Gumshoe Ghost Mystery: Dying for the Past Part 24

"Neat toys, Chevez." I touched the device and the lights went apoplectic. "I hope they're worth life in prison."

Chevez looked from the device on his belt to the one Spence held. His eyes were wide and frightful and his voice broke with each word. "You gotta get me outta here. Now, man."

"You in a hurry to go to jail?" Angel asked. "You almost shot me in the tunnel. Why?"

"Shot you? You shot at me, lady. You hit me, too." Chevez turned and pushed his elbow out. There was a ragged hole though the lower sleeve of his denim shirt. "Almost killed me, lady. That ain't cool. I didn't do nothing to you."

"Oh? I never fired a shot." Angel handed her Walther to Bear. "Not one."

"She reloaded then." Chevez twisted but Spence held him tight. "I didn't know you was dangerous. You tried to kill me. The man didn't say you was dangerous."

"What man?" I asked, and the electronic gadgets danced away.

"What man?" Bear repeated. "Who are you working with, Chevez?"

"Nope. No way, man. I ain't sayin nothing until-"

"Until you get a lawyer," Spence said, shoving him out of the room. "Let's go."

"Screw the lawyer, man." Chevez pulled Spence toward the stairs. "I ain't sayin' nothing until you get me outta here. There's supernatural mumbo-jumbo going on-real stuff, too-and I'm in handcuffs. Man, just get me outta here. I don't need no lawyer."

forty-three.

"One more time, Chevez" Bear said, placing a fresh cup of coffee on the interview room table. "From the top. And leave out the bulls.h.i.t this time."

Victorio Chevez reached over the stacks of electronic meters and camera equipment Bear laid on the table and picked up the coffee. He took a long sip and spit it back into the cup. "Come on, man, I asked for sugar. Lots of sugar. I know my rights."

"Your rights don't include sugar," Spence said, leaning on the wall behind Bear. "Detective Braddock is getting antsy, Chevez. And you don't want him antsy. He rips telephone booths in half-not books, Chevez ... booths. So maybe focus a little."

I watched from the corner of the room and had to smile at Spence. He was turning into a real detective-surprising since in the past, he seemed more fitted to selling shoes or working at a car wash.

"All right. All right." Chevez leaned back and folded his arms, exchanging vampire-eyes with Bear. "Everyone calls me Chevy-"

"I thought you rode a motorcycle?" Spence asked Okay, maybe Spence still had a job at the carwash.

"Ah, you're kidding me, right?" Chevy's eyebrows rose and he cracked a smile. "Hey, Braddock, he slow or something? And you guys turned down my application to be a cop? Go figure."

"This guy's a real smarta.s.s, Bear." I sat on the corner of the table and made Chevy's EMF meter blink and whine. "Less jokes and more answers, pal. Or I'll haunt you for life."

"Oh, come on, man." Chevy's eyes fixed on the flickering lights as he slid his chair back from the table. "What's goin' on here? The EMF meter never goes this nuts."

"It's my old partner, Tuck," Bear said as he pulled Chevy back to the table. "But you know him by his full name, Oliver Tucker." He watched Chevy's eyes explode. "Right-Angela Tucker's husband. He's watching out for her."

Chevy pushed back from the table again. "Don't screw with me man. You don't-"

"He's upset because you tried to kill Angela."

"I told you, man, I was defending myself. She shot at me and I shot back. I was just in the house to get my gear. This stuff costs money, you know? I was coming in through the tunnel she was in. She shot at me and I shot back. Just to scare her off."

Bear leaned over the table and went eye-to-eye with Chevy. "Listen to me, you twerp, Angela Tucker didn't fire a shot. But you did-several-and we'll have ballistics tomorrow. If they match those two bodies, you're in deep trouble. So, who's your partner? Who drove the van?"

"Van?" Chevy's face twisted. "What van, man? I ride a motorcycle. And I work alone."

"The van we towed from the Vincent place was stolen in West Virginia yesterday. You know the one." Spence leaned over Chevy's shoulder from behind. "Who are you working with, Chevez? Make a deal with us before we find your partner and he makes a deal."

"I work alone. Don't you listen?"

"Somebody drove the van outside. Who?"

"I told you-I have no idea." When Bear's teeth bared, Chevy added, "I don't know nothing about any van, okay? I got an email hiring me for this gig. Cash left at my office. They paid me five grand for two weeks. Cash is king."

I said, "What about this equipment, Bear?" The EMF meter lighted up again and its needle wavered back and forth with each inflection of my voice.

"And all this electronic c.r.a.p?" Bear asked. "What's it for?"

"I told you. I'm a private investigator. You got my ID and license. I'm legit. I also do ghost investigation stuff on the side, you know, for extra cash. I record everything I find and if I get anything cool, I sell it to a ghost show on TV."

"Did you?" Spence asked. "We know about the remote cameras and night vision, too. And this EMF meter and-"

"You a fan, man?" Chevy asked, smiling. "You know about this stuff?"

Spence nodded.

"Then you get it. I'm a paranormal investigator."

"A paranoid investigator?" I tapped the EMF meter and made it convulse. "There's money in it?"

"Paranormal," Bear corrected and drew an awkward glance from Spence. "Where's the rest of your equipment?"

Chevy raised an eyebrow. "Rest of what? You got my cameras and meters and recorders. And I want them all back. What else is there?"

"The recordings," Spence said. "Your video and audio recordings, Chevez. You're looking at some serious time for murdering those two stiffs in the tunnel. We haven't even talked about Stephanos Grecco's murder yet."

Chevy jumped up, crashed into the table, and knocked two of his cameras on the floor. "Murder? No man, no way. You can't hook me on no murders. No way. No." Bear grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. "Come on, detectives, I'm just trying to make a livin'."

"Oh, yeah? You worked the gala under an a.s.sumed name and sneaked out after Grecco's murder." Bear jabbed an iron finger into Chevy's shoulder. "Then you attempted to break into Angela Tucker's house and did G.o.d knows what we haven't found yet. Tonight, you shot at her, and we had two bodies at your feet when we found you." Bear turned to Spence. "What do you think, Spence?"

Spence smiled. "The needle for sure."

"Needle? Come on, man, no." Chevy dropped his head into his hands and sat thinking for a long time. When he looked up, his eyes were red and his dark skin pale. "Look, I didn't kill anyone-n.o.body. I don't even know the Grecco-dude. I was hired to wire up the house and keep tabs on everybody. Since I was there, I added a few tricks of my own for the ghost-chasing TV show-big money maybe. But I had to get my stuff back. So, tonight, I went into the house through one tunnel and went back out through another. I didn't see any bodies. And I told you, the lady shot at-"

"No," Bear slammed his hand on the table so hard the ghost meters bounced and started chirping. "Her gun wasn't fired. There are two bodies and the stolen donations where we found you. You know an awful lot about the tunnels and secret rooms that no one else does. It's murder, plain and simple-"

"No, no ... okay. Just wait."

"We're listening." Spence leaned over his shoulder again. "But not for long."

"Look, I'm a vet, man-a Marine. I did my time in the sand and in Afghanistan. I ain't gonna kill anymore. I was doing this job for this guy and things went bad. I got caught up in it. Help me out, man, help me out."

"Help you out? Help yourself out, Chevez. We have three bodies and your name is on them. The Commonwealth's attorney will go for capital murder-the needle, Chevez."

The words "capital murder" caught Chevy's breath and sent a wave of angst across his face. He gripped the interview table until his knuckles turned white, looking from Spence to Bear-mouth open, trying to summon words that weren't forming.

When resignation restored the color to his face, he said, "See, this guy, a smooth-talking dude, hired me to watch Professor Tucker."

Bear beat me to the punch, "What are you talking about? What guy?"

"A guy, man. Just a guy." Chevy shrugged. "It's about Professor Tucker, man. I wired her office and house and watched her everywhere she went. You know, to get everything on camera. Four grand down, four more when I'm done."

"Who?" I yelled. The EMF meter erupted. "Who's after Angel?"

Bear pounded the table. "A name."

"I dunno who, man, I swear. Emails and cell calls. Nothing else."

"Bulls.h.i.t," Spence said. "You took four thousand over email?"

Chevy tapped the table beside his cell phone. "Check for yourself. He's using a burner phone. I don't like taking jobs blind, but I need the cash, man-bad. The PI biz is slow and I'm hurting. The ghost-chasing show offered me some fast money if I got video inside the Vincent place. So I double-dipped. The other guy-the one wanting Professor Tucker followed-he'd never know."

"He's using a burner phone?" Spence grabbed Chevy's cell phone and left the room. "You better not be lying, Chevez."

"Check my computer, too. You'll see, I kept the emails in case I got jammed up."

"You're not as dumb as I thought," Bear sneered.

"You're funny, man, but I ain't laughin'." Chevy took the rest of his coffee in one gulp and stared at the ceiling for answers that weren't written there. "I checked the dude's IP address. It's a dead end. Maybe you can get more. And yeah, I was at the Vincent House when the Grecco dude was. .h.i.t. When all that was going down, I went to the attic, grabbed a couple flash drives and hid out. Soon as I could, I split. Then I went to the university while the Tucker lady was still at the party."

Bear asked, "You bugged her office? What's all this about?"

"The man didn't say. All he said was he wanted everything I could get-leverage or something. For eight grand, I don't care why."

"No? What if it's about murder, Chevez?" Bear said. "You're messing with my friend and Tuck's wife. He won't be happy."

I put a hand on Chevy's EMF meter and it went off the charts. "I'm not happy, Chevy."

"Don't be talking angry spirit stuff, man. Ghost chasing is just about money. I never got any evidence before this. I didn't even believe in ghosts. But, watching the lady professor ... she's a believer, I can tell. You all are spooky, man. Just too spooky."

"Is that why you went to her house?" Bear asked.

"Yeah, I was trying to get some video of her in the house, but her big ferocious dog almost ate me."

"Hercule is funny about burglars. You're lucky."

"Lucky?"

"If I had been there, I would have let him have you." Bear stood up and went to the door. "Where are the videos?"

Chevy's face tightened. "I gave some to the guy."

"Some? How if you don't know him?"

"I left them at a dead drop in Old Town. He was there but I never saw him. He called me after I left and said he wanted more info and wanted the rest of the recordings, too."

I said, "Bear, he made copies. I'm sure of it. If he's an abnormal investigator-"

"Paranormal," he corrected.

"Yeah, paranormal. If he is, he needed copies to sell to the TV show."

Bear repeated my thoughts and watched Chevy from the doorway. "Where are the copies?"

"I got copies, sure, of course," Chevy said, folding his arms. "And other stuff, too. Recordings, photographs, before and after the party. It's gonna cost you. You know I ain't lying, Detective. And you know I didn't kill n.o.body. So, it's gonna cost you."

Bear never touched the ground until he landed on Chevy. He ripped him out of his chair, slammed him against the wall, and pinned him there, dangling a foot off the floor. "You want a deal? You little t.u.r.d, I'll give you a deal. You tell me everything or you're going down for capital murder-after you get out of the hospital."

"Immunity, man. I want immunity for anything I did at the house and with the professor lady." Chevy's eyes were round and his face ash. He grabbed Bear's wrists and tried to wrestle himself free-he failed. "I can't lose my PI license, man. I can't. Just give me a pa.s.s."

Bear let go and Chevy crashed to the floor onto his knees. Bear smiled, extended his hand to help him to his feet, and said, "Oh, heck, I think I can work that, Chevy. Let's hear what you have to trade?"

"Come on, man, you're crazy."

"Talk."

Chevy stood but stayed close to the wall. "I'll help you catch this guy, okay? I'll lure him into a trap or something. And I'll give you the originals of what I recorded at the Vincent place, too. But I want my cameras and recorders and everything back and I keep copies of the house video for the TV show-not the lady professor, but the other stuff."

"Maybe. What about the van and the bodies?"

"No, man, no-I ain't involved with no bodies. I saw you guys watching the front and rear of the Vincent House, so I came in through one of the other houses by a tunnel-they're all over the place down there. Then, when I reached the Vincent House, I heard somebody inside so I ran to the bas.e.m.e.nt and tried to get back out. The professor-lady was in the other tunnel-I heard her-and when I opened the bas.e.m.e.nt entrance, she shot at me. I shot back and ran upstairs. But, you guys were there and I had no choice and went back down. I never saw the bodies and no money until you told me they were there. Honest. I swear."

Bear took it all in and studied Chevy, looking for the lie. So did I and neither of us were sure there was one. I said, "Bear, I think he's telling the truth. It would make sense. He was in the house ahead of us. The van came to the estate later and whoever was in it was down in the tunnels between Chevy and Angel. If the van isn't his or a partner's-and I don't think it is-then he didn't kill anyone."

"How so?" Bear ignored Chevy's stare. "Maybe he and a partner were moving the bodies?"

"No man, I told you, not me."

I said, "I think he's telling the truth. Whoever killed Petya and Grecco's killer came in the van to move the bodies. Chevy and Angel got in the way. That's who shot at them."

"Yeah, Grecco's killer-we gotta ID him." Bear went to the interview room door and opened it, turned back, and aimed a finger at Chevy. "I'll get you some more coffee with lots of sugar. And maybe some breakfast, too. You start writing down every little thing you forgot. We'll go through this one last time. And if there's a comma out of place, it's eggs and capital murder for you. Got it?"

Chevy nodded. "Extra bacon."

"Right."