The response took Drake aback. "Oh, I..."
"Wait, that didn't come out right," the girl quickly recovered. "Mr. Traynor recently retired. Is this about a policy you held with Mr. Traynor?"
"It is."
"Would you like his cell-phone number? He has agreed to work as a consultant for all his former clients until the end of the year."
Drake considered the offer for a moment. Would it be better to speak with whoever was now handling the claim? Or with the man that had overseen it for twenty years?
"Yes, his cell-phone number would be great. Thank you."
The girl relayed the digits and thanked him profusely for calling. Practically beseeched him to have a good weekend.
Drake hung up and dialed the number he'd just been given.
A deep, gruff voice answered.
"Traynor."
"Hi, Mr. Traynor, I was given your number by the Mountain Life office here in town."
"Mhmm."
"My name is Drake Bell and I am working as legal counsel for Alice Galt. I was wondering if I might ask you a few questions about the life insurance policy she and her husband had."
The line remained silent for several long moments. "Bell. As in, linebacker for the Griz?"
Drake felt a bit of heat rise behind his cheeks. "Yes sir."
"I'll be damned," Traynor said. "The boys at the coffee shop won't believe this one."
Unsure of what to say, Drake remained silent.
"Say, you have any plans for breakfast tomorrow?" Traynor asked.
"Um, no sir?" Drake couldn't hide the confusion in his voice if he wanted to.
He was completely unsure where this was going.
"Listen, why don't you stop by Hal's in the morning? The boys would love to meet you. I'll be happy to answer any questions you might have."
Drake paused momentarily. He wasn't really much of a breakfast person. Even less one that liked to sit around and recount old war stories.
Still, it was a good faith offer from someone whose help he needed.
"Sounds excellent. What time?"
The two agreed to meet at eight. Signed off the call wishing each other a good day.
Drake returned the phone to its cradle. Jotted the appointment down on the legal pad with the notes he took from Alice.
"Hot date?" a voice asked.
Drake wasn't expecting it. Flinched at the sound of the voice. Smiled and leaned back in his chair.
Ava stood leaning against the door frame in front of him. Black wool pants. Form fitting grey turtleneck sweater. Hair pulled back. Small hoop earrings.
Caramel roll in hand.
"I see the boys actually left the rolls like I told them to," Drake said.
Ava nibbled around the edge of it. "They did, though your desk looks like a war zone right now. Do they eat with their paws?"
Drake smirked. Raised his hands by his side in an uncertain gesture. Laced his fingers behind his head.
"So? What do you think?"
Ava took another, slightly larger bite. Nodded her head. "I'm impressed. Never had a caramel roll before."
"Well, don't go thinking they're all that good. Bernice's is something special."
"Noted," Ava said. "Also noted is that you didn't answer my question."
Long sigh. "No. Quite the opposite. I have a breakfast meeting tomorrow with a recently retired life insurance agent that handled the Galt's case."
Ava raised on eyebrow. "Sounds...interesting."
"An old guy named Walt," Drake said. Pointed expression. "I'm hoping you'll join me. Eight o’clock tomorrow at Hal's."
Drake left out the part about the old boy's club wanting to talk football with him.
The invitation wasn't even fully considered. "I don't do anything before nine on the weekends. Ten if I can avoid it."
"Worth a shot," Drake said. Pulled his hands down. Leaned forward. "At least get you to sit in on this call with US Atlantic?"
Without responding, Ava stepped inside the door. Flipped it shut with the toe of her good foot. Settled into the chair across from him.
Drake found the number Alice had scribbled down for them and dialed it. Pressed a sequence of keys to take the call to speakerphone.
Instead of ringing, the line filled with elevator music.
Drake looked at Ava and rolled his eyes. She shrugged and finished the last of her caramel roll. Licked her fingers clean.
"Good afternoon, US Atlantic Insurance," answered a voice that was decidedly not American. Male. Phonetic pacing.
"Good afternoon," Drake said. "May I speak with Ricardo please?"
"Do you know the associate number for the party you are trying to reach?" Same even tone.
Drake quickly hit mute and whispered, "This is a real person, right?"
Again Ava shrugged.
Drake took the line off mute. "I'm sorry, I don't know his associate number. I only know his name to be Ricardo."
"I'm very sorry sir, but we do not identify our assistants by name. Perhaps you have the account number you are trying to reach?"
"Umm, sure," Drake said. Rattled off the policy number Alice had given them. Waited as elevator music again filled the line.
"Two-to-one says we're getting charged for a long distance call to India right now," Ava said.
Drake smirked. Said nothing.
He didn't have to. He agreed entirely with what she was saying.
The line changed from music to ringing. A moment later it was answered.
"Good afternoon, this is Ricardo. How may I help you?"
"Hi, I'm calling with regards to policy number AX54768-23. Account name Craig Galt."
On the other end of the line they could hear typing.
"Yes, here we are," Ricardo said. "I have it here that the money was paid out two days ago."
Another series of key strokes.
"And deposited yesterday."
Drake's eyes narrowed. He glanced up at Ava.
"Paid out to whom?"
Silence filled the air.
"I'm sorry, just for security purposes, might I ask what the social security number is on the account?"
Drake shot up in his chair. Rifled through the stack of Mountain Life envelopes. Finally found what he was looking for at the bottom of a quarterly statement.
Read it off in rapid-fire cadence.
"Okay," Ricardo said. "I apologize for that, but we can never be too careful."
"Not a problem," Drake said. Nervous laugh. Another glance to Ava.
For her part, she was now perched on the edge of the chair. Lips pursed. Elbows resting on the desk.
"Let's see here," Ricardo continued. "Those monies were paid to a Bargain Mart International. Deposited by them yesterday as well."
Before he could stop himself, Drake made a face. Blurted out, "Bargain Mart International?"
Instantly wished he hadn't.
"What the hell?" Ava asked a second later.
Ricardo fell completely silent on the other end of the line.
Drake and Ava both looked at each other for several long seconds. Neither had any idea what to say.
Finally, Drake asked, "I'm sorry, but the life insurance policy for Craig Galt was paid to Bargain Mart International?"
They both waited for a response, but there was none forthcoming.
"Hello?" Drake asked. Lifted the receiver from the desk. Clicked off of speakerphone. "Hello?"
Ricardo was gone.
Drake slammed the phone receiver back in its cradle. Wrote down the new information on his legal pad.
He and Ava both leaned back in their respective chairs.
"What the hell do you make of that?" Drake asked.
Ava made a sour face. "I think it looks like I'm going to breakfast at eight o'clock tomorrow morning."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Friday afternoon.
Once upon a time it was the busiest point in the week.
College students coming in to stock up for
the weekend. Parents stopping through on their way home from work. Travelers about to hit the road for a few days.
Today, the place was nearly deserted.
Thomas Jenks slowly walked the aisles. He stood at the end of each one and peered the length of them. Prayed for the sight of a customer in need.
There was decidedly none.
It took him less than five minutes to go from one end of the store to the other, walking slow.
The shelves were orderly. The floors were clean. There was literally nothing that needed to be done.
For just a moment, he allowed himself to wonder why corporate was willing to invest over a million dollars to keep the place afloat. Even if they did get the money to keep it going, how long would it last?
With no customers, there was no store.
Whatever money they got today would only have to be reinvested again later on.
Jenks came to a dead-end along the far wall. Turned and walked towards the rear of the store.
The simple fact was, the town of Missoula had turned on them.
The town had always had a hippie vibe to it. People that came in droves from the east. Liked to fly-fish in the summer, ski in the winter.
Wear hemp. Eat granola. Smoke weed.
Lots and lots of weed.
For a long time, that was okay for Bargain Mart. Even played right into their business model. Stoners tended to be poor. Wanted cheap stuff so they could spend their money on bud.
Somewhere along the way though, that mindset changed. The stoners were no longer destitute ski bums. They were college kids with trust funds.
Kids that claimed they smoked weed because it was natural. Brought them closer to the environment.
They started boycotting corporate bastions like Bargain Mart. Started throwing their support behind locally owned establishments.
The proverbial mom-and-pop stores.
Jenks dared not imagine what would happen if they found out his store was being floated by loans from corporate. Would they come to think of it as a bailout?
Stage an Occupy movement outside his store? Set up tents in his parking lot the way they did downtown at the court house last winter?
Jenks let out a long sigh. Walked past his office. Poked his head into Wells' and knocked lightly on her door.
"Lisa, you can knock off early if you'd like. I'm going to send most of the staff home in a few minutes."
From her desk, Watts head shot up. She looked startled, eyes wide.
Thick grooves creased the right side of her hair. A pencil was jammed behind one ear.
"Thank you, but I can't go home yet," Wells said.
Jenks smiled. "Sure you can. You're on salary. Those same ugly numbers will be here Monday, trust me."
Wells didn't return the smile. Didn't even act as if she'd heard him. Instead, she rotated her computer monitor so it was facing him.
Pointed at a number with her pencil.
"That's just it. The numbers aren't quite as ugly. In fact, they're getting better all the time."
Jenks pushed himself up from the doorframe. Leaned in close to examine what she was pointing at.
There, highlighted in yellow, was the $250,000 deposit from a few nights before.
"Still looking at that, huh?" Jenks said. "I agree, it is nice to see a number to the good pop up for a change."
Wells shook her head. Scrolled up with her mouse.
There, halfway up the screen, was another entry for $250,000 highlighted in yellow.
"I'm not looking at the same number. This one just came in a little while ago."
Jenks mouth dropped open. He stared at the first entry. Noted the time and date.
"Scroll down a little ways."
Watched as further down the page, a matching entry was entered for that afternoon. Less than an hour before.
"Where'd..." he mumbled.
"From corporate," Wells said. "An identical deposit. No comments. No nothing. Just a quarter million dollars, from them to us."
Jenks leaned back. Stood to full height. Tried to stop his head from spinning for a moment.
"This...this is really happening, isn't it?"
Wells shoulders started to quiver with repressed excitement. The corners of her mouth turned up. Small chuckles escaped his lips.
"I believe it is. How crazy is that?"
Jenks stood with his mouth agape. Stared from the computer screen to Wells. Back again.
"Pretty damn crazy," he said. "Pretty damn."
After a moment, his shoulders started to shake as well. A low laugh started deep in his chest.
Rolled up through him until it was pouring out for all to hear.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The sheets on the bed were in a tangle.
A jumbled mess of sweaty Egyptian cotton. Balled into a heap in the middle of a king sized mattress like a ball of snakes writhing for position.
Sex. Sweaty, breathless sex. The only habit for a pair of people that prided themselves in every way on not having any.
If pressed, Hector would claim he enjoyed the life affirming nature of the act. That killing was a profession that could easily take one's soul. Make them robotic.
Pleasures of the flesh kept him grounded in reality. The worldliness of everything around them.
Raquel would argue she lived for the euphoria that came with it. When one has spent a lifetime as a thief and a killer, chasing the ever elusive adrenaline high can become a full-time job.
Luckily, she had Hector to fill the void.
Once they were done, both rode that wave of pheromones into their usual routine. No cuddling. No pillow talk.
The act, just like most everything in their life, was not soft. It was not sensual.
It was carnal. In every way possible.
Just moments after they were done, Hector rose and went into the shower. Scrubbed himself clean. Came out with fresh skin and clear eyes.
Raquel chose to leave the lust splashed across her body. Went straight to dressing for the job. Trapped the moment against her skin.
Raquel adorned herself much the same as the night before. Elastic running pants. Dark running shoes. Black fleece.
The only difference was she swapped out the black ski cap for a bright pink headband.
Hector returned to his standard uniform. Tactical boots. Black pants. Charcoal pullover. Knit cap pulled down tight over his close-cropped hair.
Number two.
The second poor bastard on their list was about to meet his maker. What he had done to deserve it, they didn't know.
Didn't much care either.
Odds were he was probably a good man. Adoring wife. Loving kids. It didn't matter. His name was on their list. The money had been sent.
His time was up.
Edgar Carpenter was the first person they'd scouted the day before. He was also the easiest, more so even than Irwin.
He didn't have a dog that went out like clockwork. What he did do was even better.
He biked to work every day.
Raquel almost laughed out loud as they sat in their car and watched him pedal by. Every inch of him bundled against the cold, breath billowing out in steady white plumes.
Carpenter lived two miles past the Rattlesnake Recreation Area. A total of six miles from town. Might as well have been a different state.
No houses around. Very little traffic. Frozen roads.
Again, almost too easy.
Hector, conversely, took it almost personally. He believed that a man in their profession needed constant competition. That an edge must be honed to stay sharp.
Giving him such easy targets was borderline insulting.
If he wasn't being paid so well for his time, he would have been back in Kauai before week's end.
The late day sun was well on its way towards the horizon as they set out. The traffic was steady but moving. The air cold and still.
Again Raquel drove. Angled the car onto Interstate 90 moving east. Took the Rattles
nake exit and headed north away from town.
They had already picked out the spot they wanted. A bend in the road just shy of a mile past the recreation area. Thick pine trees blocked the view coming from town. The bend of the road blocked it heading in the other direction.
A small gravel turnout rested off the far shoulder. Practically begged them to use it.
The pair drove in silence. Kept their eyes locked straight ahead as they left the neighborhoods of the Lower Rattlesnake district behind.
Fifteen minutes after leaving the hotel, Raquel eased the car onto the pullout.
Under normal circumstances, they would have left hours beforehand. Ran counter-surveillance to make sure they weren't followed. Planned at least two, preferably three, different routes back to the hotel.
Here, none of that was necessary. There were only three people that knew they were there, and they were half a world away.
In two days, not one person had so much as given them a second glance.
Not that there was a damn person anywhere nearby to give them even a first one at the moment.
Raquel racked the gear shift into park. Turned the engine off. Adjusted the head band down over her ears.
Beside her, Hector cracked open the car door so the latch was no longer engaged. Laid his seat down so it was flat against the rear bench.
The hood of the engine let out a loud creak as Raquel released it. Icy cold air enveloped her as she stepped out. Unlatched the hood and propped it upright.
She jammed her hands down into the pockets of her fleece. Positioned herself along the far side of the hood. Kept her eyes locked on the road.
Cold begin to creep in and she started to bounce lightly on the balls of her feet. Soon gave in to full-on jogging in place.
The temperature was nothing like the nights she experienced as a child in Hungary. Still, it was a lot colder than her new life had inflicted on her in a long time.
The balls of her feet slapped lightly at the ground as she increased her pace. Their surveillance a day before revealed that Carpenter left his office promptly at five.
Given a few minutes to change and the nearly five miles between town and where she now stood, Raquel guessed him to be a little more than five minutes away.
After ten, a small doubt began to creep into the back of her mind. What if he didn't go straight home today? What if he and some coworkers stopped off for a beer after work?
Dead Peasants (Zoo Crew series Book 2) Page 9
