Find Me When I'm Lost

by Cheryl A Head

  Chapter 19

  When Judy arrived just before noon at the Mack office, the door was locked. She searched for her key in her tote and found it, but decided to knock. She looked up at the camera over the door and winked. The door was flung open and her entry blocked by Hoyt Timbermann.

  “Judy Novak,” he proclaimed.

  “Hoyt,” Judy said, pushing past him. “You know you can see who’s at the door by flipping on the monitor at Tamela’s desk.”

  Tamela smiled and turned the monitor toward them so they could see the empty hallway and Hoyt’s shadow on the floor.

  “Yeah. I forgot that. But I figured your knock was too polite to be trouble.”

  Judy rolled her eyes in Tamela’s direction, checked the message box and strolled into the bullpen, followed by Hoyt. She dumped her tote on the desk that had been used by the agency’s former partner, but was now designated for her. She moved around the desk to sit.

  “Don and Charlie aren’t in?”

  “They went out to pick up lunch,” Hoyt said. “Say, I heard you made partner. That’s nice. How are you fitting that seat?”

  “Today I think it fits okay. I’m grateful for the opportunity to try my hand at the investigation work, but to be honest, Hoyt, I still miss Gil every day.”

  “Yeah. He was a tough guy. What about the rough stuff? You know, like we had in the auto show case. You okay with that part of the work?”

  “Charlie promised me I wouldn’t be involved in that, and I don’t have to get a gun.”

  “Yeah. I guess that’s why I’m here, huh?”

  # # #

  The Mack partners, freelancer Hoyt, and Tamela sat around the conference table sharing pizza and salad. Charlie thought the food might make what she had to say about their situation easier to hear. She was ready to explain that their work was about to take a new and very dangerous turn. Everyone needed to understand the stakes.

  “As of today the Franklin Rogers case is moving into high gear. Our client of record is now Serena Carruthers. She’s signed on as Franklin’s attorney, and we’re working as her investigative team. We have three main priorities. First, we’re going to add another layer of protection for Franklin at the hospital. Second, we’re researching two elements of the case Serena wants to focus on: Franklin’s gun and Peter’s known associates. Third, we’re going to make sure we stay safe.”

  On the last point, Tamela’s eyes grew wider. She’d been quiet since coming into the conference room, stopping short at the sight of Charlie, Don and Hoyt wearing gun holsters. Now she dropped her slice of pizza onto her plate and picked up her soda. Charlie could tell she wanted to ask questions.

  “We’ve already looked into Peter’s friends and associates,” Judy said.

  “Right, and we’re going to dig some more. This new work will be all yours, and maybe Tamela will assist. Serena wants us to continue sifting through Karen Scanlon’s life, and she wants us to find out as much as we can about the Canadian bourbon deal and the man who approached Peter about it. Madison. I don’t think we ever got a first name, did we?”

  Don held up a finger. “I got it.” He flipped through his notebook. “Robert Madison.”

  “Right. Those are your tasks, Judy. Scanlon and Madison. Pick over them like a vulture over a carcass.”

  “Got it.”

  “Don, how many freelancers did you line up for the hospital security detail?”

  “Two others, besides you and me. Wallace says Franklin will be leaving the hospital for one of the prison facilities this weekend. So we’ll only need to work the next couple of days.”

  “Hoyt, I want you to keep an eye on this office during business hours,” Charlie said. “Use your own discretion, work with the security guys downstairs if you want. Make sure nobody comes into this office unannounced.”

  “Okay, Ms. Mack.”

  “Judy, let’s hear about your meeting with Sharon Fairchild.”

  “She’s still mourning. That’s understandable. She talked a lot about Peter. She finally admitted her husband was—in her words—‘hard’ toward Peter. He runs his business and family the same way. He sees each person as having a role to play. In Fairchild’s estimation, Peter never lived up to his role.”

  “Does that mean he could kill Peter?” Don asked.

  Judy shrugged. “I think it means he found Peter expendable.”

  “What about Fairchild’s relationship with Franklin?” Charlie asked.

  “Rocky at the start. I think he tolerates Franklin and doesn’t think he’s good enough for his daughter.”

  Charlie nodded. “Okay. This is what will happen today. Serena, Don, and I are meeting Pamela at the hospital. I’ve left word for Franklin that we’re coming. The idea is Franklin will tell his wife of his suspicions about her father. That conversation is going to set off a chain of events.”

  “You mean you really believe Fairchild killed his own son?” Hoyt asked.

  “We do,” Charlie responded.

  “That’s a goddamn shame,” Hoyt blurted. “Oh, sorry.”

  “No doubt Pamela will be worked up,” Charlie continued. “There will be crying and yelling. And anger. She’ll confront her father. He’ll be pissed. Scared. Dangerous. I believe he’ll make another attempt on Franklin’s life.”

  “Another attempt?” Hoyt asked.

  “We think he’s behind the shooting that put Rogers in the hospital in the first place,” Don said.

  “I didn’t know that,” Hoyt said. “So you were fired upon in Toronto, the prisoner witness was killed, and Franklin was hit by a bullet. That’s nasty. No wonder you’re bringing in help.”

  Charlie watched Tamela. Her eyes bulged, and she had a white-knuckled grip on her can of soda. Charlie signaled Judy with a flick of the eye, and Judy turned to face Tamela.

  “Yeah, but things are under control. Right, Don?” Judy asked. “We’ll be okay here in the office. Especially with Hoyt around.”

  “I suppose so, Novak. I don’t know how brazen Fairchild’s henchmen might be, but we’ll be ready for them.”

  “Tamela,” Charlie said calmly. “I know what you’re hearing is scary. Is there anything you want to ask? Do you want to stay away from the office for a few days? It’s all right if you want to do that.”

  “No, Ms. Mack. I’m not scared. This is exciting. When I told my brother I was working for a private investigator, he thought I was fooling him. Every time I get home he asks about my day, and I tell him about filing and taking notes, and answering phones. Just wait until I tell my brother that you have a gun, we have a guard at the office, and somebody tried to shoot Mr. Rutkowski,” Tamela exclaimed. “He’ll be so jealous.”

  Chapter 20

  “Charlene Mack is a pain in my ass!” Captain Travers said, slamming his hand on the desk. He had been listening to an update from Detective Wallace on the Rogers case, but was now on his feet staring down onto Beaubien Street.

  “This is going to be a fucking debacle, Wallace. You realize, of course, everything you have on Fairchild will be dismantled by his million-dollar lawyers?”

  “I know, sir. But we can’t ignore the information we’ve received. Too many other people know about it, plus the Mack team has a couple of other irons in the fire.” Wallace paused to assess Travers’s demeanor. “Also, Serena Carruthers is defending Rogers.”

  Travers looked over his shoulder. “Carruthers, huh?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m pissed you didn’t bring this to me earlier. How long have you known?”

  “For a while. This case is nothing but trouble for the whole damn city. I wanted to bring you hard proof.”

  “And yet you haven’t, Detective. All you’ve brought me is misery.” Travers gave Wallace a hard look and turned back to the window. “You know I had plans to become the next chief. With this mess I’ll be lucky to work long enough to get my pension.”

  “I’m sure it won’t be that bad, Captain. All we’re doing is following the lea
ds. Everyone will understand that.”

  Travers took two long strides to his desk, and fell into his chair. He took a long drink of water from the glass on his desk.

  “My wife is making me drink more water. It helps with my blood pressure. You want some?”

  “No thanks,” Wallace said anxiously.

  “You’re originally from Atlanta, aren’t you?”

  “That’s right. My folks are still there. My dad was in uniform in the eighties.”

  “Detroit is not Atlanta, Wallace. You’ve been here long enough to know class and race politics is front and center with everything.”

  “That’s not so different in Atlanta,” Wallace said.

  “Right. But for every Peachtree Street or Ponce De Leon Avenue you have in Atlanta, we have four streets named after white industrialists. We’re different from the South. Our rich white men have a deeper foothold on what goes and what doesn’t go. Believe me, Stanford Fairchild is going to bring the full power of his influence down on us. You and me.”

  Wallace nodded. “Then I think you should call the chief now. Rogers is telling his wife what he knows this afternoon. It won’t be long before your phone starts ringing.”

  # # #

  “Ms. Novak, I think I’ve found something about that company you asked me to look up.”

  Judy walked to Tamela’s desk and peered over her shoulder at the computer screen.

  “Right there,” Tamela said, pointing.

  “How’d you find this?”

  “First, I just googled the company. A bunch of stuff came up that didn’t seem to have anything to do with anything. I searched through a dozen pages. Then I got the idea to focus on keywords. I put in ‘Scanlon,’ ‘design,’ and ‘Detroit.’ That’s when I found this blog. It’s written by a party planner who specializes in celebrity events. I had to dig through his archive, but I found this post and picture.”

  The photo showed a glamorous group at a house party. The blogger wrote about the fun time he’d had at the magnificent home of a Windsor businessman. The exquisite furnishings, he noted, were courtesy of Karen Scanlon of Motor City Interior Designs, shown second from the left in the photo. Third from the left, with an arm around Scanlon, was a smiling, handsome, gray-haired man in a beige suit. The caption identified him as Robert Madison.

  “Isn’t that the name of the man Ms. Mack mentioned?”

  “It is indeed. This may be the break we were looking for. Can you print out this page and make several copies? Make the quality of the photo as good as you can get it, and bookmark the web page. Bring everything to the conference room when you’re done. That’s really good work, Tamela.”

  # # #

  “You got something, Judy?” Hoyt asked, sticking his head in the conference room.

  He’d been sitting in the bullpen looking bored all afternoon. The only excitement he’d had was when a delivery guy knocked on the door with office supplies. While Tamela signed for the order, Hoyt kept a gun on the young man who backed out of the office with raised hands and then ran to the stairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator. Judy made a notation about the incident on the invoice before filing it away. This was likely the last delivery they’d have from that store.

  “I think we do, Hoyt. It looks like our secret lady, Karen Scanlon, knows more about Peter’s bourbon company investor than she let on.”

  “What’s the guy’s name?” Hoyt asked.

  “Robert Madison.”

  “Oh yeah. Right. His name rang a bell when it came up earlier. I think he may have organized-crime connections. You want me to check that out with some people I know?”

  “That would be great. The guy lives in Windsor. Meanwhile, I need to call the secretary of state’s office before it closes. Let me know what you find out.”

  “You got it.”

  Chapter 21

  Charlie and Don met their new freelancer in the parking lot. Chuck Denton had the first shift in their hospital security detail. He was young, too young, Don thought, but had been recommended by one of their regular guys who wasn’t available. The deal with Wallace called for their sentries to be outside the building and in the lobby. They would have walkie-talkies for communications with the cops guarding Franklin on the fourth-floor wing. Only uniformed police and hospital staff would be allowed on the floor where Franklin was laid up.

  “You good, Denton?” Don asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Don’t call me sir. You’ll work until eleven. Then Mack, uh, Ms. Mack and I will take the overnight shift.”

  “Yes, sir,” Denton said.

  Don turned his back on the boy and started toward the hospital entrance. Charlie leaned into the car window and winked. “Thanks, Denton. Keep your eyes open. Call Don or me if you see anything unusual.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I sure will.”

  Charlie signed in at the desk and took a seat next to Don. At 1:55 Serena Carruthers arrived wearing a fur coat and dark brown Jimmy Choo boots.

  “This is my partner, Don Rutkowski,” Charlie said in introduction.

  “Rutkowski. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “I’ve heard a lot about you, too,” Don replied, deadpan.

  Introductions over, Serena walked to the front desk.

  “Thanks for being so warm,” Charlie said in Don’s direction.

  “What did you want me to do, kiss her ring?”

  “No. But she’s paying our bills so let’s at least keep it friendly.”

  “I was friendly.”

  At ten after two, Pamela Fairchild entered the lobby, breathless and beautiful. She was recently coiffed and manicured. Her hair was pinned back in a bun and, like Serena, she wore a fur coat.

  “I hope I’m not too late,” Pamela said with an envious glimpse at Serena’s shoes. “I called the doctor from the car, and he’s on the way down to meet us. Are you joining us?” Pamela said to Don after introductions.

  “No. I’m leaving. Detective Wallace and I are meeting to discuss the security plans for Franklin.”

  “Well, that’s very good.”

  Escorted by Franklin’s doctor, Charlie, Pamela, and Serena walked through the maze of hallways to Franklin’s room. An officer stood outside the door.

  “So he’ll be released soon?” Pamela asked the doctor.

  “He’ll need to do a bit of physical therapy for that arm, but the wound is healing excellently. So yes. He could be discharged in the next couple of days.”

  Franklin sat in a chair near the bed, looking anxious. His beard was filling in, and so was his hair. He wore a dark blue robe over hospital pajamas, white socks, and paper slippers. His left arm was still in a sling.

  “Hi,” he said to the group with a half-smile. When Pamela moved up to hug him, he peeked over her shoulder at Charlie with a nervous look. “Since I knew there would be four of us, I asked the guard for a few more chairs.”

  “He didn’t leave his station, did he?” Charlie asked with concern.

  “No. No. The officer asked one of the nurses, and she had someone bring the chairs.”

  Pam commandeered the seat next to Franklin and clasped his good hand. Serena and Charlie sat across from them in the now very tight room.

  “Serena wanted us all to meet and go over your defense strategy, honey,” Pamela said. “By the way, the doctor says you’ll be out of here soon. That means we need a court date so we can get you back home. Right, Serena?”

  “We do need a court date, but I doubt any judge will grant Franklin bail. He’s considered a flight risk,” Serena said.

  “A flight risk? Why?”

  “Because I ran before, Pam. Remember?”

  “I didn’t think of it like that,” Pamela said, caressing his hand.

  Franklin’s eyes darted between Charlie and Serena. Charlie returned a look of encouragement and empathy. Franklin cleared his throat and shifted in his seat before speaking.

  “Honey. I need to tell you something. I didn’t tell you the whol
e truth about why I ran away from Peter’s apartment.”

  “What do you mean? You said you ran because you were scared.”

  “I was scared. But not just because I discovered Peter dead. That was horrible, but it was because of something I found when I regained consciousness.”

  “What did you find?”

  “One of your father’s money clips.”

  Pamela stared at Franklin with a confused expression. “I don’t understand. What money clip?”

  “The one with the emerald chip. I found it on the floor next to me. I got scared, took the clip, and fled. The next day, when I heard on the news that my gun was found at Peter’s apartment, I was even more afraid. Honey, you know I don’t carry my gun. I didn’t have it that night. Someone’s trying to frame me.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “Look, I know this is hard to hear. It’s why I got lost for a few days. It’s why I haven’t told you the truth. It’s almost impossible to believe that Stan would do something like this, but I think he did.”

  Pamela let go of Franklin’s hand and brought her own to her temple. “Franklin!” Pamela’s voice had become cold and unwavering. “Are you saying you think Daddy killed Peter?”

  “Yes, Pam, I do. And he’s trying to set me up for the murder.”

  Pamela leaped from the chair, slamming it into the wall, and leaned over the bed on her elbows as if she’d been punched in the stomach. The sound she made began as a whoop and ended in a hysterical cackle. The high-pitched yowl reminded Charlie of a jackal she’d seen last week on a PBS nature program. Charlie and Serena stared as Franklin rose to put his good arm around Pamela’s waist.

  “No. You don’t get to touch me,” she screamed. “I know who put these wild ideas in your head. That bitch right there,” she said, pointing to Charlie.

  Charlie began to protest, but Serena laid a hand on her arm. The door to the room opened, and the police officer stuck in his head. “Is everything all right in here?”

  “Get out!” Pamela shouted.

  The officer’s ego kicked in. He stepped into the room and pointed at her. “Ma’am, you need to calm down, right now.”