I wanted so badly to chew her out when she finished with Marino, but it would be hard to justify myself. Her performance was amazing. She wasn’t rushing the conversation, nor giving any hint as to her actual purpose. She wasn’t being flirtatious, which could have put him on guard. As for Marino, I couldn’t see him, but he seemed happy to escort my wife around, probably hoping everyone saw him with the beautiful young woman.
Forty minutes after entering the country club, it sounded like the tour was coming to an end. Marino said, “I’d like you to meet the club manager. He’s sort of a friend of mine.”
“I’d love to. Please.”
Several seconds passed without any conversation before Marino spoke again. He was garbled, but I could tell he was introducing Jessica to someone.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Ramey. I’m Jessica. Nick has been showing me around your beautiful club.”
I only caught bit and pieces of Ramey’s response and some of what Marino had to say. Apparently, both men were standing or sitting some distance away.
Jessica’s performance was flawless as she conversed with the two middle-aged men. Accepting their compliments. Offering some in return. Genuine-sounding laughter. The girl was a natural. “This accent? I’m from Tennessee. Speaking of accents, do either of you recall meeting a gentleman recently who had an accent similar to mine? Mid-thirties, five-ten, short brown hair.”
My wife’s segue into asking about Boyd was perfect.
Jessica continued, “No? My friend walks with a distinct swagger. A limp actually, but he makes it work for him.”
The men’s answers were unintelligible.
“No, it’s okay. He was up here two weeks ago to meet someone for business. He told me about this place. His name? Boyd Dallas. It’s no big deal. Really.”
I could hear Jessica rustling about, probably getting up from the table.
“Mr. Marino, I want you to know it has been a real pleasure, and I hope we get a chance to meet again.”
“The pleasure has been all mine, Jessica.” I could hear Marino again. “Maybe I’ll get to see that Cobra next time.”
“Maybe. My husband does let me get it out and drive it more than one might expect for a collectors’ item. Now, if you excuse me, I need to meet him for lunch. He’s been up here on business meeting someone about some horses he’s here to pick up.”
Several seconds of silence followed her last sentence before Jessica spoke again. “Legend, I can tell you beyond a shadow of a doubt that Nick Marino had absolutely nothing to do with Boyd’s disappearance.”
CHAPTER 9
For seven years, you have lived with the belief you had pulled off the perfect crime. Perfectly planned. Perfectly executed. Any clues left behind were left on purpose to be misleading. To create confusion. Now, it appears you were mistaken.
You are not worried. For seven years, you fooled the police. The FBI. Even your spouse. Just because someone now thinks the crime might not have happened as you led everyone to believe is only a small hassle. A wrinkle, not a quandary. A problem to be solved. You are good at solving problems. All truly intelligent people are.
You are not talking about intelligence defined by the so-called experts and scholars. People who talk about the different aspects of intelligence, such as memory, pattern recognition, logic, intuition, artistic ability, verbal ability...blah, blah, blah. In this everyone-deserves-a-trophy world, the experts and scholars define intelligence broadly so everyone can feel included. Then, there are those people who tell us Stephen Hawking said, “Intelligence is the ability to adapt to change.” You have even seen people wearing the quote on a tee shirt. Idiots. You know there is no evidence Hawking ever said that. If he had said it, then he would be as stupid as those who believe he did, because if his assertion were true, then the cockroach is a genius.
Your mother explained to you the true sign of intelligence years ago — a high level of abstract reasoning. You trust your mother. She is the smartest person you have ever known. A person of immeasurable IQ. An intellectual Gulliver in a world of Lilliputians.
Like your mother, you are highly intelligent. Not honor student smart. You laugh at those parents with their little bumper stickers celebrating their child’s mediocrity. You crushed those kids in school. You crushed them again in college. Professional schools, with their stringent entrance requirements, separate the wheat from the chaff, filtering the commonplace, the ordinary, the lackluster, the inferior, until only the exceptional percolate to the top. Yet, you crushed your fellow law students. Furthermore, it was easy.
Joining a prestigious law firm gave you hope you would meet your intellectual equals, but no such luck. You are a genius. And being a genius is difficult. Being a genius is alienating. You have accepted that fact, although you freely admit you have not learned to deal with your peerless intellect as well as your mother. Your mother had a happy marriage with your father. She had friends and colleagues whose company she enjoyed. You have no idea how she did it. That was one piece of the puzzle of life she didn’t pass down to you.
She did give you plenty of other useful information. She told you that in addition to a high capacity for abstract reasoning, the ultra-intelligent have the ability to manipulate any situation to their advantage. Combine that with supreme mental efficiency and you can do it quicker than everyone else as well. It is why you are not worried. You will determine the source of the problem, whether it be a flaw in your plan, a misstep in the execution of that plan, or random misfortune. And when you are done, your crime will be complete. Perfect. And no one will suspect a thing ever again.
CHAPTER 10
A range of emotions flooded my heart and mind as I watched Jessica walk across the country club parking lot. Relief that I could see her again, that I knew she was okay and out of harm’s way. Anger for doing the exact opposite of what she knew I would have wanted her to do. And confusion. “How do you know, Jessica? How can you be sure?” I demanded over the walkie talkie. “I came here to get an answer out of Marino. I don’t plan on leaving without one.”
“Let’s take this rental car back, and I’ll tell you everything. Trust me; you’ll see it the same way I do.”
“But.”
“Legend, I love you. I really do. However, your ‘buts’ are starting to get on my nerves. I’ll tell you everything once we drop off the Lincoln.”
Playing devil’s advocate was one thing. Jessica did it to me on a regular basis. Doubting her was a different thing. I decided to stay quiet on the radio until we could talk face-to-face.
Forty minutes later, we were traveling south on I-55 on our way back to Memphis. To show my faith in her, I decided to start south before hearing her explanation. She appreciated the gesture.
“Before you give me a bunch of crap for approaching Marino, you do realize I wasn’t in any danger, right? You were outside and could hear everything going on. And let’s not forget the FBI was sitting outside.”
I dodged a bullet letting her go first. Chastising her for approaching Marino against my will would not have gone over well.
“Well, being gorgeous does have its advantages.”
“I’m not gorgeous. My sister is gorgeous.”
“If I don’t get to tell you I was unhappy with you talking with Marino without discussing it first, then you don’t get to argue with me about how gorgeous you are.” She smiled. “Now, how do you know Marino was not involved?”
“You should have seen his face when I was describing Boyd. It was neutral, even when I mentioned Boyd’s name. I mentioned my husband seeing a man about picking up some horses. That got a reaction. Not necessarily a suspicious one, but still, I was able to use it as a test comment.”
I replayed Boyd’s interaction with Marino that day at the track. Boyd approached from Marino’s side, meaning it was possible he had not observed my friend’s unique swagger. And five foot ten is the average height of an American male. The middle of the bell curve. Short brown hair, also common. His name was
unusual, but Jessica insisted the mention of his name didn’t trigger any response.
I had wanted to question Marino myself. Badly wanted. In the end, I had to admit Jessica had done a good job, and I trusted her conclusions.
“You’d make a good spy, Jessica. Gathering information without tipping off your target is not easy. And if your target is suspicious, it’s even more difficult. Talking about his car was the perfect segue. You did well.”
“Thank you for trusting me. You still look worried.”
“You do realize the last time I filed a missing person’s report, the person was found dead a few days later?”
Jessica knew all about my investigation two years ago. I was dating her sister at the time. A friend’s adult son went missing only to be discovered murdered a few days later. By the time the investigation was finished, I had discovered the son had been murdered as a result of a gambling debt by someone inside the Dixie Mafia.
“That guy wasn’t Boyd. You said it yourself, it would be extremely difficult to get the drop on Boyd, and since Officer Albert hasn’t called, then we can assume no one has found a bunch of dead bodies yet.”
Jessica did her best to allay my concerns during the rest of the trip back to Memphis, but she knew I wouldn’t feel any better until I had a plan. Someplace to look. Someone to visit or interrogate. We arrived home around dinner time without a plan. I carried in our luggage while Jessica ordered takeout. I was unpacking my bag when Jessica yelled from downstairs sounding very excited.
“Legend, call LeClair right now. He left a message on the machine saying he’s heard from Boyd.”
I ran down the stairs skipping a few in the process and stumbled down the last two in an effort to get to the phone as quickly as possible, which got a chuckle out of Jessica along with a smartass comment asking me if I walked much.
LeClair answered on the second ring. “LeClair’s. LeClair speaking.”
“You’ve heard from Boyd?” I forgot to say hello. Jessica leaned in close to listen.
“Hey, Doc. What’s goin’ on with you two? Why’s he callin’ me tellin’ me to give you a message? Your pager thing broken, or you two have a fallin’ out?”
“Neither. What’s the message, LeClair?”
“The message is as weird as him callin’ me instead of you. I can practically quote it. Tell L.T. I know he’s been lookin’ for me. That he’s been by the hotel. Tell him I’m fine. Tell him my client sent men after me and the woman he hired me to find. They lost, but now we are layin’ low. And tell him if I need him, I’ll call him. Until then, please stay away.”
“What did he mean by they lost?”
“He didn’t say. Knowin’ your boy’s fascination with firearms, I can only imagine. You gonna tell me what this is all about?”
I scratched my head trying to make sense of the message and Boyd’s use of LeClair to deliver that message. I told him about Boyd’s failure to call me. About our trip to Wisconsin. The empty hotel room. The rental car full of bullet holes.
“No offense, Doc, I mean I know he’s your friend, but either he hit his head on somethin’ or he’s bat shit crazy. If my car was all shot up by guys who came lookin’ for me, you’d be the first one I’d call. I wouldn’t call some old Blues bar owner, even if he was a former Marine.”
“When did Boyd call?”
“Couple of hours ago. Called me at home. I was surprised he even had my number.”
“All in all, he sounded fine?”
“To tell the truth, he sounded weird. Like he was in a big hurry to get off the phone. He’s the one who said he was fine.”
“That was the whole call, LeClair?”
“Yes, siree.”
I thanked LeClair and promised to keep him informed before hanging up. I could tell by Jessica’s face she had heard every word. She looked as confused as I was, and immediately asked me why I thought Boyd had called LeClair instead of me. I didn’t have an answer for her. I needed to think and excused myself to walk upstairs and finish unpacking.
Boyd was self-reportedly fine, which was a huge relief. Yet, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a hidden message in Boyd’s decision to call LeClair to deliver his message. I was finished unpacking and sitting on the side of the bed pondering that question when the front doorbell rang.
A few seconds later, Jessica yelled from downstairs. “Legend, there’s someone here to see you.”
The takeout order. Good, I’m hungry.
I pulled cash from my front pocket and walked down the stairs.
Jessica spotted me coming down. “You can put that back in your pocket, takeout isn’t here yet. Special Agent Ann Marshall is standing outside requesting to speak with you.”
“Why is she outside?”
“Because,” she replied rather sternly. I looked at her expecting her to elaborate. “Because I don’t think I like her very much. You want me to let her in, don’t you?”
“Not really but you better let her in; she’ll only come back if I don’t talk to her.”
Jessica opened the front door and motioned for Agent Marshall to enter. Marshall was not dressed like an FBI agent. No tailored pantsuit. She wore slacks and a thin, silky casual blouse that did nothing to hide the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her badge was affixed to her belt. I guessed she was off-duty on a Sunday when she got the call to come by to deliver a message. She had an I’m-hear-to-give-you-a-message look about her.
“Dr. Legend McCain, we meet again.”
“Either L.T. or Dr. McCain, please. Legend is reserved for only two people in my life.”
“My apologies. I’ve met your wife. Very pretty.”
“Thank you. I think so, too. Not to be rude, Special Agent Marshall, but what brings you by on a Sunday evening?”
“You ever notice most people who say ‘not to be rude’ usually say it in the rudest tone. Not you. You actually seemed to mean it.” She paused as if she wanted her comment to sink in before resuming. “You’ve been busy the last couple of days. Lots of driving.”
“You’re not here to discuss my travel itineraries. If you don’t mind, we’ve had a long day.”
“That’s right, you’re not a small-talk kind of guy. The FBI would like me to deliver a message.”
Big damn surprise. They probably want me to stay away from Marino.
“Deliver away,” Jessica said tersely.
If Jessica’s tone irritated Agent Marshall, she didn’t show it. “You probably already know what I’m here to say, but here it is regardless. Stay away from Nick Marino. That also goes for anyone else you might send to contact him in any manner, including beautiful blondes complimenting him about his car.”
Agent Marshall could tell I had already guessed the purpose of her visit and smiled. Smirked was a better word.
Jessica said, “You’re in luck. We’re done with Marino. If we weren’t, then we’d still be asking him questions. You have a law against questions?”
Agent Marshall ignored Jessica. “I’m supposed to mention obstruction of justice charges, interfering with an investigation, blah, blah, blah. I figure you’ll do whatever you feel you need to do whether I tell you the consequences or not. This way you’ve been warned at how far the FBI is willing to take this.”
Jessica said, “Message received, Agent Marshall. The FBI has a hard-on for Marino and they don’t want us to get in their way. God forbid we get in their way of the FBI’s hard-on. Figuratively speaking, of course.”
Agent Marshall looked at me instead of Jessica. “Oh, I like her. With you being the strong assertive type, I was wondering what kind of girl you had at home. I was so afraid you’d ended up with a demure little trophy wife.”
“No, that would be my sister,” Jessica replied.
“That’s right. You dated her sister. Memphis’ favorite meteorologist, Miss Ellie Carmichael. Very nice. You completed the set. Congratulations.”
For some reason, Agent Marshall kept directing all conversation toward me only ackn
owledging Jessica in the third person. And Jessica was getting more and more irritated with each passing second. I needed to get Marshall out of my foyer before Jessica blew a gasket.
“Is there anything else, Agent Marshall?”
She smirked. “May I ask you a question? Off the record.”
“You may ask. I might not answer. Off the record doesn’t hold up in a court of law, now does it?”
“How did you do it? How did you get Marino to give up the horses without a fight?”
“That was Holderfield’s question, wasn’t it? The one Agent Barker didn’t want me to answer. If you want to know, ask Marino yourself. If he ain’t talking, then neither am I.”
Agent Marshall knew that was the only answer she would get from me. She looked as if she was contemplating her next question when the doorbell rang.
Jessica opened the door and motioned for the delivery man to hold. “Special Agent Marshall, that’s our takeout order. Food for two and all that. In other words, we weren’t expecting guests, nor do we want any.” Jessica opened the door wide and motioned for Agent Marshall to leave. “If you don’t mind.”
Agent Marshall smirked one last time. “Good luck finding your friend.”
Without another word or additional fanfare, the FBI agent turned and walked out the front door, leaving me to wonder if delivering a warning to stay away from Marino had been the true purpose behind her surprise visit.
***
The door was barely closed behind Agent Marshall before Jessica turned to me, looking angry and expecting answers to the questions I knew were coming. “What the hell, Legend? I realize the FBI was following Marino, but how did they know what we discussed? Were they taping our conversation? And why in the hell did it seem the FBI’s Special Agent was flirting with you? Coming over here with that blouse with her nipples pointing every which way? My lord, she could have cut glass with those things.”
“Which question would you like me to answer first, sweetie?”
Deadly Promise Page 12
