Tracking A Shadow: A Jarvis Mann Detective Novel

by R Weir

  “Yes. His name is Jim. I don’t know his last name. I had a confrontation with him Saturday at this house. He was a party crasher and wasn’t welcome. I made sure he left.”

  “OK, give me the whole story,” he asked. So I did, giving him as much detail as I could, even the part about getting clocked in the head by him at Boone’s. I left out the details of Emily’s one-night stand with him. I wanted to see if she included that in her statement.

  After all testimonials were taken, they confirmed the information and put out a warrant for the arrest of Jim Langford, whose last name I finally knew. The BOLO (Be On The Lookout) stated a description, provided a picture from his license and the make, model and year car they had registered to him. I learned that he lived a block over and they were searching for him now. No one was home but he couldn’t have gotten too far. Patrol cars on the prowl were looking for him and if he was in the area, they would get him.

  Emily had settled down and refused any medical treatment. She was not hurt other than pushed around a little bit and scared to death. She had a few stiff drinks and was relaxing on the sofa. The crime-scene guys took plenty of pictures, dusted for prints and pieced together the events from our witness accounts. Questions were asked over and over again, by different people looking for changes in our stories, but there weren’t any. It was now three in the morning and most of the police and technicians had left. The female officer asked Emily if she needed someone to stay with her.

  “Jarvis, can you sleep over,” Emily requested. “I know I said the case was over, but surely I need protection. I of course will pay you.”

  “Sure. You can go, Officer, I’ll watch over her.”

  The place cleared out and I walked Emily upstairs. She looked tired and scared stiff, as she held onto my arm.

  “I’ll sleep downstairs on the sofa,” I said. “No one will make it past me, and you’ll be safe. Try to get some rest.”

  She nodded her head and gave me a big hug, and much like at the restaurant it felt strangely intimate and lasted several minutes. She was dressed in silky pajama bottoms and top, and I could tell from the embrace she wasn’t wearing anything else underneath. She went to the closet and handed me a blanket and pillow while saying her goodnight. I stepped out of the room and headed down the stairs. I double-checked all the locks and windows. Though I doubted he would come back, you never know and I wanted to be thorough. Once on the sofa I made myself as comfortable as possible, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep soundly as every noise in the place would make me wonder if someone was breaking in. This afforded me lots of time to contemplate.

  I was concerned about why I froze and didn’t shoot Jim when I should have. I had every right to do it, as he was in the house illegally and was going to assault Emily. But doubt had crept into my psyche about the whole situation and his comment on being set up may have contributed. It seemed like killing a man in this case wasn’t the right thing to do. At least I could have shot him in the leg or the arm. Instead I got knocked down and kicked in the ribs for my trouble, and it made it hard to get comfortable on the sofa.

  I finally fell asleep for a period of time when a noise awoke me. I was startled and reached for the gun before seeing it was Emily. She was standing before me in her silk pajamas. My eyes further focused on the womanly curves of her body. Her face was flushed with excitement knowing I was watching her. She slowly and seductively began to unbutton her top one button at a time, removing it to expose her breasts so she could caress them with her fingers. She looked quite beautiful but I was embarrassed staring at her, though it was an arousing sight and I couldn’t stop. Both her hands slowly slid down her tan figure, her thumbs catching the elastic of her pajama bottoms until they hit the floor, her beautiful, completely naked body standing there before me. She walked over, grabbing my arms, and pulled me to my feet. She came up close to me and whispered in my ear.

  “I want to feel your hands touching me all over,” she said passionately.

  I tried to speak, but before I could she put her hand softly over my mouth to quiet me, the rush of eroticism overwhelming me. She took my hands, kissing and sucking each digit one at a time, then placing them on her breasts, our fingers in concert rubbing and caressing, her breathing getting heavier and heavier, and her eyes closed, all the while enjoying the sensation.

  “Make love to me,” she murmured, her eyes now open and clear with desire. “I’m ready to take you all the way inside me.”

  She pulled the shirt off over my head and saw the bruise on my side. She leaned over and kissed it softly over and over again, and I became weak-kneed. She moved her mouth and tongue up the chest and started nibbling on my ear, blood rushing to the lower extremities as she unzipped my pants and pulled them down along with the underwear. I was now naked too and even though I knew it was a mistake, my hands grabbed her by the rear end pulling her forcefully into me while kissing her passionately on the lips, our tongues rotating in sync. She pushed me back onto the sofa and mounted me until I was deep inside of her, her body moving up and down in rhythm with mine until the rush of orgasm overcame us both.

  Her torso was warm up against me, her breathing calming down. I picked her up, still wrapped around me, and carried her upstairs into her bed where she slept, holding onto me tightly the whole time. Her sleep was soundless and appeared dream- or nightmare-free, and I wondered how that could be after the night’s events. I, however, barely slept at all, wondering if I’d made a big mistake, knowing that even though I had enjoyed the encounter mixing business with pleasure rarely worked out well.

  The words of Adam King ran through my mind as I lay there sleepless. “The lady is not always what she seems.”

  Chapter 27

  Try as I might, I couldn’t resist making love to Emily again when we awoke several hours later. Well, maybe I didn’t try that hard. Sometimes weakness at least was enjoyable. My short time with Melissa had taught me that I had missed sex and should enjoy it when the opportunity arises. The excuse was she shouldn’t be left alone for now as there might still be some danger. And oh, how she was an animal in the sack in an almost primal way, as she purred like a kitten, rubbed up against me and revved up my motor again.

  It was an awkward and peaceful morning afterwards, as the wild woman hours earlier became eerily silent after our passionate interaction. We had a quiet breakfast of milk and cereal with little conversation. I needed to go home and change, but I didn’t want to leave her in case Jim returned. After finishing my bowl of Cheerios I called the officer on duty to learn they hadn’t apprehended him yet, though I doubted every cop in the city was looking for him. I knew I could track him down as I had the time the police couldn’t provide.

  “Care to tag along with me,” I said to her. “I need to stop by my place for some clothes and shower. After that I plan to track Jim down, but I don’t want to leave you alone.”

  “I will be fine,” she answered. “I planned to meet with my friend Karen today. We are going to do some shopping. I can head over there now if you need to leave.”

  “Rather not abandon you. Are you sure you’re OK with this?”

  I got a simple nod, as she didn’t seem to want to look me directly in the eye. It wasn’t anger, just being quiet, which seemed odd after the wild woman I’d experienced over these last hours.

  “Good, that will give me some time to pursue him. Can you stay with her again tonight?”

  “Shouldn’t be an issue,” she said. “Do your thing to find him and put him in jail. I’ll call if I need anything.”

  She stepped over and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek. Not as wild and as sensual, but more sisterly. I sensed a bit of regret in the room from her, which I was feeling as well. It was good she had other plans, as I needed to find Jim and get to the bottom of what was going on. There were some things that still weren’t clear.

  Once she dressed, wearing more clothes than the night before but still looking sexy, we parted ways with a tight hug and I watched
her drive off to Karen’s. After a shower and clothing change at home, the destination would be Jim’s house, as the police had thoughtfully provided me his address. If no one was there, I’d break in and see what I could locate, another item to the list of things I could do the cops couldn’t. When I arrived a car was parked in the driveway, though not the same one listed in the BOLO. I rang the doorbell and a lady answered. I had learned her name was Carol from Facebook, assuming she was his wife. I flashed my detective ID, which I’d perfected in the mirror. Normally, it either scared or excited the women I showed it to. In this case I got an angry woman, which happened from time to time as well.

  “What do you want?” she said coldly.

  “I need to talk with you about Jim,” I answered.

  “I’ve already talked with the police,” she stated.

  I leaned into the door with my shoulder to keep it open when she tried to close it.

  “I’m not with the police,” I replied.

  “I’m not going to talk with any gumshoe either. Please leave me alone.”

  “Closing the door on me is not going to stop me from finding him.”

  She stopped trying to push it closed. She knew she couldn’t force it since I was too strong for her as she was a little thing, probably only 5’5” and 115 pounds.

  “They are wrong about him. He would never rape someone.”

  “Well, I witnessed it,” I said. “Or at least what appeared to be rape or some type of sexual perverted game of rape. I saw him with his pants down ready to pounce on her. Whatever happened, he’ll have his day in court to tell his side. Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think. Were you aware he had a one-night stand with the woman he is accusing of raping? He also may have been stalking her.”

  She looked shocked and started to cry. I stood outside and waited, feeling like an idiot for hurting her. Maybe I’d said too much, but I needed to talk with her. Any snooping neighbors probably wondered what was going on. Sometimes, to get to the truth, bluntness is required. She was my best and only current lead to finding out where he might be.

  “Can I come in?” I asked. “I promise I’m here to bring him in peacefully. If he doesn’t turn himself in, he could get hurt. The police don’t take kindly to suspected rapists.”

  She turned and motioned me to come in. I walked straight in and was surprised by the messiness of the living area. Newspapers and magazines were piled on the coffee table in no particular order. Old drink cups and used paper plates littered the end tables, the open spaces covered in dust. The house looked as though it hadn’t been cleaned in weeks and I wondered what bacteria were growing all around me. If I had a surgical mask in my pocket I’ve had put it on. There was an open area on the sofa that appeared trash free, so I sat down. She took the love seat next to it and curled her legs under her trying to get comfortable, a box of Kleenex sitting on her lap. She was wearing blue scrubs and looked as if she’d been up all night. I gave her some time to compose herself. A crying woman was right at the top of my least favorite things to see. Normally I’d run from the room to get away from it, but I needed information from her.

  “Let me start by saying I’m sorry to impose,” I stated. It was the polite thing to say, though not completely true. “My client wants a resolution, as do I. Jim needs to turn himself in. The longer he runs, the guiltier he appears. If I locate him, he will be given a fair chance to explain what happened and give his side of the story. Have you talked with him?”

  “No,” she answered between sniffles.

  “Do you know where he is?” I asked.

  She didn’t immediately answer, so I suspected she did.

  “I can’t say,” she finally said.

  “You look tired and appear to either be on your way to work or just getting home. What is it that you do?”

  She dabbed at her eyes, tossing the Kleenex into a growing pile next to her.

  “I’m a third-year resident at Swedish Medical Center. I’m staffed in the ER and plan on being an MD.”

  “Hard work?”

  She nodded her head yes.

  “Long hours too, I guess?”

  “I’m normally there twelve hours a day, six to seven days a week. I have the graveyard shift and work from 6PM to 6AM. That is the life of a resident physician.”

  “Makes it hard on the marriage, your spouse?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t get to see each other often? Find time to talk and be together?”

  She nodded while blowing her nose.

  “What does Jim do?” I was trying to keep the conversation going, seeing where it would lead me. I always seemed to be able to pry info from people, even in the worst of situations. I had my kind and caring expression on today.

  “He is unemployed. Has been for almost a year, other than some temp jobs here and there.”

  “What line of work did he do before becoming unemployed?”

  “Business consulting. Project management is his specialty. I’ve wanted him to go back to school to sharpen and expand his skills, to make it easier for him to find employment. But he is resistant.”

  “What type of temporary jobs has he done? Was it in the consulting field?”

  “Yes. He did contract work for a while with some company. I don’t recall the name.”

  “Might it have been Reliable Consulting?”

  “That sounds familiar; yes, I think so. How did you know?”

  Wow, this is what they call a clue. Another item Emily forgot to mention. Jim had worked for her, and she would have been the one to hire him or at least approve the hire.

  “Just being a good detective. That is my client’s place of employment and likely where they met.” I left the part out about her owning the business.

  Her eyes were tearing up again. “So they became involved after working there?”

  “I don’t know if involved is the right word or not. I’d say one likely led to the other.”

  “Why is it that men can’t keep it in their pants?”

  I didn’t answer, as I wasn’t in the best position to at this time, since I apparently had the affliction as well.

  “Has he done this before?” I asked.

  She shrugged while blowing her nose again.

  “So are you surprised he would stray with another woman?”

  She stopped to think about it. Across the room above the fireplace were several pictures she just stared at. From what I could tell they were wedding photos, vacations and other happy occasions of the two of them together. Before the times of working long hours and separation. I’d seen it all too often in my line of work, part of the living detectives endured. Cheating spouses looking for something different or better than what they had at home. I knew some good ones, like my own parents, but the job steered me to the dark side. Probably why I never married, besides the fact my relationships never lasted due to my “can’t keep it in the pants” affliction. I wondered if there were support group meetings to discuss this problem.

  “How long have you been married?” I asked.

  She continued to stare at the pictures. “Six years this winter.”

  “Any children?”

  “Thankfully, no.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t always bad, was it?”

  “We had some good times in the beginning.”

  “Did you see this coming?”

  Again she stopped to think. She had run out of Kleenex and needed another box. She stuffed all the dirties in the spent one, and then went into the kitchen where she returned with a fresh one she immediately broke into and started using. I surmised a new advertising tagline while I waited. “The best tissue for your nose when your life is falling apart!” Madison Avenue could use my genius!

  “After he lost his job I wondered what he did at night. Even during the day when I was home we rarely talked, as I needed to sleep. He would get upset because I was too tired for physical relations. It was hard to be sexy dealing with pain, blood and death all day. There wa
s no escaping it no matter how I tried, and he didn’t let me talk about it with him. He said it was too depressing to hear. With nowhere for me to vent we just drifted apart. Yes, I knew this day was coming. Well, not the rape, but the separation between us has been growing for years. I know now we won’t be able to stay together. How can I ever trust him again?”

  It was a question I couldn’t answer. With effort and therapy they could get through this, but was easier said than done and worked only in a minority of cases. Each person has to want it as well, as it takes two to save a marriage. If Jim ended up in prison for several years for attempted rape, there was no hope for them.

  “Where do you think he is? You must have an idea. I won’t hurt him. He needs to account for what happened.”

  “I haven’t talked with him, like I said,” she answered. “I didn’t lie about that. But I believe I know where he might be.”

  “Tell me. He won’t find out it came from you. I promise.”

  “He has a buddy he hangs out with who would probably put him up. His name is Chad Billings. He lives somewhere in Lakewood. I don’t have his address but I’m sure you can track him down, being a detective.”

  “Thank you,” I answered.

  “Now I don’t mean to be rude,” she stated. “I need to try to get some sleep so I’m ready to go to work this evening.”

  “Maybe you should take time off? Working with this going on must be stressful. I doubt I could do it.”

  “I have too many responsibilities and people depending on me. I can forgot my problems temporarily by helping others with theirs.”

  “If you need legal assistance, here is the card of a good lawyer who can assist. Just tell them I sent them to you.” It was my lawyer and not Bristol and Bristol, as I knew she couldn’t afford them.

  She started crying again and I wasn’t sure what else to do, so I placed the card on a stack of magazines on the coffee table and walked out, hoping she would be okay. Other than upsetting her, a skill set I’d honed even more today, but wouldn’t care to brag about on my resume, there was nothing more to say,