The Fugitive's Trail Read Online Free PDF Page B

residence.”
    “Got it. I’ll call you when it’s arranged.”
     
    ***
     
    The call came at 7:30 p.m. The driver would be at McGuire’s Bar and Grill in an hour. Arriving thirty minutes early, Kruger found a secluded table in a back corner. When he asked for a Boulevard Pale Ale, he was mildly surprised when he was told the bar served the Kansas City brewed beer. At 8:35 p.m., the driver, Ron Lekas, entered the pub followed by Alvarez. Lekas hesitated when he saw Kruger. He looked back at Alvarez, who pointed toward a chair at Kruger’s table.
    After the waitress took his drink order, Lekas said, “Didn’t know you’d be here.”
    Kruger said, “Thank you for coming.”
    Lekas looked at Alvarez. “I wouldn’t have come if I knew the Feds would be here.”
    Alvarez said, “Shut up and listen to him.”
    Lekas was five foot seven, dark haired, and a descendant of immigrants from the Mediterranean. He wore his leather jacket over a light-blue silk shirt and black dress slacks. Running his left hand through his black hair and smoothing it back, he said, “I need to go. You guys are going to get me fired.”
    Kruger smiled and said in a low voice, “That’s not my intent, Ron. No one is going to tell them you spoke to us. I felt like you wanted to tell us something when we interviewed you this afternoon. But, you didn’t feel comfortable talking in front of the firm’s lawyer. Am I right?”
    The waitress sat a draft down in front of Lekas; he grabbed it and took a long pull of the amber liquid. He shook his head. “Ahhh—man. I need this job. They threatened to fire me if I didn’t tell you what they wanted me to.”
    “Who threatened you, Ron?” Kruger had leaned forward.
    Lekas took another long drink. “Mr. Plymel.”
    Kruger looked at Alvarez, who smiled. He returned his attention to Lekas. “What did you see, Ron?”
    Lekas took another long pull on his beer, but remained silent.
    Alvarez said, “We find you lied to us in that room this afternoon, you could be in big trouble. You could lose your job anyway. I looked at your jacket this afternoon, Ron. You’ve got a felony bust for distributing. You ever carry a weapon on the job Ron?”
    Lekas jerked up straight and shouted, “No—hell no. Those other guys did, but I never have.”
    Kruger leaned across the table again. “What’s going on, Ron? Tell us.”
    Silence was Kruger’s answer. Finally, Ron Lekas looked between Alvarez and Kruger and said, “They brought him to the meeting. He didn’t just break into the office like they claim. We picked him up at his apartment earlier that morning. From what I heard, he broke into Mr. Plymel’s apartment, messed with his computer, and stole some money. Not sure how much, but Mr. Plymel went crazy.”
    “Why did he go crazy?” asked Alvarez.
    Lekas shrugged. “Don’t know. Franklin, the guy that was killed, said it wasn’t the company’s money. It was Mr. Plymel’s personal money.”
    Kruger sat up straight. “What’s your position with the company, Ron?”
    “I’m one of two personal drivers for Mr. Plymel.”
    “Two. Why two?”
    “We’re on call—twelve on, twelve off. I was on call the night Mr. Plymel first ran into the guy you’re looking for.”
    Kruger’s eyebrows went up. “What do you mean, first ran into?”
    “I had just escorted a couple of Mr. Plymel’s lady friends to his apartment. I was getting ready to go back to the car when the doorbell rang and Mr. Plymel answered it. The guy you’re looking for delivered some pizzas. Mr. Plymel recognized him, gave him a hard time, and then handed him a two-cent tip.”
    “How’d he recognize a pizza delivery guy?” said Alvarez.
    “He used to work for a company Mr. Plymel bought. He was let go. At least that’s what Mr. Plymel told his guests. I left right after that. I didn’t hear any more of the conversation.”
    “Where did you pick him up at?”
    “Right outside his apartment. Franklin escorted him to the