Bouncer (8 page)

“Next time, I expect to have a little more information before someone like Tyson Peebles wanders into my office. Hell of a way to start off the morning! And just what is
she
doing here?”

Lea grinned sweetly at him. Aggravating Chief Rollins meant the day couldn’t entirely be considered a waste, no matter what else happened.

Nick avoided the question. “I decided to look up Ashley Peebles’ records as you directed,” began Nick, “but they were missing.”

“What?” roared Chief Rollins.

Nick spoke quietly, hoping to calm the irate chief. “They’re absent from the country offices with no record of them ever being checked out for a good twenty-some years. Roger mentioned that Jeremy Fox had been working on the case with you, and I decided to look up Ms. Fox since she’d taken over her dad’s business. Luckily, she had copies of all the files and has been
gracious
enough to share them with me.” The word gracious and Lea Fox didn’t mesh, and the chief was savvy enough to note it.

“
She
is not on contract with the Monroe City Police Department,” bristled Richard Rollins. “Ms. Fox is not welcome here
ever
after her last public outburst. I’d fire you, Lea, but since you were
never
hired, you need to make yourself scarce!”

“I’ll wait outside,” said Lea as she rose and stuffed her mini-computer into her bag. “It’s always such a pleasure walking around my father’s old digs and the office he used to call his own. I’m sure you find his shoes difficult to fill, Chief Rollins. I’m sure that’s why you’re always so unsettled when I’m around since I remind you so much of him.”

Today, Lea had dressed in a milky-blue suit textured in a knobby knit that appeared like it had been kept in mothballs for years and taken out just for this occasion. An unbecoming white blouse peeked from underneath the lumpy jacket whose oversized buttons looked like something Nick’s grandmother might have worn. He had to admit, however, that her blue, serviceable shoes were a perfect shade to match the suit. God, where had she purchased them? The only thing missing from her assemble was the crutch from yesterday. Fox clumped off, slamming the door behind her.

Richard Rollins unleashed his full fury upon Nick Thayne.

“She is never to enter this office again! Do you understand?”

“You seem a bit too adamant about something that really is relatively unimportant,” returned Nick calmly, mustering up all his charm, fearing the chief was near cardiac arrest.

“Oh, yeah? Well, two years ago Lea Fox came slinking around here trying to re-dig up the Peebles case, saying there’d been some sloppy police work on the case. Well, if there had been, it was her own father’s doing, since he was in charge of the blasted homicide. I only worked under him. Then she starts insinuating I may have been a bit slovenly in my job and should have done more to solve her father’s murder case. Right then and there, I told the bitch to get out and stay out. I don’t ever wanna see her face in this station again, do you hear? The only reason I didn’t toss her out on her little crippled ass was everyone close to her had just been killed, and I’d been a personal friend of Jeremy’s. Thought maybe she was going through some tough times.”

It dawned on Nick that the chief didn’t realize Lea’s caustic nature was the norm, not the exception. “I didn’t realize you’d had an uncomfortable encounter.”

“I’m warning you, Nick, if you wish to stay on contract with us, you don’t work with her.”

“Okay, okay,” said Nick, holding up his hands. “To tell you the truth, I don’t like dealing with her either, but Fox won’t grant me any access to the Peebles’ files unless I allow her some input on the case. She has this notion that I’ve muscled my way into her territory and somehow owe it to her. Don’t you worry about it—she’ll be kept in the background—usually at her office, doing computer follow-ups.”

“She’s lucky to have any business at all,” grunted Richard, a half-smile crossing his lined face. A peculiar notion stuck Nick.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t cross your doorstep again,” promised Nick picking up the files on Thad Fisher. “I’ll send you an update as soon as I can. I suggest you put that ring under lock and key. I wouldn’t want to see anything else go walking.”

Nick’s back had only begun winding through the metal desks grouped in the central section of the police department before Chief Rollins was on the phone to Tony Montanari.

Fox waited outside, watching the rain birds sprinkle the police station’s emerald green lawn. A couple of late robins hopped energetically, pecking at the shiny grass under the false rain. She was on her cell phone.

“Thanks, Susan. Please have Roger give me a call as soon as he’s able.” She stuffed the small Ericsson back into her hideous bag.

“Well, Fox,
you sure have a way with people,” said Thayne angrily.

“Let’s just say that Richard and I have some unresolved
issues
. That is the favorite word of the Internet educated, isn’t it?”

“Haven’t you ever learned tact, lady? I get the distinct feeling that I’m not the real reason you lost a lot of business in this town. I believe the chief likely blacklisted you.”

“You think that, do you, Thayne?” said Lea nonchalantly.

Suddenly, Nick recognized she’d known it all along.

“God damn it! You wanted to meet him so you could flaunt our association in his face because you knew my hands were tied in regards to those closely guarded files!”

She pretended to smile sweetly but failed. “How you misjudge me, Thayne. Of course I wouldn’t do something like that being the innocent little debutante I am, graduating from the MRS University of Perpetual Happiness.”

“Oh, shut up,” said Nick forcefully. “I certainly understand now why you’re not welcome at the station. Enough of your ridiculous playing around. I need to take a closer look at Dr. Koh’s report, because there are a couple of things that don’t add up. Let’s stop at Millie’s Coffee Shop so we can discuss it. I also need to update you on my chat with Philemon Jenkins, the gardener who found the body. He indicated that he’d been playing ball with a little kid he referred to as Bouncer and that the child steered him towards the magnolia tree. I think we need to interview this Bouncer character and find out what he knows.”

“Whatever you say, partner,” returned Lea.

Nick grimaced. Partner was not what he wanted to be called by Lea Fox. In fact, he didn’t want to be called anything by her at all.

Chapter 7

Saturday, 9:30 am

Twenty minutes later and immersed in the coroner’s report at Millie’s Coffee Shop, the strange report only generated more questions. They had ended up taking both their vehicles, since Fox refused to ride in his Mustang. It was for the best since it enabled Nick to blast Bruce Springsteen as he followed her little silver Mazda to the diner. Nick had already downed a double coffee laced with milk and sugar while the finicky Fox made poor Chastity go back three times to make sure that her hot chocolate was done just right. The first drink placed before her had obviously not been made with milk so it was sent back. On the second try, the milk wasn’t hot enough, and Lea returned it as well; the comely waitress looking ready to spit nails. The third time, after the hot chocolate was slammed down in front of her, it spilled a bit of the hot milky liquid upon the table.

“There’s too much whipped cream.”

Nick blurted out, “Thank you so much, Chastity. That’s just lovely.”

The comely waitress whipped about, the white tails of her apron slapping across the rear of her well-filled out saffron uniform.

“She didn’t give me a spoon,” complained Lea.

“I’m surprised she didn’t dump it all over your head,” muttered Nick, hoping that Chastity would have calmed down a bit when he called her later. Lea growled under her breath, and grabbing Nick’s coffee spoon, stirred the whipped cream violently into the hot chocolate.

Nick read while she viciously stirred. “Dr. Koh must have stayed up all night for this. The contents of the ex-mayor’s stomach indicated that he’d consumed a culinary feast before his death. Not only was there the beef stroganoff but traces of brandy, vodka, and a French Bordeaux wine. Thad had also sampled chocolate mousse, some type of a green bean and almond salad with saffron rice and portabella mushrooms… and that was just for dinner. “

“He didn’t become beastly fat on salad, Thayne.” She’d removed the tiny computer and placed it upon the desk to take notes after vigorously wiping up Chastity’s spill with both their paper napkins.

“All right, Fox, my curiosity’s pricked. What is it?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Nick frowned. “That little contraption you always whip out.”

“Oh . . . that.” She grinned, almost looking pretty. “It’s my version of the detective’s little black book. My dad had a small book where he wrote all his notes. The only problem was no one could decipher a line because of his hideous shorthand. So, I developed the Fox and Hound notebook.” She thrust the little laptop towards him.

He studied the keys and laughed aloud. “This is unbelievable. You’ve got keys that state motive, witnesses, C/S . . . what’s that?”

“Crime scene.”

“That makes sense. Hum . . . evidence, suspects, numbers, priors. I get a sense of how this works, but explain it further to me.”

“Okay. I designed it to give me shortcuts. If you press
Crime Scene
, I can draw the scene with my attached stylus here. There’s a scale on top to make sure everything’s accurate. I have a port to my digital camera and can take instant color photographs of whatever.” She fished around her big bag and produced a tiny digital camera.

“Definitely a woman’s toy. That thing’s not much bigger than a micro-cassette.”

“Serves the purpose. Now, when I punch in the category S
uspects
, this profile sheet comes up.”

Nick gasped. A grainy photo popped up on the screen. “I can’t believe it. That’s . . .”

“Luke Cambridge, of course. Read the template.”

Within sixty seconds, he’d read an abbreviated but complete rundown on the incarcerated felon.

“But this is even neater,” she continued. Fox pressed the motive key. Several motives popped up with arrows leading to possible scenarios. “One of Luke’s motives was jealousy.” The arrows pointed to Deke, the grungy apartment where they lived, the car, etc. Lea pressed another key. The words ‘Motive improbable’ blinked while a paragraph explained why.

“How’d you get something as nifty as this?”

“It was my pet project in college. While others were skiing, I was making the perfect hand-held sidekick detective. Not sure even then I wanted a partner.”

Thayne allowed that one to pass, so she continued undaunted. “It’s cool as a one of a kind oddity. Can’t see people wanting a hand held computer when they could just write on a tablet.”

“That’s where you’re wrong—something like this is gonna be the rage in the future! Anyway, I was always interested in computers, and my brother was a tech whiz. Between us, we developed the Fox and Hound; our pet name for this pre-programmed mini-computer. Full-sized laptops were too cumbersome, but this was small enough to fit discreetly in a pocket or small handbag. Because of the preprogrammed prompts and scenarios, we were able to record and deduce things far sooner than before. I’m one who not only has to record the facts as they present themselves but also my impressions.” She pressed a key marked IMP. “See, these are my impressions of the case. If I type in anything, it automatically records the date and time and links them to whatever aspect of the case I punch in.”

“Sherlock Holmes would have loved this,” Thayne said admiringly.

“Sherlock Holmes’ mind worked like this. He wouldn’t have needed a machine. Mine doesn’t. I need time to digest all the information, and the computer prompts me in the right direction. For example . . .” She pressed a key, and Nick gasped. Chief Rollins’ florid face, the size of a passport photo, appeared on the screen. “His profile is all here. You can see that, while I was waiting for you to finish with him, I punched in his statements and my reactions to them. Now, looking it over, my gut instinct says this.”

She pressed the link key, and Nick shook his head slowly. “That’s a far way to leap, Fox.”

“Rollins wants to keep his position. He has to solve this case and
will
find a scapegoat. My guess is within three days. He’s set to retire and doesn’t need the headache. Also, I believe he’s not only financially in trouble but his marriage is rocky.” Nick squinted at the notes she’d typed.

“You’re brutal.”

“Perhaps, Thayne, but I prefer the terms clear-headed and unprejudiced. And, if I’m correct about Chief Rollins, we don’t have much time to solve this case and collect our checks.”

“How do you type on those tiny keys?”

“I’ve learned to do a one-handed type. My brother had to use the attached pen. He was awfully slow.”

“You miss him?”

“Who?”

“Your brother.”

“I miss his mind and his energy,” she admitted, “but not his foul mouth, womanizing, or drinking bouts. He was only thirty-six when he died, but already a confirmed alcoholic. We only got along because I listened well and had learned not to threaten his ego. He never viewed me as a woman, though that was probably to my advantage.”

“And why’s that?”

“Lane was my brother, but still had antiquated opinions about a woman’s place. I managed to deal with him because he didn’t view me as an equal or a threat. Other men, however, do feel threatened. My being unattractive at least removes their sexual motivations so I can get a lot further than my unfortunate sisters.”

So her dowdy appearance
was
a kind of disguise, or perhaps more appropriately, a defense. “I’m not so sure about that,” Nick said. “Men open up to sexy, attractive women.”

“Not exactly. They
appear
to open up—but the woman is really their prey—thus any qualifications she has other than the possibility of a quick lay are considered a hindrance to any valid intellectual relationship. Once she has satiated him—he drops her and moves on. So much for her brains and beauty.”

Nick took a long sip of his coffee. His wariness of Lea Fox went way up. Though she lacked in other attributes, she had a fine mind. Women were never to be trusted at the best of times, particularly those who thought too much, and Fox was particularly dangerous. He’d bet his
Playboy
subscription that a little dossier existed on the Fox and Hound regarding him. Nick could only imagine the contents.

“You’re able to download from that?”

“Yup. Have the same program on my laptop and office computer. I
always
back up everything. So, you were asking?”

“About Mayor Fisher’s build and eating habits,” said Nick watching her fingers fly across the tiny keypad. “There were overly high traces of lead in his system. Not enough to be toxic but well above normal levels. It’s the kind found in paint before it was regulated here in the States.”

“So our ex-mayor was gnawing on a paint wall between courses from his funeral feast?”

“Very funny,” said Nick. “Another interesting tidbit was that the hair around his wrists was almost totally absent.”

“Hands probably bound with duct tape,” said Lea taking another sip of her hot chocolate.

Lea Fox was a quick study. “That sounds likely,” he admitted.

“Have Dr. Koh check the mayor’s wrist for duct tape gum. It usually leaves a bit of residue on anything it touches.”

“I’ll do that,” said Nick, making a mental note. “He was gagged with his tie, which shows signs of saliva stains.”

“Anything else?” said Lea.

“Yeah, it seems that his finger was snipped off with some sort of high-powered scissors. In fact, Dr. Koh suggests they might have been pruning shears, not scissors at all.”

“Like a gardener’s,” mused Lea. “Anything else.”

“Just that the man was missing his underwear.”

“Missing his underwear?” mused Lea. “Hanky panky with his mistress while imprisoned? Her name is Connie, right?”

“Connie Judson. She’s a telephone operator for AT&T.”

“And what was that bit about the mayor’s feet?”

“Rose thorns. Two were imbedded in the left heel and other lacerations on his ankles and legs were likely caused by rose bushes.”

“Very interesting. Maybe Connie didn’t like his flowers and whipped him with them.”

“I thought you were the serious sort,” mocked Nick, though he suspected this was the extent of Fox’s sense of humor.

“Any follow-up on the wheel barrows?”

“Randy Phelps has impounded seven from the block. Dr. Koh’s assistant is supposed to be analyzing them as we speak.

“Well then, it is clear what we have to do,” said Lea, having drained all of her hot chocolate. It left two smudges on the corners of her mouth. Nick pointed a finger, and Fox picked up her napkin, giving her mouth a big swipe. “First, we have got to find out the whereabouts of Connie Judson. Second, we need to interview our ex-mayor’s wife. What’s her name?”

“Trish Fisher.”

“And third, we have got to talk to the little boy, Bouncer, who told Philemon Jenkins about the magnolia. I’d lay odds Connie is either buried somewhere nearby or else basking in the South American sunshine.”

“Whoa,” said Nick. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“And what’s that?” said Lea.

“Luke Cambridge indicated he was not the murderer of Ashley Peebles. I’d like to hear what evidence he has to back up his assertion.”

“That should be easy; we’ll head down tomorrow towards Modesto and have a little chat with him at his state-provided digs. Are you through with your coffee?”

“Of course,” said Nick. “I just need to make a pit stop. By the way, why did you dub it the Fox and Hound?”

“My brother actually named it.”

“Because you’re detectives and all?”

“No. That’s what I thought at first as well until an acquaintance told me fox was to refer to my brother and hound to me.”

“Never missing the scent?” He grinned. It seemed an apt description of Lea.

“Nope. My brother thought I was a real dog, so I got dubbed the hound. His own private joke. Unfortunately, I learned later he shared it with every man he met. It must have made a good conversation starter. And,” continued Lea as if it didn’t matter, “I see your little waitress friend signaling you. Maybe you should go sidle up to her and make a date or something.”

Nick stared long and hard at her before throwing his napkin down upon the table. “I’ll be right back.” He approached the shapely waitress while Lea stared at the tiny computer so aptly named before dejectedly switching it off.

It took Nick a full ten minutes to convince Lea Fox of the futility of having both of them drive to the witnesses. She staunchly refused to ride in the vintage car until Nick mentioned that it was a waste of gas and money to take two cars. Since he was willing to drive, she should accept the favor.

“Alright, Thayne,” she agreed suddenly and tossed her dowdy handbag into the back seat. “I prefer you drive.”

“Of course, Fox. It will be my pleasure.” She flinched as he gunned the motor, but her face remained expressionless. The F & H, as Nick decided to dub it, was soon in her small hands, and she typed furiously before nodding to herself as he cruised down the street.