Caught Off Guard Read online

  Troy gave it a thought then sat. “Okay. I’ll do that.”

  Dad looked at me. “Austin Strong, huh?”

  I nodded and waited. Dad knew everyone or something about them.

  He said, “I did a piece on him right as he was coming out of college. Interesting interview. Self-made. He’s successful because he doesn’t take no for an answer.”

  “It’s weird to meet billionaires my age,” I said.

  Dad chuckled. “Made you feel like a slacker, huh?”

  “Yeah. A bit. Or more that they’re so sure of their path.” I’d long accepted that comparing myself to others was stupid. Maybe being dyslexic helped with that. I always knew I was different. I knew my journey wouldn’t be like most people’s. We all have our own paths and potential, and I was comfortable with mine. Mostly. But sometimes self-doubt crept in.

  The crowd cheered, and I looked out the window toward the field. Great, I missed kickoff. At least I hadn’t missed AJ’s first play.

  “Hold on to your titties, kitties. The fun is just beginning,” Precious said as the teams ran out to line up for the first snap.

  Unable to contain my excitement, I squealed and let myself get lost in the sport on the field.

  I ended up standing for most of the game, yelling at the players on the field. The teams took turns alternating the lead, staying within three points of each other. AJ threw one interception but rallied hard, and in the end, the Portland Pioneers won by a field goal.

  Troy pumped the air when the final whistle blew. “Today was epic. I got Lil’ Megalodon’s autograph, and AJ won.”

  I said, “And when you talk to him, make sure you reverse that order.”

  The plan was to head down to the tunnel that led to the locker rooms. We weren’t allowed into the locker rooms, but we could wait for AJ in a specified area. Getting to the family waiting area took us through a secret maze of back hallways and elevator rides. In the waiting area, other families and friends mingled. Security and local Portland PD stood between us and the locker rooms.

  Troy nodded toward the cops. “What’s that about?”

  I’d only given the security a cursory glance but turned my attention to them fully. I’d been on a winning high and hadn’t processed that the Portland PD wouldn’t normally be present. Local PD were talking with the Pioneers’ head coach in a tense exchange of words.

  The locker room doors swung open, and the cops led out a man in handcuffs with a towel over his head, likely done as some attempt at privacy. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, and if the moisture clinging to his shirt was any indication, he’d just come from a shower—a player.

  “What the hell?” Troy said then rushed toward the towel-hidden man, only to be stopped five feet away by security. “That’s my brother!” he yelled while fighting against the two men holding him back by his shoulders.

  I pushed through the gathering crowd, the whirring sound of cameras and people whispering around me. How I managed I don’t know, but I slipped through the hands of a security guard and rushed to AJ.

  I walked backward, facing him as the cops continued to usher him down the tunnel toward the exit.

  AJ had his head down but looked up at me through the folds of the towel. “McVay is dead,” he whispered. “And they think I did it.”

  5

  Friday After the Arrest

  I left the Multnomah County jail, feeling guilty for being able to walk away. The jail, housed at the Multnomah County Sheriff’s Office, was located in downtown Portland and, if given only a quick glance, looked like any other office building—until one realized many of the windows in the middle section of the building were small slats wedged between concrete squares. The outside space was surrounded by a large chain-link fence with massive rolls of barbed wire at the top. Above the slatted windows were five floors of office windows housing the sheriff’s department. I’d tried to go up there after meeting with AJ to talk to the arresting officers but couldn’t get past the reception area.

  The scale of the department was not lost on me. It echoed the severity of AJ’s current state and how far removed from my element I was. That was no Wind River Police Department where the receptionist was someone I’d gone to school with. Heck, Wind River’s police chief, D. B. Louney, had even cheated off me in chemistry.

  I was stuck. I drove home chewing a thumbnail, scared and unsure how I was going to help AJ. I’d thought to start with the arresting cops, but they refused to see me.

  At home, I parked LC, my ancient but hardworking Wagoneer, behind my dad’s newspaper and promised LC a quart of oil first thing. LC, named after the explorers Lewis and Clark because we had numerous adventures under our belt, drank oil like there was no tomorrow. His monthly oil budget was greater than my takeout coffee budget. And I had a serious love for coffee not brewed by me.

  Inside, I dictated a list of my thoughts to get organized, and I stored it on my phone.

  What I’d done: taken care of AJ’s financial needs and touched base with Troy, who was going to stay with his mom in Arizona.

  The media was all over the place, and the police had trashed AJ’s house, looking for evidence.

  What I needed to do: pick up Simon, clean AJ’s house, find out who killed Keith McVay—but how?

  I stretched out on the couch and pressed my palms to my temples, trying to force myself to come up with the next move. Maybe my uncertainty was immobilizing me. Maybe my inertia was inexperience. But I was determined to not let either of those be a reason I would let AJ down. But I was seriously scared. I switched to my other thumbnail, having gnawed the other one to the quick. From my backpack I took out my iPad mini and searched YouTube for more how-to-be-a-private-investigator videos, specifically on solving murders. The pickings were slim, and some looked to be presented by people greener than me. I was swiping with frustration when someone rapped on my front door.

  “Unless you have a crystal ball and can provide all the answers, go away,” I said, having left YouTube and using a search engine to try to find higher quality information.

  The door swung open, and Precious and Leo stood at the threshold.

  Precious asked, “Is this a pity party?”

  I glanced at her over my iPad and looked away. Tears threatened to break free, and I desperately didn’t want to cry… at least not in front of Leo.

  They stepped inside, Precious first.

  She snatched the iPad from my hand. “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for answers.” I sat up and reached for the device.

  She held it behind her back. “I had a feeling you’d be feeling rough after seeing AJ. That’s why I called Leo and asked him if he might have any suggestions.” She pushed my legs off the couch and sat down next to me. “Austin Strong called me. Offered to help AJ any way he could. Thanked me for getting Tyson Lockett as AJ’s defense attorney and wondered how I managed that.”

  After the game, as the police escorted AJ off the premises, Precious had called Lockett as if she’d read my mind.

  I said, “I’m surprised Strong is offering support. All the negative attention on his team can’t be good.”

  Precious nodded. “They’re getting hammered in social media.”

  Leo, in his cop uniform of navy pants and top with a gray undershirt, sat down on my other side. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, his eagle tattoo side-eyeing me.

  He said, “It’s all over the news too. They’re making a big deal out of anything and everything. Like the fact that Strong and McVay went to college together.”

  I snapped my head in his direction. “They did? Really?” I hadn’t gotten the impression they’d known each other outside of the Pioneers. But I was no expert on McVay or Strong.

  He leaned back into the couch. “Apparently.”

  I slapped myself on the forehead. “Man, I’m stupid. I should have Toby digging into everyone he can. I’ve been so focused on what I can’t do that I forgot to look at what I can do.”

  Pre
cious bumped me with her shoulder. “And now you know why we came over. I had a feeling you were feeling… overwhelmed. I mean, you made us go into the woods for scary hide-and-seek because, and this is all just my opinion, you’re scared of failure. Which I get—”

  I nudged her back with my shoulder—hard. “Get to the point.”

  Precious rolled her eyes.

  Leo chuckled. “Precious asked if maybe I knew someone who might be able to guide you somewhat.”

  I looked between them.

  Precious nodded. “Yeah, a mentor. We’ve all had them. Only you haven’t. You gotta admit it’s a brilliant idea.”

  She was right. The idea had merit.

  I looked at Leo. “And you know such a person. An Obi-Wan to my Skywalker?”

  Leo grimaced slightly. “Maybe not exactly Obi-Wan, but I’ve worked with this private investigator before. He’s originally from Portland but moved out here a few years back when he retired.” He made air quotes around “retired.” To my questioning look, he said, “He only takes cases that move him.”

  To which I asked, “And before, he took any case?”

  Leo gave a brisk nod. “Pretty much. He’s a little rough around the edges, but he could teach you a lot. He’s good at what he does.”

  Precious handed me my iPad. “You can’t be dependent on YouTube to answer all your questions.”

  She’s right. “What’s his name?” I asked, wondering if I might have heard of him.

  “Paul Bea,” said Leo.

  I asked, “What’s the B stand for?”

  “His last name.”

  I gave him a look to convey that I thought he was jerking my chain. “Yeah, I know it’s his last name. And it starts with a B. What’s the rest of it?”

  Leo laughed. “Sorry, my bad. I get what you’re asking. His last name isn’t just the letter B. It’s B and then an e and an a. Bea.”

  I snort laughed. “I got it now.”

  Leo knocked a fist against my leg. “Come on. Let’s go meet him. He’s at the dog park.”

  Precious was up and at the door in seconds, swinging it open and gesturing with a flourish for me to precede her.

  The dog park was a two-acre parcel of land with chicken-wire fencing. The land sloped down a hill that led to a wildlife preserve. I would run by it on my jogging path. The previous year, the city had put in a fake fire hydrant fountain that spewed water with the press of a button and provided dogs with fresh water and a place to splash. I made a mental note to bring Simon there every day to burn energy.

  Three cars were at the dog park. We’d followed Leo in his police cruiser because he had to return to work afterward. Trailing behind Leo, we entered the dog park and were greeted by two ankle biters and three large dogs. Two of the larger dogs were Labs, and the other was a giant schnauzer. Across the field, two women were standing together, and standing as far away from them as humanly possible without leaving the park was an older man. He whistled, and the schnauzer took off in his direction.

  One of the Labs jumped on Precious, and she knocked him down. Both smaller dogs were nipping at Leo’s legs.

  “Hey,” Leo called out to the ladies, “you want to call your dogs?”

  The ladies scowled, and one called the names of the four dogs… which in turned ignored her.

  Precious leaned over. “See what he did there? He deduced that all these dogs belonged to them.” She elbowed me in a hardy-har way.

  Leo picked up a punctured and weatherworn tennis ball and tossed it across the field. The Labs followed it. The ankle biters circled us until Leo pushed them away.

  I glared at her. “Duh. One, he knows this dude and, I’m guessing, knows what kind of dog he has. Two, the only guy here whistled, and his dog came running. That leaves the ladies with these dogs.”

  Precious gave me a puzzled look. “I was kidding.” She grabbed my hands and inspected my fingers, with their nails chewed and mangled. “You’re worse than I thought. Now I’m positive meeting Paul Bea is the right thing. You need to find some confidence. You need to visualize yourself being successful with this case, or your fear is going to consume you.”

  I nodded. The simple fact that I hadn’t even called Toby to get background info told me I was frozen with fear. I hadn’t felt like that since I’d been a kid right before a reading test, which I knew I couldn’t pass even if I had the cheat sheet… because I couldn’t read a cheat sheet either. I’d felt like an imposter then, and I felt like one now, like I’d been playing at being a PI and had only gotten lucky. And maybe I had. But I thought I’d learned something along the way. Not drawing on that was making me nuts.

  I turned to Leo. “We can take it from here if you need to get back to work.”

  He glanced at his watch. “I do. Are you sure?”

  I nodded. “I got this.”

  Precious beamed and clapped in excitement. “We got this.”

  I continued nodding. “Yeah, we got this. Thanks for setting this up, Leo.”

  He left while Precious and I made our way across the field toward the older gentleman waiting by a bench. He was bent over, petting his dog, but stood as we approached.

  Paul Bea was probably two inches shorter than me and sported a Bob Ross Afro. His skin was a slightly yellowish hue, like he’d been tinted by years of cigarette smoke… or had a liver issue. He had a large belly that pushed the waistline of his black jogging pants low. A black T-shirt and bright-white tennis shoes finished out the outfit.

  I waved. “Hi Paul, I’m Samantha True. This is my friend, Erika Shurmann.”

  “Paulie. People call me Paulie.” Paulie scanned me up and down. “I hope you’re the PI because chesty here”—he jerked a thumb toward Precious—“would be perfect for trapping the wayward spouse.”

  Precious looked at me and said softly, “I’m gonna take that as a compliment. I guess.”

  I cleared my throat. “Yeah, I’m the PI.”

  Paulie scratched a dirty nail across his nose. “And you caught yourself the McVay murder.” He gave a low whistle. “Nice.”

  I tucked my hands into my jeans pocket to keep from chewing them. “Only it’s my friend sitting in jail, so it doesn’t feel nice.”

  Paul held up a finger. “Lesson number one. Never make friends with clients, and never make clients out of friends.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Bea. Too late this time. But I’ll keep it in mind for next time.”

  “Paulie.” His squinty eyes darted between Precious and me. “So tell me about the case.”

  Where to start? I took a breath, ready to launch into AJ’s story, but one of the Labs ran up to hump Precious’s leg. She shooed it away like a person does a fly, but the brown dog kept coming back for more.

  “Hey,” Paulie yelled, “call your dog!” The irritation in his voice was coming through loud and clear.

  “Here, Brownie! Come on, boy,” one of the ladies said in a sickly-sweet voice.

  Brownie continued to ignore her, his focus on molesting Precious. Paulie walked over to the dog and grabbed it by the collar. Then he stepped away from Precious and told the dog to scram, pushing him on the butt.

  “Stupid woman,” Paulie mumbled when he returned to us. “You know, she comes here with a laser pointer and tells people when their dogs have crapped. The laser points out where the pile is waiting to be picked up.”

  Brownie was between his owner and us, still eyeing Precious but contemplating Paulie’s alpha status. Paulie postured by doing a fake lunge, and the dog ran off.

  I said, “You’re kidding.”

  Paulie shook his head. “Okay, tell me about your client.”

  I explained AJ’s situation and what I knew.

  “Where do you plan to start?” Paulie asked.

  “I have my IT guy doing background on McVay, and…” I wondered if it was a lie if I planned on having Toby do it. And who else should I look into? I had nothing.

  “That’s it?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Isn’t that wh
y I’m here?”

  Paulie laughed bitterly. “Girl, if you don’t know where to start, you might as well tell your friend to enjoy death row. Because Leo’s right. You are in over your head.” He shook his head then called to his dog. “Come on, Rocket, let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

  Okay, maybe I don’t have this.

  6

  Friday

  I tried not to freak out in front of Precious, but she knew me too well.

  After we watched Paulie leave the dog park, she grabbed me by the shoulders and stared me hard in the eyes. “Do not freak out. Call Toby and start with that background check.”

  I gulped in air. “And then what?”

  She punched me hard in the shoulder. “Come on, Sam. What is it you’re really afraid of?”

  Precious and I had been friends since early elementary school and had been through a lot. She overcame her stuttering, I my dyslexia. Being the kids that were different and pulled out of the classroom gave us something in common and forged a friendship that was deep and true.

  I said, “I’ve only solved one case.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not true. You’ve helped lots of people, and I think you should count the one back in college, remember? When you were the crime-scene intern and Junkies was robbed.” Junkies was a local bar attached to a junkyard.

  “I meant big cases. So, okay. Two,” I said. “The situation with what happened to Carson was a matter of survival.”

  Carson was my husband, though not legally, as I’d found out when he died in a mysterious fiery car accident. And figuring out all the lies of my life was what had led me to become a private investigator.

  Precious’s grip on my shoulders eased. “And now?”

  “Now, this is big time. It’s AJ. This is life or death. And I’m scared I’m going to fail.”

  Precious smiled and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. We walked toward the gate.

  “Sam, by doing nothing, you’ve already failed. And I know you as well as I know myself. You aren’t good with failure. The reason you’re chewing your nails is because you’re doing nothing. So do something. Anything. Call Toby. Call the coach of the team. Call McVay’s mother. But do something. Start somewhere. What’s Lockett said?”