by N. C. Lewis
Nick reached into his wallet, placed the photograph on the counter.
The barman picked it up, peered at the photo and shrugged. "Listen, I might help if—"
Nick raised his hand. "Understood. Now, tell us what you know."
His eyes narrowed, beads of sweat formed on his forehead. "The man in the photo is Duke Savage," the barman began in a thin scratchy voice. "Duke is a regular here, a celebrity on account of his being a reporter and having published in the Austin American Statesman. Duke works as a security guard between writing jobs." The barman paused as if calculating whether he had said enough.
"Go on," Nick urged. He already knew his photo was of Duke Savage and had wanted to find his drinking hole. Now he had it and wanted to find out more about Mr. Sartain's security guard.
Red-faced and sweating, the barman continued, "Duke drinks according to the Good Lord's schedule—six nights a week as regular as clockwork. Between ten at night till around six in the morning he frequents this establishment. And on the seventh day he rests."
Chapter 31
The ancient clock at the top of the old fire station tower chimed six o'clock as Amy and Danielle hurried up the ramp to the front door of Rumpus House. The shadows cast by the sun low in the western sky seemed to dance and shimmer like flames around a campfire.
"Amy girl, I think we are early." Danielle peered through the darkened glass of the front door. "You sure Auntie Folate said six?"
"A little after," Amy admitted. "But after our mishap on MoPac the other day, I thought it'd be better if we arrived early. Mr. Sartain, the owner, should be here by now."
Danielle shivered. "Sure hope nothing strange happens tonight. I'll never forget that day or the fact that the car AC broke or"—she paused, her voice lowered—"the ghost-white face of Mrs. Lopresti announcing Mrs. Foreman was dead."
Amy stared at the door. She didn’t want to think about Mrs. Foreman, or murder, or death. "I hope we aren’t standing out here for too long. This place gives me the creeps." She pulled out her cell phone and sent a text message to Nick.
For several minutes the two friends stood outside Rumpus House. They watched the tourists and locals as they wandered along the trail. A young woman with a light step and two dogs pulling ahead of her strolled by. One of the dogs was an old dachshund, the other an Siberian Husky. The woman was talking softly to the dogs as they pranced and pulled ahead on the leash.
"A dog walker," Danielle commented, "and a good one."
The Husky turned its head as if acknowledging Danielle's comments. Its eyes were the color of the Caribbean Sea. The old dachshund turned also, it's tail swishing jauntily from side to side. The dog walker followed the dog's gaze. On seeing the two women standing at the doorway of Rumpus House, she paused, gave a friendly wave, then continued on her way, the two dogs tugging playfully ahead.
"Seems like a good life. Walking dogs along the trail for a living," said Amy dreamily.
"Amy girl, on evenings like this it must be amazing."
Then Danielle glanced at the darkened door and with an impatient huff reached out her hand and pushed the door handle.
The door opened with an almost silent squeak.
"Come on, Amy. Let's get a headstart."
Inside it was cool, dark, and smelled of dogs, mold, and soap.
"Where's the light switch?" Danielle asked feeling a hand along the wall.
Click.
The lights turned on.
The two women glanced around the dog grooming parlor, taking everything in. There was no sign of police tape or any evidence that a murder had taken place only a few days ago.
"Someone has tidied up," Danielle said.
"Looks like the work of the crime scene clean-up team."
"Who?"
"They clean up the area of a crime after the police have finished their investigation."
"Yuk! Not a job I'd like." Danielle blinked. "But that also means they have destroyed any missed evidence!"
"Yep."
Danielle tsked. "Seems like this case is getting away from everyone. I wonder if it will appear on Netflix as one of those unsolved cold-case murders?"
Amy hoped not, because that would spell disaster for her husband's career.
Danielle, sensing Amy's concern, changed the subject. "Where is everyone?"
Amy glanced at her phone. "Auntie Folate should be here now. She is bringing a bunch of her friends from the animal shelter. I believe Lizzie Dawson and the new girl, Trixie Nithercott, will also show up. Oh, and Victoria and Zach said they would stop by to help."
Woo-hoo… bARbARA… Woo-hoo… bARbARA.
The breathy sound, like a steam locomotive with a whistle at the end of each cycle, came from behind the counter. As the startled women gazed in the direction, they noticed a man slumped low in a chair. His left hand grasped loosely around a plastic bottle, the label visible—E-Z Down Discount Vodka.
Woo-hoo… bARbARA… Woo-hoo… bARbARA
The rhythmic noise came from the man as his chest rose and fell. His navy blue jacket appeared stained and dirty. His shapeless, matching, flannel trousers no less grimy.
"Mister, are you all right?" Danielle called to the figure and wondering whether the homeless shelter was full. She glanced at Amy. "Another homeless drunk, I guess."
Woo-hoo… bARbARA… Woo-hoo… bARbARA.
Amy stepped forward and regarded the man keenly. He looked vaguely familiar. "Wake up!"
The man stirred, belched, and lifted his head.
Amy recognized him immediately—Duke Savage, the security guard.
"Whoa, what?" His eyes snapped open. "What time is it?" He wiped his eyes with the palm of his right hand and shook his head from side to side as if he was trying to shake himself awake. "I must've dozed off." His breath was heavy with the sour odor of alcohol. Even at a distance, the stale stench assaulted Amy and Danielle's nostrils.
Duke Savage was drunk, there was no doubt about it.
He lurched to his feet. "I was expecting y'all," Duke said, his eyes suddenly alert. "Mr. Sartain asked me to start early in case you needed any help." He made a little bow, plastic vodka bottle still clutched tight in his left hand. "Ladies, Mr. Duke Savage at your service."
Duke Savage was there to protect them but with alcohol pulsating through his veins who knew what might happen. Amy reached into her handbag and touched her cell phone. She'd call Nick at the first signs of trouble.
"You've been drinking?" Danielle asked, wrinkling her nose.
"No," he replied with a slur. "Never drink on the job." Then he glanced down at his left hand. "Except for a little medication prescribed by my doctor."
"That looks like a bottle of cheap booze," Danielle said in an accusatory voice. "Are you an alcoholic?"
Duke chuckled, but his eyes flashed with something difficult to read. "I only drink socially, nothing more than that. Just a little tipple on occasion with my friends."
Danielle folded her arms. She didn’t have time for drunks, especially those still in denial of their addiction. "It's obvious you've been drinking. I will speak with Mr. Sartain when he arrives. "
Duke's eyes narrowed, and he slowly unscrewed the cap from the vodka bottle and took a long swig, all the while watching the two women. "We'll see about that."
He let out another belch, his lips twisted into a wolfish scowl as he shuffled a step closer to the women.
"Mrs. Foreman threatened to speak with Mr. Sartain about my occasional tipple," he grunted, dragged a dirty, white handkerchief from his flannel pants, and wiped his perspiring face. "And y’all know what happened to her!"
There was a wild gleam in his eyes, and his arms stretched out in front of his body, hands opening and closing around an imaginary throat. "I know how Mrs. Foreman died. I know how the Beast of MoPac killed that witch."
Chapter 32
There was a heavy pounding on the front door.
It flew open.
"Duke Savage, put your hands in the air
. No one will hurt you if you do it now."
Nick rushed into the room, his gun drawn, with Officer Chambers following close behind.
Duke Savage's eyes darted around the room, but there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The big man raised his hands slowly.
"Hey, what is this?"
"Are you Speakeasy?" Nick demanded as Officer Chambers slapped on a pair of handcuffs.
Duke smiled tightly as if he'd heard it all before. "The Austin Police Department's got nothing on me. I'm not answering questions. You can't treat me like this."
"Are you Speakeasy?" Nick repeated in a detective-like manner.
"Officer, I'm a journalist," Duke spat, filling the air with his drunken fumes. "I know what you are up to and it's illegal. I know my constitutional rights. I'll have you hauled before the ethics committee."
Nick had heard enough. "Officer Chambers, take him outside while I call this in."
Nick replaced his gun in his holster, called for backup, then glanced over at Amy and Danielle.
"Ladies, try to keep out of danger from now on, please!"
He blew Amy a kiss and sauntered outside.
Duke leaned against a wooden rail, hands cuffed behind his back, shoulders slumped and muttering drunkenly to himself. He was simmering angrily like a pot of water about to boil.
Chambers stood a few feet away waiting for uniformed officers to arrive.
But Nick wanted answers and didn’t want to wait until they drove to the station and settled in the interrogation room. He made a quick decision to provoke a response.
"Mr. Savage," Nick began in a good-cop voice. "What did you have against sweet, friendly, little Mrs. Foreman?"
Duke remained silent for a moment, but his eyes filled with fury. He couldn’t contain himself, and it boiled over like lava flowing down a hillside after a volcanic eruption. "There was nothing little, or sweet, or friendly about Mrs. Foreman! That witch threatened to ruin my life."
Nick took his chance. Now was the time to ask his question, when Duke's emotions were inflamed, and his rational brain suppressed.
"Are you Speakeasy?"
"Y-E-S." The three letters exploded out of Duke's mouth with such force that he seemed surprised at his own words. But he had admitted it now, told the truth.
"I'm Speakeasy." His voice was as hard and cold as Antarctica. "I wrote the threatening note to Mrs. Foreman—I'm guilty as charged."
Nick could hardly believe his ears. He'd solved the murder in a handful of hours and now had the killer in custody. All that remained was the formal interview and charges. That would take place at police department headquarters.
"We did it, boss!" Chambers said in a lowered voice. "We captured the snake in his own lair. Now we can get back to our usual routine."
Two uniformed officers arrived. Nick recognized the taller as Officer Rees Jones.
"Officer Jones, I've got a guest for you," Nick said, greeting the officer with a friendly wave, "Please transport him to headquarters."
"Yes, sir," Officer Jones replied with a deferential nod.
Chambers shuffled close to Jones and whispered, "Take special care of this one. He's…the Beast of MoPac, and this is a murder investigation."
Within minutes blue and red flashing lights bathed the area. Chambers hitched a ride downtown, and Nick strode back into Rumpus House.
The other helpers had arrived, and animated conversation about what had just happened filled the air. Nick swaggered and nodded at the gathered women. "We got Speakeasy," he said over and over again in a jubilant voice. He dipped his head at Auntie Folate, slipped by a young woman in a wheelchair, and stopped for a moment to greet his daughter Victoria and her husband, Zach. Then he found Amy, gave her a hug, said he was going downtown, and that she and Danielle could relax. Because when it came down to it, that was all that mattered to Nick: Amy, his family, and close friends.
Satisfied, Nick turned to leave. Before the night was over, he'd have a signed confession out of Mr. Savage. Then a hot shower and bed.
Chapter 33
"Why am I here," Duke demanded.
He sat at a little wooden table in the police department interview room. Nick and Officer Chambers faced him.
"To answer a few questions," Chambers responded. He'd asked Nick if he could play the bad cop during the interview and was looking forward to the role. It reminded him of the old days.
"Mr. Savage, I have little time, and I want answers." Chambers slammed his fist hard on the desk. "Duke Savage, did you kill Mrs. Foreman?"
Duke folded his arms and scowled. "Huh? I don't have to answer your questions."
That wasn’t the answer Chambers had expected. He stared at Duke, his flabby mouth hanging open.
"Mr. Savage, we only want to understand things, find out what really happened and why," intervened Nick, using his good-cop voice and sensing things were not going as planned.
"Officers, I have a right to demand a lawyer." Duke's voice was crisp and almost sober.
"We are not done!" shot back Chambers. His fat mouth twisted into a bitter snarl reminiscent of a hardboiled detective from a long-forgotten Hollywood movie.
Duke stared hard at Officer Chambers. "This isn't the 1940s, and you ain't Detective Mike Hammer." He paused, leaned back in his chair. "Duke Savage don't scare easy! You said your name was Officer Chambers? Well, when I get out, I will report you to internal affairs for lawbreaking and professional misconduct."
That threw Chambers into a momentary panic. He shrunk back in his chair, his hand flew to his throat. The only thing a cop feared more than an unplanned meeting with the chief was internal affairs.
Duke laughed openly. "You'll never catch the Beast of MoPac." His mocking tone stung Chambers hard.
"Silence!" Chambers shouted then cursed inwardly. This wasn't like the old days. Duke Savage knew his rights, and if it weren’t for Detective King, Chambers could have been at home watching a movie and munching on his bedtime snack. Now he faced the threat of internal affairs and the loss of his lovely lollipop liaison desk job. His face turned grim, and he glared sideways at Detective King. This was all his fault.
After a moment, Chambers regained his composure. "Answers, that is what I want from you," he stammered, but his voice had lost any real conviction.
Duke continued to chuckle, but his canniness revealed a certain apprehension. His bravado, an act to conceal a secret. He folded his arms and smirked. "Y'all know I have a right to remain silent and get legal representation?" He banged his fist on the table. "It's my constitutional right!"
Chambers jumped.
"Isn't that correct?" demanded Duke, snorting loudly.
Chambers sniffed then nodded lamely.
The growing sense of unease that had gripped Nick's gut turned into outright dismay at Chambers' dismal performance. The interview had taken a terrible turn for the worse. He needed to get things back on track.
"Mr. Savage, do you want legal representation? If so, we can postpone our discussion until the morning."
Nick was covering his back, doing things by the book, trying to get time to think things through and also testing a hunch he didn’t like. He hoped Duke would ask for legal representation. That would give them time to investigate further, give the lieutenant something to use, and allow Nick to come at it fresh in the morning.
"No! I'm here now. I don't need a lawyer. Detective King, let's get this over with as quickly as possible, shall we?"
Nick's heart sunk. His uneasy hunch was correct, but he wanted to confirm his suspicion. "Mr. Savage," he said, trying to hide the uncertainty in his voice, "do you know why you are here this evening?"
Duke's eyes flashed. "You hauled me in because I leaked your investigation to the local news channel. That's illegal, unethical, and disgraceful." He glared at Chambers. "Just like one of those corrupt cops from the 1940s who charged a bum on the street for a murder they didn’t commit just so they could brag they'd solved the case."
Now Nick kn
ew the source of the leak. Duke Savage was a reporter. Even a drunken freelancer could inflict a lot of damage. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Duke lowered his voice, his eyes calculating. Now was the time to reveal his secret. It was the only way he could save his own neck.
"I had a cozy little number with my security job. Mr. Sartain paid peanuts, called it monkey work. Well, I loved it. It was easy. I spent my evenings at the Shady Grove Tavern and filled in the logbook when I returned to work a little before six each morning. Even a monkey could have figured out that little number. Not Mr. Sartain, though. That dumb ape never caught on."
Nick had anticipated that much and already knew what was to come.
"Mrs. Foreman discovered my little secret, threatened to inform Mr. Sartain. I don't like being threatened, and I liked playing Mr. Sartain for a fool...so I wrote her a little note. It was a prank, intended to frighten the old bat off."
Nick didn't like what he was hearing. He didn't like the confidence in the man's voice, the ring of truth in his words, or that it confirmed his hunch.
But Duke Savage wasn't done.
"On the night Mrs. Foreman was killed I was drinking in the Shady Grove Tavern. The barman will confirm that fact, as will my credit card statement, and cell phone location tracker. If you carry out a basic police investigation, you will find two other witnesses who were in the bar with me on the evening Mrs. Foreman died. Detective King, I have an unshakable alibi."
Chapter 34
Amy wanted to rush after Nick, to give him a big hug, and check that everything was all right. But she knew he was going to be a while at the police station, interviewing Duke Savage, so she stifled her emotions and turned to Danielle.
"Nick will tell us all about it later. In the meantime, let's get this place cleaned up."
The gathered crowd of helpers busied themselves tidying, cleaning, and hauling items out of Rumpus House to a waiting truck.
"Dear, I'm so pleased they have caught Mrs. Foreman's killer," Auntie Folate said in a quiet moment to Amy. Her voice was high pitched, excited, and there was a hint of perspiration on her brow. She let out a breath, thin and low between her teeth. "Hope they charge him quick, sling him in jail for the rest of his life, then we can forget about it. No more questions, right?"