Code Name: Crescent: A Matt Preston Novel

by Paul Shadinger

  I rode off, enjoying the thought that if there was anybody in the van, they were in for a long wait. I had no idea how long I was going to be gone, but if they were waiting for me to return in my truck, they were looking at a lengthy stakeout.

  I worked my way over to the freeway and headed north. I had no idea where I was going, I just wanted to make sure Jeff, or whoever might be in the van didn’t accidentally find me. I decided to head towards one of the islands in Puget Sound connected by a bridge to the mainland. The day was beautiful and the colors of the fall leaves were amazing. Once I was on the island, different smells teased my nose. It was just the kind of day made for having a motorcycle.

  Along the way down the coastline of the island I found a little mom and pop restaurant and pulled into the parking lot. There was a nice table on the front deck in the sun and I settled in for lunch. As I ate, I considered my problems. The first was Bill Tate and his daughter, Kim. I thought I could understand why Kim might want to try and do something about Bud Cox. I thought perhaps one of the reasons she was hiding was to hide from Bud Cox. I could see why she might want to open a can of whoop-ass on his creepy bod. I had no proof. It was a total guess on my part, built solely on the fact that she had disappeared from both of her parents. As I thought this through, I could see no reason to be concerned he might try and retaliate. But since she had fled, I did have to give her credit for wanting to do something to stop him.

  As I sat in the warm afternoon sun, my tummy happy from lunch, I decided my next step with that problem was to see if I could find her and make sure she was as safe as possible. I reasoned that was to go and see her mother. If her mother didn’t know where she was, I hoped she might have an idea where I could start looking.

  My other problem was more of a concern for my well being. While I was worried about Kim and her safety, it didn’t directly concern me. But the colonel and the suit seemed to be a potential danger to me. I’d seen firsthand that the Dodge van had something to do with the colonel and his sidekick. Now for some reason, the two of them had sucked me into the whole mess concerning Crescent, whatever the hell that was.

  I felt I had not whacked at the bees nest of Kim and Bud Cox enough to cause somebody to want to follow me around. Since I had seen the Dodge van with the colonel and the suit, it had to be the colonel’s doing. But if the government was involved, what did that make the colonel? Was his quest for information regarding Crescent his own, or was he doing it for… well, for whom? The government? If that was the case, what branch? I thought about all the different threads I could tug on. Which one was the way to go?

  As I sat there basking in a rare sunny warm late-autumn day, another problem came to mind. What was I going to do about Sharon, my longtime friend and sometimes lover? Since she’d moved into the houseboat we had briefly discussed why we didn’t want to live together, but we had never really defined our relationship. Did Sharon expect a full-time relationship? Did she expect an exclusive relationship? As much as I dreaded it, I knew we needed to have the talk.

  You know those four words a man hates to hear, “We need to talk.” The four words that can turn a man’s blood to ice. Those four little words are just as scary as a woman’s tears. When a woman cries, a man will do anything to get her to stop! When a woman says “we need to talk” I’d rather get my fingers slammed in a car door. The unknown possibilities regarding the outcome is what creates the fear. As a guy, I like to be in control, or at least as much as I can be. In the “we need to talk” talk, all bets are off. There is no program to follow. You’re just winging it and sometimes when you wing something, really bad things can happen. I remember a “we need to talk” episode that ended up with me getting my face slapped. Of course, it was my fault. The lady in question was screaming at me about something I had done wrong and I glibly said to her, “Well gee, I guess a blow job is out of the question, right?” Not one of my best moments. But then most males can recall when they were not at their best. It seems to come with the XY thing.

  For now, I knew I needed to see if I could find Kim Tate. I also knew I had to have a talk with Sharon. I wasn’t in love with Gladys or anything, but I did want to date her and get to know her better. What I didn’t have a handle on was what to do about the colonel and his buddy. For that, I decided the best thing to do was get a fresh perspective on the problem. That meant I needed to go over and visit Walter.

  Walter is a friend of mine from my days in Nam. We had done a few missions together and he had saved my life. On our last mission I was badly wounded and he packed me out when he could have just as easily left me where I was. I was messed up to the point it was doubtful I would live, and had he not gotten me to an evacuation point, I would have died. Long after I had recovered, back stateside, I saw his picture in the paper in connection with a crime, and I contacted my lawyer’s firm and asked them to see what they could do to help him. Eventually I gave him a piece of some land I owned over on the Olympic Peninsula and he built himself a cabin. I use the word cabin, but it’s unlike any cabin you have ever seen. The whole house is a work of art. From the front deck and the front doors and throughout the structure, the finish is museum quality and the two of us have spent several evenings on that front deck watching the sun slip into the sea while we sipped excellent Scotch.

  The only way one gets to see Walter is to write to his post office box and tell him when you’ll be in the parking lot a few miles from his place. I’ve been to his cabin enough times I think I could probably find it, but Walter still has a lot of issues left over from his time spent overseas and it’s best not to show up unexpected.

  Now that I had some basic plans to deal with my problems, I was happy, or at least as happy as I could be with the way things were. I paid for my lunch and got my gear. After I was suited up, I headed off. It was still a wonderful day to be riding, but it was starting to get chilly.

  The trip back to town was brisk, but it also kept my mind active. When I got back I was going to have the talk with Sharon and I thought taking her to a restaurant called Tony’s Hidden Harbor for a nice dinner would be a good start. I would also get the address for the ex-Mrs. Tate from Bill. Tonight or tomorrow night I would see Sharon and then I was going to make the visit to Mrs. Tate. I settled down into the seat of the bike and with an ear-to-ear grin, I watched the large bike eat up the miles taking me back home.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Tony’s Hidden Harbor is a wonderful restaurant located in the heart of Seattle nestled among the docks on southwest shore of Lake Union. It’s been in existence since 1947 and Sharon and I have shared many pleasant meals there over the years. I felt that another lovely dinner would be a good way to work into the talk.

  I decided I was going to drive my old Cad convertible. The Cad is from the last year they manufactured convertibles and when the POS motor gave up the ghost, Art and I installed a Northstar V-8 and the car looked like it had just rolled off the showroom floor. I can never sell the car because of the motor change and no matching numbers, but who cares, I like it. Before I pulled her out of the garage, I put the top down and then I went over to pick up Sharon. Because Tony’s wasn’t too far from the houseboat, I hoped Sharon wouldn’t be too upset about her hair getting messed up. The evening was crisp but the car’s heater kept the inside of the vehicle warm and toasty. A lot of people looked strangely at us as we drove by but I didn’t mind. My very first car was a convertible and I fell in love with driving with the top down. Unless it was raining or something of equal ugliness, I liked the top down on my cars.

  The young man who was doing the valet service that evening was impressed with how nice the old car looked. He pointed at a vacant spot right in front of the door and jokingly told us he had reserved that spot just for us. When I held out my hand for a ticket he said not to worry, that he would remember what car I was driving. I thought he was a nice kid.

  Tony was standing at his customary station when he greeted us at
the bottom of the stairs informing us if we didn’t mind having a drink in the bar and waiting a few minutes, the diners at our favorite table were just leaving, and if we could give the staff a minute, they would have the table cleared and reset for us.

  Tony was in his late seventies and his entire family had been an institution in Seattle when it comes to the restaurant business. Tony came from a family of eight kids, seven boys and one girl. I guess the boy genes were strong in that family. Of the eight, seven of them were in the restaurant business and one of the boys became a priest. (Perhaps their religion had something to do with the large number of children. Just a guess mind you!) The priest claimed his siblings fed the body while he fed the soul. I have actually eaten at all of the restaurants, but I think Tony’s was the best by far, or at least his ambiance beat out all the rest of them.

  Tony was maybe 5’5”, completely bald and colored his eyebrows and his pencil-thin moustache a dark black, and even though it could have looked really hokey, he carries it off with great aplomb. Every night, Tony stood at the bottom of the stairs wearing either a white dinner jacket or a tux. With a red carnation placed in his jacket lapel, Tony was ready for the evening. I doubt if there was anybody in the state of Washington who was of any importance that he didn’t know by first name. I don’t know a thing about his home life other than he never took a night off except for Sundays when the restaurant was closed. Tony had been known to present his flower to a beautiful woman diner every once in a while. Needless to say, getting a flower from Tony was considered a real coup.

  Sharon and I headed back into the bar, which was actually a cave carved out from under the street above. As we sat having a small, but nourishing Scotch, I happened to look out at the people who were leaving our table and I almost dropped my glass. It was the suit and the colonel dressed in civilian clothes. We were well back inside of the dark bar and it was impossible for the two of them to view us. But I could see them as they climbed the stairs to the street above. Sharon could tell I was disturbed and she asked me what was wrong. I just shook my head. I didn’t want to frighten her.

  I tried my best to keep them out of my mind during dinner, and being with Sharon really did help. We laughed and she had a couple of really cute stories from the hospital. She told me about one of the doctors walking in on a couple making love in the woman’s hospital room. The fact that they were making love wasn’t so strange, but the fact the she had just delivered a baby less than thirty-six hours before was a little over the top. The man claimed it was his wife who instigated the whole affair and she blushed when she admitted it was true. She told the doctor she was breastfeeding her baby and it had put her in the mood. Later, the doctor told Sharon up to that point, he thought he had seen it all, but now he discovered he was wrong. The whole staff was discussing it and Sharon finally decided she had to see this woman. As she told me the story, Sharon paused a moment as she held out her hands with the palms facing one another about six inches apart. Slowly she started to move them apart until it looked like there was a yard or better between them, and she as she nodded her head she told me, “Yep! That was her butt. She was not just fat, she was huge. I was stunned at her size!” I just shook my head and laughed. Sharon never seemed to run out of tales to tell from the hospital.

  As usual, dinner was excellent. Tony stopped by the table at the end of our meal and asked how we were doing. When he asked, it came out as, “How y’all this fine evening?” The funny part of all this is Tony was born in Seattle and as far as I know, he had never lived anywhere in the South. Why he feels like he has to speak like somebody from Gone With The Wind is beyond me.

  We told him dinner was excellent as always and Sharon asked him how he was doing. He frowned as he shook his head. “Not so good. They tell me I have the funny spots on my lungs.” He went on to tell us he was going in early next week for tests. Sharon asked him if he smoked and he looked down at the ground. When he looked back at us he seemed angry. “It ain’t my fault. Back in the war, I mean the big one ya know, we had all the cigarettes we could ever want. We all smoked and when I got back I just kept on. Hells bells, they had ads with doctors telling us to smoke such and such a brand and even ol’ Ronnie Reagan was pushing smokes before he went to the White House. Now we find out that this shit is killing us and we’re hooked.”

  “How much do you smoke, Tony?” Sharon asked.

  “Dunno, about two packs a day, I guess.”

  “What brand?” Sharon followed up.

  “Lucky Strike. But it’s okay cause I don’t smoke them with those filters on the end. That shit will kill ya! You know, them filters are made outta that fiberglass stuff.”

  Sharon asked, “Have you ever tried to stop smoking?”

  “Why? It’s too late now.” He shrugged his shoulders. “If something’s wrong, no point in quitting now. But thanks for the suggestion.”

  After he left we smiled at each other and shook our heads. We had commented in the past as we wondered how people can still smoke after all of the research shows how dangerous it is. I did at one time and I was grateful I had that monkey off my back.

  Tony brought us the bill personally and after he handed the bill to me, he reached up to his lapel and removed his flower and handed it to Sharon. When she extended her hand to take the flower, he took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Lovely lady, you actually deserve a whole bouquet. My biggest wish is that I was thirty years younger.” Sharon actually blushed.

  When we came out the front door the valet tossed me the keys to the car. I went over and opened the door for Sharon and then walked over to give the kid a tip. As I turned to leave, the colonel stepped out from behind the valet’s booth. He said, “I thought that was your car when I came out of the restaurant.”

  I was not happy to see him. “What do you want?” I snarled.

  Pointing a finger at me, he said, “I just wanted you to know that we’re keeping an eye on you. I know you know something about Crescent and you’re lying to us.”

  I could feel the anger surging through my body. “You know, you really are an asshole. You keep asking questions and I keep telling you I don’t know what you’re talking about, and you still won’t give me any information. I wonder how difficult it would be to get a court order to keep you away from me.”

  The colonel glared at me for a moment before he spoke. “Preston, if you have an ounce of smarts, you will not do anything that stupid. I’m telling you I am just the tip of the iceberg and you do not want to know how much trouble that would cause.”

  I leaned towards him and in an angry tone of voice, I told him, “McNaulty, I am telling you now, stay away from me. I don’t want to see you again. If I do, I am going to see what I can legally do to keep you away.”

  “That would be a stupid move, Preston. I still believe you know something about Crescent. I know you do, and I’m going to follow you until I find out what.” The colonel glared at me for a second and then did an about face and marched off. I watched him turn the corner and then went over to the Cad. After I opened the door, Sharon asked me what was going on. I told her it was okay and not to worry.

  When we got back to the houseboat Sharon invited me in but I declined. The run-in with the colonel had put me in a bad mood and I wanted to go back to my place. I just couldn’t get over how insistent McNaulty was about Crescent. Talk about your dog with a bone. Even if I had some idea, which I didn’t, because of the lack of information they shared with me, how was I to know if, or what I might know?

  Seeing McNaulty had really disturbed me. I knew I needed to have the talk with Sharon and I had planned to, but seeing the colonel and his little buddy had put me in a mood where I didn’t want to talk to anybody. I for sure didn’t want to have the talk with Sharon tonight. I walked her to the front door and gave her a peck on the cheek. She reached up and put her arms around me. Looking up at me with a wicked grin on her face she said, “The offer st
ill stands if you’d like to come in.” She rubbed her pubic bone against me to drive home her point.

  “Thanks baby, but I need to get on home. I have a full day tomorrow.” It was a lie, but I needed to go. Somehow I was getting a feeling for movement and it would help me deal with the feeling that the colonel was closing in on me. I knew it wasn’t real, but I was feeling trapped. It seemed like every time I turned around the colonel was looking over my shoulder. I had no idea what Crescent was, but just to satisfy my curiosity I wanted to know what it was all about. How was I going to figure this out? Walter was quickly becoming my last resort.

  All the way back to my apartment I kept looking in the rearview mirror. I’m not usually a paranoid person, but knowing the colonel was keeping track of me didn’t help my outlook on life. When I took Bean out for her nightly walk I kept seeing dark-colored vans either driving by or sitting along the street. I knew I needed to do something about the colonel and friend, but the problem was I didn’t know exactly what. At least I knew what I was going to do tomorrow. I had to get the address for the ex-Mrs. Tate and see what she could tell me about Kim’s disappearance.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  All my life I’ve been impressed with all the lovely homes along Sand Point Drive, but as I turned off and started up the large hill into Highlands Park, I was really wowed. The homes just seem to get bigger and better the higher up the hill I went. Eventually I crested the hill and turned left onto—surprise, surprise—Hillcrest Drive.