“May I help you?” I asked. Who said chivalry is dead?
“No, dear, I’m fine. But thanks for offering.” She started up the stairs.
“Just one more thing –” I held up a hand. All I needed was a baggy raincoat and a cigar and I’d be like Peter Falk’s Columbo. “What do you think of Mason?”
She turned and fixed me with a pensive look. “That’s an interesting question.”
“Why?”
“I don’t like to talk badly of anyone, but…”
I waited. There was more. There was always more.
She glanced up the stairs, then whispered. “I don’t really like him.”
“Oh?”
“He’s not very nice to people in the building.”
“What was he like with Pete?”
“He didn’t like Pete,” she said, her voice still low. “They got in a fight once.”
“An argument?”
Her head wagged back and forth. “No, a fistfight. Mason punched Pete right in the face, almost broke his nose. And you’ve seen Mason, he’s huge. Pete didn’t stand a chance.”
“What were they fighting about?”
“I don’t know.” She rattled the grocery bags. “Okay, I’ve got to go now.”
“Thanks,” I said, but she was already scurrying up the stairs.
I walked out into the heat and stood on the porch for a moment, debating whether I should go back and confront Mason about what Jane had just told me. It was obvious he didn’t like Pete, no matter how he tried to downplay it. But enough to murder him? What would be his motive? And how would he have gotten Charlie’s gun? I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated. The pieces of the puzzle were still scattered, with no clear picture. And sometimes when that happened, it was better to step away. And I had just the thing to take my mind off the case.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Do you like this one?” I held up a diamond cluster ring.
“It’s beautiful,” Cal said.
Cal and I were at a Zales diamond store in the Cherry Creek Mall, an upscale shopping center a few miles southeast of downtown. The mall had high-end department stores, ritzy boutiques, and plenty of expensive restaurants that catered to a well-to-do clientele. Even though I’d grown up with money, I didn’t tend to shop there, but it was close to home and convenient. We’d visited a couple of stores already and this was our last stop.
“Or what about that one?” I pointed into the glass display case, at a plain-but-elegant bridal diamond set. I was struggling to find the right ring because I wanted to get Willie the best.
Cal studied the ring. “That seems more like Willie’s style.”
I glanced sideways at Cal. “You’ve noticed her style?”
He shrugged. “I notice a lot of things. I just don’t talk about them.”
“I see,” I murmured.
“Willie’s not the type to want something really fancy.”
“That’s true,” I admitted. He did know Willie.
I had the salesperson, a pleasant Asian woman, retrieve the ring from the display case.
“It’s 14-carat gold with princess-cut and round diamonds,” she said. “And it’s unusual because it’s formed by four smaller princess-cut stones that are held together in an invisible setting. See?”
I held it up. “Hm. It’s really nice.”
“You know about the four Cs of diamonds, right?” Cal said.
“Cut, clarity, color and carat weight,” I said. “I did my research, too.” Then I recited to Cal what I’d learned. “No two diamonds are alike. They come in all colors, but most are yellow. And even though they’re the hardest substance on earth, they can be chipped.”
“Technically, diamonds are the hardest natural substance,” Cal said. “A few years ago, some physicists compressed carbon fullerene molecules. At the same time, they heated the molecules, and this created a series of interconnected rods called ‘Aggregated Diamond Nanorods’. They’re called ‘hyperdiamonds’. They’re about 11% harder than a diamond.”
The saleswoman eyed us with an amused look on her face.
“Sorry, pal, I’m not getting a hyperdiamond for Willie,” I said. “A regular old diamond will have to do.” It didn’t surprise me that Cal was a wealth of knowledge about gems as well as everything else he seemed to know about.
He laughed.
I handed the ring back to the saleswoman. “I want to think about it,” I said to her.
Disappointment at the lack of a sale crossed her face, but she thanked us and we left the store. I checked the time: just after three. The Rockies game wouldn’t be over for a couple of hours.
“How about I buy you a late lunch,” I suggested.
“Sure,” Cal said. “Saves me having to cook anything.”
I laughed. “Like you cook.”
“Ha ha. Where do you want to go?”
“Someplace where I can watch the game.” I explained that I needed to meet Greg after the Rockies game finished.
“How about the Cherry Cricket? I haven’t been there in a long time,” he said.
The Cherry Cricket is famous for its mouth-watering burgers, and I liked to eat there.
“The Cherry Cricket it is,” I said. “I’ll see you over there.”
Cal and I had parked in different sections of the mall garage, so I headed down to the lower level to my 4-Runner. It was just a hop to the Cherry Cricket, located just north of the mall on 2nd Street. The restaurant had high ceilings, a huge bar along one wall, booths by the front windows, dark wooden tables throughout, and most importantly, televisions that were showing the Rockies game.
Cal arrived moments after I did and we sat in one of the booths. We got beers first, and then he ordered a Cricket Burger, which was one-half pound of beef, and fries. Since I’d had a late breakfast, I just had tortilla chips and salsa.
“So how’s the case going?” Cal asked as he sipped on a Blue Moon beer.
“I have a lot of people who are lying to me,” I said and told him everything I’d learned so far, including the conflicting information I had on Maggie and Mason.
“So,” I paused while the waiter brought Cal’s hamburger and my chips and salsa. “I’m sure Maggie’s selling steroids,” I said, “and not harmless supplements, like her neighbor thinks. But I wish I could prove it.”
Cal took a bite of his burger, chewed and then said, “What did you overhear Maggie say to that other woman at the gym?”
“Something about the ball, or maybe it was dee ball, whatever that means.”
“It’s ‘D-Bol’,” Cal said, and spelled it. “It’s slang for Dianabol.”
I took a drink, then sat back. “Okay, I know you know lots about everything, like diamonds, but since when do you know about steroids?”
Cal shrugged. “I don’t know, I read it somewhere.”
I shook my head. Cal never ceased to amaze me. The guy had a genius IQ but lacked common sense. He’s the guy who would go out in a snowstorm without his coat and then wonder why he’s cold.
“Okay, so she’s dealing steroids and not something else,” I said as I munched on chips. “And she was involved with Pete, and she fought with him.”
“Doesn’t mean she killed him.”
I shrugged. “True. And what’s her motive?”
“You’re the detective,” he said wryly.
“And you’re not being helpful.” I crunched a chip loudly.
“I’m not trying to be,” he grinned. “What about the gun? How would Maggie get Charlie’s gun?”
“Maybe she came with Pete when he visited Charlie.”
“Charlie would know, then.”
I shook my head. “I doubt it. Charlie’s not the most observant guy, and he’s pretty useless when it comes to knowing anything about Pete. Charlie didn’t even know Pete had been dating Maggie.” I paused. “Unless Pete brought Maggie to one of Charlie’s parties, but he didn’t tell Charlie that he was actually dating her. Without a reference to Maggie being
a girlfriend, I doubt Charlie would’ve even noticed Pete had a woman with him.”
“You could show Charlie a picture of Maggie and see if he recognizes her.”
“That’s a good idea.” I thought about that while I glanced at the game. The Rockies were playing the Milwaukee Brewers and they were behind. “I’ll have to figure out a way to get Maggie’s picture without her knowing.”
“I could get you a driver’s license photo, but if the picture’s old, it might not help.”
“I’ll have to try to get some pictures of her with my zoom lens,” I said.
Cal finished his burger and sat back. “And what about that woman that Jane saw outside the apartment building the night of the murder?”
“It could’ve been Maggie,” I said.
“If she killed Pete, why wouldn’t she run?”
“Curiosity. She wanted to see what happened next.”
“Pretty twisted.”
“So is murder.” I finished my beer. “Or she didn’t have enough time to run, so she hangs around, acting like a gawker.”
“And blends into the crowd,” Cal offered.
“Maybe. When you get home, can you do a financial check on Maggie?” I asked. “I want to know if she owes money, or needs money.”
“Something that would explain why she’s selling steroids,” Cal said.
I nodded. “Or something that would give her a reason to undercut Pete. And while you’re at it, check Pete’s neighbor Mason Dubowitzki.”
“Spelled like it sounds?”
“I would assume so. There can’t be that many variations of the name, and one that lives on Washington Street should narrow it down.”
“You got it.”
The waiter came by and asked us if we wanted another beer. We both declined, but Cal ordered a Coke instead.
“As much as I’d like another, I’ve got to drive back home,” he explained when the waiter left. “And I’ve got a lot to do.”
“Yeah, I hear you,” I said.
I turned to where I could more easily see the TV and we chatted and watched the rest of the game.
“That’s my cue to head out,” Cal said as the Rockies third baseman hit a fly ball that ended the game in a loss for the Rockies.
“Me, too,” I said and paid the check. “Thanks for all your help.”
“You got it.”
We walked out into the sunshine, but before he headed to his car, Cal turned to me. “Hey, Reed?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really happy for you and Willie both.”
“Thanks,” I said.
We parted, and I strolled to the 4-Runner, thinking about a call I needed to make.
***
“Hello, dear. This is a nice surprise to hear from you,” my mother said in a cheery voice. “Have you been able to help Charlie?”
“I’m working on it,” I said as I headed for my meeting with Greg Revis. “I’ve got something I want to tell both of you, so can Dad get on another line?”
“Well, sure. Is something wrong?” Worry jumped into her tone.
“No, nothing’s wrong.”
“Hang on. Paul,” she called out. “Reed’s on the phone and he wants to talk to both of us. Pick up the extension. I’m sure something’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong, Mother,” I said, striving for patience.
“You say that, but with all the calls about how you’ve been beaten up or something, it’s a wonder I don’t have a heart attack.” She was on a roll.
“You’re as healthy as a horse,” my father said as he got on the call. “Son, why are you worrying your mother?”
“Hi, Dad. I just asked for you to get on the other line because I have some news.”
“See, Paul? What’s the matt –” my mother started to say.
“Tell us your news before she comes undone,” my father said.
“I’m going to ask Willie to marry me,” I blurted out before the drama could continue.
“Oh, sweetie!” my mother gushed. “That’s just wonderful!”
“We really like her,” my father said in his usual subdued manner.
“Yes, we certainly do,” Mother said. “Willie is such a dear. I’m so excited for you both.”
“Thank you,” I managed to get in before she went on.
“Do you have a ring yet?” Mother asked.
“I’ve been looking around, but I’m not sure,” I said.
“If I may make a suggestion?” she said.
“Yes?” Oh boy, I thought. Where was this going?
“I have your grandmother’s engagement ring,” she said. “She gave it to me to wear and of course you’ll inherit it. But since you’re a man, what would you do with it? If you like the style, would you like to give it to Willie? She’s practically a daughter to me.”
I was touched. “I’d be honored.”
“Oh, you’ve made me so happy. And if you or Willie don’t like it, you can use the stones in a different setting.”
“That sounds good.”
“I’ll ship it to you right away,” she said breathlessly.
“I can’t wait to see it.”
“And if you don’t think it’ll work for an engagement ring, I’ll give it to her later,” she said. “It’s a nice ring.”
“That sounds fine.” I was nearing the stadium and traffic was bad. “I’ve got to go now.”
“Okay, dear. We’ll talk soon,” she said. “When you ask her, I want to hear all about it.”
“I promise I’ll call with all the details.”
I ended the call and smiled, keenly aware of my blessings.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
View House Eatery was a rooftop bar a block east of Coors Field. Although it had a restaurant on the main level, and a huge area for games, and even golf, in a garden area, the rooftop was its claim to fame. By the time I got there, the restaurant was packed with a rowdy post-ballgame crowd, music blaring, pool tables full, and tables full of people eating and drinking.
Greg had texted me to say he was at a table on the southeast side of the rooftop bar, so I headed up the stairs and outside. To the left was a nice view of Coors Field. The music was just as loud out here, and I was disappointed that it wasn’t my favorite 80s music. I made my way to the right and around the bar, then was struck by a spectacular view of downtown. As I looked around, I spotted a man in his late twenties sitting at a small table near the corner of the rooftop. He wore jeans and a purple Izod shirt, and had slicked-back blond hair. I approached, and he waved and stood up. Then I noticed how big he actually was, the muscles stretching the fabric of his shirt.
“Reed?” he asked, a frigid aura about him, even though the evening was still warm.
“Hi, Greg, thanks for meeting me.” I sat down across from him. The music didn’t seem quite as loud in the corner, but I still had to speak up to be heard. “I know talking about Pete can’t be easy.”
He contemplated his beer and nodded. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”
Before I could say anything, a waiter came and took our orders. Greg got a Reuben and a Coors while I selected the BBQ brisket and a Fat Tire.
“So you work for the Rockies, too,” I said, trying to break the ice.
“Yeah.”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s an okay gig,” he said, slightly warming to the conversation. “Long hours sometimes, and the pay’s not great. It’s a lot of errands and running around trying to keep the players happy. But I get to be around baseball, and that’s what I want.”
The waiter returned with our beers. I took a drink. “I’ve heard you have to know someone to get a job in a clubhouse.”
“It certainly helps. I started out as a batboy with a minor-league team in California and then worked in their clubhouse. One of the guys there got a job with the Rockies and he recommended me.”
“And that’s where you met Pete?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What’d you think of hi
m?”
“Pete? He was a good guy.”
“Charlie said everyone liked him.”
He nodded. “That’s true.”
“How well do you know Charlie Preston?”
He shrugged. “I see him around the clubhouse. He seems nice enough.”
“Do you believe he could –” I paused. There was never an easy way to ask the question.
“Did Charlie kill Pete?” he asked bluntly.
“Yes.”
He sipped his beer and looked at the high-rises. “From what I know of Charlie, no. But it’s possible.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Anything’s possible, right?”
I nodded. “What about Pete? There has to be someone who didn’t like him. Someone who might want to –”
He was blunt again. “Who might want to kill him?”
“Yes.”
He took time to think about it. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t seem sure,” I said.
His gaze went to his glass of beer.
“What?” I finally said.
He hesitated. “It’s nothing.”
We stopped talking when the waiter brought us our food. Greg took a bite of his sandwich and avoided looking me in the eyes.
I tried some of the BBQ. It was okay, but my appetite had vanished. Resistance from someone who might have information that could help me tended to do that. “You like Charlie, right? From what you know of him.”
Greg glanced at me. “Yeah, he’s a good guy.”
“Do you know what’s going to happen to him if he’s convicted of murder?” I asked. “It’ll ruin him.”
“Obviously.”
“Then help me help him.”
He took another bite and chewed slowly. Then he set the sandwich down, leaned forward and lowered his voice. I had to strain to hear him over the music.
“You don’t know what it’s like in the clubhouse,” he said. “Everyone’s tight. If I say anything, I could get in trouble with the guys.”
“Anything you say stays with me.” I resisted the urge to raise a hand and make an oath.
He sighed heavily. “I think Pete might’ve been giving some of the guys steroids.”
“Giving? As in administering them?”
The Third Fan: A Reed Ferguson Mystery (A Private Investigator Mystery Series - Crime Suspense Thriller Book 9) Page 8