I flicked off the flashlight, pocketed my phone, and sat down on the edge of the bed. The door opened and a rectangle of light from the hallway illuminated the other bed. Someone entered the room and shut the door. The room plunged into darkness for a second, then I found myself blinking as the lights came on. Megan Greene, in her gray hoodie, strolled into the room, carrying an iPad.
“Hello,” I said.
I expected her to be taken aback. She was, but only momentarily. Before I could move she threw the iPad at me.
“Ow!” I said, grabbing my arm where it hit me. I stood up, expecting her to be reasonable. Wrong again.
She charged at me, tackling me back onto the bed. She was on me so fast, I was not able to get to my gun. I tried to roll away, but she fought like a cornered lion. She struck out, landing a couple of chopping hits to my side and I gasped. I had no time to react. She quickly had her arm around my neck in a powerful choke hold. We struggled on the bed, and I clutched at her arms, but her hold around my neck grew stronger as she got behind me and put her body into it. Stars formed in my vision. I was about to pass out when I remembered something I’d read about breaking a choke hold. Turn your head and tuck your chin into the person’s elbow and at the same time, put your thumb under their elbow and push. The thumb’s pressure causes the arm to loosen and you can duck out of the hold.
I quickly did this, and damned it if it didn’t work. I dropped to the bed, coughing and hacking, then I rolled and fell to the floor at the end of the bed. Megan roared again and dove at me. I twisted away, clutching at the laptop on the desk. I picked it up and swung it hard, striking her squarely on the head. Her hands flew to her head and she moaned as she dropped to the floor. I whacked her one more time and she went still. I stayed on my knees, gasping for breath. Crap, did I kill her? I reached out and checked her pulse. It was going strong. I’d just knocked her out.
I struggled to my feet, still coughing and gasping, and backed away from her. Someone banged on the door. I rushed to it and flung it open. And a fist socked me right in the eye.
“Ow!” I said for the second time in the span of five minutes.
“Ow!” said the owner of the fist.
“What the hell?” I backed up and stumbled over Megan. I hit the floor hard and cursed. “What was that for?”
Cal stared down at me, rubbing his knuckles. “I didn’t know it was you.” He saw Megan’s body and backed up. “What happened?”
“She attacked me.” I stood up and pulled my gun from my ankle holster. “I’ll guard her while you go get the manager.”
“What about the detective?”
“I’ll call Spillman, too.”
“Will you be all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” I said, gesturing at the door. “Go get help.”
Without another word, he hurried out of the room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Let me get this straight,” Spillman said. “You were hired to be a bodyguard for Forrest McMahon’s daughter. During the time that you were guarding her, you found out that she was involved in a secret clique with some friends during college, and that someone was killing the members of this clique because of an accidental death. And you had reason to believe that this woman, Megan Greene, was the one doing the killing. Once you deduced this, you found out, just by calling around, that she was staying at this particular hotel, so you came here, just to talk to her. When she opened her room door and saw you, she panicked and hit you. You got into a scuffle in her room and you knocked her out.”
I nodded. “Yes, that’s what I said.”
Spillman and I were standing down the hall from Megan’s room. While Spillman’s partners, Young and Moore, had taken Megan in for more questions, Spillman had stayed behind to interrogate me. Before she’d arrived, I’d sent Cal to the car to wait, because I didn’t want her to know he was involved in any of this. And it was clear that Spillman didn’t believe my story. She stared at me, her arms crossed.
“And then I called you,” I said.
“I’m so glad you did,” she said. “I’d hate to see you take the law into your own hands.” If sarcasm was bullets flying at me, I’d be dead. I kept a straight face, watching her as she chewed on my account of events. She was dressed up in a gray skirt and pink silk blouse, and she had on more makeup than I’d ever noticed before. I think I was keeping her from a date, which might explain some of her mood. “I don’t know what to do with you,” she muttered.
“Why’s that? I’m a helluva guy, once you get to know me.” I poured on the charm. Better that than ending up in jail like Megan.
She sighed. “You do realize that your story doesn’t match Megan’s? She says you broke into her room and when she came in, you attacked her.”
“That is not true.” Well, part of it wasn’t true, but I wasn’t copping to that. “Detective Spillman, the bottom line is I think Megan Greene killed a couple of people.”
She nodded. “And we’ll take it from here, agreed?”
“Absolutely.”
“I’ll need to speak with Stephanie and her friends.”
“I think I can convince them that it would be in their best interests.” Let the secret-society three decide what they wanted to tell the police, and let the police handle it. I was going to call Forrest McMahon when I finished here, and then I was calling this case closed. I wanted no part of them anymore.
She gave me the onceover. “That eye’s going to be black and blue tomorrow. It’ll go nicely with the cut on your head.”
I gingerly touched the skin underneath my eye. “I’ve had worse.”
“I don’t want to know about it. If we cross paths again, let’s hope you’ll be a little more straightforward.”
“But I got the bad guy.”
“You were lucky.”
“It can’t be luck all the time.”
She started down the hall to the elevator. “We’ll see about that,” she called over her shoulder. “Take care, Ferguson.” She got on the elevator and was gone.
I breathed a sigh of relief. One of these days Spillman was going to get tired of my lies and arrest me.
***
When I returned to the car, Cal was typing away at a laptop, the monitor glow turning his face an eerie bluish-gray color.
“What’re you doing?” I asked as I got in and cranked the key.
“I’m still trying to find out how McMahon knew about your involvement in Chancellor,” he said. “How’d it go in there?”
“Spillman doesn’t believe a word I said, but she’s got a suspect, so I think that buys me a teeny bit of grace. And I didn’t tell her anything about you.”
“Good.” He shut down his computer. “I’ll look at this later.” Then he turned on me, letting loose emotions I’m sure had been pent-up since I’d first asked him to help. “Do you know how many times I’ve been in danger because of you?”
I laughed. “You love it.”
“Well…” he paused. “Did it ever occur to you that people worry about you?”
That hit me like a fist in the gut. “Yes,” I finally said. “But I love what I’m doing. Am I supposed to give that up?”
“How should I know?” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Can’t you be a little more careful?”
“You’re starting to sound like my mother,” I murmured.
“Oh, that’s cold.”
“I’ll try to be more cautious,” I said.
“Forget I said anything. Let’s get home. I don’t trust those three kids around my stuff.”
“We left them playing video games, and I’m sure when we get home, they’ll still be playing video games.”
“You better be right.”
I was. When we got back to Cal’s house half an hour later, Aiden and Bennett were deep into a game of Halo, and Stephanie was dozing on the couch. She flew to her feet when we came in. “What happened?” she asked.
“Megan’s with the police right now,” I said.
> “So now you can leave,” Cal said.
Stephanie glared at him. “Oh, relax.”
Aiden flopped back on the couch. “We’re finally free of all this.”
I held up a hand. “Not so fast. The police want to question you three.”
“You told them about us?” Bennett asked.
“I told them that someone was trying to kill Stephanie because the police already knew about her. And I mentioned your little secret group, but I didn’t get into the specifics. They can talk to Stephanie, and she can share what she wants. If she wants to cover for you all, that’s her business.” I glanced at Stephanie. Her face contorted into a mixture of anger and fear. “I have a feeling she’ll want to tell the police everything.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” she snapped.
“You want us all to get in trouble?” Bennett asked.
She threw him a mean look. “I don’t care.”
I held up a hand. “She should tell the police everything. Let them know it was an accident. And you two,” I gestured at Aiden and Bennett, “can corroborate this. I still think you might face involuntary manslaughter charges, but who knows? Maybe after all this time, you’ll get off lightly. I’m sure your families have the resources to keep you out of jail.”
“Oh, our parents will know how to help.” Aiden put his hands over his face.
“He’s right,” Bennett said. “With their own group –” he caught himself, then continued, “I mean, their connections, they’ll be able to help. We should’ve gone to them in the first place.”
“That’s settled then,” I said. “Let me take you home.”
I told Cal we were leaving, and then I spent the next couple of hours driving them home. With the amount of gas and time it took just to drive up from the foothills to Westminster and then back downtown, I thought I’d bill McMahon something extra.
“I guess I should thank you,” Stephanie said as she got out in front of her building.
“You’re welcome.” I dangled her condo keys in my hand. “You might need these.”
“Where did you get those?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I do not want to know.” She started to close the door.
“Let me give you a little advice. I know what it’s like to get out of college and not know what you’re going to do. And I made some really bad decisions before I finally stumbled upon the right career. You’ve got a chance to learn something from this experience, to right the wrongs of your past, and start making some better choices.”
“I was just trying to thank you. I did not need the lecture.” She slammed the door and strutted up the walk.
I should’ve known it would fall on deaf ears. I was too tired to even laugh.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
It was after midnight when I stumbled into bed, but I was wide awake the next morning before eight, my mind roiling. I couldn’t get what Cal said out of my mind, so I called Willie even though it was early.
“Reed, what time is it?” she mumbled, then suddenly became alert. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m sorry I woke you, but I just wrapped up the case.”
“That’s great, sweetie, but can we talk about it later?”
“I really need to talk to you. Can I come over?”
“Reed, I’m not in the mood.”
“Not that,” I said. “Just to talk.”
She must’ve sensed something in my tone. “Uh, sure.”
She let me in and stared at my face. Then she reached up and gingerly touched my eye.
“Cal hit me,” I said.
“Stop kidding around.”
“He did.” I finally grinned and told her what happened.
“You have the oddest luck,” she said as she ambled to the kitchen to fix coffee. “I suspect that’s not why you called. What’s going on?”
I sat down at her kitchen table and watched her for a few seconds. She was wearing my Denver Broncos t-shirt, lace underwear and nothing else. She reached up to get a bag of coffee out of the cupboard and I looked at her legs, and other things. Her legs looked really nice. Everything about her looked really nice. I was having trouble concentrating.
“Reed?”
“Sorry,” I said. I put my hands on the table. “This whole detective business … I haven’t been thinking about it from your standpoint. About how it affects you.”
She turned around and leaned against the counter.
“I’ve been thinking about it, too,” she said. “I do worry about you, but I also know you love what you’re doing.”
“I do.”
She nodded. “My father did, too. He wouldn’t have been a happy man if he’d been something other than a cop. So I had to live with his career choice … not that I could change it. And I can’t change you, nor do I want to. So I’ll deal with it.”
“I can’t promise you I won’t get into dangerous situations, but I can promise you I’ll be careful.”
“You won’t make rash decisions based on cockiness, right?”
“Yes,” I agreed.
She smiled. “Besides, I kind of enjoyed helping you.”
I stood up and walked over to her.
“I see that look in your eye,” she said.
I kissed her cheek, then her neck.
“Reed, I don’t have time.” She giggled, then grabbed my hand and led me to the bedroom.
***
Willie wasn’t lying. She did have errands to run, so I went home and spent some time catching up on bills and preparing a report for McMahon. I was in my office when my phone rang.
I picked it up and answered. “Hey, Cal.”
“I’ve been up all night looking at McMahon’s connection with Brubaker, to find how McMahon knew about you and Chancellor Finance, and I’ve found some interesting things.” As usual, he was short on idle pleasantries.
I sat back in my chair. “Yeah?”
“As I said before, McMahon looks clean on the surface, so I started to follow the money trail, looking at how he spends his money. I did a lot of poking around, and one thing I found curious is that he donates a huge amount of money to various politicians, and he’s slick so that he never breaks the law, but he’s found ways around it.”
“Yeah, that’s not unusual.”
“True, but in this case, McMahon donates to candidates in both parties, mostly Republican, but some Democrats. I thought that was a little strange, so I started checking who he was donating to. There’s a senator in Connecticut and one in Ohio, and there’s a district court judge in California that McMahon’s given money to, to name a few. And he’s also spent money in some other areas, like funding a committee that got the okay to build a multi-million dollar high-rise project in New York City. Again, nothing illegal, but as I looked into the men he’s been helping, I noticed connections, as in, they all seem to know each other. And then when I researched the backgrounds of all these men, you wouldn’t believe where they all went to school.”
My mind raced, thinking about what he’d told me about McMahon. It seemed like ages ago. “Brown.”
“Yep, or Amherst. Only those two schools. And all of these guys’ fathers also went to one of those two schools, and all their children go to one of those two schools.”
“So they’re loyal to Brown and Amherst,” I said.
“And they all help each other. The judge in California – he wasn’t expected to win, but an influx of money and some endorsements from powerful people, all who coincidentally know McMahon, got the judge pushed in. And Senator Warren Hatcher, in Connecticut, same thing. That election happened in 2008. He wasn’t expected to win but he got all these endorsements and he got a lot of campaign contributions and he won. I’ve got lots of scenarios like this. Guys that are all high up in companies, banks, and government, and they’re all interconnected.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “When we were up at your house, Stephanie and her two cronies went off on a tangent about the vacations
they’d taken, and how they hated always having to see each other. And they mentioned some of the same places you just did. Can you look up Bennett and Aiden’s fathers?”
“Already did. They went to Amherst as well. And I checked Avery’s and Brittany’s fathers. Avery’s went to Amherst, and Brittany’s to Brown, and they’re also in the trail of connections.”
Some things were coming back to me. “When I was talking to Tyrone at the hospital, and I asked him about Stephanie and McMahon hiding things, he said something about the’ apple not falling far from the tree’. And last night Bennett said something about their fathers’ ‘groups’. That was the word he used, but then he changed it to ‘connections’.”
“Yeah?”
“You don’t think…” I stopped. “Stephanie and her pals got the idea of forming a secret organization from their fathers, who are also in a secret organization. Their fathers manipulate people and the law, and hide their illegal activities, and then so do the kids.”
“That’s crazy,” he said. “You really think McMahon’s part of a secret group?”
“Could be. The Bushes and John Kerry belonged to the Skull and Bones secret society at Yale. Is it a stretch that other powerful men formed their own organization, and they wield power, kind of like the conspiracy theories postulate?”
“I guess not.”
“Wow,” I said. I stared up at Bogie, thinking about all the tangled webs he’d had to unravel. “That’s pretty twisted.”
“You said it.”
“So how does this tie in to Brubaker?” I asked.
“Good question. I looked into Brubaker. It turns out the money he invested in Chancellor was actually from a group of investors, and one of them was Warren Hatcher.”
“Senator Hatcher?”
“Yes, Senator Hatcher, who’s connected to Forrest McMahon.”
“So why didn’t Brubaker tell me this?” I asked.
“One of two reasons: either he doesn’t know that Senator Hatcher knows McMahon, or two, he knows, but he’s fearful of what Senator Hatcher can do to him.”
“This Chancellor thing is going to haunt me forever,” I said.
Out of the Past: A Reed Ferguson Mystery (A Private Investigator Mystery Series - Crime Suspense Thriller Book 5) Page 14
