This Doesn't Happen in the Movies (15 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Thanks for the ride,” I said to the semi driver as he dropped me off at the side of the road near Interstate 70 and Quebec, on the eastern side of metro Denver.  The big eighteen wheeler groaned as it edged its way back on the highway, leaving me in its dust.

Once I had determined that the SUV was not coming back for me, I ran back down the dirt road to the highway, yanking my flimsy sweater up around my ears, and stuffing my hands deep into the pockets of my jeans.  That did little to keep out the burning cold, and I had to stop and walk twice because of stabbing pains in my side.  I definitely needed to get in shape if I were going to continue in this profession.

I reached the highway, cold and out of breath.  I crossed the eastbound lanes, ran through a grassy, frost-covered median, and began walking along the westbound lanes.  I stuck my left arm out and pointed my thumb up, hoping someone would have pity on me.  Cars hurtled by, but none stopped or even slowed down.  After ten minutes my arm was tired, and I was fuming.  The broken taillight told me one thing: the X Women were posing as the FBI.  That thought made me grow colder still.  I was lucky to be alive.

I was composing sentence after sentence of creative curses for the X Women, the FBI, and the imposter agent Dobson in particular, when a big rig slowed down ahead of me.  The young driver seemed disappointed that I wanted a ride only to the nearest telephone.  He’d have to look for someone else for company.

He dropped me within walking distance of a 7-Eleven that we spotted from the highway.  I jogged to the pay phone on the side of the building and dug change from my pocket.  My hands shook as I fed quarters into the pay slot.  I punched in a number and waited.  Three rings.

“Hello?”

“Deuce, it’s me,” I said through chattering teeth.

“Hey, Reed.  We’re done playing pool.”

No kidding.  “I need you to do me a favor.”

“Sure.  What do you need?”

“Can you come pick me up?”

“Uh, sure Reed.  But why do you want me to pick you up?”

“I’m across town.”  I gave him directions to where I was.

“Oh.  Okay,” he said.  “I’ll leave right now.”

I hung up and entered the store.  I used the restroom and bought hot chocolate, never so grateful for a warm cup in my hands.  I chatted with the clerk, who seemed wary of me.  He didn’t need to worry.  If I robbed him of anything, it would be his coat.

I wished Deuce would hurry.  Twenty minutes later, a white, full-size Chevy truck pulled up outside, and Deuce waved at me from the passenger window.  It took a second before I realized that his brother, Bob, was driving the truck.  I thanked the clerk as I left, and he seemed relieved that I wasn’t going to do anything to him.

Deuce opened the truck door and scooted over into the middle seat.  “Thanks for helping me out,” I said as I got into the truck.  I felt like I’d crawled into a fireplace.  I put my hands gratefully in front of the heating vents as Bob hit the gas pedal.

“Somebody playing a joke on you?” Bob asked as we chugged out of the lot.

“Something like that,” I said.

“Why are you all the way out here without your car?”  Deuce glanced at me.  “And your coat.  You got mad at me the other day for not having my coat, remember?”

“Uh-huh,” I said.  “I’ll make sure to follow my own advice next time.”

“Is this about your job?” Deuce asked, a touch of worry in his voice.

The last thing I wanted to do was complicate his life with my work.  Not that he would understand it. 
I
didn’t understand it.  “Yeah, Deuce.  It’s no big deal, though,” I answered.

Deuce seemed to buy that, crossing his arms and launching into small talk about his pool game.  Bob listened with a wry smile on his face.  I sank into the seat and was nearly asleep by the time we got home.

“You gonna watch the rest of the movie?” Deuce asked Bob as we walked up the porch steps.

“No, buddy, I’ve got to be up early tomorrow,” Bob answered him.

“Okay.  Don’t forget dinner this weekend.”  Deuce said, punching Bob on the arm.  “And you be careful,” Deuce said to me in an eerie imitation of me warning him.  Spooky.

“I will,” I said as he disappeared inside.  I turned to Bob.  “Thanks again.”

“I know I don’t know you well, but should I be worried about you?” Bob asked.  “First someone gives you a nasty bump on the head, then someone takes you on a ride into the middle of nowhere.”

I hesitated a second, surprised by his concern.  “No, I’m fine.  All part of the job.”

His eyes twinkled.  “My brothers talk about you all the time.  I’d hate to see anything happen to their friend.”  He extended his hand.

“Thanks,” I said.

I watched his white truck drive off and climbed the stairs to my place.  I took a hot shower, threw extra blankets on the bed, and crawled under them, still trying to shake off the chill.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I slept late the next morning, then spent an hour cleaning up my apartment.  Once I’d put everything back in its place after the debugging rampage from last night, I climbed on a chair and placed a piece of masking tape over the tiny spying device in the fan.  My first thought had been to get in the attic and take it out.  But I didn’t want to tip my hand just yet.  Let them think I still thought they were the FBI.  They could have their spyglass, but they wouldn’t see me.

After I showered, dressed, and ate, I headed outside and around the house to the garage in the back.  First thing I needed to do was get a new cell phone.  I turned the corner and ran smack into a man that would give a professional wrestler a run for his money.  “Oof!”  Just like last night.

A smile formed on the man’s face.  “Are you okay?” he asked politely.

I noticed a shorter, slender man behind him.  Both were dressed in dark suits.  A sense of déjà vu swept over me.  “What do you want?” I asked.

“I’m Special Agent Forbes with the FBI,” the smaller guy said.  He flashed a gold badge at me, then waved a hand at his partner.  “This is Special Agent White.  We’d like a word with you.”  No guns, just a civil demeanor.

“Yeah, right,” I said.  “Wasn’t last night enough?”  I had quickly gone through a range of emotions, from surprise and fear, to downright pissed off.  I hoped the last wouldn’t get me killed.

“What do you mean?” Forbes asked.

“Let me see that badge again,” I said.  He handed it over and I scrutinized it carefully.  “How do I know you’re who you say you are?”  Even as I said it, I noticed a gray sedan with government plates parked down the alley.  Government plates – white plates.  Not like the dark plates on the SUV last night.

“What happened last night?”  A look of genuine puzzlement spread across his face.

“Someone’s impersonating you guys.”

Forbes and White exchanged a cautious look.  “Who might that have been?” Forbes said a bit too lightly.

“Oh, come on,” I snapped.  “We all know who it was, or you wouldn’t be here.”

Forbes shrugged.  “The X Women, no doubt.”  He met my gaze.  “You’re correct.  We know about them, as well as your investigation.”  He frowned.  “But pretending to be the FBI is new territory for them.”

“How do you know about my investigation unless you’ve been spying on me,” I glared at him.  “It was you guys who planted the spy camera in my house.”

Forbes shook his head.  “No, that’s the work of the X Women.  But we have been tracking your investigation.”

“I feel so exposed.”  That got a trace of a smile from White.

“What did they do to you?”  I briefly explained about my trip in the SUV last night.  “It sounds like you must be a threat to them,” Forbes mused when I'd finished.  “And I wouldn’t take that lightly.”

“So I gathered,” I said.

“Unfortunately, you’re a threat to our investigation as well.”  Forbes stared at me.

“This sounds familiar.”

“I need to ask you to stop,” Forbes said.  “We’ve been working this case for too long to have the X Women bolt because of the meddling of an amateur detective.”

“Amateur?  I’ve done pretty darn well, if I do say so myself.”

Forbes was not amused.  “You’re coming dangerously close to tampering with a federal investigation, Mr. Ferguson.  If you do cross the line, I can prosecute you.”

“More threats.”

White stepped up.  “Watch yourself.”  His nostrils flared.  Forbes held him back.

“Leave this to the professionals,” Forbes said.  They both turned and walked down to the sedan.

I waited until the car disappeared before I let out a deep breath.  Threatened by the X Women, and now the real FBI.

I strolled to the garage and pulled the 4-Runner out and drove down the alley.  As I turned onto 18th, another sedan pull up behind me.  A man in a dark suit and equally dark sunglasses sat behind the wheel.  I then saw Special Agent White in the passenger seat.  They stayed close to me all the way to the office.  The FBI weren’t even bothering being subtle.

The feds followed me as I visited a cell phone store and bought a new phone and had the data uploaded onto it, and they were still with me as I drove to my office.

I parked in my space and tried to walk as nonchalantly as possible to my building, but having Big Brother watching made me uneasy.  I entered the building through double glass doors and stepped to the left, then peered out through the glass.  The sedan sat across the street in a spot where the agents could watch the doors.  The driver inserting something into his ear.  So, they weren’t responsible for the camera device at the condo, but they were listening here.  Cute.  I hurried through the first floor halls to a back entrance and peeked out the metal door.  A similar vehicle was parked in the alley, and I had no doubt that a similar agent was also watching for me.  I eased the door shut and took a deep breath.  Special Agent Forbes was not kidding.

Once in my office, I peeled off my coat, chucked it onto a chair and went to my desk.  I picked up the phone and checked messages.  There were three from Amanda, begging me to call her, and one from Cal.  He had more information, call when I could.  I had no sooner cradled the phone than it rang. 

“Where have you been?”  Amanda’s breathy voice sounded surprisingly lucid.  “Why haven’t you returned my calls?”

 “Things are,” I paused, “complicated.”

“I have to talk to you.  Please, Reed, you have to help me.”

“Okay, but we can't talk over the phone,” I cut her off.  “Come to my office.”

“Why?”

“I need to talk to you in person.”  I didn’t want to tell Amanda anything over the phone.

I heard only silence on the other end.  “I’ll come down now,” she finally said.

“Okay.”

I hung up without another word and cursed myself for ever taking the case.  Now I had to detach myself from her, or my own family and friends would be in danger.  I thought about my game plan while I waited.  I turned on my MP3 player and selected a Talking Heads CD, turning it up loud.  I figured I had about forty-five minutes before Amanda showed.  The phone rang again.

“Reed, I thought you were going to call me.”

“Sorry, Cal, I got waylaid last night.”  Literally.  “I need to talk to you.”

“And I need to talk to you,” Cal said.  “Hey, turn that down.  I’ve got more stuff on these X Women.  I spent all night on this, and…”

I interrupted him.  “I - need - to - call - you - back, okay?”  I stretched out my words, emphasizing each word carefully.

He immediately sensed something wrong.  “Okay, call me when you get a chance.”  He hung up, and I listened for a second more.  I heard another click, just as I’d expected.  At least cell phones were difficult to tap.  They could still be overheard, so I was going to have to be careful.  Thanks to the FBI, I had few options.

I stepped into the outer office with a pad and pen, sat down on the couch and waited.  I made notes on the pad while David Byrne sang through “Swamp Thing”, one of my favorite Talking Heads songs.  Then I waited some more.  The stress of the last few days took over, and time seemed to sit still.  I felt myself drifting off.

*****

I was sitting with my feet propped up on a corner of the desk, smoking a cigarette in the dim light.  I heard the sound of heels clicking on the floor in the hallway.  I pulled my fedora hat low over my eyes as a silhouette appeared on the other side of the hazy glass door.  With a flourish, a sultry woman entered the room, danger following her even as she smiled with full red lips.

*****

I awoke with a start almost an hour later when the office door clanged open and Amanda strolled in.  She wore a light gray slack suit.  Her hair was perfectly coiffed, but her face had a strained look on it.  I bounced to my feet.

“Reed, what is…”  I waved my hands frantically, cutting her off.

“I’m glad you came over,” I said, at the same time handing her the pad with my notes.  “We need to talk about the case.”

“I see,” she said, reading the note.  On the pad I’d written: “FBI listening act normal.  I’ll explain.”

“I’ve had a chance to think things through, and I’m not going to pursue this anymore.”

Her eyes blinked in confusion.  I could tell she didn’t know what to believe.  “I need your help,” she said.  “Please don’t do this to me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, taking the pad back from her.  I scribbled on it “I’ll explain outside,” and handed it back to her.

“Reed, please,” she said, looking at the pad.  I jerked my head toward the door.

“Why don’t I walk you to the elevator?”  I touched her elbow, guiding her out.  “I need to return your retainer, minus my expenses.  I’ve got an itemized bill, and I wrote you a check for it.”

By now we were out the door.  I closed it loudly.

She spun on me.  “What the hell is going on?”

I placed a finger to my lips and pushed her down the hallway, talking fast as I moved her along.  “Look, the FBI knows all about you.  They’ve been following you, me, and who knows who else.  They’ve got my office bugged, and I’m sure they have your house bugged as well.  They told me to stop my investigation or they would prosecute me.  On top of that, last night the X Women paid me a visit.  They’ve threatened not only me, but my family and friends if I help you anymore.  I can’t risk that.”  She slowed down, but I kept steering her forward.  “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this, and I can’t let the FBI know I did.”