MYSTERY SUSPENSE: Boxset

by B. A. Savage

  “Detective Lorenzo, don't forget to have CSI dust the other cars for prints and make sure they dust the back door." Lieutenant Morgan said.

  "Okay, boss, the ME wants to know if he can take the body."

  "Might as well. We were not going to find anything keeping him here."

  "Hey, Vic."

  "Hey, Randall, what are you doing here?"

  "Seen the street blocked off from Armstrong Mill. Just wondering what's going on."

  "Someone knocked off Rob Wayans, you know him?"

  "Yes, the guy who owns The Bar. I heard about it, someone told me you think a woman killed him."

  "Could be, where did you hear that?"

  "She’s a singer over at The Bar, Sally Wilson."

  "Oh, Sally, she's clear. She was home right up to noon, and she can prove it. The shooting happened a little bit before noon an hour ago. It was a woman, alright."

  "What makes you so sure?"

  "The neighbors saw a woman walking out of the house seconds after hearing gunfire. They said she was young, maybe a blonde. There was also lipstick on the wine glasses."

  "Any fingerprints?"

  "Yes, but we haven't processed them yet."

  "Do you have any idea who it might be?"

  "Well, we thought it could be Rebecca Young."

  "Isn't she one of his girlfriends?"

  "Yes, but she left town Monday for New York."

  "Excuse me, Lieutenant, but we just got a hold of Mister Wayans’ bouncer."

  "What did he say, Lorenzo?"

  "Mister Wayne took $100,000 in small bills out of the safe last night."

  "What time did this happen?"

  "About 2 am, he had in a brown paper bag."

  "Has a brown paper bag turned up?"

  "No, sir, I don't think so. But that gives us another angle to work."

  "Okay, Lorenzo, pass the word to the boys. Randall, are you sure you were just driving down River Park?"

  "Yes, I'm sure, Lieutenant. Look, I'll see you later."

  "Wait a minute, Randall. I know about your professional ethics between a client and a private detective. I want you to tell me the truth."

  "You got the truth, my friend. Bye, Lieutenant."

  Chapter Six

  Because the lieutenant hadn't mentioned Kevin Smith, I didn't see any reason I should. My next step is to check the name of the classified we found in Kevin's home.

  The Elite Entertainment was located on Sun Dart Drive. The door is locked. I rang the doorbell, sending a music tone echoing through the building. Moments later, a gentleman answered the door.

  "My name is Randall Stone. I would like to talk to Mister Bailey."

  “I’m Ben Bailey. Can I help you?”

  "I am not exactly sure but is this woman in the picture Sally Wilson?" I asked.

  "Yes, Mister Stone, she is one of our clients. But this picture isn't what you come to talk about, is it?"

  "Yes, what is Miss Wilson's home address?"

  "What did you say?"

  "I said I needed her home address, it's very important."

  "That's private. I can't give you a client's address, without their permission. Look, Mister Stone, what’s this all about?"

  "I’m talking about murder, Mister Bailey, cold-blooded, murder. Now are you going to give me her address or do I haul your ass downtown?"

  "For what, I didn't kill anyone."

  "Yes, but I can have you arrested for interfering with a murder investigation."

  "Well, I will call my attorney."

  "You tell him to meet you at headquarters because you are coming with me."

  I grabbed his arm.

  "Wait a minute, Mister Stone, while I get her address."

  His hands are trembling as he walks away. A moment later, he's back.

  "Here it is, Mister Stone."

  "Thank you, Mister Bailey. Now, one last thing, don't call her after I leave unless you want me to come back."

  "No, sir, don't worry, I won't."

  Chapter Seven

  I left Elite Entertainment with the owner, Ben Bailey's, mouth hanging open. I drove down Winchester Road to West Vine Street, where the Towers overlooked the city.

  Sally Wilson wasn’t living badly for a singer in an illegal after-hours joint. The monthly rent for one bedroom in the Towers started at $2,500. Someone was trading monthly rent for sexual favors, and I had a good idea who.

  I parked my truck in the visitor's lot and took the elevator to the third floor. Sally’s apartment was the last door on the right.

  I put my ear to the door and it was quiet. I tried the knob, and the door was open. I knocked on the door hard enough to swing it open.

  "Sally Wilson, it’s Randall Stone, are you home?" I called, walking through the living room.

  The cry for help sounded like it came from the bottom of a well. As I walked back to the bedroom, I notice it’s coming from the closet. When I opened the door, Sally is hogtied on the floor, with her mouth covered with duct tape. I untied her and gently removed the tape from her lips.

  "He was after the money." she cried.

  "Sally, what are you talking about?"

  "Stone, I didn't know him. There he is," She pointed at the living room. I turn to see Kevin Smith standing in the doorway.

  "Kevin, stop," I yelled.

  He was hiding behind the door when I walked into the apartment. I move closer to him, and he picked up a chair and threw it. I ducked as the chair shattered against the wall. I make it to the hallway just as the elevator door was closing. I take the stairs and race down to the lobby. I got out on the street in time to see Kevin with a brown paper bag, climbing into a taxi. I ran to my car to follow, but that was as far as I got. I’m stopped cold by a shapely blonde with a pistol in her hand and wide rimmed, dark sunglasses covering her eyes.

  "Be a nice boy, honey, and shut off that car." she said.

  "Wait a minute, who are you?"

  She sticks the barrel against my chin. "I'll ask the questions, if you don't mind. Why are you chasing that fellow?"

  "I'm trying to keep him out of trouble, believe it or not."

  "Well, that’s strange, so am I. But you want to catch him, and I want to let him get away."

  "Why do you want him to get away?"

  "We have big plans that don't include you. Now why don't you just give me the keys?"

  "You want the keys to my car?"

  "Yes, come on, give me the keys or I will shoot you right between those pretty brown eyes."

  The sign of a killer was a steady hand and from the looks of the evil smile on the blonde’s face, she was serious. If I were a betting man, I would say I'm looking at a woman who's killed before. I put the keys in her hand.

  "Good boy, now don't try anything stupid. Don't worry, honey, I'll leave your car a few blocks down Vine Street."

  She throws me a kiss and drives away.

  Chapter Eight

  Park my car a few blocks away, my ass. Something didn't smell right, and it wasn't my underarms. I took the elevator back to Sally Wilson's apartment. I had a bone to pick with Miss Wilson. Why does she have the money of a dead man? And what were Kevin Smith and the blonde’s connection to the money?

  The door was open, and she was standing in the living room, smoking a cigarette.

  "Did you catch him?"

  "No, I didn't. This leaves me and you having a little talk about the money. You work for Rob Waynes, but what else do you do for him?"

  "Just a minute, Stone. I don't see what business it is of yours."

  "I'm sure the cops would be interested to know why you have a dead man's money."

  "The cops have already talked with me. I have an alibi."

  "Yes, Sally, you may have an alibi, but you forgot to tell them about Rob's $100,000. A murdered man's money right here in your apartment."

  "Well, it wasn't going to do Rob any good, he's dead."

  "Does anyone in this case have a fucking heart?"

&nb
sp; "What?"

  "Forget about it. Does the name Carol Martin mean anything to you?"

  "No, I never heard that name before."

  "Where did you get the money?"

  "Rob gave it to me, to keep for him."

  "Why? I thought he was dating some girl."

  "Yes, her name is Rebecca Young. That was before he fell in love with me."

  "I thought Rebecca was his partner?"

  "Shit, Stone, Rebecca and Rob weren’t only partners in business, they were partners in bed. That is, until he hired me."

  "That’s not enough. There was a double cross, wasn't there? You might as well tell me the truth."

  "Alright, I didn't kill him, but if you can get that money back for me, I'll split it with you."

  "Okay, tell me about the money?"

  “The Bar was going down the toilet. Rebecca and I hit the streets and raised over $250,000 to keep it going. But Rob decided to get out of the business, take the money, and disappear. He gets rid of Rebecca by sending her to New York City on a phony business deal. He took the cash out of the safe and gave it to me to hold for him. He was going to burn the club, collect the insurance, and we were going to disappear."

  "How much is that building insured for?"

  "I was told by Rebecca that it’s insured for over 2 million dollars."

  "But, someone got to him, killed him, and left you holding the money. Then Kevin Smith steps in and takes it away from you, with the help from a blonde sporting dark sunglass." I picked up the phone.

  "Who are you calling?"

  "I’m calling a friend of mine in homicide."

  "What the hell do you want to do that for?"

  "Listen, Sally, sit down and shut up."

  "Hello, Lieutenant Morgan, homicide."

  "Vic, this is Randall. I'm at Sally Wilson's apartment."

  "You are talking about the singer from The Bar?"

  "Yes. I have a couple of things that might help with Rob Wayans’ murder investigation. A blonde in dark sunglasses has taken the $100,000."

  "Is the blonde a woman?"

  "Yes. She pulled a gun on me and took my car. You ever heard the name Carol Martin before?"

  "Yeah, but that was a long time ago. She was a low-class thief, shot and killed for resisting arrest about five years ago."

  "Did Carol have a husband?"

  "No, Randall, she was never married, but she had a son."

  "Is his name Kevin?"

  "I don't remember.”

  “Where did she live with her son?”

  “Carol lived on Bell Court, in government housing. You know, your old stomping ground.”

  "What is this Martin business about?"

  "Just something I'm trying to figure out."

  "Who’s the woman after, Rob Wayans’ money? And where did you run into her?"

  "I lost her before I could question her."

  "That's not what I asked, Randall. She matches the witness description of the woman seen leaving Wayans’ house this morning."

  "I know that, Vic, but that's all I can say right now."

  "Now, look, Randall, I'm serious. I'm going to give you just two hours to notify your client and get down here. If you don't walk through my doors in the next two hours, I'll have you arrested for withholding evidence."

  The line goes dead.

  "That's quite a tightrope you’re walking," Sally said.

  "In my line of work, you have to do it sometimes."

  "But, I'm a girl of my word. If you get that money back for me, I will split it with you. Randall, you are my only chance."

  "Sorry, Sally, I can't trust you."

  "Fuck you, Stone."

  "I love you, too, Sally," I said, walking out the door.

  Chapter Nine

  I found my car a block from Loudon Avenue. It took twenty minutes to get from there to the west end of town. Low-income housing hadn't changed much, and a lot of the residents were the same people who lived there when I was a kid.

  The manager's apartment was in the same location, the first apartment on the right. I went to the door and knocked. The door opened just enough from me to smell the whiskey on the woman's breath. She told me her name was Melissa Harper, and she had managed the building for twenty-two years. I noticed her living room needed a scrubbing, and so did she.

  "You want to know about the Martins, right?" Melissa asked.

  "Yes, they lived here, didn't they?"

  "They could have."

  "The cops got Carol Martin about five years ago."

  "That’s what I heard."

  "What happened to her son?"

  "Why?"

  "So, you do know Carol Martin."

  "I know there's always a reason for people asking questions. I don't answer the question unless you're willing to pay."

  I pulled out $20.00. "Okay, Miss Harper, what can you tell me?"

  "I can’t tell you anything for $20.00. That won't pay the taxi ride to the liquor store and back."

  I pulled out another $40.00. "Will this loosen your lips or shall I take my $60.00 to one of your tenants?"

  "That's better. Carol and her kid lived on the second floor for 15 years. Her husband, Frank, died of lung cancer the first year the couple moved here."

  "What's Carol's son’s name?"

  "His name is Kevin. He was a smart kid, always said he was getting away from here someday and be someone."

  "Tell me, what happened to him?"

  "When his mother was killed, he left, and I never saw him again."

  "You have a picture of him?"

  "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. He was 17 at the time."

  She gives me snapshots of a kid with shoulder length hair and a dirty face.

  "Wait a minute, Miss Harper, are you sure this is Kevin Martin?"

  "He lived in this dump for 15 years, yes, that's him."

  "He looks different. Kevin is supposed to get married tonight."

  "I'm sure he will make some young girl happy. I have another picture here somewhere."

  She pulls out an album covered with dust, wipes it on her dress, and sat down next to me.

  "Here he is. I took these pictures on Main Street Christmas Parade."

  "Who's the blonde with him?"

  "She's his best friend, Kathy Arnold. I always thought they would get married someday. Kathy had a hard life. Her parents were drunk all the time and let her run wild. If it weren't for Carol and me, the poor child wouldn't have had a meal at night."

  "Do you know where she is now?"

  "She sent me a letter yesterday, saying she was going to marry Rob Wayans. Here it is."

  I looked at the address, and a smile crossed my face. "She must have moved up in the world. Miss Harper thanks for the help."

  Chapter Ten

  The pictures the old lady showed me cleared up a lot of questions. But there was one more that needed an answer fast. I called Sandra Gibson and told her what I found out. I ask her to check Kevin's apartment and if he wasn't there, to meet me at The Towers. Next, I called Lieutenant Morgan and delivered the same message.

  It took me 30 minutes to get there, arriving the same time as Sandra and Morgan.

  I lead them back to Rebecca Young's apartment. The place was under Kevin Smith's name.

  Sandra stayed in the lobby and Vic and I went upstairs. I stopped from him from knocking on the door, listening to the conversation inside.

  "Thanks for the help, Rebecca. I had to get this money now more than ever." Kevin said.

  "You got it, now that girl you're going to marry will never know where you came from or who you really are. Oh, and one more thing, dear.”

  "What's that, Rebecca?"

  "I killed Rob Wayans this morning. When he put me on the plane, I knew something wasn't right. I took a taxi back to the house and saw that bitch who works at the club leaving the house with the money. I went inside, we had an argument, he told me to get out, and so I shot him. Then I remember seeing you inside The Bar
last night. I couldn’t be seen here when I'm supposed to be in New York."

  "But, you were seen by that guy who chased me earlier."

  "Who, Stone? He's a light weight. You're the only one who knows the truth."

  "I need the money, Rebecca, but I'm not getting involved with a murder. I don't care what it costs; I will not kill for it.

  "So, what are you saying, Kevin?"

  "I'm going to the police and telling them everything."

  "And you will be charged with murder."

  "I will take my chances."

  "Look, Kevin, you have the money and you have me. I thought, why don't you and I disappear with the money?"

  "No, Rebecca, I love Sandra. Why don't you take this blood money and leave me to my life?"

  "Are you going to the cops?"

  "Yes."

  "What will you tell them?"

  "I’ll tell them everything."

  "You will tell them about me?"

  "Yes."

  "Sorry, Kevin, wrong answers."

  "Rebecca, wait, no."

  "Let's go, Lieutenant." I yelled.

  We broke in the front door.

  "Alright, hold it, police," Vic yelled.

  "You’re not taking me." Rebecca screams. She snaps off two slugs. I dive behind the couch, Vic drops to one knee, capping two rounds into her chest. She's dead before she hits the floor.

  Chapter Eleven

  The check the beautiful bride slipped into my pocket was a lot more than I expected but that soft kiss on the lips put another smile on my face.

  "I can't thank you enough, Mister Stone. You have brought my Kevin back home to me." Sandra said.

  "Believe me, Miss Gibson, it was a pleasure."

  "I'll see you after the wedding, I hope."

  "I'll be right here."

  Vic gave Kevin the money because it was a gift from Rebecca Young. No charges are filed against Kevin Smith because he had nothing to do with the Rob Wayans’ murder. As for me, I'm still doing what I do best as the penny-pinching private eye, Randall Stone.