Ron Base - Tree Callister 02 - The Sanibel Sunset Detective Returns

by Ron Base

  When the downloading was complete, Tree clicked on the file and opened the photographs as a slide show. There were photos of Kendra and other beautiful young women, mugging for the camera, showing lots of leg and cleavage, against a party backdrop.

  Then a sweaty, red-faced Aksel Baldur appeared, posed with his arm around Kendra and Elizabeth Traven. Elizabeth stared fixedly at the camera. Kendra snuggled close to Axel, flashing one of her thousand watt smiles. Next, Baldur was kissing Kendra. Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen. That was followed by Kendra nude, lying on her stomach. Aksel, also nude, was on top of her, teeth gritted as he twisted a belt around her neck.

  The ringing telephone startled him. Tree looked at the digital display: The Lee County Jail. Tree picked up the receiver and a voice said, “Mr. Callister, this is Elizabeth Traven calling.”

  Tree sat back in his chair, not taking his eyes off the photo on the screen. “Yes, Mrs. Traven.”

  “How are you? Obviously, I’ve heard about your daughter-in-law’s death.”

  Yes,” Tree said.

  “You are aware, of course, that these telephone conversations are recorded.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “But you are all right?”

  “Yes,” Tree said.

  “And you are continuing with your investigation?”

  “I’m on top of it.”

  Elizabeth paused before she said, “It’s just that my attorney has voiced disappointment about the level of cooperation he has so far received from you.”

  Tree continued to study Kendra and Aksel—and the belt twisted around her neck.

  “I’m on it.”

  “Do me a favor, will you? Call Emmett Hawkins and bring him up to date.”

  “Did you know her?”

  “Know who?”

  “My daughter-in-law, Kendra.”

  Elizabeth hesitated a couple of beats too long before she said, “How would I know her?”

  “I thought perhaps you had met, maybe at a party in Sarasota.”

  More silence before she replied, “No.”

  The line went dead. Tree restarted the Kendra slideshow. Kendra once again flared on the computer screen, beautiful, apparently delighted to have Aksel Baldur choking her.

  35

  Is that the guy?” Ferne Clowers said.

  Not far away, Sasha parked a Lincoln Towncar, got out and walked across the deserted mall to the double glass doors leading to his office.

  “That’s him,” Tree said as Sasha went inside.

  He was seated in the rear of a green van with Ferne in the passenger seat while Slippery Street was all but lost behind the steering wheel. He did not look happy.

  Ferne had picked Tree up at his office twenty minutes after he called her. Slippery was a surprise. “Depending on what happens, we may need a good driver,” said Ferne.

  Slippery had just scowled. Ferne told him to get moving. Slippery had mumbled something dark Tree couldn’t make out before starting the engine. He mumbled something darker when Tree told Slippery to drive to Sarasota.

  Three hours later, parked in the mall, waiting on Sasha, Slippery remained the picture of misery. “How long we gonna sit here?”

  “As long as it takes, Slippery,” answered Ferne patiently.

  Slippery squirmed in his seat. “I don’t like sitting around. I’m the sort of guy who’s gotta move, get something happening.”

  “What do you suggest we do?” Tree asked.

  “I say we go in there and open up a can of whoop-ass on that dude, get what we want out of him, and move on.”

  “I would like to do this in a way that doesn’t land us in prison,” Tree said.

  “Hey, prison’s not so bad,” Slippery said. “Providing you’re not a pussy.”

  “Mark me down as a pussy,” Tree said.

  “No surprise there,” Slippery muttered.

  “Slippery,” Ferne said in a warning voice, “cut it out.”

  Slippery muttered some more.

  “Slippery’s got a point, Tree,” Ferne said. “The problem with sitting around waiting for something to happen, that’s when nothing happens. You got to make things happen.”

  Tree’s cell phone rang. “Edith Goldman” appeared on the read-out. “What is it, Edith?” Tree said into the phone.

  “Where are you?” Short and snappy.

  “What difference does it make?”

  “Detective Markfield is looking for you.”

  “Do you know what he wants?”

  “I’m not certain, but given recent events, he may want to arrest you for murder.”

  Tree didn’t say anything.

  “Are you there?” said Edith Goldman.

  “I’m here.”

  “You’ve got twenty-four hours to appear at police headquarters.”

  “Or?”

  “I presume they would issue an arrest warrant for you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Tree, this is very serious.”

  “I know it is, Edith.”

  Through the windshield Tree could see Sasha in a black suit emerge from the building and stop to light a cigarette.

  “Edith, I’ve got to go.”

  “Tree—”

  He closed his cell phone.

  “To hell with this,” Slippery said. Before Ferne could stop him, he leapt out of the van and charged toward Sasha.

  “What’s he doing?”

  “With Slippery you never know,” Ferne said.

  Tree watched with growing consternation as Slippery reached Sasha, grabbed his shoulder, and spun him around. Sasha reacted by promptly kicking Slippery between the legs. Slippery cried out as he hit the ground.

  Sasha was fumbling under his jacket for what Tree imagined was a gun, when Slippery pulled up his pant leg to reveal a black leather ankle holster. The next thing he had a straight razor in his hand, slashing at Sasha’s calf. Sasha screamed and fell away as Ferne jumped from the van, baseball bat in hand.

  Sasha was on his knees holding his bleeding leg still trying to get to his gun when Ferne swung the bat across his skull with an ugly crack. The gun clattered to the pavement.

  She was about to hit him again when Tree lurched out of the van hollering, “Ferne, don’t!”

  Ferne hesitated, the bat upraised.

  “That’s enough,” Tree called out.

  Slippery was on his feet, holding the razor, his face twisted, yelling, “I’m gonna slice him in two, I’m gonna slice the bastard in two!”

  He waved the razor around but otherwise did not move to carry out his threat. Ferne, meanwhile, dropped the bat, lifted Sasha up, and hauled him over to the van. She opened the back doors and flung him inside.

  “Tree,” she called, “grab my bat will you? And pick up Sasha’s gun. Slippery, come on, let’s go. I need you behind the wheel.”

  “He kicked my package,” Slippery cried. “You see that? He kicked my package. I’m gonna slice him in half for that.”

  “Slice him later. Right now, we’ve got to get out of here.” Ferne slammed the van doors closed.

  Tree grabbed the bat and retrieved the gun, a Glock pistol. Slippery replaced the razor in its ankle sheath. He suddenly lunged forward so that his unshaven face hovered beneath Tree’s chin. “You think I don’t know what you’re up to?”

  “What am I up to, Slippery?”

  “You think I don’t see how you’re leading her on? You’re a married man. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

  Tree shook his head. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “I’m the one who would go to the wall for that woman,” Slippery said. “I’m the one who can make her happy. Not you, pal. Not by a mile.”

  “Slippery, I think you’ve got the wrong idea.”

  “Want to know what the worst day of my life was? The worst day was when that gun didn’t go off and blow a hole right through your stinking guts.”

  Slippery hobbled away to the van leaving Tree bewildered. He held the baseball ba
t in one hand, Sasha’s Glock in the other, a real tough guy, the rival to Bailey Street, wannabe killer and lovesick romantic.

  “Tree,” Ferne yelled. “Let’s go!”

  Slippery had the van started by the time Tree got inside. Ferne was on her knees at the back raising Sasha into a sitting position. He was groggy and pale. A thin red line trickled out of his ear and down his chin. Blood seeped from his slashed calf. He did not look in great shape.

  “He’s all right,” Ferne said. She braced Sasha against the van’s wall. “Aren’t you Sasha?”

  Sasha’s eyes flickered, and he let out a groan.

  “There you go,” Ferne said. “Sasha’s right as rain and anxious to help out. What do you want to know, Tree?”

  “Where I can find Aksel Baldur.”

  “You hear that, Sasha? My friend wants to know Aksel’s location.”

  Sasha looked at her with uncomprehending eyes. Ferne shook him. “Sasha? Are you listening to me? We’re going to drop you off at the hospital just as soon as you tell us what we want to know.”

  Tree thought he heard Sasha say something like, “Supposed to take the car …”

  “What was that, Sasha?” Ferne said.

  Sasha said in a louder voice, “Supposed to take the car over to the house.”

  “Aksel’s at the house?”

  Sasha moved his head up and down.

  36

  Tree found a set of keys in Sasha’s pocket and used them to get into his second floor office. He found another black suit that more or less fit, along with a tie and a peaked cap. He got into the suit and then went back downstairs and outside to where Ferne leaned against the van. Slippery remained unhappily at his post behind the wheel.

  “Sasha’s looking a little worse for wear,” Ferne said. “I think we’d better drop him off at the hospital.”

  “What are you going to tell them?”

  “Not going to tell them anything. We just leave him outside Emergency. They’ll find him soon enough and take care of him. The thing is, Tree, are you going to be all right on your own?”

  “As long as you’re coming back,” Tree said.

  “Exactly what is it you’re trying to accomplish here, Tree?” Ferne spoke as if she was conducting a job interview.

  “I don’t know. But I think Baldur may have killed my daughter-in-law. Somehow, I’ve got to get closer to him, find out more. Maybe I’m going about it the wrong way. Maybe I should go to the police.”

  “Where I come from,” Ferne said, “it’s never a very good idea to get the police involved. Better to settle these things on your own terms. As soon as I drop off our pal Sasha, I’ll be back, and then we’ll see what we can shake out of Mr. Baldur. In the meantime, keep your cell phone handy. I’ll do the same.”

  “Thanks, Ferne,” Tree said. “I really appreciate this. Incidentally, I finally figured out why Slippery doesn’t like me.”

  “Detective Tree at work,” Ferne said with a grin.

  “He needs reassurance that there is nothing going on between us.”

  “But there is something between us.”

  “Ferne.”

  She shrugged. “Slippery’s in love with me. The trouble is, I’m not in love with him. Funny world, huh? I love you, you don’t love me. Slippery loves me, but I don’t love him. You two don’t like each other. Nonetheless, here we are all thrown together in a green van with a gun and a baseball bat and a guy bleeding.”

  “I just don’t want trouble with Slippery.”

  “He thinks you’re a wuss.”

  “I am a wuss,” Tree said.

  Ferne laughed and handed Tree Sasha’s Glock.

  “What’s this?”

  “Evidence you’re not a wuss anymore,” Ferne said.

  ________

  The vanity license plate on Sasha’s Lincoln read “FLAWILD.” That was Tree all right. FLAWILD. He got into the car. The interior smelled new. He opened the glove compartment and found a pair of dark glasses and put them on.

  He studied himself in the rearview mirror, feeling more confident viewing the world through tinted lenses. Even so, moments later his heart was in his mouth as he turned the Lincoln through the iron gates into Aksel Baldur’s estate. Sasha’s Glock was a discomfiting presence against his waist. His cell phone jumped on the passenger seat beside him.

  Ferne said, “We just deposited the package at the hospital.” Meaning, the unwell Sasha. “Where are you?”

  “Just coming in the gates,” Tree said.

  “Okay. We’re on our way over there.”

  Tree thought he could hear Slippery’s complaining voice in the background.

  “Everything all right?”

  “Everything is hunky-dory. Just be careful.”

  Tree swung the car along the drive up to the main entrance. He came to a stop, took a deep breath, and told himself to relax. He was about to get out of the car when a figure came out of the house. Tree fumbled with the electric window switch on the driver side door. The back window uttered an electronic gasp and started down. He tried again and this time the front window rolled down as a hard face dropped into view.

  Tony Dodge said, “Where’s Sasha?”

  “He’s sick. Started to throw up. I just dropped him off at the hospital. He sent me to pick up Mr. Baldur.”

  Dodge wore a soft gray Armani suit that almost made you forget he had just been released from prison.

  Almost.

  He gave Tree another of the scowls that had probably scared everyone on his cellblock.

  “Park around the back and then come inside.”

  Tree nodded and started forward along the drive. A delivery van was parked at the back but otherwise the lot was empty today.

  The enormous house loomed silently above him as he exited the car and debated what to do about the Glock. He decided to hide it under the front seat. Once this was done, he locked the car, made sure his cell phone was in his side pocket, and adjusted his sunglasses before heading to the rear entrance.

  He knocked a couple of times. When no one answered, he opened the door and stepped into a gleaming kitchen, camera-ready for the Food Network.

  A tiny maid in a crisp blue uniform appeared. “Where’s Sasha?” she asked.

  “Sick,” Tree said.

  “Sick with what?” The maid opened the door of a stainless steel refrigerator you could park a car in.

  “I don’t know,” Tree said. “He was throwing up. I took him to the hospital.”

  “That guy,” the maid said. “That guy don’t take care of himself. He smoke. It’s gonna kill him.”

  “Bad habit,” Tree said.

  The maid withdrew a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice and took it over to a marble counter. She set it down and then retrieved a glass from the cupboard above the counter.

  “You hungry?” She poured orange juice into the glass. “You want something to eat?”

  “No, I’m fine thanks.”

  She shrugged. “Up to you.”

  Aksel Baldur strolled in, holding an iPhone against his ear. He wore a loose white linen shirt open at the neck to show off the medallion dangling from a gold necklace.

  “Circus of Life.” He chuckled into the iPhone. “Nice ring to it, don’t you think? Fashion, baby. It’s all played out against the circus of life.”

  Baldur stopped when he saw Tree but continued to speak into the phone. “Of course they’re gonna be there. How can life be a circus if you don’t have chickies under the big top? Yeah, right. That’s all you come for. All the cute little babies with their flat tummies and their perky titties. You don’t even look at the clothes. Sure, sure. See you tonight, amigo.”

  Baldur closed the iPhone. The maid handed him the glass of orange juice. He said, “Thanks, Rosa.” To Tree: “Who are you?”

  The maid said, “Sasha’s sick. He sent this guy instead.”

  “I don’t like this,” Baldur said. He placed the orange juice on the counter.

  Rosa fro
wned. “You no want the orange juice?”

  Baldur’s tadpole eyes focused on Tree. “Sasha doesn’t show up so he just sends whoever happens to be standing around?”

  “Sasha’s gone to the hospital,” Rosa said. “And you never drink the orange juice I squeeze for you.”

  “The hospital?” Baldur looked at Tree. “What’s wrong with him?”

  Tree shrugged. “He was throwing up. I took him over to Emergency. I wanted to stay with him, but he said he’d be okay, to get over here.”

  Tony Dodge entered the kitchen. Baldur turned to him. “You hear this about Sasha?”

  “Just now,” Dodge said. “I tried to get him on his cell, but there’s no answer.”

  “You know this guy?” said Baldur.

  Tony Dodge looked Tree up and down and shrugged. “I never know who Sasha’s got on the go.”

  Baldur looked at Tree again. “What’s your name?”

  “Eddie,” Tree said. Did he look like an Eddie?

  “Okay, Eddie,” Baldur said, “I’ve got a couple more calls to make. You bring the car around to the front. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Yes, sir,” Tree said.

  Feeling as though he had passed some sort of test, Tree went out to the parking lot and got into the car. Baldur was waiting at the front by the time he drove around. Tree hopped out and opened the rear door for him. Baldur was already poking out another number on his phone as he slipped inside.

  By the time Tree got behind the wheel, Baldur was saying into the iPhone, “Tell him that if he doesn’t do something about the price, I’ll move my business to Vietnam. Tell him I can do much better there, and they don’t screw around. All of which is true, incidentally.”

  He paused to listen before going on: “No, but I’m getting real tired of these creeps jerking me around. I’ve got better things to do than sit in Shanghai waiting on a bunch of morons. Okay, get back to me as soon as you know.”

  “Hey.” In the rear view mirror Tree could see Baldur’s florid face darken. “So what are we doing sitting here?”

  “I need to know where we’re going, Mr. Baldur.”

  “We’re going over to the Ringling Museum,” Baldur said. “Where do you think we’re going?”

  37