“Hey, the Goofball Brothers are great. Just not too bright.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Okay.” I kissed her neck. “I think we should continue what we started last night.”
My cell phone rang. And my kisses continued.
“Reed.” Willie giggled as she grabbed my phone and handed it to me.
I stopped. “Way to kill a mood.”
She smirked at me as I put the phone to my ear.
“He’s not at Bob’s,” Ace said. “Bob hasn’t heard from him since last week. Reed, something’s wrong.”
I sighed. “Okay, I’ll be right down.”
“Bob’s coming over.”
I hung up. “Bob’s coming over. He can handle things, don’t you think?” I stared at Willie.
“Reed, you need to go help Ace.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” I kissed her shoulder. “Just a misunderstanding.”
“Reed, what about Ace?”
I sat back and sighed. “Whatever Deuce is up to, it better be good.”
“I’ll come down, too.” Willie got up and went into the bathroom.
“Oh boy, we’ll have a party.” I crawled off the bed and followed her. “How about a quick shower?”
The door closed in my face. It couldn’t hurt to try, could it?
CHAPTER THREE
Ace and Deuce owned the condo below me. We live in Uptown, immediately east of downtown Denver. It’s a great old neighborhood, with a mix of Victorian and Queen Anne homes, high-rise apartments, lofts and condos. There’s no way the Brothers could afford this kind of a place on their own; I’m pretty sure their parents help out. When Willie and I walked in, Ace was in the kitchen, making coffee.
“Bob will be here soon,” he said as he handed me a cup. Worry lines creased his normally innocent face. “Do you want something to eat?” He rummaged in a cupboard and pulled out a box of Cheerios. “Deuce always cooks breakfast, not me.”
I held up my cup. “Coffee’s fine.”
“Ace, I’m sure Deuce is fine,” Willie said as she waited for Ace to pour her a cup. “He was probably just too tired to come home so he crashed at his friend’s house.”
“What friend?” Ace asked.
“The one he went to see after he left you,” she said.
Ace nodded, but he wasn’t convinced. “I dunno…”
The front door opened. “Ace?” a deep voice called. A moment later, Bob Smith appeared in the kitchen doorway. Bob was the mirror image of his brothers; only the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes betrayed the fact that he was older.
“Bob!” Ace breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t know what to do…” His voice cracked.
“Hey,” Bob put a hand on Ace’s shoulder and comforted him, then nodded to Willie and me. “So what’s going on? I couldn’t follow everything you were saying on the phone.”
“Deuce didn’t come home last night,” Ace said simply. He began pacing back and forth between the refrigerator and the stove. Three paces, turn. Three paces, turn.
“Reed, can you fill me in?” Bob said as he fixed himself a cup of coffee.
“You know about as much as we do,” I said. I turned to Ace. “Tell Bob everything you told me.”
Ace continued pacing as he relayed his conversation with me.
Bob leaned against the counter and sipped his coffee, listening intently. “It’s not like Deuce to not come home, and certainly not to call,” he said when Ace finished.
“Let’s go over this again,” I said. “Ace, you said that when you and Deuce left B 52’s, Deuce got a phone call and said he had to meet someone.”
“That’s right,” Ace said.
“Did you hear the person’s voice on the phone? Anything that would tell you if it was a man or woman?”
“No. I wasn’t that close to him.”
“What do you remember of the conversation?” I asked. “What exactly did Deuce say?”
Ace stood still for a moment and stared at the ceiling, thinking. “I think he said ‘Hey, man,’ and then he said, ‘Where are you?’ Then he said ‘Right now?’ and then ‘Okay, I can meet you there,’ and ‘I won’t’. After that, he hung up.”
“That’s amazing recall.” I grabbed a piece of paper and pen from the counter and jotted it all down. “Would you say Deuce was surprised that this person wanted to meet right then?”
Ace nodded his head vigorously. “Yes. We didn’t leave B 52’s until it closed.”
That would’ve been one a.m. Definitely an odd time to go meet someone.
“Do you remember what Deuce said to you when he hung up?” This from Bob.
“He said he had to go,” Ace said.
“That’s all?” I pushed. “You sure he didn’t say anything else?”
Ace chewed his lip. “No, just ‘I gotta go’.”
“Was he apprehensive?” I asked. Ace stared at me blankly. I tried again. “Was he nervous? Seemed like he didn’t want to go?”
“Oh,” Ace nodded. “Yeah, now that you’re asking, I think he did seem a little…apprehensive.”
“So it wasn’t a friend he met,” Bob concluded.
“Probably not,” I said. I continued with Ace. “Did you ask him where he was going?”
“Sure. He said ‘I can’t tell you’ and then he walked off down the street.”
“So you walked to B 52’s last night?” I confirmed. That wasn’t unusual because the bar is close to where we live, and last night the weather was perfect, comfortably cool without a cloud in the sky.
“Uh huh,” Ace said.
“Is Deuce’s truck parked outside now?” I asked.
Ace raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know. I didn’t think to look.”
Bob went to the kitchen window and looked out into the back yard. There was a garage and one parking space for each unit. Ace parked his Subaru in the garage, and Deuce parked his old Chevy truck in his allotted space next to the building.
“I can’t see if it’s there,” Bob said.
“Let’s go check,” I said, standing up. “Ace, do you have a set of spare keys?”
“Sure, why?”
“If it’s there, I want to look inside.”
“Ah,” Ace said. “So you can look for clues.”
I smiled. “Right.”
Ace rummaged in a drawer and produced a key ring with a few keys on it. “It’s this one,” he said, handing it to me.
I took it and we all traipsed out the back door, down the stairs, and around the side of the building.
“There’s his truck,” I said.
Deuce’s Chevy was sitting in his parking space. I walked around it and tried the doors. “It’s locked.” I used the key to open the driver’s side door and we all looked inside.
“Not much here,” I said. An empty Starbucks mug sat in the console between the seats. Spare change was thrown in a cubbyhole. Napkins and receipts lay strewn on the passenger seat. I grabbed the receipts. “McDonald’s. A gas station. Home Depot. A list of some construction companies: T. F. Byers Construction, Pearson Construction, and a couple more. Mean anything to anyone?”
“Deuce works in construction,” Bob said. “He’s probably worked with those companies.”
“Okay.” I crouched down and poked around under the seats. “Nothing,” I finally said, leaning against the car door. “But then, I’m not sure what I expected to find.”
“Why would Deuce be so mysterious about where he was going?” Willie asked as we headed back inside. “That doesn’t sound like him at all.”
“He usually can’t shut up,” Ace said. Spoken like a brother.
“You think whoever called Deuce asked him not to say anything?” Bob said. “And that’s why Deuce said ‘I won’t’.”
“Makes sense to me,” I said.
Once we were back in the kitchen, Bob turned to Ace. “Did he have plans today? Were you guys going anywhere?”
“No,” Ace said. “I was going to go by work a
nd bring a movie home for tonight, but I don’t think Deuce was planning on doing anything.” Ace worked at a nearby Blockbuster; he had been promoted to assistant manager, and was thriving with the extra responsibility. We all hoped the experience would help him, in case the store closed and he had to find work elsewhere.
Something suddenly occurred to me. “Did you try calling Deuce?”
Ace slapped a hand to his head. “Duh,” he said to himself.
I felt like an idiot, too. I’d just assumed that Ace would try that, and that was my mistake. With the Goofball Brothers, you can’t assume anything.
Ace picked up his cell phone and dialed Deuce’s number. “It’s his voicemail,” Ace said after a moment.
“Ask him to call you as soon as he gets the message,” Bob instructed him.
Ace did and hung up. “Now what?”
“Let’s check his room,” I said. “Maybe we’ll find something that’ll help us.”
Once again we left the kitchen and headed down a short hallway and into Deuce’s room. His dresser held a flat screen TV, and stacks of comic books were strewn about the floor. A Spiderman poster was pinned to the light blue wall above the queen-sized bed.
“I didn’t know he liked comics,” I said.
“He doesn’t tell people because he doesn’t want them to think he’s a nerd,” Ace said.
Bob suppressed a smile. “Spidy’s his favorite.”
Everyone gazed expectantly at me. The great detective needs to start detecting. I looked around. Except for the comics, the room was surprisingly neat. No clothes on the floor, no dust on the furniture. And the bed was made.
“Surprisingly neat room,” I muttered.
Ace threw me a half-smile. “Mom told us we needed to clean up.”
Bob hid another smile. “You can look through everything,” he said, giving me permission to delve into the dresser drawers and closet.
“Someone check the closet,” I said as I moved to the dresser. “See if there’s anything unusual.”
“Like what?” Ace asked.
“How would I know?” I shrugged.
“Aren’t you the detective?” Bob said.
“It’s not as exciting as you’d think. It’s a lot of…” I glanced around. “This.”
I opened all the drawers and looked inside. Shirts, underwear, and socks neatly stored in the drawers. I ran my hands through it all. “This is a bust,” I said, then stopped. “What’s this?”
A pile of money jutted out from beneath his socks. I picked them up and counted them, all twenties.
“There’s over five hundred dollars here,” I said.
Bob came over, staring at the money. “Why would he have that much cash lying around?” he asked, turning to Ace.
Ace shrugged. “I don’t know. He never said anything to me about extra money.”
“Is he saving for something?” Willie asked.
“I don’t think so,” Ace said. “And if he was, I don’t know why he’d keep it here instead of in the bank.”
I put the money back and turned around. “Anything else unusual?”
“No, not a thing,” Bob said as he shut the closet door.
Willie and Ace shook their heads.
“So, Deuce has a lot of money in his sock drawer, and that’s it,” I recapped as we went into the living room.
“What now?” Willie asked. “Should we call the police?”
I shook my head. “They won’t do anything for twenty-four hours. But maybe we should try the hospitals, in case he got hurt.”
“You think he was in an accident?” Ace’s jaw dropped.
“I doubt it,” Bob said. “I’m sure Deuce will show up and we’ll find out this was all a big mix-up, but we should check just in case.” He spoke calmly but the worry in his eyes betrayed him.
“I can help with that,” Willie said. “Ace, can you log me onto your computer so I can look up the hospital phone numbers?”
Ace went with Willie to a desk in the corner of the room. “Should I call Mom and Dad?” Ace asked as he typed at the keyboard.
Bob pursed his lips. “No, let’s wait a bit. I don’t want to worry them needlessly. Besides,” he put a hand on Ace’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’m sure Deuce will come home soon, and he’ll be apologizing for getting us all worried.”
“I hope so,” Ace said.
“Let’s backtrack again,” I said, looking at the notes I’d written. “Ace, did you notice anyone unusual at the bar? Did anyone follow you home?”
Ace thought for a moment. “No, but I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Maybe Deuce went back to the bar,” I said. “I’ll check with the staff later today. Ace, why don’t you stay here and help Willie call the hospitals and I’ll try to track down who called Deuce.”
“I’ll call his friends, too, see if anyone’s heard from him,” Bob said.
“Good idea,” I agreed.
I pulled out my phone and found Deuce’s number. “This is still his number, right?” I showed it to Ace.
“Yeah,” Ace said.
“Who’s your carrier?”
“Verizon.”
“You can find out who called him?” Bob asked, incredulous.
“I can’t,” I said. “But I know someone who can.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“So Deuce is missing,” Cal Whitmore said as he let me into his house.
Most great detectives have a sidekick. Sherlock Holmes had Dr. Watson. Nero Wolfe had Archie Goodwin. I had my best friend, Cal. I’d known him since we were kids, where we’d been inseparable. We’d even attended Harvard together, although his grades were much better than mine. I goofed around and my grades suffered. He goofed around and still got straight A’s. He was as smart as anyone I knew, but at the same time, he couldn’t butter bread. Brilliant, but no common sense.
“Yeah, and I need you to find a phone number,” I said as I followed Cal through a sparsely furnished living room and down a hallway to his home office.
Cal was a computer genius and his office reflected this. Multiple computers and monitors filled his oversized desk. He listened to music on state-of-the-art speakers and watched DVDs on a 30-inch monitor. Piles of papers, books, manuals, boxes of old disks, cords, and CDs were stacked against the walls. At any given time, at least a few dishes, glasses, soda cans, or beer bottles were strewn about the room. I shuddered when I thought of what science project might be growing in them.
“A phone number should be easy to find,” Cal said, settling his lanky frame into a leather chair. “Let me finish up here…” His hands flew across the keyboard for a second and then he turned to me. Cal’s specialty was computer viruses and virus protection, and his skills were highly sought after. He was involved with organizations and people that most of us knew nothing about, and he could hack into almost any system, even the Pentagon’s. It’s why he had a secluded home outside of Pine Junction, west of downtown Denver. He lived a quiet, reclusive life, rarely leaving his home. And he covered his tracks so well, it’s almost as if he didn’t exist.
“I’ve got Deuce’s cell phone number,” I said, handing Cal a piece of paper. “His carrier is Verizon. A little after one a.m. this morning Deuce received a phone call. I want to know who called him, where this person lives, and anything else we can find out about this person.”
“Piece of cake.” His brown eyes glinted and he started humming as he set to work. Tap, tap, tap. When Cal worked at the keyboard it was as if he was effortlessly playing a piano concerto. In seconds he said, “Okay, I’ve got Deuce’s cell phone records.”
I pulled up a folding chair and gazed at the computer screen. “That was fast.”
Cal snorted. “C’mon, that was easy.”
On the screen were Deuce’s phone records.
“That’s great,” I said.
Cal manipulated the mouse for a second, then pointed at the monitor. “Here’s the list of calls Deuce received in the last twenty-four hours.”
I scooted my chair closer and stared at the monitor. Deuce had received six calls since noon on Friday.
“Recognize any of them?” Cal asked.
“This one is Ace,” I said, pointing to a number. “That was this morning.”
“What time was the call you’re wondering about?”
“One a.m. or so.”
“Right here.” Cal highlighted part of the screen with the mouse. “The call lasted thirty-two seconds. Here’s the number that called Deuce.”
Cal rattled it off and I jotted it down, along with the other numbers.
“Let me call it,” I said, grabbing my phone and dialing the number. It rang for a moment and then a generic message came on. “No name.” I set the phone down. “Can you figure out who owns this number?”
Cal looked at me askance. “Does the pope live in Rome?”
“Technically, he lives in Vatican City.”
“Whatever,” Cal said. “Give me a minute.”
“And can we listen to any messages left on his phone?”
Cal nodded and he set to work again. The screen flickered as windows popped up and closed with dizzying speed.
“How are things with you and Willie?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the screen. I grinned. He stopped and turned to me. “What?”
“She spent the night last night.”
“No kidding?”
“Hey, keep working.” I waved at the screen.
“Sorry.” Cal focused again, but a smile spread across his face. “You and Wille…about time.”
“Yeah, but I haven’t had a chance to savor it.” I’d hardly had time to think about the last twelve hours because of Deuce. “I’ll tell you what, if this is some practical joke that Deuce is playing…”
“You think he’d do that?”
I frowned. “No, that’s the problem. He tells Ace everything.” I stood up, irritated. “I’m going to get a drink,” I said. “You want anything?”
Cal barely shook his head as he declined. He was in the zone, murmuring as he worked. I left him alone and wandered into the kitchen, searching for something with caffeine in it. I grabbed a Coke from the refrigerator, opened it and took a long swig while I gazed out the kitchen window. Cal’s house was built on a gentle slope that afforded gorgeous views of the Rocky Mountains. On a distant ridge the sun hit a green and gold grove of aspen, and it was like looking at a painting. Sadly, a sight like this one was wasted on Cal because he was almost always in front of his computer. I smiled to myself and went back to the office.
Farewell, My Deuce: A Reed Ferguson Mystery (A Private Investigator Mystery Series - Crime Suspense Thriller Book 4) Page 2
