The Lady Who Sang High: A Reed Ferguson Mystery (A Private Investigator Mystery Series - Crime Suspense Thriller Book 7) (15 page)

The whole drive home I was still trying to figure out Jude. Jodie had said everyone liked him, but that wasn’t true, and now the things people had said began to make more sense – like Heath saying that Jude was planning something big. I’d assumed it meant some future plans for the store now that they were expanding into legalized marijuana. Or Bill’s comment that he thought Jude was leaving soon. Now that it appeared that Jude had been planning to sell the new process, those comments fit into a different context. But what exactly was Jude planning? And why was he doing all this behind Jodie’s back?

When I got home, I realized I was famished so I fixed a turkey sandwich and then went into my office and called Cal.

“Have you had time to research Heath Zimmerman?” I asked, pushing aside my own irritation at Willie. Didn’t she know I had to solve this case?

“No, but let me look now,” Cal said. Clicking noises burst through the phone as he began typing. As usual, he was fast, which I needed at that moment.

“He was a stock broker in New York with Merrill Lynch, and he worked at one time with Jude Lundgren at Morgan Stanley in the Tech Center.” He paused. “He had three hundred thousand that he invested in Blue Light. Nothing else, really. Not even any credit card debt. There’s a lot I can send you on his financials with Blue Light, but from a cursory look, no red flags.”

“Hm, maybe he’s telling the truth,” I murmured.

“Huh?”

I told Cal what was going on. When I finished, I said slowly, “Wait a minute – Bill overheard Jude say he’d be long gone.”

“So?”

“Can you check airline flights?”

“Sure.” I heard more typing.

“Oh, this is interesting,” he said.

“What?”

“He had a flight booked to Argentina for Friday night.”

“The day he was killed,” I said. “That makes sense. He sells the process and bolts out of the country. Screwing everyone, including Jodie, in the process. No pun intended.”

“Nice guy,” Cal muttered. “But instead of getting paid, did whoever he was selling it to steal the process and then kill him?”

“Maybe,” I said. “But then why murder Ivy? And why was I beat up in the warehouse? If whoever it was got the process, they’d just go away, right?”

“Seems that way,” he said. Then, “Oh, wait.”

“Did you find something else?” I asked.

“Jude paid for two airline tickets.” More typing. “Let me see,” he muttered. “It’s for a Mandy Oneida.” Click click of the keys. “Yep. They’re on the same flight, at midnight.”

“Jude was going to sell the process and leave with Mandy. A girlfriend?”

“That’d be my guess,” he said. “Hold on a second, I’ve got to break through a firewall.” I waited, staring at the framed movie poster from
The Big Sleep
, with Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. Bogie didn’t have to deal with computers and internet security. But then the technology was way different. “She’s got a clean record. Worked at Morgan Stanley.”

“That’s where Jude worked, with Heath, before he started Blue Light.” I pondered that. “I wonder if Jodie’s heard of her.”

“I can’t help you with that one,” he said.

“What? You don’t have a way to pry into her mind?”

“Sorry, that would be the government. Or Google.”

I shuddered at how close to the truth this might be.

“What about Jude’s house and his car, and everything else?” Cal asked. “Would he just walk away from all that?”

“If he’s making a ton of money and leaving the country, he doesn’t care about any of it,” I said. “What’s her address?”

He rattled it off. It was in Broomfield, a suburb twenty miles north of downtown Denver. I could get there in less than half an hour, depending on traffic.

“Check one more thing for me,” I said. “Look up Heath Zimmerman. Has he booked any flights?”

After a minute, he said, “No tickets or rentals. No travel plans at all, unless he’s driving his own car.”

“Okay, thanks, Cal,” I said. “I’ll bring pizza the next time I come up.”

“Deal.” With that, he hung up.

My next call was to Jodie.

“Ever heard of Mandy Oneida?”

“No, why?”

“Jude never mentioned her?”

A pause. “I don’t think so. Who is she?”

“I’m not sure yet,” I said. “Everything okay there?”

“Yes, Liza and I are here with the doors locked, making dinner.”

“Good. I’ve got to check on a few things and I’ll be in touch.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“I will when I confirm some stuff.”

She sighed heavily and hung up.

I went out into the living room and bumped into Willie.

“Are you ready?” she asked without any other greeting. She had on her hospital scrubs. “I got off early. Just let me change.” She stopped and studied me.

“Ready for what?” My mind was blank.

“We have the house inspection today, and the insurance people.” She put her hands on her hips. “You forgot.”

“I didn’t…” I couldn’t think of what to say. “I have to go interview a woman about Jude’s death.” I told her what I’d discovered about Heath, Jude, and the mysterious Mandy Oneida.

“You promised me you’d meet with the inspectors. Besides, whoever-she-is won’t be home now,” Willie reasoned. “So you can go with me, and then see about this ‘Mandy’.”

Good point…and delivered with a
tone
. I was going to lose this argument.

“And we’ve got to get this place cleaned,” she said. “Your parents come into town tomorrow, remember?”

I sighed. “I’ll get it done. I promise,” I said and followed her out of the condo.

As we walked across the street to her newly rebuilt house, I wondered if Bogie ever had to worry about domestic chores when he was on a case.

***

Mandy Oneida lived in a newer neighborhood in Broomfield. After spending way too long with the inspectors and insurance people at Willie’s house, I finally was able to get on the highway. It took me twenty minutes to get to Broomfield, going straight up Interstate 25 through heavy traffic. Hers was the end unit in a row of nearly identical townhouses, each one painted a darker or lighter variation of construction-beige. A small porch on the front had just enough room for a tiny wrought-iron table and two rather uncomfortable-looking chairs.

I pulled to the curb in front of her townhouse shortly after five. Dark clouds blanketed the sky to the west, and a rumble of thunder greeted me as I walked up the sidewalk to her door. A late afternoon monsoon rain would arrive soon.

I rang the bell and waited, hoping she wasn’t out for the evening. A moment later, I heard footsteps and the door swung open.

“Mandy?”

“Yes?” She was tall, close to six feet in bare feet, with caramel-colored hair pulled into a ponytail, a little too much makeup, and startling green eyes made all the more striking by her aqua silk blouse.

“I’m Philip Marlowe, and I’m a private investigator,” I said, using one of my aliases.

Her eyes darted around warily. “Is something the matter?”

“I’d like to ask you about Jude Lundgren.” Blunt, to the point. Take her off guard. And it worked.

“I…who?” A flicker of sadness, and then dread, crossed her face.

I repeated Jude’s name.

She made a show of thinking about it. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“You’re not a very good liar.”

She looked past me. “Who’s with you?”

“No one.” I glanced over my shoulder, wondering who she was expecting.

“Fine.” She gestured at the chairs on the porch. She sunk into the chair closest to her front door. “Have a seat.”

I sat down, feeling the tension in the awkward space between us. She played with the pleat in her slacks and stared at the ground.

“Want to tell me about it?” I finally asked.

“Not really.” She blinked hard a couple of times. “But since you’re here, you must know about Jude and me.”

That was
all
I knew, but I bluffed my way forward. “How long were you together?”

“On and off for two years.”

“On and off?” I repeated.

“Well, more on lately. Oh god.” She buried her face in her hands. “Are you going to tell anyone about me?”

Interesting. Not asking about his death, but instead focusing on her involvement with him. “Why was your relationship with Jude a secret?”

She looked up, staring at the street. “When I first met Jude, I was still married. That’s why we didn’t tell anyone. Like I said, it was off and on. We met at a bar downtown. My husband was out of town and one thing led to another. Jude and I spent the weekend together. That happened for a while and then I finally told him I was married. That shook him up and we were off for a while. But then he called and wanted to see me. So we met and it was on again, but I felt bad about cheating on my husband, even though I wasn’t sure I loved him anymore, so I broke it off with Jude. That only lasted a short time because I really liked Jude and my husband traveled a lot for work. I started seeing Jude again and finally broke it off with my husband.” She jerked a thumb at her front door. “That’s why I’m in this place. He basically threw me out.”

“Why not tell anyone now that you’re separated?”

“My divorce is really ugly, and…” She paused. “I’m not sure how I feel about Jude.”

“But you’re divorcing your husband because of him.”

“I’m divorcing because my marriage wasn’t working. Jude just set it in motion. I don’t think I loved him.”

“And Jude didn’t want to tell anyone because that would complicate his plans to take you and go to Argentina.”

 Her eyes finally met mine. “Oh, you know about that.”

I nodded.

“Like I said, this divorce is horrible. My husband is trying to ruin me, and he’s doing a pretty good job. So the idea of just leaving everything behind and escaping was appealing.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if I really could’ve stayed with Jude, but…”

“Did Jude say why he wanted to leave?”

“He was sick of things here. ‘All I’ve ever done is take care of things.’ That’s what he’d say. He took care of his parents’ estate after they died, which was more like taking care of their funerals and debt, and he was going to school as well. Then he took care of Jodie, made sure she got through high school and college and kept out of trouble. And from what he said, she was a handful. Had lots of problems after her parents died. He had to work hard, first at the jobs he got out of college, and then at Blue Light. He told me he was sick of it. Discovering that new process was his way out.” She smiled at me. “Yes, I knew about the process and how much money it would bring him.”

“That’s a pretty cold thing to do to his sister, let alone the investors.”

She snorted. “Yeah, but he was sick of her clinging to him. And he had her set up good with Blue Light. She’ll be all right as long as she doesn’t do anything stupid. He figured he’d done enough there and it was time for her to be on her own.”

Okay, Jude had worked hard to rationalize his actions. Nice for him, not so much for everyone else.

“So he was leaving everything here and starting a new life in South America,” I said.

“Yes.”

“With you.”

She shrugged.

I thought for a second. “How’d you find out about his death?”

“At first I didn’t know,” she said. “When he didn’t show up on Friday night, I thought maybe he changed his mind about taking me. I tried calling, but of course he didn’t answer. Then I saw the news the next day about a death at Blue Light. I knew it had to be him. I’ve been wondering what I should do. I could tell the police what I know, which, as you now know, isn’t much. I’m also kind of scared.”

“Why?”

“What if whoever killed Jude knows about me? Would they come after me?”

“Do you have the notes on the process?”

“No. Jude said he’d gotten rid of all the copies of it, except for one he was selling, and a copy he was taking with him. That’s all I know.”

“Why would he care about keeping a copy if he was selling it?”

“I don’t know.”

She could be lying, but if so, why would she tell me all this? To throw me off? But she had to know if I found her, I’d find out what she was doing. My gut said she was on the level.

“I doubt anyone knows about you,” I said. “So they can’t come after you.”

“I hope not.”

“Where were you Friday night?”

“I was at the airport. Jude told me to meet him there at ten, so I did. I waited until one in the morning. Then I knew something had gone wrong.” She paused. “I still have the parking ticket to prove it.”

She got up and went inside, returning in a moment with a stub from an airport parking lot. It showed the correct times, but it really didn’t prove that she was there. However, the airport had security cameras everywhere so that would make it possible to verify her alibi. Maybe
I
couldn’t do it, but Cal, or the police, could.