by R Weir
“Do you know anything about her personal life?”
“I’m not sure that is relevant.” She sounded a little perturbed by the question.
“I understand,” I replied sincerely. “We heard some rumors we want to make certain aren’t true. Our firm is a family-first business and we’ve learned she may, to put it kindly, manipulate males to better position herself in her current company. We can’t say for sure if they are factual or not, it’s strictly a rumor.”
“Well, I will only answer by saying I do not recall any type of issue like you mention here. She always acted with the utmost professionalism.”
“We are happy to hear this. She is a strong candidate, and we plan to continue to pursue her with this opportunity. I appreciate your time.”
“You’re welcome. Melissa is a winner if you hire her. I wouldn’t believe the rumors without solid facts. They can be misleading and cause you to lose out on a good employee.”
The call ended and I felt relief in what Joy had to say, but still had some guilt with lying to her to get information. I did this all the time when working for clients, and it had never bothered me like this did. More needed to be learned about Melissa. People do change some, but the behavior Emily described was normally already common at that point in life. So the real question was, if it wasn’t true, why had she said it? She had expressed an interest in me beyond professional, though there had been no contact since lunch on Monday. Was it jealousy or was something else going on? The list of items I pondered an answer for kept getting longer, and I didn’t care for how it felt.
My next call wasn’t as fruitful. I contacted Colorado University to confirm she went to school there and what degrees she attained. The lady on the line, once I was transferred around three times, turned out to be less jovial than Joy was. She identified herself as Agnes and appeared to be angry that I interrupted her day.
“It takes two weeks to get that information,” Agnes stated spitefully.
I worked the sympathy whine on her. “I would appreciate if you can look her up. I’m in a bind, as my boss wants to hire her, make an offer today before we lose her. We are trying to verify she went to school there and graduated.”
“I can’t do it over the phone!”
“Please. It would really save my ass as I’m tardy getting the work done.”
There was a big sigh and maybe a swear word whispered that I couldn’t hear. “Give me a name and I’ll see what I can find. But all I can do is confirm she attended school here and graduated.”
I laid it on thick. “Thank you, oh thank you! You saved my bacon. Her name is Melissa Diaz. Went to CU about fifteen or so years ago.”
“Wait, please.”
Now for a progressive college like CU you’d think the hold music would be something modern, or at least they’d play some Classic Rock, but it was the same crap you get everywhere else. If I didn’t want the information so badly I’d have hung up. After ten minutes of listening and contemplating suicide she came back on the line.
“Melissa Diaz did go to school here about the time you mentioned and did graduate.”
“Can you tell me what degrees she received?”
“No!”
“How about her grades and any discipline issues?”
“Good-bye!”
She slammed the phone down, as I’d worn out my welcome. Well, at least I wouldn’t have to experience the hold music anymore. I debated trying again but figured luck wasn’t with me to get someone more willing to help when the cell phone rang, and it was Mallard. He didn’t sound real happy when I asked how he was doing. I wanted to ask if he had gotten charm lessons from an Agnes at CU but knew he wouldn’t get the joke.
“Rickie Ward is dead,” he said flatly. “Succumbed to his injuries, is what they are saying.”
“Gee, he seemed to be doing a little better when we were there,” I stated. “I thought he had a chance to pull through.”
“He was still a mess. Apparently a blood clot rushed to his brain and he had a stroke. They tried to revive him but with no luck. So it’s now turned into a second-degree murder case. I think the Greenwood Village police want to talk with you again, and his lawyer thinks you’re not telling all. She feels you may know who was involved in the beating. Apparently from your discussion with her at the hospital you implied you might holding back information you aren’t sharing.”
“I don’t have anything you can use, it’s just a hunch. It would involve someone extremely powerful who will bring you and the DA nothing but grief if you pursue without solid evidence. It is better if I work on it, because politics can’t be used against me. One of the advantages of being freelance.”
“What about off the record?” Mallard asked.
“I don’t think you and I have established that type of relationship as of yet. And giving you a name will only muddle things up. You have to trust me to work on this, and when I develop something better I’ll let you in on it.”
“I don’t think we have established that type of trust relationship either,” Mallard replied sarcastically. “We can drag you in and make your life hell. We need some better answers than what you are providing us!”
“Dragging me in accomplishes nothing!” I said. “It will only keep me from working on it further. Let me do what I do. I promise if I can provide you something concrete, I’ll share it with you. It will be way better than what you have now, which is squat!”
The line was silent for a few moments. There was still breathing, so I knew my cell phone had not dropped the connection.
“OK. I’ll give you through the weekend. Provide me something or we’ll bring you in. Call his pretty public defender and convince her as well. You’ve got until Monday.”
The call ended, and for me this was a good thing. I wasn’t sure what else there was to do, but I only had a couple of days to accomplish it. I no longer had a client and wasn’t working the case, but Mallard or the DA wouldn’t accept that as an excuse now that Rickie was dead. Talking with Brandon was an option, although accusing him of sending his goons to assault someone would not be the best tack, as I’d likely be next. So I needed to work through and find the right avenue to approach him. For now, though, I was hungry and it was near dinnertime on a Friday night. I headed outside with no plans other than to get in the Mustang and drive somewhere for good food. A well-done steak was tops on my list. As I opened the door, a newer silver Acura RL pulled in and Melissa got out. She looked lovely in sensible heels, a white skirt and blue blouse open just enough to show some cleavage. She walked up to me with a mad and hurt look on her face, hands on her hips.
“What the hell?” she said. “I called and called, left messages and you never called back. I was worried something happened to you.”
“Sorry, I’ve been busy,” was the only response to come out of my mouth.
“Are you avoiding me?” she asked.
I wasn’t prepared to deal with this, though I should have been. Over and over in my head I’d wondered what I’d say and never came up with a good answer. Time to wing it and see what happens.
“Yes, I was. I learned some things and needed to think over options.”
“Things about me?”
“Yes.”
“Like what?”
This is where it got hard and the wing it skills would be tested. “I’m not sure I should say. It may upset you.”
“Damn you, Jarvis,” she yelled. “Can’t you see I’m already upset? I don’t think you can make me any madder than I am right now.”
I looked down at my feet and back into her eyes. Saying it out loud would sound corny, even clichéd. But I had to.
“You may be using me to get information.”
“Information about what?”
“Emily’s case.”
“Who told you this?”
“Best not to say.”
“It was Emily, wasn’t it?”
I didn’t answer, but my face gave it away.
“So did s
he tell you I was a slut and slept around to get ahead?”
Again, I didn’t answer. I was letting it play out.
“Typical of her. I could tell you a few things about her as well, but I don’t work that game. I should have known she’d do this to me again.”
“Again?”
“Yes. She told Tony, and it about cost me my job. He later learned she lies a lot. Since her father is our biggest client, he had to put up with it. You do know who her father is, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I see the detective deduced one thing correctly!” she stated sarcastically.
I could tell she was tense, both of her hands in tight fists that were shaking. I’ve been slapped and punched by angry women before, so I was alert to the possibility now. I probably deserved it, but still I kept my guard up. I did not care to be a news headline of “Larger Man Decked by Smaller Woman!” Having that happen once in a lifetime was enough.
“So you’re saying it’s not true?” I asked.
“Hell no! What else did she say? Was it sleeping with her father? That one never gets old. I figured when you took the case and we went out this might happen. One reason why I hesitated going to her barbeque. After all these years, I’d hoped she’d changed and grown up some.”
“So why go out with me if you expected trouble?”
“Wasn’t it obvious?”
There was a long pause, as I didn’t know what to say. It did seem obvious at the time, but now confusion ruled my state of mind.
“I tell you,” she said. “One has to wonder about men sometimes. You get a beautiful woman who finds you attractive, shows you a hell of a time, hangs on your every word and gives you the best sex you’ve ever had, and you question it.”
“Not during,” I answered. “Only after what I was told.”
“And being a detective you’ve confirmed everything she claimed?”
I did not want to mention the calls I made to check up on her. “Not yet.”
“So only her word brought us to this point?”
I couldn’t answer the question, but my face again broadcast my reply.
“I saw you and was immediately drawn to you,” she said with a few tears now running down her cheeks. “Not sure why, but I felt something when I first laid eyes on you. After our lunch together I knew I wanted to see more of you, spend time with you. That was all it was. Nothing devious—just simple karma, so to speak. I had not felt this way in a long while. After making love I knew I wanted more. We clicked on several levels. It seems silly we can be ruined by a few simple words from another woman, and a dishonest one to boot.”
It was how I felt as well at the time, but doubt was clouding my vision. I needed to get beyond this case, to be free of the confusion, before I could decide to continue seeing her. Even though Emily said the stalking was over and she no longer was my client, I had a suspicion it really wasn’t. There was a sense inside more would reveal itself.
“I need time to work through all of this. I hope you understand.”
“No, I don’t. I wished you’d come to me about this. We haven’t known each other long, but I’d thought I’d get the benefit of the doubt or at least be allowed to defend myself.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve never been good with this interpersonal relationship stuff. Mallard and the DA are on my ass. I must clear things up with them to be able to think more clearly.”
“Yes, I can see it now,” she said. “I know how I feel. In time, hopefully, you’ll know it too. Maybe, once the case is finished, you will come to realize it. Call me when it’s over and if I’m still available, you might be given a chance to be with me, love me and make love with me, as I don’t give these goods to just anyone, contrary to what Emily claims.”
She came up to me and kissed me long and hard on the lips, rubbing her goods up against my body. She walked back to her Acura, stopped, turned and looked at me lovingly, but with sadness as well while she wiped away those few tears with her finger. She got in the car and drove off.
“Yep,” I said out loud. “I need to get past this case for a long, hot night with her goods.”
Chapter 26
After eating an excellent steak I made it home and decided to watch some television. There were a couple of baseball games on, as the season was winding down. It was a pitchers duel between the Dodgers and the Giants. I wasn’t watching the game too closely as I thought about Melissa and what she said. Though teary-eyed she wasn’t hysterical, just a woman who acted as if she knew what she wanted, and it was me. I certainly at first wanted her too but now confusion reigned. I cursed to myself about why relationships always were so hard for me. I cursed Emily for telling me what she had told me and ruining what could have been a good thing. Of course, if it weren’t for this case and Emily hiring me, I would have never met Melissa in the first place. I wished she had kept her mouth shut and still wondered what her motive was.
Growing weary of the clichéd verbiage of the baseball announcer and color man I dozed off on the sofa, the game tied at 1 to 1 in the fifth inning, when my cell phone rang. I saw the digital time showing 11:15 PM, the game now in extra innings, the score still tied. When I answered, Emily was whispering into the receiver.
“Someone is in my house,” she said nervously. “Please come over here, I’m scared he is going to hurt me.”
“Call the police,” I said. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Hurry, please,” she stated and the line went dead.
My running shoes were on in a flash, and I bolted out the door. Once in the Mustang I pulled out the Beretta from the glove box, peeled rubber and made it there in less than five minutes. Up the driveway I ran, where I found the outside light was on over the back door. I reached it and, finding it unlocked, gun in hand with safety off, I entered cautiously. It was dark, but I knew the place well enough that I made my way to the living room, watching for even the slightest movement. Once at the stairs I heard a scream from the upper floor and ran up them as fast as I could. I’d not been upstairs so I didn’t know it like the lower level. Reaching the top I had two choices, to go right or left. I started to go left when a male voice shouted something obscene on the right. I moved to the edge of the first doorway, which was open and peered around the framing, my eyes adjusting to the unlighted room. I saw a figure standing over the bed half dressed, with Emily lying on the mattress before him whimpering.
“Lady, I’m going to fuck you so hard, and you’re going to like it!” the man stated in a nasty tone.
“Don’t move,” I said as I pointed my gun at him.
“What the hell,” he answered. “Who are you?”
I found a light switch on the wall and flipped it up. Standing there was Jim, his shirt off and his pants unzipped and around his ankles, his boxers showing his excited state. On the bed was Emily, only in her underwear, the T-shirt she was wearing ripped and torn from her chest to reveal her naked upper body. Her sobs were subsiding enough for her to talk.
“He was going to rape me,” she stated through her tears. “He broke into my house to rape me.”
“Get down on the floor,” I yelled at him. “Now!”
“Hey, you got it all wrong,” Jim answered, pulling up his pants. “I didn’t do anything. She invited me over. This was for fun, part of the game.”
“Jim, I’m not telling you again. The police will be here at any minute. On the floor or I’ll shoot you!”
He looked down at her and back at me. I could see a sense of fear on his face, which turned to anger.
“You bitch!” he hollered. “You set me up!”
“Down!” I yelled back as I moved towards him.
Jim took a couple of steps forward, and even though I said I would, I didn’t want to shoot him, so I froze. He lunged at me, I turned to brace for impact, my elbow up in an attempt to hit him in the neck or face but he still knocked me to the ground. He was big and strong, and the full force of his body caught me off guard. He kicked me in the ri
bs as I tried to get up and scampered out of the room. The wind was knocked out of me and it took me a minute to find my breath and feet. I got up, bolted down the stairs and out the now-open front door, running after him. Once at the curb, I looked in all directions but couldn’t spot him. This was the second time he had bested me, and I wasn’t pleased with myself. A couple of swear words later I was back inside to see how Emily was.
“Oh thank you,” she said as she came and threw her arms around me, still topless.
I could sense her breasts heaving against me, as she started to cry again. I put my arms around her and waited until she calmed down. I expected the police to arrive but so far no one had shown up. I found out that she didn’t have time to call them.
“I’m sure someone heard the screaming,” I said. “I’ll dial them now.”
The moment I got off the phone a squad car did arrive. I had to surrender my gun temporarily and was treated as a suspect at first, much like the last time the police were in this house. I told them to call Detective Mallard or Officer Bill Malone and they would vouch for me. You’d think by now they’d know who I was, since this was becoming common. A policewoman took Emily away, got her dressed and began asking her questions. It seemed like déjà vu, only instead of a dead dog we had a near-rape.
“So, did you see the guy,” asked the detective on the scene, whose name I would learn was Dan Cummings. He was younger than Mallard, shorter and leaner, with a crew cut of blond hair and a thin mustache. He had sharp attire for a man on detective pay: expensive black suit, slacks and tie, white freshly pressed shirt and shiny polished shoes. The next time I’d see Mallard I’d have to tell him to copy his fashion sense.
