Crime Wave Page 6

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I asked as I marched over.

  “I’m driving the golf cart.” She beamed.

  I shook my head. “Oh no. Not after the way you drive that Cadillac.”

  She narrowed her eyes and puckered her lips. Finally she said, “Either I’m driving or I don’t go.”

  I wanted to tell her to stay, but she looked determined.

  I let out a deep breath, then said, “Fine, but be careful. And for heaven’s sake, don’t run over anyone.”

  With a lurch we took off down the golf path looking for Sam. I soon realized that there were a lot of people playing golf. How would I find him in the groups of people? Dorothy’s driving hadn’t been bad after that shaky start, but the longer she drove the faster she went. The driving was made only slightly better because we were going uphill. But everything that goes up must come down, and I wasn’t looking forward to that.

  I had no idea a golf cart could even go that fast. I held on to the side, praying that she didn’t tip the thing over.

  “Dorothy, where’s the fire?” I yelled. “We can’t even see anyone because you’re going too fast.”

  Up ahead I spotted the downhill descent. I said a silent prayer as the cart sped out of control down the hill. We were almost at the bottom when Dorothy finally slammed on the breaks as she tried to navigate a sharp turn. Unable to hold on any longer, I tumbled out from the cart, landing flat on my face. Luckily, I’d landed on the soft grass instead of the sidewalk. That concrete path would not have been my friend. I pushed my body up with my hands. Nothing seemed to be broken. And surprisingly the pain wasn’t too bad.

  “Maggie, I am so sorry. The speed got a little away from me,” Dorothy said as she shuffled over.

  “A little out of hand? You think?” I pushed to my feet with a groan. “I’m driving this time.” I stomped over to the driver side and Dorothy didn’t argue.

  It had taken me almost being killed before she’d relinquished the steering wheel.

  We’d practically been around the whole golf course and I still hadn’t spotted Sam Louis. I was beginning to think I was wasting my time. I knew Dorothy thought we were wasting time. She’d much prefer a crossword puzzle book and a tall glass of tea at the moment. Heck, I’d rather be on the beach reading a book, but work came first.

  As we neared the end of the golf path that lead back to the clubhouse, I noticed a man watching us. He was walking our way. Uh-oh. Hey, I’d paid for this golf cart and hadn’t broken any laws. Other than the little accident, we had been angels the whole time we had been on the course. I mean, what could he possibly think Dorothy was doing wrong? For all he knew she was looking for her grandson.

  When the man approached, he said, “I couldn’t help but notice that you ladies seem to be looking for someone. Can I help you?”

  I looked him up and down. “Do you work here?”

  He smiled. “Yes, I do.”

  After a pause, I said, “Well, I’m looking for a Sam Louis. I’m sure you don’t know him. There must be a lot of people who come through here on a daily basis.”

  “Attorney Sam Louis?” he asked.

  I nodded, “Yes, that’s him. Was he here today?”

  “It’s funny you ask about him. He is very popular today.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “There was a private investigator here just a short time ago looking for him,” he revealed.

  I looked at Dorothy. She was clearly as shocked by this revelation as I was.

  “Did this private eye give you his name?”

  The man furrowed his brow in concentration. “No, I don’t remember. Sorry. It was a young man with dark hair. He was probably your age.”

  “Did he say why he was looking for Sam Louis?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No, but I figured it had something to do with the news of his partner’s death. You know about that? Arthur Abbott was a member of this course too. He was a very nice man. He will be missed—”

  Dorothy cut him off, “Well, is Sam Louis still here?”

  He pointed across the golf course. “I’m not sure, but I think his car was still in the parking lot a few minutes ago.”

  “Do you know if this man spoke with Mr. Louis?” I asked.

  I’d certainly gotten more news than I’d anticipated from this man.

  “Yes, I saw them speaking with each other.”

  “But you don’t know what about?” I pressed.

  He shook his head. “No, I didn’t listen.”

  I waved. “Okay, well, thank you for the help.”

  “You’re welcome.” He turned to walk away, then paused and looked at us again. “Oh, one more thing, I did see him get a phone call as he was walking away. He rushed away as he was talking on the phone.”

  “Thanks again,” I said.

  I wondered who had called him. Would he have rushed away once he’d learned Allison was in jail? After turning in the golf cart, we scanned the parking lot looking for Sam Louis’ car. It wasn’t in the same spot where I thought I’d seen it earlier. He must have left as soon as he’d gotten the phone call. So much for asking him questions. But who was this private investigator? And why was he looking for Sam?

  Chapter Nine

  The next day arrived and I had another mission. With the leads that I had, I needed to do a little investigating. If only I could sneak into Arthur’s condo without the police finding out about it. I surely didn’t want that Detective Jake Jackson snooping around.

  Even if I couldn’t get into Arthur’s condo, I’d at least check out the building’s perimeter. Allison had said everyone who had lived there moved and now lived in the tower next door. Maybe someone at the other tower had seen or heard something. It was worth a shot to ask around.

  Within twenty minutes, I was pulling up to the Towers of Coral. The coral-colored building overlooked the gleaming Atlantic Ocean. Crime scene tape was still draped across the main door leading into the lobby. Little good it was though because I could easily slip under it. Arthur’s condo door had been busted, so maybe the police hadn’t bothered to secure it after they’d finished collecting evidence. The broken door went against my theory of someone Arthur knew having committed the crime. I’d have to figure that part out later.

  I parked the car on the street by the curb rather than pulling into the parking lot. The last thing I needed was to draw attention to the fact that I was the only car there. I grabbed my gun this time and secured it in its holster. Glancing to my left and right, I didn’t notice anyone around so I made my way across the parking lot toward the front door of the building. The smell of the salty air wafted around me.

  I’d almost made it to the door when I heard movement nearby. It sounded like someone was walking behind me. I whipped around, but saw no one. Suddenly a bullet whizzed by my arm. I jumped into the nearby overgrown bushes and pulled out my gun. My heart hammered in my chest as I waited for the next shot to be fired. An eerie silence fell over the area. Had I imagined being shot at? Maybe it had been a car backfiring. I leaned out a bit, but no other shots rang out. For that, I was thankful. Who in the hell was shooting at me? The air around me was still silent. I looked to my left, right, and even up, not knowing where my assailant had hidden. When I glanced to my left, I noticed a hole in the building’s exterior. I knew it hadn’t been my imagination. Someone really had shot at me.

  “Maggie, are you okay?” A male voice called out.

  I peeked over the bush and saw Jake Jackson hiding by the front gate with his gun drawn. He glanced to his left and right.

  “I’m okay…I think,” I said trying to catch my breath. “Someone shot at me!”

  “You can put your gun away and come out. Whoever it was ran away. I called for backup and the police are searching the area for him now.” The detective moved closer to me.

  A voice in my head told me to stay hidden and not to release my tight grip on the gun. But reluctantly, I finally placed it back in i
ts holster and eased out from behind the bushes.

  “Come with me.” Jake grasped my arm and guided me toward the front gate of the parking lot.

  “I didn’t need to be saved,” I said as we made it back to the sidewalk.

  “I never said you did, but someone was shooting at you. That’s a serious matter, don’t you think?” The lines of worry deepened along his brow.

  “How did you know I was there and that someone had shot at me?” I asked, trying to hide the annoyance in my voice. I hated that he’d had to save my ass.

  He shoved his gun in his holster and looked around, avoiding my gaze. I wasn’t going to let him off the hook though so I continued to stare.

  Finally, he looked at me and said, “I may have followed you.”

  I felt my blood pressure spike. “You followed me? Why would you do that?”

  He shrugged. “I wanted to see what you were up to.”

  “I’m trying to find the killer, that’s what I’m up to. By the way, do you believe me now that Allison isn’t the killer?” I asked.

  He stared for a beat, then said, “I understand why you feel this way, but there’s compelling evidence against her.”

  “Yet you can’t tell me what this evidence is?” I scowled.

  “No, I can’t, but I can assure you we’ll find out who was shooting.” Underneath his stern expression was a hint of a smile, flickering like a sensuous flame.

  “Why bother? I’ll figure that out myself.” I folded my arms in front of my chest.

  I decided to ignore the exasperated look he gave me.

  “We’ll need you to make a statement about what happened. I can drive you to the station,” he said.

  As we made our way over to his car, the police arrived, swarming the building.

  “I’ll just be a minute while I talk to them.” He gestured over his shoulder.

  Jake opened the car door and I hopped in the passenger seat. He probably wanted to cuff me and shove me in the back. A faint smile twisted the corners of his lips as he stared at me. I expected a sarcastic comment about me staying put while he talked to the cops, but he didn’t say a word. He closed the door and walked away.

  The police wanted to find out what had happened and I wanted to keep them from hindering my investigation. Despite my reservations, I would reluctantly tell the police what had happened and sign a statement at the police station, but I wouldn’t agree to drop this case. Besides, there wasn’t much to tell. I had suspicions about who had been involved in the shooting though. It had to be the man who had been at the building the day I found Arthur’s body. Who else would have been wandering around the place?

  I had told the police about the strange man on that day, but I doubted that they’d followed up on that lead. There was no doubt in my mind that the creepy old man had been hiding around that day. The stranger was the only other person around the crime scene and they’d totally ignored it. Now someone had fired shots at me when I returned to the building. That couldn’t have been a coincidence.

  Just when I was about to give up and sneak back to my car, Jake climbed in the driver’s seat and cranked the engine.

  “So what were you doing back at the building?” He asked as he pulled out onto the road.

  I was surprised it had taken him this long to ask that question.

  “I think we both know what I was doing there,” I said, studying my freshly painted pink fingernails.

  He glanced over at me. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

  I shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

  “What did you think you’d find at the crime scene. We already got all the evidence.” He kept his eyes focused on the road, not glancing my way, although I had the feeling he watched me out of the corner of his eye.

  “Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t. Besides, I wanted to figure out a few things based on the layout of the place.” I nervously tapped my fingers against the seat.

  “Is that right, Sherlock?” The corner of his mouth twisted into a lopsided grin.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” I mimicked.

  “So, Maggie Thomas, what made you become a private investigator?” He flashed me a gorgeous smile exposing his dimples.

  “I was thrown into it” didn’t sound like a great reason, so I figured I’d skim over that part.

  “It was my uncle’s agency, so I decided to take it over when he died. My father was a police officer, but he was killed when I was two. I never knew him.” I peered out the window, avoiding his gaze.

  My mom hadn’t even told me about my father until I decided I wanted to be a cop. I’d never known him, but when I told my mother my plans for my criminal justice degree, she’d finally told me the truth about Dylan Thomas. He’d been killed in the line of duty. After all those years of believing he’d just taken off and abandoned us, she’d revealed that he had actually been murdered. I still couldn’t wrap my mind around why she would lie about something like that. Apparently, after he died, she’d totally wanted to block it out. In her mind it was better for me to think he’d left us for another woman than to think he was dead.

  After she told me what happened, I decided that in order to ease her fears about my safety, I would choose a different career path. I guess I hadn’t kept that promise now considering I had been shot at and found a dead guy.

  My mother was on her fifth marriage. The last time we spoke a few days ago she was on her way to Las Vegas with her new husband for their six-month wedding anniversary. Stan was an okay man, I guessed. He wore a little too much cologne and had a serious comb-over, but from what I’d seen, he loved my mother and wanted nothing more than to make her happy. That was the most important thing to me. When I’d decided to take over the agency, my mother had stopped talking to me. She swore she wouldn’t speak to me ever again. She’d called twenty minutes later and apologized.

  I’d already decided to try to hunt down my father’s killer. It had been twenty-six years since his murder and the crime had yet to be solved. He’d been ambushed one night on his way home from work. A couple weeks later, my mother had packed our bags and moved us to Florida from Kentucky. I had been two years old at the time and didn’t remember any of what happened. Apparently my mother had wanted to put distance between us and the tragedy. As if that would somehow make it go away. Once I finally discovered the truth, I’d spent many hours researching the case. So far I had no solid leads, but I wasn’t about to give up.

  Jake didn’t offer a comment about my father in return and I was grateful. There was really nothing else to say. He did, however, offer condolences. “Sorry about your father and uncle,” he said after a pause.

  “Thank you. So how long have you been with the police?” I asked, trying to be polite.

  “I’ve been with the department about seven years now.” His smooth voice filled the car with warmth.

  In spite of trying to avoid looking at Jake Jackson, I found myself glancing over when I thought he wasn’t watching me. He had a confident air about him, but it wasn’t arrogance, just effortless self-assurance. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I was slightly intrigued…slightly being the key word.

  “Are you from around here?” he asked.

  “No, I just moved here from Pensacola when I took over the business,” I said.

  We pulled into the police station parking lot and Jake hopped out of the car. He had already walked around to my side when I opened the door. Was he trying to open the car door for me?

  The station was full of people. Everyone seemed like they knew exactly what they were doing or why they were there. However, I was sure I looked as clueless as I felt. Jake led me back to his office. It was sparse with a desk in the middle of the room and two metal chairs in front. The top of the desk was covered with papers. A photo sat on the far corner of the desk and I wanted badly to know who was in the photo. A wife? A girlfriend? What the hell was wrong with me? Why did I care who was in his photo? When he was busy at his computer, I leaned over and tried to
get a better look at the picture.

  “That’s my mother and sister,” he said without looking at me.

  Damn it. Did he have to do that?

  “They’re very pretty,” I offered.

  “Thank you,” he said as he turned to look at me.

  Another officer came into the room with us. I was happy he’d entered and stopped the staring contest going on between Jake and me.

  “This is Officer Freeman. He’s helping with the case.” Jake pointed at the dark-haired man.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said.

  Officer Freeman shook my hand. He stood beside Jake’s desk, leaning over and smiling at me every chance he got. Wasn’t he supposed to keep up the tough cop image? He looked more like a teddy bear.

  “So if you can just write down once again what happened, we’ll let you get out of here.” Jake handed me a piece of paper and pen.

  His touch brushed against me and electricity ran through my fingers. I wrote my story as quickly as possible and handed him the paper.

  “Are you sure you didn’t leave anything out?” He tapped the paper with his finger.

  “Positive,” I said.

  Once Jake wrote “the end” at the bottom of page I’d written my statement on, he placed the paper on top of a stack to his right.

  “If that’s all you need, I’ll be going now.” I pushed to my feet and gestured toward the door.

  “Yeah, that’s all we need…” His stare made me exhilaratingly uncomfortable. “Let me drive you back to your car.”

  Another officer popped his head into Jake’s office. “Detective Jackson, can I see you for a minute? I have a question about the Rowe case.”

  Jake looked at me. “You’ll wait for me here and I’ll drive you back?”

  I nodded. “Sure.”

  He flashed his gorgeous smile and walked out of the room. As soon as he walked out of the room, I peeked out his office door. Jake disappeared around the corner. No one was looking my way, so I made a dash for the front door.