The Edge of Murder (A Hank Reed Mystery, Book 3)

by Fred Lichtenberg

  I kept my eyes on the busy road, heading north on Federal Highway. “I like her too.”

  “I mean, I think she’s into you. She finds you attractive. You married?”

  Jesus, just what I need right now.

  “Divorced.”

  “Great. She’s getting divorced, and so am I. Wouldn’t it be cool if the four of us became family?”

  Good God, she sounds serious! The woman totally lacked a sense of reality.

  “We can talk about it once we clear up the current situation.” I felt a headache coming on.

  She sighed as though I’d burst her balloon. “Right, Terry. I wish someone would kill him.” She turned to me. “Know a good hit man?” She giggled.

  I pressed my head. Maybe a migraine. The giggle felt false. For a woman petrified of her husband, she appeared too calm, and I guessed it had to do with her visit with Nick.

  “I think we should talk about Terry’s business dealings. I’m guessing you know more about his car washing business, maybe even have records showing he’s running an illegitimate operation. We could have him arrested.”

  Elizabeth didn’t appear too keen on the idea and crossed her arms. “I’d be better off if he was gone altogether. Know what I mean, Hank?”

  Was she seducing me into uncharted waters? Did Elizabeth want the business all for herself?

  Terry fumed. “You let that bastard break my taillight? The hell, Sammy. Didn’t you threaten him with your weapon? Trust me, before he could put a finger on my truck, he’d have six holes in him. You getting soft on me?”

  Sammy’s hands tightened on the wheel as he drove back to the motel. “I tried reaching for my piece in the glove compartment, but he was too quick. I tell you, Terry, the guy’s a nut job. You saw the way he came up to us at the Imax Theater like he didn’t have a care in the world.”

  “Yeah, well, let’s see how tough he is when I confront him. I know where he’s staying. Did the schmuck give you his name?”

  “Hank.”

  “Just Hank. No last name?”

  “We only exchanged first names.”

  Terry cracked up. “You exchanged first names? Like what, you’re on a first date or something? Did you find out what the guy does for a living, or was that too intimate?”

  “Said he was an undertaker.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Sammy stopped at a light. “He sounded truthful.”

  “He was messing with you, for chrissake!” Terry touched his eye patch and grimaced.

  “Think so? He even said he needed the business.”

  Terry scratched his head. “That’s bullshit, and you fell for it. What a dumb-ass. At least we know who he isn’t.”

  “Whatta you mean?”

  “For sure, he’s not a cop. They ain’t supposed to break taillights. We gotta figure out who this wiseass really is and take him down.”

  “You wanna go to the doc’s house now?”

  Terry yawned. “Nah, we’ll wake him up tonight when he’s asleep. I got that spare key, remember? We’ll see who gets the last laugh.” He snorted.

  Traveling on I-95, they approached a huge highway sign that read: Bush and More Gentleman’s Club. It showed a woman halfway up a dancing pole with a cigar in her mouth and wearing a black halter top and matching shorts.

  “You see that, Sammy?”

  Sammy turned. “Damn.”

  “I wanna get a lap dance. It’ll soothe my eye.”

  Twenty-Three

  Driving North on A1A

  Elizabeth and I shared small talk, mostly about her growing up as a twin in upstate New York.

  “Amanda and I were inseparable. We didn’t have many friends, mainly because we just confused people, or they saw us as freaks. Anyway, that was fine. She’s my best friend.” Elizabeth paused. “I hate putting her through this, Hank.” She peered out the window. “I should have listened to her years ago.”

  “Marrying Terry?”

  She nodded. “Amanda could see right through him. She said he had an evil streak and couldn’t be trusted.” She stopped. “I was young and in love. Like I said, we didn’t have many friends, and the boys didn’t trust us, thought we’d trick them by changing partners. Not Terry. When he met Amanda, he could tell us apart.”

  “Really? How’d he figure that out?”

  She shrugged. “He said he just could. And he was right. He never mixed us up.” She sounded wistful. “Then things changed. A few years into our marriage, he became abusive—not physically—emotionally. At one point, Terry suggested we have a threesome. I laughed at first, but he was serious. I told Amanda, and she thought he was disgusting.” She sighed. “A few months later, she took off to Florida. No reason given, just a change in scenery, she said. Only I knew it had something to do with Terry.”

  I nodded. “It must have been difficult, her leaving. Like you said, you two were inseparable.”

  “Sure, it hurt. Still does.” Her voice cracked. “Though I’m not sure about Amanda. She still has a lot of anger toward me, Terry, and our town in general. She says she’s moved on, but I can see by her stinging comments, she really hasn’t.” She sighed, stared out the window.

  “I couldn’t move, not with the car washing business. Besides, Terry flat-out threatened me if I had thoughts of leaving.” She turned to me. “As much as I miss her, Amanda did the right thing getting out of town. She hated Terry for what he was doing to me. Eventually, they would have killed each other.”

  Interesting comment.

  I drove past the beach area in Delray. Pedestrians were crossing the busy A1A between bars and restaurants, heading to the expansive, white beach and ocean. Which reminded me, I needed to get a tan before heading home, whenever that was.

  “Nice.” Elizabeth pointed to the ocean. “I haven’t seen waves in years. Not since we took a vacation to California.” She sighed.

  As we continued north, the Atlantic Ocean on our right, Elizabeth continued watching the waves, the surfers, and the crowd, apparently musing about something, perhaps how she’d love to make Terry disappear.

  She took a breath. “Great place to live. Especially in the winter. Beats the cold up north.” She appeared mesmerized by the beauty of her surroundings: sunny day in the mid-seventies, the wide sandy beach.

  “If only,” she breathed.

  I’d been watching my surroundings as well, and with no threat of being followed, I asked Elizabeth if she’d like to stop, get her toes wet.

  She thought a moment. “Maybe just the toes.”

  Inside the Bush and More Gentleman’s Club

  “What’s with the patch, sexy?” the college-aged Asian woman asked, dancing to Beyoncé’s Dance for You.

  The guy sporting a dragon tattoo on his arm just gawked up at her. She swung around the pole once more, then stopped.

  He blinked, realized she was talking to him. “Hey, you should see the other guy,” Terry said with a bit of bravado. “Even with one good eye, I can see your sexy body. Love your long, dark-brown hair, my Asian beauty.”

  She looked around and strutted over to him. “You noticed,” she teased. She was dressed, or rather underdressed, in a pink cage mini dress. Sheer and revealing.

  “I know beauty when I see it. And I’m looking at it.”

  “And with one eye.” She smiled.

  “What’s your name?”

  She bent down, pressed her chest high enough to reveal small but lovely cleavage. “Asia.”

  “Seriously? You from Vietnam?”

  She turned up her nose. “Bangkok.”

  Terry had no idea where that was, but assumed it wasn’t in Vietnam.

  “So, you want lap dance, sexy?” She turned to Sammy, who also wore a silly grin. He nodded. She pointed her tiny nose at Sammy. “Your quiet friend, him too.”

  Terry kept his eyes on the cleavage. “That’s why we’re here.”

  Sammy asked, “How much you charge?”

  Terry scowled. “You don’t ask a reputable
woman what she charges.” Turning back to Asia, he apologized. “Sorry, my friend here has no class.”

  “It’s just I don’t have a lot of money.”

  Terry shook his head.

  She moved closer and smiled. “That okay.” She glanced around, then nodded for them to follow her.

  “Sale today,” she said and led them to the back. When they arrived at a makeshift room, lined with beads for walls, she said, “You first, one-eye.”

  Terry lifted his half-finished glass of vodka and toasted.

  To Sammy, he ordered, “Wait for me here.”

  Inside, Terry sat back on an old cloth chair, while Asia lowered her top. “I give you best lap dance around. Bangkok style.” She smiled seductively, playfully touching her small breasts.

  Terry took one last gulp from his glass and went for her.

  She slapped his hand. “No touchee. See sign outside? Only look.” She continued moving her hips while straddling him.

  The Fugees’s Ready or Not began playing. The pain in Terry’s eye had all but disappeared. With his good eye, he stared into the empty glass of vodka. He was feeling loopy, and realized he shouldn’t be drinking, not after taking a heavy dose of pain killers. Hell, the doctor had given him ibuprofen. Screw that. He’d taken a few of his own pain killers and not the over-the-counter crap.

  Asia’s breasts rubbed the scary dragon arm. “You like, Mr. One-Eye?”

  Terry watched her pull back slightly, and he nodded as though in a trance. Must be the booze. The song ended and so did the lap dance. She got up. “You pay now.” She put out her hand.

  “How about I give you an extra hundred for a happy ending?”

  She frowned. “I go to college, make money for tuition. No whore. I don’t give endings.”

  Terry was worked up and didn’t like taking no for an answer. Hell, if they danced like that, they did other things.

  “Two hundred.” By then, he began slurring his words. His head was swimming, but he wanted that fucking happy ending.

  He grabbed her hand and placed it on his privates. She snatched it away. “You dog!”

  Terry grabbed the top of her shorts and pulled her back to him.

  “Help!”

  Within seconds, two bulls entered and grabbed him by the arms and dragged him out, his glass smashing on the tile floor.

  He tried pulling away. “I’ll kick your asses.”

  Right.

  Sammy was back at the stage when he heard the commotion. He caught up with the bouncers and stupidly grabbed one by the shoulder. The guy turned and threw Sammy a punch, knocking him to the ground.

  Sammy steadied himself on a chair, snatched a knife from an ankle sheath, and headed toward the bulls. Asia, waiting on the side, rushed in and delivered a kick to his crotch, dropping him like a stone.

  The patrons cheered.

  The bouncers tossed Terry outside, but not before Asia removed his wallet and counted out a hundred bucks.

  Oceanfront Park Beach

  I turned into Oceanfront Park Beach in Ocean Ridge, paid the ten-dollar fee, and parked near the boardwalk. Lots of people. Who could blame them for being out in perfect weather?

  My cell rang.

  JR.

  “I have to take this, Elizabeth. I’ll catch up with you.”

  She hesitated.

  “It’s safe,” I assured her.

  She nodded and took off, skipping like a child. She kicked off her soft sandals, scooped them up, and ran.

  “I was about to leave you a voice message.”

  “Sorry, I’m here at the beach with Elizabeth.”

  “Say what?”

  “I know, sounds weird. How much time do you have to hear the latest?”

  “I’m off today, so you have my full attention.”

  I gave him the full recap, and JR threw a few expletives as he listened.

  “So that’s how I wound up here.” I looked toward the beach. “You can’t ignore the women in bikinis.”

  “That’s my Hank.”

  “I’m thinking of staying a few days when this is over.” Right. Over. I watched a flock of gulls flying and smiled. In the distance, the lifeguard’s whistle alerted swimmers to move closer to shore. Elizabeth faced the ocean but stood far back from the water’s edge.

  “I forgot, JR, you called me. Any news on the husband? Please tell me he’s wanted somewhere.”

  “Sorry, Hank, can’t say he is. But Terry Bash has a record in his hometown of Miller Falls. Seems he was charged with simple assault, disorderly conduct, and driving under the influence. Not all at once.” JR laughed. “Warnings, but no time served. He must have friends.”

  “Maybe he offers special deals on car washes. What about money laundering from the business? According to Elizabeth’s sister, he’s definitely into it. Know anyone at DOJ? They handle those cases.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to have the name of the company, would you?”

  “I’d have to ask Elizabeth.” I scanned the beach a little longer than I wanted. No sign of Elizabeth.

  “Could be nothing, JR, but I don’t see Elizabeth. Let me call you back.”

  I disconnected, then ran through the sand, past the lifeguard house, looking down the beach. I checked the water. Small waves lapped the shore. I recalled Elizabeth wearing a floral V-neck blouse and jeans. Jesus, Elizabeth, this was not a time for a disappearing act.

  I refused to call out her name with hundreds of people around, so I ran to the restroom. Then I called out. Nothing. I picked up my pace, wiping my forehead, and entered the café.

  You’re killing me, Elizabeth. Outside the café, I took off for the lifeguard shack. Still nothing. Where was she? I dashed back to the parking lot, pulled out my cell, and punched in her number.

  Straight to voice message.

  “Where are you?” I asked the air.

  I stood by Nick’s car. God, when did the sun become so intense? I wiped my forehead again. My shirt was soaked.

  I called Amanda, told her where I was. “Did she call you?”

  “No. What do you mean you’re at the beach?”

  “Elizabeth wanted to go.”

  “You’re kidding, right? She hates the beach. She almost drowned when we were kids.”

  “I’ll call you back.”

  I trotted to the parking attendant, showed him my PI business card, and asked if he saw a woman leaving the park on foot. I described Elizabeth.

  I got a no. Then he said, “There was an Uber driver. I let him pick up his ride without charging a parking fee.”

  “An Uber? When?”

  “Not more than five minutes ago.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive. I saw his Uber sign.” He pointed to the other side of the parking lot. “A woman, that’s all I can tell you. I was too busy checking in cars.” He thought a moment, then pointed. “He was heading south.”

  “What about the car? Do you remember make, model, old, new?”

  “Jesus, let me think. Old. Black. Small. I think maybe a Corolla.”

  “Thanks.” I ran for Nick’s car and took off. I called Elizabeth again. Another voice message. Then I called Amanda, who picked up on the first ring.

  “You find her?”

  “I think she took off in an Uber. Why would she do that?”

  “I have no idea, Hank. Doesn’t make sense.”

  “I’m heading south. Where do you think she’d go?”

  Amanda’s voice broke. “Like I said, I have no idea. Oh, no, I forgot to tell her I changed motels.”

  “Where are you staying now?”

  “The Resting Place Inn. On Federal Highway.”

  “Okay, good, Keep trying her phone.”

  “Do you think she saw Terry and took off? What if he found her, Hank?”

  “Unlikely. I was careful about my surroundings. I have to go, Amanda. And call me if you get in touch with her.”

  I disconnected and continued a few miles over the speed limit. The last
thing I needed was to be stopped.

  Up ahead, I noticed a black car and moved quickly to catch up and pulled alongside. The Uber insignia was pasted on the front windshield. The damn windows were too dark to identify the rider. I thought quickly, removed my old detective shield—a big no, no, but I was desperate—then lowered my passenger window, and flashed the almighty shield and got the driver’s attention.

  The sixty-something-year-old lowered his window and squinted at me, then pulled over in front of a convenience store. I parked behind him and approached his car.

  “What’s going on, officer?” His face turned white, as though he’d been caught with contraband.

  I spied the back seat. The woman asked, “What’s wrong?”

  She was around twenty, Hispanic, and dressed in shorts and a T-shirt.

  “Sorry. I got a call about a possible abduction in a car with your description. You don’t look like you’re being kidnapped, ma’am.”

  Her eyes widened. She looked at the driver. “He’s Uber.”

  “I’m Uber,” assured the driver. “You have the wrong car.”

  I looked at him closely, then the rider. “All good. Have a nice day, folks.” I watched the car pull out and continue south. I shook my head.

  I had a real problem on my hands.

  I drove back to the beach entrance and asked the attendant if perhaps another Uber had been contacted for a ride.

  He looked at me. “Oh, hi. Yeah, there was another one. Like, maybe ten minutes ago.” He pointed south. “Same as the other one.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked quickly. “The same woman?”

  “Huh, no. A woman is what I meant.”

  My head was spinning. These twins were screwing up my brain.

  He said, “I’m guessing the woman in the first car wasn’t who you were looking for.”

  Smart guy. “Unfortunately, no. Can you give me a description of the vehicle?”

  A big smile. “Oh yeah. A white BMW X3. I really wasn’t paying attention to the plates.”

  “Wait, you’re telling me an Uber driver pulled up in that vehicle? That’s an expensive car for an Uber driver. You sure?”

  “Positive. My son-in-law owns one. I spoke to the guy. He was thirtyish and friendly.” He shrugged. “He said he did it for fun. Cool, no?”