Gotcha Detective Agency Mysteries Boxed Set (3 Books)

by Jamie Lee Scott

  I scratched mine, too, but because it itched. Then the thought of ticks came to mind and I scrambled out of the bushes, toward the barn. I swear I could feel things crawling on me. Gross.

  “Mimi, no.” Nick whisper-yelled behind me.

  As usual, I didn’t listen. I followed Charles right down to the barn. Within seconds, I could hear Nick following behind me.

  “I won’t be an accessory to trespassing or breaking and entering. Stop,” Piper said, then she came down behind Nick anyway.

  I kept walking. When I got around to the other side of the barn, I saw Charles looking in a window. “See anything interesting?”

  Charles looked disappointed. “It looks like a candle making facility.” He pointed back to the window. “I like their label.”

  I didn’t bother looking. “What now?”

  Nick had caught up. “What now? I’ll tell you what, you two are leaving. I’m not going to be the one to explain this to the cops, and believe me, I’m sure the neighbors are suspicious by now.”

  A voice came from the driveway. “We sure are.”

  A bulky woman of about fifty, wearing a house dress in a faded paisley print marched down toward us. She held a twelve-gauge shotgun across her chest. “Who the hell are you, and what are you doing on my property?”

  Nick reached down to pull out his badge, and the woman leveled the shotgun at him. He put both hands up. “Hold up there, ma’am. I’m just getting out my identification. I’m with the Salinas Police Department.”

  She lowered her weapon. “Fine. But, just like they say in the movies, slowly.”

  Slowly, Nick pulled out his badge. He held it at arm’s length for her to see, even though it was way too far away for her to tell what it said. “I’m investigating a homicide, ma’am.”

  “Homicide? You smell any dead bodies around here?” She had dropped the shotgun to her side and continued down the driveway toward us. “You best not be snooping on my private property without a warrant. I know my rights.”

  “I have reason to believe someone we’ve questioned in our investigation has something to hide here.”

  “You believe, huh? And who are these yahoos with you?” She used the shotgun as her pointer, when she indicated Charles, Piper and me.

  Nick took a minute before responding. “My partner and some people I work with.” Without explaining further, he asked her, “Do you own this barn?”

  “I own the property, but it’s leased to It’s Just Soy Good. What’s it to you?”

  Nick ignored her question. “You know Leonard Crowhopper?”

  The woman laughed. “What the hell kind of name is that?”

  “So you don’t know him?” Nick’s frustration was evident in his tone.

  “I don’t know. Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. So who’s dead?”

  “Right now, we’re looking for a missing girl. We’ve already found the dead person.” Piper pulled out a picture of Tiffany. She stretched her arm out, but didn’t approach the woman.

  The woman approached Piper as if she were a rattle snake and took the photo from her hand. “This the missing girl, or the dead body?”

  “Missing girl.”

  In all of this exchange, I was surprised by how quiet Charles and I were being. We’ve never been known to let someone else take the lead, but that shotgun had us firmly in place with zipped lips.

  “Huh, never seen her.” She handed the picture back.

  “Do you have a key to this barn?” Nick sounded a bit friendlier.

  “Nope,” she shook her head. “What would you be wantin’ in there for?”

  “This Leonard person my partner asked about, he was here earlier. I was just wondering what interest he had in this barn.” Piper carefully pocketed Tiffany’s picture.

  “Don’t know no Leonard. A Stephanie Garrison is the president of the candle company, maybe he’s a friend of hers, or an employee.” The woman’s body language had relaxed a bit.

  Nick reached in his pocket and pulled out a business card. “Ma’am, I’m Homicide Detective Nick Christianson. Please take this card. And if you see anything suspicious, please call me right away.”

  She snatched the card and tucked it in between her breasts. She said, “Irma Tucker.”

  “Nice meeting you. We’ll be on our way, Mrs. Tucker. Please, if you see anything, call me, and I’ll come right back.”

  “Like I said, I ain’t seen no suspicious activity. Sometimes that Stephanie woman is out here at odd hours, but that ain’t nothing. Being self-employed means you don’t get no regular nine to five.”

  “True,” I said.

  Irma’s chubby neck nearly snapped when she turned to look at me. It was as if she just realized I was standing there. I knew better, but I wasn’t sure as I watched her gape at me.

  “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m self-employed, too. Crazy hours we keep.” I gave a self-deprecating smile.

  “You should be at home making babies. Where is your man that he doesn’t provide for you?” She snapped.

  I contemplated the answer to that, and then said, “Ma’am, he’s dead.”

  Her face softened. “What?”

  Nick and Charles now looked at me the way Irma had been. Charles looked to Nick, as if indicating maybe he was my man.

  Well, he was wrong. Nick wasn’t my man. Dominic had been my man, and he was dead. Nick might be my new partner in fun, but he definitely was not my man. Yet.

  Irma said, “Just how many men do you have, sweetie? ‘Cuz these boys look a bit confused.”

  “None. My husband died a few years ago. It’s just me now.” I looked down and scuffed the dirt with my foot.

  Changing the subject, Nick said, “So you don’t have a key to this barn?”

  “Not without a warrant, I don’t.” She hiked the shotgun over her shoulder. “But I promise, if I see anything suspicious, or I see the precious girl you showed me, I’ll call.”

  With that, she turned and headed up the drive.

  We all started to converge when she turned back around and yelled, “Now get the hell off my property before I call the cops. You’re trespassing.”

  She waited at the road to be sure we left. As I walked by her, I handed her my business card.

  “A P.I., huh?” Irma tucked the business card in with Nick’s, and laughed. “More liked P.I.T.A.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Nick decided he needed to get back to the police station and find out a little more about Stephanie Garrison, so I got a ride home with Charles.

  Once again, my day hadn’t gone as planned. I wanted to call Jackie and see if she’d found out anything from talking to Catey, but I knew if she had something to share, she’d call me.

  I hadn’t spent nearly enough time with Lola over the last few days, so I decided to make some popcorn and spend the evening in. I’d never gotten around to finishing Lauren Silke’s novel, Prey, so I took the bowl of popcorn into the living room, curled up on the corner of the couch and started reading.

  It wasn’t long before Lola climbed up next to me, stuffed bear in her mouth, and lay down. As hard as I tried to concentrate on the novel, the events of the week kept running through my head. This was apparently not my day for a relaxing read, either.

  William and Stephanie had a tumultuous relationship because of his ways. I couldn’t bring myself to even think the words for what he was. Stephanie visited William often enough that Leonard knew her. Or did Leonard know her in some other way?

  Why is it that families are in such denial about their relatives? Did Anna’s mom really have no idea about William? And what the hell was wrong with Stephanie that she didn’t stop them from getting married and having kids? I’d never understand family dynamics, but this one really baffled me.

  I held the book open in my lap, but I kept finding myself staring off into space. There had to be something I could do on my own. Something I could do that wouldn’t be breaking the law, or endanger the investigation. I looked down at the words
on the page again, and this time I saw Tiffany’s face.

  She was alive. I felt it in my bones. That girl was still alive. Terrified, and probably alone, but I could feel her breathing. Maybe she’d been the victim at the time of William’s demise. Someone had saved that girl. A teenage girl could never have inflicted that much damage on a man, no matter how enraged.

  I knew Stephanie had been keeping a closer eye on William than she’d admitted. Or maybe Anna had seen the relationship with Tiffany and her father go too far. What was Anna capable of doing?

  I picked up my cell phone and used Switchboard to search Stephanie Garrison’s name. Nothing. Shit. Then I searched the name of her business. Bingo, two numbers. I could just hope one of the numbers was her cell phone.

  I started to dial the number, then disconnected. I pushed Lola off my feet and said, “Wanna play?”

  I loaded Lola up in the car and took her to Tiffany’s parents’ house with me. I looked at my watch. Not too late. I could justify my arrival at such a late hour.

  I braced myself and knocked on the door.

  Julie answered, looked at me, and immediately slammed the door in my face. I guess I should’ve expected this reaction after the things Charles said.

  I knocked again, harder. “Mrs. Anderson, please. I’m alone.”

  She opened the door again, but just a crack. “Are you here to insult my family again?”

  “Hey, I didn’t insult anyone. I was just along for the ride.” I raised my hands in surrender. When I saw her start to close the door again, I said, “I think I may be able to find Tiffany.”

  She looked wary, but opened the door a bit wider. “What can you do that the police can’t do?”

  I turned and pointed to my car. I had the passenger window down, and half of Lola’s body was hanging out the door. She wanted to get out in a big, bad way, but she had just enough discipline not to jump out of the car.

  “Lola used to be a tracker. Not a professional, mind you, but I trained her for possible use at my detective agency.”

  “So?” She wasn’t having any of it.

  “I was hoping I could borrow a piece of clothing that belonged to your daughter to see if Lola’s skills are up to par.” It was worth a shot.

  “The police dog didn’t find anything.” Julie Anderson started sniffling.

  “I know the police have worked very hard on this case, but I’m not limited by the laws they are, and I have an idea.”

  “What’s your idea?” Julie relented and let me in the door.

  Within minutes, I had Tiffany’s dirty skirt from the laundry, and was on my way to Leonard Crowhopper’s house. I just knew that girl had been there. But, if I was right, what was I going to do about it?

  On the ride over, I let Lola play with the dirty skirt. She sniffed and tossed it in the air, and then she curled up on the seat with it tucked between her front legs.

  When I arrived at Leonard’s, I took the skirt from Lola, put it to her nose and said, “Suchen.”

  I put the skirt in the backseat, snapped a leash on Lola, and took her to Leonard’s front door. Lola was a spoiled brat, but once on the leash, she was all business. She walked calmly beside me, with her ears erect.

  I knocked, and waited. Leonard didn’t take nearly as long to answer the door this time. Only, he opened it without unlatching his inside security chain. I wanted to tell him that chain wasn’t any good because I could kick that door open before he knew what hit him, and Lola would be standing on his chest with her canines bared.

  “What do you want now?”

  “Mr. Crowhopper, that isn’t a very nice way to greet someone who is trying to find a missing person,” I said politely.

  “I thought you were trying to find a killer.” He snapped.

  “Well, that too. But for now I’m looking for Tiffany Anderson. And I think you can help.”

  “I told you…”

  I cut him off. “Lola, suchen.”

  Lola can track from about 100 feet if there isn’t too much wind. She stood quietly. This wasn’t a good sign.

  “Mr. Crowhopper, please, I feel awkward talking to you through that chained door.” I pointed to Lola and she sat.

  “Too bad. I have nothing to say to you.” He closed the door.

  Okay, that went well. I stood there for a moment, contemplating my next move. I was sure Lola would sense that girl in Leonard’s house. I didn’t think the small crack in the door was a deterrent, as Lola could smell her target through a crack in the cement. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Leonard Crowhopper was just a nosy neighbor and nothing more.

  I gathered up Lola’s leash and turned when I heard the door open behind me. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

  “Mimi,” I said, but didn’t turn back around. I decided I was finished here and started back to the car.

  “Mimi, can I ask you a question?”

  Now I turned around.

  Leonard was standing in the doorway with the door fully open now. I took the opportunity to walk Lola back to the house. Leonard stepped back, but didn’t close the door.

  “Yes?” I prompted.

  “Whoever killed William Garrison, do you think there is a possibility, if they were discovered, that they would face murder charges?”

  “You asked this before. I don’t know. It could have been self-defense. I wasn’t there when he was killed, so I don’t know what happened. Maybe.”

  “What do you mean maybe?” He wasn’t just curious; he was desperate for an answer.

  “Mr. Crowhopper, I believe the person who killed Mr. Garrison saved the world from a sadistic predator, so I’m hardly the one to give you an answer. I would say there’s a great case for self-defense. Maybe not self defense, but defense of some kind.” I paused. “Why, Leonard? What do you know?”

  And that’s when it happened. Lola dropped in place and crossed her front paws. It was barely audible, but I heard her whimper. I looked down. It was a positive. I let go of her leash and said, “Gutes Madchen, get ins Bett.”

  Lola made a beeline for the car, jumped in through the open passenger window, and went straight into the back seat. Within seconds, she had Tiffany’s skirt in her mouth.

  “What the hell was that?” Leonard stepped onto the porch. When he saw what Lola had in her mouth, he went pale.

  “Leonard, Lola used to be a tracker. Not a professional, but a tracker all the same. What she has in her mouth is Tiffany’s skirt.”

  “What are you trying to say?” He was back in the house and ready to slam the door shut again.

  “I’m saying Tiffany Anderson has been here.” I put my foot in the door to keep him from getting out of my sight.

  “Leave me alone.” He shoved the door hard, and it hurt like hell as he smashed my foot.

  “Please, I’m not the cops. I just want to know that Tiffany is safe. I need to know that William Garrison didn’t do anything to that poor girl.” I shoved hard at the door. “Please, Leonard, talk to me.”

  That’s when I saw the gun in his hand, and it was pointed directly in my face. I’m pretty sure it was a .44 Magnum, but at such close range, it was a bit blurry.

  The blood was pumping through my veins so hard, I thought my heart was going to crack my ribs. Suddenly, Lola was out of the car and charging the house.

  “Lola, no!” I yelled as he turned his gun from me to my dog.

  “Ma’am, I think it’s best you get your fucking foot out of my doorway.” His color had returned with a vengeance.

  With my heart still slamming against my ribs, and my breath in short supply, I pulled my foot back and the door slammed shut.

  As I stood in place, trying to gather myself, I heard him say through the door, “I can’t help you.”

  The first thought in my head at that moment should have been: Wow, that was really stupid to approach a perfect stranger with an accusation like that. Only before I had time to process the thought, my cell phone rang.

  I looked at the number o
n the screen, Salinas area code, but I didn’t recognize it. I started to hit the ignore icon, but changed my mind at the last second, and answered before it went to my voice mail.

  “Ms. Capurro, it’s Irma.” Her voice didn’t sound as steady and sure as it did in person. I wondered if it was the phone line.

  “Irma, what can I do for you?” I tried to sound pleasant and not startled by the call. What could this woman possibly want from me?

  “I think you should come see this.” The shakiness was more pronounced.

  “What’s going on, Irma? I’m in the middle of a case at the moment.” I just wanted to go home. My idea of using Lola was a mistake. Going out alone was a mistake. I wanted to go home, take a bath, and forget my mistakes for the day.

  “I think you need to come by the candle place. There is something going on in that barn.”

  My breath caught. “Did you call Detective Christianson?”

  “No. To be honest, he scares me a little.”

  “You didn’t seem too intimidated by him earlier.”

  A nervous laugh. “A twelve-gauge shotgun does wonders for bravery.”

  I had to laugh. “You really should be calling the detective. I’m not the police.”

  The entire time I was telling Irma to call the cops, I was getting in my car. I made sure Lola was comfy, and then I flipped a U-turn and headed toward Prunedale. I only wished I could put a light on my roof, and drive at warp speed with lights and siren blazing.

  “Irma, are you at home?” I put my cell phone in its cradle and put it on speaker.

  “I’m at the end of my driveway. There is lots of activity in that barn, Ms. Capurro. Someone needs to get here now.”

  “I’m going to hang up and make a few phone calls. I want you to go back into your house and stay there. It may not be safe.” I waited a moment, but there was no response. “Irma?”

  The phone was dead. Shit! I pressed my speed dial for Charles.

  Before he said anything, I said, “Meet me back at the barn.”

  “That candle place?” Charles perked up.

  “That old lady called me from the number on my business card. She said something very interesting was going on, and that I should get there now.”