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

by D. D. VanDyke

  “What we got?” I said as I entered the basement.

  Mickey handed me a stack of papers. “Everything I have on Stanger.”

  I flipped it open. “Daly City, near Edgemar. Pricey area. What’s she doing for work?” She’d been fired from the force for cause, of course, and no law enforcement agency would likely hire her, especially not in California.

  “Corporate security consulting. Her own company: West Bay Protective Services.”

  “Office?”

  “Near the house. Address is there.”

  I grunted. “We’ll be paying her a visit.”

  “Okay. Um, you might want to catch up on your emails.”

  “Why? You been reading my emails again?”

  Mickey squirmed. “Since you been out so much, I skimmed the subject lines. There’s a couple from those government agencies. They want to audit you.”

  I sighed. “Okay. Thanks.”

  “You really need to hire a receptionist, Cal. The doorbell buzzed eight or ten times yesterday.”

  “I’ll think about it. Now that you’ve made this dossier, do another one on Jerry and Carol Conrad.”

  “I already got most of Jerry’s from last time.”

  “Get everything you can.”

  “Below the line too?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Mickey licked his lips. “Just make sure you give me some warning before we get audited. I’ll need time to wipe the hard drives unless you want us both to end up at Alcatraz for hacking.”

  “Alcatraz was closed a long time ago.”

  “Poetic license. Um, Cal…as long as I’ve gone extralegal anyway, you want me to see if I can make these audits go away?”

  “You can do that?”

  “Worth a try.”

  I squirmed. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Think fast.”

  “Dammit…okay, take a look. But don’t make things worse!”

  “You got it, boss.”

  I carried the stack of paper on Stanger upstairs along with my coffee and sat at my desk, spreading out the printed sheets while the desktop booted. In the three years since we’d both left the force, it looked like Stanger had done well for herself, at least financially. Her tax returns said she was clearing triple what she had as a police lieutenant, well over three hundred a year.

  Unfortunately, information on her client list was spotty. Probably most of it was in paper files rather than on a hard drive, and the records wouldn’t be public, so there was no easy way to connect her to anyone else that had it in for me. The uncoordinated nature of the harassment and the hired killer’s presence argued against her working for Houdini, even indirectly.

  I skimmed the pile. Nothing further jumped out at me, so I stuffed it into a folder and headed upstairs. By that time Thomas had assembled his own outfit.

  Despite myself, I enjoyed trying on all the clothes, acting like a girl for once. Eventually I settled on a deep burgundy post-Labor-Day number that would go well with the long overcoat he’d bought, allowing me to keep the tools of my trade handy but concealed. “No pants with pockets. This is annoying as hell.”

  “Price of the business, I’m afraid. You look stunning.”

  “So do you.” And he did. Some men in drag look like men in drag, but with his smooth fair skin and expertly applied makeup, it would take a close examination to tell he wasn’t a woman.

  “Now for the wig.” He indicated a hatbox.

  “Blonde?”

  “You can’t sell redhead, darling. Not with those eyes. I’m the brunette today.” He slipped on his own black hair, completing the illusion.

  I pulled on the blonde wig, twin to Thomas’ except for the color, a straight shoulder-length cut not so different from my natural hair. “I hope you don’t think we’re taking a day off.”

  “Up to you. You’re the investigator. Today I’m playing bodyguard.”

  “I’ll call the M&Ms and let them know they’re on standby. Then we’ll look up my old boss for a friendly little chat.”

  The house in the Edgemar district of Daly City looked like nothing special, except for those three key things: location, location, location. Spacious single-family homes on large lots, easy commute to San Fran and placement within walking distance of the beach combined to push the average price of a four-bedroom over a cool mil.

  We got out of Thomas’ high-end Audi – he said he’d rented it – and walked boldly up to the front door to knock on its clean, painted cerulean surface. We were both certain we’d dodged any tail with our disguises and car switch.

  No answer, even after several attempts. “I suppose she’s out, or at her office,” Thomas said.

  “I’d hoped to get lucky. Much easier to interrogate someone in complete privacy.”

  When we got there, the office looked problematic for our purposes. It was a glass-faced suite in a small corporate building, with the front desk in plain sight of the lobby.

  And she had a receptionist. “May I help you?” the studly young thing said, rising from his seat.

  “Yes, you certainly may,” I replied with a bat of my eyelashes, playing the hyper-feminine role I’d set for myself. “We need our security upgraded and we’re hoping to see Ms. Stanger. A friend of hers referred us.”

  “I’ll let her know.” He smiled and strode off, tailored trousers accenting his assets.

  “Should I be worried?” Thomas murmured.

  “Puh-lease. He’s a Ken doll, with probably just as much nothing in his head.”

  “Miss Stanger will see you now.” The male model indicated the door with a practiced sweep of his upturned hand.

  Thomas patted the receptionist’s cheek as he went past. “Thanks, darling.”

  I swear the man blushed. If only he knew.

  When the door clicked shut inside the spacious office, its back wall solid tinted glass with a view to a garden courtyard, Nina Stanger stepped out from behind a large modern desk to hold out her hand. Tall, with straight-but-thin dirty-blonde hair, hard of face and body, she wore her version of my usual working outfit, slacks, blouse and blazer. Two ex-cops, cut from the same mold.

  “Welcome to West Bay Protective. What can I…” She stopped in mid-reach, eyes locked on mine. “You.”

  “Me.” I’d prepared myself for this moment and she hadn’t, so I pressed my advantage. “Another sordid little plan of yours got someone killed, Nina. She wasn’t as lucky as me.” I lifted the hair to show my scars.

  Color drained from Stanger’s visage. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Those calls to Dalonia Hade from your burner phone say otherwise. So does a cash withdrawal from your business account for thirty grand.”

  “So what? I didn’t do anything illegal.”

  “Except kill her.” Stanger’s reaction to my false accusation should tell me something.

  “What?”

  “SFPD has you on tape making the payoff at Coit Tower a few minutes before she died. How’d you do it?”

  Stanger’s face showed what I thought was genuine confusion. “I didn’t kill her. I didn’t even know she was dead. Why would I do that?”

  “To eliminate all trace of what you did.”

  “Corwin, I always knew you were a self-righteous bitch, but I never thought you were an idiot. Why the hell would I kill someone I just paid off, especially when I’d done nothing wrong?”

  “Nothing unlawful, anyway. Maybe you didn’t want to part with the money or leave a witness.”

  “Preposterous. I wouldn’t risk a murder conviction for a measly thirty grand.”

  “How much would you risk one for? Half a mil?”

  “Hardly.” She laughed. Deliberately cruel, she said, “And now your daddy’s car is gone forever.”

  I wasn’t going to let her gain control of this conversation, so I shrugged as if unconcerned. “It’s in impound. I’ll get it back.”

  “Maybe I’ll buy it at the auction.”

  “Not
if you’re in jail.”

  “If I really were a suspect in this woman’s death, Homicide would have already paid me a visit. It’s not like I’m hiding.”

  “They haven’t identified you on the tape. In fact, until you admitted it just now, I wasn’t sure either. Thanks, Nina. I’m sure Jay Allsop will stop by soon. He doesn’t like me much, but he hates your skinny ass. Oh, as for your anonymous calls to the city treasurer’s and the state regulatory boards, they’ll find everything in order, and remember, that can cut both ways.” I waved my finger around at her impressive office. “You sure you did everything by the book here? Given your track record, I doubt it.”

  “I think it’s time for you to leave. It seems I need to call my lawyer.”

  “Not until you answer a few more questions.”

  “I’m done with you and your games. Bruce will show you out.” She reached for her intercom.

  Thomas removed his hand from his purse to display a small pistol with a large suppressor. “Let’s not be hasty,” he said in a falsetto French accent straight out of Monty Python. I struggled not to laugh.

  Stanger froze, and then brought her hand back to rest near her belly. “Yes, let’s not.”

  “Remove ze weapon from ze shoulder holster, slowly, and place it on ze desk,” Thomas continued.

  Stanger’s face twisted, and then she took out a compact automatic and did as Thomas ordered.

  “Now let’s take ze seats on your lovely designer furniture.”

  I almost choked.

  Once we’d divested ourselves of our overcoats and settled on the sofa arrangement, Thomas facing Stanger and me off to the side, she said, “You know, I’m overjoyed right now. Holding me at gunpoint is going to get you in far more trouble than I ever could.”

  “I’m not holding you at gunpoint. My Gallic associate is. What could I do, officer? She had a gun.”

  “She’s not going to kill me.”

  “No, but she might shoot you a little. I hear kneecaps hurt like hell. Or maybe the neck.” I brushed my scars again. Interesting that Stanger hadn’t twigged to Thomas’ real gender.

  “Or explode you.” Thomas removed a hand grenade from his purse and set it on the coffee table, out of Stanger’s reach. “I hear it’s very painful, even when you survive.”

  “Holy shit. You people are crazy!”

  I smiled a shark’s grin. “Yeah. Ever since the bomb gave me brain damage, I’ve been a bit of a loose cannon. Crashing cars. Hanging out with suspicious characters. Shooting women.” I thought I saw Thomas’ mouth twitch at that.

  “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but you’ve obviously come unhinged.”

  “Having people trying to kill you will do that.”

  “I’m not trying to kill you.”

  “No, but someone is,” I said.

  “More power to them.”

  “Answer my questions forthrightly or something worse than a tax audit will be coming your way.”

  She crossed her arms. “Fine. Anything that will end this charade.”

  Thomas lowered his pistol, but left the grenade where it sat, pin firmly inserted. I wondered whether it was real or merely one of his tools of intimidation.

  “How long have you been working for Houdini?” I said.

  Again, Stanger should have either considered a career on stage and screen, or my question genuinely puzzled her. “Houdini? The drug kingpin?”

  “Exactly.”

  “If I were working for him, do you think I’d be making a mere six figures and have only one full-time employee?”

  “Maybe you don’t know you’re working for him.”

  “Then why are you asking me?”

  “Because you have info I need. Where are your client records?”

  Stanger pointed at a filing cabinet. “Top drawer.”

  I walked over to open it, finding two dozen folders. I leafed through them all, setting aside one that interested me, and then came back to sit down, opening it in my skirted lap. “North Bay Distributors. Drug warehouse up in San Rafael.”

  “Yes, I did a security assessment for them about six months ago. Identified several weaknesses, especially to an inside job. They paid well, but it didn’t matter. They didn’t fix what I told them to and got robbed anyway. I’m sure you remember it. Made all the news. Biggest prescription drug heist in years. More than a hundred million, from what I heard. Idiots.” She said it with the contempt of a professional whose expert advice was disregarded by amateurs.

  I suppressed a moment of sympathy. “Yes. Or maybe not. Why would a multi-billion-dollar company disregard upgrades costing…” I checked the open file on my lap, “…a mere eight hundred thousand dollars? Seems pennywise and pound-foolish.”

  “All these corporations howl at the cost of security. Most bite the bullet and do it, though.” She shrugged. “These guys didn’t. In fact, the heist crew exploited exactly the holes I identified.”

  “Exactly? Doesn’t that seem coincidental?”

  Stanger’s eyes narrowed. She might be bent, but she wasn’t stupid. “You think they used me to figure out how to defeat their own system.”

  “When you want a job done right, hire a pro.”

  She sat back, eyes lifted in thought. “Damn.”

  “This is all a nice act, by the way. I wonder what Major Crimes will think of this coincidence.”

  “I had no idea I was being used.”

  “Stick to that story and you might come out all right…legally, anyway. I can see the headlines, though. Daly City Security Firm Under Investigation for Involvement in Multi-Million-Dollar Robbery. Did you know I have a friend at the Chronicle? I’m sure we can get it onto the front page.”

  Stanger pressed her lips together, no doubt fully aware that such a story would ruin her reputation, and thereby her business. “How about this one: Local Private Investigator Arrested for Armed Intimidation. Did you know I still have a lot of friends on the force?”

  “Who’ll abandon you as soon as it becomes clear what you did at North Bay and how you’re suspected of murder.” This was a bluff, but a good one, as long as she didn’t know about the Old Maid. “As I mentioned, Jay Allsop’s the lead detective. I’m sure he’ll be happy to give you a pass.” Not.

  She didn’t say anything, only looked even more angry.

  “I also find it highly coincidental that you decided to start messing with me at this particular time. You want to illuminate me on that?”

  “There’s nothing to it. I saw your name in the paper because of that goat-rope in the foothills, and I decided it had been long enough that you wouldn’t suspect me.”

  That actually made perfect sense…and if Houdini had put Stanger up to anything, I couldn’t prove it. All he’d have to do is tip her off – an anonymous phone call, for example – and Stanger would have run with it.

  “Tell you what, Nina. I’m in a generous mood today, and I’ve found out what I needed to know. Let’s let bygones be bygones. Stay out of each other’s way. You’ve gotten your little pound of flesh, had your petty revenge, though God knows it’s me that should be looking for vengeance. I’ll be out the cost of getting my car back and the lawyer’s fees to handle the audits, and I’m willing to take those lumps. In return, you forget this ever happened.”

  I could see her think that over. It ought to be a good trade: not reporting our actions, balanced against my not broadcasting what she did with North Bay Distributors and the sleazy little arrangement with Hade. Of course, I’d have to give it all to Allsop and Brody, but the details didn’t have to make the papers.

  “All right,” she eventually said. “I’ll call it even. Now get the hell out of my office.”

  “Temper, temper,” Thomas said, lifting the muzzle of his pistol again.

  “I think I’ll take out a little insurance, though.” I carried the file to her copier and duplicated several pages, folding the resulting sheets and putting them into the pocket of my jacket before donning it
. “And I’ve also recorded this conversation, by the way.”

  “That’s inadmissible.”

  I shrugged. “Won’t matter much if I put it on the internet. Properly edited, of course. And there are worse things than business trouble.”

  Thomas picked up the grenade and tossed it idly in the air, catching it with the same hand. “Boom,” he said, miming an explosion.

  Stanger merely sat on her office sofa, glaring as we let ourselves out.

  Chapter 14

  “That was fun,” Thomas said.

  “Let’s go. She’ll be calling people right now.”

  “Then you should do the same. Your friends in Homicide, to begin with.”

  We hurried to the car, and as soon as Thomas sped away I called Allsop. It rang busy so I tried Brody.

  “Hey, Cal. Funny you calling right now. You’ll never guess who Jay’s talking to.”

  “Nina Stanger.”

  Brody was silent for a moment. “Sometimes you scare me.”

  “Imagine how much I scare myself. Listen, there’s no mystery. I woke up this morning with an idea of who the first woman at Coit Tower was, the jogger, and looked up Stanger. We had a nice chat, I clued her in, and she’s no doubt doing the right thing by identifying herself to her old pal Jay before someone else has to track her down and take her in for questioning. That’s it.”

  “Why was she at Coit Tower, though?”

  I explained in a few short sentences about Hade and the plan to screw me. “Feel free to conduct a nice, long interrogation,” I said, knowing full well that wouldn’t happen. Former cops usually got shown a lot of professional courtesy. Except ones that had turned against the department, in their eyes. “Anything on the killer?”

  “Nothing. We’re stumped. At least now we know it was mistaken identity, right? She was after you. Why would that be, Cal?”

  “Hired by Houdini. Obviously I caused him too much trouble.”

  “Is that why you went rattling cages over in Granger’s Ford?”

  “You heard about that, huh?”