Keeping Promises Can Be Murder: A Lexi Taylor and Ray Jansen Mystery

by Susan Goslak

  “I want you to find my brother,” stated Mr. Logan.

  “When was the last time you spoke with him?” asked Ray.

  Mr. Logan looked down at his hands. “I’m ashamed to say, twenty years ago.”

  “Twenty years ago! Do you even know if he’s still alive?”

  Ray’s voice was a little shocked and a little annoyed. He was thinking that Mr. Logan was either a joker or a fool.

  “Oh, Mr. Jansen, twenty years ago was the last time I actually spoke with my brother, but the last contact I had with him was three years ago when he sent me a postcard.”

  “Was the postcard sent from here in L.A.?” asked Ray.

  “Yes, it was. That’s why I’m here. I live in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. When Dad died I promised the family hat I would do everything in my power to find William. I took some time off work to come here and look for my brother in person. However, when I got here, I realized that I didn’t have any idea where to start. Then we had that accident on the freeway. I was pretty shook up.

  When I returned to my hotel I fixed myself a drink to calm my nerves, sat down and took your card out of my pocket. That was when I realized that you might be the answer to my problem. I’m a believer in fate. I believe that our accident was fate acting to bring us together so you could help me.”

  Ray reached for a tablet and pen. Even though I was taking notes, Ray liked to write certain things down so that he could refer to them immediately after the client left. He also said that writing things down helped him organize his thoughts. He leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs and rested the tablet on his top leg. “I’m going to need some information. First of all, why have you waited so long to search for your brother?”

  Mr. Logan cleared his throat, “Why don’t I start at the beginning? I have two brothers: William, and James. Twenty years ago we were all in our twenties. James, the oldest was learning to

  run the family business, Logan Electronics.”

  Ray interrupted, “You’re one of those Logans! Now I understand why you’re looking for your brother. Your father just died and you want to give your brother his inheritance. Wasn’t your father’s estate valued at over a billion dollars?”

  “Yes, Mr. Jansen, I’m one of those Logans. When Dad passed away the estate was valued at one point two billion dollars. May I continue?”

  Ray motioned with his hand for Mr. Logan to continue.

  “Well, at that time, my brother, James, was working with Dad while William and I were finishing up college. He attended Harvard. I went to M.I.T. I was one year ahead of William.

  After graduation we each joined the firm. Within a year conflict began. William had lots of ideas for the company, but Dad didn’t like any of them. William went back to school to get his MBA. When he graduated the conflict between Dad and William escalated. William wanted to diversify the company and institute global investments. Dad and James were adamantly opposed. My degree is in engineering so I didn’t feel qualified to take sides. I chose to remain on the fence so to speak.”

  Ray rose to pour more coffee. “Go on.”

  “At that time William was dating a girl that Dad didn’t think was right for him. She had a degree in fine arts from a small college in Pennsylvania named Thiel College. According to Dad, she was low class. She was too artsy to suit Dad. She dressed too flashy. She didn’t enjoy the opera and the symphony, and worst of all, she sang in public with a hard rock band. William announced his engagement

  to this girl and Dad promptly did everything in his power to destroy their relationship. Eventually he succeeded. The poor girl told William that she could never be part of his family and broke the engagement. William couldn’t convince her to change her mind. The day she left town Dad and William had a terrible argument. They even took a couple of swipes at each other. William walked out and never looked back. That was twenty years ago and to my knowledge he hasn’t stepped foot in Pittsburgh since then.

  “Do you know where William went after the argument?”

  “Yes, He went after the girl he wanted to marry. Her name is Cathy. Her maiden name was Cathy Peters. When she realized that William had broken ties with his family, she agreed to marry William and they were married in a civil ceremony in Pittsburgh. Right after that they moved to Toledo, Ohio. William had a college friend there who gave him a job at Midwest Auto Glass Inc.”

  “Are William and Cathy still married?” Ray asked.

  “As far as I know,” replied Carl.

  “How long did they live in Ohio?”

  “As far as I know, they never lived anywhere else. I think that Cathy still lives there. William was very successful at Midwest Auto Glass. He was able to use the ideas that Dad wouldn’t let him use at Logan Electronics. He proved to the family that he was right He rose through the ranks quickly to become vice president of research and development for the company. We were proud of him, but Dad just said that his ideas wouldn’t have worked at our company. There was no way Dad was going to admit that he was wrong. Then, when Midwest Auto Glass went out of business, Dad

  blamed William. Of course, it wasn’t William’s fault. The entire auto industry was in trouble and since William’s company was tied to the auto industry its failure was inevitable.”

  “How were you able to follow your brother’s doings?”

  “The friend who gave him the job, Cliff Simmons kept us up to date on William. He liked to brag about how well William was doing because he was the one who brought William into the company.”

  “You said that you got a postcard from your brother about three years ago. Before that did your brother write to you or any other family member?” asked Ray.

  “He only wrote to me. The letters were sent through his friend, Cliff. I used to get a letter from him about once a quarter and he sent Christmas cards and birthday cards to me and my family. Sometimes he’d write a message that he’d want me to tell our mother,” answered Mr. Logan.

  Ray spoke as if he was thinking out loud, “The company failed four years ago and you got a postcard three years ago. What happened in that missing year? And where has he been and what’s he been doing these past three years?”

  Mr. Logan thought that Ray was asking him a question. “I don’t know.”

  Ray ignored Mr. Logan’s answer and jotted the question on his pad. “When Midwest Auto Glass failed do you know if your brother stayed in Toledo or moved to another city? Do you know where he might be working now?” asked Ray.

  “I lost touch with William’s friend, so I’ve lost touch with

  William, except for the one postcard that came directly from him three years ago.”

  “Mr. Jansen, I am the closest to William, but I feel responsible for the fact that no one in the family knows where William is. I should have stood by him years ago. I should have gone to Toledo and visited him there.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I feel so guilty. God, what have I done?”

  “No point in feeling guilty, Mr. Logan. Chastising yourself won’t help. Let what happened in the past stay in the past. If you’re going to be any help to me, I need you to be able to think. The only reason you think that your brother might be living here in L.A, is because of a postcard that he sent you three years ago. Is that correct? Do you have any other reason to believe that he is still here?”

  “No reason at all,” replied Mr. Logan.

  “Let’s assume that William is living here,” said Ray as he lit a cigarette and offered one to Carl Logan. “To check our assumption, let’s do the most obvious thing. We’ll check the phone book.” He looked at me. “Lexi, get me the phone book, please.”

  « Chapter Three »

  William Logan rested his head on the L.A. phone book. It was serving as his pillow. His bed was a couple layers of flattened cardboard boxes and his blanket was a ripped piece of fabric that may have been a bed spread at one time or maybe a tablecloth. It was hard to tell.

  The sun peeked through the branches over his head and settled on hi
s tanned face. He opened his hazel eyes just a slit, groaned, and shut them. He could feel the sun warming his skin. He opened his eyes wider this time and groaned again. Another day was beginning, another day at the bottom. You couldn’t get much lower than William Logan right now. How did this happen? He wondered. How did I get here? What do I do now?

  He sat up and stretched. “Oooooh, man am I stiff” He struggled to stand, stretched again. His joints creaked, and he groaned a third time as he bent to move his bedding under a bush.

  Would it still be there when he returned? Who knows?

  He moved slowly, walking and bending his knees to get the blood flowing through his stiff muscles. He swore out loud. “I’m only forty two yet I feel like I’m ninety. I’ve got to do something to

  get out of this mess I’ve gotten myself into, but what?”

  He straightened up to his full height of six foot and tucked his well worn cotton shirt into his corduroy pants that, thankfully, didn’t have any holes in them yet. Are these pants stretching out or am I losing weight? “Well, old man, let’s get this day started.” He said aloud as he put on his backpack that held all his belongings. “Maybe something good will happen today,” He said as he strode off toward the city. His first stop was a gas station where he used the restroom to clean up as much as possible. He used a bar of soap that he’d stolen from a small bodega and dried himself with paper towels. He regretted having to steal soap, but the act of cleaning up made him feel better. He rubbed his chin. A scruffy beard was beginning to grow and it itched. He used a pocket comb on his hair that was badly in need of cutting. As he looked in the mirror he noticed that his honey-brown hair had some gray in it now. He remembered that he used to pay $60.00 for a cut and style. Those days seemed so very long ago.

  The next thing William needed to do was eat. Being homeless meant that he didn’t have much money for food, and he was a big eater. He had a little money in his backpack and he did his best to portion it out so it would last as long as possible. Sometimes he was able to get a job for a few days and he could add to his stash. When he had to, he ate at the Hope Is Here shelter for men. He hated to eat there. No matter how kind and concerned the workers there seemed, he knew what they were thinking: LOSER! When he could, he ate at a small diner called Angie’s Place. Angie knew he was homeless and she gave him extra large portions. At the end of the

  day, she’d give him any food that was going to be thrown out. Angie always told him that she hated to waste the food and giving it to a hungry man made her feel good. William always patted his stomach and told her that it made him feel good too, and then they both laughed. It was good to laugh. Angie was a kind person, a good friend.

  Today was a good day. William didn’t have to go to the shelter to eat. He entered the diner and took a seat at the counter. Angie came over to him and poured him a cup of coffee. She put cream and sugar in front of him. “’Mornin’, William. How are you feeling today?”

  “Just fine, Angie, just fine.” She handed him a newspaper. It was yesterday’s paper. She brought it to him from her own home. He turned to the jobs section. Maybe today there would be something for him. William was beginning to think that he’d never get a job. Unfortunately when he left his last job he’d burned all his bridges. When Midwest Auto Glass closed its doors William called everyone he knew. He went on job interview after job interview. The usual response was “Overqualified”. When there were no more job interviews to go on and he’d checked the papers only to find no job opportunities listed, he’d sat at home and brooded. He began to drink. As the days grew longer and longer with no work he drank more and more until he was never sober. He became mean and nasty to his wife. He didn’t like to think just how mean and nasty he’d been. Before William could dwell any further on what a loser he was. Angie placed a steaming plate of food in front of him. “Put the paper down now, William. Eat before the food gets cold.”

  William did as he was told and dug in. When his breakfast was consumed he felt a lot better. “Ah, Angie, that was food for the Gods!”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Now I’ll pour you another cup of coffee and you can look at the paper.”

  After about twenty minutes William folded the paper and put money on the counter for his breakfast.

  “William, before you leave I’ve got a little something for you,” said Angie as she reached under the counter and handed William a small bag. In the bag was a razor, some shaving cream, a pack of gum, and a Reeses peanut butter egg, a little Easter treat.

  “Don’t tell me I shouldn’t waste my hard-earned money on you. It pleases me to do it. Now don’t say a word. Just enjoy my little gift. I’ll see you later, my friend.” With that said, Angie turned toward the kitchen to get back to work.

  William shook his head as he walked down the street toward the public park. What a nice person Angie is. He walked to a bench, removed his backpack and sat down. The day was warm. The sun was shining. William enjoyed looking at the trees, the flowers and the beautiful stretch of green grass in front of him. He watched mothers wheeling their infants in their strollers. So beautiful, so innocent. What does the future hold for them? He saw college kids walking by with their books. Would the knowledge they learned in college make them successful adults in this hard world? He thought back to his college days. I was so serious. All I thought about was

  the future. I had to work hard so I’d get good grades. I had to learn a lot so I could be an asset to the family business and make my Dad

  proud. “Yeah, that worked out real good,” he said sarcastically. He got up to walk around a little. Oh sure, I worked hard in school, but I had my fun, too; frat parties, football games, girls and beer, lots of girls, lots of beer. He came back to his bench and sat down again. He stretched his feet out, slouched down in his seat and rested his head on the back of the bench. Those were the good days, he thought. I felt strong, energetic, and in control. “What I wouldn’t give to feel that way now,” he said aloud. What I wouldn’t give to see my beloved Cathy’s face and hear her soft voice. I miss her so much, but she probably doesn’t miss me. I really screwed things up, he thought. He continued his people watching for a while longer, then his eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep.

  People passing by looked at him with envy. “It must be nice to have the time to sit in the park and take a nap,” they thought.

  « Chapter Four »

  I set the phone book on my desk. There were eight William Logans listed, four W. Logans, Two W.C. Logans, (Carl had told us that William’s middle name was Charles), and three Bill Logans. Ray would call each of them to see if, by some miracle, one of them was the missing William.

  “Lexi, I’m going to help Mr. Logan find his missing brother. Open a file for this case and run a computer search on William Logan. It will give me some background. The more I know about William the better. It might help me guess what he might be doing or where he might be living.”

  “Okay, Ray. As soon as I finish those letters you wanted me to prepare.”

  “Mr. Logan gave me an old photo of his brother. I’m going to take it to Pete. He’ll age the photo to look like William might look today. When I have the aged photo you can put it on facebook and ask people if they’ve seen him.”

  I had checked Ray’s schedule for the day, and printed out a

  hard copy which I handed to him. “Ray, you’d better let me take that photo to Pete. You’ve got to present the training seminar in the conference room in twenty minutes.

  “I didn’t realize that it was so late. I’ll just grab my notes and head to the conference room. See you later.”

  At my desk I finished typing the letters and set them on Ray’s desk for him to sign when he returned. Then I took the photo to Pete and asked him to age it twenty years. On the way back to my desk I stopped for a cup of coffee. I was standing at the credenza putting sweetener into my cup when Janine, the office gossip approached. As usual, the outfit she was wearing was over the top. She had on a flowered mini s
kirt, red shoes with stiletto heels, a bright pink blouse, a lace vest, and huge hoop earrings. Her hair was a mass of brown curls. She wore pink eye shadow, red, red lipstick and her nails were painted bright red.

  Janine’s outfits always make a statement. We’re not always sure what that statement is, but her looks are always a conversation starter.

  “I can’t believe that Mr. Jansen is working for the Logans,” Janine gushed. One of the Logans was visiting the president just last week. I heard it on the newscast. Must be nice to be rich and powerful.”

  My friend, Diane joined us. “I don’t know if I’d want to be rich and famous. The paparazzi would always be after you and you’d have no privacy.”

  I laughed. “I guess none of us have to worry about the paparazzi.” I wiped my hand across my forehead. “Whew, what a

  relief.”

  Diane and Janine laughed with me.

  “There’s a sale on shoes at Macy’s. You want to go after work?” Janine asked.

  “I’m there,” said Diane. “I saw a pair of strappy heels there last week that I love, but they were too pricey. I hope they have a good sale price. I’d like to wear them to church on Easter”

  “Sorry, I got this pair yesterday,” I said as I put one foot forward to show then my brand new open-toed black paten-leather pumps.“ besides, I’m meeting Linda. She’s going to help me with some art work.”

  “Linda who?” asked Janine.

  Diane and I looked at each other.

  “You might as well know. You’ll find out anyway,” I reluctantly said. “Linda MacDugal.”

  Janine choked on her scone. Diane patted her back. Janine gasped. “Linda MacDugal! You mean the girl who was engaged to Ray?”

  “That’s the one,” I said. “We met last New Year’s Eve and discovered that we both are artists.”

  Janine interrupted, “But, she’s gorgeous, and her paintings sell for thousands of dollars.”

  “Thanks, Janine, you’re saying I’m not as pretty as Linda, and not as talented,” I complained while I smiled at Diane behind