Torch Scene (14 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I walked into Easy Street Café with the box in my hands. It was the heart of dinnertime and the place was crowded with patrons. I sidled my way between tables toward the back. Ray’s eyes narrowed when he spotted me. I held up the box and he hesitated, unsure of what I was doing. For all he knew I could have a bomb in the box. As if he heard my thoughts, he reached around behind his back.

“Relax,” I said as I approached. “I have what you want.”

He stood up, lifted one finger and gestured for me to open the box. I did, then tipped the box and he glanced inside.

“Satisfied?” I asked.

He gave me an approving look. I waited while he turned around, knocked on the door once, then opened it and I stepped into the office.

Tony looked up from his paperwork, saw me, then glanced at Ray.

“It’s cool,” Ray said. He came into the room and shut the door, blocking it.

Tony leaned back in his chair. “You have the Chen?”

I set the box on the desk. He looked at it, then raised one flap and glanced inside.

Remembering what I’d overheard during my Dumpster dive, I said, “Will that get Sal off your back?” I didn’t try to hide the snide tone in my voice.

He arched an eyebrow at me. I wasn’t sure if he was impressed that I knew about his boss, Sal, or if he thought I was stupid with my tone. Right then, I didn’t care.

“Is it damaged?” he asked.

“There’s soot on it, and part of it may have melted.” I shrugged. “I don’t know what it looked like before.”

“That could affect the value.” Tony frowned.

“Not my problem,” I said. I glanced over my shoulder. “I lived up to my end of the bargain.”

Tony sat back again and assessed me. “I didn’t think you’d find it.”

“Well, I did.”

“Yeah, and pretty fast. Makes me wonder if you knew where it was all along.”

I stared him down.

“But,” he rested his hands on the desk. “I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“You leave us alone now,” I said with as much force as I could muster.

He smiled coldly. “Yeah. Don’t ever let me see your ugly face again, or our deal is off. Got it?”

“I got it.”

I whirled around, surprising Ray. He opened the door and I strolled out of the restaurant, glad to put them behind me.

***

I was sitting at my desk, drinking a Fat Tire and staring at
The Big Sleep
poster on the wall. I’d gotten it after I’d solved my second case. Not only was the movie one of my favorite film noir, but it played an integral part in two of my cases, and it also served as a reminder that I’d solved those cases. Now it seemed to be mocking me, telling me that I hadn’t solved this one.

“Not yet,” I said to Bogie, tipping my beer bottle at him. “But I will.”

My phone rang and I set the beer down.

“Yeah?” I answered.

“It’s Spillman.”

I sat up straighter. “What’d you find out?”

“Our pyromaniac knew what he was doing,” she said. “He had the bomb wired to the seat. The weight of your body would set it off.”

“But it didn’t explode until we’d left the garage.”

“It was on a delay.”

“Why?”

“Who knows?” She exhaled loudly. “Ferguson, this guy knows what he’s doing.”

“I get that feeling.”

“This isn’t a joke. Someone tried to kill you, and when he finds out he didn’t succeed, he’ll try again.”

“I wondered about that.”

“Cut the sarcasm, would you? I’m trying to save your life.”

“Sorry. I’m just too tired to do anything else,” I said.

“What have you found?”

“Nothing that will help now.”

“Did anything pan out with your bookies?”

“No.” I stared at the poster. “I’m back to square one.”

“We’re working some leads, and we’ll find who did this.”

“All right.”

“Reed,” she said, unexpectedly and tenderly, using my first name. “Watch yourself.” With that, she hung up.

I was about to call Willie when the phone rang.

“Can’t stand a moment without me?” I asked.

“What?” Willie asked.

Her voice was soft and sweet, a sound that sunk into my weary body and cheered me up.

I chuckled. “A joke, you know?”

“Are you okay?”

I nodded, then realized she couldn’t hear that. “Yeah, I’m okay, just tired.”

“What did the police say about the explosion?”

“This guy knew what he was doing.” I relayed what Spillman had told me. “Are you doing okay?”

“Yes. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” I said. “This will be over soon.”

“I hope so.” We chatted for a few more minutes and then hung up.

I raked my hands through my hair, frustrated. I’d eliminated Tony and Ray as suspects, but any of the others were still options. I had a hard time believing that Stan Pommerville was the one who conked Nick O’Rourke on the head, started the apartment fire, and then rigged my car to blow up. But then, was the femme fatale Nadine or the victim Leena a more likely suspect?

I growled as I turned on the computer. Back to square one meant poking around for clues, and I realized I’d not finished reading all the attachments Cal had sent me. I opened the PDF’s and started scanning them again. O’Rourke had a bank account, but no money in it. Apparently, he had a 401k, worth more than $150,000, but he’d drained the account a few years earlier. And there was the life insurance policy, worth one million, made out to Kelly N. O’Rourke.

I stared at the name. His dad?

I got on the internet and went to a white pages lookup site. I typed in ‘Kelly N. O’Rourke’ in the name fields, and remembered that Willie said his parents lived in Fort Collins, so I put that as the city and Colorado as the state. Nothing matched that, so I took out the ‘N’. I still didn’t come up with a Kelly O’Rourke who lived in Fort Collins, but the site listed a bunch of close matches. I scrolled through them, and was about to try something else, when my eye caught one of the names.

It was Kelly N. O’Rourke, at a Greenwood Village address, with a spouse of…Nick O’Rourke.

I couldn’t believe it.

I clicked on the name and read through the rest of the information. The age listed for Kelly N. O’Rourke was 40-45. That fit. And the address was correct.

Kelly N. O’Rourke, the beneficiary on Nick’s life insurance, was none other than Nick’s ex-wife, Nadine. I stared at the monitor. Did she know this, and if so, had she killed him for the money? Now that I’d put the pieces together, it seemed so obvious. I wondered why Spillman hadn’t made the same connection yet. But then, as the saying goes: The wheels of justice turn slowly…

I looked at the clock. 8:45. It was too late to pay her another visit, but I was going to anyway. I got the Glock again, and since Tony had taken my magazine, I loaded in a new one. I wasn’t going to take any chances. Nadine might’ve killed before, and she also might have tried to kill me by blowing up my car. And if my conclusions were right, I had no doubt she’d try again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

I called Cal as I drove to Nadine’s house.

“What do you need?” He was curt, as usual, but this time the customary teasing tone was not there.

“I think Nadine killed Nick,” I said. “She’s the beneficiary of Nick’s life insurance.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I checked it. It makes sense. She gets rid of him and she gets the money. She told me she was still trying to dig out of the financial hole he put them in.”

“Why would she be so stupid as to tell you that?”

“She knew I could figure that part out, but how could I possibly know about the policy?”

“Okay, now what?”

“I’m headed down to her house to talk to her,” I said. “Can you run a check on her? See if there’s more debt that she’s not talking about, or anything else that might help me nail her.”

“Sure thing.” The clicking on the keyboard commenced. “You think she’s going to just up and confess?”

“I’m going to push her, see if I can make her break. If not, all I’ve got is circumstantial evidence.”

“You want to talk to Willie? She’s in the kitchen with Ace and Deuce.”

I did want to talk to her, to hear that sweet voice, but I knew she’d want to know what I was doing, and I didn’t want her to worry more than I’m sure she already was.

“No, I’ll talk to her later.”

“You want me to come down and help?”

“I’m not sure what you could do.”

“But she’s dangerous.”

“She may be, but so am I.”

***

It was after nine by the time I drove into Nadine’s neighborhood. I decided not to alert her to my presence, so I parked on the next street over and walked to her house. The moon stayed behind a low-hanging layer of clouds, and even though the streetlights did their best to brighten the road, Nadine’s front porch was cast in deep shadow.

I rang the bell and waited. The dog’s yippy bark grew louder and then the porch light came on, causing me to blink. I’m sure Nadine was scrutinizing me through the peephole. Then I heard her scold the dog, and the door opened.

She wore a silk robe and slippers, the robe open to reveal enough cleavage to inspire curiosity, but not enough to tempt lust outright.

“Don’t you think it’s a little late?” she asked, her lips puckered.

“We need to talk,” I said, ignoring the sexual vibe.

“I don’t suppose this is a social call.”

I shook my head. She let out a disappointed sigh and then stepped aside. I walked in and she shut the door.

“Come into the living room.”

The dog was at her heels as I followed her down the hall.

“What’s this all about?” she asked as she headed for the credenza and a Scotch bottle. As she fixed a drink, she asked, “You asked about art. What’s next? How we entertained ourselves?”

“Your debt,” I said.

She turned around, took a sip of her drink, and gave me a puzzled look. “Yes?”

“How much was it?”

“I don’t see how that’s your business.” She sipped again, then tipped the glass at me. “Where are my manners? Do you want a drink?”

“No.” I fixed her with a hard glare. “You had a lot of debt, and you were trying to work with Nick to get him to pay it off.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll bet a nice insurance policy would take care of that debt.”

“What are you getting at?”

“You’re the beneficiary of Nick’s life insurance policy.”

The drink stopped halfway to her mouth. “How do you know that?”

“I dug into his financial records.”

“How did you get access to
that
?”

Why does everyone want to know that?
I waved a dismissive hand. “It doesn’t matter. The point is, you benefit – greatly – from Nick’s death.”

The color drained from her face. “You think I killed Nick for the insurance money?”

“You were seen arguing with Nick in the weeks prior to his death. You said you have a ton of debt, and that you hated him. If you kill him, you get the money. Sounds like a way out to me.”

She gaped at me, then threw her head back and laughed, a bawdy sound that raked through the room.

“Oh, that is rich.” She set the drink down. “I killed Nick?”

I waited, wondering who the fool was. Her, for thinking this act would cover her tracks. Or me, for thinking she killed Nick.

“Darling, you’ve got it all wrong.” She set the drink down and continued. “I’m sure Nick’s neighbors saw us arguing. I couldn’t be around that man without it turning into a fight. And I’m sure the fight that sticks in the minds of your neighbors is when Nick
told
me that he’d forgotten to change his policy. He exploded when I laughed at him for being so stupid, and then he threatened to kill
me
for laughing at him. Of course, I got bent out of shape about that.” She laughed again. “What an idiot Nick was. He could’ve cashed in the policy and used the money to get out of debt, but he’d forgotten he even had it until shortly before he died.” She snickered. “Although he would’ve just used the money for gambling. What an idiot.”

I was taken aback. I looked around the room, my mind racing.

She came up and patted my cheek. “Darling, I can’t believe you think I killed Nick. The only person I told about the insurance policy was –”

“Ken,” I finished. The pieces suddenly fell into place. “Ken’s ex-military.”

She nodded. “Army.”

“AFD. That was on his socks.”

“What?”

“AFD,” I repeated. “Army Fire Department.”

“Yes, he was with the fire department, and he was in some kind of Special Forces or something.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t pay attention to that stuff.”

Ken was Special Forces and a fireman as well. One who, I suspected, knew about how to set fires and plant bombs. And Nadine had said he needed money. So he kills Nick, and by the time the insurance policy pays out, he’s married to Nadine. Money troubles over. I glanced down at my burned arm. When I first met him, he had that bandage on his arm. A burn?

She gazed at me, confused. “What?”

I grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the door. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Too late,” said a voice behind us.