Cobalt Blues

By Stephen Lee Stanley

Johnny Cobalt is not just another down-on-his-luck PI with a bad attitude to blame for his hard-knock life. He's a Christian in compromise who needs to learn that submission to Christ is the only way out of his problems. And problems are what he has in spades: cops he can't or won't trust and who don't trust him, a partner he can trust professionally but not morally, a girl he loves but whom he keeps pushing away, and a gangster he has sold his soul to but whom he must find a way to protect himself and those he cares about from. Cobalt is singing the blues until he learns to surrender.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781684566907

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Cobalt Blues

Stephen Lee Stanley

Copyright © 2019 Stephen Lee Stanley

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2019

ISBN 978-1-68456-689-1 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-68456-690-7 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part One

It was raining on an October morning in Reno. Most of the people that had to be out were well bundled and taking care to keep as warm and dry as possible under the conditions. I, on the other hand, was not. I liked the rain. It watered the grass and cleaned the streets without the need of an additional bill informing me that God felt I owed Him for the pleasure of living on His world. Unfortunately, part of what the rain was washing away this morning was the last of the blood from a freshly murdered man who, up until a few hours before, could have claimed to be in his early thirties.

The stream of water and blood was flowing out of an alley off of Wells Avenue, where a small crowd of various emergency personnel, including the Reno police, three EMTs, and an official from the city coroner’s office, had gathered. Naturally, the news media, in its various forms, were there recording the event for posterity and generally getting in the way.

I pushed my way through them and whoever else got in the way, and made towards the scene of the crime, looking for Lieutenant Taylor.

Cobalt! I turned upon hearing my name and found a blond man of medium height, build, and no real distinguishing characteristics, hiding in a doorway that opened into the alley. This happened to be Taylor, the man I had been assigned to work under. Come in here! he ordered. I obeyed as quickly as possible. This was my first time working on a homicide case as a detective, and I didn’t need to offend the lead detective. This appears to be where the murderer was when he fired the shots that killed our boy over there. There’s also evidence that whoever it was left through the front of the building afterward, he explained when I arrived in the doorway.

I made sure to look about me, hoping to see what evidence Taylor was talking about, but there didn’t seem to be anything in the nature of an obvious clue, so I decided to play stupid and ask. Taylor wasn’t in the mood to answer questions. Examine the lock on this door, then take a walk up to the front. Be sure to take in as much as possible, because once you’ve gone through, I’m going to order our boys to start cleaning up so the owner of this place can open. Don’t forget to look at the front door. It appears to have been the point of exit. I’ll be in the car when you’re done. We’ve got someone to question at the station. With that, Taylor left.

As per Taylor’s instructions, I knelt down and examined the lock on the alley door. One of the things I usually kept on me was a small magnifying loupe, which enabled me to see things like the small, fresh scratches leading into the lock that were evidence of its possibly being picked. Of course, a more cynical person could also assume that the dead man had interrupted a drunk thief who happened to have been given a key by the owner for the job, making it the most incompetent inside job ever. Problem would be that the drunk would then have had to have been steady enough to have shot a man dead from thirty feet. Didn’t fit.

I stood and examined the rest of the door. It was lacking any signs of having been forced opened, so I had to assume that the deadbolt had not been in place the previous evening. I checked that it did, indeed, work and made a mental note to find out why the owner of the building hadn’t used it. Then I turned and noted the position of the body in relation to the door.

It was, indeed, lying about thirty feet away and farther into the alley than the door. From here it seemed that the man had been shot in the back after having walked past the door.

After the door, I examined the keypad for the alarm system. As one would expect, it had been tampered with so as to bypass the alarm. The job done on it looked clean. Whoever had broken in had known what they were doing. Probably the murderer was in fact a professional thief who had been disturbed during his robbery. This raised questions.

If the thief had been disturbed while picking the lock, why had he then gone in and performed the rest of the job? If he had gotten in the door safely, it could be assumed that he would shut the door behind him so there would be little chance for him to have been disturbed after he was in and before he was ready to leave. So it could be further assumed that he had seen and shot the victim after having been startled while leaving, but then why would he then go back to the front of the building to leave, as Taylor had suggested?

I turned back to the room I was standing in. It was a small back room that appeared to be used mainly for the storage of cleaning supplies. Opposite the door was a set of shelves. To the right, as one walked in, was another door. To the left there was a mop and bucket, two brooms, and a vacuum cleaner. The room might have been five by five feet in area. With the shelves and cleaning supplies, it seemed a good bit smaller. The floor appeared to have been recently swept; probably our boys had done that to check for any shell casings. All in all, the room was uninteresting except for the alarm box, which had already told me all it was going to without a forensics report.

I turned my attention to the second door. It led directly into what appeared to be a small jeweler’s shop. There was an office that shared a wall with the room I’d just come out of. Several uniformed officers were going over the office just then, so I turned around and looked back into the storage room in order to look busy while I waited for them to finish. There was no need to get in their way, and I would prefer to go over the building from front to back without any randomness.

I was immediately glad I’d turned back into the room. From my new vantage point, I was able to catch sight of something I hadn’t expected to see. It looked like a bullet hole that would have been hidden behind the cleaning supplies from most any other angle.

I proceeded to take a closer look at the hole by moving the supplies out of the way. It was indeed a bullet hole, and the rough edges around it meant that it was probably fresh. More importantly, it appeared that the bullet that had made it had come through the alley doorway, or at least it was possible for it to have done so. I quickly called for assistance and was gratified when the two officers who had been going over the office came in. I showed them what I’d found and then proceeded to take advantage of their absence in the office.

The office had little to tell that couldn’t have been guessed at already. The safe looked like it had been opened and gone through, as did the desk. There wasn’t much to look at. I took up the pile of documents that the officers had compiled and went through them.

They were only what one would expect in a jeweler’s office. Invoices for merchandise, records of sales, bills, and so forth; there was nothing of much interest unless one wanted to believe that one of the jeweler’s debtors had been responsible for the break-in. That would be a long stretch, but Taylor would probably order it to be checked out.

The rest of the shop had all the appearances of having been robbed the last evening, and there was little murder related to look at until one came to the front door. Unlike the back door, it had not had its lock picked. This meant that it was not the means of original entry, but someone leaving through the door wouldn’t need to pick the lock to get out. I was left to assume that the door had been found to be unlocked when the initial search of the shop had been conducted.

With the door inspected, there seemed little else of obvious interest left in the shop, so I decided that I had probably kept Taylor waiting long enough.

Taylor was waiting in the passenger side of my car when I came out. So I took the driver’s side.

Did you find anything of interest? Taylor asked.

A new bullet hole in the room our murderer was standing in, and there is the rather odd fact that the deadbolt wasn’t in use.

The owner claims that he lost the key two days ago and hasn’t yet been able to replace it. Tell me about this bullet.

I did and Taylor seemed to agree that the bullet was a bit of a quandary, seeing the victim hadn’t had a gun on him.

Well, we have a possible suspect that I’ve had brought in for questioning. Maybe he can tell us who shot at him.

Anyone I know?

Probably not. He’s a small time PI named Stone. We found his wallet dropped inside the shop, and the caliber of bullets that killed our victim appear to match that of a weapon Stone is known to carry.

Really. I held back from saying any more. The fact was that I did know Stone; he had been a friend when I was cooking in the Army, trying to raise the cash to go to school. Somehow he had never seemed like the sort who would commit a cold-blooded murder. I’d always figured he was more the sort to do the deed while his blood was up and his IQ down. I quickly decided to keep my mouth shut until I knew more. Shall I drive around to the station then?

Seems like the next step. We ought to have this case closed in a couple of days, if Stone cooperates.

I didn’t respond. I wasn’t going to put my two bits in until I thought they’d count, and now certainly wasn’t the time.

*****

We found Stone waiting for us at the station. Judging by his appearance, he hadn’t slept last night, and his attitude indicated that he had been kept waiting for some time. In fact, the duty officer had already had time to take a statement from him, but I hadn’t managed to get it from Taylor yet.

Stone greeted me with a relatively happy growl of Eh, Johnny as I followed Taylor into the interrogation room we’d had him transferred to. Taylor gave me a sideways look that expressed his suspicions about my not telling him I knew Stone but had the self-restraint not to let Stone see his reaction while we were with him. I knew then I’d probably get chewed out later.

Eh, Chester, I responded while taking a chair next to the one Taylor had taken and across the table from Stone. Can you enlighten us as to what happened last night?

A client of mine got killed while we were trying to have a meeting.

You didn’t kill him by any chance, did you, Mr. Stone? asked Taylor. He used Mr. Stone like a swear word.

No. I don’t find that killing clients helps in my line of work. And I’m sure that Johnny there can tell you that I’m not the killing type at all.

Taylor shot a look at me, but I decided not to respond to him or Stone but to continue my first chain of thought. Have they told you what we found at the murder scene, Chester?

Chester hesitated visibly but was entirely calm when he started speaking again. They said that you found my wallet inside that shop where the shooter was. I guess that looks bad, but I can assure you that I’ve never set foot in that shop. My wallet was stolen along with my gun when my place got robbed a few nights ago. Some uglies broke in and pushed me around hard enough that I didn’t miss them until the next morning.

Taylor smirked. That’s quite convenient, Mr. Stone, but why didn’t you report the break-in to us before this happened?

I would have at another time, but at the moment, I was on a sensitive case and I didn’t need any distractions.

Can you tell us about the case, Chester? I said, hoping to give Chester a chance to tell his story as soon as possible. I knew Taylor to be a fair man, but I also knew that the way things were stacked against Chester, even Mother Teresa would have a hard time presuming him to be innocent.

Only that Harrison had been my client. The information he was killed for could still get me killed, so I don’t feel inclined to take chances.

What information are you talking about, Mr. Stone? Perhaps if you gave it to us, we could find out who did this and clear you of the charges. Otherwise, it’s looking like we’ll have to charge you with the murder.

Sorry, even if I had something solid to give you, I’d still hesitate to do so. This wasn’t my ordinary case.

Well, that’s your choice. Taylor shot me another glance, as if he was daring me to find something in Stone’s favor. I took up the unspoken challenge.

Perhaps you’d like to tell us everything that happened last night, Chester.

Chester hesitated and then shrugged before starting; he obviously felt that there was little chance of his being believed, but I hoped that he also saw that I was trying to give him every chance to defend himself that I could. "Harrison called me last night around 11:00 p.m. I’d been asleep, so I’m not sure of the exact time he called. He said he needed to meet me right away and asked me to come to this alley off of Wells that ran behind his place. I tried to talk him out of meeting so close to his apartment. I even threatened not to show up, but he was scared, and I soon realized that he wasn’t going to meet me anywhere else, so I agreed to his spot. I also tried to get him to tell me what was wrong, but he refused to talk until we were in person. We set the meeting for twelve.

"He was waiting for me when I got to the alley. I drove my car partway into it and used the headlights to make sure there was no one hiding in the dark. Unfortunately, the door to that shop is recessed, and I never realized it was open until it was too late. So thinking everything was clear, I left the car on and got out to head to where Harrison was. He didn’t seem likely to want to join me at the car. I was about three or four feet from him when the first shots went off.

"Harrison was dead where he stood, and if they hadn’t been so interested in making that happen, I’d be dead too. As it was, I had time to drop and return fire, just one shot, before I realized I was more likely to get shot myself than get whoever got Harrison. I was a good ten feet from the car, but it was the only cover, so I ran for it, and the shooter tried a couple of shots at me. Once at the car, the door was out of sight, and Harrison didn’t need my help anymore, so I put it in reverse and got out of there.

After that I hit a bar for a few hours and then went home where your boys found me still trying to unwind. That’s the whole story.

What bar did you go to?

The Wonderbar on Wells. I figured that it was safe enough. Assassins usually clear out pretty quick. Besides, I figured that if they were looking to get me last night, they’d have someone at my apartment.

Then why’d you go home at all?

I guess I got a little too drunk for thinking straight.

How many shots would you say were fired by the shooter?

Four or five, I don’t think there could have been more than one person doing the shooting.

I don’t suppose you saw the shooter or have any idea who he or she might be?

Sorry. Whoever it was didn’t want to be identified. I didn’t see anything that could help. As to knowing who it was from other means, I can’t help you there either. Harrison hired me to help him with some information he’d gotten hold of. I don’t know what the information was or who it previously belonged to, so I can’t even guess who’d be willing to kill for it.

And Harrison never intimated or let slip who he was afraid of?

Nope.

Right. Taylor was angry. It was obvious that Stone was lying about what he knew about the case or about being the murderer. Either way wouldn’t help us solve the case, but it might get Stone convicted of murder. I’m not buying it, Stone. Either you know who killed Harrison or you did it yourself, and if you had any brains at all, you’d tell us the truth. Because if you killed Harrison, lying to us won’t keep you out of jail, and if you didn’t then, you might need some protection from whoever did.

Stone was nonplussed. I agree with your assessment of the situation, Taylor, but I can’t tell you more than I have already.

I was beginning to feel as frustrated as Taylor. I didn’t want to believe that Stone committed the murder, but he wasn’t giving us anything that could help us believe otherwise. Chester, we have enough now to hold you as long as we want, long enough to build an airtight case against you. Can’t you at least give us something to go on, a lead, a name, anything?

Stone hesitated for a long moment, and I began to hope that he was deciding to tell us something. I was wrong. Sorry, Johnny, I just can’t tell you anything more than I already have.

Taylor made a sound that clearly indicated that he was in no way surprised about how the interview had gone, and stood to leave. I hesitated a moment and then followed; after all, if Stone had killed Harrison, it would be best that I kept my distance from him while I was investigating the case.

*****

In the corridor, Taylor was met by a clerk who gave him a thick envelope. Taylor glanced inside at the contents and then let me know that our next stop was to search Stone’s apartment and then his office. So we made our way back to the car.

Once we were out of the station, Taylor gave full vent to his frustration. Tell me, Cobalt, do you think it’s right to lie to or otherwise withhold information from a superior officer?

The question took me by surprise. The interview with Stone had made me forget that I had failed to tell Taylor that I knew Stone. Fortunately, there was only one answer to the question, and years in the army and then as a police officer had taught me to give such answers without hesitation. No, sir. Such actions are entirely inappropriate, sir.

Then why didn’t you tell me that you and Stone were friends?

Merely old acquaintances, Taylor. It’s been years since I last saw him.

Well, while he was making his statement, he said that the two of you were great friends and that you would speak up for him when the time came.

I was taken aback. The truth was that Stone and I had been good friends. Stone had saved my life from my own stupidity, and I liked him, but we hadn’t seen each other for years, and I’d hoped that he’d have had the clarity of mind not to tell the officer taking his statement that he was great friends with the officer investigating his case. It was a guaranteed way of getting me kicked off of the case and as far as possible from being able to help him. But now the damage was done, and I had to deal with it and Taylor. I quickly realized that the best thing I could do would be to level with Taylor and hope he didn’t decide to kick me off the case, not that I’d blame him if he did. All right, it’s true. We were friends, still are I guess, but I really haven’t seen him in at least two years. Also, you’ll be hard-pressed to ever convince me that he’s a murderer. And the truth is that even you know that he might not have done it, and in that case, I could be a genuine asset to your investigation.

And if he turns out to be guilty, you could become a liability.

Look—

Quiet a moment. I need to think.

I didn’t like being cut off or chewed out, but now wasn’t the time to start a fresh argument with Taylor. So I stepped back and gave Taylor some room. He stood fuming for a few minutes more and then slowly calmed down. I’m sorry, Cobalt.

Then I’m off the case?

No. I mean I’m sorry, as in I know you well enough to realize that while you’ll never fail to stand by a friend, you’re not the type to lie for one either. We’ll just have to balance each other out. You keep reminding me that the case is still open, and I’ll keep reminding you of the same thing.

I couldn’t help but smile. Taylor and I had known each other for just over a year and had now been partners for nearly four hours, and already we were in a situation where we had to trust each other more than we’d naturally be inclined to. I just hoped that we didn’t let each other down.

Five hours later, Taylor and I had searched Stone’s apartment and office, had had lunch, and were just finishing off our daily reports, and the case had progressed no further than before. Neither the apartment nor the office had had any evidence either for or against Stone. In fact, it had seemed as though Stone had destroyed all evidence of his life for the past three months back. There was no trash, no dirty dishes, no mail, no newspaper, no files newer than three months old; even his hard drive on his computer had been purged and overwritten to hide whatever had been there. But there were no signs that there had been any break-ins or theft, so we had to assume that Stone had done the destruction himself, and that certainly didn’t lessen Taylor’s belief in Stone’s guilt, and yet oddly enough, he didn’t seem any more certain of it either. If anything, he simply seemed frustrated at the lack of facts. So far all we knew was that Stone’s wallet had been at the crime scene, and his gun was the same caliber as the murder weapon, but by Stone’s own confession, he had been at the murder scene for a legitimate reason and might only be guilty of failing to report the crime.

Well, Cobalt, Taylor started, despite evidence to the contrary, I can drive. So I’m getting out of this dump before anyone finds something for me to do.

Night, then, and thanks for not booting me off my first case.

Don’t mention that ever again, Taylor said with mock anger and a smile as he left.

And so it was that I found myself alone at the end of my first day as a homicide detective with no place to go. That might not have been so bad if it hadn’t been for the thought that a good friend was downstairs somewhere, being held for murder, and I was one of the officers assigned to the case. It definitely wouldn’t have been so bad if it hadn’t been for the fact that the case was proceeding forth with all the speed of a snail in molasses. I found myself sitting