Hard Rock (A Hardboiled Private Investigator Mystery Series): John Rockne Mysteries 2 (12 page)

Chapter Thirty-Four

“Follow me.”  The man who met me at the door didn’t bother waiting.  He was dressed in a dark blue suit and he had a military style haircut.  His suit jacket was bulky and I guessed that he was carrying a gun somewhere in there.

The inside of AutoDyne was much different than the outside.  It was more like a laboratory than an industrial complex.  This was probably the “corporate” aspect of the company.

Crewcut led me to a conference room with a weird table with a silvery metallic top, white chairs and white walls.

I sat down and waited, pretty sure I was being monitored by video but there were no cameras visible. 

After ten minutes of waiting, the door opened and a man walked in.  He was old but very fit.  He had white hair, a tan face and a gray suit with a blue tie.

Charles Pierce looked at me like I was a bad memory.  I’d met him before, of course.  At the occasional social function when I’d been with Elizabeth.

“Hello Charles,” I said.

He didn’t answer, but instead, took a seat.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Rockne?” the older man said.

“Why did you have Benjamin Collins killed?” I said.  Clearly, I had lost the ability to interrogate with ingenuity.  My new style was straight on confrontation.  I liked it, thought it suited me well.

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t have Benjamin Collins killed.  You did, as I recall.”

His eyes were flat and merciless.  This was a man who’d gotten exactly what he wanted for most of his life.  He clearly didn’t plan on ending that streak anytime soon.

“Not exactly,” I said.  “You hired a hit man to kill him.  And you tried to ruin my life at the same time.  Why?”

A silence hung in the room.  The only sound was a subtle electric vibration coming from the ceiling.

“I suppose this has all been very difficult for you, John,” he said.  I was surprised he actually remembered my first name.  “You were disgraced.  Now you’re scraping by pretending to be some kind of detective.  Interesting career choice don’t you think?”

“It’s what my high school aptitude tests told me I was most suited for.”

He ignored me.  “Kicked off the police force for incompetence.  Becomes a private investigator.  Kind of an ‘I’ll show them’ type of response, correct?  But you were a failure and you still are.  Now you’re just bringing a whole new level of humiliation upon yourself.  Why?”

“I had some time to kill,” I said.

“Might I suggest finding a mirror so you can see the source of your failures?”  He didn’t smile, but I got the distinct impression he was enjoying this.

“Okay, let me tell you why I’m here.  A source told me that Benjamin Collins had fallen in love with someone.  Met someone special.  Suddenly, a young man who couldn’t wait to get out of Grosse Pointe wanted to stay.  And he claimed he was getting a new job.  At AutoDyne.”

“That’s ridiculous,” the old man said.  But he delivered like it was a line from a script.

“Supposedly Benjamin had fallen in love with someone who signed their online messages with ‘lpierce.’  Both my source and I thought that referred to Liz Pierce.  Or Elizabeth.”

I could see just a little bit of the color go out of Charles Pierce’s face.  Now I really was enjoying this.

“It never occurred to me that ‘Lpierce’ could actually be your son Edward.  That’s what I knew him by.  Edward.  But when I was digging through some financial records, I came across his full name. Lawrence Edward Pierce.”

The electrical vibration sound suddenly stopped.  The room was eerily silent until I spoke again.

“Benjamin Collins had fallen in love with your son.  And I suspect Lawrence was in love with Benjamin.  Is that why you killed him?”

The old man drummed his fingers on the metal table.  It made a sound like heavy raindrops hitting the roof.

“Or did it have something to do with your little legal issue?” I said.  “Yeah, I found out about that, too.  Overcharging the military for your parts?  Did Lawrence know something about that and spill the beans to Benjamin during some pillow talk?”

Now I smiled.  I really wanted to piss him off.  I wanted to hear the words come out of his mouth.  That he had ordered the murder.  That he had used his military connections to hire a contract killer.  It made perfect sense.

“Come on, old man,” I said.  “Was Lawrence putting AutoDyne in jeopardy? Or were you just angry that he was putting his you know what you know where?”

Charles Pierce stopped drumming his fingers.  For a moment, I thought he was going to blow a gasket and come across the table at me.  But just as quickly, the moment seemed to pass.  When he spoke, it was with the same tone he’d been using the whole time.

“You were a failure as a police officer,” he said.  “And you’re a joke of a private investigator.  But when I listen to you talk and hear the stupidity of your thoughts, it makes me happy.  Because I know that Elizabeth’s narrow brush with the shallow end of the gene pool didn’t take.”

He got to his feet.

The security guard with the crewcut appeared in the doorway followed by one of the guards from the gate.  The one with the machine gun.

It appeared I had worn out my welcome.

Chapter Thirty-Five

They led me through the sterile hallway toward the front door.  I couldn’t wait to get out of this godforsaken place.  I needed to call Ellen, tell her what I knew to be true.  Even though Charles Pierce had admitted nothing, our conversation solidified my theory.  He had done it.  He had ordered Benjamin’s murder.

Waiting for me at the door was the guy with the clipboard.

“I need your badge,” he said.  I hesitated for a moment.  Remembered when I’d been a cop and had to turn my badge in.  It was one of those strange flashback moments.

I dug the badge out of my shirt pocket and handed it to him.  He looked at it to make sure it matched the number he’d written on the sheet of paper attached to the clipboard.

He looked down at his notes, pen in hand.  He put a check mark in a box and nodded to the guard behind me.

The one behind me put his hand on my shoulder to guide me toward the door but instead of a push, I felt a stabbing pain.

I tried to turn but the guy with the clipboard lowered his shoulder and knocked me backward.  My feet flew out from underneath me and I landed on my back. 

The guard who’d stabbed me with the needle had unslung his machine gun and put the barrel underneath my chin. 

I realized two things.

One, everything was glowing and getting fuzzy.

Two, the security guard with the machine gun wasn’t the same one from the gate.  But I’d seen him before.

He had jet black hair and a narrow, pale, pinched face.

It was the man who’d murdered Benjamin Collins.

Chapter Thirty-Six

There was a humming in my ears.

I opened my eyes.

The humming was just that.  Actual humming.

Huh huh, hmmm hum hummm huh huh huhm hum hum hum hummm.

Satisfaction. By the Rolling Stones.

“I can’t get no,” a voice said. 
Huh huhhmm hum huh hhmmmm.

“Satisfaction,” he whispered.

It was pitch black.  There was a wind, and I heard the sound of water.  Waves crashing into hard rock.

I couldn’t move, but it wasn’t from the drugs.  My feet were bound with plastic ties.  My hands were in front me, also bound with plastic ties.  My shoulder ached from where I’d been stabbed with the needle and my head hurt. 

I was sitting a few feet back from a concrete ledge.  Lake St. Clair was pounding in, carried along by a strong wind from the north. 

He stood next to me, a knife in his hand, tapping his feet to the music in his head.

A few hundred feet away, two giant metal tubes protruded from a concrete wall.  I’d been here before.  It was the boiler runoff from the Grosse Pointe Yacht Club.

I realized where he’d taken me.

The exact spot where Benjamin Collins’ butchered body had been found floating.

“Hello sleepyhead,” the man said.

He laughed. 

“Exile on Main Street,”
he said.  “Regarded by plenty of people as the Stones’ greatest album.  Great title, don’t you think?”

What I was thinking about was screaming.  At the top of my lungs.  But no one would hear because there was no one around and I could barely hear him talking anyway, between the wind and the waves.

“That’s kind of what you’ve been, haven’t you?” he said.  “Exile on Main Street.”

“Fuck you,” I said.  “How much did Charles Pierce pay you to kill Benjamin?  He was just a kid.  Innocent.”

“No one’s truly innocent,” he said.  “We’ve all got blood on our hands.  Some have just a bit more than others.”  He laughed again.  “But I always tell my clients.  This business we’re in? Half-measures never work.  You have to go all the way.  Pierce didn’t want to kill you.  Just ruin you.  Stupid.”

I just couldn’t let him win again.  I had to keep him talking.  Stall.  Maybe I could get one of my hands free.

“Why did they kill Benjamin?” I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders.  “They signed the check.  That’s all I care about.  Although, this time, I have to say I’m getting a little bit of personal enjoyment out of this one.  You did some serious damage to me on that boat.”

The killer stretched his arm out.   “Still hurts a little, you bastard.”

“Serves you right,” I said.  I pulled my hands apart as hard as I could, but the plastic ties just bit more deeply into my wrists, drawing blood.  There was no way I could pull them over bone.

“I was in your office today,” he said.  “I loved that picture of your family.  Did you take that shot?”

“Fuck you,” I said.

“Maybe I’ll pay them a visit after we’re done here,” he said.  “I could find a way to comfort them.”

I shot my legs out at him but he easily sidestepped me.  He reached down and grabbed me under the arm, wrenched me to my feet.  For such a slim man he was very strong.

“Have you ever been out and about, running errands and suddenly you get the feeling there was something else you were supposed to do?” he asked.

I didn’t answer.  All I was thinking about was Anna and the girls. 

“That vaguely unpleasant feeling that you’d forgotten something?” he continued.  “I hate that feeling.  And it’s something I’ve felt for the past six years.  And whenever it would come over me I would remember.  John Rockne.  I should have killed him.”

He laughed.

“You’re not going to get away with this,” I said.

He laughed.

“Time to do your Brian Jones impression,” he said.  The knife flashed and I heard a shot.  Something hot and wet splashed my face.  I felt a stabbing pain in my chest and the killer fell backward, his hand still holding onto my arm, half of his head gone.

And then we were both falling.

The ice cold water hit my face, and something hard smacked me in the temple.  I was lost in blackness.  Water poured into my mouth and up my nose.  I was gagging but couldn’t open my mouth and I struggled against my restraints.

I was drowning.

Something tight went around my throat and I thought the killer was still alive, trying to choke me while I was drowning.   He was determined to kill me even with half of his head missing.  But then my face was suddenly out of the water.  The blackness was gone.  I coughed, shot a stream of lake water out of my mouth.

Ellen’s face appeared before mine.

She was pissed.

It looked like she wanted to kill me.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“You put a GPS on my car?”

Ellen nodded.

“That’s an infringement of my civil rights,” I said.  “Who do you think you are, the NSA?”

“Shut up, John,” Anna said.  “Thank God she did or you’d be dead.”

“Yeah, shut up, John,” Ellen said.  “Drink your coffee and let’s go.”

We were sitting in my living room.  After the crime scene guys had showed up at the lake and fished the killer’s body out of the water, I had been allowed to come home.

Ellen had spent a fair amount of time giving her statement.  When you shoot someone, even when it’s clearly the right call like this one, you have to answer a lot of questions. 

She looked fine, though.  Ellen was a lot tougher than me. 

Now, I was in dry clothes, warm, and maybe just a little drunk.  I wasn’t much of a drinker.

It wasn’t just coffee.  Anna had dumped in some brandy to help me warm up. 

I had filled Anna in on the night’s festivities.  The doctors had given me a clean bill of health.  The killer had managed to poke me with his knife, but it had barely broken the skin.

Other than being a little shaken up by the sight of someone getting their head blown off right next to me, I was fine.

But had I heard right?  Ellen was taking me somewhere?

“Where are we going?” I said.

“You’re not quite done with the Pierce family just yet, John.”

I kissed Anna goodbye, but that’s not accurate.  I tried to kiss her and she turned away.  She didn’t like it when I did stupid things.  Which was pretty much constantly. 

So I followed Ellen out to her cruiser and we hit Kercheval, followed it up past the Nun’s Walk and across Moross to a neighborhood next to the Country Club of Grosse Pointe.  I could see the police lights in front of a house.

“Lawrence Pierce killed himself tonight,” she said.  “A detective wanted to show me something.  I thought you’d want to see it, too.”

We parked and ducked under the crime scene tape.  The house was red brick Colonial with a huge winding staircase just past the foyer.  Ellen turned right and we went into a library.

“They already took him down,” she said, pointing to a beam at the center of the ceiling.

We walked over to where a detective from the Michigan State Police stood.  He wore crime scene gloves and was flipping through a notebook.   A computer sat on the desk, its screen open.

“This has got to be one of the most thorough confessions I’ve ever seen,” he said.  “Notes.  Email exchanges. Recordings.  The whole shebang.”

“Why?” I asked.

“He was a mess,” the detective said.  “Coroner said he was strung out on all kinds of prescription drugs.  Dude weighed like eighty pounds.”

“No, not why did he kill himself,” I said.  I gestured at the pile of material that constituted Lawrence’s confession.  “Why was Benjamin Collins killed?”

“From what I can tell, Lawrence told him about how his father’s company was ripping off the government. Daddy must have found out.  I guess Old Man Pierce wanted to punish him.”

I nodded.

“What about Elizabeth?”

The detective shook his head.  “He never mentioned her.  Doesn’t look like she’s involved.  But I gotta tell you, that Charles Pierce?  A psycho.  If he didn’t like you…”

I wondered about that.  If ruining my life and getting Elizabeth to dump me had just been a little gravy on the side of Charles’s master plan.

That also meant that maybe Elizabeth hadn’t been lying to me.

Ellen and I walked back to her cruiser.

I thought about Elizabeth.  The confrontation we’d had in her house.

There had been no doubt in my mind she wasn’t telling the truth.  But it looked like I’d been wrong.

Maybe if you waited long enough, someone can change so much they stop being the person you once knew.