“It bums me out that I’m not playing, so I went to a bar to have a drink,” he explained. “But they had the game on there. Man, I can’t get away from baseball.”
“Drinking’s not going to help.”
He held up the bottle. “Yeah, you’re right.” Then he took another swig.
“Pete had a girlfriend,” I said without any preamble.
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Tara.”
I shook my head. “No, he’s been seeing someone named Maggie.”
Charlie stared at me. “What?”
He was genuinely surprised, or he’d taken acting lessons that had paid off.
“You’re telling the truth?” I asked, pressing the issue. “You’ve never heard of Maggie?”
“Never.” He looked me right in the eye. “Who is she?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “One of Pete’s neighbors told me about her.”
Charlie turned and gazed out the window. “Huh. Pete never mentioned her to me.”
“Apparently Pete and Maggie argued about money.”
“Oh?” His back was to me, his shoulders slumped.
“Was he having money trouble?” I asked.
“Not that I know of.”
I sighed. It was the answer I suspected I’d get.
“Do you think I could talk to Pete’s parents?” I asked. “Maybe they know about Maggie.”
“Sure, I guess.”
“Could you call them for me and make an introduction? I don’t want to call them out of the blue, not with what’s happened.”
Charlie turned back to face me. “Are you sure you need to talk to them now? They just lost their son.”
I nodded slowly. “I know, but if I’m going to clear your name, I have to act fast to find the real killer.”
He gazed past me, his eyes unfocused, then pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed. A moment later, he straightened his back and said, “Mr. Westhaven? It’s Charlie.” Pause. “Yes, sir, I’m hanging in there.”
As my mother had observed, he was polite.
“Uh-huh,” he continued. Pause. “Listen, I’ve hired a private investigator to find Pete’s…uh…find who killed him. His parents know my parents. I know the timing’s not great, but he’d like to ask you a few questions. Is it all right if I give him your number? Oh, okay.” He stopped talking and held out the phone. “He said there’s no need to call back. He’ll talk to you now. If you want some privacy, you can go out on the deck.”
I took the phone from him.
“Hello, Mr. Westhaven,” I said as I walked out to the deck. The sun was bright in the western sky, and the sounds of traffic carried up to me as I leaned my forearms on the railing.
“Call me Oren,” Mr. Westhaven said. His voice was high and soft, and I had to strain to hear him. For a second, I pictured him as a wispy fellow with glasses, although this didn’t fit since his son had been an athlete.
“First, let me offer my deepest condolences for your loss,” I said.
“Thank you.” The voice trembled for a second, but grew steady as he said, “How can I help you?”
“I’ll get right to the point,” I said. “Was Pete dating someone named Maggie?”
“Pete hated Maggie,” Oren said.
I almost dropped the phone over the railing.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“So you know Maggie,” I said. As I talked, I watched people strolling up and down Blake Street. The Rockies game had finished, so the sidewalks were packed.
Oren let out a little humorless laugh. “I never met Maggie, but Pete talked about her. And from what he said, I’m glad I never made her acquaintance.”
“That’s a pretty strong thing to say about someone your son was dating.”
“Dating?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “They weren’t dating.”
“One of Pete’s neighbors said she saw them hugging and kissing,” I said. “Sounds like dating to me.”
“That’s news to me. All I knew was that Pete had some kind of business dealings with Maggie.”
“Did Pete tell you this?”
“Not directly,” he said. “I found out by accident. He was visiting here last summer, and he kept getting phone calls. Some were personal friends, but some sounded like he was talking business, discussing supplies and when a shipment was going to come in. On one of the calls, he addressed the caller as ‘Maggie’. After he hung up, I asked him about her, and Pete said it was just some woman he was doing some business with. And he didn’t mention her again.”
“Hmm,” I said. “So Pete’s known Maggie for at least a year?”
“Something like that. But I didn’t know they were dating.” Regret filled his tone. He hadn’t been aware of what was going on in his son’s life. And now he never would.
“But you think Pete hated Maggie?” I said.
“Yes.”
“What gave you that impression?”
“Pete said so.”
“He did?”
“Yes,” Oren said. “I came out to Colorado to visit a few weeks ago, and I took Pete to dinner. He worked that day, so I met him at the restaurant. When I got there, he was on the phone, so I waited nearby while he finished the call.”
“He was on the phone with Maggie?”
“Yes. He didn’t see me or he probably would’ve hung up. Anyway, he said something about not being able to supply her with any more stuff. Then he got mad and swore. Then he said ‘No, Maggie, I won’t get them for you anymore and don’t threaten me again’ and then he hung up. He was so angry, he didn’t realize I was standing nearby. He called her some names and then he looked up, realized I was there and stopped.”
“What happened next?” I asked.
“I asked him what was going on and he said it was nothing. Then I asked if that was his business partner and he said, ‘More like a bitch than a business partner’. Which surprised me because Pete didn’t usually swear when he was around his mother or me. I asked him what kind of business, but he wouldn’t elaborate. He said he didn’t want to talk about it, but I pressed him a little and he said things weren’t going well. And then Pete said, ‘Pop, I hate the woman and wish I’d never gotten involved with her.’ ”
“Wow,” I said.
“That was my thought.”
“That’s all he said about his conversation with Maggie?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“And Pete didn’t mention her again?”
“No.”
I turned away from the sun and looked into the condo. Charlie was standing in the living room, taking slow practice swings with a baseball bat. He was oblivious to anything else.
“I don’t suppose you have any way of getting in touch with Maggie,” I said.
“None. Pete and I only talked about her those times.”
“Anything else unusual with Pete?”
He exhaled loudly. “No, sorry. I don’t know what else I can tell you.”
I took that as my signal to wrap up the call. “You’ve been very helpful,” I said.
“I hope so.” Oren paused. “As hard as this is, it’s even worse knowing people think Charlie did it. But there’s no way in the world Charlie would kill his best friend. I hope you find who did.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said lamely. I offered my condolences again and ended the call. Then I turned back around and stared off the deck.
Charlie strolled out and leaned against the railing. “Did you find out anything?”
I handed him the phone. “Mr. Westhaven didn’t know much about Maggie. Except that he thinks Pete hated her.”
Charlie gnawed at his lower lip for a moment. “Huh,” he finally said.
Huh was right. I had two conflicting stories about Maggie. One, that Pete was dating her and they’d been fighting lately. And two, that she was Pete’s business partner, and Pete hated her. Which one was true?
We lapsed into silence and watched the people walking along Blake Street.
“Hey, there she i
s again,” Charlie said. “Man, does she ever go away?”
“Who?”
He jabbed a finger down toward the street. “One of those girls who keeps following me.”
I gazed to where he was pointing. Down below, a woman stood loitering on the corner. “Are you sure?” I couldn’t tell if it was one of the women we’d seen earlier.
“Pretty sure.”
“Do you have binoculars?” I asked.
He nodded, ran into the house and came back with a pair. He trained them on the street. “I think it’s the same girl.” He handed me the binoculars.
I gazed through the binoculars at the girl. She had on khaki shorts and a Rockies T-shirt. Under a black Rockies baseball hat was long, dark hair. It could’ve been one of the girls who had watched us. Or it was a fan who’d just come from the game and was waiting for someone.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” I said as I handed the binoculars back. “If you’re worried, maybe you could hire a bodyguard.” I wasn’t offering. I’d once been hired to be a bodyguard for a spoiled trust-fund baby, and she’d driven me – and ironically, Cal – nuts. Having to accompany someone everywhere they wanted to go was not what I wanted to do again.
Charlie growled. “Whatever.” He stomped back inside.
I stared back down at the woman, and something popped into my head. Jane had said she saw a woman with long hair hanging around Pete’s apartment the night of the murder and again the next day. Could it be? I shook my head. Nah…but?
“I think I’ll go,” I said as I came back into the living room.
Charlie was sitting on the couch, scowling and drinking a beer. He didn’t move or say anything so I let myself out.
I took the elevator to the lobby and hurried outside, but when I looked across the street, the woman had disappeared. I stared up and down Blake Street, but I didn’t see her anywhere. So much for that. I wasn’t sure what I would’ve done had she been there. If I had followed her, she could’ve accused me of being the stalker, and if I’d tried to talk to her about following Charlie, well, what if I was mistaken? What if she was just some random fan and not Charlie’s stalker? That could’ve been an embarrassing situation for me. Oh well. I shrugged and started walking back to the 4-Runner. On my way there, Bogie’s voice sounded from my pocket. I pulled out my phone and almost did a fist-pump. It was Cal.
“Hey, sorry I missed your call,” Cal said when I answered. “How’s it going?”
I told him what I’d uncovered so far, and ended with, “…and my client maintains he doesn’t know anything, and that he and Pete were Boy Scouts. Except for the steroids.”
Cal snickered. “That may be the case for Charlie, but not for Pete.”
“Oh, yeah?” I reached the corner and stopped. “What’d you find?”
“First, Charlie was a Boy Scout,” Cal said. “Eagle Scout, actually.”
“You’re hacking into Boy Scout websites?” I asked.
“Not ‘hacker’, remember?” he corrected me. “And I didn’t hack into their site. I found the information on a bio somewhere. Anyway…” he stretched out the word. “Charlie got fair grades in high school and college. He hasn’t been in any trouble except for a bar fight when he was at Florida State. That’s it.”
“But Pete?”
“That’s a different case.” I heard him typing and then he said, “I wouldn’t say he was horrible, but he got himself into some trouble.”
“Charlie did say that Pete was a partier during college.”
“Did he say that Pete got busted?”
“No,” I said. “What happened?”
“He was arrested for marijuana possession.”
“Interesting.”
“Yeah, he managed to get off with probation, but it’s on his record.”
I thought of something else. “Charlie mentioned that he helped get Pete a job in the Rockies clubhouse. I wonder if Pete’s past troubles were making it hard for him to get a good job.”
“Could be,” Cal said. “Pete also has a DUI, and he was in the bar fight with Charlie.”
“You’re right,” I said. “Pete was no Boy Scout.”
“Uh-huh. He probably got into more trouble, but nothing that’s on the record.”
“Great work,” I said.
“You need anything else?”
“Yeah, I –” I suddenly had the feeling I was being watched. I whirled around, but only saw an older couple who walked up behind me.
“Reed?” Cal asked.
The couple got to the corner and waited for the light to turn green. Then they crossed the street, oblivious to me.
“Sorry,” I said to Cal. “I’m getting paranoid.”
“Getting?”
“You’re not funny.” I kept glancing around, but I didn’t see anyone suspicious. Maybe Cal was right. “Could you do one more thing and look up the address for Maggie Hollenbaucher?”
“Ah, the mysterious woman that Pete either loved or hated. Spell the last name.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Great,” he muttered. I heard him typing, then “No, that’s not right. No Maggie or Margaret in Denver with that spelling.” A pause, more typing. “Okay, this is it. Only one Maggie Hollenbaucher in Colorado.” He spelled the last name. “She lives on West Center Avenue in Belmar. Good thing she’s got an unusual last name.”
“No kidding,” I said. “Thanks for the help. I owe you, as always.”
“You know I never collect.”
“And you know you love helping, you just won’t admit it.”
“I’ve been in too many scrapes with you,” he said. “No, thank you.”
It was true. Poor Cal. When he’d ventured out with me, he’d been scared pretty badly. The man just did not have a taste for real-life adventure.
“Your life needs some excitement.”
“Not that much.”
But he was laughing when he ended the call.
CHAPTER NINE
Traffic along Blake was slow, but I got onto 20th and then I-25 South, and it was a quick shot west on Sixth Avenue to Lakewood. Maggie lived in a new apartment complex in Belmar, a recently renovated area that included twenty-two square blocks of shops, restaurants and a movie theater. I turned onto Teller and found a parking lot near Maggie’s apartment building, which was right in the heart of Belmar, just down the block from the theater.
I got out and walked across the street and along the sidewalk. As I neared her place, a multi-level apartment with a private entrance, a woman emerged from Maggie’s door. She had long, curly red hair pulled into a ponytail, and she wore what looked like workout clothes – tight knit shorts and a lightweight shirt. A large gym bag was slung over her shoulder. She put on sunglasses and started down the walk toward me.
“Are you Maggie Hollenbaucher?” I asked when she drew close.
She slowed down. “Who wants to know?”
“I’m a private investigator,” I said. “I want to talk to you about Pete Westhaven.”
She waved a hand, as if shooing me away, then stepped past me without a word.
“Hey!” I started to follow her.
“Leave me alone,” she called over her shoulder. “I don’t have anything to say to you. If you bug me, I’ll call the cops.”
With that, she dashed across the street to a silver Toyota Camry parked in the same lot I had parked in. She unlocked her car, threw the bag in the backseat, got in and drove to the lot entrance. But she had to wait behind another car.
How do you like that? I thought. Then I made a quick decision.
I ran across the street to the 4-Runner, hopped in and drove out of the lot. By now, the Camry had turned right on West Virginia Avenue and was about to turn right onto Wadsworth Boulevard. I kept a few cars between us as I followed Maggie north.
She had to be going to a gym, I thought. But where? I didn’t know the neighborhood. I didn’t have to wait long for an answer. Only a few blocks later, she turned right into a shopping c
omplex. Moments later, I hung a right and spotted a Planet Fitness gym in a large building at one end of the complex. Maggie parked on one side of the building. I pulled into another row of cars where I could see the Camry. Maggie got out and grabbed her gym bag, then strolled into Planet Fitness, completely oblivious that I’d followed her.
I figured she would be in there for at least an hour, and I’d noticed a sign for Good Times Burgers just up the street, so I headed back to Wadsworth. I hadn’t eaten since my late breakfast with Charlie and Gil, and my stomach was growling. I drove to the Good Times, got a burger, fries and a Coke, and then went back to the gym. I parked where I could see the Camry and the Planet Fitness entrance, then hunkered down and ate my late lunch, or early dinner, since it was now almost six. Once I’d finished, I sipped my soda and waited.
An hour later, Maggie came out of the gym, but now she was wearing blue khaki shorts and a short-sleeved yellow blouse. Her hair fell around her shoulders. And a man was with her. He was a gym rat, big and all well-defined muscles. She adjusted the gym bag on her shoulder, pushed her sunglasses up on her head, and gestured for him to follow her.
I got out of the 4-Runner and ran between cars until I neared her Camry. I ducked down and worked my way closer, then stopped by a brand-new Jeep Cherokee. Maggie’s car was on the other side. I peeked through the Cherokee’s window. By now, Maggie and the guy had reached her car. I tipped my head in their direction and listened to the conversation.
“Hold on a second,” she said as she unlocked her car. She put the gym bag in the backseat, then pulled out another small paper bag. “It’s all I can give you.”
“That’s it?” the guy said. He twisted his lip as he took the bag. “When are you going to get some more?”
“I don’t know. I’ve got a supply problem right now.”
“Okay, maybe I’ll get some more elsewhere,” the guy said, none too happy.
“Hey, I’ll have some soon, okay? You’ll be here next week, right?”
He laughed and flexed an arm muscle. “Where else will I be?”
Maggie pushed him away. “That doesn’t impress me.”
“Yeah, whatever.” The guy handed Maggie some bills and then walked away.
The Third Fan: A Reed Ferguson Mystery (A Private Investigator Mystery Series - Crime Suspense Thriller Book 9) Page 5