Tracking A Shadow: A Jarvis Mann Detective Novel Page 5

  “If he was so bad, why did Emily go out with him?”

  “That’s a good question, and I asked her the same thing. She said she wanted to see how he was like outside the office. Some people act differently in different settings. What she found out was, he was even worse. Always commenting on the other women around him at the restaurant. Rude statements like look how she’s built, and wondering how she was in bed, that she’d be dynamite in a three-way: those types of comments. Making sexual innuendos about how the night would end. She finally left him at the restaurant and took a cab home. The next day he was telling all the men in the office that he had slept with the boss. No one believed him, but that didn’t stop him from talking.”

  “Yes, I met him and talked with him and he told me the same thing. He may have been one of the worst people I’ve ever dealt with. I wanted to slap the smirk off his face.”

  Jeanine laughed. “Yes, we hated that smirk. He kept talking around the office and bugging Emily for another date. She finally just flat-out told him to leave her alone and to find a new job. She gave him a month or she was going to fire him. Best move she ever made. The office has been a better place since he left.”

  Jeanine ate the last bites of her salad, about ten minutes after I’d finished my sandwich. Good thing they didn’t have free refills on Monte Cristo’s or I’d have put them out of business. The waitress brought us another round of drinks and the check. The cost was pretty reasonable for the quality of the food and the excellent service.

  “So is there anyone else you’re aware of that could be stalking her?” I asked. “Rickie is my number-one suspect, and we’ll see about Mark once I talk with him. Any others she’s dated that might be a problem? You seem to be pretty close, so I guess you would know who she’s been seeing. She share any juicy girl talk?”

  “She doesn’t date much. She is into her work these days. I’m not sure she trusts men from her past experiences. Even when we’re at a bar after a hard day to blow off steam, if a man comes up and offers to buy her a drink, she just politely tells them she isn’t interested.”

  I paid the bill, and we walked back towards the office.

  “So Mark is still in town?” she asked. “We thought he’d moved away afterwards. He was always there and then wasn’t anymore.”

  “Yes, he is living in Aurora and working as a foreman up in Reunion, a new city that has sprung up west of Denver International Airport. I’m going to try to track him down and talk with him this afternoon. Need to see if he might be stalking her again.”

  “Well, I hope you can get this resolved for her once and for all. She is a wonderful person who deserves to live her life in peace.”

  I nodded my head in agreement. Not much more could be added to that statement.

  Chapter 7

  After seeing Jeanine back to her office my next stop was to try and track down Mark Remington. Though the first concern was the tail I’d picked up after leaving the parking lot. It was a large maroon Ford Expedition SUV, which sat idling with what appeared to be two men inside; the driver was wearing a cowboy hat, the passenger a baseball cap. As I pulled out, they followed.

  Now, it’s hard to remain unseen in a big vehicle when you know they are following you. I took Interstate 225 and headed north. Construction slowed my pace, as widening of the road for additional light rail expansion had caused traffic to come to a crawl. They remained behind me all the way, trying to stay back but not lose me. I didn’t care if they followed me, so I drove at an even pace. I was headed for Reunion, a fairly new town that sprung up over the last ten years, shortly after the airport moved out east. From 225 I hit I70, took Pena Boulevard to Tower Road and then west on 104th. It wasn’t too far before you saw the big sign saying Your New Hometown, Reunion.

  I’d learned via a couple of phone calls that Mark was working on a housing project in Reunion. He was the lead foreman and should be in a mobile home parked on Reunion Parkway and 107th. I had no trouble locating the place, as I found an open parking space next to a big Ram Diesel company truck. I made my way up the short steps, turning to see the tail driving past trying to find a spot to park so they couldn’t be seen, which was hard because the area was pretty open and devoid of trees and buildings. This section had once been farmland for growing crops or raising animals, but the farms had been forced out by the inevitable expansion. I went through the open door into the 60-foot temporary office. Inside it was old and dirty, with a desk where Mark sat talking on the phone. There were a couple of rooms on either side, probably for meetings or breaks, with a small bathroom and kitchen as well. All the amenities one needed when working onsite and easily moved to the next project.

  As Mark continued his phone conversation he motioned me to take a chair. I sat down, trying to find a comfortable position. The whole room was extremely warm; oscillating fans tried to create airflow, but failed to cool the space down. Every window was open, but I felt somewhat claustrophobic. It must have been scary working inside when the afternoon storms hit and the winds came up, which was often a daily occurrence out here. Fortunately the bad weather had moved north and the sun had returned.

  Mark finished his call and put down the phone. “What can I do for you today?” He was cordial with a sincere smile.

  I pulled out my business card and placed it in front of him. “I’m here to talk to you about Emily,” I said. I waited for his reaction.

  “You mean Emily, my ex-wife?”

  I nodded. He didn’t seem shocked by the news, though it was hard to tell for sure. He seemed to have a good poker face.

  “Did she hire you to track me down?”

  “No, she hired me to find the person who is stalking her again. Because of your history with her, I figured I’d pay you a visit.”

  “That was a long time ago. I haven’t seen her or been near her since the divorce was finalized. I moved on. I’m assuming she has, too.”

  “Yes, she has and is doing well. But now this has started up again, and she needs it to stop. I need to know you aren’t the one shadowing her. Convince me it’s not you and I’ll leave you alone.”

  Mark shook his head from side to side and whistled through his teeth. It seemed this wasn’t a subject he cared to talk about. He appeared much the same as the picture I’d seen of him. Athletic build with dark-brown eyes and blond curly hair, though the sideburns were now gone. He had some small wrinkles forming around his eyes and mouth, darkly tanned with sun spots on his arms from years of working outdoors in the harsh Colorado climate. He was left-handed, I saw, from the way he nervously tapped his pen on the table.

  “Not sure what I can say,” he answered. “She left me and divorced me. But now I’ve got a different life. I don’t need her or want to even see her anymore.”

  “Have you found someone else?” I asked.

  He gave me a stern look, as if he didn’t appreciate the question. I was prying into his personal life, and he didn’t care for it. Most didn’t when I asked, but it was part of the job. Many less than graciously would tell me to “shove it!”

  “Not sure it’s any of your business, but I’ve dated some, though nothing serious. Mostly working a lot. Since the market is rebounding I can make good money again. Construction is starting to come back here in the US. I went to Canada for about four years to work. I had a fine job up there, which paid handsomely well. Built a big nest egg to retire on. Construction in Canada is really booming.”

  “When did you go up to Canada?”

  “Shortly after the divorce. I got a job offer, so it helped me to get away and not be near her. It was hard when she was close. Two years on one job and another year each on two others. I came back to Colorado eight months ago. I doubt she knew I was gone, and I haven’t seen or talked with her since.”

  This explained him falling off the face of the earth, as Emily put it, after the divorce. He was employed in another country.

  “Whom were you working for?”

  “Why?”

  “
I want to talk with them and verify what you said. It helps piece some things together.”

  He thought long and hard before answering. “Banner Construction in Alberta. I had several bosses, but their personnel department can confirm it.” He wrote down a number on a piece of paper and gave it to me.

  “So why did you come back?” I asked.

  “I missed the US. Canada is wonderful and the people are marvelous, but it still isn’t America. This opportunity came up after I’d taken some time off. Besides I love to play softball and the seasons are too short up there. And I can’t skate, so hockey was out of the question.”

  “But why move back to Denver? I would think you’d want to be far away from Emily so you wouldn’t be tempted to stalk her again.” I placed a lot of emphasis on the word stalk.

  This seemed to put a bit of fire in his eyes, as he slammed the pen down on the table. “I can live where I want, and I love Colorado. You keep using the term stalk, but that is not what it was. I was trying to understand why she packed up and left one day with no explanation. I needed to talk with her. I deserved as much, being we’d been married for five years. Wouldn’t you do the same in my place?”

  “Maybe, if that is what went down. She explains it differently.”

  “I know I heard it from her lawyer. It was all crap. None of it was true.”

  “So, again, why return to Denver?”

  “If you must know, I came back because my mother was sick and needed help. My sister called me and begged me to return and assist her. She couldn’t, because she was married with kids and didn’t have the time or the money. So I returned and did what I could to make her life better. She passed away about a month ago. We weren’t close, but I did what a son should do for his mother. For family.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  I was intrigued by the timing of her death. It seemed to be along the same timeline as when the stalking started. Might be a coincidence, but the possibility existed. Though he claimed not to be shadowing Emily, I wasn’t sure I believed him. I didn’t want to push him too much on this for now, but I knew I’d have to follow up and keep watching him. He seemed sad, maybe even lonely, and not a complete person by the way he acted, so I felt sorry for him. But sorry didn’t help my client.

  “OK, Mark. For now, I’ll leave you alone,” I stated. “I plan on keeping an eye out, and you should know I’m going to find whoever is shadowing Emily. I really hope it isn’t you, because you seem like an okay person deep down. If I’m proved wrong, I’ll have you locked up.”

  “Just leave me alone,” he answered. “I’m too busy to be bothered with hurting her anymore. I’ve moved on and could care less if I ever see her again!”

  I stood up and looked him over, trying to peer into his soul as I’d stirred him up pretty well. Usually, I can read people, but with him I wasn’t getting a good sense, and he wouldn’t look me in the eye.

  “I’ll be seeing you,” I said, and I walked out of the mobile home.

  Chapter 8

  As I walked outside I could see the maroon SUV off in the distance. They were still sitting there trying to look inconspicuous, and I needed to find out what they wanted. I figured I had two options: just walk up and ask them what they were doing, or let them follow me some more until they made their move. I had time to kill, so I decided on the latter.

  I headed down Tower Road back towards Aurora; the heavily traveled street was full of cars heading for who knew where. After hitting several red lights, I noticed the Mustang was low on gas and stopped at a 7-Eleven to fill up. As I watched the numbers climb on the pump until it reached over forty dollars, I saw them just sitting in the parking lot waiting. There was little doubt they knew I was on to them, as they weren’t trying to hide anymore. I then decided I’d give them an opening to approach me, but first I went inside to get some orange juice to quench my thirst and a candy bar to calm the growl in my stomach.

  As I pulled out and quickly drank, I proceeded to look for an open space. There was a large shopping center further down Tower that had a few popular mega-stores, with a huge parking lot that was three-quarters empty. I pulled into an open area, got out and leaned against the side of my car. I downed the last bit of juice while enjoying several bites on the candy bar, and sat with my arms crossed watching the SUV. We stared at each other for five minutes and then ten, which allowed me to finish the snack. I planned on continuing to stare until they either decided to approach me or left. We were going on fifteen minutes when they finally pulled up and got out of the huge gas-guzzler.

  Baseball Cap, which I now saw was a black, authentic Colorado Rockies one, was shorter than me but around the same weight, wearing a brown sports coat over a beige shirt and nice blue jeans, with freshly polished tan cowboy boots. Expensive sunglasses covered his eyes, which he removed when getting out of the SUV and pocketed them in his coat. Cowboy Hat was taller and heavier, dressed in black jeans with a yellow dress shirt hanging over his belt, Nike Air Jordan’s, the cowboy hat and glasses he didn’t remove. I noticed the bulges as both had guns—the first in a shoulder holster under the sports coat, the other in a belt holster covered by his hanging shirt. Both approached slowly, trying to size me up, as I had been doing to them. I wished I’d pulled my gun out of the glove box when I’d gotten out of the car. It was a little late now, and saying “Excuse me, gentlemen, while I get my gun” would not likely be met with joy on their part.

  “What can I do for you gentlemen?” I asked, seeing there was no one around to notice us. “If you’re looking for a good deal on a TV, Best Buy is the place to shop.” Sometimes I couldn’t help myself with the stupid humor. “Or maybe you need some cat food. You both look like cat owners to me.”

  “Mr. Sparks would like to talk with you!” said Cowboy Hat, not looking the least bit amused by my humor.

  “I don’t know any Mr. Sparks,” I answered. “Do you have a first name, or maybe you can tell me what he wants to talk about?”

  Cowboy Hat tried to look menacing. “Mr. Sparks asks to talk with you, then you come without asking why. He don’t need no reason and didn’t give us one. So let’s go!”

  “I think you two got your wardrobes mixed up,” I said. “Shouldn’t the cowboy hat go with the cowboy boots, and the Rockies cap with the sneakers? I call out a fashion faux pas.”

  Each glanced at each other, not understanding what I was saying. I often joked when nervous, which helped to calm me, and this was one of those situations. But I don’t think my observation went over very well with them.

  “Funny guy we have here, don’t we,” said Baseball Cap.

  “We could humor him with a five-finger sandwich,” stated Cowboy Hat.

  For some reason, people underestimate me. Maybe it’s my less-than-imposing physique or my friendly face. But both of them seemed to think I would scare easily. They were wrong. I scare but not easily, and not without putting up a struggle. I stepped out away from the car. I was looking them both over, as they stood a few feet apart in front of the Ford. Baseball Cap looked to be the tougher of the two. He just stared me down with the appearance of someone who knew what he was doing. He would be the hardest one to take down. Cowboy Hat was the tough talker but not the tough one: well, at least, not the toughest one. He would think his size was enough against me. Neither would be able to pull their gun quickly where they carried them. I was watching their hands for any quick movements, but I suspected they were under the impression they could handle me without their hardware.

  “Guys, we can stand here all day making quips, getting to know each other, but it doesn’t do my street cred any good to just let you push me around. I need some more info before I’m going to go with you.” I moved closer to Cowboy Hat and put my hands out in front of me in a gesture.

  “We don’t care,” he said and reached out to grab my right arm. I twisted it loose, spun low, whipped my right leg and kicked his legs out from under him. I was very quick when I needed to be, those couple of years
of martial arts training paying off. He was caught off guard, falling straight back and hitting his head on the bumper of their SUV. Just as quickly, I drove several combinations into the kidneys of Baseball Cap before he could react, like I do at each of my workouts on the heavy bag. He was quite solid, and I felt it in my hands since I wasn’t wearing boxing gloves. But no matter—well-placed shots to the kidney will drop most men, and he was no exception. As he slumped over in pain I jumped in the air and pounded him on the back of the neck with both my fists interlaced together. He went straight down to the ground, seeing stars.

  “Damn!” I said, flexing my hands, as they tingled from striking him. “Your side is hard as a rock and so is your head.”

  While they were on the ground I removed both their guns, each 9MM Berettas, and ejected the clips and any bullets from the chambers, slipping them into my pants pocket. I then searched them for ID, finding they both worked for Sparks Builders. The name was familiar, but I wasn’t sure where I’d heard of it before. I would have to research some. I sat the empty guns on the hood of the SUV as they slowly were coming around. I pulled out my business card and placed it under one of the guns.

  “Tell your boss I’d be happy to meet with him at any time. Just explain to him to call me and we’ll arrange a time. I don’t like being told what to do, but I’m always courteous when asked nicely and will rendezvous whenever it’s convenient for both of us. Tomorrow morning is good, but I have a lunch date at 11. So anytime before that or later in the afternoon would be splendid. Please don’t get up. I can find my way out.”

  I smiled walking to my car and stowed the magazines and bullets in the glove box. Driving away, I knew I didn’t make two new friends today, but I waved at them as if we’d known each other for years. In the rearview mirror I saw Cowboy Hat getting up, grabbing the business card and making a call on his cell phone. I doubted Mr. Sparks would be happy to hear what he had to say.