Against the Sky (10 page)

“Which is?”

“Strong-arming a kid. Threatening to kill him and his aunt if he doesn't keep quiet.”

“About what?”

“Murder.”

Cord's dark gold eyebrows went up. “The kid saw it?”

“No, but he figured it out. He was asking questions, digging where he shouldn't have been. Turnbull and Crocker came after him, knocked him around and stuffed him in the trunk of their car, told him if he didn't keep his mouth shut, next time they'd kill him—and his aunt.”

“You aren't talking about the kid up the street, the one who does odd jobs for you?”

“Yeah. Jimmy Evans. He's a good kid and he's in trouble.”

“Sounds like it. So you think Crocker and his buddy, The Bull, killed someone and Jimmy figured it out?”

“No. If the vic was murdered—and it looks damned likely—it was done by a pro. Coroner ruled natural causes. Heart attack, but the guy was only forty-four years old.”

“It happens.”

“If it was a heart attack, why did Bull and Crocker threaten Jimmy?”

“Good question. Word is those two are out of the burglary business and on the payroll, working for Connie Varga. You recognize the name?”

“
Christ.
Connie Varga aka Constantine Bela Varga. Yeah, I know the name. Guy's into everything from drugs to prostitution.”

“That's right. But the way I understand it, Connie's only a middleman. No one knows who the big boss is—or if there are more than one. Whoever it is, he's got plenty of juice. If he wanted to make someone dead, he could.”

“So could Bela Varga.”

“So who's the vic? Wait, a minute. It's gotta be Jimmy's dad. You mentioned he died before you left, and I saw the article in the newspaper.”

“That's him.”

Cord didn't look happy. “All right, let's hear it.”

Nick sighed and started talking.

 

 

Samantha sat quietly as Nick told his friend about Jimmy Evans and his aunt, Mary. About Alexander Evans, alias Alexi Evanko. He mentioned Evanko's criminal record and what little else they knew, reminded Cord of the danger Jimmy and Mary would be facing if the wrong people found out Nick was investigating Evanko's death.

“The thing is until we come up with something concrete, it's just a twelve-year-old kid stirring up trouble for one of the most prestigious firms in the city.”

“From what I read,” Cord said, “one that heavily supports the police department.”

“Yeah.”

“Add to that, you weren't exactly Mr. Popularity when you left—at least not with Captain Taggart. You cut corners on your investigation, didn't go through channels.”

“I caught the fucker, didn't I? I only wish I'd done it sooner.”

Samantha sucked in a breath. Nick rarely swore, which told her how hard the case had been on him.

Cord just nodded. “That's right, you did. And if you hadn't, he'd still be out there killing kids.” He took a drink of his coffee. “Look, I'll do what I can without authorization, but there're limits to what I can get.”

“I know.”

Cord slugged down the last of his coffee and got up from the table. “I've got to be getting back. I'll keep you posted.” He was just about to leave when a fresh knock sounded at the door. Samantha spotted Mary standing on the porch.

“It's Jimmy's aunt,” Nick said to Cord. “She doesn't know anything about this.”

Nick walked over and opened the door, stepped back so Mary could come into the house. She was wearing a long, gray wool plaid skirt, boots, and a burgundy sweater, her glossy black hair swinging loose around her shoulders. She looked elegant and exotically beautiful. Samantha couldn't imagine why Nick wasn't attracted to her.

“Everything okay?” he asked, worry clear in his face.

Mary smiled. “Jimmy seems much better. I just came over to thank you for talking to him.”

“No problem. We're friends.”

“I'm Cord Reeves.” Cord smiled and extended a hand. It didn't take a brain surgeon to see the gleam of attraction in Cord's hazel eyes. “I'm a friend of Nick's. We worked together in the Anchorage PD.”

“You're a policeman?”

“Detective. I work the vice squad.”

“I'm Mary George. I live up on the hill. It's nice to meet you.”

“You, too, Mary.”

If Cord had been about to leave, now he seemed eager to stay. “We were just having a cup of coffee,” he said. “Would you like to join us?”

Samantha bit back a smile. “I just made a fresh pot,” she said.

Mary shook her head. “I really can't stay. I was just out for a walk. As I said, I wanted to drop by and thank you both. I really appreciate your helping Jimmy.”

“I'll keep an eye on him,” Nick promised.

Mary turned, smiled at Samantha. “You were great the other night. When Jimmy didn't come home, I was frantic. But you were there to talk to, keep me steady.”

Samantha smiled. “We all need someone once in a while.”

Mary nodded, turned and started for the door.

“It's beginning to rain,” Cord said. “I was just leaving. Why don't I drive you home?”

Mary glanced out the window, saw the sky had opened up and a light rain was falling. “If you're sure you don't mind.”

“It'd be my pleasure.” Cord turned to Nick. “Keep in touch,” he said, and then the two of them were walking outside, running through the rain, Cord helping Mary into his pickup.

Samantha looked at Nick. “I think he likes her.”

Nick's smile looked relaxed for the first time that day. “That's good. Now I don't have to worry about how much he likes you
.
”

Samantha laughed.

“Ready to go to work?” Nick asked, tipping his head toward the hall.

Samantha's chest squeezed. Work in this case meant finding a murderer. “Ready as I'll ever be,” she said. And that was the truth.

Before heading back to the computer in his bedroom, Nick helped Samantha carry the empty coffee mugs into the kitchen.

“Is there any chance we could look at Alex Evans's home computer?” she asked as she loaded the cups into the dishwasher.

“That's a good idea,” Nick said, wondering why he hadn't thought of it himself. But now that he had left the department, he was a little off his rhythm. He needed to get focused, get his instincts back on track. “Maybe we'll find something that can give us some insight about what the hell Evanko was into that got him killed.”

“Of course if he had that kind of information, the killer would probably have erased it.”

“Maybe. We aren't all computer geniuses, though, and since his death was ruled of natural causes, there was no real reason to worry about the cops digging around, looking for something that might lead to an arrest.”

“So how do we get to it? We can't just ask Mary.”

“No, we need to keep her out of this. We'll get Jimmy to help us. As soon as he gets home from school, I'll call him, see if he can get her to take him for pizza or something. That would give us enough time to get in and out of the house. He can leave the back door open.”

“That sounds good. In the meantime, let's see what else we can find out.”

They returned to the bedroom and Samantha sat down at his computer, started hitting keys.

“Alexi Evanko, born in Chicago to Ukrainian immigrant parents,” she said. “No siblings. Convicted of armed robbery along with a man named Richard Spicer, sentenced to seven years in Statesville Prison. Got out in June of ninety-six.”

They knew some of that, not all. “See what you can find on Spicer.” He watched her typing, never missing a key stroke. He was more a hunt-and-peck kind of guy.

“Here's an old newspaper article. Looks like Spicer was given a lesser sentence for turning state's evidence against Evanko. Served two years and got out in 1990.”

She typed and clicked, typed and clicked, pulled up another article and started reading, then sat back in the chair. “Wow.”

He leaned closer. “What?” He tried not to notice how good she smelled, like flowers and the clean scent of soap.

“It says Richard Spicer was shot in an execution-style murder three months after he was released from prison. Happened in Chicago. No arrests made.”

“See if they ever caught the guy.”

She started searching, looking for follow-up articles. Found one dated a month later and started reading. “‘No leads in the cold-blooded murder of ex-convict Richard Spicer.'” She searched for newer information, shook her head. “I don't see anything. I don't think they ever arrested anyone.”

“Could have been payback for ratting out Evanko. If it was, Evanko made friends on the inside, someone with enough clout to make it happen. We need to find out who his inmate pals were.”

He picked up the phone and pressed Cord's number. Heard his voice on the second ring. “What's up?”

“I need the name of Evanko's cell mate at Statesville and anyone else he may have had connections to while he was there.”

“I'm in the middle of something right now, but I'll head into the office a little later, see if I can find anything useful. Since it's supposed to be my day off, you owe me.” Cord hung up the phone.

Nick turned to Samantha. “Cord's going to see what he can find out.”

“Great. In the meantime, I can keep digging, but I really need to download some software. I brought my laptop, but I just use it for Facebook and e-mail, or putting marketing plans together. It doesn't have the kind of software we need.”

“Go ahead. Get whatever you want.”

“It won't be free.”

“Just do it.”

Samantha spent some time upgrading his system. His machine was almost new and it was a good one, but he mostly used it for e-mail, checking the weather, and writing reports.

Nick left her working and went outside to get some air. There was nothing he could do until Jimmy got home or Cord called with the information he needed.

Nothing he really wanted to do but take Samantha to bed.

Since that wasn't going to happen, he went out to the garage to work on his snowmobile. Tomorrow was the third of October. It would be snowing soon.

He grabbed his toolbox and dragged the tarp off the snow machine. He hoped giving his Arctic Cat a tune-up would take his mind off sex, but he knew damned well it wouldn't.

 

 

“Guess what I found?” Samantha turned and smiled as Nick walked back into the bedroom. Her breathing slowed to a halt and she couldn't take her eyes off him. He'd looked good in Vegas. Amazing, in fact. But dressed in jeans and a blue flannel shirt that matched his eyes, a hint of afternoon beard along his jaw, he was the sexiest man she had ever seen.

He smiled. “Okay, I'll bite. You found the guy Evans had an argument with the day before he died.”

“Go ahead, make fun of me. I didn't know he had a fight, but now that you've told me, I very well might have.”

“You're kidding.”

“I found a lawsuit filed against Alexander Evans a month before he died. The plaintiff was a man named Thomas Drummond. He and Alex were partners in a log home manufacturing business. He claims Alex used the real estate where the plant was sitting as collateral for a three-million-dollar loan, then diverted the money into personal bank accounts and unrelated companies. He was suing for malfeasance.”

“Three million is a lot of money. If Evans stole it, that would definitely piss the guy off.” He leaned down and kissed her. “Nice work.”

Her face felt warm, along with other parts of her body. “Thanks.”

“We need to check out Drummond, find out if he was pissed enough at Evans to kill the guy. Or more likely, pay someone to do it.”

“You're thinking the man Cord mentioned, Constantine Bela Varga?”

“Not for the job itself, but somehow involved. We know Bull and Crocker are involved and Cord thinks they're tied to Varga.”

“So we need to connect Varga to Thomas Drummond.”

“Yeah. See if you can find a photo we can show Jimmy. He saw the guy who was arguing with his dad. That's what got him involved in this in the first place. We'll see if it was Drummond.”

“All right.”

“I'll go call Jimmy, figure a way for him to get us into the house.”

Samantha went back to work as Nick walked out of the bedroom. It didn't take long to assemble information on Thomas Drummond. He was the owner of Drummond Realty, a highly respected real estate company in Anchorage. He was married and had three kids, successful and very involved in the community, but she didn't get the impression he was wildly rich.

She printed the information and went in search of Nick, found him at the kitchen sink. As she walked toward him, the smile he flashed made her stomach float up beneath her ribs.

“While you were working earlier,” he said, “I . . . ahh . . . took the trout out of the freezer. I mean, if you feel like cooking it. Or I can put it on the grill.”

She smiled. “I'll cook. You've got cornmeal, right? For the hush puppies?”

He grinned. “Oh, yeah.”

Samantha walked over and handed him the information she had printed off the computer, including a photo of the mayor of Anchorage standing next to Thomas Drummond.

Nick scanned the pages. “Looks like a law-abiding citizen, but you never know. I'll talk to Cord, see if he's heard anything that could connect Drummond to Varga. If the guy looks clean, maybe he'll talk to us, give us the dirt on Evans.”

“Won't that be dangerous?”

“If he isn't part of this, it shouldn't cause a problem.”

“And if he is?”

He shrugged those broad shoulders. “We've got to do something. At the moment this is a fairly safe bet.”

She nodded. “What did Jimmy say about getting us in to look at his dad's computer?”

Nick glanced down at his wristwatch. “It's all set. We need to leave in twenty minutes.”

 

 

Nick walked up the hill to Jimmy's house, Samantha beside him. The rain had shifted to a light mist, making her fine brown curls even bouncier than they usually were. He wanted to grab a handful and haul her into his arms.

Instead, he caught her hand and kept walking, tugging her up the path to the top of the hill. The ground was muddy, narrow rivulets trailing down the hillside as they made their way up the gentle slope to the back of the house.

He glanced down at the new pair of hiking boots Samantha had purchased for the trip and proudly showed off to him. He wished she had also bought herself a thick pair of socks. He could tell by the way she winced with every other step that the boots were hurting her feet.

“I'll loan you some socks,” he said. “The ones you're wearing are too thin for boots that heavy.”

“Thanks. I guess I don't know much about hiking.”

“It's all right. We aren't going far.”

It was a little after seven. Jimmy had talked Mary into taking him out for pizza. Nick figured they'd be gone for at least an hour, plenty of time to get in and out of the house.

They reached the grassy backyard shaded by pines and made their way to the mudroom door. Nick turned the knob and pushed it open. Jimmy's golden retriever, Duke, rose from his dog bed next to the washing machine and trotted over to greet them, wagging his tail.

Nick ruffled his fur. “Some watchdog you are.” If someone had broken into the house the day Alex Evans died, Duke wouldn't have paid the least attention, especially not on a Saturday afternoon when it had happened. Jimmy had been fishing with his friends. He'd been the one to find his father in the chair behind his desk.

“Jimmy said the study is on the main floor,” Nick said, “just down the hall from the master bedroom.” Over the years, he had been to the house a couple of times, but only in the living room. He led Samantha down the hall, found the study door closed. With a quick turn and push, he opened the door and they walked into an elegant, wood-paneled office. It was spotlessly clean, the plank floors polished to a glossy sheen, not a trace of dust on the furniture.

If Evans had been murdered, there wouldn't be much evidence left at the crime scene.

Nick took a long look around, noting the mahogany cabinets and the leather-bound volumes in the bookshelves. A mahogany file cabinet sat in one corner. Family pictures hung on the walls and sat in brass frames on the desk.

He glanced over at Samantha, who was carefully studying the array of photos. “These were all taken after he was married. Nothing from his life when he was young.”

“I don't think he had much of a life back then.” Nick picked up one of the photos on the desk. “This is Jimmy and his mother.” He showed it to Samantha. “Her name was Cora. According to Jimmy, his mother was half Yupik. So is Mary.”

“Is that an Indian tribe?”

“Eskimo. They live on the coast and up along the Yukon River. They have a tendency to give their kids old-fashioned names.”

“Like Mary and Cora.”

“That's right. And last names are sometimes also first names.”

“Mary George.”

“Exactly.”

“So she's never been married?”

“Not that I know of.” Nick reached down and turned on the computer beneath Alex's desk. Samantha sat down as the machine booted up. She started by looking at the icons, apparently trying to figure out what programs the machine was equipped with. She spotted one she seemed to like and clicked it up.

“Oh, my God!” A grin spread over her face. “You are so going to love this!”

“What is it?” He came up behind her, settled his hands on her shoulders, heard her soft intake of breath. At least he wasn't the only one feeling the attraction.

“Alex's home computer is hooked directly to the one in his office. All his files are here. What should we look for?”

“We need a list of his clients, people he did accounting work for.”

“Thomas Drummond would probably be one of them.”

“Maybe. Can we get into the client's tax records?”

“Sure can. Everything he was working on is in here.”

While she searched, Nick went over and looked through the stuff in the file cabinet. He dug through fifty-plus manila folders, searched both drawers, but nothing caught his attention. Returning to the desk, he rummaged through the drawers, found nothing. The guy was a neatnik. Nothing out of place, the trash can empty. The only thing that caught his eye was an indentation on the message pad.

Grabbing a pencil, he used the age-old detective scribble technique, watched what looked like a name and number appear, tore off the page and stuck it in his jeans.

He looked at Samantha. “Having any luck?”

“I found a brand-new flash drive in the desk. I'm downloading all the information that might be useful.”

“That's great. As my dad used to say, you're handy as a pocket on a shirt.”

She stopped typing, smiled up at him. “I bet I would have liked him.”

At her look of sincerity, he felt a pinch in his chest. “I bet you would have. I think he would have liked you, too.”

“What about your brothers? Were they close to him?”

“My brothers and I worshipped our dad. He was a real mountain man. Taught us to love the outdoors as much as he did. Taught us the value of hard work and clean living.”

She looked at him in an odd sort of way and for a moment, he thought she was going to say something. Instead, she shook her head and went back to hitting keys and clicking the mouse.