[To Die For 01] - A View to Die For (2012) (25 page)

Megan gave me a weird look. We were kids checking out a two-headed snake the last time I saw her make a face like that. “Why did you need a credit card if it was free?”

“Oh, the lookup is free all right, but not the information. I sure do miss the good-old-days when the internet really was free. Now everyone wants to charge you for everything. Next thing you know, they will be watching with a webcam and charging you if you pick your nose.”

“So, we don’t know any more now than we did before Fred found the phone?”

“They did give me two names and addresses. They haven’t started to charge for information that can be found in a phone book. At least not yet. No doubt that is coming once they buy out the companies that print the phone books.”

She put down her glass and ran her hands through her hair. It was more of a grab-and-pull than a combing motion. “Are you going to tell me what you found, or do I have to listen to you gripe about your stupid internet all night?”

“One call to the Pig’s Roast and another to a Ferguson on Cedar Ridge Drive. According to the phone, they were both on May fifteenth.”

“Could you use my computer? It’s not a fancy laptop like you have, but the batteries never go dead.”

Before I could answer, we both heard her kitchen phone ring. “I better get that, it might be Kevin,” she said, and then left me on the deck to fetch the phone.

The phone must have woke Fred. The stress of my shouting match with my sister earlier had put him to sleep. It’s no wonder dogs don’t need psychiatrists; they sleep away their problems. He came out the door when Megan went in. He headed straight for the stairs without acknowledging me. I watched him go down to the first level then head for a tree while I listened to my sister’s conversation. “Yes, Mother. I’ll tell him. No, I have to wait for Kevin. He isn’t answering his phone either. Love you, too. Bye.”

I could see Megan through her patio door. She didn’t come back to the deck after hanging up the phone. She was walking in the other direction, toward the bathroom on the other side of her great room. It didn’t take me more than a minute or two to figure out what she and Fred were doing. That epiphany came when I realized I needed to go, too. I was tempted to do it off the deck, but I didn’t want to chance Megan coming back before I finished. So I did the civilized thing and went down the stairs to my lower-level bathroom. I needed to put my computer on its charger anyway.

When I came back up the stairs, both Fred and Megan were sitting at the deck table. “Mom said to tell you that she’s going to have to hire someone to clean up the trash in her garage if you don’t get your butt over there right now,” she said before I could even sit down. “Those were her words, not mine.”

“Megan, I can’t drive. I’ve had too much to drink. Besides, it’s too late. The dump won’t be open.”

She giggled and pointed to her empty wine bottle. “I ain’t exactly the poster girl for alcoholics amomonis either.” She tried her best to speak with a straight face. “But don’t worry, I told her the boys were out in Trailer’s fruck, and you wouldn’t be able to borrow it ‘til somorrow. So she’d have to wait unless she wanted to get her van ditty.” Then she broke out laughing.

I couldn’t help myself and started laughing as well. “I better sleep this off if I’m going to drive tomorrow. I’d ask Fred, but he’s had too much to drink, too.”

Megan must have thought that was the funniest line she had heard all day. I swear she was cackling as Fred and I took our leave.

Once I fell to sleep, I had the strangest dream. Now I know why ancient oracles would put themselves in a drug-induced trance before asking the gods for answers. The alcohol from too much beer did the same for me. I remembered who the Ferguson’s were.

The next morning, I woke at the crack of dawn with a headache and the stale taste of beer in my mouth. I wanted to go back to sleep, but as usual, Fred wanted out. I let him out, and I went to the bathroom. Brushing my teeth failed to get rid of the beer taste, so I went up to the kitchen to make some coffee. To my surprise, Megan was already at the table.

Her hair was a mess, and she had not yet put on any makeup. “Coffee’s almost done,” she said when saw me. “Thought I better get up when I heard your furry alarm go off. The boys came home last night, and I didn’t want you waking them to borrow the truck.”

“I must have slept right through it. I never heard them,” I answered as I went over to the dishwasher to retrieve two cups. My sister had a bad habit of using the dishwasher as a cupboard. She refused to put away the dishes after washing them. I filled two cups without waiting for the coffee maker to finish. I liked mine black. But I knew she would want cream and sugar for hers, so I retrieved them before sitting down.

“Thank you, Porky. You’ll make some lucky girl a nice husband someday.”

I gave her my imitation of a snarl. I learned to lift the corner of my upper lip the way Elvis did back in the day, but with me, it came out looking mean. “The truck can wait. I think I found another piece of the puzzle last night. I need to see who owns that cell phone. I do believe he murdered the Fergusons.”

“Who?” She gave me her blank look again.

“Remember the retired coin-dealer couple from Liberty?” I paused just long enough to build suspense. “Where the husband supposedly killed his wife because of her terminal cancer then shot himself. He called them from his phone just before he murdered them.”

“The husband called himself before he murdered his wife?”

“No. Not the husband. Don’t you follow me? The owner of the cell phone called to see if they were home. He must not have got an answer and got caught breaking into the old couple’s house. Then he shot them, and he made it look like murder-suicide.”

Megan got up and fetched the coffee pot. “You must still be a little sleepy,” she said while filling my cup. “That’s quite a dream.”

“I’m wide awake, Meg. But it was so real. It was like I was watching an old black-and-white movie. I could see him sneaking up to the house and lifting their sliding door off its tracks, just like yours. Then Ferguson catches him going through a desk – I guess he must have been in the home office by now – and Ferguson recognizes him. Ferguson has a gun in his hands – he must have brought it from his bedroom, you know how dreams are. Then the scene jumps to the burglar with the gun, standing over Ferguson. The wife comes into the room, and the burglar shoots her too.”

“Did you see his face?” she asked now that I had her focused on my story.

“No. Typical Alfred Hitchcock. The whole thing took place in near darkness.”

Megan put down her cup and got up from her chair. “I’ll call Mom and tell her Taylor’s truck broke down. We’ve got to see who owns that phone.”

* * *

I had expected Mother to be furious when she heard I wasn’t coming as planned. But she bought Megan’s story of the truck being out of commission and said she’d have Triple-A come over to fix it. Megan told her I was already working on it and should have it fixed in time to still make it to the dump. I had missed the conversation and got the news after I returned from the lower level with my computer.

“If you don’t feel like going, Jake, I suppose I can call her back with another story,” she said as we waited for the computer to boot.

The little hour-glass finally went away. Now I had to wait for a wireless connection. “It’s okay. I might as well get it over with before she disowns me,” I answered.

When the icon in the bottom tray showed three bars, I opened a browser and went straight to a pay-to-snoop reverse-lookup page. I entered the number belonging to the phone. Megan was now standing behind me, watching like a dealer at a blackjack table.

“Ronald Nixon?” I said a little too loudly. Fred raised his head and surveyed the room to see what all the excitement was about. He had been lying by my chair, keeping a watch out for more burglars, or whatever it is dogs think they’re doing when they guard us. He laid back down once he saw we were safe.

“So much for hanging Bennet,” I said. “If the phone was lost by Atkins’ killer, this eliminates Bennet as my prime suspect. Guess I wanted it to be him so bad, I never considered the most likely suspect. Nixon must have killed Bill for the SBA money.”

Megan returned to her chair and raised her nearly empty coffee cup. “Congratulations, Sherlock. I knew you could do it. Once we show this to the sheriff, he can arrest Nixon, and I can finally get my insurance.” Then she took a drink of her cold coffee and made a terrible sour face. I thought she was going to spit coffee all over the table.

I tried not to laugh but failed miserably. It was all I could do to speak. “God, I wish I could post a picture of that face. YouTube would go viral.”

Megan’s pucker turned into a pout. “You could have warned me. I got so excited that I forgot it was cold.” Then she smiled and went to the sink to empty her cup.

“Sorry about that,” I said, now that my laughter had subsided to a mere chuckle. “But don’t celebrate yet. Where’s the connection to Mike? All we know is that Ron probably murdered Bill and the Fergusons. We have nothing to show he killed Mike, too.”

Megan rinsed out her cup before filling it with hot coffee. She held the cup with both hands then looked at me. “I guess you’re right. I assumed whoever killed Bill also killed Mike.” The lines around her eyes seemed to deepen. “So what now, Jake? None of this makes any sense. I don’t see how you can connect all the murders to that phone.”

“Maybe the last call on the list will connect the dots for us,” I answered and typed the last unknown number into the web page.

She returned to her chair and took a sip from her cup before setting it down on the table. “I’ll bet it’s Hal.”

I stopped typing and looked up at her in amazement. “Hal?” I asked.

“Think about it, Jake. If Nixon did kill the old couple for their coins, who would he sell them to?”

“Good point, Miss Marple,” I answered and resumed with my reverse lookup. “That would make a lot of sense if you’re right.” I hit the submit button and waited to see what my four dollar investment would yield. “My God,” I said. “It is Hal.”

* * *

Taylor’s truck was on empty when I left Meg’s house by myself. I would be on my own cleaning out my mother’s garage. Fred wanted to come. He begged me to take him with me; the July heat was too much for his thick coat, so I left him in air conditioned comfort while I braved the heat with nothing but hot wind coming through the truck windows to cool me off. I didn’t bother waiting for Kevin and Taylor to get up. Megan had told me they wouldn’t be able to help. They had met a couple girls the day before, and the boys had already made plans to take them out on the pontoon later in the afternoon. The humidity must have been off the scale, and I was wishing I was back home in the dry mountain air when the truck ran out of gas.

I threw the transmission into neutral and crossed my fingers. There was no sign of a shoulder. Luckily, I was on the downside of one of Highway Seven’s roller-coaster hills and spotted a driveway halfway up the next hill. I just needed enough momentum going downhill, so I could coast to the driveway. I was almost there when I spotted a dark car coming up behind; it had to be doing over seventy. I turned on my flashers and prayed he wouldn’t hit me. I made it into the driveway, without a second to spare, when the car threw on its brakes and skidded to a stop. It was a shiny-black Mercedes SUV.

Hal didn’t bother to get off the road. He parked half in the driveway and half on the road. If another driver were to come by, he would have to swerve into the oncoming lane to miss the Mercedes. As he started walking toward me, I noticed Amy in the passenger seat. “Where’s Taylor?” he asked without bothering to ask if I was okay.

“He’s not here, Hal. He let me use the truck, so I could finish at my mother’s. Guess he forgot to put gas in it. I ran out.”

Hal gave me a disgusted look. “Well, you better come with us. I’ll drop you off at the Pig’s Roast and call Triple-A.” Then he turned around and waddled back to his car. He was so overweight that he actually walked like a duck.

Hal was still working his way back to his side of the car when I slipped into the back seat. Amy had already turned to say something to me, but I spoke first. “Hi, beautiful. I hope you don’t make a habit out of picking up strangers off the road.”

I think I almost made her laugh. But before she could react, Hal opened his door, and she quickly turned away. “Damn it’s hot out there. I’ll sure be glad when our plane lands in San Diego. You know they have the best weather in the country there, Jake. Always seventy-two degrees and no humidity.”

“You leaving on another business trip?” I asked.

“No, not this time. The wife and I are taking a little vacation. Thought we’d make it like a second honeymoon, check out some properties while we’re at it. Something by the Ocean. Maybe in Carlsbad or Del Mar.”

Amy had lowered the makeup mirror in her visor and was checking her lipstick. “Megan said Taylor could stay with you guys for the week,” she said to the mirror when she saw me watching her. “He practically lives there anyway.”

“Yeah. That’s why I was a little upset back there, Jake. Last I heard he was going out on Meg’s pontoon. I thought he had lied to me,” Hal said.

Amy turned toward him, started to say something, but must have changed her mind. She went back to the mirror and rolled her eyes so I could see. Then Hal went on, oblivious to the dirty looks from his wife. “I’ll have to drop you at the Pig’s Roast. I don’t want to miss our flight. It’s over two hours to KCI, and the traffic up there is terrible. Oh, and don’t worry about Triple-A. I’ve got a Premium membership that covers all our cars. They’ll even give you the gas to get you going again.

“Speaking of the devil’s den,” he continued as he pulled up into the restaurant’s parking lot. “By the way, Jake, how would you like to make a few bucks while we’re gone?”

“As long as it’s not babysitting.”

I saw Amy crack a smile over that remark. Hal just frowned. “Ha,” he answered. “No. I heard you’re some kind of handyman.”

“It pays the bills until I can find a programming job.”