The Puzzle (28 page)

Chapter 55

Repeat Offender

I settled in to type. I wanted to make some sense out of my complicated notes on my laptop before I headed out for my dreaded visit with Clay. I couldn’t barge in on him with my version of organized chaos. After sorting through my jumbled, sporadic written thoughts and the labyrinth of opinions I had might cause him to run in the opposite direction and not help me at all. Plus, I couldn’t let him see the actual book I was writing. I still had my doubts…

But first I had to check my email. I had only one incoming. Not surprising, since I’d kept a low profile, but this appeared out of the ordinary. It was an unfamiliar email address, sent specifically to me. It wasn’t red flagged or virus infected either. I clicked on it, cautiously interested and instantly regretted opening its ominous contents, which read, “Don’t you get the message? You’re naïve. Stop digging up the past before you get hurt.’”

My face burned in annoyance from this personal affront. What was I supposed to make of the warning? Who sent it? Was it someone I interviewed, and all of a sudden they didn’t like the direction where my questions were pointing me?

I clicked reply and typed, ‘Why this warning? What are you concerned about from the past that I might expose?’ I clicked send and waited. And waited. And waited.

At last, after a half an hour, a reply finally arrived. ‘Like a repeat offender, you don’t know when to stop, do you? You’ll find out what’s in store for you in due time.’

I hit reply. ‘I don’t scare that easily anymore. Take a hike.’ I clicked send, and then shut down my laptop. If anything, one thing was dead certain in my mind. That particular subject was not open for discussion any longer.

Chapter 56

Who’s Sorry Now?

We met at the agreed-upon time for coffee. Where else? You guessed it. The diner. To be inconspicuous was to be conspicuous. In his case, I thought it appropriate. The two of us seemed to accomplish more over coffee or food than at any other time. I’m not sure what that said about our relationship, but it must mean something.

“Ah, we meet again,” Clay greeted, cheerfully. “I personally would have chosen something a little bit more remote, later in the evening and somewhat subdued, but I guess, I can’t complain.” He glanced around. “I can certainly overlook the rattle of pots and pans and people talking loudly in the background if you can.”

“Cute. You must coach me in the future with some of your witty conversational quips. That distinct style of repartee is actually quite unique.”

“Touché. Nice comeback,” Clay replied, smirking. “What have I done to deserve yet more of your endearing, clever remarks and another cozy get-together so soon?”

“I want to ask you this: Do you think we have an honest give-and-take relationship?”

He looked uncertain. “…Have I done something wrong I’m not aware of yet?”

“It’s what you haven’t done that I find objectionable.”

“I distinctly do not like the direction this conversation is taking. What’s the problem?”

“What sort of game have you been playing with me, Clay, and why?”

“What do you mean?” he shot back. “The way you’ve been acting lately, Sam, I might ask the same thing from you.”

That stopped me. “…What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on. One minute you’re jumping down my throat and the next minute we’re having intimate dinners. You did enjoy that Italian food the other night, right?”

I shook my head in confusion. How did this conversation get so turned around? This was not where I intended to go. “Hold on a minute. Why weren’t you honest with me to begin with?”

Clay frowned. “You know, having conversations with you are an actual challenge. Somehow everything ends up being incoherent. How do you manage that?”

“Okay, stop with the misleading conversational detour here. I really admire the way you turn things to your favor, but let’s leave it at that. I’ll try once again, but will be more specific. What do you do for a living?”

“I own a bookstore?” he half asked and answered.

“
Bzzzzzz
! Wrong!” I announced. “Please, be my guest, and try one more time.”

“Where’s this headed?” he asked uneasily.

“Precisely where you think it’s going.”

“…Well, I do some investigative work. Is that what you are looking for?”

“Bingo!” I announced. “You get the prize.”

“And that is?” he asked warily.

“You get to tell me why you and everyone else are manipulating me.”

“Okay, now it’s my turn,” he tossed back.

I rolled my eyes, leaned back and crossed my arms in frustration. “Go for it. I’m obviously not getting anywhere.”

“What are you really involved in?” Clay asked. “You don’t seem to be the grieving widow anymore. You’re… You’re…more aggressive and angry. Why the turnaround?”

 
“I keep getting conflicting stories. I get led so far, and then I’m turned in another direction. What is going on here? I came to you to get some answers and I’m not getting any, just the runaround. It’s very nerve-wracking.”

I didn’t trust anyone, including him, but still needed those elusive answers.

He leaned forward. “To be honest with you, I have to be careful what I say.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m engaged in an ongoing investigation involving Stephen.”

Stephen?
“…What for?” That puzzle piece flew by me too fast to grab hold of.

“He hacked into a private company’s computer data base and they hired me to investigate. I’ve been involved since his so-called unexpected death.”

If I weren’t already sitting, I would have been by this point. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“I wish I were,” Clay answered, without even the slightest hint of humor or sarcasm.

“Does this have to do with what everyone is looking for?”

His eyes held steady on mine, and then he nodded. “To be quite honest? Yes, Sam, it does.”

I pushed further. “…Does Stephen’s death have anything to do with …what he found out?”

“I know you might have your theories, but I can’t answer or speculate on more. Want my personal advice? Take the safe route and stay out of it completely.

“I can’t, and you know that.”

“All I can say is that I can’t help you any further. I’m truly sorry, Sam.”

Chapter 57

Will Someone Turn On This Mike?

I parked in the parking lot at the construction site. It was dark and dreary outside, a direct reflection of my current mood. The weather forecaster predicted a drizzly, chilly afternoon, and I predicted an imminent cool reception from Mike. Some days I was right on the money with my forecasts. If only I could have the same predictable power over the outcome of my life.

I didn’t call beforehand, and felt relieved Mike was still working. I considered and reconsidered over and over, asking myself the same question. Who should I speak to first to get to the truth? It was a toss-up: Mike or Ben?
Mike
wound up my logical first choice because maybe his animosity for Ben might reveal something significant.

“Samantha. What do I owe this unexpected visit to? Should put on my bullet proof vest.”

Perhaps our last encounter hadn’t set well with him: too bad. I’d wasted enough of my time running around in circles.

I eyed him dead on. “That shouldn’t be necessary… yet.”

He shifted uneasily. “What was that supposed to mean?”

I was into my new take-charge attitude. “Why were you meeting with Ben recently?”

“Boy, you don’t let up, do you?”

“Look, I have to do whatever it takes to get the truth. I’m tired of everyone’s run around.”

“What do you want to know this time?”

“Come on, Mike. Don’t play dumb with me. You were spotted deep in conversation at TJ’s tavern with Ben the other day. And don’t try denying it, either.”

“How are you finding all this out? For someone new to this area, you seem to have a steady supply of information flowing your way. How you root out even the most confidential and specific details, is mighty surprising. I have never seen anyone so single-minded and focused.”

“You know, I think you’re right.” I leaned back, already expecting a snide comeback.

“Why, it wouldn’t even surprise me if you were privy to that conversation at the tavern.”

I stared back at him, still smiling. “As a matter of fact, I was.”

His jaw-dropping look said it all. “You’re joking?”

“No, I’m not. Why did you go to all that trouble to convince me you despised Ben, when here you were plotting with him in TJ’s?”

Would I finally get the truth from someone?

“Wait a minute. I wasn’t exactly plotting with him. I think you’re jumping the gun here.”

“Then what do you call it?”

He wasn’t giving in that easily like I thought he would. Like me, he was trying to play it safe without giving away too much: not sure exactly how much the other one knew.

I smiled. “Well? I’m still waiting.”

“What makes you think I would be plotting with Ben?” he said, now noticeably concerned.

“Would you rather I go ask Ben? He does tend to get careless.”

Mike was clearly annoyed by that alternative. “The guy does not know when to shut up.”

I smiled, deliberately letting him simmer. “He’s been a fountain of info and willingly.”

He sighed. “…That’s what I was afraid of. He gets an idea in his head and just runs with it, not thinking of the consequences or fall out.”

“You mean he wandered off the reservation, not following your particular agenda?”

Mike eyed me, coolly. “It’s your choice to look at it anyway you want.”

I had to keep pushing and tried once again. “I have one simple, but important, question.”

“Go ahead,” he said, his eyes fixed on mine steadily.

I held my patience in check. “Did you steal what Ben blatantly accused you of taking?”

He sucked in his breath. “So, it’s true. You did hear our exchange. Where were you? I certainly didn’t spot you anywhere.”

“I wasn’t the one listening in. I have witnesses who eavesdropped.”

“You mean there was more than one person who overheard our us talking?”

“I’m afraid so, Mike,” I said calmly. “Multiple witnesses are so messy, don’t you think? Not to me though. I look at it as an important element in accuracy. You’re familiar with corroboration, right? It’s going to be hard to dispute some of those statements you both made.”

Hey, if this is what Clay did all day, I was in the zone too
.

His eyes bore into mine. “Which are?”

“Why you were interested in getting your hands on Stephen’s laptop and notes.”

Mike leaned back, thinking, then shrugged. “I was just trying to help Jack, that’s all.”

“What do you mean help Jack?” Now, that was an angle I hadn’t considered.

“Don’t act so innocent, Sam. It doesn’t play well with me. You recently found out Jack searched for his son years ago, right?”

…Okay. So, besides Ben, Mike knew too. “Yes.”

His eyes held mine. “I discovered to my dismay, Jack was still looking. I learned some time ago he actually thought it might be Stephen. Not that I was jealous, mind you, but why he would make that mental leap was beyond me. Just because Stephen had a few similar traits and the birth date was about right? Ridiculous! You’d need more than that to try and convince me.”

“So you think he was overreaching for something that wasn’t there?”

“Absolutely. But without Stephen’s laptop to back up my theory and disprove Jack’s, it was futile to argue my point. I needed to physically see Stephen’s notes. I had to know what information he came up with. You have a problem with that reasoning?”

I had to admit, it sounded like a rational and logical response to me, but I was still skeptical.

“So, what happened? Where is the laptop?”

He shrugged, his face tingeing pink. “I hate to admit this, but I was outfoxed.”

“What do you mean outfoxed?”

I guess I wasn’t the only idiot walking the streets in this town.

“By the time I had my hands on that laptop, somebody else got there and snatched it right from under me. I can tell you, I was very upset. That was what Ben and I were arguing about. He knew I had stolen it. Then it was stolen from me before I could even get it opened. Have you any idea how frustrating that was?”