Last Shot (Dev Haskell - Private Investigator, Book 6) (13 page)

“Relati
onship?”

We chatted on about things in general. Catherine did most of the talking and although her information on Touchier & Touc
hier wasn’t current it was better than the information I didn’t have. Eventually we ordered dinner.

I’
d finished a second Jameson and was busy cutting into my dinner steak, listening to Catherine.

“Once I
learned of Helen’s affair with that Driscoll person, I repeatedly warned her. In fact, I warned her so often it became a point of contention between the two of us and we didn’t need that. What we needed was one another. Then Driscoll took another bed-mate, and just like I had warned, Helen found herself on the outside looking in. The next thing you know she lost her job and her world collapsed like a house of cards. No job, no income, the economy was shot, she had a mortgage, everyone was out of work. Do you know how many people were hiring in those days, let alone hiring for their Human Resources department? Exactly zero, no one.”

I nodded.

“Helen told me once that she had spoken with a friend at a large insurance company out in Omaha or Des Moines or somewhere. She was one of something like seventeen-hundred people applying for the entry level position they had. She said they eliminated her application because she was too qualified. Can you imagine? Too qualified, my Lord. She worked so hard, so damn hard.”

I nodded. A couple of
nearby tables were suddenly watching us.

“
She eventually lost her home. Of course, her job had been who Helen was. It allowed her to do all the other good things that she did. And she was a good person, Mr. Haskell, a very good person.”

“
Is that when she began drinking?”

Catherine loo
ked at me for a good long moment. She just stared. Actually, she was looking through me. I had the feeling she could see my very soul. Finally, she shook her head.

“
My God, as if life wasn’t cruel enough. Helen didn’t drink.”

“But they found that open bottle in her
car. Her blood alcohol was almost three times the legal limit. Why else would she have gone…”

“I’m telling you Helen didn’t dr
ink. She couldn’t. She had some sort of reaction to alcohol, almost like she was allergic to it. She would get violently ill. We used to laugh as girls.” Tears were suddenly welling up in her eyes. “Helen was the perfect double date. I could pound them down and she couldn’t drink. The next morning she’d be able to tell me everything that had happened the night before. Three times the legal limit? In thirty-plus years she couldn’t drink half-a-glass of wine before she was throwing up.”

“But the autopsy resul
ts…I mean, they were pretty conclusive.”

Catherine shook her head
. “Autopsy results,” she scoffed. “Look, I can’t tell you what happened. All I know is she didn’t drink, and by the way she couldn’t swim either. She was afraid to even be around boats, scared stiff. So to suggest she consumed that quantity of alcohol and then drove out on a frozen lake in March, in the middle of a spring thaw? It’s just not credible, it’s preposterous.”

“Did you go to the police with this?”

“I’ve lost count of the times I’ve been to the police. I hired specialists. We provided medical history and a-half-dozen different expert medical opinions. But, the fact remains she had that damn blood alcohol level and an open bottle was found in the car, just as you said. The car with my sister in it went through the ice and she was strapped in behind the wheel. As far as the police out in Minnetonka were concerned, it was case closed.”

“Are you aware that Driscoll’s wife was killed in a boating accident late one night on
the same lake, Lake Minnetonka?”

Catherine nodded.
“I remember reading about it in the paper. I bought a card, and wrote ‘It serves you right. Now you know how it feels.’ But I never mailed it. Still have the thing tucked in my desk somewhere.”

“I’m wondering if there might be a pattern here.”

“Well, you convinced me a long time ago, but under the circumstances I’m a pretty easy sell.”

“Tell me about Daphne Cole
?” I said.

“I really don’t know much
, actually. Well, except she’s one of the lucky ones. She’s still alive. She worked at Touchier and had been swept off her feet by Gaston Driscoll and when he grew tired of her, she lost her job, I presume just like all the others. So she gave me a call.”

“Why you?”

“Apparently, there were rumors about Driscoll and Helen and so she contacted me. Let me rephrase that…there were rumors in the ladies room. He was, and as far as I’m aware, still is a managing partner. I don’t think anyone there would dare confront the man. I suppose if you were honest, he probably represents a particular route of career advancement, and if you were really honest, it’s a route that never gets you where you hope to end up.”

“Seems to be the pattern.
I think it might be worthwhile to talk with her, Daphne Cole. Do you have any idea how I can reach her?”

“N
ot really. I did see a marriage announcement for her in the paper awhile back, maybe a year ago.”

“Do you remember
who she married?”

“No, I do recall that she was keeping her maiden name
, though. If that’s what you’re referring to. At the time I thought good for you, young lady. Stick to your guns.”

T
here might have been more to what she said than the woman keeping her maiden name, but I didn’t pursue it.

I told Catherine about the name change
at Touchier & Touchier to Gaston Enterprises.

“
Oh how vile, how absolutely dreadful. In a way not surprising after all you’re dealing with a tremendously gigantic ego. What’s a measly seventy or eighty years of firm history and reputation next to that?”

We parted after dinner. As I was driving home
, my phone rang.

“Haskell In…”

“Dev, Marsha. I’m on break so I gotta make it quick. I got a phone message from Gaston Driscoll. He wants me to call him.”

“For another appointment?”

“He just asked me to call him.”

“So
, what’d he say?”

“
Hello? Are you listening? I haven’t called him back yet. He can just sit there and play with himself tonight for all I care. I’ll get back to him tomorrow.”

“Just be careful,
Marsha. This guy is beginning to look real bad.”

“Gee
, there’s a surprise…not.”

“Let me know what he says and do not meet with him unt
il we talk further. Okay? You’ll keep me posted?”

“Yeah
, Dad, I’ll have the car home just as soon as the library closes. God, will you F-ing relax? You’re driving me crazy.”

“I’m not kidding
, Marsha. Don’t go off like the Lone Ranger here. I can be watching you if he wants to do anything. He doesn’t know what I look like.”

“Whatever. Okay, hey
, gotta go.”

“Listen,
Marsha, I don’t want you…”

“Dev, that’s my intro they’re p
laying. Gotta fly. Bye.”

I wondered what Gaston Driscoll’s reaction would b
e if word got out his highness was expressing interest in a stripper. He’d probably come back with some line about saving those less fortunate.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I
couldn’t find anyone
named Daphne Cole in the phonebook, which probably put her age somewhere under fifty. From what Catherine told me last night at dinner, I figured she might be more around thirty-five. I found a half dozen Daphne Cole’s when I looked online. There was a slim chance I might be able to locate the woman I was looking for after a day or two of long hours and some lucky guess work.

I decided
instead to call the Department of Motor Vehicles, the DMV, and talk with my friend Donna, who owed me an eternal favor. Then I could look out my office window at women boarding the bus while Donna searched the DMV records for Daphne Cole’s phone number.

“
Good morning, Minnesota Department of Motor Vehicles. This is Donna. How may I help you?”

“Hi
, Donna, Dev Haskell.”

There was a long pause before she half whispered.
“What do you want? I could lose my job talking to you.”

“You’d
lose it for sure if I report your torrid little night with that summer intern, but you begged me not to and promised to help me and be polite whenever I called.”

“I did not say I would be polite,
you jerk,” she hissed.

“True.
Hey, look, Donna, I need the address and phone number of a Daphne Cole. That’s C-O-L-E. Her marital status would have changed about ten to eighteen months ago. I’d guess she’s between thirty and forty years of age.”

“I can’t be acting as your dating service
. You’re putting me at risk here.”

“Oh, okay. I’m sorry abou
t that let me ask your husband. I’ve got his number here somewhere.”

“A
ll right, all right. I’ll call you back,” she said and hung up.

I had my feet resting up on the window sill, scanning the street with my binoculars when Louie came in.

“Wow, you’re already working. Gee, amazing.”

“Just keeping this corner of the city safe,” I said when my phone rang.

“Haskell …”

“I have tw
o potential numbers. Do you have a color crayon handy so you can write these down?” Donna said. There was not a drop of humor in her voice. She proceeded to read me the numbers then growled, “Satisfied?”

“Let’s hope these work,” I said.

“Give the poor woman my condolences,” she said and hung up.

I tossed the phone on my desk and shook my head.

“Problems?” Louie asked. He was pouring the last of yesterday’s coffee into his mug and then putting the empty pot back on the burner.

“No, my pal
, Donna down at DMV.”

“No offense
, but it didn’t sound like she was really your pal.”

“You’re telling me. Look
, I did her a favor, a big favor. So from time to time when I need a little help, she has to come across.”

“She doesn’t seem too happy about it.”

“If I had to guess, I’d say she’s never very happy. Hey, turn that burner off, will you? The pot’s empty.”

“Just drying the thing out.”

“Sure you are.”

I phoned the first number Donna gave me,
and the recording told me to; ‘
Please check the number you have dialed, the number you have reached is either out of service or out of the area.
’

I c
alled the second number. A woman picked up on the fourth or fifth ring. I could hear a baby crying. The kid sounded close, like she may have been holding it.

“Hello.”

“Hi, I’m trying to reach Daphne Cole.”

“This is Daphne. W
ho’s calling, please?”

“My name is Devlin Haskell. I’
m trying to reach a Daphne Cole, who at one time was employed by an architectural firm, Touchier & Touchier.”

“Y
es.” Her response was drawn out and you could hear the caution rushing in.

“You worked at T
ouchier & Touchier, Miss Cole?”

“What is this about?” she asked, then
tried to quiet the baby who ignored her and kept right on crying.

“It’s a bit of an involved situation.
I wonder if there might be a convenient time to meet, I’m…”

“
To tell you the truth, no, there isn’t. In case you can’t hear, I’ve got a baby with an ear infection and there is nothing convenient for me where Touchier & Touchier is concerned. Thank you,” she said and hung up.

I shook my head again, tossed
my phone back on the desk and picked up my binoculars.

“You
seem to be having that effect on women of late,” Louie said.

“No, I’ve always had that e
ffect,” I said and went back to scanning the street.

Chapter Twenty-Four

It was almost two
in the afternoon. Nap time. I watched the woman on the other side of the street pulling a wagon up next to the front steps. She walked back across the front yard and pushed a stroller with side-by-side seats up next to the wagon. She wandered back again and gathered up the half dozen toys scattered across the lawn and dumped them in the wagon. She looked around the yard, gave a half satisfied nod, then sat down on the steps, took out her phone and started punching keys.

The two-
story house was a tan colored stucco affair with chocolate-brown trim and a fire-engine-red front door. Given the neighborhood and the design, I guessed it would have been built around the late 1920s. The steps and door were perfectly centered on the front of the house. About eight feet on either side of the front door was a pair of double windows. The pair on the right would be the living room, probably with a brick-front fireplace. The windows on the left were most likely the dining room with maybe two built-in corner cabinets and a swinging door leading into the kitchen. The staircase to the second floor would be just a few feet beyond the front door.