by Kit Crumb
M sharpened her tone. “When?
“The day you were attacked,” Mark said. “I had written you a note, but when you gave me the day off, I spaced it.”
She swallowed her anger. He didn’t know the homeless man was her attacker.
“That’s alright, Mark. I’m going to be out the rest of the day, I’ll let you lock up.”
He started to bow then straightened up. “Would you like me to open tomorrow morning?”
She wasn’t sure what the night would bring but it would probably be a late one. The note on the wall had said “tonight” but hadn’t designated a time.
“Good idea. Thank you, domo arigato.”
She stopped again before she left, making sure to compliment and thank everyone for their efforts. She paused before entering the alley. There was no place for anyone to hide except beside or inside the dumpster. She walked around the dumpster then opened the lid. The inside was clean and all the garbage was bagged. There was nothing to eat and surely nothing of value. Although it was her dumpster, the bookstore across the alley used it on occasion, but rarely dumped anything but paper products.
She took a minute to put the top back up on the Fiat, unbraiding her hair and putting it in a pony-tail. She not only made the light at Spyglass Hill, but managed to pass an RV before the two lanes of Main Street narrowed into one. She pulled into the gravel lot behind the hotel, surprised not to see the Sheriff’s cruiser. Tourists were out in force and the lobby seemed busier than usual. Seller was at the end of the front desk talking to a couple while waving at a bellboy to help with their bags. The elevator was filling, so she decided to take the stairs, sure that Ramos and Buck would be checking out the message.
The stairs opened up at the opposite end of the hall from the Green’s room but as she approached the former crime scene the door on the opposite side of the hall opened. Ramos waved her in pressing the index finger of the other hand to his lips. He opened the door just wide enough to allow M to enter then silently pressed it shut.
The kitchen table was in the living room by the window.
Buck looked up with a smile. “How’d lunch go?”
“Not so good.”
Ramos and Buck exchanged looks.
“Is everything alright?” Ramos said.
“It’s a long story,” M said. “Tell you later.”
She ran her thumb along the edge of the paper they had weighted down on the table. Yellowed with age it cracked with her touch. “Where did you guys find this?”
Ramos looked slightly offended.
“Hey, it was the only set of plans we could get our hands on.”
She held up both hands. “Sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. According to Seller, when this place was refurbished in the 70s it created all sorts of tiny rooms and connecting halls.”
Buck held up a radio.
“We have this place staked out from every side. Our man won’t be able to get in without being seen, if, that is,” Buck looked down at the plans, “he isn’t already here.”
Ramos placed an index finger on the word basement.
“Seller said that there are a couple boilers and a small room where a custodian used to stay. He had to padlock the doors to keep the staff out.” He looked up at M. “We’ve been trying to locate some of these halls and rooms. My impression is that they exist but are sealed.”
She backed away from the table and looked around the ceiling then the floor.
“I don’t see any vents coming out of the ceiling,” she pointed to a vent opening from the floor. “What about those heating vents?”
“Already checked them,” Buck said. “They used to connect to the boilers. Now they dead end after a couple feet.”
Ramos walked over to the window and taped it with a knuckle. “They’re all double paned. We had the maids make their rounds, lock all the windows down with these.” He held up a devise that fastened the window to its sill and locked down with a single screw.
He walked back to the table. Looking down at the plans he traced the parallel lines that represented the hall. “We’ve informed every occupant with a note that there will be police activity in the hotel tonight. This gives them the option of staying or leaving.”
He thumped the plans with an index finger. “But we’ve evacuated the hall.”
Buck’s radio squawked and he moved to a corner of the room in an effort to restrict the sound from the hall. “Relief is on the way dressed as the chef from the kitchen.”
M looked From Ramos to Buck. “We’re leaving?”
Ramos rolled up the plans.
“Unless you can think of something else we should do first.”
Buck grabbed the edge of the table and the two men waddled into the kitchen, placing it back in the middle. M followed.
“It’s apt to be a long night, I thought we could get something to eat,” Ramos said.
“How do we get out of here?” M said.
“You and Buck leave together. I’ll follow in about ten.”
Buck approached the door, M right behind.
“Where’d you park?”
She turned to Ramos. “The back lot.”
“If you don’t mind we’ll take your car, less police traffic.”
She smiled, the only vehicle Ramos had seen her drive was her vintage VW Bus. “Should be fun.”
“I’ll meet you in Buccaneer Park,” Ramos said.
When they got to the parking lot, Buck spotted the sports car and rolled his eyes.
“Why didn’t you tell him you were driving the Fiat?”
She shrugged a shoulder with a smile, and got in.
She guided the Fiat into the park, ignoring the orange receptacle for the three-dollar-per-day fee, and parked in the lot for the self-guided tour.
“I thought as long as we have a few minutes to kill,” M said, “we could check out the new display.” They walked past the printed explanation for the pickle weed and the various flora and fauna, then followed the paved trail up to a low hill, whose top had been flattened out to accommodate a cannon and a giant brass cauldron.
She began with the sing-song tone of a tour guide. “The cauldron was found on the beach in the fifties, it was used to melt blubber. The whalers would harpoon a whale during migration and tow the carcass to the edge of the bay where they’d be met by several rowboats. They’d pull the whale right onto the beach for slaughter.”
Buck put his hands on his hips, and turned from the waist looking from the display to M.
“Where did you learn all that?”
“I was raised aboard a ship.”
Bucked stepped over to the cannon. “Yeah, but whaling stopped in the sixties and your father was a trader not a whaler.”
She straddled the cannon like a horse.
“I spent hours below decks listening to tales of the sea, past and present.”
“So, what can you tell me about this cannon?”
Dismounting as though off a saddle, she said, “Not a thing. I read in the paper that it was found half buried on the beach after one of the big storms last year.”
When they got back to the parking lot, Ramos was there still looking around for the VW Bus. Buck nodded towards the tiny Fiat. “You’re in the back, boss. Let’s get going. I’m starving.”
Ramos didn’t say a word and with a wry smile, managed to wedge himself into the nearly non-existent back seat. Buck climbed in the front bucket seat. M leapt over the door and brought the sports car to life.
“If they’re no objections I’m going to stop at the bank on the way,” M said.
Ramos laughed. “Don’t give it a second thought. This one’s on the county.”
“You’re on,” she said. “But I really do have to stop at the bank; something personal I’ve got to take care of.” She pulled into Bay County Bank and Trust, vaulted out of the car and jogged around the corner to the ATM. She inserted her card, answered the questions about receipts and which account to withdraw from, tapped in he
r PIN number and waited.
The flashing message read, “Please choose a smaller amount.” When it rejected her request for twenty dollars she pressed cancel to get her card and the receipt. Her account had a zero balance.
When she walked back around the building, Buck sensed that something was wrong. But when she opened the door to get in, instead of vaulting in, he knew something serious was going on, “Problem?”
She placed her hand on the key then leaned back and placed both hands on the wheel. “Yeah, I think someone’s gotten into my account, but it doesn’t make sense.”
Buck looked over at Ramos then at M.
“How so?”
“Today at lunch my credit card was declined. I called and found out that the account had been paid off then closed. Now my bank account has a zero balance.”
Why would someone pay off one account and drain another?
She reached a hand to the key and started the car. “Where to?”
“Pirate’s Cove,” Ramos said.
“Sounds like misplaced funds to me,” Buck said. “Didn’t you just order some new weight machines?”
M braked and shifted, slowing to fifteen miles an hour as a car with California plates straddled two lanes, finally turning.
“I’ve been managing my own money for years, and those weight machines are leased. I sent them a small retainer and when they arrive they’ll want another ten percent of the total, otherwise I won’t get my first bill for ninety days.”
“I’m truly sorry M, but we have bigger fish to fry,” Ramos said.
She pulled into the parking lot and parked as close to the entrance as she could get, and vaulted out of the car.
“Mmm, fried fish. Let’s eat!”
Pirate’s Cove was the largest employer in Dungeness Bay, except for the hotel. Many high school students didn’t graduate without wearing the traditional pirate garb: red and white striped shirt, black knickers and an eye patch. The tables were all hatch covers and the walls were decorated in various styles of Jolly Roger flags, cutlasses and classic pictures of famous actors portraying infamous pirates.
A rather skinny looking buccaneer, with a voice that cracked twice, took their order. Buck watched to see that he was on the other side of the room before he turned to Ramos. One eye squinted shut and said, “Arggggh, matey.” Then, holding up a hand with his index finger crooked like a hook, said, “Great choice, you must really like the food here.”
Ramos smiled. “I do, as a matter of fact. I like the ambiance, too. What do you think, M?”
“Arggggh.”
The conversation stayed light throughout the meal. Buck and Ramos ordered fish and chips with a side of cannon balls, M the shrimp salad.
When the coffee was delivered in large beer steins, Ramos got down to business.
“It’s a simple plan, really. M, you’re in the room across the hall from the Greens, where I’ll be. Buck is in the adjoining room. The next room and the rest of the rooms in the hall are empty. The hotel has been staked out all day; if we don’t see him going in, we’ll catch him leaving. If he’s already in the hotel, he’ll have to make his way to my room and either you or Buck will see him.”
“Communication?” M asked.
“We all have radios. They’ll be on at all times. I have a team leader that will depress the talk button three times to indicate that all officers are in position.”
She sipped her coffee.
“Who would that be?”
“Jake Blevins. If our man is sited entering the hotel, officers are instructed to depress the talk button once. If either of you see him press twice, this will signal everyone to close in.”
M drained her stein and slammed it down.
“When’s the witching hour, and how do I keep watch?”
“The sun sets around 6:30 and the peephole in the door provides a fisheye view of the hall. Anything else?”
“All for now.”
When a beefy pirate cleared the table and left a ticket, Buck smiled.
“Shift must have changed.”
Ramos snatched up the bill. “Like I said, this one’s on the county.”
M looked out the window at the shadows crossing the parking lot. “You think we have enough time to stop by the studio? I need to make sure everything is ready for the delivery of the new machines tomorrow. It’s on the way and everything is in place but us.”
Ramos looked at his watch. “I don’t see why not.”
Five minutes later they were driving up the alley next to the studio.
“Right back.”
Ramos watched Buck watch M. “Think she’ll be alright?”
“Oh yeah, I mean, uh, sure,” Buck stuttered. “I mean, why wouldn’t she be?”
Ramos caught his eyes and laughed.
M could see through the windows that enough of the floor was clear to accommodate the new machines, so she didn’t go in. Instead, she turned and jogged down the sidewalk into the alley and climbed into the Fiat.
“Good to go. Next stop, the hotel?”
“Right.” Ramos gave M a grim smile. “Park two blocks south. I’ll walk through the lobby. You two go in the west side entrance fifteen minutes later.”
As his boss climbed awkwardly out of the Fiat, and started up the sidewalk toward the hotel, Buck checked his watch. It was five minutes before he disappeared from sight into the hotel parking lot.
“Are you sure you’re up to this? You’ve got about ten minutes to change your mind.”
She climbed out of the Fiat and sat on the hood. “Lets get the bastard.”
Ramos walked up the hall, paused in front of the Greens’ room, then entered. He stood for a minute looking at the crude message on the wall, then placed his Glock on the coffee table and took the military issue .45 from its ankle holster placing it in the side holster. He kept the radio on his belt. He pulled a chair around so he faced the short hall that connected the front door to the living room, the low table directly in front of him. He sat down, looked around, then got up and turned out all the lights except the one in the hall.
M and Buck busied themselves putting the top up on the Fiat. Looking at his watch, Buck said, “We’re on.”
Without a word she took his hand and they proceeded up the sidewalk the two blocks to the hotel, each keeping an eye out for anyone or anything out of place.
They took the elevator off the lobby to the first floor and stepped into the hall, waiting until the doors had pinged shut before doing a radio check. Buck leaned over and kissed M. “Be careful.”
M kissed him back and walked down the hall and into the room across from the Greens.
Once inside, she took a kitchen chair and placed it against the front door so that she could sit on the backrest with her feet on the seat. All she had to do was lean slightly forward to be able to look through the peephole.
Buck used the pass key Seller gave him to enter each room on both sides of the hall, making sure they were vacant. He then entered the room just before the Greens’, and took a first look through the peephole.
CHAPTER THIRTY
JAKE JOHNSTON SLOGGED Through the two inches of water lining the bottom of the cave. The tide was coming in. He had spent the day setting up surveillance in rotating shifts for the hotel per Ramos’s instructions, sweeping Buccaneer Park and the grounds around the hotel. He needed to negotiate the bluff face before dusk and the rising tide made it nearly impossible.
It was still light out, but when he reached the back of the cave, the only light was the one he carried. Everything was shiny but nothing reflected, and everything he touched was slimy. He panned the light from left to right, where the ceiling touched the floor, then up the back wall in a broad sweeping motion. Up high where the ceiling began its descent a shadow moved.
Jake adjusted the lens of his Mag light to a larger diameter. Only the fringe yellow of the circle of light touched the shadow, revealing flat black and a glint of metal. He brought the light to rest on a notch, or was i
t an odd shaped rock? He pushed through four inches of water toward the back of the cave and the strange rock. When he reached the back wall, the rock was higher then he thought. The metallic glint was directly overhead. When he readjusted his light to a tight focused circle, it became apparent that he was looking up at the end of metal box. He hitched up the suspenders on his waders and took a cautious step onto a conspicuously square, flat rock poking out of the sand floor. He directed the light on the box then panned the area around his feet, another rock revealed. He reached for a handhold on the wall, but it was too slippery, so he braced against it and took another step. This time he had to raise his foot waist high, pushing off with the other. He leaned his shoulder against the back wall to aim the light. The box was almost in reach.
There were no more footholds. If he could just stand on tip-toe he might reach the box with his fingers. Suddenly, his foot slipped and he was stroking the wall in search of a handhold until gravity pulled him away. Jake hugged himself and tucked his chin. His fall was cushioned by eight inches of water thanks to a rising tide.
The shadow retreated to its rock shelf, the metallic glint shrinking to blackness. He thrashed into a near sitting position, not before his waders took on water.
“Oh, shit.”
He shined his light on the back wall in an attempt to locate the box. Instead, he slipped again and ended up shining the light on the ceiling where it revealed two wires. He ignored the water lapping at his neck and filling his waders, as he tried to make sense of what he was looking at.
The shadow had crept out to the edge of the light, the metallic glint unsheathed. Jake held the light steady for fear of losing the wires then slowly followed them into a tunnel.
“What the hell?”
A small wave jarred his arm and doused his head reminding him that he needed to sit up.
“Jake, stop playing around in there.” It was Lemon, balancing on a rock at the mouth of the cave in an attempt to stay above the rising tide. Moments later he was laughing at the site of Jake, swimming through the air with his arms, pushing aside the in-coming tide of waist deep water.
“Lemon, you son-of-a-bitch, get down here and give me a hand.”
