The Extinguished Guest (A Lexie Starr Mystery, Book 2) (10 page)

"Yes, of course," I said with a laugh. "I'll bet Patty had a thing or two to say about
the indignity she suffered. 'Peckish Patty Poffenbarger pissed when painfully popped
with pipe while packing pillaged pastries from pantry to parlor.' How's that for a
tongue twister?"

"Pretty pathetic, my perky partner," Stone said in amusement. "But I admit I couldn't
say it three times in a row. Are you sure you're feeling okay, honey?"

"Sorry, Stone. I know I sound half crazy, but I'm just so relieved to be on my way
back to the inn. I don't like hospitals very much."

"I can understand that. But I can't help worrying about you," Stone said, patting
my hand, which was resting on my knee. "You're right about Patty, though. She's pissed
and still spouting off about an impending lawsuit, I'm sure. It was a long night,
I assure you. I missed you more than I can say."

Stone reached over again and rubbed the top of my thigh for a few seconds and then
placed his right hand back on the steering wheel. His forehead appeared to have several
new furrows etched in to it.

"I missed you, too," I said. "So what's going on at the inn today?"

"Not much so far. It's been pretty quiet this morning. Boris Dack left for his office
at about seven this morning and told the investigators he'd return by eleven. I just
spoke with Crystal on my cell phone, and Boris has still not arrived back at the inn.
I thought we might drive by the D&P Enterprise office building. Harry Turner, rather
reluctantly, it seemed to me, explained where the building was located. Sound okay
to you? We can head straight back to the inn, if you'd rather," Stone said.

"No, I'd like to see the building, and it'd be a good time to do it, while we're driving
a less conspicuous vehicle—one that doesn't stand out like my yellow Jeep or your
red Corvette."

"Yes, that's what I thought. This silver car blends in well. It seems to me as if
every other vehicle on the road these days is putrid or silver—"

"Putrid?"

"Excuse me, I meant pewter. It's beautiful, I'll admit, but it's become such a popular
color for vehicles, I'm getting sick of seeing it. Does the sign ahead say Executive
Drive? I can't read it from here."

I couldn't either, so I found my glasses in my fanny pack and slipped them on. I saw
the sign read Executive Drive just as Stone made a quick left turn onto the street.

"That building on the right says D&P Enterprises on its front," I said, pointing to
a modern, three-story chrome and glass structure. Stone slowed down and steered Tony's
Chevy into the nearly vacant parking lot. A white cardboard sign was tacked on the
front door of the building. Stone pulled the car up to the door and stepped out to
read the sign printed with a red magic marker. He re-entered the car, shivered dramatically,
and turned toward me.

"Chilly out there, isn't it?" he commented, placing his icy fingers against my neck.
He then pulled them back and began blowing on his hands to warm them. "The sign says
the business will be temporarily closed due to the unexpected death of Horatio Prescott.
Employees will be notified by phone when they're to return to work. Looking through
the glass doors, though, I saw a man who looked like Boris going out the back door
with a very large, bulging trash bag. I'm almost positive it was Boris, even though
I didn't see his blue Chrysler in the front parking lot. Now I'm going to sneak around
to the back of the building and see if I can see anything else."

I waited while Stone walked around to the back of the building. While he was gone,
I saw Boris pull around the building in his navy blue sedan. He drove out of the parking
lot without even glancing my way. Just a few seconds later I heard the trunk on Tony's
Chevy pop open behind me. I turned to look at Stone as he tossed a large trash sack
in the trunk and then jumped back into the car.

"I want to follow him. Which way did he turn?" he asked, gasping for breath. I pointed
south, and Stone drove out of the parking lot and turned in that direction. "Boy,
am I winded! Next time I buy a stationary bike I'm going to use it more than a half
dozen times before I sell it in a garage sale for five bucks."

"You used a stationary bike six times?" I asked. "I'm impressed. I can't remember
using mine more than twice. But I got ten bucks for it because it was still in 'like
new' condition. I hadn't even removed the original price sticker, yet."

"Yes, but did you dust yours for three years before you sold it?"

"No, I disposed of it quickly because I didn't want to be reminded of my vow to get
in shape and use it an hour a day, every day. It sat in the corner of the living room
and taunted me for just two months before I sold it."

"Good for you. I love a woman who can stand up to a piece of exercise equipment and
show it she's the boss."

I chuckled at his remark. It struck me at that moment I had laughed more in the few
months I'd known Stone than I'd laughed in the entire twenty years since my husband
Chester had died. Having a man in my life again was turning out to be good for me
in more ways than I'd anticipated. "What's in the bag, Stone? Any idea?"

"No, other than what appears to be a lot of shredded paper. Later we'll check out
the contents of the trash bag. He was sure intent on getting rid of it in the dumpster.
I could see by the look on his face he was convinced no one had seen him take that
bag out of the building. He's covering his butt for some reason—getting rid of a paper
trail or evidence of something. He's either guilty of murdering his business partner,
or concerned about white-collar crimes that might be uncovered in an all-out investigation.
That'd be my bet at this point."

We soon caught up with the dark blue Chrysler Concorde. Stone tried to stay several
cars behind Boris. We followed him for about twenty miles before he turned off into
the immense parking lot of the new horseracing facility. The racetrack had caused
a lot of controversy among local residents as it was being built. The newspapers had
been full of editorials for and against the new racetrack. Many of the town's citizens
thought all the new casinos in the Kansas City area were detrimental enough without
adding other outlets for gambling.

I had to agree the new gaming establishments could prove to be the downfall of many
people with a weakness for gambling. Not only an addicted gambler, but also almost
anyone under the right circumstances, could be enticed to bet their entire house payment
on a chance to win a large jackpot. And, like it or not, the odds are never in the
gambler's favor. On many occasions, even I had been known to donate more money than
I'd intended at the casinos. I had an unrequited love for the triple diamond slot
machines for several years. I finally got tired of losing all the money I took with
me.

"Hmm. I wonder what he's doing here," Stone said, bringing me out of my reverie on
the pitfalls of the area's casinos. "I'm going to go in there and see if I can learn
anything without being seen by Boris. If he spots me, I'll just walk up to the betting
cage and place a twenty dollar bet on the number three horse to win, nod at Boris
if I catch his eye, and leave. You stay in the car, out of the cold wind. I won't
be long. I'll leave the motor running and the heater on for you."

I would have liked to go with him, but I didn't really feel all that strong yet, so
I nodded and said, "Okay, take your time. And make it horse number one. I think having
the inside rail is a definite advantage in any horse race."

Stone looked at me in amazement and nodded. Then he reached into the back seat and
picked up a red K.C. Chiefs ball cap belonging to Tony, and put on a pair of sporty,
wrap-around, sunglasses lying on the dash. Stone never wore a hat, and I had to admit
just the addition of a ball cap and glasses made him difficult to recognize. The cap
hid his attractive silver hair and made him look a bit goofy.

I suppose it was no more than fifteen to twenty minutes later when Stone returned
to the car, although it seemed much longer. I'd almost dozed off when I heard Stone's
key in the door. He hopped in the car and flung the ball cap to the back seat. He
kept the sunglasses on as he shifted the car into reverse. He was unusually animated
and expectant. I knew he was becoming more and more intrigued with our sleuthing mission.
I was, too. It was more involved than I would've guessed at the beginning.

"What did you find out?" I asked, anxious to share in his excitement.

"Well, it appears that Boris has a gambling problem, and some significant unpaid gambling
debts. I was standing behind a concrete pillar when Boris walked out of the men's
restroom. A large, muscular guy who looked as if he could easily bend crowbars in
half with his bare hands immediately approached him. Neither one had a clue I was
standing behind the pillar and could hear their entire conversation. The big, burly
guy asked Boris if he had 'the money,' and Boris told him he didn't, but he would
have it within the week. Then the guy told him if he didn't have the money his boss
was owed by Saturday, Boris could look forward to having his face rearranged."

"Oh, my! I take it this big, muscular guy is a loan shark?"

"Well, he's a goon for the loan shark, anyway. Boris promised to have the money because
he had an inside tip on a bet he was about to make. He said Willie's White Lightning
was a shoe-in. The goon didn't look too impressed, but Boris was so emphatic about
it, I was almost tempted to bet a hundred bucks on Willie's White Lightning, myself.
After the goon walked away, Boris made a call on his cell phone and practically hissed
when he spoke into it. 'Where are those damn birds? I need the money, now!' I heard
him say into the phone."

"Damn birds?" I asked.

"That's what he said. Damn birds. I'm sure of it. Then Boris told Shorty, the caller,
he'd be in his room at the inn at six o'clock this evening awaiting a call, and if
Shorty didn't come through with some positive news about the birds, his ass was going
to be grass."

"And Boris would be the lawnmower, no doubt?"

"No doubt."

"I wonder who this Shorty guy is and what Boris meant by the 'damn birds.' What can
birds have to do with anything?" I asked.

"No way to tell."

"Maybe there is, Stone. If we can somehow get Boris's cell phone, we can check his
log of outgoing calls. See what phone number he called at about one o'clock today
and call it ourselves to see who answers. Or, if that doesn't work, we might be able
to do a cross-check on the computer to see who the phone number belongs to."

"Good idea, Lexie," Stone said. I smiled as he cleared his throat and continued, "For
someone who used to be opposed to the very idea of owning a cell phone, you seem to
be quite familiar with the things now."

"I've learned they really are very handy and useful, if not downright critical at
times. I love my new Nokia phone," I admitted. "I don't know how we all got by without
them for so long."

"Me either. I still need to look for a different phone carrier, though. One that gets
a stronger signal here in Rockdale than my current carrier. The service I used in
Myrtle Beach doesn't seem to fare well here in the Midwest. It seems like I'm on analog
roam most of the time."

"I'll bet that gets expensive in a hurry."

"Uh-huh, it sure does. Hey, are you hungry? While the investigators are at the inn
taking the last couple of statements, we could stop and get some lunch at the Corner
Cafe," Stone suggested.

"Yes, let's do. I'm starving. I was served a full breakfast at the hospital, but I
didn't recognize anything on my tray, so I hesitated to eat any of it. I drank the
coffee, of course—"

"Of course."

"—and ate one slice of cold, soggy toast."

* * *

When we finished eating our bowls of vegetable-beef soup with crackers, we left the
cafe and climbed back into Tony's car. Stone started the engine in order to turn on
the heater, and then dialed the inn on his cell phone. After numerous rings, Cornelius
Walker finally answered the phone.

"Hello, Cornelius, is Crystal there?" Stone asked.

"Yes, I'm sure she is. I just saw her a while ago," Cornelius said. From the passenger
seat I could plainly hear his nasal voice over the phone. "I'm not sure where the
delectable young angel in an apron is at the moment, however. Would you like me to
go find her for you? Tracking down beautiful women is my forte."

"No, no, that's fine, Cornelius," Stone said, laughing at Cornelius's remark. "Do
you know if Boris Dack has returned to the inn yet? He had expected to return around
eleven."

"I think he's just arriving now, as a matter of fact. I see a blue car pulling up
the drive. It looks like his Chrysler Concorde. Do you want me to go outside and bring
him to the phone?"

"No, that's not necessary. We'll be back to the inn shortly, anyway. Oh, but Cornelius,
you could do me a favor. I need you to tell Crystal we're going to be stopping at
the store to get some chicken, rice, and zucchini for tonight. Lexie will help Crystal
fry the chicken. Crystal expressed a concern this morning about what she was going
to prepare and serve for supper."

"Okay, fried chicken does sound good. I'll tell her as soon as I see her again," Cornelius
said.