Caruso 01 - Boom Town

by Trevor Scott

  He shuffled his boots in the dirt. “Not good. They were the microbrew and espresso type, and I’m more the cold Bud and burnt black coffee kinda guy.”

  “You know them enough to have an opinion on their death?”

  He shrugged. “Opinions are like assholes. Everyone’s got one.”

  Tony waited.

  Finally Sanders said, “I don’t know. They seemed about as happy as most couples these days.”

  That wasn’t exactly an encouraging indictment. “You think Dan could have killed her?”

  Sanders spit and then said, “I think anyone’s capable of murder depending on the circumstances.”

  Tony didn’t want to piss someone off who had access to explosives, but he couldn’t help himself. “Where were you the night Dan and Barb were fried like Smores at a boy scout campout?”

  Sanders narrowed his intense eyes on Tony and said, “Fuckin’

  my mare up the ass.”

  “Great,” Tony mumbled.

  Without saying another word to him, Don Sanders ran off yelling and waving his arms at one of his men. Tony wandered 116

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  back to his truck. Just before getting in, he noticed something on the ground. He stooped down and picked up the one-inch piece of wire. It was the same color, could have been from the same roll and lot, as the piece he had found at the base of Dan and Barb’s burned out fireplace.

  He gazed down the hill at Don Sanders, and his long beard seemed to wave in the breeze back at him again, telling Tony to go screw himself.

  BOOM TOWN 117

  CHAPTER 19

  It was late afternoon by the time Tony got back to his condo.

  He got himself a beer and took a seat at the small table in front of the sliding glass door. Cracking the door open slightly, he glanced out at the golf course. There was no one to be seen anywhere, since the temperature had dropped some and low clouds had moved in off the Cascades.

  Something was bugging him about the development Cliff Humphrey and his partners wanted to build. According to Melanie, the housing market in the area had started to slump a little, with the high-end houses taking the biggest hit. So why build now? What did Cliff Humphrey know?

  He got up and went for his second beer, retrieving his laptop computer on his way back and hitching it up to the phone. When Tony took on a case, one of the first things he did was check into the person who hired him. In this case, since the guy was a friend of his Navy friend, Joe Pellagreno, he hadn’t done a thorough job of checking out Cliff Humphrey. That could have been a mistake.

  Maybe Tony figured the guy’s reputation should stand for something. Maybe he didn’t think the case would bring him anywhere the local cops had not already been. Whatever the reason, he hadn’t done his normal complete background check.

  Pulling up Humphrey’s development company, Tony sifted through the normal crap, and, seeing he was getting nowhere, decided on another direction. At the court house he had found out 118

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  HGE Enterprises was the company trying to get land use for the new destination resort. So he checked into that company. Bingo!

  Under the principal owners were Cliff Humphrey and James Ellison.

  He finished his beer and headed out.

  By the time he got to Cascade Peaks Estates, all that remained of the sun was a pink hue behind dark swirling clouds in front of Mount Bachelor and the Three Sisters. He pulled the truck over in front of the burned out house and sat. His eyes weren’t focused on the fried shell that used to be Dan and Barb Humphrey’s place.

  Instead, he gazed directly at the home that resembled a Scottish hunting estate. The home of Mr. and Mrs. James Ellison.

  His mind drifted off, thinking about how the two rent-a-cops had jacked him up out front, the conversation he had had with the captain, Beaver Jackson, and then the talk with Mrs. Ellison.

  Starting the truck, he drove up into the driveway. When he got out, blinding lights flicked on, startling him for a moment. He continued on and knocked at the front door.

  Mrs. Ellison peered out from a side window at him, gave a strained smile, and then opened the door for him. She was wearing a tight aerobics outfit with sweat visible at various spots.

  “Mr. Caruso,” she said. “What brings you by?”

  “May I come in? I have a few more questions.”

  She hesitated long enough for him to sense the answer would be no, but then relented, opening the door for him.

  Tony stepped inside and glanced around, looking for a sign that her husband might be there. He could hear a Puccini opera sift-ing in delicately from the other room.

  “Would you like a drink?” she asked. She had a bottle of French water and took a quick gulp from it now.

  “No, thanks. I was wondering if I could talk with your husband, James?”

  She considered that carefully, her eyes inspecting him. “I’m afraid James is away again. San Francisco.”

  There was silence for a moment while he tried to think of BOOM TOWN 119

  something to say. He wasn’t sure how much she knew about her husband’s business.

  “What can you tell me about HGE Enterprises?” Tony asked her.

  She seemed to expect the question. She shrugged. “Not much.

  My husband is one of the principal investors. He finds ways to infuse capital into projects.”

  Deliberately, she drifted toward the room the music came from, and Tony followed her, trying his best to keep his eyes off her swaying hips. They went into a library with mahogany book shelves that lined two walls on either side of a stone fireplace.

  She took a seat in a large leather chair, hoisted her right leg un-ladylike over an arm much like Frank Peroni’s wife had done, and took another sip of water.

  He was feeling a little uncomfortable. Unsure where his questions would lead. Unsure what questions to ask.

  She nodded her head toward an identical chair across from her, and Tony took that as a sign to sit, so he did.

  “Gianni Schicchi,” Tony said in his best Italian. “O mio babbi-no caro.”

  She looked surprised. “Mr. Caruso. I had no idea you were an opera fan.”

  “It’s not something you bring up very often,” Tony admitted.

  “But when you grow up in an Italian family...with a name like mine.”

  She shifted her left leg out. “Any relation to Enrico Caruso?”

  “He was a distant cousin.” Tony did his best to keep his eyes from centering on the area between her legs, which was hard considering her presentation.

  As she adjusted the thin strip of aerobics suit between her legs, her eyes narrowed directly toward his. “What do you want?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “What do you want? Really?”

  He was confused by the question. Especially since her hand was still sliding over the mound between her legs.

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  “HGE Enterprises,” he managed to get out. “I was just wondering...how your husband was involved with that.” This was partially true. He knew what venture capitalists did, but he actually wanted to know how her husband and Cliff Humphrey had gotten together, without coming out and saying it.

  She slid her hand up and flipped the left strap to her suit off her shoulder, giving her left breast nearly enough freedom to roam about. “HGE Enterprises,” she said formally. “James founded the company with Cliff Humphrey when they started Cascade Peaks.” She suddenly got up and headed toward the foyer, stopped at the door and turned her head toward him. “Let’s talk out here.” Then she disappeared around the corner.

  He was sitting there feeling like an idiot. So he got up and followed her. It wasn’t too hard to find out where she’d gone. He simply followed the trail of discarded clothing out to the deck, catching a glimpse of her naked body as she lowered herself into the Jacuzzi. Tony reasoned that if he had a wife who looked like that, he probably wouldn’t leave town as often as her hus
band did.

  He stood a few feet from the Jacuzzi trying not to be too obvious with his eyes. But she was sitting just high enough for her nipples to protrude like periscopes from the churning water.

  “You wanna join me?” she asked him, her southern accent escaping more than ever.

  “I just took a soak this morning.”

  “I’m sure you could do it more than once a day,” she said, her eyes drifting down his body midway. “I don’t guess you’d have a shriveling problem.”

  He’d probably hate himself later for this. “I should probably get going. I’ll show myself out.”

  She stood up, exposing herself fully. “Are you sure,” she said, disappointed, her hands on her hips.

  He let out a deep breath. “No. Yeah. Have a great evening.”

  She sunk back into the water. “It coulda been so much better,”

  she said in her best whiny debutante.

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  Tony headed toward the door, his gait somewhat affected by shifting blood flow.

  When he got back out to his truck, he sat for a moment gazing at the Ellison residence. Standing in the second floor window, elegantly naked and appealing, was a dark silhouette leaning against the frame.

  Reluctantly moving his eyes to his right, he glared at the burned out Humphrey house, thinking about what had happened there and how life was rushing forward all around. He recalled the two spots where bodies had fallen to the carpet. What was the point? If Dan shot his wife and then himself, why blow the house all to hell? That bothered him more than anything. And he hated unanswered questions.

  Tony backed out and started to drive away, but then farther down the road the house where the basketball player lived caught his attention.

  For the first time there were lights on. So he pulled in to athlete’s driveway and parked.

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  CHAPTER 20

  Tony must have rang the door bell twenty times before the large oak door swung open. He was expecting to see some huge man that he’d have to look up to. Instead, there was a young black man, early twenties, who might have gone six-two in his high-top Nikes. He was wearing a pair of baggy black shorts to his knees. That’s all. The Blazers had done a fine job with him in the weight room. But he was also wearing one more thing. A brace on his left ankle. His large round eyes inspected Tony as if he were one of his coaches about to reprimand him for a stupid mistake.

  “What’s up?” he said. “I didn’t order no pizza.”

  Tony wasn’t sure if that was a cut at his heritage. “That’s good.

  Because I don’t have one.”

  The basketball player started to close the door and Tony caught it with his foot and hand simultaneously. “Are you Jamal Banks?”

  He let out a breath. “Who da fuck are you? You want my auto-graph or something?”

  Tony didn’t want to deflate the guy and say he had no idea who he was or how good he could put the round ball through the ten-foot hoop, so he simply smiled and said, “Not exactly. I was hoping we could talk about your neighbors.” Tony nodded his head toward the Humphrey house.

  “Never met ‘em,” he said. “Hey, listen...I’m not suppose to BOOM TOWN 123

  stand on this ankle. I’m in rehab.”

  “I just need a few minutes,” Tony said. “May I come in?”

  He considered Tony carefully now and then glanced behind him. “I’m trying to find a little pussy,” he said, showing Tony his perfect teeth. “Are you some cop?”

  He got that a lot. “Some kind,” Tony said, hoping it would open the door farther.

  “Motherfucker,” he said, drifting away from the door. He hob-bled into the living room area and took a seat.

  Tony was somewhat surprised when he got into the room.

  There were plants all over the place. All the chairs and sofa were quality leather set onto shiny hardwood floors. The music was Seal, barely loud enough to hear. Tony stood quietly glancing about the room.

  Suddenly, a young blonde woman came from a back room. “I can’t find that cat anywhere, Jamal.” She stopped when she saw Tony. “Oh, hi. Is this your agent?” she asked Jamal.

  She was wearing jeans too baggy and a sweater that gave her upper body the appearance of a llama. She was the receptionist at Larry Gibson’s office. Small town indeed, Tony thought.

  The basketball player swished his head.

  “I can’t find that cat,” she said. “She was here yesterday...came right out when I came through the door.” She looked at Tony again. “I know you. Mr. Caruso. You came by our office the other day.”

  “Right. How is Larry Gibson?”

  She looked confused at the question. “Fine, I’m sure. He doesn’t like you much.”

  “Oh? Why’s that?”

  “Didn’t say.” She smiled and headed toward another room.

  “Here kitty, kitty.”

  Tony turned to the basketball player, who was looking somewhat disgusted. “Sorry,” Tony said. “Now, what can you tell me about Dan and Barb Humphrey?”

  “Told you I never met ‘em.”

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  “Never saw them mow their lawn? Gardening?”

  He laughed. “You fuckin’ crazy? These people don’t do their own lawn. They have it done by some wetback.” His glare centered on Tony, his head cocked to one side. Then he said, “You don’t know shit about basketball do you?”

  Tony shrugged.

  “I was traded to the Blazers this year after spending my rookie season at Golden State. I just bought this place in September.

  With training camp and flying around the country for games, I’ve only been here a few times.”

  “Why’d you get a place here, so far from Portland?”

  He shifted in the chair. “I have a condo in Beaverton. My agent worked a deal for this place as part of my Nike contract. It’s a great investment.”

  “So you never met Dan and Barb?”

  He hesitated. “Not really. I seen ‘em a few times while golfing.

  They sure did like that hot tub.”

  The woman came out of the bedroom holding a six-month-old kitten that seemed to blend right in with her sweater. Jamal got up to meet her, and then took the kitten and pressed it against his dark chest, the kitten nuzzling and purring against his bare skin.

  “There you are,” Jamal said. “Where da hell you been?”

  Tony left the two of them there to play with their pussy.

  When he got out to his truck, Panzer was on his feet, his nose pressed against the sliding window of the topper.

  “What you want?” he asked his dog.

  Panzer whined at him and then licked the screen, leaving a nice white film behind.

  “You smell something?” Tony looked across the wide green space between the basketball player’s yard and the old Humphrey place. “I’ll bet you do.”

  He got in and drove off toward the north side of town. While doing so, he called Dawn and asked for a rain check on dinner.

  Instead, he grabbed a quick chicken sandwich at Wendy’s. Not much of a substitute, he realized.

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  There was at least one constant in life that Tony was certain about. If he ever needed any information from a desk clerk at a hotel or motel, or even a condo complex, never go there in the afternoon or early evening. That’s check in time for most places, and if they were doing that, he might as well take a seat in the lobby and watch Fox News for a while. Early evening was nearly as bad. People were looking for replacement towels, since they’d trashed theirs down at the pool.

  No. The best time for information was some time between ten and midnight, any later and the desk help would get nervous.

  So, after not finding out much from Mrs. Ellison or the basketball player, Tony made his way across town to the Riverfront Hotel complex.

  There was a woman in her late twenties at the desk when he walked in. She wore a brown unif
orm that fit her round body tightly, showing more rolls than she should have. Her long dark hair was one step away from gale force. She had a pleasant smile for him as he leaned on the desk.

  “May I help you?” she asked.

  “I hope so,” Tony said. “I’m looking for my brother. I understand he’s staying here. Or was staying here. I’m really not sure.”

  She looked confused.

  “Let me explain. I’m from Boise. I get a call from my sister-in-law saying she hasn’t seen my brother Frankie in a while. He travels to Bend on business and sometimes has to stay longer than expected. But it’s been longer than normal.”

  Tony had a feeling she was buying into his sob story, so he paused for a few seconds, as if trying to control his emotions.

  “I can check the computer,” she said, “see if he’s here. What’s his name?”

  “Would you? I’d really appreciate it. Frank Peroni.”

  She clicked away at the computer and stopped suddenly, her eyes uncertain. “This is strange.”

  Tony leaned forward trying to catch a glimpse of the screen.

  “What?”

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  “Says here he never checked out, and...” She clicked at the keys a few more times. “His bill wasn’t paid.”

  “That must be a mistake,” Tony said. “My brother never leaves without paying.”

  Just then a man in his mid-thirties came from a back room. He was a large man with three chins and a gut that hung over his belt.

  He was a disgrace to any uniform. The kind of guy the sheriff would hate, Tony thought.

  “You talking about Frank Peroni?” he said. He was chewing on a huge wad of gum.

  The woman nodded. “Yeah. This is his brother.”

  “You’re the second person to ask about him...well, third actually, this evening.”

  Tony gazed at him, hopeful.

  “There were two guys here about a half an hour ago, maybe less.”

  “What they want Frankie for?” Tony asked.

  The guy shrugged. “They were from his company. Said they needed a key to the condo.”

  “Condo?”

  “Yeah, Cascade Lock owns the condo. We just manage it.