Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #1: Books 1-4 (A Dead Cold Box Set), Blake Banner [classic children's novels txt] 📗

moustache of the sort that was fashionable back in the ’50s. He was slim and his clothes were on the flash side of elegant. He shook my hand and gestured me to a chair.

“Detective Stone,” he said as he sat. “How can we help you?”

“I was hoping you could give me some information on one of your employees?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Really? Which one? Is he in trouble?”

I held his eye a moment and asked him, “Do you not employ women?”

He smiled, sighed, and sat back. “We have a small staff, Detective, and I know them all very well. I am afraid there is only one of them who is likely to attract the attention of the police. It’s David, isn’t it?”

“David Hansen.”

He nodded. “He is my nephew. This company exists for him and because of him.”

I frowned. “How’s that?”

“His father, my sister’s husband, died when David was a very small boy, barely two years old. I created this company as a way to provide for them. What do you want to know about him? Is it the pornography again?”

I shook my head. “Not exactly.” I hadn’t expected this, and I wasn’t sure how best to proceed. He must have seen the uncertainty on my face, because he said, “It’s all right, Detective. We are a very religious family, and my first loyalty is to God. If he has done wrong, I will not shield him.”

I hesitated. “I believe he goes away occasionally, to information technology conferences…”

“Yes. As I told you”—he gestured with both hands at the office around him—“this company was created for him, and by him. We realized at an early age that David was…” He thought carefully about the word. “Special. He was diagnosed with moderate to severe dyspraxia, dyslexia, and mild autism. He has a very high IQ, bordering on genius, but he can come across as, well, frankly, dumb. Stupid. As you can imagine, all of these things make it very difficult for him to relate to people, and he suffered a great deal at school. He got very poor grades and did not go to university. University would have destroyed him.”

I figured he would eventually get around to answering my question. In the meantime, I was interested in what he was telling me. He thought for a moment, like he was imagining his nephew being destroyed at university, then went on.

“His great passion, from a very early age, was computers. I guess they provided him with a world where he felt safe, and he could communicate with people in a way where he did not feel threatened. So I paid for him to have private tuition, and eventually he went to a technical college and became qualified as, I don’t know what. I, personally, know nothing about computers. This is why I say that he created this company as much as I did.” He laughed like he’d made a joke and continued. “He passed all his exams with flying colors, and when I saw how good he was, and how dedicated, I started GCS. I started him at the bottom, and he is working his way up.

“Now, twice a year, as regular as clockwork, he attends these conferences where they exhibit the latest technology, give talks, discuss the latest research…” He made a “and so on” gesture with his hand. “And very properly, David attends these conferences.”

“Where are these conferences held? Is it always the same place, or does the venue change?”

He was shaking his head before I had finished. Outside there was a roll of thunder, and a sudden squall of rain on the window made him glance outside.

“San Diego in the summer. It’s always the third weekend in July, Thursday to Sunday. And the first weekend in December in Los Angeles.”

“So on December 5, 2005, he had just come back from Los Angeles.”

He looked surprised. “I have no idea. That was twelve years ago. But if it was a Monday, then yes. As far as I am aware, he has never missed one yet.” He smiled. “He is also somewhat OCD.”

“How does he travel? Does he go by plane?”

“By train or car. He doesn’t like to fly.” He frowned suddenly. “Forgive me, Detective, but these are rather peculiar questions. Do you mind telling me what this is about?”

I felt suddenly weary and gazed out at the interminable gray rain and drizzle. I asked myself the same question. What was it all about? I sighed and said, “I wish I knew, Mr. Fischer.” Then, “We’re looking into the background and movements of a number of people who have a connection to the lockups at the back of Revere Avenue.”

“The lockups… Why on Earth…?”

“My next question may seem a little odd, Mr. Fischer.”

“They all seem a little odd, to be frank, Detective.”

“Would you say that David has a good relationship with his mother?”

His face flushed and his eyes shone. “What are you implying, Detective?”

“I’m not implying anything. I am asking you. I am trying to eliminate David from a list of possible suspects.”

“Suspects in what? Why won’t you tell me?”

“Twelve years ago, a woman’s arms were found in one of the units in that alley. The case went cold, and now we are reviewing it. David is one of a number of people we are looking into.”

His face, which had flushed red, now turned ashen. “I remember that case. You can’t possibly think David… He wasn’t even here…”

“We are looking into the possibility that the murder was committed somewhere else.”

He stood and walked to the window. “My God… David…”

I gave him a moment, then said, “He is just one of a number of people we are—” I hesitated. “—trying to eliminate from our inquiry.”

He turned and stared at me. “Yes… yes, of course. Eliminate from… As I said,