A Flight of Fantasy (Sarah Woods Mystery 12)

by Jennifer L. Jennings

  A Flight of Fantasy

  (Sarah Woods Mystery 12)

  Jennifer L. Jennings

  Copyright© 2014

  All rights reserved.

  Chapter 1

  Saturday, October 17th

  Jackie glared at me from across the kitchen table, almost spilling her glass of wine all over herself. “Are you kidding me?” she said with exasperation. “Did you just tell me that you and Carter slept in the same bed and you didn’t have sex? What’s wrong with you guys?”

  I leaned back in my chair, thinking about the last job, which had my partner Carter and me posing as a married couple. “It’s only been two months since Max and I broke up. Carter knows I’m not ready to get involved romantically.”

  Jackie rolled her eyes. “Boring.”

  I passed her the almost empty bottle of Pinot Noir, pretending I hadn’t heard that last comment. She’s probably the horniest woman I have ever had the pleasure to befriend and she expects everyone to divulge their dirty little secrets. “Go ahead and finish off the wine.”

  “Why? Are you going somewhere?”

  “Carter is coming by in half an hour. We finally have a job prospect and we’re meeting the client at his house at eight.”

  She poured the last few drops into her glass. “You guys haven’t had a job in weeks, huh? Why do you think it’s been so slow?”

  I shrugged. “Who knows, but I’m not complaining. Brian and I finally got a day to spend in Boston. We checked out the Museum of Fine Art, had lunch, and walked the Freedom Trail.”

  “How is he doing with his classes at Northeastern?”

  “Great,” I said. “At least that’s what he tells me. Can’t believe he’s turning twenty in a few months. I feel old.”

  Jackie gave me a stern look. “You might be forty-five but I’d still kill for a body like yours.” She sat up straight, sticking out her chest as if striking a flirty pose. “Speaking of that, I just joined a new gym and I’ve already lost five pounds. Can’t you tell?”

  I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, nor did I want to lay on a line of bullshit, so I decided to play it safe. “You always look great.” At least that much was true. The fact that she’s perpetually plump doesn’t seem to have a negative effect on her self-esteem. I wish I possessed a fraction of her unfaltering self-confidence.

  “Well, I suppose I should get going if you have to work.” She downed the last sip of wine and stood up, stretching her arms above her head. As she did this, her shirt rose up and I noticed something shiny sticking out of her navel.

  “Did you get a belly button ring?” I asked with a chuckle.

  “My last boyfriend dared me to do it.” Her lips turned up into a mischievous grin. “Hey, you should get one, too.”

  When I heard the three short beeps from the street, I knew it was Carter. I jumped up and grabbed my purse, thankful to end the discussion of navel rings. “That’s him.”

  Jackie got the hint and grabbed the keys to her apartment, which was directly over mine. The old Victorian home had been turned into three separate apartments and I occupy the first level. I had moved here fifteen months ago after my divorce to Daniel.

  “Call me later,” Jackie said as I descended the stairs to the street below.

  I spotted Carter’s nondescript, brown Buick. I ran over and got in. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” I said. “Jackie stopped by for a visit. We were just catching up.”

  “Over a bottle of wine?” He asked with a grin.

  I covered my mouth. “You smell it on my breath?”

  “A little,” he said. “So, how is she?”

  I reached into my purse for some mints and popped a few in my mouth. “She got a navel ring if you can believe that. Part of me thinks it’s cool, and part of me thinks it’s sad but, hey, it’s her body.”

  Carter shifted the car into drive and pulled out into the street. It had been over a week since I’d seen him and I realized how much I missed him. In his mid-fifties, Carter was ruggedly handsome with wavy grey hair and dark eyebrows. An ex-cop from Boston, he’d been working as a private eye for over a decade before he’d decided to recruit me. We’ve been working as partners for over a year and a half. In the past few months, our working relationship had developed into something more but neither one of us has discussed the possibility of taking it to the next level.

  “So, who’s the client we’re going to meet?” I asked.

  “His name is Wayne Miller. He was referred to me through a mutual acquaintance. He didn’t give me many details over the phone, but he sounded pretty paranoid. Apparently someone might have stolen some files from his computer.”

  “What kind of files?” I asked.

  “He didn’t want to talk about it over the phone. But he did tell me that he works for a defense contractor called Veerbaum Industries.”

  “What else do we know about him?”

  “Reach in the back seat for the manila envelope. I made a copy of his driver’s license.”

  According to Wayne Miller’s driver’s license he was 46 years old, six feet tall and 255 pounds. He had thinning brown hair that revealed a broad, shiny forehead. Blue-gray eyes were wide and innocent. He looked like your average middle-aged guy. It’s hard to get an accurate sense of a person from a photograph, but the eyes tell you a lot. If I had to guess, this man was a gentle soul which was ironic considering the company he worked for. Veerbaum Industries is a technology and innovation company specializing in defense, security and civil markets throughout the world.

  “Is he married?” I asked.

  “Never been married. No kids, either. No idea if he has a girlfriend or not. He’s lived in the same city his whole life, graduated MIT and has a house in Oxford. I did a basic background check on him and he has no criminal record. He graduated top of his class so he’s a smart son of a gun. No pun intended.”

  “What does he actually do for Veerbaum Industries?” I asked. “An engineer, I suppose.”

  “Not sure, but I have a feeling we’re gonna find out soon.”

  Oxford, Massachusetts is an affluent suburb about twenty minutes north of Boston. Wayne Miller’s house was located in a gated community called Kingston Court. The security guard checked our ID and let us through after he confirmed we were on the list of scheduled visitors.

  All the houses looked the same with stone facades, white trim and neatly manicured hedges. When we arrived at number eighteen, Carter parked the Buick on the paved driveway and checked his watch. “We’re five minutes early.”

  I noticed a man in his late forties coming out the front door and it looked like Wayne Miller. He waved, giving us the okay to come in. As we approached him, Carter held out his hand and made introductions.

  Wayne ushered us into his home and quickly shut the door behind us. He typed a password into the security system mounted on the wall. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” he said. “I’m sorry if I seem a little anxious. Are you sure you weren’t followed?”

  Carter seemed surprised at the question. “Why would anyone be following us?”

  Wayne’s eyes darted about as if unsure how to reply. “Why don’t you both have a seat?” He gestured toward a dimly lit formal sitting room with stiff looking sofa chairs and an antique style coffee table.

  Once Carter and I were seated across from him, I held up my cell phone. “Mind if I record the conversation?”

  Wayne shook his head. “Maybe that’s not the best idea.”

  “Oh,” I said, “No problem. Mind if I take notes, then?”

  He pondered that for a moment and eventually nodded. “Okay - but the less you write the better.
What I’m about to tell you could land me in hot water if my superiors were to find out what happened.”

  Carter leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other in a casual manner. He smiled at Wayne and said, “You can trust us. We’re here to help you. The more information we have, the better we can assist you.”

  Wayne’s shoulders relaxed as he let out a frustrated sigh. He seemed to have trouble looking us in the eyes. I got the sense he was a little socially inept. I’d read somewhere that that is common among genius types; really smart but truly lacking in people skills. This was Wayne.

  “I apologize if I seem rude but I’m really in a bind,” Wayne finally said. “I feel like everything is coming apart at the seams.”

  “Take your time to explain everything,” Carter said. “The more details you give us the better.”

  “Well, two nights ago I attended an exclusive event at the Hilton called “A Flight of Fantasy” where guests get to sample rare vintages of liquor. I’m not much of a drinker but a guy from work, Chris Allen, had an extra ticket and he asked me to go with him. He said it would be a good place to meet women.”

  I wrote down the event and his co-worker’s name. “This was on Thursday the fifteenth?”

  “Yes. I met Chris there at the hotel around eight-fifteen. At first I felt a little out of my element. Alcohol doesn’t agree with me, but Chris insisted that I give it a shot. He said I needed to loosen up and have a little fun for once in my life. He thinks I work too much. Too serious all of the time.” Wayne shook his head in embarrassment. “After sampling some of the liquors, I could tell it was having a bad effect on me. It’s hard to explain. I didn’t exactly feel sick but my brain was all fuzzy. Different than being buzzed or even drunk. I can only remember brief moments after that and what I remember doesn’t make sense.”

  Carter nodded, waiting patiently for him to continue.

  “Apparently I met someone and hit it off with her, because the next thing I know we’re back here and I’m in bed with this beautiful woman. I don’t remember meeting her at the event but, somehow, I must have convinced her to come home with me. I don’t usually have luck with women in general - especially not beautiful women. Anyway, she must have driven us back here to my house in her car. When I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, she was gone.”

  Wayne remained silent for a bit, picking at his fingernail like he was too ashamed to go on with his story.

  “Did she take something of yours?” Carter asked.

  “When I booted up my computer later that morning to do some work, I noticed something wasn’t right. My desk was all rearranged. Well, the printer looked like it had been moved. At any rate, someone had tried logging into my computer but was unable to access my files. I’m still concerned however.”

  “You think it was this woman who came home with you?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What do you think she was looking for?”

  “I don’t know but, I have important work files on there. Designs I’d been working on for almost a year. If my superior finds out those designs were compromised, I’ll probably get fired as a result. I need to find this woman and find out what her intentions were.”

  Carter scratched his head and thought it over. “Do you at least have a first name?”

  “She told me her name was Rita. That’s all I remember.”

  “Have you contacted your friend who took you to the event? Chris Allen?”

  Wayne nodded. “I called Chris. All he could remember about Rita was that she had showed up at the event and immediately started flirting with me. He said he didn’t think much of it at the time, figured I knew her from somewhere. He admitted to me that he was happy about the fact that I might get laid that night. He knows about my bad luck when it comes to the opposite sex.”

  “Did you ask the security guard at the gate?” Carter asked. “Don’t they have to log in all visitors when they come through?”

  “I already spoke to him. Since I was in the car with the woman, he didn’t ask for her identification. He just let us right through. But he remembered her car was a sporty red Mazda, two door. He didn’t get a license plate number.”

  “Who else besides Chris Allen knew you’d be at that event Thursday night?” I asked.

  He gave it some thought and eventually shook his head. “I didn’t tell anybody. Chris had only asked me to go with him that morning.”

  “Maybe she wasn’t after your designs,” Carter said. “Maybe she was just looking for bank account numbers. Identity theft is rampant. Have you called all your credit card companies to report a breach? Have there been any fraudulent activities?”

  “No, nothing like that. I’m in the process of getting new account numbers and passwords.” Wayne rubbed his temples. “Damn it. I feel like such a buffoon. Why did I ever invite a strange woman into my house? I should have realized a looker like her would never actually want to be with me without some kind of ulterior motive.”

  My heart went out to Wayne. He had an awkward way about him and I could see why most women would be put off. “Could you describe Rita to us?” I asked. “Just do the best you can.”

  He reached into a bag and pulled out a laptop. He punched some keys on the keyboard and turned the device so we could see the screen. “My security camera got this as we were coming into the house after we left the event. As you can she keeps her head down, as if she knew exactly where the hidden camera was located.”

  Carter and I watched the short snippet that showed Wayne and the dark haired woman entering the house. He was right, she kept her head down the whole time, never revealing her face.

  “I’m five-six and a hundred and twenty-five pounds,” I said. “Would you say she’s taller or shorter than me?”

  Wayne narrowed his eyes, as if scrutinizing me. “Maybe she’s a little taller then you. But then again, I’m pretty sure she was wearing pumps. She was trim like you, though.”

  “Okay, good,” I said. “How about eye color?”

  “Mmm. Don’t remember her eye color. Sorry.”

  “About how old?” I asked. “Thirties? Forties?”

  “Thirties, if I had to guess.”

  “Did she talk about herself?” Carter asked. “Where she works, where she lives? Any detail would be helpful.”

  Wayne squeezed his eyes shut as if that would help him recollect. Finally, he opened his eyes and shook his head. “I was so messed up, I really don’t remember anything she said about herself. “ Wayne perked up like he’d just remembered something. “Wait, she was wearing a pendant, one of those Celtic symbols. Maybe she’s Irish but, then again, maybe I just imagined seeing that.”

  “A Claddagh?” Carter asked.

  “Yes, that’s it. It was gold, I think.”

  Carter nodded. “Just a thought, you might be better served to call the police and report a theft. Even though, technically, she didn’t steal anything, they could dust for fingerprints and find out who she is if she’s in the system.”

  “I don’t want to get the police involved,” Wayne said with a desperate look in his eyes. “I want to hire you guys to find this woman. Will you do it?”

  Carter glanced toward me, as if asking for my permission. “What do you think, Sarah?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I don’t see why not. We could contact the people who ran the event and talk to some of the attendees. It’s likely someone else noticed her that night.”

  Wayne let out a sigh of relief. “Anything you guys can do will help.”

  “We can start on this right away,” Carter said. “So we’ll need a deposit check from you.”

  Wayne promptly wrote a check for three thousand dollars without hesitation.

  Chapter 2

  It was after ten o’clock by the time we left Wayne Miller’s house. We stopped at the security gate to ask the guard what he remembered about last Thursday night, specifically the woman who drove Wayne home.

  The guard’s name badge
said Henry Fontaine and, by the looks of him, he had to be pushing seventy years old. He seemed eager to help however by answering our questions.

  “I already told Mr. Miller that she was driving a red sporty car,” he told us. “One of those small, two-seater type of vehicles.”

  “But you didn’t insist on checking her license?” Carter asked.

  “Well, no I didn’t. Mr. Miller was sitting right next to her in the passenger seat. He, um, had his hand on her thigh so I figured they were just coming back from a date. I didn’t want to insult the woman by asking for her I.D.”

  “We understand,” Carter said, pointing to a video camera mounted on the post. “Any chance we can see the footage from Thursday night?”

  “I don’t have access to the digital files but I can give you a number to call.”

  “That’d be great.” Carter accepted the phone number that Henry had graciously written on the back of the security company’s business card. “We appreciate your help.”

  “Anything for Mr. Miller,” Henry replied with the tip of his cap.

  When we returned to the Buick, Carter made the call and set up an appointment for the following morning.

  It’s getting late,” Carter said. “Let’s head back to Bridgeport.”

  On the forty-minute ride home north via the 95 turnpike, I did a search on my tablet for the Flight of Fantasy event at the Hilton. According to the website, the event was hosted by a non-profit organization called Helping Hands which raises money for the homeless. Tickets were $75.00 per person which included the tequila sampling and gourmet appetizers. “I thought the ‘flight’ had to do with aviation,” I said, “but in this context it means tequila flight as in a sampling. I guess I’d never heard it used that way.”

  “What time did the event start and end?” he asked.

  “From 8:00 until 11:00pm. And there are about a dozen photographs that someone put up from that night. The event coordinator must have hired a professional photographer as a Jonas Eckert is credited for the photos.” I scanned through them but couldn’t find one with Wayne Miller. “Looks like it was quite a turnout. Must have been hundreds of people at least.”