Kate just stared at Lamprey, almost wishing she was doing a magazine story. “People know about this?”
“’Course they do. Our customers love it. They call it ‘mom’ because it makes them do what’s right. If they don’t pay, a beeping noise starts inside their car and gets louder. They bring their loan current, we turn off the noise. They don’t, the guys at APC flip the switch. Saves money, time, and worry. ”
“Busick’s family of cars has an amazing system here,” Kate said. “Al was quite the businessman.”
“You know, even Rick helped out. People were disconnecting the GPS. Made it hard for us to locate the cars. But Rick figured out a way to install it so nobody would find it. He’s really good with mechanical stuff.”
“Did he and Al work together?”
“Al tried to bring him along. Gave him the managership of the muscle cars. He does real well over there.”
“So you and Mr. Busick pioneered a complete lending system,” Kate summarized before she left, “that opens up lending to thousands more buyers--and protects the integrity of these dealerships.”
Lamprey nodded approvingly.
As Kate rolled out of the closer room, she took a different door than they’d come in. On a wall around a corner she noticed a color picture someone had stuck on a bulletin board. The picture showed a primitive, metal electrical switch--like something from Dr. Frankenstein’s lab--with a large handle and bare wires at either end. Under the picture were the words, “Kill Switch!”
Chapter 38
Kate looked up and down the hallway then rolled back to her temporary office. As usual, the cubical area was quiet--except Kate could hear a conversation going on in Nina’s office, just over the upholstered wall.
“Don’t be so nervous, Ricky,” Nina’s voice soothed.
“I’m not talkin’ to Jake. He keeps givin’ me that look. Didn’t say anything about Al. Asked me about my mom. What’s he worried about anyway?”
Kate realized Nina was talking to Ricky Stark. She held her breath and rolled closer to the wall.
“Things’ll calm down.”
“Like when?” Stark said. “Fucking cops. They searched my apartment in Reno. Didn’t find anything.”
“Ricky, c’mon. It’s a big case for the media. Totally. It’ll get settled.”
“I thought they already got that woman from Arizona.”
“Relax, Ricky, chill.”
Silence. Then a low hmmm sound. Kate couldn’t tell who made the noise, but they weren’t talking.
After a moment Stark said, “We’re working the deal now on those two cars I showed you.”
“You’re going ahead?”
“Yeah. Al fought me from the start. He said Alex and his people were crooks. Crooks? Al calling someone a crook? That’s pretty funny. Well, Al’s not stopping me now, is he? We sold one of the cars, and buyers also want the other one. They want to pick it up in Reno.”
“Yeah?”
“This is worth millions, Nina. Then we’ll get away--from everything. Get away from everybody. I’ve been to this place in....”
The words faded in and out. Stark must have lowered his voice or turned the other way. Kate strained to hear.
“Yeah, I’ll get the pony car lot, but I told you--”
“You know what I think,” Nina interrupted. “But let’s talk about it later.”
“Okay. I gotta get back to the shop. You’re awesome...”
Stark’s voice trailed off and Kate guessed from the little sounds she heard they must be kissing or groping--or both.
Silently, Kate reversed her chair, spun around in the middle of the tiny office, and headed out the corridor. She saw Stark walking away.
“Mr. Stark,” she said, and he kept walking. Kate repeated herself louder. Stark stopped and turned around. His moustache and small goatee were not quite filled in. The rest of his face carried a several-days stubble.
Kate wheeled toward him and for a moment forgot who she was. Then her alias came back. “I’m Jennifer Wicker.”
Stark glared down at her.
“I’m a writer. I’m doing a story on Mr. Busick for Lifestyle Vegas magazine.”
“Uh huh.”
“First, I’m so sorry about his death. It was a shock to so many people and I’m sorry you lost him.”
“Okay. Yeah, thanks.”
Stark had his mother’s shiny dark hair, Kate noticed, and his eyes were steady, unblinking. Defiant? “I wonder if I could talk with you briefly for my story,” Kate said. “I’m sure you can tell me about him, what he was like.”
“Why don’t you talk to my mother?”
“Oh--” Kate almost started to say, “I have.” Instead she said, “Oh, I plan to do that, but I’d like to talk to you first, if it’s okay.”
Stark started slowly shaking his head.
“Oh come on. It’ll be all right.” Nina had walked up behind Kate. Stark looked over Kate’s shoulder at her and Kate got the feeling Nina was gesturing to him.
“I’m really busy right now,” Stark finally said. He rubbed his thin beard with the back of his fingers. “But if you come over to our location tomorrow morning early, eight o’clock, we can talk. No pictures, though.” He handed Kate a card that read ‘Busick Pony Cars, Rick Stark, general manager.’
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow. And I don’t use a camera, just a notebook.”
As Stark nodded and walked off, Kate turned to Ortega.
“Thanks, Nina. I appreciate the help. I guess you know him.”
“Yeah,” she said and wandered slowly back to her office.
Kate glided back to the counter in her office and powered up her laptop. These aren’t the kind of notes I’d be transcribing if I were a reporter again, she thought, remembering her first job out of college. The quotes and observations she typed focused on motives for murder, Busick’s characteristics, and the quirks that might have made him a target.
After a few minutes, Kate sensed someone looking at her. She glanced up and saw Nina looking over the wall.
“Did you find out about the kill switches?”
Kate could just see Nina from her chin up. “The collection procedures are quite fascinating,” she said.
“That’s what you call ’em?”
Kate shrugged. “How would you describe it?”
“How long have you been back?”
“I just rolled in when I saw Mr. Stark. Why?”
“I was gonna to give you some ideas for your article. Maybe after lunch.”
Kate didn’t have anything specific planned for the afternoon. She balanced the benefits of hanging around to listen for useful gossip against the risk of running into Polhouse.
Ducking out for lunch would be laborious if she took her car, so Kate thought she’d roll out front first and look for a nearby restaurant. When she reached the exit, she heard her name--her assumed name.
“Jennifer.” It was the office manager. “I have someone you might like to talk to. He knew Mr. Busick pretty well.”
Kate looked up to see Marshall Jacques standing next to the manager. Kate fought the urge to look away. Jacques’s height meant he would have to bend down to get a good look at her face. She hoped her makeup and glasses would keep him from remembering her. After they shook hands, Jacques took a small step back, and Kate dared not make eye contact.
“Good to meet you,” he said. “So, Jennifer, is it?”
Chapter 39
Lyle was not just puzzled but concerned that Kate hadn’t offered to pick him up at the Las Vegas airport. He’d imagined her meeting him with a smile and a hug as she’d done a few days before in Reno. He wondered what she’d be wearing, how she’d feel. This time she had told him he would probably need his own rental car and she gave him the address of her hotel. When he knocked, a woman who looked a lot like Kate opened the door.
Black plastic eyeglasses didn’t completely cover heavy, dark eyebrows. Her cheeks looked thin, and dull brown hair, parted on
the side, swept across her forehead. Momentarily stunned, Lyle recovered. “Hi, where’s Kate?” He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and walked past her into the room.
“So, do you think it’s good?” Kate said, smiling and holding out her long skirt.
“It’s terrific. You look sort of like a nerd. Is this how you presented yourself at Busick headquarters?”
“Uh huh. I told them I was a magazine writer doing an obit on Busick. I got to talk to several people already. Wait until I tell you about the kill switches.”
“Did your disguise work?”
“Yes, with one other addition.”
“What’s that? Did you slouch?”
“I rented a wheelchair.”
“Wheelchair? Oh. That would knock a few feet off your height. Hey, a detective in a wheelchair, like Ironside.”
“Who?”
“Never mind. Is the chair difficult to manage?”
“Not too bad. I practiced. But there’s so much to tell you. Ricky Stark is afraid of the police. Sounds like he wants to hide out. He complained about the police searching his Reno apartment.”
“How’d you hear this?”
“He’s got a girlfriend at the office. I eavesdropped.”
“From your wheelchair?”
“Yes, it’s handy. Gives me a low profile. But there’s more. I saw Marshall Jacques, the RSD board member, at the dealership. And the Reno detective who questioned me for hours.”
Holy shit, Lyle thought. Where do we go from here? And Kate seems relatively calm. “Did the cop see you?”
“Yes. As a matter of fact, he opened a door for me.”
Lyle felt more alarmed the more Kate talked.
“But he didn’t recognize me. He hardly looked at me. People tend to ignore anyone in a wheelchair. They’re uncomfortable making eye contact.”
Lyle nodded. “All the better for you.”
“But I think Jacques recognized me. We’re going to have to deal with him very soon.”
“Want to get dinner?” Lyle asked, but he was thinking more of a gin and tonic, or three, before dinner.
“Yes, but there’s one thing I need to do first. Call Gale Forrester. He’s the one who started the Rockin’ Summer Days rumor, and he owes me an explanation.” Kate set aside her fashion glasses. She borrowed Lyle’s phone, blocked the caller ID, and called Forrester’s cell. She sat on the bed, put the phone on speaker, and set it next to her. Forrester answered on the third ring.”
“Gale, it’s Kate Sorensen. Let’s talk.”
“I’m clear tomorrow morning.”
“No, let’s talk now.”
“Sure. Are you still in town? According to the AP, the police are pretty interested in finding you.”
“You’ve seen the video.”
“It doesn’t look too good. I was thinking of doing a piece on--”
“I thought your big source backed out, tried to retract it.”
“That’s exactly what happened. But it was too late. Now, I’m thinking you could tell me--”
“I could tell ya a lot. But right now I want you to tell me something.”
“I can’t. You know that.”
“Know what?”
“I promised my source anonymity. I’m not revealing her name.”
“I don’t care about that,” Kate said. “I just want to know who was going to move the event. Was it Busick? My future is kind of tied up in this.” Kate’s voice carried a threatening tone Lyle had rarely heard.
“Kate, it’s an embryonic story at this point. The murder complicates things and I have to--”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Gale? Being the investigative journalist. But I’m the one hiding from the police. You going to write about me in your next column? Where is that mysterious blonde? You want me to help you with this, you help me first.” Kate waited a few beats. “Was it Busick?”
“That was the information I received. He was supposedly trying to line up board votes, but--but I couldn’t confirm it.”
“Everyone shut up after Busick was killed? Of course you couldn’t call him.”
“Look Kate, I’m sorry you’re involved with this.”
“So am I, Gale.”
“Well done,” Lyle said when Kate hung up.
“Well, I’m pissed and I think Gale got my message. And he told us more than I expected.”
“So Busick planned to move Rockin’ Summer Days, like we thought.”
“And using me to screen his dirty plans. That doesn’t help my case any. Gives me more reason to stab the bastard.”
After listening to Kate’s phone conversation, Lyle concluded two things. Busick was even more underhanded than he’d thought, and Kate was brave and looked wonderful, even as a muddy brunette with goofy make up.
“Okay,” she said, rubbing her hands together, “now we eat. Let’s order out.” She handed Lyle a booklet of menus. “Now that I have two personas in town, I don’t want to go out looking like this--besides, I’d have to take the wheelchair.”
A little later, Lyle returned with steaming packages of Mexican food and a six-pack of craft ale.
“This IPA was the only thing they had. I couldn’t get G and Ts to go.”
Kate wrinkled her nose and took one of the bottles. Lyle sat on the bed, Kate in a chair with a table between them. “If you let me go first,” Lyle said, after a long pull on an ale, “I can tell you everything I’ve learned quickly--get it out of the way. I haven’t had nearly as much excitement as you have.” He smiled when he said it, and knew Kate understood he was not making fun.
He first explained how he’d found out that the blackmailer in the pickup truck had not shot at him but, in fact, had been shot at himself by some desert recluse. He then told Kate about his meeting with Russell T. Paine, the conspiracy blogger. “That guy’s such a nut job I was afraid his lunacy was contagious. Did you know someone kidnapped Jesse Ventura?”
“Aliens?”
“Could be.”
“Hard to imagine how the blackmailers figure in this,” Kate said, “but at least they’re not threatening now. The damage is done.”
Lyle piled salsa on a tortilla chip and popped it in his mouth, following it with a swallow of IPA. He pulled out his list of people--suspects and otherwise--that he’d written for himself in Reno. “So, in addition to the board, we’ve got Chris Easley, Busick’s son Ricky--or Rick--and Patrick Teague. From what you said, it sounds like Stark could be at the top of the list.”
Chapter 40
Kate set down her empty beer bottle and considered having another. Had Lyle had two already? “Before it gets too late, I ought to call Bruce. Then we can talk about Jacques and the police.” She used Lyle’s phone again but without turning on the speaker function. As it rang, she glanced at Lyle. If he was trying to affect a look of complete nonchalance, he was doing a great job.
“Kate?” Bruce said when he heard her voice. “What’s going on? Where are you?’
“I’m okay. We’ve collected a lot more information, but we don’t have a murderer yet, unfortunately.”
“Why are you using Lyle’s phone?”
“Shoot, I forgot to block it.”
“What? So I wouldn’t know?” Bruce’s voice had a petulant-cum-resentful quality she didn’t like.
“So it wouldn’t get stored on your phone, Bruce. We discussed this. In case the police--”
“The police have already been here. Wanted to know where you were, what you were doing. They thought I was mixed up in this.”
“What did you tell them?”
“Just what you told me. I mean, I said I didn’t know where you were. The detective asked if you were here in Las Vegas, and I said I didn’t know. He threatened me. Said I could go to jail for withholding evidence.”
“But you’re okay because you really don’t know.”
“Yeah, and he asked me if you killed Busick. Wanted to know if you hated him after your fight at the display booth.”
&
nbsp; “They’re still just guessing. I would have hoped they’d have a real suspect by now.”
“Is Lyle there, with you? What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Did I get any calls?”
Kate heard only silence for many seconds. Then Bruce replied in a low voice. “That attorney of yours called. And Max.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Talking to the police is nerve wracking,” Bruce said. “That cop, he said he’d see me again.”
“Yeah, running from the police is a nuisance, too.”
“Can’t you come over for a while?” he asked.
What, you haven’t had sex for two whole days? Or do you want to console me? Of course if the police come back, I can always hide behind the couch. “What did you have in mind, Bruce?”
“Well...”
“The police now know where our condo is.” Kate knew her voice had an edge. She didn’t like it. She hated to use it. “And you want me to come over there?”
“So you’re staying with Lyle?”
“Bruce, listen to what you’re saying. C’mon, it’s me. I’m sor--”
The line went dead.
Kate dropped the phone on the bed and looked for another beer.
“Trouble?”
Kate shook her head and took a breath. “My attorney called. Probably wants me to talk to the cops. That’s not going to happen, for a while anyway. And Max called. Of course.”
“He called me too. I forgot to mention. I gave him an update. Said we’re trying to get you free of this. So, what happened at Busick Motors?”
Kate explained her interview with Jake Alexander. “He’s treating Al’s death like an inconvenience.”
“Al was inconvenienced too.”
“Speaking of Al, you should see the rip-off lending system he set up, complete with tracking and kill switches. The NSA’s probably envious.”
“Buyer beware doesn’t come even close to covering kill switches,” Lyle said. “But tell me about Jacques--” He pronounced it Jacks. “--and the police.”
“I don’t think Detective Polhouse, that’s his name, will be a problem as long as I’m in the wheelchair. And I’ll stay out of his way. Jacques is more troublesome. Louise Busick told me he was Al’s only close friend at RSD and he did advertising for Busick Motors. He runs a Nevada ad agency.”
Desert Kill Switch Page 16
