Death Takes a Ride (The Cate Kinkaid Files Book #3): A Novel (16 page)

She nodded. “But you’re
kind
of
closed?”

“We are closed, I guess, although I’m not sure what’s going on. If you’re an investigator, you probably know more than I do.”

Not necessarily.

“Have you worked here long?” Cate asked.

“About a year. I’m here alone now. We didn’t get any paychecks last week, so Angie, she runs the office, took off to look for another job. My buddy Carter started job hunting too. But I hated to give up on this old gal.” He jerked a thumb
toward the unfinished hulk with huge fins. “So I thought I’d hang around for a while. How’s Kane doing?”

“Neither the hospital or police are releasing much information. Right now, I’m looking for more information about Mace Jackson, the man who shot him. He was from here in Salem.”

“I read the name in the newspaper. I’d never heard it before that.”

Cate pulled out a copy of the photo she’d enlarged with her computer. Erickson’s head jerked back at the sight of the obviously dead man sprawled on the floor, gaping wound in his chest.

“Sorry,” Cate said. “It’s the only photo I have available. Have you ever seen him?”

“Nope. Stranger to me.” Erickson handed the photo back. “Interesting job you have.” He smiled. “Most women just take pictures of flowers and dogs and kids.”

Cate returned the photo to her briefcase. “Do you know of any problems with customers? Someone who might have a grudge against H&B?”

Another nope before Erickson added, “Well, there was a guy a couple months ago whose wife was all perturbed about the paint job on their Lincoln. She said it was too pinkish. I ask you, how can a blue be pinkish?”

“How about former employees? Any hard feelings there?”

Erickson shook his head. “Guys come and go. This isn’t a big bucks kind of place to work. But I don’t remember anyone getting fired. Angie wasn’t mad. Neither was Carter. Though I guess we’re all shook up about the place closing. Puzzled too. It’s always seemed like business was good.”

“Did you find out about the closing before or after Mr. Blakely was shot?”

“Kane warned us a couple weeks ago it might happen. To give us a chance to look for other jobs, I guess. He isn’t the kind of guy who’d dump something like that on employees at the last minute. Mr. Halliday has started moving inventory down to Eugene this past week.”

“So you’ll definitely be out of a job.”

“Yeah. Though, like I said, we don’t seem to be getting paid anyway. It doesn’t affect me much, because I’m going back to school next quarter anyway. But I’m sure Kane was unhappy about it. He really loves tooling around in something hot looking.”

“Wearing his big cowboy hat?”

Seth smiled. “Yeah. He loves that ol’ hat too. And his dog.”

“Clancy.”

“Yeah, Clancy.”

“A friend of mine is taking care of him,” Cate said.

“I’m glad to hear that. We all liked Clancy. He always made rounds to say hello to everyone.” Now Seth sounded reminiscent, as if, whether he consciously realized it or not, he figured Kane and Clancy wouldn’t be back.

“So you don’t think Mr. Blakely wanted to close?”

“I think it was the other guy, Halliday, the partner down in Eugene, who said they had to do it. I’ve never met him.” The statement, either unconsciously or with deliberate subtlety, lined Seth’s own feelings up on Kane’s side of any conflicts between the two partners.

“You like Kane?”

“Sure, Kane’s a great guy. He works here in the shop right along with us. He’s better at the promoting stuff, though, a great glad-hander. But I don’t mean that in a bad way,” Seth added hastily. “Lots of times he has pizza or sub sandwiches delivered to the guys working in the shop.”

“Can you think of any reason someone would want him dead?”

“
Want
him dead?” Erickson repeated, a touch of alarm in his voice. “I understood that guy just busted in and tried to rob the place.”

“There may be more to it than a robbery attempt.” Cate pulled out one of the copies she’d made of Halliday’s anonymous letter.

“Wow! Sounds like someone has a killer grudge about something, doesn’t it? Has Halliday gone into hiding?”

“No. He just put me on the case to find out who’s behind this and what they have against H&B. Hopefully I can come up with an answer before they get to him.”

“It doesn’t necessarily have to be a customer or employee, does it?”

“Do you have something in mind?”

“Hey, no.” Erickson’s feet shuffled and he lifted his hands, palms out. “Not me! I don’t know Kane outside of working for him here.”

Cate gave that hasty denial and the alarmed look in Erickson’s clear blue eyes a quick evaluation. “But you know something.”

He took a step backward. “Well, uh . . . Look, I don’t want to say anything that will make Kane look bad or make waves for him or anything.”

“We need to know everything we can to protect Mr. Halliday from whoever is behind this.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with H&B or Halliday, but I was over on the coast for a weekend a while back. I’m no gambler, but a friend and I wanted to see an Elvis impersonator at a casino. He was supposed to be really good. Anyway, I just happened to spot Kane at a poker table, and he was betting. Betting
big
.”

“Winning or losing?”

“I didn’t watch that long, but I know my nerves would have sizzled like a bug on a burner if I were betting that kind of money. One other time he came in on a Monday morning and handed everyone a fifty-dollar bill. Someone asked how come, and he said he’d had a great weekend and wanted to share his good fortune.”

Maybe Kane had found a stray sack of fifty-dollar bills or gotten a big income tax refund, but this sounded to Cate like a successful gambling weekend. Seth apparently interpreted it that way too.

“Do the casinos allow unlimited bets?” Cate asked.

“There are table limits, I think. But if Kane is really into gambling, he might be doing it outside the legal casinos. I hear those gambling syndicate guys can be pretty hard-nosed if someone runs up a gambling debt and doesn’t pay off. The kind of guys who’ll take you for a one-way boat ride down the river.”

“But why would they be after the other partner too?” Cate asked.

“I don’t think they care who they collect from. Just so they get their money. But look, like I said, I don’t want this to be anything against Kane. He’s a great guy.”

Cate nodded, a little stunned by this new information. This lined up with what Candy had said about Kane spending weekends over on the coast without her. She’d suspected another woman—but maybe gambling, not other women, was Kane’s weakness.

Kane’s involvement in some big-time, illegal gambling would explain his rush need for that $30,000 he was borrowing from Halliday. And apparently he’d specified he needed it in cash.

Did Halliday know about his partner’s gambling and where this loan was headed? Boring, solid citizen Halliday would surely disapprove of his money going to pay off a gambling debt. But, out of loyalty to his partner and perhaps fear of the consequences for Kane if he didn’t pay up, Halliday would probably provide the money even if he knew and disapproved. So why was Kane shot if he was planning to pay up? Could the debt have been much larger than $30,000, and that amount was just a down payment? Which didn’t impress a hard-nosed gambling syndicate? Killing Kane in a robbery would have netted them $30,000 and sent a powerful message to other “customers” about what happened to gamblers who didn’t pay up.

“I appreciate knowing this,” Cate said. “You have my card. If you think of anything else, would you give me a call?”

“You’ll be here in Salem?”

“I may stay overnight.” After a moment’s hesitation, she added, “I’ll put my cell phone number on the card, in case you think of something I should investigate while I’m here.”

He handed her the card back, and she scribbled the number on it. She didn’t usually give out her cell phone number.

“Thanks.” He looked at the card and then tucked it in a pocket of his coveralls. “I sure hope Kane comes out of this okay. Mr. Halliday too, of course.”

“A couple more things. Do you know Kane’s ex-wife, Candy?”

“I don’t know her personally, but she’s been around a few times. She and Kane got into some screaming battles right there in the office.” Seth put his hands over his ears, as if the memory were a noisy one. “We could hear her clear out here in the shop.”

“Arguing about money?”

He grinned. “How’d you know? You must be a great private investigator.”

“Lucky guess. It’s what exes usually argue about.”

“I don’t have one, so I’ll take your word for it.”

“Do you know where I can reach the woman who worked in the office?”

“Angie said she was going up to Seattle to stay with a cousin and see if she could find a job there. I don’t know how you’d get in touch with her.”

One of those all-too-familiar dead ends. “Okay, thanks.”

“I’ll call if I think of anything.”

18

Cate used her cell phone for directions to Candy’s address and was headed that way when the phone jingled its guitar riff. She peeked at the caller identification and pulled into a McDonald’s parking lot to answer.

“Hey, Mitch. You got my message?”

“That you were heading up to Salem? Yes.” He didn’t voice disapproval, but his tone equated this with an announcement that she was poised for a leap into a vat of boiling oil. “You’re in Salem now?”

Cate briefly explained about Halliday’s anonymous message and how she was here to try to find out more about who may have been in with, or behind, Mace Jackson on the shooting. And also what she’d unexpectedly learned from Seth Erickson about Kane’s possible involvement with a gambling debt.

“You plan to just drop in on some illegal gambling operation and start asking questions?” Mitch’s question was dry but not without snarkiness.

“My plans were a little more mundane. Your idea sounds much more exciting. Could I get into their inner circle by placing a bet? I could probably come up with $1.98. Maybe even $2.98.”

“Cate—”

“Although I’m not sure how to locate a gambling syndicate. Is there an ‘illegal gambling’ section in the yellow pages? Or do I find a sleazy bar and whisper, ‘Hey, buddy, you know where I can find some action on the races?’”

A small noise sounded like teeth grinding. Cate expected at least a mini-lecture from Mitch, both for her being here and for not treating the situation more seriously, but instead he said, “I think you’re kidding . . . aren’t you?”

Cate considered that for a moment. “Probably. Anyway, at the moment, I’m on my way to see Kane’s ex-wife.”

“I wish I were there to help.”

The first words that came to Cate’s mind were a snappish,
I don
’t need a caretaker or a babysitter
. Then she surprised herself by thinking about Mitch a moment more and agreeing with him. If he were here, he
would
help. “I wish you were here too.”

Moment of silence while they both digested that exchange.

“Are you thinking the ex-wife knows more about the guy who shot her ex-husband than she’s letting on?” Mitch asked.

“That, and I also want to talk to her about Kane’s gambling.”

“This isn’t any connection with the ex-wife or gambling, but didn’t you say earlier that you’d seen something in a newspaper article about Mace Jackson winning something in a bicycle race?” Mitch asked.

“I didn’t find much on the internet about him, but I did find that.”

“How about checking with bicycle shops, some places where they might be familiar with bicycle events and who participates?”

“That hadn’t occurred to me,” Cate admitted. She also had to admit, “It’s a good idea. I’ll check it out. Thanks.”

“Your message said you might stay overnight?”

“Yeah, and now that you’ve suggested the bicycle shops thing, I’m sure I will.”

“Me and my bright ideas,” Mitch muttered.

“You think of things I don’t. I appreciate that.”

“If you’re not going to be around, I’ll take Clancy over to Alton Baker Park after work for a run. So talk to me again later, okay? And be careful. Watch your back. Call me if you need anything.”

“Like you could zoom in and do a white-knight rescue from seventy or eighty miles away?” she teased.

“A trifling obstacle for a knight on a Purple Rocket,” he assured her. “We specialize in zooming.”

Yeah, killer mortgage payments, Cate decided when she saw Candy’s house. Not a mogul mansion, but definitely not a cookie-cutter tract house. One of those bulky places with complicated roof lines, enough square footage for a Brady Bunch family, and garage space for anything up to and including an eighteen-wheeler. Maybe your average UFO as well. All on a professionally landscaped, oversized lot. No seven-foot walls with electronically controlled gate to keep unwanted visitors out, however.

Cate parked at the curb and walked up to the main entrance. With volatile Candy, Cate braced herself for anything from earring attack to stomping by high-heeled boot.

A Herculean-sized brass knocker was centered on the door, but it didn’t look as if it were actually meant to be used. She punched the doorbell off to the side of the door. No answer. A couple more punches with the same result. Had Candy gone back down to Eugene? Maybe. Cate checked her watch.
But she could be here in town, just not yet home from her job with the husband/senator candidate.

Now she felt let down. She’d primed herself to be sweet and friendly or confrontational, whatever the situation called for, and all she had to work with was a closed door.

Okay, no big deal. She’d hit some bicycle shops now and come back later.

It was almost 6:00 when Cate parked in front of Candy Blakely’s house again. Visiting three bicycle shops had been a big bust. No one knew anything about Mace Jackson.

This might be a big bust too, she decided wearily. No Lexus stood in the driveway. Although, hopefully, that might only mean Candy had put the car in the oversized cave of a garage. Cate started to get out of the car, then decided to check email with her phone first.

Halliday had sent the list of unhappy clients. It did not look particularly helpful. A man who thought H&B did an unsatisfactory job with his upholstery. A couple who split up during the restoration of their 1961 Cadillac and dragged H&B into the battle over who got the car. Another mention about the man who objected to the charge for restoring his LaSalle. Nothing on any problems with customers here in Salem.

Cate tucked the phone in her purse, but she hesitated a moment before opening the car door. She really did wish Mitch were here. But he wasn’t, and if the Computer Dudes sale went through, he might be off to who knew where, out of her life forever.

Okay, Ms. Almost-fully-licensed-PI
, just get on with it. Candy couldn’t do any more than slam the door in her face. Hopefully.

She gave the doorbell a brisk punch, and it jerked open a moment later.

The ex-wife gave her an unfriendly appraisal. “Well, if it isn’t the hotshot assistant private investigator, all bright and perky. Did Matt send you all the way up here to harass me?”

Candy was still wearing what Cate assumed she’d worn to work that day, a navy blue suit with a nipped waist that emphasized her curvy figure. Her gold-spiral earrings ended in a point sharp enough to drill through concrete. Was there a jewelry shop that specialized in lethal earrings, and Candy was their best customer? But her feet were bare, the toenails a delicate pink, not some flamboyant color Cate would have expected. Candy saw Cate eying them.

“So I have a bunion problem,” she said with a hint of what’s-it-to-you challenge.

Cate started to say “My grandma had bunions” but snapped off the words before they escaped. Candy would probably not appreciate being equated with Cate’s grandma.

“What do you want?” Candy demanded. “Why are you here? You are working for Matt, aren’t you?”

Working for
Matt
obviously being on a level with door-to-door salesman of sleazy magazines.

Cate pulled out a copy of the threatening letter Halliday had received and handed it to her. “It appears the person who shot Kane wasn’t working alone. And that person is after Mr. Halliday now. Is it you?”

She didn’t expect a sudden confession, but she thought the blunt question might startle Candy into some giveaway reaction. No such luck.

“I wouldn’t mind swatting Matt with a two-by-four,” Candy said. “But if I were going to do it, I wouldn’t send him a warning notice.”

Candy’s grumpy statement echoed Cate’s own earlier thoughts. Candy was shifting back and forth on her feet now. Nervous? Or maybe that bunion really hurt.

Candy handed the letter back. “And if I did send a threatening letter, I’d certainly do a better job with the spelling and punctuation than this person did.”

“You sound as if you’re even more unhappy with Mr. Halliday than usual,” Cate suggested cautiously.

“Yes, I am. Well, no, not really,” Candy corrected. Her shoulders lifted and drooped. “I guess it’s not Matt’s fault. What I mean is, well, I feel kind of, oh, guilty, I guess, saying anything nasty about Kane, the condition he’s in and all. I’d rather be mad at Matt. But Kane lied to me!”

Cate wanted to ask “About what?” but she murmured a less intrusive, “That’s too bad,” instead.

“Oh, you might as well come in,” Candy muttered. “I could use some company, even yours. It’s my own fault, I suppose, for not checking a long time ago.”

Candy headed back into the foyer. She left the door open but didn’t look back to see if Cate followed.

It wasn’t exactly a warm welcome, but Cate had already decided that, for a PI, anything other than a door slam in the face worked as an invitation.