by R Weir
Chapter 9
The day was quickly getting away from me, and the turkey sandwich, orange juice and candy bar was only going to take me so far. I stopped off at a Chick-fil-A restaurant and picked up a chicken sandwich, fries and a chocolate shake. Always good to maintain a balanced diet. I headed back toward my side of town as Emily would be leaving work soon, and I would need to start the watch. Just as I thought it, my cell phone rang. It was Emily. I put on the Bluetooth headset and answered the call.
“I’m leaving now and I need to do some shopping tonight,” she said. “Clothing shopping and pick up groceries at the store. So I’m assuming you’ll want to tag along.”
“Sure. I’m just leaving Aurora now and will be on our side of town in 30-45 minutes if traffic isn’t too horrible. Should I meet you at your place?”
“That would be great. I’ll see you then.”
Oh boy, clothing shopping. One of my favorites.
No sooner did the call end then another came in. It was Mr. Sparks’s personal secretary. Apparently he was too important to call himself.
“Mr. Sparks would like to meet with you at 9AM tomorrow,” she stated.
“Let me check my schedule,” I replied, even though I knew I would be available. I just like to sound important, too. Maybe I need to get a personal secretary to answer calls! “Yes, that should work. Where shall I meet him at?”
She gave me the address over the phone. “Nine sharp!” she said. “He doesn’t like people being late for appointments. I will text you the address and time so you don’t forget.” And she hung up.
Note to self: Be a minute late tomorrow just to get on his nerves.
After the dark clouds had moved off and the sun returned, it started to cloud up again. This was routine during the summertime in Colorado. Black storm clouds might bring some much-needed rain to relieve the drought that had plagued us for several years. Steady showers were preferred so they would soak into hard bentonite red clay soil, but generally it was a downpour during these afternoon storms and the water just ran off into the storm drains. And we could do without hail, as golf- to baseball-sized was pretty common and kept the insurance companies busy for months, giving them another reason to jack up their rates.
The afternoon haul was, as usual, slow and stressful. Cars were bumper-to-bumper on most streets. One accident would snarl things up and make the drive even slower. Today wasn’t horrible, but still not going at the rate you’d like. I enjoyed my food and drink while sitting at endless lights. A steady rain started up and made the drive even slower. When stuck in traffic I often took note of the cars and the people driving them around me. Many of whom were talking or texting on cell phones, or sometimes chatting with a passenger. It was good to look around to help with my observance skills that were needed in this profession and take mental notes of make and model of the vehicle, sex, race and key features of the driver, even the surroundings on the various street corners I passed. This often helped to pass the time, but today there was no quick route home and it took close to an hour to reach Emily’s. By the time I arrived on my side of town, the rain had stopped and the streets were already dry. A normal occurrence because of the semi-arid Colorado climate.
As I pulled up she was already home. I went to the door and she let me in, greeting me happily. She was still in work clothes but soon after left the room to change. Opus the dog gave me an evil stare, so I kneeled down and let him sniff my hand. He began to lick it, and I cautiously petted the back of his head. He rolled onto his back and wanted me to rub his belly. I obliged, as his tongue hung out drooling slobber on the floor while panting merrily, his eyes in the back of his head in ecstasy. If only I could get someone to rub my belly that easily.
“I see you two have become friends,” said Emily as she walked into the room, her hair wrapped in a black bandana. She wore loose-fitting blue jeans and a white T-shirt with some logo on it that was so faded I couldn’t make it out. Her white Reebok tennis shoes appeared brand-new and worked well with her casual getup. She was one of those people that looked good in anything, and it was nice to see a woman not wearing jeans so tight it left nothing to the imagination. The skinny jeans fad didn’t really do much for me.
“Yes. He seems like a great dog. How much longer are you dog-sitting?”
“Until Friday afternoon. I’ll miss him. Almost makes me want to get a dog. But I work too many hours and it wouldn’t be fair to them. With Opus I feel I need to rush home so he can go out and go potty. I will need to walk him first before we leave. Just a quick one up the block and back. He isn’t picky about where he does his business after being in all day.”
She found the leash and Opus went hog wild in excitement, so much so she could hardly clip it to his collar, and I saw a short flash of anger in her gestures to get him to stay put. She grabbed a used plastic bag from the paper delivery and headed out. I stayed at a distance and watched. True to what she said he did his business several times, including once that required the bag. She was back in about ten minutes and set him free in the house.
“So where are we off to?” I asked.
“I want to go to Brentwood Shopping Center, which is just north on South Federal, and see if I can find a couple more power outfits for work. Then on the way back we’ll hit King Soopers grocery store. How do you want to do this? Should I ride with you, or will you follow me?”
“No sense in wasting gas and adding to the brown cloud; I’ll just drive you. If you can bear riding in my car. Not as nice as yours.”
“It’s a classic,” she said. “I always wanted a Mustang, though I’d go with the newer ones. They have some of that classic look, just in a modern package. I need the fancy conveniences like air conditioning, stereo, navigation controls, Bluetooth and built-in iPod connections.” She stopped and pulled several reusable bags out of her car and walked to mine.
I was a gentleman and opened the door for her. Actually, I figured I should open it because it sticks most of the time and was hard to open if you don’t know the secret. She said “thank you” and took her seat as I closed it and entered the driver’s side. I’d upgraded both front seats this year to nice brown leather ones, as the previous ones were pretty shot, torn in places and not very comfortable. The new ones even reclined. Of course, the newer Mustangs probably had heated seats for those cold winter drives. But somehow I made it through the day.
“So, any news today?” she asked. “You said you were going to talk to Rickie and Mark. Did either of them confess?”
“No such luck,” I replied with a smile. “Though Rickie was one of the most unpleasant people I’ve ever met. Not sure how any female could work with him. Not sure how you could have hired him?”
She made a gesture like she agreed with my statement. “He was a solid interview and came with excellent references. And he had a built-in clientele that made us money, so we were willing to overlook some of his shortcomings. But in time that wasn’t enough. He is an adolescent in a fully grown body. I’m glad he no longer works for us. The atmosphere is so much better.” She stopped to put on some lip balm. “Did you talk with Mark? How is he doing?”
Not sure how to answer, I hesitated. Saying I felt sorry for him wouldn’t endear her to me. But compared to Rickie, Mark seemed like an OK person. His head just wasn’t on straight when it came to his ex. Love, or what he thought was love, does that to some people. And he denied ever stalking her, something I didn’t plan to mention at this point.
“He appeared fine,” I answered. “Maybe a little sad. He said he was over you and moved to Canada to work for four years. That’s why he fell off the face of the earth like you mentioned. But I couldn’t help wonder how he felt deep inside. He seemed to be still carrying scars, and he showed some anger when talking about you. Also, his mother passed away around the time the stalking began, which could have been a trigger.”
Emily looked pretty sad as I told her this. I noticed even a little water in her eyes. “I did love him once, truly and
completely. He was just too controlling. I wished it could have worked but there was no way. And when he started stalking me, I grew to fear and hate him. But I’m over that now, so long as it isn’t him again. What did you think? Could it be Mark?”
We pulled into the shopping center parking lot just north of Evans on Federal, which was near capacity as usual. I found the closest spot available and parked. I turned to her and said, “I’m not sure. It could be him. Though I’d prefer it was Rickie because he was easy to dislike. I plan on doing a little bit of following of both of them over the next two days to see if it leads me anywhere. It will take some time to get to the bottom of all of this.” I tried to sound reassuring and I think it worked, as the smile returned to her face. “Why don’t you head in and I’ll follow at a distance? I can’t imagine you’ll need my advice on what to buy. And I doubt we’ll see anyone since I’m with you, but you never know.”
She got out of the car and headed in. I decided not to tell her about my run-in with the two men that afternoon. I wasn’t really certain it was related to this case. It could have been from a previous one, or was just someone who was looking to hire me for my detective skills and it got out of hand. Of course, clients normally don’t send armed men to bring you to them. But for now I didn’t want to give her anything else to worry about.
Watching someone, especially a woman, clothing-shop was like watching paint dry. It was even worse since I was supposed to be watching her, but not let anyone know. They didn’t have a men’s section, so it was difficult to appear as if I was clothes-shopping. I wasn’t the only man in there, but the others were with other women, so I appeared out of place. If they had security in the building I’m sure they were watching me closely. After about sixty minutes of trying to look like I belonged, she found two new power outfits, after trying on twenty. I strolled outside while she was paying and got into my car.
Once in the car she had a big smile on her face as she placed the bag in the back seat. “I could shop there all day. Well, actually, I could shop in any women’s clothing store all day. So much to try on and so little time!” I had to laugh out loud at that one.
We headed south to King Soopers where the parking lot was crazy busy, with the closest spot in another zip code. She got out first again while I soon followed. I felt like I was the stalker by strolling at a safe distance.
Now grocery shopping is only slightly more exciting than clothing shopping. She picked up some produce, after squeezing every orange, apple and cucumber they had, bread, ice cream and fresh chicken. I stayed back and watched for anyone lurking. No one sprung out the produce section to accost her, tried to grab her and pull her into the freezer section or attack her with a cleaver at the meat counter. She did stop and say hello to someone in the store that she knew, but the lady didn’t look dangerous so I resisted springing to action. All and all about thirty minutes was spent, and we were off and running with a full bag of groceries tucked next to the clothing in the back seat.
“How long have you been a detective?” she asked, filling the time on the drive back.
“Several years now,” I replied.
“You must have some interesting stories about cases you’ve had.”
“Most of them are pretty boring. Once in a while I get something more stimulating.”
“Like this case?” she asked.
“Yes, this one is different than the norm, or at least has the potential to be.”
“And do cases turn dangerous?”
“Every now and then,” I answered. “I don’t go looking for it, but I’m not afraid to face it.”
I wasn’t sure but I sensed she got a thrill out of what I just said, as her body quivered in the seat and a wicked smile came and went on her face. I even thought she licked her lips, as if excited by the words. But it was all there and gone so quickly, I wasn’t certain.
We returned to her house, and I offered to help carry her bags in for her while we exited the car. “No, that is fine. I will take them in, and you can resume your watch or whatever you do. I’ll fix dinner, do some work and head to bed shortly. Thanks for driving me.” She reached out and touched my arm for a minute and gave me a gracious smile. Her warm hand felt nice against the skin.
“Good night,” I said and headed back to my car. I watched her walk in through the side door to make sure she was safe. I was about to start the Mustang when I heard a scream coming from inside her house. I pulled my gun from the glove box and ran up her driveway and burst through her door.
Chapter 10
When I came in she was in hysterics. I had the gun ready to deal with whatever I found, but what I saw sickened me. On the kitchen floor was Opus, bloody and obviously dead. Next to him was a large carving knife that had been used to stab him several times. His eyes were rolled back in his head, his tongue hanging out, just like when I was rubbing his belly earlier—only this time it wasn’t ecstasy but death.
I grabbed Emily and tried to console her, as she was still screaming. I directed her carefully into the living room, trying not to disturb the crime scene and to get her away from the sight of Opus. I sat her on the couch, held onto her, placed the gun on the coffee table and pulled out my cell phone to call 911, my eyes searching the room making sure the culprit wasn’t still there. The police arrived quickly, as someone else must have heard the screams and called. They rushed in the side door like I did, saw the dead dog, came into the living room and eyed the gun on the table.
“Don’t make a move for the gun!” the first one shouted at me.
“I’m a private detective,” I said, “Working with Miss White. I have a detective and gun license in my rear pocket. I was with her when she found the dog. I’m a friend of Officer Bill Malone of the Denver Police, who works out of the precinct down the street and can vouch for me.”
The cop forcefully told me to get down on the floor with hands behind my head, which I did, as I didn’t care to be shot by a nervous, trigger-happy policeman. It took maybe twenty minutes before they let me up, after talking with a slightly-less-hysterical Emily and calling Bill at home. The house was now crawling with several officers and Animal Control had arrived. They separated us to take our statements. A female office was with Emily, while a hardened plain-clothes detective whom I’d seen around the precinct questioned me. It seemed he didn’t like private cops much, or maybe he just didn’t care for me. He looked me up and down and tried to size me up. But he did at least listen to what I had to say, even with apparent distaste. He showed me his badge and said his name was Homicide Detective Mallard.
“Give me the story,” he stated. “From the time you left to what happened after you returned?”
“Well, I arrived here to take Emily shopping,” I started and then proceeded to give him as much detail as possible up until the time the officers told me to get on the ground.
Mallard stood there and listened to every word. He had a small notebook and pen, and was taking notes. He was a bit taller than I was, and broader, but certainly not fat, in his early fifties, with short black hair with no sign of gray anywhere. He wore a deep-black well-tailored suit, a yellow striped tie and black leather shoes with a fresh shine. His eyes bored into me, seeming to absorb my statement. I had heard he was a hard-ass, and not liked by many in the department, but very good at his job. He cleared cases when they were solved and not sooner.
“So she is your client?” he asked.
“Yes. I was hired because someone has been stalking her.”
“Did she file a complaint with us?”
“Yes, but they couldn’t or wouldn’t do anything. Said there wasn’t enough to go on. That is why she hired me. I have the time to do what you don’t have the time to do.”
He grunted. Probably thought I was being smug, but I wasn’t. It was the plain truth that they had to prioritize and deal with problems after they happen. There are just too many bad things to manage and not enough cops. I could put my entire attention on this case and not worry about anythi
ng else.
“It doesn’t look like they broke in. Could she have left the back door unlocked?”
“Maybe. I should have checked it before we left. We went out the front door.”
“Hotshot PI’s can’t think of everything,” he said while jotting down some notes. “How long was she in the house before you heard the scream?”
“Less than ten seconds.”
“So not enough time for her to do it. And the dog was fine when you left?”
“Yep, happy as could be. She had just walked him and put him back in the house before we left. It couldn’t have been her.”
“I talked with Malone. He says you’re OK. A pain in the ass but good at what you do. So you are cleared to leave. Though I guess you’ll want to stay. Just keep out of the technician’s way. And let us know what you touched.”
“Back-door knob when I came in. I also was in the house beforehand and touched many things, including petting the dog. I walked Emily out of the kitchen as soon as I got in and saw the scene. I’m not sure what she handled, but she was pretty upset.”
“Once they are done talking with her, you can see her. I’m certain it was simply a burglar that was trying to silence the dog. Damn shame, as I love dogs. We have two at home and they are family.” Apparently the tough detective had a soft spot.
They finally finished talking with Emily, and after conferring they let us be together. Emily was still shaken but was more composed now. I put my arm around her to try and comfort her some. This was one of the parts of the job I hated. There was no reason for what had happened, and no sense could be made of it. It was irrational that a simple animal had to die that way.
“What am I going to tell Janet and John?” Emily sighed. “And their daughter will be devastated. Opus was her gift on her fourth birthday. He sleeps on her bed every night. How can I explain why this happened?”