Red market, p.15
Red Market, page 15
“My mother’s Catholic. Some may believe suicide is a sin, but trust me, when the walls start closing in, religion can go right out the window.” Hell, I had been there a time or two myself.
“Not Donnie. He wasn’t depressed. And he didn’t own a gun.”
“Look, your boss was a weird little man who was facing jail time, possibly prison. Maybe he couldn’t handle it. Especially after losing his medical license. It’s enough to make even a devout Catholic do the unthinkable.”
“But the FBI was offering him an immunity deal.”
“A deal for what? What else was he involved in?” After my previous dustup with the feds, I was curious.
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me.”
“So why bother me about it? Tell it to the cops. That detective… What was his name? Montana. He seemed like a good sort. Tell him.”
“I did. He’s convinced Donnie’s death was a suicide.”
“Then talk to the feds.”
“They won’t talk to me. Someone murdered him, and no one cares. Maybe you did it. Killed him out of spite.”
“You kidding me? I lost out on a sizable bounty thanks to him being dead. I’d much rather he be alive.”
“I thought you people got paid either way. Bring ’em back dead or alive. Isn’t that what they say?”
“Not these days.”
“Well, somebody killed him.” A long silence followed. “I want to hire you to find the murderer. Maybe then the police will do something.”
“Not interested.”
“Please, Ms. Ballou. Whoever killed him may come after me next.” She paused for a moment. “I can’t pay you anything right now, but if I can find a buyer for New Life Medical Resources…”
“Even if I was interested, which I’m not, I don’t work for free. Or IOUs or credit. Or exposure. I’m not a charity. I require a retainer of two grand for starters. My advice is to forget about Krueger and start looking for a new job.”
I hung up, hiked up the stairs to the third floor of the Arizona Center parking garage, and climbed into my truck.
I sent out a text to the team, letting them know we didn’t have any new jobs but that I’d be checking in with other bail bond agencies. Caden, Rodeo, and Zahara were all on salary, so it was like an unplanned vacation.
As I drove to the Hub, I couldn’t get Krueger out of my mind. Turner’s notion that Catholics never committed suicide was bogus. When life, depression, and despair got enough of a grip on you, it didn’t matter what you professed to believe.
What did suggest someone staged his suicide was this alleged deal Krueger had with the FBI. If he had immunity, his world might not be collapsing around him. So why take the bullet train into the afterlife?
At the same time, whoever he was flipping on certainly had a motive to kill him. So who did he have dirt on?
If anyone knew besides the tight-lipped feds, I would have thought that Nancy Turner would. But if she was begging me to find his killer, wouldn’t she have told me everything she knew? Did Krueger have something going on that his office manager didn’t know about?
All of that was just speculation at this point. And I certainly wasn’t taking the case. Turner had no money.
I was going to check in with Second Chance or Pima Bail Bonds and see if they had any work for me. If not, Conor and I could take Diana up to the mountains and enjoy the fall colors. Even play in the early-season snow up at Hannagan Meadow in the White Mountains.
But even though I was no-way-no-how looking into Krueger’s death, it still haunted me. Murder was funny that way.
Chapter 26
Krueger's Daughter
When I went to the Hub, Becca was already there. She looked up at me expectantly, and I realized I had promised to stop at Tres Leches. I’d been so preoccupied with this Krueger mess that I’d totally spaced on it.
“Sorry,” I told her. “I’ll go grab us some coffees.”
She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll have some of the coffee from the break room.”
“That sludge that Troy Reid makes?” He was a game developer who worked a few tables over. “That stuff will rot your kidneys.”
“Not if I put in enough cream and sugar.”
“There’s some fine biochemical rationalization,” I said, chuckling. “Really, I promised I’d bring the coffee. I can run down the street and be back in a flash.”
“No, sit.”
I did and brought her up to speed about Rayna and Leia staying with Avery’s dad. Then I told her about Krueger’s death and Turner’s plea for help.
“You going to do it?”
“Work for Nancy the necro? I don’t think so. For starters, she’s got no money to hire me. And secondly, I have no interest in helping her. Whatever happened to that creepy man is not my concerned.”
“And yet something in your voice says you’re desperate to know how he died.”
Damn, she knew me too well. That was hardly surprising, since we’d been besties since the sixth grade.
“Am I a little curious whether he really offed himself? Sure, maybe. But if he didn’t, he really pissed someone off. Someone with the smarts and the means, motive, and opportunity to kill someone and cover their tracks well. I got enough problems chasing after fugitives. Like my father said, don’t go chasing trouble.”
“Except you don’t have any cases at the moment.”
“Not with Sadie. But Second Chance or Pima Bail Bonds might have something. And if not, maybe I’ll take the rest of the week off. Enjoy a little downtime for once.”
She grinned at me but said nothing.
The questions surrounding Krueger’s death nagged me, even as I called the other bail bond agencies I worked with. None of them had anything for me, so I texted the team to tell them to enjoy a long Halloween weekend.
It was only Thursday. The Phoenix Gender Alliance was having a costume party on Saturday night, even though Halloween itself wasn’t until Monday. Conor and I could spend Friday and part of Saturday up in the high country and be back in time for me to show off my new Captain Marvel costume. Yeah, I was a bounty hunter who did cosplay. So what?
WinterCon, a local comic book convention, was a month away, and now would be a good time to work out the kinks in my costume. Some of the final touches needed work. Didn’t want to risk a major costume fail. Plus, I was still deciding whether to wear a short blond Carol Danvers wig or the Captain Marvel space helmet I’d made with glowing monofilament, or say “to hell with authenticity” and go with my long dark hair.
Since I was already at the Hub, I decided to get caught up on my bookkeeping before heading home to relax.
I was in the middle of filing my quarterly sales taxes when Leia called on the burner I’d given Rayna.
“Hey, kiddo,” I said. “How’s the new digs?”
“Nice, though I wish I were back home.”
“Yeah, I hear ya. No place like home. How’s Mr. Jeong?”
“He’s really nice. And he’s got a General Leia tattoo on one of his arms. I asked Mom if I could get one, but she said not until I’m eighteen.”
“Probably a good idea. You have a lot of growing to do.”
“Do you have any tattoos?”
I blushed. “A couple. In some private places.”
“Oh.”
“Is there a reason you called?”
“I wanted to go to the Phoenix Gender Alliance costume party. But Mom won’t let me go. I was hoping you could talk to her and change her mind. Are you going?”
“Maybe, but it’s a grownup kind of party. You’d probably be bored out of your mind.”
“I don’t care. I’d still have fun. Mom won’t let me go because DCS wants to take me away.”
“Yeah, that is a bigger issue. You wouldn’t want them to force you to live with your dad or some stranger.”
“But they won’t have to know I’m there. I’d be in costume with a mask and everything.”
“Like I said, the party’s more for grownups. Is the Hatchling group having a party this year?”
“They canceled it because of the stupid new law. They’re just going to do a Zoom call. Meh. I want a party.”
“Look, you’ve got many, many years ahead of you. Maybe you and your mom and Bobby J. can do something fun. Like have your own Star Wars-themed party.”
“He and Avery are just going to be passing out candy to trick-or-treaters. Borrrinnnggg.”
“I’m sorry, Leia. Hopefully, Kirsten and Lambda Legal can stop this new law, and you can go back to your normal life soon.”
“Why’s it gotta be like this? Why do people have to be so mean?”
“I dunno, kid. Being trans is hard. It was hard for me. And I know it’s hard for you too. But people like you and me, we’re tough. Like superhero tough. We’re resilient. You know that word resilient?”
“Duh! I’m not stupid. I do read. It means we can get through stuff.”
“Exactly. Princess Leia, or rather General Leia—she had to go through a lot of hard stuff too. She got captured by Darth Vader. Then her entire planet got blown up. Her friends and family, all gone. But she stuck it out and eventually the Rebellion won, right?”
“Yeah, but that’s just a bunch of movies.”
“True. We just got to stick it out like she did. And you’re not alone. You’ve got your mom, your grandma, Avery, Bobby J., Kirsten, me, Conor, and even your new friends in the Hatchlings. We’re all working together to keep you safe.”
“I know.”
“And many years from now, young trans kids will be saying, ‘That Leia girl, she’s such an inspiration to me. She gave me the courage to come out and be my true self.’”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious, Leia. I never thought people would say that to me, but you did. When Phoenix Living outed me a few years back, it cost me my job, and it’s been a pain in my butt since then. But it also gave people like you and your mom the courage to do what you needed to do. There’s an old saying, ‘We stand on the shoulders of giants.’ You know what that means?”
“No.”
“It means the people who came before us, who demonstrated courage or shared their knowledge—they’ve helped us get where we are. And we will do the same for those who come after us. So in time, you will become someone else’s giant.”
“Never thoughta that.”
“I’ve also learned something else. Something my dad taught me.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t postpone your happiness wishing for things you don’t have. Be happy now. Enjoy being with people who care about you. Enjoy the good things in your life, even when a lot of things aren’t perfect.”
“You sound like my mom.”
“Your mom’s a smart lady.”
“Yeah.”
“Look, I’m sorry you can’t go to a party, but have fun with Bobby J., Avery, and your mom. Okay?”
“I will. Thanks.”
“I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Oh, almost forgot. My mom says there’s going to be a protest at the State Capitol on Saturday morning. We can’t go, obviously, but Mom says it’s important for as many trans people as possible to be there.”
“Okay, I’ll look into it.” An incoming call beeped on the line. “I have to take this call. Take care, Leia.”
“You too.”
I clicked over to the new call. “Jinx Ballou.”
“Ms. Ballou, I need your help.”
She wasn’t Nancy Turner, but I recognized the voice. “Amy Krueger? How can I help you?”
“The police are wrong. My father did not… would not kill himself. Someone murdered him and made it look like a suicide.”
I took a breath. First Nancy the necro. Now Krueger’s daughter. “Ms. Krueger, I’m sorry for your father’s death. Truly, I am. But if the police are saying it’s a suicide, it probably is.”
“He wouldn’t hurt himself. Not like that.”
“How do you know? You said you rarely spoke with him.”
“He’d been staying with me since getting out on bail.”
“You said you didn’t know where he was.” Anger crept into my voice. I had to remind myself this woman was grieving her father’s death.
“I’m sorry I lied. His lawyer was negotiating a deal with the FBI. They were going to give him immunity. No prison time, and he’d be able to continue his work. So he had no reason to hurt himself.”
“Why were the feds giving him immunity? Who was he flipping on? What was he involved in?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you have a good day, Ms. Krueger. And again, sorry for your loss.”
“No, please don’t hang up. I need your help.”
“Ms. Krueger, Amy, what are you asking me to do?”
“I spoke with Sadie Levinson, Dad’s bail bond agent. She said, in addition to being a bounty hunter, you were also a licensed private investigator. I want to hire you to find out who murdered my father.”
“Like I told Ms. Turner, even if I were interested in taking the case—which I’m not—I don’t work for free.”
“I can pay you.”
That was certainly better than Nancy the necro’s eternal gratitude, but still. “I don’t know.”
“Please, Ms. Ballou, I need answers. You said Great Harvest had helped your friends. I’m asking you now to help me. Please.”
I hated when people begged. As much as I tried not to be, I was a sucker for desperate people. I knew what it felt like to have nowhere to turn.
“I require a two-thousand-dollar retainer up front and charge a hundred dollars an hour plus expenses. No guarantee on results. It may turn out he really took his own life. Or if someone did kill him, I may be unable to determine who did. You pay either way. Is that understood?”
“Yes. I understand. Someone did this to him. They must be held accountable.”
“Also, if someone did kill him or I otherwise find evidence of a serious crime, I turn my findings over to the police, and what they do with that information is up to them. They may do nothing. I’m not a cop. I’m not a vigilante. No murder for hire. Are we clear?”
“Yes.”
I considered this agreement some more. I’d rather go see the autumn leaves along the Mogollon Rim. The town of Strawberry was having a fall festival.
“Please, Jinx. I need this.”
“Before I say yes, you gotta come clean with me. What illegal activity was your father involved with?”
“I don’t know, and that’s the truth. He kept me out of it to protect me. All he told me was that he was involved with something online. My father was a good person. He didn’t deserve to die like this.”
I still didn’t know whether to believe her. “Fine! I’ll send you the contract. Sign it and pay the retainer, and I will try to get to the bottom of things.”
“Thank you so much, Jinx.”
Chapter 27
A List of Suspects
I had little experience investigating murders. I’d been a patrol officer for only a year when I quit to join Conor’s bounty hunter team. But between my short stint in patrol and several years chasing fugitives, I had learned a few things.
First, people who took their own lives didn’t always leave notes. When they were in that awful emotional swamp, they weren’t thinking about anyone else. They just wanted the pain to stop.
And as I told both Turner and Krueger, when life pushed a person beyond their limits with no hope of life getting better, religious beliefs didn’t mean shit. When life already felt like hell, people didn’t care what happened next.
On the other hand, suicides could be staged, and some were more convincing than others.
As a patrol officer, I’d been called to several scenes in which the victim had allegedly died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. I found one victim with a gun in his dominant left hand, but the entrance wound was behind his right ear. Not even a contortionist could pull off a shot like that.
Another victim was allegedly discovered by her husband with the gun nearby and both hands clasped around a rosary. But she would have died instantly from the GSW. No grabbing the rosary at that point.
Sometimes, it was impossible to know one way or the other, and the detective made a judgment call or chalked up the manner of death as undetermined. Especially if they already had a sizable caseload. Case triage.
In Krueger’s case, I’d had neither the time nor the inclination to study the crime scene when I was in that cooler of the dead. If anything was there to contraindicate a suicide, I hadn’t seen it. Apparently, neither had Detective Montana.
In ninety percent of homicides, the killer knew the victim. Usually, the culprit was a family member or a jilted lover. Sometimes a disgruntled neighbor, a coworker, or business associate. For someone like Krueger, that made a long list.
His questionable business decisions had left at least one family bitterly angry. And if Krueger was dropping the dime on someone that the feds were investigating, that certainly put them high on the list of suspects.
I had no idea about Krueger’s love life, if he even had one. He was currently unmarried. But that didn’t mean anything. For all I knew, he and Nancy the necro could have been getting it on. I tried hard not to think about that.
“Going off to play PI, are we?” Becca asked with a gleam in her eye.
“Krueger’s daughter is convinced someone murdered him, even though Peoria PD is ruling the death a suicide.”
“So she wants to hire you to tilt at windmills?”
“Presumably. I don’t know this Detective Montana all that well, but he seemed competent. I’ll poke around, learn what I can, but unless something pops up in the next few days suggesting homicide, I’ll collect my fee and call this case closed.”
“It seems strange that he would call you only to shoot himself in the head.”
“Yeah, well, he was a strange little guy. The man had a Frankenstein-style monster made from multiple bodies in his cooler. That was after he sold the body of someone’s mother to get blown to smithereens. Maybe the guilt or the madness eventually got to him.”
