Dead Man Code: A Jarvis Mann Detective Novel Page 12

  She didn’t answer and was pacing, waiting for her assistant. In a few minutes Suki hustled into the room.

  “We are done here. See that Mr. Mann leaves the building. If he doesn’t, have someone from our security team drag him out!”

  Suki looked surprised.

  “Who am I supposed to see leaves?”

  “Mr. Mann here.”

  “I thought he was Mr. Smithfield?”

  “So did I. Make sure of it, Ms. Nagano, or else.”

  Before she walked out, Pearson walked over to where I stood, staring at me eye to eye, trying her best to intimidate me. I was probably too dumb to be scared and just grinned at her. After she left Suki came over and seemed apologetic.

  “I’m so sorry, but you must leave now. Please don’t force me to call someone.”

  I wanted to tell her it would take more than one, but I resisted.

  “No worries. I will happily walk out with you. Please lead the way.”

  I had no reason to make life hard for Suki, so I went peacefully and even chit-chatted on the way down. As we reached the ground floor on the elevator, she left me with two security people who made sure I exited, likely blacklisting me from the building. As I left and reached my car, the sense of being followed was palpable. Once I was out on the street, I confirmed that a dark SUV was tailing me. A good sign I’d stirred up things within WANN. I had accomplished what I’d hoped for. The question was, who was going to take a run at me now.

  Chapter 26

  During our ride down the elevator, Suki had given me a nearby restaurant and bar to visit for some good food. It was only a half-mile away, so I stopped in and took a seat at the bar, with a good view of the entryway. I ordered a beer and chicken sandwich, one eye watching anyone coming in.

  The place was pretty quiet, with a couple other people sitting at the bar, and a few in the dining area. It still was a little early for the dinnertime crowd, so it would be easy to spot anyone coming in who might be following me. While I waited for my food sipping my beer, I got a call on my cell phone from a number I didn’t recognize.

  “Is this Jarvis Mann?” said the male voice on the other end.

  “It is.”

  “I may have some information that will benefit you. I wonder if we can meet.”

  “Information about what?”

  “I’d prefer not to say over the phone. But it is related to a technical issue you are having.”

  I wasn’t sure I liked the coyness of the conversation.

  “Not having any technical issues at this time. So you’ll have to do better.”

  “Do you know what a Black Hat is?”

  I’m glad it had been explained to me recently, or I might have thought he was talking about a magician.

  “I do.”

  “I can help with a hack which may have led to violence.”

  It would appear he was speaking of the Aaron Bailey case.

  “When would you like to meet?”

  “Anytime you can make yourself available.”

  “Where are you located?”

  “Denver.”

  “I’m out of town right now. So it would be a day or two before I can meet.”

  “I will call you again in two days.”

  The call ended, leaving me curious. As with anything, I was leery of being lured into a situation that might get me killed. Cryptic dealings like this often could be traps. It would be interesting learning whom it was on the other end. I would have to wait a couple of days to find out.

  My sandwich arrived, along with some salt-free fries. For bar food it was not too bad. A few patrons strolled in, a couple of attractive ladies in jeans so tight it looked like they were painted on. A Hispanic couple holding hands, who joined another couple in a back booth. Mostly a later-twenties and early-thirties crowd was filling the place. I decided on a second beer, when the eighth person I saw coming into the bar caught my eye. He was by himself and sat at the other end of the bar, trying his best not to look at me. He was a shorter Asian man, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, which strained against the muscles in his chest and arms. Various tattoos adorned his skin, with a prominent one of a dragon etched on his neck. He ordered a beer, his eyes glued on the Giants game on the TV behind the bar. He looked over for a split second but then was back to the TV. I might have been wrong but I had a suspicion he was there to keep an eye on me. I called the bartender over.

  “Do you know that guy at the end of the bar?” I asked.

  “Not one of the regulars,” he replied. “But neither are you.”

  “No, I’m from out of town. I have feeling he is as well. I was going to pay for his beer and maybe strike up a conversation. Who knows, we might become best pals.”

  “You may be in the Bay Area, but we are not that type of bar.”

  I smiled.

  “I’m not trying to get a date. But I think he may be following me.”

  He looked back at him.

  “He’s a small guy but looks awful tough. You can pay for his beer but don’t start anything. We recently remodeled and I don’t care to start over.”

  “Not my style,” I replied in a lie. “If you can let him know, I’d appreciate it.”

  The bartender nodded and headed to the other end. He spoke to him, but he didn’t seem to completely understand. The bartender pointed my way and I held my beer up. He looked over and then was back staring at the game. Though he appeared not to be watching me I sensed the whole time his attention was in my direction.

  Now, prudent people would say leave it alone, but I was rarely called prudent. I thought it over for a couple of minutes and got up from my seat and sat right next to him, bringing my beer and plate with me. His head never turned my way, still doing his best not to acknowledge me.

  “Giants aren’t doing as well this year,” I said to him. “The Mets seem to be putting the lumber to their pitching staff in this game.”

  Again, no recognition he understood me. I wondered if he spoke English. If I had to guess I would say he was Chinese. Not that it did me any good, as I couldn’t speak his language either short of saying “Sayonara.” Or was that Japanese?

  “Food isn’t too bad here,” I said, while pointing to my remaining sandwich. “You look famished.”

  “Beer,” he said in broken English, after finishing his first mug.

  “Or maybe a veggie burger. Though looking at you, I’d say you devoured protein to supplement your muscle mass.”

  Nothing. So I thought I’d throw out some names and see his reaction.

  “Kyle Lambert,” I said at first.

  He heard the words, but didn’t seem to react much.

  “Bronwen Pearson.”

  A slight reaction, though hard to say for certain.

  “Suki Nagano,” I said out loud.

  His head twitched and then back to the TV. He definitely knew the name.

  “Friend of yours?” I asked. “From WANN Systems. Maybe told you where I was going for dinner, since it was her suggestion.”

  He turned around and looked me square in the eye this time, speaking something in his native tongue of which I had no idea what it meant. He pointed at me and then gave me the thumbs-up “you are out of here” gesture, like an umpire when kicking someone out of the game. I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to leave him alone, leave the bar or leave the state. Probably a little of all three.

  “I have to finish my dinner and beer,” I said with a smile. “I hate to waste food.”

  I took my time, taking the last few bites, his eyes still fixed on me. The fries weren’t all that good. Ketchup couldn’t even save them, so I left a few behind. I washed down the last of it with my beer, wiping my face with a paper napkin.

  “Wow, that was good,” I said while patting my stomach. “You really should eat something. A small guy like you needs to balance his food and beer intake.”

  We exchanged more stares, when I pointed at the TV and said “Home run Giants.” He and the bartender both looked
at the game, and I cold-cocked him with a solid punch that put his lights out, his head hitting the bar with a thud. I put his arms on either side of his head, as if he was asleep.

  “What the hell happened to him?” asked the bartender.

  “I guess he can’t hold his beer,” I replied, throwing money on the counter. “I told him he should eat something. This should cover his tab and mine. And gee, we were getting along so well.”

  I walked out of the joint, flexing my hand, as it tingled from the contact. Once in my car I drove away, watching the SUV in the rearview mirror sitting there, waiting for its man inside to come out. It would be a long wait, for he likely would be sleeping for some time.

  Chapter 27

  Since they were no longer following me I was free to go back to my hotel. Since they might know where I was staying, I checked out early and found another room at a competing chain a couple of miles away. I didn’t care to have them charging in on me in the middle of the night. I didn’t have a gun, and though my fighting skills were good, not knowing who I was up against, it wasn’t worth chancing it. Besides the man I cold-cocked might be inching to get even over my cheap shot. With a good night of sleep, well, as least as good as I could get in a new bed, I was off and running the next day.

  My plan was to talk with the ex-wife of Logan Albers. Divorced women could often be quite candid about their former mates. There was something about their divorce, from what I read, which didn’t sit right with me. She lived in the western part of the region in Los Altos Hills, one of the wealthiest towns in the San Francisco Bay area. Average price of homes was over two million dollars. So being divorced from a wealthy tech genius had its privileges. As my GPS guided me, the hilly and highly wooded area was much different than the Silicon Valley, and more like the foothill region west of Denver. The view from an aerial map showed many of the homes huge in size, with built-in outdoor pools and tennis courts. Money made for luxury and comfort, but not always a better life.

  When I arrived at her house, I found it was not one of the larger ones in the area. When I say not larger, though, it was still huge in size, just not a mansion as many of the others were. I would probably get lost inside without a guide. I parked in front of the garage, next to a black BMW. Walking up the steps, I rang the doorbell and waited, when a forty-something Mexican woman, who appeared to be a maid, answered the door. She allowed me in and had me wait in the lobby, outside of an expansive living area, with vaulted ceilings and a winding staircase reaching to the upper floor. The maid returned and walked me through the living area, past a kitchen larger than my entire home office and out sliding glass doors to a deck overlooking a crystal-clear pool. Laying in the sun in her white bikini on a chaise lounge was a striking woman. Though I knew her approximate age of forty-five, if I hadn’t known I’d have guessed no older than mid-thirties. She stood up, put on a robe and motioned for me to sit in a soft chair at a table, the sun filtered by the open umbrella above. She held out her hand, which I took, finding it soft and warm. She removed her sunglasses when sitting, crossing her tanned long legs. I did my best not to stare too much, but I was a full-blooded male, so I enjoyed the view, while trying not to drool on my cotton polo.

  “So you are Jarvis Mann,” she said, while sipping her tea she had carried over with her. “I’m Lyndi Albers. You said you wanted to talk about something related to WANN Systems and my ex-husband.”

  “Yes I’m investigating a murder back in Colorado of an employee of WANN Systems.”

  “So you are a police officer?”

  “No, a private detective.”

  “May I see some ID?”

  I showed her my license, the picture hardly flattering. They wouldn’t let me take it with my shirt off and me flexing my biceps, so it was plain and boring. Those in the Colorado government were always killjoys.

  “So what does the death of this employee have to do with Logan?”

  “Part of the job of a detective is learning all I can about those involved. When researching WANN Systems, I learned of your divorce and found the circumstances unusual. I was wondering if you would clarify the reasons why you are no longer married.”

  “Explaining to you those reasons would be a violation of the settlement.”

  “There is only us here, and no one will ever know you told me anything. I’m quite good at keeping secrets.”

  She sized me up before responding.

  “Well, you do have an attractive and honest face. I can see what you want to know and decide from there.”

  I glowed with a smile. It was fun to flirt again, even if it was only to get information and not physical pleasure. Though it would be difficult to turn down such a sensual person.

  “You met Logan in college?” I asked.

  “Yes. A mutual friend set us up.”

  “What attracted him to you?”

  “Mostly his ambition. He was a good-looking guy, but there were many good-looking men to choose from, and to climb into bed with. I felt he was going to be successful and, to put it bluntly, wealthy. That was as much a turn-on as any physical aspect of him. I could wrap my legs around any man and get pleasure. But to live like this is truly what I wanted.”

  “Yet, it took many years to achieve his successes?”

  “It did. But I was patient. And even in his tough times we had money. We were hardly starving.”

  “Where did the money come from in those tough times?”

  “Family, friends and investors, for all I knew. I didn’t know or care. So long as I could slap down the credit card and buy what I wanted, was all that mattered.”

  Lyndi grabbed her cell phone and typed out a quick message. It wasn’t too long before the maid arrived.

  “Maria, please get Jarvis here something to drink. He looks parched and could use something to calm his nerves.”

  “Yes, ma’am. What can I get you?”

  If I was nervous, I didn’t feel that way. Of course, maybe I was twitching, tapping my fingers and or feet without knowing it. Normally in the presence of beauty I was pretty calm, but she was showcasing sex without even trying.

  “I’ll take a beer, if you have one.”

  “Normally we don’t keep beer on hand,” said Lyndi. “Maria, give him something a little stronger. I’d say rum and Coke would be more his speed. I’ll take some red wine.”

  Maria wandered off and I looked deep into Lyndi’s eyes. If she was trying to get me drunk, she wasn’t shy about it.

  “I figured a private eye needs to have a strong drink from time to time. Keep the heart racing.”

  “It is racing plenty at the moment.”

  “Good. I like a man feeling excited. Besides, to answer all your questions may require payment on your part.”

  Maria returned with my drink and her wine. I took a short sip on the tall glass and found it was mostly rum and very little Coke. So I needed to pace myself.

  “From what I understand you divorced after thirteen years. I read it was because of your infidelity. Yet you received a large check as settlement and of course live in this multi-million-dollar home.”

  She took a quick sip of the wine, thinking over her answer.

  “Though it might not be in my best interest to say, I believe you will keep this in confidence. It was all a crock, to make sure he looked good to the shareholders. I took the bullet for him and in return was well taken care of.”

  “Including this home?”

  “Yes. And a trust fund for our daughter Nycole to pay for her Stanford education. And money enough for me to live the lifestyle I was used to.”

  “Was it his indiscretions or his gambling that ended the marriage?”

  “I see you’ve done your research,” she stated with a smile. “Little of both, though they were connected. He loved to fly to Vegas and play the poker, slots, blackjack, whatever else he could get the thrill off of. And of course, he’d hook up there.”

  “So he had a taste for the ladies while gambling?”

 
“Yes, and young ones too. And young men as well. He liked to play both sides of the fence and both at the same time.”

  This was news not reported in the searches I’d done.

  “How young of men?”

  “They were of age, or so they said. You seem surprised.”

  “Sort of. Surprised it was kept quiet. It would seem someone would have reported on this. Tabloids and Internet gossip.”

  “With enough money secrets can be kept.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “How else? Someone sent me pictures and videos.”

  “Were you shocked?”

  “Not completely. I’d wondered about his desire for me. It was waning, and only confirmed what I suspected.”

  “Had you been unfaithful?”

  “No. At least not until after I received the news. Found some hot stud about ten years younger and did him every way I could. It was fulfilling but still empty. Logan and I discussed how best to handle the situation. For a while we stayed married, with separate bedrooms and lives, but soon rumors started to fly and we needed to do something. Since his company was starting to take off again with a huge infusion of money, it was decided to put the blame on me so as not to freak out the shareholders. Make him out to be the good guy who took the high road. He would take care of me financially and I’d take the hit in the press. Made him a martyr. It was a fair trade, even though I was crucified at first. But that only lasted a short time, as the press grows tired of the same old crap and finds someone new to ruin. I stayed out of the limelight, which was fine by me. I had what I wanted which was the house and enough money to live how I wanted to live.”

  “And you never remarried?”

  “No. If I did I’d lose the fortune. So unless there was another man with deep pockets, I played the field to tend to my physical needs. When I felt like it I could bed whomever I wanted, when it pleased me to do so.”

  “Is today one of those days?”

  She smiled, opening her robe up to show her bikini-covered body.

  “Would that be so bad? For a woman my age, would you say I have a body for sin?”