Heidi’S House: A Sam Mccloud Novel

By Gary Crawford

The author of Immaculate Deception and Double Tap has penned another intriguing tale of mystery, treachery and romance. Private investigator Sam Mac McCloud is hired by an old acquaintance, Heidi Fujiwara, the owner of an escort service, to find out who is making threats toward her, fearing for her beautiful daughter Emikos safety. Because of the imminent danger and Emikos blossoming into a gorgeous and sexy woman, Heidi has decided to find out the paternity of her daughter and has requested McCloud find the identity of Emikos father from a short list provided by her that includes McCloud and his cousin Sven Swede Anderson, the owner of the Downtown Athletic Club.
Emikos obsessive stalker becomes more belligerent as he realizes other men are showing an interest in Emiko, a relationship denied him by Heidi due to his earlier behavior, even though he is the son of one of Heidis long-time personal clients.
McCloud enlists the help of his friend, Lieutenant Danny Kelly of the Modesto police department to track down the stalker and to determine who the father of Emiko is.
In the meantime Heidi renews her friendships with Swede and Mac and attempts to bring them into the fold of her rapidly expanding romantic enterprise.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499022230

Gary Crawford

Gary Crawford is a retired educator and author of the popular Sam ‘Mac’ McCloud, private investigator novels. A former sports writer, Crawford was awarded a fellowship to the University of Maryland Journalism Department. A native Californian, Crawford and his wife, Debbie, live on a ranch between the rural towns of Newman and Gustine, in the Central Valley of California. The historical western, Trepidation Trail, about an 1865 wagon train on the Oregon/California trail is his first novel in this genre, one of his favorites. You may contact Gary at: www.swedecrawford.com.

Book preview

1

Two angry, intense dark brown eyes were staring at me, reminding me of the rattlesnake about to strike at my friend Mike Azevedo at his deer camp on the eastern side of the California Coast Range west of Gustine last summer. The venom was spewing out of her tiny brown head when she said, You need to quit screwing around and make some money.

I was startled by the fierceness of the attack from my cute little Latina executive assistant. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand what I had done to make her so angry. I looked around the office and didn’t see anything unusual. I looked in the backyard; and Daisy, my black Lab, seemed fine with me. She was doing a quick wag of happiness.

Sara Vazquez has been my employee for many years. She’s beautiful and efficient, almost to a fault. I seldom have to worry about the intricate business side of my investigative firm, and she takes care of my personal business as well. Sara is like family and one of my best friends. It’s not the first time she’s been angry with me, but this time was more extreme than usual.

You know what Robin Williams said? she asked.

Stunned by the question, I said, I dunno. I’ll bet it was some crazy shit.

Furiously, she said, God gave man a brain and a penis and only enough blood supply to operate one at a time.

Robin Williams is a smart man. I couldn’t argue with that one.

The trouble with you, Sam McCloud, is that you often think with the wrong head, Sara fumed.

I was really in trouble; she used my full name, and I still didn’t know why she was so angry at me.

You need to quit being so stupid and bring in some money.

You know the private detective business. It’s up and down, I said feebly. Business had been slow lately, allowing me to spend a lot of time with my girlfriend Abigail Clark.

That’s more the reason you need to knuckle down and drum up some business, she said.

I didn’t want to infuriate her further, so I just nodded my head and grabbed my gym bag.

Where are you going now? Sara asked argumentatively.

Doing as you requested. I’m going out to drum up some business.

At the gym? she asked.

Good a place as any, I said, retreating hastily.

My cousin, Sven Swede Anderson, owns and operates the Downtown Athletic Club along with his tough but beautifully fit manager Kim. The truth be known, I actually got quite a bit of business out of Swede’s gym, and he often assisted me in my investigations. Swede was an extremely fit blond guy, about six feet two inches tall and was good-looking like Brad Pitt but much more muscular. In fact, he was almost pretty. He and I butt heads like brothers, but he’s one of my best male friends. We’ve always been competitive in our endeavors but work well as a team.

One of our most obvious competitive realms was women. We both loved beautiful women and often got in trouble because of that. Swede’s tastes tended toward blondes and redheads whereas mine tended toward brunettes, sprinkled with blondes and redheads.

Swede was training a lovely woman at the free-weight benches when I entered. I didn’t see Kim anywhere. I walked over to Swede, and he looked irritated to see me. I always got that kind of reception when he was working with a woman. His client was lying on a bench, and Swede was assisting her with dumbbell presses, a terrific exercise for the chest. The woman was well endowed and didn’t appear to need this particular exercise. I mouthed, Real or fake?

My cousin rolled his eyes and said, Hey, Mac, it’s about time you worked out.

The woman looked at me. Swede had taught her the proper method of exercise—breathing in on the downward movement and exhaling on the push movement. The inhale portion was a sight to see.

It hasn’t been that long, I said. When you are finished with your lovely client, I would like to talk to you.

The client gave me a large smile, exhibiting perfect bright white teeth. Swede became more irritated.

Sure thing, he said. Mrs. Borba has fifteen more minutes of work to do, and I can talk to you then. I’ll be glad to assist you with your exercise program.

It was my turn to become irritated. I had been working out for years and didn’t need Swede’s help. He knew it and was trying to minimize me in front of his client. I left for the locker room to change into my workout clothes. I could see Swede smiling in the mirror. He had a way of really pissing me off.

I channeled my irritation and frustration into my exercise and worked up a good sweat before Swede came over to talk with me. Finished with your little MILF cake? I asked.

Swede ignored me. He’s good at that.

Mrs. Borba is an attractive woman, I stated.

Uh-huh, Swede responded.

So are they or aren’t they? I asked.

Are they or aren’t they what?

Real, I said.

How would I know? Swede asked.

You’re as much of a student of the female anatomy as I am. You should know.

Swede shook his head. If you must know, without further inspection, I think they are real.

I nodded.

What did you want to talk to me about? Swede asked.

A couple of things. I need some business, so keep your eyes and ears open for me. I was also wondering if you have any idea why Sara is so darn angry with me. She’s really pissed off. Do you think it is because of Abby?

Swede shook his head again. No, I doubt it. She likes Abby. It’s probably about you and her.

What about me and her?

You know she loves you, so that’s always a complication, Swede said.

I love her too. So why is she mad at me?

Swede looked at me like I was an idiot. "No, she is in love with you."

Don’t be ridiculous, I said. She’s like a sister.

Uh-huh, Swede said, still looking at me with that look on his face. What day is today?

I know what day it is. It’s Monday.

No, dummy. What’s the date?

I thought for a moment. The twentieth.

And…

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I forgot Sara’s birthday.

Sara’s birthday has always been a big deal to her, Swede said. I can’t believe you forgot. No wonder you are in the doghouse. It certainly explains why you are divorced and never remarried.

Okay, you are the romantic. What do I do here? I asked.

Swede smiled. He liked having the superior position over me. You are such an idiot. You need to make it up to her fast or you are going to be in for a miserable week.

Help me out here, smart ass, I said.

First of all, you’ll need to act like you were playing dumb this morning. Not a hard thing for you to do, Swede said, smiling even bigger.

I clenched my fist. Damn, this cousin of mine could piss me off.

Then you need to do some scrambling. Send her some flowers. Get her a bottle of fine wine. Take her to Delmonico’s for dinner. Then you’ll have a great week.

I don’t have much time to do all of this, I said.

It’s going to cost you, but money is the root of all happiness, especially when it comes to women, Swede said. Expensive flowers, expensive wine, and an expensive dinner will solve your problem.

I better get my ass in gear. Don’t call her and wish her happy birthday until I get said ass covered, I said.

I’ll wait until this afternoon. I’ll watch her son tonight. We’ll watch the ball game together. You can thank me later, Swede said, leaving to greet another attractive client entering the gym.

I hustled to the locker room to shower. I was thinking how Sara hit the nail on the head. I was pretty stupid not to remember her birthday. To her, I think it is the most important day of the year. I recalled what Swede the Lothario had told me. A fine wine and expensive dinner, and what was the third thing? Oh yeah, flowers. I guess the best place to start would be at Mel’s Liquors. Melody was always free with her advice about booze and romance. Come to think of it, she usually talked about romance more than she did booze. I had a lot of work to do to get back in Sara’s good graces.

2

There was nothing unusual about me avoiding the office, but at times it was difficult because my residence was in the upstairs of an old Victorian house on Fourteenth Street that my father and I had remodeled some years ago. I skirted the block and parked in front of Mel’s Liquors.

Melody Souza is the daughter of a longtime friend, having taken over his business when he retired. Melody is a cute blonde Portuguese girl with a dynamic, flirtatious personality. She was very knowledgeable and helpful when it came to spirits and entertaining. This was one of those times that I really needed her help.

As usual, Mel greeted me with her big beautiful smile as I entered her store. She was bagging a cheap bottle of wine for a gentleman that appeared to be of the homeless sort.

Hi, Mac, I’ll be right with you. Be safe out there, Bennie, Melody said to the homeless guy.

I took a moment to purview the row upon row of wine bottles. Not being much of a wine drinker, my knowledge was very limited, and that’s why I relied on Mel’s expertise. When she was through with her customer, I explained my birthday dilemma, and she shook her head in sympathetic pity.

Will you ever learn? Mel asked, scolding me.

I hung my head in shame. I don’t know, Mel, but I need your help. I need to get Sara a really good bottle of wine for her birthday. I need it to appear like I had preordered it.

Mel was still shaking her head. Here I go. I’m going to save your sorry ass again and for another woman, as usual, she said. The fact of the matter is, all of your problems would be solved if you dated me.

I always have to pay a price for Melody’s assistance. We’ve been through this many times before, I said. I’m too old for you. I’m old enough to be your father.

Are not.

Am too.

You would have had to have been a father at about fifteen years old, she said. I’m twenty-five now, and the age difference gets smaller as the years go by.

I didn’t want to get into a discussion about her Portuguese logic, so I asked her to pick out a good bottle of wine for me.

I have just the thing for her. A bottle of Delicato Clay Station Late Harvest Viogner. It’s a very sweet, delicate wine.

Sounds good to me, I said.

I’ve got some wrapping paper and ribbon, and I’ll wrap it for you, she said. Go to Hallmark and pick out a nice card and bring it back to me, and then I’ll deliver it personally this afternoon when my cousin Marie comes in to relieve me.

You’re a lifesaver, Mel, I said, bending down a kissing her on the cheek.

You owe me, big boy, she said, putting her arms around me and hanging on.

Then she kissed me on the lips. Not a quick peck but a slow, wet kiss. I gently tried to push her away, but she was strong and determined and soft and warm and moist.

Hmmm… , she murmured.

I finally got away from her, feeling guilty about the reaction I was getting. Do you kiss all of your customers that way?

Only the hunky ones, she said. What did you think?

I like your idea, choice of wine, and I’ll go get a card, I said.

Not that, silly. The kiss.

Well, I must admit it was nice, I said.

There’s more where that came from, she said, eyes sparkling.

I’ll bring that card by, I said, hurrying to the door.

No hurry. Marie doesn’t get here until two o’clock, Melody said.

My mind was preoccupied with Melody’s kiss. I was heading west on H Street and went too far, so I turned on Tenth Street to go around the block. I spied my good friend Lieutenant Danny Kelly standing by the fallen officer memorial outside the Modesto Police Station talking to another officer. I pulled into a police-parking-only spot and got out under the watchful eye of the officer Danny was talking with.

Danny looked at the officer and said, He’s okay. He used to be a policeman and won’t be long, will you, Mac?

Right, I said. I wouldn’t use up your valuable parking space unless it was a matter of utmost importance.

Mac, this is Officer Timothy O’Connell, Danny said. Mac’s a PI here in town.

Officer O’Connell and I shook hands and mumbled that we were glad to meet each other.

Come into my office, Mac. Officer O’Connell, watch Mr. McCloud’s vehicle and make sure it is not vandalized or ticketed.

Yes, sir, McConnell responded.

Upon entering the police station, I was greeted by a beautiful smile from Clerk Susan Peterson. She was a lovely blonde woman that I had assisted getting hired by the police department. How’s it going, Susan? I asked.

It couldn’t be better, Mac. I love it here! Susan said. I’m still waiting for you to use that telephone number I gave you sometime ago, though.

One of these days, I said. I’m glad you are doing so well.

We’re burning daylight, Mac, Danny said.

You watch too many John Wayne movies, I said.

Duke’s the best, Danny said. I just wish he were alive and still making movies.

He’d be over one hundred years old, I said.

Yeah, but he’d still be John Wayne.

And he would still be Marion Morrison, I said.

True, now what is the urgent matter you mentioned?

By the way, won’t the officer you have guarding my truck feel trivialized? I asked.

He’s a rook. He’ll do what I say. Now what’s going on?

First of all, business has been a little slow, so if you come across something, send it my way, I said.

That’s your urgent matter? Danny asked.

Well, no. Today is Sara’s birthday.

Okay, and the problem is… ?

I forgot.

Uh-oh, you are in deep shit, Danny said.

Yes, I am. I’m looking to my friends to help me out of this. You owe me, I said.

It’s debatable who owes who here, but I don’t know what I can do to solve your problem, unless you want me to put you in protective custody, Danny said seriously.

Very funny, I said. Got any ideas how to get me out of this pickle?

You’d better take her to a dinner and a movie, Danny said.

I’ll have that covered as soon as I call Pierre at Delmonico’s, I said.

That should help, but she will never forget that you forgot, Danny said. You know how women are.

I know, I groaned.

Say, I have an idea that may save your dumb ass.

What?

The rook out there sings with an Irish quartet. I can have him go by your office this afternoon and sing happy birthday to Sara, inferring that it was your idea all along.

I like it, I said. I’ll owe you.

I’ll have to raise the debt ceiling just like those idiotic politicians, Danny said. Now get out of my parking space.

3

Before going to the floral shop, I called Pierre at Delmonico’s and asked for the best available table, explaining my predicament. Pierre scolded me for forgetting Sara’s birthday and for not coming in more often. Everybody was on my ass today. It certainly was a Monday.

Janice’s Flowers and Wedding Chapel was just a few blocks away on H Street. I’m not a big flower guy. I’ve always said they just die, not a sentiment shared by most women.

When I pulled up in front of Janice’s shop, I was surprised to see her exterior sign being taken down. Janice was in back making some kind of arrangement and gave me a welcoming smile when I came through the door.

Mac, long time no see, Janice said. Things slow on the romance front?

No, Janice, everything’s fine, but I do have a problem. Getting a new sign?

Yes, I’ll explain later. First, tell me what your problem is, Janice said.

I forgot Sara’s birthday.

Oh no, she must be devastated, Janice said with a concerned look on her face. You know how important her birthday is to her.

Yeah, I’m in deep doo-doo, I said. I hate to give you short notice, but can you help me out here with one of your special arrangements to be delivered this afternoon?

You’re in luck. This is the only arrangement due today, and I can put together a large birthday bouquet for her, Janice said.

Wonderful, maybe things will go better the rest of the day, I said with some relief. Now tell me about your sign.

I sold the place, Mac.

Oh no, what am I going to do for flowers?

Janice laughed knowing that I rarely ordered flowers unless somebody died. Don’t worry, the new owner is retaining me as manager, Janice said. And I get medical and dental coverage.

Good for you, I said. That should take some of the entrepreneurial stress off.

True. It is a relief, but I’ll have no control over the prices for my customers, and there are some issues I am not aware of, she said. The new owner has flagged some of my accounts, and you are one of them.

Why would they do that? I asked. I always paid my bills, eventually.

That’s just it. I don’t know why, and Swede’s account is flagged also.

Does that mean I can’t charge the flowers and have to pay cash?

No, that’s just it. You’re accounts are flagged because the owner wants to see you, Janice said.

Do you have any indication what it’s about?

None, she said.

Well, who’s the new owner? I asked. And where do I find him?

"Her name is Heidi Fujiwara, and her business office is located in the old Big Yellow House," Janice said.

I was stunned. I hadn’t thought of Heidi in some time. It was about twenty years ago that I had my one and only date with her. She had just about killed me. She was the most intense, sensual woman I have ever met. I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman that enjoyed sex so much. Maybe she was just a good actress because I found out later that Swede had hired her from an escort service in Stockton to get me out of my divorce doldrums.

I’ve noticed them remodeling that building, I said. It’s a good idea turning it into offices. All of the restaurants that have been in there have failed.

All indications are that Ms. Fujiwara is a very astute business woman, Janice said. She paid a good price for my floral shop and chapel because it fit in with her other interests.

I nodded. I’ll go out and see her, I said. Thank you so much for the bouquet for Sara.

Not a problem, Janice said. Don’t be a stranger.

4

I drove north on McHenry Avenue to the old Big Yellow House. Why would Heidi Fujiwara want to see me after all these years? Why would she even remember me? There’s been a lot of water under the bridge since then.

As I pulled into the middle turn lane, I could still see workers on the outside of the building and landscapers putting in plants and trees, already exhibiting a Japanese flair. The big yellow house was now a big light gray house with dark gray trim. It still looked like an old Victorian home. After parking, I approached the front door, and a workman was installing a rather small bronze sign that read Heidi’s House, LLC. In smaller print below, there was an alphabetical list of companies and services.

Exclusive Escorts

Heidi’s House of Flowers

Cherry Blossom Chapel

Lotus Limousines

Sumo Security Services

It certainly looked like Heidi had become a very successful entrepreneur since her days of being a high-priced escort. I entered the door of the building into a large reception area. Things certainly have changed since I was last here when it was a restaurant. The decorum was an eclectic mix of Victorian and Japanese. You wouldn’t think that the two styles could be so skillfully melded into a very elegant and classy look. Whoever did this motif was very talented.

Behind a rich, dark walnut counter sat a stunning young woman that reminded me of the diverse ethnic mix of the beautiful women of Hawaii. She was a genetic synthesis of sensual femininity. When she looked at me and smiled, her eyes sparkled mischievously and seemed to look into the depth of my soul, and my heart skipped a beat.

_________________________

The receptionist looked up from her work because the exterior brightness was darkened by a large man walking through the door. She felt a little frightened. He was backlit by the exterior sunlight, and it looked like his shoulders barely cleared the doorway. As he entered the interior lighting of the reception area, she thought that he looked somewhat familiar. He was extremely handsome in a rugged way with light brown hair and broad shoulders. His features were not perfect, with a slightly crooked nose and some scars evident around the chin and lips, flaws that actually added to his strength and appearance. After her initial fright, her intuition told her that she liked this man immediately. The man smiled at her, and she felt an immediate connection, a warmth that she hadn’t ever remembered experiencing.

Hello, handsome. What can I do for you? she asked flirtatiously.

Hi, my name is Sam McCloud. I was informed that Heidi wanted to see me, I said.

Just a moment, please, the receptionist said, dialing a number on the intercom of her telephone. A Mr. McCloud to see you, she said.

Oh, Mac! Heidi exclaimed. Show him in Emiko.

Right this way, Emiko said as she stood up to escort him into Heidi’s office.

I followed the receptionist as requested. She was simply but impeccably dressed in a dark blazer and light cream-colored skirt with dark high heels. This is what God had in mind when he created Eve, I thought.

I was escorted into what I remembered as the bar of the original restaurant. The bar was still there, but the remainder of the room had been transformed into a large elegant office with a large conference table near the back of the room. Heidi was rising from a large leather and fabric chair behind an oriental-looking table that served as her desk.

Mac, it is so good to see you again, Heidi exclaimed, coming around her desk and kissing me on the lips. I see you’ve met my daughter, Emiko, she said.

Daughter?

Yes, she’s lovely, I said.

I’m very proud of her, Heidi said. Emiko in Japanese means ‘child graced with beauty.’

Emiko looked a little embarrassed and excused herself to return to her duties. Nice to have met you, Mr. McCloud, she said.

Delighted, Emiko, I said.

Have a seat, Mac, Heidi said, pointing to the two plush red chairs in front of her desk.

Thank you. I must say I was surprised to hear from you after all of these years, I said.

I looked Heidi over. She was still gorgeous, an eclectic mix of European and Japanese ancestry. She had slightly almond-shaped eyes with perfect skin, dark shiny hair, and a beautiful smile. She still emitted an aura of exotic calm—very unique, very sexy. I looked at her hands and found them devoid of rings.

I’ve always loved Swede, and when I met you, I fell in love again. I had to keep telling myself that it was business as usual, but I’ve never forgotten our memorable date. It really wasn’t just business, she said.

I smiled. That was over twenty years ago, and I’ve never forgotten it either. Even though I was much younger, you just about killed me.

Heidi laughed. "I must