Back Story (15 page)

“Oh really?”

“Yes. What I heard was that the senior Halloway made his money in illegal bootlegging during Prohibition and then he had political connections that helped his stock investments. Is that what you heard?”

“Not quite,” I said.

“Well, you be careful. I also heard the Halloways don’t trifle with their enemies.”

“I will be.”

We chatted for a few more minutes, and then I ended the call.

“It’s all set.” I glared at Willie and Cal. “And do you two think you could possibly be quiet when I’m talking to her?”

Cal shook his head. “No. It’s too funny to watch you squirm.”

I tried for angry, but then I couldn’t help laughing myself. My mother was too much. Although in this situation, she’d really come through for me.

“So we’re going to the benefit?” Willie asked.

“Yes. I’m sure Mother won’t have any trouble arranging it.”

She stood up and gestured at her scrubs. “I can’t wear this.”

“We’ll go back to the condo tomorrow, change, and go to the party,” I said.

“No, I don’t have anything that nice. I’ll have to go shopping. I wonder what kind of dress to get.” She paused, tapping her foot as she mulled that over. “I know, Darcy can help. I’ll call and see what she thinks would be good to wear.” She grabbed her phone and left the room.

Cal eyed me. “Looks like you’ll be going shopping tomorrow.”

I sighed. “I think you’re right.”

1955

The two detectives stood in the inner office of Dewey Webb, staring at the body sprawled face-down on the floor in front of the oak desk. The first detective was over six feet tall with cold black eyes. He wore a neat gray pinstripe with a black tie, and he had the demeanor of someone you shouldn’t mess with. The second one was shorter and softer, with a round face and a disinterested expression. His suit was brown and rumpled. It would be easy to believe he was coasting in his job, but that would be a mistake. He was, in fact, the best detective on the force.

A third man, who was stocky and almost bald, had pushed aside two club chairs and was kneeling down by the body. He made small clicking sounds with his tongue as he examined the body.

“Already hot,” the first detective said as he took off his hat and fanned his face. “Not even nine o’clock in the morning.”

The second detective ignored that and focused on the medical examiner. “What about a time of death?”

The bald man glanced up, then used the back of his wrist to wipe sweat off his brow. “Hard to tell, Newton, but I’d say sometime late last night.”

“Uh, Detective Ramos?” A uniformed officer stood in the doorway to the outer office, fidgeting with his hat. The tall detective turned to him. The officer shifted, clearly uncomfortable that he was interrupting the goings-on in Dewey’s office. “You wanted to talk to the wife.”

Ramos nodded. “Where is she?”

“She’s waiting outside,” the uniform said. “A friend drove her over.”

“She discovered the body?” Newton asked.

The uniform cleared his throat. “Yes, sir.”

“Newton and I will be down in a minute,” Ramos said.

The uniform nodded and left. The detectives studied the room.

Ramos scratched his head. “He was killed sometime last night. That’s not much to go on.”

Newton turned in a small circle, taking in the entire office. It was sparse and functional and smelled faintly of cigarettes. He sighed and then said, “Get a team in here to check for fingerprints. Ask around the other offices to see if anyone heard anything. I’ll go talk to the wife.”

“You got it,” Ramos said, his face registering relief that he didn’t have to talk to the grieving widow.

Newton took another look around, then walked out of the office, down the stairs, and out the front door. Sitting on the steps was a brunette of about forty. Her long hair was wavy, and she wore a yellow dress. When Newton approached, she looked up with sad gray eyes.

“Mrs. Webb?” Newton took off his hat and sat down next to her. “I’m Detective Newton. I know this is difficult, but I’d like to ask you a few questions, if I may.”

“Yes, and please call me Clara.”

Newton nodded. “I understand you found…the body.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Your husband didn’t come home last night?” It wasn’t accusatory of anything, just a question.

“He came home for dinner last night and then went back out.”

“Where did he go?”

“He said he had to follow someone, something about one of his cases, and that he might not be home until very late. So I made him some sandwiches and a thermos of coffee, and he left. It got late, so I went to bed. When I woke up this morning, he still wasn’t home. I called the office, but he didn’t answer, so I walked our son over to the neighbor’s house and a friend drove me over here. She waited in the car while I came into the building. The office wasn’t locked, so I let myself in. That’s when I…” her voice broke and she bent her head down and cried.

“I’m sorry,” Newton murmured, then waited.

“I…uh…” Clara finally composed herself. “I sat with him for a minute, and then I called the police.” She gulped. “I used the office phone. Oh, did I mess up the crime scene?”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Newton said. From what he saw, the crime scene was clean and he doubted they’d find fingerprints that would help them identify the killer. “What cases was your husband working on?”

She shrugged. “Dewey didn’t talk about his work, so I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” Newton said. “We’ll see what we can find. Did he have any enemies? Anyone threaten him lately?”

She shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“No financial trouble?”

“None. Things were okay.”

Newton stared out at the grass. This was going nowhere. The wife didn’t know anything, which was to be expected. He put his hand on her shoulder. “I know this has been difficult, and I appreciate your time. If we think of anything else, we’ll call you.”

Clara stood up and with great effort squared her shoulders. “Please keep me informed.”

“I will.”

Newton watched her walk on wobbly legs to an old Ford coupe parked on the street. She got in the passenger side. Another woman who sat behind the wheel started it and slowly drove off.

“I checked the other offices. No one was around last night,” Ramos said as he joined Newton on the steps.

“And the wife doesn’t know anything,” Newton said.

Ramos lit a cigarette and blew gray smoke into the air. “And the crime scene looked clean to me.”

Newton nodded. “Someone was very careful with this murder, someone who doesn’t intend to get caught.”

Reed – 2015

“You look stunning!” I said to Willie when she came out of the bedroom.

She had on a teal one-shoulder evening dress with a slit in the front of the skirt that we’d shopped for earlier in the day. Correction: she had shopped for it; I had been bored nearly to tears waiting for her to try on a seemingly endless supply of dresses. Once she’d picked out something, we’d gone to Darcy’s apartment. While Willie was getting ready, I’d scoped out the street. Once I’d assured myself that no one was watching for us, I’d darted across the street to the condo and grabbed my tuxedo, dress shoes, and a pair of heels for Willie. I had also made sure to get my Glock. I wished I’d had time to get my tuxedo tailored to accommodate a shoulder holster, but since that was out of the question, I’d grabbed my ankle holster. And finally, I’d brought along a small recorder.

“Thanks,” Willie said. “I’m glad Darcy didn’t mind me borrowing her makeup.”

“Here.” I handed her the heels.

She put them on and then smiled at me. “You look very handsome.”

I ran a hand over the sleeves of my jacket. “I haven’t worn this in forever.” I’d had the tux for a long time, but I hadn’t been to many events where I needed to wear one. “I’m just glad it still fits.”

She put a hand on my arm. “Are you ready?”

I nodded. “Let’s do this.”

We left Darcy’s apartment, walked downstairs and out a back entrance to the 4-Runner, which I’d parked in the alley behind the building. Then we headed to Genesee, a small community nestled in the foothills west of Denver.

***

We arrived at the Halloways’ palatial estate outside of Genesee half an hour later. I turned up a short road and through a wrought-iron gate that had “HH” on it.
Just like the mansion Dewey visited
, I thought.

I drove down a long lane that curved in front of the mansion and stopped behind a white limousine. A valet in a black uniform ran up and opened my car door.

“Welcome, sir,” he said. As I got out, he handed me a ticket and held out his hand for my keys. He didn’t look old enough to drive, and I nearly resisted giving him my keys.
But
, I told myself,
if he was good enough for the Halloways, then that was good enough for me
.

Another valet had helped Willie from the passenger side, and I joined her.

“Wow, I feel out of place already,” Willie whispered as she observed all the Mercedes, BMWs, and even a Rolls Royce that were parked farther down the lane. The 4-Runner definitely didn’t fit in. I knew what Dewey must have felt like in his old Plymouth as he visited the Powells, Beauchamps, and Halloways.

“Uh-huh,” I said. “This place is amazing.”

On one side of the drive was a huge lawn with a pond, which had a fountain in the middle of it. On the other side was the palatial Halloway mansion, a two-story red brick building that was more like a palace than a mansion.

“It’s over thirty thousand square feet and built in a neo-colonial style,” Willie said as we walked up a set of stone steps to the grand entrance. “There are more than fifty rooms.” She sounded like a tour guide.

“How do you know that?” I murmured, as I glanced at a marble statue of a woman with a harp near the door.

She smiled at me. “I was curious about this place, so I looked it up.”

Two butlers in tuxes greeted us at the door, and we stepped into a foyer that was twice the size of our condo. The walls were adorned with paintings and tapestries, and a grand staircase at the far end of the foyer led to the second floor balcony. At the top of the staircase was another marble statue.

“How’d you like to own this?” she asked.

“It’s a little too plain for me,” I said.

She smothered a laugh.

Guests milled about: the women, in particular, were stunning in all types of evening dresses, all of them expensive. Many of the men’s tuxedos were designer.

“Now what?” Willie murmured.

“I’m not really sure,” I said. “I need to find Rob and catch him by surprise.”

“Maybe there’s an office around here somewhere and you could find some evidence that would incriminate him.”

I looked at her askance. “I doubt it.”

She frowned. “Yeah, you’re right. That was a stupid suggestion. You could still look around and see what you turn up, and I’ll keep an eye out and let you know if anyone’s coming.”

“You make it sound like a James Bond movie.”

“It could be. You’re as dashing as he was.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” I kissed her cheek. “And you’re like all the beautiful women in those movies, rolled into one.”

She grinned and then said, “Stop flirting. We have work to do.”

“You started it.”

“Come on.”

I held her hand and we followed the crowd, which seemed to be moving down the foyer to the left. We passed through a dining room with oak-paneled walls and a chandelier that hung over a long, oval antique dining table. This led to a wide hallway and then to another large room; its purpose I couldn’t fathom. At the far end, multiple doors opened onto a beautiful garden where more people milled.

“Finding Rob will be like the proverbial needle in a haystack,” I said.

“How about we separate?” Willie suggested. “If I spot him, I’ll call you.”

“Okay,” I said, “but be careful.”

She let go of my hand and wandered off toward the garden doors. I watched her for a minute and then strolled across the room and through another hallway. I wandered through rooms, eventually finding the billiards room. A group was playing pool, and I would’ve been tempted to join had I not been on a mission. I couldn’t help but notice how nice the pool table was. Ace and Deuce would’ve been jealous, although they would not have liked the painted ceiling, which reminded me of the Sistine Chapel. I crossed to the other side of the room and through another hallway that was empty. I spotted another door, so I opened it and stepped inside.

I’d found the library. Three walls were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and I could tell that many of the volumes were very old. Against the far wall was a fireplace. A family crest was carved into the oak paneling above it. It was the kind of room I dreamed of. I moseyed farther into the room and let my eyes rove around. Leather couches and wingback chairs were strategically placed around the room. It would be easy to sit in here and read.

Bogie’s voice scared me out of my envious musings. I yanked my phone out of my pocket.

“Hey,” I said.

“I see him!” Willie whispered.

“Where?”

“He’s in a garden outside the ballroom.”

I looked around. I had no idea where I was. “Where the hell is that?”

“How should I know?” she said. “I walked through the garden and in through another door, then down a hallway that had all kinds of portraits in it. Then I took a right and I –”

“It’s okay,” I interrupted. “I’ll find it.”

“Hurry!”

“I’m on my way.”

I hung up and rushed back the way I’d come. Or I thought it was, but I never found the billiards room again.

What if you needed a bathroom
, I thought.
You could have an accident before you ever found it.

I finally stopped a gentleman in a tux – big surprise – and asked him where the ballroom was. He gave me subpar directions – or maybe he didn’t know either – and I had to ask two more people, but I finally arrived at the ballroom. I looked around but didn’t see Willie, so I wandered through the throng of guests. I finally spied her in the corner, next to yet another statue, this a replica of Michelangelo’s
David
. I hurried over.

“Really?” I jerked a thumb at the statue. “You had to hide out near the naked man?”

“Focus, Reed,” she said. “Halloway came in from the garden. He’s over there.” She nodded her head in the direction I was supposed to look. “Isn’t that him?”

I followed her gaze. I recognized Rob Halloway from his picture. He was standing near a large oak door. “That’s him.” Then I sucked in my breath.

“What?”

“Walt Cummings is with him.”

Walt leaned on a cane with one hand, and smoothed his pencil-thin mustache with the other. His tux hung a bit loosely on his frame, but he stood with squared shoulders, giving him a more formidable bearing. He was looking around the room and his eyes locked with mine. Then his face registered surprise as he grabbed Rob’s arm and said something. Rob looked in our direction and contemplated me warily.

“They recognize you,” Willie murmured, as if they could hear us.

I nodded. “I’m going to talk to them. If you see anyone who looks like security, call me.”

“Okay.” She let a breath out through her teeth. “Be careful.”

I shoved a hand in my pocket, turned the volume down on the phone so it would just vibrate, and turned on the recorder I’d brought. Then I squeezed Willie’s hand. “Here goes nothing.” I made my way through the crowd and up to Walt and Rob.

“That’s the guy,” Walt said to Rob. “That’s Fenton Hardy.”

Rob took a long moment to survey me, so I took my turn as well. He was good-looking, with steel gray hair, sharp eyes, and a small mouth that frowned at me. He wore a tux, just like all the other men, and yet, with his stately manner, he seemed to look a tad better than everyone else.

“No,” Rob replied to Walt, even as he looked me in the eye, “this is Reed Ferguson. He’s a private investigator.”

I nodded. “And how do you know that, unless you found my business card at Brad Webb’s house. And you’ve been following me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rob said. “I recognize you from the guest list.”

“Quite a feat since the invitation was changed from my parents to me just today,” I said.

Rob smiled. “I make it a point to know who will be attending this event.”

Good recovery
, I thought. But his eyes betrayed him. He was lying.

“Is there something I can do for you?” Rob asked. “I have a lot of guests to attend to.”

I glanced around. “I understand you’re quite the art aficionado.” I raised my voice a little. “Your family has bought and sold a lot of pieces, right? Especially during the ’30s. You got a lot of stuff from Europe.”

A few guests had turned to listen in on our conversation.

Rob shifted nervously. “My grandfather had an interest in art.”

“Oh, I think it was more than interest,” I said. “It was an investment. He made quite a profit from his art sales.”

“I told you he knew,” Walt said with a shaky voice.

“Shut up.” Rob spoke through gritted teeth, a smile plastered on his face. He held up a hand. “Why don’t you step in here? I’d like to talk to you in private, Mr. Ferguson.”

“Some private time with the host,” I said. “I’m flattered.”

The smile remained, but anger flickered in Rob’s eyes. He opened the door and I walked into the room. Walt followed. Rob entered and shut the door. We were in another library, or maybe this one was an office. It had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a fireplace, and leather couches and chairs, just like the other library I’d been in, but this one had an enormous mahogany desk that faced the room and a round table in one corner. On it was an antique chess set.

Rob walked over to the desk and sat down. Walt made his way over and stood next to Rob. Rob gestured at one of the chairs that sat facing the desk.

“Sit down.” It was an order.

I sauntered over and sat down. “Your family had quite a scheme going on, didn’t they?” I started to cross my legs and then remembered the Glock in my ankle holster, so I stopped.

Rob continued to play dumb. “What are you talking about?”

“That’s not going to work,” I said. “I’ve got it all figured out.”

“Not everything, or you wouldn’t be here,” Rob said.

I shrugged.

“He doesn’t have any proof,” Walt said.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t bring you down,” I countered.

Rob remained silent, so I started talking, hoping to unsettle him. “Your family had quite a scheme, stealing from Jewish refugees.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rob said, but his face tightened.

“Yeah, you do. Your grandfather had Trevaine get visas to help Jewish families escape from the Nazis, and in the process, Trevaine was able to assess what valuables they had. He told Milner, who would turn up after Trevaine talked to the families. Milner would offer to help the families ship their valuables out of the country. Only you all sold the items,” I pointed to Walt, “using your dad as a fence, and made plenty of money.”

“Aren’t you the smart one?” Walt sneered.

I shook my head. “Not smart enough, because Floyd Powell threw me. I kept thinking he was involved with Earl Trevaine and John Milner, but he wasn’t, was he?”

Walt jumped in. “Powell screwed things up. The Halloways sold him a couple of pieces cheap, and he agreed he wouldn’t resell them.”