“Why would she use a camera to watch?” Deuce asked. “You use a camera to take pictures.”
“I think she’s trying to appear casual, but she uses a telephoto lens to zoom in on my client’s balcony,” I said. More puzzled looks. “The zoom lens acts like binoculars.”
“Oh,” they said in unison, but I didn’t think they got it.
“It’s a small point,” I said. “If you see a woman who stands around and watches the building for a long time, call me.”
“I don’t know,” Deuce said. “It really does sound boring.”
“Blake Street Tavern is across the street,” I said. “You could hang out there for a while, get lunch, have a beer.” I pointed a finger. “Just don’t drink too much. I need you to stay clearheaded.”
“Well, okay,” Ace said. “We can do that.”
“Great.” I pulled out some bills and handed them to Deuce. “Here. This is for lunch and a couple of beers.” Then I wrote down the address, then described the street and Charlie’s building. “Once the bar opens, wait there for a while, but if the wait staff gets irritated that you’re staying too long, you’ll have to watch from the street. And if you see that woman, call me right away.”
“You want us to follow her?” Ace asked. “I can do that, remember? That’s what makes it exciting.”
And dangerous, I thought. I remembered my most recent case, when Ace had taken it upon himself to follow a thug that I’d been interested in. Although Ace had surprised me by successfully tailing the guy, I’d been so worried about what might happen to Ace if the guy discovered he was being followed that I almost had a heart attack. And Ace obviously didn’t remember how worried he’d been, too, when he thought the thug might find out where he lived and pay him an unpleasant visit.
“No,” I said, not wanting to revisit that scenario. “Don’t follow her, just call me. You understand?”
“Okay.” Ace frowned with disappointment.
“Hey, Reed,” Deuce said. “What’re you going to be doing?”
“The same thing you are,” I said.
“Drinking beer?” Ace grinned.
I sighed. “I’ll be watching for a different woman, and when I find her, I’m going to see if I can get a picture of her.”
“Who is she?” Deuce asked.
“A suspect.”
“Oh, right.” They both nodded knowingly.
“Don’t worry, Reed,” Ace said. “We won’t get drunk. I’ll call you later with an update.”
“Thanks,” I said and left before I could regret my decision.
I made a quick call to Cal, who used his hacker magic to find out that Maggie worked at a tech firm in Aurora, which is a sprawling suburb southeast of downtown and also Colorado’s third-largest city. It took me forty minutes to cross town to get to Maggie’s workplace, and when I did, I wondered if I was making a mistake. Her office building had front, back and side entries – how could I watch them all? There weren’t that many Goofball Brothers to help, even if I decided to pull Ace and Deuce from their present assignment. So I drove around the lot, looking at cars. I finally spotted a silver Toyota Camry, but when I checked the license plate, it wasn’t Maggie’s. However, the next Camry I saw was.
I found a parking place in the next row, half a dozen cars down from hers. Since it was already after ten, I’d have to hope she came out for lunch. I got my camera ready, put it on the passenger seat, rolled down my window and sat back to wait.
The minutes turned to an hour, and still no Maggie. I read part of my book – call me old-fashioned, but I love the feel of a real book and could not get used to an e-reader – and then got out and walked around. Storm clouds were forming over the mountains in the west and I wondered if it was going to rain later. It was not uncommon this time of year for Denver to have afternoon thunderstorms that usually passed quickly, but that sometimes brought hail or even tornadoes. I hoped that wasn’t the case today, as it might ruin my opportunity to get a clear picture of Maggie.
Lunch hour came and went, and, sure enough, I was bored. I wondered if the Goofballs were bored, too. I almost dozed off, so I got out and walked around again. Then I started thinking about film noir, and those old detectives. Did Sam Spade or Mike Hammer ever get bored? We never saw that side of the story. That’s probably the real reason the great fictional detective Philip Marlowe was a hardboiled drinker – he was driven to booze not by a femme fatale but by boredom. The skies grew dark, and thunder announced the presence of a storm. At three, Ace called.
“Hey, Reed, we haven’t seen anyone.”
“Okay. Can you stay through dinner or do you need to go?”
“Sure, we don’t have anything going on,” he said.
In the background, I heard laughter. “Are you at the bar?”
“Yeah.”
“Aren’t they getting suspicious because you’ve been there so long?”
“Nah, the waitress is nice. Her name’s Kendra. We’ve been talking to her and she said stay as long as we want. She’s even brought us free Cokes.”
I smiled at that. The Goofball Brothers could drive you nuts, but they were loveable, too. They must’ve charmed Kendra.
“Okay, thanks. Is it raining there?”
“Not yet,” he said. “And we can see the street from where we’re sitting.”
“If it does rain, I doubt the stalker will hang around, so you can go home.”
“Sure thing.”
“I’ll call you later tonight.”
I ended the call and waited. A few minutes later, the rain began to fall. I rolled up my window and kept watch on Maggie’s car. My phone rang again.
“O Great Detective,” Cal said. “I’ve got some information on Maggie Hollenbaucher.”
“What’d you find?”
“She hasn’t been in any trouble, but she has a lot of student loan and credit card debt. She likes to spend money: lots of clothes and travel. And even though she makes a decent salary, it’ll take her years to pay off all the debt.”
“So some extra cash would come in handy,” I said.
“Yep.”
“Anything on Mason Dubowitzki?”
“So far, he’s clean,” Cal said. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay. Sometimes the least likely person is the killer.”
He laughed. “Then watch out for him.”
“Will do.” I thanked him and hung up.
Maggie grows more interesting as a suspect, I thought as I rearranged myself to get more comfortable.
Five o’clock finally arrived and a little later, Maggie dashed to her car, unlocked it and hopped in. She was so focused on keeping dry that she didn’t notice anything – or anyone – around her. But she also had a raincoat covering her head, and I wasn’t able to snap her picture.
I cursed, started up the 4-Runner and followed her. I figured she would head either home or to one of the gyms I’d seen her visit, but she surprised me and drove south on I-225 and then east on Iliff. We stayed on Iliff until she turned into a parking lot and parked in front of a Better Bodies health club.
Another gym? I thought. She gets around.
She was too fast for me. By the time I’d parked and grabbed the camera and focused on her, she was inside the building. I waited an hour while it rained, lamenting that this storm was not quickly passing through. Finally, Maggie came out of the gym. I snapped a couple of shots of her, but she had ducked her head down to avoid the rain, so I didn’t get a clear shot of her face.
I tailed her again as she visited yet another gym, this one close to the Cherry Creek Mall. Same result. She darted in and out of the gym in such a hurry that I could not get a good picture of her. I swore.
Is this going to be a bust? I thought as I followed her Camry out of the parking lot. And was this her network of places to sell steroids? I’d place bets on that.
It was getting dark as we drove west on 8th Avenue. The rain stopped, but at this point I doubted I’d get a good picture of her. On t
he other hand, I’d dedicated my day to this, so I wasn’t giving up. I wondered if she was going to another gym, but then as she turned on Washington it dawned on me where she was going – to Pete’s apartment.
Up ahead, the Camry crossed 12th Avenue and then pulled to the curb. I found a space near the corner and parked. Maggie emerged from her car and strode up to Pete’s building and on inside.
I grabbed my camera and a flashlight from the glove box, got out and ran up the sidewalk, then cautiously opened the outside door to Pete’s building. Maggie wasn’t around, so I slipped inside. I stood in the foyer and could hear her footsteps on the stairs. I followed quietly and, as I neared the third floor, I could see down the hallway. Maggie was standing outside Pete’s door. She pulled a key from her pocket, put it in the knob and opened the door. I quickly snapped her picture as she ducked under the crime scene tape and disappeared inside.
Chapter Nineteen
How do you like that! I thought. Maggie had a key, even after she’d broken up with Pete. Had he known?
I ascended to the third-floor landing, then tiptoed down the hall, hoping I wouldn’t run into either Jane Reichel or Mason Dubowitzki. I reached Pete’s apartment, put my ear to the door and listened. Nothing. Maggie was being very quiet. My lock-pick set was in the 4-Runner, and I wondered if I should run back and get it. But what if I missed something while I was gone? Then I heard someone coming up the stairs, accompanied by rustling plastic, so I slowly walked down the hall toward Jane’s apartment. Then I glanced over my shoulder and saw a figure with grocery bags moving up the stairs to the fourth floor. I listened for a moment, but heard nothing else, so I moved back to Pete’s door and waited. And waited. My palms grew sweaty and I wiped them on my shorts. After what seemed like an eternity, the doorknob turned. Wouldn’t she be astonished, just as I’d been when Jane surprised me? I aimed the camera on the door where Maggie’s face would be. The door swung open and Maggie saw the camera. I snapped her picture. She let out a squeak and covered her mouth.
“Hi,” I said.
“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
She grabbed my arm. “Get in here before someone sees you.”
“Or you,” I said as I ducked under the tape.
I stepped past her and she quietly shut the door. Then she whirled around and flicked on her flashlight. A halo of light bathed her face.
“You’ve been following me,” she said, her voice quiet. Accusation dripped from her voice.
“Guilty.”
“I should call the police,” she snapped. “You have no right to stalk me, and you shouldn’t be here.”
“Yes, let’s call the police.” I started to pull out my phone. “I’ll tell them that you let me into Pete’s apartment, which you just did. And you’ll have a hard time explaining why you’re here, and how you got in with a key.”
“How do you know I have a key? Maybe the door was unlocked.”
“Please,” I said sarcastically, then held up my camera. “I have pictures.”
We stared at each other for a moment. The room was stuffy and a muggy heat surrounded us. “Want to tell me what you’re doing here?” I finally asked.
She shook her head.
“Okay, I’ll tell you what I think.” I casually leaned back against the coat closet, trying to disarm her by acting cool, although my stomach was a knot of nervous energy. I didn’t relish being discovered in Pete’s apartment any more than she did. “You’ve got a little business venture, and if I had to guess – which I am since you won’t say – I’d say you’re selling steroids.” She kept still but I saw a wary flicker in her eye. I continued. “I know you have a lot of student loans and other debt, so you need cash. Somewhere along the line, you hooked up with Pete and he’s been supplying you with steroids to sell. What was his cut? Or were you buying from him wholesale?” Silence, so I went on. “I’ll bet you’re making some nice extra change with your business. I’ve seen you visit a number of gyms the last couple of days. How many different gyms do you visit in a week? You’ve probably got quite a clientele. On one of those visits, I heard you talking about how your supply is running low, and, if Pete was your sole supplier, then I’m sure you are short on inventory, what with him being dead. How am I doing so far?”
“You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?” she whispered.
“I can hold my own, but I don’t have it all figured out,” I said. “Like why you would kill Pete if he was your supplier?”
Her voice rose. “I didn’t kill him!”
“Careful,” I said in a low voice. “You don’t want the neighbors to hear.”
“I didn’t kill him,” she repeated quietly.
I ignored that. “What happened? Did you get into an argument with him and then you shot him? Or did he want too much of your profits so you decided to eliminate him and get the steroids yourself?” I glanced behind her, into the living room. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To find out where he’s getting the steroids from.”
She gasped in surprise. I’d nailed that part – she’d been trying to find information about Pete’s supplier.
“You can’t prove any of this,” she said.
“It’s just a matter of time before I do.”
“You’re wrong.”
I shrugged, then wiped sweat off my brow. “Then tell me where I’ve erred.”
Instead, she pointed at the camera. “Why’d you take my picture?”
“There’s one final piece I need to confirm, and that’s whether you’ve been to Charlie Preston’s condo.”
“Charlie Preston? Why does it matter if I was at his condo?”
“When I confirm you were at his place, then that proves you had access to Charlie’s gun. And once you stole the gun, you came here. Since you and Pete were dating, he’d let you in without any commotion. Then you kill him and come back at a later time – like now – let yourself in with his key and find his records about the steroids.”
She held up a hand. “Wait a minute. Pete was killed with Charlie’s gun?”
It would’ve been hard to fake that kind of surprise. “Yes,” I said slowly. Suddenly I didn’t feel so cocky.
“You’re crazy if you think that’s all true.”
“Then tell me what is true.”
“I can’t.”
I crossed my arms. “Okay, let’s come at this from a different direction. If you’re innocent, you should have an alibi for Thursday, the night Pete was killed.”
“I do!”
“Well?”
She hesitated. “I can’t tell you.”
“And you expect me to believe you?” I said too loudly.
Something thumped outside the door. She and I both instinctively ducked and my backside hit the closet door. It rattled like machine gun fire. I pressed my hands to the door and it stopped. My heart pounded loudly in my ears.
“Keep it down!” she hissed.
We waited. Footsteps sounded in the hallway and paused near Pete’s door. Neither Maggie nor I dared to breathe. After a long, nervous moment, the footsteps moved away from the door and then it grew quiet.
We both exhaled slowly.
“We need to get out of here,” Maggie said.
Danger had momentarily put us on the same team, the one that needed to leave Pete’s apartment before we got caught.
“Why can’t you tell me your alibi?” I whispered. “If it’ll mark you off my list of suspects, then isn’t it worth it?”
“I can’t tell you, he’d k –” She gulped.
“He’d kill you?” I asked quickly. “Who?”
She shook her head. “Look, you’ve got it all wrong.”
A silence stretched between us. I waited for her to say more, but she didn’t, so I pulled out a business card and handed it to her.
“If you want to talk, call me.”
She looked at the card. “I thought your name was Sam Spade.”
I shrugged. “I was trying for incognito.”
“I think Sam Spade’s a better name.”
“That’s cold.”
She sneered. “Whatever. I can’t say anything anyway, but it’s not what you think.”
“Then tell me –”
“I’ll prove it,” she interrupted. She turned her back to me and listened at the door, then cracked it open. “Now leave me alone.” Before I could say anything, she opened the door wider and dashed into the hall, leaving the door open.
“Hey,” I whispered.
She ran down the hall to the stairwell and disappeared. I hurried down the stairs, but I didn’t want to yell her name. By the time I got to the door, she was getting in her car. She gunned the engine and peeled out into the street. I watched the Camry go by. I trotted down the sidewalk, but all I saw were the taillights. Then a white car pulled out of a space down the street, blocking my view of the Camry. I had started back toward Pete’s building when a red Mazda zipped by. I reached the front door to the building and grabbed the door handle, then stopped and looked back down the street. The Mazda. The woman hanging around Charlie’s condo the other night had driven a red Mazda. Was that her car just now? Then I ran a hand over my face. If it was, she was gone, and so was Maggie.
I went inside and quietly climbed the stairs to the third floor. No one was around, so I tiptoed down the hall back to Pete’s door. It hadn’t locked, so I let myself in, shut the door and stood in the darkness of Pete’s hallway. Then I pulled out my flashlight, turned it on and looked around the apartment, wondering if Maggie had found anything to show where Pete was getting the steroids. It didn’t appear that anything was different from the last time I was there, but since I hadn’t stayed long the first time, I couldn’t be sure. And since I didn’t want to risk being found here, I thought it best that I leave. I went to the door and listened. I didn’t hear anything, so I mimicked Maggie: I cracked the door open, peeked out, then opened the door wider and slipped out. I quietly locked and shut the door and hurried down the hallway. I didn’t breathe until I’d run down the stairs and out to my car.
The Reed Ferguson Mystery series Box Set 3 Page 44
