I parked on the shadowy street and waited a minute. The house stayed dark. I hopped out and hurried up a brick walkway to the front door. I pressed the doorbell and waited. A moment later, the porch light went on and Vanderkamp opened the door. He gave me a blank stare.
“We need to talk,” I said bluntly, “and not about my mother’s health care, either.”
“Who are you?” Then recognition crossed his face. “What’re you doing here?”
“I want to know about your Medicare scam.”
His jaw dropped. “You need to leave.”
He tried to slam the door, but I put out my hand and stopped it.
“You can’t run anymore,” I said. “I’ve talked to Shepherd. I know what’s going on.” Okay, I didn’t know everything, but I knew enough.
“Get in here,” he suddenly said.
He opened the door wide and I stumbled forward and caught myself. So unlike Bogie. I righted myself and stepped into a large, dimly lit foyer. To the left was a wide archway, and just behind him were stairs. He slammed the door shut and whirled around.
“What do you know?” he snapped. He was surly and smelled like booze.
“You’ve been overbilling Medicare, and your partners found out.”
He started to say something, then shook his head and stomped past me. I followed him past the stairs and down a hallway to a huge kitchen. A big window above a sink in the corner had the blinds drawn, and a lone light above the window barely lit the room. Other than that, the house was dark and silent. He stood at a big square island in the center of the kitchen, where a bottle of Scotch and a half-full glass sat.
He hadn’t wasted any time when he got home.
He pointed at the bottle. “You want a drink?”
“No, thanks.”
He picked up the glass and downed the rest of the Scotch, then poured another glass. “How’d you find out all this?” he asked.
“It’s a long story,” I said. “Shepherd hired me. He told me about your Medicare scam, and I’ve done a bit of research. All the evidence is there.” I held back on the weird pieces of the investigation, like thinking Shepherd was Hinton.
“Yeah, but did Bernie tell you he and Pete stole the money from me?”
I nodded. “Now the thing is, who’d you hire to kill them?”
His eyebrows scrunched together. “What’re you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb. You had Hinton killed, and now someone’s after Shepherd.”
“How do you know about Hinton?”
“Quit stalling.”
“I didn’t hire anybody.”
“What?” I scrutinized him carefully.
“You’ve got it all wrong. They killed Pete, and now they’re after me.”
I stared at him. He seemed sincere, but a good crook is a good liar.
“Who’s they?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I’d just found out the money was missing, and then this guy shows up at my office and says that if I don’t get the money back, it’s going to go bad for me.”
“Who was he?”
He shrugged. “I was supposed to split it.” He picked up his glass and drained it.
“Hey, go easy,” I said. “Split what?”
He let out a snort. “It’s too late now. They’re going to kill me if I can’t get the money back. And how am I going to do that? Pete’s dead, and I can’t find Bernie.”
“You’ve been looking for Bernie?”
“Ever since that guy came to my office.” He cursed. “Oh man, am I in trouble.” Then he slammed his glass on the granite countertop and it shattered. Shards of glass scattered on the island and the floor. He ignored that, cursed again, and glanced at his hand, where a small cut was oozing blood. “I can’t believe Bernie and Pete screwed me over.”
“But you were screwing them over,” I said pointedly.
“No. If the government found out, they’d be okay.”
“But they’d be investigated, and their reputations possibly ruined, and you’d be gone.”
He shrugged again.
“Why do these guys want the money you stole? Who are they? Were they helping you get Medicare numbers?” I fired off the questions.
He glared at me. “I told you I don’t know who they are, but they must’ve known I took all the money.”
“What do you mean, you took it all?”
“I was supposed to split it,” he repeated, “but I didn’t!”
“With them?”
He shook his head. “You don’t understand. It’s–” He suddenly stopped. “Did you hear that?”
I glanced around and listened. Silence. “Is anyone else here?”
He shook his head. “My wife is out of town.”
“You sent her away?”
He hesitated. “I’m in danger, and that means she is, too. I don’t know what he’ll do.”
“He who?” I said, exasperated.
He held up a hand. “Be quiet.”
I started to say something, but he gave me such a fierce look I shut my mouth. He took two quick steps to the sink and flipped a switch. The light above the window winked out and the kitchen fell into darkness, just a faint glow coming from the cracks in the window blinds. Then a shadow passed by and we both froze.
“He’s here!” Vanderkamp hissed.
I ducked down behind the island and pulled out my Glock.
“Stay with me,” I whispered as I stood up.
Nothing.
I peered into the darkness.
“Vanderkamp?” I murmured.
He was gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Where the hell did he go? I thought frantically.
Something rattled. I dropped to my knees and peered around the island. Next to the kitchen was a nook with a table and chairs. A glass door behind the table led to what I assumed was the backyard. Standing on the other side of the door was a hulking figure. He cupped a hand against the glass and stared into the house. Then he stepped back and I saw his profile and big nose. The Slav!
I swore silently as I held up the Glock and waited for his next move. He peered into the window again, and I didn’t move. Then I wondered if I heard something, like a creak of a floorboard. I wanted to look, but didn’t dare draw attention to myself. He finally backed away and I couldn’t see him anymore. My heart raced as I spun around and crawled to the other side of the island. I listened for a moment, but the sound I’d heard didn’t repeat itself.
“Marshall?” I whispered.
Nothing.
Where the hell did he go?
I noticed an archway that led to another room. Maybe Vanderkamp had gone through there. I raised up and peeked over the island. I couldn’t see the Slav, so I dashed toward the archway. Glass crunched under my feet, like a firecracker in the silence. I slid around the corner, ducked down, and pressed myself against the wall. I was in a dining room that had a long table and chairs, and a big hutch against one wall. A square of moonlight from a large window lit the room in a soft glow, and I glanced around. No Vanderkamp. I continued through another doorway into a living room. I ducked behind a wingback chair and studied the room. Empty.
“Marshall?” I hissed again.
On the other side of the room was a large bay window. I made sure the Slav wasn’t looking in, then I scooted my shoe across the carpet to wipe off any shards from Vanderkamp’s broken glass. Once I was sure the glass was gone, I cut across the room, past an oversized couch, and sidled up to another doorway. I raised the Glock and poked my head around the corner. I was back at the front foyer. A sliver of moonlight came through a crack in the front door.
I knew Vanderkamp had closed the door after I’d come in, and now that I thought about it, he hadn’t locked it behind him. So had he gone out, or had the Slav come in? I silently cursed again. I listened for a moment, but heard only the sound of blood pumping in my chest. Something creaked again, and I almost jumped out of my skin as the front door moved an inch. I aimed the G
lock at the door and waited, but nothing happened. Then the door moved a millimeter again.
Just a breeze. I let out a slow breath.
I waited a moment longer, then tiptoed across the foyer, stood behind the door and listened. I thought I heard a voice, but I couldn’t be sure. A car drove by, and I waited until it was gone, then glanced out through the crack into the yard. The street was still.
Where had that guy gone? I wondered. And where was Vanderkamp?
I hesitated for a second, then opened the door wider and slipped outside. I left the door open a crack, dashed to the edge of the porch, and looked toward the garage. I didn’t see anyone, so I raced across the drive to the other side, then peeked around the corner. Bushes and a tall maple tree grew near the house. All was dark and quiet. I looked around for movement, and when I saw none, I followed along the side of the garage toward the back of the house. There was no fence, and I was soon in the backyard. I sneaked along the side of the house and up to a large deck. I crouched down and waited, then made my way across the deck, careful not to stumble over some furniture. I paused near a barbecue, wary that the Slav might be nearby. But I needn’t have worried. He was nowhere around. And neither was Vanderkamp.
I hurried around the other side of the house and back to the front porch, where I could see the door. It hadn’t been opened, so I stole back onto the porch and let myself in the house. It was deathly silent. I whispered for Vanderkamp again, but received no reply.
By now, I figured both Vanderkamp and the other guy were long gone. But I had to be sure, so I took out my phone and used its flashlight feature to search the house. It took me a few minutes to check out the five bedrooms, an office and a full-size basement, but nobody was around. I checked the garage last. It had three stalls, with a white Escalade SUV and a Honda Pilot in two of them. There was no way Vanderkamp had taken a third car and left. I would’ve heard the garage door open and a car start up. That meant that either he was on foot, or the Slav had gotten him.
I grimaced as I made my way back to the foyer. I cracked the door open and looked out, then let myself out the front, this time locking and closing the door. I waited a second, then made a mad dash for my car. I got in and drove around the neighborhood. If Vanderkamp was on foot, maybe I could catch him, but he was long gone. I finally drove back to Hampden, and as I headed for home, I called Shepherd.
“Yeah?” he answered a moment later.
“Vanderkamp’s on the move,” I said, and told him what had just happened.
“Oh, man,” he groaned when I finished. “They’re going to kill him, and then me.”
“I don’t know if that guy got to Vanderkamp or not,” I said, “but you need to stay out of sight. You may have two guys looking for you now. Don’t leave any lights on, and if you hear anything, call the police.”
“And tell them what?” he snapped.
“Tell them everything,” I said. “That’s better than being killed, right?”
He exhaled loudly, and then said, “What’re you going to do?”
I thought for a moment and a plan formed in my mind. “I’m going to find this guy who’s after you and Vanderkamp.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“How’re you going to do that?” Shepherd asked.
“This guy’s staying at the downtown Westin,” I said as I turned north on University Boulevard, “if he hasn’t checked out yet. I’ll wait until I see him, and then I’ll have a talk with him.”
“You’ll what? This guy’s dangerous.”
“He’s not after me: he’s after you.”
“And you think he’ll want to talk to you?”
“No, but I’m going to offer him a deal. I’ll get him his money back, and in exchange, he agrees to leave you alone.”
“You think he’ll just go for that?”
“Of course not. But he wants to get his money, so he’ll play along. Once he gets what he wants, he’ll try to find you and kill you, so you’ll have to stay hidden until we can involve the police.”
“How does this help me?” he said in a screech.
“It doesn’t, except that it keeps you alive,” I said. “Listen, I’m tired of playing these games with you and Vanderkamp, so I’m taking the bull by the horns. I’ll record my conversation with this guy, and I’ll finesse him into telling me what’s going on. Once I have that, I’ll call the police and let them take over. They’ll go after this guy, and then you’ll be safe.” I made it sound easy, but would it turn out that way? I could only hope so.
He didn’t say anything for a minute. “The police will want to talk to me.”
“I would imagine so. It’s time for you to come clean.”
“You’re right,” he said halfheartedly. “What about Marshall?”
I didn’t say anything for a long moment. “If this guy already got Vanderkamp, there’s nothing I can do.”
“Oh, man,” Shepherd said slowly. “Wait, did you already call the police?”
“And tell them what? I don’t know if Vanderkamp left on his own or if this guy got to him. If I call the police, the most they would do is drive by the house and do a welfare check. And since there wasn’t any foul play, they won’t find anything.”
“I see,” he murmured.
“I also need you to text me the account information for the money.”
“You won’t be able to get at it,” he said. “I’ll have to do it.”
“Give it to me anyway.”
I didn’t tell him that I didn’t trust him, and that I could get Cal to transfer the money somewhere else, if I needed him to.
“Fine,” he reluctantly agreed.
“There’s one other thing,” I said.
“What?”
“Vanderkamp denies hiring this guy to come after you.”
“So?”
“So, you don’t have any idea who this man is?”
“I told you I didn’t.”
“You could be lying.”
“I’m not,” he said.
I believed him. “Fine. I’ll be in touch soon. Make sure you answer the phone when I call.”
“I will.”
I ended the call, and as I drove home, a question kept rattling around in my brain: who were they that Vanderkamp was so worried about? I let that percolate in my subconscious and called Willie to tell her I’d be there soon. After that, my phone signaled that a text had come in. I glanced at it. Shepherd had sent his account information. Now I could see if Cal could get at the account. I put my phone away and tried to relax, but couldn’t. I was missing something in all this, and I couldn’t figure out what.
***
When I arrived in my neighborhood, I drove around and searched for the Slav. I didn’t think he’d be around, since I figured he’d be dealing with Vanderkamp, but I wasn’t taking any chances. After driving up and down a few blocks, I hadn’t seen him, his sedan, or any other suspicious cars, so I parked on the next street over from my place and walked through the alley behind Darcy’s apartment building. I let myself in the back, took the stairs to the second floor, and quietly tapped on Darcy’s door.
“Hey, sugar,” Darcy said when she opened the door. She was a curvy African-American woman with dark eyes and an infectious smile. “Is everything okay?” she asked as she stepped back to let me in.
I nodded. “I’d rather be safe than sorry, though.”
Willie popped her head out of the kitchen. “Hey, hon.”
I walked over and gave her a big hug. “Have you been keeping an eye on our building?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see that guy with the big nose when you came home from work?”
She shook her head. “It’s been quiet.”
“I think he’s got his hands full tonight,” I said, thinking about Vanderkamp, “but I’d feel better if you stayed here for now.”
“She can stay as long as she wants,” Darcy said. “We can take care of ourselves.”
“Then it’s settled.” Willie p
ut her hands on her hips. “What’re you going to do?”
“I’ll stay in the condo,” I said. “I’m trying to smoke this guy out so I can talk to him, so if he’s watching our place, he might try to talk to me.”
Willie’s lips twitched into a frown, but she didn’t argue.
“Do you work tomorrow?” I asked. It would be Saturday, but Willie had an odd work schedule, so I always had to be reminded about which days she worked in any given week.
She shook her head. “I’m off.”
“We can hang out here,” Darcy said. “Maybe do some shopping.”
“Good.” I kissed Willie. “I’ll keep in touch.”
“You better,” she said.
I lingered for a while and talked with them, and then finally pulled myself away. I didn’t want to leave them, but I needed some sleep. And part of me hoped that the Slav would show up at the condo so I could confront him.
When I got back to the condo, I went right to my office and called Cal.
“What’s up, O Great Detective?” he answered.
“If I give you a bank account in the Caymans, would you be able to access the money?”
“You have the account number?”
“Yeah, I’ve got it.”
“Then it shouldn’t be a problem. Now if you didn’t, that would be much harder. They have a lot of safeguards against hackers.”
“I’ll email you the info,” I said as I logged onto my computer. “I may need you to transfer it into a different account.”
“What’s going on?”
I told him about my plan to scare up the Slav.
“What if he’s not at the hotel?” he asked when I finished.
I pursed my lips. “I don’t know.”
“And if you do find him, and he tells you enough that you can go to the police, that’s it? He won’t come after you anymore?” Sarcasm dripped from his voice.
Road Blocked: A Reed Ferguson Mystery (A Private Investigator Mystery Series - Crime Suspense Thriller Book 13) Page 14