Lost Souls J. Bishop (motivational books for students .txt) 📖

he shifted into protective mode. Had someone entered the house? He didn’t have a weapon and he steeled himself for a potential confrontation. The slam had come from the direction of the hall and he waited and listened. The house went quiet again, and Trick moved silently out of the kitchen and into the living room. Nothing was out of place. The windows were closed, and he couldn’t determine the source of the noise. He entered the hallway, peered into his room, and was about to enter it when he noticed the bathroom door was closed. Had he closed it?

Trick approached and put his hand on the cold knob. Did someone enter the house to use the facilities? Trick almost chuckled, and pushed the door open. The light was off, and he flicked it on. The bathroom was as he’d left it. The shower was damp, the toilet seat was up, and the hand towel he’d used still hung from the side of the sink. He picked it up and slid it into the towel holder on the wall. It must have been a draft, he said to himself, although he wondered from where. He flicked the light off, left the door open, and returned to the kitchen.

He eyed the phone still lying on the table, and sat. A LeeAnn Rimes tune began to softly play and Trick forgot about the door. Leaning over, he held his head and murmured to himself, wishing he wasn’t so stupid. He thought of where he was, where he had been, and where he wanted to be, and shook his head. “Fuck it,” he said. Sighing, he turned off the music and recalled the number he’d memorized. His fingers shook, and he kept an eye on the front window, watching for Red’s return.

He dialed and listened as the phone connected and rang. It was answered on the first ring, and he heard her pensive voice. “I’d hoped you’d call.”

Trick swallowed. “I shouldn’t have, but I wanted to talk to you. I miss you, baby.”

Cissy’s breath caught. “Oh God, Trick. I miss you, too.”

Chapter Eleven

Mason sat in a chair outside the office of Chad’s boss, Tony Povia, and Trick sat in the chair next to him. They were on the top floor of a large building overlooking the city, and the view was stunning. An assistant sat at her desk across the room and spoke on the phone.

Trick flipped through a magazine, closed it and tossed it on the coffee table. He stared out the window. “I had no idea there was so much money in security.”

Mason admired the view. “I don’t think this is the type of security that patrols the grounds on a golf cart.”

“I’m guessin’ not. More like Mission Impossible stuff.”

“Mission what?” asked Mason.

Trick snorted. “Never mind.”

The assistant hung up the phone and stood. “He’s ready,” she said. “Come on back.”

Mason and Trick stood and followed her to a large wooden door, which she opened. Mason entered, seeing a spacious office with big windows and glass furniture. A man walked on a slow-moving treadmill with a work space attached. Ear buds were in his ears, and his black, slightly tousled hair sported a wind-blown look. He wore dark jeans, and a long-sleeved collared shirt with no tie. When he saw them, he pulled out his ear buds, stopped the treadmill, and hopped off.

“Thanks, Jenna. You must be Chad’s friends. Come in. Can we get you something to drink? Water? Coffee?” He extended a hand.

“Thank you for seeing us,” said Mason, shaking his hand. “A water would be great. Thanks.”

“Coffee. Black,” said Trick.

“I’ll get it. Be right back,” said Jenna, who closed the door behind them.

Tony shook Trick’s hand and gestured. “Have a seat.”

A large, beige leather couch with a multicolored rug beneath it sat off to the side, and Mason and Trick went to sit. Tony sat across from them in a shiny chair. “I understand you’re here to talk about Chad,” said Tony, his face falling. “Such a tremendous loss. He was an excellent addition to our staff. Chad could have sold our services to Fort Knox, he was that good.” He smiled, and Mason noted Tony’s pearly white teeth.

“What kind of services do you offer, Mr. Povia?” asked Mason. He looked around the room. “This is an impressive set up you have here.” Although they’d already done some digging into Chad’s workplace, Mason wanted to hear Tony’s description.

Tony sat back. “Ah, well, our main goal is to provide management security for major businesses. We come in, see what your goals are, and make suggestions as to how to best protect your assets, and then once we have a plan, we help implement it. Pretty boring stuff, actually, unless you own a million-dollar company.” He grinned. “You guys own one of those, by chance? I’ve got a state-of-the-art video and surveillance system if you’re interested. Real cutting-edge stuff. No one will come within a ten-mile radius of you without being shot between the eyes with a high-powered laser.” He chuckled.

Trick stared, and Mason squinted.

Tony’s chuckle faded. “Sorry,” he said. “My poor attempt at humor during an uncomfortable moment.” He rested an ankle on his knee. “So, how can I help you? I assume you have some questions about Chad?”

“We do,” said Trick.

“We already spoke to the police. Answered all their questions,” said Tony.

Mason leaned in. “We were hoping you might talk to us as well. Trick here is Chad’s stepbrother and, as I told Jenna on the phone, I’m a private investigator. Since Chad was murdered, we were hoping to get some information about his role here, and who he was working with. Maybe talk to his co-workers.”

Tony nodded. “But I thought they’d arrested his wife.” He paused. “Are you saying she didn’t do it?”

“She didn’t,” said Trick. “No way.”

Mason shot a look at Trick. “We’re just doing our own investigation to be sure,” said Mason. “Your cooperation would be helpful.”

The door opened, and Jenna returned, holding a water