10. Doug

TEN

DOUG

In which Doug reminds himself there is no such thing as coincidence.

Doug stared around at the no-longer-in-business businesses. The For Lease signs were tattered, and hope had clearly been abandoned long ago. He'd wanted to see where authorities had discovered Agent Schoenhut. What was it about this spot? Had it meant something to the killers? Why a coffin? Was it convenience or a message?

The coffin setup was something Doug hadn't come across before. Not that he'd worked many, or any, violent crime scenes—he'd made them. Was it a violent scene when the murder happened somewhere else?

He blinked. Crap, Nick's way of thinking was beyond rubbing off on him and now starting to make sense in a way.

"Are we just going to stand here in this god-awful wind? Or is there a plan? There's no plan, is there? You're just out here Columbo-ing it, aren't you? You think"—Nick deepened his voice—"I'm going to look at the scene and know immediately that this was perpetrated by a very angry man with authority issues and a small?—"

"Just quiet for a moment. Besides, it's Sherlock Holmes who can tell stuff like that. Columbo was more of a ‘trick person into confessing after bumbling around with that cigar' guy, wasn't he?"

"I don't know. Both were before my time."

There was silence. Not complete silence because the wind Nick had pointed out was still doing its thing. Tumbleweeds scraped across the parking lot. A semi roared past, followed by a dusty sedan. Doug noted a few cinder block structures in the distance and a couple of derelict RVs.

A great place for a murder.

Doug risked a look at Nick. His partner had a stupid smile on his face. Doug rewound what Nick had said, nodding and adding his own stupid smile to the mix.

"Yes, Nick, both detectives were before your time. And mine too, even though you seem to think otherwise."

"I'd like to point out that I was being quiet, and you still haven't answered my question about what we are doing out here."

"Let's take a walk and see what's around."

Doug started toward the derelict buildings, knowing that Nick would follow behind him. He wanted to make sure there was no one here or, at least, no one who cared anything about what he and Nick were doing.

They circled the lot, even venturing behind the structures. Doug wasn't used to all the emptiness. The desert was literally right there. A vast nothing.

Logically, Doug knew it wasn't empty. He'd watched plenty of Nat Geo, but to a guy who was used to the city, it felt empty. Maybe Nick had a point about retiring to the middle of nowhere.

"Wow," said Nick, "there's a lot of nothing out there."

"Agreed."

Doug stopped at one end of the tiny shopping center, where crime scene tape fluttered in the wind. This spot would be hard to see from the road. He wondered who had called in the incident.

"What happened here?"

"Agent Schoenhut was found here."

"Um, no longer alive, I take it?"

"No longer alive."

"Did you know them?"

Doug nodded. "Yes. He was displayed in an open coffin, his hands crossed over his chest. Apparently, it looked like he'd gone to sleep. He was a mentee of mine. Wizard didn't say much else."

"Do you think Wizard knew more than he was telling you? And, seriously, why a coffin here?" Nick's head moved again as he looked around the area, and, like Doug, found nothing. As almost an afterthought, he added, "As the newest Doug Swanson trainee, should I be worried?"

"As far as Wizard goes, anything is possible. I haven't talked to April yet, although I'm sure she's already trying to verify his information. Should you be worried?" Doug wasn't surprised Nick had made the same connection he had. Someone was targeting people he'd worked with. Or was it coincidence?

Doug hated the word coincidence.

"No reason to worry as long as you stick with me."

"What did Schoenhut do?"

"I don't know if it matters, but Mel was slightly magnetic. I think whoever is behind this is getting some kind of sick thrill killing SPAM agents."

A shiver ran down his spine. SPAM agents he was associated with. Nick was right to be concerned. He tried not to think of the missing Agent Carroll as anything other than alive.

"But why? And why SPAM and not just regular people or, you know, the others ?"

"The others are much harder to kill. No offense to SPAM agents."

"I'm sure none taken. So," Nick said thoughtfully, "this mysterious killer may be targeting more vulnerable victims? But still not—what do you call regular people?"

"Normals. At least that's what I've always used."

"So, we're abnormal. I fit right in."

Nick sounded a bit shocked by that thought. Doug figured it hadn't happened often in his life. Pondering his response, Doug stared up at the rapidly darkening sky. He'd forgotten how quickly it got dark in the desert. He was used to longer days in the summer and shorter over the winter, with long, drawn-out sunrises and sunsets.

"If that makes you happy, Nick. Personally, I don't do labels since they don't usually fit well. We should get back."

"Did you see that?" Nick pointed to a stand of cacti on the other side of the lot.

Doug peered into the shadows. "What?"

"Isn't that a tent?"

It was a tent hidden as well as it could be in the shadow of several huge rocks and a few tall cactus plants. Whoever lived there probably had already talked to authorities, but Doug wanted to make sure.

"Let's see if anyone is home."

"We could come back tomorrow when it's not scary dark."

"This will just take a second."

The tent was empty. And it looked to Doug as if the occupant had been gone for a while, maybe even days. He didn't want to rummage and there didn't seem to be a reason to, so he left the rumpled sleeping bag and sacks of clothing alone.

"We'll have to come back out tomorrow."

"I told you we should've had the driver wait," Nick said for the third time. "I have blisters."

They'd ended up having to walk several miles to a truck stop. Doug was finally able to get a rideshare car to pick them up there and bring them back to the hotel.

"You were right," Doug muttered. It'd only been a few days, but he now knew enough to realize those were the only words that would make Nick happy sometimes.

"I was right?!" Nick crowed, then sobered. "I don't actually like that I was right. I'd rather be wrong and not have blisters on my heels the size of Hawai'i."

"Has anyone ever said you are a drama queen?" He kept his lips from twitching into a smile as he focused on his footwear.

"No one."

Doug looked up from untying his shoes.

"My aunt. Sometimes."

"Why do you live with your aunt anyway?" Doug tried to find the right words and not be offensive. "I mean, it doesn't seem like you're happy there."

"Oh." Nick flicked his loafers to the side and flopped onto the mattress. "We get along okay. She doesn't ask much in rent and I help her with maintenance and things like that. She took me in after my parents died—tragic elevator accident, in case you were curious—so I feel like I owe her. And then when I was laid off from the start-up, she let me move back into the basement."

"Makes sense."

They were both quiet and Doug thought about what was next. First order of business, regardless of the time, was checking in with management. Spinning to face the desk, he opened his laptop and connected to the secure SPAM network.

The bee-doop sound repeated several times before a chat window popped up. It always bugged Doug that SPAM could see him, but he had no idea what April looked like.

"Agent Swanson, report," said the slightly tinny voice.

Quickly and succinctly, he went over the events of the last three days, covering everything he'd left out at the last check-in, but skipping the part about sex. They didn't need to know about that.

"What was Schoenhut doing here?" Doug asked. Behind him, Nick was remarkably quiet.

"Agent Schoenhut was on extended leave. That is all we can share with you."

"Okay." Doug didn't like it, but he figured that extended leave meant he'd possibly been undercover. Or he really had been on leave and just got himself dead. "Agent Sedgewick and I went to the shopping center where he was discovered today. We weren't able to stay long, but at a glance, we didn't see any clues as to why that spot was chosen. I'm assuming SPAM now believes his death and the other MIA agents are connected."

He wanted to bring up that at least two of the agents had been closely associated with him, but he didn't want to scare Nick. Most likely it was coincidence.

Right. A bridge in Brooklyn, anyone?

"Yes, we do. Did you learn anything about Agent Carroll?"

"Ah, no. We had planned on returning to Nitti's tonight, but that's not going to happen."

"Anything at The Ace of Clubs?"

Doug almost said no but then remembered what had happened to Nick in the bathroom. April was quiet for a long time after he shared the incident, so long that he worried they'd lost their connection. Finally, she spoke.

"Please put Agent Sedgewick on and have him describe the incident to me."

Doug stood and gestured for Nick to take his seat at the desk.

"Agent Sedgewick," said April, "please repeat what Agent Swanson shared with me."

Nick obliged and April asked him several times to confirm what the man had looked like and what he'd been wearing.

"Would you say the headwear was a bowler or a porkpie hat?" April asked.

"A what?"

"Agent Swanson, would you please show Agent Sedgewick an image of both styles of hats?"

As fast as he could, Doug searched for pictures of the hat styles and showed them to Nick.

"It was a porkpie hat."

"Thank you, Agent Sedgewick. Agents, continue to focus on The Ace of Clubs. If the man approaches you again, try to speak with him. We are working on our end to confirm his identity."

"Um, okay? Over and out?"

"Over and out." The screen went dark.

Nick released a breath of air. "So, more dancing?"

"More dancing."

"Third time's a charm and all that?"

"We can hope so."

"Who is he? Do you have an idea?"

"I don't, but I suspect SPAM does. They'll tell us when they think it's the right time."

"But why the focus on his hat? And who calls a hat a pork pie? Were they going to eat it? Did it look like pie? I have questions."

Doug had questions too.

"No time for them now. It's time to go dancing."

Before leaving, they'd had to call down to the lobby for Band-Aids. Nick's blisters weren't the size of a small island in the Pacific Ocean, but they did look uncomfortable.

"I'll be fine," Nick said with the air of a sacrificial virgin. Doug tried not to find it adorable. He failed and decided to ignore it instead.

They'd taken a ride to the club this time and as it was a Friday night, they'd had to wait in line to get in. But once they made it to the door, the bouncer recognized them and they were swept into the back room like real VIPs.

"This is different from the last two times we were here," Nick whispered in his ear. "And we didn't get to dance first this time."

"We either made an impression or someone wants to see us."

Maybe they'd get to the dance floor later, but Doug wasn't counting on it.

"Someone who?" Nick asked.

Doug shrugged. "How should I know? Maybe it will be the guy with the porkpie hat."

"I hope not," Nick said grimly. "He was creepy."

"Poker again, Mr. Swanson, or something else tonight?" Ginny asked.

"I think my partner and I would like to sit and have a few drinks first and just watch. Would that be okay?" Doug felt around in his jacket pocket for his phone. "And we were wondering if you'd seen our friend?"

Holding his phone out, Doug showed her the picture of Esther. Ginny was very good; he almost missed the slight widening of her eyes before she shook her head. "No, sorry, I haven't. Have a seat wherever you like and someone will be by for your drink order."

Ginny rushed off. It was a Friday—almost Saturday—and the place was hopping, but was she moving faster than she needed to? Doug couldn't be sure.

"I think she did recognize Agent Carroll," Nick said as he stopped near an empty table. There were no chairs since these were spots to stand and have drinks before placing bets.

"I agree."

A server they didn't recognize paused to take their drink order.

"I'm going to need a seven-day cleanse after this assignment," Nick complained.

Doug ignored the complaint, mostly because he agreed with Nick. Instead, he scanned the room, taking in the gaming area and the patrons. Nothing seemed out of place and he didn't see anyone wearing an odd hat.

"We need to get into the platinum VIP room again or whatever it is," Nick said. "It's probably high stakes poker or something like that tonight. Texas Hold'em, maybe."

"What do you know about poker?" Doug asked.

"Nothing, but I've watched it on TV."

Doug rolled his eyes.

The server returned with their drinks: a whisky again for Doug and something ridiculously fruity for Nick. It even had an umbrella in it.

"Hey," Nick said quietly. "Isn't that our friend, Marvin?"

"What? Marvin who?"

"Velvet Elvis."

Doug followed the direction Nick indicated with his chin. The door to the third room was being held open by a waitperson and Doug could see—20/10 vision—Velvet Elvis standing on a dais and fiddling with a mic.

"I mean he was alright, but Ace of Clubs material? I don't know."

"It does seem a bit odd, but again, this is Vegas and nothing makes sense. Drink up."

Surprisingly, when Doug inquired about the back-back room, both he and Nick were invited. The two of them followed Ginny to the inset door.

"Do not do anything stupid," Doug said quietly. "Do not allow yourself to get separated from me."

Doug was horrified to realize he liked Agent Nick Sedgewick even more than he thought he had. What was wrong with him? If something happened to Nick on Doug's watch, he'd have a hard time forgiving himself.

"But what if you get separated from me?" Nick asked. "I mean, we've had a long day and I'm sure people your age get easily confused when they are tired."

Doug managed to tamp down his chuckle. Two could play this game, and Doug thought he just might be better at it now that he was more aware of the rules or lack thereof.

But first he had a murderer to catch.