Double Trouble Read online

  “Then you must be the same girl he was talking about to Jodi. Did you used to go by ‘Mandy?’”

  “I did. So what did Nick say about me?”

  “Jodi said Nick used to claim that you were his first girlfriend.”

  “That’s crazy! Jodi knew that Nick and I were just friends and nothing more. I can’t believe he’d say that to her.”

  “Well, he did. And more than once, apparently. I think he used to say it just for fun to tick Jodi off. It seemed to work.”

  “I’ll have to ask him about that when I see him,” she said, bewildered. “Well, thanks again, Summer. You’ve been very helpful.”

  “You’re welcome. And I’ll give you a call if I think of anything else.”

  As she pulled away, Amanda wasn’t surprised at Summer Moore’s insistence that Nick couldn’t have murdered Jodi. Like everybody else who knew him, the notion was absolutely preposterous. She felt confident that she would get similar reactions from Jodi’s other friends and coworkers.

  She wondered why Nick would lie to Jodi about her being his first girlfriend. Had Nick been saying that just to make his wife jealous as Summer indicated, or had Nick seen more than a friendship between them all those years? She seriously doubted that was the case.

  She located Jillian Weather’s number and called her but got her voicemail. After leaving her name and number, she located the address for Hair Plus and headed downtown.

  Amanda’s mind was humming. She felt good. Although she hadn’t learned anything particularly significant in her interview with Summer Moore, other than the potential Blaine Evans’ lead, the experience had reaffirmed the necessity to prove Nick’s innocence. And bolstered her resolve to see this through to the end. She was beginning to understand why Alan enjoyed what he did. Being a part of the process of separating the wheat from the chaff and searching for the truth was a gratifying experience.

  She just might opt to become part of the team after all.

  CHAPTER 9

  Alan felt confident that the sheriff hadn’t seen him. A small grove of trees stood in the line of sight between him and the house. He threw the Pilot into reverse and backed up until the sheriff’s patrol car totally disappeared from sight. Once he reached an area wide enough, he turned around and headed back toward the main road.

  It was more than a little suspicious for the sheriff to return to the Wilburn house having just been there the day before. What could possibly be the reason? The crime scene had been officially cleared and Foley had already proclaimed to the entire town that Nick Wilburn was the murderer. Yet there he was, poking around in the house.

  Planting evidence?

  He couldn’t rule that out. Especially after hearing that the sheriff may just so happened to have been near the scene of the crime before it had even been reported. Granted, it could have been one of his deputies instead, but what difference would that make? The whole department could be in on this for all he knew. All conspiring to frame Nick Wilburn.

  Alan had half a notion to turn around and find out what Foley or whomever was up to. But he knew that would be like trying to break into Fort Knox with a skeleton key. You just don’t spy on cops—at least not when they’re at the end of a dead-end road in the middle of nowhere. He couldn’t expect to tail him either—not now in broad daylight. He would have to come up with something else.

  Alan called Ken Barker.

  “Ken, it’s Alan. I’m out on the west side and you’ll never guess who’s at the Wilburn home right now.”

  “Who?”

  “The sheriff—or at least, Foley or a deputy. What do you make of that?”

  “Well, technically the investigation is still active so it’s plausible for somebody to show up there. Not out of the question, but odd, nonetheless. And you say you’re not sure if it’s Foley?”

  “No, I saw the patrol car parked there and turned around the second I spotted it. What makes it seem even more suspicious is what I just found out from one of the neighbors.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A woman saw one of the sheriff’s squad cars drive past her house before Mr. Brooks showed up at Jodi’s home on the day of the murder. She said that they rarely patrol this area yet she spotted a patrol car heading away from the Wilburn house at around noon. The clincher is that when she mentioned this to Foley during an interview, he acted weird—like he was less than thrilled to hear it.”

  “That’s very interesting. Sounds a bit too coincidental to me.”

  “I wonder if Foley is up to something here. What can you tell me about him?”

  “Well, he’s always been a pompous asshole, that’s a fact. He’s divorced, lives alone and has a couple of kids who are grown up. Lives on Stony Bend Lane on the north side of town. Don’t know much more than that.”

  “Do you think he’s capable of something like this? I mean, does he seem the type to get involved in something shady?”

  “As far as I know, there haven’t been any complaints or accusations against him since he took office. Doesn’t mean he’s the most honest cop in the county, though—could just be lucky and never been caught. Foley’s a hard read, really. It’s so difficult getting past his good ol’ boy image and know-it-all bullshit that I’ve never really given it much thought.”

  “Well, I may do a little digging and see if I can come up with any dirt on him. There’s something about him that just doesn’t seem right and I want to find out what it is.”

  “Better watch yourself, though. If Foley finds out you’re checking him out, he could give us a lot of trouble. And we’ve got enough of that already on this case.”

  “I hear you. Well, I’m going to call Amanda and see how she’s doing. I’ll get back to you later.”

  Alan disconnected and called up Amanda’s number.

  “Glad you called,” she answered. “I need some advice.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Well, I learned from Summer that there’s this guy named Blaine who repeatedly hit on Jodi to go out with him. I did some asking around and found out that he hangs out at this dumpy bar downtown. He’s in there right now in fact, and quite frankly I’m afraid to go in, it’s so freaking foreboding-looking. Should I just bite the bullet and go in anyway or wait until he leaves to have a chat with him.”

  “Just sit tight and wait until I get there,” Alan said. “The last thing we need is for you to get assaulted at some redneck bar in this godforsaken town.”

  “I feel like a wimp, though.”

  “You’re not a wimp—you’re just using common sense. What would you have done if I hadn’t called?”

  “Probably called you. I mean, the place is that scary.”

  “Can’t wait to see it. How do I get there? I’m about five minutes from the bridge.”

  “Stay on Front Street when you get in town and take a left at the third light. It’ll be on your right. The place is called ‘One-Eyed Jack’s’”

  “Jesus, seriously?”

  “No shit.”

  “Not so sure I want to go in there, either,” he joked. “What did you learn from the other girl?”

  “Jillian wasn’t home. I did speak to the owner of Hair Plus, though. Like Summer, she couldn’t recall Jodi ever mentioning any guys in her life and said that Jodi was basically a homebody. Came in and cut hair then went back home, end of story. She said that Jodi did a lot of crafting—like making bead necklaces and stuff like that—never had much to say about her social life.”

  “Jodi’s starting to sound like some kind of spinster.”

  “Exactly what I’ve been thinking. Summer seems to think that she never really got over Nick but was too stubborn to do anything about it. It’s almost as if she was content to just live an uncomplicated life and leave it at that.”

  “The neighbors had nothing but good things to say about the Wilburns. Always seemed happy together and were surprised when they’d split up. I’ll fill you in on the rest when I get there. You parked in front of the bar
?”

  “A block down the street”

  “Good move, you’re learning fast.”

  “Not so sure about that, but I got to say this PI stuff is pretty exciting.”

  “It has its moments.”

  Minutes later, Alan turned the corner and spotted One-Eye Jack’s. The place was even worse than he’d imagined with its filthy chipped paint facade, smoke-stained windows, and erratically blinking Budweiser sign flanked by a cardboard OPEN sign. The entrance door looked as though it had been knifed and kicked in repeatedly and the structure itself appeared to have once been a one-story frame house.

  He spotted Ken Barker’s Jeep and pulled in behind it.

  “You weren’t kidding,” he said as he got out and joined Amanda.

  “Told you it was creepy,” she replied. “So how are we going to do this?”

  “Let’s go in together and see what we can find out. You know what this Blaine guy looks like?”

  “Found his page on Facebook. He’s the big, oafy type.”

  “How do you know he’s in the bar now?”

  “His neighbor told me what kind of car he drives. It’s that old gray Focus across the street,” she said, pointing.

  “Damn, I’m impressed—you’ve gotten a lot done.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “Well, let’s go see what Blaine has to say for himself.”

  The moment they stepped inside, they both did a double-take. Instead of an all-out, beaten-down dive they saw a cozy space with shiny hardwood floors, a clean, well-stocked bar with matching leather-topped stools, a Brunswick pool table and a couple of shiny new video arcade game machines flanked by a shuffle board across the room. On the jukebox the Dire Straits’ “Money For Nothing” was playing at a listenable volume. Several empty booths and a dozen tables were scattered throughout and a couple of patrons were sitting at the bar. A Cincinnati Reds game was playing on a matching pair of flat screen TV’s.

  “Don’t judge a book—” Amanda whispered.

  “Really.”

  They stepped over to the bar and sat down. A man in his early forties wearing a One-Eyed Jack’s tee shirt came over and asked for their order.

  “I’ll have a Coke,” Alan said.

  “Me, too,” Amanda echoed.

  “That’s him—the guy on the end,” Amanda said in a hushed voice.

  Alan nodded.

  Their drinks came and Alan said, “Nice place.”

  “Did the outside fool you?” the man said.

  “Uh, that’s an understatement.”

  “And you’re probably wondering how something so god-awful looking could be this nice on the inside.”

  “Yeah, the thought came to mind.”

  “When I bought this place last winter, I decided to work from the inside out. It looked even worse than the outside in here, if you can imagine that, and it took every cent I had to demo and remodel. Now I’m sitting here waiting for my first sign of profit so I can get started on the outside. Let’s just say I’m not holding my breath.”

  “Business that bad?”

  “Horrible. My wife wants to leave me. After she shoots me and collects my life insurance, that is.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” Amanda said. “Maybe things will look up.”

  “And maybe I’ll win the Super Lotto. Anyway, thanks for dropping in. You folks from around here?”

  “I used to live here, years ago,” Amanda said. “We’re from Columbus.”

  “Lucky for you. That place is booming from what I’ve heard. Wish I would’ve gotten the hell out of here back when I was younger. Oh well. Gimme a shout if you need anything else.”

  Alan could see Blaine’s reflection in the mirror behind that bar. He was drinking a bottle of Bud and horsing down peanuts from a bowl.

  “Shall we go over and give Blaine some company?” Alan said.

  “Yeah.”

  Alan got up from his stool and led the way over to the end of the bar.

  “Excuse me,” he said, “Is your name Blaine?”

  The man glanced over. “Yeah.”

  Alan offered his hand. “Alan Swansea, and this is Amanda Linville. We were wondering if you’d mind answering a few questions.”

  Blaine suddenly looked nervous as he shook Alan’s hand. “What about?”

  “I’m a private detective and we’re investigating the death of Jodi Wilburn.”

  “I barely knew the girl. Why do you want to talk to me?”

  “We heard that you asked her out on several occasions,” Amanda said.

  “And we’re wondering why you would do that—especially if you didn’t know her that well, as you say,” Alan added.

  “Hey look—she was a beautiful chick. Nothing wrong with somebody wanting to scope that out, is there? I mean, this is supposed to be a free fucking world, ain’t it?”

  “Of course, Blaine. You don’t have to get all worked up,” Alan said. “All we want to know is your thoughts about Jodi, and if you can think of anybody who might want to harm her, or steal from her.”

  Blaine calmed down a little. “Oh, I see. Well, like I said, I didn’t know her very good. I’d see her out every now and then in a bar with Summer and try to strike up a conversation with them—you know how that goes. But Summer is a stuck up—uh, woman, and they both always basically blew me off. So sort of as a joke I’d ask Jodi out, just to see her reaction. Jodi was nice, not all conceited like Summer is. Thought maybe she’d warm up to me some time. But it never happened. That’s about all I got to tell you.”

  “You know of anybody else interested in Jodi?” Amanda asked.

  “Not really. I mean, when her and Nick split up it was like open season at first. Guys trying to pick her up all the time. But it was pretty obvious she wasn’t interested in partying around any so everybody basically gave up.”

  “Except you,” Alan said.

  “Listen, buddy—I don’t think I like what you’re implying here. I told you I had nothing to do with Jodi and I sure as fuck never killed her, so why don’t you just back off!”

  “Whoa, get a grip Blaine. I’m not implying anything—I just think it’s interesting that you, unlike everybody else in town, repeatedly hit on Jodi Wilburn. That’s the sort of thing that raises suspicions. But that doesn’t necessarily mean we think you had anything to do with her murder. In fact, if you could just tell us where you were on the morning of May thirtieth, we’ll take off and let you get back to your peanuts.”

  Blaine fell silent, appearing to try and recall what he was doing on the day in question.

  “Let’s see, the thirtieth—that was a Wednesday. I was at work all day.”

  “And where do you work?”

  “Cuttin’ grass. I’m a lawn maintenance expert.”

  “Could you give us the times and locations of your appointments that day?”

  “I could, but I’m not gonna. Listen, you ain’t the cops and I don’t have to give you squat if I don’t want to. Now I told you what I was doing that day and that’s gonna have to be good enough. So why don’t you two leave me alone and go bug somebody else?”

  “This is just making you look even more suspicious,” Alan declared.

  For a moment, Alan actually thought the man was going to punch him. Instead, he took a slug of beer, wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stared him down.

  “You better go, buddy. You’re really startin’ to piss me off.”

  “Have a nice day.”

  Alan turned and headed for the door, Amanda following behind.

  Outside she said, “I thought he was going to punch you for a second!”

  “So did I. The guy was pretty worked up, wasn’t he?”

  “Definitely. What do you think?”

  “I think we need to dig a little deeper. Find out what he really was doing on the thirtieth. He doesn’t come off as squeaky clean, that’s for sure. Got quite a temper, too. But capable of robbing and murdering a woman just because she refuses him? We need more info.”r />
  “How can we find out where he was that morning?” Amanda asked.

  “We can start by asking around. Find out who he hangs out with, see if he really has a lawn mowing business, take it from there. Shouldn’t be too hard to do.”

  “Want me to take care of it?”

  “Yeah, if you don’t mind. I need to do some sniffing around of my own.”

  He began telling her what he’d learned from the neighbors and about the sheriff but before he could finish his cellphone rang. Alan looked at the caller ID. It was Beth Lindsay.

  “Hello Beth, how are you?”

  “I am doing great, Alan. How about yourself?

  “Not bad. Damn, how long’s it been since we last talked?”

  “Too long, that’s for certain. Have you got a minute, or am I calling at a bad time?”

  “No, I’m fine. What’s up?”

  “I got a call from somebody who really wants to meet with you. I can’t tell you much more, other than that he wants to see if you’d be interested in taking a case.”

  “That’s it? Surely you can tell me more than that.”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s all he’d say. I can tell you that he’s a retired investment broker and investigates human trafficking cases, which is why he called me. He’s familiar with your work on the Russian trafficking case last year and thinks you’d be the perfect man for the job.”

  “Jesus, what can I say? I’m on a case right now and can’t do anything until something breaks with that. About all I can do is take the guy’s number and give him a ring after this is all over.”

  “That’s not going to work. He wants to meet you yesterday—ASAP.”

  “I can’t do it, Beth. Sorry. Just tell him if he’s in that big of a hurry he’ll have to find somebody else.”

  “If I told you that this guy is really rich and willing to pay whatever it takes to hire you, would that make a difference?”

  “You know me, Beth. I’m not really big on becoming a Fortune 500 player. Not only that, you’re asking me to drop this case like a hot potato just to meet somebody who can’t even tell me what the hell he wants to hire me for. It just ain’t gonna happen.”