When I arrived at Blake Street Tavern, Ace and Deuce were lounging at a table outside.
“Hey, Reed,” Ace smiled when he saw me. “Nothing so far.”
I sat down and a waitress came up.
“Reed, this is Kendra,” Deuce introduced her.
“You’re the friend they keep talking about,” she said. “These two are a couple of characters.”
Both brothers blushed.
“Yeah, they are,” I agreed.
“What can I get you?” she asked.
“A Fat Tire,” I said, ordering my usual brew. An umbrella provided us shade and it was pleasantly cool. “This isn’t so bad,” I said to the brothers after she left.
“It’s okay,” Deuce said. “We walk around some, check the other streets, but we haven’t seen her.”
“I might’ve scared her off when I chased her the other night,” I said. And then what will I do? I thought.
Kendra brought my beer and I visited with the brothers, all the while keeping my eye on the street. At intervals, one of us would walk up and down Blake Street, but the woman, or her two friends, never showed. The afternoon dragged on. Around four, the crowds started to build in anticipation of the Rockies game, which started shortly after six. I paid the bill and the Goofball Brothers and I left the bar and positioned ourselves on either corner of Blake and Park Avenue West. I periodically walked up and down the street, with the same result. I never spotted Charlie’s stalkers. As game time drew near, I traipsed down past Charlie’s building again. Then I turned the corner and ran right into Gil Valducci.
“Oh, hello,” he said, surprised. “Were you at Charlie’s?”
“No, I’m watching out for those fans that have been stalking him.”
He appraised me with disapproval. “That’s what the investigation has come to?”
“Among other things.”
“Well, it’s Charlie’s money.” He shook his head. “It just seems crazy to me.”
“I wouldn’t say he’s wasting his money,” I said, a tad defensively.
“Maybe not. I can’t believe the police incompetence,” he said, shaking his head. “A man gets shot in the back in his kitchen and the neighbors hear the shot, and the police can’t find the killer by now? It shouldn’t be this hard, right?”
“I’m sure they’re doing everything they can.”
He frowned. “I hope so, because Charlie doesn’t deserve this.”
“You’re right about that.”
“I’m going to see him now. He’s discouraged, and who could blame him?”
“Tell him I’ll be in touch soon,” I said.
He tipped his head at me and strode down the street to the front door of Charlie’s building. I watched him disappear inside, and then I crossed the street and rejoined Ace and Deuce. They were both out of breath.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“I think we saw her,” Ace said.
“Where?” I whirled around, looking in all directions.
Ace pointed toward Park Avenue West, so I started walking in that direction. The brothers fell into step with me.
“She met her friends on the corner, so we followed them. But we tried to stay back so they wouldn’t see us, and they disappeared in the crowd,” Deuce said. “We lost them.”
“Damn!” I said as I reached the corner of Blake and 22nd.
“Hey, we’re sorry,” Ace said.
“Don’t worry about it, buddy,” I said distractedly. I was staring across the street at the tall green gates on the north side of Coors Field.
“Are you okay?” Ace asked.
Deuce waved a hand in my face. “Reed?”
I looked back at the two of them. “Der! I know how I can find her.” They stared at me, so I pointed at the stadium. “She’ll be back.”
“Oh,” they both said, not understanding me.
“It might take a game or two, but she’s a Rockies fan.” Blank stares. “She’s going to come to another game.”
“Oh,” they both repeated, still not getting it.
“I’m going to need some help,” I said.
“We’ll do what we can,” Ace said while Deuce nodded.
“It might take a few games.” I gestured at them. “Come on, let’s go back to my place and I’ll explain.”
As I drove home, I formed a game plan. Now I needed to get a team together to implement it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
It actually took three days and two games for my plan to work. The evening we’d lost the women in the crowd, I’d gone home and talked to Willie and the Goofball Brothers, and asked them if they’d be willing to stake out Coors Field and watch for the three fans. With their help I could cover all sides of the stadium. And since the third fan, as I’d come to think of her, knew me by sight, I had to be careful so that she wouldn’t spot me. Willie was on board, saying she thought it would be fun and she might get to see some games. The Goofball Brothers were eager to help as well, I think because they’d gotten caught up in the intrigue of finding the woman they’d been watching for. Then I called Cal and asked for his assistance as well. He was resistant and had to put aside his fear of crowds to come help. I think that was mostly because Willie got on the phone and begged him. He had a hard time saying no to her. My plan was a long shot, as the crowds would be big and I didn’t have any pictures of the three fans to give Willie, Cal, or the Goofballs, but it was the best I could do.
The next night, Wednesday, we all went to the Rockies game. I stayed on Blake Street, near Charlie’s building, in case the fans decided to stop and spy on Charlie’s condo before the game. Willie took the south side of the stadium, Cal positioned himself near the front entrance at 20th and Blake, and the Goofball Brothers took the entrances on the north side, closest to me.
I’d given them all the best description I could of the three fans, including the tattoo on the third fan’s neck. If they spotted anyone they thought might be a match, they would call me and I’d come running. I just had to be careful that if they were the right women, they wouldn’t spot me.
But the night was a bust. The women could’ve gotten past us, or they didn’t show. Either way, I’d bought tickets for everyone and we all watched the Rockies pull off a rare win against the Dodgers. The only exciting thing was that Spillman called and said that Greg Revis’ alibi checked out, and she warned me to be careful because I was dealing with a killer. Like I didn’t know that.
The next day, Thursday, the Rockies had off, so we all came back to the stadium on Friday at four and tried again. I again bought everyone tickets and then we separated, going to our designated spots to watch for the women.
By five-thirty, I was wondering if tonight would be a bust again. Maybe this was a stupid plan, I chided myself. I was wasting everyone’s time, although none of them seemed to mind, and they’d enjoyed the game the other night.
My phone rang. It was Ace.
“Reed, I think I see that woman,” he whispered.
“Where?” I said. I immediately started down Blake Street, toward the stadium.
“She’s at Gate C, and she’s with two other women. I saw her tattoo.”
“Good work,” I said. “Stay with her, but don’t let her see you.”
“I won’t lose her.”
“I’m on my way.” I ended the call, but I had to wait at the corner to cross, so I called Willie.
“Any luck?” she asked.
“Ace thinks he spotted her. Come to Gate C. It’s the northeast entrance.”
“I’ll be there in a few.”
I called Cal next. “Go to Gate C and look for Ace and Deuce. They’ve spotted the women.”
“Got it,” he said.
By the time I crossed Park Avenue West and made my way through the crowd to Gate C, Ace and Deuce were in one line, about to go through security, and Cal was in another line. I cut in line and joined him.
“Are they in?” I asked.
“Yes.”
�
�We’re going to lose them!” My frustration was building. All this time, only to lose them again…
“Don’t worry, Ace and Deuce are right behind them.”
I cursed my luck as we plodded forward. There were only a few people ahead of us, but it seemed to take forever. Finally we made it through the line and into the stadium.
“Where’d they go?” I asked, looking around. My cell phone rang.
“We’re off to the left,” Deuce said. “They went into the restroom.”
“Got it,” I said. I kept him on the phone as Cal and I worked our way through throngs of people.
“There they are,” Cal said.
Ace and Deuce were standing near a cart full of hot dog condiments.
“I see you,” I said to Deuce. “I’m going to stay back.”
“They’re in that restroom.” He jerked his head toward a women’s restroom across from his position.
“Got it,” I said. “Stay on the line.” I covered the phone, and said to Cal, “I think Willie’s calling me. Can you call her and tell her where we are?”
He nodded and while he did that, I kept my eye on the bathroom. There were two entrances, but I could easily see both. A couple of minutes later, three women emerged together. I immediately recognized them. The third one had on a Rockies cap with the camouflage pattern.
“That’s them,” I said to Deuce. “Good work.”
I grabbed Cal and we followed the women as they headed down the concourse. Then they took a left and walked to an escalator. Cal and I hung back and watched as they showed their tickets to an usher and then stepped on the escalator. I saw their heads rising upward and then they vanished.
I cursed.
“What’s wrong?” Cal asked. “Let’s follow them.” He started forward but I pulled him back.
“We got them!” Ace said as he and Deuce joined us.
“Yes and no,” I said.
“Reed, what’s going on?” Cal asked. “We’re going to lose them.”
“We can’t go up there,” another voice said. We all turned as Willie rushed up. “That’s Club Level.”
I nodded. “Yep. That’s why they had to show their tickets to the usher. You can’t go onto the Club Level without them.”
“You’re kidding,” Cal said.
I grimaced. “I wish I was.”
“Now what?” Ace said.
I glanced around, trying to see if there was another way up to the Club Level, one where we didn’t have to show our tickets.
“If I could get up there, I know I could find them,” I said. “It would take some time, but there are a lot fewer seats.”
“Can you sneak up?” Cal offered.
“I don’t know.”
While we were talking, Willie was studying the usher. “I know.”
“What?” I said.
“That usher is a little old man,” she said.
We all followed her gaze. As she had pointed out, the usher was an elderly gentleman, probably not more than five-six, with tufts of white hair sticking out from under a straw hat with a Rockies logo on it. His shoulders were hunched and he wore thick glasses, and he pleasantly greeted guests and checked their tickets.
“You’re not suggesting we tackle him or something?” Cal said warily.
“Of course not,” she said. “I’m going to ask him for some help and distract him.” She pointed to me. “When I do, you rush past him, like you’re in a real hurry, and flash your ticket at him.”
“He’ll want to check it closely,” Ace said. “I’ve been watching him. He checks all the tickets.”
Willie shook her head. “I’ll keep him too busy,” she said. “Trust me, he won’t be too worried about Reed.”
“How’re you going to do that?” Cal asked.
She threw him an alluring smile. “It’s called ‘feminine wiles’, Cal.” He turned bright red, but she didn’t notice because she’d turned to me. “Once he’s distracted, you make your move.” She grabbed Deuce’s arm. “You boys come with me. I’m going to work him as far away from the escalator as I can, and you two are going to help block his view.”
“Okay,” they both agreed.
“Just be careful how much of those wiles you use,” I said.
She laughed and then walked toward the usher. As she drew near him, she swayed her hips. Then she tucked her hair behind her ears in that sexy way that I loved. And he noticed her. She reached him, then started talking and gesturing. He nodded, looked to where she pointed. Then they stepped away from the escalator. Ace and Deuce stood with Willie, but they crept around behind the usher as he talked to her.
“I’ll be damned,” Cal said. “It’s working.”
I nodded. “I’m going to sneak by now.”
“And leave me here with all these people?” Cal whined.
“There’s no one around us,” I said.
He waved a hand, encompassing the entire stadium. “There’s a ton of people.”
“You’re not in any danger.” I patted his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. If I get up the escalator without being seen, get Willie and go to your seats. I’ll meet you there when I’m finished.”
“Okay,” he said, but he wasn’t happy.
I started toward the escalator. Willie kept talking to the usher and I pulled out my ticket. I hurried my pace as I neared the escalator, then flashed the ticket at him and rode up the moving stairs. I heard him say something, and then Willie’s voice, but that was it. In a moment, the escalator deposited me at the Club Level. Now I needed to find the third fan.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Coors Field Club Level seating is on the stadium’s second tier. The seats have the best views and are protected from the elements by an overhanging deck. And unlike the other seating around the stadium, the Club Level has an enclosed, climate-controlled concourse with premium concessions, meaning they had bars that served hard liquor rather than just beer, and vendors that offered fancier foods at higher prices.
I stood for a moment and admired the view through the glass concourse walls. I could see the entire field. The players had finished warm-ups and the field crew was completing final preparations on the infield. I looked around the stadium. The Rockies hadn’t been playing well and a lot of seats were empty, especially on the upper deck where a row of purple seats marked a mile above sea level. The team may not have been great, but the stadium was stunning.
I walked down the carpeted Club Level concourse, watching for any of the three women. I passed one bar area and a shop selling Rockies gear, and then I spotted the women standing in line at a concession stand that sold burgers and brats. It was the camouflage hat the third fan wore that caught my eye. All three wore shorts and purple Rockies T-shirts, but the third fan was the only one around with a camo hat. One of her friends was tall, carried a few extra pounds and had short dark hair, and the second was African-American, a few inches shorter and pencil-thin. I slid over to the wall near a trash can and watched them. They were laughing and chatting, and none had a clue that someone was watching them. Good. After a few minutes, they reached the front of the line, ordered burgers and beer, paid and moved aside. A minute later, they got their food and drinks and strolled down the concourse. I stayed back. The concourse was not as busy as I would’ve preferred, but I tried to make sure there were some other people between them and me. They finally arrived at a glass door close to home plate. The tall one had her ticket in her hand, along with her beer. She laughed as she held out the ticket and her beer. The usher pretended that he was going to take her beer, but then he laughed and gave her ticket a perfunctory check, opened the door and let them through. I sped up, got to their section and watched through the glass as they sat down four rows from the top.
On the field, a man started belting out the National Anthem, so I stood along with everyone else and placed my hand over my heart. When he finished singing, the women sat down and the game started. My mind raced. How could I find out who they were? Then an idea popped
into my head.
I walked over to the usher, a man in his sixties. He wore the employee uniform of tan slacks, a Rockies shirt, and a straw hat with the Rockies logo on it.
“I need your help,” I said, sounding brusque and officious.
“That’s what I’m here for.” A smile stretched across his face.
I pulled out my wallet and flashed my private investigator’s license at him, quickly enough that he couldn’t see exactly what was on it. The smile faded slightly and he cleared his throat.
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
“I’m undercover,” I said. “And I need some information about some guests.”
“The police?” I didn’t bother to correct him. He cleared his throat again. “Well, I don’t know that I can –” he started to say.
“Don’t worry,” I interrupted. “Just a couple of quick questions. See those three women?” I pointed at my suspects. “What can you tell me about them?”
“The ones on the end?”
I nodded.
“They’re season-ticket holders. I know the tall one’s named Amelia. I remember it because it’s a more unusual name. I think her father buys the tickets. They’re all three in college.” The smile faded. “They’re not in some kind of trouble, are they? They’re such nice girls.”
“What are the seat numbers?”
He told me. “What’s this about?”
“And what about that couple over there?” I said, picking out an older couple. “Down in the first row.” I didn’t want him to know who exactly I was interested in.
He moved to his right so he could see who I was pointing at. “I don’t know them. What’s this about?”
“And what are their seat numbers?”
He rattled off the numbers, and I pointed to yet another couple near the back of the section.
“Do we need to talk to them?” he asked after he told me about the third group.
“No, I’ll handle it from here.”
“Is there any danger?”
“No, you don’t have to worry.” I pressed my lips into a firm line. “I need you to keep our conversation in strictest confidence. Your name is…” I made a show of looking for a nameplate on his uniform.
The Third Fan: A Reed Ferguson Mystery (A Private Investigator Mystery Series - Crime Suspense Thriller Book 9) Page 13