1 The Reluctant Dick - The Case of the Not-So-Fair Trader (33 page)

A few minutes after the event ends, the announcement is made: “And the blue ribbon goes to Carolyn Sherlock.”

I see my youngest daughter jump for joy into the arms of her mother. I promise myself I will wait at least twenty years before, or if ever, I tell her the truth.

“Mister Sherlock…”

I hear, and a few seconds later feel a tap on my shoulder. “Mister Sherlock.”

“Tiffany.”

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Somebody tried to kill Brewster.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“When?”

“An hour ago.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I did,” she says. “You must have turned your phone off.”

“Oh yeah,” I say. “They ask you to do that so you don’t spook the horses.”

I get up out of my chair. “I got to say goodbye to my girls.”

“Say hello for me
,
would you?” Tiffany sees the girls across a well-traveled horse path. “I’m not risking six-hundred-dollar Manolos with this much horseshit lying around.”

“I can’t say I blame you.”

I make my way over to the girls who stand with their mother. “Congratulations, Care. Told you if you just did your best it would all work out.”

“I won; I won.” Care shows me her ribbon.

“I’m proud of you.”

Her mother clears her throat to get my attention.

I don’t give it to her. “Girls, I have to go.”

“Why, Dad?” Kelly asks.

“One of my clients just got shot.”

“Can I come?” Kelly asks.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re in the middle of this exhilarating and exciting competition.”

“I’d rather see somebody bleeding.”

I give the girls each a kiss and almost ge
t away; but I hear my ex say, “t
he babies still need shoes.”

“And their mother needs priorities.”

She says, “See me now or see me later.”

I ignore the orange
-
level threat. “You girls do your best
,
sorry I got to go. Love ya.”

I give last hugs and walk off toward where Tiffany waits. I hear in the background, “Is that your dad’s girlfriend?”

___

“This is the third Saturday in a row I’ve had to work, Sherlock,” Norbert informs me as I arrive. “I hate that.”

“Where’s the victim?”

“Inside. The boy’s still shaking.”

The police techs are once again out and about in Alvin’s back forty. It has got to be easier for them this time, since it is a return appearance.

“How many shots?”

“He remembers four,” Norbert says, “so I’m figuring maybe two.”

“Pull any slugs?”

“Two from the garage wall.”

“A foot or two above his head?” I ask.

“How’d you know?”

“I’m smart.”

Tiffany follows as I walk off into the wooded border of the property, which would be the line of sight to the back of the garage.
        “What was little Brewster doing out here?” I ask my assistant.

“Taking out the trash.”

“Brewster does chores?”

“Theresa’s day off.”

“Hector’s probably busy shooting a few of his own bullets.”

I move into the bushes, see exactly where the shooter stood. “Tell the techs to search here for shell casings, although they won’t find any.”

“Mister Sherlock, you’re beginning to sound like me.”

Tiffany’s right, I better start thinking before I speak.

“Are we going to walk all over the lawn like we did last time?
” S
he asks with definite lack of enthusiasm.

“Nay, nay,” I sound like I’m still at the horse show.

Tiffany and I go inside.

Brewster sits uncomfortably on the uncomfortable couch. His feet are up on a chair from the dining room set, saving the glass coffee table a smudge. He has an icepack on his forehead, his skin color is bright white
,
and the wet spot on the front of his pants is nearly dry.

“Fun day, Brewster?” I ask.

“He could have been killed out there.” Doris interjects. “Where is the police protection in this town?”

Norbert shrugs his shoulders.

“This is a conspiracy against my family,” she yells at poor Norbert. “I could be next.”

A certain selfish element always seems to surface in the Augustus family at the most inappropriate times.

“Did you see him, Brewster?” I ask.

“Of course, he
didn’t see him,” Doris says. “The killer was laying in wait.”

“That’s amazing,” I say.

“What?” Doris continues to yell.

I focus on the boy. “I didn’t see your lips move once when you said that
,
Brewster.”

Brewster moans.

“Your attitude, with my son’s life hanging in the balance, leaves much to be desired, Mister Sherlock.”

“By the way, Missus Augustus, any progress on my retainer?”

“I’d be more than happy to pay, but a certain little chickie won’t release my money.”

Tiffany smiles and says, “That would be me.”

I sit on the couch next to Brewster. “Almost enough to get you to give up drinking?” I ask before I see an open can of beer tucked between cushion and his thigh.

“It isn’t funny,” he tells me.

“What happened?”

“I’m walking back toward the house and all of a sudden this machine gun opens fire. I hit the ground, cover my head and crawl to cover while the bullets fly around me like I’m in the middle of some Middle-East war.”

“They only found two slugs in the wall,” I inform him.

“Tell them to look harder,” he orders me.

“Do you usually take out the trash?”

“No.”

“Mom ask you?”

“What the hell kind of question is that?” Doris asks.

“Good one, I hope.”

“Somebody just tried to kill me, Sherlock,” Brewster says.

Tiffany interrupts, “Excuse me, but did you see your whole life pass before your very eyes when it happened?”

The question stops everyone cold.

“I saw this TV show about near-death experiences and I wondered if one happened to you?” she asks.

“No.”

“Darn.”

I ask, “Why would anyone want to kill you, Brewster?”

“I told you,” Doris answers. “It is a conspiracy.”

“Damn, if your lips didn’t move again
, Brewster
.”

“To get my portion of the twelve
million
,
why else?” Brewster says.

“So it would have to be one of the people on the money list? Three of which are related to you.”

“I was in the kitchen when it happened,” Doris tosses in.

“Congratulations, Doris,” Tiffany says, “
y
ou’re off the hook.”

“That brings the total down to two.” I conclude. “Which one should we send Norbert out to arrest?”

“The one who did it,” Brewster says.

“Norbert will get right on it.”

“No problem,” Norbert says.

I get up and off the couch. “Sorry to leave you in such a state, but we have a stop to make on the South Side before it gets too dark.”

I wonder if the comment will get a rise out of Doris, but the best she does is blink twice, which is hard to constitute as a reaction since her face is rock solid.

___

The traffic is light going down the expressway. Tiffany has question after question.

“Did somebody really try to kill Brewster?”

“I doubt it.”

“Then why did he get shot at?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did it have anything to do with him getting busted for dope?”

“I doubt it.”

“Maybe drug dealers scaring him into paying up?”

“Tiffany, you watch too much TV.”

We arrive at Clarence’s house in an hour. My little friend must be busy with some other type of illicit activity, because he doesn’t run up to the car with his hand out for cash.

“I’ll be right back.”

“You’re going to leave me here in the car, all alone in this neighborhood?”

“Yes.”

“How can you do that, Mister Sherlock?”

“What would you rather do, talk to a guy who has killed hundreds of people? Or stay here and listen to the radio?”

“Don’t be long, okay?”

Clarence peers out the corner of the thick blanket he has covering the front windows before he opens the door.

“What?”

“I came to pay back a favor
,
” I say as he unlatches the heavy chain lock on the door.

I step inside. The Sox are on his big TV. They’re losing eleven to four in the sixth.

“You get hundred dollar bills for your last gig?”

Clarence gives me an odd look
. I
t is as good as an answer.

“Careful where you spend
th
em.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’m not positive
;
but if they are out of a certain stack, the serial numbers are on watch. Anybody laying down two or three in a bank is going to be pulled in for questioning.”

Clarence,
aka
Preston Bird, contemplates the problem. “Sure wouldn’t like that.”

“They’re warm and getting warmer.” I pause and give some advice. “And if you got a place to go, it wouldn’t be a bad time for a vacation.”

Clarence watches the third out of the inning, “Thanks.”

I turn to leave. “You missed twice?”

“Don’t tell anyone, bizness bad enough.”

26

You'd be surprised, it happens

“She likes me, Sherlock.”

“Herman, she’s gay.”

“Yeah, but I bet I could turn her.”

I hang my head and shake it slowly back and forth, pretending I didn’t hear what I just heard.

“Did you figure out where all Christina’s money went?”

“No and never will.”

“Why not?”

“Because whoever stole it, got her password; and once you got a password, it’s pretty much lights out.”

“Did you tell her?”

“Not yet,” Herman says as he pulls on a number of his double chins. “I figure she’s good for a couple more visits to my place before I have to come clean.”

“Interesting choice of terms, Herman.”

“I need a little more time than most guys to show her my suave side.”

“And your review of Agent Romo Simpson?”

“One star. The boy has no second act.”

“Did he give you the stuff on Alvin?”

“It’s over there.” Herman points to a stack of papers a foot high, resting on his couch. “I asked him to score me some of that FBI confiscated porn.”

“Good for you, Herman.”

“Told him I was working an alternate angle on the case.”

“You figure out how Alvin scammed the Board yet?”

“I’m not sure he did.”

“Herman…”

“I can’t find any trades, especially losers
,
although his account at First Options was in arrears.” Herman pauses. “Sounds gay doesn’t it?”

“What sounds gay?”

“Arrears.”

“You going to figure out how he did it?”

“If I can.”

I take out one sheet of paper from my coat pocket. “I got one more guy for you to run numbers on.”

“What do I look like, a laptop?”

“No, you look like a walrus with a three-day beard.”

“You don’t have to be mean.” Herman reads what I wrote on the paper, “Horace Heffelfinger?”

“I know he was skimming,
find out how much.”

“How did you get his social security number?”

“I stole it when I went through his desk.”

“What a guy.” Herman’s face scrunches a tiny bit; he leans his body to the left, resting his bulk on one butt cheek, and emits a long stream of thunderous, undiluted flatulence.

“I love pigs in a blanket, but they don’t love me.”