RUN FASTER: A Hallie James Mystery (The Hallie James Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  "We'll be there in a couple minutes. Tell Poppy to stay calm," I said, and we disconnected.

  A few minutes later, we were cruising the street in front of the office. There weren’t any empty spaces, so Ben drove around the corner. Woody and Poppy's old blazer was parked three spaces from the corner. We took the empty spot in front of it and jumped out of Ben's pickup.

  The driver's side door was slightly ajar. I didn't open it, but peeked through the window. On the driver's seat was a cracked cell phone, a man’s wallet, and a smear of blood.

  "Does Poppy know the car's out here?" Ben asked.

  "I don't know, but I don't think she should see this." This side street is quiet, consisting of older, single-family houses, most with their own parking in the rear. "Come on, let's go talk to her. If she hasn't called the police yet, she needs to."

  Inside the office, Rayna was trying to keep Poppy calm. But Poppy saw us come in the door and ran to me, throwing her arms around me.

  I hugged her back, and led her to the couch. "Have you called the police?"

  "I thought I had to wait seventy-two hours or something." Poppy wrung her hands.

  "I think they should be called. I'll talk to them for you." I didn't want to tell her about their Blazer, parked around the corner with blood in it. But if I didn't, the cops would when they spoke to her.

  "If you think so," she said, looking at me with big scared eyes.

  I nodded to Ben. He sat on Poppy's other side and put an arm around her shoulders.

  "When Woody dropped you off this morning, where did he park?" I asked gently.

  "Around the corner," she answered. "Then he walked me inside, like he always does." She looked at me intensely. "Why?"

  "Your Blazer is still parked there. "

  Poppy leaped to her feet. “Is Woody in it? Maybe he got sick or something."

  Ben stood up and put his arms around her. "Nobody's inside, Poppy. Hallie and I looked."

  "I have to go look," Poppy insisted and tried to escape Ben's arms.

  I stood up too. "No. Poppy, listen to me," I said firmly. "You can't go near it. There could be evidence that could help the cops find Woody. You don't want to destroy it. Do you understand?"

  Poppy nodded and hugged Ben back. "I just love Woody, so much, and I'm scared."

  "We know, honey," I said rubbing her back. "We'll find him."

  Ben, Rayna, and Linda stayed in the reception area with Poppy. Jessie and I went to my office and called Chief Woods. He arrived in less than five minutes.

  I met him outside and showed him where the Blazer was parked. After donning gloves, he went over the interior. He took pictures of everything before touching it, and he took a sample of the blood on the vinyl seat.

  Woody's wallet still held cash and credit cards. The cell phone's screen was cracked, but it still rang. On the floor near the gas pedal, was one of Woody's mittens. Chief Woods put it into an evidence bag before going inside to speak to Poppy.

  "He brought me to work every morning before going to his classes at Fairton University," Poppy told Chief Woods. She looked like a lost child as she fidgeted on the couch, a frightened expression on her face.

  "Did he have any enemies?"

  "No. We've only lived in Herville since mid-December. Before that, we split our time between Western Pennsylvania and California," Poppy explained.

  "Has he ever done anything like this?" Chief Woods accepted a cup of coffee that Linda brought to him.

  "Never." Poppy shook her head.

  "Did you have an argument?"

  Poppy looked angry. "No. We hardly ever disagree, and when we do, we compromise."

  "What kind of classes was he taking?" Chief Woods asked.

  "He’s finishing his Master's Degree in Chemistry," Poppy said proudly.

  I felt my stomach drop. Ben, Chief Woods, and I exchanged a knowing look.

  Chief Woods wrote down more information about Woody and stood. "Can someone take her home?" He asked the room before turning back to Poppy. "Do you have a set of keys to the Blazer, Mrs. Hopper? I'd like to have someone go over it carefully, in case I missed an important clue."

  Poppy dug in her pants pocket and pulled out a small keyring. With shaking hands, she took a key off the ring and handed it to Chief Woods.

  "I'll take care of her," I assured him. "She'll be at my house."

  "I should go home to Gramps’ house or wait here. What if he goes home or comes back for me?"

  "I'll be here until closing, Poppy," Linda promised. "I'll call you if he comes back."

  "What about you, Hallie?" Poppy's lower lip quivered.

  "Ben and I are going to go look for Woody." I squeezed her shoulder. "Woody would want you to stay safe at my house, with your family"

  Poppy nodded sadly.

  Chief Woods left, promising to be in touch when he had something to report.

  I had Jessie cancel my appointments for the rest of the day. Then I gave her and Linda the option to go home or lock all the agency doors. They chose to stay to answer the phones, catch up on some work, and keep an eye out for Woody.

  Ben and I followed Rayna and Poppy to my home. Poppy's parents were there with George and Gram. I explained the situation, insisting everyone stay inside the house, and I left Poppy in her mother and Rayna's care.

  "Where to first?" Ben asked as I climbed into his truck.

  "Let's go to Jerry Dalton's house and have a talk with him." I opened my purse, checking to make sure my gun was within easy reach before freshening my lipstick. "He lives on River Lane.

  River Lane is a few minutes from my home. Ben drove down the highway a half-mile, turning onto Hollow Road. After a mile of twists and turns, we could see the Susquehanna river.

  "Turn left, " I said when we came to the stop sign. "Jerry's place shouldn't be far.

  This area frequently flooded. The housing is cheap, substandard rentals, or small mobile homes that could be pulled quickly, from harm’s way. Yards were full of scrub brush that partially hid junk cars and discarded boats. The winter barren trees added to the abysmal vibe that surrounded us.

  I watched the house numbers on the battered mailboxes. "The next place on the riverbank should be his," I said. "There it is." I pointed at a battered, gray, shake-shingled cottage.

  Ben pulled close to the cottage and parked next to a late model, red Jeep. We climbed out and looked around warily. If it was any other time of year, I'd be watching for snakes.

  On the dilapidated porch, I let Ben knock on the door. When there was no answer, he pounded harder.

  "Fucking hold on," a voice yelled from inside.

  "Another charmer." Ben shook his head. "You sure this guy's a cop?"

  "Chief Woods told me that he's a part-timer."

  "What about Chief Woods?" The door was flung open, and there stood Jerry Dalton.

  He looked just like his picture. But he looked rough, like he needed a good night’s sleep or a rehab center. He reeked of stale beer and cigarettes and wore a mall security guard uniform. We probably caught him getting ready for work. His bloodshot eyes glared at us while he blocked our view of inside the cottage.

  "I'm Hallie James, from James Investigations. This is my associate, Ben Gordon." I looked him in the eye but tried to keep it friendly. "Chief Woods told me you’re a dedicated police officer that could help me with an investigation."

  "What are you investigating?" His eyes narrowed.

  "May I come in and ask you some questions?"

  "No." He looked at his watch. "I have to get to work. You can ask me a few quick questions, standing right here." He shut and locked the door.

  I knew he wasn't going to be honest with me, so I decided on another strategy. "Did you know Chet Marlowe?" I watched his face twitch.

  "No, never met the guy." Jerry looked torn between getting into his Jeep to get away from us and protecting his cottage.

  "You're both from Queens."

  "New York is a big place, lady. There are lots
of people from there." He took a step in my direction, trying to intimidate me.

  "Back off, Jerome," Ben said, shouldering his way between us.

  Jerry studied Ben for a moment. He noticed that Ben is taller, younger, and in much better shape, and he backed up two steps. "That's Officer Dalton," he said defiantly.

  "Nah, right now, you're a chump in a rent-a-cop suit," Ben said. "Don't get in her face. If questions bother you, we can have Chief Woods ask them."

  "Screw this. Get off my porch, I can't be late for work." He pointed at Ben's truck.

  "See ya," I said taking Ben's arm. We walked back to the truck and climbed inside.

  "What's he hiding, inside that shack?" Ben started his truck.

  "Head away from town and keep acting pissed off," I said. "Is your lock pick set in your glove box?"

  "Yep." Ben said. "Are we going to use it?"

  "We have to make sure that he doesn't have Woody in there." I flipped open the glove box and took out a black zippered case.

  "He's out of sight. Should I turn around?"

  "Yes," I said. "It's a crappy lock. Do you want to try it?" I'd been giving Ben lock picking lessons for months. We were both pleased to discover, he had the touch.

  "Sure." Ben turned around in a deserted driveway and, we made our way back to the Jerry's shack.

  We scurried onto the porch and put on gloves. While I did lookout, Ben had the door open in less than thirty seconds.

  "You've got that down," I said proudly.

  Ben smiled and led the way inside.

  The place smelled like its occupant; stale beer and cigarettes. There was a small eat-in kitchen, a dinky living room, one bedroom, and a bathroom.

  Jerome was a lousy housekeeper. Dirty dishes, beer cans, and dirty clothes were strewn everywhere. On the toilet tank, sat a small mirror, razor blade, and a three-inch piece of drinking straw.

  "He's been snorting something," Ben said.

  I moved into the bedroom and looked through a chipped dresser. But there was nothing but worn magazines full of large-breasted women, condoms, and a revolver, hidden under his clothes. A nightstand didn't hold anything interesting except an envelope with a long-distance phone number on it. I scribbled down the number and shoved it into my purse before returning the envelope to the drawer.

  Next, we looked for a secret space, big enough to hide Woody. There was one closet with the usual clothes, shoes, and coats. But there was no basement door or attic.

  We left the cottage and locked the door behind us. Before we returned to the truck, we snooped around outside. There were no sheds or a garage, and no outside basement entrance.

  Disappointed, we climbed into Ben's pickup. "We should talk to Marv Deeter again," Ben said.

  "That's what I was thinking." It was nice to work with somebody that was so in sync with me.

  Ben pointed his pickup towards Deeter's Body Shop.

  "I'll claim I need to use the body shop's bathroom, and you can distract Marv while I have a look around," I suggested.

  "Sounds like a plan." Ben nodded.

  Ten minutes later, we pulled in front of the body shop. There was another car parked in front of the roll up garage door. More than a few years old, the huge sedan's maroon paint was fading. I'd seen the car before. It was Kasey's POS, unmarked car.

  "Never mind, we'll come back," I said. But, it was too late. Kasey came out of the building with poor Phil Stewart in tow. Phil gave me a grin and a finger wave before climbing into the unmarked car's driver's seat. The poor guy had chauffeur's duty again.

  Kasey approached my window and knocked with a gloved knuckle. "You'd better be here for a paint job."

  "I was thinking of having my RV painted this spring." I smiled at Kasey with lots of teeth and a cold stare. I called it, my smart-ass bitch face.

  Kasey's phone beeped. He read a text and returned the phone to his pocket. "I gotta go, but stay out of my way." His eyes shifted to include Ben. "Or you'll both be sorry." He lumbered to the passenger side of the unmarked cop car.

  I watched Phil Stewart roll his eyes at Kasey, and I opened the truck door. But before my feet hit the ground, there was the loud click of a lock, and a closed sign went up in the body shops front window.

  I closed the door. "Back up, onto the highway shoulder, just off the property. We'll watch for a while."

  Ben did as I asked. We sat in the truck, letting it idle, so we could run the heater. About ten minutes later, Marv came outside. He saw us parked, just off his property and angrily pulled out his cell. He went inside to speak to someone.

  "He doesn't like us watching," Ben said. "I wonder who he called."

  Another ten minutes later, we found out. The maroon POS returned with Kasey at the wheel. He pulled in front of us and blared the horn. Rolling down his window, he crooked his finger in the universal, 'come here,' gesture.

  I had a finger gesture for him, but Ben caught my hand before it cleared the dashboard. "We'd better behave," Ben said. "Don't antagonize him now, Woody’s in trouble somewhere."

  "You're right," I got out and approached Kasey's open window.

  "Get your asses out of here, or I'll arrest you for harassment, trespassing, or interfering with an investigation. Whatever will lock you up for a while," Kasey said, shaking the finger at me now.

  "Anything for you," I said and returned to the truck. "Let's get out of here. He threatened to arrest me for trespassing. But hey, If I'm going to do the time, I may as well do the crime."

  "Are you coming back after dark? Ben asked.

  " Damned straight. They must be hiding something. Wanna come with?"

  Ben grinned. "I wouldn't miss it." He shifted into drive, eased around Kasey, and onto the highway. "Our next stop?"

  "The police station. I want to talk to Chief Woods again, and see who else is on duty."

  Chief Woods looked grim when we arrived. He shook his head when I asked if there was any progress on finding Woody.

  "I'm sorry, not yet," he said. "Come on into my office, so we can talk."

  Ben and I settled into chairs with our coats on.

  "Did you find anything else in the Blazer?" I inquired.

  The Chief nodded. "A broken piece of wood with blood on it. The lab guys say it’s a section of a heavy wooden dowel, like someone would use as porch or stair railing.

  They think someone hit Mr. Hopper in the head with it to render him unconscious. Then they loaded him into another vehicle. I've got men canvassing the area for possible witnesses."

  "What does the dowel look like?" I asked.

  Chief Woods pulled some photos from a folder. Ben and I both leaned forward. The first photo was of the broken section. It lay next to an evidence scale, showing its length to be a little over six inches: one end flat and smooth, the other jagged and broken.

  The second picture was from a home improvement store website. It showed a whole three-foot section, of two-inch diameter, unfinished, wood dowel rods.

  "That looks like what was on the end of the wire, around the dead guy’s neck," Ben said.

  Chief Woods nodded. "That's because they were cut from the same dowel rods. This guy knows how to make an effective garrote."

  "What's he using for wire?" I asked, still looking at the picture of the whole dowel rod. It looked familiar.

  "The wire is made of tempered, high carbon steel, in .037-inch diameter, also known as size sixteen piano wire," Chief Woods read from a page in the file.

  My phone rang, interrupting the conversation. I glanced at the caller ID, it was my office. "Hello," I answered hoping they had heard from Woody.

  "Someone is here, insisting to see you," Jessie said.

  "Who?" I said, hoping for good news.

  "Hank Ross," she answered.

  "Tell him that I'll be there in a few minutes," I said and hung up with butterflies in my stomach. "I have to go back to my office," I told the Chief. "It's not related to Woody. Has there been any progress on getting Andy released?"
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  "In spite of another body with the same cause of death, and the discovery of the baggies, Kasey refused to dismiss the charges. Karl has a judge hearing a dismissal motion in the morning."

  "Good." I nodded. "Thanks for the info. I'll call you if I hear anything."

  "And vice versa," Chief Woods said.

  As Ben parked, I saw Hank's old pickup, parked in front of the office. It was empty, so he must be waiting inside. I took a deep breath, put on my professional bitch face, and calmed my shaking hands before I opened the office door.

  There he was, sitting on the reception area couch, talking to Jessie and Linda. He wore jeans and a blue insulated shirt that peeked out from under a hooded sweatshirt. His hair needed a cut, but it was still shorter than when we dated twenty years ago.

  His sapphire blue eyes looked me over appraisingly. I took off my coat and sat on a chair opposite from him.

  "Ben, would you get me a coffee from Brew's?"

  "Sure." Ben's eyes narrowed in Hank's direction. "I'll be right back."

  "Your boy toy is in love with you," Hank said after Ben was out the door.

  "He works with me and we're good friends," I corrected.

  "Maybe, but he looks at you like a love-sick puppy."

  I rolled my eyes, but wondered if he was jealous of Ben. My heart fluttered a little at the thought. Then I reminded myself of how badly Hank had hurt me, twice. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

  "My parents said that they hired you to help Andy," he said gruffly.

  "Yes, they did."

  "Did you take money from them?" Hank almost shouted.

  "Of course, not," I said calmly, but I could feel my temper lurking, just behind my teeth.

  "Why can't you just let the police do their job. You always have to interfere." Hank glared at me.

  "You don't have any idea, what you're talking about," I said slowly. "If you're only here to insult me again, you can leave."

  "Mom and Dad asked me to come and talk to you. They said you had questions for me, to help my brother's case."

  "Yes. It may be helpful. But can you answer my questions without being an ass?" I narrowed my green eyes and matched his glare.