“What’s that?”
“It’s almost like ditch ’em, only he doesn’t even know what’s happening. It’ll be fun. The first thing we have to do is walk a little faster.”
Maria giggled. “Okay, maybe his teeth will fall out.”
Stump grabbed her hand and they sped up ever so slightly. At the corner they turned and walked even faster. For the next fifteen minutes they went quicker and quicker, making several illogical turns. Finally a little out of breath, Stump peeked out the corner of his eye. “He’s still back there, but farther than before.”
Maria blew out a breath. You’re in better shape ’cause of riding your bike.”
Stump pointed up the street to the road construction area near the police building. “There are some bulldozers and construction equipment in the field behind those stores. Let’s go back there. We can ditch him.”
Maria nodded. “Okay. I hope he has a heart attack.”
When they reached the string of neighborhood stores, they cut around the back to the employees’ parking lot. As Stump expected, the field behind the lot contained a portable outhouse and a dozen pieces of heavy equipment such as excavators, Bobcats and dump trucks. “See,” Stump said, looking around. “These things ought to slow him down.”
“I hope so, ’cause I’m tired of this.”
Before bolting out to the field, Stump glanced to the back of the businesses where it appeared the door to the flower shop was ajar. “Quick, let’s go over there.”
Maria sighed and they hustled toward the door. Stump leaned against it. “I think we can hide in here.”
“What? That’s crazy. We might get in trouble.”
Stump glanced around. “There aren’t any cars back here. I don’t think there’s anybody around.”
“No way. They probably have alarms.”
Stump looked to the top of the building for any sign of surveillance cameras. “I don’t think so. They would have already gone off.”
“I’m not going in there. Let’s just tell that jerk-wad we’re going to call the police if he doesn’t stop following us.”
Stump glanced to the corner of the buildings. Dixon would arrive any minute. “You stay here. I’m going inside to check it out.”
“No! I don’t want—”
“I’ll be right back.” Stump hustled inside. The place was dark, delightfully chilly and smelled nearly as good as bathroom spray. He hurried down a hallway, passed a bathroom on one side and a work area on the other and ended up in the sales area where there was a fairly tall L-shaped counter and quiet music came from overhead. Seeing no sign of surveillance equipment, he snickered. Who’d want to steal flowers? He rushed back toward Maria. “All clear.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want to go in there.”
Just then sandals flapped around the corner.
“It’s Dixon,” he whispered, snagging Maria’s hand.
“But—”
He pulled her inside before quietly closing the door. “Shh. We can watch him from this room over here.” He tugged her into the work area, where they huddled behind a small window.
Just then Dixon helicoptered into the area and hovered for a moment before squatting down and looking under the big vehicles.
“See what I mean?” Stump said, beaming. “He’s caught us in Manuel’s van and Myles’s truck so he probably thinks we’re hiding inside one of those big cabs.”
Maria smiled, grabbed his hand. “You’re smart.”
Just then a brown and white cat rubbed up against Maria’s leg and meowed.
She smiled and picked it up. “She looks a lot like Señorita.”
Stump nodded, checking the tags. “Says her name is Sassy. She likes you.”
“Well, I like her too,” Maria said, rubbing her cheek against Sassy’s coat and earning a gentle purr.
For the next five minutes they giggled, petted Sassy, and watched Dixon buzz from vehicle to vehicle like a bee in a field of flowers. Finally, Dixon rushed around one of the dump trucks and smacked right into its rear-view mirror. He snapped his hand to nose, then bent over, picked up a rock and slung it at the mirror, causing broken glass to rain down.
“I don’t like that man,” Maria said for the hundredth time.
“Look,” Stump interrupted. “He’s taking a leak.”
Dixon was facing them, rubbing his nose with one hand and attending to Little Dixon with the other. Maria giggled. “What’s wrong with that man? There’s a Port-a-Potty right behind him.”
“He’s a piece of work alright,” Stump said as Dixon finished up and shook his little friend around.
“Ewwwww!” Maria’s hand shot to her mouth. ”That’s gross. Now where’s he going to wash his hands?”
As if on cue, Dixon rubbed his hand on the side of his Bermudas before walking back toward the corner of the building.
“Look. He’s leaving,” Maria said while petting Sassy. “You were right. We ditched him. Now we can wait a few minutes and get out of here.”
The show basically over, Stump tugged Maria’s hand into the main sales room where a large ceramic cat clock on the counter had the time at eight-twenty. On the floor near the cat clock a large trash can with a dozen or so discarded yellow flowers sat on a thick carpet. “Look. It’s like a private fort back there. We could stay here all night if we wanted to.”
Maria’s eyes darted to the floor. “No way. I’m not doing that. Mama expects me home in an hour.”
Stump grinned. “I didn’t mean it literally.” He reached in the can for the nicest of the discarded flowers and handed it to her. “I meant nobody can see us, even if they come to the windows. This is a good chance to, well, you know.”
“Oh.” Maria looked in his eyes and then at the front window.
* * *
After Stump and Maria made love, they put their clothes back on and leaned against the back of the counter.
“You were right,” she said. “This place is nice. I mean with the clean aroma and the music and Sassy.”
Stump smiled, “And the privacy.” He slid a yellow flower behind her ear. “Sometime I’ll buy you a dozen brand-new roses.”
“This isn’t a rose, silly. It’s a tulip.”
Stump shrugged. “Same difference. I just want you to have pretty things. You make them look even better.”
Maria grabbed his hand and leaned her head on his shoulder. A moment later the ceramic clock meowed.
“Nine already,” Stump said. “I guess we better be heading back.” He pointed to the remaining discarded tulips. There are a couple more nice ones. Would your mama want them?”
“I wish we could, but she’d want to know where I got them.”
They took their time getting back. Stump knew he’d never forget that night. “Do you think we’d make good PI’s?” he finally asked.
“What’s a PI?”
“A private investigator. They’re like detectives only they mostly work for private people.”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve seen people like that on TV. You might like it, but sneaky things make me nervous.”
“I dunno. I think it’s exciting.” He checked the time on his cell. Nine-twenty. They’d be right on time.
Suddenly flashing red lights came from behind them. “Oh, no,” Maria said. “They found out what we did. We’re going to jail—”
“Can’t be. They would have come right away,” Stump said as a cop car whizzed passed them. Up ahead, he saw additional red lights flashing on the treetops. “Looks like something’s going on at your building. Let’s hurry.”
Moments later they’d reached Cal-Vista, where the cop car they’d seen earlier was parked on the street. They entered the courtyard. At the other end of the pool a small group of people stood over a male’s body lying on its side and facing away. Although Stump had played a key role in solving several murders, he’d never actually seen a dead body, not even at the mortuary when his mother passed away. “You’d better go to your apartment,” he said to Mari
a. “I’ll come tell you what’s going on a little later.”
“You’re not going over there, are you?”
Stump glanced back toward the pool area and noticed bystanders gathering in the shadows. ”I have to, but you should go inside so you don’t have nightmares.”
“Alright,” she said as she leaned in and kissed him, “but promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I will.” He pivoted and moved toward the action. A few people, including Manuel, Juanita and Mr. Connors from next door were standing above the body, but Dixon wasn’t around. He looked closer. The dead man wore shoes and long pants. It wasn’t Dixon. Stump passed the first two buildings and a trashcan with a KFC box inside. At the halfway point he could see the back of the body, dripping wet and motionless. A glance toward the windows in Dixon’s apartment revealed mostly darkness.
Now, just a few yards from the body, Stump could hear the conversation. “It looks like somebody hit him with a baseball bat,” one of the males speculated.
“Mr. Dixon is the only one I know who’d kill anybody,” Juanita said.
She had a good point. Dixon had a string of enemies and could have been drawn into some sort of quarrel. Stump made his way around the small group and peeked back at the body. Almost instantly his stomach boots kicked him so hard he thought he might puke. The dead man was Rodger Kraft.
Chapter Seventy-One
Rodger Kraft was like a grandpa to Stump. The man was wise, generous and fair, but most importantly, Mr. Kraft believed in Stump. Stump wiped away a tear and observed a deep gutter-shaped indentation, high up, on the back of Mr. Kraft’s skull. Did Dixon do it, and if not, was the killer here now? Stump looked up and down the lines of windows inside the complex to see if anybody appeared suspicious.
Just then a car door slammed in the parking lot. Was that the killer, getting away? Stump rushed toward the lot to get a plate number, just in case. Seconds later, he reached the sidewalk and saw a pudgy, 50ish male open the back door of a black sedan and grab a wrinkled sport coat that he flung over his white shirt and loose-fitting tie. Stump immediately recognized the man from several years earlier. His name was Sergeant Byrdswain.
Before Stump could reintroduce himself the sergeant wobbled into the courtyard. Stump followed along like a duckling trailing its mother.
When the sergeant reached the body he put on rubber gloves, glancing at the group near the body. “Who’s in charge here?” he asked. This seemed to Stump like one of those situations in which Dixon would be underfoot. Stump checked out Dixon’s windows again. As before, there was no sign of him.
“I’m the maintenance man,” Manuel said.
Mr. Connors tipped his head respectfully to the sergeant. “I’m Clyde Connors. I own the building next door.”
Sergeant Byrdswain crouched near Kraft’s head. “Who’s the manager of this building?”
“Dixon Browne,” Manuel said. “He’s in his apartment. I think he’s the killer.”
Very possible, especially after the blow-up that Stump and Maria had heard earlier. Their dispute could have easily resumed after Dixon followed Stump and Maria to the flower shop. Stump wiped another tear from his eye and returned his attention to the sergeant.
Byrdswain felt Mr. Kraft’s neck for a pulse. “Anybody know the victim?”
“He’s Rodger Kraft,” Mr. Connors said. “The owner of the property.”
“How well did you know him?”
“We’ve been neighbors for years, but we both tend to mind our own business. I just came over a little bit ago when I saw the red lights.”
“Who found the body?”
“I did,” Manuel said. “About a half-hour ago. My wife here is the one who called the police.”
Juanita nodded and Byrdswain rose. “How’d he get out of the pool?”
Once again, Manuel moved first. “He was in the water when I got here. I pulled him out in case I could save him. But there was no breathing. No movement. He was gone.”
“What time was that?”
“About nine.”
Byrdswain gestured toward Mr. Kraft’s head. “Any of you see anything around here that could have been used to hit him?”
Good question. If Stump weren’t so distracted by his own grief, he would have appreciated Byrdswain’s techniques and how the people responded to the questions, both verbally and with their body movements. Stump scanned the courtyard for a potential weapon.
“Nothing like that around here,” Manuel said. “But Dixon could have something in his apartment.”
The sergeant rose. “We’ll have a closer look after we get some pictures. Did any of you see anybody suspicious hanging around when you got here?”
“There were a few folks gathering when I got here,” Mr. Connors said, “but it was dark and I wasn’t paying much attention until I saw the body.”
Sergeant Byrdswain glanced at Stump and then turned to Juanita. “What about you, ma’am? Any of the people watching us right now look suspicious to you?”
Juanita shook her head but didn’t speak.
“Most of these people are good folks,” Manuel said. “They’re just trying to get by without any trouble.”
“Which apartment is Dixon Browne’s?”
Manuel lifted his jaw toward Dixon’s apartment. “Building one, Unit 101. He was out here earlier but went inside.”
“You said he could have killed the victim. What makes you think so?”
That too was a great question. Stump could have given the sergeant a list of reasons why Dixon was capable of such a thing, but he elected instead to hold his tongue until he heard what others thought.
“I heard Dixon and Mr. Kraft arguing,” Manuel said. “They were always fighting. The owner said he was losing money and knew who was taking it.”
That was more or less what Stump thought, but Stump wasn’t aware of any previous battles between Dixon and Mr. Kraft. Of course, Stump was only on site a few hours a day and Kraft usually left the premises shortly after Stump arrived.
Just then Stump heard several cars come into the parking lot. Byrdswain paused for a moment as if he’d heard them too. He returned to Manuel. “Who else, besides you and Dixon, might have seen something?”
“Any of the tenants,” Manuel said as three car doors banged shut in the lot. “There are eighty-four apartments. Most of them have two or three people living in them.”
Several lingerers pivoted toward two men and a woman who joined the courtyard and moved toward the body. “Forensics,” Byrdswain said before addressing Manuel and Connors again. “I need you guys to stay close by for a couple hours.”
Connors nodded while Manuel pointed across the courtyard. “Juanita and I live on the second floor of that building.”
“Good enough.” Byrdswain reached into his pocket, “Here’s my card in case you think of anything else I should know.”
As Connors and Manuel headed off, Byrdswain swung Stump’s way. “Don’t I know you?”
“Yes, sir. My name’s Stump. I helped you solve some murders three years ago.”
“I thought so. You’re Cooper’s kid, but you’re bigger now. Did you see what went on?”
“No, sir. I wasn’t here when any of this happened. I was with my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend, huh? I should be so lucky.” He nodded at Stump. “I gotta get back to work, but I want you to know you did an impressive job on the dog park.”
“Thank you,” Stump said looking back to Mr. Kraft. “He was a nice man.”
Sergeant Byrdswain turned toward the new arrivals. “I need you guys to tape off the scene, get some pictures and order an autopsy. I’ll check back with you after I have a talk with the manager.” He pointed his finger at Mr. Kraft. “Oh, yeah, when you’re done, cover him up.”
The sergeant pulled a cellphone from his coat and tapped at the screen as he went to the quiet end of the pool.
* * *
The read-out on Delores’s phone indicated that her incoming call
er was Sergeant Byrdswain. “We’ve got something hot,” he said the instant she answered her phone. “I thought you’d want to know.”
The excitement in his tone filled her with child-like curiosity, but the trained expert inside her urged restraint. She sat forward. “What’s going on?”
“I’m over at Cal-Vista. The owner is dead. The maintenance guy and his wife think your buddy, Dixon Browne, did it.”
Delores’s free hand shot to her cheek. “Rodger Kraft? Oh my God! What happened?”
“A blow to the head, followed by a late-night swim. I would have called you when the call first came in, but I wanted to see what was going on first.”
“No problem. Why was Rodger there so late? He usually goes home in the afternoon.”
“Maintenance guy says he heard Browne and Kraft arguing over money. A little later he found the victim, pulled him out of the pool but Kraft was already dead.”
“Is Dixon still there?”
“I think so. I’m seeing him next.”
“You want me to come help?”
“Not just yet. If you come around now, and Browne didn’t do it, he’ll recognize you and that’ll be the end to your investigation. We can wait a bit.”
“Thanks, boss. It’s nice to know you’ve got my back.”
“On the other hand, a murder has to take priority over your case. How close are you to arresting Browne on those other charges?”
“Ideally, I’d like another week, but I could do it now if we want to tuck him out of the way.”
“He’d probably just lawyer-up. We don’t want you to be shuffling paperwork on a lower-priority case that can wait. Let’s hold off for now. I don’t want to jeopardize either one of these cases.”
“I’m for that.”
“Alright, here’s what I think we should do. I’ll knock on some doors around here and try to figure out which way the wind blows. You stay close by in case I need you. If we’re lucky we might solve a murder and catch Mr. Browne all in short order. Regardless, if Dixon is our murderer, I’ll make sure you’re in on the arrest. You deserve that much.”
“Thanks, boss. I’ll have my cell.”
“Okay then, if you don’t hear from me tonight, meet me in the office first thing in the morning. One more thing. I saw that Stump kid hanging around. You ought to call Cooper. He may want to get his kid out of here.”
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