Reed Ferguson 1-3

by Renee Pawlish

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “You want us to do what?” a confused Ace Smith asked me.

  My condo was in the Uptown neighborhood, just east of downtown Denver. Ace and Deuce Smith were my downstairs neighbors. I had affectionately and privately dubbed them the Goofball Brothers because they, well, let’s just say they weren’t the brightest bulbs in the chandelier. Ace worked at Blockbuster and Deuce in construction, but their parents helped them financially, so that they could afford to live in such a nice neighborhood. Their older brother, Bob, looked after his younger, intelligence-impaired brothers, making sure they stayed out of trouble. Apparently their father had discovered his love of poker after Bob was born, thus their goofy names.

  I was sitting in the Goofball Brothers’ kitchen and had just explained to them that I needed their assistance with the ransom drop. By their blank stares, I could tell that I needed to explain again.

  “I’m working on a dognapping case,” I said for the second time. “My client has to deliver ransom money tonight and I need your help trying to catch the dognappers when they come for the money.”

  “So we’ll be like Ace Ventura, Pet Detective?” Ace grinned.

  Really? I thought. I had hoped no one else would have made that connection. “This is more serious than that.”

  “Do I get to carry a gun?” Deuce asked. Deuce always wanted to carry a gun. In his mind, that would make him a real detective. If he only knew…

  “No,” I said. “No gun.”

  Deuce frowned, a hint of anger in his gray eyes. “If I’m going to be your sidekick, I should get to carry a gun,” he said stubbornly.

  “Not when I have to answer to Bob,” I retorted. “He’d take your gun and kill me with it.”

  “That’s true,” Ace laughed. He looked almost the same as Deuce, with the same gray eyes and dirty blond hair. And naiveté. “That would be funny.”

  It was my turn to frown. “Anyway,” I continued. “Here’s what I need you to do.”

  “What if it’s dangerous? I might need a gun then.” Deuce wouldn’t let go of his dream.

  “It’s not going to be dangerous,” I reiterated. I wanted to say it would be more treacherous to let Deuce have a gun, but I kept my mouth shut.

  Deuce sighed. “What do you need us to do?”

  “The ransom drop is in an alley behind a strip mall. I need you two to watch both entrances to the alley. I’m going to give each of you a camera with a zoom lens. You take pictures of any vehicles or people you see coming and going.”

  “That’s it?” Ace sounded disappointed. “Where’s the danger?”

  “I told you, no danger.”

  “Bummer,” Deuce said.

  I shook my head.

  “Come upstairs with me and I’ll show you how to use the cameras,” I said.

  The brothers traipsed after me as we went outside and up the stairs to my condo. I took them into my home office, where I had my camera and a camera I had borrowed from Cal.

  “You have a lot of stuff,” Deuce said as he looked around the office. It’s a cozy room with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on one wall where I keep my most prized possessions. There’s a DVD case full of my favorite film noir and detective movies, along with a collection of Alfred Hitchcock classics. The bookshelves are packed with books, mostly murder mysteries, and a collection of rare first edition detective novels.

  “Okay, here are they are.” I retrieved the cameras from a closet and proceeded into a crash course on using the zoom lenses on each camera. They practiced for a few minutes. Once I knew they were comfortable using the cameras, I sat them down at my desk.

  “Here’s the layout for the mall,” I said. After leaving Belinda’s, I had stopped by the mall for a little reconnaissance. “There’s a Home Depot over here.” I drew a box on a piece of paper. Perpendicular to that, I drew a long rectangle and pointed to it. “Over here is the strip mall. My client is instructed to park in front of the strip mall and walk around behind it, where she’ll leave the money next to a dumpster.”

  Ace clapped his hands together. “But you’re going to do it for them, right? You know, dress up in disguise?”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “My client is a woman, so I don’t think that would work.” Not that the idea hadn’t crossed my mind. I wasn’t worried that I could pull off impersonating a woman, but the instructions were for Belinda to drop the money off and leave. I was sure they’d be watching to make sure she left the alley and I needed to be around back when the dognappers came for the money.

  “So where will we be?” Deuce asked.

  “Deuce, I want you to stay here.” I marked an ‘X’ near the Home Depot and then I drew another line on the paper. “This is the street running in front of the mall. Ace, you can park your car here, in the McDonald’s parking lot across the street. You should be able to zoom in and take pictures from there. It’s going to be late, so there won’t be a lot of traffic to block you.”

  “Why can’t I park in front of the strip mall?” Ace asked.

  “I don’t want the dognappers to get suspicious. Deuce will be fine parked over by the Home Depot, but a car too close to the strip mall will draw attention. If you’re at the McDonald’s, you’ll be close enough to get pictures, but the dognappers won’t notice you.”

  “Okay. I’ll commit this to memory.” Aced studied the paper with deliberation. Then he glanced up at me. “What are you going to be doing?”

  “I’ll be waiting behind the alley. There’s a bunch of crates stacked near the dumpster. I’m going to hide there and watch. The last time the dognappers walked to the ransom drop. I suspect they’ll be driving this time.”

  “Why?” This from Deuce.

  “Because I almost caught them the last time. They’re not going to take any chances now. They’ll want to get back there, grab the money, and take off before anyone can stop them.”

  “Oh,” both brothers said at the same time.

  “I’ve got a camera too,” I said. “At least one of the three of us should get a shot of the dognappers, their car, or both. With that, I hope I can figure out who they are.”

  “Won’t it be too dark?” Deuce asked.

  “There are lights in the lot,” I said. “I’m hoping it’ll be enough. Cal and I can enhance the photos and we might get a license plate number on the truck or be able to identify the dognappers.”

  “Why can’t you arrest them before they take the money?” Ace asked.

  “I can’t arrest them because I’m not a cop,” I said. “Besides, it’s not a crime until they take the money. And I don’t want them to harm the dog, so I need to let them take the money.”

  “Oh, right.” Ace stared at me quizzically. “Then what can you do?”

  “If I can figure out who they are, I can turn them in to the police after they’ve returned the dog to my client.”

  Deuce puckered his brow. “What if this doesn’t work?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  ****

  I heard Belinda before I saw her. Her footfalls echoed loudly in the silence behind the mall. Then her flashlight illuminated a beam of light down the alley. After working out my plan with the Goofball Brothers, I had called her and filled her in. I had instructed her not to look for me at all. She needed to act as if no one was there. I wasn’t sure if the dognappers were watching the alley itself or just waiting for her to reappear in front of the strip mall before they made their move. Either way, the dognappers were going to be more dangerous than the last time, and I didn’t want anything tipping our hand.

  Belinda performed her job perfectly. She hurried down the alley right past me, her fear palpable. She set the bag of money down next to the dumpster and continued down the alley, the flashlight beam bouncing around from her anxious energy. After a few moments, she broke into a jog. Moments later she rounded the corner and was gone.

  “Not much longer now,” I thought.

  A car started, Belinda’s I presumed, the so
und of the engine faint. Then nothing.

  My hands shook, and not just from the cold. Nerves, I thought. I was feeling the pressure of this case. I had to get these guys, but I was worried because I had so little information to work with. My stomach roiled. Before walking over here I’d decided to slam down a Big Mac. That was a mistake. I burped a couple of times but it didn’t help. The silence seemed like a roar in my ears. I took a couple of deep breaths.

  Then I heard it. Shuffling feet coming from the direction where Belinda had disappeared. Then the sound of a body hitting the pavement, an exhalation of breath, and then a curse. What kind of dognappers were these?

  My answer appeared in the moonlight. A disheveled man of indeterminate age ambled toward me. He was bundled up in tattered blankets and worn jeans. He stopped at the dumpster, reached up and lifted the lid. He peered inside, mumbling to himself.

  “Whatcha got for me tonight?” he murmured, his words slurred.

  Great, a drunk guy. My eyes darted to him, then to the bag of money sitting nearby. What if he saw it?

  “What’s this?” he said, glancing down.

  Damn me and my telepathic wave signals.

  The man lowered the dumpster lid carefully, as if knowing not to draw attention to himself. He bent down and was about to grasp the bag when I stepped out from behind the crates.

  “You need to get out of here,” I hissed at him.

  He bolted upright and swore. Then he said, “Who in the hell is that?” He held a hand to his chest. “Is my heart still working?”

  “Beat it,” I said in a low voice.

  “You can’t tell me what to do,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “I have a right to be here, and anything that’s in a trash can is fair game. A cop told me that,” he added self-righteously.

  “I don’t care,” I said. “That bag belongs to me.” Technically a lie, but now was not the time to split hairs.

  “If it’s your bag, why was it sitting there?”

  “I left it there.” I moved toward him. “Now I’m back and I want the bag.”

  “It’s mine,” he said, snatching up the bag.

  “Trust me, you don’t want to be here,” I said.

  “This is my alley, and now this is my bag,” he clutched the bag hard.

  “It is not.” Why in the world was I arguing with a drunk? I needed to get him out of here before the dognappers came for the money.

  “Give it to me,” I said, reaching out for the bag.

  “No.” He pulled away from me. “It’s mine.”

  “It’s mine,” I said.

  “It’s mine,” a third voice interrupted us.

  The drunk and I whirled around. A large, shadowy man stood before us. He had on jeans, a dark coat and a ski mask, so I couldn’t see his features, but one thing I clearly noticed was the gun in his hand.

  “Hey man, what in the hell is that?” the drunk whined.

  “That bag belongs to me.” The man waved the gun. “Put it down.”

  The drunk growled. “A man can’t catch a break.” He dropped the bag and it hit the ground with a thud. “Oops. I hope there wasn’t nothin’ breakable in there.”

  The man ignored him. “Now take ten steps back. Both of you.”

  The drunk and I backpedaled away from the bag. I kept my eye on the gun. It didn’t waver from us as the man stepped forward, bent at the knees and picked up the bag.

  “You’re quite an annoyance,” the man said.

  “What in the hell did I do?” the drunk said.

  “Not you,” the man snapped. He pointed the gun at me. “You.”

  I shrugged.

  “I told that lady no one should interfere,” the man said.

  “She just wants her dog back,” I said.

  Through the mouth hole in the mask the man grimaced. “We’ll see about that.”

  “You’ve got the money,” I said. “Now what?”

  My answer came in the form of a rumble. A black truck turned the corner, its headlights so bright in nearly blinded me. Unless I missed my guess, it was the same truck that I’d seen at South Valley Park. The diesel engine echoed loudly in the alley. The man stepped away from the building and the truck drove by him. The passenger door swung open and the truck slowed just enough for the man to dive in.

  “Don’t let me see you again,” he yelled.

  The truck shot toward the drunk and me. As it flew by I noticed that it had no license plates. We both dove behind the dumpster as the truck careened past. Body odor and stale booze assaulted me. My stomach turned.

  “What in the hell was that all about?” the drunk asked. I’d only known him for five minutes and already I knew ‘what in the hell’ was his favorite expression.

  I hauled myself to my feet but the drunk stayed on the ground.

  “I told you you didn’t want to be here,” I said. I brushed myself off and then kicked a stray can. If the drunk hadn’t been here, I could’ve taken pictures of the dognapper. And I’d have gotten close-up shots of the truck.

  He got to his knees. “What is this? Some kind of drug deal?”

  “You don’t want to know.” I stared at him. “Get out of here.”

  “Okay.” He stood up, holding out his palms in a surrender gesture. “I’m goin’.” He rubbed a hand over his face as he took a couple of steps back. “I just wanna drink and some food, man. I wasn’t doin’ nothing’.”

  I took one slow step toward him.

  “I’m goin’.” He pulled the blankets tight around his chest and shambled off, cursing under his breath.

  My cell phone rang.

  “Reed, I saw a truck drive into the alley!” Ace’s excited voice exclaimed when I answered. “Did you get them?”

  “No,” I said. “Call Deuce and tell him to meet me around the front.”

  “Okay. What should I do?”

  I sighed. “Meet me around front.”

  “Oh, okay,” Ace said. “Over and out.”

  I hurried back around the alley. That was twice I’d ended up on my ass, and I didn’t have a thing to show for it. Except that now I was pissed. Someone was making me look like a fool and a novice detective, and I didn’t like that.

  When I reached the parking lot, Deuce had just pulled up in his old Chevy pickup. A moment later, Ace drove up in his Subaru. Both brothers hopped out and began peppering me with comments and questions.

  “I got pictures,” Deuce chattered. “It’s a truck. Will these help you catch them?”

  “I got some pictures, too,” Ace said. “You want to see them?”

  “I’ve already seen them,” I growled. “Did you get pictures of anyone in the truck?” Not that it mattered. I’d missed seeing anyone in the cab of the truck because of the headlights in my eyes, but I’d bet my film noir collection that the driver had been wearing a mask.

  “I dunno.” Ace looked blank. “You said to take pictures of any vehicles we saw. That truck was the only one.”

  “We did like you told us,” Deuce said. He shoved the camera at me. “Here, look for yourself.”

  “It’ll be too hard to see anything on the screen,” I said. “It’s too small.”

  “Yeah, but I got them,” he said. “Look, you can push this button and it will show you the pictures.”

  “I know,” I said through gritted teeth, my patience on short supply. “I showed you how to do that this afternoon.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Deuce scratched his head. “Are you mad at us? We just did what you told us to do.”

  It was time to take a deep breath and refocus. So I did, while the Goofball Brothers scrutinized me carefully. They did, in fact, do exactly as I’d asked them. It wasn’t their fault a drunk ruined my plans.

  “You both did just fine,” I finally said. “I’ll take the cameras and transfer the pictures onto my computer. I can enlarge them and see if I can tell who was driving the truck or if the license plate number is readable.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Ace said. Deuc
e nodded his head, a hard-fought knowing expression on his face.

  “You both earned your first stripes as detectives.”

  “Cool,” Ace said with awe in his voice. “What do we get to do with the stripes?”

  “And now we get guns, right?” Deuce said.

  “Oh, Bogie, if you only knew what I endured,” I thought.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I took the cameras from the brothers and stuffed them in a backpack that Deuce had in his truck.

  “What now?” Ace asked.

  “We’re done here,” I said. “I’m going to call my client and tell her what happened. They got the money so hopefully they’ll return her dog.”

  “What if they don’t?” Deuce frowned.

  “I don’t know.” I bit my lip. “I hope they don’t hurt her.” I patted Deuce’s shoulder. “Thanks for your help.”

  “No problem.” Deuce got in his truck. “Why don’t you come down to B 52’s and shoot some pool with us?” B 52’s was a converted warehouse that was now a pool hall decorated with old airplane propellers and advertisements from World War II. The bar was near our condo and the Goofball Brothers loved to hang out there and shoot pool.

  “Yeah, you can take your mind off the case,” Ace said.

  A beer did sound good. Maybe I could erase some of my professional failure. “I’ll meet you guys down there in a while,” I said and waved as they drove off.

  I studied the strip mall for a few seconds. The dognappers had been very careful to hide their identities. Good for them, bad for me. I shook my head and then walked across the street to the McDonald’s, got in the 4-Runner and called Belinda.

  “What happened?” she asked breathlessly.

  “They got the money,” I said, “But it didn’t go as planned.”

  “Oh no!”

  I told her what happened. “You haven’t heard from the dognappers?”

  “No,” she moaned. “They can’t hurt Rosie. They just can’t.”

  I inhaled and let it out slowly. “Sit tight. I’m sure they won’t do anything to Rosie, but they probably want you to think they will.”

  “You get them,” Belinda said vehemently.