Laina Turner - Presley Thurman 09 - Romance & Revenge (10 page)

I looked at the paper where I had jotted down the dates Jim had given me of the times of access. Two in February, one in July, and one in October.

“Jim said this user accessed the database four times. It seems that each access was right around when a pitch that was lost. It’s not concrete and could be a coincidence, but I think it’s telling us that whoever is using SBD1 to get into the computer system
is doing so for information related to those pitches. At least that’s what makes sense to me.”

At this news, Jared finally seemed to perk up a little. “I need to call John and tell him what you found out.
But why those and not others? It has to be related to the client don’t you think?”

“I don’t know,” I said, frustrated that we still didn’t have a lot of concrete information.
Just theories and assumptions.

“Did Glenda ever call you back,” Jared asked.

“No.”

“Maybe you should call her again. She might know something about accessing files. How all that works.”

“It can’t hurt to call her again,” I said to him. I had stored her contact info on my phone when Jared had originally given it to me, so looked it up and pressed call.

It rang three or four times and I was just about to give up when a woman answered.

“Hello?”

It surprised me and I almost dropped the phone.

“Is this Glenda?” I said, recovering quickly.

“Yes it is. Who is this?” she said, her voice sounding cautious like she was expecting bad news or something.

“This is Presley Thurman. I left you a message the other day. I’m a friend of the folks at Sleeping Bear Designs. I’m sure you’ve heard about the things going on there.”

“I am not involved in any of that. Now don’t bother me.”

“Wait. If we could just meet and talk.” I didn’t want her to hang up.

“I’m in Florida and I’m assuming you’re in Chicago, so that won’t happen. Now don’t bother me again,” she said and hung up.

“I take it she wasn’t all that helpful,” Katy said as I just stood there with the phone in my hand.

“Why did you ask her to meet? You know she’s in Florida,” Jared asked.

I slowly shook my head. “I don’t think so. I heard a loudspeaker in the background. It was announcing the next train. I think she’s in Chicago.”

“What would she be doing here?” Jared asked.

Ignoring that for a moment, I continued. “She also said something odd. When I asked if she had heard of what had been happening at Sleeping Bear, she said she wasn’t involved in any of that. Doesn’t that seem an odd choice of words? Wouldn’t she have said she didn’t know what I was talking about?”

“Maybe she talked to someone at work who told her,” Jared said.

“But so far everyone has said they haven’t talked to her since she left.”

“I don’t know. I think her being in Chicago seems odder,” Jared said.

“I agree with Jared. I mean if she’s here if makes it more likely she’s involved in this than if she were in Florida,” Katy said.

“But what would she possibly have to gain?” I said.

I picked my coat, and Katy’s, off the floor and said, “C’mon, let’s go talk to Becky’s neighbor.”

“Hey, wait for me. I want to come.”

“Then go change into something without Dorito dust on it. And make it fast,” I yelled to his back as he went to his room to change.

About fifteen minutes later we were headed down to get a cab, which my doorman Charles had hailed for us after I had called down. I didn’t want to wait any longer than possible.

We stepped off the elevator and Charles noticed us.

“Hey, Presley. Your cab pulled up just a minute ago.”

“Thanks, Charles. You’re a sweetheart.”

He grinned. He was in his sixties and had worked here since he was a young lad starting out, as he put it. He was a great guy.

We jumped in the cab and headed downtown to Becky’s apartment. We sat in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts and soon we pulled up to the building.  Gaining access was as easy as last time, which made me think they should beef up their security. Wouldn’t have been hard for whoever killed Becky to have gotten in.  Again, it made me grateful for a doorman like Charles. He always kept a watchful eye.

When we got to Julie’s door I knocked and crossed my fingers that she was home. And
she was, as a few seconds later she opened the door, seeming surprised to see us there.

“Presley?” She said slowly as if she wasn’t sure she was remembering my name correctly.

“Yes. And Jared and Katy. Sorry to barge in on you like this, but can we have a few minutes of your time?”

“Sure,” she said and seemed puzzled but let us in anyway. “Go ahead and have a seat,” she motioned to the living room. “Anyone
want anything to drink.  Water, coffee?”

“No, we’re good,” I said, speaking for the group, just wanting to get down to business.

“OK then,” she said, sitting down across from where we had sat down on the couch. “What can I help you with?”

I pulled a paper from my purse and unfolded it. “Have you ever seen this person around Becky’s apartment?”
I  asked and handed her the paper, which was a print out of Glenda I had pulled off the Sleeping Bear website while Jared had been changing. They really needed to update their employee list since Glenda had retired months ago.

Julie looked at the picture, which admittedly wasn’t very good since it was just a photo print out, for a few long seconds.

“Yeah, I think maybe I have.”

“Really? When?” I asked, leaning forward on the couch. I had thought it a long shot but now was excited that maybe we had a lead.

“Um, I think I’ve seen her twice. Once a couple weeks ago and once the night Becky died.” As those words came out of her mouth her eyes grew wide. “Is this who killed Becky?”

“We don’t know but she might have some information. Do you remember anything about her?”

“I only noticed because she was banging on Becky’s door quite loudly and these walls are paper thin. So I stuck my head out to see what the deal was. But both times by the time I did that Becky had already let her in and I just saw a glimpse of her.”

“You said the walls are thin. Did you hear any other commotion?”

“No. Sorry I’m not more help.”

“One more question. Do you know any of Becky’s friends and if they are diabetic?”

I could tell she thought that was an odd question and she shook her head.  “No idea.”

That had really been a long shot so I wasn’t too disappointed. “Can I use your rest room,” I said to her, suddenly feeling the urge to check her medicine cabinet.  Just to rule her out and it was a plausible excuse.

“Sure. Just down the hall on the right. Place isn’t that big, you can’t miss it,” she said, smiling.

I got up and found the bathroom easily enough, waited a few seconds and flushed the toilet and turned on the faucet before making noise opening her medicine cabinet.  I gave the contents a quick glance, there wasn’t anything in there but the basics, and then checked the two drawers under the vanity. Nothing. I turned off the water and opened the door to walk out when across the hall something caught my eye.

The room across the hall looked to be her bedroom and I could see her neatly made bed and her headboard, which on it sat several pictures and knickknacks. The one that caught my eye looked to be a picture I recognized. I could hear them talking in the other room, so tiptoed across the hall for a closer look. I was right.  Why did she have that?

“Are you ready to leave?” I said when I rejoined the group and the others stood up.

“Thank you for speaking with us and sorry to barge in like this,” I said to Julie as she walked us to the door.

“No problem. It’s nice having company. I’m sorry I wasn’t more help.”

“You were plenty, thanks,” I said and we walked out the door, her closing it behind us. 

I didn’t say anything until we were back in the cab.

“I think she had a picture of Becky’s boyfriend Peter in her bedroom.”

“You snooped in her bedroom?” Katy said.

“It was across the hall from the bathroom. I saw the picture on her headboard when I walked out of the bathroom.”

“And you’re sure it was a picture of Peter?” Katy said.

“Once I glanced and saw it, I walked in for a closer look and to make sure and yes, not only was it a picture of Peter but it was one I swear I saw at Becky’s apartment the day Julie let me in.”

“You think she took the photo from Becky’s,” Jared asked. “Why would she do that?”

“No idea, but I think we need to ask Peter.”

Figuring the element of surprise was best, we had the cab take us to the
Stargate where I was crossing my fingers he would be drinking and I wasn’t disappointed.

It was almost a sense of déjà vu because I walked in to find him in the same place I had last time - sitting at a table with his buddies drinking. And it was barely
lunch time.

I walked over to his table and it took a few minutes for him to notice me standing there and then a few seconds for recognition to dawn on him. Jared and Katy had stayed by the bar.

“Hey, I know you,” he finally said, slurring his words. “You’re …” he paused and snapped his fingers like that was going to help him remember.

“Its Presley,” I finally said.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. Presley. You think I killed my girlfriend. She thinks I killed my girlfriend,” he whispered to the table. They all ignored him. He was obviously drunk and they must be used to it, because it didn’t seem to faze them.

“Now Peter, I never said I thought you killed Becky. I’m simply trying to find out who might have.” I knew I was being a little patronizing but I doubted he would even notice.

“Oh. Well did you do it?” he asked.

“Figure out who killed her?”

“Yeah. It’d be nice you know. Get the cops off my back.”

“Not yet. But that’s why I’m here. I have a question for you.”

“Fire away!”

I was starting to think asking him anything would be pointless in the state he was in. But I was already here.

“How well did you know Becky’s neighbor, Julie?”

He closed his eyes for a few minutes.
Either really trying to concentrate or falling asleep. He opened them back up.

“I only met her a couple times. Why, did she kill Becky?”

I ignored him, wondering why someone he had only met a couple times would have stolen his picture from Becky’s apartment.

“Wasn’t that the chick you said was always watching you and
creeped you out?” one of the other drunk guys at the table interjected.

“Oh. Yeah. I guess I forgot.”

I could hardly imagine he had so many women staring at him that he forgot one. “What do you mean she stared at you?” I asked. I had to. Not only did I want to figure out why Julie had stolen his picture but I had to admit I was curious to see what his answer would be.

“You know the kind of stare you women give when you like what you see,” he said and all his buddies chuckled, while I felt somewhat
creeped out.

“Did she say anything that would have made you think she liked you?” I wanted a little more concrete proof than his imagination working overtime.

He sat there for a minute, seemingly lost in thought, which I had to imagine wasn’t easy considering how much he had to drink.

“One time I got to Becky’s before she got home from work and forgot my key, so I went to her place to get the spare. She asked me to stay. She said we could hang out and have fun until Becky came home.”

“That doesn’t seem like a come on, Peter.”

“Trust me, the fun she wanted to have made her feel compelled to add, ‘and Becky never needs to know.’”

That was a little more I guess but most of me felt Peter was delusional.  Though she did have his picture. He didn’t have any concrete proof she had a thing for him, but it was possible. And if she did, maybe she wanted Becky dead? If Becky were out of the way maybe she could have Peter to herself?

“Did Becky have any friends with diabetes?”

“Like I told the cops, none that I knew of.”

I rejoined Katy and Jared and told them we could get out of there and then filled them in outside while we were waiting for a cab. I had just wanted to get out of there. It was dark and depressing.

“Do you think Julie could have killed Becky then? To get Peter?” Jared said with a distasteful look on his face, as if he couldn’t believe anyone would want Peter and I couldn’t blame him. Not that I knew Julie well, of course, but Peter was not at all what I would consider a catch. To imagine someone killing for him, I shuddered at the thought.

We were getting ready to get in the cab when the door opened and Peter ran out.

We all turned to look at him.

“You’re still here,” he said, breathing heavily like he had run for miles and not fifty feet to the door.