“I heard.”
“Then you know that this woman Maggie was killed.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t do it!” he said.
“If your alibi is solid, you don’t have to worry,” I said.
“It is. I was with a couple of my teammates and their girlfriends. They’ll vouch for me.”
“Then everything will be okay. Are you at home?”
“Yes.”
“I’m coming over,” I said. “We need to talk.”
***
“Reed, this is insane,” Charlie said. “I’m not a killer.”
We were sitting in his living room, and he held his customary bat while we talked. In my rush to meet Spillman, I hadn’t thought to grab my camera, so I had stopped back by the condo to get it and my laptop. Willie had gone for a run, so I didn’t see her.
“You’re sure your alibi is solid?” I asked. “Because if you’re lying, or if you have others lying for you, the police will figure it out.”
“I’m not lying,” he snapped. “I was at a friend’s house.”
I raised my hands. “I had to ask.”
He ran a hand over his face and then tapped the bat on the floor. “What happened to her? To Maggie?”
“She was shot in her car.” I explained what Spillman had told me.
He shook his head sadly when I finished. “First Pete, and now her. Do you have any theories?”
I gathered my thoughts. “Maggie knew more than she was telling.” I sighed. “Initially I thought she and Pete had some kind of business together, selling steroids. And that could still be the case. But now that she’s dead, it’s apparent someone else is involved. Maybe Maggie killed Pete and then got greedy with a new partner, and he didn’t like that. Or she knew who killed Pete, so she was a liability that had to be eliminated.”
“But if she knew who killed Pete, why not say so?”
“That’s a good question.”
“You don’t know much,” he said dryly.
I frowned at him. “I haven’t had a lot to go on.”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“Anyway, I took a picture of Maggie last night,” I said. “I want to know if she’s ever been here. If so, she could have stolen your gun.”
“Right.”
He started swinging the bat while I took my laptop from my backpack and hooked my camera up with a USB cord. “This way you can really get a good look at Maggie,” I said.
I navigated on my laptop, found the image of Maggie that I’d taken when she opened Pete’s door, and clicked on it. A second later, her surprised face popped up on the screen. It wasn’t nearly as clear as a professional picture, but it would do.
Charlie studied the picture. “Sure, she was around here.”
“She came with Pete?”
He shook his head. “No, she was with Greg Revis.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
My jaw dropped. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re sure?” I repeated. After all, this was coming from the guy who typically said he didn’t know anything.
“I remember because Pete acted kind of strange when Greg showed up with her.”
“Strange how?”
“He kept staring at Maggie, so I finally said he shouldn’t be eyeing Greg’s date. So then he tried to avoid them the rest of the night.”
“How long ago was this?”
His brow wrinkled as he thought about it. “A few weeks ago.”
I did some quick math in my head. “That was after she’d broken up with Pete.”
“No wonder Pete was mad, seeing his friend show up with her,” Charlie said.
“I’ll be damned.” I scowled.
“What?”
“Greg said he’d never heard of Maggie.”
“That can’t be, because I know they were together here.”
I started to put away my computer and camera.
“What’re you doing?” Charlie asked.
“I’m going to have a talk with Greg and see what’s going on.”
“You think he might’ve killed Pete?” The implications of that hit Charlie, and he slumped back on the couch. “Man, I don’t believe it.”
“We’ll see.” I threw my backpack over my shoulder. “I’ll call you later.”
He was still sitting on the couch, the bat held listlessly in his hands, when I left.
***
When I got to the lobby, I called Greg.
“Who’s this?” He sounded groggy.
I’d woke him up. I glanced at my watch. Almost ten. Not that early.
“Greg, it’s Reed Ferguson. I need to speak with you as soon as possible.”
“I didn’t get home until after two. Can’t this wait?”
So the police hadn’t talked to him this morning.
“I need to speak with you now,” I said.
He growled. “Fine. I’m off of 44th and Harlan.” He gave me the address.
I knew the general area. “I’ll be there soon.”
I rushed to my car and headed out of downtown. Twenty minutes later, I pulled up to a small apartment complex just south of 44th Avenue. The complex was laid out in a “U” shape, made up of three single-story, blond-brick buildings. I parked on Harlan Street and walked up a short sidewalk to Greg’s unit in the north building. I stood on a small porch, rapped on the aluminum screen door and waited. In the unit next door, a dog started yipping.
That would be annoying if you’re trying to sleep late.
The wood front door to Greg’s apartment opened with a whoosh that rattled the screen door.
“Hey,” Greg said when he saw me. He was in shorts and a worn, sleeveless undershirt. And I saw a tattoo on his left shoulder. It was a Rockies logo. And a piece clicked into place: Mason had seen a man with a tattoo with Maggie.
Greg didn’t bother to smile or greet me warmly. “You said it was important.”
“It is.”
He gestured for me to come inside, so I opened the screen door and followed him into a small living room that held nothing but an old couch and an entertainment center with a TV on it. He sat down on the couch and stared at me.
I decided to use the Sarah Spillman method of getting right to the point. I remained standing, and I spread my legs apart and crossed my arms for good measure.
“Why’d you lie about knowing Maggie Hollenbaucher?” I asked.
His eyes betrayed him. They remained cold, but they darted away from my gaze and he furrowed his brow. He was thinking of what to say. “Maggie who?” was all he finally came up with.
“Don’t give me that,” I snapped. “I showed a picture of Maggie to Charlie Preston and he distinctly remembers you and Maggie showing up together to a party at his place. And Pete’s neighbor saw you at Pete’s apartment. He remembered your tattoo.”
His hands balled into fists. “Man, I told her to keep her mouth shut.”
“So you admit knowing her,” I said. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Why’d you kill her?”
“What’re you talking about?” He was cool about it, no emotion. No concern for her death.
“She was shot late last night. She’s dead.” I stared down at him. “I think you did it.”
“You’re crazy.” He was so calm it was frightening. “The Rockies had a game last night and I worked until after two, and then I came home.”
“I can check your alibi.”
“Go right ahead,” he retorted. Then he took a deep breath and was calm again. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“I think you do,” I said. “You were in on selling steroids, weren’t you?”
He glared at me.
“I’ll bet it was good money, huh, and you wanted a piece of the action. So you could get out of here,” I waved a hand at the sparse surroundings. “You saw Pete flashing money, so you decided to get him out of the way, and then you could sell to ballplayers.”
“No!” Finally, some emotion.
“So you stole Charlie’s gun to make him look guilty, and then you cut in on Pete’s business.” I stared him down. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me there’s another reason why you lied about knowing Maggie.”
He flew off the couch at me. “Look, maybe I threatened Maggie, but I didn’t kill her…or Pete.”
He suddenly seemed bigger than I remembered. I took a step back. “Why’d you threaten her?”
“She wasn’t being careful about Pete.”
“What do you mean?”
He breathed hard, his nostrils flaring. “When you came around asking about her, and Pete, and whether he was selling steroids, I knew I had to get her to shut her trap or you’d find out about me.”
“You were selling steroids, too.”
He nodded. “Not at first, but I saw the money Pete was making and I wanted in on the action. It all started when I met Maggie through Pete. She was flapping her jaw about how much money she was making, just selling at some gyms, and I wanted in on it. She sold some to me and I started supplying a couple minor league guys. And a few more guys were interested, so I finally told Maggie I would need more. She said she had to talk to her supplier, but she wouldn’t tell me who that was. I kept on her and finally got her to tell me. Imagine my surprise when she said Pete.”
Finally got Maggie to tell, I thought. By threatening her?
“I thought it was a great setup, and I figured I could help Pete,” he continued. “Only he wasn’t interested.”
“Why not?”
He frowned. “He was making lots of money selling ’roids. Why share?”
“So you killed him.”
“No!” He clenched his hands again and I thought he might swing at me, so I subtly backed up. “Pete was my friend.”
“Who you tried to screw over,” I said.
“I never cut in on his action.”
“But he wasn’t happy.”
He shook his head.
“How’d he feel about you and Maggie?” I asked.
“I wasn’t dating her.”
“And thus your indifference to her death.” That received a blank look, similar to what I sometimes elicited from the Goofball Brothers. Must’ve been my erudite phrasing. “You don’t care about Maggie’s death,” I clarified.
“She was trying to screw me over.”
“How?”
“She wanted to charge me a lot more for the steroids.”
“Because Pete was charging her more.”
“I guess. Anyway, we got into a fight and I told her she better keep supplying me. She got mad and said she’d call the Rockies and the newspapers, and tell them I was supplying players with steroids. Do you know what would happen if she did that? It would ruin me. I’d lose my job and there’d be no way I could get on with any ball club anywhere.”
I thought for a moment. “She was really scared of you. She even said if she told about you, you’d kill her.”
“It doesn’t mean I did,” he snarled. “I had to scare her to keep her quiet.”
“She won’t talk to anyone now.”
“It wasn’t me,” he said through gritted teeth. “I never laid a hand on her.”
I didn’t believe him, but I had no way of proving it. And it didn’t matter now if he had hurt her in order to keep her quiet. She was dead, and that was the tragedy. And if Greg was working at the time of her death, then who killed her?
I glanced around. If Greg was innocent, my case was just shot to hell. I had no suspects anymore, and I suddenly didn’t know what to say. “I’m sure the police will be visiting soon,” I finally said. It sounded lame when it came out.
“I don’t have any more to tell them than I told you,” he growled.
I nodded.
He jerked a thumb at the door. “You need to go.”
I moved toward the door, wary of him. I could feel his eyes boring into my back as he followed me. I quickly opened the door and stepped outside and he slammed the door behind me. The screen door slapping back into place punctuated my exit.
As I hurried to my car, I took some deep breaths and felt the tension ooze out of me. I hadn’t realized that my muscles had been so tight. I got into the 4-Runner and drove off, half expecting Greg to come running after me. Only when I turned onto 44th did I get out my cell phone and make a call.
“Hey,” Cal said. “How goes the detecting?”
“I’m curious about Greg Revis,” I said. “Can you check something for me?”
“I’ll try.”
“See if he has any arrests for assault or domestic violence, things like that.”
I heard the clacking of his fingers on the keyboard as I headed down 44th back toward downtown.
Cal whistled. “He’s a charming one.”
“What?”
“Assault and battery. And he does have a domestic abuse charge. And it looks like he had another fight that he pleaded down. How does that help you?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. I told him about Maggie and about my conversation with Greg.
“He may not have killed her, but he’s one angry dude,” Cal said.
“Yeah, I saw that firsthand. But you should’ve seen how he was able to keep his emotions in check, at least for a while.”
“Learned over time, I’m sure. And then it boils over.”
“Uh-huh. How’re things on your end?” I asked.
“Busy with a new client, so I need to go.”
“Thanks for your help,” I said and hung up.
As “London Calling” by The Clash played on the car stereo, I thought about Greg’s alibi. How could I get access to the Rockies organization? I highly doubted I’d get someone to talk to me, a private investigator. But I knew someone who could get access. I turned down the song and dialed another number.
“Hey, it’s Reed,” I said.
“I can’t help you on this case, Ferguson,” Spillman said.
“But I might be able to help you.”
“Yes?” Skepticism in her voice.
“Maggie was involved with a guy named Greg Revis. You should check up on him. He works for the Rockies and says he was working the game last night, when she was killed. Can you verify his alibi?”
“You don’t want to?” she asked with mild sarcasm.
“You have more manpower than I do, and the Rockies are more likely to talk to your people than mine.” I chuckled quietly, thinking that if I sent “my people” – Ace or Deuce – to talk to the Rockies staff, well, wouldn’t that be interesting. “I don’t know where your investigation is at, but don’t say I’ve never tried to help you.” Such a long pause ensued that I thought the call had dropped. “Spillman?”
“Thanks, Ferguson,” she said and was gone.
I smiled. She’d thanked me. Not bad.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
As I drove back to the condo, I kept running the case through my mind like a film reel. And the ending was the same every time – I didn’t have squat. I was missing something, but I couldn’t think what. Then one thing dawned on me. I’d seen that woman in the Mazda at Pete’s last night. In all the commotion this morning, I’d forgotten about her. Was she the same woman who was hanging around Charlie’s condo, stalking him? Was she the key?
Then I had another, more fundamental thought: What if I was looking at this all wrong and the steroids had nothing to do with Pete’s death? Maybe the woman in the Mazda killed Pete and Maggie because she saw them as some kind of threat to Charlie’s career. Or she was jealous of Pete’s friendship with Charlie. Crazier things happen.
I called Ace, but he didn’t answer, so I tried Deuce.
“Hi, Reed,” he said, his voice languid, just like Ace’s. “How’s it going?”
“Not bad,” I lied. “How’s your hand?”
“It’s still sore, but I think a little better.”
“That’s good to hear.” I heard the sounds of traffic in the background. “Are you staking out my client’s condo?”
“Huh?”
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p; I suppressed a sigh. “Are you watching for the woman outside my client’s building?”
“Oh, right.” He laughed. “I’m here now. The bar’s not open yet and we’re hungry, so Ace went to get us something to eat.”
“Have you seen that woman?”
“No, it’s been quiet.”
“Okay, call me if you see her and I’ll come over.”
“You can count on me,” he said.
“I know. Thanks, buddy.”
By now I was home, so I parked and ran upstairs. Willie was in the kitchen, fixing a sandwich. She had on running shorts and a lightweight shirt. I came up behind her and planted a kiss on her cheek.
“Hey, I’m all sweaty from my run,” she said.
“It’s okay.”
“You want a sandwich? Turkey and cheese.”
“Sure.”
She prepared another sandwich and handed it to me. Then she turned around and leaned against the counter. “How’d it go?” she asked, then took a bite of her sandwich.
“Not great,” I said. I pulled out a chair from the table, sat down and filled her in while we ate.
“What’re you going to do now?” she asked after I’d told her about Maggie and Greg.
“I don’t know.”
“So you think this woman, this…” she waved a hand around, “this fan might be involved?”
“I know it sounds insane, but maybe. Charlie’s seen her around his place and I did, too. And I’m sure I saw her at Pete’s apartment last night.”
“How’re you going to find her?”
I shrugged. “Ace and Deuce are watching Charlie’s apartment in case she shows up. I guess I’ll head over there.”
“You know how much I love stakeouts and how happy I’d be to help, but I’ve got to go to work later,” she said.
“I hear that sarcasm.”
“You caught me.” She laughed and headed out of the kitchen. “I’m taking a shower so I’ll see you later,” she called over her shoulder.
I really didn’t want to join Ace and Deuce in the game of “watch for Charlie’s stalker”. But I didn’t have anything else to do, and three pairs of eyes trying to spot the woman would be better than two. So I sighed dramatically to no one, went in the bedroom and told Willie I was leaving, and headed out.
The Third Fan: A Reed Ferguson Mystery (A Private Investigator Mystery Series - Crime Suspense Thriller Book 9) Page 12