Road Blocked: A Reed Ferguson Mystery (A Private Investigator Mystery Series - Crime Suspense Thriller Book 13)

by Renee Pawlish

  Maybe I’m being too cautious, I thought. But if someone was inside, I didn’t want to announce my presence.

  I waited a bit longer, and then I stole across the lawn and up to the front porch. I pressed myself against the side of the house, then edged along until I could peek into the front window. The living room was empty. I made my way to the office window and looked in. I was about to move on when something outside the door caught my eye.

  A shadow? Had Hinton’s killer returned?

  I had my eyes just over the window ledge and I watched the hall. Then I was sure I saw some movement toward the back of the house, near the kitchen. I reached down, pulled my Glock from my ankle holster, and started quietly around to the back of the house. I poked my head around the corner, but didn’t see anyone, so I tiptoed cautiously over toward the back door and looked inside.

  And then I saw him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Bernie Shepherd jumped when he saw the Glock in my hand. I think he cursed, but since the doors and windows were closed, I wasn’t sure. He did turn white, and then he rushed over to the back door, unlocked it, and yanked it open.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he hissed, his voice a mix of surprise and fright.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” I said angrily.

  He looked behind me. “Get in here.” He waved me inside.

  I holstered the Glock and stepped into the kitchen. “You didn’t return my calls, so I went by your hotel, and imagine my surprise when I discovered you’d checked out.”

  “I was worried about staying in one place for too long, and besides, I didn’t like staying there.” He shrugged. “I thought I’d be safe here.”

  It actually made sense. If the killer was after both Shepherd and Hinton, go to the one place where the killer wouldn’t go: the dead man’s house.

  “So, Pete,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Or should I call you Bernie?”

  His jaw dropped. “How did you know?”

  “They identified the body in Tahiti.”

  He glanced away. “And you read about it.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I was stunned when I read that my client has the same name as a murder victim in Tahiti.”

  He held up a hand. “Okay, you figured out who I am.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I ... how did you know I was here?” he asked.

  “The neighbor across the street saw a light last night and he called me.” I looked around slowly. “Don’t you think if you’re going to hide here, you should stay out of sight?”

  “I was,” he said. “I’ve been down in the basement, but I came upstairs to get something to eat. I only had the light on for a minute.” He shook his head and let out a bitter snort. “How did the neighbor have your number?”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “You do understand I’m a private investigator, and you told me your name was Pete Hinton. This is Pete Hinton’s house. Don’t you think it makes sense that I would come here to look around?”

  He blushed. “Oh, yeah.”

  I shook my head disgustedly. “You know, I was suspicious of your story from the start, but I figured I’d look into it. And things weren’t adding up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “For instance, I knew when I looked around the house that something wasn’t right, because the layout didn’t match what you’d told me.” I pointed toward the back door and explained what I meant.

  He sighed slowly. “I didn’t think things through very well.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “I was scared,” he said defensively. He suddenly held up a hand. “Did you hear that?”

  I glanced outside. “No.”

  He gestured at me. “Come downstairs and we can talk.”

  “Fine.”

  I followed him into the entryway, where a door led downstairs. We descended into a large game room with a pool table, pinball machine, and full bar. In a corner of the room sat a couch and loveseat. The Golf Channel was playing on a large TV hanging on the wall.

  He pointed to blankets that covered the windows. “I covered them so I can have the light on at night. Mostly I just watch TV or read.”

  “And yet you were still spotted,” I murmured.

  He ignored that, then went over to the couch and plopped down on it. I sat on the edge of the loveseat and contemplated him.

  “Let me guess,” I began, “you’re in on the insurance scam.”

  The surprised look returned. “Not quite,” he finally said.

  I stared at him. “What’s going on?” I repeated.

  “We ... Pete and I ... didn’t scam Medicare. I found out Marshall was scamming the system, just like I told you. At first, I couldn’t believe Marshall would do that, but I think he needed the money. I told Pete about it, and we discussed what to do and who to call to report it. Pete wanted to do his own quiet investigation, so he asked me to wait a few days before doing anything. Then he surprised me and said that he’d done some digging and found an offshore account where Marshall had been depositing money.”

  “How did Pete find the account?”

  He shrugged. “He’s a bit of a computer whiz and I think he hacked into Marshall’s account, or he knows people who can do that kind of stuff. Some people are really good at that kind of thing.”

  “So I’ve heard,” I said, again thinking of Cal.

  “Anyway, Pete said we should steal the money from Marshall, that Marshall had risked the entire clinic by scamming Medicare, and it would serve him right for his arrogance and for jeopardizing our livelihoods.”

  “That’s a nice justification.”

  He glared at me. “I didn’t want to do it at first, but Pete convinced me we could get away with it. So we planned it out. We’d arranged to take a vacation at the same time, which wasn’t unusual because he and I have gone on golf trips together before. We said we were going to Scotland, and we even bought tickets there. But we also bought tickets for Tahiti. The plan was to fly there, and then transfer the money to a Cayman account. Once we had it in our own offshore accounts, we’d rent a boat, sail to Australia, and disappear. At first, it all went according to the plan. We got to Tahiti and Pete transferred Marshall’s money into another account Pete had set up. We were in the process of renting a boat when Pete was killed.”

  “How long were you in Tahiti?”

  “Two days. We thought we were safe, so we...uh...” He glanced away. “We partied for a while, kind of let loose.”

  “Long enough for someone to realize what you’d done and come after you.”

  “There was no way Marshall could’ve known where we went, but somehow he did.”

  “He didn’t fly over there himself, if that’s what you mean,” I said. “If he’s behind this, he hired someone else to kill Pete.”

  “How do you know Marshall didn’t go to Tahiti?”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “I have people who are good on the computer, too.”

  Shepherd nodded. “Well, maybe Marshall didn’t go to Tahiti, but he must’ve found out we stole the money from him, and he hired someone to get us.”

  I had to admit, this time I believed him. I thought over what all I now knew.

  “When I met Pete in the hotel bar, he’d said he’d just arrived,” I said.

  “He lied. We’d been there for a couple of days already.”

  “He was acting really nervous.”

  “The high of getting the money had faded, and he was worried that someone was following us. I figured he was crazy, but,” his voice choked up, “I was wrong.”

  “Did Pete tell you about me?” I said.

  He nodded. “I saw you talking to Pete, and I wondered who you were. When I asked him, he said ‘just some guy.’ Later, after Pete had been killed, I thought maybe you were the one who’d done it, so I asked around the hotel and found out your name. I looked you up, and lo and behold, you’re a private eye.”

  “But why tell me th
at you were Pete Hinton?”

  He stared at the TV screen, his eyes wide with fear. “I’ve been in a panic ever since Pete had been murdered. I could hardly think and I didn’t know what to do.”

  “Tell me about that night. What happened after I met Pete at the bar?”

  “Pete had been drinking too much. We had dinner at the hotel, but he was wired and didn’t want to go to our room – we were staying in one room. He wanted to take a walk on the beach. I told him that wasn’t safe, and we should lay low, stay out of sight. He agreed and we went to our room, but I fell asleep and he slipped out. When I woke up, I searched the beach, and the cops were there and I saw Pete’s body. Oh, man...” His voice trailed off. He hung his head for a moment, then looked up and continued. “I knew right away that Marshall had discovered that his money was gone, and that he’d come after us. I couldn’t figure out how in the world he had found us, though, but I knew my life wasn’t worth a penny at that point. I got a flight out first thing the next morning and came back here. I first thought Marshall might’ve sent you after us, so I decided to hire you to see if that was true. But you didn’t seem to know me, so I figured I would hire you to see what you could find out. I didn’t want you looking into me or what I’d done, just to find out if Marshall was indeed after us. When you asked me my name, I panicked and blurted out Pete’s name. I figured since he was dead, it wouldn’t matter, and that would keep you from discovering who I was.”

  “What if Pete had told me his name? Or if his body had been identified?”

  “If you knew him, then ... I don’t know what I would’ve done. I just knew I didn’t want you poking around my life.”

  “But I did look into you,” I said. “I even talked to Pete’s ex-wife because I thought you were Pete, and then I talked to your real ex-wife.”

  “Why?”

  I looked at him askance. “You said your ex-wife might be upset with you because you’re not paying her maintenance anymore.”

  He snorted. “I was kidding. Pam wouldn’t do anything to me.”

  “She did seem like she was over you,” I conceded.

  He let out a bitter laugh. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  I scowled at him. “You haven’t been very smart about all this.”

  “I was scared,” he said defensively.

  “And you’ve gotten yourself into a real pickle.”

  “Yes.” He gazed at me with pleading eyes. “Please help me.”

  I thought long and hard about that. I wasn’t keen on helping a criminal, especially one who seemed so scatterbrained and had me chasing futile leads. But I also wasn’t one to let someone get killed. I preferred to have justice served in a court of law.

  “I’ll help find out who’s after you,” I finally said, “but then I’m turning you in.”

  A look of resignation crossed his face, as if he’d known I would say that. “I guess I deserve that.” Then he shook his head sadly. “I wish Pete and I had turned Marshall in. Then none of this would’ve happened.”

  “You have enough money,” I said. “Why’d you do it?”

  He let out a short laugh. “It’s never enough, right?”

  I didn’t say anything to that. “Did you or Pete scam Medicare?”

  “I didn’t, and Pete denied that he did.” He shrugged. “I hadn’t really thought about Marshall scamming all our patients until you brought it up when I first talked to you. Pete and I had been too focused on the money that Marshall had in his account.”

  “Money does strange things to people,” I said wryly. “And it gets people into trouble.”

  He nodded slowly. “At least if we can find out who killed Pete, that’ll end the whole thing. Pete deserves that.” He walked over to the stairs and glanced up. “So what do we do now?”

  “You need to stay out of sight,” I said.

  “I’ll be safe here.”

  “You’ve already been spotted.”

  “I’ll make sure I stay down here and I’ll be more careful.”

  “What if someone has a key and lets themselves in?”

  He shrugged. “Some of Pete’s neighbors know me, and if I tell them he said I could hang out here while he was gone, they’ll believe me. And I’d tell the ones that don’t know me the same thing, and how would they know if that’s true or not?”

  “What if the authorities come by here because the police in Tahiti contacted them about Hinton’s death? Or his ex, Denise, could come by once they contact her.”

  “I’ll tell them the same thing I’d tell the neighbors. They’re not going to know.”

  “Uh, I guess it’ll be okay.” I pulled out the phone that I’d taken from his hotel room. “Is this yours?”

  “Yeah, I left in such a panic, I couldn’t find it.”

  I shook my head as I tossed the phone to him. “You need to be more careful.”

  “I will.”

  “And answer when I call, okay?”

  “I will,” he repeated. “What are you going to do?”

  I stood up. “I think it’s time to have a serious talk with Vanderkamp.”

  “He won’t tell you what’s going on.”

  I pictured the man Vanderkamp had been talking to, and how nervous Vanderkamp had seemed. “At this point, he just might talk,” I said.

  Shepherd shrugged. “If you think so.”

  I pointed at him. “It’s not like I’m dealing with hardened criminals,” I said.

  How wrong that statement turned out to be.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “Stay down here,” I said to Shepherd. “I’ll let myself out. And don’t take any chances walking around the house. The guy across the street takes his neighborhood watch duties very seriously.”

  “All right,” he said.

  I glanced around. “You need any food?”

  “I brought some stuff down last night and put it in the bar fridge, so I should be good.”

  “Okay.”

  I started for the stairs and then stopped.

  “Where’s your car?”

  “At my house. We took a shuttle to the airport, and I took a taxi here. Well,” he waved a hand around, “I had a taxi drop me off down the road and I walked here.”

  “Did Hinton leave keys to his cars?”

  “Yes. I can take one of his if I need to.”

  “Good.”

  I left him there and tiptoed upstairs, then let myself out the back door. I walked around the house and had started down the drive when I spotted John Mills crossing the street.

  “Is everything okay?” he called out.

  I nodded. “The house is quiet and it doesn’t look like anyone broke in.”

  He scrutinized me carefully. “You sure nothing is going on?”

  “Pete can fill you in on everything when he gets home,” I lied. “But in the meantime, you can call me again if you think you see anything.”

  He had his hands on his hips. “I guess that’ll work. I don’t want any trouble around here. It’s been a quiet neighborhood.”

  “There’s no trouble,” I said, then hurried down the street to my car before he could say anything more.

  On the way to Lakewood Medical Clinic, I called Ace.

  “Have you seen that guy around?” I asked when he answered.

  “No, but I can check again.”

  “Do me a favor, take a walk around the block and tell me if you see anyone watching the house, maybe sitting in a dark-colored sedan.”

  “Okay, I’ll call you back.”

  I drove in silence until the phone rang again ten minutes later.

  “I didn’t see anyone,” Ace said breathlessly.

  “Good. If you do, give me a call.”

  “I will.”

  I hung up and then called Willie. I usually didn’t call her at work, and when I did, she usually didn’t answer. But this time she surprised me.

  “Hey, what’s going on? Are you in trouble?” She was already suspicious.

  “I need you
to go to Darcy’s after work,” I said.

  Darcy Cranston is Willie’s best friend and had been Willie’s maid of honor at our wedding. Darcy lives across the street from our condo in an old Victorian house that has been converted into apartments. In fact, Willie owns the house, and she used to live in the downstairs apartment. Darcy is a lawyer with a bubbly personality, and she would not only provide a safe haven for Willie, but also keep Willie from worrying endlessly.

  “I can do that.” To Willie’s credit, she kept her cool. But then again, this wasn’t the first time I’d made this request.

  I explained about the man Ace had seen. “I don’t think it’s a big deal, but no sense in taking any chances. If someone’s looking for me, I don’t want you to go back to the condo. Go through the alley to Darcy’s apartment, so no one sees you.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll call you later.”

  “Be careful.”

  “I will.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  By now, I’d arrived at Lakewood Medical Clinic. I parked across the street and turned off the engine. I was tempted to storm the clinic and demand to talk to Vanderkamp. But making a scene wouldn’t help, so I decided to wait until the end of the day and then go in and talk to him. With that in mind, I hunkered down to wait.

  The hours dragged by, and at five, people started leaving the building. I was about to get out and go into the clinic when Vanderkamp came rushing out the door. He dashed to his car, got in, and peeled out of the parking lot.

  “What’s got him in such a rush?” I muttered as I followed.

  Vanderkamp was driving fast, and I had a hard time keeping up. He sped to Sixth Avenue and went east, right to The Ridge. I parked nearby and cursed as I watched him go inside. I’d missed my opportunity to talk to him. But I wasn’t giving up, which meant I had to wait. And wait. The sun went down and it grew dark, and finally, at nine o’clock, he came out with another man. They walked to the Mercedes, and Vanderkamp got in. The other man waved as Vanderkamp drove off.

  I followed him to University Boulevard, then south to Hampden Avenue and east past Cherry Hills Village, one of the most expensive areas of Denver. I stayed back a little, not wanting to spook him. However, if he did spot me, I was okay with that, since I planned to talk to him anyway. He reached Dahlia Street and turned north into an area of custom homes. He meandered through the neighborhood, then pulled into the driveway of a sprawling two-story brick house. The Mercedes disappeared into the garage and the door slid closed.