Douglas put the car in park and opened his door. “Tallow.”
“Douglas!” Tallow leaned over the hood of the car to shake his hand. “A fine sweltering muggy big city day to you!”
Ross opened the passenger door and stood face-to-face with Tallow. They were about the same height, although Ross’ wide build seemed to dwarf the thinner man.
“Detective Bob Ross!” Tallow said with a beaming smile. “You look nothing like the painter.”
“Funny,” said Ross humorlessly. The PBS painter’s existence had been a thorn in his side ever since he joined the force. The ‘happy little clouds’ jokes still followed him around the precinct.
Tallow seemed unfazed by Ross’ frown. He shook the detective’s hand warmly. “It’s nice to meet you finally. I have heard so much about you!”
Ross’ looked skeptical. “Douglas told you about me?”
“Well, no. But I do my research,” Tallow said, still shaking the detective’s hand. “Bob Eric Ross Jr. born in New Jersey to Bob Sr. and the lovely Nancy Ross. Your dad worked as a plumber. Your mom was a kindergarten teacher. You have been on the job twenty years, all but the first two spent in Atlanta. Married to wife, Judy, who is a heck of a cook. No kids of your own, but you love kids.”
“You didn’t find all that on Google,” Ross said, his eyes narrowing. His grip tightened on Tallow’s hand.
“Ow! Uh, please don’t take offense, Detective Ross.” Tallow grimaced and tried to pull out of Ross’ grip, but the detective only squeezed harder. “Once I started talking to Asher online, I researched my nephew’s life.” His knees began to buckle. “I can’t help it. I’m a P.I. I have ways of getting information.”
“C’mon, Bob. Let him go,” Douglas said.
Bob tossed Tallow’s hand to the side. He slammed the car door and brushed past Tallow onto the sidewalk.
“Nice grip there, detective.” Tallow shook his hand and flexed his fingers, making sure they still worked. His eyebrows shot up. “Hey! What do you know? I think you’ve cured my arthritis! Seriously, there is one knuckle that I haven’t been able to pop for over a month. It hurts like the dickens on rainy days. Check it out.” He waved his fingers, a wide grin on his face “Nimble again!”
Ross looked away and snorted, unable to fully suppress a chuckle.
Tallow put his hand down. His smile faded. “Seriously, detective, I am sorry if I offended. I didn’t mean to be intrusive.”
Ross ignored him and walked to the main door. He yanked on the handle. “It’s locked.”
“Yes, as I was telling Douglas on the phone, the travel agency is gone,” Tallow said.
“Tallow,” Douglas said. “Why are we here? If the building is locked, we can’t get in without a warrant.”
“True, you can’t. But one thing I am great at is opening doors,” Tallow said. He raised his cane and pointed at a car that was coming up the street. “Here is my locksmith.”
Douglas and Ross exchanged wary glances as the car pulled up and parallel parked in front of theirs. If Tallow had hired an actual locksmith to break into the building, they were going to have to decline. They needed to get in legitimately or any evidence they found would be ruled inadmissible in court. Douglas hoped Tallow had a more clever way in.
The car had a single occupant, a balding man with a greasy looking combover and a pencil thin mustache. The man fussed over some papers in the front seat for a moment before exiting the car. The man carried a trim black briefcase and wore a clean but slightly wrinkled gray suit that looked to be almost as old as he was.
Tallow stepped forward and greeted the man with an outstretched hand. “Mr. Niceman?”
The man gave a thin smile and took Tallow’s hand into a sweaty dead-fish kind of handshake. His voice was nasal and airy. “Mr. Jones?”
“Ah! Careful with your grip, my good man. I just had surgery,” Tallow joked, wiping his hand on his pant leg “Yes, I am Tallow Jones. We spoke on the phone earlier. This is my nephew Douglas, and his associate Mr. Bob.”
“Ross,” Ross corrected, giving Tallow a narrow glare. “Bob Ross.”
“Nice to meet you, sirs,” the man said. He reached into his suit coat pocket and retrieved three business cards which he handed out as he spoke. “I am Phil Niceman. I represent ERL Investments. I am here to show you the building. 314 Poplar Avenue.” He turned to Tallow. “You said earlier that you are looking for office space?”
“Yes, among other things,” Tallow said with the practiced air of someone who was always looking to expand their business. “We have need of office space, meeting space, and storage space not far from the downtown area. We heard that this building had recently become vacant and I said to Douglas, ‘Wouldn’t this place be ideal?’ Didn’t I, Douglas?”
“The location is right,” Douglas said, playing along. He was actually quite impressed that Tallow had come up with the idea. Best not to be too easy a sell if they wanted to keep up the illusion. He looked up and down the street with distaste. “Though the area is a bit . . . run down.”
The balding man’s back stiffened at the remark. “Don’t let the surroundings fool you, Mr. Douglas. This area was once a fine business district and it will be again. Our company is in the process of buying up every property in the area. We are going to renovate, and you can rest assured, we will bring businesses back in.”
“Ah, so has this building been recently renovated?” Tallow asked, giving the man a hopeful smile.
Mr. Niceman’s nose twitched. “Well . . . no, sir. But it has been well maintained by the previous tenant and we do plan to make some updates to the space. Shall I show you in?”
“Please do,” Tallow said and when the man turned away he sent a sly wink to Douglas and Ross. He followed the man to the front door, and with a jangle of keys, they were in.
Thankfully, the owners had left the air conditioning on. But as before, Douglas was assailed by the bad taste in decorating. The wood paneling was as tacky as ever and the orange carpet was faded down the middle from decades of foot traffic. The smell of cheap industrial cleaners barely masked the odor of stale cigarette smoke. It was obvious that the building had not been renovated since the days when it was common to smoke in the office.
The man led them down the short hallway into the reception area. The place was bare now. No computers, no posters decrying famed locales, just the reception desk and chair remained. Mr. Niceman opened his briefcase and began pulling out papers. Tallow looked around the room with narrowed eyes, his lip curled in disgust as if he could see something that the others couldn’t.
Mr. Niceman caught the expression on Tallow’s face. “As you can see, the previous tenants left so recently that we haven’t been able to put new carpets in. If only, you could have given me a few days-.”
“No-no, I had to see it right away.” Tallow said switching his smile back on. “Thank you for letting us in on such short notice.” He pointed to the two doors behind the reception desk. “And where do these two doors lead?”
“Oh! Well one door leads to the first floor offices and the second leads to the stairs to the executive offices on the floor above. Would you like me to walk you through?” the man said, eager to show them to the parts of the building he felt most desirable.
“Of course,” Tallow said, and they followed the man through the leftmost door.
A short hallway opened up into a dark windowless area. Mr. Niceman flipped on a switch. A yellow flickering light illuminated a wide room with a low drop-ceiling. Tallow and Detective Ross could have reached up and touched the ceiling without standing on their tip toes.
The orange carpet was much more faded here than in the entryway and was also stained in places. The smell of cigarette smoke and cleanser was stronger here and Douglas caught a hint of something else, something foul and moist.
Mr. Niceman saw the look on his face. “We will replace the carpet in here as well, of course. But as you can see, gentlemen, this section of the building is a wi
de and open space. It would be the perfect environment to install cubicles. It would make a great call center, for instance.
Douglas disagreed with the realtor’s assessment. Maybe it was the smell, but with such a low ceiling and lack of windows, the thought of this room jammed full of cubicles and the sounds of dozens of phones made his skin crawl. He felt claustrophobic just imagining such a work environment.
“There are also offices in the back for mid-level management,” Niceman said as he walked towards the far end of the room where two offices sat, each of them had a wide windowed view of the room.
Ross leaned over to Douglas and whispered, “Something ain’t right. This place smells wrong.”
“You’re not kidding,” he replied. They started to follow Mr. Niceman towards the back of the room, but Douglas paused and turned back. Tallow hadn’t moved.
Tallow stood in the doorway, his eyes wide open, his lips pulled back from his teeth. Both hands gripped the handle of his cane, his knuckles white with tension. Douglas wondered what his uncle was seeing. At Douglas’ look, Tallow forced the expression from his face and put on a smile.
“Mr. Niceman,” Tallow said, his voice sounding calm, as if the room hadn’t affected him at all. “What did your previous tenants use this room for?”
The balding man turned back. “I am not quite sure. Storage perhaps? They were a small operation and this was much more space than they needed.”
When the man turned back towards the rear of the room, Tallow took a few quick steps forward and grabbed Douglas’ arm.
“This room was used for much more than storage,” Tallow whispered. “Look at the floor!” He pointed his cane at one section. Douglas bent down to peer at it. There was a rusty brown smudge.
Douglas gestured to Ross. As his partner joined him, Tallow walked forward and put an arm around Mr. Niceman’s shoulder. He chatted amicably and they walked down the hallway between the offices, disappearing around the corner.
“You think that’s blood?” Douglas asked, pointing at the spot.
“Huh?” Ross crouched down and looked closely. He bent forward and sniffed then stood back up and with a look of disgust said, “That’s feces. That is full-on turd! You think some homeless guys have been camping out in here?”
“Maybe,” Douglas said, but Tallow’s reaction had been so intense that he feared the explanation was something darker. “Come on.”
He and Ross rushed forward. They passed between the open doors of the empty offices. He could hear Tallow and Mr. Niceman in the hallway beyond. They were standing in front of a thick metal door. Tallow still wore the smile on his face though his voice was intense.
“I am sorry, sir.” The man seemed taken aback by Tallow’s change in demeanor. “But the rear of the building is the shipping area and loading dock.”
“But I’m just asking you to show us inside. Surely that’s not a problem,” Tallow said. “My company could make great use of a shipping dock at this location.”
Niceman blinked apologetically. “As I was saying, it is the only area still being leased by our prior tenants. I cannot let you in there without their permission.”
“How long do they still hold the lease for?” asked Douglas. “This may be an area we would like to take over once they have vacated.”
“I-I am not sure, sir,” the man replied. “The paperwork is back at the reception area.”
“Then go back and look at it, if you would,” Tallow said decisively. “We shall wait for you here.”
The man hesitated, but Tallow’s forceful gaze convinced him. He nodded. “Of course. Please wait here. I will be right back.” He walked quickly past Douglas and Ross, his face pinched with worry.
“He doesn’t want to lose this sale,” Ross remarked.
Tallow reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small paper envelope. He opened it to reveal that it was filled with what looked like crushed purple leaves. He then twisted the end of the silver handle on his cane and it rotated open to reveal a hollow tube. He pulled a generous pinch out of the bag and stuffed it in the hole.
“What are you doing?” Ross asked.
“You will see,” Tallow said. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together above the hole for a moment. There was a brief flare of light within the tube. Tallow bent down and pressed his lips over the end. A white smoke wafted out the bottom of the cane and began to spill down the hallway.
“Hey! What is that stuff?” Douglas said. The smell stung his nostrils and his eyes began to water.
Tallow turned and aimed his cane towards the base of the door. A thick final plume burst from the end of the cane and pooled there. Tallow’s eyes were glued to the smoke.
He moved his lips away from the end of the cane. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing illegal. Just something I picked up on my travels. The fumes are heavy and will stay mostly on the floor. Don’t inhale too deeply though. It can make your knees a bit . . . wobbly.”
“Are you crazy?” Ross had a handkerchief pressed up against his mouth and was trying not to cough. “You’re gonna set off a fire alarm up in here!”
“No I’m not,” said Tallow, pointing to the floor. “Now watch.”
He snapped his fingers. The white smoke sank deep into the carpet and disappeared. A moment later a reddish stain bloomed to the surface. Thick in the center of the hallway, the stain snaked from around the corner as if something had been dragged down the hallway and through the metal door.
“What is that supposed to be?” Douglas asked.
“Blood.” Tallow said. “The carpet has been heavily scrubbed, so we couldn’t see it before. But there is a chemical in the smoke that draws the color back out.”
“What are you thinking?” Ross said, enraged. “If you thought there was blood, I have an evidence kit in the car that could have proven that. I have never heard of this stuff before. You could have contaminated the evidence!”
Tallow blinked at him as if he had not considered that. “I’m sure it will be fine. I’ve used it before without it being a problem.”
Douglas had gone pale. What if this was Asher’s blood? Just as the thought occurred to him a faint moaning sound emanated from behind the metal door to the loading dock. Douglas couldn’t quite make it out, but the hairs on his neck stood on end.
“Sorry, gentleman, I was looking at the documents and-.” Mr. Niceman strode into the hallway, his hands full of papers. He saw the red stain snaking across the floor and several sheets of paper fluttered out of his hands as he skidded to a halt. “My goodness! What is going on here?”
Tallow thrust a hand in his direction. There was a buzzing sound in Douglas’ ears and the man froze in place. Mr. Niceman let out quick breaths but his body stood still like a mannequin.
“What happened to him?” Ross said. He ran up to the man. “He’s breathing fine, but he ain’t moving.”
“Just, shhh!” Tallow snapped. “Listen!”
Just then the sound echoed from behind the door again and his time it was louder. Everyone paused. The sound hung in the hallway, an eerie moan, sounding both sorrowful and somehow hungry.
Douglas swallowed. “There is something in there.”
“Yes there is,” Tallow said. He pressed his ear up against the metal. “We need to get in that door.”
“Just a damn minute!” Ross replied. “We can’t just barge in there without a warrant.”
“Don’t you have enough for probable cause?” Tallow asked, an eyebrow raised in incredulity.
“I have no idea what I have!” Ross said, his face pinched with anger. “I have seen crap on the floor, white circus smoke and a man frozen in place. For all I know that sound could be a hallucination caused by that stuff that came out of your cane!”
“Just . . . hold on!” Douglas said. He put the fantastical events aside and focused on what he knew. “He’s right. We can’t just barge in there, Tallow. We have enough to call in a forensics team, though. If that stain really is blood,
we will get a warrant for the rest of the building for sure.”
“I think we need in there now,” Tallow said. “Whoever is in there sounds hurt. What if it is Polly, or . . .”
The thought that the sound could be coming from Asher made Douglas weak in the knees.
“Damn it!” said Ross.
Tallow walked over and grabbed Mr. Niceman by the collar. The man lurched forward as if released from a spell, and Tallow pulled him down the hallway towards the door.
“What? What is this? What’s going on? What did you do to me?” The man sputtered, Tallow pushed him forward and shoved his ear up against the door.
The moan echoed forth again, a bit louder yet.
“You hear that?” Tallow said. “Someone inside is hurt.”
“That moan doesn’t sound human,” Ross disagreed. But it wasn’t just a moan. There was something else mixed in, like a . . . chittering sound. Pain and hunger and fear emanated from the sound.
Douglas felt a sudden urge to run. It would feel good to run out of there. Get out and never look back. He fought off the ridiculous notion. What if it was Asher in there?
“Come on. Let us in!” Tallow said. But fear had its grip on Mr. Niceman. He was trembling, his eyes wide with terror. Tallow grabbed the man’s chin and forced him to look him in the eye. “My friends here are policemen. If you don’t let us in, your actions will be remembered in the court case.”
“Damn it!” said Ross again.
The balding man stuck a quivering hand down into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys.
Chapter 8: The Loading Dock
Tallow took the keys from Mr. Niceman’s hand. “Which key is it?”
Mr. Niceman pointed a shaky finger. Tallow inserted the key into the lock. He looked back at the two detectives. Both men had drawn their firearms and had them pointed at the floor.
Tallow Jones: Wizard Detective (The Tallow Novels Book 1) Page 8