by R Weir
I was getting to him. “Come on, Mark,” I continued. “I can see it in your face. You still love her. Nothing wrong with saying that. Hell, she is pretty, sexy, with a super body and a wonderful personality. What is there not to love about her? Any man would be thrilled to be with her!”
“No more. I won’t be manipulated…” His words hung in the air on his beer breath.
I was pushing him pretty hard. He threw back his beer, drinking the whole thing in one gulp. Two of his teammates came over, each a little smaller than him, but not by much. They both had enjoyed a couple of beers and seemed concerned.
“Everything alright, Mark?” the first asked. “Is this guy bugging you?”
Mark didn’t answer, his face looking down at the table.
“Mark and I are old acquaintances,” I said. “All is good. I just brought up some painful memories for him. But I think he’s OK.”
Mark glanced up and stared at his friends and back at me again. He turned and headed towards the restroom. Three beers will do that to you. His buddies both looked at me hard. I smiled back, like a guy out to have a good time, but I don’t think it mattered.
“Maybe you should beat it,” said the second one. “You could get your clock cleaned real quickly by us if you keep bugging him. His old lady left him, and he’s not taking it well. He was knocking the cover off of the ball tonight, and he’ll likely knock the cover off of you. Understand?”
“Yeah, and if he doesn’t, we will,” spoke the first again. “So scram!”
I wanted to be a smart ass and inform him that no one used the word “scram” anymore, but that would only make the situation worse. A cheap shot like with Brandon’s henchmen might work, but it didn’t seem the right thing to do and the presence of the bouncer didn’t bode well for me. They were just backing up their friend and teammate. And I would get no particular thrill out of decking them or them decking me. Walking out of there on my own two feet was a bonus.
“Sure, guys, I understand,” I answered, trying to defuse the tension. “I didn’t know that was the case. I’ll leave him be. Tell him I’ll talk with him later.”
I threw a ten-dollar bill on the table and headed for the door. Two things I had learned concerned me. First, who was it that told him to go to Canada and not bother her? What was that about? It almost sounded like a threat to leave her alone and he’d be paid well. And then his teammates’ statement that his old lady had left him? Was he speaking of some other woman or Emily? Was this something recent, or were they talking about the past? If it was Emily, that was a big problem and I wasn’t real certain the best way to handle it. I needed to keep an eye on Mark, as he now might be my number-one suspect.
Chapter 15
I didn’t sleep well that night, as much of the day’s activities rolled around in my head, both the good and the bad. I’d had a wonderful lunch date with Melissa, spent the afternoon with a possible gangster who wanted to be kept informed about my current case, and ended the evening pushing a drunk, love-struck man until he couldn’t stand it anymore. My mind went back and forth all night between the happiness I felt and the pain Mark endured. It didn’t make for good sleep.
I arose early and needed a long shower to shake off the ghosts and the cobwebs. Over a light breakfast I mulled over my next move and decided I required exercise. I dressed for sweat and headed to the gym to work out the frustrations.
Once there, I did the usual routine. It was early in the day, so the place was quiet and I had a pick of options. After a warm-up I went to the weight benches and worked with free weights for maybe twenty minutes doing various exercises for the upper and lower body. From there on a treadmill I ran about three miles for another twenty. Now nice and loose, a good sweat on my face, I hit the boxing room and pounded the heavy bag doing a series of body punches, five with the left and five more with the right, over and over again until my arms were lead-weight weary. Next the stationary bike, where I rode about five miles until I was totally spent. I walked out wobbly but feeling good. After another shower at home, I’d be raring to move the day forward.
Now refreshed and ready to go, there were two people I needed to talk to. I grabbed the file on Emily’s case and combed through the information, trying to find the names. First was Mark’s lawyer, second was the name of the private detective used to observe Mark during the divorce mayhem. Bristol & Bristol had to have someone hired to follow him and maybe threaten him, or even bribe him into leaving her alone. The name of Mark’s lawyer was prominently listed on several of the legal documents as Wayne Calhoun, who was easily found on the Web. From his website he wasn’t as high class or as expensive as Emily’s lawyer, and someone Mark could afford.
Dialing on the smartphone, I made an appointment to meet with him. I didn’t tell his secretary what I wanted, only that I needed legal consultation. He had openings all morning, which wasn’t a surprise. He might be someone who had a client list smaller than mine, though he did have an employee to answer the phones.
The second name I was looking for was nowhere to be found. It seemed like a strange omission, but was maybe just an oversight. I called Melissa to get an ID. She was evasive when I mentioned it.
“Why do you need it?” she asked.
“I’m trying to make sense of what is going on,” I answered. “Mark stated something last night while I was talking with him that sounded odd. Looking to tie up loose ends.”
“What did he say?”
“I’d rather keep it to myself for now. It was told to me in confidence, or maybe in anger. Best not to repeat it until I have more to go on.”
There was a long pause over the phone. For a minute I’d thought I’d lost the connection, which happens pretty regularly on cell phones, as they weren’t often smart when making calls. But I heard her breathing as if she were nervous.
“Well, I’ll have to ask Tony,” she said. “He doesn’t like giving out that info, and the detective may prefer to remain out of this. I’ll see what he says.”
“We still on for tomorrow night?” I asked.
“Absolutely!” Her mood brightened up quite a bit. “I have my best go-to-a-baseball game outfit already picked out.”
“I can hardly wait to see you in it,” and I ended the call. She sounded less than thrilled at my asking about the investigator, but still happy to spend time with me. It seemed like an acceptable trade-off.
Heading out, my travels took me to Arvada, one of the many suburbs that surrounded Denver. This one was on the northwestern side of town and a quick drive up I-25 and onto US 36 had me there it pretty good time even with all the road construction in the area. I found Mark’s lawyer’s building and was surprised it was in better shape than I expected. It was an older structure, with a well-paved parking lot and recently refreshed exterior. It appeared to be lacking tenants from how empty the parking lot was. Locating Wayne’s office, I conversed with his secretary, who led me to a small conference room with four chairs and square wood table, with no pretty pictures on the wall or beautiful view of the mountains to entertain me. I was offered coffee or water, and I chose the latter. It wasn’t much of a wait before he entered the room. Smelling of cheap cologne and booze, he had a scruffy beard to match his scruffy outfit. He wore a long-sleeve wrinkled white dress shirt, with blue tie and gray slacks on his short, stocky frame. A bad comb-over greased across the top of his head, attempting to hide his baldness. In one hand he held a legal pad and pen, a glass of some type of alcohol in the other. From the smell it wasn’t his first drink of the day. He was devoid of shoes and his black socks appeared to have at least one hole in them. He shook my hand, gave me his full name and took the seat opposite of me after fumbling with the chair. If I’d lit a match, I’d have likely started a fire from the alcohol fumes.
“How can I help you today?” he asked. “What legal assistance do you need?”
I smiled intently, attempting to lessen the surprise of why I was there. “Actually I’m here to discuss a former client of
yours from five years ago, a Mark Remington, whom you assisted in a divorce. I’m looking into matters about him, and I have some questions you may be able to help me fill in the blanks for.”
He looked unhappy but didn’t walk out on me. “As you’re aware, I can’t speak of my clients without their consent.”
I pulled out my license and showed it to him. “He may be in trouble again. I’m trying to help, to prevent him from making a serious mistake with his ex-wife. Do you recall the case?”
He leaned forward in his chair to focus on my ID. From his expression it seemed he did remember it, which was surprising since he’d probably handled many divorce cases over the years. Something about this one stuck out.
“I’ll tell you what I told them; I’m no longer involved with Mr. Remington. Once the divorce was finalized, I was paid and that was the end of it. We concluded business and haven’t talked since.”
“Who are ‘them’?” I asked.
“Two gentlemen were here this morning asking questions. I remember them from five years ago. They weren’t friendly then, and they didn’t seem friendly today.”
“Did they give names?”
“No, but I know who they work for. It’s a little unnerving having to deal with him again. I needed a couple of drinks to calm my nerves.” He downed the rest of his glass. “Gwen, can you get me more to take the edge off?” he yelled through the open door.
His secretary walked in with a big bottle of some cheap whiskey and poured more into his glass. He took another long gulp and she topped it off again. He motioned for her to leave the bottle on the table. At this rate, he’d be hammered before the end of our meeting. Apparently he didn’t deal with pressure well.
“So who do they work for?” I asked, seeing if he would tell.
“I shouldn’t say,” he answered. “I don’t want to be involved.” He drank down another full glass and filled it once more.
“Wayne, I think you are already involved since you were his lawyer. Maybe I can help you if you help me.”
“I doubt you can help, he is too powerful.” He was slurring his words more now.
“Who is that powerful? No one scares me off easily.”
He looked me straight in the eye and blurted out, “Sparks. Goddam Brandon Sparks can. If you aren’t scared of him, you’re stupid not to be. I hoped I’d never hear from him again. He was involved the last time. Made some threats, but did pay well. Big check for me and Mark. All he had to do was move away and leave her alone and he was set. Super job in Canada and great pay. Mark couldn’t even afford me at the time since he wasn’t working much, since he was love struck with her and wanted her back. Sparks covered all the bills and added a bonus if we didn’t contest the divorce. I got the money the next day all in cash. It made my year. But he is scary and so are his men.”
“Why was Brandon Sparks involved?”
“I’m not certain. I never found out what it was about. Mark wouldn’t tell me. I think he was afraid of him and didn’t want to reveal the connection. He stuck his nose in late in the process, shortly before the divorce hearing. Up until that point, Mark was going to fight it. The calls started and he said to settle. When I asked why, he stated it was for our own good. We’d be paid well and all he had to do was leave her alone and move away. He was my client and I advised him to not give up, but then those two showed up and convinced me otherwise. I’m no hero, and I wasn’t going to go up against someone as powerful as Brandon Sparks. I have a family, too, I was worried about.”
“So they threatened your family as well?”
He was having a hard time keeping his eyes open now. “Not directly, but they implied. They were sneaky with the terms they used so as not to incrim…inate themselves.” The longer words were getting harder for him to say
“Why did they come back today?”
“Something about Mark pestering her again.” He drank another full glass of his whiskey and did his best to remain upright. He was starting to sway from the booze. “I told them I didn’t know anything. Didn’t even know where he lived now. They said if he contacted me I should inform them. It would be beneficial to my wealth and health.” He almost smiled at the rhyme and pulled money out of his pocket. “They left this hundred-dollar bill for my time.”
Wayne started to reach for the whiskey bottle but couldn’t pick it up. He put his head down on the table while mumbling something and soon was out cold, snoring loudly. I got up and walked to his secretary in the lobby, while another prospective client sat waiting to meet him.
“I think the office will be closed the rest of the day,” I announced to all as I wandered out. I wanted to suggest to them they find a new lawyer as well, but I resisted.
Chapter 16
As I made it to my car, I received a call from a concerned Emily.
“Rickie is here at the office causing a scene,” she said. “He seems to be freaking out about losing his job. He wants to be hired back.”
“Try to keep him busy, and I’ll get there as quick as I can. If he gets out of line, call the cops.”
It was a pretty far drive from where I was, and I tried to make it as fast as I could. Forty minutes and I was in the parking lot. As I pulled in Emily called me again.
“He is riding the elevator down and leaving,” she said. “He punched one of my male partners and left. We contacted the police, but they said it might be a while. Can you catch him?”
“I’ll try,” I answered as I got out of the car. As I approached the front doors of the building he came out. He stopped when he saw me, his face now full of recognition. He glanced in both directions to decide his options. He took off as fast as he could to the west, and I soon was following.
For all his hot air, Rickie appeared to be pretty quick. He darted between vehicles and crossed Yosemite with no fear of getting hit. Several cars squealed to a halt to avoid hitting him, black tread marks burned into the pavement. Somehow they missed him and he bolted down the sidewalk, never looking back. I was right behind him, but probably he had a couple hundred feet on me, as I wasn’t as crazy as he was and did my best not to get hit by the cars on this busy street.
Now, for all his speed, I figured I could out-endurance him. Even though I had worked out hard this morning my stamina was there, and I had a good pace going for me. Arms were moving in sync with the legs, my good running shoes pounding the pavement softly on my feet. Rickie, though, seemed to be wearing work shoes that had to be killing his feet. It was hard to say if he knew where he was headed, but he couldn’t keep up this pace for long. So unless he somehow lost me, I would catch him soon.
He was looking around to see if there was somewhere for him to go where I couldn’t follow. Along the road he saw a bus stopped taking passengers on the other side. He darted again into the street trying to reach the bus ahead of me. If he got on I’d lose him for sure. Just as it seemed he’d get there he jumped the tall asphalt median that separated the traffic and tripped, landing face first into the pavement. A four-door sedan braked, nearly hitting him, the squeal of tires and burnt rubber filling the air. He attempted to get up and couldn’t, as he’d hurt his foot or his leg. When he put weight on it he crumpled down in pain. I came up behind him and grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him to the sidewalk. His pant leg was torn and his knee was bleeding. His face was scraped up as well, as a trickle of blood was coming out of his nose. His attempt to work free of my grip failed.
“Let me go,” he yelled. “I messed up my leg. Damn, it hurts.”
“You should have waited, Rickie,” I answered. “I wouldn’t have hurt you, though you deserve it. If you hadn’t punched one of Emily’s partners, you would have been fine. Now you’ll likely go to jail.”
“Come on, man, I didn’t do anything. I was there only to talk.”
“You can talk; but it will be to the police.”
A squad car showed up at the scene, its light and siren a-blaring. I flashed my license, explained what happened and they put us both insid
e, Rickie in handcuffs. They took us back to Emily’s office, where another police car was now sitting, along with a paramedics van. We both went up with the men in blue so they could get a statement. When we arrived the male partner was getting attended to by a paramedic, Emily standing by his side. She smiled when she saw me and seemed pleased to see Rickie in handcuffs. The police separated those involved and got statements. Charges were pending against Rickie and his rights were read. I asked one of the officers if I could talk with Rickie alone.
“You going to rough him up some more?” he replied.
“He tripped while running away. All I did was pick him up by the shirt.”
“Not what he his saying. He says you messed up his leg after you caught him.”
“Believe me when I tell you he is a habitual liar. Little coming out of his mouth is the truth.”
“Yeah, we ran his priors. He’s definitely is a piece of work. He’s been telling us the owner called him begging for him to come back and consult for them; that they needed him. Of course, everyone in the office says otherwise. I’ll give you five minutes. Don’t leave any marks.” He laughed at his own humor as he strolled off.
As I entered the room Rickie’s face turned red. He was cocky most of the time, but I think he generally feared me now that we were alone. Getting past the bull might allow me to learn something.
“Why’d you run?” I asked him as I sat down next to him.
“You were going to hurt me?” he answered, looking around to see if anyone was nearby to protect him.
“No. I would have brought you back upstairs. If you didn’t want to go, then I would have persuaded you to go.”
“Hey, I didn’t do anything, they called me.”