by Dave Daren
I was saved from making a decision on that by the office phone. Sofia snatched up my handset with a wink.
“Creed and Associates,” she cooed. “How may I direct your call?”
I rolled my eyes and waited while she listened to the answer.
“I’ll put you right through,” she said as she stuck her tongue out at me.
I mouthed the word ‘who’ and she scribbled the name ‘shorty’ on her steno pad.
“Shorty,” I said into the phone as Sofia sauntered from my office. “I’m glad you called. I may have something else for you to follow up on.”
“Great minds think alike,” Shorty replied. “I wanted to let you know what I found out about the trawler.”
“Go ahead,” I said.
“It’s definitely a positive I.D. on Burke,” Shorty stated. “A pal of mine found one of the pictures they took and we compared it to the ones you sent me.”
“We know he survived then,” I mused. “Do we know if this was prearranged or just a happy coincidence?”
“Definitely prearranged,” Shorty said. “A very nice car belonging to Juan Varona picked him up at the dock.”
“The FBI thinks Varona is the one who introduced him to the gangs in the first place,” I replied.
“I don’t think Varona would help him out if he thought Burke was going to run off with all the money,” Shorty pondered.
“The FBI was sniffing around by then and Burke knew it,” I said. “He may have told Varona that he needed a place to hide out until it was safe to return the money.”
“Varona might agree to go along with that,” Burke replied. “But I can’t imagine he would have let him out of his sight. It’s his reputation at stake as well.”
“So maybe they did plan his escape and Varona ended up killing him,” I suggested.
“Maybe,” Shorty agreed. “Right now, all I can tell you is that the car went north, towards Baja.”
“Try Guaymas,” I told him. “Turns out, Burke had a secret apartment there. I’ll text you the address.”
“Perfect,” he said. “What else did you need?”
“Gloria’s new boyfriend is a guy named Geoffrey Dalton,” I explained. “He doesn’t seem to have existed before seven years ago, and he only pops up then making a crossing between the U.S. and Mexico. We’re working on the U.S. angle, but if you can check in Mexico, that would help.”
“I take it were looking for any connections between Burke and this Dalton guy,” Shorty guessed.
“Exactly,” I replied. “I’ll have Sofia send you what she’s found.”
“Good,” Shorty said. “Listen, I better go. I’m meeting with a guy who used to work for Varona and I don’t want him to get scared and leave because I’m late.”
“Talk to you later, then,” I replied.
We hung up and I sat in the chair and stared at the wall for several minutes while I tried to guess what had happened to Burke after he stepped into Varona’s car. I was also, maybe, putting off my phone call to Gloria.
I finally admitted that my speculation wouldn’t answer any of the questions I had and I picked up the phone again. Gloria picked up eventually, though I was surprised that it hadn’t gone to voicemail after the first six rings.
“Mr. Creed,” she sighed. “Do you have a report for me or just more questions?”
“Both,” I admitted. “Though I’d rather do the report in person. I think some of the questions can be taken care of over the phone.”
Gloria didn’t say anything right away. There was a clicking noise, which I realized was probably her fingernail tapping against a hard surface. It was easy to picture her in the kitchen, drumming her fingers against the counter.
“All right,” she finally said. “Ask your questions.”
“How did you and Geoffrey meet?” I asked.
“This is about Geoffrey now?” she retorted.
“Please,” I assured here, “I have my reasons.”
There was another heavy sigh and more finger tapping.
“He had just moved here,” she replied. “He was looking for a place to rent until he got more settled. He found my ad for a place near the school and called about a tour. We hit it off right away. We even went to dinner that same night.”
“And how long have you two been seeing each other?”
“I’d say about a year,” she replied.
“Yet very few people seem to know about him,” I mused, “including your daughter.”
Another round of tapping, followed by a sipping sound.
“I didn’t want to admit that I was dating anyone,” she said. “If I did that, it was the same as accepting that Matthew was really gone. I felt so guilty for the first few months. I’d come home after every date and cry myself to sleep because it felt like I was cheating on Matthew. But Perrin told me one day that I needed to find a way to be happy again, and I realized that I was happy when I was with Geoffrey. That’s when I decided I could say goodbye to Matthew once and for all.”
“What can you tell me about his own history?” I prodded. “Has he been married before? Does he have any children?”
“He was married before,” she stated. “Geoffrey’s never told me much beyond the fact that his wife was abusive. He filed for a divorce and it was granted, but his ex wouldn’t leave him alone. He moved around a lot, trying to keep away from her.”
“Do you know his ex-wife’s name? Or where he used to live?” I asked.
“No,” she admitted. “The details weren’t important to me.”
“I’d really like to talk to Geoffrey,” I declared. “I need more information on his past.”
“Why?” Gloria demanded suspiciously.
“Because he has links to Mexico,” I replied. “Which the FBI might try to turn into a conspiracy between the two of you.”
“Are you serious?” she exploded.
“Unfortunately, yes,” I said. I had no idea if the FBI had made the link between Geoffrey and Mexico yet. Truthfully, they didn’t seem all that interested in him. But that could change quickly if they started looking any deeper, and given their current interest in the case, I suspected that Geoffrey was about to come under a great deal of scrutiny.
“Unbelievable,” she hissed.
“Gloria, I need to talk to him,” I replied. “I need to know how to fend off the FBI.”
“Do you know how many Americans are in Mexico?” she demanded.
“Quite a lot,” I admitted. “Still, if he was anywhere near your condo or the apartment in Guaymas, they’ll say the two of you worked together.”
“And did what?” she nearly shouted. “Sent Matthew out fishing in a storm so he would get washed overboard?”
“Or lured him to Mexico to kill him,” I replied.
“Unbelievable,” she repeated.
“I need to talk to him,” I reiterated.
“Fine,” she huffed. “Come by this evening, say at six. Geoffrey should be here by then.”
“I’ll see you at six,” I replied, but she’d already hung up.
I signed a few more letters and finished up a stack of paperwork after that. Theo called to say he was heading our way with a Ford I could drive while the Honda was being worked on.
Sofia and I both heard the sound of the tow truck pulling into the lot, and we walked downstairs together to greet Theo. The car he brought with him was a dark blue Ford Fusion that had just enough nicks and scratches to avoid drawing any attention. He unloaded it in a spot near the burrito place, then moved the truck down to the far end to retrieve the Honda. He took a look at the glass on the windshield and shook his head.
“Bro,” he said. “What the hell?”
“I might have accidentally suggested that Perez wasn’t an entirely truthful man,” I admitted.
“You were lucky,” he said.
“I was,” I agreed. “Though I was about to run the guy over, so I doubt his aim was all that good.”
“I can get it back to you in a da
y or two,” he replied. “Depends on how busy things are in the shop. Though, it wouldn’t be the worst thing if the Honda stays off the streets for a day or two. The cops are really working on the car chase down Slauson.”
“I keep hoping there will be some big murder soon so they can focus on that,” I sighed.
Theo handed me the keys to the Fusion and then climbed back into his truck. Sofia and I watched him pull back into traffic before returning to the office. We finished up a few more chores, and then we mutually agreed it was time to leave.
“Be careful,” Sofia whispered in my ear as she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “I don’t want to have to explain to my mother why you were dealing with street gangs.”
“I’ll be careful,” I assured her as I locked the door to the office.
We strolled to the parking lot together, and I helped her into her car. She gave me a wink and a smile as she slipped inside. I watched her pull out of the lot and then waited to see if anybody followed her. No one did, so I climbed inside my new ride and headed towards Studio City once more.
I recognized Geoffrey’s car in the driveway as I pulled up in front of Gloria’s. Gloria answered the door before I’d even finished ringing the bell, a frothy cocktail already in her hand. She led me to the patio where Geoffrey sat at the table, a matching cocktail in his hand.
“Would you like something to drink?” Gloria asked as she held her own up for inspection.
“I’m good, thanks,” I replied.
“Gloria said you had questions for me,” Geoffrey said as the two of us took seats. Gloria sat down next to Geoffrey and took his hand in hers. I sat across from them, like the unwanted guest that I was.
“The FBI is interested in the fact that you spent time in Mexico,” I explained. A small fib, but I wanted to see what his reaction would be.
Geoffrey scowled and shifted in his seat, but there were no signs of panic or fear.
“She mentioned that,” he growled. “I don’t know why they’re interested. I never met Matthew or Gloria while I was there.”
“The other thing that’s interesting is that no one can find any sign of your existence before your appearance in Mexico seven years ago,” I added.
Gloria looked up in surprise but Geoffrey’s scowl only deepened.
“I’m sure there’s a reason,” Gloria finally said as she glanced at Geoffrey and gave his hand a squeeze.
Geoffrey stared off into the distance for a moment and then came to a decision. He set his glass on the table and squeezed Gloria’s hand in return.
“My real name is Peter McCaffery,” he stated. “Geoffrey Dalton is the name I took when I moved to Mexico.”
“Okay,” I said. “So tell me about Peter McCaffery.”
“I grew up in Arizona,” he replied. “Spent my whole life there until I moved to Mexico. My first wife was my high school sweetheart, and we were the happiest couple in the whole town. But my wife developed breast cancer, and it spread quickly. She never had a chance.”
Geoffrey’s voice broke and Gloria squeezed his hand again.
“She was dead at thirty-two,” he sighed. “I was lost after that, buried myself in my job, didn’t hang out with people any more. Set myself up for what came next, I suppose.”
He heaved a giant sigh at that point and contemplated the table top for a moment before he looked at me again.
“There was a woman at the company who had always been interested in me, even when my wife was alive,” Geoffrey continued. “After Clara passed, she started showering me with cards and gifts and invitations to dinner. I ignored her for the longest time, but then I finally gave in. I thought if I was just the worst date ever, she would leave me alone.”
“But she didn’t,” I guessed.
Geoffrey shook his head.
“She just kept coming at me,” he sighed. “Before I even realized what was happening, we were married and living in a house on the edge of town. It was okay at first. Wendy quit her job and started working from home, writing articles and blogs for some local businesses. I worked late hours most days so I wouldn’t have to be near her. She got frustrated with that, though. It wasn’t the way she imagined it would be.”
“What happened next?” I prodded when Geoffrey went silent.
“It was mental abuse to start,” Geoffrey replied. “Telling me how worthless I was, cutting off my connections to friends and family, that kind of thing. Towards the end it was physical as well. She would punch me without warning then tell me if I hit her back she would have me thrown in jail. And I believed her. I tried to defend myself one time and she dialed 9-1-1. The sheriff came out and arrested me even though she’d hit me first.”
“A lot of people still have a hard time understanding how a woman can abuse a man,” I said.
“These guys did,” Geoffrey said with a nod. “I tried to file a complaint a couple of times, but the sheriff wouldn’t even bother with taking anything down. It was one of my high school buddies who finally saved me. He took me to a divorce attorney and set me up in a small apartment. She fought the divorce, but I had a good lawyer and I thought I was finally free of her.”
“She wasn’t done though,” I surmised.
“She would follow me around town, turn up at places where I was,” he agreed. “She became even more unstable. Then one night I was at the bowling alley with some friends. She walked in and demanded to know what I was doing, why wasn’t I at home with her where I belonged. I told her we weren’t married anymore and I had no obligation to sit at home with her. She pulled a pair of scissors from her purse and stabbed me in the arm. Th sheriff finally had to arrest her that time. Too many witnesses had seen what had happened.”
“Did she go to prison?” I asked.
“No,” Geoffrey sighed. “Her lawyer hired some psychiatrist to say that it was all just a reaction to the stress of the divorce. She was told to stay away from me and to stay on her meds. So she stayed away, the minimum distance required, but she’d still turn up wherever I was. That’s when my friend helped me out again. We announced we were planning a camping trip to one of our favorite spots. We left town that Friday morning and he dropped me off at the bus station in Bisbee instead. I had no idea where I was going, just that it was away from her.”
“Did you head to Mexico straight away?” I queried.
“I wandered for a bit,” Geoffrey replied. “I was too scared to settle anywhere, in case she figured out where I was. I only went to Mexico because it was cheaper to live there and I was running out of money. I figured I could get a job there, start earning a little cash again, and have time to decide what I wanted to do.”
“And the Geoffrey Dalton identity?”
“Once I was in Mexico, I realized I could be whoever I wanted to be there,” Geoffrey explained. “I asked around and found someone who could create a new identity for me. He told me I should still avoid too much scrutiny, but it would survive the daily routines. The first time I used my new passport at the border, I was sweating buckets I was so nervous. But none of the guards even bothered to look that closely and I was through without a single alarm going off. I knew then I was Geoffrey Dalton for good.”
“Why did you move to California then?” I asked.
“I wanted to be someplace that felt like home again,” he sighed. “Mexico was fun, up to a point, but it never felt like a place I wanted to stay.”
It all made sense, like every story Gloria had given me. Yet I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was something more going on.
“Now it’s your turn,” Gloria announced. “Your report?”
“Matthew definitely made it to the port on the trawler,” I replied. “The investigator confirmed that. He was met at the docks by a car. He’s working on tracing where he went after that.”
Gloria looked stunned. The drink was frozen halfway to her lips and her eyes had gone wide.
“Matthew survived,” she murmured.
“Is he still alive?” Geoff
rey finally asked.
“I don’t know yet,” I said. “He hasn’t been using his own name if he is, and as you pointed out, it’s fairly easy to find a new identity in Mexico.”
Geoffrey carefully pried the drink from Gloria’s hand and set it on the table.
“It’s good that we know this,” he assured her as he rubbed her hand.
Gloria shook her head. A small sob escaped from her lips, and Geoffrey pulled her against him, rubbing her back in a soothing motion as he continued to assure her that it would all work out.
“You should leave,” Gloria finally insisted as she looked at me.
“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you,” I said. “I’ll let you know when I have more information.”
“Please, leave,” Gloria begged as another sob threatened to emerge.
I stood up and gave Geoffrey a quick nod. I found my way back through the house and out the front door. I was halfway down the walk to the street when I heard a howl from the backyard that had to have been Gloria. I didn’t envy Geoffrey at the moment, but he was probably the only one who could comfort her just then.
I sent two text messages as soon as I was back in the car. The first was to Shorty, telling him that Geoffrey Dalton’s real name was Peter McCaffery and he should add that name to his investigation. Then I sent one to Sofia, with the same information. I added that Peter had been married to Clara and then Wendy, along with the details of how those marriages had ended. I asked her to find anything she could about Peter’s life in Arizona. Shorty responded with a thumbs up, and Sofia sent me a winking emoji.
I was at the bottom of the hill when the phone rang. I glanced over and recognized Perrin’s number. After a brief hesitation, I answered.
“Good evening, Miss Burke,” I said in my most formal voice.
She laughed, and it was impossible not to smile at the sound.
“Don’t tell me my mother’s there,” she finally huffed.
“Just left her and Geoffrey,” I replied. “I’m afraid she’s not very happy with me.”
“You do seem to have a talent for making her unhappy,” she noted.
I didn’t respond right away. It suddenly occurred to me to wonder what Perrin’s reaction to my news would be. It’s one thing to tell yourself that your father’s still alive somewhere, it’s another to find out that he really did abandon you in order to save his own skin.
