Hot Storage (13 page)

   Sunday I hung around the house and did the chores I neglected yesterday.

   Monday morning was heavy with fog, the thick wet kind that chilled to the bone. From the harbor the mournful fog horns sounded like lovesick cattle adding to the atmosphere. I made coffee, poured a cup and went up front, my plans to work outside shelved until the weather cleared.

   Only one thing to do on a day like this – I turned on the heater and picked up my Kindle. I read one chapter before the front door opened and a Seattle Seahawks cap sailed in to land on the counter.

   Burke was right behind it.

   “Welcome back,” I said, putting aside the Kindle.

   “Got back last night. It was late so I didn’t bother you. Who moved my motor home?”

   “I had it moved,” I said. “When you didn’t return the dozen or so messages I left on your cell I called a tow truck. They moved it.”

   “Ah, then the next question is easy. Why?”

   “That space was already rented.”

   “They couldn’t take another one? It had to be that one?”

   “Owner’s prerogative.”

   Burke blinked. “Owner? Paul?”

   “Patrick,” I said, with a quick memory of bright blue eyes.

   “Trick has a motor home? Hmm. Traveling bedroom I guess,” he said with a grin. “Gotta watch that guy every minute.”

   “You know him, too?”

   “Oh, yeah. Paul’s little brother. He always called him Little Bother when we were kids. Papa Murphy always wanted the boys to be close.” Burke shook his head at some memory. “That didn’t work,” he said.

   “The boys aren’t close?”

   “Hardly,” Burke snorted.

   “How come?”

   “Why the sudden interest?”

   “I work for them,” I said. “Can’t hurt to know all I can.”

   Burke leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Well, let’s see. Paul was the golden child. Best of the best of the best. Did everything – academics, sports, you name it. When the paper came out on Friday there was always a Paul story somewhere.”

   “Patrick couldn’t compete?”

   “Patrick didn’t try. Quiet kid, stayed out of the way. Paul picked on him a lot until Trick got some size on him. Paul went into the Marines, then to college, married into money, all the things Papa Murphy wanted.” Burke chuckled. “A regular Irish American Prince.”

   “And?”

   “That’s it. Trick graduated from high school and took off. He was gone for a long time, no one knew where. Showed back up a couple of years ago. Papa put him back in the business and there you have it. Prodigal son kind of thing. Since then he’s been working his way through all the women in the county. Can I get a cup of that coffee?”

   “You know where it is,” I said and watched him head for the kitchen. He was back in minutes and set his cup on the counter, walking around and pulling me up from my chair.

   “I’ve missed you,” he said, kissing me, pulling me closer.

   I pushed him back and sat down. “Drink your coffee before it gets cold.”

   He looked a little put out but did as I asked and sat down. On the other side of the counter. “Not much of a welcome there. Didn’t you miss me at all?” He sounded like a petulant teenager.

    “Were you gone?”

   He chuckled again. “Uh – huh. You left me enough messages.”

   “About the motor home,” I said. “Nothing personal.”

   “Well, I did notice you didn’t leave any undying love declarations although I was hoping.”

   I looked at him. No need to answer that one. “Working on the case?”

   He nodded and sighed. “I should have told you I was going out of town. Is that what you’re ticked off about?”

   “Not ticked off, Burke.”

  “Whoa, a little testy there, Marlie.”

   “Marlie?”

   He chuckled again. “Marlena is a mouthful, babe. I’ll just call you Marlie.”

   “Most people call me Marlie.”

   “I like Marlie better.”

   I shook my head at him. “What else have you been up to, Burke? You said you got back. From where?”

   “See? I knew you missed me. How about dinner tonight and I’ll fill you in. Pizza? Or you want to cook me a welcome home dinner?”

   “How about neither. Not tonight, sorry.”

   “You have other plans?”

   I nodded at him, not wanting to lie. “Maybe next time.”

   “Okay, then,” he said, standing. “I see I’ve been excused. Guess I’ll get to work. How about tomorrow night? You booked for that, too?”

   “No,” I said.

   “Then dinner tomorrow night is on me. And I’ll bring you up to date on where I’ve been. I have to check in with the task force, talk to the guys and see if they’ve turned up anything new.”

   “I’m sure they’ll give you an update,” I said. “I’m not part of the group.”

   Burke furrowed his brow and looked at me. “You okay? You sound kinda miffed. I couldn’t return your calls, Marlena. I don’t carry my cell. That could be trouble in the wrong hands.”

   “No need to explain, Burke. You’re not responsible to me. For anything. I’m not your boss.”

   “You’re more,” he said, his dark eye glowing. “And you know it.”

   Before I could think of a response he was gone, out the front door. I heard his truck start and then fade away.

   The entry and exit controls for the facility gates are mounted on heavy poles on the left side so drivers don’t have to exit their vehicles to put in their code. Rarely used unless it’s raining are the speakers, also mounted inside the key pad box. A customer can push the button and speak to the office without having to get out of his or her vehicle. The other side of that particular coin is that the speakers work both ways and are always on. I can hear anything said in the vehicle while the customer is next to the controls. Few know it and even those ignore it. I find it amusing to hear the names I get called when they’re locked out.

   Accidental eavesdropping goes with the job.

   After Burke left Paul pulled up at the gate, his cell phone pressed to his ear. He was arguing with someone. In Spanish.

   I don’t speak much Spanish which is surprising since my father is Mexican. My dad was proud of his American citizenship, always reminding us how lucky we were to be born here. When we were growing up he insisted on speaking English in the home because we were Americans.

   With my looks and my name a lot of people over the years spoke to me in Spanish and received a blank look. I picked up a few of the common phrases like everyone else in California but I was nowhere close to fluent. The best I could do was order in a Mexican restaurant, although I could roll my ‘r’s’ with the best of them.

   I didn’t understand what Paul was saying but I did know he wasn’t ordering food. Now, that’s an odd thing for a family so proud of its Irish heritage. I doubted Papa Murphy spoke a lot of Spanish around the house. Perhaps Paul picked it up from his customers. I shrugged it off and went on with my day.

   Having told Burke I had plans for dinner I headed over to Kelly’s after the office closed. The Monday special is always the same – pot roast. It comes with carrots and potatoes and is soaked with rich, brown gravy. One of my favorites. Being single I rarely bothered to cook big meals. If I cooked a pot roast the leftovers would last a week.

   The smell of the fog was heavy in Monarch, announcing its presence in advance. I could see it laying offshore, a thick gray curtain blending into the sea, giving the unsettling illusion of driving below sea level.

   Inside I bypassed the trays of cups at the front door and took a seat at the counter, near the back. There were a couple of empty booths but I left those for larger parties.

   Kathy came to take my order and when I asked for coffee she pointed up front. “You know where the cups are,” she said with a smile softening her words. “I’ll put in your order.” With that she went up front.

   I gathered a Murphy surname was necessary to have your cup delivered to your table, a theory I wanted to test.

   With a sigh I got up and went to retrieve a cup. When I returned the stool beside me was occupied.

   By John Kincaid.

   “Thought that was you,” he said when I regained my seat. “You meeting someone?”

   “Just the waitress,” I smiled.

   “Great, let’s get a booth,” he said, and led the way to an empty one. With one hand on my back he guided me in before sliding into the seat across from me. “This is much better,” he said when we were settled. “Have you ordered?”

   “Yep,” I nodded. “I got the special.”

   “Sounds good,” he said. “I’m gonna go add mine. Be right back. You want anything to drink?”

   I held up my cup and he left me to go place his order.

   He was back in minutes with his own cup. “Few more minutes,” he said. “I asked. So what’s going on with you?”

   “Nothing new,” I said. “Same old thing, different day.”

   “You find those disks?”

   “No, and I double checked again. Upstairs and downstairs. They’re gone.”

   John sat back and sighed. “I didn’t think you’d find them. I think someone took them. That ‘someone’ is a person of interest. I’d sure like to talk to him. Or her.”

   “Her? I can’t think of a single woman that’s been in the back office.”

   “How about a married one?”

   I looked at him and he grinned. “Couldn’t resist. It’s the people I hang out with. Gets to be a habit. Sorry.”

   “No need. That was pretty quick. I’ll have to practice.”

   He ran a hand through his hair. “Been a long day. I’m glad I ran into you, I wanted to talk to you.”

   “What about?”

   We were interrupted by Kathy setting our dinners on the table.

   “Now what was it you wanted to know,” I said when she went back up front.

   “To begin with, the DEA ran that partial photo through some lab they have and according to Agent Miller they have a 75 per cent identification of Esquibel. Considering the angle and all the scientific stuff that I have no clue how works they think it’s him. We are proceeding on that assumption.”

   “The guy on my tape, in my facility, is one of the men murdered and dumped near the freeway.”

   “Yes ma’am.”

   “Which connects him to the drugs.”

   “Yes ma’am.”

   “Do you think you might call me Marlie? My mother is ma’am.”

   “Yes, Marlie,” he grinned.

   I ate a couple of bites and took a sip of coffee. The dead men were now connected to my facility. The drugs were found in my facility. I’m smart enough to tie those two together. My immediate problem was being smart enough to figure whoever took the disks was also involved. Someone tied to the drugs was in my office. The office just below where I lived. I drank more coffee.

   “I see you got it,” John said with a warm smile.

   “Got what?”

   “The connections. I can see the wheels turning in that pretty head of yours.”

   I hoped he couldn’t see the other connections I made at the same time. Four men. All popped into my life right about the same time as the drugs. And I was convinced one of them was involved. At least one.

   “Share,” John said, drawing me back to the conversation.

   “I got nothing,” I said, with my own smile. “You’ve pretty much tied it all up. The drugs were taken by this guy in a Move It truck, a common sight in any storage facility. My security system caught him on tape and someone took the tape. That about sum it up?”

   John nodded and wiped his mouth. He, too, took a sip of coffee. “Next?”

   “Next what?” I pushed my plate to the side.

   “The disks. Whoever took the disks is part of this.”

   “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

   “I know you were. You also got the part that whoever took the disks has access to not only the units but the office. That sort of narrows it down don’t you think?”

   “You mean who was in the office?”

   “I mean whoever was in the office is probably involved in drugs.”

   My turn to nod. “That seems obvious. It wasn’t me.”

   John gave me another smile, those chocolate eyes warm as hot fudge. “Never thought it was. Good thing we changed the locks on your front door,” he said.

   “I think it may be time to change out the others,” I said.

   “Marlie, listen to me. This isn’t a game. I want you to be very careful. Someone has killed two men already. One more won’t make a difference.”

   “There’s nothing wrong with me changing the locks,” I said. “I should have done it before. Actually that should have been one of the first things I did. The previous managers have keys and who knows how many others they may have given away. Heaven knows Mrs. Murphy must have lost more than the ones I’ve found.”

   “Just be careful,” John warned again. “You’re out there alone. People know that. Stay indoors after dark. Keep the door locked. And watch those cameras when anyone is on the lot.”