Fast Money: A Shelby Nichols Adventure Page 6

  “What’s going on?” the man complained. “I’m just trying to get out! Can’t you hear the fire alarm? And what about the gunshot? What’s wrong with you people?” Inside he was calculating how to get away. But he wasn’t too worried.

  “Oh, sorry sir,” the officer replied. “We thought you were someone else.”

  “Wait!” I jumped in. “It is him. There must be a connecting door between the courtrooms.”

  “That’s right,” Chris broke in. “The judge has a chamber between both courtrooms. He could have used that.”

  Down the hall, several policemen broke through the door and the elevator guy began to sweat. “I don’t know what she’s talking about.” He was glad he’d tossed his jacket in the other room.

  “I’ll bet he took his jacket off and it’s in the other room,” I said. “And that must have been a fake nose he had on before, but this is the same guy.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked. “What guy?”

  “At least look inside and see if you can find the jacket he was wearing.” I couldn’t let him get away.

  Another officer approached. “We found Bishop. He was in the judge’s chambers. He’s dead.”

  “Dead?” I asked.

  “Yeah, and the place is empty. I guess the guy who did it got away.”

  “No, he’s right here.” I pointed at him. “He was wearing a disguise, but this is him.” Both policemen glanced at the man again, then at me, doubt in their minds.

  “Hey,” the officer said to his partner. “See if you can find a jacket in there. She says he took off his jacket and left it in there.” He turned to me. “If it’s not there I think you’ll have to admit you made a mistake.”

  “It’s there,” I said. I kept listening to the guy’s thoughts, but he wasn’t thinking about much except how furious he was with me.

  The officer came back with a jacket. “Is this it?”

  “Yes that’s the one he was wearing,” I said, relieved.

  “That’s not my jacket,” the guy said. “You’re making a mistake.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” I jumped in. “I was right about the jacket wasn’t I?” The officers looked at each other, unsure about what to do. If it was him and they let him go, there’d be hell to pay, but if it wasn’t they’d be in real trouble. “At least take him in for questioning,” I prodded. “You can’t just let him go. What if I’m right and he just killed Keith Bishop?”

  “Okay,” the officer said. “But you’ll have to come and make a statement. It looks like you’re the only person who thinks this is the same man.” He wanted to make sure his bases were covered.

  “I will,” I agreed. “I have to talk to my husband for a minute and I’ll come right over.”

  The officer nodded and pulled the guy behind him. The guy shook his head and began to complain, but shot me a look of pure hatred over his shoulder. All at once, his eyes widened, realizing I was the lady from the elevator. What was going on? There was something weird here, and he was determined to find out what it was.

  They rounded the corner and alarm tightened my chest. This guy was bad news, and now I was involved. He didn’t seem like the kind of person to give up too easily. This was not good.

  “Are you sure that was the same guy?” Chris asked. He had some doubt in his mind just like the officers.

  “How can you doubt me?” I was surprised and hurt. “Of course it’s him. Do you think I would say that about an innocent man?”

  “Sorry,” Chris quickly apologized, and pulled me closer. “What was he thinking?”

  “He was thinking about getting away, and how furious he was at me.”

  “But why did he kill the bank robber?”

  “I don’t know,” I sighed. “He wasn’t thinking about that. When I go to the police station to make my statement, I’ll see if Dimples will let me be there when they question him. That way I can probably find out.”

  “Okay,” Chris sighed. He hated for me to get involved with men like that. “Let’s walk back to my office, and I’ll see if I can come with you to the police station.”

  Most of the people had cleared out, and we followed the stragglers down the hall to the stairs. Even though it was a false alarm, no one took the elevators. We made it to the bottom floor and out of the courthouse. Chris put his arm around me, and I leaned into him, surprised to find my legs a little shaky.

  “I need to sit down,” I said.

  “I need to go to my office and make sure my client’s taken care of before we head over to the police station. It won’t take long, and you can sit down there.”

  “That’s fine. I’m not looking forward to facing that guy again. I hope they can keep him long enough to gather more evidence. If he shot the bank robber, his gun must be somewhere.”

  “True, but how did he get it past security in the first place? Plus, even if they find the gun, tying it to him might be a problem.”

  “Wouldn’t it have fingerprints on it or something?”

  “Not if he was wearing gloves, but they might be on the bullets. Most guys don’t think about that. Maybe he’ll be one of those.” Chris didn’t think it was likely, but it didn’t hurt to hope. “Hey,” he said, stopping mid-stride. “That reminds me, what were you doing here in the first place?”

  “Oh, yeah.” I’d nearly forgotten, but it all came back in a rush. “I got a visit from the CIA this morning.”

  Chris’ jaw dropped open. “What?”

  “Yeah. Pretty crazy, huh? They even planted a bug in the house. But I found it and flushed it down the toilet.”

  “They planted a bug? And you flushed it?” Chris could hardly believe what he was hearing. “Why would they plant a bug? What’s going on? What did they want?”

  “They just wanted to know if I had talked to Uncle Joey recently.” I heard Chris swear in his mind, but chose to ignore it, especially since I was thinking the same thing. “Apparently he showed up in the home of an arms dealer they’re working with, so now they’re suspicious of him.”

  “An arms dealer? They told you that?”

  “Not in words.” I pointed to my head.

  “Oh yeah, right.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “But what would the CIA be doing working with an arms dealer in Mexico?”

  “My thoughts exactly! The only thing I could come up with is that they’re trying to get weapons to the good guys to help get rid of the bad guys. You know, all those bad drug cartel guys that are killing all those innocent people? Isn’t that what the CIA does?”

  “I don’t know.” Chris was starting to get a dazed look in his eyes, and his mind was curiously blank, like it was just too much to take in.

  “Anyway,” I continued, hoping he would snap out of it. “They were checking up on me because I knew Uncle Joey. I was on their list, but they didn’t really expect to find anything because I have no ties to Mexico and I wasn’t really a part of Uncle Joey’s organization.”

  “Okay. So why did they plant the bug?”

  “To see if I was lying, I guess.” I shrugged my shoulders in an effort to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. But Chris was starting to panic. He was thinking we were in deep shit. The CIA was not an agency you fooled around with.

  We entered his building, only to be met by his client who was in a worse panic than Chris. “What the hell happened in there?” he asked, his brow covered in sweat.

  Chris patiently explained that the prisoner in the other courtroom had tried to escape, and they would probably have to re-schedule their court appearance. At this, the guy nearly had a meltdown. He was thinking that his wife was sure to find the money if they didn’t hurry things up. Chris ushered him into his office and had the secretary call to find out what was going on at the courthouse for the rest of the day.

  I told Chris I’d wait for him in the break room. I got a diet soda, and since I was starving, I also splurged on a candy bar from the vending machine. There’s nothing like chocolate to compensate for bad things
that happen, and I deserved the chocolate after all I’d been through.

  Chapter 4

  I finished the last bite of my candy bar and my cell phone rang. It wasn’t a number I was familiar with, but I answered it anyway.

  “Mrs. Nichols, this is Blaine Smith with Bank of America. You have an account with us, and we just noticed a large deposit. We were wondering if you would like to come in so we could talk about a portfolio of investments and money market opportunities. Your money can earn better interest with the right management. When could you stop by?”

  “Um…how about tomorrow?” His request caught me off-guard, but I knew this was something I needed to take care of. “But I want my husband to be there, so it would have to be later. In fact, let me talk to him first and I’ll call you back.”

  He repeated his name and number, and I thanked him and hung up, entering the information into my cell phone. I was starting to feel a little shell-shocked, like I had too much on my plate. The idea of leaving town to some remote island started to sound like a good idea. With all that money, I could actually do it. Chris could take some time off work, and the kids were almost out of school.

  Before the idea carried me away, my cell phone rang again. I recognized Dimples’ number. Was he calling about the fiasco at the courthouse?

  “Hi Shelby,” Dimples said when I answered. “Just curious, but have you been at the courthouse today? I just heard about a woman who fits your description who claims to have caught the man who killed Keith Bishop. By any chance would that happen to be you?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I stammered, realizing I had never given the police my name. “Yeah, it was me. I was there to talk to Chris.”

  “I knew it!” He shouted with enthusiasm. A rustling noise came through as he covered the phone with his hand and said, “It’s her!” He came back on. “They said you promised to come down and give a statement.”

  “Yes, I’m coming. I’m just waiting for Chris. I’m a little worried about explaining my premonitions. The officers at the courthouse already think I’m a little weird.”

  “But if you’re right, that means we caught the killer because of you. It could go a long way in getting you a paid consulting job with the police department.” When I didn’t answer right away he continued. “Hey,” he said reassuringly. “I’ll be there while you make your statement. I promise it will be easy. I won’t let anyone give you any guff.”

  “Thanks, that will help.” I let out a big sigh. “I’m at Chris’ office, so it will only take me a few minutes to get there.”

  “Great!” He disconnected, and I frowned. I had to figure out how to make my statement sound like I was a normal person. That probably meant I had to lie again. It seemed I was doing that a lot lately.

  Chris was still in his office with the door shut, but I could hear his client ranting about something. This was probably not a good time to interrupt so I decided to go by myself. It would be nice to have Chris with me, but since Dimples was being so accommodating, I figured I could handle it without him.

  I headed to the secretary’s office and told her that I had to go to the police station to make a statement. I also told her to tell Chris to join me as soon as he was through. I mentioned that they would want a statement from him as well, even though they hadn’t told me that. But since he’d seen everything, it was probably true, and I really wanted him to come.

  I got to the police station, and as soon as I walked in, everyone stopped and stared at me. Dimples caught sight of me and hurried over with a broad smile on his face, making his dimples huge. He escorted me to a back room like a proud parent.

  As we passed through the office, I noticed a woman with bad hair and in handcuffs sitting beside another detective. Something about her was familiar. She turned her head and I realized she was the woman with the ugly legs who was really a man. He’d been caught, right before I got on the elevator. Was he the killer’s accomplice? I listened intently and picked up that he was wondering if his day could get any worse.

  With Bishop dead, he may never get a chance to find the money. Plus, the wig and heels were driving him crazy. How did women walk in these things? At least the police couldn’t charge him with anything. Bishop’s accomplice must have hired someone to kill him so he wouldn’t have to worry that he’d talk. Now finding the money would be harder than ever.

  He started thinking every swear word in the book, and I pulled away. This guy was after the stolen money. Had he hoped to talk to the bank robber? Maybe he had plans to get him out, but I’d spoiled them. Part of his plans must have included his disguise, but how he thought he could accomplish an escape with all the security was beyond me. Of course, someone else managed to kill Bishop, so what did I know?

  We entered the back room and the two policemen from the courtroom stood. They were both relieved that I had showed up. It took the pressure off them to have me corroborate their story. Dimples introduced me to the police chief who also stood and studied me with great interest. After Dimples made the introductions, the police chief motioned for me to sit down and came right to the point.

  “Detective Harris told us about your premonitions,” the chief began. “Could you tell us what happened at the courthouse today?”

  I remembered what I’d told the officers and kept it as close to that as I could, not really saying I had any premonitions about the man in the elevator. I wanted to keep it as simple as possible. “He was wearing a disguise when I first saw him in the elevator, but the jacket you found in the courtroom was the same. Did anyone find the fake nose in the jacket?”

  “No,” the police chief answered. “We have no proof that this guy was wearing a disguise. The only thing we have is your testimony. We have no gun, no disguise, nothing. If we don’t get something more on him we can’t hold him for more than a day or two.”

  That was bad. “Who is he?”

  He glanced at the driver’s license in his hand. “His name is Trent Mercer. We ran him through all our databases and he has no priors. He’s from New Jersey and says he’s here on business. It all checks out.”

  The police chief let out a sigh. He was thinking that my story was a little far-fetched, and so far, the guy had been cooperative. He had also insisted that he was innocent and was at the courthouse to look into a small claims judgment from seven years ago. There was no way the police could hold him only on my say-so. It seemed like I had accused the wrong guy.

  “So he’s told you that he’s innocent and here on business, right?” I said. “And he was at the courthouse for some kind of claims judgment?” I hoped I wasn’t giving too many details, but I had to say something that would give me some credibility.

  His eyes widened, and he focused on me, wondering if there was some truth to my ‘premonitions’.

  “If you’d like to try, I might be able to pick up something from him,” I offered.

  “How would you do that?” he asked.

  “I just need to be in the same room while he’s being questioned. Sometimes I get premonitions that way, and even then, it doesn’t always work.” I had to leave room for doubt if I was going to get him to agree. “But it’s up to you.”

  The chief glanced at Dimples, who nodded his head, indicating he thought it was a good idea. Of course I heard that in his thoughts, but it’s amazing how much communication is done non-verbally. I’d have to remember that in case anyone ever guessed I could read minds, especially if I ever talked to Uncle Joey again.

  “Okay,” the chief agreed. “Let’s set it up.”

  I waited in the interrogation room while they got Mercer out of his cell and brought him in. His step faltered when he saw me, but he kept his expression stone cold and took a seat across the table from me. His thoughts were a different matter. After swearing a blue streak, he wondered if I had been following him and that’s how I’d ended up in the elevator. But if I was following him, it didn’t make sense that I would make that mistake. So it must be something else. What had he done that had give
n him away?

  He was meticulous in his planning, and nothing like this had ever happened to him. He’d never been caught before, and he was always careful to avoid personal contact and never leave a trail. Most of his clients never even knew what he looked like. Somehow this time it had all gone to hell. At least the bank robber was dead, and his ‘helpers’ had gotten away.

  “Who hired you to kill him?” I blurted, then realized this was not part of the questioning process we’d agreed on. I focused my attention on his thoughts, rather than the surprise of the others in the room and caught a feeling of superiority from him. Mercer got hired because he did his job, and he did it right. If I hadn’t interfered, he’d be celebrating with a lot of money by now.

  “So…someone hired you to kill the bank robber because…?” I was flying by the seat of my pants, using his thoughts as a jumping point.

  He’d talk he thought, but he said, “No one hired me to do anything!” He glanced around the room to catch the attention of everyone there. “You got the wrong guy. Are you charging me with something? Because if you’re not, you have to let me go.”

  “Do you know where the money is?” I asked.

  He huffed. That was the first stupid question I’d asked. He even had the audacity to roll his eyes, but still didn’t say anything.

  The others thought that was a dumb question too, so I decided to let them handle the rest of the questions. He didn’t bother to think about anything they said, only focusing on me and thinking how some day he was going to kill me, and take great pleasure doing it for ruining his plans.

  “How many people have you killed?” I asked.

  “What?” He gasped. “Who is this crazy person? Why is she even here?”

  The police chief widened his eyes at Dimples who turned to the killer and asked why he was at the courthouse today. “I already told you,” he answered. “I’m done answering your questions.” He glanced at me. “Especially hers.” Twenty-seven was the number he thought, and a shiver went down my spine. Some of them went through his mind, and I picked up a few images and a couple of names before he stopped.