It was three o’clock in the morning and I’d just given her a revised version of what happened in the park, leaving out that Willie, Cal and the Goofball Brothers were there as well. Spillman was leaning on the edge of a table in an interview room at the Denver Police Department. Her arms were crossed. Her face was cross as well.
“I brought you the tapes,” I said. “You have your killer.”
She raised her head and stared at the ceiling, muttered something, and then looked back at me. “What you did was pretty stupid. You could’ve been killed.”
“Maybe.”
“Who helped you?”
“No one,” I lied. “The camera and equipment were set up in my car. I started it before I left to meet Carlo.”
In actuality, Cal helped me edit both the audio and video files that I turned over to Spillman. We’d started the tape just before Carlo had shown up and ended it before Deuce had started the 4-Runner and driven across the park. We’d taken out all audio that indicated my helpers had been involved.
“Why doesn’t the tape show you walking into the park?”
“I cut that part out.” I shrugged. “It didn’t show anything.”
She gnawed her lower lip. I knew she didn’t believe me, but I’d also given her information she needed.
“And when the shooting started, you managed to run to your car, which was parked on the street, right?”
“Yes. And then I drove it through the park to scatter those guys so they’d stop shooting.”
She nodded slowly. “That would explain the tire tracks in the park.” She still didn’t believe me. After a minute, she said, “And they were shooting at you?”
“Yes,” I said. “And speaking of that, did I…” I momentarily lost my voice. “Did I kill Carlo?”
“I doubt it. He was shot in the back and the video shows you were shooting toward him. One of the cartel guys got him, but we’ll know more when we test ballistics on your gun.”
I’d surrendered my Glock to her when I’d first come down to the station, and at the moment, I wasn’t too keen on getting it back. I did not enjoy being in a gunfight.
My heartbeat slowly returned to its talking-to-Spillman nervous thud. “I think I clipped one of the other guys. He was on the other side of the playground, and I saw him jerk and fall to his knees.”
“And that would explain the blood we found there.” She uncrossed her arms and stood up. “He won’t show up at a hospital for treatment. They’re long gone.”
“That’s what I figured.”
Her eyes cut through me. “Taking on drug cartels isn’t smart.”
“I didn’t know I was,” I said truthfully. “I thought it was just Carlo.”
She motioned for me to stand up. “Go home, but…” she held up a hand. “Remember that saying?”
“ ‘Don’t leave town,’ ” I said.
She nodded. “I’m sure I’ll have more questions for you.”
“Thanks.” I hightailed it out of there before she thought better of letting me go.
It was almost four in the morning when I got home. I crawled into bed next to Willie and fell asleep, dreaming of the gunfight in the park. I had just fallen into a deep slumber when Willie shook me awake. She was wearing purple scrubs.
“Hey, honey, I have to go to work.”
Why are you waking me to tell me that? was my first thought. And since she was ready for the day shift, that meant it was about seven-thirty. Good Lord, it seemed like I’d barely hit the sheets!
“You didn’t hear the phone?”
I sat up on an elbow. Obviously I hadn’t or I would’ve answered it, not her. “Who called?”
“Your parents. Their flight was cancelled so they got on another one. They’ll be here around five.” She held up a piece of paper. “I wrote down all the information.”
“Uh-huh.” I was still focused on her waking me. Couldn’t she have left this all in a note so I could sleep? Then I realized that she hadn’t gotten home much earlier than I had, so she was going to work tired. “Okay. You want to go with me to pick them up?”
“I won’t be home in time, so I’ll meet them here, okay? That way I can shower and change before they get here.”
She leaned down and kissed me. Then she headed for the door. “Oh, and don’t forget to clean,” she said over her shoulder.
“I’ve got to meet Jodie and tell her what happened,” I said. “That’ll officially close the case and then I’ll be able to fully devote myself to my parents, which will keep them out of your hair.”
She turned around. “Reed, please. This place is a mess.”
“Fine, I’ll take care of it.”
She left and I flopped back on the pillow. Cleaning…my Bogie-like image was certainly taking a hit. Well, it would have to wait, at least for a while, because I needed to call Jodie. I lay under the covers for a bit and then went to the kitchen for coffee. Finally feeling a bit more awake, I contacted Jodie. I didn’t want to explain everything over the phone, so I arranged to meet her at Blue Light at ten. I took my coffee into my office, prepared some paperwork for her, then got ready to meet her.
“I don’t believe it,” she said once I’d told her all that had happened last night.
“It’s true.”
“Carlo?” She was sitting in her office chair, stunned.
I nodded.
Her eyes roamed around the room as the impact of it hit her. “And Jude? He was really trying to sell the process?”
“Yes,” I murmured.
“And he had a girlfriend?” Tears filled her eyes. “I can’t believe he’d do this to me.”
I didn’t know what to say. We sat in silence as she processed it all.
“What do I tell everyone?” she finally asked.
“Everything,” I said. “I’ll meet with them, if you want, and we’ll tell them who I really am, and what happened.”
“Yes,” she said quickly. It was obvious she didn’t want to handle that task alone. “That would be good.”
“Where do you think the real process notes are?” she asked.
“I’ve got an idea,” I said, thinking back to something Mandy said about Jude taking a copy of the process notes with him. “Once we talk to everyone, let’s go to Jude’s house.”
A few hours later, on the way to Jude’s, I suddenly realized I was running out of time. There was no way I could clean and then shower and get out to the airport. I didn’t think the condo looked that bad, but I also didn’t want to disappoint Willie, so I called Ace.
“Hey, I’ve got a job for you, if you want it,” I said. “Can you go upstairs and clean for me?” It was funny, even though they weren’t the brightest on an intellectual scale, the Brothers were surprisingly neat. I’d found that out when I’d needed to search Deuce’s room when he’d gone missing.
“I guess so,” he said slowly. “Deuce can help.”
“Isn’t he at work?”
“He took a few days off. Hold on.”
I could hear him talking to someone else.
“Deuce wants to know what you want done,” Ace said. “Just the usual? Vacuum, dust? And clean the kitchen and bathrooms?”
I held the phone out. Deuce wanted to know this? “Yes,” I answered. “I’ll pay you back in spades.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll pay you. Twenty-five an hour.”
“Okay.”
“Great.” I told him where to find the cleaning supplies and hung up. “I hope I don’t regret this,” I muttered as I drove up to Jude’s house.
Jodie had beat me there and she was waiting on the porch. She let me in and I went straight to his bedroom with her on my heels.
“Do you really think this is where he hid it?” Jodie asked.
“Mandy said Jude told her he’d gotten rid of all copies of the process notes, except the one that he was selling and one he was taking with him.”
I opened the closet and took out the carry-on, dumped the clothes and toilet
ries out and dug through them. No process, so I felt around the lining. “Ah-ha.”
“What?” She looked at the bag.
“There’s a secret pocket,” I said, extracting a couple of pieces of paper. “Oldest trick in the book.” I smiled triumphantly.
She took the pages from me and scanned them. “This is all correct.”
“Now you can do with it what you want,” I said.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry things turned out this way.”
She stifled a sob, and then gathered herself. “I appreciate all your help.”
“Take care of yourself.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said as she sat down on the edge of the bed.
When I left, she was staring into space.
I drove home, figuring I had just enough time to check on the Goofball Brothers and make sure they’d finished cleaning before I headed out to the airport. Now that I wasn’t focused on the case, I felt my anxiety rising. I loved my parents, but it was always a challenge dealing with my mother and her expectations…and quirks.
I parked on the street and headed up the stairs to my condo. I had to admit, it really would be nice to see it all tidied up for a change. When I walked through the door, I was surprised to see that the condo was in no better shape than when I’d left. Then I heard laughter in the kitchen.
“Hey,” I called out.
Ace and Deuce were sitting at the table. The energy drinks from Blue Light were on the table. And they were open.
Uh-oh.
Deuce saw me first and a huge smile spread across his face. “Heeeey, Reed.” He stretched the words out.
Ace snickered.
“What’s so funny about that?” Deuce said
“I don’t know.”
They both laughed uproariously. Oh man, this was bad.
“Hey, Reed,” Deuce said again.
“Dude,” Ace said.
“What?”
“You just said that.”
Deuce’s face was blank. “Huh?”
They were even more confused than normal, and that was saying something.
I picked up the energy drink. “You drank this?”
“Uh-huh,” Ace said. “I didn’t think you’d mind if I took something from the fridge.” He screwed up his face. “I didn’t like it.”
“How much did you have?”
“Just a few sips.”
I eyed Deuce. “And you?”
“A sip or two. I don’t like it either.”
I slowly let out a breath. They’d only had a little. That was a relief. There’d been some issues in Colorado with people consuming too much of the pot edibles and they’d ended up hurting others. The brothers started laughing, apparently at nothing. Maybe they weren’t having a really bad trip, but this was disastrous for me, since I needed to go get my parents. And the condo hadn’t been touched! And what would I do with the Goofball Brothers?
“Come on, let’s get you home,” I said. I set the energy drink down and tugged Ace’s arm.
“You know,” he pronounced dramatically, “I am really hungry.”
“Me, too,” Deuce said. “I want chips. Oh, and those little sticks of beef jerky. What’re those called?”
“Slim Jims,” Ace said.
They had a laughing spell.
“Reed, we’ve been talking about my job prospects,” Ace said as he stood up. “Should I look for a management position or should I switch professions?”
“But Ace has never been in management, so that might make it difficult for him to get that type of position,” Deuce said.
Now they were so stoned they were making sense. I was momentarily speechless.
“We can talk about that later,” I said, frantic to get them back to their place. “Deuce, come on.”
He pushed himself out of his chair and I propelled them into the living room.
“Hey, Reed,” Deuce said as he put a finger on my chest, his face serious. “Was there something in that drink?” He slipped past me, back into the kitchen, and grabbed the drink.
“Nothing in the drink,” I said, taking it away from him. “Now let’s go downstairs and you can get something to eat.”
“But no Slim Jims,” Deuce said. “We don’t have any.”
That caused them to fall to their knees in fits of laughter. Right then, the door opened and there stood my mother and father in the doorway. My mother was short and plump, casually dressed in tan shorts, a blouse in a colorful flower pattern, and a necklace made of seashells, yet she managed to look like she was in designer clothes. My father, tall in stature and bearing, wore slacks and a pressed shirt. He had a stern look on his face as he peered over her shoulder. They saw the brothers and their faces went from surprised to puzzled.
My mother took off expensive sunglasses and fixed a hard gaze on me. “Reed, dear, what’s going on?”
“Mom…Dad…what’re you doing here? Wasn’t I supposed to pick you up at the airport?”
Meanwhile, Ace and Deuce got to their feet and stood at attention.
“Hi, Mrs. Ferguson,” they said in unison. And then they giggled.
“Hello, boys.” Mother stared at them with eyes that could cut through stone, and then back at me. Then those eyes narrowed, and I knew what was coming. “Reed, is this some kind of drug thing?” She turned to my father. “I knew it! We show up and look at this.”
“Mother, please,” I said. I strolled over, kissed her on the cheek and led her and my father into the living room. “They’ve just had a little too much to drink.” I tried to hide the bottle of energy drink behind me.
“What’s that?” she snapped.
“This?” I held up the bottle. “An energy drink.”
“You’re all drunk from an energy drink? At this time of day?”
“I haven’t been drinking,” I said. “I…wait. You haven’t told me – what are you doing here?”
“The airlines got us on an earlier flight, so we thought we’d surprise you.” She put her hands on her hips, clearly miffed. She did “miffed” really well. “What is going on?”
“Nothing,” I said as I pushed the Goofball Brothers toward the door. “I just got home. And like I said, they apparently have had a little too much to drink.”
“Well, I never…”
The front door opened and Willie came in. I gulped. This was going from bad to worse. She glanced at me, then the energy drink in my hand, then my parents, and finally the Goofball Brothers, who burst into laughter.
“Mr. and Mrs. Ferguson – hi! I wasn’t expecting you so early.” Then she turned to me.
“Reed, what’s going on?” she said, her tone icy calm.
“I’d like to know the same thing, dear,” my mother said.
I was in trouble. I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
Where was Bogie when I needed him?
THE END
Turn the page to keep reading Sweet Smell of Secrets, Reed Ferguson mystery book 8!
Sweet Smell of Sucrets
The Reed Ferguson Mystery Series, Book 8
Prologue
I awoke to total darkness and a pounding in my brain. I blinked a few times, but the blackness remained.
“Who turned off the lights?” I mumbled. Confusion wrapped itself around me. What day was it? What time was it? And most importantly, where was I?
Feet shuffled nearby and then…SMACK!
“Hey, that hurt!” I managed to say. The right side of my face throbbed where he’d punched me. I assumed it was a “he” but in truth, I hadn’t seen “him” because I still couldn’t see anything. I became aware of something covering my eyes. A blindfold. The back of my head hurt, and a fog hung over my befuddled brain. Through a crack where the blindfold didn’t touch my cheek, I saw hardwood floor. Good. A clue. It was almost useless, but still a clue. My head dropped and my chin rested on my chest.
“So you’re awake.” The voice was deep and scratchy. Definitely a “he”. He coughed an
d cleared his throat. A hand grasped my hair and jerked my head up.
“Yes,” I stated the obvious. “Quit pulling my hair.”
“You don’t tell me what I wanna know, I’m gonna do more than that.”
He was close enough that I felt his hot breath on my cheek. A medicinal smell assaulted my nostrils. Menthol with a little mint, like a Sucrets cough drop. I tried to move my arms and legs but couldn’t. I slowly assessed my situation. I was blindfolded, my hands tied behind my back, my legs strapped to the legs of a hard chair. And this goon was beating me up.
“Why were you meeting Noel Farrell?” the goon growled.
“He asked me to,” I said. That was completely true.
Earlier today – if today was still today, depending on how long I’d been knocked out – a private investigator named Noel Farrell had called and asked me to meet him in Black Hawk, an old mining-turned-gambling town forty miles west of Denver, at five p.m. I’d gotten to the parking garage at the Ameristar Casino Hotel and waited for Farrell, but he never showed. As I walked back to my car, something hit me over the head and I blacked out. And now I was here.
“What did he tell you?” He was still close and I heard the cough drop click on his teeth. Then he hacked a bit and snorted.
“About what?” I asked.
I sensed his moving away. Then SMACK!
“Ugh!” I shook my head, which only served to intensify my headache.
“Farrell must’ve told you something. I gotta hit you again or are you gonna tell me what he said?”
“He didn’t tell me anything.” I felt him cocking his arm to belt me again. “No, wait. Don’t hit me again. I’m telling the truth.”
“Go on.”
A reprieve. I took advantage and talked fast. “Like I said, Farrell called and asked me to meet him in Black Hawk. He said it was urgent, and that he’d make it worth my while. I tried to brush him off but he insisted. I admit, I was curious, so I drove up here. But he never showed. I waited a while and then headed back to my car. Before I got there, someone conked me on the head and I woke up here.” I wisely neglected to accuse this goon of being the one who’d knocked me out, or to point out that he was being terribly inhospitable.
The Reed Ferguson Mystery series Box Set 3 Page 17