The Black Widow - Mark Kane Mysteries - Book Three: A Private Investigator Crime Series of Murder, Mystery, Suspense & Thriller Stories...with a dash of Romance

by John Hemmings

  “Sorry, not much. When Dale was arrested they wouldn’t let Suzie near him, and when she saw the embassy staff they were rather non-committal. But last night they let Suzie see him at the jail and she was able to get him to sign this.”

  She handed me a piece of paper. On it was a handwritten note: ‘I, Dale M. Porter, hereby appoint Mark W. Kane to investigate the circumstances of my arrest. Please co-operate with him fully on my behalf’. Underneath were Dale’s signature and passport number and yesterday’s date.

  “There was no need to include the W in my name, just because Dale’s got an M.”

  “I thought it looked more impressive,” she said.

  “Anyway, that should be sufficient for the embassy at least. With a bit of luck, it’ll help with the police too. I don’t want to sound unduly mercenary, but do you think Porter will be able to pay for any of this?”

  Lucy smiled up at me. “I dunno; but if not I expect you’ll get your reward in heaven.”

  I grabbed her waist and tickled her until she begged me to stop. Then we went downstairs and found a restaurant for a late lunch. I gave Lucy the spoils of my brief visit to Mongkok the previous day.

  “Is it…”

  “It’s a genuine one,” I said truthfully, relying on the assurance I’d received from the vendor; “the real McCoy.”

  “And it’s not even my birthday. It’s lovely, thanks. I brought you something from Thailand,” she said.

  “Oh, really, where is it?”

  “It’s here.”

  I looked around vacantly. “What is it?” I said.

  “Me,” she beamed.

  Chapter Four

  Westlake

  “I’ll tell you what I know and you can judge for yourself,” Westlake said torpidly.

  I was sitting in an office in the U.S. Embassy in Manila. Opposite me was James Westlake who had been assigned to look after the interests of Dale Porter. Westlake was a tall man with a thin body which made him appear even taller. He had a long, languid face, and when he spoke his mouth hardly opened and his lips barely moved. None of the other muscles in his face moved at all which gave him the appearance of a man who had been heavily Botoxed. He was leaning back in his chair; his legs stretched under the desk that divided us were crossed at the ankles and his eyes were fixed about an inch over the top of my head.

  “The dead man is apparently Larry Sands. I say apparently because his identity hasn’t been conclusively established yet. Mr. Sands is, or was, an American citizen. He settled in the Philippines about three or four years ago. He married a local girl named Cary Rodriguez; Cary Sands as she now is. They lived together near Subic. You may have heard of Subic, it’s where we used to have a naval base. It was vacated about twenty-five years ago, just after Mount Pinatubo erupted and left everything covered in ash, and Subic is now known as a Special Economic Zone; that’s a zone established to encourage overseas investment by offering foreign corporations tax incentives.”

  Westlake lowered his gaze to meet my eyes momentarily to see if I was following his story, then he placed them over the top of my head again.

  “Mrs. Sands owns the house where they lived, although it appears that the money used to purchase the house was provided by Mr. Sands. The house is worth about a hundred and fifty thousand dollars I’m told. In the Philippines it’s not permitted for a foreigner to own land so the property is in her name. About two or three months ago Mr. Sands was reported missing by his wife. It’s not uncommon for foreigners to disappear — sometimes for lengthy periods of time and sometimes forever. The Philippines is a big country and it’s also a country that is easy to enter or leave without going through official channels. I am told that his disappearance was investigated by the police to no effect. From my experience I doubt if the investigation was other than a cursory one. About two weeks ago a body, or what was left of it, was pulled out of the sea near Olongapo, a City to the north of Subic. It was the body of a Caucasian male, aged about thirty to thirty-five. It was in a very advanced state of decomposition. The medical examiner at Subic estimated from the state of the corpse that it had probably been in the water for at least thirty-five to forty days. It was mostly skeletonized and there were no items of jewelry such as a watch, rings and suchlike to assist in the identification of the body. However, when the medical examiner removed the shoes from the corpse he found a driving license. It had been tucked under the sole of the deceased’s foot. The license was in the name of Mr. Sands. The height and build of the deceased were found to match those of Mr. Sands, and Mrs. Sands purported to make a positive identification of her husband, although upon what basis I’ve no idea.” Westlake lowered his eyes again to meet my gaze.

  “Are you with me so far Mr. Kane?”

  “Yes, but I assume there’s more. Why is Mr. Porter suspected of his murder? In fact was the medical examiner able to establish that the deceased was murdered, rather than the victim of an accident or a suicide?”

  Westlake gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head. “Good question; both good questions.” His eyes fixed on something over the top of my head again.

  “The cause of death couldn’t be established due to the decomposition of the body. He may have drowned or he may have been dead before he entered the water. Mr. Sands had a boat which he moored in Olongapo; it was called the Sally Anne; it was a motor cruiser. It wasn’t an expensive boat; Mr. Sands used it for fishing. At the time Mr. Sands went missing the boat went missing too. By co-incidence, it seems, at about the time the body was recovered from the sea – that’s about two weeks ago, the boat was discovered in a different mooring. It was in Subic. The mooring was leased to Mr. Porter. The name of the boat had been painted over, but it was the same boat. After finding the boat the police made inquiries and discovered that the two men knew each other and had some kind of business dealings, possibly relating to a bar in Ologapo which has since closed down. So the two questions you asked are really connected.”

  “So the boat is the key to both the death and the arrest as far as the police are concerned? The assumption is that if Porter has Sand’s boat and apparently sought to disguise it by painting over the name it’s likely that Porter is responsible for Sands’ death?”

  “That seems to be about the size of it, yeah; as far as the police are concerned.”

  “Do you know if Porter has been questioned about any of this?”

  “I’m not permitted details of the police investigation. As you know our remit is quite limited in these cases. We can do little more than make sure that Porter is being well treated. We can help to put him in touch with his family if we’re able to locate them. We may be able to assist him in obtaining legal representation in due course.”

  “I wonder if you can help me with another matter. Do you happen to know what the two men’s source of income was?”

  “I have no idea. Neither was legally permitted to work, because neither had a work visa. Of course many foreigners do work in various ways without troubling to get a visa. They may teach unofficially or provide boat charters for tourists for example. A number of foreigners are known to invest in businesses that are run by locals – bars usually, but any kind of business is possible. Although Sands was married to a local girl he didn’t obtain citizenship as a result. He could have applied for citizenship but he would’ve needed to relinquish his American Citizenship first. That’s not a viable option for most men in his position.”

  A thin smile almost imperceptibly widened Westlake’s mouth but disappeared again in an instant.

  “However, as a result of his marriage he could have applied for residence. Had he done that and completed certain formalities then he would have been able to work, but he never took that step. I believe that’s all I can tell you. The driving license in the deceased’s shoe is a bit of a mystery, but it does tend to confirm the identity of the corpse. There’s one other matter that I can alert you to, strictly off the record.”

  “I’d be
grateful for anything.”

  “Well you’re the detective, but you may think it’s rather unusual for a body to be recovered without a wristwatch or, in the case of Sands, without a wedding band, unless he was robbed before his death of course, which is always a possibility. The fact is that the body was found by fisherman after it accidentally got caught in their nets. A decent watch or a gold ring would be quite a find for a fisherman. I wouldn’t be surprised if those sorts of items were removed from the body before the police were informed. A trip around the local pawn shops might turn something up. It’s just a thought.”

  I walked back to the hotel to discuss with Lucy what I’d learned from Westlake. I’d need to see Porter as soon as possible to see what his explanation was for the boat since it was the only thing which apparently linked him to the disappearance and death of Sands. Lucy was lying on the bed. She was wearing an eye mask of the type that the airlines provide. She told me that under the mask there was a slice of cucumber over each of her eyes. I had no reason to doubt what she told me.

  “I think we’re going to have to do some traveling, Lucy. The body’s apparently that of a man called Sands, although the identification isn’t conclusive. The body was found in the sea near a place called Olongapo. Apparently Sands was married to a local girl who lives between Olongapo and a place called Subic. Westlake thinks that the body may have been relieved of certain items of identifying jewelry by the fishermen who found it. I think it’s important to see if he’s right. If those items were taken they were most likely sold or pawned locally. If we can locate them it may confirm the identification of the corpse or it may point to a different identity altogether. On the other hand if those items were taken from Sands before or at the time of his death then it may point to the murderer.”

  “What evidence have they got linking Porter to the death of this guy Sands?”

  “Sands’ boat was found in a mooring leased by Porter. The boat disappeared at the same time that Sands did. And the name of the boat had been painted over, apparently to disguise it.”

  “Oh,” said Lucy. “That doesn’t look too good.”

  “Porter may have a perfectly rational explanation for it. I need to talk to him. I intend to try and see him tomorrow. I’ll need to contact Sands’ wife too. Apparently Sands and Porter were believed to have some kind of business connection; I want to ask her about the boat too.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “Near Subic. Westlake showed me on a map. Fortunately, Subic and Olongapo are quite close to each other. I must talk to Porter before we go there though.”

  “Did you find out anything else from Westlake?”

  “Yes, something which may be of considerable importance. When the dead man was found he was wearing shoes of some sort. When the medical examiner was examining the body he removed the shoes and found the driving license of Sands inside one of the shoes, tucked under the sole of his foot.”

  “How creepy.”

  “It’s a pretty unusual place to carry a driving license, and it got me thinking. The medical examiner couldn’t determine the cause of death because the body was too badly decomposed. He could have drowned – in which case it could have been an accident or murder − or even a suicide. But he might have been killed before he was put in the water. If he’d been stabbed for example the absence of tissue due to the decomposition would have destroyed the evidence. He could have been poisoned, drugged, suffocated or killed in ways which would not be apparent in an autopsy of an almost skeletonized body.”

  “Okay, I follow all that, but why the license in the shoe?” Lucy said.

  “Well, suppose he was killed, and suppose the killer wanted to conceal his victim’s identity. The killer would know that it was unlikely that the body would be found quickly, since the body was apparently dumped quite far from the shore, so visual identification wouldn’t be a problem. But the killer would remove any items of jewelry such as the watch or the wedding band in case the body was later found. So maybe when the fishermen found the body those items had already been removed by the killer.”

  “And the license?” Lucy said.

  “I think it may be a clue that the dead man left behind on purpose.”

  “How… Why?”

  “Listen: If you knew someone was going to kill you, and you knew there was nothing you could do to prevent it, what would be the next most important thing you’d try to do?”

  “Make sure the killer was caught and punished?”

  “Right; suppose Sands knew he was going to be killed. He would have figured out that there’d be an attempt to conceal his identity by the killer after his death. So he slips his driving license into his shoe so that when the body is found his identity will be discovered.”

  “Wow, that’s some theory. It’s a bit far-fetched isn’t it?”

  “I don’t think so. If a body is found but can’t be identified, then the killer is safe. But once the identity of the body is known then it’s often only a matter of time before the trail leads to his killer. Most people that are murdered are killed by someone they know.”

  “I told you,” said Lucy.

  “Told me what?”

  “That you’d know what to do.” She said.

  Chapter Five

  My New Assistant

  We took our breakfast at the hotel because it was included in the price. It was included in the price because there was virtually nothing to eat. That suited Lucy because her beach holiday had convinced her that she needed to shed a few pounds. As we lined up in front of the pitiful buffet table I said, “I don’t know why you need to diet. I don’t diet and I’m not an ounce overweight.”

  Lucy stood behind me and slapped her hands against the layer of accumulated fat that was gathering around my hips. It was a product of aging which I’d hitherto failed to notice.

  “What’s this then?” she said.

  “Those Lucy,” I said, “are my love handles.”

  Over breakfast I told Lucy that I had an important announcement to make concerning her role in the investigation, bearing in mind that it was really her case. Her eyes widened and she leaned over the table towards me. With her elbows on the table she cupped her hands under her chin and smiled in anticipation.

  “Since your secretarial duties are not required for the time being I have decided, as a temporary measure, to deputize you. For the duration of this trip, but only for the duration of this trip, I am elevating you to the position of my assistant investigator. Your duties will comprise anything that I deem necessary in the furtherance of this particular enterprise,” I said.

  “And if I discharge those duties diligently,” said Lucy, “the position will be formalized on our return home.”

  “Not only is the position a temporary one, you will not be permitted, on our return home, to mention this pro tem appointment to anyone. That includes gossiping to your girlfriends. Insubordination will result in immediate reduction in rank and possible outright dismissal.”

  Lucy made a face at me.

  “Your first duty in this new capacity will be to accompany me to Police Headquarters to arrange a meeting with Dale.”

  “Awesome,” said Lucy.

  “The headquarters is in United Nations Avenue, not a million miles from where we are now sitting. Kindly get your hat and coat – or shorts and shades. Tardiness will not be tolerated,” I said.

  Westlake had helpfully provided a letter of introduction for me to tender to a superintendent named Vicente Santos. “Best to go straight to the top,” he said.

  Santos was a small man, as neat and as clean as the perfectly pressed uniform that clothed him. His head was exactly the same shape as an ostrich egg and as hairless as one too. He was unexpectedly accommodating. His attitude may not have been totally unconnected with Lucy’s outspoken approval of everything from his uniform to the cleanliness of the washrooms. She wasn’t wearing a bra either; that was my idea.

  “I can a
rrange for the prisoner to be brought here if you like,” he said.

  We did like and so we were asked to come back at two thirty. Perhaps in the meantime we’d like a tour of the headquarters?

  “We’d feel privileged, wouldn’t we Kane?” Lucy enthused before I had a chance to open my mouth. A junior officer was summoned who proudly led us through endless corridors and let us peek into countless rooms where, to all intents and purposes, nothing appeared to be happening. We ate our lunch in the police canteen, which I hoped wasn’t going to be one of the highlights of the trip.

  At two-thirty we were provided with a private room in which to conduct our interview with Dale. He was already in the room when we entered, looking none the worse for wear but clearly nervous.

  “God Lucy, I can’t tell you how relieved I am to see you. Did Suzie catch her flight okay? I’m sorry this is a real bummer.”

  Lucy introduced Dale to me.

  “Geez, I can’t believe it. I don’t know what to say. Lucy told us all about you Mr. Kane, and now I get to meet you in the flesh. Awesome. Lucy says you’re a legend back home.”

  “Lucy’s prone to flights of fancy and a good deal of exaggeration,” I said.

  I thought it was an appropriate time to raise the matter of my fee, but Lucy must have read my mind and gave me a sharp kick on the ankle under the table. I was having second thoughts about deputizing her already. I got straight to the point.

  “I assume you know why you’ve been arrested,” I said.

  “Yeah, they told me. It’s because of the boat.”

  “You want to tell me about that?”

  “Sure, Larry sold it to me. Well not exactly sold it. It’s a long story but I’ll try and keep it brief. Larry and I both invested in a bar in Olongapo. It was only a small place, but we figured we’d get sufficient out of it to live comfortably enough here. But at the time we had to front up with the money he couldn’t come up with the whole of his share so I lent some of it to him. I mean we were supposed to put up twenty thousand dollars each, that’s nearly a million pesos. I put up thirty thousand because he could only come up with ten. He was supposed to pay me back, but business in the bar wasn’t as good as we thought it’d be and Larry had a lot of financial problems at that time so he couldn’t reimburse me. What we’d invested was only part of it, though; we were supposed to put in another ten grand each after all the licenses were in place. Larry didn’t have it and I couldn’t afford to sub him again. Eventually the bar had to close and we both lost most of our investment, but Larry still owed me the bread. In the end I agreed to take the boat instead.”