The Reed Ferguson Mystery series Box Set 3

by Renee Pawlish

  I surveyed myself. “It’s too hot to wear a coat, and I don’t have an ankle holster. And, I sure don’t want to draw attention to myself with a shoulder holster.”

  “And you don’t look obvious now?” he said, giving my outfit the eye again.

  “Black is in,” I shot back. “Besides, what kind of trouble can I get into? It’s Ivy.”

  He tipped his head sardonically. “Who might’ve shot Jude.”

  “Good point.” I was still resisting, preferring TV detective Jim Rockford’s reason for not carrying a gun: “Because I don’t want to shoot anybody.” On the being-like-Bogie coolness scale, I was failing. He’d carry a gun out in the open, daring anyone to try and stop him. “Oh hell.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “Now that I think about it, I need a place to carry my tools.”

  “Tools?”

  “Lock-picking set and a flashlight.”

  “So you might as well get your gun.”

  “Smartass,” I said. But I retrieved those items from my office, put on the holster and slipped the Glock into it. I put on my coat and stuffed the lock-picking set and the flashlight in the pockets, and then said, “Let’s go.”

  We stomped down the stairs and I headed for the street.

  “Isn’t your car in the garage?” he asked. Then he paused. “Oh, never mind.”

  My garage, and my 4-Runner, had both been casualties on my last case. Thankfully, insurance was paying for a new garage and it was almost completed. In the meantime, I had a brand new 4-Runner parked in front of my building.

  “This sure is a nice car,” Cal said as he got in the passenger side.

  I’d heard that from him before. “You could dump that piece of crap you drive.”

  “I like that piece of crap,” he retorted. It was true. I’m pretty sure Cal could afford any car he wanted, but like his home office, which was cluttered and rarely clean, he preferred an old and messy car. And he was used to my friendly chiding.

  Ivy lived in an older apartment building on Race Street and 17th Avenue. It didn’t take us long to get there, and by then, the sky was black, the moon barely making its appearance on the eastern horizon.

  I drove slowly down Race and we surveyed the building. It was four stories, red brick, with a glass front door that led to a hallway with entrances to each unit. Each apartment had a small balcony with barely enough room for a couple of chairs. Once past the building, I headed to the corner and around to the alley. I slowed as we past the back side of the building. Patios dotted this side as well – why I didn’t know –they only had a view of other apartment buildings and the green Dumpsters scattered up and down the alley. I returned to Race and pulled up near the building.

  “The only parking is on the street,” I said. “You wait here. If Ivy comes back, text me.”

  “And if she didn’t go out?”

  I grinned. “Then good news for you. We’ll wait to see if she goes out later.”

  He wasn’t amused. He jabbed a finger at his window, pointing at the building. “What if that front door is locked?”

  “It shouldn’t be too hard to pick.” I patted my coat pocket with the lock-picking set. “You taught me well.” On one of my jobs a couple of years ago, I had talked Cal into helping me break into a house. True to his nature, he hadn’t been thrilled about being put in direct danger, so he’d taught me how to use pick locks so he wouldn’t have to assist with that task again. Where Cal had picked up this little handyman skill, I had no idea, but it certainly had been useful for me.

  He glanced at me nervously. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  “Cal, you always have a bad feeling about it,” I said. “Relax. It’ll be fine.”

  Famous last words.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Race Street was busier than I would’ve liked, but it was just west of City Park in an up-and-coming neighborhood, so that made sense. Very popular with the younger set. A lull in people and car traffic finally came and I nodded at the building.

  “I’ll be back in a flash,” I said as I got out.

  Cal didn’t say a word, already concentrating on looking for Ivy.

  I stole across the street and up to the front door of Ivy’s building. I was in luck – it wasn’t locked. I let myself into a small foyer with locked mailboxes, a bulletin board and a single overhead light. On the other side was a staircase.

  Ivy lived in 306. I took the stairs two-at-a-time to the third floor and turned right, then crept down a dimly lit hallway. Her apartment was the last unit on the left.

  I knocked, waited, then put my ear to the door and listened. Satisfied that no one was inside, I inspected the door. It was metal, with a doorknob and a deadbolt. I frowned. That deadbolt could be hard to pick. But first things first. I tried the knob. It didn’t turn. I wasn’t surprised, but would’ve felt like a fool if I’d started to pick the lock, only to realize that I didn’t need to.

  I took out my set of picks and went to work. It was a cheap doorknob and I had it unlocked in under a minute. And fortune smiled on me because I was able to unlock the deadbolt without too much difficulty. I opened the door and listened. Quiet.

  I moved across the threshold and shut the door behind me. I didn’t breathe as I waited a moment, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. Satisfied I was still alone, I exchanged the lock-picking set for my flashlight, turned it on and shone it around.

  I was standing in a narrow hallway. In front of me was a door to a bathroom. To the right was a bedroom, and the left opened into a living area. I quickly but thoroughly checked the bedroom. Nothing but a double bed, a large dresser, and a small nightstand. I checked in, around, and under everything, but I didn’t find anything that looked like Jude’s notes or a USB drive. Or a gun that might’ve killed Jude.

  As I came out of the bedroom, I stopped. Had I heard something? I held my breath and listened. Someone was in the hallway outside. I waited, hearing footsteps that drifted away. I let out my breath and headed down the hall.

  I searched the bathroom and then went into the living room. On one side, a doorway led to a small kitchen with barely enough room for a cheap Formica table and two chairs. I rifled through the drawers, but found nothing. The living area had a TV against one wall, a couch across from it, and behind that, sliding doors that opened onto the balcony.

  A long table dominated the entire back wall. On it was a microscope, a laptop, a notebook, loose papers with scribbling on them, and a large box turned upside down. Light filtered out from cracks under the edges of the box, where it didn’t quite sit flush with the table. I went over and picked up one side of the box. Marijuana plants sat under a lamp powerful enough to bathe the entire room in bright light.

  “Smart to cover it up,” I said aloud, “So the light doesn’t draw attention to your little growing scheme.”

  I moved over to the notebook and opened it. The notes were not written in Jude’s handwriting, so I assumed it was Ivy’s. I flipped through the pages, and tucked in the back was what looked like the papers that I’d seen in her purse. I pulled them out and gave them a cursory reading. There were typed numbers and formulas that didn’t mean anything to me. I laid each one out on the table, shined the flashlight on them, and took pictures of them with my cell phone. Then I put the papers back and checked the laptop. It was in sleep mode and password-protected, so I was out of luck. I wondered if I should have Cal come up and take a look at it. As quickly as I thought it, I dismissed it. First, Cal wouldn’t have enough time to do anything. Secondly, I’d never be able to coax him out of the safety of my 4-Runner. I checked around the rest of the table, careful not to disturb anything too much, but still no USB drive, and no Jude’s notes. I started on the rest of the room, being extremely thorough.

  The large purse that Ivy had at Blue Light was tossed next to the couch. I knelt down and opened it up, finding the same items as before, sans the papers that were now in the back of the notebook on the table. I stood up and
sighed. Everything was out in the open, and it didn’t appear that Ivy was hiding anything. If those papers in the notebook weren’t Jude’s actual process notes, then I didn’t know where she might’ve hid them. If she even had them.

  I went back to the table, opened the notebook and used my phone to take pictures of the pages. They didn’t mean anything to me, but maybe Cal or Jodie could decipher them. I hurried, my nerves making my hand tremble. I hoped the pictures would be clear enough to read. I realized I’d lost track of time and I wanted to leave soon.

  I hadn’t made much progress with the notebook when my phone buzzed, letting me know I’d received a text. My heart felt like machine-gun fire in my chest. I checked the message.

  “She’s back!” Cal had texted.

  I flicked off the flashlight and shoved it in my pocket, along with my phone. Then I rushed over toward the door, blind in the darkness, and crashed into the couch. I silently cursed and put out a hand until I connected with the wall. I felt along the wall to the door and was about to open it when I heard voices drawing close. I looked around frantically, but all that greeted me was darkness. In three strides I was back in the living room. My eyes had adjusted somewhat and I could barely make out the couch. I raced around it and to the sliding doors. I unlocked it, let myself out onto the balcony and eased the door shut. Maybe Ivy would think she’d left it unlocked. I glanced down the alley; it was quiet.

  A rectangle of light suddenly cut into the living room. Without thinking, I went to the railing, grabbed it and swung a leg over. Once my foot found purchase, I swung the other leg over. I crouched down and lowered my legs over the edge, holding onto the bottom of the railing with my hands. Just as I saw Ivy and someone else come into the living room, my feet connected with the railing on the balcony below. I ducked my head down, leaned my body inward, then let go. I tumbled onto the balcony and crashed into a plastic chair.

  I didn’t wait to see if anyone was home or if they’d heard me. Instead I went right to the railing and looked down. A Dumpster with its lid open sat in the alley below me. This was going to be nasty. But it was either this or explain to Ivy what I was doing there. Hi, I’m selling Avon…yes, I usually surprise prospective buyers by coming in from the balcony. No, that wouldn’t do.

  I slipped over the railing and dropped into the Dumpster, landing in a pile of plastic trash bags. I wish I could say it was my first foray into a Dumpster, but it wasn’t. I was more than familiar with its revolting odor, slime and other unmentionable sensations. I noted that this one wasn’t as bad as my previous encounter, then almost laughed at my Dumpster critique: A lovely mix of loose trash and bags, and an exquisite bouquet. I lay for a moment and gazed up, then cocked my head and listened.

  No one appeared on the second floor balcony, but then I saw Ivy on hers. She and her friend leaned against the rail for a minute. As they chatted, their voices drifted down to me, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. They looked around for a bit and then disappeared.

  I scrambled out of the Dumpster, barely taking time to brush myself off, and then I ran down the alley and back to the 4-Runner.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Jeez, don’t sneak up on me like that!” Cal snapped as I opened the driver’s side door and slid into the seat. He was breathing hard. But then he wrinkled his brow, reached over and gingerly picked a potato peeling from my hair. “Ew.” He opened his door and tossed it out.

  “Shut up,” I muttered. I started the car and drove down the street and around the corner. Then I pulled over, got out and thoroughly brushed myself off. Thankfully I didn’t have too much stuck on me. And I didn’t smell too bad, which was a bonus.

  When I got back in, Cal had his focus out the windshield, but the corners of his mouth were curled up in a sly grin.

  “Want to tell me what happened?” he finally asked.

  “Not really.” But I did anyway.

  He howled with laughter when I got to the part about the Dumpster. “I’ll bet your noir heroes never got into a mess like that.”

  “Hey, how about a little support?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” he said.

  Good point. “Let’s go get a beer. And I’m hungry, too.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Ten minutes later we were at Josephina’s, a hip hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant a few blocks from my condo, drinking Fat Tires and munching on chips and salsa.

  “Oh, that hits the spot,” I said. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.

  “Let’s see if Ivy had anything from Jude’s computer,” Cal said after we ordered. The kitchen was officially closed, but I dined there often enough that they made an exception for us this evening.

  I frowned as I pulled out my phone and handed it to him. “She could’ve hid it really well, but it didn’t look like she was trying to do that. I was thorough, too.” I took a sip of beer. “Look at the pictures I took. Does any of it make sense to you?”

  He swiped the screen and went through the photos. Cal was wicked smart, and I knew that he’d be able to make some sense of her notes, even if he didn’t understand all of it. As I waited, I looked onto 18th Avenue. It was Sunday night, but still a lot of traffic flew by. The waitress arrived with our food and I tackled my burrito, quickly scarfing down half of it. Cal kept swiping at the screen, taking bites of his enchiladas in between.

  “She’s got some interesting stuff here,” he finally concluded. “But it doesn’t look like anything complete. Jodie should take a look at this, but I’d say Ivy’s not as close to discovering this new process as she says she is.”

  I took a bite and pondered what he’d said as I chewed. “So why buddy up to me, saying she is close? So I’d find the real notes and give them to her?”

  “Probably.”

  “I’m meeting her for lunch tomorrow. I need to find out for sure what she really knows. The question is, how?”

  “Why don’t you just ask her?” Cal asked. “Tell her you don’t trust her.”

  “That’s not a bad idea.” Sometimes the direct approach worked just fine. I finished off the last gooey bite of my burrito. “I could tell her Jodie had me help clean up Jude’s office and I found something.”

  “And see what her reaction is.”

  I nodded. “I’ll have to come up with something plausible that sounds like it’s part of the new process.”

  “Or you hold back, telling her she has to earn your trust.” Cal had a strategic side that I frequently underestimated.

  “She’ll be pissed at that.” I thought about the icy looks she’d been giving me. I could see her blowing a gasket when she realized that not only could she not manipulate me, but that I was turning the tables on her, especially if she found out she wasn’t as close to discovering the process as she thought she was.

  “And if she did kill Jude,” I said. “Then she’s even more dangerous.”

  “You really think she killed him?”

  “It’s possible. Desperate people do desperate things, and a lot of money is at stake.”

  “Where are Jude’s notes?” he asked.

  I gnawed at my lip. “I don’t know.”

  I was stabbing in the dark with my speculations, but not coming up with any definitive answers.

  When we returned to my condo, Cal got in his Honda Civic and headed back to his house in the foothills west of Denver. It had been a long, eventful day and I wearily climbed the stairs to my place. When I entered the condo, silence greeted me. Willie wasn’t due home from work for another hour, so I took a shower and then sprawled on the bed. I stared at the ceiling and thought about the case, and I must’ve fallen asleep. The next thing I knew, I felt Willie kissing me warmly and with a little more enthusiasm than just good-night.

  “Mm, I like that.” I pulled her down.

  “Reed –” she said as she fell on top of me. “I need to get out of these scrubs!”

  I thought she looked cute in her hospital scrubs, but I also though
t she’d look sexy without them on. “I can help with that.”

  “Okay.” Her voice was low and suggestive as she pulled her shirt off. “Want to see more?”

  I did, and I did.

  Afterward, we lay in bed talking. She told me a funny story that happened at work, and I shared about the case.

  “What is your work schedule at Blue Light this week? You do remember you have to pick up your mother on Wednesday?”

  “Uh…of course I do.” Actually, I hadn’t.

  She sat up. “You did forget.” Now her tone was mildly accusatory.

  “Maybe just momentarily. But I’ll be there.”

  “Reed, this is important,” she said. “I’m meeting your mother and father for the first time. This is a big deal.”

  “You’re right.” I pulled her back down and kissed her. “I’ll make sure everything goes off without a hitch.”

  “I know you’re working, but you can’t meet them at the airport with bruises on your face, or get beat up or something worse while they’re here.”

  “I won’t. I’ll be careful.”

  We lapsed into a quasi-comfortable silence, but I was thinking, how the hell could I guarantee that?

  Ivy showed up at Paramount Café precisely at eleven. I was already sitting at a patio table that faced the 16th Street Mall. Located in what was once the lobby and entrance of the historic Paramount Theatre, the café was a staple along the mall. Paramount didn’t serve the finest food on the mall, but it had a nice variety that was reasonably-priced, and I loved its art deco tile floor and rock ‘n’ roll feel. The café’s wrap-around bar had long ago been the lobby’s concessions stand and soda fountain. Not only did I love the décor, I also loved their beer selection and normally would’ve imbibed, but it was too early for me, and I had to be at Blue Light in an hour.