Reed Ferguson Mystery Box Set 5

by Renee Pawlish

  I immediately went to the computer and moved the mouse. The monitor came to life, but the computer was password-protected. I tried a few things, like Adam’s name and Masta Dig, but nothing worked. Next, I checked the papers on the table. Most had handwritten notes on them, and as I read them, I realized they were scripts for Masta Dig videos. I wondered how many of them were from Sally’s notebooks. Then I found some paperwork on how to create silicone and latex masks.

  For Masta Dig?

  I put the papers back and checked the loveseat, where I found my flashlight tucked between the cushions.

  Pretty good proof that Adam had been out in that field, I thought. It didn’t definitively prove he’d shot at me, but I would still put money on that.

  I poked my head into the kitchen and saw nothing out of the ordinary, so I moved down a short hall, past a tiny bathroom, and into the sole bedroom. A double bed was against one wall, the sheets rumpled. Dirty clothes were tossed on the floor. I checked a dresser in the corner. A bong sat on it, along with a lighter. T-shirts, socks, underwear, and a few other shirts were stuffed into the drawers.

  I went to the closet and opened the door. A few pairs of jeans and khaki pants, two long-sleeved shirts, and a leather jacket were on hangers, along with a gray hoodie. I noticed a box on the floor, and I bent down and opened it. Inside was a Masta Dig mask, this one with a weird smiling face. It was creepier than what I’d seen in the videos. Next to the mask were a mannequin head, an empty liquid latex bottle, industrial gypsum, and various paints.

  “Everything to create a variety of masks,” I muttered.

  “What are you doing here?” a severe voice said.

  I jumped and stood up, my hand going to the gun in my jacket pocket. The manager was standing in the bedroom doorway.

  “Oh, hello,” I said as I pulled my hand from my jacket.

  He squinted at me through his thick glasses. “Do I know you?”

  “No.”

  Technically that was true. He’d met me, but he didn’t know me.

  “Why’re you in Adam’s apartment?” he asked, his accent thicker than I remembered.

  “I’m waiting for Adam. He said if I got here before he did, I should let myself in. I’m just hanging out.” The lie slipped out so easily, it almost scared me.

  He eyed me suspiciously. “You were here the other day.”

  “That’s true.”

  He glanced around. “I heard some commotion, and I came to see if there was a problem.”

  Oh sure, he hadn’t managed to hear anything else that went on in the complex, but he’d heard my altercation with Adam and came running?

  “You’re friends with Adam?” He was still skeptical.

  “Yes. I’ll tell you what,” I said as I stepped by him and headed down the hallway. “I’ll wait outside if that’ll make you feel more comfortable.”

  If I didn’t get out of there soon, I figured he might call the police, and I didn’t need that hassle right now.

  He grunted. “I think you should.”

  We went out into the hall, and he made sure to lock Adam’s door. Then he made a show of checking to make sure it was locked. As we turned away from the door, a young woman in tight jeans and a sleeveless blouse came up the stairs.

  “Do you know where Adam might be?” I asked the manager.

  “I thought you said he was coming back,” he said, now even more suspicious.

  “Adam’s going to a rave,” the woman said.

  The manager stared at her. “A what?”

  “An underground dance party,” I said. “Well, some of them are underground.”

  She eyed me appreciatively. I think she assumed neither of us would know the term.

  “Where?” I asked her.

  She looked me up and down. “Nowhere you need to be.” She laughed as she continued down the hall and let herself into a unit near the other stairwell.

  “Huh,” I said.

  The manager shook his head. “I don’t understand young people.”

  “I’ll look for Adam there.” I waved my hand at him and started for the stairs.

  “What rave?” He was still standing by Adam’s door with a confused look on his face.

  I rushed outside and back to my car, but I sat for a minute, thinking. How was I going to find a rave party? They were not necessarily advertised, and could be by invite only. I tried the one person I could think of who might know. Sally. This time, she answered.

  “What’s up?”

  “I saw Adam, but he got away,” I said.

  “Is he coming here?” she asked quickly.

  “He’s supposed to be at a rave party, but do you know where?”

  “Hmm. There’s a regular one that’s at a warehouse Wednesday nights. Some musicians and rappers go there to try their stuff on a live audience – which is to say, their friends. It’s on Thirty-sixth Street, near Wynkoop. Adam sometimes did some performing there. Oh!” She snapped her fingers. “I remember Kristen saying that some masked rapper showed up there a time or two.”

  “I’ll bet that’s the one, but I’m assuming there’s no sign advertising this place, so do you have an address?”

  She laughed. “I don’t have any idea. When you get to Wynkoop and Thirty-sixth, go about halfway down the block to an alley. Follow it and there’ll be a tan brick building. On the north side, you’ll see a black door. Go in there and down the hall, and it’s at the end.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly, trying to remember it all. “You doing okay there?”

  “Sure. Your friend’s a hoot. We’ve been playing poker.”

  I smiled. The Goofballs had a way of charming people, and I wasn’t surprised she was getting along with Ace.

  “Good,” I said. “I’ll be in touch soon.”

  I ended the call and headed to Wynkoop Street.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  It was dark when I drove on Thirty-eighth Street and crossed the railroad tracks near Blake. Two blocks down, I turned on Wynkoop and doubled back to Thirty-sixth. I slowed as I drove west. The few streetlights did little to illuminate the area, and I wished the moon would come out from behind some clouds. I was in an older warehouse district, and I couldn’t tell if there was a rave going on because the streets were quiet, and I saw few cars around. I drove around the block, but still didn’t see any signs of a party.

  I came back to Thirty-sixth and saw the alley Sally had mentioned. I parked near it and got out. In the distance, I heard a train, and I heard a dog barking. Then silence. I still had my Glock in my jacket pocket, and I silenced my phone before starting down the alley. My footsteps sounded loud on the pavement. I passed an abandoned warehouse, and next to it I saw the tan brick building Sally had described. It was two stories, with blacked-out windows on the second floor, but no windows on the first. I walked to the north end of the building and listened.

  Now I thought I heard the thump of music, but I couldn’t be sure.

  I stepped past a Dumpster and followed a dirt path along the side of the building, and then found the black door Sally had mentioned. I tried the knob and it turned. I guess the rave wasn’t big on security. I opened the door and stepped into a long hallway, and now I did hear music and voices. I walked down the hall and turned left. The music grew louder, a pounding bass beat. At the end of a hall, a few people milled outside of another closed door, smoking and talking. As I walked toward them, they eyed me warily.

  “What do you want?” a girl with short black hair and lots of tattoos asked.

  I gestured at the door. “I want to party.”

  “Who told you about us?” This from a man with dreadlocks down to the middle of his back.

  “Adam Jance,” I said.

  Dreadlocks stared at me for a moment longer, then stepped aside. “Go on in.”

  I opened the door and went inside. Music, cigarette and marijuana smoke, and strobe lights assaulted me. I was in a small room with high ceilings. A few people milled around the edges of the r
oom, and in the center, several bodies gyrated in rhythm to loud techno music. I found myself moving with the beat as I began to look around. I received more than a few stares, and I overheard someone say “cop” to their friend. I needed to find Adam fast, before everyone left because they thought I was part of some kind of police raid.

  I made my way around the throng on the dance floor and toward a small, makeshift stage. Two men were standing behind electronic equipment, talking to each other, one wearing a black hoodie. He turned and I saw his face.

  Adam.

  He had a bottle of beer in one hand, and he was watching the dancers, eyeing one woman in particular. I started toward him and then he looked my way. He recognized me immediately and threw his bottle at me. I ducked as he darted around the other side of the stage and vanished behind the sea of dancers.

  I pushed my way through the crowd and more than a few people cursed at me. I made it to the other side of the stage and saw Adam going through an exit. I rushed after him, ran into a woman who was writhing to the music and had to untangle myself from her, and finally made it to the door. I shoved it open and burst into an alleyway, right into a group of smokers who were standing around, drinking from a liquor bottle. The moon had made an appearance, and the alleyway was barely illuminated. Directly across from me was the abandoned warehouse that I’d passed before. I glanced around. Adam was at one end of the alleyway, but had run into a high fence with barbed wire at the top. He spun around, saw me, and scrammed through a door into the abandoned warehouse.

  “Hey, watch it,” a man said as I pushed through the drinking group.

  “Sorry,” I muttered and took off after Adam.

  I ran to the end of the alleyway, wrenched the door open, then paused by the wall. Adam had shot at me before, and it was possible he’d do it again. I pulled my Glock from my jacket and held it up, then peeked around the corner. I didn’t see Adam, so I stepped inside. To the left was an open door and I crouched down and looked through the doorway.

  Empty.

  On the other side of the hallway was another open door. I glanced into a large room. Moonlight filtered in from broken windows and shone on a few tables, chairs, and cardboard boxes. Then I heard a thump. I peered into the shadows and saw a figure at the other end of the room.

  “Adam, stop!” I called out.

  He turned around and swore at me. A shot rang out, but it went wild. I ducked down as he disappeared through another door. I ran across the room and almost tripped over a table. When I reached the door, I again cautiously poked my head in the doorway. A stairwell led to the second floor. I aimed the Glock in front of me and hurried up. There was a long, dark hallway and I tiptoed down it, glancing into empty rooms. I reached the end and was about to check another room when I heard something around the corner. I peered around it and saw Adam trying to force open a window. He had a gun in his right hand.

  I put my arm around the corner and raised the Glock at him. “Drop the gun and don’t move.”

  Adam spun around and swung his gun toward my voice. I ducked down, aimed at his right arm, and pulled the trigger. Adam jerked to the left and cried out. His gun clattered to the floor as he sank down by the window.

  “You shot me!” he hollered.

  He put his left hand on his right biceps, groaned, and then swore a blue streak.

  I darted into the hall and kicked his gun away before he had a chance to react. Then I stood back and aimed the Glock at him.

  “You were going to shoot me,” I said.

  “Man, it hurts.”

  “You’ll live.”

  I pulled out my phone and dialed 911, then reported a shooting at the warehouse. The dispatcher tried to keep me on the line, but I ended the call, and dialed Spillman.

  “You calling me late can’t be a good thing,” she said when she answered.

  “I’ve got Gabe Culpepper’s killer,” I said, then told her where I was.

  She didn’t mince any words. “I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

  I ended the call and stared at Adam.

  “You did kill Gabe, right?” I said to him.

  “I’m not talking to you,” he growled.

  “He was the one with the talent.” I egged him on to see if he’d talk. “You were just riding on his coattails, hoping he would lead you to the big bucks. He wrote the scripts, told you what to do, talked to people about representation. You didn’t have any talent at all.”

  My badgering worked, and he lost it.

  “That’s not true! I’m Masta Dig. I got the talent. All Gabe had was Sally’s scripts, and he did some producing, but I came up with ideas, too. I’m the one that made everything work.”

  “You stole a lot of Sally’s material.”

  He clamped his mouth shut.

  “You’ve been hanging around Gabe’s apartment, trying to get in. One of the neighbors saw you. And you tried to get Sally to give you her notebooks.”

  “I did not,” he said sullenly.

  “I heard Gabe talking to you,” I went on, “the first day I was looking for Sally. He said he was going to take all the money.”

  “I have as much a right to that money, if not more.”

  “So you killed him.”

  “That’s not what happened.”

  “What did happen?”

  The sound of sirens sounded in the distance.

  “I’m not talking to you,” he said. He held his arm and grimaced again. “It was an accident,” he murmured.

  I shrugged. “That’s between you and the police.”

  He glared at me. I leaned against the wall, the Glock still on him. He wasn’t going anywhere. He was finished.

  “Why’d you have to get greedy?” I said. “There would’ve been plenty of money to go around.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Did you call Chase Walker about representing you?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You wanted to wait until the police gave up on Gabe’s murder, and everything cooled down, and then you’d make your move.”

  He didn’t say anything to that.

  I tried to get him to talk more, but he stared past me, his mouth a thin, pained line. I finally heard commotion down the hallway and I yelled for the police. Two uniforms appeared and they rushed at me, guns drawn. I explained who I was, and while I was doing that, Detective Spillman showed up and took charge.

  After that, a flurry of activity ensued. The officers talked to Adam and arrested him, and I spent a long time talking to Spillman. I called Sally and told her what had happened, and then I called Deuce. I thanked him for his help and told him to go home. Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, I went home as well.

  Chapter Thirty

  I slept late the next morning. Willie had to work, and I’d briefly told her what had happened before she took a shower and got ready. We’d agreed that I’d take her to dinner that night, and when she left, I fell back asleep. Bogie’s voice woke me a few hours later. I picked up my phone and answered.

  “Reed, dear? Are you still sleeping?”

  “Hello, Mother,” I yawned as Humphrey leaped onto my chest and stared at me.

  “Just when I think that you’re okay, and that you’re taking care of yourself, not doing drugs, I find you –”

  “I worked almost all night,” I interrupted.

  “Oh.” Her annoyance went away. “I was calling to see about Brenda and Sally.”

  “It’s all over.” I sat up in bed and told her what had happened.

  “That’s wonderful to hear. I’m sure Brenda will be so pleased. Thank you for helping them.”

  “Glad to do it.”

  “It’s good to see you doing well. Now if you would just give me some grandchildren.”

  There it was. My mother’d had a few concerns over the years, wondering whether I was doing drugs, and whether I’d get married. Those had been put to rest, but now she wanted her third concern – grandchildren – addressed.

  I glanced at Humph
rey. “How about a grandkitten first?”

  “What?”

  I told her about Humphrey.

  “Well, that’s cute, I guess.”

  I laughed. “Don’t worry, Mother. We’ll get around to grandkids someday.”

  “Fine.” She sounded disappointed.

  We chatted for a few minutes longer, and then I told her I needed to call Sally. So she hung up, but not before telling me she was proud of me. That was nice to hear. I stretched and went into the kitchen and while I prepared coffee, I checked my phone.

  Sally had called and said she’d been at the police station, then asked if I could meet Brenda and her at the Starbucks at noon. I looked at the microwave clock. Almost eleven. I’d have enough time to shower and get there in time. I called her back, but she didn’t answer – of course – so I left a message saying I’d be there. Then I stopped making coffee, since I’d be having some soon, and went to take a shower.

  When I arrived at the Starbucks, Brenda and Sally were sitting at a table outside. The previous evening’s rain had gone, and it was pleasantly warm. Sally hopped up when she saw me.

  “Let me get you a drink,” she said. “A caramel macchiato?”

  “That’ll work.”

  I sat down while she went inside. Brenda looked wan, but there was a sparkle in her eyes. She reached across the table and gave my hand a squeeze.

  “Thank you so much.”

  I nodded. “I’m glad it worked out okay.”

  “Me, too. I feel better than I have in months.”

  I smiled.

  “Take this.” She pushed a check across the table.

  I glanced at it. The sum was much more than I deserved.

  “You earned it,” she said as if reading my mind, “so don’t argue.”

  I thanked her, folded the check, and put it in my pocket. We sat in contemplative silence until Sally returned.

  “Here you go.” She set a glass down in front of me.