“It’s not a lot to go on – without a date of birth or anything – but I’ll give it a try.”
“Has there been any progress yet on the Ditto investigation?”
“Not unless you call a roomful of guys scratching their heads progress. The autopsy was inconclusive. We’re still not sure how he died.”
“Okay, I’ll be in touch,” I said, and I hung up.
“You want to go somewhere for lunch?” I said to Lucy.
“No, let’s stay home. You can come around to my place and then we can watch a movie. But first go and get your suitcase and some suitable clothes. I’ll do your packing for you.”
I went to my closet and chose an assortment of the warmest clothes I could find.
“What are we going to watch?” I asked Lucy.
“Fargo, you know – to get us in the mood,” she said, as she rummaged about in my suitcase.
“You’ll have to get something warmer,” she said. “You can’t wear these.”
“You should see the other guy,” I said.
Chapter Twenty
The Twin Cities
“Mister Ditto had a bad record,” I said to Lucy as we sat having lunch. “He’d recently finished a stint in the Correctional Facility in Minneapolis. He was still on bail. Calley’s trying to find out who his parole officer was which should be a useful lead.”
“What was he inside for – this last time I mean?”
“Fraud of some sort.”
“I wonder what brought him to Boston.”
“Something he found out, or already knew, about Lisa I guess. He probably found out she was married to a rich guy and decided he’d turn his hand to a spot of blackmail.”
“I’m dying to find out what it was,” Lucy said.
“Well let’s hope we can,” I said.
“Have you ever been there before? To Minnesota?”
“Nope.”
“It’s minus eleven today,’ Lucy said. “And that was before lunch.”
“Have you got plenty of warm stuff to wear?” I asked.
“Yeah – I’ve got all my old skiing stuff.”
“You haven’t been skiing for years.”
“So what?”
“You think they’ll still fit you?”
She looked across at me, her fork stationary between her plate and her mouth. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she said.
After the movie Lucy took me to a surplus store to buy some more clothes. She chose them, I just watched and paid for them.
“Got everything?” I said as we left the house for the airport. “I don’t want to have to turn around half way and come back because you’ve forgotten your nail polish or something.”
Lucy looked at me with a pitying expression and shook her head at me. Then we climbed inside the Chevy and set off for the airport.
*
It was ten forty-five when we checked into a budget motel on the outskirts of the city. I was paying for it myself and I didn’t want to waste money on anything fancy. The guy in the reception was a tall, gangly youth in his mid-twenties. He eyed us up and down and spent a good deal of time looking at what appeared to be a largely empty register.
“Staying long?” he said.
“We’ll just take it a day at a time,” I said. “Maybe two or three days.”
He continued to run his ballpoint up and down the register as if expecting a sudden change.
“We’re pretty tired,” I said. “Come a long way.”
He showed no sign of having heard me.
“There seem to be a lot of empty rooms,” I said, peering out of the window, “unless folk go to bed real early around here.”
After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably no more than two or three minutes, he made a decision. “Twenty-three,” he said, handing me the keys. As we passed a dozen empty rooms on the way I wondered what was wrong with twenty-one or twenty-two.
“So what’s the plan?” Lucy said as she unpacked the bags and I unscrewed the top of a bottle of jack Daniels I’d picked up at the airport.
“I told you on the plane,” I said.
“I was playing Candy Crush; I wasn’t paying attention. Tell me again.”
“Well tomorrow I’m going to call each of the numbers from Delmar’s telephone address book.”
“How are you going to explain to them how you got their number?”
“I’m hoping they won’t ask. Some of them will I guess.”
“Are you going to tell them he’s dead?”
“No, I don’t want them to think I’m from the police. If I say I’m a PI then I don’t think many of them are going to want to talk to me either.”
“Could you pretend to be from the parole office?”
“Not exactly, but maybe something along those lines. I’ve asked Calley to help.”
“Does Calley’s reach extend this far?”
“Not normally, no. But I asked him to contact Delmar’s parole officer and explain that Delmar’s been found dead. He’s to say that he’s working with me on official police business in connection with another murder enquiry which may be linked to Ditto’s death and he’d appreciate it if they could cooperate with me. I’m optimistic that they will, although Calley’s telephone manner leaves a lot to be desired. We’ll have to wait and see.”
“What help do you think you can get from the parole office?”
“If they agree to help then I’m hoping to be able to tell the people I telephone that I’m working with the parole office; that I’m trying to locate him. I assume at least some of the people in his phone-book will care enough about him to at least talk to me.”
“And if you meet any of them I’ll be coming too, right.”
“Of course; a woman’s touch may be just what we need. Some of the names are females. Maybe they’re girlfriends, or ex-girlfriends. Maybe even his sisters for all I know.”
“How many numbers are there?”
“Over forty.”
“Why don’t we split them up?” Lucy said. “I’ll call the women and you can call the guys.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I said, as I downed my glass of whiskey.
*
There’s cold and there’s very cold and Minneapolis was both of them. The parole office was downtown, near the Gateway District and not far from the river. The parole officer was named Jim Fellows, and we were introduced to him in his office. He wasn’t expecting two of us.
“Detective Calley didn’t mention that you had a partner,” he said to me.
“She’s my assistant, actually,” I said.
Lucy proudly handed him her card. I couldn’t help noticing that it was a gold embossed card.
“It’s much the same thing really she said. We’re like two sides of the same coin.”
Jim Fellows looked at her approvingly.
“You know,” she said, “he’s the head and I’m the tail.”
Fellows laughed. “Well now, I understand that you need as much background as I can provide about Mr. Ditto. The late Mr. Ditto.”
“Yes,” I said. “I don’t have anything to do with the investigation directly, but I’m working for the Police Department on another homicide case which we have reason to believe may be related to this one. Detective Calley and I are therefore sharing information and we’re trying to assist each other as best we can. The nature of Ditto’s homicide was somewhat unusual.”
“I wasn’t told much. Only that he’d been found dead in a bathtub and identified by his prints.”
“Well I don’t need to go into detail, but there’s a reason to believe that his death might be connected with something that happened back here in Minnesota. Or maybe it’s connected with someone he knew from here.”
“I see.”
“The police don’t have any evidence that he was involved in any kind of criminal behavior in Boston, otherwise they’d have liaised with the Minneapolis Police departm
ent. The kind of information I need is to help me understand his background; particularly his recent background since he was released from custody.”
“He was serving three years for a fraud case. He’d served two years of his sentence and here in Minnesota he’s entitled to serve the remainder on parole, under supervision; my supervision. But of course I can’t keep tabs on parolees all the time, except those that are tagged. He wasn’t.”
“Can you tell me the last time he reported to you? That way we’ll have some idea how long he may have been in Boston. At least it will give us the maximum amount of time he could have been there,” I said.
“Almost three weeks ago,” Fellows said.
“Where was he living?”
“I can give you his address. I don’t know if he was living there with anyone else. I doubt you’ll find anything useful there, though – the police will already have checked it out.”
“Thanks, that would be a very helpful start,” I said. “I was wondering whether, if I can find anyone who might be able to shed light on Ditto’s recent past, I could say I’m working in conjunction with the parole office or something like that.”
“How about ‘with the approval of’?” he said. “It means much the same thing. I can’t officially sanction any inquiries you make you understand, but I don’t see any harm in that choice of words.”
“Yes, good idea. Thank you.”
Fellows went through Delmar’s file with us. It was full of information that I didn’t think would help much with our investigation. I really needed to find someone who could shed light on why Ditto had left for Boston. He would have known that it was a breach of his parole conditions and there was a good chance it would land him back in prison, so I figured he’d found something out which would be worth the risk in the long run.
After spending more than an hour with Fellows we left his office and went to look for somewhere we could get a hot drink. The hotel was too far away. I needed to check out where Delmar’s former address was. If we were lucky, there’d be people there who might be able to shed light on the purpose of his trip to Boston. I waited until we were in the warmth of a nearby coffee shop before I spoke to Lucy.
“Two sides of the same coin?” I said. “Head and tail; what did you think you were talking about?”
Lucy looked mildly offended. “I was just trying to break the ice,” she said.
“Was it supposed to be some kind of risqué joke?” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“You know, tail,” I said slowly, “as in a hot-looking woman, and head, as in…?”
“Oh my God,” Lucy said, her hand shooting up in front of her mouth for a second, “I never even thought of that!”
We both burst out laughing.
“Lucy, joking aside, you don’t even have your investigator’s license yet. You know how many strings I had to pull in the police department to even get you approved? Enough to string a tennis racket; and then only because I assured them that you’d been assisting me with my investigations for more than three years.”
“I’ve been assisting in your investigations for more than three years; for a lot longer than that.”
“You know what I mean. Just try not to stick your neck out too much until you get that ticket in your hot little hand.”
“You’re being a bully,” Lucy said sulkily. “I was only trying to help. And we’re miles from Boston anyway – it’s like being on another planet,” she said.
“Oh come on Lucy; I’m just being careful that’s all. We don’t want a promising career to be cut short. Just be satisfied with ‘assistant investigator’ for the time being, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, meekly.
“Nice business cards,” I said.
“They are, aren’t they? Of course they weren’t cheap, but they’ll probably last me for ages,” she said, smiling broadly and hunching her shoulders slightly.
“We need to find someone that knows why Delmar went to Boston,” I said.
“Like a close friend?”
“Or maybe even an enemy; or at least someone who didn’t like him much. Let’s go and see where he lived,” I said.
It was a dismal place. It was single room apartment, empty of life and pretty much anything else too. I got inside easily enough but could quickly see that it was a waste of time. When Delmar had left his home he’d clearly not had any intention of coming back there. He would have realized it was the first place the authorities would look for him and there’s no way that he would have left any clue behind as to where he’d gone, or why.
We decided to go back to the motel and start on the phone calls. It was the middle of the afternoon when we got back. We were starving. There was a book of local take-outs so we ordered a pizza from a local Italian joint. We ordered the biggest size possible with everything on it and then crossed our fingers while we waited. It turned out to be better than we expected, and it was still fairly hot when it arrived.
Meanwhile, Lucy had been to a nearby convenience store to buy some Gatorade and some coffee-bags. I offered to go but she said no, because I was still an invalid. We sat in the room and ate and drank. It was like being students again. When we finished our beggar’s banquet we made a start on the phone calls.
We made no real progress. Some of the numbers had expired, some simply rang with nobody answering and several went straight to message. We left messages. Briefly we said that we were working with the approval of the parole office and trying to contact his friends or family members in order to locate Mr. Ditto; there was concern that he may have come to some harm. For those who answered the phone we didn’t mention the death, we just said we were from Boston where he’d last been seen were and trying to contact his friends or family. Some said they hadn’t seen or heard of him for months or years; one told me that he was in the pen. I got one or two “who the hell are you?” answers and Lucy got a “If you find the bastard you can kick his ass for me”. Gradually we worked our way through all the numbers without getting anywhere, but for more than half of them we’d left messages and I was still hopeful.
We decided not to venture out. We were pretty much in the middle of nowhere anyway. We thought of going to hire a car – there was a Budget rental lot down the street – but there didn’t seem much point to rent a car unless and until we had somewhere to go. So we lay on the bed and watched some old movies. We watched the last half of The General. Buster Keaton still made us both laugh. And then about six my cell phone rang and when I picked it up I noticed it was a local number.
“Hi,” said the voice on the other end, “you looking for Delmar?”
“That’s right,” I said. “Who is this?”
“I’m called Atterbury,” he said. “You working for the parole board?”
“Not exactly,” I said. “Are you a friend of Delmar’s?”
“Yeah, long time. How’d you get my number?”
I decided to take a chance and change tack. “I’m a private investigator. Delmar’s dead and I’m trying to find out who killed him.”
There was a long pause and I thought I’d blown it.
“How’d he die?” Atterbury said.
“I think he was murdered,” I said. “The police in Boston are still investigating the circumstances. They don’t have any suspects yet.”
There was a fairly long pause. “Are you helping them?” he said.
“No, I’m not working for the police. I’m working for myself. I’m a private investigator from Boston and I’ve come here to see if I can find out what he was doing over there. If I can find that out it may help to find out who did this to him.”
There was another long pause. “You on the level?”
“Yes, I’m trying to help find his killer.”
“Del and me’s like brothers, man. We go back a long way, a real long way.” Another pause. “I know why he went to Boston,” Atterbury said. “Well, I know a bit about it – not everything th
ough.”
“Are you willing to come and see me?” I asked him.
“I guess so. Where are you?”
I told him.
“That’s pretty far, man.”
“I’ll pay your taxi fare if you like. It’ll be easier for you to meet me than vice versa – I’ve never been here before and I don’t know my way around. Right now I don’t have any wheels, either.”
There was silence the other end.
“We can meet in a public place,” I said, “if that’s what’s bothering you. In the motel lobby; it’s a multiple and there are plenty of people about.”
“It’s not that. I don’t have enough for the fare,” he said.
“Okay then you tell the cab to come here and I’ll meet you out front and pay him.”
“Sure, okay,” he said. “You know Delmar and me go back a long way; a real long way. I’ll tell you what I can if you think it’ll help.”
“I’m sure it will. And thanks,” I said.
“Give me about an hour. If I’m longer’n that just wait; I’ll be there,” he said, and hung up.
“We’re in luck,” I said to Lucy. “Atterbury is on his way.”
Chapter Twenty One
Atterbury
The cab with Atterbury inside it turned up at seven-thirty. Lucy and I were sitting in the motel’s reception being ignored by the guy behind the desk when the cab showed up. A skinny guy in a hooded top and hunched up shoulders got out and started to look around him. I went outside to meet him.
“Atterbury?” I said.
“That’s me, man.”
“Get yourself inside. I’ll take care of the cab.”
He went into the reception and I followed a few moments later. Under the hood he was about the same age as Delmar I guessed. I introduced him to Lucy.
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” he said. He was rubbing the palms of his hands together. He wasn’t dressed for the weather. We went over and sat inside.
“Let’s go to the room,” I said. “You want something to eat or drink?”
“No, I’m okay man.” Then he thought. “Maybe a coke?”
Till Death - Mark Kane Mysteries - Book Four: A Private Investigator Crime Series of Murder, Mystery, Thriller & Suspense Stories...with a dash of Romance. A Murder, Mystery & Suspense Thriller Page 13
