“Or as studly,” Denny said, grinning again. After another pause, he added, “So you like this Laura, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I do.”
“Good. Now, let’s talk about your morning adventure. Looks as though you managed to escape unscathed.”
“The guy wasn’t very good. In fact, he was pitiful. If it weren’t for his ineptitude, he’d have no ‘tude at all.”
“You know,” said Denny, “Manny and I have never actually met. Might be it’s time for me to introduce myself.”
“I appreciate the offer, Denny, but not yet, okay? The goofus this morning wasn’t even armed. It was obvious that he was supposed to just shake me up a little, not kill me. As long as Manny’s sending messengers like that around, I can handle them. If you talk to him, he’ll get the idea that perhaps I’m shifting my focus a little, taking a harder look at him. Then maybe he takes a harder interest in me.”
“JB, remember what you told me about your first get-together with Manny? How he went crazy and stuck a gun in your face?”
“Yeah, but I provoked him. I know better now. Look, Denny, let’s wait on this awhile, okay? Maybe by the time Manny decides whether I’m a threat, I’ll either have solved the case or given up.”
“Don’t see you giving up,” said Dennis. “You think you’re close to figuring out why Pendleton was killed?”
“Nope.”
“Thought so,” he said. “Okay, JB, against my better judgement, I’ll leave Manny alone for the time being. Meanwhile, keep watching your back. And let me know if you need any help, official or otherwise.”
“I will.”
“We still on for hoops tomorrow night?”
“Yep.”
“Okay. I gotta get to court. See you tomorrow.”
After Denny left, I hung around awhile longer, trying to sort things out, but a few minutes later, when I said good-bye to Irv and started walking back home, the pieces of the puzzle were still pretty jumbled.
Chapter 32
I didn’t run the next morning, since I knew I’d be playing basketball with Denny that night. No sense in getting too buffed, is what I always say. But I did want to know if I could expect any more traveling companions, so at ten o’clock, I went out and walked around my neighborhood for half an hour and saw no one who shouldn’t have been there. Then I went back home and spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon making phone calls to people I know, doing some more checking on Terry Pendleton. Some of what I was doing had already been done by the police, but that meant Detective Wykcoff, whose diligence and professionalism I had strong reason to doubt. Most of the people I called were legitimate contacts, folks I’d met over the years while investigating a variety of cases. These were people who worked in a number of governmental offices, on levels from local to state and, in one case, federal. No private investigator can do his or her job without these folks. Once in a while, the information they supply is something that, in all likelihood, I’d have trouble getting on my own, but more often than not, what they do for me is simply speed up the process, thereby saving me much time and effort. In return, I make myself available to assist them in any way that I can, whether it be doing a little free investigating or helping with a problem involving a spouse who won’t obey a restraining order or, sometimes, just remembering them at holidays with a small gift.
A few people I called did not exactly come under the legitimate contacts heading. You spend enough time in some of the places I do, and you’re bound to make the acquaintance of individuals whom most law-abiding citizens would classify as being, at best, somewhat unsavory. You don’t necessarily invite these characters over for Christmas dinner, but you do keep the lines of communication open with them, because they can sometimes tell you things about people and situations that no one else can. You learn never to inquire about the origin of any information you acquire from any of these people. You simply accept it for what it is, and on pretty much the same terms as with your more traditional sources.
By late afternoon, I had satisfied myself that there was nothing in Terry Pendleton’s personal life that would appear to account for his death. His finances were in order, he had no sizable or overdue debts, he didn’t gamble, he didn’t consort with prostitutes, he didn’t have a drinking problem, he didn’t get into brawls at bars, his library books were always in on time, and there was no evidence of his having had an affair with anyone other than Dee-Dee. Perhaps she was his first. Or perhaps he’d been unusually discreet about any other assignations he’d had. At any rate, I didn’t see Dee-Dee being involved in his murder. She didn’t seem to have anything to gain there. The more I thought about it, the more I kept coming back to Terry’s professional life. I had a gut feeling that his death was connected in some way to his job. That was an area I intended to look into more closely.
Meanwhile, it was getting close to four o’clock, so I took a chance on Laura Fleming being home, and tried her number. Luck was with me. She answered on the third ring.
“Hello?”
“Good afternoon, Ms. Fleming,” I said. “This is Jeremy Barnes calling to offer you your choice of not one, but two options for our date this Saturday night.”
“Hmm,” she said, “that sounds interesting.”
“Okay,” I said. “Option number one. Would you like to go downtown to the Arena for the big wrasslin’ meet? I hear they’re gonna have a steel cage death match.”
“Oh, my,” she said. “As tempted as I am to simply grab that opportunity right away, I think I’ll wait until I’ve at least heard
