Wrong Number: Det. Lt. Nick Storie Mysteries, #14

By C. D. Moulton

Be careful what you put on autodial. Nick is called because of the numbers on a missing person's phone. It has something to do with someone who didn't die some years ago?

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. D. Moulton
• Release date: Jun 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201661410

Book preview

Prologue

Wrong Number

Puck Green (Real name, Lyle) sighed deeply and looked around at the small new offices of the equally new Black & White Detective Agency.

Muck (Actually George) Peets grinned and signaled him a thumbs up.

They'd made it! They were in business!

Puck was the white half of the agency. He'd be the one who met the clients (Hopefully!) and handled their reports, comps and information-gathering end. Muck would be more the legwork and action man. He was the black partner. The two had become close friends at a PTI rehab program. Puck was gay, Muck was strictly straight. It was an incongruous friendship in a number of ways. There had been a murder at the plastics company that was holding the rehab work program. A police detective, Lt. Nick Storie, had come in and shown them some cops, at least, were actually decent human beings. Nick had helped them get a Crane grant in police work, which they'd made an agreement under which they'd work with the Collier Police Department for their entire apprentice period. Muck had spent the past several weeks working with Lt. Ed Goins of burglary. He'd also worked with Dr. Tiny Menthorne and Frog Forest in forensics. They both agreed. What they learned with those people in a week was as much as they'd learned in six months at the police academy.

Larry Feng, another man from the rehab program, was working with homicide with Lt. Jim Hill and Lt. Nick Storie, directly. He'd also become a cop.

Well! All we need now is a client and we're in business! Puck said happily. I'll work with Tiny and Frog three days a week for the next six months as part of the deal. I think I'll try to keep that going, after. I can't believe what they can teach me!

Yo! Muck agreed. "Ed's a strange duck, but he don't miss a trick! He says something with a straight face. You don't realize 'til an hour later that it was a big yuk! I'll get to work with Nick and Jim some and I'll be with vehicular next week – this week, really.

Do you get to work with Dolly much?

Yo! I will now. Her and Marsh (Special Ade. Marsha Blevins, homicide, aide to Capt. Paddy James) will show me the computer and office end of it. The comps can save months of work. Get on the web and learn everything about anybody in a few minutes. Larry's going to help us with the covert stuff.

The phone rang. Black and White. How may I help you? Puck asked.

Puck? Larry Southern here. I mainly called to welcome you into the business world. Lonnie (sigh) said you were opening the Black and White Agency today, so I thought, seeing as you're licensed and all that crap, you could handle a thing or two for the coalition. It's a legitimate job. Not a deal.

Larry Southern was head of the Gay Coalition. Puck had the conversation on speaker. Muck frowned and raised an eyebrow at Puck.

Such as? Puck asked.

"We've gotten a series of strange calls. I don't know what it's about, but it is not what it sounds like, I flat guarantee! Ben – my secretary – recorded the stuff. We can bring it over there or you can come here. It seems a bit sinister, if you get the drift."

We'll come over, Muck said. Half an hour?

Fine! Larry replied. Puck switched the phone off.

IF it's not just some make-work crap to give the queen his first job! Muck added before Puck could say anything. We need the work, but it has to be real. We don't accept charity.

Puck nodded. They headed for the coalition offices.

I ... made a mistake. Wrong number. Sorry to bother you.

Muck looked at Larry and shrugged.

That was the first one. Eleven twenty two AM on the fourth. The day before yesterday, Larry explained. The number calling is recorded with the time and date on the digital memory unit here. He pointed at the readout screen. "We would've erased it, but it was still on the tape when the next call came in on the fifth. The number was listed, so it sort of connected and we kept it.

Here.

Ben Sellars, the secretary, ran the tape on a bit: Gay Coalition. Good morning!

You've got to stop him somehow! Please! a woman's voice cried. They'll kill him! Oh, god! What...? The what...? Gay? I don't.... the line went dead.

One more call, Ben said and ran the tape on: Gay coalition. Good afternoon!

Listen! I called you this morning? the voice replied. "I don't know how your number got put on this stupid thing, but it dials automatically.

What the hell! What does Sam have to do with you? Why is your number on this thing? What's going on?

Sam who? I don't have the foggiest idea what you're talking about, Ben said.

"I know. I'm so scared! They'll kill him! Sam Haddon. He's in some kind of trouble. There were these threats. Twice. He's disappeared! I don't know why your number's on this thing. It's in the emergency section. There's nothing but the number. No name or anything.

I've got to find him!

Let me check it. Sam Haddon? Ben said. There was a pause. We don't have any listing of a Sam Haddon. Is it possible it was a business number that was put on the wrong line or something?

I don't ... no. I mean ... no. She sounded positive.

What business is he in?

He's a bartender for The Lotus Pond Lounge. Just before the Pointe at forty one and Grand Sea Blvd.

"They aren't listed as ever contacting us, but it is quite possible they called about an employee or a civil matter of some sort, Ben said, after a pause. I think, if someone's missing, particularly if there were threats, you should call the police. First thing!"

I can't! Thank you. She hung up.

That's it? Puck asked.

"That's most of it, Larry said. It got me curious, so I went to The Lotus Pond Lounge last night. Sam, the bartender, never showed up for work night before or last night – and didn't call, according to the manager."

We can check it out, Muck decided. He's probably hiding from her or from some husband or something.

"Ah-ah! I just said 'according to the manager,'" Larry insisted pointedly.

Oh? Puck was perking up.

According to Kiki and Toya, tablehops, he came to work at the regular time, then didn't come out of the changing room again and wasn't there later.

And? Puck asked.

And there was another bartender there ready to take his place – and the manager told them Sam had quit. The manager is a sleazebag of the first water.

Hmmm! Muck replied. "Give us a copy of the tape. I'll want the number ... it will be on it. I can check this out pretty fast, I think.

I'll want the calling number right now. I can drop Puck off and go on to visit the lady.

They got the copy and headed for the office. Puck used the computer to find the address of the calling number.

It's listed under S. Haddon, Puck reported. It’s nine ten Lily Creek Lane, North Naples. Samuel John Haddon.

That was fast! How did you manage to get the phone company to cooperate that fast?

"Dolly showed me a trick or two, so I don't need any phone company. I scanned the phone book to disk. All I have to do is a forward trace on the number. Three seconds.

We didn't get a retainer.

This one is gratis, no doubt, but we can use a bit of actual experience to get started. Muck grinned. Besides! What can it take? An hour?

Puck? There's something awfully strange going on here! Muck reported. I'm down from the Haddon place. A woman answered the door and said she hadn't called, she's the only one here, she's the only one who's been here for two weeks and she isn't interested in any new kind of sales gimmick, so knock it off! She slammed the door in my face.

Voice?

"Very definitely not the one we heard on that tape! On the tape she sounded like a normal woman. This one sounded almost masculine, if you know what I mean. Hard."

"It's not a cell phone. Is there more than ... you couldn't tell from there.

"Okay. If anyone comes or goes, follow them.

Where are you?

Half a block down and around the corner behind a fig bush. The call came from that phone or there's a wireless pickup that someone got hold of. If it was autodial from here, then it was made from the phone in there. I wish I could tap it! I'd like to know who she calls, now that I came here ... Wait a minute. A car just drove in.

Gimme!

Dark green ninety six Mercury four door HT, license number X-ray six six space four Thomas Harold nine, Muck replied quickly.

Hmm. Doing a trace ... C. L. Mathews. Thirty seven sixteen Gadsdon Manor Place. It's not....

The woman I talked to just came outside. There's some mousy guy with her. They have a cardboard box. They're getting in the car. It's leaving, Muck interrupted. I'll follow!

Be careful!

Puck? Muck asked.

Go!

They drove to The Lotus Pond and around back. They went inside. They were carrying the box. Call Larry Southern and see if the manager is that Mathews character. I'm going back to the Haddon place and see what there is to see.

Okay. I'm getting Larry on another line, so hang on. Muck waited about a minute until Puck said, Mathews isn't the manager. His name is Jacob Horowitz. He's about five eight, a hundred fifty, slick black hair and a thin mustache. Forty – plus or minus five.

That's the one who was in the house with the broad. It gets curiouser and curiouser! Muck drove back to the house and was just getting out of his car when a Chevy Lumina pulled into the driveway and a sexy attractive woman got out. She went to the front door and seemed to be shocked when it was unlocked. She looked back toward the car, undecided.

I'm George Peets, better known as Muck, Muck said, running toward her. I'm working for Larry Southern.

She took a can of pepper spray from her purse and pointed it at him. That's close enough!

Look! You called Larry and said someone was trying to kill Sam and that he was missing! I'm just a private detective. Larry asked us to look into it. There were some people in that house a few minutes ago. Jacob Horowitz and some woman.

Who the hell is Larry? Who is this Horowitz character?

Larry. At the Gay Coalition. Your voice on the tape, this number on the phone ID. Horowitz is the manager at The Lotus Pond Lounge.

She looked scared and undecided.

Call Naples South Station. Violent Crimes Division. They'll identify me. I don't think anyone's in the house now. They had somebody named Mathews to pick them up. They took a box.

She took a deep breath. Come on into the den. I don't know what's going on! I'll keep the pepper spray pointed at you while I call the sheriff.

Fine! I want to know what's going on.

So do I! she said with feeling.

She called 9-1-1 and said she had to talk with Naples South Station. Marsha was on the line in a few seconds and said Muck was who he said he was – and what the hell was going on? The woman handed Muck the phone after saying, "I'm Kitty O'Brien. I don't know what's goin on!"

Muck gave Marsha a quick rundown. She said to get in touch right away if anything was wrong. Don't try to be a hero. It could result in disaster.

Muck agreed and went through the house with Kitty. It was Haddon's house. She was his live-in. She worked until four and came home for lunch. Now. She couldn't see that anything was missing and had no idea what it might be about.

He's a bartender where he heard or saw something, probably something to do with drugs, Muck said. The wrong person knows he knows. That puts him in a bad spot.

I don't think so! He wouldn't be involved with drugs in any way. He had enough problems working with booze all the time. Drugs only make a bad situation intolerable. The people who frequent that place wouldn't be into drugs. It's something else.

"Okay. I'll try to find him. I'll see what it's about. If you see or hear anything, call me! Put my number on your autodial!"

She took his card and went into the kitchen. The phone's gone! What the hell is that crap about?!

Very curious! Muck said. What can you tell me about the numbers on the autodial?

Other than the fact I never knew who I was calling, a lot of nothing!

Muck's pager sounded. He read it and said he had to get out to his car. She was to be very careful. If there was any place she could stay to be away from that house, go there! Now! She had his number. Use it or call Nick Storie at violent crimes if she thought of anything.

He went to his car and headed back toward the office. His pager said that he was to come in. Fast! Don’t call!

The Mercury was sitting out front.

What? he demanded as he went in. Puck was sitting across his desk from a well-dressed middle-aged man.

This is Special Security Agent Mark Flynt, IRS, Puck introduced. "My partner, George Peets.

He wants to ask you a few questions. Larry Southern gave him our name and said we were working on the Haddon case.

He pointed to the monitor, where he'd written, No way! IRS never heard of this turkey!

Really? The Haddon case? Muck seemed confused. "What the hell is the Haddon case? I haven't any idea what the hell ... oh! I went to the number. Nobody called from there, so it was probably a pirated call from a cell phone. Somebody was playing a big joke on the queens or something.

The IRS?

Yes. It seems Mr. Haddon owes us quite a large sum of money, Agent Flynt replied. We very much want to locate him!

Sorry. I can't help you. I'm not going to be looking for him. We won't get paid.

"The IRS will retain you. We very much want to find Mr. Haddon. He owes quite a lot of money."

I told him we won't work without a retainer, Puck said. "We will put it on our tax return!"

We'll check! Agent Flynt replied with a chuckle. You said a thousand dollars?

He gave Puck ten hundred dollar bills. Cash? The IRS? Muck asked.

"And a receipt! Flynt" replied, so Puck wrote out a cash receipt made out to the IRS.

Now you can report to Mark what you know,