Tahoe Blues (23 page)

“Morty?” Mrs. Grimes asked. “Are you talking about Mort
y Severanceson? That man has to be old as dirt by now.”

Mark
grinned. “He is, but his naptime is almost over.” He gestured for the team to make their way up the trail. “Shall we? My SUV is parked up on the ridge. The windows are tinted. If someone happens to notice my car, they won’t be able to see you.”

Mrs. Grimes took one look
at the steep upgrade and shook her head. “Our car is parked at the lake side trailhead. Why don’t we meet you at Rookies later?”

Mark step
ped in and swept Mrs. Grimes off her feet.

Her
eyes flew wide with shock and she gasped.

“You’ll still be in our camera’s sightline for most of the way.
” Mark smiled and planted a quick kiss on her wrinkled cheek. “Come on, darlin’, even with Morty at the helm, we’re pushing our luck.” Mark began powering up the incline. “Let’s move out people!”

Chapter
Eleven

The bell that hung over the door of Leah Jefferson Baily’s specialty dress shop tinkled when Brett walked in. Brett looked around. He’d been in the shop at least twenty times before, but he had never taken notice. Knowing his time in Tahoe was coming to an end he took a moment to relish every tiny detail.

Baily’s Boutique had a bohemian feel to it. A clutter of mannequins in all shapes and sizes displayed her unique designs. The items carried on consignment b
y other local designers were situated well in the back or acted as accessories to her couture line. Leah was the star in her own shop, and Brett knew that here in her own domain, she would never take a backseat to anyone.

Leah walked out from behind a curtain. “Hey
, Boden. I’m surprised to see you. Cara’s been freaking out because you haven’t called her.” Then she smiled brightly. “I hope you brought me lunch.”

Brett took a step back and held
up his hand to halt her progress. “I don’t have a lot of time. I just stopped by to ask you to give Cara a message for me.”

Leah furrowed her brow. Brett was acting strange. The forty-something year old man was looking a bit haggard and more aged than usual. She had never thought of Brett as a mature older man before. He was still trim and fit, and rarely acted his age, but today his graying temples seemed more prominent and the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes were more deeply embedded. “Why don’t you call her yourself? I know she would love to hear from you.”

She step
ped forward, but Brett recoiled and shook his head vigorously. “No, I can’t do that. I just need you to give her a message.”

Something was wrong. Brett was
way too edgy for comfort. He was the most laid back person Leah knew. His easy going style was his trademark, and he had won the hearts of many women by being aloof and unattainable. Leah didn’t know Brett that well, but she didn’t think he let his guard down to very many people. Cara was one of his chosen few.

“Are you okay? You look like you’re about to have a nervous break-down.”
Leah reached out in concern, but once again, Brett withdrew.

“Leah, please stop and listen. This is vitally import
ant.” He took a few steps towards the door. “She should have run when I told her, but since she didn’t, this is the best I can do.”

“Brett, you’re scaring me. Please let me help you.” Leah begged. “You look like you’re about
ready to jump out of your skin. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Brett raced forward and grabbed Leah’s arms with such strength that his fingers bit harshly into her skin.
“Tell her I’ll always cherish the time we spent watching Jaunting Jamison, and if she’s ever in trouble, the Boden original she has in her front yard will come in handy.”

Talk about cryptic!
Leah was convinced Brett had finally lost it. Why in the world would he cherish watching some old black and white television program with Cara?

Leah softened
, hoping it would help to settle Brett’s agitated state. “Let me call someone for you.”

Brett
exhaled with frustration and pushed her away. “Just do it, Leah. It’s important.” He turned and tugged open the door.

“P
lease don’t go. Let me help you.”

Brett nervously jeered back and peered out the shop window. Fear radiated from his eyes. He rushed back to Leah and grab
bed her arms. “Promise me you’ll tell her,” he begged.

Leah looked into his distressed eyes and couldn’t deny him. “Of course I will.”

Brett gave her a jittery hug and raced out the door.

~~~**~~~

Hunter Henderson shot up in his uncomfortable black task chair and took notice of the images flashing before his eyes. He pounded on the keyboard. “Hey, hey, hey!” he shouted. “I think I found something.” In frustration he banged the keys harder. “Why in the hell can’t I ever rewind this blasted thing? Crandall, get over here!”

Blurry eyed from the nonstop, mind numbing search through the hours and hours of the recorded feed of Cara’s living room, Hunter’s plea barely registered with David. They had been at it so long that even the occasional peep show had lost its appeal. He eased his eyes closed and relished the relief they so desperately sought. His head turned towards the ruckus being created on the other side of the room and mumbled, “What?”

“Open your god-
damned eyes and get the fuck over here!”

David blinked and tried to shake off some of his weariness. He scr
ubbed his face and rolled his head from side to side, trying to stretch out some of the kinks in his neck which threatened to knot up and spasm. “What are you hollering about?”

Hunter slapped the side of the monitor. “I think I just saw the person who stashed the phony evidence.” He grabbed the display with both hands and choked it. “But this stupid thing won’t let me back
up.”

David rolled his eyes. “Slapping the monitor around isn’t going to help.” He got up and moved behind his partner. “Watch and learn.” He leaned over Hunter’s back and placed his
fingers on the mouse. The curser moved to the upper right hand corner of the screen and the commands to pause, stop, rewind, and fast-forward magically appeared. “See how easy it is when you talk nicely to it.”

Hunter growled and brushed Da
vid’s hand away. “Fuck off. I’m not in the mood.”

David could relate. They had been at it for twelve hours straight
, and there wasn’t enough coffee in the world that would help them push through their fatigue.

Hunter scrolled back through the footage. He wen
t so fast David missed what he was looking for. Hunter cursed knowing he had backtracked too far and let the feed go forward at its own pace. Two minutes later, David yawned and began to believe Hunter was hallucinating. Suddenly, the form of a man stepped out of Cara’s bedroom. The time stamp on the feed indicated that it was two o’clock in the morning.

In the middle of the night someone had broken in and was now lurking in the shadows. He was dressed in black, a hoodie
hid his face, and dark gloves covered his hands. David and Hunter watched the figure pull a manila envelope out from behind his back and walk just out of the camera’s field of vision. For the next few minutes all they saw was a glimpse of his back or an elbow as he worked to hide the evidence.

David tapped the screen. “You’ve been in Cara’s
apartment, what’s in that section of her home?”

“The kitchen. That side of the counter holds a trash compactor
and some drawers. I think he just pulled one of those things out and tape the envelope to either the back side of the compactor or maybe underneath a drawer. Do you remember the exact location where they found the evidence?”

At the moment, David was finding it hard to remember his name
, let alone the small details of the case.

Hunter rewound the feed and the two searched each frame more diligently. This time when the perp passed through the living room another clue emerged.

David smiled. “Look at his arm. There’s a roll of duct tape on it. See how the silver shimmered when it caught the light shining through the window. Back it up further. We need to know if Cara was home.”

Hunter did as he was told and at seven thirty the previous evening they got an eyeful of Cara’s cleavage as she pulled the door open and shut
it behind her. She had not returned home before her house was invaded.

“I can’t believe I missed that the first time around.” Hunter joked.

“We’re both tired. Why don’t we catch a few hours of sleep and pick it up again when we’re more refreshed.”

Hunter shook his head. “You do what you want, but I’m forging
on. I don’t understand how this Cloud thing works, and I’m afraid this information will vanish into thin air.”

David walked over to
the dark blue backpack he carried when he was on a case. He unzipped the front pocket and pulled out a thumb drive and tossed it to his weary cohort. “Back it up on this.”

Hunter
turned the portable storage device over and smirked, “Do you think a hundred and twenty-eight gigs will be enough?”

David zipped the compartment closed and patted the backpack lovingly. “There are four more of those babies in here if it’s not.”

“What are you, a flippin’ boy scout?”

David couldn’t help but grin. His previous partner had called him the exact same thing on numerous occasions. The fact that Woody Hooten was now crippled and in a wheelchair was a heavy cross
, which David was forced to bear. The memory of that horrific day flashed through his mind, and the smile was wiped from his face.

Hunter watched David Crandall’s emotions swing from almost happy to dark and sulking. He hit a nerve, but he couldn’t fathom what had caused the drastic change in attitude. “Go on home,” he told his partner. “If Dakota is still awake, tell her I’ll pick her up around eight. I’ll even bring breakfast.”

D
avid nodded. “I won’t argue. I’m so tired I can barely function.” He pointed to the backpack. “I’ll leave that here, in case there is anything else you need. Feel free to give it a look so you know what a real detective should always have on hand.”

Hunter flipped him the bird.

David chuckled lightly before he walked out of the office.

The moment the door closed, Hunter carefully opened another window on his computer and typed David Crandall into the search bar. If he was going to have a successful working relationship with the man, he needed to know more about him.

~~~**~~~

Cara pulled herself off the sofa and stumbled sleepily into the kitchen. She hadn’t heard any movement from her bedroom and figured her father was still asleep. He was nearing seventy, and the long drive between Sonoma and Tahoe had worn him out more than usual. She could well imagine how exhausting the stress of dealing with her mother’s illness was, and she worried his health could also be in danger.

She put the coffee pot on to brew and wandered into the bathroom. A pair of puffy eyes
stared back from her reflection. Cara splashed some cold water on her face and focused a few extra handfuls over her swollen optics. Knowing there was no hope, she gave up and went to overdose on some caffeine.

Her coffee quest was interrupted by a knock on the door. She made
a quick detour and swung opened the carnival inspired eyeball. “Hey, Leah, what are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry for barging in like this, but it couldn’t wait.” Leah brushed past Cara and headed for the freshly perked pot of Columbian mag
ic. She pulled down a couple of the large mugs which were usually reserved for hangover Sundays. Being as it was Tuesday, Cara was a little concerned.

“What’s going on?”

Leah poured the black pick-me-up and drank it down without the half and half she typically added. “Brett just stopped by the shop. He was a nervous wreck.” Her hands shook as she tried to describe the petrified hollowed out shell of a man formerly known as the sophisticated, internationally known artist. “He looked like he was about to fall apart and kept looking out the window, like someone was watching him. I half expected some mysterious stranger in a trench coat to waltz in and shoot us.” Leah picked up the other mug and downed it. “He’s running away from something. I just know it. He gave me some cryptic message for you. Something about enjoying the time the two of you spent watching some old black and white television program and how that sculpture in your front yard would come in handy one day.”

Cara frowned. That didn’
t sound like the Brett she knew. Brett had no problem taking on the world and living life exactly how he pleased. She wondered if having his place searched by the police had triggered the drastic change in behavior. That didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Brett had no problem opening his home/studio up to thousands of visitors a year. Bringing people into his sphere had made him famous. He was the male version of a social butterfly, and his life was an open book. He never hid anything, so why would someone be watching him and why would he be on the run? None of it made sense. “What did he say to you again?”

“Why are you so calm?” Leah shouted
. “I feel like I’m in some kind of spy movie.” She slammed her hand down on the counter. “The man was cryptic! I have never really seen cryptic in real life before, but I’ve watched a ton of spy and gangster movies, and Brett definitely fit the bill. With all that’s going on with the Alexander’s and their suspected connections with the mob, I’m totally freaked out!”

Cara looked towards her bedroom door. Her father had to have heard Leah’s outburst
, yet he had not stirred. She walked over and tapped the door gently. “Dad? Are you up?” No sound came from within, so she knocked a bit harder and turned the door knob. “Dad?” she asked as she stepped inside. “Are you okay?”