The Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 7)

by Jennifer L. Jennings

  One thing I had learned about my brother over the past year; he was just as sarcastic as me. “Are you hungry? I have some leftover … actually, I don’t have anything but frozen pizza.”

  “As long as the wine is flowing, I don’t need food.”

  Andrew and I spent the next few hours talking, laughing and getting drunk. I also, at his request, filled him in on the details of the Blake Pratt case. After I had highlighted the finer points of the investigation, he seemed eager to know more.

  “So,” he said with a contemplative expression. “Who do you think the burglar is?”

  “It has to be someone that Blake knew. Tomorrow, I need to go to the AA meeting at the church, and to the gym where Blake spent a lot of time.”

  “You must think that there’s a connection between the burglar and the reason Blake decided to drink.”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. Gail doesn’t know what to think either. Maybe this guy who owns the green car is the burglar.”

  Andrew seemed to mull over the details. “How much did Blake actually drink that night?”

  “According to Sue-Ellen, the toxicology reports reported his blood alcohol level being at .03, which is equivalent to one drink for a person weighing 180 pounds.”

  “Think about that for a second,” he said. “ I mean, if you’re gonna steal a bottle of Scotch, why not go for broke and guzzle the whole thing?”

  “Well, maybe it wasn’t a full bottle of Scotch.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that maybe the bartender lied? Maybe he took the bottle home with him.”

  “Yes, it had crossed my mind. But there’s no denying the fact that Blake had alcohol in his system when he died.”

  “Tell me more about this bartender.”

  “I don’t know that much. Adam and Blake went to high school together, but Adam was a year behind Blake. Adam made a few offhanded comments about how Blake got all the girls. But even if Adam resented Blake for his popularity, it was seven years ago”

  “Seven years is nothing for some people,” Andrew said. “Let’s say Blake slept with a girl that Adam pined for. Maybe Adam saw an opportunity to screw up Blake’s life at a vulnerable time. His small way of finally getting back at the popular kid.”

  “You could be right, but if Adam had a guilty conscience, then why would he ever talk to me about it. He would never bring up the fact that he and Blake went to school together. He wouldn’t hint to any connection at all.”

  “All I’m saying is that maybe Blake didn’t intentionally drink alcohol that night. So, we need to figure out who wanted to sabotage his sobriety and why.”

  I felt a sense of pride knowing how seriously Andrew was taking this case. He had brought up some points that I hadn’t considered before.

  “I keep thinking about those busted tail lights,” I said, showing him the photo of the BMW. “What if Adam or Kevin wanted to teach Blake a lesson, so during the event, they go out to the parking lot and smash the taillights. Then, they spike his ginger ale, hoping that the cops would pull him over for the busted tail lights as he was driving home from the event. If the cops smelled alcohol on his breath, they would most likely arrest him.”

  Andrew nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I like that idea. The person who did it probably had no intention of killing Blake, or thinking he would die in car crash, with so little alcohol in his system.”

  “True. What Adam and Kevin probably didn’t know was that Blake was taking pills for depression and anti-anxiety, which increases the effect of alcohol in the system.”

  “Problem we have to solve now, how do we prove who did it? What about the ex-husband? If his wife told him that Blake had followed her to the ladies room looking to get into her pants, he could've spiked Blake’s ginger ale to get back at him.”

  “Nina never told her husband about it, at least, that’s what she told me.”

  “All I’m saying is, Blake had propositioned a married woman. If I were Nina’s husband, I’d want to teach that little prick a lesson.”

  I had to admit, Andrew’s point was valid. It cemented the fact in my mind that he would make a good private eye someday. “I only have a few more days until I submit my final report to the client and I hope I can provide Sue-Ellen with some definitive answers about what happened the night Blake died.”

  “I can help. What do you need me to do?”

  I gave it some thought. “There is one thing you could do, if you’re up for it.”

  “Anything you need.”

  “Tomorrow afternoon there’s an AA meeting. I’m planning to go there to talk to the members, to see if anyone had become friendly with Blake in the past year. Maybe you could go instead, and pretend you’re a recovering alcoholic.”

  “I can do that.” He held up his empty wine glass and gave me a goofy grin. “Maybe it’ll help with my own drinking problem.”

  I chuckled. “Look, if you don’t mind going to the meeting, that would really save me a lot of time. Are you sure you want to?”

  “Hey, I helped Carter with his last big job out in Hawaii. I’m up for anything.”

  “Good. Speaking of jobs, I better lay off the booze. I don’t want to be hung over in the morning.”

  “Go hit the hay. I’ll clean up.”

  I gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for coming to stay with me tonight. This was fun.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I wish you would get stalked more often.”

  Chapter 13

  The next morning I woke to the smell of fresh brewed coffee, bacon and scrambled eggs.

  “What time did you get up?” I asked him while admiring the breakfast spread.

  “I woke up around six and couldn’t go back to sleep, so I went down to the market and grabbed some groceries. I can’t believe you didn’t have any eggs.”

  I helped myself to a mug of coffee. “Well, Carter and I don’t do a lot of cooking around here.”

  “I love to cook. Hey, if you and Carter need a private chef, I’m up for the job.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Once we sat down to eat, Andrew said, “I’ve been keeping my eye out for that green car. No sightings to report.”

  “That’s encouraging, but if I see that green car again today, I’m going to Randy Leeman’s house to confront him.”

  Andrew held up his hands in protest. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Sarah.”

  “Whoever this guy is, I want to know what he wants from me. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

  “Well,” he said. “I gotta say, I’m excited for my big acting debut at the AA meeting this morning.”

  “Are you sure you’re still up for it?”

  “Are you kidding me? It will be the most fun I’ve had in weeks.”

  “Now remember, we need to find out if Blake had made any close friends. Someone whom he would have told about Gail’s jewelry stash. Not that I expect anyone will admit they did it, but any information you can get will be helpful. I’m willing to bet that Randy Leeman is a member of the group.”

  He gave me a salute. “You can count on me, sis.”

  * * *

  Me and Andrew parted ways around nine-thirty. While he was crashing the AA meeting, I decided to go to the gym Blake frequented: Planet Fitness.

  I hadn’t been to a gym in years since I preferred running outside on the pavement, even in winter. I knew there were advantages to using the gym, but I valued the fresh clean air outside over the musty smell of body odor inside any day of the week.

  I walked up to the front counter and got the attention of the young man wearing a Planet Fitness T-shirt.

  “I’m wondering if you could help me.” I unfolded the magazine photo of Blake and showed it to him. “You recognize him? His name is Blake Pratt. He was a member until a few weeks ago.”

  The kid leaned close to inspect the photo. “Yeah, I know Blake. Why are you asking?”

  “I’m not sure if you were aware, but he died two weeks ago in a car accident.
I’m trying to find out if he’d made friends here at the gym.”

  The kid froze. “Seriously, he died?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Man, that sucks. I’m real sorry. Are you … are you his mom?”

  “No, I’ve been hired by the family to look into Blake’s death. Were you friends with him?”

  “We weren’t tight or anything like that, but I saw him in here all the time.”

  “Anyone else here that might be able to help me?”

  The kid called out to his co-worker, who was wiping down a machine. “Hey, Alicia. Come over here, would ya?”

  A young woman in her early twenties sauntered over, carrying a dust rag. She was wearing skin tight lycra pants and a tank top with the gym logo. “What’s up, Martin?”

  “Did you hear about Blake Pratt. He died a few weeks ago.”

  Alicia’s eyes got big and round. “What?”

  “Yeah, this lady says he died in a car accident.”

  “Sorry I didn’t mention, my name is Sarah Woods.”

  Alicia was not looking at me or Martin. She was staring straight ahead into nothing, as if in shock. “He’s not really dead, is he?”

  I nodded. “I’m really sorry to break the news.”

  She stayed frozen for another few seconds then began to blink away tears. “I guess it makes sense now why I haven’t seen him the past few weeks.”

  “Were you two friends?” I asked.

  “Yes. Well, I mean, sort of. We saw each other almost every day here. God, he was such a sweetheart.”

  Martin put his arm around her. “Hey, if you wanna take a break, go ahead.”

  “Thanks, Martin. If you don’t mind, I think I will.”

  Alicia gestured for me to follow her to the back of the gym, and into a small office area. “So, are you with the police?”

  “No, I’m a private investigator.” I held out my hand. “You’re Alicia.”

  Her hand was weak and clammy when she shook mine. Poor girl was visibly in shock.

  Once she had composed herself, we both had a seat and she asked, “Can you tell me what happened to him?”

  “Sure,” I said. “He was leaving an event at night after having a drink. He crashed his car into a tree.”

  She shook her head like she couldn’t believe it. “But, Blake was a recovering alcoholic. He was doing so well.”

  “Could you tell me if he had made any friends here at the gym? Guys, in particular?”

  “Guys? Um, no. Blake was more of a ladies man. He was always talking to the girls. Or, I should say, they were always talking to him.”

  “Is there a member here named Randy Leeman?”

  She looked up at the ceiling, as if wracking her brain. “No, that name doesn’t sound familiar.”

  “That’s fine,” I said. “So, did Blake ever confide in you about personal stuff?”

  “A little. He mentioned that he’d been sober for almost a year, was real proud of that. And, he talked about his modeling career. He said that he was trying to get in better shape so he could snag a new agent.”

  “Did he ever talk about his girlfriend?”

  “I didn’t know he had a girlfriend. He certainly didn’t act like he had a girlfriend.”

  “Really?” I said. “He never mentioned Gail?”

  “Gail? Oh, the woman he lived with. No, she definitely wasn’t his girlfriend. He told me they were just roommates.”

  I paused to consider her statement. “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure. He said she was like, ten years older than him.”

  I was beginning to get a broader picture of Blake’s character, and I didn’t like it. There were only two reasons I could think of as to why he wouldn’t admit that Gail was his girlfriend. He was embarrassed by her age and looks, or he wanted to keep his options open for other girls. “What else did he say about Gail?”

  “Not much, really. He never brought her around, so I have no idea what she looks like.”

  “Did he ever talk about personal stuff, other than the fact that he was a recovering alcoholic?”

  “Well, something did happen the last time he came here. This must’ve been a few weeks ago. I just got to work around nine in the morning, and I saw Blake talking to this older guy. At first, I thought this guy was harassing Blake. But then, they gave each other a hug. It was really weird. So then, the guy leaves in his car, and Blake walks with me into the gym. When I asked him who that guy was, he said it was his dad.”

  “His dad?” I said, stunned. “Are you sure that’s what he said?”

  “I’m positive. Blake said he hadn’t seen him in years. I could tell he was a bit emotional about the whole thing.”

  “Was he planning to see his dad again?”

  “I don’t know. Blake didn’t seem to want to talk any more about it. And that was the last day I ever saw Blake.” Alicia looked up at the clock on the wall. “Shoot, I should probably get back to work. Is there anything else you need to ask?”

  “You’ve been extremely helpful, but I have just one more question. Did you happen to see what kind of vehicle Blake’s dad was driving?”

  “Yeah, I think it was green, but it had different colored doors. Not sure what make or model it was, but it looked old.”

  When I got back in my car, I sat there for a few minutes, trying to make sense of the new development. Was Clifford Pratt the guy following me in the green car? And if so, why?

  The dashboard clock told me it was almost eleven, and Andrew would be getting out of the AA meeting within half an hour. Just enough time for me to show up at Randy Leeman’s house and confront him.

  Chapter 14

  Ten minutes later, I was driving through a trailer park called Hamlet Village, looking for number fifteen. When I found the address, I was disappointed that the green car was not in the driveway, only a white Honda.

  Making sure that my pepper spray was in easy reach, I locked up my car, headed to the front door, and rang the bell. I heard a woman’s voice yell out, and then a middle-aged woman appeared in a pink robe. She had no make-up, and her hair was wet, like she’d just come out of the shower.

  “Hello, Ma’am,” I said. “Sorry to bother you so early, but I’m looking for Randy Leeman. Does he live here?”

  “Not for a few months now. Who are you?”

  “My name is Sarah Woods. The reason I want to speak with Randy is because I think he knows Clifford Pratt. You know Cliff?”

  “Cliff?” She blinked and scratched her chin. “Yeah, I know him. He and my ex used to belong to a group of friends who played poker every week.”

  “Well, I really need to talk to Cliff. Do you happen to know where he’s staying?”

  “I haven’t seen him in years, but if he’s in town, he’s probably stay’n with Randy. What you want with ‘em?”

  “Did you know that Cliff’s son Blake died in a crash a few weeks ago?”

  Her jaw went slack. “Are you serious? No, I’d no idea.”

  “I guess you don’t read the obituaries. Anyway, I’d really appreciate an address or phone number so I can get in touch with Cliff and let him know about his son.”

  “Well, I can tell you where Randy is stay’n. Lives over on Maple Street, in the apartment over the Chinese Restaurant called the Pink Bamboo, least, I think that’s what it’s called.”

  “Thank you so much, I appreciate your help.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m real sorry to hear about Cliff’s son.”

  Minutes later, I was sitting in the parking lot of the Pink Bamboo Restaurant and still no green car. The restaurant was closed and wouldn’t open until lunchtime, so the lot was empty. There were stairs leading up to the apartment over the restaurant, and I assumed that’s where Randy lived.

  I kept my pepper spray within easy reach inside my jacket pocket as I hiked up the stairs, keeping one eye on the parking lot should the green car make an appearance.

  I knocked at the door and waited. After a few seconds,
I knocked again. I was able to peer into a window through an opened curtain, but only saw a bare bones kitchen with a bunch of empty beer bottles lining the counter.

  Another minute passed and I figured nobody was home. I was about to head back down the stairs when the door opened. I whipped around to find a man of about six feet tall, stubble-covered cleft chin. He was wearing ripped jeans and a black t-shirt. And, he looked exactly how I pictured Blake would have looked, had he lived long enough to reach his mid-forties.

  “Clifford Pratt?”

  He just stood there, taking me in with a blank expression. I realized then that he must have been an expert poker player, because I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “You’re that private eye who’s been asking questions about my son.”

  “So, you’re the one who’s been following me.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Why have you been asking questions about Blake?”

  “Sue-Ellen hired me. She thinks it’s strange that your son drank on the night he died.”

  “What’s the point now? Ain’t nothing that can bring him back.”

  As he began to close the door in my face, I stepped forward and took hold of his arm. “Look, I’m sorry for your loss. I know this must be a hard time, but I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  Cliff released the door handle and slowly retreated into the apartment. I took that as a silent invitation to follow him inside. A quick scan of my surroundings didn’t take long. The apartment was small, with just a few mismatched items of furniture. A TV was on in the living room, the volume turned down so low I could barely hear the newscaster.

  Cliff sat at the kitchen table and lit up a cigarette, not making eye contact. “How’s my wife doing?”

  I was surprised he cared to ask. “She’s in mourning. Why don’t you give her a call?”

  “She wouldn’t want to talk to me.” He made a vague hand gesture for me to sit down, then flicked his ash into a tin can on the table.

  “Thank you.” Once I got settled, I decided to start with an easy question. “So, how long have you been back in town?”