Aside from the prospect of imminent wealth, Leroy had other reasons to feel like he was strolling in high cotton. Today was the day he was going to turn the tables on the invisible Somebody who’d been dogging his every move. He had deliberately called Abe on his bugged cell phone to say he was going to check out a few more leads. He’d been hazy on the details because he knew his message would be intercepted by Somebody. While Abe and Somebody were sitting tight and waiting for him to report results, Leroy intended to slip out and do some private legwork around town.
As he stood before his closet considering what clothes to wear that morning, he gave a regretful sigh. His distinctive appearance was ordinarily a source of pride, but he allowed that it could also be a problem if he needed to keep a low profile. Today, he knew he’d have to don a disguise, but he sure didn’t have to like the idea. Shoving aside racks of cowboy attire and his cherished Stetson hat, he selected a nondescript pair of blue jeans, a tee shirt, and loafers. He topped the ensemble off with a windbreaker and trucker cap pulled down low over his forehead. Just in case his features might still be recognizable in that get-up, he added a pair of dark sunglasses. After checking his look in the mirror, he slipped out the fire door of his apartment building and exited down the alley. Leaving his truck parked in its usual spot, he walked to a bus stop several blocks away.
Hunt kept an eye peeled to see if he’d been followed but as far as he could tell nobody was tailing him. He had to transfer twice in order to reach his destination. Bus number three let him out right in front of the moving company office where he mentally congratulated himself on his cleverness in pulling this ruse off. A few seconds later, his good mood faded into an agonized “Awww, hell no!” at the sight which greeted him.
In what was becoming an unfortunate pattern, he stood before an empty shop with a grim expression on his face and murder in his heart. No sign in the window, not a stick of furniture left inside. The Continental Moving Company was gone without a trace. After he’d been so careful and taken such elaborate precautions, there was nobody left to interrogate. The cowboy remained transfixed beneath the el tracks as a train roared overhead. Its deafening noise effectively muffled the string of curses issuing from his lips.
After he’d calmed down enough to look at the situation rationally, it occurred to Leroy that there might be a reason the moving company had vanished. He recollected the shabby appearance of the business the last time he’d visited. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to imagine they could have folded while he was away in Arizona. Maybe there was no darker force at work here than bankruptcy. Well, their bad luck had just become his bad luck too. He needed to find out who had paid for Miz Rhonda’s move. Knowing that the moving lady might bridle at a question like that, he’d been prepared to break into the office after hours to check the files. But there were no files left to check, not here anyway.
An idea occurred to him. The records of the moving company must have been put in storage somewhere. All he had to do was find out where that place was. He glared in annoyance at the empty plate glass window. No “For Rent” sign listing a management agent. Well, there was more than one way to get that information. He’d have to take a bus down to City Hall where the property records were kept. Once he knew who owned the building, he’d be able to get some answers about where their last tenant went. Leroy ground his teeth in vexation. He hated being a paper monkey. He hated it almost as much as sitting in his apartment monitoring surveillance feed, but there was one thing he hated more than both those activities. Standing in front of an empty building with a stupid expression on his face. He intended to get to the bottom of this.
***
Several hours later, the cowboy sat on a barstool at his favorite neighborhood tavern nursing a beer. He’d slipped back into his apartment and changed into his regular clothes. Going to the bar in the evening was part of his usual routine, and he didn’t want to change that—especially not now. Not after what he’d learned that afternoon.
He’d bounced around City Hall for half a day trying to find the department that could tell him who owned the property under the el tracks where the moving company had previously done business. Once he got a name and number, he called the owner on his burner phone. The owner referred him to the property manager. She told him the moving company had only leased the office for a month. That’s when the bells and whistles started going off in his head.
Leroy distinctly remembered his conversation with the old wino in the alley behind the antique shop. The bum had insisted the movers had been operating in the neighborhood for years. At a minimum, they would have had to be
