Chase Investigations Boxset 1

by Angus McLean

  ‘Cheers, that’s better.’ He let out a sigh. ‘Well, what’re we gunna do now, Richard?’

  Dunning frowned, then jerked his head towards Mike’s truck. ‘Go,’ he said. ‘Leave me alone.’

  ‘What’re you gunna do?’

  Dunning shook his head. His face had changed. The anger was gone, replaced by a mask of misery. A deep seated misery, the sort of misery that gradually took over a man until there was nothing left but total despair and anguish. It was an all-consuming ugliness from which, for the poor soul carrying it, there seemed to be no escape.

  Mike knew it when he saw it.

  ‘Nothing you need to know about.’ Dunning gestured with the gun for him to go.

  ‘Mate, I can’t do that just yet,’ Mike told him. ‘I’m concerned about you.’

  Dunning eyed him sadly. A wan smile crossed his lips. ‘Don’t lie to me. Nobody actually cares anymore.’ He jerked his head again. ‘Just go.’

  ‘I can’t leave you here like this,’ Mike said, as tempting as it was to run like hell. Crazy man with a gun? Time to beat the feet. ‘Why don’t I just stay for a bit and we can have a yarn?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Nothing’s ever as bad as it seems, mate.’ He gave a crooked smile. ‘Trust me, I’ve been down before too. Hit rock bottom not so long ago. Know what helped get me back up?’

  Dunning said nothing, but at least he wasn’t shooting. Mike pressed on.

  ‘A mate of mine listened to me. Two of them, actually.’ He’d lost count of the late nights, the long days, all the talking. Sarah’s murder had caused a ripple effect that seemed to go on and on. Mike knew he’d been lucky to have such good friends by his side when he needed them. He knew that was what had saved him.

  ‘My friends are gone. She took them.’

  ‘I’m here. I’ll listen.’ Mike made eye contact with him, hoping to get the message through. ‘It’s not as bad as all that, mate.’

  ‘Yes it is. Just leave me alone and let me do what I need to do.’

  ‘And what’s that gunna solve? Will it make your kids feel better about their dad?’

  ‘They’re better off without me. At least I can save them the embarrassment of everything coming out.’

  ‘I don’t know what there is to come out,’ Mike said, ‘or what will come out. But I do know that kids love their parents, warts and all.’

  Dunning gave the smallest of head shakes. ‘It’s gone beyond that.’

  Mike wondered what exactly had gone on to lead to this point in time. Obviously nothing good. He felt like he was running out of options here. He pulled both knees up and rested his forearms on them. The porch was not a comfortable seat.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘if you’re gunna do something drastic, you’ll have to do it in front of me.’

  ‘What?’ Dunning looked at him quizzically. ‘Why? Why the hell are you so interested in what I do? It’s nothing to do with you.’

  Mike shrugged. ‘It’s just the right thing to do.’

  Dunning scowled. ‘What’re you, a damn Boy Scout?’

  Mike shook his head slowly. ‘No, just a dude sitting here with a sad man with a gun.’

  Dunning tried for another scowl, but Mike could tell his heart wasn’t in it. His face was wobbly and his eyes were moist.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Dunning said. ‘I’m gunna do it anyway. You can’t stop me.’ He met Mike’s gaze and held it, as if trying to emphasise his point. ‘You can’t stop me.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ Mike agreed, ‘but I’d like to think you’ll do the right thing. You seem like a decent bloke, Richard. I don’t think you really wanna do something crazy.’

  Dunning’s lip wobbled and he sniffed. The barrel of the shotgun wavered in his hands. It was pointing slightly off line to Mike, but even that was too close for comfort.

  ‘Everybody thinks they know what’s best for me,’ Dunning said softly, ‘but nobody really knows. I know…only I know what’s best for me.’

  Mike wondered if he’d be able to dig his phone out and somehow send Dan an SOS without being noticed. He doubted it. Besides, Dan was up at Paremoremo interviewing a maximum security prisoner today – if he even had his phone, he was hours too far away to be of any help. 111? He’d have to tell the cops where he was, which would be kinda obvious.

  ‘Look,’ he said, shifting to get comfortable, ‘we can sit here all day if you like. I’ve got nowhere else to be. We can talk this through…’

  ‘No.’ Dunning’s tone was firm. ‘I don’t need to talk; there’s no point.’ He took a step forward, his jaw a little less wobbly now. ‘Just leave me alone.’

  ‘Come on, man…’ Mike was fully getting into it now, having the feeling he could win this thing if he just had a little more time. Maybe Dan wasn’t the only talker in the team. He had this.

  He didn’t see the strike coming until it was too late. Dunning took two fast paces forward, stabbing the shotgun out like a lance.

  The mouth of the twin barrels jabbed Mike hard in the chest, just under his collarbone, and slammed him back against the wall. He grabbed at it but Dunning was already moving by the time Mike reacted, going for the door.

  The pain in his chest made it hard to breathe, but Mike forced himself up to his feet. The door slammed shut and he heard Dunning’s feet thumping on the floor inside. He leaped to the door, reaching for the handle.

  There was a loud thud from inside, the boom of a shot, and the crash of someone falling to the floor.

  Mike threw the door open and charged inside, fully expecting to find Dunning’s brains decorating the ceiling.

  The door opened into an entrance hall with doors off to either side, a living area opening up straight ahead.

  The older man was on the floor alright, flat on his face, not moving. The shotgun lay discarded beside him. A substantial hole had been blasted in the floor a few metres ahead of Dunning.

  Cordite filled the already-musty air of the hallway.

  Mike stumbled over a floor mat, caught himself against the wall, and stopped short of Dunning’s fallen form. There was no blood visible. The ceiling had retained its faded white décor, interspersed with a few cobwebs here and there.

  Flat on his face. He still had a face.

  Dunning stirred. He groaned and started to lift up. Mike stepped over him, picked up the shotgun, and broke it open. Both empty shells popped out. He looked down at Dunning, who raised himself enough to look up. There was a red mark on his forehead.

  ‘You tripped on the mat,’ Mike told him. ‘Hit the wall, shot the floor, and sconed yourself.’

  ‘Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?’ Dunning moaned. His eyes filled with tears. He slowly lowered his head down to the floor. The sobs started small and built in intensity.

  Mike looked down at him. He was surprised that, rather than being angry, he felt sorry for the guy. Nothing was going right for him, even his exit plan. He guessed that sometimes that was the hand you were dealt.

  He dug out his phone. He needed to get some help here.

  As he waited for the emergency operator to answer, Mike wondered if the day was going to get any better. He didn’t think he’d have time for a swim now.

  THE END

  Bonus Chapter

  Tangled Webs

  Chase Investigations #4

  Chapter One

  The manager of the Grand Hotel, Kevin Kroft, had received information from another staff member that his late shift receptionist, Carrie, was hiring out rooms on an hourly basis to hookers in exchange for cash. Such behaviour was strictly forbidden and also attracted the sort of clientele that the hotel did not want.

  Kroft had been unable to either confirm or deny it himself without speaking to her directly, and had turned to Chase Investigations for help. Gone were the days of the hotel detective as depicted in the old pulp novels Dan sometimes read, a hardened, cynical, seen-it-all-before private dick in a worsted suit and a fedora with a gat under his arm.

  In his
place, at least at the Grand for an initial six hours at the standard rate plus expenses, was Molly Crowley. She had taken the call from Kroft the day before and had calmed his nerves by taking the job herself. She’d spent three hours parked outside the previous night, watching the lobby entrance, but in amongst all the normal comings and goings of a busy downtown hotel, had not seen any likely candidates enter.

  This afternoon she had spent half an hour browsing the gift shop and bought a fluffy Kiwi key chain she had absolutely no use for. She now sat in the lobby bar with her back to the wall at a table for two, nursing a reasonably good chai latte and nibbling on fairly average biscotti. A woman’s magazine was open in front of her and the handbag on her table contained a covert camcorder with the lens trained on Carrie at the Reception desk.

  She was fully up to date with the latest Hollywood gossip, knew all about a has-been druggie TV presenter’s relationship with her daughter (it had been pretty clear she had nothing else going on at the moment so was now exploiting the kids), and had half-completed the cryptic crossword. But so far, no tarts in fishnets and miniskirts had arrived.

  The young barman had tried chatting to her earlier, until her closed responses made it uncomfortable and he went back to polishing tables and counting bottles behind the bar.

  Molly checked her watch again. Another hour to go and she was nearly dead from boredom. She mentally cursed herself for putting her hand up for the job, when she could have been at home instead. Dan was cooking tonight, which usually meant lots of meat and a few token vegetables. She silently admonished herself; at least he cooked.

  She caught the barman’s eye and he took the opportunity.

  ‘Another chai, ma’am?’

  Molly shrugged. ‘Why not?’

  He smiled and went to work on his fancy machine which made lots of steam and noise, and Molly went back to her crossword. Out of her periphery vision she saw a woman enter the lobby and cross to the Reception desk, making a beeline for Carrie.

  She was blonde and slim, in a little black dress and heels with a large purse over her shoulder. Molly’s instincts went on full alert as she watched Carrie sidle to the end of the long countertop, out of sight of the CCTV camera on the wall behind her. The two women went into a huddle and Molly reached into her bag, hitting Record and angling the camera towards them.

  She watched as the girl took an envelope from her bag and slid it across the desktop to Carrie, who slipped it over her side and in return passed over what looked like a swipe card. The blonde girl palmed it, smiled, and headed for the lifts.

  Molly unobtrusively angled the camera to cover her as she entered the lift then shifted it to cover Carrie. The receptionist was back at her workstation in the centre of the desk, tapping away at a keyboard.

  Molly dug out her cell phone as the barman arrived with a new chai latte. He cleared her dirty dishes away, smiled self-consciously and left her alone again. She dialled Kroft in his office, and he answered on the first ring, sounding breathless.

  ‘Kelvin, it’s Molly Crowley.’

  ‘Yes, Molly, hello. Any news? What’s going on?’ He was too excited to bother correcting her mispronunciation.

  ‘A likely candidate has just arrived, a transaction of some sort took place and the guest has gone up in the lift. She didn’t have any luggage, but looked, ahh...likely. Carrie went straight onto her computer afterwards.’

  ‘Oh gosh. That doesn’t sound good. I’ll get Lena to check the system at our end and see if she’s booked a room out. I’ll call you right back.’

  Lena was the office administrator who was the original informant. Molly hadn’t met her yet but knew she was Kroft’s Girl Friday.

  ‘I’ll be right here,’ Molly said.

  Kroft rang off and Molly sipped her chai. It was better than the last one, but she couldn’t help thinking of the calories. She would definitely need to go for a walk tomorrow. She was sipping it when Kroft called back.

  ‘She’s just tagged a room, 414 on the fourth floor,’ he said excitedly. ‘I think we’re onto something here.’

  ‘What do you mean, tagged? Has she reserved it?’

  ‘No, she’s tagged it in the system so no one else books it. We do it when a room’s being cleaned, or repairs are being done or whatever. Once the tag’s removed, there’s no trace of it on the system.’

  ‘Handy for her.’

  ‘Indeed it is. Can I meet you at room 414 so we can check if it is what we think it is?’

  Molly eyed her new chai regretfully.

  ‘No problem, see you there.’

  They rang off again and Molly quickly took a long draught of her chai. It was smooth and creamy and sweet, and burned the roof of her mouth.

  She grimaced as she gathered her things, took another smaller swig, dropped some cash on the table and hurried out of the bar. Carrie was still at the front desk, re-arranging a display of tourist brochures.

  Molly ignored her and made her way to the lifts and hit the up button. She heard someone crossing the lobby behind her then stop at the Reception desk. She heard Carrie’s voice, then another voice she recognised, deep and male.

  Glancing over her shoulder she saw Mike Manning standing at the desk talking to Carrie. He didn’t appear to have seen her, and for some reason, her senses went into overdrive again. Without knowing why, she stepped away from the lifts and ducked into an alcove beside them which was home to a tall leafy pot-plant.

  She pressed herself into the shadowy corner and watched as Mike turned away from the desk and came towards her. She shrank back as far as she could and prayed he couldn’t see her. He stopped and hit the button, the doors dinged open and he disappeared. The mechanism in the wall behind her whirred and she heard the lift going up.

  Molly let her breath out, waited a beat to make sure he was gone, and stepped out from the cover.

  She saw the floor lights stop at Four and heard the doors open. A few moments later it was back and she took it up to Four herself. Stepping out cautiously, she looked left and saw no one. On the right she saw Kroft standing outside a room with a swipe card in his hand.

  As she joined him, Molly noticed he was sweating nervously and fidgeting with the card.

  ‘Did you see anyone else come up here just now?’ she asked, and he puckered his brow.

  ‘No, no, just me. I came up the stairs a few seconds before you got here. Why’s that?’

  ‘Oh, nothing, don’t worry about it.’ She smiled brightly. ‘Right, away you go.’

  He swiped the card and opened the door, stepping in with Molly behind him. She heard an Asian female voice.

  ‘Hi baby, you got a key too?’

  ‘Um, ahh...’

  ‘Come on in and get comfortable, baby.’

  He entered properly, and Molly followed him. Over his shoulder she saw the blonde girl she’d seen earlier, and realised now she was Asian with bleached hair. The girl saw her too and frowned.

  ‘You didn’t say about a three-way, baby, but...’

  ‘Um, I’m actually the manager, ma’am. Ahh, I wonder, ahh, how did you come to be in this room? Please?’

  The girl scowled at him.

  ‘I pay for it, okay? Now please go away, I’m busy.’

  She started to usher him out and Molly groaned aloud. Kroft looked helplessly at her as he tried to squeeze past, the Asian girl flapping her hands at him.

  ‘Hold on here,’ Molly said, putting her hands up and stopping Kroft from moving any further. ‘This is not how it works, okay?’

  They all stopped, awkwardly jammed in the narrow entrance hallway. The Asian girl eyed Molly suspiciously.

  ‘You’re not booked in here,’ Molly told her firmly, ‘and we know what’s been going on, alright?’

  ‘Wha’ever,’ the girl replied dismissively.

  ‘So I think you need to get your things and go.’

  ‘Or what?’

  The girl stepped up now, hands on hips and chin jutting out defiantly.

 
‘Or we’ll get the Police down here and they can sort it out.’ Molly hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. ‘It’s up to you.’

  The lift doors dinged behind them and they turned to see a respectable middle aged man alight, his phone in his hand. He glanced around, saw them, and looked at his phone again as if to read a text. His eyes flicked to the number on the door, back to his phone, and back to them again.

  He flushed an embarrassed red and turned back to the lift, muttering to himself.

  ‘Are you lost, sir?’ Kroft enquired helpfully and the man looked back at him anxiously.

  ‘Um....wrong floor,’ he fumbled.

  ‘If you just pop down to Reception, sir...’

  Molly shook her head with a smile, and Kroft looked at her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’s not lost, he’s the guy.’ The manager looked confused. ‘The paying client?’ He still didn’t get it. ‘You know, for the prostitute?’

  She saw the cogs turn in his head until he clicked, and he nodded. The man disappeared into the lift again, and they turned back to the girl.

  ‘So, you probably need to get on your way, ma’am,’ Kroft said politely.

  The girl scowled again, snatched her handbag off the table top, and pushed past them to the lift.

  ‘I wanna refund,’ the girl snapped at Kroft, obviously recognising him as the weak link.

  ‘Um, ahh, I guess we could...’ he bumbled. Molly cut him off before he could do any more damage.

  ‘How about you produce a receipt and we’ll consider your request,’ she said firmly. The girl scowled at her and muttered under her breath.

  They waited in silence until it arrived. When the doors opened the girl got in then poked her head back out and scowled at them. She unleashed a stream of vitriol that neither of them could comprehend but fully understood.

  ‘Gosh,’ Kroft said in awe, ‘what a foul mouthed young lady.’

  ‘How about you pop downstairs and speak to Carrie, before that nice young lady lets the cat out of the bag completely. I’ll check the room to make sure she hasn’t stolen anything.’