police haven’t come across this yet, or they’d have also figured out Natalie isn’t guilty.”

  John lounged on his bed, arms crossed under his head. He stared at his ceiling, and I could just about see his brain trying to process things. “We’ll have to storm the gates, so to speak,” he said, determination in his voice like I’d never heard before.

  I hated to admit it, but I liked this new John. Take charge, manhandle the situation. Not to say I didn’t like his sweeter side too, but this side was seductive.

  Wouldn’t mind if he manhandled
me a little.

  Maybe after Natalie was no longer looking at a fifteen-year sentence. And Mr. Winters’s killer was no longer trying to kill me.

  I straddled his middle. Leaning down, I pressed my breasts against his chest and nibbled his bottom lip, teasing gently as he lifted his head for more. His hands came out from behind his head, and he pulled me closer. “This is nice,” he said in a warm-as-ginger voice. He nuzzled my neck and worked his fingers through my hair.

  I leaned my forehead against his and kissed the tip of his nose. “I wish this could all be less complicated.” I tried to shove off him, but he grabbed my hips and held me tight.

  “Life is complicated, Lucy. I’ll take anything I can get from you.”

  “Mmmm,” I moaned. His hips moved beneath me and my whole body heated. Then, inexplicably, my thoughts went to Natalie, then to the man outside my window. I thought about Roger Ridley possibly hunting me down, and a killer who had me in his sights. My sisters, my parents, Voeller. Over such a short amount of time my life became so complicated I couldn’t imagine throwing myself entirely into a relationship. Not even with John. “I wish I could give you so much more.”

  “You give me everything you can,” he said, softly, his eyes half-lidded.

  Laying my head on his chest, I rested there for a few moments. Finally, I sat up and traced my fingers down his front, tucking my thumbs into the belt loops on his blue jeans.

  “What if I get into the game?” John asked, once again staring at the ceiling. “What if I go in through the back and say what the other guy said?”

  “A: the waitress would recognize you. And, B: the other guy also had money. I don’t know how much, but it didn’t look like a small amount.”

  “I have some money,” John said, ignoring my waitress comment. “As long as I don’t lose it, I can use it in the game.”

  I rolled off and sat next to him. “We can’t risk that, John. Are you even good at poker?”

  “I’m all right. I mean, not World of Poker material, but I’ve won a few games in my day.”