Starks' Reality

by Sarah Storme

  “All right.”

  Jake snapped the phone shut. He hurriedly shaved, dressed in jeans and a cotton shirt, and attached his thirty-eight to his belt. He had a few things to do before lunch.

  It wasn’t difficult to find Tanner Radisson’s place; only one road led in the right direction. Jake drove with the windows down, enjoying the rich morning breeze that carried scents of frying bacon and seawater.

  Radisson’s house grew more impressive as he approached. An expansive one-story L-shaped building had been constructed of limestone block, and a waterfall in front ran into a large swimming pool surrounded by potted palms and lounge chairs. A black iron fence enclosed the whole complex.

  Jake pulled up to the gate and pushed a button on the code pad.

  A man’s voice blared through the speaker. “Yeah?”

  “I’m looking for Mr. Radisson,” Jake said.

  There was a long silence, then, “Drive in,” and the gate rolled open. Jake parked behind a green Mercedes.

  Before he could reach the front door, it opened and Radisson appeared clad in a white pool jacket and carrying a cup of coffee. He closed the front door quickly behind him.

  “Chief Starks isn’t it?” he said, extending his hand.

  “Yes.”

  Radisson motioned toward a covered table beside the pool. “What can I do for you?”

  Jake sat in an iron chair facing the house and Radisson sat across from him.

  “We’ve had a rash of minor burglaries recently,” Jake said, exaggerating just a bit, “so I thought I’d stop in.”

  “Oh? I don’t understand.”

  “Because of Tuesday.”

  The man looked clearly confused.

  “The burglary attempt?”

  “Oh, the burglary attempt.” Radisson nodded, frowning thoughtfully. “Yes, I’d forgotten. They didn’t get anything.”

  “They?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You said, ‘they didn’t get anything.’ Did you see more than one person?”

  “Uh, no. Actually, I didn’t see anyone. The house alarm went off, so I called your office. Officer Daily came out and looked around. I don’t think he found anything.”

  The front door opened again and Eileen Murphy emerged. She wore a dark green house robe that swallowed her, but the color looked good on her. She walked out to the table and rested one hand on Radisson’s shoulder.

  “Good morning, Ms. Murphy,” Jake said.

  “Sheriff, how are you?”

  “I’m fine,” he said, “but I’m not the sheriff. I’m the chief of police.”

  “Oh,” she said, “I always get things mixed up. Tanner gets so frustrated with me. Don’t you, dear?”

  Radisson patted the woman’s bony hand. “Chief Starks is here to discuss the burglary attempt we had on Tuesday,” he said. “Remember? You slept through it. I told you about it later.”

  “Oh, yes,” the woman said. Then she smiled.

  Jake had been trained to watch for subtle changes in speech patterns and reactions in order to know when people were lying. This case, however, didn’t require training, since the signs were anything but subtle. These two people were lying through their teeth.

  “That’s a fancy alarm system,” Jake said, nodding toward the gate. “Is the entire fence tied in?”

  “Yes, and there are motion detectors in the yard. Then, of course, we have all the windows and doors wired.”

  “So, was the trip on the fence?”

  “Uh, yes, it was.” Radisson straightened.

  “Which zone?”

  “The...back one, I believe.”

  “Is there a road behind your property?”

  “No, just woods.”

  Jake nodded. He looked around, noting the large garage and storage buildings to his left. Although the grounds had been neatly mowed, they lacked gardens and flowers. It looked like the home of someone who didn’t care to get his hands dirty, and didn’t much appreciate nature.

  “I’m surprised you don’t have a boat,” Jake said.

  “Oh, I do. I keep it in Port O’Donald. Boyer Bay is too shallow. I’d never get my boat in here.”

  “Are you an avid boater?”

  “Avid?” The man waved his hand. “No, I just enjoy taking friends out now and then. We haven’t been out in, what?” He looked up at Eileen Murphy.

  “At least a few weeks,” she said.

  “Yes, a few weeks.”

  Jake nodded again.

  “Can we get you some coffee, Chief Starks?” Radisson’s composure had returned.

  “No, thanks.” Jake rose. “If any more alarms go off, don’t hesitate to call us.”

  “I certainly won’t.” Radisson also rose.

  Radisson and Ms. Murphy stood side-by-side and watched Jake leave. When he glanced in his mirror as the gate closed, he found them embroiled in a heated discussion.

  Red’s report should be an interesting read.

  ~~**~~**~~

  Overjoyed at finding Jake on the landing when she opened the door, Heather wanted to jump into his arms. Instead, she smiled and stepped back.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi.”

  Holding his hat, Jake walked in and looked around. “Is Coop up?”

  “No.” She closed the door and moved to the table. Just having Jake in the same room made her insides quiver.

  “How’s he doing?”

  “I don’t know. He was talking in his sleep a while ago, but I couldn’t understand him. Then he got quiet again.”

  Jake walked slowly across the room. “Have you heard from the Johnsons this morning?”

  “No.”

  “Good. I’m on my way over there right now.”

  Her stomach tightened at the thought of Jake facing the Johnson brothers alone. “Be careful.”

  He grinned, apparently amused by her apprehension.

  She wanted to hit him.

  “What are you doing for lunch?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “We’re invited to Tucker’s.”

  “We?”

  “As in you and me, we.” Jake stepped closer, backing her to the counter.

  “Why?”

  “That I don’t know.” He reached out, slipped his hand behind her neck, and pulled her in for a blazing kiss as if it was something they did all the time. His tongue swirled wildly around hers, claiming her mouth.

  Heather grabbed the counter behind her.

  Just as suddenly, he withdrew, straightened, and stepped away. “Want to go?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll pick you up a little before twelve.”

  She nodded again, still clinging to the counter.

  Then he walked out, leaving her senses filled with his taste and scent.

  “Jeez,” she whispered. How was she supposed to function like a rational human being around him?

  Shaking her head sharply to clear away the fog, Heather pushed off from the counter and walked to the phone. If she was lucky, she’d catch Dolores in time to have her come in to work the lunch crowd.

  ~~**~~**~~

  Heather ran out to the car and hopped in. “You’re still in one piece.”

  “Yep.”

  At first, he’d enjoyed seeing the concern on her face when he told her he would talk to the Johnsons. Then, once he thought about it, her concern had bothered him. He saw it for what it was: a sign she was getting too close.

  That worry faded as he glanced at her bare legs. She wore very short shorts.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  He shrugged as he backed out of the driveway and started toward Tucker’s. “Nothing much. I told them that if I found out they were within a hundred yards of you or Coop’s Place, I’d run them in.”

  “That’s it?”

  “More or less.”

  She sighed. “You really don’t know why we were both invited to lunch?”

  “No, but I think my ex-partner wants to mak
e sure my love life is on track.”

  Heather blushed and looked away. “Oh.”

  Christ, he had no chance of protecting his heart. She already had it tied up and tucked into her pocket.

  Trying not to think too hard about it, Jake parked the car in front of Tucker’s house, got out, and followed Heather up the side stairs.

  The door flew open. “Perfect timing,” Tucker said. “Come on in.”

  A wonderful aroma waited for them inside, something cooking that made Jake’s mouth water.

  “What smells so good?” he asked.

  Tucker flashed a Cheshire grin. “You’ll see.” He turned his chair toward the dining table, which was set for three. “Ace, you sit here.” He slapped the back of a chair as he rolled past it and stopped at the head of the table. “Heather, you’re on this side.”

  Jake took his assigned seat. “What’s up?”

  Tucker shook his napkin and spread it in his lap. “You two have been invited to share in a culinary delight.” He held up both hands. “I’m sorry, I can’t say any more until after you’re served.”

  Lydia pushed through the kitchen door backwards, carried out two glass pans, and placed them beside Tucker.

  “Hi,” she said softly to Jake and Heather. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Thank you,” Heather said.

  Lydia rushed away, and Heather glanced at Jake. He shrugged.

  “Pass your plates.” Tucker filled Heather’s and then Jake’s, and waited until they started eating before he joined them.

  The food was unbelievable. Some kind of wine sauce topped shrimp enchiladas in one dish, and the other held chicken tamales like the ones from the party, only these were steaming and covered with green chili. A small serving of fruit set off both dishes perfectly.

  “Wow!” Heather smiled. “This is great.”

  Tucker nodded. “How would you like to serve these at your restaurant?”

  Her eyes registered delighted surprise. “I’d love to.”

  “Good. That’s why I invited you. Lydia wants to keep you stocked with enchiladas and tamales. What do you think?”

  She laughed. “I think we can work something out.”

  “Great. Now, enjoy.”

  They took their time eating, savoring every bite and making small talk. Between the three of them, they cleaned both pans Lydia had delivered. When the woman returned to check on them, her smile covered her entire face. She must have been listening at the kitchen door.

  Heather helped clear the table. Jake started to get up, but she waved him off. “You stay here. I’ve got business to discuss.”

  Leaning back in his chair, he stretched his legs out under the table.

  “How are things going?” Tucker asked.

  He shrugged. “Coop’s having a tough time, and the Johnsons are out on bail.”

  “Damn.”

  Jake studied his friend. “How well do you know Radisson?”

  Tucker raised one shoulder. “I’ve been up to his place once or twice, and he’s been here a few times, but we’re not sweet on each other. Why?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on. You ever see his boat?”

  “Yeah, if you want to call it that. I think it qualifies as a yacht, though. He has a place in Port O’Donald.”

  “A place?”

  “A boathouse.”

  They both looked up as Heather returned.

  “Did you two work things out?” Tucker asked.

  “I’m afraid Lydia doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into. Once word gets out, she’ll be making enchiladas and tamales day and night.”

  Tucker nodded, obviously pleased.

  Heather didn’t stop at the table, but walked across the living room to the shelf that held a dozen framed photographs. Tucker backed away from the table and rolled over to join her. Fighting an overly full stomach, Jake pushed himself to his feet.

  “When was this taken?” Heather asked.

  Tucker took a picture from her, smiled, and then handed it back. “That was about two years after we started riding together. We’d just nabbed the Balcony Rapist. He’d attacked twenty-five women that we knew of, breaking in the top floors by climbing up to the balconies. That picture was taken when we were getting citations. That’s the mayor shaking hands with Ace.”

  “Did you two get many citations?”

  “A dozen, at least.”

  She studied the picture, and then returned it to the shelf. “Why do you call Jake ‘Ace’?”

  Jake stepped forward. “Okay, that’s enough.” He walked around Heather, herding her toward the door. “We need to go.”

  “I’m glad you were able to make it for lunch.” Tucker followed them.

  “Thank you for inviting us,” Heather said.

  Jake shot a warning glare at his former partner. The man knew too much to be a safe conversationalist.

  Tucker just smiled and waved.

  When they got in the car, Jake turned to Heather. How could he explain to her that he wasn’t the man he’d been in that photo?

  “Are you mad at me or something?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Then, what?”

  He started the car. “If you want to know something about my past, ask me, not Tucker.”

  “All right.” She looked out the side window as they drove off. “Jeez,” she whispered.

  Jake sighed. She had no idea what his secrets were like, and he really didn’t want to enlighten her.

  CHAPTER 13

  The moon lifted from the horizon as Jake drove to Port O’Donald. He pulled into the marina shortly before seven thirty.

  An elderly man hobbled up a long wooden pier, emerging and fading under a row of spotlights, carrying a rope and smoking a pipe. Jake parked near the office and waited for him to approach.

  “Good evening,” Jake said.

  “Aye, that it is,” the man answered, sounding every bit as salty as he looked. Jake wouldn’t have been surprised by a wooden leg or an eye patch, but saw no signs of either.

  “What can I do for you?” the old sailor asked.

  “I’m looking for a boat belonging to Tanner Radisson.”

  “Oh? Well, you won’t find it here.” The man leaned on a post, winded from his walk.

  “Can you tell me where I will find it?”

  “Now, that depends.” The man cocked his pipe to the side of his mouth and puffed.

  “On?”

  “On who you are.”

  Jake nodded. “I’m Jake Starks, chief of police in Port Boyer.” He flashed his badge.

  “Are you now? You look a little young to be the chief of police.”

  “Thanks.”

  The man chuckled as he turned and pointed north. “See those boathouses?”

  Jake followed the man’s focus to the row of two-story buildings hogging the shore of the bay.

  “Radisson’s place is the third one from this end. But he ain’t around right now.”

  “Thanks. I’ll come back.” Jake turned toward his car.

  “Should I tell Mr. Radisson you were asking for him?”

  “I’d prefer you didn’t.”

  The man nodded, repositioned his pipe, and walked away.

  Jake drove out of the marina, down a side road, and parked under a tree out of sight of the dock. He didn’t want to be too obvious, just in case someone else might be watching. He removed a small leather case from the trunk and shoved it into his back pocket, then he grabbed a pair of Latex gloves.

  He wasn’t really sure why he felt the need to see Radisson’s boat, but as soon as Radisson and his girlfriend had started lying, Jake wanted to know everything there was to know about them. They were definitely into something, although it may have nothing to do with Tran’s death.

  The building, identical to its neighbors except for the color, looked as neat and clean as Radisson’s front yard. The balcony and large sliding glass door on the upper floor sugges
ted an apartment. A locked wooden door hid the lower floor from view.

  Jake considered swimming around to the back, but the thought of driving home in wet clothes didn’t appeal to him. So he put on the gloves, pulled the leather case from his back pocket, and removed a set of picks. In just under twenty seconds, the door lock clicked open.

  Moonlight flooded into the lower floor of the building from an open back that faced the water. Car headlights formed an eerie line around the far side of O’Donald Bay.

  After his eyes adjusted, Jake eased along the wall and flicked on his keychain flashlight. Radisson’s boat was, indeed, a huge cabin cruiser, trimmed in wood and lined with portholes, a beautiful vessel named the Katie II. Continuing along the catwalk, studying the boat with admiration, he discovered a smaller one about the size of Tucker’s, but bulkier and well used. Jake grabbed the rail and hopped inside.

  He didn’t want to spend much time messing around. Someone approaching from the marina might notice even the small light, as dark as it was, and getting caught breaking and entering tended to sour a cop’s career. He started at the driver’s seat and circled the boat, checking every storage compartment. If anyone had asked him what he was looking for, he wouldn’t have been able to answer. However, he knew the moment he found it.

  “Bingo,” he whispered.

  In one of the back compartments were two batteries. One sat uselessly disconnected. The other was attached to the outboard. The positive terminal held a twisted connector from an old truck—Tommy Jackson’s truck. So that’s why there weren’t any tire tracks in Jackson’s driveway; the thief had been in a boat.

  Tanner Radisson might not drive his cabin cruiser into Boyer Bay, but he definitely visited the dock with the smaller boat. What’s more, he had been there recently, and in the middle of the night.

  Jake continued the search and stopped at the last side compartment. Inside he found several coiled ropes, an extra propeller, three life vests, and a baseball bat. He lifted the bat by the large end with two fingers and checked it carefully. He saw no marks or stains, but it could have been rinsed.

  Could it be the murder weapon?

  He had a choice, and it wasn’t an easy one to make. If he stole the bat, had it tested, and it turned out to be the murder weapon, he couldn’t use it against Radisson. In fact, it could be used against him, instead.