Jacob Lomax 03 The Dead of Winter by Michael Allegretto

Author:Michael Allegretto [Allegretto, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Private Investigators, Hard-Boiled
ISBN: 9781480462762
Google: PWFRAgAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00H8GCEOY
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2013-12-30T21:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

I DROVE BACK TO Denver, which gave me five hours to think about Reverend Lacey’s story. There wasn’t that much to think about.

Thirteen days ago Stephanie had shown up at the Church of the Penitent, seeking safety. Two days ago she’d left. With a man, according to Lacey. Someone she’d phoned in Denver.

The possibilities were limited; there were few men in Stephanie’s life.

There’d been her father, of course, but he could no longer be reached by telephone. There were Father Carbone and Uncle Tony. But they certainly wouldn’t hide her from Angela. There was Ken Hausom. Had Stephanie decided she’d had enough of the hard life on the church-farm and was now ready to reunite with the father of her aborted child? Somehow I doubted that. And there were the four customers.

Something about them tugged at my mind.

I’d been assuming all along that Stephanie had fled the barbershop for fear of her life. What if there’d been another reason? Maybe she’d been involved in something that I had yet to discover, something concerning her father. What if she’d known there would be an attempt on his life? Or as MacArthur had hinted, what if she’d helped set him up?

That was hard to swallow. But it would explain a few things. She’d disappeared to establish an alibi. Sure, she’d been scared when she’d reached the church; she’d been afraid of arrest and prosecution. She’d waited there as long as she could stand it—no TV, no telephone, no way of knowing what was happening back in Denver. Finally, she’d risked a call to her man. He’d told her that the deed was done, that everything was okay, and that he was coming for her.

Possible. Not likely, though.

But I was running out of “likely”s.

It was late afternoon when I got home. The sky was dark and cloudy, and I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. I bought a bucket of Kentucky Fried Colonel and walked it upstairs to my apartment. Then I opened a beer, munched a chicken part, and phoned Father Carbone.

He’d not heard from Stephanie.

I phoned Angela Bellano.

“I traced Stephanie to a religious commune near Wray,” I told her. I described my talk with Reverend Lacey and Chrissie Smith and my search of the farm.

“Could she be in Denver now?”

“It’s possible. Let’s keep a good thought.” Easy for you to say, Lomax.

“By the way,” she said, “two police detectives were here today. They searched Joe’s room again for his records. They asked if anyone had been there.”

“Yes?”

“I’m afraid I told them about you and your associate. I hope that wasn’t wrong. I didn’t know if I should lie or not.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Great. Police harassment was definitely in my near future. “I’ve got a few leads to check out. I’ll be in touch.”

I ate some more chicken and drank some more beer. The “few leads” I’d mentioned to Angela were mostly just one: Ken Hausom. I planned on catching up with him tonight at the Lion’s Lair. The problem was he wouldn’t be happy to see me.

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