A Knight at the Opera (19 page)

"What did he want you to do?"

"He told me to take the key to the Englewood Post Office on South Broadway
and check a particular box. I was to do that every day for the next week and collect any mail
for him."

"What was the box number?"

"Twenty-seven thirty-two."

"Why was he having you get his mail? Did you ask him?"

"I did. He said his wife was trying to get him served with divorce papers, and he
was hiding out from her process server. He said she knew about the PO box and might have
someone staking it out."

"Sounds like bullshit to me," Stone said.

She shrugged. "It sounded odd to me, too. But he wasn't asking me to do
anything illegal. Since he had the key, I assumed he had the legal right to whatever was in
the box. I told him I'd do it."

"Okay. Is that what led to the broken arm?"

"Yeah. The next day, I went to the box. There was nothing in it. The day after
that, there was one envelope. It looked like a credit card bill. He called me later in the day
and asked if anything had shown up. I told him about the envelope."

"Did you make a copy of it?"

"No, but I noted the name. At the time, it meant nothing to me. Karl Markowsky.
Adam says--"

He dropped his pen and gawked at her. "Markowsky? The guy who did the swan
dive at the opera?"

"That's right," I told him. "But note that this occurred three days
after
Markowsky died."

He glared at me. "Why you didn't tell me about this before?"

"Two reasons. First, it didn't seem to have anything to do with his death, and I
was working in the interest of his widow, who is my client. Second, at least at that point, I
had no reason to believe the death involved a crime."

"And you do you now?"

"I don't know. This doesn't pertain directly to Markowsky. Let Jana finish her
story, and then you can decide for yourself."

He turned to Jana. "Go on."

"I didn't connect the name on the envelope with the man who died at the opera
house. I told my client I could just forward the envelope to him if he wanted me to. He
wouldn't give me a mailing address. He told me to go to the Cherry Creek Mall that night,
after ten o'clock, and to just leave the envelope in the staircase near Macy's. He said he'd
pick it up after I was gone."

Stone eyed me suspiciously. "This whole thing smells like three week old
salmon." He turned to me. "Is this something you've concocted to--"

"Why would I do anything like that?" I demanded, not bothering to conceal my
irritation.

"Because your client is the prime suspect in a suspicious death. With you, who
knows?"

"Think about Jana," I said. "Even if you believe I'd make up something this
bizarre, you know damn well she wouldn't."

"I suppose that's true," he allowed. "But maybe you've had a bad influence on
her." To Jana, he said, "Go on."

Jana wasn't going to let that pass. She gave him a stern look. "Adam is a
straight-shooter. You don't need to suspect everything he tells you."

"I disagree," he said. "But I don't have time to debate it this morning. What
happened at the mall?"

Looking peeved, she resumed her story. "Something happened, and I couldn't
leave the envelope. They leave the lights on at night. I started into the parking structure,
but there was a security guard parked in his car. He was at the other end of the lot, with his
back to me, but I was afraid he still might see me. If he did, he'd come over and find out
what it was. He might take it and open it. He might throw it away. He might even think it
was a bomb or something like that and call the police."

Stone had to write fast on his notepad to keep up with her. When he had caught
up with her, he said, "So you held onto the envelope?"

"I did. But as I came out of the garage to go back to my car, someone came up
from behind me and demanded the envelope. He was carrying what looked like the handle
of a jack from a big SUV or truck, and he attacked me."

Stone had snapped to attention. "A man in Aurora was murdered with a similar
weapon last night. He was an ex-Denver cop."

"That's why we're here, Joe," she said. "When we heard about that, we made the
connection and Adam said we needed to tell you about it right away. And I agreed with
him."

He looked over at me. "Yeah? For once, you're doing the right thing? I'll write
this down in my calendar. This is a red letter day. Of course, I don't have jurisdiction over
the other case."

I ignored the sarcasm. "I know. We're planning to go to the Aurora police, too.
We thought we should tell you first."

"You thought right. Go on, Ms. Deacon. What happened next?"

"He came at me with the weapon. I didn't have my Glock with me, and wouldn't
have had time to get it out, anyway. He swung at me with the thing, and I blocked it as best
as I could with my left arm. I also punched him somewhere in the face. That's the last thing
I remember. I woke up in the hospital. They told me later my arm was broken and I had a
concussion."

"The man who attacked you, what did he look like?"

"I don't know. He was wearing a black ski mask, the kind that covers everything
but your eyes, nose and mouth. He was about Adam's size, medium build, and I remember
he was wearing gloves. Like black ski gloves. "

"Describe his voice."

"Just a voice. Nothing unique about it. All he said was, 'Give me your purse. The
envelope too,' so it wasn't enough to tell me anything about him. Besides, I was startled and
fending off his attack. At least, trying to fend off his attack." She raised her left arm to
demonstrate how she had gone about it.

"What about the man who hired you? Same voice?"

"I don't know. He spoke in sort of a whisper. It could have been the same man. I
don't know."

"Did you see his vehicle?"

"No."

"What kind of clothes was he wearing?"

"I don't know. All I remember is some sort of dark coat. The whole thing
probably lasted five seconds."

"Did you smell cologne or anything like that?"

"No, nothing."

"All right," he said, "now tell me about the Aurora murder. What do you know
about that?"

I said, "This is where I step in. But, first, I have a question. Jana. when you saw
that the guard was on duty, did you hang around that parking garage for a while, to see if he
might leave?"

She stared at me. "Actually, I did."

"For how long?"

"I don't know. Probably fifteen minutes. Why?"

"Just curious. Probably nothing." I turned to Stone. "We knew the envelope had
something to do with Markowsky, but there was no reason to think it had anything to do
with his death."

"Yeah? Then why was someone trying to get his hands on Markowsky's
mail?"

"I wondered about that, of course, but there was no obvious answer. The only
guess I could come up with was that maybe he had charged something that he wanted kept
secret, and he--or someone else--wanted to get their hands on that bill. But that doesn't
work, because I can't explain how anyone could have acquired the key to Markowsky's post
office box."

"I'll leave the fancy guesswork to you. Did either of you report the assault?"

"No," Jana said, in a tone which sounded defensive. "Assaults happen in Cherry
Creek all the time. And I didn't want anybody to know about this until I had some idea what
it was all about."

"You were embarrassed," he said mildly. "I get that. But you still should have
reported it."

"I know."

"Back to Aurora," I said. "The night Jana was attacked, Maurice and I went to the
mall and found the security guard. He told us what he knew about Jana, which wasn't much.
He had found her and called an ambulance. He thought she had just passed out and banged
her head on the concrete."

"Yeah?" he asked in a skeptical tone. "How could he not--"

I shrugged. "Don't ask me. I don't know. I just know what he told me. By the way,
we know that whoever attacked her wasn't there to rob her. Maurice and I found her purse
in the bushes. Nothing was missing. Her credit cards, cash, driver's license, all of those
things were intact."

"Yeah?"

"There's more. I left one of my business cards and asked the security guard to
contact me if he thought of anything else that might be important. He called me the next
day. He said someone had contacted him and was trying to find the woman who had been
taken to the hospital."

"So why was he bothering to call you?"

"Because I gave him five twenties to talk to us that night. He was probably
hoping there was more to follow. I told Jana about the call. She should pick it up from
here."

She leaned forward a little. "Because of the concussion, I've been sitting home,
going stir crazy." I noticed she didn't mention whose home. "After Adam told me that
someone was looking for me, I started thinking it must be the man in the black mask,
maybe to finish what he'd started that night. I reasoned that they might be watching Adam,
hoping he'd lead them to me."

"Makes sense," he said. "What did you do?"

"I used my GPS signal detector and found out someone had tagged Adam's car. I
had him drive to the Cherry Cricket, and I followed him in my own car, keeping a few blocks
behind. I tracked the GPS receiver and was able to get close enough to the other car to get
his license plate number. It took me about five minutes to run the plate through one of my
online data bases. It was a white Blazer, registered in the name of Andrew Bonners. I didn't
know he was an ex-cop."

"He's the one who contacted the guard at the mall?"

"I think so," she said. "Bonners was the man who was trying to find me."

"Was he the one who assaulted you?"

"I don't think so. I'm pretty sure Bonners was bigger, although I never saw him
standing up. Just head, neck and shoulders."

"You followed him to the Cherry Cricket?"

"Right. Adam and I both parked in the Sears garage. We went into the Cricket
and had dinner. Bonners waited outside in the Blazer."

He squinted at her. "He was looking for you, and you walked into the restaurant
with Larsen?"

"It's not as crazy as it sounds. I was wearing a disguise and kept my cast out of
sight. He couldn't have known I was the woman he was trying to find."

"Okay," he said, sounding dubious. "What happened next?"

She glanced reproachfully at me. "Adam decided we needed to confront
him."

Stone looked over in my direction. "It didn't occur to you to call the police?"

"It did. And they would have said, 'You want us to arrest someone because you
think he planted a GPS transmitter on your car?' You tell me, is that even illegal? Would
they have sent someone out to arrest him?"

"Probably not," he conceded. "It's only a minor misdemeanor. They would have
told you to file a report. So what did you do to 'confront' him?"

Jana said, "He walked right up to the Blazer and tapped on the window."

"That was real bright," Stone commented. "Are you tired of living?"

"No," I said, although I had to admit, it made me sound pretty reckless. "I just
wanted to tell him that whoever had hired him should just call me and stop all this
clandestine nonsense. I might give them the information they wanted."

He shook his head in grudging admiration. "Wow. You really have balls, don't
you? What did he say in response to all that?"

"At first, he tried to intimidate me. Cursing at me, pretending he had no idea who
I was. But I happened to recognize him and I told him to drop the act."

"Yeah? How did that work out for you?"

"Just fine. He dropped the tough guy routine. I told him what I told you. Have
whoever hired him get in touch with me. That's why Jana and I figured we needed to come
see you today. Bonners probably contacted his client and told him what I said. And it got
him killed."

"Bonners was no fool," Stone said. "Nobody could have just walked up to him
with a tire iron and taken him down."

"Probably not. But he had one disadvantage. He'd never seen his client, but the
client knew who Bonners was. The assailant could have been at the bar without his even
knowing it, or could have just been hanging around outside. Probably the latter. Otherwise,
someone in the bar might be able to recognize him. Bonners wasn't expecting trouble, and
apparently had been drinking."

"That's what got him fired," Stone said. He fixed his gaze on Jana. "So why was
everyone looking for Ms. Deacon?"

She looked over at me, and I nodded, to indicate she should tell him. "I'm
assuming it was that envelope. It was a credit card bill from Bank of America."

Stone eyed her suspiciously. "You opened it?"

She solemnly shook her head. "I wouldn't do that." She looked over at me, and I
picked up the story.

"You know I'm representing Joyce Markowsky. At first, it was just to deal with
her husband's business partners. Then, when your storm troopers showed up with a search
warrant, it became a criminal defense matter. It also now involves litigation with
Markowsky's ex-wife. Before I go on, I need to ask if she's still a person of interest in her
husband's death."

He said, "Why should I tell you that?"

"Because if she's still under suspicion, then I can't tell you what I know. You
would construe it as a motive."

"You mean she wanted him dead?"

"No, she actually wanted him alive. It's complicated." I didn't say it, but there
were two million reasons she wanted him alive long enough for his life insurance policy to
become incontestable. What concerned me more was the notion of his hiring a woman
from the Rawlings escort service--and the reaction one might expect from a wife who found
out her husband was doing something like that--but I saw no reason to disclose that to
Stone. What I did say was, "But, in any event, I need to know if she's still under
consideration for criminal charges."