I feel like we have our first real lead. We found a common ground between the two victims. It’s small, but it could be exactly what we need to break this case.
“Dad, I need to know where Ackerman works.”
“I figured as much. He’s a lawyer at the Walsh law firm on Main Street.”
A lawyer? You’ve got to be kidding me.
“That’s the perfect cover,” Mitchell says, already en route to Main Street. “No one suspects the lawyer of being the one to break the law, but there he is gambling at his poker game and at the bowling alley.”
“And it explains why he uses a fake name at the bowling alley,” I add. “But how does he know no one will recognize him from the law firm?”
“Maybe he’s taking a gamble no one will,” Mitchell says, earning a look of disgust from me. His cheesy jokes have got to stop. “What? It makes sense.”
“We’re on our way there now. Thanks, Dad. We’ll keep you posted.”
Mitchell disconnects the call. “Is your Spidey sense tingling at this connection?”
“I don’t know if it’s that or just elation at finally having a worthwhile lead to follow.”
“We’ll know soon enough. You do plan to read him upon introduction, right?”
“Well, fortune telling is illegal in the state of Pennsylvania, but that’s not really what I do.”
“You’re worried he’ll sue you?”
“He’s a lawyer and possibly an abductor and/or killer. I’m not putting anything past him.”
“Then maybe we keep that part of your job description a secret. You’re a private investigator. You have a degree. He doesn’t need to know how you obtain your information.”
Great. Yet another person I have to hide my abilities from. I hate having to pretend I’m something I’m not, in this case a normal, average private investigator.
The Walsh law firm is located in a high-rise on the corner of Main Street. Mitchell finds a parking spot, and we take the elevator to the law office on the fifth floor. When the elevator opens, we’re greeted by a young woman seated at a large receptionist desk. She looks like she’s fresh out of college.
“Can I help you?” she asks us, her gaze going right to Mitchell.
He leans against the desk and smiles at her. “I certainly hope so. We’re here to speak with Christopher Ackerman.”
“Do you have an appointment?” the woman asks in a sweet voice.
“Actually no.” Mitchell leans closer and lowers his voice, not in volume but in pitch. I huff behind him, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “You see, I’m Detective Mitchell Brennan.” He pulls his badge out from under his jacket. “My partner and I need to speak with Mr. Ackerman about a case we’re investigating.”
“I see. One moment please.” She stands up and walks to a door about a hundred feet behind her desk. She looks back over her shoulder and smiles at Mitchell before knocking.
Once she’s inside the office, I smack Mitchell’s arm. “What is wrong with you? Can’t you do anything without flirting?”
“Hey, I got the job done, didn’t I?”
“That’s yet to be seen. Ackerman is behind that door, and we’re still standing out here.”
Mitchell opens his mouth to reply, but the blonde receptionist comes back out to us. She addresses Mitchell as if I’m not even here. “I’m so sorry, Detective, but I’m afraid Mr. Ackerman will be tied up all afternoon. He said you’re welcome to schedule something for tomorrow.”
I nudge Mitchell aside. “Let me,” I tell him before addressing Blondie. “Hi. Could you please give Mr. Ackerman a quick message for me? I’m certain he’s going to want to speak with us after you do.”
“I highly doubt that, and if I disturb him again, I could lose my job.”
Mitchell pushes me aside this time and leans forward on the desk. “We definitely wouldn’t want to get you in any trouble with your boss, but it would mean a lot to me if you could just relay a brief message to him.”
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and bites her lower lip. “I guess I can deliver a message if it’s a quick one.”
Good Lord, if I have to endure this for one more second... “Please tell him we need to talk to him about Frank’s gambling problem,” I say loudly enough to break the trance Mitchell’s put on the receptionist. If that doesn’t get Ackerman’s attention, nothing will.
Mitchell places his hand on top of Blondie’s. “We’d really appreciate it.”
She holds up one finger and says, “One moment.” Her walk back to the office is clearly meant for Mitchell’s benefit.
“I’ve never seen someone sway their hips that much without falling over.”
“Not everyone is as uncoordinated as you, Piper,” Mitchell says, leaning an elbow on top of the desk. “Nice work mentioning Frank’s gambling problem, by the way.”
“Well, one of us had to stay focused on our actual job.”
The office door opens, and Blondie says, “Mr. Ackerman will see you now.” She remains in the doorway as we walk past her into the office. Her eyes take in Mitchell’s full form as he brushes past her.
Christopher Ackerman stands up, adjusts his plain black tie, and motions for us to take the empty seats across from his mahogany desk. He doesn’t speak until Blondie closes the door. “Detectives, what can I do for you? And let me apologize for needing to make this brief. I do have a packed schedule today.”
“We don’t anticipate needing much of your time,” I say, sitting down. “I’m Piper Ashwell, and this is Detective Brennan. We’re here because Carmen Ramon is missing.”
“Who?” Ackerman furrows his brow as if he’s never heard the name before, but the way he’s clicking the pen in his right hand tells me differently.
“The woman you like to bowl with on Friday nights. And when I say ‘like’ I actually mean you hope to finally beat so you can make back some of the money and the diamond earrings for your wife that you gambled away.”
Ackerman drops the pen onto his desk and leans forward, keeping his voice low. “What is this? Are you trying to blackmail me?”
“You think a police detective would stoop so low as to blackmail you?” Then again, he’s a lawyer with gambling problems.
“What do you want then?”
“Do you know where Carmen is?” Mitchell asks.
“I haven’t seen her since Friday night at the bowling alley.” Ackerman is still speaking in a hushed tone, making me wonder how thin the office walls are and whether or not his colleagues are occupying their offices at the moment as well.
“And what about Tanner Montgomery?” Mitchell asks.
“What about him?”
“You play poker with him every Saturday,” I say much louder than necessary.
Ackerman leans forward and presses a finger to his lips. “Please keep your voice down.”
“I’d be happy to once I know we have your full cooperation.” I lace my hands in my lap.
“Fine. You’ve got it, okay? Tanner is just some punk kid who joined our weekly game. I don’t ever talk to him outside of that environment.”
“Does he talk about work while you play?” Mitchell asks.
“Some, I guess. I don’t pay much attention to the guy. He’s not very good, and it usually only takes a few hands to wipe him out of cash each week.”
“Is that the money you wind up losing to Carmen on Friday nights?” I ask.
Ackerman’s face turns red. “Usually,” he says through gritted teeth.
“I get the sense you don’t care much for Carmen,” Mitchell says.
“You think I did something to her?” Ackerman scoffs. “I’ll tell you this. If she’s missing, it’s probably because she scammed someone out of a lot of money and they retaliated.”
“That was my thought, too,” I say. “But the only person we know of that she took money from is you.” With my fingers still laced, I dip my hands forward and point both thumbs at him.
“I’m telling you I didn’t do anything to that woman.”
“The problem is you might be the last person to have seen her,” Mitchell says. “She disappeared sometime between Friday night and Monday morning.”
I resist the urge to give Mitchell a questioning look since we know Carmen was assaulted on one of her morning runs.
“Look. If she was hustling me, she was most likely doing the same to someone else. Go find that person.”
“Except she wasn’t hustling you,” I say. “You sought her out because you were determined to beat her.”
“Maybe. So what? I have a little thing called pride. That’s not a crime. I’d know.”
“No, but it is one of the seven deadly sins.”
Mitchell eyes me, and even I’m not sure why I said that.
“Do you know Maggie Burns?” I ask.
Ackerman’s body tenses, giving himself away.
“I know you do, so you might as well tell us the truth.”
“She hired one of my colleagues to draw up divorce papers to serve her husband. She recently discovered he’s having an affair.”
So she does know about Glen’s extracurricular activities.
“Except the irony of the situation is that she wound up sleeping with my colleague.”
“She’s having an affair, too?” Mitchell asks, his voice laced with shock.
“Not just one. He found out she’s sleeping with multiple men. I guess the news about her husband sent her on a payback mission. She doesn’t want to just leave him. She wants to outdo him in the infidelity department.”
God, what is wrong with people?
Lust.
I shake my head, clearing it of the word that popped into my mind as if in answer to my internal question. “Mr. Ackerman, you’re sure you haven’t seen either woman in the past few days?”
“I’ve never even met Maggie. I saw her come here once, but that was it. And like I said, the last I saw Carmen was Friday night.”
My senses are telling me he’s speaking the truth, so I stand up. “Thank you for your time. We won’t hold you up any longer.”
Mitchell gets up, but I can tell he’s not happy I just ended the interrogation.
“Detectives,” Ackerman calls after us. “You’ll leave my name out of this investigation, right? Both my names?”
There’s no need to bring him into this. He might not be a standup lawyer, but he’s not responsible for either woman’s disappearance.
“You can consider your involvement in this matter closed,” I say, opening the door and seeing myself out.
The receptionist hands Mitchell a business card as we walk past, and I don’t need to ask to know the scribble on the back is her phone number. I press the button for the elevator.
We don’t even make it downstairs before Mitchell’s phone rings. “Brennan,” he answers. “You’re kidding. No, I don’t. Send me the details.” He hangs up.
“What is it?” I ask, stepping out of the elevator.
“We’ve got another missing woman.”