Dead Giveaway

by Chloe Kendrick

  “Investigating Arianna. She invited me out for drinks. I thought that I might find out something, but Jimmy was there. So she was all about chitchat, and I really didn’t get a lot out of her. Do you think I should give it another try, or move on to the next neighbor?” I asked, not feeling like indulging in any hardcore thinking today.

  Carter sighed. “I think you can gather that I don’t like Zed, but honestly, I don’t think he had anything to do with Murray’s disappearance. He’s a liar and a cheat, but not a kidnapper or killer. Then he tried to hit on me that day, not knowing who I was. The gall.”

  I snorted. I hadn’t put that together with the revelations from last night. “Plus he has no connection to the Carrs at all. Zed would have been about 17, which is not the age of someone who could have thought up and executed the scenario to make Mr. Carr disappear. He would have had to borrow his parents’ car.” I let out a small whine. It wasn’t like me, but I was bone tired. “That’s what I find so frustrating about the whole matter. There are two crimes, and they have to be connected. I don’t think coincidence extends that far.”

  “Are they really that connected?” Carter asked as he cut up some pickles. My nose burned from the ingredients; I couldn’t imagine what it would do to people’s insides.

  “They have to be. It’s the time difference that makes it so hard.”

  “You mean that the first guy disappeared five years ago and Aaron’s uncle six months ago? Why is that a problem? It was the same sort of crime.” Aaron had switched to a cutting up jalapenos which he was using for both the spicy pickle dog and a bacon-wrapped dog.

  “Yes, the motivations for the crimes seem to be out of whack. Murray was a whistleblower by nature, yet he seems to have taken a bribe, and Mr. Carr was the auditor.”

  “So they both would have blown the whistle on RGF and the financial dealings – just at different times.”

  “But why so long?” I finished counting the cash and went to make the coffee.

  “Maybe because of life events. Maybe he was out of town or not around in that time. Or these could just be the two biggest threats to the plan?”

  I sighed. I had most of the answers I needed at this point, but I still had a few questions left to answer – little things like who had taken the two men. Other than that, I was good.

  I was able to focus enough to get my work done for most of the morning. After the lunch crowd began to thin out, I felt a blanket of tiredness come over me. There would be no late night tonight. I’d be in bed early.

  I was just planning a quick meal, so I could be asleep by 7 p.m. when Detective Danvers showed up. He didn’t waste any time with pleasantries today. “The ticket was never used. We looked at the records for that flight. Longhill definitely bought the ticket, but he never got on the plane. So that piece of paper did us no good whatsoever.”

  I offered him one of the bacon-wrapped dogs, but he declined. He was too annoyed to even want free food. I noticed that he didn’t bother with Land today. He walked back across Government Square to the building where his offices resided.

  “Thoughts?” I asked, hoping Carter would have an idea as to what might have just happened.

  “Only one thing could have happened. If Murray was getting ready to leave the country, then someone stopped him before he could. I think that’s the most damning thing I’ve heard so far. Poor Aaron, this is going to be tough on him.” Carter looked sad for about a minute and then went back to work.

  I got home that evening to find a call from Mrs. Carr. She’d arranged for the two suspects to meet me tomorrow. She had arranged to meet them at Government Square to review some investments, and they would “happen” to swing by the food truck so I could talk to them. I called her back and thanked her for the help. I hung up, looked around my place and decided to call it a night. No detecting would get done with me in this shape.

  *

  The next morning I was back to my normal self. The sleep had helped, and the anticipation of the interviews with the two former co-workers of Mr. Carr and my father made me ready to go. I picked up the truck and was making coffee before Carter arrived.

  He had dark circles under his eyes, looking like I had the previous morning.

  “My partying inspired a long night for you?” I asked.

  Carter shook his head. “I told Aaron the news about his uncle last night. I explained that I was pretty sure that Murray had to be dead since he hadn’t used the ticket he’d bought for Mexico. Aaron just stood there for a long time, and then he just broke up with me.”

  I was surprised. They had seemed so happy the last time. “What happened?” I asked.

  “He said that I wasn’t trying to stay positive about this. But I mean, just a couple of days ago, he was giving away the man’s furniture. Now he’s acting like I’m the one who was trying to bury him. I don’t get it.”

  I made a few steps toward Carter and received another bear hug for my troubles. I accepted it, but squeezed out of it as soon as I could. “He’ll come around. Maybe he’s just thinking that he rushed to judgment and that his uncle might still be alive. It has to be hard on him.”

  Carter sniffed loudly, but I didn’t see any tears. “It has been a rollercoaster of sorts. Maybe I just need to give him time.”

  I wasn’t sure that I’d recommend his getting back together with Aaron again. They were too on-again-off-again to be considered stable. I thought of Land and wondered what he was doing at this moment.

  That didn’t exactly help with Carter at the moment. My romantic possibilities would not cheer him up at all.

  I tried to think of why Aaron would take it out on Carter, given his own feelings that his uncle had been dead. A concern that I’d had for a while was that Aaron was more involved in this case than he’d led us to believe. His seesawing knowledge – of knowing things and not “knowing” other things – made me wonder. I hated to upset Carter more with my suspicions; it wouldn’t add any consolation to him to know that he’d just broken up with one of my main suspects.

  The timing made it seem more possible for me as well. If Murray had actually discovered something about RGF Industries, perhaps he’d received a payoff. There was nothing to say that he hadn’t told Aaron about his windfall, who in turn had killed him for the cash.

  The best way for me to make sense of this was that Aaron was diverting Carter’s attention from the crime by breaking up with him. The emotion of the split would disrupt any train of thought that my new cook would have regarding the crimes.

  On the bright side, that meant that we were getting close to a solution. However, I had no idea what that solution would be. It would be a shame to break up with Carter, only to learn that he had absolutely no idea what was going on.

  I still needed to get down to the basics of the crime. The earlier conversation with Aaron and Carter had helped me put my thoughts into a pattern, but now they were not going to be around to help with any other theories I might have.

  During the morning’s slow times, I made notes about Murray’s disappearance, given that I was only supposed to be looking into the situation that had occurred in my apartment. Murray had left the apartment after a scream that may or may not have been rigged. His computer was gone, carried out of his apartment, though no one had noticed. Until the freezer had been delivered to my apartment, he’d registered no online activity on any of his email or financial accounts. At the time of his disappearance, he’d been on a number of message boards that discussed derivatives and trading, asking questions that seemed to be related to the dealings of his company, RGF, which now appeared to be in financial trouble. He’d received $50,000 from someone or some company before he disappeared, but the portfolio was still here even though he was not.

  In the cold, hard light of it, this looked like a case of murder. Given those facts, Murray, who loved the spotlight, would not have left of his own volition, not without leaving a message incriminating those who had traded and without giving himself credit for the di
scovery. Neither of those had happened.

  By the time that I was supposed to meet the men with Mrs. Carr, I’d convinced myself that I was looking for a killer and not for a man who had escaped a sad life. Reducing the options like this had really focused me on trying to find out what had happened. I wanted this case to be over with, as I planned on spending a little time with Land, and not having Detective Danvers looking over my shoulder at all times.

  Promptly at 1:45, Mrs. Carr showed up at the food truck with the two men. She winked as she ordered a spicy dog and a large coffee. I remembered Hal Wallace and Mark Jeffries immediately. Hal was a large man, one who had been in good shape, but had gone to flab now. It wasn’t hard to see why. He ordered three dogs and a diet. He had sported dark hair when I had known him, but his hair was gray now. He didn’t seem to recognize me though. Of course, I’ve long since accepted the fact that, though I’m a small business owner, people treat me like a college co-ed making money as a hot dog waitress. In short, no one pays attention to me. So I wasn’t surprised that Hal didn’t pay any attention to me as I filled his order.

  Mark was slightly younger, or else he had a better trainer and stylist. His hair was still light brown, and he closely resembled the man I’d known many years ago through my father. He did a double take when he gave me the money for his bacon dogs, but didn’t speak to me.

  I wasn’t exactly sure how Mrs. Carr saw this playing out. Was I to be a secret accomplice to the discussion, or was she going to out me to the pair in hopes of getting something important from them?

  I didn’t have long to find out. She motioned me over as soon as the men had finished their hot dogs. “Maeve, dear. I’m so glad that I came to try your hot dogs. Do you remember these friends of your father?” She was as bright and cheery as the sun above. No questions or ulterior motives in sight.

  I nodded to them both while they made the obligatory comments about how I’d grown up. I always found it a tad uncomfortable to have adult men tell me that I’d grown up.

  Wallace mentioned my father first. “Does your dad approve of this?” he asked with a polished superiority. His suggestion was that I was too young and too inexperienced to handle a food truck. If he’d only known all I’d done in that time.

  I was ready to put him behind bars just for that comment alone. How could I have possibly done this for two years without my father knowing, especially given that his sister-in-law had passed away and left it to me? More politely than I wanted to, I explained how I came to own the food truck along with the expansion to a second truck and the growing business. I ended with, “Mrs. Carr tells me that you help her with her portfolio. I’d love to see what you could do with mine.”

  Wallace actually snorted. “You still live in an apartment, I’m sure. You’re anything but settled. I doubt you have two nickels to invest.”

  Even Mrs. Carr was shocked by the comment.

  I could feel my face flush. My father always treated me as an adult, and I was used to being on my own and handling my own situations. I cleared my throat. “I choose to live in an apartment, because it keeps my costs down. At this tax bracket, I don’t need the deductions and the choice of living in a home by myself is not appealing. That doesn’t mean that I don’t have the funds to invest. I just purchased a second truck with no loan. I certainly don’t think that is the mark of someone without a dime to their name.” I named the apartment complex where I lived, so they would know that it wasn’t a dump. I was glad that I wasn’t still living at my last place. It would have only proved their point.

  “I know that place,” Wallace said. “I’ve talked to people there.”

  “It wouldn’t have been Murray Longhill, would it?” I was hesitant to mention the name so early on, but the moment was right, and I wanted to tip my hand a little. Whoever was behind Mr. Carr’s disappearance was almost certainly behind the other man’s vanishing act as well.

  Mrs. Carr beamed in my direction and took a sip of coffee. At least one person here was on my side. I had thought that the men might be nicer to the daughter of one of the bosses, but apparently this was the time to take out their frustrations on the boss’s daughter. I wondered if the staff was demoralized after the financial conditions and regulations of the last few years.

  Jeffries spoke up at that point. “What exactly are you hoping to do with your investments? Certainly not retirement yet?” He chuckled at his own joke.

  “I wanted to invest is some higher risk ventures in order to secure the funds to buy more food trucks or at least to diversify the business. I don’t want to be in a truck when I’m 50,” I said, feeling confident that I was going to take the conversation where I wanted to go.

  Jeffries shook his head. “Stay away from the high risk ventures. They are nothing but heartache. Ask Jamie Dimon how he feels about it.”

  Wallace looked at both of us with disdain. “You don’t have to go directly to derivatives to get a large payback. You could dabble in the futures market or try selling a few stocks short to see what happens. I would imagine you’ll lose a little money before you earn any, but if you work at it, you could likely make the type of money you’re talking about – I’m guessing a quarter million would start you off?”

  I raised an eyebrow. I’d been thinking of $100,000, but this would be even better. I had about half of that saved already and really wanted to move forward with the business. The thought of two-and-a-half times that amount practically made my mouth water. I was giddy with the things I could do with that amount of money. “So what are you suggesting?”

  Wallace laid out a relatively risky investment plan that I could handle. He was right. I doubted that I’d be able to identify the correct stocks early on, but with a little work, I could. He even suggested that if I didn’t want to risk my capital, I could start with a fantasy fund and practice there.

  When Wallace was about done, Mrs. Carr looked at the two men. “So, since I’m not young and wanting to make a name for myself, what would you recommend for me?”

  The two men were more comfortable in laying out a fairly safe plan to keep Mrs. Carr well-heeled for the foreseeable future. I listened in, trying to get a feel for which man would be more likely to be a murderer, but nothing stood out. Wallace was haughty and more inclined to risk, but Jeffries certainly would have killed to keep the status quo. Which of those had been the motive for the crime? Was it to keep his part of the derivatives scheme from becoming public, or was it to not disrupt the workings of RGF? I just didn’t know.

  The men finished up their talk with Mrs. Carr and stood to leave. Neither of them was anxious to stay and keep the conversation going with me. They walked away, but Mrs. Carr stayed behind.

  “Well?” she asked. “Which one?”

  I shrugged. “It’s hard to tell from one conversation, but I have some suspicions. I have to check a few things out still. That conversation was very enlightening.”

  Mrs. Carr smiled at me and trotted off to whatever she was doing next. I sat down on one of the benches outside of the food truck and let Carter deal with the traffic of the last half hour of our shift.

  Land came over when he drove the food truck to its location. He raised an eyebrow at me as he walked closer. “Practicing for the Thinker?” he asked.

  “I think I might have this figured out,” I said as he listened and put a hand on my shoulder. Compared to Carter’s bear hugs, this was barely a touch, but for Land to make contact was a huge deal to me. I wondered if he was aware of what he was doing or its import to me?

  “Just don’t go running off and try to nab a killer by yourself. That’s a good way to end up like the man in the freezer.” His face had turned stern, but I knew he cared.

  I promised to not do anything vigilante, but I wasn’t sure if he believed me. I still remember being tied up in an office, thinking I was going to die. That was enough to keep me sensible.

  I headed home and started writing out a list of the details I’d learned. I had written about half a shee
t of legal paper when someone knocked at the door. I was surprised that they hadn’t come in through the security door, but when I looked out the peephole, it was Wayne with a cake. I thought that I could parlay sugar into some questions about Murray and the speaker.

  I opened the door. “Hi, is that for me?” I was always ready to eat something that had not been prepared in my truck. The cake was frosted with what appeared to be cream cheese icing, and I was pleased with myself for recognizing it after all my time in the food service industry. That likely meant a carrot cake – or at least I hoped so. That was my idea of doing vegetables for dinner.

  “My wife baked it for you. She wanted to be neighborly after everything that’s happened here.” He walked into my apartment, following me into the kitchen where I looked for something to cut the cake. As I leaned over to look in one of the drawers on the island, I felt something hit the back of my head. Then everything went black.

  *

  When I awoke, I cursed myself. Damned if this wasn’t a similar situation to the one that I’d just promised Land I wouldn’t get into. I was tied to one of my own dining room chairs with duct tape over my mouth. I shivered a little, remembering the bonds of the dead man in the freezer. He’d been in very similar ropes and tape as well.

  Wayne looked over at me. He still looked like the same little man with the goatee and gut, but now I saw an edge of evil on him too. He was reading the list of details that I’d been writing when he’d interrupted me.

  Of course, the list mentioned someone at the complex who might be involved with Hal Wallace. Wallace’s glib mention of knowing where I lived had convinced me that perhaps he’d been working with someone at RGF. My mind, though groggy, now realized that the RGF employee had been Wayne, who had retired from that company.

  The death of James Carr had kept the facts of the financial shenanigans from getting out about the time that Wayne had retired. If the dealings had hit the press, Wayne and many of the other RGF employees would have seen their futures go down the drain. By killing Carr, he’d allowed himself to retire with their package and convert it into anything that would not be based on risky financial transactions. I belatedly remembered his comment about retirement not being all he’d hoped. Perhaps he’d wanted more or had more before RGF started its risky investments.