High Risk G.K. Parks (interesting books to read for teens .TXT) 📖

“What are we looking for?” An uneasiness crept into my gut.

Fennel checked the door. The crime scene guys had marked it, so he sliced through the tape and pushed the door open. Inside, remnants of their investigative tools remained, but most of the mess had been cleaned. The ficus had been removed, and the blood and tissue had been washed off the floor.

“Police,” I announced. “Is anyone here?”

“Just a second,” a male voice called from the back.

“Mr. Lee?” I asked, noticing my hand had traveled to my gun.

“Yes, I’m in the back office. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

While we waited, I surveyed the room. Evidence collection had been completed, and the scene had been turned over to professional cleaners. The security footage had been assessed, along with the security logs, but none of that yielded any results.

“Did CSU find any fingerprints on the shards of broken glass?” I asked Brad.

“Nothing. And nothing on the cameras either. The sarge had patrol check dumpsters and trashcans for discarded oil containers and cooking sprays, but we didn’t find any of those either. These assholes make sure they clean up after themselves.”

Mr. Lee emerged from behind the curtain with both hands visible, as if he knew we were jumpy and didn’t want to risk startling us. “I was told I could come back here to clean up and check my records. I did another inventory after we spoke, but I can’t be sure if any other items were taken from the clothes rack or if they’d just been picked up.”

“What about uniforms? You said you run a special. You must have regulars. What kinds of uniforms do you usually get?” Brad asked.

“I have a couple of city bus drivers, some mechanics, and the LockBox truck guys. That’s all I can remember. I clean police and military dress uniforms fairly regularly, but I wouldn’t say my regulars drop them off.” He eyed us, his inner salesman surfacing. “I could clean your uniforms regularly and give you a good price. How about a two for one discount since you’re investigating the break-in?”

“No, thanks. Liv has a problem with chemical cleaning agents.”

“Speaking of,” I said, annoyed my partner had used me as an excuse, “you seemed positive the crime had to do with your dry cleaning chemicals being used as inhalants. Did you find any missing?”

“No. The containers in back are sealed, and the ones we’ve been using appear to contain the same amount and consistency as before. I even checked my records, since they are used and discarded at nearly the same rate every week, but we’re right on schedule.”

“Okay, good.” I peered through the now open curtain, but no one else was in the shop. “We have a few more questions for you.”

“Certainly. How can I help?”

“For starters, we’re wondering who would know you had access to LockBox uniforms?”

Lee thought about it for a moment. “Anyone. Everyone. It’s no secret. Have you seen our webpage? I post all the companies we’ve cleaned or have cleaned.”

Brad reached for his phone and waited for Arthur Lee to give him the url before typing it in. “Yeah, it’s on here.” He scanned the rest of the page but didn’t find any comments or obvious tracking links.

“I also mention it on my flyers. Police, military, security guard, dress uniforms, repairmen’s coveralls, any uniform, one low price, which I’ll admit came back to bite me in the ass. Do you have any idea how many grease stains these mechanics wanted me to get out of their shirts? I thought they’d just buy new ones or wear them dirty. And that’s just my regular customers. Of course, everyone who ever worked here or works here knows the kind of items we clean.”

So much for my brilliant question.

“What about the disarm code?” Brad asked. “We spoke to the people you said knew the code. Have any other names come to mind? Have you shared that code with anyone else? Maybe you accidentally mentioned it spells out STAR to someone.”

Lee blanched. “Who told you that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “We just need to know if this is something other people might have realized and caught on to.”

“I didn’t even realize that,” he said. “Those bastards at Moonlight picked the code. They said it was just some random numbers. It would be completely secure. Do you believe that shit? And I fell for it. I’m wondering just how secure any of this is. The night watchman, god rest his soul, didn’t even try to fight back, according to what I overhead your people saying. And the system was disarmed, but even if it wasn’t, you can see for yourself just how easy it was to break-in and rob the place. I’m surprised the rear gate isn’t made out of plastic instead of reinforced steel.” Lee continued to rant about his displeasure with Moonlight Security, vowing to call and give them a piece of his mind.

“While you do that, do you mind if we take another look around back?” Brad asked.

“Help yourself. That’s how I got inside.” Lee headed toward the office in the rear. “The system won’t engage since the front door’s broken, so you don’t have to worry about triggering the alarm.” He let out another huff. “I’ll probably have to sleep here tonight just to make sure none of those druggies try to break in.”

I opened my mouth to ask more questions about his dogged suspicions, but Brad shook his head. “Don’t waste your breath,” he said. “I checked with everyone. There isn’t any dry cleaning chemical ring running amok. He’s just paranoid.”

Twenty-one

We didn’t find anything out back, but Fennel wasn’t willing to give up so easily. He stared at the gate which led to the double doors. “I bet this is where his precious