Death Takes a Ride (The Cate Kinkaid Files Book #3): A Novel

by Lorena McCourtney

  “Good for you! He probably thinks you’re fabulous already.”

  Shirley shook her head. “When he got here, he said he wouldn’t be able to make breakfast after all because he had to meet with a client.” Shirley brushed a finger over her right eyebrow, which, in some misguided attempt at taming, she’d plucked to the skinny line of a road to nowhere on a map. “Maybe that was true. But I think, after he met me in person, he just changed his mind.” Her throat moved in a hard swallow.

  “So he gave you his dog to babysit for the evening.” Cate couldn’t keep the indignation out of her voice.

  “Yeah. But I don’t blame him for backing off. I mean …” Shirley pulled a black curl out from her head and let it go. It boomeranged right back to her scalp.

  Honest, forthright, tell-it-like-it-is Shirley. No oversized ego here. Okay, Shirley’s dye job was a little too crow-black, and her wiry curls looked as if they had popped out of her head with an electric s-p-r-o-i-n-g! Her boots would do fine for military combat. But the warmth and frankness about her were surely more important than hairdo and eyebrows, and Blakely should have seen that. A fish-cleaning ability wasn’t to be downgraded, either. Mitch would likely approve a fish-cleaning talent more than he approved of Cate being a private investigator.

  Blakely didn’t deserve shooting for hurting Shirley’s feelings, Cate granted. But a few heavy car parts thrown at him in the warehouse when he backed out of the breakfast date might have been appropriate.

  Now Shirley leaned forward, elbows on the table. “But I’m thinking, if I could learn enough at these Fit and Fabulous sessions, Kane might feel differently.”

  Make yourself over for a man? That grated on Cate’s nerves, but she made herself keep quiet. For the moment, anyway. She switched to a different subject.

  “Has anyone besides you been at the hospital?”

  “Just Mr. Halliday. He showed up again as I was leaving to come here. I talked to him for a minute, and he said he’d gotten hold of Kane’s son and daughter. He didn’t know if they’re coming. Kane isn’t very close to them.”

  “Did you know about the money before the gunman tried to steal it last night?”

  “No. Mr. Halliday must have given it to Kane before he called me into the office. I was shocked when I saw all those hundred-dollar bills falling out of Kane’s jacket when I was trying to stop the bleeding with it.”

  “So you don’t know what Mr. Blakely wanted the money for?” Cate asked. Shirley shook her head and grabbed a leftover piece of toast on the plate. “Mr. Halliday seemed to think he needed it for something to do with the ex-wife,” Cate added.

  “When Kane and I talked on the phone, it was mostly about old cars or car parts, or sometimes fishing and crabbing, but he mentioned his ex-wife a few times. Candy got the house and most everything else. I don’t know why she’d be entitled to any more money from him.” In spite of what Cate thought was definitely rudeness from Kane Blakely about their date, Shirley sounded protective of him.

  “Is Candy the mother of his children?”

  “No. His first wife was killed in a car accident a long time ago. His son lives in Georgia and his daughter in Florida. Candy wouldn’t go visit them, so Kane hasn’t seen them much since he married her. He feels bad about that.”

  The ex-wife separated Kane from his kids? Not a particularly admirable stepmotherly trait. Not a particularly admirable fatherly trait either, however, letting a new wife do that.

  “Did Mr. Blakely go out to his Corvette to get the inventory sheets before or after you went to the office?”

  “Before, I guess. He didn’t leave while I was there. Actually, I wasn’t even supposed to be there last night. Radine, she’s the office manager, was supposed to stay for the meeting. But her daughter got sick about noon, and she had to leave, so Mr. Halliday asked me to stay in case they needed details about the inventory or something.”

  “How did you happen to get a job there?”

  “After I moved over here from the coast, I got into a special program for disadvantaged older workers at Lane Community College. And then Mr. Halliday was generous enough to hire me, even without experience.”

  So if Shirley didn’t know about the money being there that night, she couldn’t have been in on any conspiracy with the gunman. If she was telling the truth, of course. Cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die probably wasn’t written into the criminal creed of behavior. But it was getting ever harder to think of Shirley as a criminal. Was filling the gas tank of a borrowed car the kind of thing someone involved in a robbery conspiracy would do?

  “I was really surprised when you said you’re a private investigator,” Shirley said.

  “Assistant private investigator,” Cate corrected automatically. “My Uncle Joe, who owns Belmont Investigations, is Rebecca’s husband.”

  “You investigate murders and bank robberies and arson?” Shirley, like many other people, had an exaggerated idea of the glamour and excitement in a private investigator’s life.

  “We do mostly background checks and insurance investigations, sometimes surveillance work or locating witnesses for a lawyer, things like that.”

  “Did you always want to be a private investigator?”

  “It wasn’t my plan in life, that’s for sure. But sometimes God has different plans for us than we do for ourselves.”

  “I don’t think God is interested in me or my plans.”

  “You might be surprised.”

  “I’m going to try to make Kane part of my future plans,” Shirley declared with the kind of determination that said minor events such as a shooting weren’t going to stand in her way.

  Kane Blakely should be grateful that Shirley was interested in him, Cate decided. Granted, even with a bullet wound in his head, he’d looked like an attractive older guy. But even so, with big, hairy Clancy part of the package, some women wouldn’t be interested.

  Shirley got out her cell phone and called the mechanic who was working on her pickup at H&B. She reported that he said her pickup wouldn’t be ready for several days, but he’d loan her another pickup of his own.

  Cate gathered dishes and carried them to the dishwasher. “We’ll go by Mitch’s condo and pick up Clancy on the way to your place.”

  Shirley looked in her empty coffee cup. She cleared her throat. “Well, there’s a, uh, problem.”

  7

  “The manager of the trailer park just sent around a notice that tenants can keep any pets they already have,” Shirley said. “But no new pets are allowed.”

  “Surely that doesn’t mean you can’t keep Clancy for a few days, just until Mr. Blakely can take him back?”

  “I’ll ask, but Mrs. Noonan is a real fussbudget.”

  “But Mitch didn’t plan on having Clancy more than one night!”

  “Maybe I can find a kennel that will take him.”

  Of course. A kennel. Easy solution. Cate relaxed. She called Mitch to explain that she’d come for Clancy as soon as they found a place in a kennel for him. “How’d he do last night?”

  “I left him in the living room when I went to bed, but it sounded like a pack of wolves howling in some old Western movie out there. So I fixed a blanket on the floor so he could sleep in the bedroom.”

  “Problem solved?”

  “He quit barking, but then he whined like a lost puppy.”

  “So?”

  “So I let him sleep on the foot of the bed.” Mitch sounded grumpy but also defensive, as if he didn’t like admitting he’d caved in to the dog’s mournful whines.

  “So everybody lived happily ever after.”

  “Well, more or less. Except for the snoring.”

  “Yours or his?”

  Mitch answered that question with an unappreciative snort. “I’m going to take him to the office with me. Who knows what he might do here alone?”

  Cate suspected Mitch was taking Clancy along because his soft heart didn’t want the dog to be lonely, but some macho pride wouldn’t let him adm
it that.

  “You’re a good man, Mitch Berenski,” Cate said. And I hope you don’t pick up and leave Eugene.

  Cate took Shirley to the trailer park, which was on a side street a few blocks from H&B. She came out of the office with a quick answer about Clancy. Mrs. Noonan was adamant. A rule was a rule, and bending it for one renter apparently would lead to some sort of trailer-park anarchy.

  Shirley’s mobile home, which she said she’d had moved over from the coast, was an older single-wide, modest but well maintained. Cate didn’t want to leave until Shirley had found a kennel for Clancy, and she could relieve Mitch of his foot-of-the-bed guest, so she went inside with Shirley. The interior of the trailer was roomier than Cate expected, clean and faintly pine scented but totally lacking in feminine touches. The only decorations were a couple of calendars with fishing scenes hung on the walls. A basic computer setup filled a small wooden table, printer on the floor.

  Shirley started calling kennels. One apparently asked what kind of dog Clancy was. Good question.

  “Well, he’s kind of black and gray, with some bluish hair too. So maybe Australian shepherd? But he’s bigger than that, so maybe some Saint Bernard. And he has a long, skinny tail that might be Great Dane.” After a pause, apparently in response to a question about weight, Shirley said, “Well, uh, over a hundred pounds, I guess.”

  “Where did Kane get him?” Cate asked, after that kennel declined to take Clancy.

  “He found him on the beach when he was over at the coast a few months ago. All wet and cold and hungry.”

  If Clancy had come up out of the ocean, maybe he had a few sea-monster genes in there too. But you had to give points to a man who was willing to take in a wet, hairy, hungry dog.

  It took Shirley two more calls, but she finally found a kennel for Clancy. Cate got the address and said she’d take Clancy out to the kennel. It was a rather awkward question, but she had to ask it. “Is paying for the kennel going to be a problem?”

  “I’m sure Kane will be happy to pay the bill when he gets out of the hospital.”

  And what happened if Kane didn’t get out of the hospital? Cate reluctantly decided that was a worry for another day.

  “I’m so sorry to bother you with all this,” Shirley added. “Would you like some coffee before you go?”

  “Thanks, but I’d better be on my way.” No telling what kind of damage Clancy might be wreaking in Mitch’s computer world.

  “I wish I could afford to hire you,” Shirley said suddenly.

  Cate turned at the door. “To do what?”

  Shirley’s narrow eyebrows scrunched as if she wasn’t sure of the answer herself. “It’s just that all this seems so … peculiar. Maybe it needs investigating.”

  “Crime often is peculiar. But you know who shot Kane, and you saw Mr. Halliday shoot the gunman. Not much to investigate, and I’m sure the police will do whatever is necessary.”

  “I know. But who was that guy? How did he know about the money? Why didn’t he just grab the money and run?” Shirley blinked and swallowed. “He didn’t have to shoot Kane.”

  “He might have panicked and shot without really intending to.” Or maybe the guy just felt like shooting someone. It was a disturbing fact that there were people like that.

  “I guess.” Shirley’s agreement sounded more frustrated than convinced. “I still wish I could hire you.”

  “I took some photos last night,” Cate said. “They’re kind of gross. But if you’d like to see them … ?”

  “I would.”

  Cate pulled out her cell phone and brought up the pictures. Shirley’s throat moved in a harsh swallow at the picture of a bloody and unconscious Kane Blakely, but she didn’t back off. She went on to study the picture of the dead man on the floor. Cate asked if she’d ever seen him before.

  She shook her head. “Out there in the warehouse, I hardly ever see customers. But what is it criminals do? ‘Case the joint’? Maybe he’s been in, and Radine would recognize him.”

  “Have you seen the morning newspaper?”

  “No. I can’t afford a subscription, but I sometimes look at local news on the website.”

  “It’s possible the police have identified the gunman by now. They may already have all the important facts available for the public.”

  “I’ll bring up the website. Learning to use a computer was really tough for me, but now I can surf the internet without even getting seasick.” Shirley sounded proud of that accomplishment. She pulled up a stool in front of the desk. The computer was slow booting up and connecting to the internet. “But I’m still on dial-up,” she added, a hint of apology in her voice now.

  Cate knew she could probably find information faster with her cell phone, but she didn’t want it to look as if she were trying to one-up Shirley with technology, so she waited. Shirley found the site, and Cate leaned over her shoulder to read. The information was minimal. The dead man’s identity was either not yet known to the police or they were not yet releasing it. No mention of the money or Kane Blakely’s condition.

  “I guess I can’t help wondering if Kane’s ex-wife is involved,” Shirley said. “Can’t you find out more from the police than what gets in the news?”

  “Because I’m a private investigator?” Cate asked, and Shirley nodded.

  Oh, if only that were true. But Cate had trouble getting information even on cases in which she was actively involved, let alone ones in which she didn’t even have a client. Private investigators on TV shows and in books always seemed to have a friend in the police department to supply insider information, but Cate didn’t have any more “in” with the police force than she had with the Pentagon.

  But all she said was, “I’m afraid not. I’ll call and let you know about Clancy after I get him to the kennel.”

  Shirley supplied her cell phone number, and Cate headed for Mitch’s office with various speculations rambling around in her head. Halliday and Shirley both suspected ex-wife Candy could be involved, maybe because Kane owed money to her. But if that weren’t true, did she know about the money anyway? And hire a gunman to go after it? How did one go about hiring a hit man? Cate had never seen a “hit man” section in the yellow pages.

  Or maybe some other woman was involved. It was probably unfair to classify Kane Blakely as a Don Juan type on the basis of his silver-fox good looks, but maybe some messy triangle that included an unhappy boyfriend or husband was complicating his life. Or maybe it wasn’t a woman complication, and the gunman was an unhappy customer taking a do-it-yourself route to a refund. But Halliday would surely recognize an unhappy customer. Although not if that customer was from the Salem business …

  Not your case. Mind your own business. Which at the moment was relieving Mitch of one big, hairy dog.

  Computer Solutions Dudes didn’t have a parking lot, but Cate squeezed the Honda into a space on the street. Inside, fortyish receptionist/secretary Maggie Bones, in jeans and Oregon Ducks sweatshirt, gave Cate a shoulder wiggle in place of a wave. Her hands and ears were busy multitasking on a landline phone, a cell phone, and a computer. Maybe Mitch was always offering Cate a job because they really could use some extra help here, not just because he wanted to get her out of the PI business?

  When Maggie was semi-free, Cate asked, “Is Mitch around?”

  “No, he went out on a job first thing this morning.”

  Cate peered around. There didn’t seem to be any oversized creature lurking in the office. “Alone?”

  “He took Clancy with him.”

  “Did Clancy cause any, um, problems here?”

  “He knocked a vase of flowers off my desk with his tail.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry—”

  Maggie dismissed the flower accident with another shoulder wiggle. “Actually, I think it was a comment on the guy who sent them. The more I think about it, the more I realize what a jerk he is. Dogs are good judges of character, you know.”

  Cate wasn’t convinced of that line of think
ing, but, if Octavia could do PI work, maybe Clancy could do long-distance boyfriend evaluations. “Okay. Tell Mitch I’ll call him later.”

  Cate was just going out the door when she met Mitch and Clancy coming in. The dog gave her hand a slurp of familiarity. His bluish-blackish-grayish coat looked almost silky. Definitely brushed.

  “I came to get Clancy. Shirley found a kennel for him.” Cate held out her hand for the leash.

  “Oh. Good.” Mitch’s tone was neutral, but he kept a tight hold on the leash. “Have you checked out the place?”

  “Checked it out how?”

  “You can’t leave an animal just anywhere.” He sounded indignant. “What’s the staff like? How clean is the place? Do they exercise the animals or just leave them sitting in a cage all day?”

  Cate granted that knowing all that would no doubt be an excellent idea, but she was a little surprised by Mitch’s vehemence.

  “Actually,” Mitch added, looking down at the dog, “I don’t think he’s going to be happy locked up in any kennel.”

  “I don’t see any alternative.” She explained why Shirley couldn’t keep him.

  Mitch seemed to weigh that on some invisible scale. It tipped in an unexpected direction. “I suppose I could keep him for a few more days, until his owner gets out of the hospital.”

  “Sleeping on the foot of your bed?” Cate asked doubtfully.

  “That was a temporary arrangement. He’ll sleep on the floor tonight.”

  Cate looked at Clancy now sprawled at … well, on … Mitch’s feet. Dogs couldn’t smile or wink, but Clancy had a smirky expression that strongly suggested if anyone slept on the floor tonight, it wasn’t going to be him.

  8

  Cate tried to call Shirley to let her know Clancy was taken care of, but she had to leave a voice mail message. She spent the day on the continuation of a job locating a wife who’d taken off with papers important to a Belmont Investigations client. She followed several leads until one took her out to Junction City and she located the woman at a cousin’s home. Routine stuff, the kind that paid a PI’s bills.