Free Hot Storage by Mary Mead Page B

in from Arizona every week. He had mentioned the drive several times, how early they had to get up, the weather between home and here. He had mentioned stops in Los Angeles and Santa Barbara at different times.
       I had been by when they were unloading, the cartons rolling quickly down the steel conveyor belt to be stacked in the unit. I couldn’t swear in court what was inside those cartons. They were a nationwide company, had been for years, and I was pretty sure they made enough off their bakery line that they didn’t need to dabble in drugs.
       Still, it underlined how easy it would be to store and distribute drugs from my facility. The major problem I faced was finding out if and who.
       “Penny for your thoughts,” Burke interrupted.
       “Lot to take in,” I said. “Put like that, it could be anyone. Well, anyone with a van or truck.”
       “Exactly,” Burke agreed. “It’s a big ball of string, babe. If I can find a loose end the whole thing will unravel. It’s finding that string. And there’s always the chance they moved on.”
       “And how do we know?”
       Burke sighed again and stood up. “Gonna start by getting my motor home in here. If the boss says okay.” He pushed his chair in and looked at me. “How about pizza and a movie tonight? I’ll buy the pizza, you pick the movie.”
       “Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll call Papa Murphy right now.”
       “Thanks. Let me know,” he tossed over his shoulder on his way out.
       After Burke left I went around Paul by calling Papa Murphy and getting his permission to move in the motor home. Asking Paul for permission to have Burke living here, even temporarily, was not something I wanted to do. He had the wrong impression already. Why add to it?
       When Burke came in around lunch time I told him he could bring in the motor home. He thanked me and reminded me we had dinner plans before once again taking off.
       I spent the afternoon going over the customer list.
       Being blessed with an excellent memory has its drawbacks. More than four hundred customers were listed. Some were couples or families and I could remember a lot of them. The stinkers rose to the top like helium balloons, followed by the long timers, those who had been here the longest. No way could I recall them all.
       A handful were here longer than me. Could I reasonably eliminate them due to longevity? The only people I could actually eliminate were the owners – Mr. and Mrs. Murphy, Paul and his wife, who came in at times, and Patrick, who only visited the site when helping his mom.
       The only other customer I could eliminate was Randy. He was from a different generation where integrity and honor were highly valued and a man was as good as his word.
       I knew I didn’t have anything to do with it so that pared down the list of suspects. By about seven. It’s a start. Maybe Burke had the right idea with the motor home. The dark hours might hold some answers.
       About an hour before closing Burke rolled in, literally.
       The motor home was beige with brown striping and looked about twenty five feet long.
       He had to climb down to enter his code, then hop back up, shut the door and get through the gate before it closed. I found it entertaining to watch him hop around, since I could have just pushed a button in the office and opened the gate.
       I watched the cameras to see him pull in and park along the back fence. Some customers have to back and saw a dozen times to get situated. Burke did it the first time, pulling head in rather than backing like most. A wide tinted window split the rear of the vehicle when it was in position, giving the tenant an excellent view. In this case the view encompassed the rear aisle around the buildings as well as the west side of the facility.
       He was still inside when I closed the office and locked up for the day.
     
       I took a quick shower, pulled on my sweats and turned on the