Out of the Past: A Reed Ferguson Mystery Part 8

We sat in silence again, and after a while, her eyelids began to droop.

"It's time to take you home," I said. This time she didn't protest, so I paid the check and steered her out to the BMW.

I turned the music down and she fell asleep on the way back to her condo. I had to wake her to get the code for the garage gate, and she managed to stay semi-alert as we rode the elevator to her floor. I let us in, walked her down the hall and into her room. Ever the gentleman, I took off her shoes and helped her into bed.

"Sleep tight," I murmured as I pulled a blanket over her. But she was already pa.s.sed out.

I tiptoed out of the room, double-checked all the doors to make sure they were locked, then went into the guest bath, where I took a quick shower. Then I went back into the living room. I doubted Stephanie would be up before me, but I wasn't going to take any chances. I lay down on the couch but I wasn't tired. The last sliver of moonlight filtered through the windows as I put my hands behind my head and stared at the ceiling, mulling over the events of the day. Stephanie didn't want to believe me, but I was certain that Brittany had been killed by mistake. Which meant Forrest McMahon's enemies, whoever they were, were close. Did McMahon know more about his enemies than he was telling me? It was worth asking. If I knew who was after Stephanie, it would be easier to end this. And isn't that what McMahon would want? Another thought crossed my mind. How could I spend time figuring that out if I was constantly traipsing around after Stephanie? Maybe I could get her to stay here for a while. Hah. Somehow I thought that was unlikely. Maybe Cal could help me...

And so my mind raced, and it was a long time before I finally fell asleep.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

A couple of hours later, I bolted awake at the sound of Bogie's voice. "Such a lot of guns around town, and so few brains." It was the ringtone on my cell phone, a sound bite from The Big Sleep.

"h.e.l.lo," I mumbled, sure it was my mother. She had a habit of calling me when I was either hurt and drugged up on pain killers, or tired from being hurt and on pain killers. And she always accused me of being on drugs, never believing that I'd taken no more than what the doctor prescribed after I'd been beaten up, or that she'd just caught me when I was exhausted.

"Reed, why haven't you called me with an update?"

It wasn't my mother, which was too bad. And that was saying something.

"Mr. McMahon, I was going to call you later," I said.

"It's already past eight," he said. "I told you I wanted an update each day."

"The day's barely started," I mumbled.

"Nonsense. Now what's going on?"

I sat up and cleared my throat. Bright sunshine streamed through the windows and the condo was quiet. I glanced at my watch. I'd only been asleep for a couple of hours.

"It's been an eventful twenty-four hours," I said as I got up and padded in my socks down the hall to Stephanie's bedroom. I paused for a second and listened. Silence.

"Reed, are you still there?"

"Yes." I hoped that Stephanie was still here as well. I doubted she'd sneaked out, but I'd been sleeping like the dead so I wasn't sure. And I didn't want to risk waking her, so I decided to check on her after I got off the phone. "We got home very late," I said, heading back down the hall to the living room. Then I told him what had happened.

"That's awful," he said, reacting to Brittany's death. "Just awful. I was never particularly fond of Brittany...a bad influence on my daughter, but I wouldn't wish ill for her."

"Sure." I shook my head. He made Brittany's death seem like a minor incident, not something tragic for his daughter.

"Why are you letting Stephanie go out, especially if you're right that what happened last night wasn't just a hit-and-run? I'm paying you to protect her, and she'd be much safer at home."

"You try getting her to stay put," I said. "She's not easy to persuade."

"Maybe you can now, given what's occurred."

"I will certainly try. Why don't you tell me who's after you. I am a pretty good investigator, and maybe I can put a stop to this."

"I've told you everything you need to know in order to protect my daughter."

"That's the way you want to play it?"

"Fine, then," he said, ignoring my question. "I expect another update tomorrow morning."

I agreed and hung up. I went back down the hall and tried Stephanie's door. It was unlocked. I cracked the door just enough to a.s.sure myself that she was still pa.s.sed out on the bed, then shut the door and returned to the couch. I lay down and was soon asleep.

"Let's go." Stephanie's whiny voice jerked me awake.

I forced my eyes open. She was standing over me, arms crossed over a lavender satin robe, her hair done up, make-up on, but still weary-looking.

"Good morning, sunshine," I said.

"It's noon." She turned and headed for the kitchen. "I'm making coffee and then we're going out."

I rubbed my eyes, pushed myself off the couch and went after her. "We are?" My head felt heavy as I tried to shake off my drowsiness.

"Yes, I need to get a dress."

"For what?"

"The funeral."

"The funeral won't be until later this week, at the earliest." I sat down at the table. "Why don't we stay here? It'll give me a chance to see if I can figure out who's after you...or your father through you."

"No way. I'm going out. Look, I could've ditched you while you slept, but I didn't." She rummaged around cupboards and prepared the coffee as she talked. "I know maybe it's not the safest thing, but I need a dress and I will not wear the same one to two funerals. Besides, maybe while we're out, you'll catch whoever this is."

"Oh, great, let's use you as bait. I suppose...wait a minute." I stared at her. "What do you mean, 'two funerals'?"

"I have Avery's funeral tomorrow, and then Brittany's, whenever that is."

"Who's Avery?"

"Another friend of mine. She committed suicide a week ago."

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I waited for the synapses in my brain to fire and make sense of all this.

"So your friend Avery died a week ago, and Brittany last night?"

"Yes."

I sat back and studied her. Two friends had died within the span of a week, and she was making coffee and chatting with me about it as if it were no big deal. She was either cold as a corpse or she had completely disa.s.sociated herself from the emotion of the recent tragedies.

"And you want to go shop for a dress for Avery's funeral because you don't have something on hand that will work."

"Stop it." She whirled around and jabbed a finger at me. "I can hear it in your tone; you think I'm a b.i.t.c.h. But I'm not. If I stay around here, all I'll do is think about Avery and Brittany. They meant the world to me, but that doesn't mean I have to blather like an idiot. I'll leave that for the funerals. So don't you dare judge me."

I held up a hand. "Okay, we'll go shopping."

"I'm glad you agree." She slammed a cup of coffee in front of me, sloshing hot liquid on the table. "I'm going to go finish getting ready. We'll leave in half an hour." She stalked out of the kitchen, cursing under her breath.

So she dealt with grief through anger...and shopping. And she was right, who was I to judge? I picked up the cup and took a sip. Not bad. I thought about all Stephanie had told me. In all this insanity, she'd given me an idea.

I took the cup to the couch, sat down and called Cal.

"How's the detective business?" he answered.

"Not as easy as you'd think," I said, giving him the rundown like I'd done a few hours ago for Forrest McMahon. "And it's getting more serious. Stephanie has another friend who committed suicide a week ago."

"Wow, poor kid."

"Poor kid, my a.s.s. Now she wants to go shopping."

"Shopping?" He was incredulous. "Grief takes all forms."

"You're not kidding. And since I now have to go out with her, I need a favor from you."

He hesitated. "I don't like your favors."

I laughed. "I want you to follow us."

"What?" The trepidation in his voice zinged through the phone. Cal wasn't particularly interested in adventure. He rarely ventured from his house, and did most of his shopping over the Internet, including groceries. He said he hated being put in danger, but I'd managed to corral him into helping me quite a bit. I secretly thought he was starting to like it, although he'd never admit it.

"I need you to follow us," I repeated. "Watch our back."

"And why would I be doing that?"

"In case we get into trouble. And you might be able to spot whoever it is that's following us. Ironically, I got the idea from Stephanie. Smoke them out. We're going out, and we know this guy'll probably be following us, so we set a trap and then we catch him."

"Just because someone says 'smoke them out', doesn't mean you have to do it."

"Huh?"

"Reed, this isn't a good idea."

I tapped the coffee table. "Maybe not, but she's going out, so I've got to turn this thing in my favor. Come on, the fresh air will do you good."

"It's fifteen degrees outside," he growled.

"Stephanie lives at the Gla.s.s House Denver," I said. "Park on Ba.s.sett Street and I'll call you once we leave the parking garage. We'll be in a red BMW." I rattled off the license plate number. "She's getting ready now. Can you be outside in about an hour? I can stall her until then."

He mumbled something under his breath about having a job already.

"What?"

"Fine, I'll be there." He hung up without another word.

I chuckled again, then thought about what I had proposed. I'd be fine, right? I gulped down the rest of my coffee and then went into the spare bedroom to get ready.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

As I drove out of the Gla.s.s House parking garage in the BMW, I spotted Cal's beat-up Honda Civic parked down the street. It was gloomy, with gray clouds hanging low. The type of day to stay indoors and watch football. If only...

"Where to?" I asked.

"Calypso St. Barth's," Stephanie said. "It's in Cherry Creek."

Cherry Creek was where the moneyed people shopped, so it didn't surprise me that this was where Stephanie was headed. I drove slowly so that Cal could keep up. He was a genius when it came to electronics, but I wasn't entirely sure that he'd be able to successfully tail me, or anyone else, either. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket, autodialed his number, and told him where we were headed.

"Who were you telling?" Stephanie asked.

"A friend of mine," I said. "He's going to help keep you safe."

She snorted. "Some bodyguard you are."

The feelings I'd had at Denny's, about her being defenseless and vulnerable, evaporated. As Elton John said, the b.i.t.c.h is back.

"Whatever it takes," I said. I was tempted to tell her that the idea of Cal following us came from her, but decided not to. I'd doubt she'd appreciate the irony.

We turned down Platte Street and I looked for Cal's Honda behind me. A few block later, when I still didn't see it, I called him again.

"Where are you?"

"I'm hanging back a little," he said. "I've got to give a tail room to get in behind you."

I was impressed. "Do you see anyone?" I asked.

"Negativo."

I hung up and sighed.

"Some help," Stephanie said.

"I wouldn't have to do this if you would stay home."