Murder In Her Dreams (24 page)

The bricks had made him suspicious, but the
gunman clinched it. The coffee he still doubted, but Cassie had
been right about everything else, and she had known about Harrison.
He didn’t want to believe that anyone who worked for him, anyone he
trusted, could be Brad Harrison. It meant someone in his office had
tried to murder him.

Luckily, Jim Mears was too old to be
Harrison’s son. Ian sighed. He liked both young men and trusted
them. He had trusted James Harrison, too. Damn. He slammed the desk
with his fist.

Massaging his hand, he then lifted the phone
and buzzed. “MaryLou, bring me the files on Bert and Justin.”

Within five minutes, she walked in carrying
the two files. She stared at him, her eyes filled with questions.
“What’s up? First you ask for the Harrison file and now the ones
for Bert and Justin?”

“Just doing some checking. You did the
background checks on both of them?”

“I always do. My notes are in the file.” She
handed the folders to Ian, looking puzzled. “Is there anything you
want me to do?”

“Yeah, could you run a credit check on
Bradford Harrison?”

“Bradford Harrison? Jim’s son?”

Ian nodded. “I’ve got some papers of his
father’s I’d like to return, but I don’t know where to send
them.”

“Okay.” MaryLou looked unsatisfied, but said
nothing as she turned and left.

Ian set the files before him and opened the
top one, Bert Hansen’s. Bert graduated from Ohio State with honors
in Accounting. He had worked for two years in a family owned firm
before joining McLeod Enterprises. According to MaryLou’s notes,
the owner of the firm and Bert’s professors all recommended him
highly.

He flipped open Justin’s file. He attended
Columbus State Community College. He still had quite a ways to go
before completing a degree. He had worked in a series of fast food
restaurants and had a stint as a pizza delivery driver. Like Bert,
MaryLou’s note read ‘highly recommended.’

Nothing in either file looked suspicious or
unusual. He tried to look at the data with Cassie’s eyes, but
nothing struck him. He compared the dates of birth for both. They
were the same age.

Ian studied the employment dates again. Bert
had worked summers in college. Before joining the firm, Justin had
taken a year off. His employment form said he spent the year
traveling. A lot of young people got itchy feet.

Bert and Justin both had well-documented life
histories. MaryLou had checked and validated them. He would never
have hired them otherwise. After Harrison, he had insisted on even
more care in checking references. He couldn’t believe Bert or
Justin could be anyone other than themselves. The gunman had keys
to the office, but that didn’t mean he worked for the firm.

Ian called Cassie Blake to report his
findings. “Cassie, I can’t find anything odd about either of them.
Justin took a year off, but his school records and references all
checked out.”

She sighed. “I have this feeling. We’re close
to finding out who Bradford Harrison is, but I don’t know what to
do next.” She remained silent for a moment. “Do you have birth
dates for them?”

“Sure, but how will that help?”

“I don’t know, but something tells me we just
might find something. You can fake a lot of things, but the
official records are something else.”

“Okay, but I think your chasing a wild
hare.”

Cassie groaned. “Ian, that is exactly what
this entire business is all about. Just give me the dates and where
they were born.”

He flipped open the files and pulled out the
application forms. He found the dates and read them to her. “They
were both born in Columbus.”

“I’m going to check the birth records on
three people: Bert Hansen, Justin Lord, and Bradford Harrison. We
know the dates on the first two and I can try several on the last.
Bradford is not such a common name. I’ll let you know what I
find.”

“I think you’re wasting your time.”

“Well, if you have another avenue to try, do
it. I know it’s a long shot, but I think it will tell us something.
It can’t hurt to get the data.”

“All right, meanwhile, I’ll try to think of
something else. And thanks, Cassie.”

“I’m doing this for me too. The sooner we
nail this guy, the better. He knows who I am, and I don’t like
that. I’ll call you when I find anything.”

“If you solve this, I owe you dinner,” he
said. “The best dinner in town.”

“Okay, but don’t get your hopes up. I have a
hunch, that’s all.”

“Your hunches have been pretty good so far.
I’m happy to rely on them. Don’t forget dinner.”

“I won’t. I’d better go if I’m going to earn
it.”

“I’ll be thinking of you.”

“Me too, bye.”

Cassie’s response buoyed Ian as he hung up
the phone. He would be thinking of her, and to know she would be
thinking of him made him glow. He and Cassie had a lot to talk
about and none of it about Bradford Harrison.

Damn. They still had to find Harrison.

He wanted the puzzle of Harrison solved, not
only for his own sake, but because he now saw Harrison as a threat
to Cassie. He promised himself he would find a way to protect her.
Nothing and no one would ever hurt her. She was too brave for her
own good. The way she had pushed him out of the way of those
bricks. He shuddered, thankful neither of them had been hurt. And
that gunman. Facing a crazy man to save him. He didn’t deserve
someone so caring and bold.

They had both been lucky, but they couldn’t
rely on luck. They had to find Bradford Harrison and soon. One
Harrison had almost destroyed his life. He wouldn’t let another
finish the job.

Chapter
Eighteen

Ian pushed his chair back from his desk and
stood. He had to do something. He wouldn’t find Brad Harrison by
sitting and brooding.

MaryLou looked up as Ian walked from his
office into the reception area. “Here’s the printout on Bradford
Harrison. Last address is in Princeton, New Jersey. No current
activity reported, in fact, none for over a year. I’m not sure this
is much help. Would you like me to send a letter to his last
address?”

Ian studied the brief report. Well, it
confirmed one thing. Bradford had gone to Princeton. Private
schools were always looking for donors so they kept pretty close
tabs on their alumni.

“Why don’t you try the Princeton Alumni
Association? See if they have a current address. You might as well
add this to the Harrison file.” He returned the printout to
MaryLou. “Justin around?”

“I’ve got him making some copies. He’s in the
workroom.”

Ian nodded as he crossed the office to the
far door to the rest of the suite. When he established McLeod
Enterprises, he had selected a five-room office suite with separate
offices for two accountants and himself. MaryLou’s desk dominated
the reception area. It faced the entry door and easily controlled
access to both Ian’s office and to the entire suite. She kept the
current files in the two large lateral files to the left of the
entry door.

Ian opened the door to the general workroom
with its files, storage cupboards, and the copier. He walked past
the files, nodded to Jim and then Bert as he passed their identical
offices on the outer building wall.

As he neared the copier, Justin glanced up.
“Hi, Mr. McLeod. You want to make some copies?” He studied Ian with
brown eyes that looked almost black.

Ian stopped in mid step. Black like the
gunman’s eyes. Ian shook himself and the impression faded. Justin’s
eyes looked more brown now.

“No, I just wanted a cup of coffee.”

He crossed to the coffee machine on a long
counter along the back wall and busied himself pouring his coffee.
How could he find out if Justin was Bradford Harrison? Trip him up
in some way, but how?

As Ian walked, foam cup in hand, he mulled
over what to say to Justin. He stopped when he reached the
copier.

“Princeton’s a nice town.”

“Princeton? Ohio?” Justin gave him a
quizzical look.

“No, Princeton, New Jersey, the college
town.”

“If you say so.” Justin removed the copies
from the hopper.

The plain answer nettled Ian. The seeming
mundane nature of Justin’s noncommittal answer somehow implied
more. Maybe another tack would work. He watched Justin remove one
original, replace it with another, and then hit the start
button.

“How’s the cycle doing?”

“Great, except I need to work on the brakes.
Bert said he’d help.”

“That’s right. He has one too. You guys ever
scare pedestrians?”

“No way — that’s juvenile stuff.” Justin
stared at Ian, eyes wide. “Besides, the cops target guys on a
Harley. Bert and I want to keep ours.” He turned back to his
work.

The copy machine fell silent as the last page
dropped into the tray. Justin removed the original and stacked it
on top of the copies. “MaryLou’s waiting for these.”

“Here, let me hold the door.” Ian moved in
front and opened the door to the reception area.

Now or never. “Brad,” Ian said just above a
whisper as Justin passed, “the game’s over.”

The copies tumbled from Justin’s hands onto
the floor. He bent swiftly and picked them up. When he stood up, he
gave Ian a strange look.

“Were you talking to me, Mr. McLeod? I didn’t
quite catch what you said.”

Ian studied him for a moment. Justin’s’
steady gazed implied nothing. He waited for Ian to answer. Ian saw
only casual interest.

“I said, ‘glad the game’s over.’ The Bucks
lost again.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve been studying so hard for my
exam I missed it.”

Justin set the copies on MaryLou’s desk.
“Sorry, I messed ‘em up, Miss Sanders. If you want, I can copy them
over again.”

“Let me check them first,” she said.

Ian watched the two a moment longer. Justin
lounged against MaryLou’s desk as she thumbed through the copies.
He looked as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

Ian closed the door. Had Justin been nervous
or had he imagined it? He’d dropped those copies, and he didn’t
deny having been to Princeton. He had dark eyes just like the
gunman. However, that was just speculation — it wasn’t facts. Ian
wanted something tangible to prove whether Justin Lord was Brad
Harrison or not.

Ian sighed. He still had to talk with
Bert.

As he passed Jim Mears’ office, he nodded to
him, and Jim smiled back. Ian knocked at the adjacent open door to
Bert’s office. Like Jim, his desk faced the workroom. Where Jim had
his bookcase and worktable to the left, Bert had his to the
right.

“Keeping busy, I see.” Ian slipped onto the
side chair next to the desk.

“It’s that time of year.” Bert sighed and
tapped the file in front of him. “I’ve just about finished with
Quality Signs. Can I do something for you?” He studied Ian, a
quizzical look on his face.

Ian took a deep breath. Might as well get it
over with. “What do you think of Princeton?”

“Princeton?” Bert frowned. “I don’t know.
They’ve never been strong in weightlifting competitions.”

Nonplused, Ian tried again. “I meant as a
school.”

“Well, it’s an Ivy Leaguer.” He eyed Ian
again, before continuing. “Expensive. Good business program
through.”

Ian wanted more. So far, Bert had merely said
the obvious. “Planning to send your son there?”

Bert smiled. “I haven’t even got a fiancée
yet, let alone a son. As a Buckeye, I’d probably send him to OSU.
Closer and cheaper too.”

So much for Princeton. “Have a nice day
Saturday?”

“Yeah, spent most of it working out. Getting
ready for the competition. Only a few weeks away now.”

Ian sighed. He wasn’t getting any further
with Bert than he had with Justin. “Ever try to scare
pedestrians?”

“Once, when I first got the cycle, but my Dad
almost skinned me alive. Took my cycle away for a month. I had to
walk to work. I learned my lesson real quick. That’s kid
stuff.”

Would Brad admit something like that or try
to hide it? "Dangerous kid stuff.”

“Right on. Anyway, I’m getting tired of my
cycle. It’s nice in the summer, but this last winter with all the
ice, I had to ride the bus. COTA’s not the most convenient bus
service. I’m thinking about getting a Lexus. What do you
think?”

“Nice car, a little rich for my blood.”

“I’m talking pre-owned or a lease. No way I
can’t afford a new one. ‘Course Harleys bring top dollar and get
better mileage than some big cars.

Ian finished his coffee and tossed the cup
into the wastebasket next to the desk. He straightened up. “Brad,
the game’s over.”

“What? Did you say Brad?” Bert stared at him,
his brown eyes wide.

Ian shook his head. “No, I said ‘Bucks, the
game’s over.’ They lost again.”

Bert grimaced. “I know. I had a bet on them
to win too. Maybe next time.”

“Yeah, maybe next time.” Ian stood up and
stretched. “I ought to join you and Justin lifting weights. Can’t
say I get enough exercise during tax season.”

“Hey, great idea. Why don’t you? We’re going
tonight. Mondays and Fridays we have the place to ourselves.”

“Maybe next time. I still have some reports
to clean up first. You two have a good one. And good luck in the
competition.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it. It’s the big one.
Only a couple of weeks to go.”

Ian noticed Jim Mears had already gone as he
left Bert’s office. Justin smiled up at Ian as he passed his desk.
MaryLou had her purse out, getting ready to leave. Ian returned to
his office no wiser than when he had left it.

So, Bert had money for a Lexus. Had he saved
it or taken it? All the accounts balanced. The procedures installed
after Harrison’s theft would prevent anything like that happening
again.