Drunk on a Plane

by Zane Mitchell

  I plumped out my bottom lip. Al was really taking this whole partner thing seriously. “Really?”

  “Yes, really. He said to be a detective, you had to be able to chase down the bad guys and that you thought he fell too much.”

  I swung my eyes away guiltily. “I didn’t say I thought he fell too much. I just said that old people in general fall too…” I stopped speaking when Mrs. Al gave me the stink eye.

  “What’s all this about, playing detective with my husband, Terrence?”

  I hung my head. I suddenly felt like a schoolkid being reprimanded by the teacher. I lifted my shoulders. “Mm-mmm.”

  “Was this your idea?”

  My eyes widened then. “No! I told Al I didn’t think he should be my partner. He was the one that said he wanted to!”

  She sighed. “That’s what he told me too.”

  “But I told him he had to get your permission, and he had to wear hearing aids before I’d even consider working with him.”

  “Yes, well, you got your wish. He put his hearing aids in as soon as he got back from the police station. That was a miracle. He’s had those things for years but refuses to wear them. They pick up a lot of background noises and drive him nutty, he says.”

  “Well, I feel bad for that, but I can’t be screaming at him if we’re on an important stakeout or something.”

  “Yes, I understand,” she said with a nod. “His hearing can prove to be an inconvenience at times.”

  “Did he ask your permission? I mean, you didn’t have to say yes.”

  Mrs. Al shook her head. “You’ve never been married, have you, Terrence?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Then you don’t know how marriage works. My husband doesn’t need my permission to do anything. He’s a grown man. He’s worked hard all his life to be able to do the things he wants to do. He moved all the way out here because he wanted to do something that I wanted to do. Yes, he needs to tell me what’s going on. Good communication is key in a good marriage. But I certainly don’t need to give him permission to go off playing cops and robbers with his friend.”

  “It might be dangerous…”

  “I understand that,” she agreed with a curt nod. “But that’s why I’m hoping that I can count on you to keep Al out of any dangerous situations.”

  “I mean, I can try—”

  “Because I just don’t know what I’d do without my Al,” she continued, cutting me off. “He’s my whole world, and the last thing I want is for something bad to happen to him. So, I’m going to need you to keep my Al safe.”

  I nodded. “Well, yeah. Definitely, I’ll do my best to keep him safe.”

  The little old woman clasped her hands together and smiled up at me. “You will?”

  “Of course!”

  “I can count on you?”

  I gave an emphatic nod. “Absolutely.”

  She smiled then and took hold of one of my hands, grasping it between both of her cold, rail-thin hands, like a Drunk sandwich. She gave it a shake and patted the top of my hand. “Aww, good boy. Terrence, your mother would be so proud of you.”

  28

  I found Al right where his wife said he’d be—in the resort gym. He was lying on a workout bench with a pair of ten pound barbells in either hand.

  “Sixty-six, sixty-seven,” he puffed as I walked in.

  “Don’t you mean, six, seven?” I said with a chuckle. “Heard me coming a mile away, didn’t ya?”

  He winced and held a hand over either ear. “Well, criminy, Drunk! You don’t have to yell anymore! I can hear you now! I put my hearing aids in.”

  “Loud, are they?”

  Al shook his head. “I can hear a pin drop on the mainland now.”

  “Nice!” I nodded my head.

  He winced again. “Shhh. You’re going to have to start keeping your voice down now.”

  I gave him a thumbs-up. “Well, you got the hearing aids in, that’s a start. But did you have a chance to talk to the missus?” I was going to pretend that Mrs. Al and I hadn’t had the conversation that we’d had. Then he’d know that I was morally and contractually bound by some awkward handshake to keep him away from shoot-outs and the like.

  Al’s watery blue eyes widened. “I sure did!” he said excitedly. “Just like I knew she would, she said I didn’t need her permission and that I was welcome to do whatever butters my biscuit. I’m just not allowed to get my head blown off. I thought that sounded fair, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, sounds very fair,” I said with a nod.

  * * *

  “Come on in, Mr. Becker, Officer Drunk,” said Ozzy Messina. He wore a wide smile on his face as he ushered us into his office. “What can I do for you today?”

  “Well, for starters, you can just call me Drunk.”

  Ozzy’s mouth opened, but no words came out as he nodded. Then he smiled. “Okay. Yup. Drunk. So, Drunk, Al, what can I do for you today?”

  “I’m Mr. Becker to you, kid,” snapped Al.

  Ozzy looked down at his desk and cleared his throat. Then he looked up again. “Got it. So Mr. Becker, Drunk, what can I do for you today, gentlemen?”

  “You’ve obviously heard about the break-in at my cottage?” I removed my hat and glasses and leaned an elbow onto his desk.

  Ozzy retracted slightly, as if my encroachment into his territory made him self-conscious. He straightened his tie and tugged it slightly tighter. The wide smile faded. “Oh, yes. I-I don’t know what’s going on. We’ve never had this issue before, where we’ve had two incidents in a week. At least not since I’ve been here, anyway.” Ozzy glanced at Al. “I had one of our maintenance guys cover the window until we can get a new door put in.”

  “I noticed that. Thank you. The way these guys trashed my room, it leads me to think that they were looking for something.”

  “Looking for something? Like what?”

  “I don’t know. That’s what I need to find out. I feel like these guys think I have whatever it is they’re looking for.”

  Ozzy’s eyes widened. “You think they’re after you specifically? But why you?”

  I shook my head. “I’m curious, Ozzy. How’d they find out which room I’m in? Are your desk clerks allowed to give out that information to anyone that asks?”

  Ozzy’s eyes swung down towards the desk. “No, of course not. B-but I have to admit, Drunk. We do our best to preserve our guests’ privacy, but sometimes mistakes are made.”

  “You think it was a simple mistake that one of the desk clerks gave out my room number twice? If I had been there when those men broke in today, I’d be dead right now, and you’d be dealing with two murders blemishing your resort’s reputation. Now, Ozzy. I’m sure Mr. Balladares wouldn’t want that, would he?”

  Ozzy’s eyes widened as his head shook. “No. No, of course not. I’ll make sure to reiterate to our staff that they don’t give out room numbers.”

  “Of course it’s too late for me now. These guys already know which room I’m in.”

  Ozzy picked up the handset on his phone. “We can move you, Drunk. I can find you another room, no problem.”

  I winced. What good was that going to do? Obviously they had a snitch in their midst. Even if he lectured the staff until he was blue in the face, it wouldn’t matter if those two thugs had someone on the inside working for the hotel. I pushed his hand down and cradled the receiver. “No. No, it’s fine. I can handle myself. I just gotta find these guys before they find me. Listen. I’m going to need a copy of the security footage from the other day.”

  “Security footage?”

  “Yeah, Ozzy. You know the tapes from the security cameras?”

  “Oh, well, yeah. Sergeant Gibson already took those.”

  “But you’ve got the originals still, right?” asked Al.

  “The originals? No, I gave him everything I had.”

  I rolled my head back on my shoulders. “Hell, Ozzy! Why the fuck would you give him everything?”

  O
zzy looked uncomfortable. “He’s the police, Drunk. Was I supposed to say no to the police?”

  “Well, you can give them a copy, but you don’t give them the originals. What if you needed it yourself!”

  “I-I’m sorry. There wasn’t much information on there anyway. It was dark, and the cameras weren’t at good angles. You can barely make out a shape moving.” He fidgeted in his seat and then finally leaned forward, loosening the tie he’d just fiddled with tightening. “Look, guys. I’ll be honest here. This is my first big security job.”

  Al’s eyes widened dramatically. “You don’t say.”

  “Yeah.” Ozzy nodded. “It is. And I really don’t have a lot of experience. I’m sort of flying by the seat of my pants here.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t understand, Ozzy. You’ve got no security experience. How in the world did you manage to get this job?”

  Ozzy’s eyes flipped back and forth between Al and myself. “Oh. Well, my dad used to work for Artie. When he owned his implement dealership back in the States. I’ve got computer experience, so when I was in high school, I helped out once in a while. You know, installing new computers and doing updates and stuff. And then I went to college for computers, and when I graduated and needed a job, my dad made some calls. He said that Artie had just bought this resort on an island and he needed someone who was good with computers and stuff. I just didn’t realize it was going to be security. I thought it would be all computer stuff. Anyway, Artie said I’d get on-the-job training. And I did, for a while. But then the head security guy had to quit because he had a stroke.”

  Al nodded. “Yeah, Phil. Great guy. I heard he didn’t make it in the end.” Al made the sign of the cross. “May he rest in peace.”

  “Yeah, so he left and then it was just me, so I’m learning as I go here. This place is generally pretty quiet. You know, once in a while I have to send a bouncer down to the bar because someone got too intoxicated and started a fight. But for the most part, nothing exciting happens here.”

  “It’s alright, Ozzy. I understand,” I said with a nod. “Okay, so no security tapes. How about the dead guy? The cops said his name was Jimmie Wallace. Was he a guest here?”

  “Y-you know his name?” asked Ozzy, his eyes wide with surprise.

  “Of course I know his name. You don’t?”

  “I just didn’t know the cops had released it. I thought it was confidential information.” He kind of looked sad then. Like if the cops were passing out that information, he suddenly wasn’t as important.

  “I guess it’s not. Was he staying here?”

  Ozzy shook his head. “No. I looked him up. He wasn’t listed as a guest. Unless he registered under another name or was staying with someone else.”

  I frowned. So Jimmie had lied to me. Which meant he’d purposely come to the Seacoast Majestic following me.

  Al tipped his head sideways. “What about Cami Vergado? Have you spoken to her since that night?”

  Ozzy made a face. “Cami hasn’t been into work yet.”

  “But surely you’ve spoken to her. When she called in,” said Al.

  He shook his head. “That’s the thing, she hasn’t called in. She just hasn’t shown up.”

  I ran a hand through my hair. “Has anyone tried calling her?”

  Ozzy nodded. “Of course. We’ve called her several times. She doesn’t answer her phone. I’ve personally left messages. But she’s not returning any of my phone calls.”

  Al looked concerned. He splayed his hands out in front of himself. “Has anyone actually tried going to her house to make sure she’s alright?”

  Ozzy looked slightly embarrassed then. “Well, no, not that I know of. I mean… I’m sure she’s…”

  “Can I have her address?” I interrupted. I didn’t have time for Ozzy to make excuses for why no one cared about the well-being of an employee who had witnessed two men leaving a murder scene.

  “Her address? I mean, I really can’t give that to you…”

  I’d had it with the kid. And the cops. And the whole damn island. I reached across the desk, grabbed hold of Ozzy’s jacket and pulled him closer to me. “Ozzy. Your employees gave my room number to a couple of psychopath men who wanted to kill me. I’m a freaking cop. It’s my duty to protect, okay? I only want to find Cami Vergado to make sure that she’s safe from the psychopathic killers, and you’re not gonna help me out with that?”

  Ozzy’s eyes were wide as I held him inches away from my face. “I mean, it’s against resort policy, Drunk… I-I could get fired.”

  I let go of Ozzy’s coat and pushed myself back into my seat, trying to regain my cool.

  “Ozzy, you’re killing us here,” said Al. “You gotta give us something.”

  “I’m sorry, fellas. I really am. I’ll talk to Artie about giving you Cami’s address. Alright? It’s the best I can do.”

  I let out a frustrated groan and pounded the desk with my fist. “Ugh, this is bullshit, Ozzy. Get Balladares on the phone right now.”

  Al patted my arm. “It’s the best he can do, Drunk. Okay? Relax. Artie’ll give him permission to give us Cami’s address. Until then, we’ll figure something out. Okay? Come on, let’s go.” He stood up.

  I followed suit and the two of us walked to the door. We didn’t have time for useless Ozzy Messina. “Yeah, alright. Just call us when you hear from Artie. Got it, Ozzy?”

  Ozzy nodded. I caught a slight look of fear in his eyes. “Yeah, you got it, Drunk. I’ll call you.”

  29

  “Drunk, oh man, that was a great good cop, bad cop routine we had goin’ on. It was perfect. I mean, you had Ozzy practically pissin’ in his shorts back there,” said Al, hobbling alongside me as we left the resort lobby.

  I stood at the curb, waiting for the next golf cart to pick us up. “I wasn’t playing good cop, bad cop, Al. That was just me getting frustrated with the little asshole. And even if it was good cop, bad cop, it didn’t work. He didn’t give us shit. We’re literally working with no clues.”

  “Relax, Drunk. He’s gonna talk to Artie,” said Al, climbing into the back of one of the golf carts that would take us back down to the cottages. “Artie’ll give us the girl’s address. I have faith in him.”

  I shook my head as I climbed in next to him. I wasn’t sure that I had faith in anything except the fact that Ozzy didn’t know shit from Shinola. My phone rang then. I pulled it out of my pocket, looked down at the number and smiled with relief. “Mikey! I’m glad you called. Please tell me you’ve got something good. I’m running out of leads.”

  “Hey, T. I wish I was calling with more information. I just called to tell you that there was no one by the name of Natasha Prince on your flight from Atlanta.”

  I shook my head. “No, no, Mikey. Look again. She was on the flight.”

  “I believe that she was on your flight, T. But she just didn’t book the ticket under the name Natasha Prince. Do you know what her seat number was? Maybe I can look her up that way.”

  I let out a heavy breath and recounted where I’d seen her sitting, four rows ahead of my seat. “Yeah, I think it was seat 23B.”

  “Okay, I’ll do some more digging.”

  “Did you find out who was sitting next to me?”

  “You were right. His name is Jimmie Wallace. He has an Australian address and passport. There’s not much else here to tell, buddy. He was only in the US. for a short amount of time. Just over a week.”

  “That’s all you got on him?”

  “Sorry, man. I wish I knew more.”

  I rolled my head backwards on my shoulders and let out a breath. “Yeah, I wish you knew more too. Just find out what you can about the woman in seat 23B.”

  “Will do.”

  “Hey, thanks for your help, Mikey. I appreciate it a lot.”

  We ended the call, and I looked up at Al. “Nothing to report. Just that Jimmie’s last name was indeed Wallace, and he had an Australian passport and address. Same as the cops said. He doesn�
�t know who the girl was yet. We’ll find out, though.”

  “So what’s the plan now? Just wait for him to call us back?”

  I shook my head. “No. There’s something else that we need to do.” I tapped the golf cart driver on the shoulder and pointed to Al’s cottage. “You can let us off at that one.”

  The driver pulled over. Al and I got out. “I need to get my suitcase from your place. Mind if I come in?”

  “No, of course not. Come on.” He led me inside. Mrs. Al was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where’s your wife?”

  He cocked his head towards the opposite wall. “Oh, I suppose it’s lunchtime. She’s probably up at the resort with Fern.”

  I pulled my suitcase from the closet I’d stashed it in and rolled it over to Al’s coffee table.

  “So what’s with the bag? I thought you didn’t bring any luggage.”

  “My ex packed the suitcase. I tossed it over the balcony when I got to my room.”

  “Tossed it over the balcony?” A smile crossed over Al’s face. “You’re kidding?”

  “No, I’m not. But now I have this sneaking suspicion that Jimmie hid something in my bag while we were on the airplane. The fact that I tossed it meant that it wasn’t in my room when Jimmie got killed, and it wasn’t in my cottage earlier today. I think whatever he hid is what those guys were after.”

  Al looked surprised. “He told you he hid something?”

  I lifted the bag up and laid it on the coffee table. “No, I’ve replayed the flight and everything in my mind lots of times now, and it’s the only thing I can figure out. He gave me some kind of signal in the terminal, right before we got to the security checkpoint, and then he started a fight. Made me wonder if maybe he wasn’t trying to pull something, you know?”

  Al and I both stared down at the bag. “And you haven’t opened it yet?”

  “No! I haven’t. It took me over an hour to climb through the jungle beneath my balcony this morning, and then right as I was getting back to my cottage, I found those guys breaking in. Then Gibson called, I stashed the bag over here, and we left. This is the first chance I’ve had to look.”