Family Secrets: A Jake Badger Mystery Thriller

by Glenn Rogers

  “You just used the word we four times.”

  “Fine. You. You need to keep looking. You need to find me something more to work with.”

  “Well, since you asked so nicely ...”

  “Are you sure you're not Susan's older, unattractive sister?”

  “Speaking of which, the girls want to go to Mastro's.”

  “Saturday night,” I said.

  “Right.”

  “And then a movie.”

  “Right,” Alex said. “They want to see that new romantic comedy.”

  “That one with that uh ... What's his name?”

  “Yeah, that one.”

  I nodded. “Figures.”

  “So, what are you going to do while I keep digging up dirt on Lindell Industries?” Alex asked.

  “I don't know. I need to think.”

  “So then this afternoon you'll go work out on the heavy bag. And if that doesn't do it, tomorrow you'll go fishing. And after that, if you're still not sure what to do, you'll go to the shooting range and shoot up a couple hundred dollars worth of ammo.”

  I studied him for a moment and said, “We really need to find you a woman, don't we?”

  “Wouldn't make me less observant,” he said. “You're a creature of habit. When you don't know what to do, those are the things you do and the order you do them in.”

  “Do you also know what I'll have for dinner tonight?”

  He smiled as he stood to leave. “I'll call you when I find something else on Lindell Industries. Watch your back.”

  Chapter 20

  Alex went back to work. Mildred called the carpet cleaning company. I took Wilson home and then went to the gym to work out on the heavy bag. It annoyed me that Alex had been right.

  The gym I go to, in an older section of Studio City, has a small room off the main weight room that has two heavy bags, two speed bags, and an open area for skipping rope. Most of the people who use the room go in and fool around, expending energy, but mostly wasting time. A few of us who use the room know what we're doing.

  Usually, when I work out on the heavy bag it's just a workout. But this time I was working out my frustrations over having had to kill a guy. As a Marine sniper, I had one hundred twenty-eight confirmed kills. As an FBI agent, I'd shot four people. As a private investigator, I'd had to kill three people. Now there was another. That brought the total to a hundred and thirty-six. Killing was sometimes a part of what I did, sometimes part of who I was, but it was a part I didn't like.

  I hit the heavy bag for an hour, practicing different combinations of punches and kicks, and then went to the steam room for a while. When I got home, I was more relaxed. I watched TV for a while and then went to bed.

  Wilson and I went for our run the next morning. I carried my small .357 again. No one bothered us. After breakfast I put my fishing equipment in the back of the Jeep, and Wilson and I spent the morning fishing off Malibu pier. I was carrying my .357 in my shoulder holster under a light jacket. If I couldn’t catch a fish, maybe I could shoot one. Just before noon, I called June and told her about the three guys in the Explorer.

  “So after the first two guys,” June said, “there were three more?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you think they were ex-military.”

  “They were ex-military.”

  “Did they hurt you?”

  “They didn't get the chance.”

  “Did you hurt them?”

  “No. I disarmed and stranded them.”

  “I don't understand why this is happening,” she said.

  “It gets worse,” I said. “Later in the day, a guy showed up at my office. He was a shooter. He came to kill me. I killed him.”

  Sounding rather panicky, she asked, “Are you all right?”

  “I'm fine.”

  “Do the police know?”

  “They know.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “Jake, what's going on?” She still sounded shaken.

  “Someone's got something serious to hide. They don't want me poking around.”

  “This is getting out of hand,” she said. “You're in danger. I'm not sure I want you to continue.”

  “June,” I said. “People have threatened me and tried to kill me. I'm not going to just let that go. If you want to fire me, fire me. I'll refund the unused portion of your retainer. But I'm going to find out who tried to kill me and I'm going to see to it that it doesn't happen again. The reason someone is trying to kill me obviously has something to do with Jane. I'm going to keep digging until I figure out what this is about. If I'm still working for you, then I'll tell you what I discover. If you fire me, I'm under no obligation to tell you what I discover. It's up to you.”

  I waited while she thought about it.

  After a moment, she said, “I'm not use to having people talk to me that way. I'm not sure I like it.”

  “I'm not use to having people try to kill me. And I'm quite sure I don 't like it.”

  She took a deep breath. “Fine. I'll keep you on.”

  “Okay.”

  There was another long pause and then June asked, “What could Jane have gotten herself into?”

  “I don't know. What I do know is that she moved to Tempe, Arizona, and was using the name Jane Alistair.”

  “Jane Alistair,” June said, more to herself than to me. Then she said, “Tempe. We went there once, as teenagers. Dad thought about opening a plant there. He took all of us with him. We shopped and played. He worked. Jane liked it.”

  “That may be why she chose to move there,” I said.

  “Okay,” June said, “that makes sense. What do you do next, given that people are trying to kill you?”

  “I'm going to go to Tempe and poke around there. While I'm gone, I'd like you to do something for me.”

  “What?”

  “The people I've interviewed from the list you gave me have said that in the days or weeks before Jane left, she was distracted or sad or didn't feel well. I'm wondering if, in her position in R & D, maybe she discovered something about Lindell Industries that upset or disappointed her in some way. Maybe she found out something that made her feel like she couldn't stay.”

  “You mean some sort of scandal?” June asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “What exactly are you asking me to do?”

  “Research the company's history to see if there was something that Jane might have discovered that made her feel like she needed to go.”

  “That's an absurd notion,” she said.

  “Maybe. But as soon as I started looking into Jane's departure, people got very nervous. They tried twice to scare me off and then they tried to kill me. Connect the dots, June. What do you make of that?”

  She was quiet for a moment. “All right,” she said. “I'll look into it.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “If I discover anything in Tempe, I'll call you. If you uncover anything, you call me.”

  “Okay.”

  We paused, but neither of us ended the call. In a moment she said, “Jake, be careful.”

  “I'm always careful,” I said. “You be careful, too.”

  “Why would I need to be careful?”

  “When I started asking questions, someone tried to kill me.”

  “Are you saying they might try to kill me?”

  “Given who you are, probably not. But you should still be careful.”

  Chapter 21

  As I was putting away my fishing gear, my sister called.

  “He’s threatening to call a cab if I don’t take him. I can’t just drop everything and drive him to the office and sit there and wait while he’s tearing everyone a new one because they’re not running his firm the way he’d run it. Jake, he’s driving me nuts. Hannah has an orthodontist appointment, Taylor needs to be dropped off at Tae Kwon Do class, and I need to buy groceries. There’s no food in the house! I called Finton to see if he could help, but he’s meeting with clients all afternoon. I just don’t know what to do. I ha
ve a life, Jake. Or at least I had one. And I have responsibilities. I’m not just a daughter. Dad doesn’t seem to understand that. I’m a wife and a mother. But I’m not Wonder Woman. I can’t do everything.”

  I waited until I thought she was finished. I felt sorry for her. A pattern had developed since dad had gone to live with Della and Finton. Della, five years older than me and mother of two, Hannah twelve, and Taylor nine, was doing the best she could, but trying to manage dad was a pretty big task. The stroke had left him with physical limitations that infuriated him. Mentally he was as sharp as ever. But physically, he couldn’t do the kinds of things he’d done all his life. Even some of the simple things. What got to him the most was not being able to be a physical presence in his law firm. He was trying to manage it remotely and was not satisfied with the result. Every few weeks, when something pushed her over the edge, Della would call and unload on me. She wasn’t angry at me, she was just frustrated and needed help. I knew that. So I’d listen and do what I could to help. She’d regret calling me. She’d apologize and thank me for helping. I’d regret not being able to do more. But all of us knew that wasn’t going to happen. I had an agency to run. I could not take care of dad. That was going to be Della’s job. She loved dad and she wanted to care of him. But sometimes he didn’t realize how demanding he was.

  “How about I come get him,” I said, “and take him to the office and spend some time with him this afternoon.”

  “That would be great, Jake. Thank you. I’m sorry lost it there for a while.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Dad can have that effect on people.”

  “I don’t understand how mom dealt with him all those years.”

  “Me neither. But he was a better man for having her in his life.”

  Della took a deep breath. “He was. I wish I was as strong as mom was.”

  “You are. You’re just like her.”

  “Jake,” she said, on the edge of tears.

  “Hey, don’t start that. You’ve got an orthodontist to see, and a sensei, and groceries to buy. No time for crying.”

  She took another deep breath. “You’re right,” she said, fortifying herself. “What time will you be here?”

  “Thirty minutes. Tell dad. That’ll calm him down a little.”

  Dad was waiting for me by the front door. He had his computer message typed in and ready to play.

  “Thank you, Jake, for taking the time to help me. Those idiots are running my firm into the ground. I need to go straighten them out.”

  “You’re welcome, Dad. I’m glad to help whenever I can. I know this is frustrating for you.”

  He typed. “If you really want to help,” the artificial voce male said, when he pushed the read button, “become an attorney so I can train you and hand the firm over to you.”

  “Unfortunately, Dad, that’s the one thing that isn’t going to happen.”

  Dad gave an audible sigh and motioned us out the door.

  I helped dad into the Jeep. It was a little higher than what he was used to and with his left arm being partially paralyzed and his left leg not working as well as it used to, he needed assistance to get in and get situated.

  “Thank you,” his computer said, when I slid in under the wheel.

  I looked at him and smiled. “Happy to help, Dad.”

  It took less than ten minutes to get from my sister’s home, on Tenth near San Vicente, to dad’s law firm on Wilshire near Ocean. I parked my black Wrangler with its big knobby tires in the underground parking structure in a space between a silver Jag XJ8 and a black Mercedes S Class, upgrading the neighborhood a bit, I thought.

  I helped dad out of the Jeep and we walked slowly to the elevator that took us up to the offices of Badger, Reagan, and Ripley, Attorneys at Law. The firm took up the entire fourth floor.

  I opened the door for dad and held it as he walked into the reception area of the law firm he had built and managed for forty-three years. He did not like walking with a cane, but the damage to his left leg demanded it. He didn’t like the cane. He said it made him look and feel like an invalid. Della and I wondered if he would ever adjust to his new situation. At the moment, I was not optimistic.

  He walked past the receptionist toward his office. Even though he’d only been in it a few times in the past year and a half, it was still, and always would be, his office.

  “You might want to let Colin know that dad is here,” I said to the receptionist.

  She nodded and punched in Colin’s extension as I followed after dad.

  Dad walked through his outer office where his long time administrative assistant, Norma, sat at her large walnut desk. He nodded and smiled at her as he went past her into his inner office and sat down at his desk. He began typing. I followed him in.

  He looked up at me and pushed the speak button. “I do not know how long this is going to take,” his computer said.

  “Not a problem Dad. Take as long as you need.”

  He typed. “Thank you, Jake. I appreciate it.” Then he added, “Want to sit in?”

  That was unexpected. “I don’t think that would be a good idea, Dad. I don’t think Colin would appreciate me being present.”

  He typed. “It is not up to Colin. Some day I expect you to run this firm. Might as well get started.”

  “Dad, that’s a different discussion and this isn’t the time to have it. You meet with Colin and I’ll be around when you’re ready to go.”

  Colin came in as I was going out. “Hi Jake,” he said. “Nice to see you.” His eyes held mine for only the briefest moment before looking past me to my father. He knew what was coming.

  “Nice to see you, too, Colin. Hope your meeting goes well.” We both knew it was not going to.

  I closed the door as I went out and sat down in one of the guest chairs stationed near Norma’s desk. She smiled at me. Norma had been with Dad for many years and knew him well.

  “How’s he doing?” she asked.

  “He’s frustrated. I can’t blame him,” I said, my eyes roaming the wall opposite me. “What he loved most has been taken away from him.”

  “What he loved most,” Norma said gently, “was taken away from him when your mother died.”

  I looked at her.

  “And now that she’s gone, what he loves most is you and Della.”

  I took a deep breath, but didn’t say anything.

  “Jake, I’ve worked with him every day for over twenty years. I know him quite well. He loves the law. And he loves this firm. But not as much as he loves his children. He’s worked his whole adult life to build something he could give to you. He did that because he loves you.”

  I wasn’t sure I believed her.

  “I understand you not wanting to be an attorney. And I understand that there were times when he spent too much time here when he should have been home with his family. He regrets that. I know he does. He and I have discussed it. But you’ve got to know how much he loves you.”

  “Mom used to tell me the same thing.”

  “She was right.”

  “Doesn’t seem like there’s much to do about it one way or the other,” I said.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know. But I know he loves you. And you need to know it, too. Now, why don’t you go to the break room and make us each a nice cup of tea. And there are probably some donuts in there you can help yourself to.”

  I smiled. “Yes, Ma’am,” I said, standing.

  Dad’s meeting with his associate managing partner took just over an hour. Colin walked out of his office looking like I figured he would, as if he been raked over hot coals. Having been on the receiving end of Carlyle Badger’s wrath on a couple of occasions, I could see how Cole might have preferred the hot coals. Dad came out behind him, closed his door, nodded again to Norma and to me as he went past us, struggling with his cane.

  As I stood I said, “I appreciate what you said, Norma. Thank you.”

  Chapter 22

 
Saturday morning I went to the shooting range. It still bothered me that Alex seemed to know me well enough to be able to predict what I was going to do, but we’d been friends for a long time and paying attention to details is one of his strengths. Maybe it has something to do with him having a law degree. Anyway, I took both .357s, the big one and the small one, and shot fifty rounds through each, half right handed, half left handed. In a gunfight, you have to be able to shoot equally well with either hand.

  Since I was leaving early Sunday morning to drive to Tempe, I took the Jeep to get the oil changed. I washed it and filled the tank. I threw a couple pair of jeans, socks and underwear, and a couple of shirts in a duffle bag and stuck the bathroom kit that I always kept ready to go in on top of everything. I took Wilson over to stay with Mildred. Whenever I need somewhere to leave him for a few days, Mildred always takes care of him. She took him to the office each day, as I did. It kept part of his daily routine in place. Less stressful for him. Kept him happy.

  Now, all I had to do was get ready for the big date. My bank happens to be one that's open on Saturday, so I stopped by and withdrew one thousand dollars. A couple hundred for the date, the rest so I'd have cash in my pocket for the trip. I read a little, napped a little and at five began getting ready.

  Alex came by in his Lincoln Navigator and we went to pick up his sister, Susan, and her friend, Kathy. Kathy was a perky little blond about five three. Cute would be a good word to describe her. She was wearing gray slacks and a satiny pink blouse. A single strand of pearls adorned her neck. Susan, at five ten, was quite a bit taller. Her athletic body looked good in the black slacks and a light blue blouse she was wearing. Her shoulder-length black hair framed her elegant face. Kathy sat up front with Alex; Susan and I climbed into the roomy back seat of the big Navigator.

  Mastro's Steakhouse on North Canon Drive in Beverly Hills is not the kind of place I usually frequent. I'm more of a burger, pizza, and Chinese take-out kind of guy. But every once in a while, a nice meal in a nice restaurant is a special treat. Though, to call Mastro's nice is something of an understatement. Elegant is a more appropriate adjective. We had an excellent meal and enjoyable conversation. Susan and Kathy told stories from their college days on each other; Alex and I told stories on each other from our days at Quantico.