Reed Ferguson Mystery Box Set 5

by Renee Pawlish

  Sally gulped. “I understand, but you won’t find anything bad.”

  “Okay, I believe you,” I said, mostly to keep her as relaxed as possible. I glanced at Brenda. “Would you mind if I talked to Sally privately for a few minutes?”

  Brenda’s eyes widened in surprise, but then she nodded. She pulled a check from her purse and handed it to me. “This should cover a week.”

  “That’s fine,” I said.

  I had her sign some paperwork and put it into the padfolio I’d brought with me.

  “Thank you,” Brenda said.

  I nodded. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I find out anything.”

  “Thank you.” Brenda stood up, then gestured toward the mall. “I’ll take a little walk. The air will do me good. Sally, call me when you’re finished.”

  “Okay,” Sally said.

  Brenda walked away, and Sally fiddled with her drink and shifted in her seat, seeming desperate to leave with Brenda.

  Chapter Nine

  “Why’d you ask my mother to leave?” Sally asked.

  “I figured you might be more comfortable answering some questions without her around.”

  She gave me a faint smile of appreciation. “There’s a lot she doesn’t know about me.”

  I let the comment linger for a moment, then said, “What was your relationship with Gabe really like?”

  She took a sip of her drink, grimaced, and set it down. “We fought, and a time or two it came to blows, but only those times.”

  “Because he was cheating on you.”

  “Yeah.”

  I remembered what Ella had said, about Gabe showing up with marks on his face. “Did you hit him?”

  “Once, I threw a book at him. Hit him right in the side of the face and gave him a black eye. And another time I clawed him pretty good.”

  “Only those times?”

  “Yes. He hit me sometimes, too. I don’t know why I put up with it, but …” Her voice faded.

  “And you told the police all this? In detail?”

  “Yeah.” She frowned. “I didn’t think it mattered, but it will to the police, right?”

  “Like I said, they need a motive.” She started to protest, but I held up a hand. “Let’s focus on Gabe. He was a bit younger than you?”

  She glared at me. “You judging me?”

  “Nope. Just trying to find out as much as I can about him and hope that leads me to his murderer.”

  “Oh. He was twenty-one.”

  I went on. “What’d you see in him?”

  She thought about that. “He was cute, and it was fun to go clubbing with him. That’s where I met him, at Club 77. He was a good dancer, and a great deejay. But mostly it was about music.” She was visibly relaxing. “We liked the same bands, and we could talk about that for hours. Not just ‘that’s a good song’ or ‘it’s got a good beat,’ but we really talked about the music, you know? Stuff like how they used different instruments to get a certain feel, or how the lyrics were. Gabe was a musician, too, like me.”

  “Your mother didn’t mention you played an instrument.”

  “Just guitar. I picked it up along the way.” She laughed. “I did play piano growing up – didn’t everyone? But it didn’t stick. I like the guitar, and I write songs.”

  “Did Gabe write any songs?”

  Now she snorted. “He couldn’t write lyrics, but he was a helluva techno musician.”

  “Techno musician?” I’d heard plenty of techno – repetitive dance music with an electronic sound that rarely had lyrics – because it had been played at dance clubs that I’d been in … back in the days when I’d gone to dance clubs. But I knew little of what went into creating the sound.

  “Yeah, these days you don’t need a studio or a band to produce techno,” she said. “You can create all kinds of stuff with just your computer and a software program. People upload songs on YouTube and Spotify, and boom – you become a hit.” She shrugged. “Or some people do. I’ve never had that kind of luck.”

  “You’ve uploaded songs to the Internet?”

  “Yeah, but they never seem to find an audience.”

  “How else would you find an audience?”

  “Playing clubs, although there aren’t that many good ones around here. I tried L.A., and I had a little bit of success there, but it didn’t last. It’s a tough scene. Then there’s all the Internet stuff, like having a website and being on social media. But I don’t really do social media, and I don’t have a website.”

  “Why not?”

  “Social media became a distraction for me; I spent too much time on it, and not actually working on my music. And a website’s too expensive.”

  I thought about all the free sites and blogs that one could use to set up and host a website, but I didn’t point that out. They weren’t always the slickest sites, but in a pinch, they would do. I moved on. I wondered how motivated she really was.

  “And you shared your lyrics and stuff with Gabe, but he wouldn’t give it all back.”

  “Right,” she said. “I write a lot of stuff down in notebooks.”

  “Why’d he keep them?”

  She sighed. “We weren’t really seeing each other much by then, and he was being a jerk, being difficult just to piss me off.”

  “You think he was stealing your lyrics?”

  She laughed and shook her head. “He was just helping scan it. That way, I could have the files on my computer, in case anything happened to my notebooks.”

  “So, other than his keeping your notebooks, you thought Gabe was nice?” I couldn’t keep the skepticism from my voice.

  “I guess so.”

  I stared hard at her. “That doesn’t sound convincing.”

  “To answer your question, Gabe could be nice, when he wanted to. But if you got on his wrong side, look out.”

  “What’d you fight about?”

  “Usually his cheating on me. Sometimes money. Or he’d be hung over and he’d pick a fight about who knows what. I put up with it because I thought he loved me, but then I realized he didn’t, and he was just using me.”

  “For what?”

  Her lips twitched into a sly smile. “I’m pretty good in bed, if you know what I mean. He liked that. And he was good, too.”

  “Okay.” I deftly moved on. “Did you love him?”

  “At first, maybe. Not at the end.”

  “And once you realized he didn’t love you, you stayed with him only because of the music?”

  “Why else?”

  “I’m asking you.”

  She cleared her throat. “I know I should’ve left him, but he was helping me produce stuff. And he did help with the rent, now and again.”

  “Why’d you move out of the apartment on Columbine?”

  “The rent got too high.”

  “How’d you meet Kristen?”

  “Clubbing. It seemed like we just kept running into each other, and we hit it off. She’s really cool.”

  I thought for a moment. “Enemies may be too strong a word, but did you know of anyone who disliked Gabe?”

  She snorted. “Lots of people didn’t like him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s arrogant and thinks he knows everything.”

  “Was there anyone in particular that you can think of?”

  “He used to be friends with a guy named Davon, spelled with an ‘a,’ but they had some kind of fight, and I haven’t seen Davon around in a while. I don’t think Gabe talks to him anymore.”

  “What’s a while?”

  “A couple of months, maybe.”

  “What’s Davon’s last name?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What was their fight about?”

  “I’m not sure. The last time I saw Gabe and Davon together, Gabe was saying something about he didn’t want that action with Davon anymore. That made Davon mad, and they argued about it.”

  “What kind of action was Gabe talking about?”

&nbs
p; “I don’t know,” she repeated.

  “You heard the conversation but you don’t remember what it was about?”

  “I went on the dance floor.”

  “I see.” I mulled that over. “Did Gabe do drugs, or deal?”

  “We smoked a little weed, but I don’t think he did anything else. And he didn’t deal drugs, at least not around me.”

  “Then it’s still possible he was a dealer, he just kept it from you.”

  She nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Ella at the Rat told me Gabe didn’t have a job.”

  Her eyebrows raised. “You’ve been there?”

  I nodded. “I spent more time there than I’d like, hoping that Gabe would come around and lead me to you.”

  “He did.”

  “Yep.”

  Her lips twisted up. “Count Ella as one who didn’t like Gabe.”

  “So I gathered. But she does like you.”

  That brought a smile. “Ella’s a nice lady. She’s been through the wringer. A rough upbringing, a bad marriage, and who knows what else. But she’s made a living with that bar, and she likes to help people out.”

  “She said she gave you a lot of chances, but …”

  “Yeah. I just couldn’t seem to keep track of everyone’s orders, and sometimes Gabe and I would be working on our music, partying a bit, and I’d forget to go in.”

  “What about the job you’re at now? You’re making a go of it?”

  “So far.” She shrugged. “I need to.”

  I went back to Gabe. “Did he work?”

  “He got some deejay gigs, mostly at Club 77. That’s a place on Evans, near Colorado.”

  It was in the same area where I’d gone clubbing, a long time ago. I wrote it down. “But no steady work?”

  She shook her head.

  “Gabe met with a guy at the Rat last night before he came home.” I showed her the picture I’d taken at the Rat Tavern. “Do you know him?”

  She thought long and hard. “He seems familiar, but where was that?” She finally snapped her fingers. “He showed up at Club 77 one time, but I can’t come up with a name.”

  “What do you know about him?”

  “Nothing, just that he and Gabe went outside the club and talked for quite a while.”

  “About what?”

  She shrugged. “Beats me. Gabe wouldn’t tell me anything about that guy, or what they discussed.”

  “Before he left the Rat the other night, he got mad at Gabe.”

  “Gabe pissed somebody else off, big surprise.”

  I rubbed my jaw for a moment. “It sounds like Gabe was a real charmer.”

  “Sarcasm, ha ha. Yeah, Gabe wasn’t very popular.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell me about this man at the club?”

  She pursed her lips, thinking. “I think the owner of Club 77 knew him because Gabe and that man had a long conversation with the owner that same night. Then they all shook hands before the man left.”

  “I can talk to the owner to see what he’ll tell me about this man,” I said. “Do you know the bar owner’s name?”

  She shook her head. “Sam, but I don’t know his last name, either.”

  Of course not. I resisted sighing. “Did you ever meet Gabe’s family?”

  “He has an older sister, Lisa, that I met at the clubs. She was kind of fun to hang around. I never met his parents.”

  “Did Lisa ever talk to you about Gabe?”

  “Not really. She couldn’t understand why I was with him, either.” She threw me a rueful smile. “I was just hoping he might be able to help me out with my music.”

  “Do you know any of his neighbors?”

  “Just the guy next door, in 303. Luis. He came over a time or two when I was at Gabe’s. He’s an okay guy.”

  I went over our conversation, but I couldn’t think of anything else to ask right then. I had a list of people to talk to about Gabe, and I hoped that one of them might have an idea of who would want him dead.

  Sally stared at me. “Well?”

  “Do you have a cell phone, in case I need to get hold of you?”

  “Yeah, it’s a cheap disposable one. I lost my other phone and I hadn’t paid the bill anyway, so the number’s disconnected.”

  “Give me the new number.”

  She did and I entered it into my phone. “But I’m warning you, I don’t always keep my phone with me.”

  “You need to now.”

  She sighed. “Okay.”

  I studied her for a moment. “May I throw out a bit of advice to you?”

  She sat back and crossed her arms. “Are you going to lecture me?”

  “Maybe.” I held up my hands. “Look, I get wanting to pursue your dreams.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or go into finance. I flitted around from job to job, until I finally decided that I wanted to be a private investigator, and I’ve pursued this career. It hasn’t always been easy, and it takes a lot of hard work and commitment.”

  “Nothing comes easy.”

  “Not usually, and that’s my point. You don’t need to rely on a Gabe to get what you want. Rely on yourself. You said yourself that nowadays anyone can produce music and put it up on the internet, so you can, too.”

  “Nice pep talk.”

  “Okay, sorry,” I said. “One final thing.”

  She sighed dramatically.

  “You don’t have to abandon your family and friends in the process.”

  She glanced toward the mall and her lip trembled. “My mother’s not doing well.”

  “I know. You may not have a lot of time with her. Make the most of it.”

  She looked at me and blinked hard. “I hear you. I’ve missed a lot of time with her.”

  She may have been acting like a ditz, but I suddenly felt sad for her. She’d made some bad choices, but that didn’t make her a bad person.

  “Okay, I’ve peppered you with enough questions for now.” I put my notepad away. “If I think of anything else, I’ll call you.”

  She reached out and touched my arm in the same manner her mother had. “I know you must think I’m flaky, that I don’t have my crap together, and all that may be true, but I didn’t kill Gabe. Please, find whoever did. I don’t want to go to prison.”

  “I’ll do my best to uncover the truth.”

  She gazed at me and nodded. “I’ll take that.”

  I stood up. “I’ll be in touch soon.”

  I turned around and walked away. When I got to the corner, I glanced back. Sally was still at the table, staring into space.

  I’d found out a lot about her, and I wasn’t sure I bought her reasoning for being in Gabe’s apartment when he’d been killed. But did that mean she was guilty?

  I’d find out soon enough.

  Chapter Ten

  Sally had given me two people that would be worth talking to: Davon and the man I’d seen with Gabe Culpepper at the Rat Tavern. The problem was, could I find them? And did either have anything to do with Gabe’s death? When I’d seen Gabe and his friend at the Rat on Sunday night, the man had said something about Gabe screwing things up, but did that mean anything? Had he been angry enough to kill Gabe?

  By now, I’d reached the 4-Runner. I got in and thought for a moment. I really needed to know what the police had on Sally, and I knew who would tell me as much as she could. I pulled out my phone and dialed Spillman.

  “Please tell me you’re not working on the Evans case,” she said when she answered. She’d greeted me other times with similar words.

  “Okay.” I let the silence stretch out between us.

  “Ferguson?”

  “Yes?”

  “What do you want?”

  “Well, I’m working on the Evans case, but you didn’t want me to tell you that.”

  “Smartass.”

  “I try.”

  A long, put-upon breath sounded through the phone. “I suppose you want to t
alk about the case.”

  “Anything you can share would be helpful. After all, if Sally’s innocent, you want to find the real killer.”

  “Meet me at the Rooster & Moon in an hour,” she said, and then she was gone.

  I hung up, started the car, and drove away.

  The Rooster & Moon Coffee Pub is a hip little coffee shop on Bannock, in the Golden Triangle neighborhood just south of downtown. It also happened to be near Spillman’s precinct, and I’d met her there on occasion. I’d arrived early, and Spillman wasn’t there yet. I went inside, and although I was tempted by their sandwiches, I’d had a late breakfast, so I skipped food and ordered a macchiato. I took my drink, which was served in a heavy white mug, went outside, and sat at a table on a long porch.

  One of the things I like about the Rooster & Moon is that they play a lot of ’80s music, and as I waited for Spillman, “Who Can It Be Now?” by Men at Work played. I listened and enjoyed the sunshine, then pulled out my phone and called Cal.

  “What’s up?” he said, dispensing with his usual greeting. That meant he was busy.

  “My case has taken an interesting turn,” I said, then filled him in on Gabe’s murder and Sally’s potential involvement in it. “Just a quick thing when you have time. I want to know everything you can find on Gabe Culpepper. Check his family, his background and financials, that kind of thing.”

  “I can do that, but I’ve got to wrap up a few things first.”

  “No problem, I appreciate the help.”

  “I’ll get back to you on Gabe.”

  “Thanks.”

  I ended the call and then called Sally’s roommate Kristen Dalrymple.

  “Hello?” a soft voice said.

  I told her who I was. “You’ve heard about Sally?”

  “Yes, she called me this morning. She’s been with her mother since she left the police department.”

  “I’d like to talk to you about her.”

  “Uh, sure, she said you might call. But when? I kinda got a busy day.”

  I glanced at my watch. “How about around one?” I figured that would give me enough time to talk to Spillman first.

  “Um, okay. Can you meet me at Cheesman Park? I can meet you at Franklin Street, where it intersects with the road around the park.”