In a few seconds, he’d decided. He grabbed his car keys, muttered a few words to his father, and was gone.
It took him barely four minutes to reach the building and another four before he was up the elevator and rapping on the door. No answer. He knocked again.
“Just a minute.” The voice sounded a long way away.
Lyle looked at his feet, then at the letter clutched in his hand. Finally, the door opened.
Kate was barefoot and wearing shorts and a blouse. The top buttons of the blouse were unfastened. She straightened her collar and looked as if she couldn’t decide whether or not to fasten the buttons. Lyle took this in, but barely.
“Those bastards at FedPat,” he said. “It’s them. Look at this.”
Kate opened the door wide enough for him to step into the entryway. He held out the insurance letter.
“I’ve been fighting this company for months,” he said, waving the letter. “FedPat stands for Federal Patrician Insurance.”
“I know.”
“They’re snakes. They sell you insurance, but they don’t pay claims.” Lyle realized he was breathing hard. He paused to calm down. It was only then he understood Kate was not alone. “Sorry to bust in. I forgot.”
“That’s okay.” She closed the door and he walked into her kitchen. “Now, what’s happening? What about Patrician Insurance?”
“It hit me all at once. I should have realized it was the same company.”
Kate’s expression told him she still didn’t understand.
“This is the same company that’s my daughter’s insurance. Those bastards. I’ll bet FedPat is behind this. We talked about it, remember?”
“We didn’t decide anything. We don’t have any evidence.”
“We’ll get evidence. You don’t know what kind of people these are. They don’t want to destroy the park, just take it over. They know all the percentages. Delay, deny, wait till the customer gives up.”
“But, Lyle--”
She stopped talking when someone entered the room. Lyle turned to see a guy as tall as Kate and more muscular than Jack LaLanne.
“Everything okay?”
“Sure,” she said. “Bruce, this is Lyle Deming. Lyle works at the park.”
Lyle started to shake hands while holding the letter. He shifted it to his left, shook hands with the bruiser, then turned back to Kate.
“We’ve got to do something. We have to get evidence. Stop them. Who knows what they’ll do next.”
“Okay. We’ll talk about it.”
Lyle folded up the letter and stuffed it into his back pocket. “We’re going to get them. We’re going to stop this.”
“Okay, Lyle, okay.”
Chapter 28
Lyle’s morning in the cab dragged on. He should have told his supervisor he needed more time off to do the president’s bidding. As soon as he could take a lunch break, he parked the cab in a lot and headed toward the Maxwell Building. A block down the street he passed the NC Cinema. True Grit and The Sting were on the marquee.
He remembered seeing both pictures. Those were the days. In the Maxwell Building lobby, he asked the guard how to find the office of Kevin Waterman.
The liaison officer’s door was open when Lyle walked up. Waterman sat at his desk with a soda can and what appeared to be a hardback novel open in front of him.
Busy day.
Lyle tapped on the door and stepped in. He wore a white shirt, tie, and name badge. He’d left his hat in the cab.
“May I help you?” Kevin looked up at Lyle momentarily, then glanced back at his book.
Lyle explained he was investigating the accidents at NC.
That got Kevin’s attention. “Are you with park security?”
“I’m working with them.”
“And you’re trying to find out...”
“Why we’re having serious accidents.”
“People are careless. They’re making mistakes.”
“Is that what you think?”
“I don’t know, but it’s not helping the park.”
“No kidding.”
Kate was right. Kevin Waterman did look like an accountant. His suit was expensive, but the man wearing it was nondescript, his round face--except for the puffy eyes--as expressive as a blank ledger page. His wore his light hair cut short. If he ever lifted anything heavier than a pencil, it didn’t show. His voice, however, was more complex. It carried a note of suspicion mixed with--what was it--conceit?
“My duties here involve financial analysis. I don’t have that much contact with other employees. Technically, I don’t work for NC.”
Was he defensive? Lyle played dumb. “You don’t?”
Kevin pushed his book aside. “I work for FedPat Corporation. I’m their liaison officer here.”
“Liaison?”
“My corporation is one of the major backers of this project. I work with NC management.” Kevin was lecturing.
“Your company invested in Nostalgia City, so you’re keeping an eye on us.”
“What’s this got to do with your investigation? Where do you work again?”
“With security. We’re trying to keep the park peaceful. Know what I mean?”
“Okay.”
“You’re not taking this very seriously. I think your company would want to make sure nothing else happens.”
“Of course.”
“But what if the park goes broke? Who wins?”
“What do you mean?”
Lyle was losing patience. “You’re just here to keep track of how well we do, aren’t you?”
“Part of my responsibilities are to look after the terms of our agreement.”
“Why did your company invest in the park?”
“A business decision. Do you really want a pro forma? Our return-on-investment expectations? Would that be much use to you?”
“Doesn’t look like a good investment now, does it?”
“I don’t think I’m going to be able to help you any further.”
“Yes you are,” Lyle spat out. “Have you heard anything suspicious around the park?”
“I told you, I don’t have much contact with employees.”
“You know what’s going on around here. You’re being paid to pay attention. Who do you report to anyway?”
Kevin put his hands flat on his desk and tried to rally his self-importance.
“I’m trying to be helpful, but I don’t have to put up with this or answer anything more.”
“I don’t know why not. We’re all in the same boat, aren’t we? You have any other ideas?”
“This is ridiculous. Are you really with security? Let’s call them.” He picked up his phone.
“Ask for Bates. Maybe he’ll want to know what you do here, too. I’ll come back and we can talk some more.”
Lyle left the office, knowing that soon Waterman would be telling him all he needed to know about his “liaison” duties. And Waterman would have no idea he was doing it. Clearly, the accountant was not the type to hot wire a car or do the heavy work necessary to derail a ride. But he worked for FedPat, and that was enough.
Chapter 29
“So, what do we have to do?” Kate asked. “We can’t break in.”
“Not necessary at all,” Travis Stringley said. “This shouldn’t take long.”
Stringley looked more like a golf pro than a high-tech nerd. He was a preppie-dressed young man, athletic, and carrying a leather briefcase. Nonetheless, Lyle knew him to be a high-tech genius, even if Stringley never owned a pocket protector. Lyle also knew Stringley rarely let the technicalities of wiretap and invasion-privacy laws interfere with his work.
Stringley had met Lyle and Kate outside the Maxwell Building just before seven o’clock Monday morning. Anyone entering the building before or after business hours or on holidays had to register. They signed Stringley into the building as a vendor, which technically he was. The security guard paid little attention even though the trio arrived to work ear
ly on Memorial Day when most of the office staff had the day off.
Lyle was glad Kate agreed to come along, though she’d hardly spoken since he picked her up. Without her help, his plan wouldn’t work. As they rode the elevator to the fourth floor, Kate shifted her feet and kept stealing glances at him. Lyle couldn’t tell if she was nervous, angry, or something else.
“I appreciate your coming up here on a holiday, Travis,” Lyle said. “Thought it would be easier since no one is working today.”
“I owed you one. Besides, I brought my girlfriend with me. We’re going to spend the day here.”
Lyle stepped out of the elevator first and looked both ways, seeing no one. Kate and Stringley followed.
Stringley looked at Kate. “We need to find the IDF closet.”
“The what?”
“It’s the little room where the phone and computer lines come into this floor,” Lyle said. “I forgot to ask you if you knew where it was.”
Kate just stared at Lyle.
“No problem,” Stringley said, “They’re usually easy to find. Let’s look over here.”
Down a hallway, a short distance from the elevators, Stringley investigated a door near the rest rooms. “This must be it. Sometimes they’re unlocked.”
He pulled the knob. It didn’t open.
Kate’s expression was a combination of lowered brows and pursed lips. Lyle motioned for her to step back. Stringley reached into his briefcase, pulled out a small tool, and inserted it into the lock. In seconds, the door was open.
Lyle saw a confusion of wires along one wall of the booth-size room.
Kate glanced nervously over her shoulder, then back at Lyle. “So what do we do?”
Stringley set his briefcase down inside the tiny room. “I’m going to go in here for about a minute and hook everything up. Should be no problem.”
The Ralph Lauren-dressed wire tapper pulled out a slip of paper on which he had Kevin Waterman’s name, phone extension, and office number. As soon as Stringley went into the little room and closed the door, Lyle heard the elevator door. Kate heard it, too. She gestured toward the closet, asking if she and Lyle should duck inside.
Lyle shook his head. He listened. No voices echoed down the hallway, so he assumed that just one person had gotten off the elevator. Footsteps sounded in the hall, but Lyle couldn’t determine the direction. Were they getting louder?
He looked at Kate then saw a figure in the corner of his vision. The skinny woman was as surprised to see them, as they were to see her.
“You startled me,” the woman said. “I didn’t expect to see anyone.” She wore a loose fitting dress and a sour expression.
Kate flashed a smile. “We’re getting started early today, too. I hate to work on holidays.”
As Kate talked to the woman, Lyle realized that Stringley could come out of the closet at any second. He took a slow step back toward the closet and put a foot tight against the bottom of the door.
“I got way behind last week,” said the unhappy-looking woman. “I thought if I came in for a few hours today I could catch up. Don’t tell anyone you saw me, will you?”
Kate smiled again and promised secrecy.
“Smooth,” Lyle whispered when the woman walked away.
Stringley opened the door. “All set. Take a look.”
Kate and Lyle squeezed inside. Light filtered down from a small fluorescent tube fixture above. Dust hung in the air.
“Sergeant--I mean Lyle--said he didn’t want a transmitter or anything complicated. This should do the trick.” Stringley pointed to a small device tucked into a corner shelf. “It’s a low-tech solution, and they work great. Hard to trace.”
“Looks like an answering machine,” Kate said.
“Basically that’s right, but this digital guy works harder. It’ll record every conversation on the Waterman line and it’s voice activated so it only records when he’s talking.”
“The only thing we have to do,” Lyle said, “is come in here and exchange memory cards so we can take them home and listen.”
“I have a good idea who’s going to have to replace the memory cards,” Kate said.
“It’s easy.” Stringley demonstrated. “Just flip this and pull out the card. I put a label on the bottom of the machine. It says, ‘Property of Nostalgia City.’ I even copied the logo. Looks official. If anyone finds it, they’ll think it’s supposed to be here. I’ll give you a little unit you can use to play the recordings.”
“Travis is very resourceful,” Lyle said.
Chapter 30
Lyle tried to relax. Seated in a coach aisle seat bound for Boston Logan International Airport, he had no place to go. He’d read the first page of the book in his lap several times. He’d gotten further with cocktails. He was on his second. His dad had been angry at first when Lyle told him he was going to the East Coast for a few days. Later he appeared to withdraw. Lyle made sure that a neighbor would look in on his dad at least once a day. He told Kate and Earl that his dad would be alone and he left Earl’s phone number with Hank, just in case.
Before he’d told his dad he was leaving, he had to persuade Maxwell to let him go. When Lyle walked into Maxwell’s office, he didn’t know how he would explain it. He didn’t have anything to go on. He just knew he had to go to Boston, had to see the headquarters of Federal Patrician Insurance.
At first, Max refused. “Are you trying to antagonize one of the few allies we have?”
“Allies?”
“Yes, FedPat. First, you grill Kevin Waterman, now you want to go there and piss off the whole corporation? And what good would it do? They’re not involved. Anyway, you’re supposed to be looking for suspects with motives.”
Lyle, of course, was forced to explain he knew about the loan. That had not gone well, either.
Although Max seemed resigned to Lyle’s knowing how involved NC was with FedPat, he still defended the corporation. “Hate to admit it, but if it wasn’t for FedPat there might not be a Nostalgia City. They’re still behind us all the way,” he said. “No, we want you here, not stirring up trouble.”
The possibility of quitting or watching NC go down the drain had drifted through Lyle’s mind.
Ultimately, Max gave in but with conditions. “Don’t let anyone know who you are. It’s a touchy situation right now. Looks like we’ll have to ask them for forbearance. You can hang around, play detective, that’s okay. But keep a low profile.”
NC was figuratively on fire and Max didn’t seem to know if Lyle would fan the flames or douse them. Lyle had left Nostalgia City with anything but carte blanche. But he didn’t care.
When the flight attendant offered another drink refill, Lyle declined and focused on the present. A good place to stay. He looked at his rubber band then watched the flight attendant walk down the aisle. She was an attractive, middle-aged woman, but nothing like the slinky stewardesses of the late ’60s and ’70s--who’d sported miniskirts and sultry smiles. Lyle had been a teenager when he’d taken his first flight and had fallen in love with a Hughes Air West stewardess. He only saw her the one time, but the memory lingered. At least his musings were now turning to women instead of his hostility toward Patrician Insurance.
After he landed, retrieved his bag, and rented a car, he headed north, straight for FedPat Corporation’s offices in the Boston suburb of Peabody. Two-story glass and steel buildings spread out in two directions. By the time he arrived, it was past 5 p.m. East Coast time and the offices were closed. He watched as stragglers came out of the buildings and got into their cars. Lyle wondered if any of them were people he’d spoken to on the phone during his many attempts to straighten out his daughter’s claims.
He left the offices to check into a nearby hotel. As he headed back toward Interstate 95, he spun through the car radio dial looking for an oldies station. He stopped when he heard a familiar voice singing about “Suspicious Minds.” Lyle nodded. The King understood.
Lyle had a piece of fish for dinner, ca
lled to see that his dad was okay, talked to Samantha, and went to bed early.
***
His first stop the next morning was the Peabody Library. The public library, housed in a 150-year-old brick building, didn’t look promising. But inside Lyle found computers and he quickly logged onto the Internet. He started searching for background on FedPat Corporation and Federal Patrician Insurance. The research could have been done from the comfort of his home before he left. Now it cost him ten cents a page. He printed out a stack of articles on FedPat for later reading. He also discovered that insurance companies in Massachusetts were regulated by the state’s Insurance Division, and he noted the division’s Boston street address.
When he walked out of the library at midmorning, it was already getting warm. Not like Arizona, but humid. He felt surrounded by a hot, invisible fog. By the time he drove the few miles to the FedPat headquarters, the back of his shirt was wet and sticking to the car seat. He had the air conditioner on in the Ford Focus, but he was still sweating.
The FedPat investor relations office was housed with several other departments including Consumer Affairs. That was a laugh. Consumer Affairs existed only so the company could show the government that they really cared about policyholders.
Inside the door, Lyle had to sign in and obtain a visitor’s badge from the receptionist. He asked where he could find an annual report and she directed him around a corner and down a corridor. His other objective was to check out FedPat’s security measures, so when he was done, he pretended to get lost so he could look around. He left the building by another door and kept his visitor’s badge.
Back in his car, he started the engine and ran the air conditioning as he flipped through the annual report, looking for names of mid-level managers. Using a search engine on his phone he quickly found phone numbers and started calling executives, looking for people who were out of the office. It took three calls.
Death in Nostalgia City Page 12
