Paint the Town Dead

by Sybil Johnson

  “We need to be as fast as possible. I’ll set the alarm for ten minutes. We’ll see where we are after that.” Rory set the timer on her cell phone and placed it on the desk. She surveyed the room which seemed to be a typical office with its computer, phone, file cabinets, and desk.

  “Where do we start?” Liz said.

  “You take the file cabinets. I’ll check out the computer and desk. Look for anything that has Ian’s name on it,” Rory said.

  Liz started to examine the files in the cabinet against the far wall while Rory settled down in front of the computer. As she expected, it was password protected. Unlike on television, she didn’t have any magical way to get through the login screen. She could sit there for years and never guess the password, so she turned to the desk drawers, hoping the man was careless enough to write it down on a piece of paper.

  Rory inserted the key Candy had given her into the topmost drawer. Excitement coursed through her as the lock clicked and the drawer slid open, but all she found inside were a log book, a pile of flash drives, and other odds and ends.

  “None of the folders in these cabinets has Ian’s name on it,” Liz whispered. “It’ll take too long to read each of them and this other cabinet’s locked.”

  Rory rifled through the rest of the desk drawers. “I don’t see any other keys.”

  “Let me try something.” Liz grabbed two paper clips out of a bowl on the desk and went back to work on the locked file cabinet.

  Rory returned her attention to the log book. On the back page, she found columns of random strings of letters and numbers with no indication of what they were for. She checked the countdown on her phone. Half the time had passed, and they still had nothing to show for their search. Guessing the items on the list were passwords, she tried the first two on the login screen. When neither of them panned out, she gave up on the computer and tackled the rest of the log book.

  The heading on each page consisted of a three-letter code followed by a number. Underneath were a list of dates and expenses. When she looked at the most recent page, headed SEA, something tickled at Rory’s brain.

  A click told her Liz had picked the lock on the file cabinet.

  “Where’d you learn to do that?” Rory said.

  “Online video. Thought it might come in handy someday.”

  “I think I found something,” Rory said. “Didn’t Ian say he was from Seattle? I have an entry here labeled SEA. That could stand for Seattle. See if you can find a file with SEA and this number on it.” She rattled off the digits written on the log book page.

  “Bingo!” Liz said as she drew out a file. She spread it out on the desk and the two of them glanced through it. Inside were a police report on a hit-and-run and some gruesome photos of the elderly victim splayed out in a crosswalk. A bup-bup-bup-bup sounded, startling Rory until she realized it was her phone telling her the timer had ended. She tapped a spot on its display to stop the noise. “That’s ten minutes.”

  Rory peeked out the door into the main office. She could see pedestrians passing by on the sidewalk outside, but inside it was still quiet. She returned to the desk and turned the photos over so she wouldn’t have to see them, then started skimming through the report. She was trying to decipher Oscar’s crabbed handwriting on various Post-it notes stuck to the back of the folder when she heard a sound coming from the outer office.

  Rory signaled for Liz to be quiet and tiptoed over to the door. One peek around its corner and she could see Oscar Carlton through the partially open front door. Through the window, she spotted a man talking with the PI. “Oscar’s here!”

  Liz stuffed the file folder back in the cabinet and relocked it while Rory returned the desk to its original state.

  Head down and heart pounding, Rory followed Liz out of Oscar’s office toward the storage room. As they crept crab-like across the floor, she hazarded a glance toward the front door. The PI had finished his conversation with the man and was halfway through the doorway. She jerked her head toward the storage room, indicating they needed to move faster. Liz ran the short distance to the back room. Rory was about to follow when she heard the front door close. She peeked over the desk she was hiding behind to find Oscar standing less than three feet away, staring down at his cell phone. She held her breath and twisted herself into as small a shape as possible. When she thought she couldn’t stay in that position a minute longer, she heard footsteps moving away from her. She peeked over the desk once again and saw him heading into the bathroom.

  As soon as he disappeared through the door, Rory tiptoed across the room. She breathed a sigh of relief when she joined Liz outside. Not until the alley door started to close behind them did she realize she’d left her cell phone on the PI’s desk.

  Rory caught the door before it latched, crept back inside, and peeked into the outer office. The light was now on in the PI’s inner sanctum and music was playing. Silently cursing herself for leaving her phone behind, she looked around for something to get the man out of his office. She tiptoed to the outer door and stuck her head outside.

  “Psst,” she said to Liz. “I need a distraction.”

  Liz gave her the thumbs up. Rory crept back inside and waited. Moments later, a chorus of car alarms sounded, so many that the PI left his office and walked over to look out the front door to see what all the fuss was about.

  As soon as his back was to her, she raced across the floor, grabbed the phone off the desk, and dashed back into the storage room. As she ran, her hand brushed against Candy’s desk, dislodging a cup full of pens. They fell to the floor, making a sound so loud Rory was sure it could be heard miles away. She was slipping out the back door when she heard a “Who’s there?” coming from the outer office.

  The two young women ran down the alley, not taking time to catch their breath until they reached the street. Then, as nonchalantly as possible, they headed back to the Akaw, not saying a word until they were two blocks away from the PI’s office.

  “That was close. Nice touch with the car alarms,” Rory said. “Did you see Ian’s name on that file? I didn’t. Wouldn’t it be there if he hired Oscar?”

  “Didn’t see his name anywhere, but I didn’t get a chance to read all of it.”

  “I should’ve taken pictures of the file with my cell phone. I’ll know better next time.”

  The information fresh in their minds, they compared notes and put together the basics of the hit-and-run case. A car had barrelled through an intersection, hitting an octogenarian, and sped off without a backward glance. The police had conducted an extensive search, but the car and its driver had never been found. One of the witnesses had moved to Vista Beach not long after the accident. A PI in Seattle had hired Oscar to locate and re-interview that witness.

  “Maybe Oscar found him and he told him something of interest,” Liz said.

  “Did you see the name of the witness?” Rory asked.

  “Only the address. It’s right next door to a house that’s on the market. Guess who’s representing the sellers?”

  “Maybe we should check it out. See if that witness is home and willing to talk to us,” Rory said thoughtfully. “Find out what Oscar discovered.”

  Liz glanced at her watch. “Too late now. It’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

  “First thing tomorrow, then.”

  The next morning, Liz picked up Rory at her house and drove to the witness’s address on the southern end of Vista Beach.

  “You can do the talking,” Rory said. “I’ll be your assistant. You’re taking me around with you, showing me the ropes.”

  “I can do that.” Liz’s eyes twinkled. “How are we going to find out about the hit-and-run? We can’t just say to whoever answers the door ‘Did you witness an old woman get mowed down a few years ago?’ We don’t even know the name of the witness, or if that person still lives at the address.”

  “We’ll play it by ear. I’m sure something will come up. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  Before long, Liz
reached the address on Oberg Lane and pulled up in front of a one-story stucco house dwarfed by the monster next door. “That’s the one that’s for sale.” She pointed to the two-story mansion that filled the entire lot.

  “Have you had any offers?” Rory asked.

  “Not yet. It’s the most expensive house on the block and the sellers are very picky.” The petite real estate agent grabbed a few flyers out of her backseat and headed toward the smaller house, Rory following closely behind.

  They walked through the gate of the fenced-in yard toward the front door, passing a tricycle and a stroller along the way. When Liz rang the bell, they heard a faint yipping coming from inside, followed by footsteps approaching the door. A very pregnant woman who Rory guessed was in her thirties answered the bell.

  In her most professional voice, Liz introduced herself, explaining she was handling the sale of the house next door, and handed the tired-looking woman a flyer for the property.

  “I’m just out here seeing if you or any of your neighbors are thinking of buying or selling anytime soon. If you’re looking to upgrade, I know of several properties suitable for a growing family.”

  The woman leaned against the doorjamb. “I wish. We could certainly use some more space.” She patted her swollen belly. “Twins this time.”

  “Congratulations,” Rory and Liz chorused.

  The woman glanced down at the flyer Liz had given her. “Wish we could afford this one, but I suppose it’s not really suitable for young children. Do you know why they’re selling? They didn’t move in that long ago. There’s no problem, is there?”

  “None at all,” Liz hastened to reassure the woman. “The place is in tip-top shape and they love the neighborhood. He was transferred out of state so they’re selling sooner than expected.”

  “Oh really? Do you know where they’re going?” the woman asked.

  Liz pursed her lips as if trying to remember what her client had told her. “Somewhere up the coast.” She turned to Rory. “Do you remember where?”

  Rory took the hint and said, “Seattle, I think, or somewhere near there.”

  “That’s where I’m from!” the woman said.

  “It’s a small world.” Rory nodded her head. “I’ve heard the Seattle area is nice. A friend of my mother’s lives there, or should I say, lived there.” She lowered her voice. “She was killed in a hit-and-run a few years back. Sad case. Just minding her own business, walking across the street. Never found the driver.”

  The woman shuddered. “I saw one of those myself. Not something I ever want to see again. I still have nightmares about it.”

  Relief washed over Rory when she realized they’d found the witness they were looking for. She tried to keep her expression neutral as she listened to what the woman had to say.

  “That must have been horrible,” Liz said sympathetically. “I’d have been so shocked I wouldn’t have been any use to the police.”

  “I wasn’t able to tell them much at the time,” the woman admitted. “They never found the driver. I guess they’re still looking into it. Some investigator came around asking me about it a couple weeks ago. Wanted to know if I remembered anything else.”

  “Did you?” Rory did her best to appear only mildly interested, but inside she was hanging on the woman’s every word.

  “I didn’t get a good look at the driver, but it was a man. I’m sure of that. He had a beard. I thought I’d seen him somewhere but, until recently, I couldn’t place him. Then I remembered seeing him at a hotel near where the accident occurred. I think he works there. That’s what I told the investigator, anyway. Later, he came back and showed me a picture of someone who I’m pretty sure was the man.”

  Rory stored the name of the hotel she gave them and its location in her memory.

  Before they could ask any more questions, cries of “Mommy! Mommy!” came from inside the house.

  “Guess Juliette’s up from her nap. I’d better get going. Nice talking with you. I’ll let you know if I hear of anyone who’s interested in the house.”

  The woman closed the door, and Rory and Liz headed back to the car.

  “That description sounded like Ian. Do you think he was driving that car?” Liz said.

  “I’d say it’s a safe bet. He lived in the area at the time. We can easily verify that he worked at that hotel.” Rory brought up the Akaw’s website on her smartphone. A few taps on its screen and she had the information she wanted. “Here’s Ian’s bio. He worked at a number of places and, yes, one of them was the hotel the woman mentioned.”

  “So that’s why he gave that money to Oscar, to keep him quiet. That could have been what Jasmine overheard. You’d better call Dashing D and let him know what we found out. He can talk to the witness himself.”

  While Liz drove them to the hotel, Rory called the detective and told him what they’d learned about the hit-and-run.

  “How did you get this information?”

  “A little birdy told me,” Rory said.

  “Cute.” The detective gave an exasperated sigh. “Why were you even looking into this cold case? It’s not local.”

  Rory made static noises. “Sorry, you’re breaking up. What did you say?”

  She could almost hear the detective’s eyeballs rolling in his head. “Fine, I’ll look into it. In the meantime, stop investigating.”

  The two young women spent the rest of the morning in class. After lunch, Rory started a shift on the trade show floor. She was helping out in the VivEco booth when Nixie and Ian stopped by to remind everyone how the breakdown process would work.

  “The floor closes at noon tomorrow,” Nixie said. “No packing up until after it closes. Just leave the boxes in the booth after you’re done and mark them with your company’s name. Someone from the hotel will bring them to the loading dock and make sure all of the boxes from your booth are grouped together.” She looked down at her clipboard. “I see you have a truck scheduled to pick them up Monday afternoon, Hulbert.”

  “That’s right,” he said. “I hope that’s not too late. It was the only time I could book the moving company.”

  Nixie waved away his concern. “Not a problem. We won’t be moving the boxes into the loading dock area until Monday morning, anyway. We’ll have trucks coming and going all afternoon. Ian’s here to answer any questions you might have about the hotel’s role in this.”

  The hotel manager answered the few questions Hulbert had about the process. He and Nixie were about to move on to the next exhibitor when Detective Green walked down the aisle, stopping in front of the VivEco booth. “Mr. Blalock,” he said. “I need a word with you. If you could come with me...”

  “What’s this about?” Ian said, confusion written all over his face.

  “I think it would be better to talk about it somewhere more private.”

  Exhibitors from the neighboring booths started gathering around as word spread the police were on the floor. Liz, who was working in the Scrap ’n Paint booth across the way, joined the group, as curious about the drama playing out before them as everyone else.

  “I won’t go anywhere until you tell me what it’s about. Does it have something to do with the protesters? Whatever they’re saying about me, it’s not true,” Ian said.

  “This has nothing to do with the hotel or the protests. Really, we should talk about this somewhere else.”

  Ian glanced at the crowd that was growing larger by the minute. “Follow me.”

  Rory looked over at Hulbert who inclined his head, silently urging her to go, apparently as interested in what was going on as she was.

  Ian led the detective and Nixie, who insisted on going along, into an empty ballroom nearby. Rory caught Liz’s eye and the two of them followed, stationing themselves outside the half-open ballroom door to listen.

  “Okay, what’s this about?” the hotel manager said.

  “It’s about a hit-and-run in the Seattle area three years ago. The victim was...” a pause where Rory pictured th
e detective consulting his notes, “...an Esmerelda Downs. It’s come to our attention you might know something about the accident.”

  “Three years, did you say? That was a long time ago. How do you expect anyone to remember the details of their lives so far back?”

  “Let’s start with whether or not you were living in Washington state at that time,” the detective calmly said.

  “Yes, I was living there. I moved to California with my son after my wife died two years ago. Why do you think I know anything about an accident that killed an elderly woman?”

  “I didn’t say how old the woman was.”

  “Esmerelda’s a rather old-fashioned name. I just assumed...” Ian cleared his throat. “You still haven’t told me why you think I was involved.”

  “New evidence has come to light that indicates you were driving the car that night.”

  “What kind of evidence?”

  “An eyewitness places you in the car.”

  “After all this time?” Ian’s tone of voice conveyed his disbelief.

  “She’s quite adamant about it.”

  “You need more proof than that.”

  “I talked with the police in Seattle. They recently tracked down the car involved. At the time it was registered to you.”

  Rory cautiously poked her head around the partially open door so she could see inside the ballroom.

  Ian’s shoulders sagged. He sat down on a nearby chair and buried his head in his hands. Finally, he looked up and said, “I’m done trying to cover this up. It’s about time I told the truth. It’s been weighing on my mind for a long time now.”

  “So you’re confessing?” Detective Green said.

  “That’s right. I hit that woman, and I’m prepared to take the consequences. I was drunk and had no business driving. It’s no excuse, but my wife had just died and I was upset. At the time, I wasn’t even sure I’d hit someone. Then I saw the news the next day and realized what had happened. It’s the one thing I never made amends for. It’s about time I did.” He took a deep breath and stood up.