Making a puffing sound with her lips Peggy Kinley settled onto the other end of the couch. “Day off. That asshole cut back my hours.” She opened a packet of artificial sugar and daintily sprinkled it into her coffee cup, shrugging in resignation. “At least I have some time to get errands done so I can be with my kids more. They’re in school now.”
Miranda cast a glance at the photos along the white fireplace in the corner. A young boy and girl were featured in most of them, but there was a man in them, too.”
“Are you married?”
“Oh, yes. Going on nine years. Ken’s a firefighter. He’s at the station now. They go in twenty-four hour shifts, so I’m on my own today.”
“I see.”
Miranda sipped her coffee—hers was black, of course—and took in Peggy Kinley’s long blond hair and trim tan body. She smelled of an orangey body mist and had on tight white shorts and a pink top that didn’t hide the fact she was well-endowed. She had a lot of similarities with Hannah Kaye. Friendly, talkative, trusting. Too trusting maybe.
“So tell me what you know about this man.” Once again Miranda took out Drew’s license and showed it to Mrs. Kinley.
She watched the woman’s face.
A crease formed between her large brown eyes and the ends of her lips twisted a bit.
“Why, that’s Tommy Drew. Mr. Phelps didn’t mention he had anything to do with your case.”
“How do you remember him, Mrs. Kinley?”
“Oh, call me Peg. Everybody does. How do I remember him?” She grimaced a little more as she studied the photo. “He was a nice enough guy when he started, I supposed.”
“Do you remember when that was?”
She tilted her head. “Had to be back in February. That’s when Mr. Phelps always brings on new truckers to train for the year.”
So Drew hadn’t been with the company long.
“Anything in particular you remember about Drew?”
“About Tommy?” she fiddled with her coffee cup. “I don’t really have much to do with the warehouse workers. Except on payday.”
Didn’t want to talk about it. Miranda was familiar with the avoidance techniques. “Phelps mentioned Drew didn’t pick up his last check.”
“Oh, yes. That’s right. He didn’t come in to work one day. And he never picked it up after that. I mailed it to his address but it came back.”
That was a disturbing thought. “Did you mail it to the address on that license?”
Peg studied the data on the card and seemed relieved not to be looking at the photo any longer. “I’m pretty sure that’s it. I’d have to look at his old file to be sure.”
“That’s okay,” Miranda said.
A new address would have popped on the background check she’d run last night. She’d find out what the deal with the address was when she visited Drew herself in the next little while.
With an awkward smile Peg handed the card back to her as if it were a dirty rag.
Miranda fixed the woman with her gaze. She didn’t want to miss any telltale signs, though she’d already seen plenty. “Is there anything else you remember about Drew, Peg?”
“Well…”
“It would really help my investigation.”
She gave a quick nod and took in a breath. “Drew could be awfully…friendly at times.”
“Friendly how?” Miranda asked trying not to sound like a bulldog.
Her hands folded on her lap, Peg shifted her weight. “He’d hang around my office a lot, linger in my doorway. He used to bring me coffee, too.” Now Peg’s eyes showed real apprehension. “He knew just how I took it. A little cream and one packet of artificial sugar. I hadn’t told him that. It seemed a little…”
“Creepy?”
She nodded.
The bastard had stalked her. Right where she worked. Miranda felt her stomach go hard. But there was more. “What else?”
“Well, for a while, he kept doing that. I kept dropping hints to go away. Telling him I had payroll to get out. Reminding him he had a delivery. Talking about Ken.”
“How did he react?”
“He just kept standing there, staring at me. Well, eventually he’d go in the back and do his work, but the next day he’d be back in my door.”
Looked like Tommy Drew was more than a creep. “Did you ever tell your husband about it?”
Peg’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, no. Ken would have beaten the crap out of him.”
Couldn’t have that. “What did you do?”
“Nothing at first. But Drew just kept on. So after a while, I told Mr. Phelps about it.”
“What happened?”
“He told me Drew wouldn’t be bothering me again. I think he took him in his office and read him the riot act. I heard yelling coming through his wall when I passed by that day. Not that that’s unusual.”
“Did Drew stop bothering you then?”
She nodded. “Yes, but…”
Peg was rubbing her hands now. Had to be a disturbing experience and it didn’t look like she was quite over it.
Miranda waited for her to say more.
Finally, she took a deep breath. “The day before I talked to Mr. Phelps he…” She stared down at the coffee table. “I was concentrating hard, working on my computer like usual. And when I looked up, he was right there, leaning over my shoulder.”
Miranda felt a shiver go down her own spine. She wanted to teach this lady some self defense moves.
“He said I smelled of strawberries. I stopped wearing that scent.”
Funny how mentally invasive a predator can be. She knew only too well.
Miranda decided she’d distressed the woman enough. She started to rise. “Thank you for your time, Peg. I’m sorry to bring back bad memories.”
“No, I want to help.” She reached out for Miranda’s hand. Her voice had a desperate tone.
Miranda sat again. “Is there anything else you want to tell me? Anything that would help my investigation?”
Peg let her go and rubbed her arms. Then she took a sip of coffee to fortify herself. “It’s just that…”
“What?”
“Maybe it was my imagination. But that day Drew came into my office and got so close to me?”
“Yes?”
“Well, I had thought he had some kind of crush on me, but that time…” She shook her head.
Miranda waited.
“That time? The look in his eyes?”
“What about it?”
“He looked like he wanted to kill me.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It wasn’t looking good for Hannah Kaye, Miranda thought as she turned onto North Decatur and headed back to Ponce.
She could still feel the disgust and fear she’d picked up from Peggy Kinley. The poor woman. Though Phelps had to be a jerk to work for, at least he’d stuck up for her. The bookkeeper could have been attacked on her way out to the parking lot. If the timing had been a little different, she could have been looking for Peggy Kinley now as well as Hannah Kaye.
A hard core of resolve balled up like a fist in her gut.
The one she always felt when she knew someone was in trouble. When someone else needed to pay for what he’d done to others. This was why she did this work. This was why she’d give up everything to keep doing it. Why she had given up everything, even the man she loved.
No need to think about that now. She had to stay focused.
So Tommy Drew liked blondes. Leggy blondes. Tan or pale skinned blondes with good figures who liked to show them off, maybe a little too much. She thought back to her training and her knowledge of serial killers. The mission oriented ones who focused on ridding the world of a certain type. Usually prostitutes. Or women they imagined were prostitutes.
Was that what she was dealing with?
She hoped not.
Still as she cruised through the shady tree-lined neighborhood on her way to the high-rise, she felt for her Berretta in the shoulder holster she’d slipped under he
r jacket this morning.
It was loaded, she’d already checked. But she’d make sure to check it again before she faced Tommy Drew.
Rising up from a cluster of sprawling trees with thick feathery leaves, Thomas Anthony Drew’s apartment building was the tallest of it neighbors in this area of Midtown.
Nestled among shops and restaurants that strove to provide an eclectic experience to their clientele, it seemed too pricey for a truck driver. Especially an out-of-work one. But she didn’t know the whole story on that yet, Miranda reminded herself, as she found a parking spot along a side street and climbed out of her car.
The smell of rain was in the air and the temperature was dropping lower. Might be down to seventy-eight. As much as she welcomed the relief from the heat she hoped she wouldn’t get soaked before she could talk to Tommy Drew. Wouldn’t be too intimidating.
But on the bright side, this place wasn’t too far from her own. Maybe she’d find Hannah Kaye, wrap up this case, and be back home in time for a late lunch.
Somehow she didn’t think she’d get that lucky.
She had to hoof it around the block but the entrance to the place was easy to find, and she smoothly followed a resident inside and rode the elevator up to the ninth floor.
So far, so good.
On the ninth floor she made her way through a light colored quadrangle of halls until she reached apartment nine-twenty-nine. This was the place. The address on the driver’s license. The one where Peggy Kinley had sent Drew’s last paycheck.
Taking a deep breath, Miranda made sure her Berretta was in easy reach and knocked.
No answer.
Okay, maybe he was taking a bath. She knocked again. And waited a little longer.
Still no answer.
This didn’t bode well. Maybe he and Hannah had had a big night and they were deep sleepers. Sure, that was it.
She knocked again, this time harder. Again she waited.
Nothing.
Tapping her foot, she stared at the peephole. The creepy dude could be on the other side staring back at her. Maybe she should get the manager to let her in. Then she thought of what Parker would do in a situation like this. What she’d seen him do any number of times.
She looked up the hall, down it. Nobody there. She hadn’t seen a soul since she got off the elevator. That could be good or bad. But instead of weighing the pros and cons she reached into her pocket and took out her trusty picks.
The sharp thin one would work for this. She stuck it between the jamb and the latch and presto—the door opened for her.
She pushed it open a little farther and peeked inside. There was a short alcove with a cutout space holding a vase of flowers on one side, a partial view of living room on the other.
“Mr. Drew?” she called out.
No reply.
Leaving the door ajar she took a step onto the polished walnut floor and listened hard. All she heard was the hum of the A/C.
As she took another tentative step, she reached for her Beretta and held it at her side. Better safe than sorry.
“Mr. Drew,” she called again.
Still no answer.
She tiptoed around the corner and stepped into the living room. Empty.
The place was on the tiny side but still fancy. Hardwood floors throughout. Open kitchen along the side with granite counters, stainless steel fridge and dishwasher. Lime and tangerine tones accented the generic eggshell of the walls. She’d painted a number of apartments with the bland color in her day.
Lots of generic pictures on the walls to match the generic furniture. Big screen TV opposite the doors leading to the balcony.
She crossed the room to a small hallway and found the bath, the single bedroom with the single bed. It had been carefully made with a spread matching the décor and throw pillows arranged just so.
No dead bodies. Or live ones either. The place was vacant.
Everything was neat and tidy. Not a book or a knickknack out of place. And this was supposed to be a bachelor pad?
It didn’t look very lived it at all. In fact, it looked…staged.
Then it hit her. It was staged. This wasn’t somebody’s apartment. This was a model.
She crossed back to the outer door, closed it as she left and headed back to the elevators. She was going to hunt up the apartment manager and find out where Thomas Anthony Drew had moved.
Chapter Thirty
Parker felt the familiar stab of irritation in his gut as he rode down the elevator of the Imperial Building.
He’d had another restless night after his date with Wilhelmina Todd and what Dave Becker had discovered on the surveillance recording last night. He’d managed to stay away from the whiskey bottle but he’d tossed and turned all night, hungry for pursuit.
And now he was behind on following up this new lead.
Just as he had arrived at the office Gen had called to remind him of his meeting with Don Peregrin this morning. The client had been so pleased with the work Dave Becker had done, he wanted to expand security arrangements to all his dealerships throughout the state. It was a big job and the meeting had dragged on. There had been a good bit of planning and discussion over the breakfast of coffee and Danishes Gen had had brought in. And after Peregrin had left, Parker had met with Gen and Judd to discuss the need to hire more technical personnel—a commodity always in demand in Atlanta. Prospective employees would need a forensics background and be willing to go through the training the Agency provided. They had decided to put out ads and start scheduling interviews.
Another time commitment.
Not that any of this was bad. It was wonderful that the company he’d built from the ground up was prospering more than he’d ever imagined it would.
But this morning all Parker wanted to do was learn more about the man on the surveillance recording he’d seen last night. The man named Gabriel. The man who had tampered with Miranda’s cell phone.
He reached the ground floor and made his way through the lobby to the glass doors with the etched phoenix of Gypsum Management. He’d never quite understood the connection of a phoenix with gypsum or with office building maintenance, but logo design wasn’t what he had come here to discuss.
A well-groomed male receptionist greeted him at the counter with a clean white smile. “Mr. Parker. How good to see you this morning. Ms. Westbrook is expecting you. Please step this way.”
Parker had called as soon as the office opened that morning and had made an appointment with Diana Westbrook—which he’d had to change after Gen’s reminder.
The receptionist gestured through a door and Parker stepped onto the forest green carpet and took in the mauve walls and paintings of the sedate office.
Diana rose from her desk and extended a hand. “Good morning, Wade. It’s good to see you.”
She was a handsome woman. Dressed in a black and summer yellow business suit that few women could wear, her short dark red hair was demurely styled and her bright green eyes were as welcoming as he remembered them.
She was a few years younger than himself. She’d managed this building ever since he’d moved in, and they’d had a good business relationship and a casual social one for years.
She did her job efficiently, quietly and he’d never had an occasion to complain. His rare visits to her office were purely formality.
He felt a bit awkward bringing up the matter he’d come to discuss.
“And you, Diana.” Parker shook her hand and waited for her to sit before he took the guest chair. “How are your sons doing?”
“Well, thank you for asking. Roger is in law school and James is out in California documenting surfers. I never thought he’d make a go of a surfing blog but a parent can’t argue with success.”
“No, we can’t.”
“Gen’s doing well, I presume?”
“Yes. She’s fine.” His heart softened at the mention of his daughter. He suddenly realized how much Gen’s stubborn strength had been holding him up these past
weeks.
“The fall fundraiser is coming up soon. Is that what you’ve stopped by about?”
“Actually, no.” He usually had no problem making requests for information but this time… “I’m not sure how to say this, Diana.”
She blinked at him, her warm smile disappearing. “Is something wrong? Is there a problem with the building? I’m sure it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”
It was the response of a manager not wanting to lose a steady customer.
Parker shook his head. “Nothing with the building. But there seems to be an issue with personnel.”
“Personnel?”
“The cleaning staff in particular.”
“Are they not doing their job? Neglecting your break room? Leaving unemptied trash cans? Gloria’s in charge of that department. I can call her in.” She picked up her phone.
Parker gestured for her to put down her cell. “It isn’t that.”
“What is it then, Wade?”
“One of our employees has experienced a security breech.”
Her expressive brows drew together in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“As you may recall, I had surveillance cameras installed some years ago.” Though notice wasn’t required, he had informed Diana of his decision at the time out of respect.
“I remember that. But that issue was resolved.”
“Yes. However, one of my technicians and I were going over the recordings last night and found something disturbing involving one of your cleaning people.”
“What did you find?”
“It seems this employee tampered with someone’s cell phone. Since then, my employee has received several threatening texts.”
Her eyes went wide. “And you think my employee is sending them?”
“Possibly. My receptionist was also working late last night and recognized him on the recording. She said his name was Gabriel.”
She shook her head. “I’m not familiar with that name. We do get a good bit of turnover on our cleaning staff.”
“I understand. The recording is dated the last week of January.” He reached for his cell. “In fact, I have a clip of it here to show you.” He had asked Dave to put it on his phone this morning.
Smoke Screen (A Miranda and Parker Mystery Book 7) Page 16