by Curry, Edna
“And a nice fee for you, of course?” Chance asked.
“Of course. The insurance company paid me their usual percentage,” the lawyer said stiffly. “I have a right to my fee.”
“Certainly. But I’d like you to know that the Buddy Conners with that Chicago address, died a hundred years ago. I haven’t been able to find any other one.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Mr. North sputtered. “It’s obviously just a wrong address and another person with the same name. It happens all the time. Google your own name and see how many more people in the country have it.”
Chance smiled. “I’m sure you’re right about that.”
“Besides,” he sputtered. “Buddy had a driver’s license with that name on it. I checked it myself. I even wrote down the number. It should be in my files.”
“I’d like a copy of that, please. But people can easily buy fake driver’s licenses.”
The lawyer buzzed his secretary and asked her to make a copy of the license from Buddy’s file. She produced it in short order and Chance added the copy to his clipboard.
“Did you talk to the driver’s family after the accident?”
“Yes, I did. I showed them a picture of Buddy. None of them knew him or why he’d been with the other man.”
“So, you don’t know where Buddy lived or worked before the accident?”
Mr. North shook his head. “No. He said he couldn’t remember. His doctors agreed he had memory loss. All Buddy gave me was that address in Chicago.”
“Did you check that out?”
His dark, shaggy brow dipped. “No, I didn’t. I had no reason to doubt that Buddy lived where he said he did.”
“I see. Thanks for your time. If you think of anything else, let me know.” Chance handed him a business card, shook hands and left.
***
Next, Chance drove to the Carson’s house. It was in an exclusive community with a guard at the gate. He told the man who he planned to visit and showed his badge.
“A bit out of your territory, aren’t you?” the guard asked.
“Just need to talk to them.”
“All right. Second turn to the left, then follow the road around the lake ’til you come to their house number,” the guard said.
“Thanks.” Chance found the large brick house in short order. Jane answered the door and Chance reminded her that they’d met at their house at Deer Lake after the burglary.
“Of course,” Jane said. “Come in. I recall seeing you at the cabin. Maynard has the day off. He’s in the den.”
Chance stepped onto the polished hardwood floor of the foyer and followed her through beautifully furnished rooms to the den where Maynard was sitting at a computer.
He rose and shook hands. “What brings you into town, Detective? Didn’t we answer all the questions the other night?”
“Yes, but something else has come up,” Chance said. He told them the weird story Buddy had told him.
“Yes, I remember he called me Jonesy the other night. Do you suppose he’s mentally ill?” Jane asked.
“I have to follow up all leads,” Chance said.
“Of course,” Maynard said.
“Have either of you ever seen that man before?”
“Never, I’m sure,” Maynard said.
“No, I’m sure I haven’t,” Jane said.
“Have either of you ever lived in Chicago?”
“No. We’ve both lived in Minnesota all our lives.”
“His claim that you’re really a man was really odd,” Chance said, turning to Jane.
She laughed. “Yes, it sure was, Detective. Do you want me to prove I’m a woman?”
Maynard’s face reddened with anger. He sputtered, “Jane! What an idea.”
Jane laughed again, and sent her husband a reassuring look. “I wasn’t planning to undress, dear. Merely to give him the name of my doctor.”
Maynard visibly relaxed. “Oh, of course. That will be sufficient, won’t it, Detective?”
“Certainly,” Chance said. He shouldn’t even need to ask this sensuous woman such a question. He doubted there were enough hormones in the world to change a man into a woman with those luscious curves.
Jane went to the desk drawer and found a business card. She handed it to him and he thanked her and left.
Just to cover all bases, he phoned the doctor. She laughed when he told her what he wanted to know and assured him Jane was all female and had never had a sex change.
“I didn’t think so,” Chance assured her. “But it’s my job to ask.”
***
Chance stopped for a sandwich at a fast food place. Checking his email on his smartphone, he saw that the report on Buddy’s fingerprints had come in. He was Bob Dennison, nickname, Buddy. “So he did keep his nickname,” he muttered to himself. An address in NE Minneapolis, not far from where he was having lunch. Good, he’d check him out while he was here.
Chance drove to the address, which proved to be a two-story, white frame apartment house. The woman who answered the door marked, ‘Manager’ was heavy-set with brown hair pulled back into a bun. Deep wrinkles lined her wide face and she scowled at him. “What ‘dya want? You don’t look like a tenant.”
“I’m a police detective. Just need a little information, if you have a minute?”
“I suppose.” She stepped back and allowed him into a cluttered apartment, smelling of cooked cabbage and onions.
She didn’t offer him a chair, which was okay. Chance didn’t plan to stay long. “Do you have a tenant named Bob Dennison?”
“Ya mean Buddy? That SOB disappeared over six months ago. You know where he is?”
“Yeah. He was in a bad accident and in the hospital for months. Now he’s in the hospital again.” Chance didn’t explain that this time, Buddy had a bullet wound.
“Huh, that so? Well, somebody coulda told me. Saved me a lot of trouble.”
“He evidently lost his memory, didn’t remember who he was and so he couldn’t tell anyone where he lived.” Chance wasn’t sure if that was true, or if Buddy was only pretending that. But he wanted this woman in a better mood to talk.
“Huh. Nobody paid his rent after he left, so I put his stuff in boxes in the basement. The furniture belongs to the apartment. He’ll have to pay his back rent if he wants the stuff.”
“I’ll tell him that. Do you know where he worked?”
“Nowhere steady. Got some temp jobs, day work now and then. Always behind in his rent.”
“I see. Did he give you any contact info? Relatives or anyone else’s name to call?”
“Nope. I’da called ’em to try to find him, if he had. Never had no visitors. Just kind of a loner, ya know?”
“I see. How long did he live here?”
“About a year, I guess it was.”
“Did he say where he’d lived before?”
She shrugged. “Said he’d been homeless for a while.”
“Did he give you any references when he came?”
She hooted. “Detective, the people who are willing to live in a dump like this don’t have fancy things like that. They live day to day, paycheck to paycheck.”
“I suppose. Well, thanks for your help.” Chance left his card with her and drove back to Canton.
***
Returning to his office in Canton, he made a fresh pot of coffee and pulled up his email while it perked. Some reports had come in while he’d been gone. Good. He read them while the coffee brewed.
Then he called Cassie, telling her, “I’m going to take a break, tonight, so I’ll drive you to your mother’s birthday party, okay?”
“Great,” Cassie said. “What did you learn this morning?”
“I’ll tell you on the way back to the city,” Chance said. “Are you resting up like the doctor told you? Not overdoing it?”
“Chance, I’m fine. Stop babying me.”
“I’ll pick you up about a quarter to five, okay?”
“Fine.” She hung up and
Chance looked up to see Ben at his door.
“Find out much this morning?” Ben asked.
Chance waved Ben to a chair, rose and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Want some?”
“Sure,” Ben said, easing himself into a chair and accepting the Styrofoam cup of hot brew.
Chance sat and filled him in on what he’d learned in the city. “I’ll get a copy of the police report about the accident Buddy was in. Maybe it’ll have more info,” he concluded. “Anything new here?”
“Yeah. I got info on the gun Buddy used at Deer Lake. He bought it at a gun show in Minneapolis about a month ago.” Ben sipped the coffee.
“That figures. I got the reports on his fingerprints and driver’s license, too. The license was a fake, one sold by black market peddlers with Buddy’s picture put in. Probably just found another ‘Buddy’ to use for his real name.” Chance turned back to his computer and printed out the fingerprint report. “Did I tell you that I learned he’s really Bob Dennison, aka Buddy? Kept his nickname.”
Ben nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense to use the same first name or nickname so he doesn’t have to remember what name to answer to.”
Chance swallowed more coffee. “Yeah. And it’s weird that some of the info is the same. I mean, just look at the old picture of Buddy Conners from the police file. If you didn’t know the picture was taken a hundred years ago, you’d swear it was taken of our Buddy with a different haircut, wouldn’t you? Same facial features.”
“That is weird, isn’t it? Or maybe the guy who looked up an ID for him just happened to find someone who resembled him in his list of IDs and chose that one because of it.”
“And he just happened to also have the same name, Ben?”
Ben shrugged. “Yeah, that’s strange.”
“It’s possible, I suppose. But I really, really hate coincidences. He has a bunch of minor offenses, from speeding to burglary. Even served a couple of years in jail about ten years ago. Looks like the charges were all in Minnesota. Nothing in Chicago. Wonder why he’s so insistent about belonging to this Chicago gang now?”
Ben shrugged. “Beats me. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would have done research on the past to learn all that stuff about those gangs. I mean, he hasn’t even asked for a computer while he’s in the hospital.”
“I didn’t find any in his camper, either. No smartphone or tablet, either.”
“So maybe he’s not computer savvy,” Ben said. “But if not, how did he learn all that stuff about Chicago that really happened? The names and addresses check out.”
“True. I didn’t find him on any social media when I looked the other day. Guess I need to look again under the Dennison name.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to check, I guess.”
“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take off early tonight.”
“Got a big date?” Ben asked, getting to his feet and towering over Chance.
“Yeah, I’m taking Cassie to Rosedale for her mom’s birthday party.”
“Well, have fun. Her folks are nice people.”
“You’ve met them?”
“Sure,” Ben said. “I went to school with her dad here. He was a couple years ahead of me, so we didn’t hang out in the same crowd, but you know, everyone knows everyone in small schools where there’s only about fifty people in each class.”
Chance rolled his eyes. “Small towns.”
Ben frowned. “Small towns aren’t just bad gossip. We kinda look out for each other, you know? I knew Cassie’s Grampa Joe, too. He did lots of odd jobs around the area in his later years, after he retired from the military. Cassie tagged along with him a lot and helped him out. That’s how she got interested in being a locksmith. She tell you that?”
“Yeah, she did tell me that.” Still, it irritated him that Ben knew Cassie so much longer and better than he did. Damn, now he was getting possessive. And jealous of a man thirty years his senior.
“Get a grip,” he scolded himself as Ben left.
Chapter 11
I was ready and waiting when my doorbell rang right at 5:30. Fluffy meowed at me as I went to answer it. Maybe she was remembering the burglar who’d appeared when I’d left her alone before. I reached down to pet her soft fur and told her to behave while I was gone.
“Ready, Cassie?” Chance stood on my doorstep, looking handsome, yet casual in blue slacks and a lighter blue shirt, open at the collar showing some dark chest hair. A leather string tie with hand-carved leather cowboy boots hung around his neck. His dark hair was a little longer than he usually wore it and curled a bit on his neck.
“Yes, ready to go.” I reached up to kiss him, allowing my itchy fingers to caress that hair a bit. Then I turned to grab the gift box with my mom’s present from the hall table and locked my door. I was still nervous after the burglary.
“You look extra pretty tonight,” Chance said as we ambled out to his car. He opened my door and helped me in. “I don’t remember seeing that outfit before.”
“Thanks,” I said, looking down at my new beige pantsuit. “Yes, it’s new. I went shopping with Ardis today. I have to dress up a bit or I’ll hear about it from my mother. She isn’t fond of my work clothes.”
On the hour’s drive to the restaurant, Chance told me what he could about what he’d been doing.
“Then you still don’t know who killed Alfred?” I asked.
Chance shook his head. “Not yet. Though we got some fingerprints and I have a list of suspects.”
“As long as I’m not on it,” I said with a shudder, remembering his murder case last year when I’d been opening a car behind the bar while the owner was murdered inside. That had put me on his and Ben’s ‘persons of interest’ list. Not fun.
“Don’t worry,” Chance grinned. “I haven’t even found a connection between the two murders, yet, though I have a feeling there is one.”
“Oh…” I said in a small voice, suddenly remembering something.
“What?” Chance said, turning to glare at me. He pulled off onto a side road and stopped the car. “I know that look, Cassie. What haven’t you told me?”
“It may mean nothing, Chance. Or maybe you already know about it.”
“Spit it out.”
“I changed some locks for Ellen Anderson the other day. She looked familiar and I realized she looked a lot like Lola Jarrin. When I asked her about it, she said she was Iris Anderson’s niece and Lola’s cousin.”
“So? What’s special about that?”
“She said Lola and Kendra, Alfred’s wife, are best friends. We got to talking and Ellen said she didn’t like Kendra’s new boyfriend, Harold Smith. Said he and Kendra were really uppity since they started this internet sales business selling antiques.”
“Yeah, I talked to Harold and he told me about that,” Chance said, slowly. “But I didn’t realize he and Kendra were related to Iris and Lola.”
“Not only related, but he and Kendra are in business together selling antiques. And Lola sold Iris’ antique cabinet for a small fraction of its worth. Did she sell it to someone who passed it to Kendra and Harold, who then sold it on the internet? Seems pretty fishy to me.”
“Yeah,” Chance said. “There are way too many connections to antiques and murders here. But I haven’t been able to tie Harold to either of the murders. And I have no proof yet, if he actually sold Iris’ cabinet, but I’d say it’s likely. A shame if Lola cheated her own mother.” He restarted the car and got them back onto the freeway. “I’ll look into that some more. Maybe I can trace the sale on the internet.”
“What I don’t get though, is why he’d want to kill a homeless vet? Or Alfred for that matter, if he was involved in that murder,” I said, eyeing Chance for his reaction.
“Yeah,” Chance agreed, glancing in the rear view mirror and changing lanes to pass a semi. “There’s a lot about this that doesn’t make any sense. Maybe Buddy did kill George, and the two murders aren’t connected at all. Maybe I’m trying to find a con
nection that doesn’t exist, just because the two murders happened in the same county and within a few days of each other.”
“That’s possible.”
Chance tossed me a smile. “Let’s forget it for tonight and enjoy your mother’s birthday dinner.”
“Okay.”
“So tell me about your family. You’ve never said much about them.”
“Yes, I have. I told you Dad’s a dentist and Mom’s his assistant. He has another one part time, too, so Mom can do social stuff for her church and charity functions. She likes to dress up and go to luncheons and so on.”
He grinned at me. “Guess you don’t take after her about doing all that, eh?”
I punched his shoulder. “Not really. I prefer wearing my jeans and relaxing at home with my computer when I’m not working, thank you.”
“Me, too,” Chance admitted.
“And I told you they live in Maplewood, not far from the restaurant we’re going to. They have a nice house there, also unlike me.” I wrinkled my nose at him.
“Hey, I like your house. It’s older, but it’s homey and in a nice neighborhood. What about your brother?”
“Ken and Sarah live in Phoenix. They bitch about how hot it gets there, but they never come up here in the winter. Ken claims he’s seen his last snow, but Sarah says when they have kids, she wants them to be able to play in it at least once. We’ll see who wins that argument.”
“So they don’t have kids yet?”
“No. They’re enjoying traveling and being footloose and fancy free, as Ken says. They both have good jobs in advertising and get plenty of vacation time.”
“So you don’t see them very often?”
“No, the folks go down there for a month or so at Christmas time so they can enjoy some warm winter weather down there.”
“Do you go with them?”
“No, I usually don’t have the extra money to fly down there.”
***
Chance didn’t want to spoil the festive mood tonight, but Buddy’s comments about Cassie were eating at him. He decided to see if he could find out a bit about her past. “But you don’t mind the winter, huh? Have you always lived in Minnesota?”