A commotion erupted in the lobby and Willie appeared in the doorway, but a uniformed cop was holding her back. “I called the police and told them what was happening here,” she yelled, “so the least you can do is let me see if my boyfriend is all right.” Anger and indignation echoed throughout the hall.
“It’s okay, let her in,” Spillman called out.
Willie pushed past the uniform and sprinted toward us.
“Reed!” she yelled. She fell to her knees and hugged me. “Are you all right? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”
“I’m okay,” I said. “A little bruised.”
“Thank God.” She hugged me again and began to cry. “When I listened to your message, I called Spillman, but I was worried we wouldn’t make it in time.”
“You didn’t have any time to spare, that’s for sure,” I said.
She wiped at her eyes, and for the first time, noticed that I was nearly naked.
“You don’t look very much like a noir hero,” she said, trying to hide a smile.
Spillman put a hand over her mouth to cover her own laughter.
I struggled to my feet, tried to cover my ass, then mustered up as much dignity as I could. Dignity may never have saved anyone, but I still wished for some right now. “Help me get my clothes, please.”
Chapter Thirty
Spillman was kind enough to let me get dressed, although we had to wait until Moore, Youngfield and the other uniforms arrested Quinn, Gus and Mick and escorted them away. Then she followed me into the operating room and watched while Willie stood in the doorway.
“How about a little privacy?” I asked.
“I’ve already seen it,” Spillman said, trying hard to keep a straight face.
“What? You think I’m going to tamper with evidence?” I barked as I pulled on my underwear and then my pants.
“I wouldn’t put anything past you,” Spillman said.
I didn’t have an answer to that. I threw off the gown, put my shirt and shoes on, then Willie and I walked with her back into the lobby.
“I need some time with Reed,” Spillman said to Willie.
“Uh, sure.” Willie squeezed my hand. “I’ll be waiting in the car.”
She left and I suddenly felt weak-kneed and my head was pounding, so I sat down. Spillman leaned against the wall and crossed her arms.
“How’d you end up here?” she asked, her face impassive.
I took a moment to gather my thoughts, and then I began. As I talked, all the events of the past few days seemed to meld together.
“And how did you make the connection between Gus and Strickland?” she asked at one point.
“I noticed Gus hanging around Trevor Welch’s house and I followed him.” That was true. It left out a lot more than it explained, but I couldn’t admit to breaking and entering into Farrell’s office and Welch’s house. Although since Welch’s house was unlocked, it technically wasn’t breaking and entering, just entering.
“And you don’t know anything about the missing file from Farrell’s office?” she asked.
I shook my head.
Disbelief flickered across her face. “It doesn’t matter,” she finally said. “We figured out the file was for Welch and that led us back to his mother. And when someone,” she emphasized the word ‘someone’, “reported Welch’s body, we interviewed the cabin owner.”
“Strickland.”
“Yes.”
“But you hadn’t made the connection between Strickland and Doctor McKenzie.”
“No,” she said. “But you did, and I want to know how.”
“I followed Gus here.” I again decided to leave out some details, like that Ace was the one who followed Gus to McKenzie’s office. If she had to talk to a Goofball Brother, I wasn’t sure who would be more confused: Ace, because that was his natural state, or her as she would try to follow Ace’s muddled train of thought.
“Gus could’ve been a patient here,” she said.
“True, but he wasn’t.”
“How do you know that?”
I didn’t know, but again, I couldn’t tell her what I did know, and I couldn’t bring Cal into this. “I asked around,” I said evasively. “And I had connected Welch to Gus, and Gus had been to McKenzie’s office, so I checked out the office.”
“You staked it out.”
“Is that against the law?”
“No,” she said slowly. I’m sure she was also wondering what laws I had broken and hadn’t told her about.
“And that’s when I saw the suspicious activity during the night, and I heard McKenzie say he needed to check on Strickland, and I found out the car Gus was using belonged to Strickland, so I ended up there…and then here.”
I left out the part about the Ryersons because I really didn’t want to get them in more trouble than they already were. In all likelihood, Anna was going to need more medical care, and they would have to tell someone what they’d done. But that could be on their terms.
Spillman sighed. “If you had shared what you knew,” she waved a hand in the air, “we could’ve saved you all this trouble.”
“I didn’t have proof of anything,” I said. “And I couldn’t wait on you guys.”
“I’ve told you before, I have to operate within the law,” she said. “And when evidence is stolen, that hampers our investigation.”
That was all true, and we’d had that conversation before. I shrugged. “I had to clear my name.”
“Are you admitting you took evidence from Farrell’s office?”
“No,” I said, looking her in the eye.
She knew I was lying, but she let it go. “You could’ve been killed.”
I shrugged. “That wasn’t part of my plan.”
We sat in silence for a minute.
“What’s your plan?” I asked. “Am I under arrest?”
“We’ve got to interview Quinn and the others, and I’ve sent someone to arrest Strickland. But,” she sighed heavily, “since Gus told you he killed Farrell, he’ll probably try to cut a deal.”
I snapped my fingers. “Hey! I recorded them.” I pulled out my phone and hit the ‘play’ button on the recording app. Strickland’s voice filled the room. We listened for a minute.
“I’ll need that.” She held out a hand.
I reluctantly surrendered the phone. “When can I get it back?”
“I’ll bring it back later.”
“As soon as you can. Please.”
“So I can go now?”
She nodded. “I’ll be in touch.”
“I’ll wait breathlessly,” I said, then moved toward the door.
“Hey, Ferguson.”
I turned to look at her. “Next time keep your pants on.”
“Ha ha,” I said.
I walked out and the door shut behind me, cutting off her laughter.
A few days later, I’d recuperated and Willie and I decided that a small celebration was in order, so we invited our friends to B 52’s for some burgers, beer and pool. It was just the kind of relaxation I needed.
“What happened to those thugs?” Bob asked after we toasted my freedom.
“I recorded a good bit of what happened,” I said. “Enough to worry them all. Gus cut a deal, just like Spillman said he would. That way he won’t face the death penalty. The others are facing some serious jail time, too.”
Willie put her arm around me. “That thug gave up the others to save his own skin. What a coward.”
“Yeah, but I’m glad he did,” I said. “Otherwise I would still be a suspect.”
Cal sat down on the other side of Willie. Yes, Cal had come out of hiding for the evening and seemed to be enjoying himself.
“Man,” he said, drawing the word out, “when you went to Strickland’s and didn’t call me back, I was sure I was going to have to come rescue you.”
I stared at him. “Rescue me? You?”
I was teasing Cal because after he’d called me and got my voicemail, he told me that he’d rep
eatedly called Willie until she answered. That had gotten the ball rolling. He was even going to come down to Denver to help, until Willie listened to my message and called the police.
“Yes,” Cal said. “I was headed out the door when Willie called and said to stay put.”
“So she rescued me.” I grinned.
Cal chuckled. “I’m glad she did because I didn’t know what I was going to do.” Rare words from him. Almost as rare as him coming out of his sanctuary in the mountains to join us.
Willie lightly punched me. “Stop teasing him.” Then she put her other arm around Cal. “I’m so glad you came tonight.”
He blushed. “Yeah, well, I guess Reed’s worth it.”
Just then, Henri Benoit walked up to me.
“Henri, I’m so glad you could join us.” I stood up and introduced him to Willie and my friends.
“I am glad that you are not in trouble anymore,” Henri said. Then he introduced a woman, no more than five feet tall, to Willie and Cal. “This is my wife, Evaline.” Her long silvery hair was pulled into a bun and a twinkle lit up her mocha eyes.
“Ah, Reed, it is good to see you,” Evaline said as she tip-toed to kiss both my cheeks in European fashion. “It is so noisy in here, not our cup of tea, but I wanted to meet this girlfriend of yours.” She smiled at Willie.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Willie said.
Willie and Evaline started chatting as if they’d known each other for years.
“Your Willie, she is charming,” Henri murmured in my ear.
“Yes, she is,” I said.
“You are going to marry her, yes?”
Had he been talking to my mother?
“I think it’s a good possibility,” I admitted.
“You would be a fool not to! I can tell she loves you very much,” Henri said.
I smiled and looked at the floor. Then I changed the subject and we talked about old movies. Soon, Henri and Evaline said their goodbyes. The noisy bar really was too much for them, but I was touched and honored that they had taken the time to come celebrate with me. And I was pleased that they both liked Willie, and she liked them.
“Hey, Reed.” Deuce tapped me on the shoulder. “We’re going to play some pool. I’ll play Bob first and then you’re next.”
“It’s a deal,” I said.
My cell phone rang and I glanced at it.
“Who is it?” Willie asked.
“My mother.” I started to put the phone back in my pocket.
“Don’t ignore her,” Willie said.
“Have you been conspiring with her again?”
“Moi?” She put a hand over her heart. “Only to tell her I’d make sure you let her know how you’re doing. She worries about you.”
“So the answer is ‘yes’.”
“ ‘Conspiring’ is such a negative term, Reed. We chat, that’s all.”
I sighed and answered the phone.
“Reed, sweetheart, how are…what’s that noise? What’s going on?” my mother said, the words coming fast and furious. “I can’t hear a thing. Are you having a party?”
“You could say that,” I said.
Deuce leaned across the table. “We’re celebrating!” he said a little too loudly.
“What’re you celebrating?” Mother asked.
“He’s not going to jail!” Ace piped in.
“Ace,” I hissed.
“What? Jail?” I could hear the instant worry in her voice.
“It’s nothing,” I said.
“Paul!” Mother called to my father. “Your son’s going to jail.” Then to me, “I knew it! This detecting business has gotten you into trouble, hasn’t it?”
“Just the opposite,” I said. “It’s kept me from going to prison.”
“Prison? Paul, did you hear that?”
There was a rattling on the other end of the line and then my father’s gruff voice came to me. “Son, what is going on?”
I could picture him in his shorts, ready to go sit on the lanai with an after-dinner drink.
“It’s all okay, Dad.” I sighed. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to worry you.”
He sighed elaborately. “It’s too late for that. At least for your mother.”
What else was new?
THE END
Turn the page to keep reading The Third Fan, Reed Ferguson mystery book 9!
The Third Fan
The Reed Ferguson Mystery Series, Book 9
Chapter One
I thought about Charlie Preston as I walked into his luxury high-rise condo in the Ballpark neighborhood just northwest of downtown Denver. Charlie was the second baseman for the Colorado Rockies. He’d struggled for a few years in the minors before making it to the big leagues, and now he was in the midst of a splendid sophomore season. It was a Friday in mid-June, and there was talk that he might be in for a big contract if he continued to perform well. He was young and good-looking, with a bright future, and living the dream. He was also suspected of murder, and he’d called me, Private Investigator Reed Ferguson, for help. I’ve been in business for a few years, have handled a number of cases and have the scars to prove it. I didn’t know if this case would be as dangerous as some of the others, but it was certainly higher-profile.
I took the elevator to the penthouse, walked down a short hall and knocked on a solid oak door. A moment later, a muscular guy with long, wavy brown hair, blue eyes and a square jaw opened the door.
“Reed Ferguson,” he said as he held out a hand. “I’m Charlie. Thanks for coming.”
It was decorated in a modern style, with two white couches facing each other and glass-topped coffee and end tables. There wasn’t a knick-knack in sight or anything that spoke to his personality, other than two baseball bats propped in the corner. Oversized windows framed a stunning view of the Rocky Mountains, the late evening sun turning the sky over the peaks a purple-orange.
“Have a seat,” he said, pointing to one of the couches. “You find the place okay?”
“Yes.” I took in the view for a moment, then sat down. The cushions were hard and uncomfortable.
Charlie perched on the edge of the couch across from me and rested his elbows on his knees. “So.” He tapped his fingertips together and let out a long, heavy sigh. “What do you know?”
“Just what I’ve seen on the news,” I said. “A man named Pete Westhaven was shot in his apartment in south Denver last night. Early this morning, you were questioned about his murder. You haven’t been charged yet, but while the investigation goes on, you’ve been temporarily suspended from the Rockies. That’s it.”
He kept tapping his fingers. “That’s what was in the news.”
“Tell me what wasn’t,” I said.
He grimaced. “Pete and I have – had – been friends since high school. We played football and baseball together, and then we both got baseball scholarships to Florida State. Only he lost his scholarship after his freshman year.”
“What happened?”
“He wasn’t as good as I was,” he said matter-of-factly, “and he liked to party. So he got cut from the team.”
“But you remained friends.”
“Yeah. I got drafted after my sophomore year and decided to leave school. I played a few years in the minor leagues, and he finished his degree in sports management, then worked odd jobs back in Florida while he tried to get a job with a team somewhere. When I got called up last year to play for the Rockies, he moved up here and I got him a job in the clubhouse.”
“Did you see him a lot?”
He nodded. “When I was in town. He didn’t travel with the team.”
“Did you hang out together?”
Another nod. “We hit the bars some, played some golf, drank some beers here or at his place.”
“And now he’s gone.”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Why do the police think you killed him?”
“For one, they said people heard us arguing.”
“About what?”
He eyed me carefully. “My parents say you can be discreet.”
I nodded. “That’s true.”
I’d come recommended. Charlie was from Florida, and his parents still lived there. They golfed with my parents, who had retired to the Sunshine State. The minute the story broke that Charlie had been questioned for murder, my mother had called Charlie’s mother and told her I could help. It wasn’t the first time I’d helped friends of my parents. Right before my first official case, I had helped a wealthy friend of my father track down an old business partner. I appreciated my mother’s faith in me, especially since she loathed my chosen profession because of its inherent dangers and never failed to mention it when she had a chance. How much I could help Charlie remained to be seen, but when he called earlier in the evening, I decided to go over and see what he had to say.
“What I say stays here,” Charlie said. “You can’t go to the press.”
“Of course not.”
His lips pressed into a hard line, then he sighed again and said, “We were arguing about steroids.”
“As in…” I let my voice trail off.
“As in he was supplying me with them.”
I kept a straight face, but I was surprised. I’d been following his career and thought it was cool that he’d been doing so well. To hear that he was cheating to do so was disappointing.
“You’ve never tested positive,” I observed.
He waved a hand dismissively. “There are ways around the tests.”
“What exactly was the argument about?”
The blue eyes flashed anger. “He wanted more money for the steroids. A lot more.”
“And you didn’t want to pay.”
He shook his head. “Not what he was asking.”
“Why not get them from someone else?”
He snorted. “It’s not as easy as you might think, finding someone who will supply you and keep their mouth shut. I needed someone very discreet. Besides, no one suspected Pete was doing any of this. It was perfect.”
“Until the other night.”
“Yeah. He’d asked me to come over because he had something important to discuss. Then he hit me with his…proposal, as he called it. I told him he was asking too much and he pressed the issue. I kept telling him no and then he shouted that it was time he started making big money, too. I said he was crazy and that he’d better keep his mouth shut or he could ruin everything I’ve worked for. Then he said it was all going to come out, that my steroid use would be exposed if I didn’t pay up.”
The Reed Ferguson Mystery series Box Set 3 Page 34
