Bouncer Read online

  “No, you can’t,” responded Lea defiantly. “Since you’ve indicated the original records are missing and I possess the only remaining records regarding the Ashley Peebles’ murder, it’s apparent that the Monroe City Police Department should now deal directly with me.”

  Nick Thayne had not expected this. “I’m just asking for a simple favor,” he said in his most charming tone. It rarely failed to work on an attractive woman, though this one seemed determined not to warrant a second glance. “I thought as one P.I. to another, we could help each other out.”

  “We’re not one P.I. to another,” stated Lea Fox sharply. “You don’t even live in this town, so I needn’t deal with you. Where’s Roger Chung?”

  Nick noticed that Lea Fox’s teeth were small and straight and even, but for all the mildness of her tone, he recognized them for what they were really were; retractable canines.

  “Roger’s in the hospital. Appendicitis. I’m filling in while he recovers. So, I’m asking you, as the Monroe Police Department’s substitute investigator, to share the documents with me. I know your father Jeremy worked long and hard on this case, and I need his insights.”

  “My father’s dead,” stated Lea abruptly.

  “I recognize that,” returned Nick as evenly as possible, “but because of the similarities between the Mayor’s case and the Peebles girl, I would like to go over those documents, and my suspicions have been doubly aroused since they’re now missing from County Records.”

  Lea Fox rose to her full 5’2” height and stared Nick Thayne straight in the eye. “And just what makes you think I’d share them with you? I know your reputation and barely disguised male chauvinism glossed over by your oh-so-delectable charm. I’ve read all about your escapades in the papers and heard your smugly disarming voice on Juniper Cox’s radio show. I believe a recent spellbinding segment covered how you located her long-lost father, who just happened to be a multi-millionaire living in luxury down in Costa Rica, though God knows where you got that information. You’re just an ex-hotshot police detective with a rich daddy and a Stanford education, and now you’ve been contracted out by the Monroe Police Department on special assignment. I’m smart enough to know what that translates into. You’re just one of the good ole boys. Why didn’t Chief Rollins come to me himself, as if I didn’t know?”

  Nick bristled at her tone. “Maybe he knows my reputation and trusts Roger’s referral. After all, I worked on the San Francisco City Police Force for over four years before starting my own P.I. firm. I get the job done.”

  “Ah, that must be it. So, he turns to you, a relative stranger, even while knowing that three generations of Foxes have lived in the area for over forty years. As a matter of fact, no one understood the ins and the outs of the Peebles’ case better than my father and brother. Now that I’ve studied their notes, I’m quite as expert as they were.” She crossed her arms defiantly.

  Nick, sick of fighting, settled himself more comfortably into the stiff wooden chair and stretched out his long, gray-clad legs before responding.

  “Do you know what I think, Lea Fox? I think you’ve got a first class chip on your shoulder, lady, just because Roger Chung suggested my name to the Chief instead of yours. Come on, we’re both in the same profession and need to help each other out. Haven’t you learned the first rule of the brotherhood?”

  “You said it,” hissed Lea. “Brothers-in-arms; the little lady can just be classified as one of the secretarial staff.”

  Nick had the grace to redden slightly. He ran a lean hand through his dark, well-styled hair. “I am sorry, Ms. Fox. That was an unfortunate mistake; one I promise never to make again.”

  Lea stood, staring down at him for a full minute, and Nick felt uncomfortable under her scrutiny. Her purple eyes were slightly enlarged behind the black-rimmed glasses as she studied the nonchalant manner in which he sprawled in her brother’s old chair. Restlessly, she moved towards the filing cabinet. A tidy office, Nick was reminded once again how messy and disorganized his own appeared. Of, course that was a misconception many made. He knew where everything was and could find it in an instant and while he’d been tempted to hire a secretary Nick enjoyed the solitude and chance to ponder his cases uninterrupted. He sorely needed that privacy considering his methods.

  Lea’s office, however, was so painfully neat it made him downright uncomfortable. Everything was labeled clearly and so excruciatingly ordered that he longed to toss a wad of paper upon the floor or disorganize those neat manila folders resting upon her wide desk.

  Actually, Nick realized, as he stared at the desk, that it was a beaute; an antique made of rich maple and polished to an unlikely luster. It was at least six feet in length by three feet wide. A brand-spanking-new computer rested on the right-hand side of its brilliant surface, presenting the user with a large monitor that must have cost her a small fortune. A matching maple shelf organizer rested on the left-hand side of the immaculate desk, accompanied by a shiny black speakerphone-combination -fax on the far right. An embossed leather pad two feet square had been recessed into the desk, providing the perfect writing surface. If the lovely desk was any indication, Lea Fox was a real professional.

  “Nice desk,” he tried cordially.

  Lea snorted. She had moved to another maple filing cabinet and yanked open a heavy drawer. “Wish my investigative talents could warrant as much attention as my father’s old desk,” returned the dowdy woman.

  Nick sensed anger and something else he couldn’t name behind the flippant words. Lea Fox briskly rustled through dozens of files, pulling out a few here and there before replacing them neatly, clearly not finding what she was searching for, or pretending not to, he suspected.

  Nick took this time to study the petite woman more closely as she jerkily proceeded through the files. Her dark-rimmed glasses did nothing for her oval face and only managed to intensify her old schoolmarm appearance. A teacher from his youth, Sister Theresa, reminded him of Fox, and he rubbed his knuckles in remembrance of the sharp rap of her ruler freely administered when he wasn’t paying attention. She was tiny, a full foot shorter than he, and her violet eyes were distorted under the concealing glasses with brows that could use a thorough plucking and cleaning.

  Her lower lip was caught between her teeth as she valiantly searched through the endless files. She resembled an awkward teenager who hadn’t learned how to make the best of what little she had. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was hiding behind a uniform of dowdiness. She gave a small shriek of triumph and flung a big file atop the magnificent desk. Lea Fox shoved the heavy cabinet door closed with a bang. Her outdated tweed dress made her resemble some elderly misplaced Brit in the Big Valley. In fact, as he surveyed the small woman before him and the trappings of the too neat office, he noted that everything had a frayed, almost worn-out look that spoke of better days and richer times.

  The desk, the faded Persian rug, the roller chairs—everything had the same antique appearance the woman reflected. She resembled some librarian or schoolteacher from the 40s or 50s who had passed her prime and was suddenly expected to function in the twenty-first century. His head jerked to attention, as he realized she’d noted him studying her.

  “Not to your liking?” she stated abruptly.

  He flinched. Nick had heard those words before, but they had been directed at him, and he remembered just how much he’d disliked them at the time.

  “I’m not sure,” he returned honestly. “Is there a quick mind enclosed behind that probing stare of yours or is it camouflaged behind blue plaid as well?”

  She hesitated before firing back. “I guess that’s for you to determine. I was magna cum laude at Harvard Law School, if that’s what you need to determine whether or not I have the brains suitable for the job.”

  “Well, I guess that answers my question. So, you decided against practicing law?”

  “The law decided against me,” she returned. “I was too awkward, too unattractive, and too abrupt fo
r the courtroom and their sitcom notions of what a woman should be. I decided to do my legal work behind the scenes and leave the courtroom battles to the ‘Young and the Restless.’ It’s a soap opera world. Didn’t you know that, Mr. Thayne?”

  Nick cocked a dark head at her. “I believe that some of us don’t fit the expected notion of many Americans. Being half-Filipino isn’t exactly mainstream, you know.”

  “You’re still Hollywood beautiful. I’m sure they’d make an exception in the courtroom for a handsome half-breed like you.”

  “Don’t call me that!” hissed Nick. Stunned, he was reminded suddenly of the hostess, Ann Peterson, from the British game show The Weakest Link, who always went out of her way to be insulting. He’d been vaguely amused by the Brit’s caustic nature; that was, until now. He immediately recalled Chief Rollins startled glance, one he’d discreetly directed elsewhere after discovering Nick wasn’t the WASP he’d been expecting.

  “Ah, sensitive are we? Well, tell me about it. My nickname in college was ‘Clomper’, dubbed such by my adoring roommate because of my limp. Not very conducive to promoting the comforting image of high-speed chases and TV show romances on our training course Bible, Law and Order. Those women are part Tomb Raider and Marie Curie all tied up in one. Brains and brawn. At least I have the brains, not like those waxen babes you’re coupled with.”

  “Waxen babes.” The image was so apt that Nick laughed. She was clearly as wounded as he. “Look, Ms. Fox. Let’s quit the verbal sparring for now. I concede you’re likely an expert on the Peebles case. I’ve been assigned to the Mayor’s murder case, whether you like it or not, and all I know is that it bears a remarkable similarity to the Peebles murder. So, I’m asking you the only way I know how… can you help me out?”

  “Are you getting a fee?” she asked abruptly.

  “What? A fee?

  “Is the Monroe Police Department paying you a fee for your services?”

  “Well, yes, of course.”

  “Then I want half.”

  “Half?”

  “That’s right. You’ve taken at least fifty percent of my business in the region for over the past eighteen months, so I want some back. It’s clear to me that you’re in with the boys, and even though my father and brother had a great reputation with the MCPD, I need a chance to prove to the police department—and everyone else, for that matter—that I’m a competent investigator. If I help you, you have to help me. I need your endorsement and their business. If I work with you on this case while Roger is laid up, it could be beneficial for both of us.” She paused significantly and eyed him disconcertingly. “I may even surprise you if you can get over your prejudices regarding my physical handicaps and womanly deficiencies.”

  Nick stared in amazement. Never in his life had he met a woman so blunt or seemingly callous about her own shortcomings. He suspected there was a lot more to Lea Fox then her superficial unattractiveness suggested. Suddenly, the great trait that made him one of the best detectives around surfaced as his curiosity overwhelmed him. He’d always suffered the acute need to know even as a child, and it was that one fatal flaw that had subsequently ruined his ordered and sequential life. He wanted to figure out this petite woman who stood so defiantly before him and determine just why she half-fascinated, half-repelled him. He rose from the creaky wooden chair and stuck out his hand while falling back on his old standby: the appropriate or inappropriate quote.

  “The only sure basis of an alliance is for each party to be equally afraid of the other.”

  “Okay,” said Lea evenly. “You’ve stumped me. Who said it?”

  “Thucydides, over 2000 years ago.”

  “I like the mutual fear part. It’s probably the best way to start our alliance on this case because believe me, your charm is wasted on me.”

  Nick frowned. He’d have to keep a clear head around this woman. “Okay, Lea Fox. I’ll agree to your terms, but you’re not to forget I lead on this and answer directly to Roger Chung and Chief Rollins. You’re to stay in the background.”

  They shook, Nick amazed by her strong grip.

  “In the background,” she agreed demurely between clenched teeth, her left hand hidden behind her back, the small fingers crossed. Nick Thayne had no idea what he was in for. If Nick Thayne thought she was simply going to hand him the folder and allow him to walk out to work on it that evening at Louise’s Boarding House over a few cups of too-strong coffee and some leftover pizza, he was way off base. He wasn’t getting one glance at the sacred files without Lea Fox right at his shoulder. Nick said nothing as he ran across the first set of photos, which were gruesome in their simplicity.

  “They didn’t locate her finger at first,” stated Lea matter-of-factly.

  “How’d they find the body?”

  “A migrant worker suggested the girl had moved in with Luke or Deke. Upon searching their vehicle, they found blood in Deke’s car. Both men swore they were innocent, though it was clear Ashley was involved with one or both of them. They later found a mass of blood all over the bathroom of the room the men shared—type AB. Deke’s was O, and Luke’s was A. Rather damning, I’d say.”

  A sudden frown crossed her face, and she moved to the filing cabinet again as he perused the file. “I’m certain I have photos of Deke and Luke somewhere. Anyway, the body was found purely by chance some two days later near the river, covered haphazardly by a thin layer of autumn leaves. The girl had been strangled and stabbed but not raped, but the coroner found an amazing detail. Ashley Peebles had given birth less than a week before her murder.”

  “Was the baby’s body ever found?”

  “Nope,” said Lea, “but Richard Rollins—the inspector at the time—was certain he’d captured the culprits. The blood in Luke and Deke’s bathroom matched Ashley’s, so he figured they had to be the killers. Ah, here they are.” She tossed two black-and-white photos upon the lovely desk.

  Nick pushed aside the graphic photo of Ashley Peebles’ scantily clad and bloodied body, concentrating instead on the young men’s images. One was a handsome, dark-haired man by the name of Luke Cambridge, and the other a surly greasy-haired redneck named Deke Rhodes. No doubt about it—Jeremy Fox had been particularly meticulous about collecting every detail regarding the case. There were old newspaper cutouts and photographs, extensive coverage of the trial, and numerous photographs of the body. Both men had been convicted, and before Deke Rhodes had even come up for parole, he was killed in a laundry-room brawl.

  “So, Luke Cambridge is still serving time?”

  “Hasn’t ever been granted parole, though he’s has another hearing coming soon.”

  “No sexual assault?”

  “No. While his fingerprints were found on bloody scissors in his bathroom, and Luke admitted to having been with the girl weeks before the murder, no assault was indicated. That’s what bothered my father, since the court presented a love triangle as the reason for her murder. The deciding evidence was a pair of pantyhose found in the dash of Deke’s car. It was ascertained the nylons were the murder weapon; that and the scissors. There was no doubt Luke knew the girl, and while he adamantly stated he hadn’t killed her, there was powerful evidence he and Deke had murdered her and perhaps even the baby. The baby had most likely been born in their small flat, but no infant was ever found. No matter what their innocence or guilt, a jury found them guilty. Everyone accepted the verdict until my father received this over two years ago.”

  She handed him a tattered white envelope, and Nick pulled out the well-read letter, scanning it briefly. In it, Luke Cambridge begged Jeremy Fox to reconsider the evidence in the Ashley Peebles case. He swore that he was entirely innocent, and now that Jeremy Fox was a well-known private investigator, he urged him to reopen his case.

  “So, did your father take on the case?”

  “Of course he did. Both Lane and my father had a profound sense of justice, and my dad later told me that he’d always suspected Deke and Luke hadn’t killed the girl.”
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  “Your dad was police chief at the time of the murder, wasn’t he?”

  She nodded. “The chief investigator was Richard Rollins, who presently serves as police chief. Even to me, the evidence seemed a bit too pat. The two men were drifters who worked at the nearby Agrit-Empire harvesting potatoes, onions, and spinach. Apparently, Deke thought he was destined to be some sort of magnificent rodeo rider. The DA suggested they were short of cash and morals, and Ashley Peebles was a young girl looking for something to lift her out of her restrictive fundamentalist lifestyle. The case against Deke and Luke was weak on all counts. The defense lawyer proved that, while Ashley had delivered her baby in their bathroom, there was no indication she had met her end there. Luke testified that the pantyhose were indeed hers, but when she went into labor and they’d removed them to help facilitate the birth process. They stated she went into labor in their car.”

  “If the evidence was so flimsy, how were they convicted?” Nick watched Lea carefully. While it appeared she’d just pulled the file from the cabinet after his arrival, Lea had obviously familiarized herself with the case recently or simply had an incredible memory. He’d place his bets on the former.

  “A fact arose that turned the tables on the two men. The DA insisted Ashley’s murder was a crime of passion. Luke had mistakenly believed he was the father of Ashley’s child and later discovered someone else had fathered her newborn baby. Luke was addicted to speed, and when arrested, was higher than a kite. No one could get a straight answer out of him, and Deke… Well, Deke was just plain vile. My father said he had never met a more foul-mouthed, hideously mannered man in his entire life. He admitted to sleeping with Ashley weeks before the murder, and Luke went berserk, nearly killing him right there before the jury. His inopportune fit of rage sealed his fate, and because of it, Luke has served about twenty-five years now for the crime I’m sure he didn’t commit.”