“The police?” She sounded completely defeated.
“Of course. I don’t think Spillman believes Ivy’s death is a suicide, so she’ll be questioning everyone that knew Ivy. Besides, she’s still working on Jude’s murder, and there’s a killer out there who’s getting more desperate.”
“What should I say about you?”
“Tell her the truth,” I said. “She knows you hired me.”
“Oh, right.”
I stood up. “I’ll be thinking about this, trying to find what I missed.” I motioned to her. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”
“Spillman called me earlier. They’re releasing Jude’s…the body.” She cleared her throat. “I can plan the funeral now. It’ll probably be the end of the week, something simple. That’s what he wanted.”
“I’m sure Jude would appreciate that.”
She got up slowly. “Oh, I’m tired. And I’m going to have to help in the store. Ugh, you’re right, tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
“Uh-huh.”
I helped her lock up and walked her to her car, and then I headed home.
A couple of hours later, when Willie came home, I was sitting in the kitchen with the lights out, drinking scotch.
“Oh,” she said, surprised, as she flipped on the lights and saw me. “What’re you doing?”
“Having a drink.” I sipped from a highball glass and grimaced.
She picked up the bottle and read the label. “Glenfiddich, nice.” She set it back down. “I didn’t even know you had any of this around.”
“I keep it for when my father is in town.”
“Oh.” She sensed something was wrong and sat down across from me and looked me straight in the eyes. “What happened?”
I told her, wrapping up with, “Like Jodie said, Ivy may have been crooked, but she didn’t deserve to die.” I took another sip and grimaced again.
Willie eyed me. “And the Scotch?”
“I seem to have run out of suspects, so I thought I’d drink a little.” I let out a short laugh.
“Trying to be like your noir heroes?”
“Maybe.” I lifted the glass and studied the gold liquid. “But for the life of me, I can’t figure out how Bogie drank Scotch – yuck. And it’s expensive. ‘The whole world is about three drinks behind.’ ”
“I’m assuming that’s a quote?” she asked.
“Yep. Humphrey Bogart said that if Stalin, Truman and everybody else took three drinks, we’d loosen up and have peace.”
“Funny.” But she wasn’t amused. She got up, took the glass from my hand and set in on the counter. Then she took my hand. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”
Later, we lay in bed talking, Willie with her an arm draped over my chest.
“You need to sleep,” she said, her own voice low and drowsy.
“I can’t stop thinking about the case.”
“Well, okay. I guess we need to talk about this. You’ll never get any sleep otherwise. So, who knew about the new process?” she asked.
“Potentially anyone in the building.” I thought about Ivy’s activities the last couple of days. “She had been talking to Pete, and she lied to me about it. Was she in cahoots with him, and he killed her? But why would he do that?”
“Once they sold the process, maybe he wanted the money for himself?” She snuggled closer.
“Maybe.” Did that mean he’d be coming after me? “Carlo knew Jude was working on something in the lab. Is he involved? I need to talk to him again. Bill doesn’t seem like a suspect, although he didn’t like Jude scolding him.”
“You think Bill would kill Jude just because Jude yelled at him? Seems too extreme to me.”
“It does to me, too, but stranger things have happened. And where does Ivy’s death fit in that scenario?”
“I don’t know.” Willie yawned and rolled over. “But I know I can’t talk about this any longer. Good night, hon. In seconds she was breathing evenly.
I stared into the darkness. Someone was after the new process that had at one time – according to Jodie – been documented on Jude’s computer. Where was the process now? And who knew that Jodie and Jude had completed it? Wes and Heath were certainly possibilities, as they had offices upstairs and a lot of direct contact with Jude.
I thought about Wes and Heath. They would know how much the process would be worth to another business. And they’d have the contacts with other people in the industry as well. Had Jude told them about his success with the process, and one of them was trying to find the process to sell it? Did one of them kill Jude and Ivy? Both investors bore a closer look. A plan formulated in my mind of what to do when I returned to Blue Light.
Chapter Twenty-Five
A familiar blue Ford Mustang was already parked in front of Blue Light when I arrived the next morning. I had timed my arrival for 10 a.m., just when the store opened, because I’d wanted to be there when the employees found out about Ivy. But since Spillman had beat me here, I wondered if I was I too late. I cursed as I hurried inside.
Jodie was standing behind the counter, getting things ready for the day. Carlo was sitting at the little table in the corner, staring into space.
“Hey,” I said. “What’s going on?” The clueless act again.
“Ivy took a dive from her balcony last night,” Carlo said.
“Carlo!” Jodie snapped. “Show a little respect.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
I stood for a moment, trying for the appropriate level of shock. In truth, talking about Ivy brought images to my mind of her lying on the sidewalk, and I didn’t have to fake much emotion.
I was about to sit down with Carlo, thinking this was my opportunity to question him, when Spillman and Bill came out of the little room behind the counter. I guessed that was the best place for privacy while Spillman questioned the employees. She saw me but her face didn’t change expression.
“Who’s that?” she asked Jodie as she jerked her head at me.
I silently thanked her for not blowing my cover in front of Carlo and Bill.
Jodie played along and introduced me. “He’s only been working here for a few days.”
Spillman looked professional in a blue pant suit, her manner no-nonsense. Did the others notice, as I had, that she rarely smiled? I suppose homicide detectives have little to smile about on the job. I also wondered if her demeanor intimidated people as much as it sometimes did me.
Bill stayed behind the counter to help Jodie. His perpetual happy look had been replaced by apprehension. He was probably paranoid that Spillman would ask for him to pee in a cup. Not that she had the authority to do a drug test on any of us, but I’m sure he was worried anyway.
Just then the front door opened and Wes and Heath entered the store. Spillman eyed them carefully.
“These are our investors,” Jodie said as she came around the counter.
“Good,” Spillman said. “I need to talk to you both as well.”
Jodie must’ve called Wes and Heath because neither showed any surprise at Spillman’s request.
“Then I’ll talk to you.” Spillman pointed at me.
“Yeah, sure,” I said.
She then waved at Carlo. He stood up and followed her behind the counter.
“This is just great,” Wes said. He took Carlo’s place at the table. “When people find out, what will this do to the business?”
“Calm down.” Heath pulled up another chair and sat down.
“Let’s see what the detective says and we’ll go from there,” Jodie said.
I stood for a second, then said to Jodie, “Do you want me to clean up in back and see about watering the plants?”
She nodded her head distractedly. “Yeah. I’ll get you when the detective is ready for you.”
This was my opportunity to do what I’d planned last night, and I quickly left before anyone questioned whether I should stay in the store until Spillman wanted to talk to me. The door to the store closed behind me
and I waited in the hallway for a moment to see if anyone came after me. Then I darted upstairs.
I went to Wes’s office first. The door was locked, but I was able to slide a credit card in between the door and the doorjamb, and it opened. So much for high-tech security. I stepped inside, eased the door closed and looked around. It was decorated in the same manner as the other offices, with a glass tabletop desk, a file cabinet, printer, and credenza, with the addition of a tall oak bookcase next to the door. I scanned its contents. Some books about marijuana, some business and motivational books. Nothing compared to the full shelves in my own home office…in my humble opinion. I tiptoed over to the desk and quickly searched it. I didn’t spot anything that resembled what I’d come to know as notes on the new process, but I did find baggies with snips of dried-out marijuana leaves, along with notes about the potency of the various strands. “Good high, made me feel more relaxed than other strains.” And so on.
“So that’s what he’s doing,” I murmured. First-hand experimentation with new strands. I wondered if the others knew he did this.
Other than his notes, I found business documents, spreadsheets and the like, but nothing suspicious. His computer was turned off, but even if it wasn’t, I didn’t have time to give it a thorough look.
“I’ll be right there,” said a voice from the hallway.
Wes!
I crossed to the door. Keys jingled and the knob turned. I pressed myself against the wall on the other side of the bookcase. The door opened inward and Wes made a beeline right for his desk. His back was to me, and I slipped out unseen and darted across the hall. I tried Jodie’s door. Locked. In a panic, I rushed to Jude’s door. Locked as well. I was about to run for the stairs when I heard Wes coming back out. With nowhere to go, I tried Heath’s office. Luck was on my side as his door wasn’t locked. I slipped inside and leaned against the door. Over the sound of my rocketing heart, I heard Wes.
“Yeah, I’m coming,” he called. “Can’t that detective start with Heath?”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway, then on the stairs. I cracked open the door and peered out. No one. I took a couple of deep breaths to calm my nerves, and then I glanced around. Same décor as the other offices, with a tall, fake dragon tree instead of a bookcase. They must’ve got a discount by buying in bulk on the furniture, I thought wryly. I went right to Heath’s desk, worried that I didn’t have much time.
I searched the drawers. Files with bills and investment documents. No smoking gun. Disappointed, I sat for a moment, staring at his desk. It was more cluttered than Wes’s, with pens and paper clips lying around, and a large monthly calendar that took up most of the space on the desktop. His computer was in sleep mode. I hit the mouse and the screen lit up, but he’d locked it.
I sat back, wondering how I could get access to their computers. Cal would have to come at night. Not a good proposition for him…or me. As a last resort, I lifted the desk calendar and felt underneath it. My hand hit something. I pulled out two sheets of paper. The pages were yellow legal-pad sized, folded, wrinkled and worn. They’d been handled a lot. On them were a handwritten list of initials and a few company names like ‘Mile High Reefer’ and ‘Mountain Medical Marijuana’. Next to each were dates and dollar figures, ranging from hundreds of thousands to over a million, and notes like ‘don’t trust P.K.’, ‘won’t pay enough’ and ‘talk to last.’ ” That one was highlighted in yellow and near it was a phone number.
“Heath’s trying to sell the process,” I muttered. I’d found the smoking gun.
I stuffed the papers in my pocket and rushed back downstairs and into the warehouse. I’d just grabbed a broom and was starting to sweep when Carlo came in. He had a cigarette in his hand and he stopped, surprised.
“Is that detective finished with you?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“What do you think is going on?”
“How should I know?” he snapped.
“You think this has something to do with their experiments?”
He hesitated. “You think?”
I was about to answer when Spillman walked in. Carlo quickly looked away, then hurried off toward the lab.
“Your turn,” she said to me.
I followed her back into the store and into the little room behind the counter.
“You’re making everyone nervous,” I said as I sat down.
“It’s part of the job.” She leaned against the table, crossed her arms and stared down at me.
“Thanks for not blowing my cover,” I said.
The corners of her mouth twitched in a faint smile. “I was tempted.” She glanced around at the jars of weed and wrinkled her nose. “Everyone out there will wonder how much the new guy knows.”
“Nothing.” I kept a straight face as I thought about the papers from Heath’s desk in my pocket. I wanted to talk to him before I said anything to Spillman.
“Is there anything else you can tell me about Ivy?”
“Since last night?”
“Okay.” She held up a hand. “What’s your theory?”
I frowned. “That new process is worth a lot of money to someone.”
“Which gives that someone a lot of reasons to kill for it.” Her lips formed into a tight line.
“What clues did you find in the alley?” I asked it, but I didn’t think she’d share much.
“It was pretty clean, as far as evidence goes. No witnesses. Nobody but the killer and Jude in that alley, and neither is talking.”
Correction. There wasn’t much to share.
“Hm,” I murmured.
She scrutinized me closely. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” I said innocently.
Her hard gaze stayed fixed on me for a ten-count. “I guess we’ve made a good show of questioning you,” she finally said. She indicated I should get up. If she knew any more than last night, she wasn’t going to tell me.
“Be careful, Ferguson,” she said, then opened the door.
Jodie and Bill were helping customers. Spillman pulled Jodie aside, spoke to her briefly and then left the store. The tension in the room noticeably diminished.
I caught Jodie’s eye. “Can I talk to you?”
“Hold on.” She rang up a customer, then said, “Bill, I’ll send Carlo to help you.”
He nodded. I waited in the hallway while she got Carlo, then followed her up to her office.
“That detective doesn’t say much, does she?” Jodie said once we’d sat down.
“No.” Then I told her what I’d found. “Heath is involved in all this.”
“What? How do you know?”
“I searched his and Wes’s offices while you all were talking to Spillman.”
“You what?” She leaned her hands on the desk. “Why didn’t you tell me? I never said you could do that.”
“I found a list.” I pulled the papers from my pocket. “It’s a list of people and companies, along with dollar amounts. I think he’s trying to sell your new process.”
She sat up fast, her chair rolling away from her. “Let me see that.”
I handed the papers across the desk. She started reading them and her hands began to tremble. Her legs buckled and she reached back for the chair and sank into it.
“What?” I asked.
“This…this is Jude’s handwriting.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
It took me a minute to understand. I hadn’t been expecting that. “But it was in Heath’s office.” I thought fast. “He must’ve found it. Or he took it from Jude.”
Jodie was shivering. “But that would mean Jude…was he trying to sell the new process?”
“It looks that way.”
“But why?” She gulped for air. I thought she was going to be ill. In an instant, her image of Jude had been completely shattered. “I don’t understand.” She paused. “Wait, what if this was Heath’s idea? And Jude wrote it all down?” She was grasping for straws, searching for any explanation that would exonera
te her beloved brother.
“Even if that were the case, Jude is dead. Did Heath steal the process notes after he killed Jude?”
“Heath? I don’t believe it,” she said.
“Did someone call me?” The door opened to reveal Heath. “I was about to knock when I heard my name.”
Jodie and I gawked at him.
“What?” He smoothed his shirtfront and glanced down at himself. “Do I have something on me?”
I stood up and leaned against the wall. “Have a seat.” I gestured at the chair I’d just vacated.
He eyed me carefully as he slowly stepped forward. “Is something wrong?”
I waited until he was sitting down, and then I took the papers from Jodie. “I found this in your office.”
“In my office? What were you doing…” his voice faded away as recognition swept across his face.
“The better question is what were you and Jude doing?” Jodie snapped. “Selling the new process?”
Heath turned red. “It’s not what you think. I found that in Jude’s office.” He was speaking fast. “I was going to talk to him about it, but then he was murdered. It’s the truth. Honest!”
“Why were you in Jude’s office?” Jodie asked.
He pursed his lips, wondering how much he should say. Then he finally began. “Do you remember that day when there was the altercation in the store?” he said. “We all rushed downstairs?”
How could I forget? Such a fuss on my first day of work.
“Yeah, the customer that got out of hand,” Jodie answered. “It was quiet up here and all of a sudden, Ivy was yelling from the bottom of the stairs to come help. Jude and Wes ran down to the store.” She turned an accusatory expression toward Heath. “And what do you mean ‘everyone rushed downstairs’? It took you forever to come down.”
“That’s right,” he said. “I was passing Jude’s office and I saw his backpack sitting on the desk and those stupid yellow pieces of paper sticking out of the pack.” He thrust his finger at the pages I held. “In the last couple of weeks, I’d seen Jude with those papers a few times. I’d come into his office and he’s put them away real quick. That morning I saw him with them and I asked him what they were. He said it was just some investor notes, and I said I was an investor so I should read them. I was kidding, but he blew up. So when I saw them in his backpack, my curiosity got the best of me and I slipped into his office. I was just going to read them, but then I wondered what they meant. So I took them to look at later. I wanted to talk to Jude about them, but then he was killed.”
The Reed Ferguson Mystery series Box Set 3 Page 14
