The Legend of Joe Moran
Chapter 4Stuart woke with a start, convinced there was someone in his room. He lay still in the dark for a good fifteen minutes before he dared move and turn on the light. The room was empty, save for the occupant of the bed. He wasn't one to imagine boogeymen that weren't really there, but he'd been certain he wasn't alone. Maybe, he thought, it was the spirit of Joe Moran. That would mean Moran was dead, and somehow Stu didn't believe that.
He looked at his watch, lying on the nightstand. Twenty after four in the morning. There was nothing to do at this time of the night but go back to sleep, and try as he might he wasn't able to accomplish that. He got out of bed and retrieved the book he always carried with him for circumstances just like this. L'Étranger, (The Stranger in the original French) by Albert Camus was the volume he currently had with him, and he tried to pick up where he'd left off the last time, but that was no good, either. He couldn't concentrate enough to make any sense of what he was trying to read. That was when he noticed the television set in the room and wondered if there was anything on in the middle of the night. He got back out of bed and turned the tv on, to find nothing but static and test patterns. The set was quickly turned off.
Stu lay back down and began to examine what he'd learned about Moran so far. The man was loved by his wife, a beautiful redhead named Audrey, beloved by his employees, and gone. Just gone. Where does a man go when he wants to disappear? Perhaps to Mexico? If that's what had happened, Stu might never find him. Once he'd given his mind something to think about besides going back to sleep, that was exactly what he did.
The next time he woke it was morning, and daylight was streaming through the curtains he'd left open last night. He yawned, stretched, and finally picked up his watch. Ten minutes of eight. At least now he could get out of bed and get ready for the day ahead.
Stu showered, shaved, and got dressed. Then he made sure he'd written down the data he'd need for today. Joe's Dry Cleaner's address and phone and P. Moran's address and phone. Joe's was a good place to start. He had to call the office before he went anywhere; in case there was something he was needed for. Suzanne answered, as always.
"Good morning, Bailey and Spencer."
"Suzanne, it's Stu." It was always good to hear her voice, no matter where he was or how long he'd been gone.
"Good morning, Stuart. Jeff just came through the door."
"Let me speak with him, please." Jeff must have come in early to cover Stu's absence.
"Hey, Stu, how's Phoenix?" There was another voice he enjoyed hearing. Jeff was almost always cheerful; Stu was reminded once again how lucky he was to have Spencer for a partner.
"Warm and dry, my friend. Any important messages?"
"Audrey Moran called like you knew she would, and I told her you'd tell her everything when you got back from Phoenix. Then her only question was, when will that be? I told her you'd be back when you were finished." Jeff laughed; they'd both known Audrey would call asking questions.
"Nothing else happening?" Stu didn't know if that was good or bad. He always worried when business was slow.
"Yes, Higgins sent his documents by currier; looks like it's going to be a good case. And Charlie Rose called, wants you to call him when you get back. Something about a forged painting. That's all from yesterday. It's too early here for the chickens to be up yet."
That caused Stu to laugh; things seemed to be proceeding as normal. "Alright, Jeff, I'll call you tonight. Don't get lost in Higgins paperwork, you know how he is."
"Alright, take care, dad."
"You, too, youngster." Stu hung up the receiver and considered his next move.
He was going to skip breakfast and just grab a cup of coffee, then thought better of it. He'd probably be gone all day and might not have another chance to eat, so he stopped in the dining room. A sweet-looking little blonde brought him coffee and a menu, and he watched her walk back to the kitchen before turning his attention to what originally brought him there. By the time she returned with the coffee pot he'd decided. "Eggs over easy, two strips of bacon, and whole-wheat toast, dry."
She poured him another cup of coffee and Stu noticed her name tag. It said Barbara. "Barbara, I'm new in town and I'm looking for a friend of mine that I've lost touch with. Seems to me he owned a dry cleaners. His name is Joe Moran. Do you think it might be Joe's Dry Cleaners?"
"It could be, but if it is he doesn't own it anymore. Doug Paulson is the owner now. But you might check with him. I don't think he's had it too long." Barbara smiled at him and made her way around the room, pouring coffee for the other diners.
By the time he was finished with breakfast he was more than ready to get started. He bought a map of Phoenix from the drugstore across the street and looked up Bluebird Road, where Joe's was located. It wasn't hard to find and Stu was there in just a few minutes. He parked and headed for the front door.
"Is Doug Paulson in?" he asked the woman who met him at the counter.
"Yes, sir. Can I tell him who wants to see him?"
Stu handed her his business card and told her, "Stuart Bailey." While Stu put his cardholder away, the woman walked into the back and disappeared between the rows of dry cleaning. She was gone almost five minutes and Stu began to fidget with his fingernails while he waited. The man that emerged from between the same racks the woman had disappeared behind was, he assumed, Paulson.
"Mr. Bailey, I'm Doug Paulson. What can I do for you? It's not often we get a Private Investigator from Hollywood here in Phoenix." Paulson was mid-thirties, as tall as Stu but somewhat heavier, with curly brown hair and glasses. He wore a broad smile and made Stu wonder if he'd ever again see anyone not smiling.
"I'd like to ask you a few questions if that would be alright with you, Mr. Paulson," Stu explained in a casual voice. His goal was to make the questions seem as routine as possible.
Another smile, this time not so broad. There was an edge of nervousness in the voice that hadn't been there before. "Sure. Do you mind if I ask what you're looking for?"
"Just trying to find an old friend that someone's lost track of." Stu paused for a moment to let that sink in. See, nothing to be frightened of was the message he wanted to convey. "How long have you owned the business?"
"Oh," Paulson answered in relief. "Let's see, if I remember right, it's been just about five years since I bought the place."
"Who did you buy it from?" That was the money question, and Stu knew not to appear too anxious to know the answer.
"That's easy. I bought it from Art Henry. Art wanted to retire and move to Florida, and I got it for a good price."
Not the answer Stu was hoping for. On to a different line of questioning. "Are there any other dry cleaners that you're aware of named Joe's?" He couldn't possibly get lucky and get the right answer, could he?
"Not anymore, Mr. Bailey, but there was. Downtown, on Desert Road, it's called Speedy Cleaners. But it used to be Joe's a while back."
"Do you remember how long ago?" Stu pulled out his cigarette case to light a cigarette and then thought better of it.
"Maybe three, four years. They changed the name when it got sold."
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Paulson." Stu offered his hand in a friendly gesture and Paulson responded in kind. Two minutes later Stu was back in his car looking at his map and smoking that previously delayed cigarette. He found Desert Road on the other side of his hotel and down several blocks. Another minute to start the engine and he was on his way. Hopefully, this stop would prove to be the business he was looking for.