“I’m sure Klein assumed I’d leave, too, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. There I was, all alone in his office. So I got up and started looking through his papers and files. I found three ledger books in a drawer that’s normally locked, and a quick flip through the first one made me think it might be a record of bribes Klein paid to certain building inspectors. There were no names mentioned—just initials—but a couple of them matched the names of inspectors I knew had been on the site. The second ledger book had dates, dollar amounts, and weights listed. The weights and money didn’t make much sense when I tried to equate them with something construction related, and then I wondered if it might be drugs of some sort. The third book had company names—building supply companies, a catering business, a hardware store, a couple of trucking companies—and columns of dollar amounts and dates. I can’t be sure, but I think it might be an accounting of Klein’s money-laundering connections and transactions. I was about to start snapping pictures of the pages with my phone when I heard gravel crunching outside the trailer. So I quickly shoved the books into the drawer, closed it, and went back to my seat. I had barely sat down when the door opened and Janssen walked in.”
Mal paused and shifted his position, the action making him wince with pain. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and massaged his temples with his hands.
“I thought it would be Klein, because the office door stays locked on the inside and Klein gets in with a key. But apparently, Janssen has a key also. Needless to say,” Mal went on, “Janssen wasn’t pleased to see me there. He looked around the office area, checking it out, and asked me what the hell I was doing in there. I explained about my meeting with Klein and his abrupt departure, and said I’d assumed he’d be back because we hadn’t finished our discussion.”
“Did he buy it?” Duncan asked.
Mal shrugged, and again the movement made him wince. “He seemed to, but I could tell he was suspicious. And then, a few days after that, he caught me taking some pictures of some questionable structures at the job site. I told him I was simply trying to study and learn new ideas and techniques, but I could tell he was even more suspicious. And that night when I went home—back to the bar, actually—I think I was followed. I can’t be sure it was Janssen, but I’m fairly certain someone was tailing me.”
He paused, shifting again with a wince. “So, given all that, I was a little concerned when Janssen called yesterday and said he wanted to meet with me at his place first thing this morning. He said it was to go over some upcoming jobs I’d need to supervise in my new role as foreman, and that made sense given what Klein had said. But when I got there, it became clear to me very quickly that Janssen was ticked off at me. He started asking me who I was really working for, and when I answered with Klein’s name, it incensed him even more. We argued, and things got heated. I thought sure he’d made me as a cop, but then he accused me of being a construction company’s version of a corporate spy, working for the competition and trying to infiltrate Klein’s business so I could report back. No matter how much I denied that, he clearly wasn’t having it, so I finally told him I was leaving. I almost made it to the door when he pulled a gun on me.”
Mal had to take another break, and he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a few seconds. When he continued, he kept his eyes closed, and I knew he was envisioning the scene that had gone down at Janssen’s house. “There was a struggle,” he said in a surprisingly calm voice. “I was able to wrestle the gun away from Janssen, but not before he fired off a shot.” He raised his head and opened his eyes, looking directly at me. “You’ve seen the results of that,” he concluded with a grimace, nodding toward the side where his wound was. “Anyway, when I got the gun away from Janssen it fell to the floor and I kicked it away. It scuttled across the room, and I hit him hard enough to daze him for a moment. I didn’t want to kill him because he’s a potential material witness, so I focused on getting away from him. I wasn’t armed—I’d left my weapon in my car—so he had the upper hand. My best option was to run. Janssen went for the gun, but I was faster than he was and beat foot out of the house before he could get off another shot.”
“Why didn’t you call for help, or backup?” Duncan asked.
“For one thing, I didn’t want to jeopardize the investigation. My ability to infiltrate Klein’s company might be over, but they don’t know I’m a cop, so someone else could pick up where I left off. Especially because Klein was in the process of hiring a bunch of new people. I also didn’t have my cell phone on me. I’d left it in the car, and it was a good thing I did, because Janssen wanted me to hand it over to him so he could see what pictures I had on it. I’d downloaded the ones I’d already taken to my computer and deleted the originals from my phone, so there wouldn’t have been anything there for him to see. But I didn’t want him to have access to the phone numbers and such I had in it.”
“So you have some documented evidence?” Duncan asked.
Mal made an equivocal face. “I have some pictures, but while they’re incriminating to some degree, they aren’t enough to shut Klein’s company down, or prosecute him. We need to get a better look at those ledgers. I wish I’d thought sooner to take pictures of the pages with my phone, but I didn’t have much time, and I didn’t realize what they were at first. I’m still not one hundred percent sure, which is why we need to get a better look at them.” He paused, grimaced, and then went on. “I’m pretty confident neither Janssen nor Klein knows I’m a cop. I’m not sure what Klein knows at all. I don’t know if Janssen shared his suspicions with him or not. But after what happened at his house, it’s a moot point. I’m done there, but I didn’t want to blow the whole case. And I knew Janssen might come after me. So I decided it would be wise to lay low for a bit.”
Duncan and I exchanged perplexed looks.
Mal didn’t miss it. “What?” he asked, looking from me to Duncan and back at me again, his eyes narrowed.
“What you’ve told us doesn’t quite match up with the evidence we found in Janssen’s house,” Duncan explained.
“How so?”
“You’re saying Janssen was alive when you left, correct?”
Mal was clearly surprised by the question. His eyebrows arched and he leaned back in his chair, staring at Duncan with an expression as perplexed as ours had been moments ago. “Why would you ask me that? Are you telling me Janssen is dead?”
“Not only dead,” Duncan said, his tone sobering. “He was shot in the back of the head.”
Mal looked up at the ceiling and ran a hand through his hair. His eyes grew wide. “Well, hell,” he said, lowering his head and looking at Duncan. “I swear to you; he was alive when I left.”
“Did you see the little girl while you were there?” Duncan asked. “Did you see his daughter?”
Mal looked even more confused. “I didn’t even know he had a daughter.”
“He not only has a daughter,” Duncan explained, “she was there when all this went down.”
Mal looked stunned.
“Mal,” I said, “did you shoot Sheldon Janssen?”
Mal shook off his astonishment, looked me straight in the eye, and without hesitation, said, “No, I did not. I swear to you; he was alive when I left there.”
Mal’s voice, like Duncan’s, tasted like chocolate to me. Most of the time the flavor was sweet and rich. I knew from past experience that when he told a lie the chocolate taste grew bitter, but with this last statement the flavor had stayed sweet, albeit weakly so. I suspected the faint flavoring was because his voice was also weak.
I looked over at Duncan. “He’s telling the truth.”
“Good to know,” Duncan said, but he looked troubled. “Now all we have to do is convince the rest of the world, even though all the evidence so far points to Mal.”
Chapter 10
Once Mal recovered from the shock of our information, Duncan filled him in on the crime scene we’d found at Janssen’s house. Mal was clearly surprised by it
all and had no idea who might have killed Janssen, or that the man had a child who lived in a closet. Like Duncan, Mal did suggest that perhaps Felicity had been the one who’d fired the fatal shot, but when he saw the scowl on my face he dropped the matter. He and Duncan agreed it was probably best for Mal to lay low from both Klein and his other henchmen, as well as the police for now, until we could get a better grip on exactly what had gone down at the Janssen house.
With that out of the way, the conversation shifted to more practical things. While I went about cleaning and dressing his second wound, he and Duncan discussed the use of Mal’s cell phone. Mal had the phone with him, but he had turned it off and had removed the battery shortly after leaving Janssen’s house. Duncan agreed it was probably best to leave it off unless it was a dire emergency.
“I’ll get you a burner and bring it out here,” Duncan offered.
“You have a car, don’t you?” I asked, not liking the idea of him staying out here all by himself. I hadn’t seen any car parked in the driveway or in the street near the house, so I wondered what Mal had done with it, and if he had a way to leave if he needed to in an emergency.
“According to Sabrina, the people who own the house on this side,” he gestured with a nod of his head toward the house that was dark, “are snowbirds who spend all winter in Florida and return at the end of March. So the house is vacant all winter. I parked in their driveway, and I’ve tried to show as little evidence as possible of anyone staying in this house.”
“Well you did a good job,” I said. “The place looked totally vacant when we pulled up out front.”
When it was time for us to leave, I walked over and gave Mal a careful, gentle hug. “Rest and take care of yourself,” I whispered in his ear. “And don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”
The one arm he wrapped around my waist to return my hug was tentative. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was weak, or if he felt uncomfortable being this close to me physically, given both his feelings for me and the fact that Duncan was there.
I hated leaving Mal in that house alone.
We headed back to the bar, and as soon as we were inside, we made straight for the O’Reillys. It was after seven and they had knocked off work for the day, but they were having dinner and drinks before heading home, home being Mal’s house. We knew they were still at the bar because I’d called and asked my evening bartender, Billy, during the drive back, and then instructed him and Teddy Bear, my bouncer and assistant bartender, to keep them there until Duncan and I arrived.
“Any word on Mal?” Connor asked as soon as he saw us. Ryan, Patrick, and Colleen were all focused on us, eager for information.
“We know where he is and he’s okay,” Duncan told them, and there was a collective sigh from the O’Reilly clan. “But he’s in a bit of a situation right now, and that situation might make it dangerous for you guys to be staying at his house.”
“No worries,” Ryan said, puffing out his chest. “We can handle ourselves.”
“I have no doubt you can, under the right circumstances,” Duncan said. “However, this is a very serious issue involving some very dangerous people.”
“I can board all of you right here at the bar,” I told them. “I’ve got two double beds upstairs, and a pretty comfortable couch. Plus, there’s the bed down in the basement that Mal was using. He won’t be back for a while, so it’s available.”
Colleen frowned at me. “You shouldn’t have to put yourself out for us, Mack,” she said.
“It’s not a problem,” I assured her. “Besides, I owe you for giving up your time to come here and do this elevator installation for me. Please let me do this as a way of saying thank-you. There are two bathrooms with showers upstairs in my apartment, and you can have free run of the kitchen and bar as often as you want. You’re pretty close to done with this elevator job anyway, aren’t you?”
Connor nodded. “That’s true,” he said. “Another two days and I think we’ll have it. But if Mal’s in trouble, we’re not leaving until we know he’s okay.”
“And a lot of our stuff is back at his house,” Patrick said.
“I figured as much,” Duncan said. “I’ve got a couple of guys over there at the house now, making sure it’s safe and secure for the moment. I’ll provide a police escort so you folks can go over there and get whatever you need. I’m sorry I can’t come up with the man-hours to have someone there for you all the time.”
“Fair enough,” Connor said. He looked at his children with a questioning expression, and they all nodded their agreement. He turned his attention back to Duncan. “When do you want us to go to the house?”
“Actually, now would be a good time, if that works for you.”
“We’ll make it work,” Connor said.
With that, they set aside the various items they were holding and removed their tool belts. Without another word, they followed Duncan back upstairs and out to the main area of the bar. I remained in the basement for a few minutes, checking out my new elevator. I hit the button on the wall and the door slid open. The interior looked slick and shiny new, something I doubted would last long once my staff and/or customers spilled some drinks and a plate or two of food in it. But for now, it was pristine except for a thin layer of construction dust. I knew it was functional because I’d seen one of Mal’s brothers ride it up to the second floor yesterday, and then ride it back down to the basement. I stepped inside and thought about taking it for a ride but talked myself out of it. I had no way of knowing how much of its function was completed and I didn’t want to risk injuring myself or getting stuck in the darned thing.
The door closed, and I hit the inside button to open it again. It moved almost silently, and I marveled at the construction of both it and the surrounding area. The O’Reillys knew what they were doing.
Eventually, I quit gawking and headed back upstairs and out to the main bar area. All the tables in the old section and most of those in the newer one were occupied, as were all but two of the barstools. Billy was on duty behind the bar along with Teddy Bear.
“How are things, guys?” I asked them.
Teddy Bear, whose physical traits—six-foot-six, big brown eyes, weighing in somewhere around three hundred pounds, and leaning toward the hairy side—helped earn him that nickname, answered first. “It’s been a little crazy, but I suppose that’s good for business. Debra, Linda, and Missy have all been hustling. Lots of food orders.”
“That’s good,” I said, shifting my attention to Billy. “How are you doing, Billy?” I asked.
He knew I wasn’t asking about work. After the fiasco that had occurred in my bar on New Year’s Eve, when we’d exposed the culprits behind the letter-writer debacle, Billy had decided to break things off with his long-term girlfriend and fiancée, Whitney. I had to admit I was relieved; the two of them were so different in their outlooks on life, their personalities, their philosophies, and their backgrounds. Whitney came from money and a comfortable life, whereas Billy had had to scramble and work hard for everything. He was close to graduating from law school, and with a combination of hard work, determination, and good tips—he related well to male customers, and his café-au-lait-colored skin, green eyes, and general good looks were irresistible to most women—he had done it all on his own, much to Whitney’s chagrin. Basically, Whitney was a snob. She considered Billy’s job, and by correlation my bar, to be beneath her and him. These differences came to a head during the New Year’s Eve party, and I think Billy finally saw Whitney in a light that opened his eyes to the truth of their future together.
Billy seemed steadfast in his decision, and he had stuck to his guns for the past couple of weeks. But that hadn’t made it any easier for him. We had chatted several times about the breakup, and the occasional doubts that haunted him over his decision.
“Whitney called him today,” Teddy Bear offered when Billy didn’t look like he wanted to talk.
“What did she have to say?” I asked, looking dir
ectly at Billy.
“She asked me if I’d come to my senses yet and realized the error of my ways.”
“I see,” I said, trying to sound objective. “And have you?”
Billy shot me a wary, befuddled look, like he thought I was crazy and had only just then realized it. He let out a long weary sigh. “I’m not going to lie,” he said. “I miss her. Sometimes I miss her a lot. We had some good times together. She wasn’t always haughty and condescending, though it did seem as if that was her default personality lately. When I could get her away from her rich friends and her parents, she would let her hair down and relax. She was a completely different person when we were alone together.”
“Then maybe you should reconsider,” I suggested.
Billy shook his head. “It would never work,” he said forlornly. “I’d have to kidnap her and take her somewhere where she couldn’t be around any of her family and regular friends. And I’d have to hide her out there forever.”
“Did you ever suggest a move to her?” I asked. “Maybe a change of venue is just what she needs.”
Billy scoffed. “She’d never go for it. She likes her wealth and all the entitlements that come with it.”
“I’m sorry, Billy,” I said. And though I disliked Whitney immensely, I meant it. I hated to see Billy hurting this way. “You know,” I said in a conspiratorial tone, “if you’re looking for a way to forget about it all for a while, you should think about asking Alicia out.”
Billy’s brows drew together in confusion. “Alicia from the Capone Club?” he said.
“One and the same. That girl has it bad for you.”
“Really?” Billy seemed genuinely surprised by this revelation.
Teddy Bear was apparently as surprised as I was because he shot Billy a skeptical look. “Come on, dude,” he said. “Don’t tell me you didn’t pick up on it. The girl practically drools every time you’re near her. And don’t get me started on the goo-goo eyes.” Teddy Bear rolled his own eyes in mockery, making me smile.
Last Call Page 10
