by Robin Mahle
Deep Blue Goodbye
An Allison Hart Novel
Robin Mahle
HARP House Publishing, LLC.
Published by HARP House Publishing
October 2019 (1st edition)
Copyright ©2019 by Robin Mahle
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, or broadcast. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover design: Covermint Design
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
About the Author
Also by Robin Mahle
1
Personal agendas, as Allison Hart had come to realize, were what drove most people’s decisions. To be fair, not all agendas were self-centered. But in Allison’s world, few focused on the greater good. As a woman who hurled along at break-neck speed toward middle-age and had survived a divorce after 20 years of marriage, cynicism had become a nasty by-product. It was also what made her good at her job.
Allison was an investigator for the State of Florida. It was up to her to net unscrupulous citizens defrauding Worker’s Compensation with false claims. When the topic arose in conversation, eyes would widen and ears would perk up. But on further clarification of her duties, people appeared as though they’d just been doused with cold water. An obligatory smile and nod before they would slink away in search of more interesting conversation. There was nothing glamorous about the job, but Allison loved it anyway. And today, someone had called in a juicy tip. Someone with an agenda, no doubt.
The 48-year-old slender brassy blonde sat behind the wheel of her decade-old blue Honda Civic. The malfunctioning air conditioner spewed warm air from the vents. It was nearing the end of a Tampa Bay summer that carried oppressive air leading into peak hurricane season. Allison rolled down the windows to stem the flow of perspiration that trickled down her face and neck as she drove to a home in a quiet suburban neighborhood.
The tip was from the ex-wife of the target, a term Allison preferred to use to maintain objectivity. None of this was personal. The ex had suggested her estranged husband hadn’t at all been suffering from double vision after a blow to his head. A result of a tragic construction site accident. The woman insisted she had witnessed him driving on several occasions, which he had claimed wasn’t possible. Allison didn’t question how the woman knew this as fact when she lived in the next town over.
Her job was to collect evidence. What the state did with that evidence was up to them. She rolled to a stop three houses down from the claimant’s home along the palm-tree-lined street and picked up her binoculars. Clifford Langston, the man whose name appeared on the manila folder resting on her passenger seat, was due to leave for a regularly scheduled doctor’s appointment. With the binoculars pressed against her eyes, she peered at the 1990s beige stuccoed home with terra-cotta roof tiles.
If anyone had told Allison 5 years ago that she would be skulking around a suburban neighborhood in search of schemers, the conversation would’ve ended with a colorful expletive and a raucous laugh. But 5 years ago, she was still married to Leo. Her marriage collapsed soon after. Their two children were barely teenagers then and the disruption, to put it mildly, had taken its toll. Now that they were college-aged, both had grown used to their new lives.
Charlotte Wells, Charlie to her friends, helped Allison get this position. It turned out, getting back into the job market after not having worked for 20 years was something of a challenge. Regardless, it was Allison’s instincts that moved her into the position she now occupied. Razor-sharp intuition coupled with her ability to call bullshit made her the ideal candidate.
Allison fine-tuned the binocular lenses and trained them on the claimant’s home. In this line of work, she took her safety seriously and always maintained a comfortable distance. People didn’t like to be caught red-handed and often grew unpredictable in the face of it.
Queen Palms flanked the home’s entrance and an arched opening led to a small covered porch. The wooden front door was stained dark and adorned with wrought iron details that appeared Tuscan, though the rest of the home looked Mediterranean.
She waited for the door to open and for Clifford Langston to step into his Ford F-150, preferably in the driver’s seat. Not that she wanted to catch him committing fraud, but it made for a more exciting day. She would never publicly admit that this was the fun part. A few photos and videos of Langston sitting behind the wheel and pulling away in his nice new truck would do the trick. After that, she could head back to the office where the air was set at a cool 68 degrees. It was the perfect temperature for a woman teetering between hormonal irregularity and the word she had thus far refused to utter…menopause. The hostile condition often found her with her head buried in the employee lounge freezer while her colleagues looked on in abject repulsion.
“There you are.” Allison homed in on the door as it opened. A man stepped out. A quick glance at the file on her passenger seat and she double-checked the photo. “Hello, Mr. Langston.”
Langston stood on the porch squinting from the glare of the noon-day sun. He slipped on dark sunglasses.
Another man stepped out from behind Langston and closed the front door. She yanked away the binoculars. “What the hell?” Allison dabbed at her sticky eyelids, smudging the earth-toned shadow and redoubled her efforts, tuning the lenses to focus on this new person. “No. No way.” She snatched her cell phone from the center console and zoomed in on the two men, snapping photos. “What are you doing here?”
With the video recording, she trained the phone’s camera as they continued down the path toward the driveway. The second man, the one who Allison knew was a supervisor in her department, surveyed the area and turned squarely in her direction.
“Damn it!” She ducked below the steering wheel. The jolt caused her to drop the phone to the floorboard. “Please don’t see me. Please don’t see me.” What was worse, her thick blonde hair was stacked on her head a little like Marge Simpson and hovered above the line of sight. But staying hunkered down was cowardly. Allison pulled up just enough to peer over the dashboard.
The supervisor opened the passenger door for Langston and helped him inside. His eyes darted toward the street but didn’t look directly at her again.
“You know I’m here, don’t you?” Allison watched as the implausible unfolded.
The truck rolled back out of the driveway with the supervisor behind the wheel. Without Langston driving, she had nothing to use against him. The truck started in her direction and Allison bent over flat along the front seats to stay out of view. After the truck drove by, she sat up again. “Davis Cantrell, I didn’t take you
for a co-conspirator.” She didn’t know why Davis was there or how he knew Clifford Langston. But one thing was certain, Davis had seen her.
On her return to the office, Allison imagined Davis Cantrell standing in front of her pointing before unleashing a blood-curdling scream in her direction. Just like in the movie. Was she the lone survivor of an alien take-over? It was the only plausible explanation for witnessing his cover up of a fraud investigation. He must’ve been a pod person.
The 3-story building that was home to the Bureau’s offices was just ahead. Allison couldn’t recall how she arrived as her mind had been preoccupied with science-fiction horror. She stepped out of her Honda with long, spindly legs. The black capris clung to her thighs and her white sleeveless blouse stuck to her waist. Allison locked the car and walked to the elevators in her sensible black flats. The doors parted and a blast of cool air smacked her damp skin and raised goosebumps on her arms. With marked hesitation she entered her department and walked straight to Charlie’s desk, dismissing everyone in her path. No one had pointed and screamed thus far. “Hey. Can you talk?”
Charlie whipped around with her short and spiky black hair fixed into position. She sized up Allison. “I see you still haven’t fixed the A/C in your car.”
“Come with me.” Allison turned on her heel and started toward the corridor.
Charlie pushed off her chair and trailed Allison with short strides and arms swinging. With each step, her thighs swooshed thanks to the pantyhose she always insisted on wearing. Something about how they chaffed otherwise.
Allison waited inside the copy room for Charlie to catch up.
“Okay, I’m here. Are we hiding from someone?” she asked.
“You know I was dropping in on Clifford Langston, right? Gathering evidence.”
“Yeah. So?” Charlie replied.
Allison pulled her close. “Davis was there.”
Charlie’s deep brown eyes sparked with interest and her lips parted. “Davis Cantrell? The assistant director?”
“None other.” Allison stepped toward the opened door and searched for eavesdroppers who might be looming in the hall. On her return, she added, “I’m telling you, it was like he knew I was coming. Almost as if someone tipped off Langston.”
“What on earth would Davis Cantrell be doing there? How would Langston know him?” Charlie asked.
“I don’t know. But he stepped into the driver’s seat of Langston’s truck and drove him away. I didn’t follow. Charlie, I’m pretty sure he saw me. Do you know what this could mean?”
“Davis moonlights as a chauffeur?”
“I’ll tell you what it means. It means Davis is protecting Langston. Maybe he knows him personally. And if that’s the case, someone on the inside tipped him off that I’d be there today.”
“You know how much I love conspiracy theories, Alli, but that doesn’t add up. I agree it looks bad. If Davis knows a claimant and that claimant has a file for suspected fraud, that’s shady. Maybe the answer is to just ask him. You were doing what they hired you to do. If he wasn’t, well, that’s on him.”
Allison took a step back in consideration. “I think Davis wanted me to see him with Langston, and he wanted me to prove Langston wasn’t driving, which I did. He has to know the man personally. There’s no other explanation.”
“Was Davis the one to sign off on the investigation?” Charlie asked.
“That’s a good question. See, I knew there was a reason we were friends.” Allison marched out of the copy room.
“I thought it was my witty personality.” Charlie jogged to catch up to her. “Hey. Wait up. You brought me into this and I like where it could be going. Davis is kind of an ass.”
Allison chuckled. “I dropped the file on your desk. We’ll see if Cantrell signed off on it.”
They returned to Charlie’s desk and huddled together looking like villains twirling their mustaches in search of something to bring down their nemesis. With her index finger, Allison perused the claim for a signature. “Can I borrow your cheaters?”
“Oh, now you want my glasses? I’ll remind you of this the next time you make fun of me for wearing these around my neck.” Charlie lifted the chain and handed the glasses to Allison.
“Nice try but that won’t stop me.”
“You’re lucky we’re friends. What can you see?”
Allison tapped on the signature. “Right there in black and white, Davis Cantrell.”
Charlie placed her hands on her round hips. “How does he know Clifford Langston and why would he risk protecting him?”
“That’s the $64,000 question.” Allison surveyed the maze of cubicles, contemplating a solution when her eyes landed on Cantrell. “He’s here.”
“What?” Charlie searched for him.
“Shhh. Don’t look. Davis is here. He’s coming this way.” The file slipped from her hands and landed face down on Charlie’s desk.
“Allison, Charlie, good afternoon.”
Allison noted his exaggerated swagger and smug expression, not at all like a pod person. “Afternoon, Davis.”
He placed his hand on her bare shoulder. “I don’t suppose you have a minute. I’d like to talk to you about an investigation I know you’re familiar with.”
She glanced at Charlie and returned her attention to Cantrell. “You bet I do.”
“Fantastic.” Davis turned on his heel and started toward his office.
Allison followed, but not without a final turn back to Charlie where she revealed a toothy grin and gestured with two thumbs up.
Cantrell held open the door to his office. “Please, take a seat.” He motioned to a nearby chair and closed the door behind him. “I won’t take up much of your time, Allison. I just wanted to have a quick word with you about a claimant.”
She batted her dark brown eyes and feigned curiosity. “Oh? And who might that be?”
Davis lowered himself into his hi-back executive chair and held her gaze. “How do you like your job, Allison?”
“My job? I love it. I can’t imagine doing anything else. Don’t take this the wrong way, Davis, but why am I here? I don’t work for you unless that’s changing?”
“I was just curious to know if this was a place you wanted to stay,” he added.
“As I said…”
“I heard you.” He leaned over his desk. “Just so we’re on the same page, Mr. Langston is no longer a concern of yours. You’ve done your duty and it is appreciated. But I’ll be handling his case from here.”
“Oh. Do you know Clifford Langston? Is he a friend?”
“It’s not your case anymore, Allison. You can send over his file to me and I’ll take it from here.”
“I don’t understand. You’re well above my pay grade, Davis. Surely, Langston doesn’t interest you. Have I done something wrong in the investigation?”
“Not at all. I just need to oversee this one. That’s all this is, I assure you.”
Allison wasn’t confrontational by nature, but this was leaving a bad taste in her mouth. “I think we both know what this is about.”
“Is that so? Please, enlighten me with your insignificant and irrelevant opinion.”
Allison stood from her chair. “You obviously knew I was going to be there. You made sure Langston didn’t do anything he wasn’t supposed to do. I think my being there was part of your plan. God knows why. But I do know you saw me. We saw each other.”
“It’s been brought to my attention that you have an unseemly habit of setting up claimants to take the fall,” Davis said.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“You seem to have set your own quota and that’s not how we do things around here, Allison. Suffice it to say, if you like the way things are going for you here, I suggest you get back to the business of finding the real fraud, not something manufactured by an ex-spouse looking to settle old scores.”
“Pardon me for saying, but that sounded an awful lot like a threat.”
Davis held up his h
ands. “No threats here. Just honest feedback.”
“I don’t know who you’re getting this so-called feedback from, but I can tell you, I have done my job well. I wonder if my boss knows you were at Langston’s house today. He’s probably the one I should be taking this to.”
Davis smiled. “I’ve been here a lot longer than you, Allison. People know that I’m an effective leader. What do they know about you?”
“So, if I mention this to anyone, say, my boss, you’ll what, come in and tell him what a hack I am? That I’ve had complaints or something along those lines? Boy, you must be in deep, Davis. I feel kind of bad for you really.” She pushed off the chair and started to leave. “Well, there’s no better time than the present.”
“Where are you going?”
“Me? I have a feeling my boss will be very interested in this conversation.” She slammed the door behind her and headed straight for Lou Yancy, her immediate supervisor.
Allison stood in the hall and leaned into his doorway. “Hey, Lou.”
He peered up at her. “Allison, come on in. What can I do for you?”
She walked inside and closed the door.
“This must be important,” he said.
“It is.” Allison regurgitated the events leading up to this moment. She waited for Lou to tell her that Davis would be immediately fired. But people always had an agenda.
“I’ll have to speak with Davis on this matter, Allison. You’ve levied some stiff allegations on an assistant director.”
“I understand that, but I’m right. I was there. Davis has a personal connection to the claimant…”
