Slipknot: A Private Investigator Crime and Suspense Mystery Thriller (California Corwin P. I. Mystery Series Book 3)

by D. D. VanDyke

  Carol nodded, while Jerry merely watched. “Of course.”

  “I can’t prove it, but I know he’s dirty, as is most of the department. He’s in bed with the bikers and the area drug trade.”

  “That’s disturbing to hear.”

  Davis sighed. “I was trying to keep from making an open break until the new police department was set up, but it’s too late now. I had to pull Cal out of a situation today, and that showed Bartlett’s boys I’m willing to stand up to them. He’s not the type to tolerate dissent, so I’m sure pretty soon I’ll be fired on some pretext.”

  “Or worse,” I chimed in. “They were trying to arrest me and my men, and there’s no guarantee we’d have made it out of the lockup alive.”

  Carol looked from my face to Davis’ and back. “Is it really that bad?”

  “It may be,” he said.

  “What do you want from me?”

  I said, “You have influential friends in Sacramento.”

  “My family does.”

  “Same thing for our purposes. Mike might have difficulty asking, but I don’t. He needs support and protection. Maybe the California state department of justice could warn Bartlett off.” I thought about telling her I’d be urging the FBI to get involved, but that might weaken my case for her to take action.

  “These may be viable approaches, but I’ll need to know the whole story.”

  Between us we filled her in, and it seemed she got angrier as we spoke. Jerry, on the other hand, watched coolly, mostly me, the whole time. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but clearly he didn’t share his wife’s ire.

  “This is outrageous,” Carol said when we’d finished. “I knew Bartlett was a political animal, but had no idea he might stoop so low. I’ll press the city council to speed up the timetable on the new police department, and in the meantime I’ll call in a few favors in Sacramento. The sheriff will be put on notice.” She punctuated the last few words with thumps of her forefinger on the table.

  I drummed my own fingers on the table, not entirely satisfied with her response. “Why not push for an investigation? If Bartlett’s dirty, he needs to be brought to justice.”

  “That’s easy for you to say, Ms. Corwin. You don’t have to live here. An investigation would suppress law and order in the area, giving the criminal elements free rein. I don’t want to do that until the new police department is set up.”

  “Unless some other agency can step in. Get a few CHP officers assigned here temporarily.”

  “I believe you’re overestimating my influence. No, we need to take this slowly.” Carol pointed an elegant nail in my direction. “And you need to go home. You’re a disruptive influence.”

  My jaw dropped. “Me? I’m trying to figure out who’s trying to kill me and you tell me to go home?”

  “Exactly. The best thing for everyone is to back off and let things calm down. Let the authorities handle it. Perhaps if you wouldn’t meddle in other peoples’ business you wouldn’t have these problems, and neither would we.”

  I stood, bristling. “It’s my job to meddle in other people’s business –” I began, my voice climbing.

  Davis put a hand on my arm. “I think we’ll be going now. Carol, Jerry.” He picked up his hat, setting it firmly on his head.

  Seething, I listened to my better judgment and let him lead me out, opening the door of his cruiser for me. “Don’t try to mollify me,” I snapped as I sat.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He took the wheel and drove off slowly. “But I think she’s right about you laying low for a while. You’ve found out all you’re likely to here. Keep in touch and we’ll see what happens.”

  “Just back off, huh, with a contractor hunting me down?”

  “Didn’t you say you had an appointment with that reporter tonight?”

  I nodded, arms crossed. “At eleven.”

  “You need to get going, then.”

  “Dammit.”

  “I’ll take you down to Turlock. Your guy should be patched up by the time we get there.”

  “Thanks, Mike.”

  He called it in to Marilou, and then pulled into the gas station across from the Old Mill. “Got to fill up.”

  “I’ll give you some gas money.”

  Davis snorted. “No thanks. Might as well charge it to Bartlett.” He pumped the gas. “You can go get us some coffee, though.”

  I went inside the convenience store and filled two go-cups, grabbing sugar and creamer and sweetener, since I couldn’t remember how Davis took his. By the time I returned, he was finished with the fuel.

  Once Davis had doctored his cup, he turned us west onto 132 and headed down out of the foothills. “So what’s your next move?”

  I glanced over at him, wondering how much to telegraph. He was a good cop, and I eventually decided he ought to have a heads-up. “I’m not relying on Carol Conrad, Mike. Did I tell you I have a brother in the FBI?”

  “I think you mentioned it.”

  “I’m trying to get the feds to step up their investigation against Houdini.”

  “How do you even know they have one?”

  “Houdini’s too big for somebody not to have an open file. The question is, is it a task force or just one guy in the basement, filing intel as he collects it?”

  Davis nodded. “What’s it going to take to get their attention, I wonder? More bodies?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Emergency flashers up ahead marked a Chevy sedan on the side of the road, its hood up. Davis pulled in behind it.

  “Can’t we take a pass? Everybody has cell phones these days. A tow truck is probably on its way already,” I said.

  “Maybe, but it’s my job to check. Won’t take but a minute.” He got out before I could protest further.

  The driver of the car had a lit cigarette held out the window and the smell wafted toward the cruiser. It incited a sudden, almost crippling urge for nicotine in me. I wondered if it would be too far out of line to bum one? But Davis wasn’t going to let me smoke in his car anyway. Damn. Why had I given in and started again?

  Davis leaned toward the car’s window, hand on his sidearm in a textbook traffic-stop approach posture, but after speaking a moment with the driver, he relaxed and walked back to the cruiser, something small in his hand. “Like you said, truck’s on its way up from Waterford.”

  “What’s that?”

  Davis waved a piece of pasteboard after taking his seat. “She gave me her card. Essential oils.” He sniffed it. “Smells like herbs.”

  I snorted. “Snake oil, more like. Mom brought home samples and I had to tell her they gave me headaches.” I sighed, feeling the weight of the day upon me. With nothing to do but ride, nothing to occupy my mind, I was getting drowsy. I took a big swallow of my coffee and glanced over at Davis.

  “Mike? Mike?” He seemed to have fallen asleep. I rolled down my window to get the cloying herbal smell out of the car, and then leaned far over Davis’ lap to reach the control for his window in order to get a cross-breeze going.

  When I sat up, trying to clear my head, I saw the driver of the other car get out, dropping her cigarette on the pavement. She wore a long jacket over a dress, sensible shoes, a scarf around her hair, and carried something in her hand as she walked toward us.

  Chapter 12

  An enormous surge of adrenaline brought me alertness, but not clarity, rather like being drunk and high on speed at the same time. My heart thudded, but my eyes wouldn’t entirely obey me, and my hands weren’t much better.

  The driver. She’d drugged Davis and me somehow, probably with the card he accepted, saturated in a contact-delivered or fast-evaporating drug.

  I could fake unconsciousness and try to take her by surprise, but what if she sprayed us with roofies to be sure? No. I couldn’t risk another dose. If she got away, so be it. Staying alive was the priority.

  Pulling out my Glock, I rose and braced it on the dashboard, aiming unsteadily through the windshield.

/>   The woman froze and stared at me for a long moment over the top of the scarf that covered the lower half of her face. Then she began to back away.

  I didn’t fire. I wasn’t sure I could hit her, not with the distance and the windshield and the drug in my system. Best for her to think I was in better shape than I was.

  When she reached her car, she slammed the hood before slipping behind the wheel, starting the engine and driving off in a spray of roadside gravel.

  I let out my breath and allowed the gun to droop, and then laid it flat on the dashboard. The Glock felt like a hundred pounds. Reflections of the spinning cop lights made me dizzy, and I closed my eyes, intending to merely squeeze and rub them.

  The next thing I knew, my phone woke me up. Nothing had changed except the time on my watch. Half an hour had gone by.

  It was Manson. “Hey, boss. We’re done at the ER. You want us to pick you up?”

  I tried to speak, cleared my throat, and then croaked, “No. I’m on my way. Stay there.” I ended the call, downed the rest of my lukewarm coffee and tried to rouse Davis.

  I managed to get him half awake, but he’d obviously taken a much bigger dose, so I chivvied him over into the passenger seat so I could get behind the wheel. I turned off the rollers and drove carefully onto the pavement, taking it slow, windows wide open.

  By the time we were halfway to Emmanuel Hospital, Davis was awake, though not fully recovered. I explained what had happened.

  “She almost had us,” Davis said.

  “Yup. And she’s still out there.”

  “Lesson learned.”

  “You have a gift for understatement. Mike, how did she know where to set up the trap?”

  “I guess she figured you had to go back sometime.”

  “But if I were in a civilian vehicle I never would have stopped. Yet somehow she knew the old stranded-motorist routine would work.”

  “Or maybe having the hood up was just an excuse to wait there, and she would have followed you when she saw you pass.”

  “Then why not follow the M&Ms in the truck? How could she know I wasn’t in it?”

  Davis rubbed his neck. “She was watching you, not the truck. When we stopped for gas, she drove ahead and set it up.”

  “I didn’t see anyone watching me and I’ve been hyper-alert ever since the cabin. No, she had to have been tipped off.”

  “By who?”

  I stared straight ahead, letting him work it out.

  “Marilou?”

  “You radioed in your 20 and your destination. It would only take one phone call.”

  “I can’t believe she would be a party to killing.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe she didn’t know what would happen. Maybe she’s on the take and passes intel on to her son routinely, or to someone else. Perhaps Bartlett.”

  Davis didn’t answer for a long moment. “She wasn’t the only one who knew.”

  I got it. “Carol and Jerry.”

  “Yup.” Davis sipped his cold coffee, making a face. “I’m sure Jerry keeps in touch with his mob buddies. He doesn’t have to be involved in anything major to pass info.”

  “I feel like I’ve got my head in a noose and the slipknot is slowly tightening. Houdini must have put the word out on the street to keep track of me, probably with money paid to anyone who phones in a tip.”

  “Jerry Conrad doesn’t need money. Nor Carol.”

  “Then it’s a favor. Or maybe they just want me gone like they said, regardless of how it’s done.”

  “It must be Jerry. I don’t think Carol’s that ruthless.”

  “You never know. More deadly than the male, Mike.”

  “Aren’t they all. Hey, slow down, would you?”

  I’d been throwing the big cruiser through the sharp turns like I was in a rally. “No. I’m running late. I can turn on the lights if you like.”

  “Yeah, maybe we’d better.” He reached over and flipped them on. “At least they’ll have something to find us by when you miss a switchback.”

  I laughed, feeling a strange sort of crazy fill my body. Today I’d survived more peril than in any other single day of my life, save perhaps that of the bomb. I felt invincible, as if destiny were on my side. “Switchbacks? I eat switchbacks for breakfast.”

  Davis simply braced himself and shut up, perhaps sensing that arguing would do no good.

  I slowed slightly at the Turlock city limits, but kept the lights on and let traffic move over all the way to Emmanuel. It was a hell of a lot of fun to be back in a marked unit, in charge of the road. I whooped the siren twice to get the M&M’s attention as I pulled up alongside.

  “Damn, boss, you trippin’,” Manson said as he leaned over to open my door.

  I plucked the cigarette out of his hand and took a drag, then handed it back. “Maybe so. The hit woman tried to kill us on the way.”

  “Da-amn.” He really made it sound like two syllables.

  “How’s Meat?”

  “He’s fine. He got some good pain pills.” Manson pointed at his brother slumped in the passenger seat.

  I turned back to Davis. “Did you have your dash cam on when we pulled over?”

  “This piece of junk?” He thumped the contraption mounted on his dashboard with his middle finger. “Hasn’t worked in a while. I have a repair ticket in, but Bartlett’s a tightwad.”

  “Probably skimming. Sure would be nice to get a look at his books.” I retrieved my gear bag from the cruiser. “Okay, Mike, thanks for the ride. You take care. Keep your head down.”

  “Yeah, thanks, Cal. You too.” He waved and drove off.

  I felt guilty, as if I were abandoning him, but by returning to the City I was actually reducing the danger he was in, I hoped.

  I let Manson drive on the way back so I could use my phone, calling Mickey first. It appeared I’d missed a call from him during one of the out-of-service periods. He sounded as if I woke him up. “Yeah?”

  “You find anything out?”

  “Yeah. Several things. Lemme get my notes…”

  I waited several minutes, listening to the rustling of paper and the clicking of keyboards. Brilliant as he was, organization wasn’t Mickey’s strong suit.

  “Okay, at the Vitale, I found brief footage of a woman that matches the description of Hade’s killer.”

  “But she was there.”

  “Yeah, watching from the parking garage access. When your car drives away, she hops in a late-model Chevy sedan and follows.”

  “Plate number?”

  “No. It was obscured somehow. Maybe mud.”

  “Anything new? I need a break here, Mickey,” I said

  “I got the ME’s report on the body. Roofied, then smothered.”

  “Already know that.”

  “What are you paying me for, then?” he said.

  “You tell me.”

  “All right, all right. At least you have confirmation, right?”

  “Right. Mickey, I hope you’re working up to the big reveal.”

  He paused. “How did you know?”

  “You like to do that. And there’s something in your voice.” I rolled my eyes, though obviously he couldn’t see me. “Keep going. I have time.” Nothing to do as Manson drove but stare at the flat Central Valley freeway and its endless strings of reflectors.

  “I hacked Hade’s phone records.”

  “And?”

  “You’re never gonna believe who she’s been talking to.”

  “Who, dammit!”

  “Whoa, chill out, Cal. It’s Nina Stanger.”

  Pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. My old boss, the one who’d hung me out to dry even while I was lying in a hospital bed after a bomb blew half my face off. I’d sued the Department, proved she’d falsified her report, and destroyed her career. That seemed like a pretty good motive to get back at me. They say revenge is a dish best served cold, and they didn’t come colder than Stanger.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Um…ni
nety percent. She used a burner phone, but I matched the number to a case lot identifier wholesaled to an electronics store where Stanger used her credit card for the exact amount it cost, on the same day she first used it, last week. You think that’s coincidence?”

  “She should have used cash.”

  “She didn’t count on my mad skills.”

  “Absolutely. Nice work, Mickey.”

  “Thanks, boss.”

  “So Stanger hired Hade to screw with me. Anything else interesting in that phone’s records?”

  “Yeah. Couple calls to the city treasurer’s office, one to the California Department of Insurance, two to the Bureau of Security and Investigative Services.”

  Those were the agencies that regulated and taxed my businesses – private investigation, and bail bonding and fugitive recovery. “I have a feeling I’m going to need a lawyer soon. Does it look like she’s still using that burner?”

  “Maybe. Last call was yesterday.”

  “Keep checking it for anything new.” By now, Stanger must have heard about Hade’s death, I figured, and it would be interesting to see what she would do about it. “Mickey, make me a dossier on Stanger. Everything you can find out. The kitchen sink.”

  “Already started on it.”

  “I’ll be by the office late, probably after midnight. You staying there?”

  “Hell yeah. Better than hearing the noises coming from Mom’s bedroom.”

  “Ew. Print everything out and put it on my desk before you go to sleep.”

  “Sleep? What’s that?”

  “Just don’t be naked when I get there.”

  Mickey snorted. “Aw. Bye, boss.”

  “Bye.” Next I dialed Ron. Given the time difference to the East Coast, I woke him up, but I filled him in on what had been going on with me and made him take notes. “Just in case the next time I call you, I’m dead,” I said.

  “Funny. I’m still digging into this Houdini thing, but I haven’t made any progress.”

  “Keep trying. Take care.”

  “I will. You too.”

  I shut my phone and slid it deep into my jeans pocket, and then put my head back and tried to doze, letting the hum of the tires on the pavement lull me.