by R Weir
“Yes, sir.”
“OK, you two may leave so we can converse.” He waved for them to leave. Once the door closed I let out a lot of air, as I was relieved. He must have sensed my anxiety. “They won’t retaliate. As I said, if I wanted someone forced to do something they’d know it. Sometimes they get a little wound up attempting to prove things to me. Not the best men at my disposal.” He stood up from his chair and grabbed the glass from his desk. “Would you care for a drink? I have pretty much anything you desire.”
Since I’d had a couple of glasses with lunch, drinking more alcohol wasn’t advised. But a stiff shot sounded good, and I wanted to be sociable to learn as much as possible. “Sure, if you have some Jack Daniels I’ll have some.”
He pulled out a new bottle, broke the seal and poured us two fingers’ worth. He sat it in front of me, and I took a small swallow. Best to drink slowly, as Jack can have quite a kick being the social drinker like I was.
“So, Mr. Sparks, what can I do for you?” I asked. “I’m assuming you don’t need to hire a detective. It appears you have your own police force to summon.” I gave him a big smile so he knew it was a joke. If he didn’t care for what I said, it could be my last joke.
He smiled back, which was a good sign. “No, I don’t. But I am interested in your current case. I’d appreciate any information you can give me on it.”
I stopped and thought for a moment. I had only one case, so I assumed he meant Emily. “Well, because my work is confidential and my clients expect me to keep what I’m doing between us, I can’t divulge much about it. I’m sure you understand. If I came and asked about one of your recent projects you wouldn’t tell me for the same reasons.”
“I might,” he answered. “Depends on the situation. As for this case, I already know some about it. Her name is Emily White and she is being stalked. I also learned a neighbor’s dog she was taking care of was stabbed to death at her place last night.”
Well, no keeping any secrets from him, for he knew the major details. I wasn’t sure what else I could add.
“You seem well informed. Is there some reason why you need information about this case?”
“Personal.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“No.”
“Okay, I’ll give you a little more detail since you seemed to have the basics already. Yes, I’m working with Emily on a stalking case. I’ve not made much progress, though I do have a couple of suspects I won’t name. And the police are now involved as well since the dog was killed. I believe we’ll catch the person eventually, but nothing solid yet.”
“Is her ex-husband one of the suspects?”
I didn’t want to answer, for a powerful man like him might take matters into his own hands. “I’d prefer not to name anyone. And I’m puzzled why you need to know. Give me a little more than ‘personal’ I might be willing to speak more openly. Quid pro quo.”
He leaned back in his chair and drank the rest of his Jack Daniels. He went over and poured himself a full glass and sat back down. It didn’t seem to faze him any, as he certainly wasn’t a social drinker. I still had most of my JD left so took another small sip. I felt like a light-weight next to him.
“I’m sure you learned who I am,” he said. “Being a detective, you certainly checked me out before coming here. So you know I can insist pretty hard if I so desire. But I don’t want to, at least not yet. I will tell you I have an interest in your case. And I’m willing to provide any assistance needed. My power stretches across the community, with the police and with the politicians. All you need to do is ask. All I require is you can keep me informed of the major happenings in the case. I would be indebted to you, a debt that many cherish to have. And I always pay back my debts. I’m an honorable man, despite the one-sided press clippings.”
Arguing with him served no purpose, for he was right: many would jump at the opportunity to have Brandon Sparks in their debt. Probably most people out there owed him with minimal chance to pay up. I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to be one of them. But I knew I couldn’t reject him outright. I had to play this properly. He might be of assistance on this case, or maybe someday on another one where I plainly needed it.
“Your offer is intriguing, Mr. Sparks. I will consider it, and if something serious comes up, we’ll see. I’ll discuss with my client and see what she says, for she has the final decision. Maybe she’ll be open to your assistance. You might provide an ace up my sleeve if I required it.”
“Call me Brandon,” he said. “I hope we can be partners. But please don’t worry Miss White about this. She has enough now to burden her, and she doesn’t need to know I’m involved. Assure me you won’t mention this to her?”
“Okay, I’ll keep this between us. What is the best way to get ahold of you? Do I call your secretary? She appears to have taken a dislike to me.”
“It’s her job to be a pain in the ass. It’s what I pay her for and she’s good at it.” He pulled out a business card and on the back wrote down a number. “Here is my personal cell. I don’t just give this out to everyone; so let me be clear, it’s not to be shared. Call it anytime day or night if it’s related to this case. I will want to know.”
I took the card and tucked it in my wallet. I didn’t care to press the issue, but I wondered what his connection was to Emily. For now I wouldn’t mention it to her, but in time I might have no choice. I was certain the right amount of digging would lead to the answer.
“Let me walk you out,” he said while standing up. He walked me out and shook my hand, or, more like, crushed it with his viselike grip. “Good of you to come by. I believe it will be beneficial for both of us, working together. I look forward to hearing from you.” He turned back and entered his office, closing the door.
I walked out and his two men were sitting outside in the hallway. Each still had a scornful expression on his face. As I passed them I felt their stares intensify. Maybe they wouldn’t retaliate like Brandon said, but I didn’t care to meet them in a dark alley or even a well-lighted room.
And as for Mr. Sparks, or Brandon as I now was supposed to call him, I was wondering if I’d made a pact with the devil. Wow, his personal cell number. I had hit the big time.
Chapter 14
With all that was going on, the day was getting away from me. I still needed to track down Mark and Rickie. It was almost 4PM and the workday was nearing its end. From this side of town I’d never make it over to either of them in time. I decided to stop off at home first, get a quick snack and think through my next move. And I needed to check up on Emily to verify she had somewhere safe to stay.
Once I got home I made myself cheese and crackers with a glass of milk. I needed to balance out the Jack Daniels that still was sitting in my stomach. After eating and drinking I called Emily’s cell phone. She answered after about five rings.
“Hello, Jarvis,” she said.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
“I’ve had a good day. All went well with the client, and I’m pretty sure I got their business. It may amount to a few million dollars revenue for us over several years. I’m ecstatic and completely exhausted.”
“Did you arrange to stay with your friend?”
“She’ll put me up for a couple of days. The detective told me I’ll need my insurance company to hire someone to clean up the mess when they are done. I guess there are businesses they pay to do this. So I may be able to move back in Friday night. But I’ll be safe at my friend’s for now.”
“Are you going out to celebrate landing the deal?”
“Not tonight. She and I are going to stay in and view a movie. I’m too tired and I don’t want to jinx the deal. Until I know for sure the paperwork is signed, probably tomorrow or Friday, I’ll hold off celebrating.”
“So you’ll be OK this evening,” I asked. “I have some things I need to track down. Just want to make sure you’ll be safe.”
“I will be fine,” she answered. “She lives in a secure condo
near DU. If I see anyone following, I’ll call you or the police.”
“Sounds good. Enjoy the movie.”
Now that I had the night open I knew I could track down either Mark or Rickie. Since Mark played softball most nights, he would be the easiest to locate. Logging into my desktop computer I checked his Facebook profile. He had posted a lot of info about himself, as many people do, and sure enough there were some messages highlighting the game tonight including the time and place, inviting his friends to come and root the team on. The game was at Olympic Park in Aurora and started at 7:10PM. With a couple hours to kill I pulled out the number Mark gave me for Banner Construction in Alberta, Canada. I needed to verify when he worked for them. Alberta was on Mountain Time like Denver, so I hoped someone was still there to talk with since it was close to five. I made the call and a human answered on the second ring.
“Yes, I was hoping to speak to your personnel department about a previous employee,” I asked.
“Hold, please, and I’ll transfer you.”
After six rings a rough male voice came on the line to identify himself as Peter.
“Yes, Peter,” I said. “This is Jarvis with Mann Builders in Denver, Colorado. I need to verify employment of a Mark Remington. He worked for you up until about eight months ago. He claims he was employed for four years.”
“Do you want to hold or should I call you back?” he asked.
“I can wait.”
“Sure, just hold on.”
I waited for about ten minutes. The Muzak hold music covering the worst in Adult Contemporary was awful, repeating itself over and over again, while every couple of minutes the song was interrupted by an advertisement for Banner Construction. Apparently they were transforming Western Canada into a better place to live for you and me, or so the jingle said. Finally, Peter returned to the call.
“He did work for us during the time you mentioned.” He paused for a second, reading over what was in front of him. “It says here he was a model employee that was promoted several times. He worked on some of our biggest jobs as Assistant Foreman and Lead Foreman all over Alberta. I see nothing that gives me pause to tell you not to hire him. He would be an excellent worker for your company.”
“Was it noted why he left?”
“I can’t give you an exact reason, but I can say it was of his own choice. He would still be working for us if he wanted to. We are always looking for the best people, and he certainly was qualified.”
“Anything listed on how he got the job? Previous references that helped him land it. Alberta is a long ways from Denver. It seems odd, him relocating up there for four-plus years and then suddenly moving back.”
“Well, you are asking questions that I can’t answer. What I’ll tell you is construction is booming in Canada. The pay is excellent, particularly for top talent. Until the last couple of years your economy has been poor, especially in construction. I imagine he just went where the work and money took him.”
“OK, thank you. I appreciate the information,” I stated and then ended the call.
So all that Mark had told me appeared to be true. He moved up to Canada to get away, and had a well-paying, steady job. He had moved back to help his dying mother, as I’d found her obituary online showing her passing during the time Mark mentioned. It was always good to confirm facts, but this didn’t give me any case-solving clues. Since I still had thirty minutes or so before I needed to leave, I called Melissa. She answered her cell phone on the first ring.
“Couldn’t get enough of me?” she said.
“No. I love hearing your voice almost as much as seeing you.”
“Well, I’m thrilled you called. I was just about to bail from work. It’s good to leave early for once. Some nights I’m here until 10PM. Today was one of those smooth days, especially my lunch date, which was the best I’ve had in some time. So how did you fill the rest of your afternoon? Did you ever track down the two suspects?”
“Unfortunately, no,” I answered. “I got sidetracked and had to speak to someone else. I plan on checking on one of them tonight. He plays softball in Aurora, so I’m about to trek over there.”
“Well, as I said earlier, just be careful. It’s wonderful to have someone to chat with who isn’t a client or co-worker.”
I felt my heart beat faster listening to her. Chatting with her was a joy and easy to do. We talked about everything and nothing at all for thirty minutes. I hated to stop but needed to get going.
“Well, little lady, duty calls,” I stated. “Time to get back to work. I’ll ring you tomorrow if I’m not too busy. I can’t wait to see you on Friday.”
“Me too,” she answered, “and take care.” The call ended, and I needed to let out a big sigh to relieve some of my excitement.
Out the door and in my car, the journey across town added to the miles on the Mustang. With over 300,000 and counting, she still ran well for her age. The love, care and money I’d put into her had paid off. I had to baby her some, but, like the Energizer Bunny, she kept on going. She had a full-throated loud rumble of a muscle car that roared when I opened her up and ran her hard. Ford had built a dynamite car and designed her to last. But someday she’d finally breathe her last mixture of gas and air.
My drive over was stress free, and I found parking in the Olympic Park lot. The entire facility covered many acres, with a huge green open grass area where soccer was played on weekends and the four fenced-in ball diamonds for softball and baseball, along with concessions. A large fountain sprayed water ten feet high and was in constant motion. It was busy tonight as all four fields were in use, with different levels of teams playing, class C and D, both men’s and co-eds. Hundreds of people crowded the park, there to play and watch: a beehive of activity. Most teams had sponsors with the various establishments’ names embroidered on their shirts. By the time I arrived Mark’s game had already started, and I could see his men’s team was batting. The sponsor’s name Pitchers was stitched on their uniforms, a local sports bar located not far from here.
Mark was the cleanup hitter, and he was good. He had excellent power and was crushing the ball. I saw him clear the fence twice that night, not easily done as they were more than 300 feet, with two doubles and a single to add to his stats. He was lightning quick on the bases and in center field, where he caught nearly everything hit his way. I watched from the bleachers, and I believe he recognized me while he scanned the fans during at bats. It didn’t seem to faze him any, and his team won convincingly 18-5. As the game ended I heard his teammates talk about heading to Pitchers for a beer, since the first round was free with a victory, and all seemed psyched to go. I figured I’d lay back and not approach him at the park but just follow the team to the bar and see how he reacted to my presence.
It took ten minutes to arrive, as Pitchers was close by. Entering, a large formidable bouncer leaning on a partition nodded at me. The noise was deafening, the music was loud, playing mostly modern pop and rock, while the atmosphere was dim, only lit up by the sheer number of flat-screen TV’s stacked side by side on every wall, all covering various baseball games. The Rockies were still on the road in Pittsburg, and their game was on several screens, while other teams like the Yankees, Dodgers and Cardinals filled others. I saw Mark’s team huddled at a large table in the back corner, mostly men but a few wives or girlfriends also in the group. They were ordering pitchers of beer and talking non-stop, while reliving their victorious game. I found a table nearby sitting by myself, ordered a soda, since I’d had enough alcohol today, and kept an eye on them. Mark looked over my way several times but didn’t say anything to his teammates. My presence was bugging him, and after about fifteen minutes he walked over and sat across from me.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re following me,” he stated, the smell of two beers he’d already drank, a third in his hand.
I took a drink of soda and had some pretzels that were sitting on the table. “I just came in to watch the games. Heard this is the
place to be. Can I buy you a beer?”
“Come on man, what is up with you!” he said, ignoring the question. “Why are you pestering me? I will kick your ass all over this place. This is home, and no one would bat an eye that I whipped your butt.”
He did look tough, the muscles of his biceps straining the sleeves of his shirt. I’d have my hands full with him, though as quickly as he was drinking he’d pass out first. If his friends got involved, it would change things. I wasn’t looking for a fight but backing down wasn’t an option.
“Look, someone killed a dog in Emily’s place last night. Stabbed it to death, maybe as a warning or a message. You’re a suspect, so I need to know where you were. From what I can see on your Facebook timeline, Tuesday is not a game night.”
He shook his head. “Man, I already talked with a Denver cop about this. I didn’t have anything to do with that. I was on my way home from work. No one can vouch for me because I was alone, but it’s the truth.”
“So you weren’t on her side of town then last night?” I asked.
“No. I went home. I was tired. Talking with you at work didn’t help any. I fixed a sandwich, drank a few beers and went straight to bed. I had an early day today and needed the rest. We had a big game tonight to take over first place, and we whipped our toughest competitor. Now can I just enjoy the evening with my friends?”
“You still love her, don’t you, Mark?” It was a bold statement, but I wanted to see if I could goad him into admitting it.
His eyes closed tightly as he nodded his head several times like it hurt and slammed his fist on the table. I swore the whole bar shook, and I was surprised he didn’t break his hand or the top of the table, though it was dented now. Everyone around us looked our way, and I made a gesture that all was OK.
“I won’t admit anything,” he said more softly than I expected, his face bright red. “I’m over her, do you hear me; I’m over her. I went to Canada like they told me to. Leave her alone and I’d be paid well. And I haven’t bothered her since. I won’t get caught up in her bullshit. Sheeee… they don’t control me, and I can’t love her anymore. I can’t…”
