Reed Ferguson Mystery Box Set 5

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Reed Ferguson Mystery Box Set 5 Page 47

by Renee Pawlish


  “You really seem to like Sally.”

  “I do.”

  The phone rang. She answered it, took a message, and then looked at me. “I probably should get back to work.”

  I stood up. “Thanks for your time. I appreciate it.”

  “Anytime. Tell Sally ‘hello from Angel’ and to hang in there.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  I put the chair back, waved at her, and left.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I still had a lot of time to kill before I met Rick Crabtree, so I went by CJ’s Auto Repair. Davon’s Trans Am was parked in the lot near the shop. I took a spot down the street and watched for him. At noon, he emerged from the shop and I followed him to a Taco Bell on Colorado Boulevard. He sat inside, ate, and then drove to an apartment complex off Colorado and Colfax Avenue. I stayed down the street and watched as he drove slowly through the parking lot.

  What’s he doing? I wondered.

  I didn’t get an answer, as Davon left. By one o’clock, he was back at work. I parked in a different place, and was about to leave for my appointment with Rick Crabtree when Deuce called.

  “Hey, Reed,” he said in a low voice.

  “What’s up?”

  “I took over for Ace a while ago, and I’ve been watching Sally’s apartment.”

  “She’s still there?”

  “No, that’s why I called. She left and I’m following her.”

  “Why’re you whispering? She can’t hear you.”

  “Oh, uh, okay.”

  “Where’s she going?” The second it was out of my mouth, I knew I should’ve rephrased it.

  “How would I know that?” he said. “I didn’t talk to her.”

  “Which way is she headed?”

  “Oh. She’s going north on York.”

  “Huh. That’s not the direction where her mother lives.”

  “I’ve let some cars get between her car and my truck,” he said. “I don’t think she knows I’m behind her.”

  “Okay, stay with her and let me know what happens.”

  “Will do.”

  “I’m doing good, right?”

  I smiled. “Yes, you are.”

  “Okay, I’ll call you later,” he said.

  I put my phone away and left for my meeting with Rick Crabtree, but my mind was on Sally Evans. What was she up to? I’d told her the cops might have her under surveillance, and that she shouldn’t go anywhere, except to visit her mother. Was she meeting her mother somewhere? If not, she apparently wasn’t too impressed with my advice.

  I shook my head. I’d find out later from Deuce where she went, and then I’d talk to her about it. I only hoped she wasn’t doing something that would get her into more trouble.

  Club 77 was located in a nondescript building tucked between a storage facility and an auto parts store on Evans, east of Colorado Boulevard, and if you didn’t know it was a nightclub, you’d drive right by, thinking it was a small, rundown office building. The club was painted charcoal gray and had lots of colorful graffiti on the walls, with high windows covered in black paint.

  Back when I’d gone there, during breaks when I was in college, I’d never paid much attention to the building itself. I liked the club because they’d had great, friendly deejays who spun new wave and alternative ’80s music. Going there had been a rebellion of sorts for me against my well-to-do upbringing. I loved the punk crowds with their colorful outfits and crazy hair – who can forget the rattail or Mohawk – to the chagrin of my parents, who saw me shed my nice shirts and slacks for holey jeans, bright shirts, and a leather coat.

  I parked in an empty lot on the side of the building and walked up to the front entrance, but the door was locked. I knocked, then tried to listen for noise inside, but the traffic sounds from the busy streets drowned out anything I might’ve heard. I finally gave up and walked around the side of the building. At the rear was another lot, and a few cars were parked there, including a black Mercedes. At the back of the building was an open door. I stepped into a kitchen where a man with beefy arms was loading a keg onto a dolly. He glanced up at me, but didn’t stop working.

  “We’re closed.”

  “I’m looking for Rick Crabtree,” I said. “I have a meeting with him.”

  He jerked a thumb at a door behind him. “He’s in there.”

  I thanked him as I walked by. I pushed through the door and entered into the main part of the club, then glanced around. Square tables with stools lined the perimeter of a dance floor that seemed incredibly small. The walls were painted black, and dim overhead lights left the place in shadows. A stale odor lingered in the air. I’d never realized that without the pulsing music and darkness punctuated by a myriad of colored and strobe lights, the place was left with a dingy feel.

  Voices drifted across the dance floor, and I looked toward a deejay booth at one end of the room. Inside the booth were two men. I crossed the floor and had a momentary flashback to being on the dance floor, my favorite ’80s tunes playing loudly, the lights flashing to the beat, bodies gyrating rhythmically. That was a great time in my life. The men’s conversation brought me back to reality.

  “Yeah, do this set first.” This from an older man in khakis and a short-sleeved polo shirt.

  A young man in jeans and a T-shirt said, “Gotcha.”

  The older man glanced up and saw me. “Are you Reed?”

  “I am,” I said.

  He gestured at the man in the T-shirt. “I’ll catch up with you later.” He came over and shook my hand firmly. “Rick Crabtree.”

  “Thanks for taking the time to meet with me,” I said.

  “No problem. Why don’t you come into the office and we can talk there.”

  I followed him across the dance floor, through the kitchen, and down a short hall to a tiny room that was an office in name only. Shelves and boxes lined two walls, and a table and two folding chairs were against another. Posters of bands adorned the remaining wall. Rick pulled out the folding chairs and indicated that I should sit in one while he took the other. He crossed his leg, adjusted the collar of his shirt, and looked at me.

  “I was surprised to hear about Gabe,” Crabtree said. “He deejays for me sometimes. What happened?”

  I told him, and explained that I was looking into the murder, but I didn’t tell him who my client was.

  “Wow,” he said. “I can’t believe that happened to Gabe.”

  “How well did you know him?” I asked.

  “Mostly from his working here.” He thought for a moment. “I guess he started deejaying here a couple of years ago.”

  “Was Gabe a good employee?”

  He nodded. “I never had any trouble with him.” His tone indicated something more.

  “But what?” I asked.

  He hesitated, then brushed a hand over thinning hair. “Gabe had a tendency to rub people the wrong way, but I didn’t put up with any of that here.”

  “Do you know of any enemies he had?”

  “Enemies?” He lips formed a grim line. “These young kids can get bent out of shape over nothing, so maybe Gabe crossed the wrong person, but who – I don’t know.”

  “I know Gabe had some kind of altercation with this man.” I pulled out my phone and showed him the picture I’d taken of Gabe and the man at the Rat Tavern. “Do you know him?”

  Crabtree’s eyebrows rose. “That’s Chase Walker.” He stared at me. “I can’t imagine he’s a suspect.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s an investor in some clubs, and he represents some of the local talent. He’s well-respected in the business community. I’ve known him for years. I even hooked him up with Gabe.”

  That got my attention. “How so?”

  “Gabe had been talking to me for a while about finding someone to represent him.”

  “Represent in what way?”

  “His music.” Crabtree tapped the table for emphasis. “Gabe was creating some pretty good stuff lately, and he was hoping to
find someone who’d take him on. Chase has connections with people in the recording industry, and I thought he might be able to help Gabe.” His lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “To tell you the truth, I was getting tired of Gabe bugging me about how good he was and that he just needed the right break. And he was also talking about how he had something that was really big, and he kept saying how great it was. He kind of wore me down, and I called Chase and had him get in touch with Gabe. I didn’t know if it would go anywhere, but at least it got Gabe to shut up.”

  “Was Gabe that good?”

  He shrugged. “I liked his stuff, but I think it was this other thing that he was talking to Chase about.”

  “You have no idea what that meant?”

  “I assume he meant some new songs, but all these guys,” he waved a hand to encompass the club, “get competitive, and they worry that someone else is going to steal their sound. So Gabe was protecting whatever he thought he had.”

  Did Gabe and Chase meet here?”

  “Yeah, about a month ago.”

  “Do you know if Chase was able to help out Gabe?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t talk to Chase much, and all Gabe said is that things were moving forward.” He sat back and his chair creaked. “I just can’t see Chase doing anything to harm Gabe, though. Chase is pretty laidback.”

  “I saw him with Gabe at a bar called the Rat Tavern. Their meeting didn’t end well.”

  “Never heard of it.” He frowned. “Gabe can push people’s buttons, but I still don’t see Chase committing murder. No way.”

  “Duly noted,” I said. “Would you mind giving me Chase’s number?”

  “He works at Walker Enterprises. It’s downtown, and the number’s on their website.”

  “I’ll look it up.” I thought for a second. “And there’s no one else you can think of who might’ve had it in for Gabe?”

  He rubbed his chin. “No, I’m sorry.”

  “No problem.”

  “Did you know Sally Evans?”

  “Was she the woman that hung around with Gabe? She’s a little bit older than he is?”

  “That’s her.”

  “Gabe mentioned her, but only in passing. I don’t know much about her at all.”

  “Was she here the night Gabe and Chase met?”

  “Yes, but she wasn’t in on their conversation.”

  That confirmed what Sally had told me. “You seem pretty sure about that.”

  “Yeah, I remember because she hooked up with another guy.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know his name.”

  “What’d he look like?”

  “Some scrawny kid who was too young for her.”

  I thought about that for a second. Sally had said that Gabe had been cheating on her, but had she been doing the same thing to him? Did it matter?

  “Did Gabe know that Sally and this other man had hooked up?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t have a clue. By the time Gabe wrapped up his meeting with Chase, that other guy was gone. Sally and Gabe had a fight, and I told them to take it outside. She told him to go to hell and she took off. I assumed their fight was because of this other guy, but who knows? I could be wrong.”

  “I’m impressed with your memory.”

  He laughed. “Only because I’d come in that night to introduce Gabe to Chase. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been around.” He glanced at his watch. “Hey, I’ve got to head out. I don’t mean to cut you short, but …”

  I handed him a business card. “If you think of anything else that might be helpful to me, I’d appreciate a call.”

  “You bet.” He pocketed the card, stood up, and let out a long breath. “Sometimes I feel like all I do is run around.”

  I stood up and followed him out of the office. “I know the feeling.”

  He smiled. “I’ll bet you do.”

  He led me through the kitchen and out the back, and as I walked around the side of building, I saw him go to the Mercedes. He hopped in and peeled out of the lot. When I reached the front, the Mercedes drove by on the street, and Crabtree was staring at me.

  Chapter Twenty

  I sat in my car for a minute, pulled out my phone, and looked up Walker Enterprises. As Rick Crabtree had said, it was located downtown, and the office number was on the company website. I dialed it and asked to speak to Chase Walker.

  “He’s not in at the moment. May I take a message or put you through to his voice mail?” a pleasant female voice asked.

  “Voice mail is fine,” I said.

  “One moment.”

  There was a pause, and then a clipped male voice said, “This is Chase Walker. I’m away from my desk. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” A beep followed. I left my name and number, and asked that Chase return my call about a very important matter involving Gabe Culpepper. Then I stuffed my phone back in my pocket and left Club 77.

  I hadn’t had a chance to get lunch, and I stopped at a Jimmy John’s on Colorado Boulevard. While I ate, I texted Willie to let her know that I’d be working until later in the evening. Then I called Brenda Evans.

  “Hello, Reed,” she said. “How are things going?”

  “I’m making some progress, but that doesn’t mean I’ve been able to clear Sally yet.”

  “I know. And I know you’re suspicious of her, but she didn’t do this. I only hope you find out something soon, and we’ll all know the truth. The stress is getting to me.” She sounded tired. “But it’s been good to reconnect with my daughter, although I wish the circumstances were different.”

  “I understand. Have you seen Sally much?”

  “She was here yesterday for a while. It … hasn’t been easy in some ways, but we’re catching up on lost time.”

  “What about today?”

  “Not yet. She might come over for dinner.”

  “That sounds like a good plan,” I said. “I’ll touch base with you soon.”

  “Thank you.”

  I ended the call, and immediately called Deuce.

  “Hey, Reed,” he said cheerily. “What’s up?”

  “Where are you?”

  “I was just going to call you. Sally went to an apartment building on Columbine. She’s been inside for a while. I’m parked down the street.”

  “She used to live in the corner unit. Did she go there?”

  “No, she went into the main door, but I didn’t follow her, so I don’t know which unit. You want me to find out?”

  “No, don’t blow your cover.”

  “My cover?”

  I smiled. “You don’t want her to see you.”

  “Oh, right. You want me to keep watching her?”

  “If you have time.”

  “Sure. But this is getting kind of boring. Ace and I want to go play pool tonight.”

  “I know what you mean,” I said. “I’m going to be watching someone myself.”

  “Ugh, no more for me after today. Is that all right?”

  The Goofballs wanted to be involved in my investigations, right up until the time they got bored. Then, they were pretty much out. I didn’t blame them, really. They were doing me a favor, and a lot of the time, investigations were boring.

  “Watch her as long as you can, okay?” I said. “And I’ll take you both to play some pool when I wrap up this case.”

  “Awesome. Hey, she’s coming outside now,” he whispered. “I’ll follow her and let you know where she goes.”

  I shook my head. He would never figure out that people couldn’t hear him when he was in his car.

  “Great, thanks,” I said, but he’d already ended the call.

  I chuckled as I put my phone away. I finished my lunch and headed to CJ’s Auto Repair. I verified that Davon’s Trans Am was in the parking lot, then I parked in a different place than I had before and watched the shop. It was hot outside, summer not ready to yield to fall’s cooler weather. I rolled down my window and waited. Time crept slowly
by. At 4:45 Bogie spoke and I jumped.

  “Hello?” I answered tentatively, not recognizing the number.

  “This is Chase Walker.”

  “Thanks for returning my call.”

  “No problem. Rick Crabtree called me as well. I was shocked to learn Gabe had been murdered.” He sounded genuinely concerned. “Rick said you might be calling me. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “I’d like to talk to you about Gabe Culpepper, if you have some time, but not over the phone.”

  “Uh, sure, let me see. Could you come down to my office tomorrow, say around ten?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  I thanked him and no sooner had I put my phone back than Deuce called.

  “Hey, Sally went back to her apartment.”

  “Thanks for letting me know,” I said.

  “You’re sure you’re okay if we don’t watch her again tomorrow?”

  “It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll be visiting her at some point anyway, so no need for you to be there as well. Have fun playing pool.”

  “Thanks.”

  With that, he was gone.

  I sat back and resumed watching the shop. Six o’clock finally arrived. Shortly after that, Davon emerged from the shop, retrieved his car, and drove away.

  I followed him to the Rat Tavern, found a spot down the street, and again waited. Shortly after Davon went inside, the bald man that Davon had met the previous night showed up and strolled into the bar. I stretched, and waited, feeling the sentiments of the Goofballs. This was no fun. Finally, at dusk, Davon and his friend emerged from the bar.

  They chatted for a minute on the sidewalk, then each went to his car and left. I was about to follow Davon when I saw a black SUV tear down the street, chasing the Trans Am. The bald man was driving. I let the SUV get ahead and tailed it. Farther up, I could see Davon’s car. They drove to Davon’s apartment, where Davon parked his Trans Am. He got out, donned a hoodie that he retrieved from his car, then hopped into the SUV. I was on their tail as they headed to Colorado Boulevard and went north.

 

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