by Mike Befeler
“What pretext did you use?” Mark asked.
“I said the police had asked me to do some background checks in regards to the Manny Grimes murder.”
Ben smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “You’re going to land us in deep shit with the police as well as with this group of criminals. How could you do something so stupid?”
Shelby pursed his lips. “If we’re going to uncover information, we have to investigate.”
“Shelby, for a brilliant professor you have the common sense of a four year old,” Ben said, spitting out the words with contempt. “We don’t want these assholes to know we’re investigating them. They’re violent and could easily take it out on us.”
“Well, it’s too late for that,” Shelby said as he threw his notes on the table. “Do you want to hear what I found out or not?”
“Might as well,” Ben said, shaking his head. “Before the murderer kills all of us.”
CHAPTER 8
Shelby’s mouth hung open at Ben’s comment.
“That’s the first time I’ve ever seen you speechless,” Woody said, elbowing Shelby in the ribs.
Shelby picked up his notes, shuffled them and selected one sheet of paper. He scanned it and then said, “In spite of your irritating interruptions, I’ll share this one last item with all of you. I specifically asked Ken Idler who he thought committed the murder.”
“And he said the butler did it.” Woody chortled.
Shelby gave him an indignant stare. “Of course not. He said he suspected Jacob Fish because Jacob wanted to eliminate Manny as an unwanted investor in Jacob’s software business.”
“I’m sure each of the suspects puts the finger on someone else,” Ben said. “What else did you learn in regards to Ken’s business?”
“He wouldn’t tell me much more. I think it’s crooked though. Probably into some kind of smuggling.”
“Look at the time, guys,” Mark interrupted. “We’d better head over to the rec center before we lose our reservation.”
When Mark arrived at the court, he slammed his paddle onto the net cord. He felt like he wanted to use it on Shelby after hearing of the ill-conceived interview with Ken Idler. He expected repercussions from what Shelby had done. How to contain them? He’d need to put more energy into the investigation to quickly reach a resolution. He took a deep breath and stretched to touch his toes. Now he was ready for action, both off and on the court.
Ben strolled over and poked Mark’s equipment bag with his paddle. “Look at this duct-tape repair job. Why don’t you buy a new bag?”
“It’s still in good shape. A mere tear in the lining.”
Ben shook his head. “You should be in a commercial for duct tape. Testimonial from Mark Yeager. Duct tape, the all-purpose adhesive. Holds my shoes, equipment bag and life together.”
Mark flinched at the memory of the stitches after his surgery.
Mark teamed with Ben and served first.
Woody drove the return hard to Mark’s backhand.
Mark hit a crisp volley that careened off the side screen.
Woody retrieved the shot and hit a deep lob over Mark’s head.
Never let a lob bounce was the cardinal rule he’d learned when first playing the game. It presented a new way of thinking. On the small court, once at net, you never gave up the offense.
He reached high and hit a looping shot to the middle of the court. It had to be placed just right so Shelby wouldn’t step over and drive a forehand. The ball hit two inches inside the line and rebounded off the back screen.
Woody bent low and thrust his paddle under the ball, sending another lob skyward.
Mark played the shot deep cross court, hoping to force a crazy bounce off the corner where the screens converged. Connect right and the ball would rebound as though launched from a slingshot.
Ben hit an overhead, sending Shelby scrambling to retrieve it.
So many options. Play the ball on a volley, on one bounce, off one screen or off two screens.
After winning the point with a well-placed volley, Mark smiled. What a game!
On Wednesday morning Mark and Sophie sat at the breakfast table, a cup of coffee in each of their hands, looking out the window at the hillside.
“You still have a few late-blooming flowers,” Mark said.
“They won’t last long between the fall weather and the deer.”
“Is your nemesis back again?”
“Yes. That one doe particularly likes our yard. I’ve shooed her away countless times. She even eats the flowers that deer aren’t supposed to like.”
“She must appreciate your gardening.”
“I’ve half a mind to take up hunting.”
Mark laughed. “I can just picture you looking through the sights of a rifle, especially with your dislike of guns.”
“It could happen.”
“I doubt that. We could adopt a dog.”
Sophie shook her head. “No. I don’t miss cleaning up after a pet, and all of our neighbors who have dogs still have deer in their yards. I guess it’s the price you pay for living next to open space.”
“You have to admit it’s quite a sight to watch deer out on the hillside.”
“As long as they stay there and don’t try to eat my flowers.”
Later that morning, Mark drove to the Boulder public library to do some further research on Jacob Fish’s company, Creo Tech. He wanted to read a six-month-old article that he’d found a reference to on the Internet, but hadn’t yet been able to track down the full write-up. He found it in the stack of magazines, lying askew on the shelf.
He selected a seat in the periodicals section, enjoying the bright sunlight streaming onto the desk. The article described how Creo Tech contracted a portion of its development to a Taiwanese company called Lingan Ling, a company suspected of selling unauthorized copies of Microsoft Word in Taiwan. More questionable business dealings for Creo Tech and Jacob Fish!
He searched for more information about Lingan Ling, but could find nothing. A dead end. He’d have to locate some other sources.
When Mark returned home, he found Sophie in tears. She stood in the living room.
“What have you got us into,” she said with a sob.
“What happened?” he asked, approaching to give her a hug.
“Don’t touch me!” She flinched. “Look at that.” She pointed to the rug.
Mark bent down and picked up a rock amid shards of glass.
“I came home and found our window broken and this attached to the rock.” Sophie tossed a crumpled piece of paper at Mark.
He unfolded it, finding a neatly typed message: CUT OUT THE AMATEUR DETECTIVE CRAP IF YOU VALUE YOUR WIFE, LIFE AND HOUSE.
Mark reached out for Sophie’s hand, but she smacked his away.
The doorbell rang.
“I called the police,” Sophie said, her eyes blazing. “You can take care of it now.” She turned and ran upstairs. He waited a moment and heard the bedroom door slam. He sighed and answered the front door.
Detective Peters stood there. “Mr. Yeager. We received a call reporting some vandalism.”
Mark handed the note to Peters and showed him into the living room.
“My wife came home to find this.” Mark pointed to the broken glass.
Peters inspected the scene. “I’ll have the lab analyze the note, but there’s probably nothing we’ll discover. You seem to have made some enemies, Mr. Yeager.”
“I think we’ve uncovered a nest of rattlesnakes.”
“We?”
“Several of us have been looking into the backgrounds of the suspects in the Manny Grimes murder since Manny was a friend of ours.”
Peters’s head lifted from the notes he jotted on a pad, and met Mark’s gaze. “I need to warn you of the inadvisability of involving yourself in a murder investigation. Who else is helping you?”
Mark looked down. “Shelby Prescott, Ben Quentin and Woody Thorp. You interviewed them the night o
f the murder.”
“And why do you suppose you’ve received a threat at this time?”
Mark gulped. “Unfortunately, Shelby told Ken Idler that he was investigating the murder. I don’t know what linked me to it.” Then Mark had a disconcerting thought. He had to talk to Shelby.
Peters snapped his notebook shut. “I’ll need to speak with each of your co-conspirators.”
Sophie had reappeared. “Please talk some sense into my husband.”
“This would be a good time to listen to your wife,” Peters said. “The police have an investigation to do. You’re only adding work for us and endangering your family.”
Mark took a deep breath. “I understand, Detective. I feel I owe it to Manny to try to help. Have you made progress in finding the murderer?”
“I can’t discuss the details with you. Be assured that we’re doing everything possible. Do you have anything else to tell me about the murder suspects?”
“You probably know this, but here’s what I’ve heard. For starters, Ken Idler and Manny Grimes may have been involved together in suspect business dealings. Also, Lee Daggett gambles and may have been in debt to Manny.”
Detective Peters stared at Mark. “You and your friends have come up with more information than the casual observer.”
“We all want to see Manny’s murderer off the street.”
“And what conclusions have you reached?”
“I think all the suspects appear capable of murder. I expect they’re pointing fingers at each other. Also, since many platform tennis players wear gloves you probably found no fingerprints on the murder weapon.”
Detective Peters chuckled. “You’ve obviously been mulling this over. One error in your analysis. Fingerprints did appear on the murder weapon. And only one of the people on that court was not using gloves. The problem is that the fingerprints on the paddle used as a bludgeon match the victim’s, and the victim was the person without gloves. The murderer used a spare paddle grabbed from Manny’s equipment bag.”
Mark looked hard at Peters. “I’d be willing to help in any way possible.”
“Thanks, but let us take care of it. The rock through your window should convince you to back off.”
Peters paused and Mark nodded. “Got it.”
“But if your interference turns up anything interesting, please call me. You have the number.” Peters winked and headed for the door.
After Peters left, Sophie disappeared upstairs again. Mark called Shelby at his office on the University of Colorado campus. “Shelby, when you spoke with Ken Idler yesterday did you happen to mention my name?”
“Yes, I said we had an investigative team that included you, Ben and Woody.”
Mark clenched his fist and said in a strained voice, “Shelby, you’d better go home and check to see if Ken Idler and company left you a love note.”
Sophie appeared with a suitcase. “I’ve called Norm. I’m going to stay with him while you’re preoccupied with this ridiculous diversion. I can see by the way you spoke with the policeman that you’re only giving lip service to quitting this absurd adventure.”
Mark cupped his hand over the phone. “I need to see it through. I owe it to Manny.”
“You don’t owe anything to Manny. I never liked him. As I’ve told you, he never seemed on the level to me. In any case, Norm is expecting me. Call me when you come to your senses.”
“I will. I need some time to see what I can uncover.”
Sophie paused halfway out the door. “How will you stay safe?”
“I’ll be careful. I’ll be checking in with Ben, Shelby and Woody.”
Sophie looked at him in disbelief. “This leads the list of the dumbest things you’ve ever done.”
CHAPTER 9
The Thursday lunchtime platform tennis game generated as much enthusiasm as a steak at a vegetarian convention. Mark resisted the urge to serve the ball into the back of Shelby’s shaggy white head when they teamed together, but it was too late to try to knock some sense into him. Afterward, the foursome sat in silence at Vic’s.
Mark scanned the room, noting a collection of casually dressed coffee and tea devotees. Then his gaze returned to his companions. “Don’t everyone speak at once.”
Ben cleared his throat. “I’d like to put my hands around the throat of the bastard who threw that rock through my window. That really pissed me off.”
“Did you call the police?” Shelby asked.
“Yeah, a lot of good it will do. And the rest of you?”
“I took a rock as well,” Woody said. “I called the police so they’d have it on record.” He paused, his eyes darting from side to side. “I don’t know if we should continue the investigation,” He rested his chin on his hands. “This matter should be left for the professionals. That Detective Peters read me the riot act yesterday. I’ll need to think over whether I should stay involved or not.”
“What do you have to say, Shelby?” Mark asked.
“This is all my fault.” He hung his head for a moment and then looked up. “But it’s not possible for me to keep investigating. I can’t afford to replace broken windows all the time. My financial situation remains too precarious right now.”
“Ben?” Mark fixed him with a steely stare.
“There’s a risk if we keep making inquiries into the dealings of these crooks. I’ve been around enough of them to understand how they operate. They’ll only increase their pressure on us. Still, I want to see the bastard nailed who killed Manny.”
Mark watched each of them in turn before he spoke. “I understand your concerns. I’ve thought it over and against my better judgment and the wishes of Sophie, I’m going to continue. Manny helped me, and I want to do what I can to solve this murder.”
Ben raised his eyebrows. “I think it’s more than that.” He wagged a finger at Mark. “You’re trying to prove something to yourself.”
Mark sighed. “Maybe you’re right. This could be my way of coming back from cancer, but I have to see this through.”
“There’s one viewpoint I’ll mention after thinking over what all of you have reported,” Ben said. “Ken Idler’s now in first place in the suspect beauty pageant. I’m certain that his import-export business involves smuggling. Maybe Manny had some dirt on Idler, so Idler wasted him.”
Mark still feared Sophie’s reaction to his continued involvement. As he sat in his car outside Vic’s, he watched bicyclists in their padded helmets and colorful windbreakers navigate the parking lot. He reached for his cell phone and called his son’s law office in Colorado Springs.
“What’s up, Dad?”
“Thanks for letting your mother visit, Norm. Did she give you any hint of what I’m doing?”
“Only a comment that you had become too carried away with some project.”
“I’m involved in a murder investigation.”
There was a pause on the line. “That’s not exactly your specialty, Dad. Maybe looking into a new high-tech business but not a murder.”
“I know, but the murdered man was a platform tennis friend, and I’m committed to doing what I can to help find the killer.”
“What’s happened so far?”
“I’m right in the middle of it and trying to piece it together. The biggest surprise so far concerns the murder victim. I’ve always thought of him as an honest businessman, but I’ve discovered that he had some pretty dicey dealings with the suspects. They all had reasons to kill him.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
Mark thought for a moment. “Actually, you could chase down one thing for me. One of the suspects, Ken Idler, owns a company called Idler Enterprises. I’d like to find out if any legal action has been brought against the company.”
“Sure, Dad. I can check that out next week. I’ll give you a call when I’ve had a chance to look into it.”
“That’d be helpful.”
“But, Dad, I thought you needed to be taking it easy after your cancer surgery.”
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“Don’t start sounding like your mother.”
CHAPTER 10
When Mark returned to his home office, he focused on the bookshelf stuffed with the best-selling business books of the last decade. Too bad all that reading hadn’t prepared him for the criminal mind. Then he regarded the oil painting of a mountain scene in Alaska. So peaceful. He wouldn’t mind being out in the wilderness. He drummed a pencil against his teeth. He had to do something constructive here. Picking up the phone, he punched in the number for Al Lawson at the Denver Post.
“Al, have you come across anything else on Jacob Fish or Creo Tech?”
“Yeah, one item came up. Give me a moment to find my notes.”
Mark rifled through a few pages of the latest Business Week while he waited. He considered starting to read an article on exciting new technologies being tracked by business analysts when Al came back on the line.
“Here it is. Creo Tech recently issued a press release that one of its co-founders, David Randolf, has left the company for personal reasons. Translation—he argued with Jacob Fish and lost.”
“Thanks, I’ll follow up on that with Randolf. I have something else for you to check out, regarding two other companies that I’m looking into. Do you have any information on either Idler Enterprises or Westerfield Weapons?”
“Never heard of Westerfield Weapons, but Idler Enterprises sounds familiar . . . Yes, an import-export business based in Boulder. Let me check my computer. I seem to remember an interview I did a while back on that one. Here we go. I interviewed Ken Idler. Kind of a sleazy guy.”
“That’s the one. What did he have to say?”
“Idler came across as arrogant, bragging how rapidly he had grown his business. Then he turned defensive when I mentioned his smuggling charge a year earlier.”
“What kind of smuggling charge?”
“One of his employees was arrested. Here’s a direct quote from the smooth-talking Idler: ‘That was obviously the work of one individual and not sanctioned by Idler Enterprises. I fired him on the spot and turned him over to the police. I still think one of my competitors paid him to give me a black eye.’ Idler’s denial doesn’t convince me.”
