Blake checked his paperwork. “Molly Christensen, aged sixty-four, home address 17 Peachtree Crescent. She’s in the recovery ward at Soledad Hospital as we speak.”
“Molly Christensen,” Jo repeated. “What could sweet little old sixty-four-year-old Molly Christensen have to do with Gabriel Kingston or any of his deals? This case reeks with unanswered questions.”
“Well, there’s a very simple solution to that.” Nate swung to his feet and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. “Let’s go talk to Wesley Falkner and see what we can find out about the getaway car. Then we’ll go see sweet little old Molly Christensen in the recovery ward.”
“You guys go ahead,” Blake called after him. “Kat and I have a full day of deskwork and phone calls to look forward to.”
“My condolences.” Nate slipped his arms into his sleeves. “Come on, Jo. We’ve got a date at the Falkner mansion.”
Ten minutes later, Nate drove his restored Ford Mustang up the long driveway of the Falkner estate. He stopped at the locked gate, unrolled his window, and pressed a button on the panel. A tinny voice cracked from the speaker. “Can I help you?”
Nate held his badge to a camera lens above the panel. “Detectives Nathaniel Fricks and Joann McGee of the Soledad Police Department. We need to speak to Mr. Falkner. If he doesn’t want to talk to us here, he’ll have to come down to the station, so I think he’ll be more comfortable doing it here.”
No one answered. The high iron gate thumped and then wheeled back on an invisible motor. Nate withdrew his badge and rolled up his window. “You see? He’s an intelligent man.”
“He would have to be to make this kind of money,” Jo muttered. “He’s one of the most successful entrepreneurs in the country.”
They didn’t speak driving the rest of the way to the enormous house. Nate parked in front of the granite steps. When they got out, he cast a flinty gaze around the grounds. “Not a bad way to live. I think I’ll get me a house like this—just as soon as I get rich enough.”
Jo tried to ignore his cracks, but the surroundings rattled her nerves, too. She’d never even seen the Falkner estate from the inside before. Hardly anyone in Soledad got beyond the front gate.
Thick trees lined the stone wall ringing the grounds. Wesley Falkner had a reputation for hiring his own servants from out of town. They lived on site so they never got a chance to tell anybody what went on there.
Jo never gave Wesley Falkner much thought before last night. She always thought, like most people in Soledad, that he was some rich eccentric with his head tied up in his giant bank account.
Now she found herself standing outside the gargantuan house. This house, this estate, was probably the best place in the world to engage in something underhanded and illegal without anybody finding out. If Falkner was that vigilante from the graveyard, no one would have ever found out about him if he hadn’t ventured off his own grounds.
Nate rang the doorbell. Almost immediately, a bony old butler in black coattails answered it. His tiny suit looked way too big for his skeletal frame. His skin hung loose around his too-long neck and his pointed, hatchet face protruded from a bald skull dotted with wisps of white hair. He shuffled with a stoop moving out of their way.
He held the door wide to welcome Jo and Nate into a massive entrance hall lined with paintings and marble statues. “Mr. Falkner will see you in the Crimson Parlor. My name is Giovanni. If I can be of any service to you both during your visit, please do not hesitate to call on me.”
He shut his eyes and bowed low. Jo expected him to speak with a heavy British accent or maybe a Transylvanian accent, but he spoke in clear American English without a trace of self-consciousness.
He waved them inside, shut the door behind them, and led them further into the hall. He turned down a side corridor and through the first door on the right.
The pair entered a spotless parlor carpeted and upholstered in red. This could only be the Crimson Parlor. Wesley Falkner sat in a wing-backed chair before a fireplace with no fire in it. He uncrossed his legs and got to his feet the instant Jo and Nate entered the room.
He strode toward them with his hand out. “Detectives! Welcome to my home. I’m so pleased you came to see me instead of beating around the bush with a lot of official machinations. Please, sit down and make yourselves comfortable.”
Jo measured him in a fraction of a second. He stood a few inches taller even than Nate. He filled out his tailored suit without seeming too muscular, but she could see a broad chest and sturdy frame under his shirt. He certainly took care of himself.
His short-clipped, silver-grey hair parted on one side. The wrinkles around his eyes and neck showed his age, but underneath that, he had a strong jaw and direct, sparkling blue eyes. Strength flowed down his arm when he shook Jo’s hand and he moved with quick, certain movements.
He shook hands with them both and returned to his chair. He adjusted his jacket lapels and re-crossed his legs before he looked at his phone. “Nathaniel Fricks and Joann McGee, am I right? The Soledad Police Department website says you two are married.”
Nate blushed and stole a glance at Jo. “Nate and Jo—and yeah, we are.”
“The website also says you’ve been partners for over seven years, so you must work well together. Well, here we are. What can I do for you officers?”
Nate inched toward the fireplace, but he didn’t sit down and Jo didn’t want to. “We have reason to believe a vigilante interrupted one of Gabriel Kingston’s deals in the graveyard last night,” Nate began. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Falkner gazed back and forth between Jo and Nate. “Nope. I don’t know anything about Gabriel Kingston’s operation and I plan to keep it that way. Besides, at my age, getting a decent night’s sleep is far more important than any deal could be. Why do you ask?”
“The vigilante rescued an old lady who got caught in the middle of the deal. Then the vigilante got away in a black Lamborghini exactly like yours. He covered the license plate so we couldn’t identify the car.”
“I can’t say I know anything about it,” Falkner breezed. “My car was parked in the garage all night and I never left once. You can ask Giovanni or any of the other servants. They’ll tell you I was here all night.”
Jo spoke up for the first time. “The car in question was damaged trying to escape. If it wasn’t your car, you won’t mind us taking a look at it just to put our minds at rest.”
Falkner turned her way and flashed a magnificent grin. “Not at all. I can show you where it is and you can see for yourself.”
Nate held out one hand. “One more question before we do that, if you don’t mind, Mr. Falkner.”
Falkner relaxed in his chair at perfect ease. “Of course. Anything.”
Nate shot a glance at Jo and his cheeks colored. “This is gonna sound really weird, but you’re obviously in great shape for your age. Can you tell us if you study any kind of martial arts or ...? God, this is nuts!” He passed his hand across his eyes.
Falkner cocked his head and looked back and forth between him and Jo. “What’s this all about? What does that have to do with anything?”
“The vigilante in the graveyard,” Jo added. “He was extremely agile and very skilled in what we can only assume was some kind of ninjutsu or something like that. You’re obviously extremely strong and fit for your age. I can see from here that you are far stronger and more flexible than most men a quarter of your age.”
He burst into another one of those glorious smiles. He dipped his eyelashes and blushed. “You flatter me, Detective.”
“I don’t mean it as flattery,” Jo returned, “especially since we’re standing in the same room with my husband. We’re just trying to find out who the man was. We got an anonymous tip about Kingston’s deal beforehand or we never would have known what was going on. All the evidence points to the vigilante tipping us off so we would be in the right place to bust Kingston and rescue the victim. Whatever Ki
ngston was trying to do with her, this vigilante knows a lot more about his plans than we do. If he really wants to help us stop Kingston, he could just tell us what he knows.”
Falkner bowed his head and burst out laughing. “Touché, Detective. I never meant to imply you were flirting with me in front of your husband. Yes, I work out. I lift weights and I practice Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. I also run and do gymnastics drills on the rings, pommel horse, and high bar to keep in shape. I do NOT study ninjutsu.” He laughed again.
“Would you tell us if you were the unknown vigilante?” she asked.
He raised his bright eyes to her face. He kept smiling at her as though this conversation was the best time he’d had in years. “Of course not. If I went to the trouble of taking vigilante action around this town—which I can’t imagine doing under any circumstances—I wouldn’t bother to do that if I was only going to inform the Police the very first time they found out about my activities. That would be counterproductive in the extreme, don’t you agree?”
Jo shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.”
He beamed at her even wider. “I can assure you of one thing, Detective. If I had any information about Gabriel Kingston’s business, the Soledad Police Department would be the first to know. I can give you my word as a man of honor that I would never dream of keeping such information to myself. I am as interested in putting Gabriel Kingston and people like him behind bars as you are.”
Jo lowered her gaze. His delight over this line of dialogue disconcerted her. “Thank you. I guess we can’t ask for anything else.”
Falkner swept to his feet once more. He buttoned one button of his jacket. “Come along and I’ll show you the car. Once you see it, I think you’ll understand I couldn’t have been anywhere near the graveyard last night.”
He led them back to the front door. Jo caught a glimpse of bony old Giovanni in the background. The next minute, she and Nate were back outside.
Falkner waved toward the Mustang. “That is one seriously beautiful car. I’m getting a hard-on just looking at it.”
“I’ve had a love affair with them since high school,” Nate told him. “I bought this one out of the junkyard for fifty bucks. I restored her in my garage. It took me three years of working on the weekends.”
Falkner shook his head and made a smacking noise in his cheek. “Your wife must be jealous as hell. I wish I had a car like that, but I won’t insult you by suggesting you restore one for me. There isn’t any amount of money that can buy that kind of love.”
“You’re right, and....” Nate grinned at Jo. “I don’t think she’s jealous, but she might be keeping that a secret from me.”
Jo smacked his shoulder, but she had to laugh. “You know I’m not jealous of a car!”
“Well, come on over to the garage before I start drooling on the seats.” Falkner continued around the house and slid aside the wooden door of a long, low building.
Five cars sat inside: a cherry-red Alfa-Romeo, an immaculate brown Jaguar, a glossy white Ford pickup, a monstrous black Hummer, and the black Lamborghini.
Nate and Jo sauntered around the Lamborghini, but Jo could see at first sight it never got damaged crashing into any tree. The body was perfectly intact and the paint was flawless. Not one scratch marred the chrome rectangle around the rear license plate.
Nate stood back and surveyed the car with an appraising eye. “You’re right. We can see this car wasn’t damaged at all last night. Can you tell me who you get to service this car?”
“Giovanni services all my cars,” Falkner replied. “He’s extremely handy that way.”
Nate raised an eyebrow. “Giovanni! He doesn’t look strong enough to unscrew a spark plug.”
Falkner chuckled. “He doesn’t look it, but he’s a lot sprier than you think. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one rescuing old ladies in the graveyard last night. He has an eye for the softer sex.” He shot a sidelong grin at Jo. “Present company excluded, of course.”
Jo had to smile back at him. “Of course. Thank you for your time, Mr. Falkner. We’ll get out of your hair now.”
“If there’s anything I can do to assist in your investigation, don’t hesitate to ask. I’m at your disposal.”
“Thank you.” Jo and Nate shook hands with him. He watched them get into the Mustang and he waved when they drove away.
Chapter 3
“You are NOT telling me Giovanni jumped into those trees,” Jo told Nate when they got back to the Station. “Besides, he isn’t tall enough. You saw him yourself. The vigilante is taller than I am and Giovanni barely comes up to my chin.”
“Could Falkner be the vigilante?” Kat asked from her desk. “Did they have the same build?”
“It’s hard to tell.” Jo replayed the incident from the graveyard, but it all started to blur after the fact. “It was dark and that black suit hid most of his body.”
“You have to admit,” Nate chimed in. “Someone like this Dark Avenger guy would have to work out a lot. I can’t imagine a training regimen better suited to his line of work than weight-lifting, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, and gymnastics. If it’s anybody, it’s Falkner.”
“Still,” Blake countered. “The guy is seventy years old with a reputation to protect. I don’t see a guy his age rushing out late at night for any reason.”
“He was very convincing when he said he would tell us anything he knew about Kingston’s operation,” Jo remarked. “He gave us his word as a man of honor that he would never keep any information like that to himself. He said it in a way that makes me believe him.”
“He gave us his word he wouldn’t keep the information to himself,” Nate pointed out. “If he is the Dark Avenger, he fulfilled that obligation by tipping us off that Kingston’s men would be in the graveyard and when they would be there. He didn’t keep it to himself. He told us so we could stop them.”
Jo smacked her palm to her forehead. “Can we please stop calling him the Dark Avenger?”
“We could call him the Black Nemesis instead,” Nate suggested.
Kat and Blake burst out laughing. Blake hugged his ribs and almost toppled out of his chair. In the end, Jo had to laugh, too. The whole thing was getting too ridiculous to take seriously.
Kat wiped tears off her cheeks. “Okay, seriously, folks. If it isn’t Falkner, who is it? Who are our other options?”
“I think we can safely rule out Giovanni,” Nate replied. “He isn’t big enough or agile enough.”
“He’s also not strong enough to fight off a dozen armed assailants,” Jo added.
“One thing he is,” Nate countered. “He has the skills to repair the car after it got damaged. If Falkner is the Dark Avenger, he could have driven the car home and Giovanni could have repaired it.”
“You mean like Alfred at the Bat Cave?” Kat joked.
“Oh, come on, Nate,” Jo chided. “You of all people know there isn’t a body shop in Christendom that could repair a car that fast. It would have taken a team of trained body techs days, maybe even weeks, to repair that kind of damage, paint the car, and replace all the accessories in a way that would completely disguise that the car had ever been damaged.”
Nate spread his palms. “You’re right. We could both see that car, never was damaged.”
“So we’re out of leads,” Blake replied. “We’re at a dead end.”
“Who else had access to a car like that?”
“Anybody could have rented one in the city,” Kat pointed out. “We could spend the rest of our careers searching for a black Lamborghini with rear-end body damage and never find it.”
“Gabriel Kingston has the money to rent a car like that or even buy one,” Nate offered.
“So you’re telling me he hired the vigilante to stop his own men?” Jo returned. “I’m guessing not.”
Nate tossed a file folder onto his desk. “So what do you want to do? Is it really necessary to find out who this vigilante is? Let’s just take his help and be done with it.”
&
nbsp; “We still have to find out what Kingston’s people were doing with Molly What’s-Her-Name in the graveyard,” Kat told him.
“Her last name is Christensen,” Jo replied, “and she’s in the hospital. Let’s go talk to her.”
Jo and Nate trotted across the street from the Police Station to Soledad Hospital. They found Molly Christensen sitting up in bed. She gasped when she saw them. “Did you find him? Did you tell him I want to thank him for rescuing me?”
Jo and Nate finished walking into the room. “We don’t know who he is, but we were hoping you could help us find out. As you can imagine, he wants to keep his identity hidden from us. He won’t tell us who he is even if we find him.”
She frowned up at Jo. “Why should he want to keep his identity hidden? He’s a hero.”
Jo patted her hand. “Because he’s a vigilante operating outside the law. He could get arrested for attacking those men.”
“But he did it to save me!” Molly cried. “You can’t arrest him for that.”
“Maybe you can help us figure out why you needed rescuing in the first place. What were you doing in the graveyard at that time of night, anyway?”
Molly’s hand flew to her own cheek and her expression changed. Tears sprang to her eyes. “It’s so awful, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Try,” Jo told her. “We’re here to help.”
Molly wiped her bleary eyes. “I...I got a phone call earlier that day. I could hardly understand the person. I think they must have been using a machine to disguise their voice. It sounded like a computer and the voice told me I would find a bundle of memory sticks in Arthur’s desk.”
“Who’s Arthur?” Nate asked.
“My husband.” Molly choked back tears. “He died three months ago in a fire at the Trenton Warehouse down at the docks. He was freight manager for Trenton’s for over forty years before he died in the fire.”
“I remember the fire,” Jo told her. “Ten people were killed and the fire is still under investigation.”
Mystery Ghost Page 2