would be rushing off to work or already gone. Realistically, he’d have to wait until evening. Out of ideas, he called Mark Daniels’ direct line at the Boulder precinct. Daniels answered after the third ring, his voice friendlier after he realized that Shannon was on the line.
“I’m glad you called,” Daniels said. “I was going to give you a ring, but I don’t know what time you private dicks get up and about. As an ex-cop, I should’ve figured you’d be working by now.” There was a hesitation, then he added, “After you came by yesterday, I spoke with some people in Massachusetts about you and they all told me the same thing. That you were a damn good cop. Also, you were never a glory hound and that you were in this for all the right reasons. I also spoke with our district attorney here, and have a better understanding of what I can talk to you about without jeopardizing a future prosecution. I might’ve been a tad too rigid before.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, just a bit.”
“Then how about letting me into that condo.”
“Ah, shit. I was afraid you’d ask about that. I still can’t. Sorry.”
“Crime scene photos then?”
There was a pause, then, “Let me talk it over with my captain. I’ll get back to you about it.”
“How about a couple of questions?”
“Go ahead, shoot.”
“Did Taylor have any life insurance?”
“None that we could find.”
The fact that Daniels answered him took Shannon by surprise. He thought he was simply getting a more polite runaround. Taking the call more seriously, he asked, “How about his mom? Did Eunice Carver have a life insurance policy on him?”
“No. Why this interest?”
“Her house is loaded with some big ticket items that she claims Taylor bought for her before his death. We’re talking thousands of dollars worth of purchases. Like a new large-screen plasma TV set. I’m trying to figure out where the money came from. Any idea if he had a job?”
“All he had was a small stipend from the university as a teacher’s assistant. Ah shit. I’ll dig deeper and see if I can find any policies.” Daniels voice became muffled as if he were rubbing a hand across his face. “Fuck. Every time we’ve talked to her it’s been at the station. I should’ve had someone check her house. It’s possible he got the money from Linda. Her family’s pretty well off. I’ll try to track that down.”
“Another question. According to the newspapers they were killed between eleven and two. Is that right or were you feeding the papers misinformation?”
“That’s what we got from the coroner.”
“An upstairs neighbor, Mike Maguire, told me he was working until three that morning. Any chance you verified that?”
“Why? Something not sound right about him?”
“No, nothing like that. But he did tell me there were some noise issues with him and the dead students. More than that, though, I just don’t like coincidences.”
“Give me a minute.” When Daniels picked up again there was a hint of vindication in his voice. “We checked out his story. The company Maguire works for has a security system where you have to use an encoded badge at the door to get in and out. The system records the times that the badges are used, and that day Maguire got there at nine eighteen in the morning and left at two fifty-six the next morning. We also talked to his supervisor. They had a big customer deal going on the next day so Maguire leaving that late made sense.”
“Thanks. That crosses him off. Do you know anything about a cult called the True Light?”
“Yeah, a little bit. They have a compound out in East Boulder by Baseline Reservoir. Been there a little over a year. Why? You think they’re involved in this?”
“Sorry, a completely different matter. I got a call from a Pauline Cousins. Her daughter joined True Light six months ago. She’s worried about her. True Light won’t let her see her daughter. She claims the Boulder police won’t help her either.”
Daniels’ sighed heavily, making no attempt to hide his annoyance. He told Shannon that he’d look into the matter and get back to him. Lowering his voice, he asked, “What’s your take on Carver’s family?”
“Very odd. Doesn’t seem like they much care if Taylor’s murderer ever gets caught. But they do seem concerned about making money off of it.”
“My thoughts also.” Daniels hesitated, asked, “Any plans on visiting Linda Gibson’s family?”
“Yeah, probably in the next few days.”
“After you do, lets touch base. I’m curious if you come up with the same gut feeling I did.”
“Want to give me any hints?”
“I’d better not,” Daniels said. “I don’t want to prejudice you. Let’s compare notes after you meet them, okay?”
Shannon told him he would. After slipping the cell phone back into his pocket, he noticed a young girl walking towards him. She was maybe eighteen, a little heavy, with long frizzy blond hair and numerous earrings and piercings. She wore an outfit that could’ve come from a movie made from the sixties complete with a flowered vest and a skirt reaching down past her ankles. While a lot of wealth had moved into Boulder over the past two decades, it was still a Mecca for transients and a right of passage for hippie-wannabes to hitchhike to and bum around.
She had a sly little smile on her face as she asked Shannon for money. “Mister, I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday,” she said with no attempt to hide her smirk.
Shannon told her to follow him.
“I’m not doing anything for the money,” she said.
“I’m not asking you to.”
There was a cafe half a block away that was open for breakfast. When they got to it, Shannon told her to order what she wanted.
“I’d rather have the money.”
“And I’d rather buy you food.”
She opened her mouth as if she were going to argue, shrugged, and instead asked if she could get something for her friends too. Shannon agreed, and she ordered several roast beef and ham and cheese sandwiches to go, along with a couple of large cokes, chips and cookies. When she got her package, she begrudgingly muttered thanks to Shannon before leaving.
The cashier, a nice-looking brunette in her thirties, shook her head as she handed Shannon the change. “She showed a lot of gratitude, huh?” she said.
“I was probably worse at her age.” Nodding to the cashier, he left the cafe and started walking idly down Pearl Street again, slowing down when he came across two men playing chess. One of them was sitting on a bench, the other on a folding chair, with a chess set on a folding table between them. The man on the bench was in his sixties, and looked like Paul Bunyan, except that his red hair had turned mostly gray. Even though it was midsummer, he wore dungarees, work boots and a heavy red flannel shirt. As he studied the game, he pushed an upper plate in and out of his mouth. The other player was young and probably a college kid. Along with needing a shave, his hair resembled the top of a string mop that had been dyed black and, like his clothes, looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks. As he sat there, his eyes moved fervently as they scanned the board.
Standing nearby kibitzing on the game was what looked like another college student. A tall blond Germanic- looking kid with red cheeks, a smart-assed smile and a cheap stogie dangling from his lips polluting the air around him. “Idiot,” he exclaimed as the other kid reached for his bishop. “Don’t you see you can win a pawn?”
The younger player turned to him and pointed a finger. “Are you playing this game?” he asked. “No? Then shut the fuck up.” Under his breath, he added, “Moron.”
The color dropped from the tall blond kid’s face. Still smiling his smart-assed smile but with no humor left in his eyes, he tossed his cigar at the player.
“Sonofabitch,” the kid jumped up, knocking the cigar out of his lap. “You’re going to throw a lit cigar at me?” He was a good six inches shorter and sixty pounds lighter than the blond kid.
“You could’ve been more polite about my suggestion…” the blond kid started, but before he could say anything else he was hit hard with an uppercut that sent him on his ass.
“The sonofabitch threw a lit cigar at me,” the other kid repeated, his arms moving in wild gestures as he
