Chapter 10

Joe pulled into Sally's Burgers and Beer and saw Detective Ziegler getting out of his patrol car. There was a parking spot near Ziegler's and Joe wheeled his truck into it.

Ziegler walked over to greet Joe.

Joe climbed out of his truck and nodded to Ziegler. "Thanks for meeting me."

Ziegler noted Joe's slightly disheveled appearance and lifted a dark eyebrow in question. "Busy morning?"

Joe shut the door of his truck and pocketed his keys. "You could say that."

"I did say that." Ziegler stood calmly waiting for Joe to explain.

"I'll tell you about it over lunch," Joe said and the two men turned and walked into the restaurant.

# # # #

The trailers were down the lane a bit. He stopped several hundred yards short and parked his vehicle up under some stunted trees. He got out and checked his surroundings. Weeds and trees. No people outside. No kids playing on the lane. School didn't let out for another two hours. He pulled the ax from beneath the driver's seat and quietly closed the vehicle's door. Checked his surroundings again and again saw no one on this rutted, gravel lane. A few people should be home. The people living here, in these trashy trailers, were not known to have steady employment. Most were on welfare and sat home all day watching TV. Some would be retirees who didn't make enough to afford anything better. Too bad for them.

Caution was the word of the day. He tucked the handle of the brand new ax into the waistband of his jeans and zipped up his jacket. There, the ax was hidden from view. He turned and walked down the rutted, gravel lane. He veered toward Dolores Gage's trailer. A reproachful sneer lifted one corner of his mouth. The place was a dump. One good thing about it, the covered porch. It was dark up under there. He'd blend right into the shadows.

He climbed the porch steps and walked to the front door. The knob turned readily beneath his hand. He stepped inside, shut the door, and scanned the short hall and beyond to the living room. The sounds of a TV drifted on the stale, nasty air inside the trailer. She was there, probably in the living room, watching TV. And she hadn't heard him come in.

# # # #

Joe and Ziegler were seated in a booth tucked in a back corner away from the other customers. All nice and private. The smell of hamburgers and greasy food saturated the air.

The waitress set two glasses of iced tea on the table and smiled kindly at Ziegler and Joe. "Your burgers will be out shortly. If you need anything else just let me know."

Both men said, thanks, and the waitress left. Both men took a long, thirst quenching gulp of their tea.

Ziegler set his glass down and eyed Joe with interest. "You were going to tell me about your morning."

Joe hung his head and shook it slightly. His morning. An hour removed from the events and he could hardly believe they had actually happened. Oh, but they had. He brought his head up and peered at Ziegler. "Kyle Nicholson. I had a meeting with him this morning. The man's got a lot of security down there at the docks. His docks. You ever suspect something illegal might be going on down there?"

Ziegler chuckled under his breath and leaned back, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Nicholson. How'd you manage a meeting with him?"

"More like he managed a meeting with me." Joe took another gulp of his tea.

"Explain, please." Ziegler was a man of little patience and Joe was already testing it.

"I tried the traditional way of getting an interview. Called Nicholson's secretary first thing this morning and was given the runaround. Decided I'd drive to the docks and check the place out for myself. Figured I'd walk the perimeter. What harm could it do?" Joe gave a half-hearted shrug. "I found a shipping container graveyard, or junkyard, or whatever you want to call it."

"I'm familiar with the place," Ziegler said. "Several organizations in town have tried to clean it up. Nicholson has interfered with each and every one of their efforts. Seems he likes the place just the way it is."

"Begs the question of why," Joe said and waited for an answer.

Ziegler thought for a second. "It does. I can't remember all the reasons Nicholson has given to keep people out, but suffice it to say, he doesn't want anyone poking around that junkyard."

Joe ran a hand over his chin. "Yeah, I got that message loud and clear. While I was strolling through there, just looking around," Joe's tone was innocent, but Ziegler knew better, "someone took a shot at me with an AR-15. I know for a fact it was an AR-15, got a good look at it, up close and personal."

Ziegler's attention was officially aroused. He leaned forward and placed his forearms on the table. "Someone tried to kill you?"

"Can't say for sure they were trying to kill me. Given what happened afterwards, I'd say the shot was only a warning."

"What happened afterwards?"

Joe told Ziegler the rest of the story, told him basically what he'd told Frank earlier. He also gave Ziegler the names, Deke and Travis. "Have any idea who they are?" Joe asked.

Ziegler scratched his cheek and thought. "Nope, but I can run their names through the system when I get back to the office. The name Deke is unusual enough I might get a hit. He might have committed a petty crime at one time. Or you could press charges, then I could bring him in for questioning. Could probably hold him for reckless endangerment with a firearm or unlawful use of a firearm. Both of which are felonies. I'd learn his last name once I brought him in."

"All very true." Joe hesitated and drew in a breath. His forehead wrinkled into a deep frown. "I thought about pressing charges, but it would just come down to my word against his. It'd be a big waste of police time and you don't need that, not when there's a killer on the loose. The police need to spend their time and energy on finding him. Besides, pressing charges would put me directly in Nicholson's crosshairs."

Ziegler let out a soft snort and grinned. "I think you're already in Nicholson's light of sight. But from what I've learned about you Private Investigator Hardy, you don't scare easily."

Joe cocked his head. "Checked out my background?"

"Wouldn't be doing my job if I hadn't." Joe nodded his agreement and Ziegler continued, "The Police Chief in River Heights speaks highly of you and your partners at the Endeavor Detective Agency. I also spoke to a couple of his police officers. They, too, praised you, your brother, and your other partner. They said all three of you are former law enforcement. You and your brother are prior military?"

"Correct," Joe said. "I was an MP in the Army. Did some time in Afghanistan."

"Tough duty over there."

"It was," Joe admitted and left it at that.

"Well, thanks for your service." Ziegler lifted his glass and sipped his tea.

Joe sipped his tea and considered his next words carefully. After some thought, he decided the direct approach was best. Why beat around the bush, just cut right to the chase. Joe set down his glass, leaned forward, and folded his hands together on the table. "Now that you know my background and experience, I'd like to offer my services, sort of. What I mean is, I'd like to work with you on Dan Sagget's murder. I'd like us to share information with each other. Sort of be a team. How do you feel about that?"

Ziegler gave the suggestion some serious thought before responding. "I think we can make it work. There will be some limits on what I can share with you, but for the most part the information sharing can be a two-way street."

"Good," Joe said nodding. "Good." Joe's first objective had been accomplished – working together with the police. Now, on to his second objective – getting more information. "So, what can you tell me about Nicholson, other than he's rich?"

Ziegler smiled. They'd hit upon the whole reason for having lunch. "In my opinion, he's a dangerous man. If I were you, I'd use extreme caution when dealing with him. There's more than one unsolved murder around here that has ties to Nicholson."

Joe stiffened and a hand curled into a fist. "Really? Do you like him for Dan Sagget's murder? Just your personal opinion, of course," Joe clarified.

Ziegler shrugged and his gaze moved around the room, checking to see if anyone was listening to their conversation. "The way I see it, it's not beyond the realm of possibility. From what I gathered during my interviews, Sagget wasn't the greatest employee. He had some bad habits and a tendency to piss people off. Did either of those get him killed? I can't say."

"Bad habits? Such as?"

"He was a womanizer. Word around town is, he had a brief fling with Nicholson's wife, oh, about eight years ago."

Joe was taken aback. This added a new dimension to the case. "Damn. Well, that's .. Sagget and Nicholson's wife?" Joe frowned and shook his head. Eight years ago? That was around the time Dolores Gage and Dan Sagget divorced. Dolores had told Joe that Dan was seeing someone else, someone younger and prettier. Dolores had been jealous and decided to divorce Dan.

"Yeah, Sagget and Nicholson's wife." Ziegler grinned and his eyes gleamed like a cat ready to pounce. "And one of those unsolved murders I mentioned … one of them was Nicholson's wife."

Joe slumped against the cushioned back of the booth like he'd been punched. "You're kidding me."

"Nope. She was murdered about seven years ago. Found in the river. Initially looked like an accidental drowning." Ziegler pinned Joe with a piercing glare. "Until the coroner found ligature marks on her neck. She was straggled before she went in the water."

Revenge, Joe thought. If Nicholson had killed Dan Sagget it would have been out of revenge. Sagget's murder had personal written all over it. Someone had hated the man. Profoundly hated him. You didn't hit someone with an ax twenty or more times just for the fun of it. You were taking out your hate, your anger, your … vengeance on the man.

The waitress suddenly appeared with their food. "Here you go, gentlemen. Two Sally burgers with fries."

# # # #

I'm here. Here to kill you.

Payment for the past. She was just as responsible as Dan Sagget for what had happened.

He crept down the hall, three soft steps, and peered into the living room. There she was, slumped in her recliner, snoozing. Beer cans were stacked on an end table. Snubbed out cigarettes filled an ashtray. He found it all disgusting. Filthy. She'd never amounted to much. But then, she'd never tried to.

He approached her, his footfalls quiet on the stained carpet. He hovered over her. Unzipped his jacket and freed the ax from his waistband.

She groaned and her eyes fluttered open. Even semiconscious, she sensed his presence and looked up. Saw him with the ax. Realization filtered in, making her more alert. Her eyes went wide as fear invaded.

"No," she rasped. "Please. No."

"Yes," he whispered and the ax cleaved into her forehead.

The blow killed her, but his fury begged for more. It took ten further blows to satisfy his rage.

# # # #

Joe looked at Ziegler and spoke around a bite of hamburger, "Sagget's murder was personal. Someone hated the man."

Ziegler nodded, chewing a fry. "That's how I see it. A crime of passion."

"Yeah," Joe said. "And we have two good suspects for the killer."

One of Ziegler's dark brows rose in question. "You're including Wayne Banyan as a suspect?"

Joe gave a helpless shrug. "Can't really rule him out. I took your advice and interviewed his family and friends. Found out all about the childhood abuse. Sounds like it was pretty bad and a good motive for murder."

Ziegler studied Joe for a minute then nodded, a pleased expression on his face. "Now, I know we can work as a team. You're willing to consider your army buddy as a suspect."

"I'd be stupid if I didn't," Joe admitted. Inside, he felt disloyal to Wayne. "However, back to Nicholson. The fling between Sagget and his wife was eight years ago. Why not kill the man then. Why wait all these years to kill him?"

Ziegle took a long gulp of his tea, set the glass down, and said, "Let me give you a little history lesson. I've lived and worked in this town for twelve years. Got the job right out of the Police Academy. Thought, this is great, a small town on the river. Won't be much crime here. Should be an easy job, plenty of time to spend with my wife and kids. Things didn't quite work out that way. I soon found out that this small town had just as much corruption as a big city, maybe more, and Kyle Nicholson was at the center of all of it. He's been a thorn in my side ever since I arrived. And you're right, I do suspect something illegal's going on at the docks. What? Don't know yet, but I'm working on it. Now, as to Nicholson and why he'd wait seven years to kill someone, well, I don't think he waited willingly. He was forced to wait. What I'm trying to say is, he didn't know who his wife's lover was until recently."

Joe didn't look convinced. "You have proof of any of that?"

"Sort of. Nicholson's wife's name was Linda. I worked her murder, technically, I'm still working her murder. Over the years, I've talked to three of her closest friends. All three have told me the same thing. Nicholson found some steamy letters Dan had written to Linda. Dan was smart enough not to sign his real name and that saved his skin. Nicholson confronted Linda with the letters and she admitted to the affair, said she was sorry and that the affair had ended. That, however, didn't appease Nicholson. He wanted the man's name. Linda was a strong willed woman and wouldn't give it up. Nicholson used threats and even got physical with Linda, but she stood her ground and kept her mouth shut. I think she knew that withholding the name was the only thing keeping her alive. She told her friends that once Nicholson had the man's name they were both as good as dead. Nicholson would kill them both and make it look like an accident."

"She ever think about leaving town?"

"Plenty of times. But Nicholson basically had her locked up in that big house of theirs. Took away her phone and computer, and had employees stationed at the house as if they were guards. When her friends didn't hear from her in over a day, they called the police. We went out there and removed Linda from the house. She stayed with a friend for a few weeks and was getting ready to move back east when she was found floating in the river."

"Damn," Joe hissed, saddened by Linda's untimely death. Wait, scratch that, her untimely murder.

Ziegler ran a French fry through some ketchup. "I have a source inside Nicholson's dock."

Joe's brow rose in mild surprise and admiration. "An inside source. Good move."

Ziegler smiled, chewed his French fry, and swallowed. "I may be a small town cop, but I'm not dumb. Anyway, my source was at a meeting with Nicholson and several other higher ups when Nicholson got a call. He took the call right there in front of them and what he said got their attention. He said, and I quote, 'That son of a bitch. He's a dead man.'"

"When was this call in relation to Dan Sagget's murder?"

"Barely a month before he was killed."

"Interesting timing," Joe said. "If it was Dan Sagget Nicholson was referring to, I wonder how he finally got the name."

"More interesting timing," Ziegler said. "A couple of days before that call, one of Linda's friends was in a bad car accident. Her brakes gave out. Her teenage daughter was in the car with her and they're both lucky to be alive."

"You think some of Nicholson's men might have been putting pressure on the friend, trying to get her to talk, to give up the name?"

"Yep. I talked to the other two friends and found out that they've all experienced some near misses – weird accidents – over the past seven years. They also told me they've all gotten calls in the middle of the night warning them that their lives were in danger. The calls would rotate from woman to woman and had no set pattern. The women said they could go six months without a call and then boom, a call."

"What did the caller say? Did he ask for the name of Linda's lover?" Joe wiped his hands and mouth on a napkin and leaned back. The hamburger had been delicious and had satisfied his hunger completely.

"According to the women, the caller was a man. His voice was muffled so they can't identify him, but his words, they remember. He always ended with the same words, 'You know what to do to protect yourself and your family. Mail the answer to Nicholson Dockworks.'"

Joe took a sip of tea and said, "Meaning mail the name. If Nicholson did kill Sagget then that means one of the women finally sent in his name."

"The one in the car accident." Ziegler withheld the woman's name. Joe didn't need to know it. "She told me she couldn't live like this anymore. She wanted out from under the threats. She wasn't going to put her children's lives on the line ever again."

"Can't say I blame her," Joe said. "And everything you've just told me makes Nicholson look a lot more guilty than Banyan."

Ziegler gave Joe a thin smile. "I like to keep an open mind. Nothing is as simple or as clear cut as it seems."

Joe returned the smile. "Roger that."

Ziegler's pager buzzed and he looked down. "It's dispatch. I gotta take this. Outside."

"I'll pay and meet you out front," Joe said.

Ziegler got up and pulled his phone free as he headed for the exit. Joe flagged down the waitress and paid. By the time he got outside, Ziegler was getting in his patrol car.

Joe jogged up to the vehicle, put a hand on the roof, and peered in through the open window. "What's up?"

Ziegler had on his cop face. "Another murder. Dolores Gage. I'm on my way to her trailer."

"I'm right behind you," Joe said and dashed to his truck.

A/N: Hey, thanks everyone for the reviews on the last chapter. I especially wanted to thank the Guest reviewer for pointing out my mistake - which I fixed - and for pointing out Joe's line that she liked. I'm pretty sure I know which one she means. :) Really, thank you all for leaving a few words to let me know what you thought. Seems we're all interested in what's going on at the docks. LOL Well, we will find out, but it will take a while and Frank's help. ;)