The CEO Came DOA (The Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries Book 5)

by Heather Haven

  She looked at me and I looked at her. I grinned.

  “The Governor General’s elephant is looking pretty good right now, isn’t it? He had a pretty nifty howdah.”

  Mom gave me an exasperated look. “I can’t stand around here all day making jokes with you. Get dressed, Liana, and for heaven’s sake, try to look presentable at Jacob’s funeral. Please wear black.”

  “I don’t have anything black. But I promise to look somber.”

  “Very well. Mr. and Mrs. Hanson arrive at three-thirty. Don’t forget dinner at Evvia, seven-thirty.”

  “The rehearsal dinner, right?”

  My mother’s face took on the pained Job look I had come to know so well.

  “No, dear. The rehearsal dinner comes after the rehearsal for the wedding. Thus, the name. Both of those events will take place tomorrow. Gurn’s parents are hosting the rehearsal dinner. Tonight is the “welcome friends and family dinner,” hosted by Vicki and Richard. Just once, Liana, I wish you would read the schedule.”

  She’d said the last bit through grinding teeth. Frankly, if you had asked me beforehand if it were possible to talk and grind your teeth at the same time, I would have said no. Live and learn.

  “Mom, I promise to read it thoroughly before we pick up the Hansons. Pinky swear.”

  She gave me a what-am-I-going-to-do-with-her smile. I gave her an I’m-trying-my-best smile. We wound up hugging. Mother/daughter train back on track. Choo-choo.

  “Now I must leave, Liana. I have my wedding to reinvent.”

  And with that, she turned on her heel and marched out of the room.

  In most parts of the world, starting a company that goes bust

  is dubbed a 'failure.' In Silicon Valley, we call this 'gaining experience.'

  We are willing to take the risks that are inherent for innovation.

  Sebastian Thrun

  Chapter Thirty-five

  “You going to finish that bear claw?” Gurn turned his head and glanced at me fifteen minutes into the trip to Colma. Riding in his Jeep Grand Cherokee, the one with initials after the name, was not what I think of when I conjure up the image of a Jeep. It had all the comforts of your living room, including a stereo system to rival Carnegie Hall’s, and warmed, leather seats. I’m not sure this souped-up Jeep bore any resemblance to the one Eisenhower rode around Europe in during WWII.

  My little ’57 Chevy paled in comparison in every way. So I was glad to be in his SUV again with him driving. My right hand was so stiff I couldn’t wrap it around a steering wheel without seeing stars. Nothing was broken, but it was painful to move, even though that was exactly what the doctor wanted me to do.

  I was glad Gurn offered to drive. But not enough to hand over the rest of Tío’s still warm from the oven bear claw.

  “Yes, I am going to finish my bear claw, mister. I just set it down for a moment to get my phone from my bag to call Frank. So don’t even think about it. I told you we should have taken another one.”

  “With Lila staring us down like that? I didn’t want to hear again about how many calories they have, either. I think three thousand each is an exaggeration.”

  “Mom just doesn’t want us to gain any weight before the wedding. As if everything else has been going along without a hitch.”

  At the mention of the word ‘wedding’ we both became silent, but smiled a little. I looked over at Gurn.

  “I love you. I’m so glad you’re back.”

  “I love you, too.” He shot me his lopsided grin, the one that makes my heart flip-flop. Then his features took a more serious bend. “Lee, we need to talk about something. I have to tell you --”

  He was interrupted by the ringing of my phone. I glanced at the incoming number.

  “It’s Frank. I have to take this. Can we talk later?”

  His sweet smile returned. “Of course.”

  “Good morning, Frank. I was about to call you.” I rushed on. “Wait a minute. Gurn’s with me. I’m going to put you on speaker.”

  “Good morning, Gurn,” Frank said, his voice booming throughout the car. “Welcome back.”

  “Good to be back, sir.”

  “Lila tells me you look about the same as our Lee does; a little rough around the edges.”

  Gurn laughed. “I met a ski run that didn’t like me.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Frank, clearly not buying it. “Well, wherever you’re skiing these days, we’re grateful to you.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Any word yet on Sharise?” I was trying not to think about her, but I had done little else since she dove off the sail boat the night before.

  “Here’s something, Lee,” said Frank. “They did find a woman’s boot. Do you happen to remember what Sharise was wearing on her feet?”

  “Prada high-heel boots, red leather, the shaft trimmed with turquoise, white, and red feathers,” I said without missing a beat. “Gorgeous.”

  “I might have known in the midst of fighting for your life, you’d notice the lady’s footwear.”

  He let out a light laugh. Gurn followed suit. Then Frank continued.

  “Well, that sounds like what they found. The feathers don’t look so good, but that’s the San Francisco Bay for you.”

  I hesitated. “No body yet?”

  “No,” Frank said, “but with the strong currents in the Bay, it probably was pulled out to sea.”

  “You may not find it for months, if ever,” added Gurn.

  “Exactly,” agreed Frank.

  “That’s if Sharise is dead, gentlemen,” I said. “She could have survived. She wasn’t that far off land.”

  “San Francisco Bay is brutal, even for a competitive swimmer,” said Frank.

  “If the cold or currents don’t get you, there’s being thrown against rocks or found by a shark,” said Gurn. “I’m a strong swimmer and I’d think twice about going into the Bay in the dead of night.”

  “You both make a good case for it, but I don’t know…” My voice tapered off.

  “Time will tell, Lee,” said Frank sagely. “Every available man and woman has been searching for her. So far, nothing but a boot.” He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Let’s move on. Fill me in with what’s going on. Where are you?”

  “We’re on our way to Jake Gold’s funeral in Colma.”

  “Sad business, that,” Frank said. “If Sharise is alive, she has a lot to answer for.”

  “According to Mom, Jake didn’t want any hoopla at the service. It should be pretty short. Then we’ll go to the Collier Compound. When are you going to notify the press about Sharise’s disappearance and possible death?”

  “About fifteen minutes before you get to the compound, just like you asked. You have to tell me when you’re on your way.”

  “Will do.”

  “It’ll play on every radio and TV station in the Bay Area when you give the word. What do you think you’re going to find at the compound? Or are you telling me yet?”

  I answered the question with a question. “Did you tell the guards to let us in when we arrive?”

  “I did. They’re expecting you in an hour or two.”

  “You haven’t released Skye and Katie from protective custody yet, have you?”

  “No, I’ve been stalling, although I’ll have to do it soon. There’s no reason to keep them. You’re testing my patience on this one, Lee. What’s going on?”

  “I’ll know more once I’m at the compound.” Silence. I pushed. “Hey, I’ve been right so far, haven’t I?”

  “Well…” Frank drawled the one word, maybe reluctant to admit it. “I’ll have my men right outside the gate should you need us. Still no effects from the Devil’s Breath?”

  “Nada. Maybe I got it off my skin fast enough or maybe it’s because there was no one to boss me around. In any event, there was no residual amount in my system as of eleven-thirty last night. There’s another call coming in. I’ll keep in touch.”

  I disconnected then hit the a
ccept button for my incoming call.

  “Morning, Richard. Did you get my message that Gurn was back? He’s with me now.” I put the phone on speaker again.

  “Hey, proud new papa,” said Gurn.

  “Hey, Huckster,” said Richard, calling him by his nickname from NROTC day. “Good to hear your voice.”

  “Same here, Rich,” Gurn replied. “Can’t wait to meet the little munchkin.”

  “Stephanie’s beautiful. You’ll see her tonight at the dinner.” Richard cleared his throat. “Lee, I thought you should know I think I found what Collier used to blackmail Rameen Patel into working for him.”

  “Has Rameen been released from jail yet?”

  “Yes, thanks to your evidence and Sharise’s recorded confession. But what I’m about to tell you could have been one of the reason Chief Broas arrested him in the first place.”

  “Then we sure don’t want to have this conversation at the cemetery.”

  “No, someone might overhear.”

  “Make it fast, Richard. We’re almost there.”

  “Okay. It isn’t pretty. Vehicular manslaughter. When he was a junior in high school he took his father’s car without asking permission, and plowed into three bicyclists, a mother, father, and their six-year old daughter. He killed the whole family. Said he rounded a turn, the sun was in his eyes, and he didn’t see them until it was too late. He was speeding – not by much, but legally speeding - and only had his learner’s permit.”

  Both Gurn and I shot each other stunned looks. Richard went on.

  “His lawyer asked for leniency. Based on his contrition, Patel was sentenced to six months in a juvenile detention center, with his license suspended for five years. Because he was a minor his name was kept out of the papers and his file locked up. From what I understand, he’s never been behind the wheel of a car since.”

  Gurn joined in. “I’ll bet it would it be easy for someone like Collier to dig up this information if he was looking for something.”

  “It took me less than a day. And I didn’t have any trouble finding locals that knew and remembered. If this is what Collier was threatening him with, I can see why Patel gave up his career on the East Coast and took the chancy job out here. That’s not something I’d be proud for my daughter to know about me.”

  “Dynamite blackmail opportunity,” said Gurn, quietly.

  “By the way, Lee, Read-Out dropped the suit against D. I. And on another note, Patel’s begging you to keep looking for the prototype, if you’re willing. ‘With apologies for my behavior.’ Direct quote.”

  “Does Rameen know we know about his past?”

  “It’s not my place to tell him, sister mine. I thought I’d let you drop that bomb.”

  “Or not,” I countered. “He probably lives with it every day of his life. Besides, he’s got enough on his plate right now.”

  “I agree. By the way, I also spoke with Craig Eastham.”

  “You’ve been busy,” I said.

  “I’ve been the one holding down the fort. But to go on, Eastham said the board is making noises about voting to declare bankruptcy if the prototype isn’t found soon. Without it, there’s no business.”

  “Thanks for telling me, brother mine. Hanging up now. We’re at the cemetery. Then we leave for the compound.”

  “Don’t do anything foolish when you get there, okay? Watch out for her, Huckster.”

  I looked at Gurn, crossed my eyes, and stuck out my tongue. He gave me a wink. “Only if she’ll watch out for me.”

  * * * *

  The service went fast, almost too fast. D. I. was closed for the day and all employees, except for Richard, came to Colma to show their respects for a fellow worker. Even Stanley wore a sober tie. Jake had been cremated according to his wishes, and the ceremony was short and sweet.

  Mom invited everyone back to the house for her version of cake and coffee. That would be cheese and egg soufflés, smoked salmon, cucumber sandwiches, French pastries, and flowing wine served in her best crystal goblets. Gurn and I passed on the wake and headed to the Collier Compound.

  We pulled up to the gatehouse and stopped. Gurn has an air of authority about him, even out of uniform. But when the guard leaned in, and saluted smartly, I was taken aback.

  “Lt. Commander Hanson, sir. This is a surprise, sir.”

  Gurn paused a moment before saying, “Midshipman Bulward, isn’t it? From our NROTC days. Kurt Bulward?”

  “Sir, yes sir.”

  “I see you’re in private service, Bulward.”

  “Sir, yes sir. Dropped out of college, had a run of bad luck, and here I am, sir. But it pays very well.”

  “Glad you landed on your feet.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Gurn turned to me. “You know Ms. Alvarez, Bulward?”

  “Yes sir, from the other day. We’ve been expecting you, ma’am.”

  “Where’s the German Shepherd?” I leaned over Gurn to ask the guard.

  “On a break, ma’am.” With a smile, he passed a clipboard through the window to me. “This is a list of the personnel inside the compound at this time, ma’am. There are seven of them. Our instructions are not to notify anyone you are entering nor let anyone out until you give the word.”

  “Bully, Bulward,” I said, taking the clipboard from his extended hand. “I mean, thank you. You’re sure no one has come out of the compound since last night?”

  “No ma’am. The list of people in residence is at the bottom. After Collier’s daughter and her nanny left last night under police escort, there were seven of them inside. Still are. This is the only way in or out. Mr. Collier had it set up that way. Even went as far as placing eight-foot high electronically monitored fences around the perimeter. When a bird sits on one, we know about it.”

  “It all sounds very San Quentin to me.”

  “Ma’am?” Bulward gave me a puzzled look.

  Gurn looked at me and rolled his eyes. He turned back to the guard. “Just let us pass, Bulward.”

  “Yes, sir.” Bulward saluted again and pressed a button inside the gate.

  The double gate glided open and we drove through. The tropical world of the Collier Compound opened up to us, but Gurn didn’t notice. He had a pensive look on his face, no doubt regarding his ex-cadet, Bulward.

  “Small world, huh?” I studied Gurn’s face. “Running into one of your former cadets like that.”

  “Not everyone makes it,” he said. “I’m just a bit sad when I come across one, though.” He shook off the past, and looked around him. “Is that a strutting peacock I see?”

  “And flamingos, too.”

  We rounded a turn in the road, sided by rare tropical plants. The rain had picked up again, but still, it was dazzling.

  “Several hundred feet beyond is another turn where the road is shielded from the buildings by tall bushes and trees. No one can see us. Stop the car there and get out. I should be able to drive the rest of the way by myself.” I had a momentary bout of concern. “You’re sure you can run with your bruised heel, if you have to?”

  Gurn nodded. “As long as I keep my weight on the balls of my feet, I’m good. I can’t run five or six miles, but I should be okay for what you have in mind.”

  “Good, because I’d rather not shoot anybody if I can avoid it.”

  I got lucky because my dad moved us to Silicon Valley before

  it really was known worldwide as an important tech hub.

  Robert Scoble

  Chapter Thirty-six

  As I slid behind the driver’s seat of the Jeep, I wondered just how daffy I was being. It was tough enough to drive a car in my current condition, let alone try to run. In fact, I could barely walk. And I was in a profession where you needed to be able to do stuff like that, especially the run part. But I’m a coup de grace kinda gal and had to see this through to the end.

  Fortunately for me, Gurn’s car was fairly silent and the rain was adding its background noise to the scene. I kept my foot off the acce
lerator and coasted to the end of the drive, coming to a stop in front of the one open door of the four-door garage. I sat for a moment, listening to the steady click-click of the windshield wipers. Inside the garage a sleek but dry black Tesla sat with its trunk ajar and one of its doors open, as if waiting for someone.

  I got out of the Jeep, careful not to slam the car door or make any noise. Pulling the collar up on my raincoat, I hobbled into the garage with the aid of my crutch. Actually, I wasn’t doing too bad. Either I had improved a lot overnight or I was getting the hang of this crutch thing.

  Collier’s nine cars sat tandem style, three to a row, and except for the Tesla, all were covered with tarps. Using the end of my crutch, I pushed the lid of the Tesla’s trunk up. Two cardboard boxes jammed with books, clothes, and tchotchkes were inside.

  Above my head there was a noise like a piece of furniture being dragged across the room. I moved to the bottom of a staircase that went to the upstairs apartment, just as I heard an overhead door blam open and close. Thudding sounds of feet descending the stairs caused me to back up against a shelf containing neat, orderly tools. I withdrew the Tomcat from my pocket and waited.

  A middle-aged, tall man flew past me carrying a heavy suitcase. He stopped when he saw the Jeep blocking his exit.

  “Good morning,” I said. “You must be Marty, the chauffeur.”

  He wheeled around at the sound of my voice, and stared at me breathing heavily. Marty was a muscular man, one who probably worked out every day, judging by the bulges pushing at the seams of his clothes. Between his pumped up body, longish hair, square jaw and jutting cheekbones, he looked like a comic book villain. He certainly had a villainous air as he stared back at me.

  “Who the hell are you? Get your car out of my way.”

  “I’m Lee Alvarez, Marty. You drove Skye and Katie to my office the other day.”

  “What do you want? And move your damned car before I move it myself.”

  He threw the suitcase inside the open car door and advanced toward me, flexing his hands, arms, and neck. Even his nose quivered. He had this menacing thing down, I’ll say that for him. I raised my good hand with the revolver in it, and pointed it at him.