Vengeance: A Reece Culver Thriller - Book 1 Page 3

  Reece knew he’d hit a nerve asking about her marriages, and he made a mental note to pry into her past.

  “Sorry about that. I guess it’s just part of my job. I like to ask questions,” he said. “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, shall we go?” she asked.

  “Yes, unless you’d like to eat in. Do you like Chinese?”

  “Chinese would be good.”

  He pulled a well-worn menu for Chui’s Chinese out of his desk. He knew the menu by heart, having ordered from the restaurant one floor below more times than he could remember.

  She took the menu from his hand and studied it, then looked up smiling at him.

  “Why don’t you surprise me, Reece? I like most everything.”

  That made his life easy. Picking up the phone, he dialed and ordered up dinner.

  “So how about work? What do you do, Crystal?”

  “I work for the United States Attorney’s Office for the District of Colorado.”

  “Wow, that sounds pretty important. Can you discuss your work?” he asked, wondering if she trusted him.

  “Right now we’re working with a multi-state task force. It’s a big case, that’s about all I can say.”

  “It sounds very interesting,” he said, noticing that she knew how to clam up when needed. He stood up and added, “Would you like to come up to my apartment? I have a full kitchen, and it’s probably more comfortable than eating on a desk.”

  “Lead the way.”

  He led her through the door to the staircase. On the way up the spiral stairs he remembered Manchego, and hoped his dog hadn’t left any surprises. Reece stepped off the top stair with Crystal a few steps behind.

  “Manchego,” he said, alerting the dog.

  “Whose Manchego?” Crystal asked. Reece heard a louder than normal growl coming from the couch.

  “He’s my watchdog,” he said, not sure what was up with Manchego. It wasn’t like his dog to growl unless he sensed danger nearby.

  “Oh, I love dogs. What kind is he?” Crystal asked, stepping up into the apartment.

  “A blond lab,” Reece said, watching Manchego hop off the couch and come toward them. Crystal bent down to greet the dog. He sniffed her hand, gave her a lick, and then one ear went back, and one went forward. The dog hesitated and then withdrew toward the master bedroom. Reece wondered what was going through his dog brain.

  He heard a faint knock on the back door and went over to answer.

  “I like your place Reece. It’s very quaint,” Crystal said.

  He opened the door and found the young red-cheeked face of Larry Chui’s daughter Noi, holding a large cardboard box.

  “You want, put it on your tab, Mr. Reece?”

  He took the box and handed over the last $65.00 in cash he had.

  “Tell your father to close my tab. Thanks for bringing this up, Noi. This is for you,” he said, peeling the top five-dollar bill off the stack.

  Noi’s face blossomed into a huge smile.

  “She’s cute,” Crystal said.

  “Yeah, she is,” he said, shutting the door and taking the box to the kitchen counter.

  She was staring at a row of photographs from his childhood next to the television. He guessed that she might be jealous, since her own childhood had been cut short with the loss of her mother at the age of seven. What kind of mother would abandon her children at such a young age? There had to be more to the story he didn’t yet know.

  “Noi takes care of Manchego when I travel, and her father is the best landlord I’ve ever had,” Reece said, breaking the silence.

  “It smells like he’s a good cook too.” Crystal said rising from the couch and approaching him. He noticed her coming toward him and turned away pulling plates and silverware from the cabinets. The small kitchen was in a lot better shape now than earlier in the day when he’d decided to clean the large pile of dishes that had taken up permanent residence in the sink. A mixture of Chinese food smells colored the apartment, but he could still discern the fragrance of her citrus perfume drifting toward him.

  As they ate, he learned that she and her boss were catching a flight to St. Louis the next day for a meeting with the FBI. Reece was curious about the coincidence of the same city once again, but for now she was keeping her secrets to herself.

  After dinner, they sat on opposite ends of the couch in an awkward silence. Reece noticed her staring at him with an intent gaze.

  “I’ve got a question for you,” she said.

  “Shoot.”

  “I read a publicity piece about you and your new office in the Denver Post a few months back. I guess that’s what brought me here today. Anyway, I was wondering what would make a successful aerospace engineer quit his job and become a private investigator.”

  “I’ve often wondered the same thing myself,” Reece said, smiling at her. “I guess I needed answers to a couple of questions, and the only way to get them was to go all in.”

  “I like a man who goes all in.”

  Reece didn’t know how to respond to that. What did his new client want from him, anyway? Did she want him to find her mother, or did she like to tease private investigators? Maybe that was the way she was with all men. He took a forkful of the chicken kung po and shook his head. He didn’t really care—as long as she wasn’t trying to lead him into some scheme to break the law. Yes, he decided, he had to make sure he kept his distance with this one.

  Chapter Five

  Crystal finished her bagel, returned her empty coffee mug to the sink, and made one last trip to the bathroom mirror. She guided the gold handled brush her mother had given her as a child through her newly dyed hair, admiring the way she looked as a green-eyed blonde. Reaching across the counter, she retrieved a contact lens case, and tilting her head back, she poured drops of saline solution into each eye. With one of the blue lenses on her index finger she pressed it against her left eye and blinked until it became centered. She took one last glance into the mirror, admiring her new disguise.

  She drove the Mercedes from the basement garage of her downtown Denver loft and headed south on I-25 toward Arapahoe Road, glancing down at the letter in the taupe envelope she’d opened earlier. Crystal stopped at the traffic light after taking the exit ramp off the highway, and while waiting for it to turn green she took the letter and stuffed it into the side compartment of her purse. She wondered, Why now after all of these years?

  The light changed, and she tore off down the three-lane boulevard thinking about the call the day before from the man she called Papa. He was the only man she’d ever felt truly loved her, and she didn’t want to do anything to mess that up. Yet when she had told him she’d hired an investigator to find her mother, he’d gotten angry. She wondered if he knew something about Tracey Roberts he hadn’t told her.

  She had made the phone call in the first place because she’d come home to find a small box in the mail. Inside was a handwritten note from someone who’d signed it as Papa. Crystal smiled and pulled sheets of tissue off a slender black smartphone near the bottom. Every time I get mad at him, he does something like this.

  The shrill ring of the desk phone had broken the silence of the room, startling her. She reached out and answered.

  “How’s my baby girl?” a man asked in a raspy voice.

  “I’m good. How about you?”

  “Good as well. What are you up to today?” he asked.

  “I’m getting packed for a work trip to St. Louis tomorrow,” she’d said. “Oh, and thank you for the new phone. I just opened the box. You really shouldn’t have.”

  “You’re welcome, dear. A girl can’t be without a phone.”

  “Thank you, Papa.”

  “So who all is going on your trip?” He said. Crystal listened to him take a drink of something.

  “Just me and my boss George,” she said, then compared the gold contacts of the cell phone battery to the opening and pressed it in place. “So enough about me, what about you Papa, what’s new with you?
”

  “It’s been pretty slow here today, just getting ready for tonight’s tournament,” he said. She listened to him chewing on something and it irritated her. He always had to eat and drink when he was in the middle of a conversation with her.

  “Hey, Papa, there’s something I need to tell you,” Crystal said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Do you remember when I told you about the investigator here in Denver?”

  “Yeah, what about him?”

  “I hired Reece Culver to find my mom,” she said sounding proud.

  “Crystal! What did you go and do that for? That’s a waste of time and money. I told you what happened to your mom.”

  “That’s not true. You told me that she ran away. I took you at your word because I was young,” Crystal shouted. “You and Diane just took over my life, and every time I asked about my mom you dismissed it. Don’t you think I have a right to know what happened to her?”

  “Calm down, Crystal. That was a long time ago. Nothing positive is going to come from digging up the past.”

  She sobbed, and wiped her nose with the sleeve of her shirt, feeling angry and sad all at once, tired of his manipulation.

  “Why can’t you just let things be?” he demanded. “Why do you always have to dig up the past?”

  “I know what you told me, but I want to find out for myself. I need the truth.”

  The memory faded as she reached the entrance of Centennial Airport. She followed the road south and watched the big American flag in front of her destination stretch toward the east in a strong gale. Crystal leaned into her turn at the Y in the road and drove toward the control tower.

  She parked in the first row of cars at hangar seven. After using her badge to get into the side door, she saw the familiar face of her boss, George Kendall, the U.S. attorney for the District of Colorado. The square-faced man had a refined nose and a full head of gray hair. He looked important propped against the wing of their government-operated Hawker 4000 jet. He noticed her arrival and she glided across the polished white hangar floor, knowing she had his full attention. Crystal wondered if the navy blue business suit she’d decided to wear was conservative enough for their meeting. Her skirt had a mid-knee slit and he seemed to find her outfit intriguing.

  “Crystal,” George blurted out. His voice echoed off the walls of the enclosed hangar. “Shall we take a walk while they get our ride prepared?”

  She smiled at him and walked past, dragging a small-wheeled red suitcase. After stopping to leave her luggage next to the jet, she turned back toward him.

  They fell into a cadence as they walked toward the space between the two tall hanger doors. To the west a thick veil of sculpted white clouds covered the foothills that had been bathed in sunshine when she left her loft. The winds were up and she worried that the trip might be delayed.

  “George can we fly in this?” she asked in a submissive voice as they walked out onto the asphalt ramp in the strong wind.

  “Oh yeah, we’ve got a jet. We’ll be up and out of this in no time,” George answered reassuringly. He had only a limited amount of small talk in him, though, and he quickly turned to their business at hand. “I wanted to make sure we’re both on the same page, Crystal. I’ve been following Sam Shanks for over a decade, and I don’t want St. Louis trying to take our case.” They rounded the south side of the hangar, taking shelter from the gravel being stripped from the pavement and flung toward them in the wind.

  “I’ll follow your lead, George. I was under the impression, from your phone call with Stephen Cox, that this trip was just to confirm our information.”

  He leaned forward, pressing his hand on the side of the hangar as he turned toward her. He was close enough that Crystal felt uncomfortable and thought about moving away. “Good, we definitely don’t want to fill in any blanks for these guys. I don’t trust any of them.”

  What you don’t know, George, she wanted to say, is that the person you shouldn’t trust is me. I have a keen interest in Sam Shanks myself—a keen interest in making sure the investigation of him goes nowhere.

  Chapter Six

  The next morning Reece rolled onto his right side and grabbed the edge of the mattress, trying to avoid hitting the floor. Manchego had taken up most of the bed, leaving his master to the two-foot-wide section he’d decided belonged to the guy that fed him. Reece made his way to the living room, where he slid into last night’s clothes and pulled on his favorite cowboy boots. The leather felt cold on his calves. He sniffed the air and caught the strong scent of Crystal’s citrus perfume that had infused the surroundings. He dug through the wicker basket and found Manchego’s leash.

  As Reece walked his dog down the stairs, he heard a fire truck going down 17th Avenue in an awful hurry. He wondered what was burning at six in the morning, and then remembered where he was. Manchego stretched the leash to its full length and squatted on the first piece of grass he could find. Reece waited, sniffing the cold morning air and welcoming the mind-clearing chill. They headed back toward the apartment, and when he got to the stairs out behind Chui’s Chinese he saw Larry Chang, the day cook and owner.

  “Hi, Reece,” Larry said reaching down to give Manchego a few pets. “Thanks for paying off your food tab last night. Noi is still talking about the $5.00 you gave her.”

  “Do you think Noi would like to watch Manchego for a few days? I’ve got a work trip,” Reece said.

  “When are you leaving?” Larry asked.

  “Probably later today.”

  “Reece, there’s one more thing,” he said. “Rent’s due a week from tomorrow. I need you to pay last month’s rent too.”

  Reece smiled at him and nodded. “I’ve got you covered.”

  After returning to the apartment he spent the next few hours packing and getting Manchego’s food and gear situated so that Noi could take over her duties easily. He walked down the street to the bank, and as he entered, he caught the security guard’s disapproving look as he pulled his carry-on suitcase with a camouflaged backpack slung over his left shoulder. He had to get a wad of cash because when he’d tried to buy an airline ticket on the Internet, his credit card had been declined. With his business at the bank completed, he went out onto Colfax to hail a cab.

  On the cab ride to Denver’s International Airport, he perused the notes he’d started on Crystal’s missing mother Tracey, but soon his mind drifted. The sights reminded him of the day his father had picked him up from the airport back in July of 2009. That in turn took him back to that day his father and he had followed Anthony Zimeratti’s blue Corvette through the streets of downtown St. Louis. His dad had handed him a Canon digital camera, telling him to snap pictures of Zimeratti with his mistress. It was the last piece of evidence Reece’s father needed for his PI divorce case.

  He’d set the camera down on the seat as they sped up to catch Zimeratti. The blue Corvette was faster than his dad’s GTO, and Reece remembered his dad punching it and doing a power slide around a corner. The camera slid off the seat into the floor well, and Reece wasn’t fast enough to grab it. When he did pick it up, he looked through the viewfinder and everything looked fine. He ran his hands over the plastic camera body, thankful it was still working. But now he knew it had in fact broken.

  They caught up with the Corvette. It roared along in the left lane and they were two lanes over to the right. Reece took four or five good shots of a hot blonde in the passenger’s seat kissing Zimeratti all over as he sped down Broadway. Reece remembered zooming in on the woman and realizing her shirt was unbuttoned down to her waist, exposing her breasts. Reece and his dad started laughing, having a good time. They eased back satisfied they’d captured the evidence Al Culver needed.

  Reece felt the jerk of the cab’s brakes and looked up, letting go of his daydream. The taxi had pulled up to the curb at DIA, and he got the feeling someone was watching him. Someone was. He saw the driver’s grizzled face in the rearview mirror “You owe fifty-four. I take cash or
credit card.”

  “Yeah, I got it. It’s not like I can’t see those big red numbers on your toll taker,” Reece said, leaning back to grab the wallet from his back pocket. He handed the guy sixty bucks. The cabbie took his time counting out the six dollars in change, and his attitude took away any chance of a tip.

  Reece paid cash for his airline ticket at the counter and checked his carry-on with the locked gun case for his Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum inside. He liked his Model 686 Plus and the idea of having seven bullets instead of the usual six. He wasn’t the best shot with a handgun, but if need be, it could be gripped by the barrel and used as a club.

  “That’s all you’re checking in?” the ticket officer asked.

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  *

  Once he landed in Tulsa, he ended up renting a blue Mazda 6. The car’s acceleration was responsive as he pulled out of the airport and merged into the northbound lane of the highway. Reece dialed Haisley to see if he’d turned anything up on his missing person, Tracey Roberts.

  “Haisley, what’s going on?” Reece asked.

  “Culver, where are you?”

  “Just flew in to Tulsa. Did you get the file?”

  “I did, but it’s a dead end.”

  “Dead end, what do you mean?” Reece asked, annoyed.

  “There is no file. All I got is the folder jacket. I convinced Darla over at Riverside to let me look myself, but that’s all I came up with.”

  A file missing from the archives? “Is there anything written on the jacket?” Reece asked, knowing that sometimes detectives would write investigative notes inside the cover.

  “All I got is a photograph of a green and white house, plus the name Ann Fletcher. I wish I had more for you, Reece.”

  “Spell the name for me,” he said, pulling his notebook out of his bomber jacket.

  “It’s spelled just like it sounds,” Haisley said.

  “How about the picture of the house? Can you tell where it’s located?” Reece asked, hoping for something.

  “It could be anywhere. There’s a green lawn, and the house is a ranch style with white wood siding and green trim. The neighborhood has lots of trees. There’s really nothing else to add.”