Page 43 of Justice for Daesha

But when he pulled into the KelsoCustom Percussion parking lot, he was stunned. It looked more like an expensive day spa than a manufacturing plant. A circular drive was placed right in front of the massive, double mahogany doors, with a fountain right in the middle. Somebody had paid a pretty penny for the landscaping too.

As soon as he’d linked up his purchase, he headed for the building. The doors were heavy, and when he stepped inside, he was shocked again. Expensive artwork hung everywhere. There was a large reception desk at the back wall, and he walked straight up to it. “Good afternoon. I’d like to see ChanceKelso,” Amos said without missing a beat.

“Do you have an appointment?” the young woman behind the desk asked.

Amos flashed his credentials. “Do I really need one?”

He watched her tense as soon as she saw his badge. “No, sir. Let me see if he’s free. Denver, could you go and tell Mr.Kelso that there’s a… What are you? FBI?”

“No, ma’am. I’m with the Kentucky Department of Criminal Investigations. Part of the attorney general’s office.”

“Oh. Yeah, that, Denver.” The big security guard disappeared through the doors behind the reception desk and the girl smiled at Amos. “He’ll be back in just a minute.”

In no time, the man reappeared. “He says I’m supposed to bring you,” the guard said and motioned for Amos to follow him. Holding the door for him, the guard waited until Amos walked through, then made his way on down the walkway and led the way.

It looked like something straight out of the movieWillieWonka and theChocolate Factory, only instead of candy stuff, there were drum parts everywhere. “Mr.Kelso, here’s the gentleman who wants to see you.” The guard stepped to the side and Amos was face to face with ChanceKelso.

“Hi! And you are…”

“AmosFletcher. KDCI. I wondered if I could talk to you for a minute.”

“If you’ll walk with me. We’re busy today. We’ve got an order for a custom drum set. Almost fifty thousand dollars. We’ve been working on it for a few days and we’re about to get it finished. So what can I do for you, Mr.Fletcher?”

“That’s AgentFletcher. And I’d like to know what you know about this.” Amos pulled the picture from a folder in his messenger bag and held it out to ChanceKelso.

The shorter man didn’t say a word, but Amos could see something in his eyes, and he could’ve sworn it was fear. “Uh, no. I’ve never seen anything like that. What is it?”

“It’s a ring we think was taken off a dead woman.”

“A dead woman? I’m sure I know nothing about that!” Kelso said with a laugh, but it was forced and hollow.

“I’m sure you do. The dead woman was DorindaBlackmon.” Kelso stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Amos. “We think her killer took a ring off her hand. I know you grew up with Dorinda.”

Chance’s eyes narrowed. “Who told you that?”

“Daesha.”

Kelso smiled. “That girl. She’s like a baby sister to me. How do you know her?”

“I’m dating her.”

Kelso nodded. “So this isn’t an official investigation. It’s to help her out.”

Amos shook his head. “It may very well become an official investigation if I find something that will turn it that way.” There was that fearful look in Chance’s eyes again, and Amos wondered if the man thought he’d been caught. “Could we go somewhere more private to talk?”

Without answering, Chance turned and walked toward the front of the building, Amos following him, wondering if he was about to be invited into the man’s office or asked to leave. But light streaming from a door on the far side of the building felt like the direction they were going, and sure enough, Chance turned and made his way toward it. Once inside, he pointed to a chair. “Please. Have a seat.”

Amos sat down and quickly scanned the room. It was sparsely furnished, but the furnishings it did have were very, very expensive and elegant. The chairs were butter-soft ivory leather with dark wood frames, and Chance’s huge desk was impressive. When the younger man sat down, he looked up to speak but then said, “Oh! Where are my manners? Would you like something to drink?”

“I’d hate to bother you for that,” Amos answered, using his best apologetic voice.

“No trouble, really. The refrigerator’s right here.” He spun in his chair and Amos realized he was talking about behind the desk. “Now, let’s see. We’ve got all kinds of fruit-flavored waters, and soda, and?”

“Would you by any chance have raspberry-flavored water? I love that stuff.” Amos waited until Chance’s head was practically in the refrigerator before he reached into his pocket, retrieved the tiny button microphone, and pressed it onto the frame underneath the chair’s seat. That wasn’t the best spot he could’ve chosen, but he thought it might pick up okay. Yes, it was illegal, but he’d never tip his hand and use the information for anything more than his own convenience, so he wasn’t too worried. If they found it, they’d probably think it was planted by a competitor. “I’m so sorry. Doesn’t look like we have raspberry, but we’ve got blackberry.”

“That would be great. Thanks so much.” As Chance handed Amos the bottle, he smiled at the entrepreneur. So far, so good. “I really wanted to talk to you. Daesha told me you gave her the drum set for their drummer after his was lost in the fire.”

Chance nodded. “I did. She paid the shipping, but that was all. And it’s a nice drum set too. One of our finest. I just happened to have it finished when she called, and I figured, hey, why not? The drummer who ordered it couldn’t pay for it, and her guy was having a hard time. He needed the money he made playing with the band even more at that point, so I just sent it to her.”

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