“You got a job?”
“Yeah, I’m working at Best Buy.” That’s the large electronics chain. “In the TV department.”
“Good for you. I know you’ve had a hard time finding work.” And I had to admit, for all that Ace lacked in the intelligence department, he knew a lot about televisions, DVD players and home theaters.
“Yeah, it’ll be nice to have money again,” he said.
“I’ll bet,” I said. “I’m so happy for you. Anyway, could you do me a favor and give me a ride to my car?”
“Oh yeah, Deuce and Bob told me what happened. They said you were really cold when they picked you up.”
“I sure was,” I said.
“And Bob said you might need a ride.”
“Uh-huh.” My embarrassment was complete. “So…can you help?”
“Sure, come on down.”
“And I have another favor to ask, but I can explain on the way.”
“Okay, come on down.”
“Give me ten minutes,” I said, then ended the call.
I finished my coffee as I checked my email. Cal had sent one with an attachment. I opened it and suddenly Trevor Welch was staring back at me.
The license said he was thirty-one, just a few years younger than I was, and he had curly dark hair and blue eyes…so much better than my boring hazel eyes. As I stared at his face, I wondered what he’d done to get Gus and Mick on his trail.
I printed out the picture, jotted down the license plate number, the description of his car and his office address, then went into the bedroom. Willie was dressed in jeans and a heavy sweater.
“You want me to take you to get your car first?” she asked.
“No, I’ll have Ace take me. That way, if Welch is working today, you’ll be there with plenty of time to see him if he goes to lunch.”
“Did you find out where he works?”
“Yes.” I handed her the piece of paper with his photo and the office address on it.
“Broomfield, huh?” she said. “Okay, I should be able to get there around ten. I’ll see what the company is like and if I can find out anything about him.” She paused. “I wonder what the office building is like. If it’s a large place with a lot of entrances, I might miss him.”
“If that’s the case, do what you can. If we’re lucky, you’ll be able to park someplace where you can see all the entrances, or you can sit inside and see his office. But make sure you don’t stay so long that you draw attention to yourself.”
She shot me a droll look. “Is this what your job is all about?”
“More often than not,” I said.
She took a couple of steps toward me, swaying her hips seductively. “So, it’s not exciting like those film noir movies, huh? But I make a good femme fatale, right?”
I eyed her heavy sweater that covered all her curves. “Uh…the femme fatale is usually cunning and duplicitous.”
“But sexy.”
“You are definitely that.”
“Good answer, and thank you.” She gave me a lingering kiss, then headed out of the bedroom. “I’ll call you with an update once I get up there.”
A moment later, the front door slammed shut. Getting Willie to help had been easy, even though she did not like the hazards inherent in my profession, nor the tedious parts. Now I needed to see if Ace would go watch Welch’s house. My best pair of binoculars was still in the 4-Runner, but I had another pair, so I grabbed them and some blankets and headed downstairs, even though I knew that convincing him would be harder.
Chapter Nine
“Watch a house? That’s boring,” Ace said after I’d told him my proposal.
I was sitting in the Goofball Brothers kitchen, waiting while Ace finished his breakfast, and I’d just explained how I wanted him to help me. He was in shorts and a sweatshirt, his feet bare. As he wolfed down Cocoa Puffs, he gazed at me skeptically.
“Remember I helped you that other time I spied on a house? It was boring,” he repeated through a mouthful of cereal.
I couldn’t argue. Ace and Deuce had helped me on my second case. That time, after Willie had refused to help, the Goofball Brothers watched a house that was for sale so I could follow other clues. They’d both let me know that surveillance lacked excitement. And, I admit, even if I hadn’t been chasing other leads, I hadn’t wanted to watch that house because…well, it was boring. But in this case, I truly didn’t have time to watch Welch’s house, so I’d have to appeal to Ace’s sense of compassion.
“I’m in real trouble,” I said. “I have to clear my name or I’m going to end up in jail for murder.”
His eyes widened. “They can’t do that…can they?”
“I’d rather not find out. But I have too many places to go today, and I can’t do it all. I really need your help,” I pleaded. “I promise it won’t be dangerous.”
“I’m not worried about danger.” He puffed his chest out. “Okay, I’ll do it. Let’s go.” He got up, threw his bowl in the sink, took his keys off the counter and headed for the back door.
“Uh, Ace?”
He whirled around. “Yeah?”
“You might want to change your clothes. And dress warm, it’s cold out there.”
He looked down at his shorts and bare feet. “Oh, right. I’ll wear my ski clothes.”
“And I need to tell you where to go.”
He blushed. “That would help, wouldn’t it?”
“Uh-huh.” I hid my smile. I handed him the blankets and binoculars. “You can use these.”
I wrote down the address while he changed into jeans. “Just sit outside and watch for a Dodge truck with this license plate, or this guy,” I said. He’d come back into the kitchen carrying heavy ski pants and boots. He slipped into the pants and pulled on his boots, and then I handed him the picture. “His name is Trevor Welch. If you see him, give me a call.”
“You want me to follow him?”
“No, I don’t want anything dangerous to happen.”
“I can handle it,” he protested.
I hesitated. “Tell you what, if you see him, call me and we’ll decide then.” Ace may not have been worried about putting himself in danger, but I was. Not only did I have to answer to his brother Bob, but his parents were friends with my parents, which meant that his mother would tell my mother if Ace got into trouble, and then I’d hear about it from my mother. I definitely did not want that.
“Okay.” He donned a heavy coat, hat and gloves, gave an awkward salute, then grinned as we headed out the door.
The arctic cold remained, but for the moment the streets were clear of snow as Ace drove west of 6th Avenue. A half hour later, his Kia sedan turned onto Highway 70.
“The rental should be up around the bend,” I said a few minutes later. “But if we see any cars waiting nearby, I want you to keep going.”
“It might be those guys that were after you last night?” he asked, his voice slightly shaky.
“Yes.”
“Okay.” His eyes were fixed on the road.
We rounded the bend and both breathed a sigh of relief when we spotted the Subaru still parked on the side of the road, but no other cars.
“You think they’re waiting in the trees?” Ace asked.
“I doubt it, it’s too cold.” Besides, neither Gus nor Mick seemed like the type to brave this weather. They’d want the warmth and comfort of their car.
Ace pulled up behind the Subaru and I got out.
I pointed at the binoculars and the blankets that I’d put in the back seat of his car. “When you’re watching Welch’s house, if it gets too cold, you can leave. I don’t want you getting sick.”
“Don’t worry about me,” he said, a serious look on his face.
“And remember, call me first if you see Welch or any other suspicious activity, okay?” I said. “Don’t do anything else.”
“Right.” He saluted again. I shut the door and watched the truck do a U-turn and disappear around the bend.
; I got into the Subaru and headed back toward downtown Denver and U.S. International Realty, which was located in a red-brick building that faced the 16th Street Mall. I’d once had an office nearby, and I sometimes missed being close to the hustle and bustle of Denver’s pedestrian mall, but the rent was high and I wasn’t there much, so it hadn’t seemed worth the money anymore.
A fine snow began to fall as I parked on Market Street. I got out, fed the meter and hurried through the cold to U.S. International Realty. One of my downfalls is that I can be impulsive, and I was proving that now, since I had no plan as I walked through the door. A plump woman at a desk that faced the front window smiled up at me.
“Can I help you?” she asked. Even though she wore a heavy green sweater, she shivered at the gust of cold air that accompanied me.
“I hope so,” I said as I glanced around. The office was decorated in earth tones, with posters of mansions in Italy, Aspen and Hawaii. They looked way too expensive for me. Even though I’d been a trust-fund baby, I’d lost some of that in a bad business deal, and I didn’t have money for the likes of those places. “Are you international realtors?”
“We work locally as well, but we specialize in international properties.”
“I’m interested in buying property in…” My mind was blank. Where? “Belize,” I finally said. “I read an article that there’s a large ex-pat population there, and I thought I’d explore my options.” I actually had read an article about Belize and it was the first place that popped into my head.
“Yes, Belize is very popular right now,” she smiled. “I’m sure we can help, Mr…” She paused expectantly.
“Spade, but call me Sam,” I said, using one of my favorite aliases.
If the fictional name of Dashiell Hammett’s detective in The Maltese Falcon was familiar to her, she didn’t show it.
“Sam, I’m Lois. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” I said.
“So, do you have a price range in mind?” She was quickly all business.
“A million.” Yeah, right.
She perked up, seeing a huge commission coming her way. “Wonderful. That will buy you some very nice properties in Belize.”
I’m sure it will, I thought.
“I can pull up some listings and show you what’s available.”
“That’ll be fine.”
“Oh, pardon my manners. Can I get you a drink? Something warm?”
“Coffee would be fine,” I said, even though I’d already had plenty of coffee this morning. “With a little cream.”
She swiveled around in her chair, got up and disappeared into the back. I took the opportunity to look around more. Another desk in the corner and a little waiting area. Expensive furniture in a high-rent building. How were Gus and Mick associated with all this? It didn’t make sense.
She returned with a coffee cup emblazoned with “U.S. International Realty”, complete with a world globe logo. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” I took a sip and was impressed. Better than Starbucks, but not as good as Willie’s.
She sat back down, typed at the computer for a minute, then turned her monitor to me. “Here are a few properties that we have available.”
I pretended to study them with great interest as I sipped my coffee, but I was really aghast at their opulence. Maybe I should’ve picked a lower number. A million could buy a lot in Belize.
“This first one has numerous extras that you might like.”
She was going over details of the first one when a man in a heavy wool coat, muffler, and black slacks flew through the door, more cold air following him in. He was carrying a large package.
“It’s colder than an iceberg in Alaska,” he said as he shook off snow. Then he saw me. “Excuse me, Lois, but has that other package arrived?”
“No,” she said. “Not yet.”
He sighed. “I can’t keep up with everything since Fred’s been gone.” He stormed into the back.
“I know,” she called after him. Then she smiled at me. “Sorry for the interruption.”
“No problem,” I said. I assumed this man was the other realtor that Cal had mentioned. U.S. International Realty was a small shop, apparently.
Lois resumed showing me the listing.
“Do you ever drive people around to properties?” I asked, thinking maybe that’s why there was an SUV registered to this company.
She looked at me askance. “To Belize?”
“Uh, no, I meant if I was looking for something locally.”
“Well, we could. Usually the agents take their cars and the clients follow separately.”
“I see.”
“You’re thinking of buying here in Denver as well?”
“Possibly,” I said.
“In the same price range?”
“I think so.”
As Lois droned on, my palms grew sweaty. This wasn’t getting me anywhere and it was wasting time. I didn’t see anything that would tell me about Gus or Mick, so I needed to make my escape. I decided to make a show of pretending my cell phone rang, but just as I pulled it from my pocket, it rang. Ten seconds later and I would’ve looked like a fool, talking into a phone that rang. I set down my cup and raised a finger at Lois as I got up and answered the phone.
“Hey, it’s me,” Willie said. “I’ve got a little information.”
“That’s great,” I said. “Can I call you right back?”
“Sure.” She sounded deflated that I couldn’t talk right then.
I ended the call and put a chagrined look on my face. “I’m afraid I need to take this call and it might take a while.”
“I understand,” Lois said, disappointment spreading across her face. “How about we make an appointment for another time?”
“I’m not sure when I can do that,” I said. “You have a card?”
She gave me a business card and I assured her I would call, and then I made my escape. As I rushed out the door, I wondered about Gus and Mick. How were those two thugs tied to this company?
Once outside, I started to redial Willie when I barreled into Detective Sarah Spillman.
Chapter Ten
I almost dropped my cell phone. “Detective Spillman,” I said, once I’d shaken off my surprise.
Her eyes shifted from my face to U.S. International Realty and back to me. “Thinking about leaving the country?”
“Very funny,” I said, then stared hard at her. “You’re following me.”
“You’re a suspect; of course we’re keeping tabs on you.” In her pea coat and jeans, she looked pretty cold.
I felt my face burning. “I see,” I murmured, then said, “If you’re following me, why didn’t you give me a ride last night?”
“Huh?” she said, temporarily taken aback.
So, I thought. She doesn’t know about me chasing Gus and Mick. That meant she hadn’t been keeping tabs on me yesterday. Doubly good, since I’d broken into Noel Farrell’s office.
“Given the circumstances,” she continued, “wouldn't a good detective watch to see if he was being followed?”
Now that was just harsh. “And since it’s one degree outside,” I threw back at her, “wouldn’t a detective on surveillance dress a little warmer?”
“I’m not the only one watching you.” Her brown eyes narrowed. “You really should pay more attention.”
“I have a lot on my mind,” I said, “like clearing my name.” I crossed my arms. “So what made you break surveillance protocol and reveal yourself?”
“I need to talk to you,” she said.
“Are you going to arrest me?” I shivered, and not because of the temperature.
She pointed at the Starbucks on the corner. “How about a cup of coffee?”
“I must not be a suspect if you’re buying me coffee,” I said.
“I didn’t say I was buying,” she said as she stalked toward the Starbucks.
Same old Spillman, I thought. Gruff. Impersonal. But underneath that
, a hint of frustration and affection for yours truly. At least she wasn’t carting me off to jail, so that was a good sign.
We left the cold and entered the Starbucks, endured a long line in an uncomfortable silence, and finally ordered. I love the Eggnog Latte so I had that; I’d worry about my caffeine limit another time. Spillman was a straight-black kind of woman. We took our drinks to a table in the corner, shrugged out of our coats and sat down. My cell phone rang with Bogie’s voice and I glanced at it. It was Willie but, based on the annoyed look on Spillman’s face, I didn’t dare take the call.
“You wouldn’t be in such a conciliatory mood unless the gunshot residue tests had come back negative,” I said after letting her take a sip of her coffee.
“Good guess.”
“It wasn’t a guess. I’m innocent and you know it.”
She threw me a hard look, but specifically didn’t comment on the GSR tests. “It doesn’t explain how your gun was used to kill Farrell.”
“Yeah, I’m working on that.”
“So you’re still a suspect,” she reiterated.
“You don’t believe I killed him,” I snapped, then leaned in and lowered my voice. “What’s my motive? How could I be two places at once?”
“There was time. Or you could’ve hired someone.”
“You think I’d pay someone to off Farrell and then let the hired help use my gun?”
The corners of her mouth twitched in the hint of a smile, and then it disappeared. “Tell me again what happened that night.”
So I did, knowing she was trying to find what she might’ve missed, and to see if my story had changed. I was still a suspect, after all.
“It all started when Noel Farrell called me,” I said, then repeated the entire story one more time. She drank her coffee while I talked, not interrupting me, and when I finished, she twisted her cup around on the table, but remained silent.
“Why did Farrell contact you in the first place?” she finally asked.
In all the surprise at being confronted by her, I’d completely forgotten about my conversation with Henri Benoit, so I told her about how Henri had told Farrell about me.
The Reed Ferguson Mystery series Box Set 3 Page 23
