The Lady Who Sang High: A Reed Ferguson Mystery (A Private Investigator Mystery Series - Crime Suspense Thriller Book 7) (12 page)

Race Street was busier than I would’ve liked, but it was just west of City Park in an up-and-coming neighborhood, so that made sense. Very popular with the younger set. A lull in people and car traffic finally came and I nodded at the building.

“I’ll be back in a flash,” I said as I got out.

Cal didn’t say a word, already concentrating on looking for Ivy.

I stole across the street and up to the front door of Ivy’s building. I was in luck – it wasn’t locked. I let myself into a small foyer with locked mailboxes, a bulletin board and a single overhead light. On the other side was a staircase.

Ivy lived in 306. I took the stairs two-at-a-time to the third floor and turned right, then crept down a dimly lit hallway. Her apartment was the last unit on the left.

I knocked, waited, then put my ear to the door and listened. Satisfied that no one was inside, I inspected the door. It was metal, with a doorknob and a deadbolt. I frowned. That deadbolt could be hard to pick. But first things first. I tried the knob. It didn’t turn. I wasn’t surprised, but would’ve felt like a fool if I’d started to pick the lock, only to realize that I didn’t need to.

I took out my set of picks and went to work. It was a cheap doorknob and I had it unlocked in under a minute. And fortune smiled on me because I was able to unlock the deadbolt without too much difficulty. I opened the door and listened. Quiet.

I moved across the threshold and shut the door behind me. I didn’t breathe as I waited a moment, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. Satisfied I was still alone, I exchanged the lock-picking set for my flashlight, turned it on and shone it around.

I was standing in a narrow hallway. In front of me was a door to a bathroom. To the right was a bedroom, and the left opened into a living area. I quickly but thoroughly checked the bedroom. Nothing but a double bed, a large dresser, and a small nightstand. I checked in, around, and under everything, but I didn’t find anything that looked like Jude’s notes or a USB drive. Or a gun that might’ve killed Jude.

As I came out of the bedroom, I stopped. Had I heard something? I held my breath and listened. Someone was in the hallway outside. I waited, hearing footsteps that drifted away. I let out my breath and headed down the hall.

I searched the bathroom and then went into the living room. On one side, a doorway led to a small kitchen with barely enough room for a cheap Formica table and two chairs. I rifled through the drawers, but found nothing. The living area had a TV against one wall, a couch across from it, and behind that, sliding doors that opened onto the balcony.

A long table dominated the entire back wall. On it was a microscope, a laptop, a notebook, loose papers with scribbling on them, and a large box turned upside down. Light filtered out from cracks under the edges of the box, where it didn’t quite sit flush with the table. I went over and picked up one side of the box. Marijuana plants sat under a lamp powerful enough to bathe the entire room in bright light.

“Smart to cover it up,” I said aloud, “So the light doesn’t draw attention to your little growing scheme.”

I moved over to the notebook and opened it. The notes were not written in Jude’s handwriting, so I assumed it was Ivy’s. I flipped through the pages, and tucked in the back was what looked like the papers that I’d seen in her purse. I pulled them out and gave them a cursory reading. There were typed numbers and formulas that didn’t mean anything to me. I laid each one out on the table, shined the flashlight on them, and took pictures of them with my cell phone. Then I put the papers back and checked the laptop. It was in sleep mode and password-protected, so I was out of luck. I wondered if I should have Cal come up and take a look at it. As quickly as I thought it, I dismissed it. First, Cal wouldn’t have enough time to do anything. Secondly, I’d never be able to coax him out of the safety of my 4-Runner. I checked around the rest of the table, careful not to disturb anything too much, but still no USB drive, and no Jude’s notes. I started on the rest of the room, being extremely thorough.

The large purse that Ivy had at Blue Light was tossed next to the couch. I knelt down and opened it up, finding the same items as before, sans the papers that were now in the back of the notebook on the table. I stood up and sighed. Everything was out in the open, and it didn’t appear that Ivy was hiding anything. If those papers in the notebook weren’t Jude’s actual process notes, then I didn’t know where she might’ve hid them. If she even had them.

I went back to the table, opened the notebook and used my phone to take pictures of the pages. They didn’t mean anything to me, but maybe Cal or Jodie could decipher them. I hurried, my nerves making my hand tremble. I hoped the pictures would be clear enough to read. I realized I’d lost track of time and I wanted to leave soon.

I hadn’t made much progress with the notebook when my phone buzzed, letting me know I’d received a text. My heart felt like machine-gun fire in my chest. I checked the message.

“She’s back!” Cal had texted.

I flicked off the flashlight and shoved it in my pocket, along with my phone. Then I rushed over toward the door, blind in the darkness, and crashed into the couch. I silently cursed and put out a hand until I connected with the wall. I felt along the wall to the door and was about to open it when I heard voices drawing close. I looked around frantically, but all that greeted me was darkness. In three strides I was back in the living room. My eyes had adjusted somewhat and I could barely make out the couch. I raced around it and to the sliding doors. I unlocked it, let myself out onto the balcony and eased the door shut. Maybe Ivy would think she’d left it unlocked. I glanced down the alley; it was quiet.

A rectangle of light suddenly cut into the living room. Without thinking, I went to the railing, grabbed it and swung a leg over. Once my foot found purchase, I swung the other leg over. I crouched down and lowered my legs over the edge, holding onto the bottom of the railing with my hands. Just as I saw Ivy and someone else come into the living room, my feet connected with the railing on the balcony below. I ducked my head down, leaned my body inward, then let go. I tumbled onto the balcony and crashed into a plastic chair.

I didn’t wait to see if anyone was home or if they’d heard me. Instead I went right to the railing and looked down. A Dumpster with its lid open sat in the alley below me. This was going to be nasty. But it was either this or explain to Ivy what I was doing there.
Hi, I’m selling Avon…yes, I usually surprise prospective buyers by coming in from the balcony
. No, that wouldn’t do.

I slipped over the railing and dropped into the Dumpster, landing in a pile of plastic trash bags. I wish I could say it was my first foray into a Dumpster, but it wasn’t. I was more than familiar with its revolting odor, slime and other unmentionable sensations. I noted that this one wasn’t as bad as my previous encounter, then almost laughed at my Dumpster critique:
A lovely mix of loose trash and bags, and an exquisite bouquet
. I lay for a moment and gazed up, then cocked my head and listened.

No one appeared on the second floor balcony, but then I saw Ivy on hers. She and her friend leaned against the rail for a minute. As they chatted, their voices drifted down to me, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. They looked around for a bit and then disappeared.

I scrambled out of the Dumpster, barely taking time to brush myself off, and then I ran down the alley and back to the 4-Runner.

“Jeez, don’t sneak up on me like that!” Cal snapped as I opened the driver’s side door and slid into the seat. He was breathing hard. But then he wrinkled his brow, reached over and gingerly picked a potato peeling from my hair. “Ew.” He opened his door and tossed it out.

“Shut up,” I muttered. I started the car and drove down the street and around the corner. Then I pulled over, got out and thoroughly brushed myself off. Thankfully I didn’t have too much stuck on me. And I didn’t smell too bad, which was a bonus.

When I got back in, Cal had his focus out the windshield, but the corners of his mouth were curled up in a sly grin.

“Want to tell me what happened?” he finally asked.

“Not really.” But I did anyway.

He howled with laughter when I got to the part about the Dumpster. “I’ll bet your noir heroes never got into a mess like that.”

“Hey, how about a little support?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” he said.

Good point. “Let’s go get a beer. And I’m hungry, too.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Ten minutes later we were at Josephina’s, a hip hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant a few blocks from my condo, drinking Fat Tires and munching on chips and salsa.

“Oh, that hits the spot,” I said. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.

“Let’s see if Ivy had anything from Jude’s computer,” Cal said after we ordered. The kitchen was officially closed, but I dined there often enough that they made an exception for us this evening.

I frowned as I pulled out my phone and handed it to him. “She could’ve hid it really well, but it didn’t look like she was trying to do that. I was thorough, too.” I took a sip of beer. “Look at the pictures I took. Does any of it make sense to you?”

He swiped the screen and went through the photos. Cal was wicked smart, and I knew that he’d be able to make some sense of her notes, even if he didn’t understand all of it. As I waited, I looked onto 18
th
Avenue. It was Sunday night, but still a lot of traffic flew by. The waitress arrived with our food arrived and I tackled my burrito, quickly scarfing down half of it. Cal kept swiping at the screen, taking bites of his enchiladas in between.

“She’s got some interesting stuff here,” he finally concluded. “But it doesn’t look like anything complete. Jodie should take a look at this, but I’d say Ivy’s not as close to discovering this new process as she says she is.”

I took a bite and pondered what he’d said as I chewed. “So why buddy up to me, saying she is close? So I’d find the real notes and give them to her?”

“Probably.”

“I’m meeting her for lunch tomorrow. I need to find out for sure what she really knows. The question is, how?”

“Why don’t you just ask her?” Cal asked. “Tell her you don’t trust her.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Sometimes the direct approach worked just fine. I finished off the last gooey bite of my burrito. “I could tell her Jodie had me help clean up Jude’s office and I found something.”

“And see what her reaction is.”

I nodded. “I’ll have to come up with something plausible that sounds like it’s part of the new process.”

“Or you hold back, telling her she has to earn your trust.” Cal had a strategic side that I frequently underestimated.

“She’ll be pissed at that.” I thought about the icy looks she’d been giving me. I could see her blowing a gasket when she realized that not only could she not manipulate me, but that I was turning the tables on her, especially if she found out she wasn’t as close to discovering the process as she thought she was.

“And if she did kill Jude,” I said. “Then she’s even more dangerous.”

“You really think she killed him?”

“It’s possible. Desperate people do desperate things, and a lot of money is at stake.”

“Where are Jude’s notes?” he asked.

I gnawed at my lip. “I don’t know.”

I was stabbing in the dark with my speculations, but not coming up with any definitive answers.

***

When we returned to my condo, Cal got in his Honda Civic and headed back to his house in the foothills west of Denver. It had been a long, eventful day and I wearily climbed the stairs to my place. When I entered the condo, silence greeted me. Willie wasn’t due home from work for another hour, so I took a shower and then sprawled on the bed. I stared at the ceiling and thought about the case, and I must’ve fallen asleep. The next thing I knew, I felt Willie kissing me warmly and with a little more enthusiasm than just good-night.

“Mm, I like that.” I pulled her down.

“Reed –” she said as she fell on top of me. “I need to get out of these scrubs!”

I thought she looked cute in her hospital scrubs, but I also thought she’d look sexy without them on. “I can help with that.”

“Okay.” Her voice was low and suggestive as she pulled her shirt off. “Want to see more?”

I did, and I did.

***

Afterward, we lay in bed talking. She told me a funny story that happened at work, and I shared about the case.

“What is your work schedule at Blue Light this week? You do remember you have to pick up your mother on Wednesday?”

“Uh…of course I do.” Actually, I hadn’t.

She sat up. “You did forget.” Now her tone was mildly accusatory.

“Maybe just momentarily. But I’ll be there.”

“Reed, this is important,” she said. “I’m meeting your mother and father for the first time. This is a big deal.”

“You’re right.” I pulled her back down and kissed her. “I’ll make sure everything goes off without a hitch.”

“I know you’re working, but you can’t meet them at the airport with bruises on your face, or get beat up or something worse while they’re here.”

“I won’t. I’ll be careful.”

We lapsed into a quasi-comfortable silence, but I was thinking,
how the hell could I guarantee that?

***

Ivy showed up at Paramount Café precisely at eleven. I was already sitting at a patio table that faced the 16
th
Street Mall. Located in what was once the lobby and entrance of the historic Paramount Theatre, the café was a staple along the mall. Paramount didn’t serve the finest food on the mall, but it had a nice variety that was reasonably-priced, and I loved its art deco tile floor and rock ‘n’ roll feel. The café’s wrap-around bar had long ago been the lobby’s concessions stand and soda fountain. Not only did I love the décor, I also loved their beer selection and normally would’ve imbibed, but it was too early for me, and I had to be at Blue Light in an hour.

Ivy was wearing the Blue-Light version of “business casual” in her short shorts, tight black tee shirt, and flip-flops. I also noticed a couple of flower tattoos on her upper arms that I hadn’t seen before. She had dark half-moons under her eyes as if she hadn’t slept much.

“Long night of partying?” I asked.

“Actually, no.” She had her large purse slung over her shoulder. She pulled out a chair across from me and sat down, putting the bag underneath her chair. I wondered if it had more of Jude’s notes in it…or the gun I didn’t find in her apartment.

A tall, skinny waiter came outside and gave us menus. I ordered a mushroom bison burger and a Coke, and Ivy got a chef’s salad and an IPA from a local brewery.

“So you want on board?” she asked after the waiter left.

“Yeah,” I said. “But here’s the thing –” She scooted her chair closer to the table and leaned her elbows on it. “How can I trust you?”

Her eyes widened. “Trust
me
? Hey, I let you in on –” She stopped when the waiter approached with our drinks. When he was out of earshot, she lowered her voice and hissed, “I’m the one who’s almost got this figured out.”

“Says you.”

“You don’t believe me?” Her nostrils flared.

I shrugged. “I haven’t seen anything yet.”

She reached under her chair and yanked some papers out of her bag. “What do you think this is?”

“I don’t know.”

“Read them.” She thrust the pages at me.

I took them, secretly hoping it was something I hadn’t seen yet, something that would definitely prove she had Jude’s notes, and not just her own, but they were the same papers I’d looked at yesterday.

I made a show of reading them carefully and making ‘hm’ sounds. “Okay, you’re on to something here.” I hoped she wouldn’t ask me to explain anything because I wouldn’t know how.

“See?” she said triumphantly.

“Okaaay…”

“But?”

I changed course. “Where were you the night Jude was killed?”

“You asked me that the yesterday,” she snapped.

“Yesterday I was just curious. But now, if I’m going to help steal Jude’s process notes, I want to know if you had anything to do with his death.”

“Wow. You really don’t trust me, do you?”

“A dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest,” I said, quoting Jack Sparrow in
Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl
. It wasn’t film noir, but it was a helluva line.

“Really?” She was astounded. “You think I killed Jude?”

I eyed her. “Did you?”

“Of course not.” She glared at me as our food arrived. She picked up her fork and jabbed at her salad. “I have an alibi. I was out with friends. We hung out at Paris on the Platte and then danced at Vinyl. I hang out at Paris on the Platte a lot, so they know me. You can check.” Paris on the Platte was a bohemian bar and café in the Highlands, and Vinyl was a popular club in SoCo, a neighborhood just south of downtown Denver. I had a rather interesting evening at Vinyl recently, only because I was working on a case that involved babysitting a trust fund baby. I definitely did not fit in with the crowds that frequented Vinyl.

“I’ll check,” I said.

We ate for a few minutes in silence.

“Why were you talking to Pete?” I asked after I took another bite of my burger.

“I wasn’t.”

She lied as well as any femme fatale in the best film noir movies, no hesitation or surprise.

“Huh, guess I was mistaken,” I said. Jack Sparrow’s line played in my mind. “So if we’re doing this, then you need to show me what you have so far.”

She had a bite of salad halfway to her mouth and she stopped. “Why do you want to see it all?”

“So I can know how close we are. And if I find any of Jude’s notes, I’ll know if it’s different from what you have.”

“I don’t know.”

I threw her a half-smile. “Now who doesn’t trust whom?”

“Can you blame me?”

I finished my burger and sat back. “Look, either one of us could screw the other. We also know you need me and I need you. Let’s make this work.”

She mulled that over while she sipped her beer. “Fine. Come by my apartment after you get off work. I’ll show you what I have so far.” She rattled off the address and I dutifully wrote it down.

“I’ve got to get to work.” I stood up and left some money on the table. “That should cover it.”

“Thanks,” she said, but she didn’t sound like she cared that I paid. “Have fun at work.”

As I hurriedly walked to the 4-Runner, parked a few blocks away, I thought about what she’d said. I’d need to check her alibi, and I would’ve liked to do that before I met her at her apartment tonight. But I had to go to work, so I didn’t see how that would happen. Then my phone rang, and it was the one person I currently knew who was available now to check her alibi. How reliable the information might be was a different issue.