by David Archer
Sam nodded, and scribbled a note on a little pad he had brought with him. “Okay, now here's another question. Indie has been crawling all over Carlos in the computers, and she found out that he has a lot of money in the bank, like half a million dollars or so. Any idea where that money might've come from?”
Candy's eyes went wide. “Wow, I knew he had some money from somewhere, but I never dreamed it was that much. As to where he gets it, I don't know. I mean, I know he's done some things in the past, dealing drugs and stuff like that, but I have no idea if he's still into it.”
“Carlos was a drug dealer?” Sam asked, looking confused. “From what we found out, he's never been in trouble for anything.”
Candy sneered. “Yes, he has, he's been arrested at least three times that I know of. Once for selling drugs, and twice for what they called strong-arm robbery. He's just got friends who make things disappear for him.”
“What do you mean, friends who make things disappear? Are you talking about cops?”
“I'm not really sure who they are,” Candy said. “I just know that each of the times he got arrested when we were together, the charges got dismissed and disappeared. His record may be clean, but it's because somebody cleaned it for him.”
Sam chewed the inside of his cheek for a second as he thought about what she had said. “Candy, do you remember exactly when he was arrested? Or who might have arrested him?”
She closed her eyes and thought about it. “The drug arrest was six years ago, and it was the sheriff's office who arrested him. He was in jail right here for about three days, and then they just dismissed the charges and let him go. One of the others was a year after that, just before we split up. That time, he got arrested by a detective from Aurora, a guy named Shockley. I remember because he kept trying to get me to go out with him, after me and Carlos split. Of course, he wasn't a detective anymore by then. He got in some kind of trouble, and I'm pretty sure it had something to do with arresting Carlos.”
Sam thought for a moment. “Shockley? You mean John Shockley? I know him, but not very well, and I remember he got into some trouble a while back. He got demoted back to uniform, but I can't remember what it was about. He's a detective again now, though.” He made another note. “Candy, you mentioned strong-arm robbery. Have you ever actually seen Carlos get violent with anyone?”
“Oh, hell yes,” the girl said. “Back when Charlie was just a baby, I worked at Denny's and this guy used to come in and flirt with me all the time. One day, Carlos happened to come in and overheard some of the things he said, and when the guy left to go get in his car, Carlos followed him out and beat him half to death. The cops came out, but even though they loaded the guy into an ambulance and took him to the hospital, he said he didn't want to press charges. Kept saying it was his own fault, so they decided to just let it go. That wasn't the only time, it's just one that sticks in my memory.”
Sam looked at her for a moment. “What about you? Did he ever get violent with you?”
Candy shrugged. “He smacked me around a little bit, but it was never anything serious. He'd get mad over me spending money or something, and I'd get slapped or he'd grab me and shake me. Never anything serious.”
Sam nodded. “That's good,” he said. “What can you tell me about his parents? You know that they have Charlie right now, right?”
“Yeah,” Candy said with a grimace. “They're all right, I guess, but we were never close. They always seemed to think I wasn't good enough for their son, so I'm sure they hate my guts now. My lawyer says they already filed for custody of Charlie yesterday, and wanted to file to terminate my parental rights but got told they can't do that unless I'm convicted.”
“That sucks,” Sam said. “The thing is, I need to talk to Charlie, and they don't want to let me do that. Any idea how I might talk them into it?”
Candy rolled her eyes. “If they have any idea you're trying to help me, they'll never agree to it. If there's one thing those people are good at, it's hating someone. Right now, they think I killed Carlos, so I'm sure they hate my guts with even more of a passion. They're not going to do anything that might help me get out of this.”
Sam shook his head. He sat and talked with Candy for a few more minutes, then promised to let her know if he had any news and left.
He turned the Corvette toward Davidson Lumber, where Carlos had worked as a delivery driver. The drive only took about fifteen minutes, and he walked into the office.
A clerk greeted him from behind the counter. “Hi, there, how can I help you today?”
Sam showed the man his ID. “I'm Sam Prichard, a private investigator. I wanted to talk with you about Carlos McAlester, I understand he worked here?”
The clerk, whose nametag said “Bert,” suddenly looked nervous. “Yeah, he did,” he said. “Really sucks, what happened to him.”
“Yeah, it did. Did you know him very well?”
“Better than I wanted to. He wasn't exactly the easiest guy to get along with.”
Sam's eyebrows went up a notch. “How's that?”
“Ah, I don't want to speak ill of a dead guy,” Bert said. “Let's just say I got tired of complaints from customers over him being late, or having a bad attitude.”
“Did that happen pretty often? That he was late, or pissed off a customer?”
“Like I said, I don't want to talk bad about the guy, but it seemed like he was always taking a detour whenever he went out to drop off a load. I mean, we can get anywhere in the city within an hour, but sometimes it would take him two or three. Kinda makes people mad when they're sitting around waiting for materials so they can finish a job.”
“Yeah, I guess I can see that. Any idea where he was going on these detours?”
Bert was silent for a moment, purposely avoiding eye contact with Sam. “I, well, I don't know for sure what he was up to. He just always took off and did his own thing for a while, when he was supposed to be taking care of our customers. If it had been up to me, he would have been fired a long time ago.”
“I can understand that,” Sam said. “Any idea why someone else above you didn't feel that way?”
Bert suddenly looked Sam straight in the eye. “I wouldn't know about that,” he said. “You'd have to talk to Mr. Davidson, and he's not in right now.”
“Okay,” Sam said. “How about Leon Schmidt, or Dean Calloway? Would they be here?”
Bert glanced over his shoulder, and pointed to a door that led out into the yard. “Probably find both of them out there right now, loading the trucks.”
Sam smiled. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” He walked stiffly to the door and out into the yard, where he saw four men loading items onto two different trucks. One of them was on a forklift, setting bunks of lumber into place, while the other three were loading smaller items by hand.
Sam walked up to the first man he came to. “I'm looking for Dean or Leon,” he said, and the guy turned around and smiled at him.
“I'm Dean,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
Sam showed his ID again. “My name is Sam Prichard, I'm a private investigator. I'm looking into the death of Carlos McAlester. I understand you knew him pretty well?”
Dean scowled. “Yeah, I knew him,” he said. “Bastard got what he deserved, you want my opinion.”
Sam nodded. “I had heard you weren't too fond of him. Can I ask why?”
Dean looked at Sam as if he were an idiot. “The guy was an asshole,” he said. “One of those people who thinks he's better than everybody else. He'd sit up in his truck and bitch about how we were loading it, but he wouldn't get off his lazy butt to help. And he was always ragging on us, bragging about that fancy car of his, and how he was so much better off than we were.”
“I know he had an expensive car,” Sam said. “Any idea how he could afford that, working here?”
“Ha! It didn't have anything to do with this job. You want to know what I think, I think he just kept this job because it let him move around the city wit
hout being noticed. Who pays attention to a delivery truck, right?”
Sam grinned. “Now, it sounds to me like you might know a little bit more than you're telling me. Any idea why he wanted to go unnoticed?”
Dean shrugged. “I don't know anything for sure, but I've heard rumors. Couple of people I know tell me that he had a habit of convincing people to do things they didn't want to do, or to keep their mouths shut about certain things. One of them was warned not to testify against someone, but I don't know the details.”
“You know anybody who might be willing to talk to me about that?”
“I'm afraid not,” Dean said. “Just because Carlos is gone doesn't mean there isn't somebody else they'd be afraid of, know what I mean? That was the whole point of him paying them a visit, to keep their mouths shut and do what they were told. He wasn't doing it for himself, he was getting paid. Whoever he was working for probably has somebody else doing the same job already.”
“So, what you're telling me is he was a leg breaker? Somebody's muscle? Any idea who we're talking about?”
The guy smiled at him. “Look, man, even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you. I don't need somebody like that coming after me.”
Sam nodded. “Okay, I can understand that. Is Leon here?”
Dean pointed at the guy on the forklift. “That's him,” he said, “but he probably won't tell you as much as I have. Leon's got a family, he's not going to risk pissing off that kind of people.”
Sam looked at him thoughtfully. “Okay, I think I see where you're coming from.” He took the card out of his pocket and gave it to Dean. “Listen, I'd appreciate it if you'd give me a call if you happen to remember anything else that might help me.”
Dean took the card and glanced at it, then shoved it into his back pocket. “You working for the cops on this? I would've expected one of them to come talk to me, not a private eye.”
Sam shook his head. “Did you know Carlos's ex-wife, Candy?”
Dean nodded. “Yeah, I know her pretty well, and I can tell you right now she didn't kill him. Candy doesn't have it in her to ever hurt anyone. If she did, Carlos would've been dead a long time ago, trust me on that. You working for her?”
Sam smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “Besides being a private investigator, I'm also the lead singer in the band she plays for.”
Dean's eyes went wide and round. “Holy smoke,” he said. “Dude, I didn't recognize you! I saw you guys open for Travis Bittner the other night, that was awesome! What was it like, actually getting to sing with him?”
“It was pretty cool,” Sam said with a big grin. “He's actually a pretty decent guy. Blew my mind when he asked me to come out and sing that final song with him.”
Dean dug the business card out of his pocket and shoved it back at Sam. “Hey, can I get your autograph? My girlfriend thought you were awesome, it'll blow her mind that I actually got to meet you!”
Sam took out a pen and leaned against a post. “Want me to make it out to her?”
“Yeah, would you? Her name is Kathy!”
Sam wrote, To Kathy, I hear you're a big fan. Thanks so much, Sam Prichard.
He handed the card back to Dean, who read it and broke into a huge smile. “Oh, dude, she's going to freak out!”
Sam shook his hand and turned around to leave. From what Dean had told him, he had a feeling it wouldn't do him a lot of good to talk to Leon just yet, so he had decided to take a different approach. He had almost made it to the car when his phone rang, and he glanced at the caller ID to see that it was Indie calling.
“Hey…” That was as far as he got.
“Get home,” Indie said. “Now!”
Sam's eyes went wide in shock. “Indie? What's wrong?”
“I'll show you when you get here, just hurry. Please, Sam, hurry.”
“I'm on the way!” Sam said, and then he cut the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket. He moved as quickly as he could the rest of the way to the car, tossed his cane inside and jumped in. The big 427 roared to life, and his back tires squealed as he left rubber on the asphalt parking lot.
8
Sam hit eighty miles an hour on Sixth Avenue, and was still doing fifty after he fishtailed around the corner onto Federal. He had gotten back up to seventy by the time he passed a squad car, but it was sitting nosed into a parking space, and he was long gone before the officer driving it could get it back onto the street. He knew the cop would know his car, but the tone of Indie's voice had told him not to worry about speeding tickets.
He pulled into his driveway and was out of the car as soon as it stopped moving. He didn't even bother with his cane, just rushing as fast as he could to the front steps, where he grabbed the rail. By the time he got onto the porch, Indie was in the doorway holding it open for him. She had something in her hand, and she gave it to him as soon as he got inside.
Sam looked down at the item she’d handed him, and his heart turned to ice. It was a photograph of Kenzie, playing in their backyard, and someone had drawn crosshairs over her face.
The meaning was clear and obvious. Someone was threatening Sam's family. “Where did this come from?” Sam asked.
“I stepped out to get the mail, and it was in a letter in the mailbox. It was addressed to me, all typed up like it was printed on a computer, but there was no stamp. I opened it and saw that. Turn it over.”
Sam turned the picture over, and on the back someone had written, “Forget McAlester.” A chill went down Sam's spine, as he remembered Dean telling him that Carlos had worked as an intimidator. Somebody was worried that Sam might learn too much, and was trying to warn him off.
Sam reached out and pulled Indie into a hug. “You know I won't let anything happen to Kenzie, right?”
Indie nodded against his chest. “Sam, when I saw that, it just scared me to death. Kenzie was out back playing with Samson, and I ran out there in a panic. I think I freaked her out a little, but I made her grab the cat and get inside.”
Sam looked over to the couch, where Kenzie was holding Samson and watching them closely. The TV was running the Minions movie, but Kenzie had switched her attention to her parents.
Sam took Indie by the hand and led her into the kitchen. “I don't know what I'm up against,” he began. “This case is so weird, with some people claiming Carlos was a saint, and others calling him a devil. I just found out that he was moonlighting for somebody as a leg breaker, a guy who intimidates other people into doing what his boss wants. Maybe that's convincing them not to testify against someone, or forcing them to do something they don't want to do, but I was warned just a half hour ago that somebody else would undoubtedly be taking his place. Apparently, that someone has already been hired.”
Indie nodded. “Somebody's afraid you're going to find out about it. But my God, Sam, what kind of person would send a picture like this? Are they really threatening Kenzie, do you think? Or just trying to scare you off?”
Sam shook his head. “I don't know, but we're not going to take any chances. I want you and Kenzie out of here, now, but I don't want to take a chance on someone following you.”
“Sam…” Kenzie started to protest, but Sam shot her a look that cut the words off before they could come out of her mouth.
“No, no arguments.” He took his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through the contact list, then tapped a name. He listened for a moment as the phone on the other end rang, and then a familiar voice came on the line.
“Sam, boy, it's been too long! How in the hell are you?”
“Harry, I need your help.” It took him about ten minutes to bring Harry Winslow up to speed on what was going on, but the old man who worked for the Department of Homeland Security didn't even hesitate.
“You give me twenty minutes, and I'll have a team there ready to take your family somewhere safe. Get them all packed up and ready, and tell little Kenzie that Uncle Harry says they're going to have a lot of fun!” The line went dead instantly, as it always did when Harry was done
speaking.
“I swear, that man does not even know how to say goodbye,” Sam said. “You've got twenty minutes to pack clothes, and we’re supposed to tell Kenzie that Uncle Harry says you're going to go off and have a lot of fun. I have no idea what he's got in mind, but you'll be with a security team, and that's where I want you right now.”
Indie put her elbows on the table and leaned her face into her hands. “God, I thought we were done with things like this. I don't want to be away from you, Sam, and especially when you're dealing with people who would do something like this.”
“Indie, we can't take any chances. I don't have a clue who Carlos was working for, or what it is they're afraid I'm going to find out, but we're not going to risk them getting to you or Kenzie. Come on, let's tell Kenzie, and you can get started packing.”
Kenzie looked at Sam as if she wasn't sure whether he was being honest with her or not, but she didn't argue, and only followed her mother up the stairs to pack some clothes for the trip. They were back down in ten minutes with Kenzie's suitcase, and Indie hurried into their own bedroom to pack one for herself.
“I'm not taking a lot of clothes,” she said. “I want you to get this thing settled, and settled fast, so I can come home. I don't like this, Sam, not even a little bit.”
“Babe, I don't like it either, but I'm not going to take a chance on either of you getting hurt. This is the best solution for right now, and I'll let you know the minute it's safe to come home.”
“Yeah, you just better! I mean it, Sam, you get this over with as quick as you can.”
Indie was still packing when a van and a car pulled up out front. Sam looked through the curtain and saw George, Harry's chauffeur, with Harry's own limousine. A woman climbed out of the passenger seat in the front and walked up to the door with him, while three men from the van climbed out and started wandering around the yard.