Dane Curse (5 page)

Chapter 9

Widow arrived a few minutes later with some corned beef. I let her know Monday stopped by, but kept the BOLO to myself. It would only worry her. We sat on my couch, and ate the sandwiches. When we were almost done Sandworm let out an audible ping.

“Excellent.” I walked to my computer, and printed the report

“What’s that?” Widow asked.

I shoved the paper in my pocket, and turned off the computer. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Unwilling to wait for the elevator I opted instead to take the stairs down two at a time. I jumped into Jane, threw my keys into the ignition, then paused. Maybe my optimism was premature. There was no guarantee that Pinnacle was on my list.

I pulled out the paper and studied the possibles:

1. Gomez, Martin-Accountant for Elwrathe and Sons

2. Norman, George-Actuary with Martin & Bowell

3. Melehkov, Mel-High School Teacher at The Einstein Institute

4. Reynolds, Hank-Investment Banker at Global Domain

5. Waller, Benjamin-Fireman for the City of Gold Coast 

The fourth name on the list was my last thing-to-do, and I had doubts about the first two as well. Could an investment banker, actuary, or an accountant escape for extended periods of time when a sudden disaster called for fast-acting hero work? Maybe, but Sandworm said their offices were on middle floors, which wouldn’t make it any easier, and besides, the jobs seemed ill suited for a man like Pinnacle.

That left Benjamin Waller and Mel Melehkov. The first was a fireman, which was a great job for a white cape. Odd hours, wide-open office, and when you’re at work you’re actually saving lives. But teacher showed just as much promise. Let’s say a bridge collapses, you just give the kids a pop quiz, grab a cup of coffee in the lounge, and out the window you go. Teachers also get summers, nights, and weekends off which would free him up for even more public service. They were both good leads, but Melehkov was closer, so I’d start there.

#

Getting inside his apartment building was easy enough. I just slipped the doorman a fifty and walked into the lobby. It looked plain. If this really was Pinnacle’s home then I was bound to run into some fancy defenses and surveillance, but I didn’t spot a thing.

I took the elevator to the top floor, stepped out, and scanned the hallway. It was clear too. When I got to the right apartment I rang the buzzer. The door opened, and standing in front of me was an elderly woman about the size of a paperweight wearing a blue apron with white country fringe.

“Good morning,” I said, “is Mr. Melehkov in?”

She had a Russian accent that came out of her thick, like smoke from a chimney. “My son can’t see anyone.”

“So he’s home.”

“He is, but he’s sick.”

“I’m sorry to hear that ma’am, but I need to see him.” I gave her my big West Coast smile, the one that just shines with trustworthiness.

“Insist all you want, you can’t come in. He needs rest.” She began to close the door.

I grabbed it, and pushed it open. “This won’t take a moment.”

Pulling a wooden spoon from her apron she walloped the back of my hand. “Let go of this door immediately.” Then she added a second shot for good measure. “Leave or I’ll call the cops.”

I leaned over her. “Ma’am, the last lady to scare me with empty threats peppered with wood to my paw was Sister Mary Catherine, and I’ve grown since. Now I don’t want to cause any trouble, and I mean no disrespect, but like I said, I have to peep Mel with my own two eyes, it’s-” The door swung open the rest of the way revealing a thirty-year-old birdlike man with a slightly receding hairline and a bright red nose. He was swaddled in blankets.

“I’m Mel Melehkov, what’s this about?” His pipes sounded like they were stuffed with wet sandpaper.

“You’re Mel Melehkov?” Thinking quick, I pulled out the sheet of paper with his name on it and held it up. “I’m a process server here for a Mel Melehkov, but I don’t think you’re my man. The guy I’m looking for is from Louisiana. You from Louisiana?”

“Nope.” He shook his head, and blew his nose “I was born and raised in Gold Coast.”

“Well that settles that, sorry for the bother. I hope you understand I had to be sure you weren’t him.” I paused for a moment. “If you don’t mind me asking what’re you down with?”

“Flu.”

“That’s the flu?” I asked. “Bird or swine?”

His laugh knocked loose some phlegm. “I’m a teacher, and kids carry serious bugs.”

“Well, I hope you feel better.” I turned and walked away.

He leaned out the door. “And I hope you find your man.”

Thanks Mel, me too.

I swung by Ben Waller’s place next, and got to his floor even easier than Mel’s. I knocked on his door, then rang the bell and waited. No answer. I gave the hall one final look, then pulled out my lock pick and jimmied the knob. The door swung open, and what I found inside was nothing short of amazing...

... Nothing short of amazing, that is, if you’re fascinated by basic interior design. The only colors the guy decorated with were gray and beige, and there was barely any artwork to speak of. The only thing that stood out was the large amount of smoke alarms. There was one hanging on the ceiling of each room, and even one on the wall over the bookcase. I also noticed two fire extinguishers. One was next to the kitchen door, while the other flanked the large wooden shelves where rows upon rows of snapshots were on display. Each one captured a different moment in the life of the Waller family, and since I knew exactly what Pinnacle’s face looked like, I started my search there.

In the top left corner around a dozen sweater-clad people celebrated Christmas. One of the guys looked a little like Pinnacle, but no, if he was Benjamin I was in the wrong house. The hair and eye color were right, but his build and facial structure were off. Next I moved to the middle row where two young girls were laughing with an older woman at a birthday party. I skipped the young boy with a German Shepherd, and dropped to the bottom shelf where three generations of Waller men shared a grainy day fishing. I went through each picture carefully, but didn’t see Pinnacle in any of them.

From there I moved into the bedroom, starting with the closet. Grabbing the knobs on the accordion doors I pulled them apart. Inside were jeans and dress pants hanging above less pairs of shoes than I owned. 
Disappointing. 
I guess a fresh pressed uniform and cape would’ve been too much to ask for.

Stooping down on one knee I pulled out my hand scanner and checked for hidden compartments. Nothing. I moved to the dresser and opened every drawer. All I found were socks and shirts. Then I slide the whole thing away from the wall.

Behind it was another framed picture that must’ve accidentally fallen there. It was of the guy from Christmas in the living room gallery, only now he was standing in front of a Gold Coast City Fire Engine proudly wearing his gear. The badge on his chest read: Ben Waller. And that sealed it. The fireman wasn’t my guy.

I slid the photo back where I found it, replaced the dresser, and left.

With the second name now crossed off I headed to my next stops, the homes of George Norman and Martin Gomez. Something must have been going around because Norman’s kid was sick too, so he was home looking after her. Gomez was laid up in the hospital with a broken leg, which his wife was good enough to prove with a few candid pics of him smiling in traction. It was strike three and four, but I still had one pitch left.

I headed over to Hank Reynolds’ to take it.

Chapter 10

Reynolds lived in a swank condo in City Center, the kind built to keep the residents far away from guys like me. I hopped out, and headed towards the building trying to look like I belonged, but before I could get one toe in the doorman blocked my way. He was about as tall as me, a touch wider, and looked like he might’ve played some football in his youth. His temples were graying, and even though his eyes had a starter set of wrinkles they stared out from under his cap as sharp as whips. “May I help you?”

“No ‘sir’?” I said.

“You don’t need to call me sir.” He smiled as he motioned me away. “Just keep on walking.”

“I’m here to visit a friend of mine, Hank Reynolds. He’s on the thirty-third floor, if-”

“Mr. Reynolds didn’t notify me of any visitors.”

“He probably forgot. If you-”

“If you were familiar with Mr. Reynolds’ habits,” he said, and crossed his arms high up on his chest, “then you’d know he comes and goes sporadically, so when someone is expected he always informs me.” He put a little smug in his smile. “And he never forgets.”

“It’s not like he’s an elephant,” I said, “if you’ll just let me-”

“Why don’t you ring his cell? I’m sure he’ll be able to straighten this out.”

I figured any guy this severe would need at least a C-note’s worth of grease to get his wheels turning, so I pulled out a hundred, folded it in half, and slid it into his breast pocket. I expected a smile, but instead he wrinkled his nose like I shoved a dead catfish in there, and pulled it out. “What’s this?”

“I’m no historian, but I believe in ancient Rome it was called a bribe.”

“Listen here lummox,” he said, “this place is off limits to guys like you, so hit the bricks, they could use a good dusting. And this bribe, if it wanted to get turned down politely, would need to bring a few more friends. Now take it back, and scuttle on.”

I grabbed his wrist, and stopped dead. The feel of his flesh told me he was a little invulnerable, nothing special mind you, but it took me back. I’d never met a doorman with powers before.

“Get your hand off me.” He dropped his weight and twisted away. It was a nice move, but he wasn’t heavy or strong enough to pull it off, so all it did was leave him half hanging there like a trout.

“Not going to happen,” I said.

He struggled, then straightened up without a bit of fear in his eyes. He opened his mouth, but I stopped him and said, “Ok pal, before we have to do this the hard way let me ask, how do you like your steak?” I squeezed tight.

He grimaced, and grabbed my arm. Sweat formed on his brow.

“Come on, answer the question. How do you like your steak?”

He said through his teeth, “Medium well, I guess.”

“Well I hope you enjoyed your last one like that, because if you don’t help me, when I’m through with your jaw you’ll need them frappéd. You see, this way.” I pointed to the hand that had him, and tightened my grip. “This way is the easy way.”

He screamed, “No, enough, I give, I’ll take you up.”

I let him go and he cradled his arm before leading me to the elevator. When we got there he used his keycard to bring us to my floor.

“Thanks,” I said, and stepped into the hall. “Don’t bother calling the cops. I’ll ghost long before they get here. But if you do, know that I won’t just break your jaw, I’ll pluck it off and take the whole thing with me. Now scuttle on.”

He didn’t say anything as the elevator closed.

I walked towards Reynolds’ door with my heart beating double time. I had been all over the city looking at the only places Pinnacle could live, and the smart money said I had finally done just that. Its owner was missing, it sat on a high floor of a secure building, and there was even a powered-up gatekeeper. It all fit.

I rang his bell. No one answered.

I rang again, and added a knock.

Still no answer.

So I stooped down, and looked at the lock. It was standard, and shouldn’t be too hard to pick. I reached into my pocket. And the door swung open.

Standing in front of me was a fit, thirty-something guy in a robe. He said, “Yeah?”

I straightened up. “Uh, are you Hank Reynolds?”

“I am. What do you want?”

I stood looking at him for a second, scrambling for something to say.

“What do you want? I’m very busy.”

“Nothing,” I said, “you’re not my guy.”

“Whatever.” And with that he closed the final door that was open to me.

I took the elevator back down, and left the condo in a haze that didn’t fully clear until I was back at my office.

Chapter 11

Widow was sitting at her desk typing away. “You look like you dropped your ice cream in the dirt.”

“Yeah.” I closed the door behind me and hung up my hat and coat.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Don’t you have work?”

She shrugged. “Right now? About as much as you.”

I walked over to the waiting room couch and plopped down on it. “Then that would be a lot.”

“You want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look it. But maybe I can cheer you up.”

“How?”

“You have another case.”

“I don’t got time for it.”

“I think you might make the time.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“A lady called, she said that she got our number from a mutual friend, Eeka Mouse.”

“Eeka? Wow. How old did she sound?”

“Very. She claims someone stole a keepsake that belonged to her dead husband.” Widow cocked an eyebrow. “A Kapowitzer.”

“What?” I shot up. “A Kapowitzer, seriously?”

“Thought that might get your attention.” She laughed. “It doesn’t work obviously. It was destroyed.”

“Yeah, Gun Control, I know.”

“I guess you would.”

“What was her husband’s name?”

“Earl Freeman.”

“Ha, Agent Dreadful. Funny guy.” I remembered Earl. He was a pretty successful thief. At least he was before his career got cut short when he robbed the wrong mansion.

“That’s the one. Anyway, Mrs. Freeman says she held on to the pistol after he died for sentimental reasons, but somebody broke in and stole it. Or what remained of it.”

“Why would anyone want a broken Kapowitzer?” I shook my head. “Did you get her number?”

“It’s on your desk.”

I walked into my office, picked up the number, and dialed it.

Mrs. Freeman had a sweeter-than-apple-pie grandma’s voice. “Hello?”

“Hi Mrs. Freeman, this is Dane Curse. I’ve been told you need some help locating a missing item that belonged to your late husband.”

“Oh yes, but it’s not missing, it’s been stolen.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m working for another client right now. Can you come by-”

“Oh no, I tried that. I couldn’t find the place.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I know it’s uncommon, but there’s a holographic projector outside my door that keeps it hidden. I assure you, we’re at the end of the hall on the fourth floor of the Tanziger Building. Call when you arrive, and my girl can come down and escort you up.”

“I don’t know, is there any way you could drop by my home? Please?”

“I can Mrs. Freeman, but I’m afraid it won’t be for a few days. The market for defunct Kapowitzers is a limited one though, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

I got her details down on a scrap of paper and shoved it into my pocket before I said goodbye, then walked back to the waiting room and sat on the couch.

Widow looked at me. One pair of her hands kept typing while the other grabbed a file from her desk drawer. “How was she?”

“In need. I’d like to help.”

“Too busy with this secret case?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Wait a minute, you’re not sore, are you? I’d tell you about it if I could.”

Widow returned her attention, and all four hands, to her typing. “Of course not, it’s just you’ve never kept me out of agency business before. Makes me wonder what all the hush is about.”

“It’s important, that’s all I can say. But also damn near unsolvable. So take my mind off it for a moment. What about Mrs. Freeman? She couldn’t find us?”

“Said the office was too well hidden, adding that any PI in want of business shouldn’t be so hard to find.”

“Not my fault,” I said, “if I want to stay in business I have to be hidden.”

“Hey, I see your point, but I can see hers too. Thanks to that tech in the hall this place is impossible to locate unless you know exactly where it is,” Widow said. “Heck, I got lost the first time I came here.”

“I didn’t know that.” Maybe Mrs. Freeman was right, maybe I should take it down, and not hide behind a smoke… “God damn it!” I leapt up and grabbed my coat and hat like I was mad at them.

“What is it?” Widow leaned back to get out of my way, which she wasn’t even close to being in. “Something wrong?”

“Yeah, with my head.” I threw on my gear and bolted. And for the second time that day I high tailed it over to Ben Waller’s apartment, leaving twin strips of rubber in my wake. I pulled up to the place barely getting Jane into park before I jumped out and ran up the steps, cursing myself the entire time for losing nearly half a day to stupidity.

When I got to the door I picked the lock again, and walked in. The place was exactly like I left it: boring carpet, crappy TV, and too many smoke alarms. Or, if my hunch was right, just one too many.

Specifically the one on the wall right over the bookcase.

I jumped up, and ripped it down. The top row of books on the shelf disappeared, revealing a metal rod. Wrapping my hand around it I took a deep breath, and pushed. Nothing happened. Then I tried moving it side to side. Still nothing. But when I pulled it towards me the bookcase gave a small click, and swung outwards.

I couldn’t help but hold my breath as I stepped out of Ben Waller’s world, and into Pinnacle’s.