“Okay, so she’s dealing steroids and not something else,” I said as I munched on chips. “And she was involved with Pete, and she fought with him.”
“Doesn’t mean she killed him.”
I shrugged. “True. And what’s her motive?”
“You’re the detective,” he said wryly.
“And you’re not being helpful.” I crunched a chip loudly.
“I’m not trying to be,” he grinned. “What about the gun? How would Maggie get Charlie’s gun?”
“Maybe she came with Pete when he visited Charlie.”
“Charlie would know, then.”
I shook my head. “I doubt it. Charlie’s not the most observant guy, and he’s pretty useless when it comes to knowing anything about Pete. Charlie didn’t even know Pete had been dating Maggie.” I paused. “Unless Pete brought Maggie to one of Charlie’s parties, but he didn’t tell Charlie that he was actually dating her. Without a reference to Maggie being a girlfriend, I doubt Charlie would’ve even noticed Pete had a woman with him.”
“You could show Charlie a picture of Maggie and see if he recognizes her.”
“That’s a good idea.” I thought about that while I glanced at the game. The Rockies were playing the Milwaukee Brewers and they were behind. “I’ll have to figure out a way to get Maggie’s picture without her knowing.”
“I could get you a driver’s license photo, but if the picture’s old, it might not help.”
“I’ll have to try to get some pictures of her with my zoom lens,” I said.
Cal finished his burger and sat back. “And what about that woman that Jane saw outside the apartment building the night of the murder?”
“It could’ve been Maggie,” I said.
“If she killed Pete, why wouldn’t she run?”
“Curiosity. She wanted to see what happened next.”
“Pretty twisted.”
“So is murder.” I finished my beer. “Or she didn’t have enough time to run, so she hangs around, acting like a gawker.”
“And blends into the crowd,” Cal offered.
“Maybe. When you get home, can you do a financial check on Maggie?” I asked. “I want to know if she owes money, or needs money.”
“Something that would explain why she’s selling steroids,” Cal said.
I nodded. “Or something that would give her a reason to undercut Pete. And while you’re at it, check Pete’s neighbor Mason Dubowitzki.”
“Spelled like it sounds?”
“I would assume so. There can’t be that many variations of the name, and one that lives on Washington Street should narrow it down.”
“You got it.”
The waiter came by and asked us if we wanted another beer. We both declined, but Cal ordered a Coke instead.
“As much as I’d like another, I’ve got to drive back home,” he explained when the waiter left. “And I’ve got a lot to do.”
“Yeah, I hear you,” I said.
I turned to where I could more easily see the TV and we chatted and watched the rest of the game.
“That’s my cue to head out,” Cal said as the Rockies third baseman hit a fly ball that ended the game in a loss for the Rockies.
“Me, too,” I said and paid the check. “Thanks for all your help.”
“You got it.”
We walked out into the sunshine, but before he headed to his car, Cal turned to me. “Hey, Reed?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really happy for you and Willie both.”
“Thanks,” I said.
We parted, and I strolled to the 4-Runner, thinking about a call I needed to make.
“Hello, dear. This is a nice surprise to hear from you,” my mother said in a cheery voice. “Have you been able to help Charlie?”
“I’m working on it,” I said as I headed for my meeting with Greg Revis. “I’ve got something I want to tell both of you, so can Dad get on another line?”
“Well, sure. Is something wrong?” Worry jumped into her tone.
“No, nothing’s wrong.”
“Hang on. Paul,” she called out. “Reed’s on the phone and he wants to talk to both of us. Pick up the extension. I’m sure something’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong, Mother,” I said, striving for patience.
“You say that, but with all the calls about how you’ve been beaten up or something, it’s a wonder I don’t have a heart attack.” She was on a roll.
“You’re as healthy as a horse,” my father said as he got on the call. “Son, why are you worrying your mother?”
“Hi, Dad. I just asked for you to get on the other line because I have some news.”
“See, Paul? What’s the matt –” my mother started to say.
“Tell us your news before she comes undone,” my father said.
“I’m going to ask Willie to marry me,” I blurted out before the drama could continue.
“Oh, sweetie!” my mother gushed. “That’s just wonderful!”
“We really like her,” my father said in his usual subdued manner.
“Yes, we certainly do,” Mother said. “Willie is such a dear. I’m so excited for you both.”
“Thank you,” I managed to get in before she went on.
“Do you have a ring yet?” Mother asked.
“I’ve been looking around, but I’m not sure,” I said.
“If I may make a suggestion?” she said.
“Yes?” Oh boy, I thought. Where was this going?
“I have your grandmother’s engagement ring,” she said. “She gave it to me to wear and of course you’ll inherit it. But since you’re a man, what would you do with it? If you like the style, would you like to give it to Willie? She’s practically a daughter to me.”
I was touched. “I’d be honored.”
“Oh, you’ve made me so happy. And if you or Willie don’t like it, you can use the stones in a different setting.”
“That sounds good.”
“I’ll ship it to you right away,” she said breathlessly.
“I can’t wait to see it.”
“And if you don’t think it’ll work for an engagement ring, I’ll give it to her later,” she said. “It’s a nice ring.”
“That sounds fine.” I was nearing the stadium and traffic was bad. “I’ve got to go now.”
“Okay, dear. We’ll talk soon,” she said. “When you ask her, I want to hear all about it.”
“I promise I’ll call with all the details.”
I ended the call and smiled, keenly aware of my blessings.
Chapter Fifteen
View House Eatery was a rooftop bar a block east of Coors Field. Although it had a restaurant on the main level, and a huge area for games, and even golf, in a garden area, the rooftop was its claim to fame. By the time I got there, the restaurant was packed with a rowdy post-ballgame crowd, music blaring, pool tables full, and tables full of people eating and drinking.
Greg had texted me to say he was at a table on the southeast side of the rooftop bar, so I headed up the stairs and outside. To the left was a nice view of Coors Field. The music was just as loud out here, and I was disappointed that it wasn’t my favorite 80s music. I made my way to the right and around the bar, then was struck by a spectacular view of downtown. As I looked around, I spotted a man in his late twenties sitting at a small table near the corner of the rooftop. He wore jeans and a purple Izod shirt, and had slicked-back blond hair. I approached, and he waved and stood up. Then I noticed how big he actually was, the muscles stretching the fabric of his shirt.
“Reed?” he asked, a frigid aura about him, even though the evening was still warm.
“Hi, Greg, thanks for meeting me.” I sat down across from him. The music didn’t seem quite as loud in the corner, but I still had to speak up to be heard. “I know talking about Pete can’t be easy.”
He contemplated his beer and nodded. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”
Before I could say anyt
hing, a waiter came and took our orders. Greg got a Reuben and a Coors while I selected the BBQ brisket and a Fat Tire.
“So you work for the Rockies, too,” I said, trying to break the ice.
“Yeah.”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s an okay gig,” he said, slightly warming to the conversation. “Long hours sometimes, and the pay’s not great. It’s a lot of errands and running around trying to keep the players happy. But I get to be around baseball, and that’s what I want.”
The waiter returned with our beers. I took a drink. “I’ve heard you have to know someone to get a job in a clubhouse.”
“It certainly helps. I started out as a batboy with a minor-league team in California and then worked in their clubhouse. One of the guys there got a job with the Rockies and he recommended me.”
“And that’s where you met Pete?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What’d you think of him?”
“Pete? He was a good guy.”
“Charlie said everyone liked him.”
He nodded. “That’s true.”
“How well do you know Charlie Preston?”
He shrugged. “I see him around the clubhouse. He seems nice enough.”
“Do you believe he could –” I paused. There was never an easy way to ask the question.
“Did Charlie kill Pete?” he asked bluntly.
“Yes.”
He sipped his beer and looked at the high-rises. “From what I know of Charlie, no. But it’s possible.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Anything’s possible, right?”
I nodded. “What about Pete? There has to be someone who didn’t like him. Someone who might want to –”
He was blunt again. “Who might want to kill him?”
“Yes.”
He took time to think about it. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t seem sure,” I said.
His gaze went to his glass of beer.
“What?” I finally said.
He hesitated. “It’s nothing.”
We stopped talking when the waiter brought us our food. Greg took a bite of his sandwich and avoided looking me in the eyes.
I tried some of the BBQ. It was okay, but my appetite had vanished. Resistance from someone who might have information that could help me tended to do that. “You like Charlie, right? From what you know of him.”
Greg glanced at me. “Yeah, he’s a good guy.”
“Do you know what’s going to happen to him if he’s convicted of murder?” I asked. “It’ll ruin him.”
“Obviously.”
“Then help me help him.”
He took another bite and chewed slowly. Then he set the sandwich down, leaned forward and lowered his voice. I had to strain to hear him over the music.
“You don’t know what it’s like in the clubhouse,” he said. “Everyone’s tight. If I say anything, I could get in trouble with the guys.”
“Anything you say stays with me.” I resisted the urge to raise a hand and make an oath.
He sighed heavily. “I think Pete might’ve been giving some of the guys steroids.”
“Giving? As in administering them?”
“Hell, I don’t know that,” he snapped, uncomfortable. “He was selling them, that’s all I know.”
“To who?” I asked.
“Man, I can’t tell you that,” he blurted.
“You said ‘guys’. Was it more than one person?”
“A few.”
“Charlie?” I didn’t want to implicate Charlie, but I needed to know what Greg knew.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
And yet Charlie thought Pete was selling only to him, I thought. Did Charlie know more about the steroids than he was saying? Or had Pete kept him in the dark?
“I don’t need names, but you’re sure it was more than one person?” I asked.
“Yeah, it was a few.”
“How much money was Pete making?”
“Beats me,” Greg said.
“Did you actually see him selling the steroids?”
He shrugged. “There were some rumors around the clubhouse. That’s all I know.”
“What if the wrong person knew about what Pete was doing?”
He didn’t say anything to that.
“I know you have to be careful,” I said, “but if Pete got in with the wrong crowd, maybe someone killed him over the steroids.”
“I don’t know. Seems like a lame reason to kill.”
“You’d be surprised what little it takes for someone to commit murder.”
Again he remained silent.
“Do you know Maggie Hollenbaucher?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No, who’s she?”
“Pete dated her recently, and she might’ve been involved with his steroid business.”
“That’s news to me.”
“Is there anyone else I can talk to?” I pressed.
He held up a hand. “I can’t tell you what goes on in the clubhouse. It’s all hush-hush. If I said anything, do you know what would happen to my career?”
“And what about Charlie?”
He averted his eyes, his jaw tight. Then his gaze came back to me. “I don’t know anything, okay? But if I think of something that will help Charlie, I’ll call you.”
He finished his beer in one long gulp, stood up and dropped some bills on the table.
“Thanks for your time,” I said.
“On second thought, I think it’s better I don’t see you again.” Then he turned and stalked out through the crowd.
I watched his retreating back until he disappeared around the corner. I looked out to the high-rises as I ran the conversation in my mind and concluded that he was holding something back. Was it just clubhouse stuff, keeping dirty secrets for the ballplayers? Or was it more than that? I was not convinced he didn’t know something that could clear Charlie of Pete’s murder. But he was so reluctant to talk, how would I find out anything more from him?
I picked at my BBQ, then paid for the meal and left.
Chapter Sixteen
As I walked back to Blake Street, I called Charlie.
“Are you home?” I asked when he answered.
“Yeah. This thing is all over the news and people give me funny looks when I go out, so I decided to stay home.”
“I’m down the block. Can I come up? I’ve got some questions.”
“Sure.”
A few minutes later, Charlie let me into his condo.
“You want a beer?” he asked as he showed me into the living room.
“I’ll pass,” I said. I needed my wits about me.
He got a Samuel Adams from the kitchen and sat on the edge of the couch across from me. The sliding glass door to the deck was open and the muffled sounds of traffic drifted in to us.
“What’s going on?” he asked after he drank half the beer in one swallow.
I studied him for a bit.
“What?” he finally asked.
“Are you telling me everything?” I said.
“What do you mean? Of course I am.”
“Pete got into trouble with drugs in college. He even went to jail.”
“What?” The beer bottle was halfway to his mouth, but he stopped. “How did you know?”
“I’m a private investigator. It’s what I do.” I forced myself to stay calm. “You knew.”
Charlie drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Of course,” he said. “Pete was my best friend.”
“When I first met with you, I specifically asked you if Pete ever got into any trouble, and you told me no,” I snapped. So much for staying calm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He lifted a hand in protest, then dropped it. “I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea about him.”
“I appreciate that you don’t want to trash him, but I need to know everything, okay?” I held up my hands, pleading. “You want me to clear your name, right?�
��
“Yes!” He slammed the bottle on the coffee table and beer foamed out of it. He cursed and quickly drank it. Then he said, “I didn’t think it was important.”
“If you want me to help you, I need you to be totally honest. Let me decide what’s important and what isn’t.” I paused. “Are you holding anything else back?”
The hand came back up. “All right, I’m sorry.”
“Is there anything else about Pete?” I asked pointedly.
He hesitated. “I didn’t want you to think that Pete was a drug addict or something. He had his problems, but he got himself together and was moving ahead. He only got busted once, but he was into the drugs pretty seriously. Like I said, he cleaned himself up.”
“Was he dealing?”
He nodded. “He got in with a pretty rough crowd.”
“Is it possible he was dealing here in Denver?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Did you know he was selling steroids to others?”
He shook his head. “No way. We agreed he was only going to help me.”
“That’s not what I’ve been hearing.”
“Who told you that?”
It was my turn to hesitate. “I can’t tell you who right now. But it looks like Pete may have been selling steroids on a bigger scale.”
He stood up and began pacing. “Man, I don’t believe it! We talked about that. If he sold to more people, there’d be more risk of him getting caught.”
“And of you getting caught.”
“Yeah.” He picked up the bat from the corner and started swinging it. Then he pointed it at me. “Are you sure about this?”
I leaned back ever so slightly. “Pretty sure. I’m still looking into it.”
“Man!” He swung the bat hard. “He promised me.” Then he sat down, the bat still in his hands, a look of disappointment on his face.
It was a pretty good act, but right at the moment, I was suspicious. What else was he holding back?
I rubbed a hand over my jaw. “You’ve never heard of Maggie Hollenbaucher?”
“I told you no.”
I looked at him doubtfully.
“No,” he reiterated. “I don’t know her.”
The Reed Ferguson Mystery series Box Set 3 Page 42
