Calling Hours: BOONE-BELL, #6

By Frederic W. Burr

In 'Calling Hours,' attorney Clive Townsend, Boone's friend and source of business for the office, refers what looks like a garden variety case of insurance fraud. Burglars had raided a local warehouse, and the insurance company suspects inside involvement in the heist. As Boone investigates, the case turns out to be more complex than it first appeared. And when people inside the company start dying, Boone has to wonder who is the killer's next victim, and whether this is a case of insurance fraud, or something else?

A teen-aged girl seeks Marianne's help in recovering some private and embarrassing digital images of herself on social media. Marianne tries to help the girl, who she suspects has been groomed for pornography by an online predator using social media as a hunting ground. Only after it's too late to help does she learn the teen-ager was on the verge of being forced into prostitution. Knowing the criminal justice system is weak, if not ineffectual against predators, what can she do? What must she do?

Meanwhile, Marianne is spearheading the effort to locate larger office space to accommodate agency growth. Boone is resistant to the move, but with the spiraling crime in downtown Albany, and Marianne making him an offer he can't refuse, gives in. At the same time, Marianne comes to realize her life alone since the murder of her fiancé Toph (Journeys and Unaccountable), lacks the fulfillment of loving someone, and being loved in return.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frederic W. Burr
• Release date: Dec 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9798223892151

Frederic W. Burr

A native of Cincinnati, Ohio, Fred enlisted in the Navy at the age of seventeen, and retired in the rank of Commander in the surface warfare community. He is a graduate of the University of Louisville and the Albany Law School of Union University. Retiring from the private practice of law in upstate New York, Pennsylvania and Kentucky after thirty-six years, he considers himself a fully recovered attorney. Fred and his wife Donna (who also writes) make their home in Kentucky.

Book preview

Other books by the author

Mutinies

The Ring

The Return

Lens Capture

For the Love a Pete

Grab an Egg

Uphill

Old Salts, New Navy

The Persian Paradox

An Uncertain Sea

Letters from Peru

Abby’s Maze

Abby’s Test

Journeys

Unaccountable

BOONE

Guardian Angel

Disguises

Unmasked

Dark Time

How many likes until you love yourself?

Alyesha Chauhan

People who smile while they are alone used to be called insane, until we invented smartphones and

social media.

Mokokoma Mokhonoana

ONE

COME ON, CARL, she said. We’re gonna be late! Marianne already had her fall jacket on, her purse hanging off her left shoulder.

Swinging around in his chair to plant his work boots on the floor, Carl responded, I’m coming. I’m coming, all right? They want to rent that space, they’ll wait for us. It’s only a few minutes after ten.

His work boots, which had been resting on the partially opened right-hand desk drawer, felt tight on his feet. Bending down to loosen the laces, he grimaced from the sharp stitch on the left side of his chest.

Two months had gone by since their office had uncovered and eventually busted a fetal tissue and weapons trafficking enterprise being run by an Albany trucking company.

Carl, shot twice during a hastily conceived operation to stop and search a truck involved in the smuggling operation, had recuperated from his wounds. But sudden movements involving twisting from the waist up or reaching with his left arm still caused him noticeable discomfort.

After locking his desk drawer, he sighed, stood up, and snagged his leather jacket off the back of his desk chair. Although it was only the twentieth of October, the weather was cooler than he would have liked. In addition, it seemed colder weather aggravated his chest wound. Another damn thing to be dealing with, he thought as he struggled into his jacket.

Marianne looked expectantly at him. All set?

Lead on, he said.

You mind if I drive? she asked.

You don’t like riding in my car? It doesn’t smell so bad anymore.

Her eyes half-lidded, she replied, I don’t mind riding in your car. I just like the new car smell in mine. Okay?

Okay.

Marianne had been searching out different, larger space for the partnership so they could bring in a clerical support person. At first, they had given thought to seeking additional space in their current location. But the surge in crime in downtown Albany, especially the carjackings at gunpoint during the day, along with unprovoked assaults, robberies, and rapes, motivated both of them to look for a safer neighborhood.

Marianne had thought about locations in Guilderland or Colonie, but carjackings, and flash mobs looting upscale stores in Crossgates and Colonie Center during business hours caused her to cross those locales off her list.

They were going out to Corporate Woods Office Park. Carl was inclined to be interested in the location, given it was in northern Latham, near his apartment. That it was in a low crime neighborhood was another plus.

Once the two were in Marianne’s new Kia Sportage and belted in, she pressed the start button and pulled out of the Swan Street lot into downtown traffic.

So, how do you like your ride? he asked.

It’s okay. I kinda miss my Camry, but . . . her voice trailed off as she negotiated through traffic.

Her Toyota Camry was destroyed by killers believing Marianne was behind the wheel instead of Sheryl Acker. Sheryl was Marianne’s co-worker at the office for a brief time during Carl’s absence.

In the past, he would have blamed himself for Sheryl’s death, even though the circumstances of his absence and her killing were so attenuated as to be happenstance. Sheryl had borrowed Marianne’s car for an appointment, neither woman knowing someone was waiting for that car to leave the parking lot, hoping to take out the driver. With Deborah’s help, he was beginning to reason out the causes of calamities to those around him, instead of blaming himself.

He wondered if Marianne ever felt any responsibility for Sheryl’s death but knew better than to ask. Instead, steering the conversation to safer ground, he asked her to tell him something about the office space they were going to look at.

Her eyes flitted in his direction suggesting annoyance before she asked, Did you not look at the brochure and proposed floor plan options I sent you?

Well, yeah, I did. I was just curious about your impressions of the place.

Well, I’ll be happy to tell you my impressions of the place after I’ve actually seen it. Did you think I’d already been over there?

I’m sorry, he apologized. I wasn’t sure.

No need to apologize. I know you’re still recovering from your latest caper, and . . ., changing the subject, she asked, how is Deborah?

She’s fine, thanks. Putting up with me, but I don’t know for how much longer.

What do you mean?

She’s been concerned about a lot of things. But mostly the risks I take on cases.

Hey. She should know risk comes with the job. But then, maybe she has a point.

I don’t know. And you’re right. She just might have a point. Like that last time, I should have just shot the two guys gunning for Alex when I got out of my car. But no. I had to go out into that field trying to flank them and . . .

Where was everybody when that started out?

You mean their position?

Yeah.

They were outside their car, advancing on Alex. She was taking cover under the truck. I was behind them, just out of my car. Thanks, by the way, for bringing my car back up to Albany while I was in the hospital.

No problem, she said. But I don’t understand how you can drive that thing. It’s a tank!

That tank, as you call it, is probably older than you are, and more than once, it’s gotten me out of scrapes.

Well, whatever suits you. But back to what we were talking about. I think you just couldn’t bring yourself to shoot anyone in the back, even if you weren’t consciously thinking about it.

I don’t know. Could be, he said, for some reason unable to admit Marianne was on point. Shooting someone in the back was the act of a base coward, as far as he was concerned.

I’ll bet that’s what it was, she said. So, you said you were gonna order up some armored vests for us. Have you done that yet?

No.

Why not?

I don’t like thinking about having to order one for you.

Ever since those days of helplessly watching Marianne, lying in a medically induced coma in Saint Peter’s Hospital, he felt responsible for her safety. The thought she might be going into a situation where she needed an armored vest bothered him to no end.

As Marianne took the entrance ramp onto I-787, she said, I understand, even if I think you overdo it. You should feel better to know I’ve been giving some thought to scaling back on field work, since I’m not sure I’m very good at it.

He looked over at her. What? I can’t believe I’m hearing this.

Well, it’s true, she said. I didn’t spot that tail behind me when I was following that BRAT truck up from Staten Island. If I had, Sheryl would be alive today, and probably married.

It just takes more experience, is all, he said.

She maneuvered through traffic to get in the right-hand lane for I-90 before responding.

You always make stuff look so easy. I never stopped to think you’ve had twenty-eight years in the state police, and I had, what? Maybe twenty-eight months working with you?

Don’t be so hard on yourself, he said.

After signaling a right-hand turn onto exit 5-A, she said, Look! I did it. I messed up and Sheryl died because of it.

She died because someone was trying to kill you. She was just wrong place, wrong time.

I know, and I have to live with my part in it. But I can’t go back and change anything. I can only adjust how I act going forward.

He gave some thought to her remark as Marianne took the turn onto Corporate Woods Drive. Living in the present, he said. Deborah would be thrilled if I said something like that.

It’s not just talk, she said.

I know. Believe me, I know. I keep dragging the past along, especially things I considered personal failures. I’m trying to change that, but . . .

Old habits.

Yeah. They die hard.

So, speaking of living in the present, she said as she turned into the parking lot, does this mean you’re going to order some vests for us?

Promise.

Okay then.

She pulled into a parking space in front of an office building at 7 Southwoods Boulevard and turned off the engine. We’re here.

Unbuckling his seat belt, he looked through the windshield at the building. Nice looking building. You sure we can afford this?

"It’s a steal, given the market for this area, so yeah. We need the space with all the open cases we have, and someone to help us, . . . well, help me with the admin side."

He knew he wasn’t as organized as his partner when it came to administrative tasks but let her implied dig pass without comment.

A steal, huh? Sounds good, he said. Let’s go see this place.

As the two walked up to the entrance to the building, they could see a middle-aged-man standing inside the door looking at his watch, a dour expression on his face. He looked up, spotted Marianne and Boone approaching, and opened the door for them, smiling broadly.

Mr. Boone? Ms. Bell?

Marianne nodded as Boone said, That’s us. Are we late?

Making a mock frown, the man said, Oh . . . no. Not enough to worry about.

That’s good, Boone said. And you are . .?

Dryer. Tom Dryer. I’m the agent for Corporate Woods Rentals. You’re here to see one of our smaller office suites? Is that right?

Yes, Marianne said. Looking down at a brochure in her hand, she added, Third Floor, eighteen hundred square feet.

Bowing his head slightly and rubbing his hands together, Dryer said, Yes. That’s a nice little suite. And at $1,500 a month, a bargain out here. Yes sir, a real bargain!

Boone did his best not to react, but apparently unsuccessfully, given the way Marianne looked at him. When he first opened his solo office years earlier down on Swan Street, he was paying $400 a month for his office, and a smaller space that became Marianne’s workspace.

Just what I said to him, she said, looking at Boone. Then, to Dryer, So let’s see it.

He replied, Yes. Let’s go. And of course, that includes our dividing up the space as you would like before moving in. And we have sample drawings to help you decide if you need some inspiration.

Boone felt like Marianne and Dryer were double-teaming him, feeling like he had no choice but to go along for the ride. Good to know, he said. Which way to the . . . Oh. I see them, gesturing towards a bank of elevator doors around the corner from the entrance.

The silence as the three rode the car up to the third floor could be cut with a chain saw, it was that thick. When their car stopped on the floor, Dryer said, Hope you folks are ready to be excited by your new home!

Dryer sounded, and looked, as phony as someone hawking Natural Balance fruit and vegetable dust capsules. But Boone restrained himself from reaching over to slide the man’s bad rug into place. For his partner’s sake.

As they stepped off the elevator, Dryer said, And check this out. Your entrance is directly across from the elevators! No slogging down the hall just to get ready to leave for the day.

He hurried to the office door, a ring of keys in one hand. After some fumbling, he found the correct key, unlocked the door, and flung it open in a theatrical gesture, exclaiming, Behold!

Mumbling under his breath, Boone muttered, Whatever. Under her breath, Marianne replied, Give it a chance. Okay?

Yeah, he grumbled.

The three walked into a large, square space on one of the outcrops of the building.

I gotta tell ya, Dryer said, You’re getting Class A office space at Class B prices!

In one corner were large windows on two sides, which Dryer suggested to Marianne would be a terrific corner office for, your boss . . .

My partner, Marianne corrected him.

Boone said at the same time, She’s my partner. Marianne glanced over at him, grinning.

Dryer looked from one to the other and said, Sorry. Partner it is.

Opposite the putative corner office was an area with a bank of three windows, all on one wall giving out to Southwoods Boulevard. Boone thought that would actually be the better space for an office. He knew he would be tempted to stare out the windows in the corner office most of the day, wool gathering instead of focusing on work.

Marianne said to Boone, Why don’t you go over to where your office might be, while I ask Mr. Dryer some questions? See what you think.

He nodded and detached from the pair to look at what might turn into a corner office that no one in Boone & Bell, LLP would ever have. One side gave out to a plush lawn with a nicely kept wooded area beyond. The windows on the other side of the corner gave out to Southwoods Boulevard.

He had to admit it was a pleasant view, even if it didn’t have the variety of people and traffic, or all the activity he liked to watch from his windows looking out on Swan Street. Looking more closely at the windows, he saw than none of them opened to permit fresh air, much less any noise from outside.

Turning around, he observed Marianne and Dryer standing together at some distance from him. He looked at his partner and was struck by her overall beauty, as if seeing her for the first time. She had set her purse down on the floor and her jacket was draped over one arm as she spoke with Dryer.

She kept up with regular exercise and diet, he knew that. But she had a trim, attractive figure. Her bobbed haircut suited her, even if her dark brown hair was getting some help by this point in her life.

When she turned to approach him, he couldn’t help but notice her features anew, high cheekbones, well-set lips with an delicate chin, her eyes like emeralds.

She interrupted his thoughts. Carl, let’s talk. Seriously.

About what?

This office space.

Okay. I’m listening.

First of all, this space is a bargain! We’re getting this for ten bucks a square foot. Normal rentals are over fifteen, some at eighteen.

Why so cheap?

They want to move the space, and it’s smaller than what most people are looking for. They’re willing to give us a ten-year lease . . .

Wait! What? Ten years? You think I’ll be working at sixty-seven?

I hope so. But I’ll be working at forty-five, I can tell you that.

And, she continued, "the utilities include heat, light, air conditioning, internet, and phone.