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

by Susan Goslak

  “I just got a mental picture of you eating deep fried pickles and making faces because they’re sour,” I said between giggles. For some reason Ray started laughing too, and we both wound up laughing hysterically at nothing. We fell onto Ray’s butter-soft, espresso colored sofa. We both leaned back and caught our breath.

  “What was that all about?” asked Ray.

  “I have no idea, and don’t say anything funny or I’ll start laughing all over again.”

  “I didn’t say anything funny the first time. You started all by yourself,” declared Ray. “However, I do know how to keep you from laughing.

  “Oh, really? Show me.”

  Ray pulled me to him and kissed me long and slow.

  Turns out he was right. I stopped laughing and kissed him back.

  Ray slid off the couch and sat on the floor dragging me with him. He smiled at me, shook his head and kissed me. “I love you.”

  “Show me.”

  Ray looked serious as he stripped off his clothes. My heart beat fast as I fumbled with mine.

  My big strong Ray was not as gentle as he usually was. He was eager to satisfy his hunger for me and I was just as eager to satisfy my hunger for him. Being this exuberant was new for me. I let myself experience all of Ray’s heat and share his need. I was on a thrilling ride whirling into a sea of warmth and color, and heart-stopping excitement, and, and, . . .

  « Chapter Nine »

  On Monday morning I parked my white Mustang in the basement garage, and went up to the sixth floor of the Harold P. Lennox Office building. I was scanning some photos into my computer when I saw Ray step off the elevator and head for our boss’s office. Paul is tall and lanky. Even though he played football in college, he is very thin. He’s built more like a long distance runner than a football player. He is always neatly and fashionably dressed. Ray shared the results of his trip with Paul, and Paul shared some information he’d discovered that pertained to another case that Ray was working on.

  When Ray walked into his own office, I was waiting with his coffee, a cranberry muffin, and some fabric samples for drapes. Ray took his mug from me and sipped. He set the mug and his briefcase on his desk, hung his jacket on the coat rack, walked around the desk and sat down. He gave me the information that Paul had given him and asked me to type it up and file it.

  “I’ll get right on it,” I said. “When you get a moment, glance at these fabric samples and tell me which one you like best.”

  “Why am I looking at fabric samples?” asked Ray.

  “Remember we talked about you moving into the office next to Paul’s? I’m decorating it for you. Paul said to go ahead. We just have to give him the receipts.”

  “Did I agree to this?” Ray asked.

  “Of course you did. You are an important member of this team and you should have a nice looking office.”

  Ray rose and walked toward me. “Honey, I don’t need a nice looking office. This one is okay the way it is.”

  I put on a pouty face and said, “But, you said I could do it.”

  Jokingly, Ray said, “If you make my office too nice I may want to spend too much time here and not enough time out in the field, then I’ll neglect my job and Paul will fire me.”

  “Funny. Come on, Ray, please let me fix up your office.”

  “Okay, if Paul says okay and you want to do it, then fine, but don’t involve me too much. Anything you decide will be fine with me. I trust your judgment.”

  I smiled. “Thanks, I like either of these two fabrics for the drapes. Which do you prefer?”

  “They’re both nice. You decide.”

  “Okay, wise guy, I’ll make all the decisions. I hope you like them.”

  Ray kissed the tip of my nose. I’ll like whatever you choose, Gorgeous. I’ll enjoy watching you have fun with this project.”

  I left the fabric samples, hoping he’d look at them anyway, and returned to my desk to work.

  While I was doing that Ray used the internet to compile a list

  of companies that William might be working for. He divided the list among himself, me, Diane, and Pete, another detective, and we proceeded to call the companies to see if they’d hired anyone in the past four years who answered to the name William Logan or to his description. It took us the rest of Monday and all of Tuesday and we had no luck.

  On Wednesday I made arrangements for some people to post missing person flyers all over the city. When I finished that I typed up some letters and other things and I was just heading for the coffee when Ray walked in. I asked, “What’s the next step with the missing person case?”

  Ray rubbed his chin. “I think we’ll put a missing person bulletin on television and hope that somebody knows him or sees his photo and calls us.”

  “That’s a great idea, but won’t that be very expensive?”

  “Have you forgotten who we’re working for? These people are billionaires. They can afford it.”

  “I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

  ”I’ll call my old friend, Gil Carson. He is an on-air personality at station WGTC. We’ve known each other for years. I’ll ask him to put William’s picture and information on the six o’clock and eleven o’clock news.

  “You know Gil Carson personally? He’s cute.”

  “Yes, I met him at one of Linda’s parties. Should I be jealous of him?” Ray winked as he asked that.

  I just smiled.

  ”Back to work, you little tease said Ray with a laugh.”

  Ray and I worked until six then we went into Paul’s office to watch the six o’clock news on his television. Ray’s friend did a good job of presenting the facts that Ray had given him. The number that people were asked to call was our office number. Our receptionist would be taking any calls that came in.

  After we heard the part of the newscast that we were interested in we left to get something to eat.

  “We have a little extra time because I don’t have to drive out to Linda’s house. I’m meeting Linda in town. We’re going to an art show. Want to go with us?”

  “Honey, have you forgotten that it’s my poker night?”

  “I did forget Ray.” I smacked myself on the head. “How could I have forgotten such an important thing as poker night?” I said with a laugh.

  “I’ll overlook it this time,” laughed Ray. He leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

  As we walked to the restaurant Ray asked, “What kind of art show are you two going to see?”

  “It’s a show of oil paintings. The painter is a friend of Linda’s. They went to school together. The show is at the Stanton Art Gallery on Tenth Avenue.”

  “Well, I know you’ll have fun.”

  “I plan to. I’ve never been to the Stanton Gallery. The owner is also a friend of Linda’s.”

  “You’ll bump into people that Linda knows all over the place. She gets around.”

  We had a nice meal, walked back to the garage and got into

  our cars which happen to be almost identical. We both drive white Mustang convertibles. Mine was sort of a gift from my Dad. I used the money I inherited when he died to buy it. I love driving my Mustang. I love the growl it makes when I turn on the ignition, the wind in my hair when I drive, and the way it handles. Last year my car almost got me killed when a killer Ray was after took a shot at my car. He thought it was Ray’s car and that Ray was driving. I was scared to death but I only got a nick on my arm and we did catch the killer. Just another day in my new life.

  Ray drove his Mustang to Paul’s house for the poker game and I drove my Mustang to the Stanton Art Gallery.

  « Chapter Ten »

  A man walked out of the gas station rest room. It was the same rest room that William had used that morning only now it was dark out; dark and quiet. It was after midnight. The man was tall, over six foot. At one time he weighed about 250 pounds. He used to have big muscular arms and big beefy hands. His arms weren’t as strong as they used to be, but they were strong enough. He wore d
irty blue jeans that used to fit him, but he wasn’t eating regularly now so they hung on his thin frame. He also wore a black turtleneck sweater that was frayed at the wrists; and a navy blue pea coat that he’d gotten from a Goodwill store. A black knit cap covered his long stringy hair.

  The man looked around and was relieved to see that no one had seen him come out of the rest room. He then quickly walked behind the gas station and was enveloped by the thick bushes and trees. He made his way to the area where the homeless people lived. When he got close to a group of men he started to stagger. He walked near the men, but he didn’t try to join their group. He knew that he was a stranger to them and thus would not be trusted. He

  simply stood there drinking from a bottle that was wrapped in a paper bag. After about fifteen minutes the man staggered about ten feet away from the group and away from the makeshift houses that the homeless occupied. He fell onto the ground, made a grunting sound as he sat up and leaned against a tree. He took another swig from his bottle.

  The group of men broke up and each man walked off in a different direction. One of the men walked past the man sitting on the ground. The man on the ground raised his bottle and offered a drink to the homeless man.

  The homeless man couldn’t believe his good luck. Here was somebody offering him a free drink. That rarely happened and he really needed a drink. He eagerly took the bottle and drank. “Hey! Is this a joke? This bottle is empty,” he shouted angrily.

  “Take it easy, Dude, I got me another bottle. You can have some of that,” said the man in a calm, controlled voice.

  “Where is it? Let’s see the bottle,” demanded the homeless man.

  “I’ve got it stashed in a safe place. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  The homeless man followed the man away from the woods, towards the city. When they got to an alley behind a gas station the man pointed to a pile of old bricks. “It’s hidden under those bricks,” he said.

  As the homeless man bent over to look for the bottle the man reached out and wrapped his large hands around the homeless man’s throat. Caught by surprise, the homeless man was unable to fight back. He put his hands on the man’s arms in an effort to break his

  hold, but the effort was futile. The man squeezed harder and harder. His face turned red with the effort, and his breathing was labored. Still he squeezed and squeezed until he felt the life drain out of the homeless man.

  Then the man dropped his arms to his sides and looked at his victim. He rolled the homeless man over so that he could see his face. “You’re not the one! You’re not the one!”

  The man picked up a brick from the pile of rubble and smashed it into his victims face. He kept smashing until he was tired from the effort. Then he fell to his knees and cried.

  « Chapter Eleven »

  The show William helped to hang opened as scheduled. Linda and I went to see it on Wednesday evening. Wouldn’t I have been shocked if I’d known that the man we were looking for was the same man who’d help to hang the paintings I admired that night? If I’d only known, this whole affair would have been over then and there, but I didn’t know, so we kept looking for William.

  On Thursday morning I walked off the elevator and greeted Julie our receptionist, “Morning, Julie, any calls come in from our T.V. spot?” She shook her head, no. “I’ll check facebook to see if I got any hits.” On the way to my desk I stopped at Diane’s desk to tell her how great the art show was. We made plans to see it at lunch.

  Ray came in a little later, said hello to everyone and went to his office. I took him a cup of coffee and asked if he had any special instructions for me.

  “Get Lt. Donner on the phone for me. I want to see if there’s any record of William Logan ever being arrested.”

  “Another dead end,” said Ray as he ended the call. “Get

  Meg Anderson at the L.A. Times, on the phone for me. She’s an old friend. I’ll put an article and a photo in the paper and maybe somebody will see it and recognize him.”

  ” I made the call and Ray set up a lunch meeting with her.

  I hung up the phone and put my hands on my hips. “Ray, Is Meg one of your old friends, or one of your old girl friends?”

  “Jealous?” Ray asked with a grin and a twinkle in his eyes.

  “Of course I’m jealous. I don’t want to share you with anyone.”

  Ray walked around his desk and gave me a long slow kiss. “Still jealous?”

  “She was one of your girlfriends, wasn’t she?”

  Ray just grinned.

  “Just how many girls have you dated? No, don’t tell me,” I moaned as I put both hands over my ears. “I don’t want to know.”

  I turned and left in a fake huff and went to work calling apartment houses to see if any of their tenants was William Logan. Of course, I wasn’t able to call even a fraction of the places William could be living in, but at least I was doing something.

  At noon Ray left for his lunch appointment. Diane and I drove through a hamburger place and ate our burgers on the way to the Stanton Art Gallery. We spent the greater part of our lunch hour perusing the paintings that were on display there.

  At 1:00 o’clock Ray and I returned from lunch at the same time. As we rode up in the elevator I told Ray about the art show. I was still chattering away as we stepped off the elevator. Julie called to Ray and handed him the phone. He listened.

  “Ray, I think I’ve found that guy you’ve been looking for.”

  “You mean William Logan?”

  “I do. At least I think it’s him. But, Ray, you’re not going to like the condition he’s in. He’s dead.”

  “Dead? Are you sure it’s him?’

  “No, Ray, I’m not. His face is unrecognizable.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m in an alley behind a gas station on the corner of Tenth and Palm”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” said Ray.

  Ray said to me, “I’ve got to go. I’ll be back when I can.” He turned and got back on the elevator.

  “Who was on the phone?” I asked Julie.

  “Lieutenant Jim Donner, homicide.” She answered.

  As Ray pulled up to the crime scene he saw the flashing blue and red lights of the responding vehicles and pulled up behind a squad car that was angled across the alley. The lights made the scene look garish. The alley was narrow. There was a dumpster behind the garage. There were some boxes piled neatly on one side of it and a tumbled pile of bricks on the other side. An empty stretcher was waiting beside an ambulance. Men were standing around, lots of men. Are so many men needed for one dead body? Ray thought as he got out of his car and walked up to Lt. Donner.

  The lieutenant was a few years younger than Ray. He looked like everyone’s idea of a typical California boy. He was almost six foot tall, well built, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and of course, a tan.

  “This way, Ray, The body’s over here,” he said as he lifted the tarp that covered the body.

  “C.O.D.?” asked Ray

  “He was strangled.”

  “What with?” asked Ray.

  “Bare hands.”

  “It takes a strong man to strangle somebody with his bare hands,” commented Ray

  .Lt. Donner nodded his head. “Dr. Melrose, the coroner, says that the damage to the face was done post mortem, probably with one of those bricks,” he said pointing to the tumbled pile of bricks that had fallen off a wall of one of the buildings.

  “You think the murderer didn’t want us to be able to identify the body?”

  “I don’t know, Ray. This is the second body we’ve found that was killed in the same way.”

  “What makes you think this is William Logan?” asked Ray.

  “The people here told me that he is wearing William’s jacket.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?” asked Ray.

  “See that guy holding the kitten over there?” asked Lt. Donner pointing to Toon. “Go talk to him.”

  Toon
was leaning on one of the squad cars. When Ray walked up to him he straightened up.

  “Hi. My name is Ray. What’s yours?” Ray held out a pack of cigarettes offering one to Toon.

  “My name is Earl, but everybody calls me Toon because I

  like cartoons. You can call me Toon, too.” He took a cigarette and nodded his thanks. The kitten was nestled in one of Toon’s big hands. “This is Lucky. I found him. He’s lucky because he has me to love him and take care of him.”

  “Anyone who has somebody to love and care for them is lucky,” said Ray.

  “William cared for me. He helped me get a job.” Toon pointed to the body lying on the ground. “That’s my friend, William. He’s dead. He was my friend. This isn’t right.” Tears rolled down Toon’s face.

  “No, it isn’t right. It isn’t right at all,” agreed Ray. He petted Toon’s kitten. “This sure is a cute kitten.” Tell me how you know that the dead man is your friend William.”

  “He is the same size as William, the hair color is the same and he is wearing William’s clothes.”

  Ray showed Toon the old photo of William that had been enhanced to make William look like he might today. Toon wiped tears from his eyes so he could take a good look at the photo. “Oh, yes, that’s my friend. That’s William. Are you a policeman? Are you going to find the man who killed William?”

  “I’m not a policeman. I’m a private investigator. I was trying to find William to give him some money that he inherited. Now I’m going to do everything in my power to find his killer.”

  “Thanks man.”

  Ray extended his hand to Toon and they shook hands.

  “Here’s one of my cards. If you think of anything that will help me, or if you need anything just call me.” He walked away with

  a sad, helpless feeling.

  Ray was busy at the murder site till our office closed. I went home and put on a pot of soup and prepared some sandwiches to go with it. I knew that Ray would show up when he was finished and that is what he did. I’m glad he came because when he’s working on a case he tends to forget to eat. Sometimes when I put food in front of him he still doesn’t eat it, but I keep trying. I tempted him with his favorite soup, chicken noodle, and while we ate we discussed William Logan.