by Derek Murphy
Keeping her eyes on the pavement, she answered, “A little. I think I need something warm inside me. I missed breakfast.”
“Okay. I’ve got breakfast stuff at home. How do eggs and onions sound? With bacon and biscuits?”
As he opened the truck door for her, she shook her head. “Toast. With a little jelly.”
Firmly, he said, “Eggs and onions with bacon and toast it is then.”
He closed the door behind her and rounded the front of the truck, his eyes on her and she stuck her tongue out at him. He had assumed she meant for him to add toast and jelly to the eggs and onions, instead of simply preparing toast and jelly. She felt childish for sticking her tongue out at him, but there wasn’t much else she felt she was capable of doing to rebel.
* * *
After breakfast, Carl sat at his desk in the living room and began reviewing what he knew about the Webster case, finding that since he had been on the fringe of the case, there was a lot he didn’t know. After an hour, he looked over to the divan where Julie had curled up to read a magazine and saw that she was asleep. Her head lay back against the back of the divan and her mouth had dropped open, allowing her to snore softly. Rising, he went to the divan and pulled the woolen throw over her, slipping a throw pillow under her head. Though she didn’t awaken, she slid to the side, pulling the pillow with her and lay full length on the divan. He stood over her, staring down at her sleeping face. She looked so much like a little girl when she slept that he felt as though he just wanted to take care of her.
Shaking his head as though to rid himself of troubling thoughts, he went back to his desk and sat again, re-reading the Webster file. When he felt that he had absorbed as much of it as he could, he turned back to the Nelson case and mentally slapped his forehead as he remembered that the ‘snooper’ was still at the office. Mrs. Marshall-Nelson’s visit had interrupted him and then he had gotten the word about Julie and the ‘snooper’ had been thrust into his desk. He consoled himself with the thought that when Julie awakened, they could go to the office and he would have it then. He wondered briefly what was on the thing. Probably just what he thought; porn.
The phone rang then and he picked it up. “Hello?”
Ghostly whispering, clicks and crackles, then, “Carl? I’ve been delayed. They’ve sent their men after me…”
The voice grew indistinct and weak then and faded out to the point where he could hear nothing but the same whispery noises that began the call. Frowning, he sighed and hung the phone up forcefully. In exasperation, he looked around the room until his eyes settled on Julie. She had pushed herself up on the divan and looked somewhat blearily at him before passing a hand over her face.
“Who wuzzat?”
“The same kind of call I’ve been getting. The voice is too weak or the connection is too bad for me to recognize the voice, but it kind of sounds like Marta. If she would only tell me where she is, I could go to her. Instead, she only tells me she’s coming, or they’re after her, or, this time; she’s been delayed.”
Awake now; Julie sat up, an irritated expression on her face. Seeming angry, she rose and kicked the woolen throw clear of her feet as she walked toward the bathroom.
She muttered, “I need to pee…”
He watched her walk down the short hallway that led to the bedrooms and bathroom, her hands in front of her, obviously preparing to push her sweatpants down. Shaking his head, he turned back to the file he was reading, distracted both by Julie’s irritation with him and the phone call which prompted it.
After a few minutes, she reentered the room, awake and with a more normal expression on her face. Though her eyes still seemed puffy with sleep, she had splashed some water on her face, as evidenced by the damp strands of hair at her temples. She walked to his desk and pulled up a chair kept by the wall near it.
“It’s her family screwing with you, Carl. You know that. It has to be. Even before you got the word that she was dead, she wasn’t in any condition to talk coherently with you. You told us that before you left South Africa.”
Keeping his eyes on the file, he stubbornly said, “I have to believe she’s alive, Julie.”
Rising again, she walked to the pair of bags he had let her pack at her place and bent over to pick them up. Shouldering one and holding the other by the handle, she looked at him in disgust.
“There are any number of women who would give anything to be with you, Carl. Why cling to the memory of a dead woman?”
His head came up to look at her as she turned to take the bags into the spare bedroom and he was almost sure he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. He suspected that she still harbored hopes of the two of them getting together and knew that it would be a mistake. Julie still exhibited signs that she hadn’t completely left her hard-partying, Hollywood ways behind her and he didn’t think he could deal with her if she decided that she wanted to be free again. He wasn’t prepared to invested so much time and effort in a relationship with her if she would just turn around and leave. He had known that from the beginning and wasn’t about to change his mind.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty. On the contrary, she was beautiful. Tall and almost willowy, she still gave the impression of voluptuousness without actually having the extra weight that such an appearance required. And Carl didn’t actually have a ‘type’ that he naturally gravitated to. As a young man, of course, growing up on the fringe of the reservation, he had dated mostly Lakota girls; short ones, tall ones, some slightly heavier than others, and a few Anglo girls of similar variety. In the military, he had continued to date girls of all types. He had been an equal opportunity dater; all races, colors and creeds. His relationship with DeeDee hadn’t been the first he had with a black girl, and DeeDee had been considerably lighter in color than the last black girl he had dated. He did have to admit though that most of the girls he had dated had been rather short. Although, there had been one girl in Germany that had been nearly as tall as he was and she had been a lot of fun. No. Carl didn’t have a ‘type’. He did, however, believe that he was in love with Marta, had been almost since the day he had met her and wasn’t about to give up on her if there was a chance that she was alive.
The time he spent brooding while he was barely able to concentrate on the file went quickly and before he knew the time had passed so swiftly, Julie was back in the living room. She had showered and dressed and stood in the middle of the room, one hand fiddling with the zipper on her jacket as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet.
“Ready to get back on the job?”
He looked up at her, still concerned for her welfare and asked, “Are you? I mean, if you don’t feel up to it, we can wait until tomorrow to get back to work.”
Her eyes slid away from him as she said, “Y’know, this bit about staying close to me is going to put a crimp in things. I can still go do the things I need to do without a babysitter.”
His lips thinned into a straight line. “No. Whoever used a stun-gun on you could kill you next time. Besides, I need someone to watch my back. We’re all targets.”
Turning half around to face the door, she said over her shoulder, “Well, we better get a move on. This case isn’t going to solve itself.”
Closing the file, Carl stood and walked to the door, stopping at the hall-tree to take his jacket. As he slid it on, he waited as she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. He had a feeling it was going to be a long day. Once Ike got DeeDee and the babies over to her mother’s house, he might return and join them, but that was still a few hours away.
* * *
“I’m hu-u-ungry, Carl!”
After going over the complete Webster file, Carl had set about loading the files from the ‘snooper’ and found that they were encrypted. Why someone would encrypt every file on their computer, he didn’t know, but that’s what he had to contend with. It had been necessary to get a computer ‘geek’ friend to take him through the decrypting process over the phone and he was almost fini
shed with the job.
“I don’t remember you whining so much in the past, Julie.”
“Well, what do you expect? You’ve had me cooped up in the office all day and it’s nearly dinner time. A girl can only have so much coffee and cookies to tide her over, y’know.”
“The ‘roach-coach’ will come by in a little while for the shift workers in the building. Take some money out of ‘petty-cash’ and get a sandwich. While you’re at it, get me a corned beef on rye, will you?”
Poised near the door as though ready to make a break for it; Julie stopped and stared at him.
“What? You know Han’s a pervert! I suspect he dips his wick in the mayo while he’s making the food!”
Shaking his head as he tried to keep from laughing, Carl came to a stopping point and saved his work. As he shut down the computer, he pushed his chair away from the desk and smiled at her despite himself.
“Okay. Call Ike and tell him to meet us at the Thunderbird Bar and Grill. Tell him I’ll buy him a steak and fries.”
Bouncing up and down, Julie clapped her hands like a little girl and spun toward the door, only to be brought up short as it opened.
Martin Webster stood in the door, blinking at them, obviously surprised to be met at the door.
“Excuse me. I thought I’d stop by to see what you’d found out? Your partner, Mr. Decker, called and filled me in a little about what had happened, but I thought you would still be in the office. I want to get a full report.”
Leading him back to the desk, Carl gestured for him to take a seat as Julie, looking disconsolate, hovered nearby.
“Well, Mr. Webster, as Ike probably told you, someone wants us off the case. There was the attack on Ike at your house a few days ago and now Julie has been attacked and warned. Someone is doing this to you and your dead wife is not haunting you. We’re not sure exactly what the motive is, but it all means that we’re getting close. Right now, it’s just a matter of turning over rocks until we find what creep is doing this.”
“Do you think I can move back into my house? You see, the board has gotten wind of a little of what’s been happening and I’m afraid that they might move to unseat me. It’s imperative that I appear to be in full control.”
Carl frowned. These big-time corporate types always thought that their prestige in their company trumped everything else in their lives. He would have thought that what had happened to Webster’s wife would have been enough to persuade him that there were more important things.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Webster. I can’t recommend that you move back into your house. Tell people that you are having the place fumigated, or that it’s being remodeled. Anything to give them the idea that everything is normal. But stay away from it. Someone went to a lot of time and expense to put all this in motion and the attacks on our people make it apparent that they are prepared to do nearly anything to accomplish their goals. Without a motive, we have no idea what those goals might be, but the situation could become dangerous in a hurry.”
“I have a cocktail party scheduled for the board later this week and if I don’t have it at the house, they will become even more suspicious.”
Carl shook his head. “Mr. Webster, we can’t guarantee your safety if you go back into the house. With a number of people present, any of whom could be the culprit, we couldn’t even begin to keep you safe. You hotel has several banquet rooms that they can rent you for the evening. Rent one of them and put the story out about remodeling your house. That should put your board off the scent.”
“I just had the house remodeled two years ago. They know that. They’ll know something is up if I tell them I’m doing it again.”
“Tell them you couldn’t stand living in the house as it was after your wife’s death. They’ll understand that. Or, tell them you are thinking of breaking the lease with the company and you want whoever leases it to be able to remodel it to suit themselves.”
Appearing dubious, Webster rose and turned toward the door, saying, “Alright. I’ll do that, Mr. Tanner. I’m not too sure about the lease story, though. The only person who may want to lease it is Nelson’s widow. I’ll feel a lot better when this is all over.”
“I’m sure you will, Mr. Webster. Rest assured that we’ll all sleep better when the case is resolved.”
As Webster exited the office, Julie looked expectantly at Carl and asked, “Can we go eat now? I sent Ike a text about the Thunderbird. He says it sounds good to him.”
Nodding, Carl said, “Yeah. I’ve done as much here as I can anyway. Maybe Ike will have some ideas. The cops have us shut out of Webster’s house until they’ve cleared the hidden room and I’m sure Thomas and Michaelson will have some questions for Webster. Since he was in Vegas when his wife was killed, he’s pretty much in the clear. Unless he paid someone to kill her; but I doubt that. There’s nothing in the file to give that impression and you and Ike have been pretty thorough.”
Suddenly in good spirits because they were leaving the office after being locked in most of the day, Julie linked arms with Carl as they exited the office only to be brought up short again as she nearly bumped into a woman who was about to open the door.
Backing up a step to avoid running into the woman, Carl said, “Mrs. Marshall-Nelson!”
The older woman looked Julie up and down, frankly appraising her appearance and Carl could just imagine the sniff that went with it. For just a second, there was a sly look on the older woman’s face before it promptly disappeared. She turned her attention back to him, opened her mouth to say something and then turned back to Julie.
“I saw that movie you were in. I thought the writers and director could have used your talents much better than they did. Perhaps you should give some thought to getting back into that line of work. This climate doesn’t appear to agree with you; you look wan and drawn out; as though you need more sun.”
Two bright red spots appeared on Julie’s cheeks but before she could make a retort, the older woman turned back to Carl.
“I’ve spoken with Erica, Mr. Tanner. She is positively beside herself with the fear that Chip is having an affair. I’ve advised her to take him somewhere on vacation. Somewhere far away from here.”
Taken aback, Carl wondered how successful her plan would be and said, “Perhaps your son doesn’t want to go anywhere. What makes you think she can get him to go with her?”
For answer, she held up her hand, little finger extended and said, “Chip is weak-willed, Mr. Tanner. Like his father, he thinks with his penis. Erica trapped him before she was even out of college. All she will have to do is wear one of those trashy outfits that they sell at one of those lingerie stores and his tongue will hang out and he’ll follow her like a dog in heat.”
Carl said, “Okay. Why tell me?”
“By the time they return from their trip, you won’t have to worry about him having an affair. He’ll be deeply in love with Erica again for a year or so.”
Shaking his head in confusion, Carl uttered, “So…”
As though in victory, she smiled and replied, “So, you can drop your investigation of him. I’m sure Erica will call you when they return and put her official stamp of approval on my request.”
Grudgingly, Carl said, “As it turns out, we are deep into another case just now and I’ll put her case on the back-burner until she returns. If she decides to let it drop, then I’ll abide by her wishes.”
Smiling again, she said, “Thank you, Mr. Tanner.” With a quick glance at Julie, she added an aside to her, “Take what I said to heart, Dear. This climate is too cold and wet for you. You’ll do much better in sunny California.”
She turned on her heel and walked elegantly to the elevator and pushed the call button. The door opened immediately as though just waiting for her and in seconds, she was gone, leaving them still standing with mouths agape.
Julie asked, “Who was that? I’ve never seen such an exquisite dragon. How old do you think she is? I’d bet at least five years older than she appea
rs.”
Still staring at the elevator door, Carl said, “Well, she appears thirty-five and I know for a fact that she’s at least just on the sweet side of fifty.”
Blinking, Julie said, “I looked for the plastic surgery scars and didn’t find any! She must really take good care of herself. Who was she, by the way?”
“That Nelson case I’ve been working on? She’s Chip Nelson’s mother.”
“Oh. They used to own Webster’s house.”
Carl frowned as he stared at her. “What?”
Turning to him, she said, “Yeah, her husband built the house for her just before the boy was born. He arranged for the company to own the house and he leased it from the company; essentially from himself. It was in the file. You read it.”
Carl shook his head. “I didn’t connect the house with Webster’s case. I assumed that Mrs. Marshall-Nelson still lived in the house.”
Julie shook her head. “No, when the board forced Nelson out and replaced him with Webster, he bought the lease from the company and remodeled it for his new wife. The only thing they didn’t change was the exterior, the kitchen and the dining areas.”
Carl fumbled with his keys as he unlocked the door to the office. He plunged back inside and rejoined her with both files in his hand.
Let’s get to the Thunderbird! We’ve got to go over this with Ike!”
* * *
Seated at a table in the back of the bar, Carl, Julie and Ike went over the files, making comparisons and linking information with a random highlighter that Julie found in her purse. The remains of their meals had been cleared away except for Julie’s plate, from which she occasionally ate a french fry. A half-empty bottle of beer sat in front of Carl and he picked it up, swirling it around until a layer of foam appeared on the top, then he took another drink.
Ike leaned back, his eyes still on the files in front of him. “You’re right, Carl. The two cases are connected. I can’t see anything obvious right now, but I’m willing to bet that Chip Nelson knows every nook and cranny of that house. And how to get into it without anyone knowing he’s there.”