by Rich Foster
He failed to find the vehicle. Next he began to canvass the half dozen real estate firms. This produced one maybe but when checked out, it failed to lead to Wright. Feeling less hopeful for a quick result he pulled out his phone book to plot a reasonable route to visit the motels and hotels in the Beaumont area. The book fell open to Automobile on the left page and Banks on the right.
A new life? A new car?
He discovered the van in a small independent sales lot on Route 218 south of town. The salesman stank of cheap cigars but was a loquacious man, hoping to cajole Harry into a sale. Wright was alone, he sold the car for cash, and left in a taxi.
Harry extricated himself from the man's sales pitch and set out to visit the three car dealers in town. He scored on the second one. A man matching Wright's description bought a four wheel drive Toyota but his name was not Wright. Harry figured a fifty might jogged the salesman's memory and it did. Ten minutes later he was on the way to the address that Wilson Wright, AKA Will Weebly put down on his registration.
The driveway was empty, but someone was in the backyard hanging wet laundry on a clothesline.
Back in Red Lake Harry called Leeds.
“1920 Armitage. It's a white bungalow. According to the neighbor the house was for sale three months ago. I figure Wright came up and laid the ground work for his split, made an offer and put money down on the house, got a drivers license, and lined up a new job.
“How did he get a loan?”
“This isn't the coast, Jack, Wilson was able to pay cash.”
“Is Dunn still with him?”
“Yes. And by the way Jack, you might have told me Jan Dunn was a guy!”
Leeds laughed. “I guess I didn't think of it. Harry. Living in San Francisco it didn't seem out of the ordinary. Send me your bill.”
Harry arrived home in high spirits.
“Hello?” he called out as he entered.
“I'm upstairs. I'll be right down.”
Paula sounded past her funk.
From the kitchen came the aroma of a roast in the oven and a pot boiled hopefully with the makings of mashed potatoes. Harry got a beer from the fridge.
“Ta dah!” Paula pranced into the room and twirled. “How do you like my new look?”
The long blonde hair he loved had a purple streak, and Paula's new dress was the latest fashion, a style Harry loathed. Without thinking he blurted out, “A bit juvenile isn't it?”
He might just as well slapped her.
“Screw you, Harry Grim!” Paula snapped as tears fell. She stormed out the door.
Harry sighed. There was no point in going after her. Maybe when she cooled off they could talk..
The sun settled on the mountains across the lake but the evening sounds of calling birds and lapping water failed to soothe Harry's mood. The smell of food burning wafted out to him on the porch. The pan was dry and the charred potatoes clung to the bottom. He put the pan in the sink to soak. The meat in the oven appeared to be a desiccated, shrunken head. In disgust Harry dropped it into the trash can, put on his jacket and left in his pickup.
If she's sulking in the woods, she can have the house, I'll go out to eat!
On the way into town he ground through gears, attempting to leave his irritation behind but it rode his tail right into town.
Marie's sported a fair crowd for a weeknight. Harry slid into an empty table.
“Where's your honey?” Marie asked as she laid a menu on the table.
“At home.”
“A fight, huh?
To Harry's quizzical look she said knowingly, “Paula wants to know where your relationship is going.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I'm a woman Harry, and Paula will be facing the biological clock over the next few years. I'm not saying she wants to have kids, but I do know the ticking can play hell with a relationship.”
“Tell you what, I'll have a cheeseburger, fries, and a draft beer, hold the advice!”
“Testy, testy.” Marie fanned herself with the menu as she strolled off.
Harry's food came. Halfway through his meal Vito Donatello strutted in. Despite having never met him up close, there was no mistaking him. The newspaper photos and mug shots were good likenesses. The thick gold chain around his neck and garish rings on his fingers screamed 'out-of-towner', locals had neither the resources nor the taste for either.
The hostess parked Donatello at the table behind him. Harry kept his face down and studied his food. Perhaps he saw me in Vegas? Maybe Marcelli showed Vito a picture of Dirk and me?
“Do you want anything to drink, sir?” He heard the cocktail waitress asked.
Donatello ordered, "Two Bourbons, someone is joining me. And, none of your cheap well shit."
The girl hustled off.
Harry made the remaining burger and fries last until the fries were cold wedges of grease. He waited and when the waitress brought his bill he ordered a dessert.
Donatello looked at his watch with impatience and ordered a refill. As he spoke his eyes darted to the door and he raised one finger to get someone's attention.
As the heavy-set man worked his way through the crowd. Harry watched Donatello's reflection in the bar mirror. When the guy fell heavily into his seat next to Donatello, Harry recognized him as the man who tailed Julia Stockman.
.
“Your late, Nick!” Donatello snapped.
“Hey the broad took her time! God does she like to shop.”
Donatello leaned forward, ferocity burned in his eyes. With a quick snap of the wrist he slapped the thugs face. Nearby eyes turned but Donatello was oblivious.
“Don't you ever call her a broad, not here and not behind my back, I'm thinking about making that broad as you called her, my next wife. So you better learn a little respect, capish?”
The thug possessed the good sense to look down as he said, “Yes, Mr. Donatello.”
Harry's dessert came. He lingered over it without really tasting it. But after that all Donatello talked about was the baseball season.
Harry paid his bill and left.
Paula was asleep when he slid into bed. For the second night in a row Harry found himself staring at the ceiling.
Was Marie right? Did Paula want or need a ring on her finger? Did she want kids?
When she brought up the future in the past Harry thought of it as an abstract discussion. Now he felt hemmed in.
Damn it, I will not be rustled into marriage!
Chapter Seven
Paula and Harry avoided discussion of their argument and thus the issues behind it remained unresolved to fester until a later date. After a few days Harry felt things were back to normal until he discovered the offending dress in the trash can, torn to ribbons, the price tag still attached to the sleeve.
It did not encourage him to broach the subject.
Harry spotted Donatello's man around town over the next several days. One evening he cruised past the house on Gulls Bay, the house was lit and people moved around on the deck and behind the sheet glass windows. With a pair of binoculars he picked out Vito in the living room. The men on the deck carried automatic weapons. A lot of artillery for a quiet resort town. I wonder who he's afraid of?
The next morning Harry stopped by to see the sheriff.
“The Mob has moved to town, Sheriff.”
Gaines looked puzzled.
“Vito Donatello is currently living in the Stockman's old lake house.”
“Why would he come here?”
“He said he intended to marry Julia Stockman.”
“Really? I didn't know you and he were confidants.”
“A bit of eavesdropping in a restaurant. He was with the fellow who followed Julia when I was working for her late husband.”
Gaines stroked his mustache, “What do you make of that? Her husband disappears and Vito come to town. Makes one wonder if there is something going on between them?”
“I don't think so. Like I told you, she reacted
as if he was a carrier of the plague.”
“Could be a bit of acting?”
Harry shrugged. “I suppose. Have you heard anything from Panama?”
Gaines laughed. “Harry you are either an incorrigible optimist or incredibly naive. The only way Harvey Stockman will be investigated is if his body floats up on the beach.”
Harry rose to go, “Well hopefully Red Lake won't become the playground of the likes of Donatello. I forgot to mention that he has body guards and they are armed."
"Perhaps, I should roust them? If they are full auto we have them on a weapons charge, same thing if they are carrying unregistered firearms."
"It's your call Sheriff, but I'd prefer you give them some slack, something is up and I'd hate to scare them off, they would only come back and but be warned to be more careful."
"I'll go along with that, Harry. I can always keep the weapons bust as an ace in the hole. It would be enough to get a warrant to search the house."
Gaines' comments concerning Harvey reminded Harry about his inquiries with Ziggy. He went to his office and turned on his computer where he found the neglected e-mail. There were 1,200 names on the list, about 950 passengers and 250 crew members.
Only two of the employees were new and they were both women. Besides it seemed unlikely a crew member could plot to kill Harvey. How would they know he would take a cruise? It has to be someone with prior knowledge of the trip.
Julia Stockman's face appeared in his mind. “Did she do it? She had means, motive, and opportunity. She lied or at least failed to mention that divorce was in the air. Was an unexpected push her way to get a quick divorce?”
Did she tell Donatello? Was it possible they really were in on it together and Vito arranged Harvey's demise?
Julia talking about divorce in Nassau makes the idea that she and Harvey conspired together unlikely, there was no way she could have expected an investigation to uncover that conversation, she would have left a broader trail.
Perhaps, the easiest answer is that Stockman made himself disappear, but then why hirer me? Was I just window dressing for part of his escape plan?
Harry put these questions aside and ran through the names Ziggy flagged. A surprising number of passengers were convicted of one crime or another. What caught Harry's eye was a passenger, Carmen Rossilini, who did time in prison with convictions for an assault with a deadly weapon, assault with great bodily harm, attempted murder and racketeering.
His address was listed in Miami, but Zigfeld noted that Rossilini formerly resided in Chicago. Not too far from where Stockman allegedly went to school. What if Harvey wasn't as squeaky clean as he pretended? Maybe it was a falling out among thieves?
Harry picked up the phone.
“Hey Zigfeld, thank you. Your check will be in the mail today.”
“No problem, thanks.”
“There is one more thing I want you to look at.”
“What?”
“Not what but who. I want you to dig into Harvey Stockman. I ran the standard background check and he has or perhaps I should say had, big financial problems. But I want you to strip the guy down. I want to know whether he wore paper of cloth diapers as a baby.”
“Cloth!” Ziggy answered firmly.
“How the ...” Harry caught himself. “You got me, Zig!”
Ziggy chuckled. “I'll get on it.”
He had scarcely hung up when the phone rang.
Paula buzzed Harry on the intercom, Julia Stockman is on the line.”
“Hello, this is Harry.”
“Mr. Grim I wondered if we could meet. I have a problem I want to discuss.”
“Sure, Mrs. Stockman. Are you here in Red Lake.?”
“No. If it is possible I would prefer to meet you in Beaumont. I wonder if you could meet me at my club?”
Is she fishing? Why would she think I knew which was her club?
“Okay, and where would that be?”
“The Ashton Country Club.”
“I know it. Should we say twelve o'clock?
“That is perfect, thank you, Mr. Grim.”
Harry pulled into the lot and parked in the far corner so his pickup would not detract from the BMW's and Mercedes that occupied the rows near the porte cochère. It was not so long ago that the social life in Parsons County would be at the Grange Hall not a country club, a place where his pickup would not stand out.
Beaumont is becoming quite upscale, he silently mused as he passed the youthful valet, whom the management chose to clad in a red blazer.
While he waited for the dining room hostess, Harry spotted Julia at a table by the windows. Even at a distance she was the most striking woman in the room.. The sunlight cast an angelic beam upon her, and Harry found himself seduced by the way her lips curled around the rim of her wine glass.
“This way, sir.” the hostess interrupted his thoughts before they strayed further.
At her table Harry said, “Mrs. Stockman.”
“Julia, please.” She covered both the name change and a request to be seated with the word, please.
Harry took the chair to which she pointed.
“May I call you Harry?”
What can you say to that?
“Of course, Julia.”
Her face was framed by black hair. Harry let his eyes drift down. Pass the ruby necklace and magnificent cleavage, the well cut dress, his eyes stopped at the red lipstick smudge she left on the lip of the goblet. Harry tried to recollect what he meant to say but the words eluded him.
“Do you care for a drink?” the waiter asked deferentially and saving Harry from his temporary muteness.
He actually wanted a cold beer but without really knowing why, he answered, “A gin and tonic please.”
“Very good, sir.”
Did they send the entire staff to finishing school in England? he wondered.
Julia took another sip of her wine and Harry found himself having carnal thoughts as she tilted her head back and the long hair fell away to expose a neck that was worth exploring.
She licked her upper lip with the tip of her tongue.
“I need your help, Harry.”
There's trouble in those word, he told himself. Another small inner voice added, There's trouble with her!
The waiter brought his drink and took their lunch orders.
When he was gone, Julia turned her full charm upon Harry, who found it disturbing. Images of her naked flitted through his mind yet he suffered mental dissonance between his image of the woman he followed and the woman at his table. There was something more assured about her. An air of sophisticated nonchalance that he missed before.
Perhaps she is blossoming out from under the shadow of her husband. he added a mental footnote, most likely her late husband!
“I am being followed, Harry.”
About time she noticed.
“By whom?”
“I suspect he works for my brother-in-law. If not him them I worry it might be the person who was involved in Harvey's death.”
“You're sure he's dead?”
“He must be, what else could have happened?”
“Maybe he ran off. Did he have debts? Could there be another woman?”
Julia stiffened. “Harvey is not the sort to cheat nor did he have financial problems. We were quite happily married.”
Harry did not challenge the lie about money, nor the whopper about their marriage.
“Why would someone want to kill him?”
Julia shrugged and shook her head, the hair framing her face swinging animatedly. “I have no idea. Everyone loved him."
Hyperbole piled on hyperbole. Next she will put him up for sainthood.
“Someone did. Let's set that aside for now. Why would your brother-in-law want to follow you?”
“I'm not sure. He came to the memorial service and has since tried to ingratiate himself in my life.”
“How?”
“Offers of financial help, assistance sorting through the e
state papers, and resolving legal issues created by the lack of a death certificate.”
“Sounds helpful, so what is the problem?”
“I don't like him. He frightens me!”
“Did he threaten you?”
“No.”
“So what do you think he wants?”
Julia's eyes were cold and hard, “Me!”
Harry lifted an inquiring eyebrow and waited.
“Perhaps I should give you a bit of history. We grew up in Reno, Nevada. My sister and I were two sides of a coin. She partied and I studied. She liked fast cars and the boys who stole them and I was attracted to those who were studious and worked. We each married to type. Harvey was conservative, steady, and going places. Jillian married Vito Donatello, a thug she met in one of Reno's casinos and who's future is probably the state penitentiary. Harvey and I ended up in Beaumont where Harvey built up his business and Jillian and Vito moved to Las Vegas where Vito moved up in the world of organized crime.”
“You know this for a fact or you inferred it?”
“No Jillian was quite proud. She liked the respect she got as his wife and the money. Her tastes were quite flashy. Consequently, we drifted apart. But despite our worlds being vastly different we made a point to get together now and then.”
The waiter arrived with their meals. As he served Harry's eyes surveyed the room and the parking lot. Underneath a spreading oak a man held a camera with an extremely long lens. Harry was sure it was pointed at Julia and himself. Julia's voice brought his focus back to the table.
“Harvey did not care for us to get together. In fact he forbade me to bring Vito or Jillian into the house.”
“A bit Neanderthal isn't that? It was your house too.”
“Some fights are not worth starting, and to be honest, I found it a convenient excuse. My God I can't imagine the two of them getting together.”
Julia took a bite of her shrimp louis salad. Harry put a knife to the sirloin on his plate. He let his eye drift outside but the man was not in sight.
“We owned a house on Red Lake. Jillian and I decide to meet there.”
