by Al Boudreau
“Not all of it. The tracking device, yes. But not the veterinarian part. Sarah, I’m not trying to make up excuses, here. I started to tell you right before we hung up from our last call. The omission wasn’t intentional. It was a tough detail to talk about.”
“Boy, I’ll say. That’s abuse, plain and simple. Logic tells me to put my foot down and put an end to this.” Sarah paused for a beat. “I told Richard I’m okay with you staying on the case. But I am really upset. Next time, I need to have all the details up front. Please. The lunatics who harmed that girl need to be locked up in prison. Those men are animals.”
“I’ll do all I can to make that happen,” I replied. “Sarah, I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you everything. It won’t ever happen again.”
“I forgive you, so let’s move on. One other thing. I need to know you’re okay. Richard said he’s never seen you so upset.”
“Yeah. I’ve cooled down a touch. I’m good.”
“Okay. So, Andrew is due to arrive in Honolulu at 6:15 tomorrow morning. I told him you’d be there to pick him up.”
“Will do.”
“All right. Please be careful. And check in with me at least once a day. Promise?”
“Yep. I promise.” I handed the phone back to Richard and said, “It’s your job to keep an eye on Odell until I get back. I need some time away from both of you. Keep him here and keep him out of sight until I get this mess worked out in my head. He’s clearly unstable, and now we know he’s unpredictable, too. Be back in an hour.”
I sensed Richard had something he wanted to say as I walked away, but he kept it to himself. Which was probably wise at the moment.
“Mr. Peterson,” Odell called out, “please don’t leave yet. We still have business.”
“Our business can wait until I get back,” I shouted.
“Sorry, but this can’t wait.”
I turned to continue on my way but hesitated. I closed my eyes tight and sighed heavily before turning back and stomping across the tight green grass toward the lanai. “What’s so important that it couldn’t wait an hour?”
Odell held the backpack out with one hand, a photograph in the other. “Here. This is a recent picture of Amber.”
“And the backpack? What’s inside?” I asked as I took possession of the items.
“It’s a deposit. A down payment for taking my case. And a dedicated GPS tracking console.”
I slid the zipper down and peered inside. There had to be at least 10 grand in $20 bills. “Cash?”
“There’s fourteen thousand dollars in there. Is that enough to get us started?”
“Mr. Odell, this much cash is a problem for me. I ask that my clients pay by cashier’s check these days. Richard should have made that clear when you two discussed my potential involvement.” I glanced at Richard and got a strong feeling he’d neglected to provide Odell with the information. This partnership was feeling a little one-sided, and I wasn’t happy about it.
“Sorry, Carter, I could have sworn I went over the payment terms with him,” Richard said.
“What else did you fail to mention to Mr. Odell?” I asked Richard as I stared at the GPS reader inside the backpack. I tossed the pack onto the couch.
Odell walked over, reached inside the backpack, and took the GPS unit out. “This device might still be able to pick up the signal from Amber’s tracking disk,” he said as he placed it on the counter.
I looked at Richard and shook my head then left to find something to eat. I stormed across Ko Ahiku’s lush landscape to the pedestrian security gate, swiped my keycard, and exited the property onto a sidewalk designed to give the general public beach access.
A concentration of flashing emergency lights caught my attention in the distance. Traffic on the access road was snarled to the east and west, two travel lanes in each direction a virtual parking lot. Were they allowing pedestrians to pass, or was my outing destined to become another frustration I’d be forced to choke down?
The police had arranged the emergency vehicles in a way that blocked the view of individuals walking past. We’d done the same when I was a cop in Boston, in order to discourage the crowds of Nosy-Nancys who inevitably flocked to such tragedies. Due, in large part, to the visual blockade, the flow of pedestrian traffic past the accident scene seemed to be moving at a steady pace. I decided to forge ahead.
Actually, my stomach decided.
In less than a minute I was within a stone’s throw of the scene. Emergency crew members had erected a portable tarpaulin screen around the delivery van to shield the public from what was likely a gruesome sight, but the wind had other plans. As the barrier billowed and shook, I could glimpse first-responders extricating the victim from under the rear wheels of the vehicle. My impulse was to move on past, though my investigative tendencies told me to flash my PI’s license and get whatever information I could.
Problem was, my knowledge that Odell had been involved in the accident and then fled the scene was an issue. Technically, we were harboring a fugitive.
I decided to keep moving when another glimpse altered my plans. A potent gust of wind managed to catch the tarp again, just as two EMTs slid the victim out on a backboard and cut away his garments.
Two details about the man stood out, over and above how bloodied he was. The first was the strange pattern of discoloration covering his back. It was almost as if he’d been spray painted, using a huge stencil.
The second detail, however, was infinitely more telling. On the victim’s arm was a grouping of three circular tattoos.
Same symbols. Same pattern. And on the same side. Identical in every way to Odell’s.
Chapter 5
My appetite was gone, replaced by a churning in the pit of my stomach. I had decisions to make, and very little time to make them. Seeing those three symbols on the victim’s arm gave validity to Odell’s story.
I hadn’t realized I’d stopped right in the middle of the sidewalk—until a cop held up his arm directly in front of my face, pointed, and said, “Keep moving.”
“Sorry,” I said as I began walking, still headed away from the resort.
Seeing the victim’s motionless body had my nerves on edge. Prior to that moment the case hadn’t been much more than a crazy story.
Things had just gotten real.
Now, every step I took was like a miniature stress-bomb blowing up under my feet. I was angry. I’d tried to hang all the blame on Richard, but it had been my decision to take the case. Now I had to own it.
Dizziness was creeping into my skull. My lips were dry. The corners of my mouth sticky like paste.
Panic.
I spun around to sprint back to the resort and in my haste collided with a woman two-thirds my height and twice my weight. “Sorry,” I blurted out as I recovered from nearly taking a tumble into the decorative bushes lining the walk. My instincts told me to hurry, but far too many curious onlookers stood between me and the resort. I bobbed and weaved my way through the snarl, making progress as quickly as the human blockade would allow.
The crowd thinned once I hit the halfway mark back to Tower 1. I was about to break into race mode when my panic got progressively worse.
I spotted Richard trudging toward me. Alone.
He looked as though he was screaming at me, but his voice was drowned out by the ambulance piercing the air with its siren as it sped off. I heard remnants of Richard’s shouting once he’d closed the gap. It sounded like “He’s not with you?”
I threw my hands in the air. “What do you mean?”
“I had to take a piss,” he said. “So I closed the slider and put the privacy screen down to keep tabs on the guy like you asked me to. I even left the bathroom door open. But as soon as I started to go I heard the hall door’s latch click shut.” He hung his head and continued. “I’m sorry, Carter. I got out there as fast as I could, but he was gone.” Richard paused to catch his breath. “I was hoping he was with you.”
I began running as fast
as I could without having a coronary, wondering why Richard hadn’t called. Then I remembered I didn’t have my cell phone on me.
I reached the security fence, swiped the keycard in the gate’s reader, and darted toward the lanai. I gave the slider handle a pull.
“Mr. Odell?” I called out, hoping that he had simply stepped out for a moment then returned.
I checked every room. No Odell.
I rushed the main door of our suite to check the hallway when Kaholo, the bartender from the night before, nearly knocked on my face instead of the door as I swung it open.
“Aloha, Mr. Peterson. Sorry I couldn’t deliver the Scotch Mr. Odell requested sooner. I know a half hour is too long a wait for service, but The Surf Rider is slammed this afternoon.”
“Have you seen him in the last twenty minutes?” I asked, looking directly into his eyes.
“No. In fact, not since you two were at the bar together last night,” he replied. I’d learned to read a person’s eyes over the years. His told me he was telling a lie. “Enjoy.” He held the bottle out for me to take. I deliberately grabbed the vessel as high on the neck as I could and took possession.
“How about a suite number?” I asked, testing him. “Do you know which suite Mr. Odell is staying in?”
“Sorry, sir. Afraid not.”
Likely another lie.
“Thanks. If you do see him, please let him know I’m looking for him.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll do that.”
I closed the door and brought the bottle of Scotch into my bedroom. I placed it atop the dresser before going back to the living room to grab the backpack and GPS tracker Odell left with me. I remembered seeing a safe in my bedroom closet and figured it was the best place to keep the stuff until I located our missing client. I decided to wear gloves as I handled the GPS unit, experience telling me to preserve Odell’s prints. I secured all three items, then grabbed my phone. I was about to head out when Richard entered from the lanai.
“Find him?” Richard inquired.
“No, I did not,” I replied, still thoroughly annoyed with Richard’s recklessness. I walked right up to him. “Look me in the eyes so I know you’re listening to me. I need you to stay here in case Odell comes back. Meanwhile, I’m going to find his room, then check the tiki bar and the restaurant. We clear?”
“Yes. I’ll be right here when you get back.”
“Terrific,” I said, my temples throbbing. I made my way down the hall toward the exit, placing a call to Odell. “It’s Carter Peterson, Mr. Odell. We need to regroup in my suite. It’s not a good idea for you to be out and about under the circumstances. Please give me a call right away.”
I exited the tower and headed toward the reception pavilion, an open-air building housing the check-in counter and concierge podium. “I’m wondering if you could help me,” I said to the 20-something male at the counter. “I’m Carter Peterson, staying in suite 108. Can you look up my check-out date?” I asked, curious as to whether or not Odell had really paid for our room in full.
“Two weeks from today,” he said.
“And the bill has been paid in full?” I asked.
He gave me an odd look. “Yes, sir. Paid in cash.”
“Okay, thanks. Oh, one other thing. I was supposed to meet my friend Ellis Odell, but I’ve lost track of him and can’t recall his room number. Would you look it up for me, please?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m really not supposed to do that.”
I reached for my wallet as I read his name tag. “Not supposed to, or can’t, Kainalu?” I asked as I discreetly showed him a 50-dollar bill.
He held his pointer finger up, then began working the keyboard at his station. He looked up after about ten seconds, tipped his head toward the covered promenade leading to the lap pool, then casually made his way over there. I did a quick scan of the reception area as I followed him and counted no less than three surveillance cameras in the space. All focused on us. As I arrived at his side I looked for cameras again.
There were none where he was standing.
My little Hawaiian friend had obviously figured out how to work the system without getting caught. I handed him the cash.
I’d never seen money vanish so quickly, the bill safely stowed in his pants pocket before I could blink. “Room 208. Far end of the second floor, Ko Ahiku Tower 1.”
I winked, walked away, and within a minute I was waiting for an elevator to the second level of the ten-story tower.
The elevator arrived to deliver a young couple and four kids with enough beach paraphernalia to open up a rental shop. I held the doors back for them, doing my best to avoid getting trampled by the overeager little darlings, wondering why I hadn’t opted to take the stairs.
The circus of six finally clear, I went up to Odell’s floor and made a beeline for room 208. I was about to knock on the door when I heard a conversation taking place on the other side. Though faint, I detected two distinct male voices. I was about to put my ear up against the door when I heard laughter at the far end of the hallway. I immediately headed around the corner, out of sight from the oncoming interlopers, when the click of a door handle alerted me that someone was leaving one of the suites.
I waited a beat then gave a quick peek down the hallway, just in time to see a male enter the hall, door 208 closing directly behind him. Though I could only see the man’s backside as he headed off in the opposite direction, his hair and clothing were recognizable enough to make a positive ID.
Kaholo.
Chapter 6
My suspicion was confirmed. Kaholo was a liar.
I held fast just around the corner of the main hallway, the voices of the guests who had interrupted my eavesdropping session in front of Odell’s door now fading away into another room.
I crept back toward the door and heard nothing. Then it hit me. I silenced my phone and sent Richard a text. Odell is staying right above us in room 208. Let me know you got this text then walk out beyond our lanai. Tell me if you can see him up there.
I must have inspired Richard to get some skin in the game because he got right back to me, signaling he was on the lookout.
I dialed Odell’s number. I heard the call connect in my ear and pulse out its first ring, followed by the sound of Odell’s phone vibrating atop some surface on the other side of the door. There was a shuffling noise and a thud. The phone’s vibrating noises stopped, yet the ring pulse in my ear continued. He must have refused the call.
He was there.
I began banging on the door. “Mr. Odell, this is Carter Peterson.”
No noise. No response.
I decided to bluff. “C’mon, Odell. Don’t make the head of security use his master keycard. Open up.”
Nothing.
“Fair warning, Mr. Odell, we’re coming in.”
I heard a sliding sound followed by what sounded like Richard shouting in the distance.
My phone began ringing.
Richard. “You’re not going to believe this, Carter. Odell just bailed off the second-story balcony. He hit the ground running. Want me to chase him down?”
“Let him go,” I said, knowing full well Odell would leave Richard in his dust, huffing and puffing in vain. “Stay put. I’m on my way down.”
Richard met me at the door. “What on earth was that all about? Who was Odell running from?”
“Me,” I said. “The question is why.”
Richard began pacing the room. “I may have some insight into that,” he said and stopped directly in front of me. “We need to talk,” he blurted out, his expression grave. “Uh, I didn’t know how to tell you this before. Actually, I hadn’t convinced myself that it was anything more than my imagination, but …”
“You’re talking in circles, man. Just say it.”
“Well … the last time I saw Ellis Odell … was the first time I saw him. Six months ago when the two of us played golf.”
“Wait, wait, just … just hold on a minute,” I said as I trie
d to process what Richard was telling me. “So let me get this straight. You never met with Odell in person to discuss this case before you called me?”
“No, I … we spoke on the phone.”
“Have you completely lost your mind?” I turned away when I saw the horror on Richard’s face, realizing too late that I’d just hurt his feelings—and his pride. I got myself calmed down and pointed at the couch. “Have a seat.”
Richard sat down at the far end. “Geez, Carter, I’ve got to get this out. And your temper is not making it easy.”
“Easy? Easy is meeting a potential client in person to make sure there’s a legitimate investigation to be had. Not flying halfway around the world based on a phone call. Good grief, Richard, that’s Investigations 101. What’s happened to you?”
“I know, I know. I screwed up. And I’m not looking to make a bunch of excuses, here, but my judgment was distorted by the pressure I’m under. Maybe part of the problem is that I’ve been out of the investigation game now for a longer period of time than I was ever actually in it.”
I exhaled and hung my head, reminding myself Richard was my friend, and that I shared equal blame for any lack of properly vetting Odell. “Let me sit down for this.” I chose the armchair directly across from him.
“Promise me you’re not going to lose it, Carter, because I’ve never seen you as hot under the collar as you were a little while ago.”
“Look, Richard, I’m sorry. I have no right to put all of this on you. I have to take some responsibility for our lack of due diligence. That being said, is what you’re about to tell me really that bad?”
“Well, it’s certainly not good,” Richard replied, staring at the ceiling.
“Okay. Let’s get to the punch line here.”
“Like the old saying goes, we only believe what we want to believe, but I’ve got to be honest with you, Carter. When that guy came through the door, something told me he wasn’t Ellis Odell.”
“What? Why?”
“Can’t really say. His looks? Maybe something about his voice? I sensed he was avoiding eye contact with me when I answered the door. And he seemed to side-step speaking to me after that. Even when I hit him with direct questions, he’d look at you when he answered.”
