Reed Ferguson Mystery Box Set 5

by Renee Pawlish

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Thunder rumbled and we looked up.

  She stood up. “It looks like it might start raining. I should go home.”

  I got up as well. “I’m left with one question: Do you want to meet with your daughter?”

  “Very much so.” She could barely get the words out. “But you can’t let my father know.”

  “Why? After all this time, does it matter what he thinks?”

  “You can’t let anyone know! Just her.”

  I held up my hands in supplication. “Okay. We can arrange that.”

  We started walking back up Emerson.

  “But I want you there,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “In case anything goes wrong.”

  “What could go wrong?”

  “You’ve been poking around Sagebrush. What if someone followed you?”

  “No one did.” Although I couldn’t be certain. Had someone followed Willie and me home? I’d watched, but had I missed a tail? However, I was sure someone had broken into our hotel room, and someone may have been watching us in Sagebrush. “I’ll do whatever you want,” I said. I didn’t know why her father, or anyone else in Sagebrush, would care if she met her daughter after all these years, but if she was scared about it, then that’s all that mattered. I smiled to calm her.

  “Thank you.”

  A flash of lightning split the dark sky and she quickened her pace. I did as well.

  “I’ll get in touch with Gina,” I said. “When do you want to meet?”

  “Anytime. I’ll make it work.”

  We walked the rest of the way in silence.

  “What’s your phone number?” I asked as we paused in front of her house.

  She told me and I put it in my phone.

  “Thank you,” she said, then added, “Be careful.”

  “I will,” I replied, although I didn’t see why I needed to be.

  She started to say something, then choked up. Without a word, she turned and ran up the front porch. I waited until she’d disappeared into the house. A few big raindrops pelted me, but no real rain came as I rushed back to my car. I got in, thinking that this case was nearly finished and that it was one of the easiest I’d had in a while.

  Why do I keep letting myself fall for those thoughts?

  Chapter Fourteen

  As I sat in the 4-Runner and called Gina Smith, the rain stopped. She answered after the second ring.

  “Any news?” she asked.

  “Are you sitting down?”

  “What? Tell me.”

  “I found your mother.”

  “Oh, I –” She choked up, just like her mother had earlier. “I can’t believe it.” She sniffled. “Hold on.”

  I heard a clunk, as if she’d put the phone down. I gave her as much time as she needed. She gathered herself, got back on the phone and said she was okay, and then I told her about meeting Marcia Holder.

  “I can’t believe it,” she repeated. “You actually found her.”

  I glanced at Marcia’s house. “She’d like to meet you.”

  “Where? When?”

  “Wherever and whenever it works for you.”

  “How about tonight? I’ve waited so long for this, I don’t think I could wait a second longer. Dad picked up Ethan earlier to take him to a movie, so I have the night free.”

  I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It wasn’t even five o’clock yet. “Could you be at the Starbucks on the Mall by six?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me call Marcia and see what she says.”

  I called Marcia, thinking that if she didn’t answer, I’d go back to the house and talk to her in person. But she picked up, and agreed to meet Gina and me at the Starbucks. I called Gina back, and she answered right away.

  “I’m already on the road.”

  “Good,” I said. “Marcia will be there by six. One thing, though.”

  “What?”

  “You’re sure your dad’s not following you?” I glanced around to make sure no one was following me.

  “Positive. He’s at the movies right now.”

  “Okay. Marcia’s paranoid about anyone finding out about this.”

  “No one will,” she said. “Tell you what. I’ll meet with her inside the Starbucks. That way, no one will even see us unless they come inside.”

  “Or they look in the window.”

  “You’re paranoid, too.”

  “Part of the job,” I said. “I’ll sit outside, just in case your father decides to show up again.”

  “He’s at the movies,” she said again with emphasis.

  “Right. If he shows up, I’ll stall him before he can get inside. There’s a back way out of that Starbucks, past the bathrooms at the back of the building. You and Marcia go out that way.”

  “Is all this necessary?”

  “Probably not, but Marcia’s nervous.”

  “I’m nervous, too, but in a good way,” she said. “This is so amazing! After all this time, I’m going to meet my birth mother. Thank you, Reed.”

  “No problem.”

  I let her chatter for a bit, ended the call, then headed for the Sixteenth Street Mall. I had to park a few blocks away in a metered spot, and then walk to the Starbucks. I waited outside, and Marcia showed up a few minutes later. We went inside and bought macchiatos, and then waited near the counter where I could see through the window onto the mall, but far back enough that it would be difficult for someone outside to see us.

  “I’m so nervous,” Marcia said breathlessly.

  I nodded. “So is Gina.”

  “I’m sure.”

  She barely sipped her drink, and kept flicking her hair as she looked around. I watched people hurrying up and down the mall, and finally, a few minutes before six, Gina materialized from the crowd. Her pace was quick as she crossed the outside patio and entered the store. She immediately saw us, but suddenly her legs seemed to be leaden, and she walked slowly over. Tension filled the air as the two women surveyed each other.

  “Hi,” Marcia said, a warble in her voice.

  “It’s really you,” Gina murmured.

  They embraced awkwardly, and then glanced at me.

  “I’ll go outside so you can talk in private,” I said.

  They barely acknowledged me as they moved to a table near the back. I moseyed outside and sat at a table. The dark clouds overhead hadn’t opened up yet, but the air still felt like rain was coming. The mall was busy and I watched people, keeping an eye out for John Smith, or anyone else who looked suspicious. Time ticked slowly by. Then I noticed a man in jeans and a black T-shirt loitering across the street. Was he looking my way? I watched him for a while. He seemed to make eye contact with me, and then he moved off.

  “Huh,” I said to myself. Was I being paranoid?

  At eight, the Starbucks closed, and Gina walked out the door. I stood up and looked past her.

  “Where’s Marcia?”

  She jerked a thumb toward the Starbucks. “She went out the back way.”

  “How did it go?”

  She smiled. “Good.” Then she shrugged. “A little uncomfortable. She told me what happened all those years ago. I almost don’t believe it. And I find myself so angry with Alvin Holder.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And we talked about Ethan, and my career, things like that. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

  “I’m sure.”

  She reached out a hand. “Thank you, for everything. Will you send me a bill? And I’ll take care of it right away.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Willie said you’re a great detective. I believe it.”

  I felt my face getting warm. “Thank you.”

  I walked halfway down the street with her, and then we parted ways. The storm was again threatening, and wind whipped at me as I hurried to my car. It started to sprinkle, and by the time I arrived home, it was pouring. Since Willie uses the garage behind our building,
I had to park on the street, and I was soaked before I got up to our building. As I crossed the front porch to go to the stairs on the side of the building, my downstairs neighbors Ace and Deuce Smith came out of their condo, both with umbrellas in their hands.

  “Hey, Reed,” Ace said.

  “Hi, Reed.” Deuce waved a hand at me.

  Ace and Deuce are my friends and sometimes assistants. They look almost the same, with blond hair and eyes as gray as a snowy sky. Neither is necessarily the sharpest tool in the shed. But what they lack in smarts, they make up for in enthusiasm. They’re loyal and fun, and Willie and I love them.

  “You want an umbrella?” Ace held his out.

  “It’s a little late for that,” I said.

  “We have ours.” Deuce wiggled his compact umbrella at me. “So we don’t get wet.”

  “Good thinking,” I muttered.

  “Are you on a case?” Ace asked.

  “Just finished,” I said as I wiped rain off my face.

  Disappointment filled Deuce’s face. “Bummer.” He glanced toward my ankle, looking for my gun and holster. “Did you have to shoot anyone?” It was his dream to work with me and get in a shootout. Somehow my Jim Rockford philosophy hadn’t rubbed off on him.

  “No, this was an easy case,” I said.

  “Okay,” they said in unison.

  “We’re going to B 52s,” Ace said. “You want to come?”

  B 52s, a pool hall near our condos, is our favorite hangout.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Willie and I might come over in a bit.”

  “Oh, Willie’s home?” Deuce asked. Both brothers loved Willie, and she was sweet with them.

  I nodded toward the stairs. “She’s waiting for me.”

  “Oh, okay.” Ace nudged Deuce. “Let’s go. They’ll come if they can.”

  Deuce waved at me. “See you.”

  With that, they both opened their umbrellas and hurried around to the back of the building. I took the steps three-at-a-time upstairs. When I walked inside, Willie was at the kitchen table with her laptop in front of her. She glanced up at me and smothered a laugh.

  “Have you heard of an umbrella?” she asked.

  I rolled my eyes at her. “I left it here.”

  She chuckled. “Good place for it. How’d it go?”

  “We’ve been invited to B 52s with Ace and Deuce. How about I change clothes and I’ll tell you all about my afternoon?”

  “That sounds like fun.”

  And that’s how I thought my case had ended. Until I received a call from Gina three days later.

  “Reed!”

  “Gina?” I didn’t like the dread in her voice. “How are things with you and –”

  That’s as far as I got before she blurted out, “She’s gone.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “What do you mean she’s gone?” I asked.

  “Well, I don’t know that she’s gone, but she hasn’t returned my calls.”

  “Okay, let’s back up,” I said. “When was the last time you talked to Marcia?”

  “Friday night, at the Starbucks. She and I agreed that we’d talk the next day, and I called her and left a message, but she never called back. I’ve left a few more messages, even asking her to just text me if she doesn’t want to talk anymore, that I’d understand, but I haven’t heard a word from her. Have you?”

  “No, but why would I?”

  “I don’t know. I thought maybe if she was upset after talking to me, she might tell you about it.”

  “She didn’t,” I said.

  “I don’t even know where she lives. This is horrible.” I could hear the tears about to come. “I can’t have just found my mother and then have her disappear!”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions. I’ll try calling her, and if she doesn’t answer, I’ll go over to her house and see if she’s there.”

  “Can I come, too?”

  I wavered. “If for some reason she doesn’t want to see you, that’s probably not a good idea.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” She was disappointed. “Call me the minute you know something, okay?”

  “I will.”

  I got off the phone with her and tried Marcia, but she didn’t answer. I left a message explaining that I was concerned about her, and would she please call me back as soon as she could. Then I waited to see if she was screening her calls. But after ten minutes with no response, I grabbed my Glock and my keys, left a note for Willie, who was at work, and ran out the door.

  Fifteen minutes later, I parked in front of Marcia’s house. It was about 1:30, and the street was quiet. I sat and studied the house for a minute. Cream-colored curtains in the front windows were drawn, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I let a car drive by, got out and ambled up the porch steps. I rang the bell and waited, then knocked on the door. No answer. I banged a little harder. Nothing. I glanced around, assured myself no one was watching me, then grabbed the doorknob and twisted. It didn’t budge.

  I tried calling Marcia again, but it went directly to voice mail. I didn’t bother leaving a message. I looked up and down the street. Still quiet. I made a quick decision, and stepped off the porch and hurried around the side of the house through a chain-link gate into the back. The yard was postage stamp-sized, with flower beds along one side and a tiny garden in the corner. At the end was a detached garage. I walked over and looked in a side window. No car was inside, and I didn’t see Marcia.

  I tapped on the window and called out, just to be sure, then went to the back door of the house, knocked, and tried the knob. Locked. I peered through a window into a small kitchen. It appeared neat and clean. And empty. I returned to the front porch, not sure what to do.

  Were Gina and I overreacting? What if Marcia just wasn’t here or had gone out of town? Or what if her father somehow found out about her meeting with Gina? Why would he possibly care after all these years? I thought about my options. I could watch the house for a day or two to see if she returned. Boring, yes, but I’d know whether she was still in town. I could call the police to do a welfare check, but if she wasn’t home when they dropped by, that would end that. They wouldn’t break in without a good reason to believe something was wrong. And I didn’t have that reason.

  I, on the other hand, could let myself in, just to make sure that nothing sinister had happened. In the last few years as a PI, I’d become adept at picking locks. I noticed a welcome mat in front of the door and checked under it. No key. I was debating whether to pick the lock or not when an older woman in blue capris and a sleeveless blouse emerged from the house next door. Her gold jewelry glinted in the sun and contrasted oddly with her pink tennis shoes. Her gray hair didn’t move with the breeze as she walked down the sidewalk. Hm. This woman could be my mother’s fashion-twin.

  “Excuse me,” I called out to her.

  She turned, shielded her eyes, and then saw me. “Yes?”

  I started down the porch steps. “Do you know if Marcia is around?”

  She started across the lawn. “I haven’t talked to her in a few days.”

  “Have you seen her at all since Friday night?”

  “I just told you I haven’t seen her.”

  “Well, no, you said you hadn’t talked to her.” I held up a hand. “Just clarifying.”

  She put her hands on her hips, and her pink lips pressed into a miffed line that also reminded me of my mother. Yikes. My mother, by the way, does “miffed” really well. But this woman was pretty good at it, too. She stared at me. “Who are you?”

  I took out a business card and handed it to her.

  “Reed Ferguson. A private investigator? Is Marcia in some kind of trouble?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not sure. My client was supposed to talk to Marcia a few days ago, and she’s left messages, but Marcia hasn’t called her back.”

  “Maybe Marcia doesn’t want to talk to her,” she said bluntly.

  “That’s a possibility. I was wondering if I should ask the police to do a wel
fare check. Or is there a way to get into the house to make sure she’s not inside and can’t get to the phone?”

  She studied me. “What if she’s out of town?” Then she wrinkled her brow. “Although she usually asks me to water her houseplants and get her mail if she goes anywhere.”

  “Does she travel much, Miss…”

  “Doris,” she said. “And no, she doesn’t, just to the mountains, sometimes.”

  “You know her pretty well?”

  “I wouldn’t say well. Marcia doesn’t talk much about herself, but she’s nice. We talk gardening, and TV shows. She’s invited me over for coffee once in a while.”

  “Has she ever talked about her family?”

  She shook her head. “Not that I recall.”

  “Did you see Marcia on Friday night?”

  She pursed her lips and thought. “Now that you mention it, I heard her come through the back. I was working in the back yard. But I haven’t seen or heard her since.”

  “Have you seen anyone hanging around here, maybe watching her house?”

  She wrapped her arms around herself. “I did see a guy the other day. He was parked in a dark car down the street for a while. I’m getting concerned about all your questions. Is that man after Marcia?”

  “I have no idea, but if you see him again, I’d call the police. It’s probably nothing, but better safe than sorry.”

  She trembled.

  “Have you ever seen a man around here with darker gray hair, kind of a square jaw? About average height?” I did my best to describe John Smith.

  “No, he doesn’t sound familiar.” She harrumphed and looked past me at Marcia’s house. “Now you’re scaring me,” Doris snapped. “I think we should go inside and check. There’s no harm in that. I’ve got a key. Let me get it and I’ll go in with you.” The underlying tone implied, “I’ve got my eye on you.”

  I suppressed a smile and waited while she went to her house. She returned a minute later, waving a key at me.

  “Now we’ll see if there’s a problem,” she announced. She moved past me and up to the door, then opened it and called out, “Yoo-hoo, Marcia? Are you in there?”

  Silence.

  “Marcia?” Doris walked inside and then said, “Oh my, what’s this?”