“There’s Darcy.”
She jogged across my front lawn and hollered at a curvy black woman in a gray pantsuit who was just getting into a Volvo. Darcy stopped when she heard her name being called. She got out and the two women embraced and then stood for a moment, chatting.
As I approached, I heard Darcy talking, her voice low, with an edge of sass in it. “…told them I had to leave for a day or two and they’d just have to deal with it. I mean, really, my apartment went up in flames the other night and you think my work load is more important to me? Girl…”
I’d only met Willie’s upstairs neighbor a time or two, but I’d been favorably impressed. Darcy was a lawyer who had a bubbly personality and loved to laugh. Nothing seemed to bring her down.
“I’m so sorry this happened,” Willie said.
“Honey, you have to quit saying that. It’s not your fault.” Darcy looked around, then saw me. “Oh, hi Reed. You’re going to take care of our girl, right?”
I nodded. “Not to worry.”
“How are you holding up?” Darcy asked Willie.
“Not so good,” Willie replied truthfully. “The…uh…body they found? It was Nick O’Rourke.”
“That’s too bad,” Darcy muttered, her tone lacking any emotion.
“So now we’re not talking just arson, but murder,” Willie said.
Darcy leaned back against the hood of her car. “With everything that happened between you and Nick, they’re going to look at you.”
Willie shifted from one foot to the other. I’m sure after the grilling I gave her at the restaurant, she wasn’t sure how much she should say. But she also had a good rapport with Darcy. “I know, but I didn’t do it.”
“Oh, honey,” Darcy said. “If they know you, they know that’s not possible.”
Willie swiped at a tear and murmured, “Thank you. Reed’s going to help out and see if he can find who would’ve wanted to kill Nick.”
Darcy appraised me. “Willie’s talked about your detecting skills. She says you’re good.”
I shrugged. “I’ve solved a case or two.”
“Well, anything I can do to help.”
“Great,” I said. “Can I ask you a few questions about Nick?”
She nodded. “Fire away.”
“First, how much do you know about Nick?”
“Let’s see. He worked at some computer company in the Tech Center, and he was in the middle of a bitter divorce. I don’t think he had any kids. I think he was down on his luck.”
“Why do you say that?”
“A few comments here and there about money being tight, that’s why all he could afford was a tiny studio apartment. And once he mentioned something about backing out of a bad business venture. Or maybe it was he backed a business venture that went bad.” She shrugged. “I don’t remember.”
“Did you talk to him much?”
She thought for a moment. “Not really, here and there in passing, or a quick conversation while getting my laundry.”
“Did you like him?” I knew the answer, but wanted to see her response.
She glanced at Willie, who gave a little shrug. “No, I didn’t like him,” Darcy said to me. “He was a jerk.”
“How so?”
“You ever meet a pain in the ass? That was him, with his music and all the other noise. When I’d talk to him about it, he couldn’t have cared less, and he’d cut me down or cuss me out.”
“How did you respond to that?”
“I walked away, although it wasn’t easy. That man was trouble.”
“I wish I would’ve walked away,” Willie said.
“Now that you say that…” I eyed Darcy. “Did you witness Willie’s altercation with Nick?”
“When she threw the potted plant at him?” Darcy cleared her throat. “Yeah, I saw it, and honey, he deserved it. And I’ll tell the police that, although I don’t know how much that would help.”
I shook my head. “Well, the fight itself wouldn’t be too much to worry about, but combined with everything else, it doesn’t look good.”
“I tried to give Willie some advice, but I don’t focus on rental law.”
The streetlight a couple of houses down winked on, putting us into shadows.
“Okay,” I said. “If you think of anything that might seem important, let me know.”
“Like what?” Darcy asked.
I shrugged. “At this point, I wish I knew.”
She cocked an eyebrow, apparently unimpressed with my detective prowess. Then she turned to Willie. “We’ll get through this, okay?”
“I know,” Willie said. “Are you staying at Malcolm’s?”
“Yeah, he said I could stay as long as I want,” Darcy said. “Like that wasn’t happening anyway. At least I’ve got clothes and things there because…” she waved a hand at the burned house. She opened the car door, then paused. “Oh, I almost forgot. I called but I guess you didn’t get the message, so I stopped by to ask you if you know when we can get back in the house. I’d like to see what I can salvage.”
Willie pulled out her phone. “Huh. It never rang.”
“Stupid cell phones.” Darcy laughed. “Anyway, you caught me here.”
“As for the house, I’m not sure,” Willie said. “The insurance inspectors will need a day or two, and they’ll need to make sure it’s safe. I’ll let you know.”
Darcy reached out and squeezed Willie’s arm. “Girl, let’s go get a drink tomorrow. There’s nothing we can do for a while, and it’ll make us feel better.”
Willie glanced at me. “Would you care?”
I shook my head. “Go. It’ll take your mind off things.”
“I’ll make sure it does,” Darcy said. “For both of us.” She got in the Volvo. “I’ll call you.”
She drove off down the street and we watched until the red taillights disappeared.
“I’m tired,” Willie said. “I just want to go to bed.”
We trudged back across the lawn and as we rounded the corner, we plowed right into Ace.
“Dude, how’s it going?” he asked, nonplussed.
“Hey, buddy, what’re you doing?” I asked.
“Not much. I’ve been kind of bored since I lost my job,” he said. “Hi, Willie. How are you?”
“Hanging in there.” She sensed he wanted to talk, so she excused herself and went on upstairs.
“She looks like she’s in trouble,” Ace said as he watched her go. It was a very perceptive thought from him.
“She is. Nick, the guy who lived in the attic apartment, died in the fire.”
“Wow.” From perceptive to this.
“It was murder,” I said, without going into detail. “Willie’s worried they’ll think she killed Nick.”
“I wish I could help.”
“Ace, I’m really busy and –” I stopped and switched tactics. “Hey, I could use you.”
“Really?” His face brightened.
“Yeah,” I smiled as I thought of a way he could help. “Why don’t you go and talk to the neighbors, see what they saw the night of the fire.” It would keep him from pestering me, and I could follow up with the neighbors later.
“You mean besides the fire?”
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. “Yes, Ace,” I said. “The neighbors might’ve seen someone go up to Nick O’Rourke’s apartment. Or leave his apartment.”
His eyes grew wide. “They might’ve seen the killer?”
“Right.” Maybe he could do this.
“But how can I remember everything?”
“Take notes on your phone.”
“You don’t use a phone for that,” he said, acting like I was slow. “The phone’s for texting and games.”
“What about phone calls?”
“Huh?”
I tried hard not to roll my eyes. “Okay, then take notes.”
“Huh?” he said again.
I dragged him upstairs and into the kitchen, where I got a pad and pen. “Here.” I
handed them to him. “Write down the important things.” Even as I was saying it, I wondered about what he would think was important. “Things like if any neighbor saw someone talking to Nick or going up to visit him. If they’ve seen anything unusual lately, or heard Nick talking with anyone, and what was said. If you’re not sure if it’s important, write it down anyway. Think about who, what, when, where and why. Write that down.”
He did as instructed, his face screwed up in concentration and confusion. “Who, what, where, when and why,” he said slowly, then looked up at me.
“Just ask,” I reiterated. “Who did you see? What did they say? When did you see them?”
“Oh,” he said, stretching out the word. “I gotcha.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll check back with you later.”
He saluted me and left for his mission. And I went to check on Willie.
Chapter Seven
Willie was in the shower, so I went into my office, better known as my sanctuary. My favorite books, mostly mysteries and a collection of rare, first-edition detective novels fill floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on one wall. I have a DVD case full of film noir and detective movies that I love, along with the ‘Best of Alfred Hitchcock’. A glass case in the corner holds a first edition of A Study in Scarlet, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and a first edition of Raymond Chandler’s The Long Goodbye.
I sat down at the desk and went to work. I started by searching on Nick O’Rourke. The first thing that came up was his LinkedIn profile, so I checked that. The latest job listed was with FirstData, a data company, and his job title was ‘software developer’. The profile showed he was currently working there, but I wondered if that was the case, since Willie had said that she wondered if Nick was still employed. He could have been so pressed for money that all his income was going places other than his rent. Or he hadn’t updated his LinkedIn profile. I would’ve bet money on the second because most people don’t update their LinkedIn profile to reflect that they lost their job. Instead, they wait until they have a new job and then they change their employment status on LinkedIn.
I scrolled through the rest of his profile. He listed a number of job duties with technical phrases that meant little to me. Prior to the position at FirstData, Nick worked at a company called Jupiter Data, and he was listed as an owner. That’s as far as I got. I heard Willie leave the bedroom and go to the kitchen. Next came muffled thumps, cupboard doors opening and slamming shut, if I guessed correctly. Was she angry? At me? What had I done wrong? A moment later, Willie poked her head into the office.
“What’re you doing?” Her voice had a tone I wasn’t used to, a mixed of anger and exasperation.
I pointed at the monitor. “Doing some research on your buddy Nick.”
“He is not my buddy,” she snarled.
I raised my hands in supplication. “Hey, I was just making a joke.”
“That’s not funny.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Like things aren’t bad enough.” She whirled around and muttered something else. Then my bedroom door crashed shut. I winced. She was hot, and I didn’t mean the good-looking kind of hot. I stared at the computer screen, then got up. I went to the bedroom and opened the door. She was lying on the bed, her back to me.
“My timing was bad,” I said. “But I –”
She flew off the bed. “I don’t want to hear it!”
“Don’t yell at me,” I said, backing into the hallway.
“I need your help, not your teasing. I’m a suspect, Reed. Do you know what that feels like?”
“No, I don’t. And I am trying to help you.”
By now, I’d backed into the living room.
She glared at me. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
“Fine,” I snapped. “I’ll leave.”
“Good.” She stormed back down the hall to the bedroom.
I grabbed my keys and left, slamming the front door for good measure. I stomped down the stairs, got in the 4-Runner and drove away. A few blocks from the condo, I picked up my cell phone and dialed.
“What’s up?” My best friend Cal Whitmore didn’t waste time with long greetings.
“Willie and I got in a fight, and I had to leave. Can I come up?” I asked. I’d called him the day before and he knew about the fire, but nothing else.
“Sure. I’m working.”
“That’s ok –” I said, but I was talking to the dial tone. That response was even shorter than usual, and that meant one thing: he had a deadline.
Cal lived in the foothills west of Denver, off of Highway 285 past the mountain community of Pine Junction. He was the classic computer geek, a genius who knew everything about computers and technology and most everything else. He rarely left his house, had his own business specializing in computer viruses and virus protection. He also occasionally served as Dr. Watson to my Sherlock Holmes, although he’s more like Holmes because he knows so much.
I usually loved the drive to his house, with the gorgeous mountain scenery, but at the moment, my mind was on my fight with Willie. How did it escalate so fast? And how was it that it was my place but I was the one who left? I was a good detective, but apparently not when it came to the opposite sex, because I had no clue how to answer those questions. Nor did I seem astute enough to keep my mouth shut when I'd sensed she was upset. My timing with the joke about Nick had been bad.
I pulled over, grabbed my cell phone, and called her, but it went immediately to voicemail. I hung up without leaving a message, then tossed the phone on the passenger seat and got back on the road, growling as I focused on the headlights that cut a path through the darkness. Before I knew it, I was pulling into Cal’s dirt driveway. I got out and knocked on the door, and after a minute with no answer, I let myself in.
“Hey!” I called out.
“In here,” came a muted reply.
I darted into the kitchen and stole a Coke from the refrigerator, then strolled down the hall to Cal’s home office. His office contains multiple computers and other computer-related stuff, and a rolling chair that Cal propels from monitor to monitor across the hardwood floor. Books, manuals, and boxes filled with computer paraphernalia cover most of the available floor area. He is more at home here than anywhere else, although I’d seen him tested when, on one of my previous cases, a woman had invaded his hallowed ground.
He threw me a curt nod, too focused on his work to give me more. I leaned against the doorjamb, opened the Coke, took a sip, then surveyed him. Matted hair, wrinkled clothes, stubble on his chin, circles under his brown eyes. He looked like hell, not unusual when he was focused on a project. I waited and he finally stopped and turned to me.
“You look like hell,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
His face scrunched up as he pondered that, clearly not getting my joke. Cal was brilliant, way smarter than me, but he had little common sense.
I eyed the ratty loveseat that sat against the wall opposite his desk. “Isn’t it about time you upgraded this?” As I flopped down on it, the usual cloud of dust greeted me.
“Why? It’s comfortable.”
I wiggled around, trying to avoid springs. “How would you know?”
He grunted, typed for a few seconds on the keyboard, then swiveled around to face me. “How’s Willie doing?”
I pursed my lips. “Let’s just say she’s been a little tense.”
“A little tense? That’s how you define having to leave your own house?”
“I was trying to be understanding.”
“That’s very charitable of you. Enjoying having her invade your space?”
“Not everyone worries about people touching their stuff.” I threw him a sly grin as I picked up one of his precious computer books.
“Which is why I’ll never get married,” he said as he reached out and gently pried the book from my hand. “And you didn’t answer the question.”
I took a
sip of the Coke. “It’s different, knowing that she doesn’t have a place to go home to. But…”
“What?”
“She’s in real trouble.” I sighed heavily.
He set the computer book down, put his hands on his knees and focused on me. “So, what can I do for you, oh Great Detective?”
“A body was found in the building rubble.”
He pressed his lips into a thin line. “And let me guess, Oh Great Detective…Willie’s a suspect.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s bad. The guy’s name was Nick O’Rourke, and he rented the third-floor studio apartment.” I filled him in on all the details: how Willie owned the building and Nick owed her rent money, and how ugly the situation had been between them. Cal sat shaking his head as I talked.
“This is not good,” he said when I finished. “She couldn’t have served herself up as a suspect any better, could she?”
“You said it. She’s got a meeting tomorrow morning at ten with Spillman, and I’m sure Spillman’s already digging up what she can on Willie.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Will they find anything else?”
I shrugged. “I don’t think so, but what if there’s something Willie forgot? Or she didn’t think it was important to tell me? She’s upset and not thinking straight. But I know this: She didn’t do it. And what that means is someone wanted to kill Nick O’Rourke, and I need to find out who.”
“What do you know about him?”
“Not much. He works, or worked, at FirstData.”
“You’re not sure?”
“When Willie called to verify his employment, they said he wasn’t employed there anymore. But his LinkedIn profile shows he’s still working there.”
“Probably never changed his status.”
“That’s what I think,” I said. “And before that he owned a company called Jupiter Data. That’s as far as I got before Willie came in the office.”
“And that ended the research.”
I yawned and rubbed my eyes. “Yeah.”
Reed Ferguson Mystery series Box Set 2 Page 33