The Lady Who Sang High: A Reed Ferguson Mystery (A Private Investigator Mystery Series - Crime Suspense Thriller Book 7) (11 page)

I headed through the back room, the fans humming their usual monotonous song. As I passed through the entryway into the front room, I ran pell-mell into Heath Zimmerman.

“Holy shit,” I blurted.

“Whoa, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Heath said as he grabbed my arm to keep me from falling.

What was he doing here?
I slowly let out a breath. An unexpected investor, twice in one day. Like Cal, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

“What’re you doing here?” I asked. “I didn’t think you worked on Sundays.”

If he was surprised I knew his schedule, he didn’t show it.

“Since Jude isn’t here, I thought I’d check on things,” he said. “Jodie has her hands full.”

“I see.” I wondered why, if he wanted to be so helpful, he didn’t tell Jodie that he was coming in.

He reached out and touched a leaf. “Have you ever seen anything so wonderful?”

Since I didn’t smoke it, all kinds of other things ran through my mind. A good beer, for instance. And Willie. I thought she was pretty darned wonderful.

“This is going to make me a lot of money,” he said, more to himself than me. “If I can figure out what Jude was doing…” He stopped, realizing I was there. “How have your first few days been?”

“Eventful.” Which was not a lie.

“Yeah, it must be hard to be thrust into all this, and then with Jude…” The faraway look returned. “I still can’t believe he’s gone.”

“Yeah, it’s awful.”

He smiled grimly. “I’ll let you get back to work.” He continued into the back room and disappeared.

I shook off my nerves and headed through the front room. What was that comment about Jude? Did he know about the experiments, too? I was almost a point where the question was: Who didn’t know? As I got to the end of a row, I saw Pete standing in the doorway to the lab.

“Taking a break,” he said when I looked at him. He was mellow, and if I didn’t know better, I’d assume he was stoned.

“Is Carlo in today?”

He shook his head. “Called in sick.”

“Huh.”

“You ever been in the lab?”

“Are you crazy?” I said. “You saw Carlo the other day. He freaked out even when I looked inside.”

Pete twisted his lips in disgust. “He takes his job a little too seriously. Come on in.”

And so, Pete showed me around, explaining some of the equipment.

“What exactly are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m working on creating some new strains.” He pointed at some plants in small pots under powerful lights. “If we can cross strains, we can produce a different kind of high.”

“How do you know the difference?” I was genuinely curious. “I mean, does one person test all the different kinds and report on the effects?”

His face lacked any affect. “Yeah, I guess. Well, different people test it.”

I wanted to ask about control groups and such, but I wondered if it would confuse him. It shouldn’t, if he was a chemist, but given his demeanor… I saw a Ziploc bag on the table. “What’s that?”

“Wes gave it to me. He brings in stuff every once in a while and has me test it.”

“For what?”

“Growth patterns, potency, stuff like that.”

“Find anything unusual?”

He shrugged. “Not really. It’s kind of a waste of time, you ask me, but he’s an investor, so I do it.”

“Did Jude know about what Wes was doing?”

“I never said anything. Figured it didn’t matter.” He paused. “You think I should’ve?”

“It’s no big deal. I was just wondering.”

He sat down and I took that as my dismissal.

“Thanks for showing me around,” I said.

“Yeah, better not tell anyone I did.”

“Okay, no problem.”

I left him to his work and headed upstairs. I knocked on Jodie’s door.

“Come in,” she called.

“Cal’s finished,” I said. “My break’s almost over, but I’ll need to talk to him.”

She nodded. “I’ll call downstairs and tell them when they see you to send you up, that I’ve got more to show you in the back.”

“Perfect.” I hurried back downstairs and into the store.

“Jodie wants to see you,” Bill said.

I feigned surprised. “Oh, okay.”

Ivy cocked an eyebrow at me. “More training.”

“That’s good,” I said. “It’s interesting.”

I hadn’t thought of it, but I hoped she would think that I might get access to Jude’s notes while Jodie was training me. The more she thought I was conspiring with her to get the notes for the new process, the better. I ran back upstairs, feeling I was getting my allotment of exercise going up and down those stairs. Wes and Heath’s doors were closed, so I went straight to Jude’s office. Jodie was standing behind Cal, looking over his shoulder.

“His password was random, but I was able to get around it,” Cal was explaining.

“How?” she asked.

“Don’t ask,” I said. “I’m sure it was complicated.” Cal had a tendency to launch into long explanations of things, and I wanted to avoid one of those now.

He snickered. “Reed’s just jealous he can’t do it.”

“No, I just prefer the more exciting stuff,” I said.

She glanced between us. “I think I’ll ignore whatever’s going on between you two.”

“Good idea.” Cal pointed at the monitor. “There’s a whole folder with Jude’s notes.”

Jodie tapped him on the shoulder. “Let me drive.”

He got up and she took his place. She navigated through various Windows folders, opening documents, scanning through them, then closing them and moving on to other ones. The whole time she sung quietly to herself. A number of agonizing minutes later, she turned to us.

“Something’s missing.”

I stepped forward and stared at the monitor. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.” She tapped the screen. “Jude told me he had a document that had everything in it. It’s not here.”

“You’re sure?” I repeated.

“Yes. I’ve been through all the files. It’s not here.”

“What was the name of the document?” Cal asked.

“Investment notes,” she said. “He chose a name that didn’t relate to marijuana or strains, something that if, God forbid, someone hacked into the computer,” she glanced at Cal, “the name wouldn’t mean anything and it would get skipped over. It’s not here.”

“What do you think Jude did with it?” I asked.

“How should I know?” She sighed heavily. “Why would he take it off the computer?”

“The likely answer is, once you guys knew you had the new process perfected, he figured someone might steal it, so he moved it,” I said. “But where?”

She put her face in her hands and choked back a sob. “What will I do if we can’t find it? I can’t remember it down to the last detail; I only remember the big points.”

“I might be able to recover it somewhere on the hard drive,” Cal said. “But it would take some time.”

“How long?” I asked.

He pursed his lips. “A few days, at least. Maybe more.”

“We don’t have that kind of time,” I said. I started pacing. “If Jude moved it, he’d put it somewhere safe, where only he has access to it.”

Jodie looked up. “Did he email it to himself and then delete it off the computer?”

Cal shook his head. “If he was smart, and I’m sure he was, he wouldn’t risk it. The email trail would be too easy to find and then someone’s got the document with the process notes.”

I stopped and looked at them. “Maybe he put it on a USB drive.”

“That makes the most sense,” Cal agreed. “So now you just have to find it.”

“Sure, no problem,” Jodie said, not holding back her sarcasm. “
If
that’s what he did, it could be anywhere.”

“Hold on.” I held up a hand. “One thing at a time. If we assume the new process notes are on a USB drive, can we assume that whoever killed Jude has the drive?”

“If he had it with him,” Cal said.

“But,” I continued, “someone was here and attacked me and took the shed key, then ransacked it, looking for something.”

“The USB drive.” This from Jodie.

“Or whatever he used to store the process notes on,” Cal said.

“What if he printed it out and there’s a hard copy, but he deleted the copy from the computer?” Jodie asked.

“Look in the recycle bin,” Cal instructed.

“He’d empty it,” I said.

“Maybe not. People sometimes either don’t know to clear it out, or they forget.” Cal watched as Jodie opened the recycle bin. “Darn, it’s empty.”

“Then it’s somewhere on the hard drive, right?” I said. “You could recover it.”

“Again, maybe.” He shrugged.

I thought for a moment. “Ivy had some printed pages in her purse.”

Jodie jerked her around and stared at me. “How do you know that?”

“Don’t ask,” Cal said, mimicking me. “I’m sure it was
complicated
.”

I deflected the question, and his mocking tone. “It’s all part of detecting. The point is, she might have a hard copy of the process notes.”

“You don’t know for sure?” she asked.

I felt my face getting hot. “I ran out of time.”

“If she does have the notes, they wouldn’t mean anything to her.”

“She was a chemistry major.” I began listing all the reasons why the notes
could
have meaning for Ivy. “She’s been doing her own research. She’s putting pieces together. And she wants me to help her, remember?”

“But why would Ivy kill Jude if she didn’t get the notes?” Cal asked.

“Maybe she was blackmailing Jude to make him give her the new process, and he double-crossed her and didn’t give her the correct process,” I said. “And she got mad and killed him. Who knows?”

“Oh, that bitch,” Jodie said.

I looked at her. “Can you get me Ivy’s address?”

“Sure, it’s in her employee file. Why?”

“I’m going to pay her a visit and see if she’s got notes on the new process.” And if she had a gun hidden somewhere. One that was used recently.

“She won’t just tell you,” Jodie said.

I smiled. “I’ve got another idea.”

“What?”

“It’s best you don’t know.”

She shrugged. “Okay, I’ll get her address.” She got up and left.

I looked at Cal. “I’m going to need your help again.”

“Nooo,” he groaned.

“We’re going to break into Ivy’s apartment,” I said to Cal.

“We?” He did not look happy.

“Yes, at least we’re going to try.”

He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, “what, pray tell, do you need me there for?”

“You’re going to be my lookout,” I said. “Don’t worry, you won’t be in any danger.”

“Where have I heard that before?” he muttered.

“I have to work here until eight. Meet me at my place at a quarter after. Willie’s at work, so let yourself in. You’ve got the key I gave you, right?” He nodded. “Good,” I continued. “I want to change clothes and then we’ll drive over to Ivy’s together.”

“What’re you going to do if she’s home?”

“She won’t be. She’s off tomorrow so she’s going dancing with some friends tonight.”

“Oh.” The look of disappointment on his face was priceless.

Jodie returned and handed me a piece of paper. “Here’s Ivy’s address.”

“You don’t know anything about this,” I said as I pocketed it.

She eyed Cal, then me. “Are you finished here?”

“Yes,” I said. “We’ve got to get Cal out of here.”

“I’ll go down first and make sure no one’s on a smoke break,” Jodie said. “If it’s clear, I’ll text you. Heath and Wes both left, so you shouldn’t have to worry about them.”

“Right,” Cal said. The cynicism in his voice was clear.

Fortunately, this time we were able to sneak Cal out without a problem. We parted at the back door, with him reluctantly agreeing to be at my place a little after eight. He snuck down the alley and was gone.

I spent the rest of the day helping stock product and learning more about marijuana strains and their affects, and my shift finally ended. When I got home, Cal was sitting on the couch in the living room, his feet propped on the coffee table, a laptop resting on his knees. A half-eaten pizza, still in the box, sat on the coffee table, along with two Coke cans. Crusts were strewn on the table, along with a couple of crumpled napkins. The TV played an old sitcom, but he wasn’t watching it. For a moment, I thought I’d walked into his place instead of mine.

“Hey, you want to live like a slob, do it in your own house,” I said as I swiped at his feet. “Willie’s on me about how dirty this place is.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” He set down the laptop, glanced around the room, then focused on me. “It’s not dirty.”

“That’s what I said.” I sighed. “But I lost that debate and I’m going to have to clean.”

He laughed for a second, but then quickly grew serious. “What’s the plan?”

“You clean up this stuff while I change,” I said as I headed down the hall to the bedroom.

He grumbled at me, but I have to give him credit. When I came back in the living room, it was as if he’d never been there.

He nodded toward the kitchen. “I put the pizza in the ’frig. You can have it later.”

“Thanks,” I said.

I returned in my black jeans, a black tee shirt, and black socks and shoes.

He eyed my outfit. “Going with the Navy Seal look, huh? Too bad it’s too hot for your little knit cap. The look would be complete.”

“Yeah,” I said. “But I don’t want to get spotted.”

“What about your gun?”

I’d been reluctant to carry a gun, but after my first case, when I’d been shot in the ass, I’d broken down and bought a Glock. It took a couple more cases before I actually did more than shoot it at the firing range. Now I even remembered to take it with me.

I surveyed myself. “It’s too hot to wear a coat, and I don’t have an ankle holster. And, I sure don’t want to draw attention to myself with a shoulder holster.”

“And you don’t look obvious now?” he said, giving my outfit the eye again.

“Black is in,” I shot back. “Besides, what kind of trouble can I get into? It’s Ivy.”

He tipped his head sardonically. “Who might’ve shot Jude.”

“Good point.” I was still resisting, preferring TV detective Jim Rockford’s reason for not carrying a gun: “Because I don’t want to shoot anybody.” On the being-like-Bogie coolness scale, I was failing. He’d carry a gun out in the open, daring anyone to try and stop him. “Oh hell.”

“What?” he asked.

“Now that I think about it, I need a place to carry my tools.”

“Tools?”

“Lock-picking set and a flashlight.”

“So you might as well get your gun.”

“Smartass,” I said. But I retrieved those items from my office, put on the holster and slipped the Glock into it. I put on my coat and stuffed the lock-picking set and the flashlight in the pockets, and then said, “Let’s go.”

We stomped down the stairs and I headed for the street.

“Isn’t your car in the garage?” he asked. Then he paused. “Oh, never mind.”

My garage, and my 4-Runner, had both been casualties on my last case. Thankfully, insurance was paying for a new garage and it was almost completed. In the meantime, I had a brand new 4-Runner parked in front of my building.

“This sure is a nice car,” Cal said as he got in the passenger side.

I’d heard that from him before. “You could dump that piece of crap you drive.”

“I like that piece of crap,” he retorted. It was true. I’m pretty sure Cal could afford any car he wanted, but like his home office, which was cluttered and rarely clean, he preferred an old and messy car. And he was used to my friendly chiding.

Ivy lived in an older apartment building on Race Street and 17
th
Avenue. It didn’t take us long to get there, and by then, the sky was black, the moon barely making its appearance on the eastern horizon.

I drove slowly down Race and we surveyed the building. It was four stories, red brick, with a glass front door that led to a hallway with entrances to each unit. Each apartment had a small balcony with barely enough room for a couple of chairs. Once past the building, I headed to the corner and around to the alley. I slowed as we past the back side of the building. Patios dotted this side as well – why I didn’t know –they only had a view of other apartment buildings and the green Dumpsters scattered up and down the alley. I returned to Race and pulled up near the building.

“The only parking is on the street,” I said. “You wait here. If Ivy comes back, text me.”

“And if she didn’t go out?”

I grinned. “Then good news for you. We’ll wait to see if she goes out later.”

He wasn’t amused. He jabbed a finger at his window, pointing at the building. “What if that front door is locked?”

“It shouldn’t be too hard to pick.” I patted my coat pocket with the lock-picking set. “You taught me well.” On one of my jobs a couple of years ago, I had talked Cal into helping me break into a house. True to his nature, he hadn’t been thrilled about being put in direct danger, so he’d taught me how to use pick locks so he wouldn’t have to assist with that task again. Where Cal had picked up this little handyman skill, I had no idea, but it certainly had been useful for me.

He glanced at me nervously. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Cal, you
always
have a bad feeling about it,” I said. “Relax. It’ll be fine.”

Famous last words.