Page 2

“What did you fight over?”
“Over Mike.”
Jackpot.But that did leave one big question…
“Who’s Mike?”
“Her boyfriend.Ex-boyfriend now, I guess.My pop died years ago, and Mom dated, but nothing serious untilhecame along.”
“The file listed her boyfriend as Tony Spicer?”
“Michael is his middle name, and he always preferred it over Tony.”
“The two of you didn’t get along?”
Aubree shook her head.“Oh, he was smooth, buttoosmooth, if you know what I mean?Like it was all an act?The time or two I was on my own with him, he bordered on rude, and it was obvious why he was with my mom.”
We both waited expectantly, although I could predict where this was going.
“Money.Mom had money from Pop’s life insurance, and from her business, and Mike didn’t even have a job, not a proper one.Oh, sure, he had ideas.He convinced Mom to invest in a wind power plant, and a real estate development, and a Christmas tree farm in freaking Arizona.Every time I asked her about Mike’s ‘portfolio,’ about where the money was, she just said these things took time to turn a profit.”
“Did you give this information to the police?”
“Of course I did!But the detective told me it was a clear-cut case of suicide.She even left a note.”
And a neighbour had found Sharona dead, not Tony or Mike or whatever his name was.He’d shown up on the scene later, playing the part of devastated soulmate while the folks from the funeral home removed the body from the house.The note had been brief, just a couple of lines apologising for ending things that way, and if I recalled correctly, he’d been the person to identify the handwriting as hers.
“Detective Duncan, right?”
“You know him?”
“Only by reputation.What did he say about the money?”
“That if she’d given it willingly, then there was nothing they could do.Mike bled her dry, and the cops didn’t think that contributed to her death?I’ll never forgive him.Never.”Aubree choked out a sob.“He lied about Captain too.”Yes, Pinchy had once been named Captain, which explained his love of pirate language.“Mike said he rehomed him to a neighbour, but I’ll bet he just opened the window and let him fly out.”
“You didn’t try to take him?”
“My son’s allergic to parrot dander.Every time we visited Mom, he’d start sneezing.I mean, I did offer to find him a new home—Captain, not my son—but Mike said he’d already handled it.”Another sob.“I’m s-s-so glad he landed on his feet in the end.Do you think his new owners might send me pictures?”
“I’m sure they will.But I’m curious—who taught Captain to swear?Your mom?”
An incredulous laugh burst from Aubree’s throat.“No, oh gosh, no.Captain belonged to my little brother, but when he started working on a cruise ship, Mom took care of him.Mom hated Cody’s job,hatedit—she wanted him to become a doctor—but he always loved boats.That’s where Captain got his name.”
“Your brother’s still working in the cruise industry?”
Aubree nodded.“He’s a third officer now, sailing around the Mediterranean.He’ll be thrilled to hear about Captain too.”
“I’ll make sure you get updates.”
“And if you ever see Mike, tell him I hope he rots in hell.”
Oh, we most certainly would.
Our quest to find Anthony Michael Spicer, also known as Michael Christopher Barclay, also known as Elwood John Michaelson, took us on a digital journey from Richmond, over to New York, and back to the West Coast.Now known as Mick Baker, Mike was shacked up with a wealthy widow in Santa Clarita, living off her investments and no doubt scamming her out of every cent possible.Sharona Cummings hadn’t been his first victim, and if we didn’t do something about the problem born as Michael Elwood, she wouldn’t be his last, either.In the weeks before we touched down in California, we’d found six more women he’d taken advantage of.Three were dead—one “accident” and two “suicides”—and the other three rued the day they’d ever met the asshole.
The sun was setting as we rolled into Santa Clarita—me, Black, and my half-sister, Ana.Ana’s boyfriend had taken their daughter to visit his parents, and since Ana did better in combat situations than social ones, she’d opted to join us for the fun instead.Vance Webber, a senior investigator from Blackwood’s LA office, had done most of the legwork, so we knew Mike’s current mark was celebrating a friend’s birthday with a visit to a local spa.Mike was “working,” otherwise known as binge-watching TV in his pyjamas while eating a family-sized bag of pretzels.
He wasn’t amused when Black and I appeared in his living room.One could even say he was furious.But the anger soon turned to fear when Black shoved him back into his recliner and stood in front of him, arms folded.Black was a big guy—six feet seven with the muscles to match—and Mike stood a foot shorter.I pocketed his phone and took a wander around the house as Black educated him on the error of his ways.Mike’s latest victim had done well for herself.She owned a small chain of upscale shoe stores, and judging by the contents of her walk-in closet, she tested out most of the merchandise.I found a handgun in a drawer on Mike’s side of the closet and removed the ammo.Ditto for the pearl-handled revolver tucked away in his lady friend’s bedside table.I mooched through the three bedrooms, the four bathrooms, the generous kitchen/diner, and the small study.According to Vance, the woman had remortgaged recently to release equity, and the proceeds of the loan had been transferred to Hillside Wind Energy, Inc., which had a flashy website but no tangible assets that we could find.