The Agency Read online

  “I find that hard to believe,” John replied. “It implies anyone connected to the boss has had the same thing done for them. I think someone would catch on after a while.”

  “Agreed. So he’s stayed under the radar.” Kip went to another site. When John asked, he said he wanted to know if the police had connected any of the murders on their list. “If we can do it, they should be able to.”

  “But we’ve got an advantage. We know, because of you, there is a link between Constantine and Alexander. They might not dig back into cold cases, figuring Alexander’s killing was a one-off.”

  “Then they’re stupid,” Kip muttered.

  “No. They’re overworked. Do you know how many people are murdered in any given year, in Denver alone?”

  “Nope, but I can find out.” Kip grinned as he brought up a major search engine and typed in the question. “Fifty-six in twenty-sixteen. Weirdly enough, the same for last year. And that’s just homicides. All reported crime incidents come in at well over twenty-nine thousand.” He looked up at John. “Why are we living here again?”

  “Because people need us when the cops have too much on their plates?”

  “Good point. Is there anything we’re forgetting?”

  John laughed. “I’m sure there’s a lot. It’ll come to us when we’re in the middle of doing something else. Like…” He leaned back, looking at Kip.

  There was intensity in his gaze that piqued Kip’s interest. He couldn’t figure out if it was personal or if something had occurred to him and he was thinking it over. “Like what?” he asked.

  “You said you’ve never been on a bike. We have the rest of the day to kill, unless you’re one of those guys who usually spend their Saturdays cleaning house.”

  Kip stared at him in mock horror. “What’s this house cleaning you talk about?”

  “You get out the vac and a dust rag and…” John replied, straight-faced.

  “I like your other idea better.”

  “Then shut that thing off and let’s get moving.”

  Kip closed out of the files he’d created, got off line, and turned off the computer. “Should I wear something to protect me? Like a shirt-shirt, not this?” He tugged on his T-shirt.

  “What? You think I’m going to dump us? I’m insulted.” John looked as if he were, before he laughed. “I’ve got an extra helmet and gloves in one of my saddlebags. That’s all you need.”

  “Okay.” Kip set the alarm and locked the back door before they went into the lot.

  John handed Kip a helmet, telling him they could communicate via the Bluetooth helmet headset and then showed him how. Getting on the bike, he started it up before telling Kip to “Hop on.”

  “Hop on my ass,” Kip muttered, getting a wicked grin from John. Oh, boy, I walked into that one. After putting on the helmet and gloves, he carefully climbed on behind John, using the left footrest first as instructed. “Now what?” he asked.

  “Two things. When I turn, meaning the bike, you lean into it. It’s counter-intuitive at first, but you’ll get the hang of it. Second, hold on to me until you get used to how things feel. Around my waist,” John added when Kip grabbed his shoulders. “Okay. You ready?”

  “I guess? Yeah, I am.” Kip tightened his grip around John’s waist when they moved from the lot onto the side street. John went slowly at first, making a few turns to let Kip get used to how they felt. Then he opened it up when they were on Colorado Boulevard. Not fast, but Kip was definitely aware they were moving in a way he never had experienced in a car. He almost wished they didn’t need the helmets, so he could feel the wind in his hair.

  They got on Sixth Avenue, heading west. “Where are we going?” Kip asked.

  “To Clear Creek Canyon. I thought about doing Virginia Canyon, but they don’t call it the ‘Oh my God road’ for nothing. I don’t think you’re nearly ready for it.”

  “No way in hell.” By then, with all the traffic on Sixth, he was hanging onto John for dear life. While the ride was thrilling, having the cars right beside them made Kip feel very vulnerable.

  “Squeeze any tighter and I might stop breathing,” Kip heard through the helmet’s system.

  “Sorry.” Kip loosened his hold—minimally.

  “You’re going to be fine, I promise. I’ve been riding since the year one and I’m still alive and kicking.”

  “You started when you were one? Are you…” Then Kip realized that was a saying, not a comment on when John first got on a bike—or maybe it was.

  “Yep. My dad believed in starting us early. Like I told you, my brothers ended up being car guys in spite of my father. Not me. It was a bike or nothing.”

  “That makes me feel better.”

  John chuckled. “Because now you know I didn’t learn to ride a week before we met?”

  “Umm, yeah.”

  Kip began to relax and enjoy the ride. As he did, he also became aware of how closely he was pressed to John’s body. He could feel the muscles rippling under John’s T-shirt and see his biceps flex. Who knew riding a motorcycle could be so erotic? For me, anyway. I’m sure he’s so used to riding double it doesn’t do a thing to him.

  * * * *

  Okay, maybe this wasn’t my best idea. John was very aware of Kip. Perhaps too aware. His body was beginning to react in ways he wished it wouldn’t. He’s just another guy. God only knows I’ve given other men rides and it hasn’t affected me this way. Well, unless I was using the bike as a way to seduce them. That had happened a couple of times with the expected results.

  This time, however…He’s a friend, and my employer, nothing more. Now all he had to do was convince himself it was the truth. Yes, he found Kip interesting but that was because he was so different from other men he’d known. He’s survived a bad beginning, including watching a man get murdered, and made something of his life. I’m not sure I could have if I’d been in his shoes. But then, I grew up in a loving family. Yeah, people look at me and think tough biker, and I play into the image when I’m in the mood. I’m not, though. I’m your average guy, if being a PI can be considered average. Give me a beer and a good book at the end of the day and I’m happy.

  “Whoa,” Kip said.

  John looked around, wondering what had brought on that comment. They’d just entered the canyon, with its steep walls and two-lane highway following Clear Creek.

  “This is so much more impressive than being in a car,” Kip murmured. “It makes me feel insignificant. I remember feeling like that when I was a teen and living rough in the mountains. I’d forgotten until now.”

  “I know what you mean,” John replied—and he did. It’s why he loved this kind of ride. “It gives me a perspective on what it must have been like for the early settlers and miners who came to Colorado seeking their fortunes. Of course they were on foot or horseback, but still.”

  “That took more guts than I’d ever have.”

  “Not true,” John said after veering around a slow-moving car full of what he figured were tourists. “You lived in the mountains without having anything more than they did. Probably less when it comes down to it.”

  “I…suppose. I was a reckless kid back then who thought surviving in the wilderness wouldn’t be a big thing after making on the streets. Of course, according to Sheriff Long I’d have changed my mind when winter set in.”

  “Do you think you he was right?” John asked as he drove the bike off the highway onto the gravel of a pull-off.

  “Oh, yeah. I might not have wanted to go back to Grand Junction, or some other place nearby, and start living the way I had been. But I wasn’t stupid. Freezing to death would have sucked.”

  John laughed, suggesting they get off the bike and go down by the creek. “We can pan for gold.”

  “Uh-huh. First we’d need pans. And do not tell me you’ve got a couple in your saddlebags.”

  “You never know.” John grinned as he hung his helmet on the handlebar, with Kip following suit before they walked to the edge of the
water. “I don’t,” he admitted. “Maybe next time we come up this way I’ll pick some up, first.”

  Kip looked at him in surprise. “You’re planning on making this a regular thing?”

  “Maybe,” John replied, sitting on his heels as he watched the water flow by. “It’s good for the soul and for getting away from the tensions of our lives.”

  Kip sat down beside him, nodding. “It is. It’s peaceful, if you ignore the sound of traffic behind us.”

  “Close your eyes and imagine it’s the wind.”

  Kip did, and smiled. “It does sort of sound like that. Well, it did until someone laid on their horn.” They both looked back to see why it had happened.

  John shook his head. “Some antsy gambler who doesn’t want to spend any more time than necessary getting up to Central City, and damn the drivers who want to be careful. This is not a road where idiots should play chicken.”

  “I bet when they come back down the hill they’ll be half smashed.” Kip shuddered. “At least we’ll be heading home before that happens.”

  “Definitely. My headlight doesn’t work.”

  Kip frowned then said, “Bull. It was on all the time we’ve been riding.”

  “I know. It’s mandatory, day or night, to make a cycle more visible to cars. They’re actually automatic-on, on my bike.”

  “You do like pulling my leg.”

  John smirked. “Sometimes you’re too easy.”

  Kip lifted an eyebrow. “It depends how you mean that.”

  “Not that way,” John assured him. I don’t think I’d mind if he was. Okay, yeah I would. I honestly don’t like men who fall into bed with any guy who asks. It makes me feel like I’m just another notch on their bedpost, as Dad used to say.

  “I have an idea,” Kip said, getting up. “Let’s pick up something to eat.”

  “Meaning it’s time to head back?”

  “I think so. It’s going to start getting dark soon, at least along here because of the mountains.”

  “Good point.” Returning to the bike, they put on their helmets and took off. When they got to Golden, they stopped at a burger place for take-out then found a small park with picnic tables.

  “Today was fun,” Kip said as they ate. “Well, the ride was.”

  “Then as I said, we’ll have to do it again,” John replied. “Maybe the ‘Oh my God road’ next weekend.”

  “But not until I’ve signed the agency over to you, so you can dump my body down a mineshaft and take over?”

  John knew Kip was kidding, but saying it reminded him of one the people on their list, whose body had ended up in one. Kip must have had the same thought because there was a speculative look on his face.

  “Don’t even think it,” John said. “We are not going to spend our weekends in the mountains looking for graves of the killers’ possible victims.”

  Kip chuckled. “Mind reading? Of course we aren’t. That would be an exercise in futility.”

  “No shit.”

  They finished eating then headed back to the agency. When they got to the parking lot, Kip hopped off the bike. “I’m getting the hang of this,” he said before putting the helmet and gloves in one of the saddlebags. “Another couple of times and I’ll be ready for lessons on how to drive this baby.” He patted the bike.

  “Oh, boy. I’ve created a monster,” John replied, shaking his head. “On the other hand, why not? Then you can get one, too, and we can do road trips.”

  “‘Easy Rider’ lives, as long as we don’t end up like they did.”

  “Yeah, for sure. Okay, I’ll see you Monday morning.” John waited until Kip was inside the building before taking off. It was fun, and we will do it again if I have anything to say about it.

  Chapter 6

  Kip turned on the local Sunday morning newscast on his way to the kitchen to fix breakfast. He’d just gotten out the eggs and was trying to decide whether to make an omelet or not when he heard the reporter say, “The body of the man wanted for questioning in the Alexander murder was found at approximately nine P.M. last night in a storage unit in the underground parking garage of an apartment complex two blocks from Sloan’s Lake. He was shot twice in the back of the head. According to the police, the victim was killed elsewhere, earlier in the week, and then moved to the storage unit belonging to one of the building’s tenants. They have identified the victim as Dustin ‘Dusty’ Parker.”

  The moment Kip pulled out his phone to call John, it rang. After glancing at the Caller ID he answered, saying, “You’ve heard.”

  “Yeah,” John replied. “I guess we can stop trying to find him. Someone beat us to it.”

  “My guess would be he was killed because his face made the news after Alexander’s murder. Although it sure took them long enough to deal with him.”

  “He might have gone into hiding until things cooled down. I would have if I’d been him. Then his partner or someone else he worked with located him and decided it was time to eliminate him for being stupid enough to have been photographed in the first place.”

  “Makes sense. Now we have to find out who he worked for.”

  “Leave it up to the police, Kip. That’s their job.”

  “I guess.”

  “Kip…”

  “Okay, okay, I will,” Kip replied, knowing full well he was lying. He’d been on this search almost since the day he’d seen Parker and the other man kill Mr. Constantine. He wasn’t about to give up now. Not until he knew who was behind it and the other murders.

  There was a low chuckle then John said, “You’re not going to stop, are you?”

  “Honestly, no.”

  “All right. At least wait until the cops have done their thing. They might come up with names of some of his known associates, which will give them and you a starting place.”

  “You’re right. So I’ll do what I planned for today.” Kip groaned dramatically. “Cleaning house and grocery shopping.”

  John laughed. “You and me, both. Have fun. I know I won’t.”

  * * * *

  “About time you showed up,” Nina said when Kip walked into the agency’s waiting room Monday morning.

  “Excuse me? It’s…” He checked the time. “Okay, so I’m five minutes late. Sue me.”

  “Would I get anything if I did,” she asked with a grin. “Your first appointment is due in ten minutes and John’s already at work on some background checks, he said.”

  Kip twirled a finger as he went in back, stepping into John’s office. “Background checks?” The image on the monitor might have passed as that if Kip hadn’t recognized the website.

  “I figured I’d take a few minutes to see what else the cops have found out about Parker. According to his preliminary report—” John tapped the screen, “—Detective Ingles, who’s in charge of the case, knows bupkis other than Parker’s home address and the company he worked for. Well, and that he’d been dead for two days before he was stuffed in that storage unit. That came from the coroner’s initial findings.”

  “I don’t suppose they ran the bullets to see if they match the ones from the Alexander murder.”

  “Not that he said in his report, but he’d be a lousy detective if he didn’t. Not only Alexander’s killing specifically, but also in any crime involving a gun.”

  “Okay. Thanks for the update. Now, about the background checks.” Kip turned to leave.

  “You don’t want to know where Parker worked?”

  “Where?” Kip replied, returning his attention to the report.

  “3-A Hauling, a salvage yard on North Federal.”

  “What do we know about it?”

  “Nothing so far. I can do come digging, if you’ll give me a break on the background checks.” John smiled winningly. “I’ll probably come up with the same thing the cops do, but who knows.” He backed off when Kip frowned. “Yeah, I know. Business first, pleasure later.”

  With an amused eye roll, Kip left John’s office to meet with the potential new clie
nt. The rest of the day and into the evening in this case, was spent as they usually were—a stakeout by John in the afternoon to catch a possible insurance fraudster, and Kip’s installing home security for the new client and adding GPS trackers the fleet of cars owned by a start-up courier service.

  By the time Kip got back to the agency it was well after seven. He checked in with John, who was still on the stakeout, having followed the woman and her husband home from shopping.

  “So far, she seems legit. He did all the lifting and carrying.” John chuckled. “Pissing and moaning about why they needed so damned many groceries. Unless she’s one hell of an actress, she’s in pain when she moves her right arm and shoulder, which is consistent with the doctor’s report on her injuries. I’m watching their house, now. They’ve got a dog and when he jumped on her in greeting she turned three shades of white. I don’t think she could have faked that.”

  “Okay. Write up your report first thing in the morning. It’s nice to know not everyone who files a claim is a crook, as much as the insurance company might wish otherwise.”

  “No kidding.”

  Kip ended the call and went downstairs to change clothes and fix supper. When he finished eating he went up to his office. Turning on his computer, he began to search for information on the salvage yard where Parker had worked. It took a lot of digging to discover that the owner was an anonymous LLC company in New Mexico, not the man whose name was listed as the owner in ads and on their website. A clever move, he thought, as New Mexico didn’t maintain any records of LLC ownership or management, meaning there was nothing to disclose. All the state required was Articles of Organization with only two names, the organizer and the registered agent, neither of whom needed to be the actual owner or manager of the LLC.

  Of course finding out who really does own it isn’t going to be easy. They created it to keep people like me, and the cops I’m sure, from learning who Parker and anyone else like him really are working for. I wonder if the police will be able to, and how long it will take before they do.

  He leaned back, staring off into space. I could put myself out there and see what happens. Not by going to the police to let them know I saw Parker kill Constantine. I’m not that crazy. They’d lock me up for obstruction of justice, or worse. Unless…He decided to talk it over with John before making a decision.