Code Name: Crescent: A Matt Preston Novel

by Paul Shadinger

  At the end of the block with a commanding view of Lake Washington and the mountains to the east sat the home I was looking for. I am a real pushover when it comes to mid-50s to 1960s style homes, and this was something right out of the 1962 issues of Better Homes and Gardens. With exposed beams, massive windows with lots of stone and cedar, swooping rooflines and cantilevered decks, the house looked like a large bird of prey just getting ready to take flight. When I pulled up in front of it I sat in my truck for a moment and just took in the view. I was in love with this house.

  I stepped up to the massive twelve foot high double doors and pushed the button for the bell. Deep inside the house I heard what sounded like a mallet striking a large gong. It was the coolest doorbell I’d ever heard. After a few seconds wait the door was opened by an Asian man in a dark red jacket. His jacket looked a little like a cook’s jacket, but the cut was more Asian than a cook’s coat. Even though the man was shorter and looked older than me, he appeared to be in excellent shape. His jacket wasn’t tailored, but you could still see his body was well toned. The way he was dressed and the way he opened the door indicated to me he was hired help. We said hello and he asked me what I needed. I told him I was there to see Mrs. Tate. The servant stepped back and motioned me to come in. He told me to wait and he would get her.

  I could see into the front room and then off across the lake. We were high enough so that I could see way beyond it, all the way to the mountains in the distance. The view was amazing and I thought it put my view to shame, and I had always felt mine was a knockout. A tall Eurasian woman stepped into the foyer and walked up to me. Extending her hand, she said to me, “Hello, I’m Samara Tate. My man tells me you wanted to see me about something?”

  I took her slim hand, noticing her long fingers and well-manicured nails. “Thank you for seeing me. My name is Preston, Matt Preston. I wanted to talk to you since your ex-husband has asked me to see if I can locate Kim. Has she been in contact with you?”

  I watched the lovely woman for a moment and I thought I detected a flicker of fear in her eyes. “Who are you? Why has Bill asked you to find Kim?”

  I tried to put the best ‘aw shucks’ look I had on my face. “Bill and I play poker together once in a while. Some time ago I won a houseboat and as I was taking possession, there was a murder in it. I was involved and Bill was aware of my involvement. I guess he thought since I know a couple of Seattle cops and I was able to help the cops catch the bad guys, I might be able to help him, and you, find Kim.”

  Her almond-shaped eyes widened as she took half a step back. “That was you who won the houseboat?” Mrs. Tate slowly looked me up and down and with a certain respectful tone in her voice, said, “Bill told me about that. He said you ended up on one of the San Juan Islands in a shootout and then ended up in the hospital. I think he also told me you were a spy or something in Viet Nam.”

  I grinned as I explained, “I was not a spy, Mrs. Tate. I normally tell folks I was just a bandsman in the service but to help explain things, I was in a very secret group that did some very secret things, but I was never a spy. I guess Bill thought I might be able to help find your daughter.”

  “I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”

  “Preston, Matt Preston.”

  Mr. Preston, won’t you please come in and sit for a moment.” She turned and walked deeper into the house. I followed her into the front room and continued to be blown away by the grandeur of the vista through her front windows. She motioned for me to take a chair and when I sat down, she sat across from me on a sofa.

  “Would you like something to drink? Coffee, soda?”

  “No thank you, Mrs. Tate.”

  “Please call me Samara,” she invited.

  “Thank you, Samara. Have you seen your daughter recently?” I asked.

  There was a long pause and I could see she was trying to decide just what she wanted to say to me. I leaned back and looked her over. Her black hair was cut short, I believe the correct term is a pixie cut. Her almond eyes were very attractive, her lips full and lush. Even though her blouse was a loose fit, being a guy I noticed her breasts were full and the rest of her body was trim with just the right curves in just the right places. This was a very attractive woman whom I assumed to be in her mid-forties. She was more than just an attractive woman. This lady was class, and from the way she dressed and acted, she probably was also a very expensive woman. For sure, this lady was way over my pay grade.

  I couldn’t help but wonder what the problem had been between Tubs and Samara. I know from my personal experience that one can never really tell what a marriage is like. Even though both parties are really nice people, once they’re together, things don’t always work out. But I still wondered what Bill’s problem was with this woman. I thought she was both exotic and erotic. Finally, Samara spoke, “Mr. Preston—”

  I spread my arms and as I held my palms towards her, I interrupted, “If you’re Samara, then please, I get to be Matt.”

  Samara smiled. “Okay, fair enough. Matt, ah, I saw Kim three nights ago. She came by here to get some clothes and she asked me for some money. I told her until she told me what was going on, I wasn’t going to give her anything. We had a fight, no, let me rephrase that, we had an argument and eventually she told me a boy she had been dating tried to rape her. When she went to the campus police they more or less laughed at her. She also went to the dean of men and they told her she was just overreacting. I understand the boy plays football, and she even went to his coach. He told her if she was wise, she would keep it to herself.

  “What seems to scare her the most was that she got a call from the boy telling her if she didn’t let things go, he was going to find her and do a lot worse things than rape her. Kim said he has some very scary friends. He grew up in the Central LA area and from what Kim said, he can be very intimidating. Anyway, she came here to get some clothes and money and said she was going to hide until the police finally did something about all of this.” Samara took a breath.

  “Do you know where she’s hiding?” I inquired.

  “No, I don’t.” Samara stared at me for a moment and then asked, “But how do I know you aren’t working for this boy, trying to find Kim?”

  That was easy enough. “Just call Bill. Ask him who Matt is and what I look like.” At first I thought she was going to get up off the sofa, but then she relaxed. I could see she was struggling with her decision. Gently I told her, “Samara, I really think you should call Bill, right now. I need for you to trust me. Call Bill and ask him why he asked me to look for Kim. Go ahead. I’ll wait right here.”

  She called out, “Ambruster… Ambruster…” from the kitchen I heard somebody say, “Coming ma’am.” When the man who had met me at the door came into the room, Samara instructed him, “Ambruster, please get me a phone.” We waited for Ambruster to fetch the phone. Once she had it in hand she started punching buttons. There was a pause while the phone rang. “Hello Bill. It’s Samara.” There was some buzzing from the phone but I couldn’t understand the words. “Yes. The reason I’m calling is there’s a man here. He says his name is Matt. Matt something…”

  “Preston,” I supplied her with my last name.

  “Matt Preston. Do you know him?” I could hear the buzzing on the phone get more excited. I still couldn’t make out the words but during Bill’s talk, her eyes never left my face. When he was done, she thanked him and hung up. Ambruster was still standing next to the couch and she handed the phone back to him. She smiled up at him. “Thank you Ambruster.” Next she turned her lovely smile on me. “According to Bill, the only thing you can’t do is walk on water, but you’re working on that.”

  I had to laugh. “Samara, I was really lucky up in the islands and what happened got blown all out of proportion. Bill seems to think I am some super… well, I don’t know, but he did ask me to look into Kim’s problems.”

  “Did y
ou really shoot a man between the eyes up in the lighthouse?” I nodded. “Well, since Bill seems to, I trust you as well. But I don’t know where she went. She wouldn’t tell me. I didn’t really like it, but she was so scared and there was nothing I could do. She flat out refused to stay here. And I know she won’t go to Bill’s place. I know she’s determined to bring this rape thing out in the open. She told me the boy had tried to rape other women and that he had actually succeeded a couple of times. I don’t understand why nothing happens to him. Why is he still free? Why isn’t he in jail where he belongs?”

  “Samara, I wish I understood better myself. All I can tell you is sometimes when a boy shows he has some prowess on the athletic field, people look the other way when he does bad things. When he isn’t punished, then he thinks he can get away with more. The problem is that over time he just beleives he’s above it all. I know it’s an ugly part of our society, but sports are big business and this young man is becoming a major player. A lot of people are riding his coattails and he knows it. I’m trying to find him as well and settle all of this in my mind.”

  “I hope somebody does something about him. I’m so afraid for Kim. I can’t get her to listen to reason. She’s determined to see that boy pay for his crimes.”

  I tried one more time, “You have no idea where Kim is? A phone number, perhaps?”

  Samara paused a moment and I could see in her eyes when she decided to confide in me. “Yes, she does have a new cell phone, one that this Cox boy doesn’t know about. Just a minute, I’ll go and write it down for you.” When she returned she handed me a small piece of paper with a phone number written on it. “Please go and see if you can bring my baby back safe.” I saw there were tears in her lovely eyes. It made me sad to see her cry. I didn’t say it to her, but I promised to myself I would do everything I could to bring Kim back safely.

  As I stood to leave, Ambruster stepped to the front doors and opened one of them. When Samara and I got to the door, she extended her hand and put it on my arm. “Thank you for doing this, but are you safe? From what Kim says, I’m worried for your safety as well as hers.”

  “Samara, I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of myself. If nothing else, I keep a pistol in a handy place in my truck. Will you be okay here? Is there any way Cox—by the way, the boy’s name is Bud Cox—is there any way Cox can find out where you are and try to harm you?”

  I watched a bemused look come over Samara’s face. She glanced over at her servant in his handsome red jacket and then back at me. “Ambruster might not look intimidating, but trust me when I tell you I’m very safe. Bill found Ambruster when he was in college. Bill’s school had played a game somewhere and Bill got separated from the rest of the team. A group from the local ‘hood’ trapped Bill in an alley. Bill was lucky, as Ambruster was walking past the entrance to the alley just as one of the men pulled a knife on Bill. Neither Bill nor Ambruster will talk about it much, but one time I did hear that out of the six men who were in the alley, only one of them lived. When we divorced, Bill demanded that I keep Ambruster as… well, he’s everything for me. He’s an amazing cook, when I need him to be, he’s my butler and also my driver. I don’t think this boy, Bud Cox did you say?” I nodded my head. “I don’t think he wants to meet Ambruster.”

  “Okay, if you think you’re safe.”

  Even though she smiled, there was a look of worry on her face. “I only wish that he was with Kim. He wanted to go with her, but she refused. In a way he was her nanny. When Bill and I divorced, Ambruster was the one Kim turned to for support. She seemed to blame me for the divorce, but she also blamed her father. I think Kim was worried something might happen to me and she wanted Ambruster to stay here.” She stepped back and as she shut the door, she added, “Please call me and let me know what’s happening. I trust Bill, but still…” her voice trailed off. I assured her I would let her know everything I could.

  I got in the truck and fended off Beanie trying to lick my face. I kept telling her I had only been gone a few minutes and she didn’t need to lick me every time I returned. After a lot of fussing she settled down and I started to pat her. As I sat there, I watched a side door open and Ambruster came out with two sacks of garbage, lifted the lid of one of the garbage cans in the garage, and dropped the two sacks inside. Ambruster glanced over at me and nodded. I held up one hand and acknowledged his greeting.

  I drove the truck slowly down the hill, still gawking at the amazing houses along the way. I thought to myself there was some very serious bread living on this hill. Even with the way things are today, these homes had to be at the top end of seven figures, maybe even as high as ten million for a couple of them. At the bottom of the hill I met with a rent-a-cop sitting in his car, watching who was going up and down the hill. As I stopped at the stop sign, he got out of his car and held up his hand. I put down my window. “Good afternoon, officer,” I greeted the wannabe cop.

  He didn’t smile back. “Good afternoon sir. May I ask you what you’re doing here?”

  I thought to myself how this was a free country and as far as I knew, I was allowed to go anywhere I wanted. But I also realized there was no reason to piss this guy off since I had no idea how much connection he might have with the Seattle Police, and I still hadn’t called Jeff back. “Yes, sir. I was just up visiting Mrs. Samara Tate. Her ex-husband and I are friends.” It might be stretching the truth a bit, but I was still going to try and use the “Bill Tate” card.

  “Oh. Well, excuse me, sir. We try and keep a watch on folks living up here. Sorry to bother you. Good afternoon, sir.” He still hadn’t cracked a smile, but at least his tone had improved a bit. I wasn’t too surprised to see there was a private security car patrolling the neighborhood. Given the amount of money living up on this exclusive hill, I was sure those living in the Highlands wanted to know they were safe.

  As I pulled back onto Sand Point Drive, I looked in my rearview mirror and saw the security cop was still watching me drive away. After I thought about it for a while, I realized there weren’t a lot of pickup trucks in that upscale neighborhood. I didn’t look like construction or yard maintenance, so it shouldn’t have surprised me to be stopped. I thought to myself it was too bad there was no way to hire a security firm to protect Kim Tate. Protect Kim Tate… that thought brought me to my next thought. Ambruster was Kim’s go-to person when her parents split up. When Kim was hurting, she went to Ambruster to protect her, to help her cope. I wondered if Ambruster knew where Kim was stashed. How could I get him to confide in me if he actually did know where she was?

  I pulled over and stopped. Did I dare go back into Highlands Park? I didn’t want the security guard to get suspicious and perhaps call the police. So how was I going to get to Ambruster? I wondered what Bill Tate could tell me. It sounded like he knew Ambruster better than anybody else did, except maybe Kim Tate.

  I called Bill on my cell. He picked up on the second ring. “Bill, it’s Matt Preston.”

  “Did Samara tell you what you wanted to know?”

  “Well... Yes and no. She did tell me she has seen Kim in the past couple of days. But she also didn’t know where Kim might be hiding. The reason I’m calling is to ask you if you think Ambruster might know where Kim is.”

  The phone was silent for a while and I was starting to wonder if I had dropped the call. When Tate started to talk it was slowly and thoughtfully. “I never thought of that. When Kim’s mother and I were going through the divorce, Kim went to Ambruster for moral support. Since neither of us really knew what to do for her, we were both grateful he was there for her. I think he just might know where she is.”

  “How can I get ahold of him?”

  “Give me a few minutes; I’ll get back to you.”

  “Thanks, later.” I hung up. I knew Jeff was probably still looking for me so I decided to drive around until I heard back from Bill.

  My cell phone went off a few minute
s later. I recognized Ambruster’s voice. “Mr. Tate asked me to call you. How may I help you?”

  I hate dealing with people on the phone. That’s always been one of my pet peeves. I want to see the face, the eyes, the way they either look at you, or don’t. It all tells you something about them. All of this is lost on the phone. I remember from some movie where they were discussing what people said vs. what people’s body language was saying. As I recall, less than twenty percent of what people tell you is contained in the words. The rest is all in body language. “Ambruster, thank you for calling me. I was wondering… ah… if I could see you for a few minutes. I would rather not come back up to the house if you don’t mind. Is there any place you can meet me?”

  The silence stretched so long I was starting to wonder if he was still on the phone. “Why? Why do you want to see me?”

  I figured the best way to play this was to be honest. “One of my quirks is I hate phones. I need to talk to you and I don’t want to do it on the phone. Can we please meet someplace?” I didn’t exactly answer his question.

  “There’s a coffee stand at the corner of 84th and Sand Point Way.”

  “I know where it is,” I said.

  “Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll meet you there.”

  I ordered my drink and when the barista put it on the counter, she told me it would be $3.85. Since I had a lot of change in my pocket, I dug out enough to pay for my latte and put it on the counter. The young lady stood there staring at my pile of coins sitting on the counter. She finally looked up at me and asked as she pointed at the money, “What’s that?”

  “It’s change, for my drink.”

  “I don’t do change,” she said peevishly. “Do you have a credit card?”

  I was stunned by her comment. “I don’t do credit cards,” I retorted. “All I have is change.”

  She snapped at me, “Whatever!” Without even counting the money, she glared at me as she swept it into her till. I briefly considered speaking to the manager about this young lady’s attitude but then realized she just might be the manager. Whatever happened to the service you used to get from a clerk? When did it become acceptable, (that is if you could find a clerk who can make change) to just hand over a stack of bills with your change balanced on top of the stack without even so much as a thank-you. Forget having the change counted back into your hand, that’s way too much to ask. Pop told me one time that the world was going to hell in a handbag. No shit pop! You are correct.