Deadly Distractions, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 6
Page 41
CHAPTER 41
THE PERFORMANCE
A week later I still hadn't heard from Mo. I wondered why he was taking so long. It seemed like the CIA should have the information I wanted at their fingertips. Dusty's trial was only a few weeks away and I was pretty much at a dead end in my investigation. To make matters worse, Raymond Farr and the CDA were making the final preparations for their big march on Washington and their mass burning of Form1040s by each protestor. Farr had called several times to urge me to come to Washington and march with them. I had politely declined on the grounds that I couldn't take the time off with Dusty's trial so close at hand. Dusty also was asked to go, but, fortunately, under the terms of his bond he couldn't leave the state.
As Dusty's trial date approached, the Feds increased their surveillance on me. In the past there had been only one agent following me around, now I often saw two or three. This was awkward and I had to be careful where I went and what I said to people. With Paula off the case, I needed help, so I called my new private investigator Paul Thayer in for assistance. He had done well on the few assignments I had given him, so it was time to hire him full time for the duration of the investigation and trial.
He arrived right on time and Jodie showed him into my office. Paul was tall, lean, and acted more like an accountant than a private investigator. He was dressed in a dark blue suit and looked very professional. Having heard about Paula's trial, he offered his sympathies. I complimented him on the work he had done so far and told him I needed him to come on board full time.
"Well, I'll I've got some jobs to finish up, but I should be able to start full time in a couple days."
"Good. We have only two and a half weeks to trial and six weeks of work to do. I'm going to be on the job 18 hours a day and I'm going to need you to do likewise."
"Well I charge $50 an hour plus expenses."
"No, problem. . . . Do you have any associates in case we need additional help?"
"Sure, I've got a few buddies who I can call on if need be."
"Good. You'll need them. Our primary suspect, as you know, is Don Harris. I want you to watch him like a hawk between now and the trial. Somebody needs to be on him 24 hours a day and I want a daily report of his activities. I'm particularly interested in who he meets and where he goes."
Paul took notes as I briefed him on our case and where I needed help. He seemed excited about the assignment and promised to get right on it. I told him about Jill Murray and how important it was that we find her. He looked through her address book and I had Jodie make him a copy of it. After he had gone, I began looking through my notes to see if there were any loose ends that needed following up. When I came across Jill's telephone bill, I remembered I hadn't got through to the mysterious number. I dialed it again. The answering machine picked up. I didn't leave a number.
Frustrated, I asked Jodie to call the number and leave a message. I told her to act like she was calling her boyfriend. This was a technique I had learned when I was trying to collect money for clients. If I called the debtor, he would invariably be on another line, out of town, or too busy to talk. Of course, I would never get a return phone call. But if Jodie called them she'd almost always get through or at least get a return phone call. She loved to play this game so she quickly picked up the phone and dialed the number.
When the greeting finished, she said in the sexiest voice she could conger up, "This is Jodie. Pick up, please. . . . Come on, honey, pick up the damn phone . . . okay, be hardheaded. Call me back when you're in a better mood. I'm at a friend's house. 214-555-5237. I miss ya."
We both laughed when she hung up the phone. "That was good. You're in the wrong profession."
She winked at me and then went back to her office. Ten minutes later the inside line rang. I knew it was our return telephone call so I ran into the reception area. Jodie was smiling broadly when she picked up the telephone.
"It's about time you called."
"Huh, is this Jodie?"
"Well, who do you think it is, silly?"
"I got your message but—"
"I know. You're a busy guy."
"Yeah, but I don't know—"
"Are we still on for tonight?"
"Huh?"
"Don't tell me you forgot?"
"Forgot what?"
"My birthday? I'm flying in all the way from Dallas."
"Listen, lady You got the wrong number."
"Really? Who is this?"
"Rob."
"Rob?"
"Yeah, Rob Steakley."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I was calling Tom. . . . Oh, well. Too bad. I guess Tom wrote down the wrong number the other night. We were both pretty exhausted . . . after our workout."
There was silence on the line. Finally Rob said, "Well, I'd hate you to be alone on your birthday."
"Yeah, that would be sad."
"Listen, maybe I could fill in for Tom," Rob said.
"Really. That's an interesting idea. . . . But I don't know you."
"So, how well did you know Tom?"
Jodie giggled. "Oh, Tom and I had talked for hours before—"
"Your workout?"
Jodie giggled again.
"So, I'll buy you a drink and we can talk for hours, too."
"Okay, but tell me about yourself first. There's no use either of us wasting our time if we're incompatible."
"Right."
"How old are you?"
"Thirty-two."
"I'm 22, but I like older men."
"Ten years isn't—"
"You're not married are you?"
"Divorced."
"Good. Me too. Did you and your ex live in Alexandria."
"Nah, we had a house in West Springfield."
"How long have you been divorced?"
"Two years—October."
"Any kids?"
"Twin boys—Ricky and David."
"I don't have any children," Jodie said.
"I don't see them much. Their mom and I don't get along."
"Umm. So what do you do for a living?"
"Security specialist."
"Oh, really. What's that?"
"You know—bodyguard."
"Oh, my word. Who do you work for?"
"Does that matter?"
"No. Just curious. What about you?"
"Huh?"
"What do you do for a living?"
"Oh, I'm a stewardess for American Airlines. That's where I met Tom."
"I see. So, can I pick you up?" Rob asked.
"No, I'll meet you somewhere—you name it," Jodie replied.
"The Raven Club on Mt. Vernon—eight o'clock."
"How will I know you?"
"Six-two, mustache, black hair."
"Hmm, see you later."
Jodie hung up the telephone. We started laughing again. I was overwhelmed by Jodie's performance. "Wow. That was great. Call Lawyer's Aid and have them pull Rob's divorce records. I want a copy of everything in the divorce file. Find out if any depositions were taken and, if so, get a copy. That was amazing, Jodie. You are something else."
I started to go back in my office when Jodie said, "Stan. I'll need a new dress for my date."
We both cracked up again, "Yeah, right."
I called Paul and told him I needed someone at the Raven Club in Alexandria, Virginia to wait for Rob Steakley to show up for his date and then follow him. I needed to know whom he was working for. Paul said he'd take care of it and get back to me. Adrenalin was pumping again and I was feeling much more optimistic. Maybe I'd crack this case after all. I just had to keep digging until I figured it out. I just hoped it didn't take too long. Time was running out.