Sticks & Stones (A Hollis Morgan Mystery) (23 page)

M
orton Photography opened at ten a.m. on Wednesdays. Hollis intended to be there shortly thereafter. This time, if she were right, Joe Morton would identify Cathy’s and Gail’s murderer. She wondered briefly if she should contact Cavanaugh with her suspicions, but just as quickly she discarded the idea. He wouldn’t appreciate how she got the dots to connect. Afterward, if she found the proof, he would be the first to know. She’d learned her lesson about interfering with police work.

When Hollis left Stephanie that morning
, she was happily talking to her family on Skype. She had to make a quick stop at her condo before going to see Joe; she had left her cellphone there the evening before. It was definitely time to return home.

The doorbell rang.

It was her neighbor, dressed in cycling gear, helmet in hand. Hollis thought her name was Donna, or Lana? Something ending in an “
uh.” Maybe Tanya?

“Hi, I’m Christy. I live across the street. I accidently got your mail, but I’ve been out of town for the past two weeks and didn’t pick up my mail until today. Hopefully it’s not anything important.”

The young woman handed her two envelopes and a postal attempted-delivery slip. Hollis glanced through the material quickly.

“Thank you. It’s just routine bills
.” She raised the slip. “And I guess I need to go to the post office.”

“Sorry.” Christy waved goodbye and took off at a modest trot.

Hollis called out a thank you and closed the door.

The post office was not far from the photography studio. Hollis glanced at the clock
. First, the quick stop at her condo to pick up her cellphone. After seeing Joe, she’d stop by the post office. If he could identify the pictures, she wouldn’t have to depend on the thumb drive.

Joe was late opening the studio.

Hollis
kept a lid on her irritation while she waited, gazing out the car window to pass the time. It was one of her favorite weather days—foggy, cool and silent. She had been so intent on solving Cathy’s clues, she had almost neglected to notice her favorite weather. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. A noise caught her attention; Joe was opening the studio door.

He turned on the lights
as she entered, the bells tinkling over her head.

“Hey, what’s up?”
he called from behind the counter.

“Hi Joe, I have those pictures
for you to look at,” Hollis said. “I’d like to see if you can recognize them as the men you saw that day in front of the Remington Building.”

He beckoned
for her to sit. “Sure, give me a minute. I’m on my own. Amber isn’t coming in today.”

He opened blinds and turned on lights. Finally he sat next to Hollis on a counter stool.

“Okay, let’s have a look.” He pushed aside a stack of digital card readers spread out on a work table behind the counter and turned on a desk lamp.

Hollis pushed a folder and let its contents slide out onto the table.

There were three pictures, two from magazine articles and a third from an annual report.

He examined one. “I don’t know, maybe
.” Joe took a closer look then put it aside.

“Just take your time.”
Realizing that she was holding her breath, she took the one back.

He picked up the second article. “Yeah, now
this
guy looks familiar. It’s been a while, but I think he’s one of them. Wait.” Joe slipped on his eye glasses. “Yeah, I remember seeing them together on those steps. Let me see the first one again.”

Hollis passed it back.

Joe smiled with accomplishment. “Until I saw the second guy, the first one didn’t catch my attention.”

Hollis looked down at the picture and was ready to leap for joy. “Joe, I think I love you.”

He turned a warm red. “I think you need to get to know me first.” Joe lifted his glasses. “Let me see the book.”

“It’s an annual report.” She turned to the page where she had placed the Post-it. “Was he the third man?”

Joe Morton squinted at the picture. “No, no he wasn’t one of the three.”

The disappointment hit Hollis hard. She hadn’t realized how much she was counting on Joe’s
ID.

“He came later.”

Her head snapped up from the report. “Later?”

“Yeah, I told you that Cathy wanted me to take pictures of everyone who came out
of the building over a half-hour period. Well, this dude came out about ten minutes after the other three had left.” Joe took off his glasses. “I remember, ’cause he’s a sharp dresser. I recognize the suspenders. He had them on that day, too.”

Harold Roemer, Arlo Mueller and
—surprise of surprises—Mr. Suspenders, Carl Devi.

“Thanks, Joe. You have made my life a whole lot easier.”

“Good, I hope I’ve helped you find Cathy’s killer,” Joe said. “Er … maybe you can come by sometime when you’re in the neighborhood and just say hello.” He smiled shyly.

Hollis smiled back. “I’ll do that.”

The postal clerk handed her a small brown padded envelope with no return address
and a noticeable lump in the middle. Hollis’ heart started to pound. In the parking lot, she tore into the package. Her hopes were confirmed.

Yes!
It was Gail’s thumb drive.

She was still waiting for her home insurance to replace her laptop
, so she would have to use her firm’s computer. She almost ran to her office.

“Hey, Hollis, you too
, huh?” One of the associate attorneys was leaving the coffee room when she entered. “All the big guys are in a management briefing. The associates are in computer training. So far there are just us paralegals here today.”

R
ushing toward the hallway, Hollis called over her shoulder, “Misery loves company.”

She quickly booted up her computer and inserted the thumb drive.
In minutes she was able to view on the screen what appeared to be not an article, but detailed notes. She hit the print key.

Out came twenty-three pages of notes, comments
, and quotes. There was even a small spreadsheet calendar.

Finally
.

H
ollis tried to recall when she first had the idea to break into
Transformation’s
business files. She probably should have done it in the beginning. She made a quick stop at police headquarters and dropped off the thumb drive for Cavanaugh. She felt a little guilty, because she hadn’t told him to expect it. It might be a couple of days before he knew she had. She couldn’t deny that she wanted to be the one who discovered Cathy’s killer.

Now
, standing in the elevator, she was more than ready to get the proof she needed. The doors opened and she faced her first hurdle.

“Hi, Phillip.” She walked quickly past the reception desk. “I have some accounting files to return to Mr. Devi. I’ll just take them to the file room.”

She had interrupted his texting. Phillip frowned. “Uh, it’s late. I don’t think—”

“It’s okay, I know where it is.”

“But Mr. Devi’s out of the office.”

Hollis nodded. “I know.”

She was counting on it.

The file room was located next to the stairwell. Hollis actually did know where she was going. Once she had helped one of the secretaries with carrying a load of background information from the library, but it was the Accounting Section and not the file room where she was headed.

It took a few minutes to figure out how the files were categorized, but she knew she was on the right track when she finally spotted Harold Roemer’s file. But her moment of accomplishment was dashed when it only contained the same article she found in Cathy’s condo. Her fingers moved down the row to Arlo Mueller. His file was empty.

She hit her fist against the flat panel at the end of the shelf. If
Transformation
’s files had been purged, she was going to have a difficult time convincing Cavanaugh of her hunch. And she had to admit all she had was a hunch.

She put everything back as she found it.

Hollis gave Phillip a quick wave goodbye. Absorbed in a phone conversation, he barely nodded at her.

On the elevator ride to the parking garage she gathered her thoughts.
Transformation
had run stories about Roemer’s extortion for weeks. But nothing on Mueller, even though he was smack in the middle of the same scandal. His empty file didn’t make any sense, except if you read Cathy’s notes.

It had taken her a long time to figure out what Cathy’s files and notes really meant. Hollis realized that Cathy may not have figured it out for herself. It was unfortunate she hadn’t seen the true story before she wrote the article. She had been given the Fields’ story as a red herring—a decoy from the truth. Cathy
had been getting close—but not close enough—when she was murdered.

The elevator
doors opened. A flash of red distracted her so that when the blow came to the side of her head, the pain was sharp and deep.

And then she was falling.

The metal floor was cold and hard.

Hollis tried to open her eyes to see in the darkness, and then she realized that they
were
open. It was pitch black. She was no longer in the garage. Raising herself on one arm caused her head to swim. She waited for her head to settle and then sat up.

“Good, you’re awake.” The voice seemed to come from above and behind her.

She tried to turn around, but her vertigo wouldn’t allow it. She waited and then looked over her shoulder. The metal sides and floor reminded her of a trash dumpster. Her eyes were adjusting.

“Where am I?”

“Where no one will ever find you, Miss Morgan.”

The voice came from what appeared to be some kind of ledge or ramp
, high above her. It sounded like an echo on a speaker phone that bounced off the container walls, a container that looked to be in a basement.

Hollis stretched her legs and tried to stand.
The container rocked, throwing her off balance. She fell hard against the floor.

She shrieked.

“No, no! That’s not going to happen. There is no escape. You’re going to have to die. I tried to warn you off, but you wouldn’t listen.”

She tried to ignore the taste of fear that was creeping up into her throat.

“You can let me go. I didn’t see you. I don’t know what you look like. I don’t know who you are. Just go. You can leave here. I’ll count to one thousand and you can just go your own way.”

Hollis thought she heard him chuckle.
She was pretty sure the voice was a male.

“I’ll give you two choices. I will bury you where you sit and they will find your bones years from now. Or, if you cooperate
, I’ll bury you where they’ll find your body in a month or so. Either way you’re dead, but under the second option your friends and family won’t worry or stress for years.”

She tried to hold back the tears
, but his words were shaking her resolve.

“Why me?”

“You, as they say, know too much.”

Hollis mentally forced her heart to beat normally and
her breathing to slow. She had to buy time. Someone would start to look for her. Although at the moment she couldn’t think of any reason they would. She had checked out of the office, and Stephanie, who had gone back to work today, would probably be home resting.

No one would miss her.

“What is it that I know?”

“We’re not having a conversation, and I don’t have all evening. What’s it to be?”

Hollis took another deep breath. “I’ll cooperate.”

She could hear scrambling down stairs and a scraping of metal on metal. In the corner of the container a small door slid open.

“Crawl out backwards. I have a gun.” The voice, now familiar, sounded indifferent, as if ordering fast food.

In the deep darkness of the basement, her knees scraped against a concrete floor littered with debris. She blinked rapidly
, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the new shades of dark. Now clear of her metal box, she still had her back to her tormentor.

“You might as well let me face you
,” she said. “You let me hear your voice.” She braced and pulled herself up against what was her first guess—a dumpster.

“Sure, turn around and walk to that car at the end of the ramp.”

Hollis, still a little dizzy, turned to face Carl Devi. He looked grim.

“I can’t—”

“The car’s over there. Move.”

She had to stall. Hollis looked around with a deliberate slowness to find anything that would
increase her odds. She stumbled.

“Wait
, I have to—”

This time the blow slammed into her forehead
, and it was only a short distance to the floor.

When she came to, she was in the trunk of a car.

It wasn’t moving. There was only silence. Hollis’ hands and feet were wrapped in duct tape. Her mouth was taped and her head throbbed horribly. This time she couldn’t stop the tears.

She had to get out. She kicked at the trunk lid, but she couldn’t get leverage. She wasn’t strong enough. Devi must not be around. He had left her here. Was this where she was going to be found in a couple of months? Or was he coming back to drive the car into the bay? How long had she been here? If she could turn around onto her back, her legs would have more thrust. She would kick out the rear light.

“Hollis?”

She stopped squirming.

The male voice was a little above a whisper. “Hollis, are you in there?”

She tried to call out, but her mumbled words fell back into her mouth. She thrust her legs against the trunk roof.

“Okay, I
can hear you. I have to break into the car. It’s locked with an alarm system.” He moved away. “I’ll be back.”

Vince?

Hollis was frantic. She didn’t want him to leave. Supposing Devi came back? She tried to scream “no,” but she was met with silence again.

After
only a few minutes—which seemed like an hour—he was back.

“Hollis, I’m here. Move away from the edge of the trunk. I’m going to knock out the light and try to open the trunk from the inside with a metal bar.”

She did as she was told.

With a loud crack, glass splattered into the trunk. She could see a lighter shade of darkness. The metal bar shoved back and forth through the opening
, scraping the interior mechanism. Minutes passed. How long would Devi be away?

“Hollis
, can you see me?”

Her response was
muffled.

“That sounds like a yes. Look, we don’t have much time. I have to poke around inside to see if I can find the safety lock to pop the trunk. I don’t want to hurt you. Move back as far as you can.”

Hollis managed to scoot her legs a few inches.

“I can see you, Hollis; I can see your legs.” Vince talked while he struggled to angle the bar. “We’re going to get
you out of this. I saw this in a movie.”

She was glad he couldn’t hear her moan.

How long did they have before Devi returned? It all seemed like a nightmare. Vince was talking more to himself than to her. The incessant scraping of the bar seeking a possible latch was grating on her nerves.

This must be what
it’s like to go crazy.

Then the lid popped open.

“Hollis, I did it,” he yelled and put down the bar. “Here, let me take off the tape.”

She endured the pain of the slow pulling. It felt like she lost the first two layers of her skin.

Vince looked at her with dismay. “Don’t cry. I’m sorry.”

It was done.

She tried to lick her lips but she had no saliva.

She found a small voice. “Thank you.”

Vince was already starting on her legs.

“Good thing you wore pants. This won’t hurt nearly as much.” He ripped off the binding.

Hollis flexed her legs and scrambled out of the trunk.

“Hurry, Vince, we’ve got to get out of here.” She turned to let him pull the tape off her arms. “Just yank it off. It’ll be over sooner.”

In a few seconds her arms were free.

“What I wouldn’t give for some water.” She stood in the middle of what looked like the basement. “What time is it? Where are we?” Her voice cracked. “How did you get in here?”

“I followed you from the garage maybe a couple of hours ago.” He looked down. “I know you tol’ me not to follow you but I saw him hit you—”

Hollis held his shoulder. “Vince, forget that. Where are we?”

“It’s like some kinda second floor basement. There’s a car elevator that goes to this floor. We’re a floor below the main garage. I followed the way he came in and waited.” He paused. “I saw the gun.”

She realized he was
a scared kid and trying hard not to show it. Her head was throbbing again.

“Do you have a cellphone?”

He shook his head.

“Show me the elevator.”

She wobbled as she followed behind him. They had to move faster.

They were halfway across the floor when the sound of a cushion of air whooshed from the oversized eleva
tor and the doors rumbled open.

Carl Devi’s face blanched from surprise to anger in seconds. Hollis faced him. She could feel Vince’s presence behind her.

“Well, Ms. Morgan, if it wasn’t for your current circumstances, I’d say you lived a charmed life,” he said. “Who is this piece of waste?”

She tried to lick her lips. “Why did you kill Cathy, Carl? She never knew you were behind the fake Fields story.”

She shifted her weight on her weakened legs.

He snorted. “So you figured out it was me. You’re a very smart lady.”

Hollis tried to formulate a plan as she kept him talking. “No, I’m not that smart. I can just smell lies. It had to be you. Cathy’s story was a fraud. You fed her bad data, bad leads, and sent her to bad community groups. You even let the story leak to Bartlett ahead of time. You knew Dorian Fields couldn’t allow lies to get published. He would have to sue and that would stop Cathy.”

Devi glared at her.

She sensed rather than saw Vince’s slow movement shift of just a few inches.

Hollis continued. “You needed to distract her from the other story she was starting to get into. A story that would end
Transformation
—and you—for good, a story about how you were blackmailing your subjects under investigation. In exchange for not being named in your trashy tabloid,
Transformation
would always offer to settle for one amount, and you would get a kick-back. But where did you come up with all the money? How did you get insurance?”

“You
are
smart.” He looked behind her. “Don’t even think about it, kid.” He motioned for Vince to back away. Vince stopped with both hands behind his back.