Torch Scene

by Renee Pawlish

“Calling back so soon?” Cal asked.

  “I’ve got a question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Would court documents show how Nadine and Nick O’Rourke split up their assets?”

  “Like monetary and the house? I sent you that.”

  “I haven’t read it all yet,” I said. “But I mean the smaller stuff, like the CDs and books…and artwork.”

  “Like a sculpture.”

  “Yeah.”

  He paused. “I don’t know if I can find that.”

  “Excuse me?” I could count on my hands the number of times I’d heard that from him.

  “It would depend on if that information is in electronic form. I’ll take a look and get back to you.”

  “Great, thanks.”

  “How are things going?” I could hear the worry in his voice, but he tried to deflect it by saying, “Willie’s concerned.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  I knew I couldn’t bluff him. We’d known each other too long for that. “I will be fine. How’s that?”

  “Be careful,” he said and hung up.

  As I headed up I-25, I made another quick decision. Nadine could speak to her marriage with Nick, but she didn’t know what happened after they split up. But maybe Leena could because she’d dated him.

  Dusk had settled onto the city as I pulled over and got out my cell phone again, but this time I connected to the internet and did a people-search on Leena Radcliff. In less than thirty seconds, I had her home address.

  She lived in an apartment building in the Capitol Hill neighborhood, east of Civic Center Park. Cars and maple trees lined the narrow street. I walked up the steps to her door and knocked. A moment later she opened it, and I got the same surprised look as I had from Nadine.

  “Why do you keep turning up?”

  “I’m like an annoying habit,” I said. “I just don’t go away.”

  “I’ve told you everything.”

  I gave her a humorless smile. “I’ve got a few more questions.”

  She was incredulous. “You don’t give up, do you?”

  “When you went to Nick’s apartment, how was it decorated?” I asked.

  “I’ve never been to Nick’s apartment. And I don’t want you asking any more questions. I told you to quit bothering me.”

  “Wait, didn’t you –” I began.

  The door slammed shut in my face.

  I sauntered down the walk to the street, my mind reeling. I could’ve sworn that she said Nick assaulted her, it happened at his place. Was I wrong? I got to Willie’s car, slid into the driver’s seat and glanced at the car in front of me to see how much space I had. Then I noticed the license plate: UGH-432. I read it again, something niggling in the back of my mind. I got out and stared at the license plate. It couldn’t be!

  I stared at the house and then back at the car. Then I marched back up the walk and tried the door. The knob turned and I let myself in.

  Leena was sitting at a small table in a tiny kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee while she thumbed through a magazine. Birds chirped outside the open window by the table. She almost dropped the cup when she saw me.

  “Wha –”

  “Where is it?” I came into the kitchen and looked around. White cabinets and walls, stainless steel appliances, and a few knick-knacks.

  “Where’s what?”

  I threw her a cold glare. “The Chen.”

  “The what?” She was good. Just a slight twitch in the corners of her eyes betrayed her.

  “You know exactly what I mean.”

  I flipped open the cupboards, but didn’t see the sculpture in the kitchen so I turned on my heel and headed into the living room.

  “Hey, you can’t just march in here like this!”

  By the time she came into the living room, I’d already looked on the shelves and behind a red overstuffed chair.

  “Hey!” she said as I moved past her.

  She grabbed my arm but I shook her off.

  “You were there last night,” I said as I poked my head into the bathroom. I flipped on the light, stepped to the tub and yanked the shower curtain back. “I fell right behind a car with the license plate UGH-432. Your car.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I checked under the sink and then shoved past her into the hallway.

  “You can’t go in there!” She said shrilly as I headed for the bedroom. She tried to stand in my way, holding her hands up, but I pushed her aside.

  As I opened the door, she pulled my arm, but I shook her off.

  “I’m going to call the police.”

  “Go right ahead. I’ll tell them you stole the sculpture from Willie’s house.”

  The bedroom had a four-poster bed, a dresser and a nightstand. A large brown box sat in the corner. I strode up to it and opened the flaps. The bronze sculpture sat in it.

  I turned my head and stared at Leena. “You don’t know what I’m talking about?”

  She faltered, searching for words. Then she turned and walked out of the room.

  I picked up the box and went back into the kitchen. She was sitting at the table again, tapping a cigarette from a pack.

  “I can thank you for this,” she said, gesturing with the cigarette. She lit it and blew smoke out the open window.

  I leaned against the refrigerator, still clutching the box. “What’s the story?”

  She gazed at the wall and smoked, then finally spoke. “I told you the truth, except for one small part. Nick did start calling me again, I went out with him, and I was looking for revenge. I told you I never found anything that I could use for revenge, but,” she looked at the box, “he told me about the Chen.”

  She took another drag on the cigarette.

  “How’d he get it?” I asked. The box was getting heavy, but it was my lifeline and I wasn’t letting it go.

  “He was in some high stakes poker game and the guy who was hosting the party ran out of cash, so he bet the Chen. Funny, huh. Nick was never a good gambler, right? I mean, he lost everything, but then he wins a stupid sculpture that ends up being worth thousands. And do you think he was going to use it to pay off some of his debts? Of course not. He was trying to sell it so he could place some more bets.”

  “And you decided to steal it.”

  She contemplated the red glow on the end of her cigarette, then nodded. “I wasn’t sure how I was going to get it, and then I found out he was dead and the apartment had burned down. Well, not quite down, but…”

  “What happened last night?”

  “Oh, man.” Her face darkened. “What a nightmare that was.” She turned to face me. “When you came by my work the other day, thinking that my dad was lying, I was in a complete panic. I’m telling you the truth, he had nothing to do with Nick’s death, but there you were, thinking one of us was lying. And I knew you were getting close to figuring something out, so I acted. I came over to Nick’s apartment, broke the lock and went upstairs, and found the Chen.”

  “I wonder what those other thugs thought when the front door was jimmied,” I said.

  She laughed hollowly. “Yeah, I made it easy for them, didn’t I?”

  “And?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “I came back outside and I heard them coming around the building. I ran the other way and saw someone else, so I hid in the bushes by the fence. I was so scared, I can’t believe I didn’t have a heart attack.” She took one final drag on the cigarette and dropped it into the coffee cup. “I waited a few minutes and snuck back into the alley and got in my car, but I was scared that they’d hear it start up, so I just sat there. A little bit later, I hear commotion behind the car and I can’t believe it when I see you ducking into the alley, and then those guys punch you.”

  “Imagine my surprise.”

  She shook her head. “I scrunched down in the seat, sure they’d see me, but they didn’t, and neither did you. They left, and then you left, but I still w
aited a while, and when none of you came back, I left.”

  I looked at the Chen. Unbelievable.

  “Now what?” she asked. “You think I killed Nick?”

  I pondered that, thinking of what Tony the thug had said. “No. Why would you kill him, then start a fire to cover your tracks, but not take the sculpture?”

  “Will you leave me alone?”

  “Sure.” With that, I walked out of the kitchen, still clutching the box.

  “Hey!” Her chair scraped the floor and she came running after me. “You can’t take that!”

  “Why not?” I’d reached the door and I tried to let myself out, but she pushed against the door. I turned on her, and the look on my face caused her to back up. “I need this way more than you do.”

  She tried to grab the box but I shoved her away. “I deserve the money more than you,” she said. “Think what he did to me!”

  “I’m not going to sell it,” I said. I kicked the door open and left.

  Her obscenities filled the darkness as I drove off.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  I walked into Easy Street Café with the box in my hands. It was the heart of dinnertime and the place was crowded with patrons. I sidled my way between tables toward the back. Ray’s eyes narrowed when he spotted me. I held up the box and he hesitated, unsure of what I was doing. For all he knew I could have a bomb in the box. As if he heard my thoughts, he reached around behind his back.

  “Relax,” I said as I approached. “I have what you want.”

  He stood up, lifted one finger and gestured for me to open the box. I did, then tipped the box and he glanced inside.

  “Satisfied?” I asked.

  He gave me an approving look. I waited while he turned around, knocked on the door once, then opened it and I stepped into the office.

  Tony looked up from his paperwork, saw me, then glanced at Ray.

  “It’s cool,” Ray said. He came into the room and shut the door, blocking it.

  Tony leaned back in his chair. “You have the Chen?”

  I set the box on the desk. He looked at it, then raised one flap and glanced inside.

  Remembering what I’d overheard during my Dumpster dive, I said, “Will that get Sal off your back?” I didn’t try to hide the snide tone in my voice.

  He arched an eyebrow at me. I wasn’t sure if he was impressed that I knew about his boss, Sal, or if he thought I was stupid with my tone. Right then, I didn’t care.

  “Is it damaged?” he asked.

  “There’s soot on it, and part of it may have melted.” I shrugged. “I don’t know what it looked like before.”

  “That could affect the value.” Tony frowned.

  “Not my problem,” I said. I glanced over my shoulder. “I lived up to my end of the bargain.”

  Tony sat back again and assessed me. “I didn’t think you’d find it.”

  “Well, I did.”

  “Yeah, and pretty fast. Makes me wonder if you knew where it was all along.”

  I stared him down.

  “But,” he rested his hands on the desk. “I guess it doesn’t matter.”

  “You leave us alone now,” I said with as much force as I could muster.

  He smiled coldly. “Yeah. Don’t ever let me see your ugly face again, or our deal is off. Got it?”

  “I got it.”

  I whirled around, surprising Ray. He opened the door and I strolled out of the restaurant, glad to put them behind me.

  ***

  I was sitting at my desk, drinking a Fat Tire and staring at The Big Sleep poster on the wall. I’d gotten it after I’d solved my second case. Not only was the movie one of my favorite film noir, but it played an integral part in two of my cases, and it also served as a reminder that I’d solved those cases. Now it seemed to be mocking me, telling me that I hadn’t solved this one.

  “Not yet,” I said to Bogie, tipping my beer bottle at him. “But I will.”

  My phone rang and I set the beer down.

  “Yeah?” I answered.

  “It’s Spillman.”

  I sat up straighter. “What’d you find out?”

  “Our pyromaniac knew what he was doing,” she said. “He had the bomb wired to the seat. The weight of your body would set it off.”

  “But it didn’t explode until we’d left the garage.”

  “It was on a delay.”

  “Why?”

  “Who knows?” She exhaled loudly. “Ferguson, this guy knows what he’s doing.”

  “I get that feeling.”

  “This isn’t a joke. Someone tried to kill you, and when he finds out he didn’t succeed, he’ll try again.”

  “I wondered about that.”

  “Cut the sarcasm, would you? I’m trying to save your life.”

  “Sorry. I’m just too tired to do anything else,” I said.

  “What have you found?”

  “Nothing that will help now.”

  “Did anything pan out with your bookies?”

  “No.” I stared at the poster. “I’m back to square one.”

  “We’re working some leads, and we’ll find who did this.”

  “All right.”

  “Reed,” she said, unexpectedly and tenderly, using my first name. “Watch yourself.” With that, she hung up.

  I was about to call Willie when the phone rang.

  “Can’t stand a moment without me?” I asked.

  “What?” Willie asked.

  Her voice was soft and sweet, a sound that sunk into my weary body and cheered me up.

  I chuckled. “A joke, you know?”

  “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, then realized she couldn’t hear that. “Yeah, I’m okay, just tired.”

  “What did the police say about the explosion?”

  “This guy knew what he was doing.” I relayed what Spillman had told me. “Are you doing okay?”

  “Yes. I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too,” I said. “This will be over soon.”

  “I hope so.” We chatted for a few more minutes and then hung up.

  I raked my hands through my hair, frustrated. I’d eliminated Tony and Ray as suspects, but any of the others were still options. I had a hard time believing that Stan Pommerville was the one who conked Nick O’Rourke on the head, started the apartment fire, and then rigged my car to blow up. But then, was the femme fatale Nadine or the victim Leena a more likely suspect?

  I growled as I turned on the computer. Back to square one meant poking around for clues, and I realized I’d not finished reading all the attachments Cal had sent me. I opened the PDF’s and started scanning them again. O’Rourke had a bank account, but no money in it. Apparently, he had a 401k, worth more than $150,000, but he’d drained the account a few years earlier. And there was the life insurance policy, worth one million, made out to Kelly N. O’Rourke.

  I stared at the name. His dad?

  I got on the internet and went to a white pages lookup site. I typed in ‘Kelly N. O’Rourke’ in the name fields, and remembered that Willie said his parents lived in Fort Collins, so I put that as the city and Colorado as the state. Nothing matched that, so I took out the ‘N’. I still didn’t come up with a Kelly O’Rourke who lived in Fort Collins, but the site listed a bunch of close matches. I scrolled through them, and was about to try something else, when my eye caught one of the names.

  It was Kelly N. O’Rourke, at a Greenwood Village address, with a spouse of…Nick O’Rourke.

  I couldn’t believe it.

  I clicked on the name and read through the rest of the information. The age listed for Kelly N. O’Rourke was 40-45. That fit. And the address was correct.

  Kelly N. O’Rourke, the beneficiary on Nick’s life insurance, was none other than Nick’s ex-wife, Nadine. I stared at the monitor. Did she know this, and if so, had she killed him for the money? Now that I’d put the pieces together, it seemed so obvious. I wondered why Spillman hadn’t made the same connection yet. But
then, as the saying goes: The wheels of justice turn slowly…

  I looked at the clock. 8:45. It was too late to pay her another visit, but I was going to anyway. I got the Glock again, and since Tony had taken my magazine, I loaded in a new one. I wasn’t going to take any chances. Nadine might’ve killed before, and she also might have tried to kill me by blowing up my car. And if my conclusions were right, I had no doubt she’d try again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  I called Cal as I drove to Nadine’s house.

  “What do you need?” He was curt, as usual, but this time the customary teasing tone was not there.

  “I think Nadine killed Nick,” I said. “She’s the beneficiary of Nick’s life insurance.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I checked it. It makes sense. She gets rid of him and she gets the money. She told me she was still trying to dig out of the financial hole he put them in.”

  “Why would she be so stupid as to tell you that?”

  “She knew I could figure that part out, but how could I possibly know about the policy?”

  “Okay, now what?”

  “I’m headed down to her house to talk to her,” I said. “Can you run a check on her? See if there’s more debt that she’s not talking about, or anything else that might help me nail her.”

  “Sure thing.” The clicking on the keyboard commenced. “You think she’s going to just up and confess?”

  “I’m going to push her, see if I can make her break. If not, all I’ve got is circumstantial evidence.”

  “You want to talk to Willie? She’s in the kitchen with Ace and Deuce.”

  I did want to talk to her, to hear that sweet voice, but I knew she’d want to know what I was doing, and I didn’t want her to worry more than I’m sure she already was.

  “No, I’ll talk to her later.”

  “You want me to come down and help?”

  “I’m not sure what you could do.”

  “But she’s dangerous.”

  “She may be, but so am I.”

  ***

  It was after nine by the time I drove into Nadine’s neighborhood. I decided not to alert her to my presence, so I parked on the next street over and walked to her house. The moon stayed behind a low-hanging layer of clouds, and even though the streetlights did their best to brighten the road, Nadine’s front porch was cast in deep shadow.