Dave Zeltserman - Bad Karma

“No, nothing like that. But he did tell me there were some noise issues with him and the dead students. More than that, though, I just don’t like coincidences.”

“Give me a minute.” When Daniels picked up again there was a hint of vindication in his voice. “We checked out his story. The company Maguire works for has a security system where you have to use an encoded badge at the door to get in and out. The system records the times that the badges are used, and that day Maguire got there at nine eighteen in the morning and left at two fifty-six the next morning. We also talked to his supervisor. They had a big customer deal going on the next day so Maguire leaving that late made sense.”

“Thanks. That crosses him off. Do you know anything about a cult called the True Light?”

“Yeah, a little bit. They have a compound out in East Boulder by Baseline Reservoir. Been there a little over a year. Why? You think they’re involved in this?”

“Sorry, a completely different matter. I got a call from a Pauline Cousins. Her daughter joined True Light six months ago. She’s worried about her. True Light won’t let her see her daughter. She claims the Boulder police won’t help her either.”

Daniels’ sighed heavily, making no attempt to hide his annoyance. He told Shannon that he’d look into the matter and get back to him. Lowering his voice, he asked, “What’s your take on Carver’s family?”

“Very odd. Doesn’t seem like they much care if Taylor’s murderer ever gets caught. But they do seem concerned about making money off of it.”

“My thoughts also.” Daniels hesitated, asked, “Any plans on visiting Linda Gibson’s family?”

“Yeah, probably in the next few days.”

“After you do, lets touch base. I’m curious if you come up with the same gut feeling I did.”

“Want to give me any hints?”

“I’d better not,” Daniels said. “I don’t want to prejudice you. Let’s compare notes after you meet them, okay?”

Shannon told him he would. After slipping the cell phone back into his pocket, he noticed a young girl walking towards him. She was maybe eighteen, a little heavy, with long frizzy blond hair and numerous earrings and piercings. She wore an outfit that could’ve come from a movie made from the sixties complete with a flowered vest and a skirt reaching down past her ankles. While a lot of wealth had moved into Boulder over the past two decades, it was still a Mecca for transients and a right of passage for hippie-wannabes to hitchhike to and bum around.

She had a sly little smile on her face as she asked Shannon for money. “Mister, I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday,” she said with no attempt to hide her smirk.

Shannon told her to follow him.

“I’m not doing anything for the money,” she said.

“I’m not asking you to.”

There was a café half a block away that was open for breakfast. When they got to it, Shannon told her to order what she wanted.

“I’d rather have the money.”

“And I’d rather buy you food.”

She opened her mouth as if she were going to argue, shrugged, and instead asked if she could get something for her friends too. Shannon agreed, and she ordered several roast beef and ham and cheese sandwiches to go, along with a couple of large cokes, chips and cookies. When she got her package, she begrudgingly muttered thanks to Shannon before leaving.

The cashier, a nice-looking brunette in her thirties, shook her head as she handed Shannon the change. “She showed a lot of gratitude, huh?” she said.

“I was probably worse at her age.” Nodding to the cashier, he left the café and started walking idly down Pearl Street again, slowing down when he came across two men playing chess. One of them was sitting on a bench, the other on a folding chair, with a chess set on a folding table between them. The man on the bench was in his sixties, and looked like Paul Bunyan, except that his red hair had turned mostly gray. Even though it was midsummer, he wore dungarees, work boots and a heavy red flannel shirt. As he studied the game, he pushed an upper plate in and out of his mouth. The other player was young and probably a college kid. Along with needing a shave, his hair resembled the top of a string mop that had been dyed black and, like his clothes, looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks. As he sat there, his eyes moved fervently as they scanned the board.

Standing nearby kibitzing on the game was what looked like another college student. A tall blond Germanic-looking kid with red cheeks, a smart-assed smile and a cheap stogie dangling from his lips polluting the air around him. “Idiot,” he exclaimed as the other kid reached for his bishop. “Don’t you see you can win a pawn?”

The younger player turned to him and pointed a finger. “Are you playing this game?” he asked. “No? Then shut the fuck up.” Under his breath, he added, “Moron.”

The color dropped from the tall blond kid’s face. Still smiling his smart-assed smile but with no humor left in his eyes, he tossed his cigar at the player.

“Sonofabitch,” the kid jumped up, knocking the cigar out of his lap. “You’re going to throw a lit cigar at me?” He was a good six inches shorter and sixty pounds lighter than the blond kid.

“You could’ve been more polite about my suggestion…” the blond kid started, but before he could say anything else he was hit hard with an uppercut that sent him on his ass.

“The sonofabitch threw a lit cigar at me,” the other kid repeated, his arms moving in wild gestures as he stormed away. The blond kid looked stunned as he sat on the ground. Then, rubbing his jaw, he flashed an embarrassed grin before getting back to his feet and walking gingerly in the opposite direction.

“I never knew chess was a contact sport,” Shannon said.

The Paul Bunyan look-alike had watched the event with an amused sparkle in his eyes. He slipped his upper plate back in place. “You live in Boulder long enough you’ll see everything.”

“I wonder if your opponent knew you had mate in four no matter what he did?”

The older man leaned back on the bench and appraised Shannon slowly. “Show me,” he said.

Shannon played out the moves, demonstrating how mate in four could be forced.

“You know your chess. The name’s Eddie, by the way. Why don’t you take a seat. Let’s see what you can do.”

Shannon sat down in the folding chair and introduced himself.

“Out to kill a few hours?” Eddie asked.

“More to clear my head.”

Eddie nodded. “You have the look of someone with a purpose. About my last opponent, he didn’t have a clue. I had him hook, line and sinker. Nothing but a fish waiting to be reeled in and gutted. A shame I didn’t get my chance to fillet him.”

The first dozen moves went quickly, then Eddie started taking more time to study the board before making his moves. When it was his turn he’d be locked in deep concentration, his face rigid except for his upper plate sliding in and out of his mouth. When it was Shannon’s turn, Eddie would engage him in conversation.

“How’d you lose those fingers?”

“They were broken off.”

“How was that done?”

“With a nutcracker.”

“That must’ve hurt.”

Shannon looked up, saw no sarcasm in Eddie’s heavily lined face. Other than trying to get an edge by distracting his opponent, he was doing nothing more than talking straightforwardly.

Shannon made his move, then dead silence for several more minutes until Eddie decided on his next course of action. Then:

“You been in Boulder long?”

“About five years.”

“Me, off and on since ’74. I left in ’97 after the student rioting. Ashamed after that to admit I was from Boulder. I only came back a few months ago. And I keep wondering why I did.”