Reed Ferguson 1-3

by Renee Pawlish

  “It’s over,” I said. “I know everything.”

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

  “Gail told me,” I said firmly.

  Kelli shoved at me but then she suddenly stopped. I let go of her wrists and she fell back against the wall. “We needed money,” she whispered as she slumped to the floor. “We were going to lose everything.”

  “Where’s Darren?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Were you with Darren at the ransom drops?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I drove the truck.”

  “You tried to run me over.”

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I –”

  A car horn blared from the front yard, interrupting her. The horn continued, a monotonous high-pitched wail that reverberated throughout the house.

  “Shirley,” I said.

  “Darren!” Kelli cried. She launched herself at me, her shoulder hitting me square in the chest. I tumbled back onto the bed and she ran out of the room.

  She ran down the hall and I followed, hollering for her to stop. She ignored me as she raced through the kitchen, out the door and into the garage. She stopped in the middle of the garage and I almost ran her over.

  Darren was standing near the truck. He held Spice under one arm. In the other he brandished a large kitchen knife. Over the blare of the car horn he was yelling at Shirley.

  “I’m not going to jail!” he shouted. “You put that phone down or I’m going to kill this damn dog!”

  The horn kept up its racket.

  Kelli screamed and Darren whirled around.

  “Get back!” he snarled when he saw us.

  “Okay.” I held up my hands. “Take it easy.”

  “Shut that damn horn off!” Darren waved at Shirley.

  I took a couple of steps and Darren put the knife to the dog’s throat. “Don’t take another step.”

  “I’m just going to tell Shirley to stop,” I said.

  Darren glared at me. “Fine,” he finally said. “Then get her to move the car.”

  “I have the keys,” I said.

  I moved to the other side of the garage where Shirley could see me and I waved my arms at her. “Stop,” I motioned.

  The sound of the horn died. The sudden silence seemed just as menacing.

  “Shirley, you open your door,” Darren yelled.

  Shirley did as he said and the passenger door of the 4-Runner opened.

  Darren turned to me. “Now, throw your keys over here.”

  I pulled my keys out of my pocket and threw them at his feet. He kept his eyes on me as he bent down. He felt around in the snow for the keys and picked them up.

  “Now, I’m going to give the keys to Shirley and she’s going to back the car out of the driveway. Then I’m getting in my truck and I’m outta here. If anyone tries to follow, I’m throwing the dog out the window. The little mutt won’t survive.”

  Spice whimpered. Kelli, who’d been silent up to this point, suddenly burst into tears.

  “Enough!” she screamed. “Darren, you bastard, you are not going to hurt that dog.”

  “Shut up, Kelli,” Darren swore at her. “You stay out of this.”

  “No,” she said, sobbing. “I went along with this, but it’s gone too far. We said all along that nobody was going to get hurt. Well, that includes the dogs. So you put that dog down. You are not going to hurt it.”

  Darren’s nostrils flared as he glared at Kelli.

  The distant wail of a police siren pierced the stillness, then grew louder as it neared. The police car appeared down the street. It screeched to a halt behind the 4-Runner.

  “Someone called 911,” I said.

  Two officers got out of the car. They noticed Darren holding the knife and the dog.

  “What’s going on here?” one officer said as he took a couple of wary steps forward, his hand on the butt of his gun.

  “It’s over,” I said to Darren. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  Darren’s eyes darted from me to the officers and back to me. Then the knife slowly lowered.

  “Why don’t you drop that knife and take a couple of steps back,” the officer said.

  Darren hesitated, then let go of the knife. It dropped into the snow. Darren stepped back, still clutching Spice. Kelli ran up to him, yelling as she snatched the dog out of his hands. Darren’s shoulders sank as his bravado failed him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as the officers rushed over. They handcuffed him and swiftly put him in the backseat of the police car.

  Another police car showed up and in seconds, Kelli had been arrested as well. An officer began questioning Shirley while another, Officer Schmidt, cornered me in the garage and I told him what was going on. I was freezing by the time we finished.

  “And this is the latest victim,” Officer Schmidt said. He bent down to look into the dog carrier, where the other officers had put Spice after they’d arrested Kelli. Officer Schmidt opened the door and let Spice out.

  “Who does the dog belong to?”

  “The Kirbys.” I bent down and scooped Spice into my hands. She trembled violently.

  “I’ll need to get a statement from them, and they’ll be able to press charges if they want to,” Officer Schmidt said.

  “Can I take Spice with me?”

  Officer Schmidt shook his head. “I wish I could let you, but I’ll have to call animal control. The Kirbys can get her from there.”

  I waited with Spice until animal control arrived.

  “It’s okay, girl,” I said as I turned her over to a burly officer. “You’ll go home soon.”

  “You know the owners?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’ll let them know they can pick her up at the shelter.”

  “Good.” He gave me a card with the shelter address on it.

  I grabbed Spice’s dog carrier and walked slowly to my car. The Kirbys would get their dog back. Shirley, Kelli and Darren were in custody. It was finally over.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Isn’t she a beautiful dog? Oh my sweet girl,” Louise cooed at Spice. Spice wagged her rear end excitedly and licked her face. Wayne beamed as he petted Spice’s head.

  I was at my office with Gail and the Kirbys. I’d called Gail after I left Darren and Kelli’s house and had her call the Kirbys. The Kirbys picked up Spice from the shelter and then stopped by the office.

  Louise continued to fuss over Spice and the dog ate it up. It was hard to tell who was more excited.

  “Thank you,” Wayne said, shaking my hand.

  I smiled wearily, glad that I’d finally found the dognappers.

  “We can’t thank you enough,” Gail said.

  It wasn’t quite four o’clock, but it had been a long, difficult day. I was about to sit down when another couple walked through the door. He was so tall his head almost hit the door jamb, and she was barely half his height. I knew them from somewhere. Then it dawned on me. The last time I’d seen them, they were walking into their garage with their dog Aesop.

  “Mrs. Johnson,” I said as I introduced myself.

  “Please, call me Leslie,” she said. “We are in your debt.”

  “We can’t thank you enough,” Matt Johnson said. I had to look up at him as he talked.

  “Gail’s told us about everything,” Leslie said. “We were so happy you found Aesop, but then Gail said another dog had gone missing.”

  “And we were just devastated,” Matt said. “It’s such a horrible thing.”

  “We had so wanted to see you today,” Leslie went on. “But with another dog missing, we thought that wouldn’t work.”

  “And then Gail called again and said you’d found the dog,” Matt finished. “Incredible.”

  “It was a lucky break,” I said.

  “I don’t think so,” Gail piped up. “All the dogs are back, and you caught the dognappers.”

  “Here.” Matt handed me something.

  I
t was a check. I took it and stared at the amount. It was enough to keep me in business a lot longer.

  “I can’t take this,” I said.

  “Nonsense,” Matt smiled. “We would’ve had to pay more to those crooks. Belinda and the Kirbys contributed as well.”

  “Please take it,” Wayne and Louise said at the same time.

  “Well thank you. Thank you very much,” I said. I sounded like Elvis. I felt my face get hot.

  Gail glanced at The Big Sleep poster on the wall. “I think you’re giving Humphrey Bogart a run for his money.”

  My face grew hotter. I smiled. The ladies hugged me and the men shook my hand, and they all left.

  I sat down at my desk, reveling in the silence. I swiveled my chair around and gazed out the window. It had started snowing again and a soft blanket of winter white covered the street. I saw my reflection grinning in the window glass.

  Gail had compared me to Bogie. Not bad. And not Bogie in High Sierra the dog’s a bad omen and Bogie dies at the end. I was Bogie the detective. I’d solved the case.

  ****

  The streets were slick as I drove home. I showered and changed clothes and soon after I finished, Willie showed up for our date. She looked sexy in black slacks and a low-cut blouse.

  “You look fantastic,” I said, admiring her.

  She smiled and turned around. “Better than my smocks, right?”

  I laughed. “You look great in the smocks, too.”

  She laughed. “Where are we going?”

  “We said Italian, right? How about DaVinci’s?” I suggested a little place on 18th Street, just up the road from my condo. “That way we don’t have to drive far in the snow.”

  “That’ll work.”

  My cell phone rang.

  “Hold on,” I said. I looked at the number. “It’s my mom. If I don’t take this, she’s liable to bother us all night.”

  “Sure thing,” Willie smiled.

  I punched a button on the phone. “Hi, Mom,” I said.

  “Hello, dear, how are you?”

  “Just fine,” I said.

  “No, you’re not,” Willie said.

  I covered the phone. “Sh!” I didn’t see the need to worry my mother with explanations of my harrowing last couple of days.

  “What was that, dear?” my mother said.

  “I was talking to someone else,” I said, pretending to glare at Willie.

  “Who?”

  I should’ve known my mother would want to know.

  “It’s my neighbor Willie,” I said. “We were just going to dinner.”

  “Willie? Do I know him?”

  “Her.”

  “Her?” There was a long pause while my mother processed the information. “Am I finally going to get some grandchildren?”

  “Let’s slow things down, mother,” I said. “Did you need something?”

  “I was going to tell you about Bitsy. She is just adorable.”

  “Maybe I could call you tomorrow,” I said. “I’m going to be late for my dinner reservation.”

  “Oh, silly me. Of course, you enjoy your date sweetheart,” she said. “I want to hear about it tomorrow, okay?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Reed, don’t be so secretive.”

  “Bye, Mom,” I said.

  “DaVinci’s doesn’t take reservations,” Willie said when I got off the phone.

  “I know, but if I hadn’t said that, I might have been on the phone with her all night.”

  Willie shook her head. “You are incorrigible.”

  I snatched up my car keys, opened the door, and nearly had a heart attack. Deuce was standing in the doorway, arm raised, about to knock.

  “Ugh!” I said, placing a hand over my heart. “You trying to kill me?”

  “Huh?” Deuce gazed dully at me. “I’m not trying to kill you. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

  “I’m fine,” I smiled. “Just a little bruised up.”

  Deuce leaned closer, squinted his eyes and studied me. “Yeah, I guess you look okay.”

  “Hey, Deuce,” Willie poked her head up under my arm. “How are you?”

  Deuce threw her a shy smile. “Hi, Willie.” He waved even though she was right in front of him. “I was checking on Reed and then I was going to get some dinner.”

  “Oh, we were just going to DaVinci’s now,” Willie said.

  “You sure you want to go out in the snow?” Deuce asked. “I was going to go play pool at B 52’s, but it’s too snowy to drive there.”

  “The restaurant’s just down the street so we’ll be fine,” I said. I put a hand on Willie’s shoulder, trying to scoot her out the door.

  “I love Italian,” Deuce said.

  “Order a pizza,” I said.

  “I guess I could do that.” Deuce shifted back and forth. “I’m kinda bored. You wanna hang out?”

  I leaned in closer to Deuce. “Buddy, we’re on a date,” I whispered.

  Deuce stared at me.

  “So we want to be alone,” I murmured.

  It took a minute, but Deuce finally got it.

  “Oooooh.” He winked dramatically. “I understand.”

  Willie held a hand up to her mouth, covering a smile.

  “Since you can’t go to B 52’s, why don’t you get Ace to bring a movie home?” I said, guiding Willie out the door.

  “Okay,” Deuce said.

  “Tell him to get High Sierra,” I suggested. “It’s great.”

  Deuce’s nose crinkled up. “What? Is that some film now thing?”

  “It’s film noir, Deuce. Film noir, remember?” I said, emphasizing the words carefully. “And yes, it’s a great movie. Bogie plays Mad Dog Roy Earle, and he gets involved in a heist that goes wrong.”

  Willie linked a hand in mine and we slipped past Deuce.

  “I dunno about film no-ar,” Deuce mimicked me. “How about something with action?”

  “High Sierra has action. There’s lots of guns and car chases.”

  Willie and I started down the stairs.

  “Nah,” Deuce hurried after us. “Action! You know, like Arnold Schwarzenegger.”

  “Good,” Willie called over her shoulder. “Get an Arnold movie.”

  “Okay,” Deuce said. “You guys can stop by after your dinner, if you want.”

  “Thanks,” Willie said.

  “I can think of a lot of things I’d rather do after dinner,” I whispered.

  Willie raised an eyebrow at me.

  Hey, you can’t blame a guy for trying…

  ELVIS AND THE SPORTS CARD CHEAT

  Elvis is alive, I thought when he walked through the door. I must be dreaming.

  “Can I help you?” I asked. I assumed the Elvis-like figure in front of me needed the services of a detective. After all, he had just walked through a door that said, Reed Ferguson Detective Agency.

  “I need you to help me find something,” he said. He didn’t sound like Elvis, and there was no Southern drawl.

  “Have a seat,” I said, indicating a chair across from my desk. I perched my butt on the edge of the desk and contemplated him. His hair and sideburns were a dead ringer for the king during the 70s, but he wasn’t dressed like Elvis, the way the 70s Elvis looked with the flashy sequined jumpsuits - except for the same kind of big sunglasses that Elvis wore. “What’s going on?”

  “My name is Perry Rawlings. I’m an Elvis impersonator.”

  Ah. That answered one question.

  “I work at the Tip Top Lounge. We have an act of a few old impersonators. Elvis, Bobby Darin, The Supremes,” he ticked the names off on a finger adorned with a huge gold ring. “We’re the big names. There are a few others.”

  I nodded.

  “I have - had - a valuable baseball card,” Perry said. “But it was stolen.”

  “What card?” I liked baseball, but I had no idea what baseball memorabilia was worth. Now, Hollywood memorabilia, or first edition books, that I knew a little about.
Not that it would help me now.

  “A 1952 Topps #311 Mickey Mantle.” I shrugged. “It doesn’t mean much to you, I can see,” Perry said. “People mistake this card for Mantle’s rookie card, but it was actually his second year card. The 1952 Mantle card is one of the most collectible post-war cards around.”

  “How’d you get it?”

  “My dad bought it in the early 80s. He remembered having one when he was a kid, but his mom threw all of his cards out after he joined the navy.”

  “I’ll bet she regretted that later,” I said.

  Perry nodded. “Yeah, I can’t imagine what cards Dad had. Anyway, he bought some of his favorite players, Mantle being one of them. I forget what he paid for it.”

  “What’s it worth now?” I asked.

  “Depends on the market, but somewhere around ten thousand dollars. How the card is graded for condition would factor in, so I don’t know for sure.”

  I whistled.

  Perry smiled. “Yeah, it’s amazing what some things are worth.”

  “When did the card disappear?”

  “About a week ago. I left it in a locked safe in my dressing room. While I was out onstage, someone took it.”

  “You’re sure it was in the safe when you left the dressing room?” I reached across the desk and grabbed a notepad and pen.

  “Yes. I never take it with me.”

  “Why keep it at the club? Wouldn’t it be safe somewhere else?”

  Perry waved a hand, shooing away my comment. “It doesn’t matter. I need to get it back.”

  “Sure,” I said. I posed my pen officiously on the notepad. “Who has access to your dressing room?”

  “Dean, the owner of the Tip Top, has a key to the dressing rooms. No one else does.”

  “And you’re sure your dressing room was locked when you went onstage that night?”

  Perry blushed. “To be honest, I never lock the door. It’s kind of casual around there. Everyone likes each other, and sometimes the other singers might need makeup or something, so they would just go in my room and get it.”

  I frowned. “So anyone could go and take the card.”

  “It was locked up in a safe. The thief would’ve had to break the lock.”

  “Is it a combo lock or do you have a key?”