Leave No Stone Unturned (A Lexie Starr Mystery, Book 1) (15 page)

"Oh, I think you will."

"This is my club," Baines said, with emphasis on "club," having apparently resented
Stone's use of the word "joint" to describe it. "I don't have to answer to you or
allow you on my property. So, you and your partner can get your asses out of here
right now."

Oh, cool, I thought; now I'm a detective. That's much more fascinating than being
an exterminator, or a writer—or, egad, a library assistant. I can't wait to tell my
buddies back in Kansas, whom I'm sure will be duly impressed. Or possibly, in the
case of a few of my more conservative, stick-in-the-mud-type friends, merely appalled
by my acts of subterfuge and deception. Sometimes I wonder how I even acquired such
boring pals.

I turned my attention back to the scene unfolding in front of me. Stone was now positioned
right in front of Baines McFarland, practically shouting. "My partner, Detective Smith,
and I will get our asses out of your sleazy joint just as soon as you answer my questions.
You got that, McFarland?"

"You got a search warrant?"

"No, because I hadn't planned on searching the place. I was trying to spare you a
lot of grief. But we can play it your way if you'd rather. I can have a search warrant
here in ten minutes, along with my team of investigators, who will search this place
from top to bottom, looking for any little reason they can find to shut a place like
this down. I know it would give them a great deal of pleasure to see this kind of
dive become history. They absolutely despise low-class establishments, and strip clubs
of any kind."

"They won't find anything here illegal, or not within code," Baines challenged.

Stone looked at me, and asked, "What do you think, Detective Smith? Think they'll
find a reason to shut this place down?"

"I'd be willing to bet next month's salary that they find a dozen reasons to shut
it down," I replied, in my best detective voice.

"Yeah, and you'd win that bet."

Stone turned back to Baines McFarland. "They better not find you've ever served liquor
to a minor here, or that you ever do in the future, because your every move will be
monitored. And there'd better not be one gram of illegal drugs on the premises or
the building will be confiscated. Have you checked your employee's lockers recently?
Because if there is one gram, I can guarantee you that my team will find it—while
you're down at the station being interrogated on a charge of accessory to murder and/or
obstruction of justice." Stone could be very intimidating when he was impersonating
an officer. I began to wonder how many crimes we would be guilty of before the day
was over. We were on a fairly impressive roll so far.

"I haven't been involved in any murder," Baines countered anxiously, obviously caught
off guard by Stone's last remark. "I don't even know what you're talking about."

"So, then what are you trying to hide?"

"Nothing. I'm not trying to hide anything, Wesson. I just don't like cops coming in
here threatening me, and demanding answers."

"And I don't like people who aid and abet murderers!"

"I didn't aid or abet anyone!"

"Then do you want to talk to me, or do you want me to go make a call to have a search
warrant and the A team here in ten minutes? That's 'A' for asshole, McFarland, because
that's what you'll be calling them when they're putting a padlock on your front door."

"All right, all right, Wesson. Jesus, you damn cops are all alike. What the hell do
you want to know?" Baines asked wearily.

Stone jabbed the photo of Clay right in the smaller man's face and said, "I want to
know if you've ever seen this individual in your 'club', like I asked you before."

This time Baines McFarland studied the photo momentarily, while wiping beads of sweat
off his forehead. I noticed a slight tremble in his hand as it held the photo.

"No, never seen him in the club that I recall, but I do know the guy. Can't think
of his name right offhand, but he used to live with one of our strippers, Jake Jacoby.
He picked Jake up here once when Jake's car was in the shop." He stopped talking as
if suddenly afraid he was telling us too much.

"Go on!" Stone said, forcibly.

"I—er—well, I think Jake was kind of sweet on him. I always thought it was odd that
this guy lived with Jake. He was training to be a damned cop, like you two. Even had
a wife back in New York somewhere, but I heard she got killed a couple years ago."

"That's correct. It was the murder of this guy's wife that Detective Smith and I are
investigating. His name's Clay Pitt, by the way. Think there's any chance that Jacoby
or Pitt could've been involved in her murder?"

"Well, I didn't know Pitt well enough to speculate about him, but Jake seems like
an all right kind of guy. He's got a temper though. And he's built like a brick shithouse
too, since he's been spending so much time at the gym. I watched him beat a guy to
a bloody pulp here one night, just because the guy flirted with a fellow that Jake
had taken a fancy to. He might've killed him if one of my bouncers hadn't pulled him
off the poor kid. As it was, the guy lost some teeth and had to have his face stitched
back together. I almost fired Jacoby over that. Probably should have."

Stone thanked him for the information. "See how easy that was?" he asked.

Baines, possibly wanting to ensure that Stone had called off the "A" team, said, "Wesson,
you might be able to find out more from Bill James. He owns the convenience store
down at Twelfth Street and Vine. Jake clerks there for Bill during the day, and works
here at night for me."

"Okay, we might just do that. Keep our little conversation to yourself, okay? You
wouldn't want to do anything to obstruct justice. I really don't want to have to call
my team in, but I will if it becomes necessary. Chances are, Jake's clean anyway."

"No problem, I won't mention it. Frankly, if Jake's involved in murder, I don't want
him working here anyway. It's not good for the club's reputation, and I do run a tight
ship, Detective Wesson, whether you consider it a sleazy joint or not. I don't like
lawsuits. I've already had one filed against me, by the guy Jake pummeled here, the
one I was telling you about earlier. It's a hassle that I could do without. I try
to avoid any kind of problem, if at all possible."

"I agree with you. It's better to stay within the limits of the law and avoid unpleasant
situations, like lawsuits and criminal charges." Stone pulled a pen and small pad
of paper out of his pocket and began to write. "Here's my cell phone number if you
think of anything else that might help. If you can't reach me there, I'm staying at
the Camelot B&B on Union Street in Schenectady while I work on this case. I don't
have the number with me, but you can check with directory assistance."

Just the thought of lawsuits and criminal charges had made Baines break out in a sweat
again, and he was wiping furiously at his forehead with his sleeve. He nodded, took
the information from Stone, and walked away from us to answer a ringing phone. When
he picked up the handset, I turned to Stone.

"Detectives Smith and Wesson?" I asked, with a chuckle. "Was that the best you could
come up with?"

"Hey, I was ad-libbing, and working under pressure. Fortunately, McFarland was under
even more pressure," Stone answered with a sheepish grin.

"And why are you carrying a police badge? Is there something you're not telling me,
Stone? Are you really some kind of undercover CIA agent, or does that badge just happen
to say 'Captain Courageous' on it?"

"No, I'm not with the CIA, or anything like that—but it is official," Stone said.
He smiled at my question. He then removed the shiny metal badge from his pocket for
my inspection. "Deputy Officer Stone Van Patten" was inscribed across the badge, under
"Myrtle Beach, South Carolina."

"A few years back—right after Diana died—I was bored and restless. I really needed
something to do other than working and staring at the walls. I volunteered to be a
reserve officer with the local sheriffs office. I still try to put in about ten or
twelve hours a week. No pay, but it's been a very interesting and valuable experience.
I brought the badge along because I had a hunch it might come in handy."

I laughed at Stone's apparent embarrassment at the admission. "I wish I had your foresight
and cleverness, Detective Wesson."

As we left the club, I wondered how a guy with two jobs like Jake Jacoby, who had
very few material things, could have less than two hundred dollars in the bank.

* * *

Stone entered the little store at Twelfth and Vine to buy us something to drink and
also to speak with Bill James if possible. He exited with a couple of Cokes, and an
answer to my question about Jake's financial status. Bill was out of town, but unlike
Baines McFarland, the clerk behind the counter was more than willing to tell Detective
Wesson everything he knew about Jake Jacoby. He had no use for Jake; that much was
obvious, Stone said. According to the clerk, our Mr. Jacoby had a boyfriend named
Wade, a bad attitude, and an expensive cocaine habit.

Chapter 15

Stone stepped out onto the back porch on Tuesday morning with a cup of coffee and
an amused expression on his face. We'd arrived back at Harriet's on Monday afternoon,
after spending the night in Boston and enjoying a wonderful lobster dinner at an outdoor
cafe near a marina. He leaned over the railing of the porch and spat a mouthful of
coffee grounds out into the yard, then sat down in his lawn chair.

"Sinbad just called me a birdbrain," he said. "Now why would he call me that when
he calls you 'sweetie' most of the time?"

"Must just be a bird with discriminating taste."

"Humph," Stone replied, feigning disgust. "You may have an even meaner streak than
Sinbad."

"Well, you know, being called a 'birdbrain' by a parrot might actually be a compliment.
And, don't forget, when Sinbad's not calling me 'sweetie' he's referring to me as
a 'damn nuisance.' "

"You are kind of a damn nuisance, aren't you 'sweetie'? Lucky for you that you're
so damn cute too."

I knew that Stone was joking with me, but I did have to wonder if he wasn't beginning
to regret his decision to come to Schenectady to help me. It hadn't been all fun and
games, by a long shot.

As if he'd read my mind, he crouched down in front of me. With his free hand under
my chin, he tilted my head up so he could look me right in the eyes. I was struck
again at how light his blue eyes were.

"Lexie, you do know that I was just teasing, don't you? If I didn't want to be here
with you, I wouldn't be. I'm enjoying your company more than I can tell you."

"Good, I'm really enjoying your company too. I feel bad that you had to get involved
in this whole convoluted mess, though."

"Don't, Lexie. That's why I came here, remember? To help you through this."

"I was afraid you just wanted to come to determine whether or not you wanted to pursue
a relationship with me," I said, somewhat shyly.

"I haven't eliminated that possibility, but it's not the reason I'm here. I've been
completely up-front with you. I'd never try to weasel my way into your life. I have
more respect for you than that, Lexie. Are you totally opposed to the idea of a relationship
with me—sometime in the future, perhaps?"

"No, it's not that at all. I think you're terrific, Stone. I'm just not sure I'm ready
to rush into a relationship with anybody right now. But if I did, it would be with
you."

"I know you don't want to rush into a relationship. And I certainly don't want to
rush you into anything if you're not ready. I'm not a hundred percent sure that I'm
ready for a relationship either. But I do know that I find you very attractive, and
getting to know you the last few days has made me happier than I've been since I lost
my Diana. I think we'll both know if and when we're ready to take the next step, don't
you?"

It was the most intimate remarks I'd heard Stone make, and it brought tears to my
eyes. I put my hand gently against his cheek, and said simply, "Yes, I do—and thank
you. You really are a dear, sweet gentleman."