Out Jumps Jack Death: A Clancy Evans Mystery (Clancy Evans PI Book 8)

by M. Glenn Graves

  “For looking at whatever you’re looking at. Should be on that wall,” she said, pointing to an adjacent wall near the same closet door. “There’s more room and more light for viewing one’s self.”

  “What does that mean to you?”

  “It means that I’m never going to dress in this bedroom.”

  “Besides that,” I said.

  She moved to the closet and turned the knob. The door did not open.

  “Who locks a closet?” she said.

  “Someone who has something to hide,” I said.

  Diamond took out her gun.

  “A bit loud, don’t you think?” I said.

  “Not if you put this on the end of it.”

  She retrieved a silencer from some place under her black jacket and screwed it onto the barrel of her weapon. Talk about being prepared. I should’ve known by this point, but my traveling companion has thus far not failed to surprise me.

  “Hold off on ruining the door,” I said as I retrieved my trusty little lock-pick tool set I carry for such an occasion as this.

  “You care about his door?”

  “Not really, but why waste the ammo when I have the skill-set to get inside his locked secrets.”

  It was easy locking mechanism to pick and I opened the door for Diamond in less than thirty seconds. She moved past me and entered the closet.

  “Aha,” she said as she turned on the closet light.

  She seemed to know exactly where to look. I wondered about that.

  “Find something?”

  “Gold.”

  19

  We left Thaddeus Wilkerson’s townhouse somewhat diminished. So much for sleuthing and protecting our intrusion into his space. We did, however, find the control center of his wire tapping and video recording. Diamond’s “gold.”

  The hidden cameras fed a video recorder. Each small digital tape had the capacity to record at least forty-eight hours of footage. The recording device was on a loop that allowed Thad to view quickly and either leave it alone or replace it if something interesting had been captured. He also had an old-fashioned reel to reel recorder for listening to whatever was said. It was voice activated. If silence reigned for more than five minutes, it would shut off. This assured Thad that he would not miss anything. It also prevented him from running out of tape in moments where the conversations were significant to him.

  Diamond found a treasure trove of photographs taken of several different women who had visited with Thad and had decided to stay overnight. Yikes. Some of the photos were explicit, some were merely the result of voyeurism on Thad’s part. I wondered if Brenda Gale Singletary knew she was not the only one in his life. We took the photos in case we might need them for goodness knows what. If we had the inclination, we could always open a porn shop.

  I stuffed the large collection into a legal size manila envelope I found in Thad’s office. I didn’t want Sam viewing the photos in the backseat of Diamond’s truck. Protecting the innocent, so to speak.

  We were reasonably certain that we had found most of the bugs from his place. We were also reasonably certain that we had the recorded footage of our visit. What we were not certain of was the possibility that Thad made backup copies of photos, videos, and tape recordings at the same time the originals were being produced. Nothing in the closet supported such an idea. However, with current technology being what it is, it crossed my mind that Thad could send such garbage across a wireless network to another location. Disturbing. More than that, it would mean that our little clandestine intrusion into Thad’s dirty little secret world was being preserved somewhere in the world. Thad would know before we wanted him to know that Clancy and Diamond were the thieves of his nuggets.

  I said nothing to Diamond.

  Since we both wore gloves, we had no need to wipe down the place. We simply gathered up our new collection of bugs, digital tapes, those nearly archaic reel to reel tapes, our collection of revealing photos, and left. Other than the variously dispersed miniature illegal devices we discovered, there was nothing else of value in Thad’s home. That is to say, there was no flash drive discovered by us.

  Sam remained asleep in the back of the truck. It was past his bed time.

  Diamond drove us to Thad’s office in downtown D.C. This was going to be a little trickier. Breaking into a government building in the wee hours of the morning might be way beyond my skill set. Heck. Breaking into a government building anytime, day or night, was beyond my skill set.

  Not so for Diamond.

  “I thought you were a contract killer,” I said as she opened the lowest window on the building.

  We were trying to be unobtrusive in our efforts to enter the old fortress. Diamond was playing with the window and I was looking around for any would-be intruder who might be headed our way. Beat policeman, hero citizen, or competing thief. I wanted nothing to do with any likely suspect who might come upon us.

  “What does my contract business have to do with breaking into a building?” she said.

  “My point exactly. You sure you know what you are doing?”

  “I’m opening this window so we can enter this building,” she said.

  “I got that part. But what if every window in this place is wired so that either a silent alarm or a noisy one goes off and alerts the authorities.”

  “Two things. One, you watch too many movies. Two, there is no way the government is going to spend the money and wire every single window in a building this size or this age. Besides, who would want to break into the Bureau of Engraving and Imprinting?”

  “I read. I don’t watch movies. And, I suppose you are correct about the government spending money on all of the windows. Not sure how to answer that last question. We be the ones who want to break in.”

  “The present exception proves my point.”

  I froze as soon as I heard the police siren. The next sound was an internal alarm that sounded as if the people who needed to hear it were living in Baltimore.

  “If we really hurry, we might get away before they handcuff us,” I said.

  Diamond was already running towards her car. I was two steps behind. We managed to cut through a side street and avoid being seen by the cops who were the first on the scene.

  “Does this answer any of your previous questions when I offered my doubts?” I said.

  “Who would have thought that the government would have installed two alarms for that particular window?”

  Diamond’s driving skills were sufficient for us to escape before the police arrived.

  We drove to Sterling and spent the night at Rosey’s place. I carried a key in case I ever needed to stay over while he was out of the country. We decided not turn on any lights just in case someone was still watching and thinking that Rosey might return home, or someone like me and my BFF assassin show up. Diamond slept on the couch and I crawled to the bed for fear that I might run into something I couldn’t see in the dark. Surprisingly enough, the security lights provided us enough inside light once our eyes had adjusted to the dark, inside world of his apartment.

  We slept soundly despite our near brush with the law back in downtown D.C.

  The next morning I convinced Diamond to drive us back to the same building we tried to break into the night before. After some coffee and fresh doughnuts, I convinced her to let me go inside the building while she waited in the car with Sam and our weapons.

  “I’m going to talk with a contact.”

  “Inside the building.”

  “Like you, I thought we could get inside without being invited.”

  “Wasn’t my thinking. You didn’t tell me that you had a contact.”

  “Plan B,” I said.

  “Should have been Plan A.”

  “Next time we’ll discuss our options.”

  “Won’t be a next time. I refuse to serve time with a former police woman,” she said bluntly.

  “I don’t think they would bunk us together.”

  “Who’s this co
ntact?”

  “Someone who risked his life to warn us.”

  “About Wilkerson?” she asked.

  “Bingo. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  I entered the building, passed the metal scrutiny of the security booth, and searched in vain for a wall plaque which might provide me with the location of Marvin K. Dillingham. I finally found the information lady and stopped to chat.

  “That would be the Office of Security Printing,” she said, officially polite.

  I took the elevator and discovered another maze of offices and conference rooms. Fortunately, there were enough people milling around so I could ask for the whereabouts of Marvin K’s office. One official-acting lady escorted me to Marvin’s corner for work.

  “May I help you?” a voice from behind spoke as I noticed Marvin’s office was empty.

  “I would like to see Mr. Dillingham,” I said.

  “He’s not here,” she said.

  “I got that,” I said. “Will he be back?”

  “I’m sure he will.”

  We stood there for a moment in silence staring at each other. She was so official. I was so out of place. I waited to see if she had anymore words of truth to offer me. I was hoping for some words of clarity.

  Nothing came forth.

  Her name tag told me that she was Mary Lou Rafferty.

  “Will Mr. Dillingham be back today, Mary Lou?” I clarified, with emphasis.

  “I did not get that memo,” she said. “I think you might want to speak to Mr. Pierson. He would have more details. Have a seat there and I will fetch Mr. Pierson for you.”

  Fetch is such an interesting word. It conjures all sorts of images, especially in the mind of someone like me. Sam does a lot of fetching. From time to time I do some fetching. Not used to hearing other people use that word, even though it is a perfectly good word. Unused, but descriptive.

  I sat down and waited while Mary Lou was fetching a Mr. Pierson. Mr. Pierson arrived ten minutes later. I was timing him just for the heck of it. Apparently, rapid fetching was not Mary Lou’s forte. That, or Mr. Pierson did not favor being fetched.

  “May I help you?” Mr. Pierson said.

  “I’m looking for Marvin Dillingham,” I said.

  “He’s not here,” he said.

  “Yeah, I got that already from Mary Lou. Do you happen to know when he might return or where he could possibly be at the present?”

  Mr. Pierson looked worried or concerned, or maybe he was not feeling well. He searched for an answer to my innocent but difficult question. I didn’t intend for my question to be so complicated.

  “There was no memo on Mr. Dillingham,” Pierson said quite convincingly.

  “Hyperbole.”

  “I beg your pardon,” he said.

  I should know better. Most people who work in a bureaucracy never have had either a comic sense or some awareness of humor existing, or they take an oath on the first day of the job and swear to never display any latent sense of humor inside the building. It’d be a toss up. Maybe it’s on the entrance level exam.

  “Mary Lou told me that he was not here.”

  “Mr. Dillingham is on an extended leave of absence, I should say,” he finally voiced.

  “Forced or asked for?”

  “Well, … I … ah … let me say that Marvin, I mean Mr. Dillingham had some health issues and he … well, it was suggested that he take some time away from the office.”

  “Suggested. I see. Do you have his home address?”

  “Oh, no. Well, yes, I have his address, but, you see, well … it’s the policy of the bureau not to give out that sort of information to strangers.”

  “I’m not a stranger. I know Marvin.”

  “Well, you see … you’re a stranger to me … us, that is. We do not know you.”

  “My name is Clancy Evans,” I said, extending my hand to shake with him just in case he got my drift.

  He shook my hand as if by reflex. It was not a genuine greeting for him, and that’s saying something. I got four fingers and maybe a partial thumb of a handshake from Mr. Pierson. I don’t think he was used to shaking hands. Social contacts were not in his wheelhouse. Maybe that was also on the entrance exam prior to his employment here.

  “Pleased to meet you, Clancy Evans. I’m Roland Pierson. I work here with Marvin Dillingham.”

  “Good for you, Roland. Now, how do I get in touch with Marvin?”

  Roland looked around to see if anyone was watching us. Everybody seemed busy enough, either walking by without paying attention to the two of us, or shuffling some papers on their desks inside their work stations. Busy, busy place.

  I moved to the doorway of Dillingham’s office, scanned the outer room alongside of Pierson, and then smiled my winning smile for him.

  “I think the coast is clear,” I said.

  “Let me see if I can get some information for you. Do you mind waiting here?”

  “I’m not leaving, Roland. I will be right here until the world ends or you give me something to go on to find Marvin.”

  I think he wanted to smile, but it refused to come. I also think he might have been a little flustered with my humor and forwardness. I have that affect on people sometimes. Then sometimes my charm finally wins out. Sometimes. Other times, not so much.

  This time he was only gone for about two or three minutes. I only looked at my cell phone once during his absence.

  “Here,” he said rather quickly. “I’m not supposed to give out this information. Please don’t tell anyone I gave you that.” He was whispering by the time he finished telling me not to tell anyone anything. I put my index finger across my lips to assure him of my promise of silence.

  Roland handed me a small, folded piece of paper. It suddenly felt like recess in the third grade. I opened the tiny note to discover an address and phone number scribbled on it. I stared at the information. The phone number was not a Washington, D.C. number.

  “Is this a local address?”

  “Oh, no,” Pierson was practically whispering by this point. “Marvin is not in Washington. He’s a long way from here. That’s the address he gave me in case there was an emergency that might come up. I think this might be an emergency.”

  “How perceptive of you, Roland. This is, in fact, a bonafide emergency. Thanks for the information. Mum’s the word. I won’t tell anyone in authority where I got this information.”

  “Thank you,” he sighed.

  He walked away from me hurriedly. He turned and looked over his shoulder back at me as he continued moving at a hurried pace away. The whole scene was surreal. I had some information, but I now had more questions than answers. Such is the lot of a private detective. Questions abound. Answers are rather illusive.

  20

  I was sitting in Diamond’s Silverado keying in the number that Roland Pierson had provided me through his inexperienced stealth. I had sworn an oath of secrecy.

  “Who gave you that information?” Diamond said as I had finished punching in the numbers on my cell.

  “Are you an important person?” I said.

  “What?”

  “Are you vital to national security?”

  “No.”

  “Then Roland Pierson gave me this information on Marvin.”

  “Who is Roland Pierson?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say at present. Hello, Marvin Dillingham?”

  “Yes, this is Marvin Dillingham,” the voice on the other end said calmly.

  “Where on earth are you, Marvin Dillingham?”

  “Who is this?”

  “Clancy Evans.”

  “Oh, the detective,” he said. His voice was calm and somehow different.

  “That would be me. Where are you?”

  “I’m in North Carolina.”

  “Why are you not in Washington printing money?” I said.

  “That’s not my job.”

  “They fired you?”

  “Not yet, but they asked me to go home for a whi
le.”

  “Why’d they do that?”

  “I’m not certain, but I have some ideas. I’d rather not say over the phone.”

  “We need your help.”

  “Regarding what, may I ask?”

  “We need your help here, in Washington.”

  “Oh. What do you need?”

  “We need to get inside of Thaddeus Wilkerson’s office in your building.”

  There was a long pause by Marvin.

  “Are you still there, Marvin?”

  “Yes,” he sounded anemic.

  “Are you breathing?”

  “I’m trying to. I think that’s one of the main reasons why I am in North Carolina.”

  “You think Wilkerson found out about you?”

  “I cannot say with any assurance. I doubt it, but you never know in Washington.”

  “You never know what?”

  “Who knows what you know and why you did what you did.”

  “Tough town.”

  “The toughest place to live and work in the entire world, or so I am told.”

  “You’ve been in D.C. for over forty years, Marvin. You should know.”

  “I keep my head down and try to do my job. I stay out of other people’s business.”

  “Except this time.”

  “Yes, except this time. That being said, I am not certain that I am able to assist you in your present need.”

  “No ideas, huh?”

  “May I assume you would like to have admittance when he is not there?”

  “Bingo. That would be the ideal.”

  “Give me some time and I will ponder it. Call me back, but make sure you call me on a secure line.”

  Intriguing line from Marvin Dillingham to say, I thought. It didn’t fit my overall impression of him to date. But then, my learning curve was so severe in this particular adventure.

  “I bet you say that to all of your spy friends.”

  He didn’t laugh. He didn’t say another word. He was gone in a second. I heard a slight click in my ear.

  “So?” Diamond said to me.

  “So what?”

  “So what did he say?”

  “He’s going to think about it. We’ll call him back in a few hours. Maybe he’ll come up with a plan to get us inside that office.”