Back Story (12 page)

Dewey Webb – 1955

When I went back to the Colorado Educational Association building, I parked down the block as I had the night before, but this time, it was in a spot where I could see the building. I waited for a while to see if either of the two men I’d seen last night entered or left the building. After fifteen minutes with no activity, I got out of the Plymouth but left it unlocked in case I had to make a quick exit from the neighborhood.

I pulled my trusty fedora down low and walked back to the building. The front window where I’d eavesdropped last night was cracked open. I paused on the sidewalk and looked in the window but I didn’t detect any activity. Then a man, tall and skinny as a flag pole, walked out of the building and turned north without giving me a second glance. I waited until he reached the corner, and then I trotted up the front porch and into a large, L-shaped foyer. The walls were paneled in wood, the floors carpeted in brown, and a large chandelier hung from a high ceiling. Ahead and to the right was a wide staircase. On my left was a wooden door with a frosted glass panel, but with no sign indicating whose office it was. I stepped up to the door and listened, but couldn’t hear anything on the other side. I tried the knob. Locked.

I turned around. Across the foyer was another door, which stood open. The clackity-clack of a typewriter floated into the foyer. I crossed the hall in five strides. The glass panel on this door read “Johnson and Taggert, Accountants.” I poked my head inside. Behind a small oak desk with a phone and typewriter sat a dame with brown hair piled high on her head. A couple of curls draped down around each ear. She was typing away, but she paused when she saw me.

“You can come in, sweetheart. I don’t bite.” Her little voice was full of honey.

She was all curves in all the right places, with blue eyes and full lips painted a bright red. She wore a gray tailored dress that served up the curves, a gold wristwatch on her lovely wrist, and a ring on her left hand.

“Hello,” I said. I removed my hat and stepped inside.

She eyed my cheek. “Did she win or you?”

I ran my hand lightly across the scraped area and shook my head. “Maybe you can help me.”

She sat back, her lips curling into a smile. “Maybe I can, maybe I can’t.”

I jerked a thumb at the writing on the door. “Accountants?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Where is the Colorado Educational Association?”

She pointed with a slender finger out the door. “They’re upstairs.”

“And who’s across the hall?”

“I’m not sure what they do. Some kind of management.”

I came over, pushed the phone aside, and perched on the edge of the desk. “Management?”

She nodded, her brown hair bouncing. “Yes, they manage things, but I don’t know what.”

“I see.”

“They’re not there now.” She leaned farther back and her skirt pulled up slightly, exposing more leg. Apparently marriage didn’t stop her from flirting.

“So I gathered.” The leg was nice, but I wasn’t interested. However, I’d play along if it meant getting information from her. “When someone is there, who is it?”

Her shoulders lifted up and then back down. “Darling, my boss keeps me chained to this desk all day. I hardly get out. However,” she ran a finger across her lips, “the people who go in are rich.”

“How do you know?”

“They look rich.”

“What does
rich
look like?”

Her eyes did a slow survey of me, from my shoes to my head. “They had on suits that you couldn’t afford.”

She had me there. I smiled, then said, “When might they be back?”

“I don’t know. You just missed them.”

“I did?”

She returned my smile with one of her own, exposing gleaming white teeth. “Uh-huh. Someone came in earlier, and he was there for a while, then another man came in and they argued.” She wagged a finger at the door again. “I could hear them all the way across the hall.”

“What were they arguing about?”

She twisted one of the brown curls and smiled coyly at me. “What else do rich people argue about? Money.”

I leaned in. She smelled of berries. “What were they saying?”

“They talked about millions of dollars and someone said ‘Do you know what happens if this all comes out? I’ll be ruined’. And another fellow said, ‘Don’t worry, we’re handling it’. Then the first fellow said, ‘You better.’ ”

“The man who came in – what did he look like?”

“Darling, I don’t know. I just heard him come into the foyer and then I heard the voices across the hall so I assumed it was him.” She gave me a pout. “Was I wrong?”

“Not at all,” I said. “What about the first guy who came into the office?”

“He comes around once in a while.”

“So you’ve seen him.”

“Uh-huh. He has curly blond hair parted in the middle, but he keeps those curls slicked back.”

“But you don’t know him.”

She pursed her lips. “I know his name is Earl, but that’s it.” She now leaned in and put her elbows on the desk. “You sure ask a lot of questions.”

I leaned even closer. “That’s what I do.”

“Ah.”

“Can I ask one more question?”

Another smile. “Sure.”

“Have you ever heard the men across the hall mention the name Bert?”

She tittered. “Bert. No, darling, I’ve never heard that name. Now,” she placed a hand on my leg. “Even though you’re cute as a button, I need to get back to work. My boss will be coming back soon, and I have to get this typed up.” She pointed at the typewriter.

I stood up and her hand slid back into her lap. “Thanks, doll. If I ever need more questions answered, I know where to come.”

That brought a burst of laughter. I winked at her, then went back into the hall, put on my hat, and stepped outside.

I immediately began to sweat as I stood on the porch, feeling like this trip had been a waste of time. What the hell kind of management did the blond man do? I thought about that woman. How could she not know? She was a looker, but not very helpful.

I started down the porch steps, and my eyes caught the open office window. I halted, and glanced up and down the block. No one was around. On impulse, I darted across the porch to the window. I bent down and looked inside. The office was empty, so I pushed up the sash and crawled inside. I pressed myself against the wall by the window and listened. Nothing.

I was standing in a large room cloaked in shadows. The walls were painted a soft yellow. A couch and chairs situated about the room were the latest style, shelves along one wall of the room displayed some bronze sculptures, and a Chinese rug covered most of the floor. I stepped around the long oak desk I’d seen from the window last night and crossed to the shelves to inspect the sculptures. I picked up one and looked at it closely. The artist’s name – Pinchot – was scrawled on the bottom. Not someone I was familiar with. But then, since the room had the aura of money, and lots of it, and I didn’t come from money, I wouldn’t be expected to know the sculptor. I let my eyes rove around the room but didn’t see anything noteworthy, so I went back to the desk. Sitting on top of it was a file folder, which wasn’t labeled. I flipped it open. Inside was a list of names, dates, and dollar figures: forty thousand, five thousand, two hundred thousand. I added it up in my head. Well over a million dollars.

Just then the doorknob rattled. My eyes shot to the door. A shadow filled the frosted window panel.

“Let me get the file,” a voice said. It sounded like the blond man from last night.

“I can’t believe you left it,” said someone else.

“Get off my case,” the first voice growled.

I heard the sound of keys rattling. I grabbed the file, climbed back out the window, and leaped over the porch wall. I ran down the side of the building and into the alley, then around the block. I didn’t stop until I got to the Plymouth. I tossed the file on the passenger seat, slid behind the wheel and careened up the street. I glanced back but didn’t see anyone come out of the building. I’ll bet whoever those men were, when they noticed the file was gone, they’d be smoking mad. It served them right.

Reed – 2015

I sat back in my chair, and stared at
The Maltese Falcon
poster on the wall and wondered,
Had I seen that very file in Brad’s house?
I took a sip of my Coke, then set it down with a thump. There was only one way to find out.

I grabbed my cell phone and called Brad’s cell phone, but it went to voicemail. I checked the time. Almost five o’clock. Brad was supposed to be working from home – or from his dad’s house. Maybe Brad was busy with something job-related and that’s why he didn’t answer the phone. But I didn’t like it, so I snatched up my keys and headed out the door.

It took a while in rush hour to get to Brad’s dad’s house in Lakewood. I got out, hurried up to the front door, and rang the bell. Nothing. After a minute, I pressed the doorbell button again. Inside I heard chimes sound, but the door still didn’t open. I tried calling Brad again. No answer.

An edginess coursed through me. Brad had said that he would stay inside. I stepped off the porch and looked around. No one was about, so I dashed back to my car, pulled my lock-pick set from under the driver’s seat, and hurried back to the front door. I was getting pretty adept at picking locks and it didn’t take me any time at all to get into the house. I stepped inside and then remembered that Sam’s house had an alarm system.
Then why wasn’t it going off?
I thought. It had beeped when Brad and I had come here before. But now, nothing. Was it set to silent?

“Brad?” I called out.

Only a still coolness.

I rushed through the house, worried that I might find Brad’s corpse. But I didn’t find him, dead or alive. Nor was there any sign of a forced entry or violence of any kind. Where the hell was he? Had he left to go to the store or back to his house? I fumed for a minute, then decided to go. I couldn’t do anything here, and it was pointless to call the police. What would I tell them?

I again battled rush-hour traffic, east and then south to Brad’s house. Traffic was busier in his neighborhood because of its location near Wash Park, and I had to park over and down a couple of blocks from his house. I hurried to the house and rang the bell, just in case he was there. Even though he wasn’t supposed to be.

“And I’ll kill him myself if he is,” I muttered.

But no one answered the door, so I didn’t have to resort to murdering my client. I started to pull out my lock-pick set, then noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. A very fit woman was walking a German Shepherd down the street. She paused as the dog left a gift in the neighbor’s yard. Then she took a plastic bag from her pocket, wrapped up his poop, and walked on past Brad’s house.

Once she was gone, I slipped around the side of Brad’s house and into the backyard. I hopped onto his back porch and set to work on the back-door locks. The doorknob was easy, but the deadbolt proved a little harder. However, I was still inside in under two minutes. What a handy skill! The house was stuffy and hot, and I immediately began to sweat.

“Brad?” I called out, pretty certain he wasn’t there.

I walked through the kitchen and living area and checked the rest of the house, just to assure myself he wasn’t there. And again, no body, thank goodness. I went back into the living room and paused in front of the boxes of Dewey’s files. They were exactly where we’d left them the day before.

I squatted down and began sifting through one of the boxes. I went through almost all of the box and then I found some unlabeled files. I stood up and opened the first one. It had some photos in it, and as I studied them, I realized some were of Showalter’s wife and Moretti at the Bugs Bunny Motel. I didn’t recognize the others. The second file had some notes that meant nothing to me.

Inside the third file were pieces of paper that were yellow with age. Each one had names and figures on it. That was it. Nothing else. What was significant about it? Was there more in the boxes that I’d overlooked? I set the file aside, bent down, and started to go through the rest of the boxes. Then I paused. Had I heard something? I cocked my head and listened, then peered back into the kitchen. And I heard it again. Someone was trying to get inside.

I cursed, grabbed the file, stood up and stepped over to the front door. I looked out through the peephole, hoping that the lady with the German Shepherd, or another neighbor, was not out there. I didn’t relish the idea of explaining myself to them. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. However, a black SUV was sitting right in front of Brad’s house, in a parking space that had miraculously opened up. If I hadn’t been worried about getting caught, I’d be pissed about that available parking spot. I noticed movement from the driver’s side. Someone was still in it!

Behind me, the back door knob rattled and the door started to open. In a flash, I was tiptoeing up the stairs. I reached the landing, stepped around the railing, and stopped. My heart was racing and I could feel the throb of blood pumping in my ears. In the silence, my breathing sounded like a windstorm.

I heard movement downstairs and a figure materialized out of the shadows. I jerked backward and waited. A moment later, papers began rustling, and a deep male voice drifted up to me.

“How come we’re looking at this stuff again?” A pause. “I still don’t understand what the hell he hopes to find.” Whoever was down there, he was talking to someone on his cell phone.

I inched forward and peeked down the stairwell, but I couldn’t see him. And then Humphrey Bogart’s muffled voice made me jump.

My cell phone!

I shoved a hand into my pocket and hit a button to stop his voice. Downstairs, the voice said, “Hold on, I heard something.”

I froze, my hand still in my pocket. Then I eased backward into Brad’s office. The hardwood floor squeaked and I froze again.

“I’ll call you right back,” the voice said.

My cell phone whistled, indicating I had a message. I silently cursed, a string of obscenities that would’ve made my mother turn green. Footsteps sounded on the stairs. I hurried across the office to a window above the built-in shelves and quietly unlocked it. The whole time I was sending a mental message to the intruder, “Check the bedroom first. Check the bedroom first.”

For once, luck was on my side, as I heard the man turn and go into the bedroom. I took the opportunity, shoved the window up, and then worked the screen free. It dropped into the yard. I tossed the file out and watched in dismay as the papers went flying. Then I crawled out the window, and held onto the sill.

Just like Dewey
, I thought.
Escaping via a window
. Only he’d just had to leap off a porch. I was on the second floor.

“Hey!” a voice yelled at me.

I looked up. A big man in a dark suit filled the office doorway. His mouth was open in surprise. Then I let go. I’d heard that if you had to fall from a high place you should hit the ground and roll, so I tried that technique. But this time, luck was not on my side. I hit the ground and rolled into the side of the deck.

“Ow!” I said.

“Hey!”

I glanced up. The big man had shoved his big frame out the window, and he was glaring down at me. In his hand was a gun.

I rolled to my knees, grabbed the file and the papers, which had scattered on the lawn, then scrambled to my feet. As I ran down the sidewalk, I glanced up at the window. The man was gone. I plowed through the back gate and into the alley. I figured I had about a minute before the big man either ran after me or got into the SUV with his buddy and drove around to the alley. For once I was glad I’d parked a few blocks away. I might be able to get to my car before they found me.

The yard across the alley was empty, so I hopped the white picket fence and ran around the side of the house. When I emerged onto the street, I ran as fast as I could down two blocks to where the 4-Runner was parked. I unlocked it, dove in, started it and peeled out in the opposite direction of Brad’s house. It was only then that I realized my left ankle was hurting, and I had scraped up the palms of my hands. But I breathed a sigh of relief. I was still alive!

Then I remembered my stupid cell phone. I yanked it out and checked the message. It was Brad. I immediately called him back.

“Where the hell were you?” I snarled when he answered.

“I…uh…” He’d noted I was angry and was scrambling for words. “I went out, just to the store. I guess I didn’t have a good signal in the store, but when I got back to my car, I noticed you called.”

“You were supposed to stay out of sight.”

“No one knows I’m here,” he said, a bit petulantly.

I thought about the guy with the gun. “We can’t take any chances.”

“What’s wrong?”

I told him what had just happened. I could hear him swear as I finished.

“Oh, man,” he said. “These guys are serious.”

“You can say that again,” I said.

“By the way, you didn’t need to break in. I have a key hidden under the back deck.”

“Now you tell me.”

He let out a short laugh, then grew serious again. “What are you going to do now?”

I glanced at the file, which I’d tossed onto the passenger seat. I stopped at a red light and picked up the file. “I need to find out why this file is so important…”