“Sounds good.”
“Right here,” Mya said, pointing ahead at the next intersection.
Allen turned left on Congress Street and pulled into a parking spot in front of the Thirsty Moose Taphouse. The couple got out of the Jeep. Mya had the envelope. Allen put the leash on Frankie and grabbed the stapler.
“It looks like all of these light poles are metal,” he commented to Mya. “Hopefully some of these shop owners will put the fliers up in their windows.”
“I'm sure they will.”
Allen, Frankie, and Mya walked up one side of Congress Street and down the other. Then they made their way a block east to State Street. Every business owner and employee they approached was more than happy to help, taping the fliers to front windows and bulletin boards.
As they exited the Rusty Hammer at the corner of State and Pleasant, two young boys climbing a chain link fence into a construction site caught Allen's eyes. The boys were around the same age as Jacob and Oliver. Allen and Mya stood at the corner, waiting for the light to change.
“Stupid kids,” Allen said.
“What?” Mya asked.
“Look at those two kids climbing the fence. Don't they know how dangerous that is? Look at all the construction equip—”
“Allen.”
“What?”
“They're just kids.”
“Kids trying to get into trouble.” All Allen could think about as he watched the two boys reach the top of the fence was the unknown trouble Jacob and Oliver had gotten themselves into. He thought about Oliver lying in the woods next to the dirt trail. “Get down from there!” Allen shouted.
The boys dropped to the other side.
“Hey!” Allen hollered.
Frankie barked in the boy’s direction.
The boys looked over. One of them flipped Allen the middle finger, and they both ran around a building out of sight.
Allen glanced over at Mya. She had a strange look on her face.
“What's the matter?” Allen asked.
“I just realized where I saw Jacob and his friend before.”
“Where?” Allen stepped back away from the curb, pulling Frankie's leash with him.
“It was at Stones Throw, last Sunday afternoon.”
“That's the day I was first there.”
“Right. The two boys were there a little while before I sat you.”
“What were they doing?”
“I sat the two men you fought with at their table.”
“Argued with.”
“Whatever. Anyway, I sat them, and then returned to the podium. A little while later I looked back over my shoulder. I saw Jacob and Oliver in the alley, under the deck, where the hotel guests park. They were standing behind a vehicle. They were messing with something. I called out, 'You boys get out from under there,' and they took off running.”
“What were they messing with?”
“They were reading something.”
“Reading something?”
“Yeah, it was a piece of white notebook paper or something.”
Allen thought back to the day he had seen Jacob and Oliver sitting on the picnic table at the Sunrise Motel. He recalled the two of them looking at a piece of paper. He also remembered how, when he asked what they were doing, they had denied even having the paper.
“Let's head back,” Allen said. “I need to talk to Rose.”
“Is something wrong?” Mya asked.
“I don't know.” Allen grabbed Mya's hand. “Come on,” he said, stepping into the crosswalk.
As they hurried along Pleasant Street toward the car, Allen handed Frankie's leash to Mya, then pulled out his cell phone and dialed Sergeant Rose's number.
“Rose.”
“Hey, it's Allen Crane.”
“What's up?”
“We need to talk.”
“Okay. Is something wrong?”
“Mya said she had some information on Jacob and Oliver—just meet me at the Sunrise Motel. It might be nothing, but I'll fill you in when we get there.”
“We?”
“Mya and me.”
“You're with Mya right now?”
“Yes.”
Rose groaned. “Tuck's not gonna like this. Where are you?”
“Portsmouth, putting up fliers. We'll be there in a half hour.”
“See ya then.”
Rose hung up and Allen slipped his cell phone back into his pocket.
“What did he say?” Mya asked.
“For one thing, he said Tucker wasn't going to be too happy that you were with me.”
“Yeah, he told me even if he and I weren't getting back together, he still didn't want to see you and me together. Tuck actually said, 'I forbid you to see him again.'”
“Great.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sergeant Rose was already at the motel when Allen and Mya pulled in. He was sitting on one of the picnic tables with his feet on the bench. Officer Tucker stood near him, facing the water, his hands resting on his gun belt. Both men turned around when they heard Allen's Jeep. Allen maneuvered the old Jeep into a vacant parking spot.
Mya sighed loudly. “You should have asked Rose to come alone,” she said.
“It was kind of implied,” said Allen.
They got out of the Jeep and approached the officers. Tucker was glaring at them. His eyes went back and forth from Mya to Allen. Allen had really hoped Rose wouldn't bring Tucker with him. Not because of his relationship with Mya, but because Allen had had his suspicions about Tucker from early on. On the short walk from his vehicle to picnic table, Allen quickly decided to omit parts of what he wanted to tell Rose.
“What's so important?” Rose asked.
“Where were the two of you?” Tucker asked.
Rose shot him a silencing glance.
Allen ignored Tucker’s question. “Last week Mya told me she thought she recognized Jacob from somewhere, but she couldn't remember where,” he said.
“And?” said Rose.
“Today she remembered where.”
“Okay.”
Allen looked to Mya.
“I saw him and the other boy—Oliver—underneath the deck at Stones Throw. It was last Sunday.”
Rose looked confused. “Do you think seeing them has something to do with their disappearance?” he asked. “I don't understand. What were they doing under the deck?”
“They were looking at a piece of paper,” Mya replied.
Tucker snorted condescendingly. “Case closed,” he said. “Let's go get that boy and make some arrests.”
Rose shot the officer another look.
“What makes you so sure Jacob is even still alive?” Allen asked.
“What do you mean?” Tucker replied.
“Look, I hope and pray he's alive, just like everybody else. But, you just said, 'Let's go get that boy,' not 'Let's go find the body.' Is there something you know that we don't?”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Tuck,” Rose warned. “Knock it off.” He turned to Mya. “That's it? You remember seeing the boys with a piece of paper?”
“I saw Jacob and Oliver that same day,” Allen interrupted. “They were sitting side by side on this bench looking at a piece of paper.”
Tucker shook his head. “Big deal, you saw two kids reading a piece of paper. What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“I asked them later that day what they were looking at—they denied looking at anything. I asked them what was on the paper, and they said they didn't know what I was talking about. They were obviously lying, but I didn't press it, because I figured it was none of my business.”
The part of the story that Allen had decided to leave out was that Bobby Jordan and Vinny Tubbs were at Stones Throw at the same time Mya had seen Jacob and Oliver under the deck. Sure, both officers knew the thugs were there at that time, but neither of them would have any reason to make a connection, because Allen had never told them
that Bobby had shown up at his motel room looking for something he'd lost. Allen wondered if that single piece of paper the boys had could have been the item Bobby was so eager to retrieve. If so, what was written on the paper?
Just one thing worried Allen. If his suspicions about Tucker were more than just suspicions, then Tucker already knew Bobby had paid him a visit, and he probably also knew what was written on the paper. And if Tucker did know, then he must be wondering why Allen didn't tell Rose about Bobby's visit. And if he was wondering, then he also knew Allen must be suspicious.
“So, you think this piece of paper has something to do with what's happened to these boys?” Rose asked skeptically.
Allen shrugged. “Maybe. I don't know. I just thought it was something you should know.”
“Okay.” Rose looked over at Tucker. “You have any questions?”
Tucker snickered. “Questions about a piece of paper? No, Sarge, I can't think of any.”
“If you think of anything else,” said Rose, “give me a call.”
Allen nodded. “You got it.”
Allen and Mya stayed where they were and watched silently as Rose and Tucker crossed the grass and climbed back into Rose's vehicle.
“What the hell was that?” Mya asked, after the officers pulled into the street and sped off.
“What was what?” Allen asked innocently.
“We left what we were doing in Portsmouth to speed back here and tell Rose that we saw two boys reading a piece of paper?”
“Yeah. I thought it was important.”
“You're lying.”
“Lying?” Allen questioned with over-animated astonishment. “Why, I never.”
Mya grinned. “Give it up.”
“Give what up?”
“Tell me what you know.”
Allen gazed into Mya's eyes. Who can I trust? he wondered.
“You got a minute?” Allen asked.
“Yes. Why?”
“Come up to my room.”
“Is this just a ploy to get me into your room,” Mya teased, “and then into your bed?”
“You wish,” Allen replied. “Come on.”
The couple crossed the parking lot, letting Frankie out of the Jeep as they walked by. When they reached Allen's room, Frankie ran between them and jumped up on the sofa.
“Drink?” Allen asked.
“What do ya got?” Mya asked.
“Tequila and Coke.”
“Then I'll have a tequila and Coke.”
“Good choice.”
Mya sat on the edge of the bed, facing the picture window. “Nice view,” she said.
“Thanks,” Allen said, as he prepared the drinks. “It's how us famous writers live.”
Mya looked around the motel room. “Posh,” she joked.
“I hear it's where the Royal Family stays when they're in town.”
Mya laughed. “I bet they do.”
“Here ya go,” Allen said, handing Mya her drink.
Mya took a sip and then leaned forward, placing the cup on the table next to Allen's laptop. “How's the writing going?”
“I finished the book Saturday afternoon.”
“No kidding? That's great. What's it about?”
“You'll have to wait until it hits the store shelves like everyone else.”
“I better get a signed copy.”
“We'll see.” Allen sat down on the bed next to Mya.
“Okay, what's this all about?”
“I need to know I can trust you,” Allen said, staring into Mya's eyes, looking for the answer before she gave it to him.
“Of course you can trust me, Allen,” she replied.
Allen believed her. “It's Tucker,” he said.
“What about him?”
“I don't know, it's just a feeling I get. I don't trust him.”
“Okay.”
“According to Rose, Tucker moved back here from Boston around the same time Bobby Jordan and Benny Strong moved here.”
Mya thought for a second. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Rose also said Bobby and Benny are always one step ahead of the cops. They know what they're up to, but can't seem to pin anything on them.”
“Pin what on them?”
“Jordan and Strong are bad guys, Mya. Rose says they're into prostitution, drugs, loan sharking—”
“Real civic-minded fellas.”
“Yeah. They’ve managed to keep their enterprises going full steam and to stay out of the slammer because somebody is obviously tipping them off.”
“So?”
“So, maybe Tucker is the one who tips them off. Maybe he's the reason Strong and Jordan are always one step ahead of the police.”
“Allen, it sounds like one of your murder mysteries.”
“That doesn't mean I'm wrong.”
“Tuck might be a jerk sometimes, but I find it hard to believe he's working for a couple of mobsters. And I can't believe a wonderful woman like Betty Strong has two sons who are criminals.”
“Every bad guy had a mom at one time or another.”
“I guess.”
“To your knowledge, has Tucker ever been reprimanded at work, or maybe put on suspension, or paid leave for anything?”
“Not that I—wait, there was this one time. It was about two years ago. He pulled a car over for speeding. The driver pulled a knife on Tuck. Tuck beat the guy pretty bad. The guy suffered permanent brain damage and sued. His lawyer claimed Tuck planted the knife. Claimed his client had never carried a knife in his life. Tuck was on paid leave for a while, but the jury sided against the driver.”
“Wow. Anything else?”
“No, but there's a lot of people around here who don't like him, but that's probably just because he's a cop. You know how people are.”
“Yeah, I know how people are,” Allen said. “There's something else I haven't told you. When Bobby Jordan came to my room the day after our little run-in at Stones Throw, he was looking for something.”
“What was he looking for?”
“He didn't say, but he thought I might have it.”
“But he didn't say what it was?”
“No, but what if it's the piece of paper you and I saw Jacob and Oliver with? What if Bobby had the paper at Stones Throw? What if it blew off the table or something and Jacob and Oliver found it underneath the deck? Maybe that's what Bobby and Vinny Tubbs were arguing about in the bathroom.”
“You're thinking that somehow Bobby found out that Jacob and Oliver had the paper, and abducted them?”
“I don't know … maybe.”
“Why didn't you tell Rose about this?”
“Because I don't trust Tucker. I don't want him to know I'm suspicious of him.”
“But if he is in on it, he already knows you're suspicious of him. He's smart enough to know that's why you didn't tell Rose about Bobby coming to your room.”
“I know. I already thought of that.”
“So, what are we going to do?”
“We?”
“Yeah, we.”
“Well, I'm going to reach out to Bobby Jordan and try to find out what was written on that piece of paper.”
“If what was on that paper is important enough to kill a twelve-year-old child over, then it's important enough to kill you over.”
“That's a chance I'm going to have to take.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing at all.”
“But I can help.”
“Or you can get hurt. Please, let me handle this.”
“Whatever you say, tough guy. But how are you going to get in touch with Bobby Jordan?”
“His office is right across the street from York House Pizza.”
“He tell you that?”
“Yeah, he thinks we're buddies. He even asked me if I would be interested in writing an autobiography about him.”
“An autobiography?”
“Yep.”
“Do you mean biography?”
&n
bsp; “That's what Bobby meant, but I get the idea he's just a big dumb animal.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
A half hour later, Allen made a U-turn on York Street and pulled into a parking space in front of River Current Art Gallery. The art gallery sat right next door to York House of Pizza, directly across the street from Bobby Jordan's office. It was a sure bet that Bobby Jordan spent a lot more time at the pizza place than he did the art gallery. Allen got out of his Jeep and jogged across the street.
The building that housed Jordan's office was a two-story structure with gray wood shingles for siding, white trim, and a deck that ran the entire front of the building. It had a gable roof with the second floor inside the roof line. There were two doors—one red, one blue—off the deck that led to two different businesses. Bobby's door was on the right. The office on the left appeared vacant. A sign over Bobby's door read Jordan Properties in blue letters; the font reminded Allen of a Cape Cod Potato Chips bag. There was even a lighthouse to the left of the lettering. The sign over the vacant office door had been removed.
Allen walked up the steps and onto the deck. He turned the knob and opened the blue door. A bell rang. Allen glanced down at the doormat and instinctively wiped his feet. A woman in a black T-shirt was sitting behind a desk against the far wall. She appeared to be in her mid-sixties. She had fair skin and white hair that was pulled up into a bun that sat on top of her head. A name plate on her desk said Doris O'Brian. She looked up from her paperwork and smiled.
“Good afternoon,” said Doris.
“Good afternoon,” Allen replied. He stepped off the mat and shut the door behind him. The bell rang again.
With the large picture window in the front of the building and the white walls, ceilings, and trim, the room seemed brighter on the inside than it was outside. Allen almost wished he'd brought sunglasses. Doris's desk, desk chair, and the two chairs in front of her desk were the only nice furniture in the room. Two shabby five-foot metal file cabinets, with a few rust spots here and there, sat against the wall behind her. On the wall to her left was a massive painting of a sailing ship, and to her right, a large painting of the Nubble Lighthouse. Behind her, to the left of the file cabinets was a short hallway.
The Maine Events Page 20
