Terry Odell - Mapleton 01 - Deadly Secrets (24 page)

Slow-moving traffic ensnared them on the approach to the hotel. Megan glared at the gridlock, as if her gaze would slice through the cars, zapping them into nothingness.

Everything will be fine. Everything will be fine.
If she repeated it enough, maybe she’d believe it. And why shouldn’t it be fine? She smoothed out the tour brochure and studied it. Again. Looked at her watch. Again. One city tour was due at two, one at three, and the last at four. They’d already missed the first two, and if traffic didn’t let up, they’d miss the arrival of the last one.

The tour brochure had been in Megan’s purse, not in the car, and there were over a dozen tours listed. Nobody could know where Rose and Sam were. Nobody could have hijacked their bus and absconded with them. And the hotel wouldn’t give out a guest’s room number. They wouldn’t even say it out loud when they handed you the key cards. Rose and Sam wouldn’t open the door without checking the peephole, would they?

“Is there a faster way to the hotel?” she asked Justin. “A side road?”

“We’re almost there. Besides, I don’t know any shortcuts.”

“Look! Over there. Isn’t that a tour bus?” She pointed off to the right, where a large shuttle van was pulling into a hotel’s
porte cochere
.

“Megan, we don’t know which tour company they’re with, and even if we did, there are probably half a dozen tour busses in this area. We’ll get there. Worrying about it isn’t going to speed things up.”

How could he sound so calm? She took her eyes off the traffic and cut her gaze to Justin, noticing the white-knuckle grip on the wheel and the little muscle twitching in his jaw. Maybe he was better at hiding his emotional state. Then she recalled his anxious pacing in the hotel room. She’d calmed
him
down.

“You know, I have this theory,” she said. “There’s a finite amount of panic allotted for any situation, and we’re sharing the load for this one. It seems that when I’m ready to freak, you’re steady, and when you’re coming apart, I’ve got it together. Or else we’re both halfway nuts.”

“Come apart? Me? No way. I’m a guy. We don’t come apart. Not allowed. Can’t risk losing any man points. We all come with special internal settings that keep everything tight.”

She managed a smile. “See, you’re doing it now. I’m scared to death, and you’re teasing me out of it.”

“Bet we’re there before you can count to a hundred,” Justin said.

“You remember Rose’s game?”

Justin grinned. “Of course. Mom used it too.”

“Did she use it for going to the doctor? Getting shots?”

“It did provide the necessary distraction.”

“It probably helped that I used to lose count and had to keep starting over.”

Justin reached over and patted her thigh. “And the magic is still there. We made it.”

Megan was ready to jump out, but Justin didn’t pull into the valet parking lane.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“If we have to leave in a hurry, I don’t want to wait for a valet.”

The words “leave in a hurry” didn’t ramp down her worry meter. “You could drop me off at the entrance, and meet me upstairs.”

Justin didn’t stop. “No, we stick together.” He drove around to the hotel’s self-parking area.

She scanned the lot for empty slots. “There’s one. And it’s close to the rear entrance.”

Justin went past the spot, then spun the wheel and backed in. All the better to leave in a hurry. She drummed her fingers on the armrest, waiting for the car to stop. As soon as it did, she grabbed her purse, popped out, and slammed the door. “Don’t forget to lock it,” she called over her shoulder. She listened for the chirp of the remote, then walked faster.

“Megan, wait for me. Together, remember?”

“Right. Together. That’s probably better for the worry-sharing.”

“I think proximity helps,” Justin said, moving closer. He took her hand. “Physical contact seems to enhance the effect.”

She had to agree. The tension level eased. Not for long. The anticipation grew with each step toward their goal. By the time they’d crossed the lobby, she practically dragged him toward the elevator, where a car awaited passengers, door open. Inside, she mashed the button for twelve, tapping her foot until the doors closed and the car began its ascent. From her purse, her cell chirped. She fumbled through her bag, finding the phone resting on the bottom.

“Who’s calling?” Justin asked.

Megan checked the display. “The ‘last chance to recharge your battery’ fairy. Remind me to plug it in as soon as we check on Rose and Sam.” She powered off the phone and dropped it in her purse.

“They’re all right, aren’t they?” she said, more to convince herself than anything else.

“I’m sure,” Justin said. “Probably having a nap after all that sightseeing.”

The elevator dinged, the doors slid open, and Megan marched down the hall, her pace slowing as she approached the door. She hesitated before knocking. “I hate to wake them.”

“If so, we’ll apologize for disturbing them. You’re the one who insisted we rush up.”

“I guess I can be impulsive.”

She thought she saw Justin’s lips curve upward before he fisted his hand and lifted it toward the door.

“Wait.” She grabbed his hand before he knocked. “What if they’re…you know…
not
sleeping?”

“Geez, I thought I’d finally shaken that picture out of my head. I guess then we’ll
really
apologize for disturbing them.”

“I’m sure that’s not the case,” she said. “I mean, it sounded like last night would be…and it’s awfully soon after, considering…if they even—”

Justin shut her up with a glare and rapped on the door. “Oma, it’s us.”

Megan pressed her ear to the door, hearing nothing but silence. She knocked. “Rose? Sam?” Still no response.

“We could go to my room and call,” Justin said. His color deepened. “They might not…you know…want to come to the door.”

“Call their cell,” Megan demanded. “There’s no point in all this speculation. I’m getting a stomach ache.”

She leaned over, trying to see the display on Justin’s phone as he scrolled through contacts. “Don’t you have them on speed dial?”

He scowled. “I didn’t even know they had cell phones until I got here. And if you hadn’t forgotten your charger, we could be using
your
phone to find their number, because they called
you
, remember?”

Megan fished her phone from her purse and pushed the power button. Nothing. “It’s dead. Sorry.”

“Got it,” Justin said. He lifted the phone to his ear.

She watched, trying to read the expression on his face. He shook his head. “Voice mail.” After a pause, he said, “Hi, Oma. It’s Justin. Please call when you get this message. We’re okay, but we’d like talk to you as soon as possible.”

“Tell her how to hit call back,” Megan said. “And not to call me instead, because my phone’s dead.”

He rolled his eyes. “There should be a prompt telling them how to return the call when the message is over.” He snapped the phone shut. “I know they have my number. I programmed it for them myself.”

“Try Sam,” she insisted.

He did, with the same result.

She pounded on their door, taking her frustrations out on the wood. “Rose? Sam?” All she got for her efforts was a set of sore knuckles. She turned and leaned against the door, fighting panic. When there was no response, she conceded the battle. Panic emerged victorious.

Gordon copied the letter and envelope, then placed the originals into a paper evidence bag before adding it to his pending folder. He punched Megan’s number into his cell phone. Before she answered, Colfax burst into the office.

“Got something,” he said.

Gordon hit the end button. “What?”

“We can put Will Johnson and Al Stein together—or their phones, anyway. They were both in the same place at the same time.”

“You got the cell tower data?”

“Yep. Took a little tap dancing, but you can call me Fred Astaire.”

“Excellent. Shall we go pay another visit to Mr. Johnson?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Colfax grabbed his jacket from the hook. “I’ll drive.”

Gordon tugged his off his chair. “We going to play good cop, bad cop?” he said as they drove.

“Only if I get to be good cop,” Colfax said.

Gordon frowned. “That won’t work. I live here. I prefer the locals think of me as someone they can trust.”

Colfax laughed. “I figured you’d say that. You can be Officer Friendly, then. I think I have a nice length of rubber hose in the trunk.”

Gordon huffed. Colfax might be a damn good detective, but his sense of humor was wearing thin. He was also grinning like the proverbial canary-eating cat. “What else should I know before we start talking to Johnson?” Gordon asked.

“You didn’t ask where those phones were,” Colfax said.

“So, tell me.”

“We put it not far from the faked car accident. We can’t pinpoint the exact location, but it’s within half a mile.”

Gordon’s heart rate kicked up. “Time?”

“Maybe an hour before. We don’t have precise time of death, or time of the crash.”

“They wouldn’t be talking on the phone to each other if they were both in the same place. I can see them hooking up, verifying where the other one was, especially if they were off the road.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Colfax said.

“Maybe one arranged a meet with Karl Franklin, lured him off the road, and the other did the killing. Given the state of Johnson’s health, he’d probably be the arranger, not the killer.”

“Agreed.” Colfax turned down the lane to the B&B.

“What do you know about the good Mr. Stein?” Gordon asked.

“Not a lot. Mechanic. Works for a garage in Steamboat. No arrests or warrants.”

“Thought all your fancy databases and big-city contacts would know what he ate for breakfast.”

“Not quite. I couldn’t tell if he had his eggs scrambled or poached.”

Gordon shook his head in exasperation.

“Seriously,” Colfax went on. “He’s living in a big house, with three vehicles, and pays all his bills in full. Lives higher than expected from a garage mechanic’s salary, but we’ll need more cause to dig any deeper.”

After convincing the Richardson sisters not to announce their presence, Gordon and Colfax strode past the women’s disapproving frowns and went upstairs to the Iris Room.

Gordon gave the door a sharp rap, then moved out of the doorway. “Mr. Johnson. This is Police Chief Hepler and Detective Colfax. We’d like a minute of your time, please.”

“Definitely Officer Friendly,” Colfax muttered.

After some shuffling sounds, the door opened. Willard Johnson blinked, rubbed his eyes, and ran his fingers through sleep-tangled hair. “You come to arrest me?”

“No, sir. It’s like I said. We have a few questions.”

“Unless you want us to arrest you,” Colfax said. “You done anything we should arrest you for?”

“No, no. Come in. I was asleep. Takes awhile for my brain to kick in.”

Colfax marched into the room and went straight for the bedside table, where he lifted a pill vial from several lined up in a neat row beside a stack of paperbacks. Squinting at the label, he held it at arm’s length. “Potent stuff. You take a lot of this?”

Johnson swiveled his head toward Colfax, then gave Gordon a bewildered look. “I have prescriptions for those. What’s this about?”

Colfax set down the pill vial, picked up one of the paperbacks, and clumped across the room, a scowl on his face.

“Relax, Mr. Johnson.” Gordon smiled. “May I call you Will?”

“Um…yeah, why not.”

“Will, why don’t you sit down? Get comfortable.” Johnson took the only chair in the room, so Gordon sat on the bed, assuming a relaxed posture. Colfax stood in the doorway, thumping his knuckles against the book.

“You met with a Mr. Stein on Tuesday. Can you tell us what you did?” Gordon said.

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cut the dumb act,” Colfax said. “We know you were together.”

“But…but nobody could have seen us,” Johnson said. “He said so.”

“We don’t need witnesses,” Colfax said. “We have proof. What was it? Drug deal? Or maybe a lover’s meeting? Interesting reading material.” He tossed the book to Gordon.

Gordon started to set the book on the bed when the cover caught his eye. His cop radar bleeped like Angie’s alarm clock.

“What are you talking about?” Johnson said.

Gordon lost some of his Officer Friendly expression when he addressed Johnson. He strode to the night table and examined the books more closely. “The drugs may be legal, but we can arrest you for breaking and entering.”

“Hey, wait. I didn’t break in anywhere. What are you talking about? Nothing illegal about reading romance. You can buy those at any bookstore. Old, sick man like me, I enjoy a little fantasy.”

“What would you say if I told you we found another book like this one in the apartment above Daily Bread?” Gordon asked.

Guilt flashed like a neon sign from Johnson’s expression. He mopped his brow with a sleeve. “I told you, I’m sick. All the drugs, treatments. I had to lie down, just for a few minutes. Get out of the bright lights. Saw the waitress come back from the storeroom and set the key down. I took the key, went in, saw the stairs. And the door at the top wasn’t locked. I didn’t touch anything, I swear. Just took a quick lie-down on the couch. I put the key by the register where I found it.”

Gordon and Colfax did a quick non-verbal consult, Colfax’s slight head bob indicating Gordon should take the lead.

“We’ll see what the woman who lives there has to say. For now, you were waiting for Mr. Stein, weren’t you?”

Johnson nodded. “I live in Utah. They’re…conservative, you know.”

“Cut to the chase,” Colfax snapped. “What does that have to do with your business with Mr. Stein?”

For Gordon, everything clicked into place. “Stein’s your supplier, isn’t he?” he said. “The Richardons let you use this address?”

Johnson bowed his head. “It’s all legal.”

“Medical marijuana,” Gordon said.

“Yes. Stein’s my official caregiver. Like I said, it’s all legal. Bad enough I have to travel this far, and the amounts I can get are controlled. Lyla and Flo understand. But they don’t want me smoking in the house. And even though it’s legal, they don’t like the exchange happening here.”

“So, you were meeting Stein and getting your drug fix,” Colfax said.

Johnson’s head snapped up. “Hey, you try living with the pain and the nausea sometime.”

“And you didn’t run into anybody?” Colfax went on. “Just the two of you, doing your thing out in the woods?”

“Woods? What woods? We were at a scenic overlook. I got in his car, got my stuff, and left. There weren’t any other cars around.”

“Stein happen to mention seeing more…patients?” Colfax asked. “Maybe a Karl Franklin?”

Johnson shook his head. “Never heard of him. Stein and I didn’t talk. It was a business transaction, plain and simple. It sucks that it has to go down like this. The marijuana works, but I’ll be dead and buried long before Utah legalizes it, even under controlled conditions.”

Gordon took a long, hard look at Johnson, and another one at Colfax. He stood and offered Johnson his hand. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Johnson. Good luck.”

Johnson’s bewildered expression returned, but with a layer of gratitude mixed in. “Um…you’re welcome.”

Gordon closed the door behind them. The silence filled the staircase like a winter snowstorm as he and Colfax walked down. Flo and Lyla sat in the living room. Flo was knitting, Lyla reading a magazine. Both women stopped at their approach.

“How many?” Gordon asked.

Flo set her magazine aside. “In the past two years, maybe six. They deserve some comfort.”

“Would you have a Karl Franklin among them?” Colfax asked.

“No,” Flo said. “We merely allow them to use this address. We don’t grow or distribute, Chief Hepler.”

Gordon nodded. “If you do, make certain all your paperwork’s in order.”

Colfax didn’t utter a word until he pulled into the parking lot behind the station. “Guess we can scratch Johnson off our list of suspects. You want to do anything about his using Angie’s place for a nap?”

“I’ll let her know to be more careful with the key.” Relieved that he wasn’t going to get into a debate about marijuana for medical purposes, Gordon unlocked his office door. Colfax entered and made himself at home.

“I suppose it’s possible that Franklin showed up during the deal and started raising a ruckus.”

“Makes no sense,” Gordon said. “It’s legal—or close enough, as far as I’m concerned in this case. Why kill someone? And how could that tie in with Betty Bedford or the Kretzers?”

“Damned if I know. What I do know is that we eliminated two suspects, so we need a whole new guy. I’ll verify Stein’s who Johnson says he is. And I’ll see what’s up with our background check on Franklin. It should have come through already.”

And Gordon needed to call Megan and Justin. “You do that. I’ve got a couple of loose ends to tie up.” He tossed his hands in the air. “Budget crap,” he said, hoping Colfax couldn’t read the lie.

“Ah, it’s good
not
to be the Chief. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

After Colfax left, Gordon tried calling Megan again. Straight to voicemail. He stared at the unfamiliar script on the copy of the letter he’d made. He hadn’t learned to read German in the last hour. He picked up the phone and called the Frontier Hotel in Denver. “This is Gordon Hepler, Mapleton Chief of Police,” he announced to the receptionist. “I have a confidential fax for one of your guests. Justin Nadell.”

The clerk promised to watch for the fax and ensure it got to Justin.

“Thanks.” He typed a quick cover sheet and headed for the fax machine.