All In A Day's Work

by Gary Resnikoff

  “Detective Stein, can I get a statement?” Justin called out.

  Stein looked at him as if it were the first time he had ever seen him, but he was just considering whether he should stop or not. He paused long enough for Justin to approach.

  “Detective Stein, can you tell me anything about the case?”

  “Morning, Mr. McGraw. We aren’t ready to release much just yet. We have quite a bit to digest and consider, and then we will be ready to release some information.”

  “What can you tell me?”

  “Knowing you, it’s probably stuff you already know, but I’ll risk boring you. The deceased is Lane Stevens, a local financial advisor. Although we still need time to determine the exact cause of death, we think it happened late last night or early this morning. A cab driver who had been scheduled to take Mr. Stevens to the airport this morning discovered the body and called the police.”

  “Do you know where he was going?”

  “We can’t release that at this time.”

  “Did you know that the DA was investigating him?”

  “We still need to convene with the DA, so I can’t comment on that.”

  Justin pressed on. “I heard he suffocated on dollar bills.”

  Jake paused. It seemed there wouldn’t be a tight cap on information to the press. “No comment right now on that. Again, once the ME does the autopsy, we can confirm cause of death.”

  “Do you know how many assailants were involved?”

  “We won’t speculate. We will be happy to contact you when we have more information.” Jake turned to leave.

  “Here’s my card.”

  “Mr. McGraw, I do know how to reach you,” he said without turning around.

  The rookie detective grabbed the card and stuffed it in his pocket as he followed after Jake.

  Justin watched them leave and looked around for Jane. He spotted her by a group of bystanders and made his way over to her.

  “You hear anything interesting?” he asked.

  “Yeah. The neighbors didn’t like him,” she answered. “I guess he was a real jerk. I don’t think anyone is crying over his death. A couple of them mentioned they often saw him bringing home young ladies.”

  “How young?” he asked, hoping for something salacious for his story.

  “Of legal age, you pervert. But quite a bit younger than him.”

  “Did you get a picture of the coroner taking the body?”

  “Yep. Not much else here. Although, I’d love to get inside and get a shot of him with money falling out of his mouth.”

  “I have a feeling this case is going to make some people nervous. They aren’t telling us much.”

  “Typical. We done here?” she asked.

  “Let’s get a couple of neighbors on record and then head over to talk to the family. Tad was kind enough to give me their names and address. They live out by Golden. Let’s grab an early lunch and see if we can interview the brother.”

  “I don’t think you need me to join you for that. I’m guessing the family doesn’t want any pictures.”

  “Well, join me anyway. I’ll buy you lunch.”

  “Fine.”

  They were able to get a few statements and shots of neighbors willing to discuss their relationships—such as they were—with Stevens. It turned out to be a waste of time. No one saw or knew anything that shed any light on the murder. Jane and Justin left the scene and stopped at a nearby IHOP. Sanders had coffee and a plain omelet, while Justin went for eggs ranchero, hash browns, bacon, and toast. He washed it all down with two cups of coffee. Afterward, he felt much better and was ready to take on the world. His visit to the porcelain bus was now a vague memory.

  Jane drove them across town to Golden, where Lane’s brother Brian lived with their mother. It was in an older neighborhood of ranch-style homes with mature landscaping. Not upscale by any means, but pleasant. She parked at the curb in front of the home. The Stevens’ home was the runt of the block with minimalistic landscaping and not much character. She hated the to admit it, but the term “plain Jane” came to mind.

  “Doesn’t look like Lane shared his wealth with his brother,” Justin observed as they approached the front door. The door opened before he could ring the bell. A tired-looking young man with a bandage on his left hand scowled at them. A small mutt stood at his heels, growling.

  “Brian Stevens?” Justin asked tentatively.

  The man nodded. “Who are you?”

  “Justin McGraw, and this is Jane Sanders. We’re with the Tribune.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Um, I’m sorry for your loss. We’d like to talk to you about your brother but if this is a bad time, we could come back.”

  Brian hesitated momentarily, “Why would this be a bad time?”

  “Your brother…”

  “…Was murdered last night,” he interrupted. “So? Now’s as good a time as any.” He motioned for them to follow. The dog increased his growling. Brian kicked the dog lightly. “Shut up, you mutt.” The dog whimpered but stopped growling. He kept a suspicious eye on the reporter. Brian pointed them toward a couch in the living room. The inside of the house was no better than the outside. Old, ratty furniture filled the dark living room.

  “What do you want to know?”

  Justin took out a pad and a recorder. “Is this okay?”

  “Whatever.”

  “Have you talked to the police?”

  “A Detective Stein was here a little while ago.”

  “What did he tell you, if I might ask?”

  “Not a lot, really. Told us about the murder last night. No suspects yet. Although, I admitted to having a fight with Lane last night, but I was here with my mother at the time of death. Not sure if he believed me. But I have nothing to hide. I didn’t do it and wasn’t involved.”

  “Do you have any idea who might have done this?”

  “The detective asked me the same thing. Asked me if I knew of any enemies that Lane had.” Brian laughed. “Lane and I didn’t hang together. Didn’t even see each other much, so I don’t have any idea who might have done this, but I would guess that he had plenty of enemies.”

  “Why is that?”

  “He was an ass. He was greedy, and he was ripping people off. If he had any real friends, I would be surprised.”

  “You and he weren’t close?”

  “Understatement. We didn’t care for one another. Never really did. Lane was essentially a self-absorbed, greedy bastard. He didn’t care about anyone but himself.”

  So much for the grieving family. Justin wondered if he was talking to a murderer. His alibi of being with his mother didn’t seem all that strong. Wouldn’t be the first time a brother killed his sibling. He eyed the bandaged hand. “What happened to your hand?”

  Brian looked at his hand. “I slipped and cut it on some broken glass last night during an argument with Lane at a bar.”

  Followed by murder? Clearly, Brian and Lane weren’t friends, and he had read that most homicides were committed by someone familiar with the deceased. Usually, in a fit of rage. Maybe, in this case, because of jealousy.

  Brian could see the wheels in Justin’s head spinning.

  “I didn’t kill Lane. Might have wanted to a million times, but I didn’t do it.” He went on to tell Justin about the fight they’d had at the bar. Lane was in trouble—at least, that’s the way it sounded. Not only was the Consumer Champion chasing him down, but the DA was about to investigate. And, according to the detective, Lane had a false passport, and a plane ticket to the Cayman Islands.

  “What?” asked Justin.

  “Fake ID. I’d never heard the name before, but evidently, Lane was planning on leaving town this morning. He never said a word to me about it last night. He must have known he was about to face legal trouble.”

  “Tell me what you heard on the Consumer Champion program.”

  “I don’t actually listen to it, but my mom does. She heard all the accusations a
bout how he was ripping people off and stealing their money. When I confronted Lane about it, he went off on me. That’s when this happened.” He held up his bandaged hand. “We argued, and I left. Not much more to tell.”

  Justin made a quick note to visit with the Consumer Champion. He had only heard the show once or twice but had certainly heard of its reputation in town. Popular with a strong following. The host, Bob Jackson, billed himself as the protector of the people. Sort of their guardian angel. Caustic at times, even demeaning, but he genuinely seemed to be looking out for the consumer.

  “Do you think the Consumer Champion had anything to do with this?”

  “No idea. Look, Lane was ripping off lots of people from what I can gather. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them came after him. From what my mom heard on the show, it would be a long list. Bob Jackson probably has one. I don’t know. The police seemed interested enough. I think they’re talking to him, too.”

  “Thanks. I guess I will. What bar were you at last night?”

  “The Empty Glass. I’m sure they remember the fight. We made a lot of noise.”

  “Did the detective give you any specifics about how he actually died?”

  “He mentioned drugs and alcohol but nothing specific yet. Asked if I knew if Lane took any prescription drugs. I told him I had no idea about anything in Lane’s life. He said that he would get back to me on the specific cause of death once the coroner was finished.”

  “Did Lane leave a will?”

  “I have no idea. I doubt it, but I don’t like the implication. I told you, I had nothing to do with his death. I hated him and have since we were kids. But I was here with my mom. The police spoke with her and are satisfied with my alibi. The guy was crook. I’m not sorry he’s gone. If that makes me a bad person, I’m sorry. But I can assure you that if you had met him, you wouldn’t have liked him, either. So… this meeting is over. Please don’t bother us again.”

  He stood and motioned for them to follow him to the door. They exchanged pleasantries as he ushered them out.

  “What did you think of that guy?” Justin asked Sanders as they drove away.

  “Scummy. But I don’t think he killed him.”

  “Neither do I. How about a drink?”

  “Seriously? He was creepy but not so much to make me need a drink.”

  Justin laughed. “Actually, I was thinking we should stop by the Empty Glass and ask some questions. Maybe we can find out if anyone there saw Lane last night. Shed some light on the fight.”

  “You know Justin, you aren’t supposed to try to solve this case. Just get some shots and write a story.”

  “Oh, come on, Jane, where is your sense of adventure? And after the bar, we can head over to the radio station where they host the Consumer Champion show.”

  “I’m not sure I’m supposed to spend the day with you on this.”

  “I’ll cover for you with Tad if anyone says anything. He told me this was a priority.”

  They pulled into the parking lot across the street from the Empty Glass Saloon. It was the same lot that the killer had parked in the previous evening. Jane followed Justin across the street and into the bar. Justin was starting to get jazzed, playing the amateur sleuth. It was times like these when he actually enjoyed his job. The idea of being a bestselling novelist was still his priority, but in the meantime, imagining himself as Mickey Spillane was intoxicating. Maybe he’d get a novel out of this and be able to escape the Tribune. One can always dream.

  “Hey, Justin,” said a burly man with a well-trimmed beard. “What brings you in here this early?” he asked.

  “Work.”

  “And I thought you got your work done last night when you were here,” he smiled.

  “Was I here last night?”

  “Yeah.” He laughed. Nate was the bar manager and didn’t miss much that went on in the bar. “But as I remember it, you were feeling no pain by the time you showed up. And you had some nice eye candy with you.”

  Jane raised an eyebrow.

  “Umm. Let’s talk about that later, okay?” he replied with a sheepish grin, his face turning crimson red.

  “What do you guys need?”

  “Information.”

  “A cop was here a little while ago.”

  “Detective Stein?”

  “That was the guy. Serious dude.”

  “Seems like we are following him. I assume he asked about Lane Stevens.”

  “He did, indeed.”

  “Can you tell me what you told him? I need to get a story out tonight about the murder. I won’t mention the bar, if you want it kept out of the article.”

  “I would appreciate that. Wouldn’t want people to think that if you pick up a date here, you end up dead.”

  “No. That wouldn’t exactly be good for business, I would think,” added Jane.

  “So, did you see him? His brother said he was here, too, and they had a fight. Broke some glasses or something.”

  “Yeah, they were here quite a bit earlier than you. They argued about something. I couldn’t hear what it was about. Lane used to come in here a fair amount. Never saw his brother before. Lane made an impression on the staff and the other customers. Dude was rude, and a shitty tipper. Arrogant, too. He’d hit on ladies, and for the life of me, I didn’t understand it, but he got lucky a lot.”

  “Really?” asked Justin, slightly envious.

  “But man, that chick last night was off the charts. Never would have guessed he could land a girl like that. Never saw her in here before. But they left arm-in-arm.”

  “Let’s get back to her in a sec. Tell me about the fight.”

  “Not much to tell, really. I didn’t hear what it was about, but I saw Stevens reach across the table and grab him. No punches were thrown, but his brother fell on the floor and cut himself on a broken glass. I was about to intervene when his brother stormed out.”

  “Where was the girl?”

  “She was at the bar, watching them.”

  “You noticed what she was doing?” asked Jane.

  Nate shrugged.

  “So, what happened next?” said Justin, trying to keep the story going.

  “After his brother left, the blonde made a beeline over to him. Literally ran into him and hung on him for the next thirty minutes or so. Then, he paid the bill, and they marched out, all over each other.”

  “She hit on him?” asked Jane. “You described him as a scumbag, and yet, she picked him out?”

  “Crazy. That chick could have had anyone in the bar. Hell, half the married guys in here would have risked their marriage for a night with her.”

  “But not you?” teased Jane.

  “Not me. I’m a loyal husband.”

  “Right.”

  “And that was the first time you’d ever seen her?” asked Justin.

  “First time. Believe me; I would remember her.”

  “Catch a name?”

  “Girl of my dreams!” Nate exclaimed with a sigh.

  Sanders rolled her eyes. Nate was five-nine, over two-hundred-and-fifty pounds, and a bit of a slob. No doubt, she was the girl of his dreams. She wondered what his wife would say about that answer.

  Chapter Four

  “Oh, dear, I never realized what a terrible lot of explaining one has to do in a murder!”

  —Agatha Christie

  Justin’s article about the murder came out in the Sunday Tribune. Justin covered the facts as they were known at the time and didn’t speculate. There were a lot of unanswered questions that Justin intimated he would be looking into for follow-up articles. He intimated that he would be happy to hear from anyone with more information on the case. He did not mention any connection of the deceased to the Consumer Champion.

  Justin got through the rest of the weekend without another visit from his old bandleader in his dreams. Credit for that went to his abstinence from alcohol as he let his body recover from Friday night’s events. He did find some pot to take the edge off things, thou
gh.

  When Monday rolled around, Justin made his way to the newspaper to report to Tad. Tad had seen the article before it was printed and okayed it, but he wanted to meet with Justin to learn what else he knew. They met briefly, and Justin left with instructions to dig deeper. He left Tad’s office and drove to the radio station that was home to the Consumer Champion Show. The receptionist was pleasant and friendly as Justin explained that he was there to interview Bob Jackson for a story he was working on.

  “The show goes for a few more minutes. I’ll let him know you are here as soon as it’s over. Have a seat.”

  She pointed to a comfortable-looking black leather couch. Overhead, speakers were broadcasting the show live. Justin had only heard the show a few times but immediately recognized the voice of Bob Jackson, trying to offer support to a caller.

  “Richard, don’t worry; unless this Dave Lafarge guy has crawled into a hole and is six feet under, we’re going to find him and get him back out to your house to fix the job. There’s no reason a new roof should leak like that. That just burns me up. What are these guys thinking? This guy has no business as a roofer.”

  This was typical Bob Jackson. Loud, self-assured, sometimes bordering on obnoxious, but you got the impression that he sincerely wanted to help. He was skilled and knowledgeable about a wide range of subjects, and callers rarely stumped him with a problem. When they did, he had a stable of experts he could call on a moment’s notice for expert advice. When it was deserving, he often raised his voice and wasn’t shy about insulting people who provoked him, either with their ignorance or their dishonesty. But most of the time, he was effective and found solutions for needy consumers.

  Jackson grew up in Virginia with his parents, who worked in government affairs of some sort. He was never really sure what they did, but they seemed to enjoy their job. However, it took them away from home, often on long trips. When their trips coincided with summer vacation, they would ship Jackson off to stay with his uncle, Edward, in Denver. It was during these summers in Denver that Jackson learned the radio business. Edward had worked in radio most of his adult life and knew just about everyone in the business. He taught Jackson the inner workings of the industry, and the various tricks of the trade. Jackson was a natural and loved it. If he wasn’t hanging out in the studio with Edward, he was off playing sports or mastering judo and karate. He excelled at just about anything he tried. When he was twelve, his parents were in Italy on government business and tragically died in a fiery car crash. After losing his parents, he moved in with his uncle full-time. He was given a part-time job as a gopher at the station and moved up the ladder to a paid job, and eventually, his own radio show.