Reed Ferguson Mystery series Box Set 2

by Renee Pawlish

  “Hey yourself,” I called after her.

  Glasses clanked and then water ran in the kitchen sink. I was about to go in and ask how her day went when the doorbell rang.

  I cursed under my breath at the interruption as I pushed myself off the couch. When I opened the door, I was surprised to see Detective Spillman standing on my landing.

  I almost went for flip, but decided against it. Something in her face told me I’d better not. “Good afternoon,” I said instead. “I’m sure this isn’t a social call.” Okay, so maybe I was a little flip.

  “I thought you’d want to know the autopsy results,” Spillman said. As usual, she was all business, right down to her three-piece navy blue pantsuit.

  “We do,” I said as Willie came up behind me.

  “Unfortunately…” Spillman paused when she saw Willie. “The body in the attic apartment was your tenant, Nick O’Rourke.”

  Willie’s eyes widened and she almost dropped a glass of water.

  “I’m sorry,” Spillman said. She focused on Willie. “Were you close to Mr. O’Rourke?”

  “Uh, not really,” Willie said slowly.

  “Could you come down to the station?” Spillman asked. “I’d like to ask you a few more questions.”

  “Well,” Willie paused, then looked at me. “Isn’t it kind of late in the day? We were about to go out.”

  I hoped my face didn’t betray my surprise. Spillman looked at me. “Yep, we’re going out,” I said.

  Spillman nodded slowly, then reached out and handed Willie a business card. “How about tomorrow morning, say around ten?”

  “Yes, of course.” Willie’s hand shook as she took the card.

  As Spillman turned to leave, I stepped onto the porch and pulled the door closed.

  “How’d he die?” I asked, matching her bluntness.

  She stopped and turned, one hand on the railing. “Why do you ask?”

  “Come on, Spillman. Why else would you come here?”

  She studied me for a second, then nodded. “You’re sharp. I forget that sometimes.” I ignored the jab. “O’Rourke died of blunt trauma to the head,” she said. “Two blows. Someone knocked him out and then left him to die in that blaze. That’s all you’ll get from me right now.”

  She spun around and clomped down the stairs, the soles of her shoes ringing loudly on the metal staircase. I didn’t like it. She was usually a tad more cordial with me, even though I sometimes rubbed her the wrong way.

  Once she was gone, I went back inside. Willie was standing in the same place, staring into space. I shut the door, leaned against it and crossed my arms. She still hadn’t moved.

  “Willie?”

  Her head moved slowly and she met my gaze. “What’d you ask the detective?”

  “I asked what she was holding back.”

  “And?”

  I told her about how O’Rourke died. She gritted her teeth and then let out a tiny moan.

  “Want to tell me what’s going on?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “First, your reaction just now. Second, you told Spillman we have plans, but we don’t.” I waited a second and when she still didn’t move, I continued. “I saw the expression on your face yesterday, when Spillman asked you if anything suspicious was going on. You held something back. And now, when she asked if you were close to Nick O’Rourke. You weren’t straight with her again.”

  “I’m not ready to talk to her.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She swallowed hard. “They’re going to think I started the fire. And since someone died in the fire, they’ll charge me with murder. Or involuntary manslaughter, or something like that.”

  I felt a momentary flash of uncertainty. What was she hiding? Then I reached out and took her hand. “You need to tell me what’s going on.”

  She stared at the door for a moment, then looked me in the eye. “It’s a long story, but I’m going to need a detective to help clear my name.”

  Chapter Five

  It was natural for her to look to me for help because I happened to be a detective, although, as Magnum P.I. said, the more accurate term was ‘private investigator’. I aspired to be as cool as Humphrey Bogart, my cinematic hero, although I don’t know how much I succeeded in that. And just like the old detective novels and film noir movies that I loved, with the flawed detectives and femme fatales, I’m a sucker for a beautiful woman asking for help. But I never thought the woman who’d be asking for my help would be my girlfriend, who was beautiful, but decidedly not a femme fatale.

  “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll fix us some drinks and we can talk about this,” I suggested.

  “Let’s go out to eat,” Willie said.

  I raised an eyebrow. “You look worn out.”

  “I told that detective we were going out,” she said a bit snippily. “So we have to go somewhere.” I got a look like ‘der’.

  “Okay, we’ll go out.”

  I got my keys, locked up and followed Willie to the garage in back of my building. She didn’t say a word as I drove us to Prohibition, a little pub on the corner of Colfax and Pennsylvania. I liked eating there, as the food was good and reasonably priced, and the butter-yellow walls, dark woods and antique bar hinted at a bygone era. And they played ’80s tunes, which I loved. “Hold Me Now” by the Thompson Twins was playing as we walked in. We chose a table by the window with retro bar stools, and a college-aged waiter strolled over and took our order.

  “Here’s the thing,” I said after he left. “If I’m going to help you, I need to know everything. No surprises.”

  Willie leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. Then she looked me right in the eye. “Here’s a surprise for you. I hated Nick O’Rourke and I don’t feel bad that he’s dead.”

  I didn’t know what to say. That was the last thing I expected to come out of her mouth. She started to speak again, then clamped her mouth shut as the waiter returned. He set two bottled beers and accompanying glasses on the table. He glanced back and forth between us, sensed the mood, and stepped away without a word. Willie poured beer into her glass, squeezed lime juice on it and then plunked the rind into the glass. She took a long drink as I waited, watching her.

  “It didn’t start out that way,” she began. She gazed out the window, collecting her thoughts. “When Nick came by to ask about renting the studio apartment, I didn’t think much of him one way or the other. He filled out an application and came by again the next night to see if I’d checked his references. He told me a story about how he was in the middle of a messy divorce and that he’d been house-sitting for friends, but they’d returned so he needed to find a place fast. He had first and last month’s rent, in cash, ready to hand over.” She paused and took another long drink. “I fell for his story, and I hurried things along. Instead of doing a thorough background check, like I’d done with my other tenants, I just called his employer, but I couldn’t seem to find the right person that could verify he worked there. I figured it would check out, and I could do a bit more verifying later, just to say I’d done my due diligence. And I rented him the apartment. Besides, I wanted to get the place rented fast because every month one of the units stayed empty, it cost me money.”

  “Let me guess. Nick hasn’t been the model tenant,” I said.

  She snorted. “Not even close. That first month’s rent that he had? That’s the only time I got a full month’s rent.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I wish I was. The next month, he had an excuse. And the month after. And…” She threw up a hand.

  “Why didn’t you evict him?”

  “For two reasons. First, Darcy started complaining about noise. Nick was playing his music loud, and he’d be banging around late into the night. She said she heard power tools and she wondered if he was doing some kind of remodeling. I was more than a little concerned about that, but I could never seem to find him around. And then I did something I shouldn’t have.” />
  “Uh-oh.”

  “Uh huh. I entered the apartment without his permission.”

  I sat back, surprised. “Wait, that’s it? I thought you were going to say you tried to throw him out or something. You can go in the apartment, right? You own the building.”

  “Unfortunately, as I learned, Colorado law is vague. It comes down to what’s in the lease, and I didn’t put anything in the lease about entering the apartment. Nick came home while I was there, and he threatened to call the cops. I didn’t know what would happen, or if I’d get into trouble, so I left. He was really angry, yelling at me. It scared me, and I forgot to say anything about the rent.”

  “Did he damage anything?”

  She shrugged. “I couldn’t tell. I hadn’t been in there that long when he came home and surprised me.”

  “And let me guess, when you asked him to pay you the rent, he threatened to take you to court because you entered his home illegally.”

  “Yes. He said he’d get me money when he could and that I’d better leave him alone. So I waited a couple more months, and still no rent.”

  “What’s the other reason for not evicting him?”

  She laughed but there was no mirth in it. “I found out that it’s not that hard to evict someone…well, there’s a bunch of hoops you have to go through and it costs to file paperwork and get the sheriff to come out to your property, if it comes to that. But the real issue is trying to recover your money. I’d have to take Nick to court, which would mean getting a lawyer and paying court costs, and even if I won and he had to pay those costs, I knew he didn’t have it to pay me. I figured I had a better chance of trying to work it out with him than if I evicted him.”

  I sipped my beer. “Do you know why he didn’t have the money?”

  “I know he lost his job, or at least the job he’d put on his rental application, because I finally called to check on it, and they said he no longer worked there. And the neighbors have seen him around at odd times, so it didn’t seem like he had a nine-to-five job.”

  “Do you remember the name of the company?”

  She thought for a moment. “No, it was some data company in the Tech Center.” The Denver Tech Center was a huge business complex southeast of downtown Denver. Finding a ‘data company’ in the tech center would be like finding a polar bear in a blizzard.

  “In the meantime,” she continued, “my own finances were stretched thin because I can’t make the mortgage if I don’t have the rental income. So I started taking extra shifts, but I was still getting behind in my own bills.”

  “Why didn’t you say something? I could’ve helped.”

  She shook her head. “I couldn’t do that. We’d only just begun dating. What would you think if I started asking you for money? Anyway, I thought I could get it resolved with Nick. I know, that was wishful thinking on my part, but I kept thinking it would work out. Then Darcy complained about him making noise again, and I went up to talk to him. There was no answer, so I tried the lock, but I couldn’t get in.”

  “He changed the locks?” I was incredulous.

  “Yep. I couldn’t get into the apartment I owned.”

  “This is like Pacific Heights,” I said, referencing a movie with Michael Keaton and Melanie Griffith. Keaton played a renter who never pays, destroys his apartment and changes the locks, and much more.

  She nodded. “Yeah, I thought about that. And just like Melanie’s boyfriend in the movie, I got into an altercation with O’Rourke.”

  “Oh no.” I sat back. “What happened?”

  “A week ago, I was down in the basement, doing laundry, when he showed up. He saw me and left. I followed him upstairs and we got into a shouting match on the front porch. I told him I’d had it and that if he didn’t get out of the apartment, I’d find someone to throw his ass out. He said ‘just try it’ and laughed. And then I…there was a potted plant on the porch and I threw it at him and yelled something about making sure he’d get what was coming to him.” Her jaw clenched. “I was just so mad, I was literally seeing red, and I wanted to wipe the smug look off his face. And I did, because that pot hit him on the forehead and made his head bleed. I was having money trouble and was working extra shifts to try and get by, and he thought it was funny?” She stopped. “What?”

  I’d seen Willie angry a handful of times, but I’d never seen that temper take on a physical aspect. “I was wishing I could’ve seen you clock that jerk.” I smiled, trying to ease the tension.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “No,” I said. “But it was only one time.”

  “Oh, Reed, that wasn’t the first time. I’d gotten into a couple of shouting matches with him, arguing about the rent. And on top of everything else, my dad was a cop.”

  “So?” Then it dawned on me. “Spillman might think because of that, you’d know how to set a fire in such a way that you’d avoid getting caught.”

  “Bingo.”

  I drew in a deep breath. “You’re right.” Don’t kid the kidder, right? I started ticking things off on one hand. “So O’Rourke owed you almost a year’s worth of rent. You thought he might be destroying the apartment. You’ve been in a number of verbal altercations with him, the last where you physically harmed him and then threatened him. And your dad’s a cop who could’ve given you tips on how to burn down the building with Nick in it without getting caught.”

  She stared at her beer. “That about sums it up.”

  I ran a hand over my face, then took a drink. I finally said what we were both thinking. “It doesn’t look good.”

  Chapter Six

  “I wouldn’t kill him,” she finally said.

  “I know that, but the police are going to look at you first. With good reason.”

  I stopped when the waiter came back with our food.

  “Here you go,” he said as he set down our plates. I’d ordered the hamburger with bacon and cheddar cheese; not very healthy, but I justified it by reasoning that the only time I ate like this was when I was at a restaurant. Which wasn’t true, either, but it was easier than actually eating healthy. Willie got the focaccia chicken sandwich and fruit. She took a delicate bite, then dug in with gusto.

  “Hm, I guess I am hungry,” she said through a bite.

  “Me, too.” I finished off half the burger in a few bites.

  “I didn’t burn down my apartment building.” Her sandwich was gone too, and she started on the fruit. “For crying out loud, I have an alibi. I was with you.”

  “I know, and that’s what you tell the police, but they’ll still have to eliminate you as a suspect. And you could’ve hired someone to start the fire for you, which leaves you the ability to plan an alibi. Spillman’s going to dig into your life to see if you had a motive for starting the fire. She’s going to find out everything, all the issues with Nick.”

  “It wasn’t me.” She wagged her head back and forth as she talked.

  “We know it’s not you, but Spillman doesn’t.”

  “I don’t have anything to hide.”

  “What about your finances? She’ll find out you needed the money, that you couldn’t pay the mortgage without renters. She’ll discover that Nick wasn’t paying rent. She’ll wonder a few things. One, did you kill him for revenge and then try and cover it with the fire? Or two, did you burn down the building for the insurance money, and Nick was a casualty? Or both.”

  She jerked her head up. “So they could think I burned down the house for the insurance money and because I wanted to kill Nick?”

  “Yes.” I finished off my beer. “Is there anything else? Faulty wiring? Other problems with the house?”

  “Things that would motivate me to burn it down for the insurance money?”

  I nodded.

  “No.” She scowled. “Isn’t the other stuff enough?”

  “I’m just trying to look at everything.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I tried to look relaxed, but I d
idn’t feel it. “So…we know the cause of the fire is arson, we know that someone murdered Nick O’Rourke, and we know you didn’t do either of those, so the first question is: Why did someone burn the building down? Why did someone hit Nick over the head and leave him in the apartment?”

  “That’s two questions.” She smiled for the first time since the fire. I was glad to see her humor returning. But it didn’t last. “And the next question is: Who would want to kill Nick?”

  “And why.” I sighed. “We probably find the ‘why’ before we find the ‘who’. Can you think of anything more about him that might be important?”

  Willie bit her lower lip, thinking. “No. I couldn’t stand him, so I wasn’t socializing with him.”

  I mulled things over, deciding my next step. “When we get home, I’ll do some internet research and see what I can find out about him, see if I can find who would want him dead.”

  “There’s one other thing.” She pushed her plate away. “Should I look for a place to stay? I don’t want to impose on you.”

  “You know you can stay with me for as long as you want.” I hesitated. “If you want to.”

  “I figured I could, but I really appreciate you saying so.” Relief laced her voice. “I’ll be working so I promise I won’t be in the way.”

  “The thought didn’t cross my mind.” But it would be different, I thought but wisely didn’t say. I signaled our waiter and asked for the check. “I’ve got my work cut out for myself, too.”

  “Are you working any other cases?”

  “No, it’s been slow.”

  “I’ll bet you never thought you’d have to help your girlfriend.”

  We lapsed into silence. Echo And The Bunnymen’s “A Promise” began playing. It talked about promising that nothing will change. I glanced at the back wall, where framed newspaper images about law enforcement raids hung in a neat row. Things do change, no matter what we do.

  The waiter finally returned with our check. I paid it and we left, then drove back to my condo. Pink and orange speckled the western sky as the sun sank below the horizon. I parked the 4-Runner in the garage and as we walked around the side of the building, headed for the stairs to my place, Willie stopped and pointed.