Out of the Past: A Reed Ferguson Mystery Part 5

CHAPTER EIGHT.

We made it back to Stephanie's condo without being tailed. She was in a huff the whole way, complaining about being in a taxi, having a bodyguard, and whatever else she could think of. She gave a curt nod to the doorman as we pa.s.sed, and then we rode the elevator up to the tenth floor.

"It's not much," she said as we walked in.

I admit, I was impressed with her condo. It had an open floor plan with white walls, vaulted ceilings, a large kitchen with maple cabinets, stainless steel appliances and granite countertops, floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the downtown skyline, and a huge stone patio. She'd decorated it in a modern style, with furniture that suggested an IKEA store, only it was all way too expensive to be from there.

"I'm going to my room," she said as she grabbed a bottled water from the frig. "There's a spare bedroom and bathroom down the hall."

"Right now I need to get on the computer."

"Whatever. You can hang out here." She made a flourish with her hand at an expensive leather couch. "The TV remote's in a drawer in the coffee table. There's a swimming pool on the eighth floor, and a gym."

"Uh huh. I'd go use the pool and then you'd bolt right out of here," I said.

"And you would tell my father."

I shrugged. "Do you have Wi-Fi?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course."

I mimicked her. "I need the pa.s.sword so I can get on the Internet. Duh."

"You are so not funny." But she rattled off the pa.s.sword, then stormed down the hall to her bedroom.

"Peace at last," I muttered. I stood in front of the windows, gazing out at the Denver skyline. My condo was just past the high-rises, and Willie was just beyond, working at St. Joe's. And here I was, babysitting Her Huffiness. I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. I could deal with thugs, being followed, and even being shot. But dealing with Stephanie...that was another story.

I rubbed my hands over my face, trying to clear my thoughts. Then I grabbed my phone and called Cal, but he didn't answer. The last sixteen hours had been a whirlwind, and one thing had been bugging me since I'd met Forrest McMahon: how did he know about Chancellor Finance? I sat down on the couch, pulled my laptop from my bag and got on the Internet. It was time to dig up a piece of my past that I'd hope would remain hidden.

I stared at the screen, thinking. My poor choices were coming back to haunt me. I wasn't proud of what I'd done at Chancellor Finance, and I'd never told anyone but Cal. My parents never even knew about it. At the time, I'd been hoping to impress my father, show him that I could be successful on my own. When things went bad, I didn't want them to know. They never understood why I'd not pursued my Wall Street career or became a lawyer, and instead chose to become a detective. Finding out about Chancellor now would crush them.

My partners had been reckless and I'd been foolish. And we'd all been lucky that Allen Brubaker hadn't turned us in. I shook my head. I hadn't thought about him in years. He'd been kind to me, more than I deserved. I started typing. I first Googled his name and checked a few sites, and then found him. He'd risen in the Wall Street world, becoming a partner in a big brokerage firm. He was listed on a page with his partners, Bradford Wellington and Hayward St. Clair. They sounded like wealthy names. I gazed at Brubaker's picture on the screen. He hadn't aged much, just some crow's feet at the edges of his eyes. I poked around more and found a work number for him. It was Sat.u.r.day and I didn't expect him to be there, but I called anyway and left a message to return my call. I continued reading up on him, and was surprised when my cell phone rang a few minutes later.

"Reed, it's been a long time."

After all these years, I still recognized his smooth voice. "Allen, how are you?" I said.

"I'm doing well, thank you." His voice was clear and cultured. "I've managed to keep this business going, even in the economic downturn. But I suspect this isn't a social call."

"No, it's not," I said.

"What can I do for you?"

"I've come into contact with someone who knows about Chancellor Finance."

I heard a 'tsk' sound through the phone. "And it's someone who shouldn't know," he guessed.

"This guy doesn't have any connection to Chancellor, at least not that I can find."

"Reed, I haven't thought about Chancellor Finance in years, since right after it all fell apart," he said. "I'm sure I said some things to a few friends back then, but I've never said anything since, and I'm sure I didn't use your name. But I did keep tabs on you, and you've kept your nose clean. Now, Harris Neeson didn't." He mentioned Chancellor's president, a slick guy who talked me into joining them.

"I haven't talked to him in years," I said. I'd never kept up with any of the guys; I'd wanted to stay as far away from them as I could.

"Yes, you'd think he would've learned, but he didn't."

"What happened?"

"He tried another scheme, and this time he tried to cheat the wrong people. His body was found in the Hudson River a few years after Chancellor Finance closed."

My palms grew sweaty. "I hadn't heard that," I said as I wiped my hands on my pants. "I'm out of all that now."

"Just keep it that way." He wished me well and hung up.

I hadn't even set the phone down when it rang again. It was Ace.

"Hey, buddy, what's up?"

"I'm reporting in," he said, trying to make his lazy drawl sound a bit more official.

"Okay, what happened?"

"I'm in your 4-Runner. I saw that sedan follow me, but after a couple of blocks, he turned off. Why didn't he stay with me?"

"He probably decided to go back to the restaurant to see if Stephanie and I were still inside."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that," he said.

"You did great. Park the 4-Runner in the garage and hang on to my keys. And if you see that sedan around, give me a call."

"Do you think whoever's driving it will bother us?"

"No," I said. "They're after Stephanie, not us. But if something does happen, call the police."

"Okay, over and out."

I sighed as I hung up the phone, then set it down and stared at my computer screen. We'd successfully lost the tail, but I'll bet he'd show up soon.

CHAPTER NINE.

I shut off the computer and got up.

"I guess if I'm a bodyguard I should make sure no one can get in here without my knowing," I said to the emptiness.

I tiptoed down the hallway, stood in front of Stephanie's door and listened. Her TV was on, but I didn't hear her. I almost knocked, then decided against it. Why disturb a poisonous snake if I didn't have to?

I went into the spare bedroom. Like the rest of the house, it was modern and spa.r.s.e, with a white platform bed, matching dressers and night stands, and a huge abstract painting hung above the bed. Tidy and uninviting. I checked the windows, noting they couldn't be opened. I strolled through the rest of the condo, spotting nothing to be concerned with, then went back onto the patio. It was much fancier and larger than most balconies, with stone flooring, thick concrete walls instead of railings, and flower planters. I walked to the edge, leaned on the wall, and looked around, then up. I didn't see any way that someone could access Stephanie's balcony, unless they used ropes and lowered themselves from another balcony a few floors above. It was something to keep in mind.

I turned and looked around. Her condo was on the south side of the building and I craned my neck to see toward the front. I wondered if the black sedan was parked on the street, waiting for us to come out. I doubted Stephanie would want to stay cooped up here all night. So when she wanted to leave, what would happen? Did our tail know what car she drove?

My survey complete, I went back inside, kicked off my shoes and lay down on the couch. It may have been expensive, but it wasn't very comfortable. Despite that, I soon dozed off.

I bolted awake when the front door opened and then slammed shut. Heels clicked down the apartment hall, then Stephanie's bedroom door opened and closed.

I padded down the hall and stood in front of the door. Over the sound of the TV came a periodic laugh or squeal. I glanced at my watch: seven-thirty. I knocked on the door.

"Wha-at?" said an annoyed voice.

I put my face close to the door and spoke loudly. "What do you want to do about dinner?"

A moment later the door jerked open.

"What?" Stephanie asked. She was in sweats and her hair was rumpled, like she'd been sleeping. Not that I could point a finger.

"Are you hungry?" I tried to look over her shoulder as I talked.

"Um, I guess." She yawned.

"Don't play games with him," said another sultry voice. Then the owner of the voice appeared next to Stephanie. She looked me up and down. "So this is your bodyguard."

I introduced myself and appraised her. Stephanie's age, taller, maybe five-ten, with wavy red hair and eyes similar to mine hazel but hers had a mischievous sparkle in them.

"I'm Brittany Nicholson." She wore a tight black-and-white leopard skin skirt, a low-cut black shirt, black heels, lots of dark makeup and silver jewelry.

"You like Chinese? I ordered some before I came over. Should be here any minute." She stepped past me and strutted down the hall.

Stephanie ran a hand through her hair, then leaned against the doorjamb and crossed her arms. "I had lunch with you," she said. "Do I have to eat dinner with you, too?"

"All your meals," I said, throwing her a wide smile.

"Gawd."

"I'm kidding. I can eat in the living room if it would make you more comfortable."

She glared at me for a second. "Yeah, then you'll make a big deal about eating alone." She brushed past me as a buzz rang out, then whirled around. "Come on, then."

I followed her into the entryway, where she spoke into an intercom near the door, speaking to the doorman.

I rushed up to her. "Hold on. I'll get the door."

"Why?"

I raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm your bodyguard..."

"The doorman just said he's sending the delivery guy up"

"Someone could be pretending to be the delivery guy."

"Whatever," she said.

I got the Glock from the bedroom and returned to the foyer. A minute later, the doorbell chimed, announcing the Chinese food delivery. Stephanie gave me money and I shooed her into the kitchen. Then I gazed out the peephole. A young Asian guy stood in the hallway, holding a big bag in both hands. He looked harmless. I held the Glock behind my back and cracked the door open.

"Here's your order," the delivery guy said. He held up the bag with one hand and fiddled with a receipt.

I tucked the Glock behind my back and paid him, the closed and locked the door. I took the food into the kitchen, where Stephanie and Brittany were waiting.

"What do you want to drink?" Brittany asked as she rummaged in the frig.

"Bottled water's fine," I said as I sat down at a gla.s.s-topped table.

Stephanie came in and set a brown paper bag on the table.

"I'm famished," Brittany said as she plopped into a chair. She gave us each a bottled water and we dove into the bag.

They were either too hungry to talk, or they didn't know how to conduct themselves with a stranger in their midst, because they didn't say a word until we'd eaten almost everything. As I shoveled moo-shu pork into my mouth with chopsticks, I felt Brittany's eyes on me.

"What?" I said with my mouth full.

She tipped her head as her eyes roved over me. "He's kinda cute," she said as she played with a strand of her hair.

"Ew," Stephanie said.

"I said kinda." Brittany had the same irritating habit of emphasizing certain words for effect. "His nose is funny-looking."

"That's not the only thing that's funny-looking," Stephanie snickered.

Brittany leaned down and looked under the table. "Hmm."

"I didn't mean that!" Stephanie threw a chopstick at her. "It's his ears. Oh, and that haircut."

"I'm right here," I said.

"And he thinks he's funny, like humorous, but he's not." Stephanie glared at me.

I changed the subject. "What are your plans for tonight?"

"We're going to hang here," Stephanie said. I glanced at Brittany's outfit and raised my eyebrows. "Don't look at me like that," she continued. "Brittany brought a couple of DVDs. We'll watch them in my bedroom so you won't be disturbed."

"Uh huh." I didn't believe her.

"Oh, relax." Brittany leaned over and patted my cheek. "We won't give you any trouble."