A DEAD RED MIRACLE: #5 in the Dead Red Mystery Series (10 page)

"Go over Ron's old bank statements. Look for more clients he cheated. You never know, we might find someone else we can lean on for information. Bring lunch back for us, will you?"

"Because research always makes you hungry, right? I'll pick something up on the way back." I had one foot out the door when I turned back and said, "Don't forget, Pearlie, Ron was murdered because he also leaned on someone."

.

Chapter Fifteen:

I pulled into the last parking spot at Suzi's beauty shop, hopped out and walked inside.

Suzi had one client under the dryer and another woman's head over the sink.

I eyed her tattooed bicep, checking the last in a long list of names. Yep. No ink crossing out her latest boyfriend, so she might be feeling generous today.

She saw me looking and laughed. "He's not on my shit list yet. What's up?"

"I wanted to talk to Emily, if she's here."

Suzi looked around the room. "She must be out back having a cigarette. What'd you want her for?"

I pretended I didn't hear the question and took the back door exit.

Sure enough, Wade's ex-bookkeeper was sitting alone at the patio table, reading a fashion magazine. She looked up as I approached, squinting through a haze of cigarette smoke.

Ron always said to ease into the subject when interviewing a nervous witness, so I pulled up a chair and with a smile in my voice, said, "Those things will stunt your growth."

She closed the magazine and looked me over. "I suppose you quit before it stunted yours, right? What're you, six feet?"

"Minus a couple of inches," I said.

The crow's feet at her eyes tightened as she tracked my face down to my hands, something I'd seen battered wives do as an automatic reflex to possible attack. I said, "Suzi does my hair and I'm a friend of Darlene's."

"Oh? I got hired after Darlene moved to Denver."

She was testing me. "Denver? No, I think it was Phoenix."

"Oh, yeah, right. Phoenix," she said, visibly relaxing.

"I helped Darlene when her husband was murdered."

Emily stubbed out her cigarette and licked her lips. "I read about it in the papers. You're the private investigator Suzi talks about, aren't you?"

She was at that tipping point, warming to the idea that I might be helpful but also fearful of the outcome.

"I’m wondering if there isn't something we can do for each other, Emily."

She chewed on her lip while her eyes darted from the door of the shop to her pack of cigarettes.

I mentally counted to ten. Guilty or not, nerves usually drove witnesses and suspects to close the gap of silence, especially when there was an offer on the table. The only types I've met who could tolerate the sound of quiet were professional poker players and sociopaths. If she didn't bite, I'd leave my card and walk away, hoping she'd reconsider.

I did a mental countdown.
Ten, nine, eight…

She cracked at seven. "What do you want?"

"I'm guessing that the change from Wade Hamilton's bookkeeper to hair stylist was not voluntary. Did Wade refuse to give you a reference? Did he threaten to accuse you of embezzlement?"

Emily's gasp told me I'd hit a sore spot. "It's not true!"

"I wouldn't be here if I thought it was."

"Then what do you want?"

"Well, for one thing, I have good news. Wade Hamilton is on a short list of suspects in a recent murder investigation and I presume that you'd like to see him in prison. If not for murder, then at least for the burglaries he and Joey Green committed."

"You're talking about Ron Barbour's murder, right? You think Wade did it? Killed Ron?"

"We should talk about that."

She crushed out the cigarette and stood. "I tried that once. I was fired without references and threatened. Do you know that the smug bastard sends me a sympathy card once a year? And me, with a disabled husband at home. I'm sorry, but I can't help you."

I grabbed at her hand as she passed. "Who did you talk to? Was it someone in the police or sheriff's department? Times have changed. I can get you protection, Emily."

She jerked her hand out of my grasp. "If you think you can get to Wade Hamilton, you're nuts. He's got friends in high places and I've got no one but myself and my Henry." Her eyes teared up. "Henry had a stroke when he was forty. Forty. He still can't talk right or walk without his cane and he sure can't work. We struggle just to get by every month." With a sob, she threw up a hand, striking the air between us. "Just… just leave me alone!"

With her head down, she ran for the steps and fled back into Suzi's shop.

I sat where I was for a few more minutes thinking about my conversation with Wade Hamilton's former bookkeeper. Emily must've confided what she knew about Wade's involvement with Joey's burglaries to someone in the police or sheriff's department. That person then told Wade, who fired her and proceeded to send ominous sympathy cards every year to remind her to keep quiet. If I were in her position, I doubt I would talk either. Emily was going to keep her secrets until either she died or Wade Hamilton was put behind bars.

<><><><><>

With black summer clouds threatening to burst any minute, I trotted up the outside stairs and into our office.

Pearlie had her feet propped up on Ron's desk, her laptop open.

"You forgot our lunch," she said, her eyes on the screen.

"I'm sorry, I forgot the time. I got caught up talking to Wade Hamilton's ex-bookkeeper."

"It better be worth it. That kid ate up my lunch allowance into next month."

"He's in training, remember? I'll make it up to you."

"You better. I don't have a husband with a regular income and a house that's paid for."

Now she was working me for sympathy. "If you can't pay your rent, we have a spare couch."

"Ew-w-w. I'm not that poor."

"Since we're talking about men, how was your date with the trainer from the gym?"

Pearlie's mouth twitched. "Just because a man has
Genius
printed on his T-shirt, doesn't mean he is one."

I grinned. "Not hunky enough to ignore his IQ, huh?"

"Not if he was wrapped in bacon and came with his own trust fund."

I laughed and swiped up her last cold French fry. "What happened to the guy with the Prius? That sounded like a safe bet."

"Yeah, how dangerous can a guy be if he's driving a Prius, right? Turns out the Prius is registered to his wife."

"I thought we agreed that you'd ask
the
question before you accepted a date?"

"Must've slipped my mind. Besides, it was our first and last date. Anyways, I can't possibly think about dating again until we solve Damian's case, find Ron's killer and get our P.I. licenses."

When she said things like this, I remembered how close we were to losing it all. At least I had some news and told her about my conversation with Emily.

Pearlie's feet dropped off the desk. "Then Wade Hamilton was in cahoots with a cop?"

"Or a deputy sheriff and I can see why Ian was so adamant that we keep his list to ourselves. By the way, where's Damian?"

"Ate his lunch, all of yours and left for the gym."

"Did you get any work out of him at all?"

"Oh yes. He found the girlfriend. I had to wrestle the darn kid to the ground to keep him from snatching my cuffs and running after Joey."

I would've paid good money to see that, but then Pearlie did tend to exaggerate. "You have to admire his enthusiasm."

"I put the brakes on that by offering to let him accompany
you
on the stakeout tonight."

Nights are when most skips come home to roost and Pearlie was betting that Joey Green was no different than any other jailbird. But I didn't see how bringing in Joey Green was going to help our case and besides, I had a husband to go home to at night. "Why don't we let the police pick up Joey Green?"

"No can do," she said. "Joey's mom is desperate to keep her boy out of prison. She's offered to pay our fee plus expenses if we can find him before his boss reports him AWOL. Besides, Damian thinks you're a great teacher."

She was right. This could be a quick hundred dollars in our fading bank account. "Fine, fine," I said. "But I'm taking your taser."

"I understand completely," she said, grinning. "Just don't let Damian see it, or he'll want to take it out for a spin. How're you going to do it?"

"Pizza, of course."

She looked at her watch. "Good. You'll explain the play to Damian, then? He'll be here any minute."

Thinking back to all the nonsense he's put us through, I said, "If he shows at all."

"I'll bet you five dollars he will. I’m taking the files home. If you find Joey Green, push him to turn state's evidence on Wade Hamilton."

<><><><><>

Damian arrived at five minutes before five. He threw his backpack onto a chair and ran fingers through his recently showered curls.

"You ready to roll?" I asked.

"Where's the pizza?"

"That's one of our methods to getting skips to come to the door. But, if you behave yourself, I'll buy you pizza after, okay?"

"I guess," he said, with a shrug. "So what's the first thing we do?"

"We order pizza, of course."

I swiveled around in my chair, picked up the phone and punched in the number for Papa John's Pizza.

"I'd like to order a large with everything on it," I said. "Yes please, delivered." I recited the girlfriend's house number and street. "My boyfriend already called it in? Gee, that's great. I work in Sierra Vista but I'm on my way home now, what time will you deliver? Six? Thanks."

I hung up and grinned. "Saddle up, Geronimo, we've got work to do."

Damian popped out of his chair and slammed out of the door before I could mention that he didn't have to run.

He was waiting for me on the sidewalk. "Hurry up, we're going to miss the delivery," he said. "Where's your car?"

I had to lean over my knees to catch my breath. Darn kid. All that unnecessary energy was beginning to annoy me. "You came in a car, didn't you? We'll go in yours. You can write up an expense report and give it to our client."

"Okay. Wait. You said, client. You mean my mom, don't you? I don't know. My uncle Ian supports me while I'm training, but I don't think my mom will like me charging her for extra gas."

"We have a different client," I said. "Someone who doesn't want Joey screwing up and losing parole." If I guessed right, Joey's mother was living off a bribe Wade Hamilton paid to keep the mom quiet and Joey in prison. It was only fair that we put Damian's gas on our expense report, especially if we got Joey to roll on his former boss.

We took Damian's beat up old blue truck out to Benson, found the girlfriend's apartment and parked close enough to see if anyone went in or out of the unit, but not so close that we could be spotted.

Five minutes later, pizza delivery rolled in. I hopped out and told Damian to stay in the truck. Naturally, he didn't listen and got out to follow me.

I put a hand on his chest to stop him. "Lesson number one. One person per job. Two people show up and Joey will think we're the cops. Now get back in the truck and wait."

"No way. If he worked for Wade Hamilton, he knows who killed my dad."

"Damian, what went on with Joey Green and Wade Hamilton was years after the shooting. It's his testimony against Wade that could mean the difference between getting Wade to opt for a plea on your father's murder or not. Now will you please go sit in the truck?"

When he reluctantly agreed, I trotted over to the delivery car and retrieved the pizza before the kid could get out of his car.

But before I could get to the apartment, Damian grabbed the wide flat pizza box out of my hand and pushed me aside. I stuck out my foot and tripped him. One minute he was headed for the ground and the next he twisted around so that he landed on his back, the pizza box held aloft, just asking me to accept it.

"Well, that was stupid," I said, removing the box from his hand.

Holding it securely between both hands, I started out again for the door to the apartment.

Even while I was still shaking my head at his silly maneuver, he tackled me around the knees. I slammed into the ground like a tree felled in the forest, and the last thing I remember was the distinct smell of pepperoni pizza.

<><><><><>

I awoke to hear Damian calmly explaining his position on gun control.

I groaned and reaching up, felt an icepack and the hand that held it. I looked up and a wide-eyed girl with stringy blond hair was staring at me.

"Where's Damian?" I asked the girl.

She pointed to Damian standing next to a young man in jeans and a T-shirt tied to a kitchen chair.

"Wha… what's going on?"

The girl breathed deeply and patted a spot over her heart. "Thank God, you're alive. He said we'd go to prison if you died."

"I'll live." I handed her the ice pack and addressed the burly young man in the chair. "I presume you're Joey Green?"

"Yes, ma'am."