Scene of the Lie, Reed Ferguson Private Investigator Mysteries: Book 23

Sample Chapter

CHAPTER ONE

Everybody makes stupid choices, at least once in their lives. Everyone knows that, at least the people who are honest enough to admit it.

I was thinking that as I waited at a bank of elevators in an office building located at Sixth and Union, west of downtown Denver. Down a hallway, a man stood at a closed door, his hands full of notebooks, a laptop bag, and a cup of coffee with no lid. He was juggling it all as he tried to dig into his pocket, presumably for keys. Then he put the cup to his lips and held it with his teeth. I was about to dart his way to offer help when the cup wiggled and dropped to the floor. He jumped back with a look of consternation, coffee on him and the carpet. I glanced to a table not five feet from him, wondering why he hadn’t set down some of his stuff before he hunted in his pocket. I never got an answer to that as a ding sounded, and one of the elevator doors slid open. His mutterings faded as I got on, pressed three, and rode up to the third floor. When I got off the elevator, I looked for Fusion Marketing, a business that specialized in marketing and web design. I wasn’t in need of those services, but instead was meeting a potential client. I walked up to a long counter, where a woman sat typing at a computer.

“I’m Reed Ferguson,” I said, not identifying myself as a private investigator. “I have an appointment with Annalise Baker.”

She nodded and picked up a desk phone. “I’ll call her.” She wasn’t chatty, just made the call, hung up the phone, and said, “She’ll be up here in a second.” Then she went back to typing at the computer.

I stood back and listened to soft music coming from a small speaker near her monitor. Something with a steady beat, not anything I recognized. I love alternative 80s, and I admit that I am out of touch with a lot of newer music. As I fast approached forty, I realized with horror that I might be getting “older.”

I didn’t have time to dwell on that as a woman with shoulder-length blond hair attractively streaked with gray entered the reception area. She was on the taller side and thin, and she held out a hand and smiled at me.

“Reed?” Her voice was like honey as she introduced herself. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” I said.

“Come with me. We can talk in my office, and I can get an idea of what you want.”

I nodded and glanced at the receptionist. She was oblivious to us, continuing to work at her computer. I followed Annalise down a short hall to a large office. The skies were clear today, and she had a great view of the downtown high-rises to the east. It was February and all the trees I saw were bare, although no snow was on the ground. I grew up in Denver, and it amazes me how much our downtown has grown over the last couple of decades. Annalise motioned to a small round table in a corner opposite a glass-top desk where a laptop sat. She closed her office door and we took seats at the table.

“Thanks for meeting me.”

Annalise had called me the day before to ask about my services, saying she’d found my listing online. I’ve been a private investigator for several years now. I haven’t had an office in a long time, and I meet my clients wherever it’s convenient. Annalise had wanted me to come to her office, and she told me she’d explain why when I met with her. Now I looked at her expectantly. She drew in a breath and glanced nervously at a rectangular glass window by her door as if to see whether anybody walking up and down the hall would notice us. It remained quiet, and she began.

“I wanted you to come here and not my house because I don’t want anyone to know that I’m hiring a private investigator. Not yet, anyway.” A laptop sat in front of her, and she glanced at it.

“Why do you want to hire me?”

She played with the pen and said, “There’s something I need to get resolved, before I retire.” More playing with the pen. “Have you heard of my husband, Greg Baker?”

I quickly went through the recesses of my mind, then shook my head. “I’m sorry, I haven’t. Should I know him?”

She shrugged. “His name might’ve been in the papers about five years ago. Greg was a homicide detective with the Lakewood Police Department. Around that time, he was investigating the murder of a marijuana dispensary owner, Levi Gallagher. Levi was killed inside his store, after hours. They never found who did it.” She looked at me. “Does any of this sound familiar?”

I glanced around her office as I thought. The desk was covered with papers and file folders, and a bookcase was packed with knickknacks of all sorts. A file cabinet in another corner had two open drawers, each one stuffed full. More files and papers sat on top of the cabinet. I looked back at her and again shook my head.

“I’m sorry, I don’t recall hearing about that.”

“It’s probably just as well. What I’m about to tell you is embarrassing, and frustrating.” She glanced up, and her eyes went a little wider as someone slowly passed in the hall. She looked at me.

I glanced over my shoulder. “No one here knows I’m a private investigator.”

She leaned forward and nodded. I could smell a sweet perfume, subtle, not overpowering. “Oh, right,” she said, clearly nervous.

“Go on.”

“Greg was the lead detective on that murder investigation, and like I said, they were never able to find the killer. However, during the investigation, Greg was accused of stealing fifty thousand dollars from the store.”

I whistled quietly. “Did he?”

She shook her head and said vehemently, “He absolutely did not.”

“I’m assuming there was an Internal Affairs investigation,” I said as I glanced at the laptop. The screen showed a sample website design with subdued colors and a place at the top for a company logo. I’d never bothered with a website, just my online listing. I get enough referrals that way.

“Yes.”

“They cleared your husband of any wrongdoing?”

She sighed and shook her head. “Not exactly. They weren’t able to show that Greg took the money, nor were they able to categorically prove he didn’t.”

I tipped my head. “What happened after that?”

She moved her hand from the laptop, picked up a pen, and began doodling on a notepad. “Greg could have kept his job, but he’d lost the trust of some others on the force, although his commander—Manny Chavez—believed him.” More doodling. “It was a bad situation, though, and Greg eventually resigned.”

“Was it forced?”

She shrugged. “Greg didn’t tell me a lot, only said it was a mutual decision. I think it was a situation of resigning so he wouldn’t be faced with more investigations, or any blowback from potential partners.”

Over the years, I’d gotten pretty good at remembering names and key points of a conversation, so I didn’t write down what she was saying. I waited, and she went on.

“Since then, Greg’s been working at Home Depot—the one on West Alameda. He acts as if it doesn’t bother him, but I know he hates it. He loved being a detective, and since he had to quit the force, he’s not been the same. He was edgy for a long time, and he struggled with some depression.” She glanced around. “I’m about ready to retire, and we’re going to move back to Minnesota, where we’re both from. I’ve suggested traveling and doing some other things, but Greg doesn’t seem that enthused. I know he worries about what happened, and how people he worked with thought he was guilty, even though he’s not. It bothers me, too. I know my husband. He would never steal anything.”

“He was never accused of theft at other times?”

“No,” she said, still doodling. “You hear stories of police corruption, and how the guys who got caught were spending lavishly, in ways they couldn’t with just their salaries.” She gave a little snort. “One look at Greg and me, and you know that’s not the case. We’ve lived in the same small house for years, and we’ve never owned a new vehicle, always buy used. We struggled to put our two daughters through college. Heck, some extra cash would’ve been nice.” She smiled ruefully. “Greg’s been buying some things in anticipation of our move back to Minnesota, and we’ve had to put those things in storage.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Buying what?”

“Fishing gear, woodworking equipment. He wants to build furniture and sell it. A couple of snowmobiles.” She shook her head in annoyance. “It’s bad enough that he’s filled the garage with woodworking equipment, but now all the stuff in the storage unit. I never go there. I’m afraid to see what all he’s accumulated.”

“How did you pay for everything he buys?”

She eyed me cooly. “With money we’ve earned, not from unexplained cash.”

“Maybe he took the cash and put it away for the future,” I speculated.

She set the pen down hard. “He didn’t steal any money.”

“Where was the money taken from?”

“Dean Hill—that was Levi Gallagher’s business partner—said there was more than a hundred thousand dollars in a safe in the office he and Levi shared. Greg said when he and another officer checked, there was only the fifty thousand or so that he reported.”

“Did Greg work with a partner?”

“Yes. Max Cobb. He arrived at the crime scene after Greg, so he doesn’t know what all Greg did before that. A 911 call had reported a loud noise, possibly gunfire, and the responding officer had to enter the building to assess the situation and see if anyone had been hurt or killed. That’s when the officer found Levi Gallagher in his office. He’d been shot. Greg was assigned the investigation, and he went to the scene. Max arrived a while later, after Greg had looked around.”

I thought fast. “To be honest, it sounds as if Greg could have stolen the money. If there were no witnesses when he was in the office—”

“I know how it sounds, but Greg didn’t take anything.” Her words tumbled out. “He took a lie detector test and passed it. There weren’t any cameras or any other witnesses to corroborate what he said.” She swore softly. “That’s the problem. Nobody could prove that he was telling the truth.”

“Or that he was lying.”

She looked resigned. “Yes.”

“Who accused him of stealing the money?”

“Someone said they saw Greg leave the dispensary and go to his car and put something in the trunk. Greg denied doing anything wrong, just said he kept some things like gloves and booties in the trunk, and he was getting those. However, Max thought he should tell the commander what he’d heard from a witness. It went from there, and an investigation was opened and …”

I contemplated her for a moment. The room was quiet. I waited on her.

“I want you to look into what happened, to clear Greg’s name,” she said. “He and I should have a peaceful and fun retirement, and I know we won’t as long as he thinks people still believe he’s guilty, and he knows everyone thinks that. Will you help me?”

I had just wrapped up a small case where I’d been hired to follow a philandering husband, and I was at loose ends.

“Based on what you told me, it didn’t look good for your husband,” I said. “I don’t know that I’d find anything different now, especially after all the time that’s passed.”

“It’s worth it to me to try.” Her brown eyes were pleading. “I want Greg cleared of any wrongdoing.”

I nodded, named my fee, plus my expenses, and she agreed.

“I’d like to start by talking to Greg,” I said.

She held up a hand. “You can’t do that. He doesn’t know I’m hiring anybody.”

I sat back. “This could change things.”

Her mouth pinched. “Please, you need to do this for me. I don’t want Greg to know, though. He’d be mortified that I was telling anybody about what happened. Whenever I bring up Levi Gallagher’s murder, Greg tells me it’s in the past and to leave it alone. But I can tell by his mood that he thinks about it a lot. Can’t you ask around without him knowing?”

I rubbed my chin. “That’s going to make things more difficult, and he’ll probably get wind of my investigation.”

“You’re right, but not right away. Hopefully you’ll find out what happened before he does hear anything. And when he does, I’ll talk to him.”

Keeping her husband in the dark didn’t seem like the best idea, but if she wanted it that way, I would have to agree. It was either that, or back out of the case before I’d even started. She let me chew on our conversation. My wife, Willie—real name Wilhelmina—had recently beaten breast cancer and had been in remission for a few months. I’d been sensing something off in her demeanor, and I figured it was all the stress she’d recently gone through. I wanted to take her on a nice trip. The money from this case could go toward that. It would be fun to take her on a semi-vacation to Florida, where my parents live. Hence, the semi part. I love my parents, and so does Willie, but my mother has her quirks and can be a handful. After a visit with them, Willie and I could go down to Key West for the real part of the vacation. Neither one of us had been there, and we both always wanted to visit.

“You’ll take the case?” Annalise interrupted my thoughts.

I looked at her. She wore tan slacks and a red blouse, bold but professional. Her eyes, however, were full of sadness. The situation with her husband had obviously weighed her down as well.

“I’ll ask some questions, see what I can find,” I said. “But I’m not going to make any promises with regard to your husband. It’s more than likely I’ll need to talk to him.”

“I understand, but see what you can find out first. If and when Greg learns about your investigation, I’ll explain why I hired you, and we can go from there.”

“Agreed.”

Sometime later, I remembered the man I’d seen with the cup of coffee, and the unwise choices he’d made. And I realized that agreeing to this investigation had been a stupid choice I’d made.

 

A cold case to solve, and we are on the edge of our seats as, along with Reed, we are trying to figure out who is or isn't lying to him. I have read and loved every book in the Reed Ferguson series, and I'm already looking forward to reading the next one! ~Reader review