Dark Wave (A Troy Bodean Tropical Thriller Book 4)

by David F. Berens

  “Becky,” Troy said quietly, “I’m sorry, but I have to ask… where were you the night Tayler was killed? Where were you on Wednesday, August sixteenth?”

  Becky stood up. She walked over to the TV and picked up a lanyard laying on the stand next to it. She tossed it to Troy.

  He caught it and flipped over the card hanging on it so he could read it. It was a pass of some sort. In bold letters, it read:

  U.S.A. Ninja Challenge Contestant

  Becky Patton

  8-16-17

  10:21:31PM

  “I was competing,” she said, “in a taped competition like that. Once you check in, you can’t leave or they disqualify you. I went to stand in line after we all left the club.”

  “Club One?” Troy asked.

  “Yeah,” she said with an arched eyebrow, “how’d you know that?”

  “I have my ways,” Troy said. “Anyway, they checked you in that late at night?”

  “Yeah,” she said, “it’s all filmed at night so the lights and such are more exciting. Hell, I didn’t get on the course until four in the morning.”

  He did a little mental math between the tie-stamped video he’d seen of the whole group at Club One and the time stamp on her pass. If she’d stayed there all night – he was sure there would be alibis to that effect – she was in the clear.

  “Then why is your address on a rental car G.P.S.?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Wait,” Alain said, “how could it be her address? Wouldn’t it just have a street address?”

  Troy scratched his dark, stubbled chin. “I s’pose you’re right.”

  “What do we do now?” Becky asked.

  “Sit tight,” Troy said, holding up one hand. “Alain, you stay here with her. I’m gonna go down to the lobby and run a little surveillance. It could be that these goons don’t know anything other than the street name. Close this door and don’t open it for anyone. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come out.”

  “Right,” Alain said.

  “I’m serious,” Troy said as he walked out. “Nobody. We don’t know who’s behind this, but it’s somebody that Tayler and Samantha both opened their doors for—”

  “Wait,” Alain said, “… so you never found Samantha?”

  “Nope,” Troy said, “not yet. But don’t worry kid, I will soon enough.”

  With that Troy closed the door.

  “Dayum,” Becky said, “shit’s gettin’ real.”

  Alain nodded but didn’t say anything. He’d arrived there pretty sure Becky had been guilty of something, but now he had no idea what had really happened to Tayler or the painting.

  From out of nowhere, Becky punched him in the shoulder.

  “Hey,” he yelped, “what the heck was that for?”

  “I can’t believe you’d think I had anything to do with all this.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You owe me.”

  “Dinner and a movie?”

  “Nah,” she said, “you gotta pay my way into next month’s challenge.”

  Alain couldn’t help a little grin pushing up the corner of his mouth.

  “Deal.”

  39

  I’m Walking’ Here

  Troy Bodean casually walked out of the lobby at the Mariner Grove apartment building. He was immediately shocked to see a tall, buxom blonde sidling down East President street dressed in a pale blue sequined cowgirl getup. She was followed by a cowboy, an American Indian, a construction worker, a leather-clad biker dude, a soldier in camo… and a cop. Troy couldn’t help but smile. It was Charles Fry – aka Lady Bareback, the owner of Club One – and the Village People… or at least some reasonable facsimiles of the popular 70s singing group.

  “Well, well, now boys,” – Lady Bareback stopped and made a big show of looking Troy up and down – “look at this tall drink of water we found.”

  She was smiling from ear to ear and grabbed Troy in a grip that was stronger than he’d expected.

  “How you doin’, baby?” she asked.

  “I’m good, real good,” Troy said as he untangled himself from her arms, “how ‘bout you? What brings you out to this part o’ town… dressed like… that?”

  She pointed over her shoulder. A large yellow and black sign with Scrabble-esque letters proclaimed Waffle House.

  “Me ‘n the boys caught an Uber out here after the show for some late night breakfast,” she laughed, “cures all that ills you, ya know?”

  “I hear that,” Troy said, “I take it you had a Village People tribute show last night? Sorry I missed it.”

  “Baby,” she said, swinging her arms around toward the group of men… er… maybe-men, standing in a semi-circle behind her, “they’re here all week from Cincinnati. They’ve brought in so much money already, we might keep ‘em here for another go.”

  She laughed boisterously, and the Village People joined in.

  “Hell,” she continued, “They almost beat your one-night haul!”

  Troy laughed and felt the redness begin to flush in his cheeks.

  “How about you, sugar?” Lady Bareback arched an eyebrow. “What you doin’ down here hauntin’ the student section?”

  “Remember the thing I was looking into when I came by the other night?”

  “Sure do, baby.”

  “Yeah,” Troy said, inhaling, “well it’s about that… kinda.”

  “I hope you found what you were lookin’ for,” she said conspiratorially, “and if you didn’t…”

  As she spoke, a silver Honda Civic slowed to a crawl in front of the Mariner Grove apartment building.

  Troy didn’t hear the rest of what she said. As the car slid past, he immediately recognized the man in the passenger’s seat – it was T.D. – the brute who’d fouled up the bathroom back at the industrial park with Troy hanging out in the ceiling above him. In the driver’s seat, he guessed, must be Eddie Vargo.

  They’d likely made it down here following the G.P.S. coordinates they’d been talking about in the rental Civic. Troy worked hard not to make eye contact, but was pretty sure they didn’t know what he looked like.

  As they drove past, Troy saw them both turning their heads left and right surveying the surrounding area… desperately trying to figure out the driver of the rental car’s reason for entering this location in the G.P.S.

  Eddie Vargo was shouting at T.D., who was shrugging in apparent confusion. They had no idea what they were looking for… This made Troy feel safer about Becky Patton and Alain Montgomery being holed up in the apartment nearby. But as soon that thought passed, the silver car eased to a stop in front of the modern looking Mariner Grove building.

  “Dangit,” Troy muttered.

  “What is it, sugar?” Lady Bareback asked, apparently realizing Troy was no longer paying any attention to her.”

  “Big trouble in little China,” Troy muttered, and nodded ever so slightly toward the car. It had parked on the curb and it’s flashers indicated they weren’t going anywhere for a while. Though Troy thought it highly unlikely they would find Becky and Alain, and even less likely they would realize the two were connected to the painting thief they were after, he still felt a chill run up his spine.

  The doors of the car opened and T.D. lumbered out. He jogged around to the driver’s side and helped Eddie limp out of the car. Troy could barely make out what they were saying to each other, but their intent soon became clear as Eddie pulled a small pistol from the glove compartment and tucked it into his belt beneath his Hawaiian shirt. Fanning it out to hide the pistol, he walked nonchalantly toward the front door of the building. T.D. crossed his arms under his massive chest and leaned back against the car.

  “Dangit,” Troy said. “Gotta figure something out to get these jokers outta here.”

  “Baby,” – Lady Bareback stuck her lips out in a kiss-face – “let me take care of this.”

  She turned toward the Village People – specifically, the policeman – and sniffed. “Gimme fiv
e minutes,” she said, “then come over and start the shakedown.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the cop said in a convincingly stern tone. “Savannah’s finest, on the job.”

  Troy cocked his head and watched as she sashayed seductively across the street toward the car. A yellow taxi screeched to a stop as she crossed.

  Without missing a beat, and in a man’s voice, she said, “Hey, watch it,” and slammed her palms down on the hood of the cab. “I’m walkin’ here.”

  Troy and The Village People couldn’t help but laugh… some of them even clapped at her perfect performance of the famous, supposedly ad-libbed scene from Midnight Cowboy. Smoothing her hair and adjusting her purse, Lady Bareback clicked her way across the street and walked around the car next to T.D.

  Troy couldn’t hear any of the conversation, but it became clear she was pretending to offer a… service… to T.D. The big man was clearly flustered, and jerked his head toward the building, but Eddie had disappeared inside the lobby.

  Shaking his head, he held up his hands, and all Troy could hear him saying, was “No, no, no.”

  40

  Layin’ It On Thick

  Lady Bareback was laying it on thick. She leaned over and her bosom – in truth, a perfectly positioned, well-padded push-up bra – spilled out of her sequined bikini top. She began fanning herself with her hand as if she was hot.

  Troy watched in awe as T.D. began rocking side-to-side and licking his lips. He badly wished he could hear the conversation. And then, it happened: T.D. reached out and opened the passenger door to the Honda. He held out his arm and waved her into the car. Obligingly, Lady Bareback clicked the few steps on the sidewalk and ducked into the car. T.D. looked nervously left and right, jingled the keys, hurried back around to the driver’s side, and slumped into the car.

  “That’s my cue, gentlemen,” the Village People’s police officer said, sniffing behind his perfect 70s mustache. “Watch and learn.”

  “You go get ‘em, girl,” the American Indian said as he smacked the cop on the butt.

  As he walked away, Troy found himself in awe at how the scene played out.

  The cop – er, the Village People cop – walked up to the driver’s side window and rapped his knuckle on the glass. Troy saw T.D. jerk his head away from the beautiful blonde lady-of-the-evening he’d just accepted into his car, and upon seeing the cop, mouth the words, “oh, shit.”

  Some of the other performers had seen this too and began to laugh. They all edged closer to the scene, being careful not to be noticed… which was a little difficult for the Village People to do. As they neared, Troy could now make out some of what was being said.

  “But officer, I didn’t know she was a…” – he turned to look at Lady Bareback – “a… um… you know…”

  “Young man,” the cop said, “you are in a whole world of trouble. Step out of the car.”

  T.D.’s face screwed into a mask of anguish. Troy almost felt sorry for the man. He lumbered out of the car.

  “Hands behind your back,” the cop said, reaching into his belt and slapping handcuffs on T.D.

  “Oh, hell no, he didn’t?” the soldier said. “Those things ain’t even real. He’ll know they’re fake in no time.”

  “Nah,” Troy shook his head, “he’s scared out of his mind. He ain’t gonna figure that out.”

  The cop jerked T.D. by the shoulder, whirling him around to face him. He pointed toward Lady Bareback, who was looking into the visor mirror and reapplying her lipstick.

  “You tellin’ me you didn’t know what line of work she was in, young man?”

  “No, sir,” T.D. said and shook his head violently, “she just asked to use my phone. Said she needed a ride. So, I just let her sit in the car for a minute.”

  “Yeah,” the cop said, “well tell it to the judge. Stay right here.”

  He walked a few feet away from T.D. and pretended to speak into his walkie-talkie.

  “Got a ten-one-two out here at the Mariner,” he said in completely believable cop-speak. “Gonna need a wagon.”

  T.D.’s face, which was a picture of pain and suffering, got even worse. Huge alligator tears began to fall from the man’s eyes.

  “Officer,” he said, “I ain’t never done nothin’ wrong in my life. You gotta believe me. I just came down here with my boss, Eddie. We’s just visiting a friend.”

  The cop let a long painful silence hang between them. He opened his mouth to speak just as Eddie Vargo came strolling out of the building. Seeing the police officer and T.D. in cuffs, he stopped suddenly. Troy started to say something to him, but he darted to the left and took off running.

  “Dangit,” Troy said and started to chase him.

  “No, no,” said the soldier, grabbing him, “best to let him go. He thinks his boy is gettin’ arrested. He’ll get outta dodge quicker than a knife through shit.”

  “Through butter,” the construction worker corrected him.

  “Whatever,” the soldier said, shrugging.

  Troy looked back at T.D. Oddly, the cop was turned away from him and trying desperately not to laugh. Confused, Troy wondered what the heck was happening that was so funny. And then he saw it. T.D.’s pants were soaked. The big guy had peed his pants… literally. Lady Bareback was stepping out of the car and trotting her way down the street.

  “Shit,” the cop barked, “she’s getting away!”

  He quickly undid the cuffs on T.D.’s wrists.

  “You’re lucky this time, punk,” he said as he ran after Lady Bareback, “now get out of here. Don’t come back down there parts or you’re going away for a long time.”

  T.D. nodded vigorously. He ducked into the car and squealed away.

  Troy finally laughed out loud and the group behind him clapped and cheered as the police officer and the lady walked back toward them. As they approached the applauding group, Lady Bareback stopped and curtsied.

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Bodean,” she said, and winked at him. “Now, come on fellas, I need to get some sleep before your next show tonight. Sugar, why don’t you come out and see just how good these boys are?”

  Troy shook his head. “I wish I could, but this murder thing still has me runnin’ around in circles like a chicken with its head cut off.”

  Lady Bareback took his head in her hands and kissed him on the forehead. “I’m sorry, baby,” she said, “I thought for sure that video would help you notice something you hadn’t seen before.”

  Troy opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it. He’d forgotten all about the video. Maybe he’d run through it again and see if he found anything new. He didn’t think that was likely.

  As the flamboyantly dressed group walked away from him, the doors to the Mariner Grove opened and Becky came out with Alain close behind.

  “We saw everything from the window,” Becky said. “What happened? Were those the guys? What did they say? Where are they now? Did you find anything out?”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa now, darlin’.” Troy held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. “They’re gone for now, but I don’t know if they’ll be back or not. Might’ve run ‘em off with their tails tucked, but once they start thinkin’ ‘bout their paintin’ and their money again, they’ll probly be back.”

  He nodded to Alain. “Best you lay low. Can Becky stay with you for a while – at least until this blows over?”

  “Sure thing,” Alain said, “but no burpees allowed.”

  Becky smacked him playfully on the shoulder.

  “Okay, cool,” Troy said and started walking away. “I’ve got some TV to catch up on.”

  41

  But Now I See…

  Troy Bodean slid the DVD copy of the surveillance video taken the night of Tayler’s suicide/murder into the player. While he waited for the menu to load, he walked into the kitchen and jerked open the refrigerator door. Inside was a Styrofoam box of old… really old… Chinese takeout, a crusty bottle of spicy mustard, about a third of an orange, a half empty cart
on of milk with a date from the middle of last year, a single slice of bologna, and two Coronas.

  He slid the piece of meat from its plastic wrap, smelled it to confirm it was still good – bologna being one of two things that would survive a nuclear war, roaches being the other – and stuck it in his mouth. He pulled out the piece of orange and one of the beers.

  “It’s five o’clock somewhere,” he said to no one, laying the orange on the counter and popping the top off the beer.

  He sliced the orange into thin wedges and shoved one down into the Corona – he’d always preferred orange to lime in his beer. It reminded him of Mindy, but like the orange, he shoved that memory back down into the dark recesses of his past.

  A chime echoed from the TV, letting him know his DVD had loaded and was awaiting his selection. He walked into the living room, plopped down on the couch, pointed the remote at the screen, and clicked the file date-stamped: August 16th, 2017 – the night Tayler committed suicide… or was murdered.

  As the DVD whirred and loaded, Troy wondered if maybe all of this was a farce. Did he really even know that Tayler hadn’t actually committed suicide? Sure, the painting had been stolen, but that didn’t necessarily mean that they’d also been involved in his former roommate’s death.

  As the video feed of the fateful evening began to play out on the screen, Troy paused, rewound, forwarded, and paused again, examining the whole night for anything… any detail that he thought might shed some light on the events that would happen after Tayler left the club, leading to his demise.

  In short, the group of friends – Becky Patton, Alain Montgomery, RayRay Tishomura, and Tayler Evan – all entered the club around 9:15 p.m. This would’ve put them there shortly after the exhibition of Savannah Smiling was opened at Jepson. They were celebrating, and as such, there was a lot of alcohol flowing… except for Becky. She’d been saving herself for the taping of the ninja show after that. So, there was at least one alibi for the people who he knew had been with Tayler on the night he died. Becky had been checked in with the ninja show and hadn’t left all night.