by S. J. Lewis
Marabel shrugged and smiled. “They come in handy sometimes.”
***
The industrial park where Bowman was located was ten miles from the office. The site had been a quarry originally, but had undergone so many additions and changes over the years that there was scarcely a trace of the old quarry left, except for huge boulders spotted here and there as part of the landscaping. From the roads running through the park, all of the buildings looked fairly new, but Claudia knew that some of them were thirty to forty years old, young-looking only because of renovations. Some of those renovations had been little more than facelifts. Inside, the buildings were still dimly lit, poorly ventilated, dusty and grimy. Bowman Electronics was in one of those older buildings, one of the few that had been renovated inside as well as out.
Claudia parked in one of the lots near Bowman and got out of her car. She wasn’t planning to visit Bowman today. It wasn’t likely that one more tour of the facility was going to show her anything new. She stood leaning against her car for a while, just looking at the building: Three square stories of red brick generic office/light industry building, almost indistinguishable from the two dozen or so other buildings in the park.
How was it being done, and who was doing it? She started pacing slowly back and forth by her car. It helped her think, sometimes, but after a couple of minutes she realized that it wasn’t going to this time. Maybe a little walk through the complex would help? She looked down at her shoes: Low-heeled, comfortable enough for the office, but how would they be for a real walk? She sighed, and began walking. She’d find out for sure.
The roads here were wide, flat asphalt with no curbs and hardly any shoulders. Thick grass grew right up to the edges, and surrounded the buildings like huge, calm green lakes, broken here and there by artistic bits of landscaping which always included big rocks, small trees and shrubs. She started off down the road Bowman fronted on, which had been named “Catbird Lane” by some unknown developer. All the “Lanes” in the complex ran north-south. All of the east-west roads were “Ways”. Not a “Street” or a “Road” to be seen anywhere. She got up to “Bluebird Way” and turned left. To her left, she could still see the Bowman building, and the expanse of lawn between it and the next building, which fronted on another street…no, another “Lane”. Claudia grinned to herself. She could see a pickup truck with a trailer hitched to it parked up ahead, half-on and half-off of the road…no, the “Way”. She chuckled, feeling a little silly. There was a big commercial-sized old riding lawnmower parked on the grass near the truck, and as she watched a balding, skinny little old man clambered into the driver’s seat and started it up. He fiddled with the controls for a moment, and then began rolling along the grass towards her at a pretty fair clip.
Claudia stopped to watch. She always liked to see jobs well done, and he seemed to know exactly what he was doing. So intent was he on mowing that he didn’t even notice her standing there until he was almost on top of her. The surprised look on his face was quickly replaced by a warm smile, and he stopped his mower well short of her.
“Afternoon, Miss,” he nodded towards her. “Can I help you? You looking for someplace?” Up close, his face was wrinkled and leathery, but the squinted blue eyes were clear and sharp.
“No, thanks,” Claudia smiled back, “I’m just taking a walk.” She looked at his mower. Like him, it looked old and well-worn, but still completely serviceable. “Do you mow the whole park with that thing?”
“Yep,” he patted the steering wheel affectionately. “Me and Eugene here, between us we keep the grass down.”
“Eugene?”
“Why sure…Oh, I guess you wouldn’t get the reference.”
Claudia shook her head, smiling.
“An old cartoon character, Eugene the magical Jeep. He could go anywhere, and so can his godson here. It’s pure hell sometimes mowing around them rocks-and-trees sculptures, but Eugene manages…Uh, pardon my language, Miss.”
“It’s all right, believe me.” Claudia laughed, holding up a hand. “I’ve heard much worse.”
He grinned back at her. “You work here, Miss?
“Sub-contractor,” Claudia replied. Well, it was true, wasn’t it? “I’m just taking a walk to help me think.”
He nodded. “I do a lot of thinking on Eugene here. We’ve been over this place so many times, he just about knows how to do it himself. Even remembers where the toadstools are.”
“Toadstools?”
“Oh…yeah, it’s what I call the old manholes from the steam tunnels. They stick up just enough to catch the blades if we aren’t careful. Can’t see ‘em at all if the grass is high enough.”
“Steam tunnels?”
“Yep. Long time ago this place had its own steam plant. Ran steam heat and power to the factory buildings through the tunnels.”
“And they’re still there?’
“Sure!” he said. “Costs too much to rip ‘em out, but they ain’t been used for twenty, twenty-five years.”
“You’ve been here that long?”
He laughed. “Longer’n that! I was a machinist at the old Barker Steel plant for thirty years! That was one of the first outfits in here, and it was right next to the old steam plant. Burned down a couple of years ago.”
“The steam plant burned down?”
“No, Barker Steel did. The old steam plant’s still standin’, up atop that little hill to the north,” he gestured in the direction. “Ain’t bein’ used though.”
Claudia remembered seeing an old building on top of a low hill, not far from here. Except for the windows being boarded up it had looked something like an old abandoned castle, and it seemed out of place, an unused building almost in the middle of the industrial park.
“I was retired before the fire,” he went on. “Spent two years doin’ nothin’, and it near drove me crazy. So I got Eugene here,” he patted the chassis “And the two of us went back to work.”
Claudia looked around at the expanses of grass. “You do very good work, Mr….?”
“Forgot my manners!” he grinned, holding out his hand. “Bob Johansen, Miss. Pleased to meet you!”
Claudia took his hand. It felt as dry and leathery as his face looked, but there was warmth and strength in his grip. “Claudia Cole,” she replied, smiling. “Pleased to meet you, sir!”
“Well,” he went on, looking around. “I s’pose I’d best get back to work now, Miss Cole. That grass just keeps on growin’.”
“I understand,” Claudia nodded. “There’s always work to be done.”
He looked up at her, grinning wryly. “I like it that way,” he said. “Makes me feel useful. You have yourself a good day now, Miss Cole.”
He started Eugene up and set off, mowing. Claudia watched him for a little while, still smiling. There was a very likeable character, she thought. Thanks to him, she was going to have a very good day, too.
She started walking again, heading in the same direction as she had been before running into Bob and Eugene. She could see the Bowman building, which meant anybody in the Bowman building could see her, and her hair, while she was quite proud of it, was also an identifying badge even at a distance. If she headed back to her car right now, after her little conversation, anybody watching might wonder what she might have been told. Best to continue the walk, all around the block, and get back to her car as if nothing had happened at all. Inwardly, though, her heart was beating a little faster and her mind was racing. Steam tunnels! If they hadn’t been used for decades, it was no wonder they hadn’t shown up on any of the plans. Probably only a very few people even knew they were there any more. Anyone seeing one of the old “toadstools” would probably just assume they were part of the sewer lines, if they thought about them at all.
She was reminded of the advice of an old police detective: Sometimes it’s best not to ask questions. Just let somebody talk, and listen to what they say. You might get a whole lot of information that’s of no use at all…but you also might get tha
t one little bit of information that can pry the toughest case wide open.
There were still a few problems. How was she going to tell a steam tunnel manhole from a sewer system manhole? Bob Johansen would know, but she didn’t want to appear too interested in him. The amount of money involved here was serious, enough to get somebody killed, perhaps, and she was rather fond of that little old man. She had no proof that the steam tunnels were being used, either, but they seemed to be a good bet. The Bowman building was one of the older ones in the complex, so one of the tunnels probably ran under it. If someone knew about the tunnels, could they open up an access to one from the Bowman building, and keep it a secret?
By the time she got back to her car she still had a lot of unanswered questions. It didn’t matter. Now, at least, she knew where to start looking!
***
“You’re sure of this, Chief?” Jerry looked dubious. It was late, and there was just the two of them in the office. Marabel was as particular about clocking out on time as she was about clocking in early, and Claudia had wanted this talk to be private anyway.
“I’m sure that the old tunnels are still there. Whether one runs under Bowman or not, I’m not so sure, but we can find out.”
“How? None of the records seem to go back far enough.”
“I thought about that. The only way I can think of to be sure is to go into the tunnels ourselves.”
“Yeah, that might work, but wouldn’t it be trespassing?” asked Jerry, leaning back in his chair.
“I thought of that too. We’d have to get permission from the company that owns the complex. I also thought of a possible problem with that.”
“Which is?”
“We don’t know who’s involved in the thefts. It could be more than one person. If there’s more than one, we might tip our hand by asking about the tunnels. The thefts might stop then, and we’d never find out who was responsible.”
Jerry’s brow wrinkled as he thought about that. “Stopping the thefts isn’t enough?”
“Not for me.” Claudia replied. “It would be leaving the job half-done. The police could handle this, but I don’t think we have enough to go to them with yet.”
“Yeah.” Jerry grinned. “That’s what I thought. Okay, Chief, I’m in. What do we do?”
“You didn’t find any connection between Shepperton and any of the Bowman owners?”
“Nom” Jerry shrugged. “But it’s only been one day.”
“I know, and it’s okay. Keep looking into it, but there’s something else I want taken care of first.”
“Sure. What?”
“I’ve been wondering how anybody else found out about the steam tunnels, if there aren’t any records available that show them. Something that groundskeeper told me got me to thinking. He said that there had been a fire some years ago: Barker Steel, which was right near the steam plant. If there was a fire, there was probably an insurance claim. Could you check on what insurance company handled that claim?”
Jerry’s grin widened. “I surely could, Chief,” he nodded. “I surely could. I think I could even come up with the name of the agent responsible.”
“I know you can, Jer,” Claudia responded with her own grin. “I’ve got a feeling we’re going to crack this case.”
They went their separate ways home. Claudia felt too exhilarated to cook for herself, so she picked up something from a little Chinese take-out place on her way back to her apartment. She felt so good about the prospects of finally solving that damnable Bowman case that she’d forgotten about everything else until she arrived at her apartment door. Right in front of it, on the carpeted floor, was another tall, slim cut-glass vase with one red rose in it. For one brief moment, she thought it was the same one that had been delivered to her office. But she had looked at that one just before she turned off the lights and locked the door, and there was no way this one could be that one. There was no card, again, but she was certain who had sent it. What the hell was he up to?
She unlocked and opened her door before picking the flower up and stepping inside. It occurred to her that he might be inside, waiting for her. She shut and locked the door behind her, put the bag with her dinner in it on the coffee table along with this latest little bouquet and began searching through her apartment for him, or any sign that he had been there.
When the search turned up nothing at all, she felt a little foolish. What would she have done if she’d found him anyway? She took her dinner into the kitchen.
The food was good, but as she ate she kept thinking about Sam and wondering what he was up to. Why the flowers? She would have expected him to just show up at her door, with that damned arrogant grin of his and maybe a bag of toys in his hand. If he did, it would be so very easy to slam the door in his face…wouldn’t it? But this business with the flowers only puzzled her. Was he just trying to let her know he was here, trying to get her thinking about him? If that was his intention, she had to admit that it was working.
After dinner, she busied herself with making notes about the Bowman case. She would have to notify the police about anything she or Jerry came up with connecting Bowman with Shepperton. If there was a connection, it could very well be a criminal matter. She’d spent too much time developing good relationships with the police in the area to mess anything up now.
Before she went to bed she checked all of her locks. It might look silly, but after that dream she wouldn’t feel comfortable going to bed until she’d done it. She took the little vase with the single rose into her bedroom with her, and put it on her nightstand. She looked at it for a long time before turning out the light.
She tossed and turned for a little while. She was tired, all right, but sleep was eluding her. One reason was her excitement at the prospect of solving that case. The other…she looked towards the nightstand, where the single rose stood in its vase, almost invisible in the darkness. What was he doing? Why was he doing this?
After a few minutes, she threw back the covers and sat up in bed. She peeled off her T-shirt and then wriggled out of her panties, tossing both onto the floor before snuggling back under the covers again. The sheets felt good against her bare flesh. Her hand came up to cup and squeeze her breasts, gently. She closed her eyes and shivered deliciously. Rolling onto her back, she ran both hands up and down along her body, feeling her skin grow warmer, tingling. After a moment, she raised her knees, slid her hands down to her thighs, and parted her legs. The feel of her hands caressing her inner thighs made her shiver again, and moan softly.
The vibrator had its uses. Sometimes, though, there was nothing better than your own nimble fingers and hands. She slid one finger slowly inside herself, feeling how warm and wet she already was. Clenching her teeth, she began rubbing her clitoris with slow, circular motions. She could hear her breathing grow quicker, louder. Her free hand reached up over her head to grab one of the bars of the headboard. Her body arched tautly as she felt her orgasm building, slowly but inevitably. She began inhaling deeply, through her mouth, and holding each breath for a moment before exhaling with a long sigh. Her eyes were shut tight, wild images from two years ago dancing behind her eyelids, adding to her arousal. She could almost smell the hay of the old barn, feel it pricking at her back.
It was close now…so close! She sucked air into her lungs through clenched teeth and held it, held it, held it…
Everything let go all at once, and she could hear her own howl echoing in her ears as she came. The aftermath left her gasping and weak at first, and then she began giggling. These apartments were well built. You could rarely hear what any of the neighbors were doing. Once in a while she might hear, or more exactly, feel the bass line if someone was playing music really loudly, but she could never tell where it was coming from. She wondered if anyone had heard her, and what they thought the noise might have been. The picture of her neighbors, especially the quiet older couple downstairs, sitting up in their beds and looking around, startled, was so funny that it set her off on another fit of
the giggles. She half expected to hear a knock at her door, and somebody asking if she was all right. What story could she tell if someone did? But there was no knock. Still chuckling to herself, she yawned and stretched luxuriously before curling up under the blankets and going to sleep.
***
The clock radio woke her as it did every morning, but this time instead of hitting the snooze button she laid on her back, eyes closed, and listened to the stream of news without really hearing any of it except for a warning about possible thunderstorms that evening. She felt good. Not just rested, not just comfortable, but GOOD. Bowman would be all wrapped up soon: She was sure of it. It was a gut feeling, no more, but her gut was usually right about such things. Sam…well, he was around somewhere and his little gifts were interesting, a little romantic, even a little cute. She didn’t know what he was up to, but she knew, just knew, that she would find out soon. Too, she’d discovered that she liked sleeping in the nude. She sat up in bed, flexed her shoulders and stretched her arms and laughed. Two mornings in a row now she’d awakened feeling great. She hoped she could keep this streak going.
***
Marabel looked up from sorting the mail and smiled as Claudia entered the office with a cheerful “Good morning!”
“Morning, Miss Cole,” she nodded. “You’re looking a whole lot better these days.”
“Thanks to your advice, Marabel,” Claudia replied happily as she plopped her bag on her desk on her way to the coffee Maker. “A good night’s sleep can do wonders!” She said this a bit louder than she’d intended, but shrugged it off. Marabel wouldn’t pry.
“Any word from Jerry?” she asked as she poured herself a mug.
“He called in about five minutes ago to say he was on the case,” Marabel answered. “That was it, except to say he’d call in again as soon as he came up with something.”
