Letting You Down (An Allie Down Mystery Thriller Book 4)

by PJ Fernor

  Someone’s life had been cut short.

  And I had to find out why and who did it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I met Ben outside the station.

  There was a moment when we both looked around before hugging each other. Not that it mattered whether anyone knew we were together or not. For both of us it was just… different. A good kind of different. A lot to navigate. But like Miss Kesslier said, we could not live in the past or the future.

  It was about right now.

  And right now we walked side by side into the station.

  “How was your night?” Ben asked.

  “I slept, I woke up, and here I am,” I said.

  “You smell like cinnamon.”

  “You’re smelling me?” I asked.

  “Not smelling you… but I can smell… on you…”

  I touched Ben’s arm. “I’m joking. Miss Kesslier made cinnamon rolls.”

  “Again?” Ben asked. “And I wasn’t there, again? I have to get my hands on these things.”

  “I’m pretty sure Miss Kesslier would make two hundred for you and deliver them in person.”

  “Looks like you have competition,” Ben said.

  “Please,” I said. “Don’t even think about going there.”

  I noticed my office door was open and someone was waiting inside for me.

  “What is Garrison doing in my office?” I asked.

  “Not sure,” Ben said.

  I knocked on the window as I walked into the office and Garrison jumped up.

  “Sleeping?” I asked.

  “Resting my eyes,” he said. “Waiting for you.”

  “And here I am,” I said.

  “With a friend,” Garrison said with a nod to Ben.

  “Watch yourself,” Ben said.

  “Hey, I’m just calling it as I see it,” Garrison said. “Let’s be real here. While you two have been sleeping together, I’ve been working.”

  Ben stepped toward Garrison and I put my hand out to stop him.

  Last thing I needed was Ben snapping and throwing Garrison through a window.

  “That’s a heavy statement to make,” I said. “You want to think about that?”

  “I can read body language,” Garrison said.

  “What’s yours say?” I asked. “I’m sure that would take a good while to read though.”

  “Funny,” Garrison said. “Are we going to work here or what?”

  “You’re the one off topic,” Ben said.

  “I’m just admiring the love story here,” Garrison said.

  I looked at Ben and nodded.

  He made a move for Garrison.

  Garrison jumped back and tried to run around my desk.

  He pointed at Ben like he could stop Ben with some magical powers.

  “I have information on the murder,” Garrison said. “That’s what I’ve been working on. I wanted to get you two up to speed.”

  “Trying to prove your worth?” I asked.

  “Something like that,” Garrison said. “Want to hear it or not?”

  “I would love to hear it,” I said.

  “Yeah, let’s talk,” Ben said.

  He folded his arms and was a monster compared to Garrison.

  Garrison slowly slipped behind my desk and went to a corner. “Jessica Ortine. That’s the woman who was found.”

  “And?” I asked.

  “She was thirty-one years old. She worked in marketing. She was up and coming with her company. A good worker. Career focused. Her dream was to become an executive. Break that glass ceiling a little more, right?”

  “What else?” Ben asked.

  “She was an avid runner,” Garrison said. “She liked to run in the park. It seemed like she had a routine.”

  “So someone followed her,” I said. “Someone figured out her routine and knew where she was going to be and when.”

  “Right,” Garrison said. “That’s what I was thinking. Our killer tracked her down and…”

  “Any theories on true cause of death?” Ben asked.

  “She was definitely attacked,” Garrison said. “It didn’t appear to be a tackle and cut her hand off kind of thing. She was attacked, roughed up, and possibly knocked out. Her head hit off the ground… you know?”

  “We get it,” I said.

  “My guess is that while she was out cold, or coming to, that’s when her hand was cut off,” Garrison said. “I was told the cut looked semi clean. Meaning-”

  “There was no struggle,” I said.

  “Yes,” Garrison said.

  “I need to see the pictures,” I said. “I need to see everything.”

  “So she was on a run,” Garrison said. “She was attacked. Knocked out. Her hand was cut off. And then she was taken off the path and left in a small ditch to die. Cause of death? I would assume it was her bleeding out from her hand. But…”

  “It was everything,” Ben said. “The attack. Head trauma. Hand cut off.”

  Garrison touched his stomach. “It makes me feel sick to hear that over and over.”

  “Me too,” I said. “Now we need to know who she really is. On the surface, she’s a hard working woman in marketing. She takes care of herself. She exercises. Right? She’s got the image of… whatever you want to call it. But someone decided to attack her. It wasn’t just a random attack though. She was targeted. She was hurt. Her hand was cut off. That’s a clear message.”

  “Who would do that?” Garrison asked.

  “That’s our job to find out,” Ben said.

  “Which means we have to dig deeper,” I said. “You can’t take people for what they show on the surface. You have to always dig deeper. There’s got to be skeletons in Jessica’s closet somewhere. Behind the designer clothing to make her look and feel like an empowered soon-to-be executive. Right?”

  Garrison slowly shook his head. “That’s the thing. I’ve been digging. There’s nothing on her. She was as squeaky clean as she looked. Her life revolved around working.”

  “She ran the same path all the time,” Ben said. “How many people knew that? And how many people she didn’t know knew that too?”

  “We already said that,” Garrison said. “Someone obviously knew she was running and where and all that.”

  “Ben’s making a bigger point,” I said. “This is about those around her now. Someone has to know something.”

  “Why do you think I was sitting in your office, Allie?” Garrison asked.

  “To annoy me, right?” I asked.

  “Sure, that was part of it. But I knew you were going to ask about Jessica… that’s the logical thing to do. She was murdered. Why? What made someone do it? And I’m telling you it wasn’t her fault. She did nothing. Sort of.”

  “Get to the point here, Garrison,” Ben said.

  “Skeletons in the closet, right?” Garrison asked.

  “Yes,” I nodded.

  “Jessica doesn’t have any skeletons in her closet,” he said.

  “You’ve already said that,” I said.

  Garrison put his hand up. “Jessica’s closet is clean… but her boyfriend’s isn’t.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “How am I doing so far?” Garrison asked.

  “I’ll give you a lollipop when we’re done talking,” I said.

  “Very funny,” he said.

  “You don’t need someone to pat you on the head,” Ben said.

  “I’m just making sure my work is appreciated,” Garrison said.

  “Jessica’s boyfriend,” I said.

  Garrison moved to my desk. “Calvin.”

  “Last name?” Ben asked.

  “Delgado.”

  “Keep going,” I said.

  “He thinks of himself as a restauranteur,” Garrison said. “He owns two places nearby. You know the place Scarnie’s?”

  “Twenty-dollar baked potatoes?” Ben asked.

  “That’s the one,” Garrison said.

  “What’s the other one?” I as
ked.

  “A little bistro,” Garrison said. “Just off of Fairmont. Kind of hip and trendy, but a little more within our budgets.”

  “So he’s got two restaurants,” I said.

  “And now he’s got a murdered girlfriend,” Ben said. “How do the two connect?”

  “You’ll see soon enough,” Garrison said. “Now, whether you know this or not, the restaurant business has ups and downs. Getting one off the ground is hard. Having more than one is even harder. So financially, it’s kind of a roller coaster. Unless you get one that just churns money over and over and over.” Garrison took out his phone and put it on my desk. “There’s Calvin.”

  I looked at the picture.

  It was of a well-dressed man with minimal, well-kept facial hair. Black suit. Black hair. A stone-faced look as he stood behind a metal bistro chair. Behind him was a boarded-up building.

  “Check out the headline,” Garrison said.

  “Right,” Ben said. “Young guy like him wants to revitalize the area.”

  “He opened his bistro there,” Garrison said. “Helped to turn the building around. A clean cut, good looking guy like that. You know? With a girlfriend like Jessica. I mean, they’re beautiful together. The article here even mentions her. She helped him launch the bistro. They’re the picture-perfect couple.”

  “Let me guess… they’re not,” Ben said.

  “Oh, they were,” Garrison said. “That’s the interesting part to this whole thing.”

  “What’s the deal with him then? Where are these skeletons?” I asked.

  “First off, you have to give me some credit here,” Garrison said. “I worked all night on this. Thinking. Digging. Coming up with some theories.”

  “Which you’re dancing around,” Ben said.

  “You’re wasting our time,” I said.

  “Just give me some credit,” Garrison said.

  I grabbed his phone and slammed it to his chest. “Get out of my office. You want to play detective? Go play it on your own time. I have calls to make. Ben and I are leaving. We’re going to figure this out. You can sit with your phone and make up things in your mind all you want, Garrison.”

  “You don’t get it,” he said.

  “We get it,” Ben growled. “You’re tired of writing traffic tickets. You’re tired of chasing teenagers through the woods. This is not how you get ahead. Holding us hostage over information. For what? To praise you?”

  “Just get out of here,” I said. I pointed to the open office door. “Thanks for the information you gave us. We can take it from here.”

  Garrison tightened his lips. His face turned a bright shade of red.

  He stomped toward the door like a child who didn’t get a new toy.

  Just outside the office door, he looked back. “I know right where to go to open this case up. And you can’t give me the time of day.”

  “We just did,” I said. “You’re playing games, Garrison. Wasting time. Show a little compassion for people. Jessica was murdered. Someone murdered her. That person is out there. Now, if you have a theory as to why Calvin did it, you can write me an email or send me a text message. If you have proof he did it, you can tell us or go right to Laura.”

  “Go over your head?” Garrison asked.

  “Why not?” I asked. “I don’t mind. All that matters is that whoever killed Jessica gets caught. This isn’t about looking good or impressing people. Get that out of your head, Garrison. A woman’s life was ended. You’re telling us she had no skeletons in her closet, but her boyfriend did.”

  “Now you won’t tell us about those skeletons,” Ben added.

  “You didn’t give me a chance,” Garrison said.

  “We just did,” I said.

  Garrison showed us the picture on his phone again. “This is the guy…”

  “Calvin killed his girlfriend?” I asked.

  “Not with his bare hands,” Garrison said. “But believe me, he did it.”

  I looked at Ben.

  Ben shook his head and turned away.

  “You have five more minutes to talk, Garrison,” I said. “You want me to praise you for doing a good job? Give us something to go with.”

  Garrison stepped back into my office. “Calvin has a look to himself. He looks good in pictures and looks good in articles. His restaurants are forever busy. The guy is driving an eighty-thousand-dollar car.”

  “He’s got the image of success,” I said.

  “Far from it, Allie,” Garrison said. “It took me a while to really get the pieces together here… but to put it simply… the guy is broke.”

  “Broke?” Ben asked, looking back at Garrison.

  “Broke,” Garrison said.

  “Let me guess then,” I said. “He’s cash broke. Everything he has is on credit or involved in debt.”

  “Bingo,” Garrison said.

  Ben slowly turned. “The car, the clothes, the image…”

  “It’s all fake,” Garrison said. “I mean, you need to keep up the image to keep people thinking you’re successful.”

  “The goal is to actually become successful then,” I said.

  “But…”

  “You get too far into the hole,” Ben said.

  “What happens then?” Garrison asked.

  The three of us fell silent.

  Garrison held up his phone and wiggled the picture of Calvin.

  “So you’re telling us that Calvin owns two restaurants and has this appearance of success,” I said. “His girlfriend has a successful career in marketing. Together they have the image of a perfect, young couple. The kind that will live in an apartment until they get married and she gets pregnant. Then they’ll buy a house and keep working. Right?”

  “Exactly,” Garrison said.

  “Only she ends up murdered. Killed on a trail that she runs all the time. Which gives the hint that someone knew she was going to be there and attacked her.”

  “And cut off her hand,” Garrison said.

  “Which is a clear message,” Ben said. “Like we’ve been saying.”

  Garrison shook his phone again.

  “Calvin is broke,” I said. “Calvin is in debt.”

  “But is that debt big enough to get his girlfriend killed?” Ben asked.

  “Here’s your answer of the day,” Garrison said. “Yup.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “I’m not done yet,” Garrison said.

  “You have our full attention again,” Ben said.

  “So you think someone killed Jessica because Calvin is in debt?”

  “Not just any debt,” Garrison said. “I’m talking dirty, rotten kind of debt.”

  “Let me guess,” Ben said, “not that kind of debt you’d get at your local, friendly bank.”

  “Oh, that’s exactly what this is,” Garrison said. “Kind of. Have you ever heard of payday loans?”

  “Of course,” I said. “Small loans. Micro loans.”

  “This is something like it. The company in question here is IY Green. What they do is take on anyone who needs help. Through clever marketing and a clean smile, they shell out money to those in need. Business has a bad month? Here’s a loan. Need to buy a new truck? Here’s a loan. And their loans come with some terms.”

  “Deadly ones?” Ben asked.

  “You tell me,” Garrison said.

  “Keep going, Garrison,” I said.

  “The interest rates are sometimes insane. No matter what, they’re high. The payments are demanded whenever they want. Sure, there’s paperwork for a monthly payment, but if these guys want money today, you better have something today. Or else…” Garrison clicked his tongue. “They make their terms so ridiculous, not many can pay it back. They always sneak under what they’re really doing by giving out, say, two hundred bucks to Mr. Thompson and then having him pay that back in a few days.”

  “But Mr. Thompson pays back two-fifty,” I said.

  “Exactly,” Garrison said. “These guys have been looked into so many
times… it’s maddening they haven’t been taken down yet. But the thing is, they get these people that are so broken and desperate, they don’t know what they’re signing. Slipped into the text is what’s called a confession of judgement. That means the second you mess up, they take over everything. By everything, I mean the bank accounts.”

  “They freeze it all,” I said. “Put the place out of business.”

  “That sounds like a bad business,” Ben said. “When and where does this tie into murder?”

  “All of what I said is basically a front,” Garrison said. “These guys love having the spotlight on them. They’re dirty but the stuff they show dances right on the line of being legal. So they get away with it. And what happens with them, people get sick of their name. It kind of becomes this thing where hey, if you deal with them, this is what you’re getting into…”

  “Still waiting for the murder connection,” I said. “And I’d love to know how you know all of this.”

  “I’ll start there,” Garrison said. “A long time ago I was asked to help with a case. It involved bodybuilders hooked on drugs.”

  “Steroids?” Ben asked.

  “That was the gateway drug, in a sense,” Garrison said.

  “Wait,” I said. “Why are you telling us this now? This had to have been on your mind since last night. Or right when the call came in.”

  “I’ve been building this all night, Allie,” Garrison said. His voice was serious. A change for once. “When I heard about the murder, I did the same as you. Hand cut off? That’s a message of some sorts. I dug around in my mind and remembered something similar. That’s what took me to the old case and then to Calvin. I can gladly tell you how I spent all night.”

  “We don’t care about that,” Ben said. “Just about this case.”

  “I asked,” I said. “Sorry. Go on, Garrison.”

  “There were these bodybuilders that got juiced up,” Garrison said. “Then the high of that wore off. They were big, mean, and out of work. They got too old. So they traded up, so to say. They started messing with more serious drugs. Now, the equation writes itself here… drugs, no money, what does that equal?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Garrison said. “Soon these guys were hired by people to send messages. The case I worked on involved a guy named Andy. He was mean as anything. He had no problems talking either. He was paid by a guy to beat people up. Miss a payment by a day? Andy would show up. Two days? Andy would show up again. This time, with a baseball bat. Three days? You were getting hurt. And the longer it went on, the more severe the punishments became. Andy was good at his job. He had no problem going after families. I’m talking kids. He would show up to schools and on recess threaten someone’s kid.”