No Way to Die

by M. D. Grayson

  * * * *

  An hour later, we were back at the office. Toni and I went into my office. She flopped into a chair and put her Doc Martens up on my desk the way she used to. This was good.

  Richard was gone, but I called Kenny and Doc in and briefed them on what had happened at the meeting.

  “So where’s that leave us?” Doc said.

  “Well, the two math docs tend to support the version of the story that Katherine gave us,” I said.

  “That’s right,” Toni added. “They specifically said that they didn’t see Thomas acting depressed or down in the dumps after the sale to MST fell through. Stella said he seemed excited—basically, the same thing Katherine said.”

  “Unfortunately, though, if I’m Inez Johnson and this is brought to me, I say, no big deal. People misinterpret other people’s feelings all the time. When it comes to the question of whether or not Thomas was murdered, I’d have to say this proves nothing.”

  “May not prove it,” Doc said, “but it’s starting to look like a smoking gun.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe,” I said.

  “How about what Dr. Valeria said?” Toni asked.

  “Inconclusive,” I said. “Just because some smart person can conjure up a viable possibility as to how a crime might have been pulled off doesn’t mean that a crime actually occurred.”

  “How about that British goon who was scoping out our office?” Doc said.

  I pictured Mr. Baldie flipping me off as he drove past. I shook my head. “I don’t know what to make of that yet,” I said. “Except I can tell you for sure that just because we get into it with a couple of Brits in the parking lot doesn’t mean Inez Johnson is going to see that as them having anything to do with killing Thomas Rasmussen.”

  Kenny looked flustered. “So what’s that mean?” he said. “We’ve got nothing?”

  I shrugged. “Technically,” I said, “you’re right. We got butkus. Nothing. At least not yet.” I spun in my chair and looked out the window. A thought gnawed at me. “You know, despite all the odd, conflicting shit, though—one thing that escapes me is why MST would kill Thomas. I can’t see what they have to gain.”

  Toni looked up at me. “They wanted Starfire,” she said.

  “I know that. But they couldn’t get it because the Feds blocked it, not Thomas. Why kill Thomas?”

  “Maybe he let slip that he didn’t want to sell to them,” Toni said. “Maybe he pissed them off.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. I thought about it for a second. “We really need to talk to the guys at Madoc, don’t we?”

  Doc looked at me. “Kinda like taking a walk into the lion’s den, isn’t it?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, maybe.” I thought about it for a second and said,“Maybe we need to do this the old-fashioned way.”

  “The detective way?” Kenny said.

  “The army way,” Doc said.

  “Right,” I agreed with both of them. “Kenny, I think it’s time to check some phone records. Let’s see whom Holly’s really been talking to. Home, office, cell—the whole package. Next, let’s start trying to find everything you can on Madoc Secured Technologies and Nicholas Madoc. If we’re going to approach them, probably best to find out everything we can. You probably won’t be able to get anything on their cell phones, but you might get something on their office phones.”

  “I’m on it,” he said.

  “Toni and I will keep talking to people. Doc, you’ll be with us.”

  “Got it.”

  * * * *

  “Are you okay?” I asked Toni after everyone had left. “What happened in the Jeep this afternoon with the music?”

  She still had her feet up on my desk, chewing on a pencil she’d picked up. She looked at me.

  “Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I’m just a little—”

  “Stop,” she said, cutting me off. “I’m fine. Move on.”

  I looked at her. “If you say so.”

  “I do. Actually,” she said, “I am a little worried.”

  “About what?”

  “About you,” she said. She put the pencil down.

  I smiled. “That’s nice that you’re worried about me. Makes me feel—” Then I looked at her more intently. “Why are you worried about me?”

  “If the Madoc guys are really bad—and based on this morning, it looks like they might be—then I’m a little concerned about that. It makes me worry about you.”

  “I’m not worried about them,” I said.

  “Exactly,” she said, swinging her feet to the floor. “You’re completely full of yourself, aren’t you? You and your puffed-up macho crap about how they need to watch out for us. Whoa!” She shook her hands in mock fear.

  “Okay then,” I said. “Where’s this coming from? What do you suggest?”

  “Well, for starters at least, you might have Doc beef up the security system here. You’ve been talking about doing it for two years.”

  I smiled at her. “I get it,” I said. “Is this an official nag? You’re nagging me here, aren’t you?”

  She shook her head disgustedly. “Logan, at times you can be an exasperating little child. I’m trying to be serious here. We have a serious threat, if you’d care to listen. But no, your response is to go charging out into the parking lot ready to beat the shit out of someone. Someone, I might add, who you have no idea who they are or who’s behind them.”

  “Toni, there were three of us. There were two of them. Any one of us could have probably taken both of them. I don’t care who they are; I’m okay with those odds.”

  “‘Charging into the parking lot’ was meant as a metaphor,” she said.

  “A metaphor?” I asked. “A metaphor for what?”

  “I’m just saying you should be a little cautious around these guys, you know?” she said. “I have a bad feeling, Danny. I don’t think you should just get all pissed off like you do and go charging off the face of the earth, ready to start swingin’. Believe it or not, there are badder guys in the jungle than you. These are big boys here. What if they decide they don’t want to play your game? That macho bullshit won’t do us any good if they just decide to blow your Jeep to smithereens one morning with you inside of it.”

  I formed a mental image of what she’d just suggested—not a pleasant thought. I looked into her eyes for a second. I don’t usually see Toni concerned about things, but she was clearly uneasy now. This sobered up the situation for me in a hurry.

  “Okay,” I said seriously. “Okay. I’ll have Doc get some quotes on beefing up our system around here. And for the time being, I won’t go charging off looking for dragons to slay.”

  “And you’ll try and be careful?” she said.

  “Yes, mom, I’ll try and be careful.” I smiled at her.

  “Good,” she said. “Thank you.” She smiled at me—a smile I hadn’t seen before. It was a sincere, relieved, happy kind of smile that immediately started to melt me right there in my chair.

  “You stop it,” I said.

  “Stop what?”

  “That smile. Stop smiling at me like that.”

  “You’re strange, Logan.”

  Chapter 9

  “I’D LIKE TO propose a toast,” I called out. I pushed my chair back and stood up. We were gathered in the Merchant’s Café in downtown Seattle on Thursday, March 8. It was the official four-year anniversary of Logan PI. As has become our custom, we held an anniversary dinner to celebrate. The staff at the restaurant had arranged a nice private table for our group of twenty-four associates, friends, and family members, but the restaurant was busy, and I had to speak up to be heard above the din.

  “First,” I said, “let me thank you all for coming out tonight to celebrate our fourth anniversary.”

  The people at the table applauded.

  “In December 2007,” I said, “I was discharged from the U.S. Army. I was fortunate in that I had two things going for me:first, I had a lifelong vision of having my
own private investigation agency. Although I broke the chain of lawyers in the Logan family, I was still interested in the law—just from a different angle.”

  “There’s still time,” my dad called out, causing everyone to laugh. “We’ll get you set up for the LSAT next month.”

  I laughed. “Not in the cards, Dad.”

  “Besides, you have to be able to read,” Toni said, eliciting another round of laughter.

  “True. But seriously, even though I didn’t want to be a lawyer, I was always interested in law enforcement. Becoming a police detective—or even better, a private investigator—this was what I always wanted.”

  “The second thing I had going for me was a good friend who shared the same vision.” I turned to Toni who was seated next to me. “Ms. Antoinette Blair.”

  “Hear! Hear!” Gus Symanski called out.Each year, we like to invite some of the people we’d worked with the past year who we felt were important to our success. We’d invited Dwayne Brown and Gus this year. Gus is a big fan of Toni’s.

  Toni smiled and nodded at me, and then turned to Gus and blew him a kiss. Gus, ever the drama queen, slapped his face delightedly as if the kiss had landed.

  I continued. “With Toni, I was lucky to find someone who had the same passion that I did for the work. She teases me—as you’ve seen—but I think we make a good team, and I’m grateful that she’s here.” I looked at her, and she smiled.

  “Toni and I’d known Richard Taylor for six months or so—he was a guest lecturer at a course we attended when we were seniors at U-Dub.” I nodded toward Richard. “We got to talking with Richard and, as it happens, he wanted to retire from a fifty-year career in law enforcement. As a matter of fact, he so badly wanted to retire that he was willing to extend very generous terms for the purchase of his agency. In other words, he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I made a deal with Richard and formally hired Toni the same day at the start of 2008.”

  “Richard’s lease was up, so we needed to move straight away. Toni and I were able to locate an office on Westlake right on the water at Lake Union. The place was old and beat-up—I think they used to sell time-shares out of it. But they gave us a hell of a deal. With a lot of hard work and creativity, we transformed the space into what we know today as the world headquarters of the Logan Private Investigation agency.”

  “He supervised,” Toni called out, nodding toward me. “I did the work.”More laughter.

  I nodded my head in acknowledgment. “Those of you who know us well know that that's complete—” I paused, “—well, that’s probably true.” People laughed again. I paused again, and then said,“Anyway, when we had our grand opening there four years ago today, many of you were there to wish us well. We appreciated your help and your support then as we started the business. Today, as we’ve grown over these past four years into Seattle’s number one private investigation agency, we appreciate your help and support even more.”

  The group applauded.

  “Now there are four of us—we were joined by two other guys who also share the same commitment to the job—Doc Kiahtel and Kenny Hale.” I nodded to both guys, and the people at the table applauded.

  Kenny was sharply turned outin a very nice suit. A particularly fetching brunette sat by his side. Doc, as is his custom, came by himself.

  “So with that,” I raised my glass of Mac &Jack’s African Amber solemnly, “let me say—from all of us to all of you—thank you, and here’s to many more great years!”

  Everyone clapped again. “Hear! Hear!” Gus called once more. Somebody—I think it was Doc—whistled.

  I sat down. “Well said,” Toni said quietly, for only me to hear.

  “You think?”

  “Absolutely. You had ’em eatin’ out of the palm of your hand.”

  I smiled. “Good.” I looked at the people at the table. Everyone seemed to be happy, to be enjoying themselves. “We’ve done pretty well so far, haven’t we?”

  “We have,” she said. “You’re a good boss. You’ve taken good care of us.”

  I looked at her. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

  * * * *

  After dinner, we were still seated at the table, waiting for the servers to clear the dishes and bring dessert. I was talking to Richard when Toni yanked on my arm from the other side.

  “Danny . . . look,” she said.

  I followed her eyes across the room and saw two men walking toward us.

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  “That’s none other than Nicholas Madoc himself,” she said. “I recognize him from the brochure John Ogden gave us.”

  No shit. I checked Madoc out as he crossed the restaurant floor. He was medium height, thin, with a full head of silver-gray hair. He was dressed impeccably in a dark charcoal suit with a dark tie. He looked to be in his mid-sixties.

  “Do you know who that is with him?” I asked.

  “I think it must be Cameron Patel,” she said.

  The other man was younger, but the same height and build. His hair was darker and, even from across the room, I could see that he had piercing blue eyes. He carried a package with him.

  The two men walked directly toward our table. Madoc scanned the table and when he saw me, we locked gazes for a second. Then, he smiled broadly and approached.

  “Mr. Logan,” he said as he approached, extending his hand. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Nicholas Madoc. This is my associate Cameron Patel.” He had a pronounced English accent.

  I stood and shook their hands.

  “How do you do. This is my partner, Toni Blair,” I said as Toni stood.

  Madoc looked at Toni and smiled broadly. “Charming. Is that your real name, my dear?”

  “Antoinette,” Toni said. Her smile was polite, but not friendly.

  “Indeed,” Madoc said. Watching the two of them, Toni and Madoc reminded me of two strange cats meeting in an alley—both outwardly polite, both barely able to hide their edginess.

  He turned back to me. “I understand congratulations are in order this evening.”Before I could respond, he continued. “Allow us to present this small token in honor of your company’s achievement.” He turned and Patel handed him the package. Reaching inside, Madoc drew out two bottles of Dom Pérignon and set them on the table.

  “Wow,” I said, scrambling for the right words. “Thank you very much.”

  “Our pleasure,” he said. “I was able to locate a couple of bottles of the ’96 vintage. It was a particularly good year. I hope you’ll find it to your liking.”

  “I’m sure we will,” I said.

  He looked at me with his dark gray eyes. “It’s come to my attention that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot yesterday morning with that little . . . unpleasantness in your parking lot,” he said. “I’m here to present our sincerest apologies and to make amends.”

  “Well, that’s a pretty impressive way to do it,” I said, nodding toward the champagne.

  He smiled. “We find that it’s better for all concerned if there are no misunderstandings between us.”

  I’ll bet.“Good policy,” I agreed.

  “Toward that end,” he said, “I was hoping that you’d be free to stop by our office in Bellevue sometime in the next few days for a chat.I fly out on Sunday for business.” He handed me his card.

  A free, no-harm, no-foul look inside the lion’s den—who could resist?

  “How’s tomorrow morning?” I asked.

  He stared at me for a second, apparently surprised by my quick response. “Tomorrow morning would be perfect. Say eleven o’clock?”

  “Toni and I will be there,” I said.

  “Wonderful. With that, we’ll take no more of your time. We’ll simply wish you a good evening and leave you to your party. Congratulations once again, and do enjoy the champagne.” The two men turned and walked away.

  * * * *

  Toni and I watched them until they disappeared around the corner. Neither of us spoke—I think we were
both a little too shocked. Finally, we sat down.

  “That was pretty bizarre,” I said quietly to her. “That guy may be behind the murder of Thomas Rasmussen.”

  “That’s the truth,” she answered. Then she looked at the champagne.“He oozes sleaze. The gift’s pretty stylish, though, isn’t it?”

  I nodded. “Yeah—you taste it first.”

  “Who was that?” Kenny said, leaning over from across the table.

  “That was Nicholas Madoc in the flesh—Madoc Secured Technologies,” I said.

  “Really? What’d he want?”

  “He came by to congratulate us,” I said, nodding toward the champagne.

  At that moment, two waiters approached the table, each carrying a tray with a dozen champagne flutes. Madoc must have instructed them on the way out.

  “Wow,” Kenny said. “Works for me.”

  We stared at the champagne for a few seconds. “Well,” Toni said, “it looks like it’s up to me, then.”

  “Really?” I asked. “I don’t think so. I was just kidding.”

  “Come on, Danny. The champagne’s from Madoc—a guy we don’t trust as far as we can throw him, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So that means we can’t trust his champagne either, right?”

  I looked at her without answering.

  “I volunteer,” she said. “I’ll be the official taster.”

  I grinned. “Taster. Nice try. I don’t think we need an official taster. The champagne’s sealed. Look, you can see it right here.”

  “True, but these are dangerous guys, right? You don’t believe these guys could poison the champagne and reseal it so you couldn’t tell? These guys are pros, remember.”

  I smiled at her. I nodded my head. “I think we’re probably safe, but . . . all right, you win.”

  So I popped open the champagne. Toni conducted an extensive taste test and, thankfully, survived. So we spent the next couple of hours toasting Logan PI with Nicholas Madoc’s expensive champagne.

  * * * *

  When the party broke up later in the evening, I’d hoped to be able to get Toni alone. It seems our relationship was trying to return to normal, but there were unsaid things that needed to be said.I thought it might be a good time to get together and talk things through. Unfortunately, Gus, chivalrous teetotaler that he is, got to her first and offered to drive her home. She happily accepted.