Death in Nostalgia City

by Mark S. Bacon

  “I can see it now,” Kate said. “The boat returned to the dock, half full of water with a passenger missing so the supervisor called security.”

  “That’s right. And security pushed the panic button. Look over there.” He gestured to the distance where the glow of red and blue flashing lights could be seen through the trees. “They called everyone except the Marines.”

  “The guest okay?” Pelham asked.

  “Son of a bitch is fine. They fished him out of the water and had the ride started again before the fire trucks got there.”

  Kate looked out the window at the flashing lights. Everyone at the park was jumpy. Many employees had seen one or more of the park’s “accidents” in person. And everyone had heard about them, talked to other employees, and seen the oppressive news reports. So when an overenthusiastic guest took a plunge, the staff overreacted.

  Pelham wandered out of the office, shaking his head.

  Kate turned to Max. “What’s happening with Clyde? He have any answers?”

  “Nope. I’m giving him a week more. That’s it.”

  “Does he know that?”

  “Hell, yes. Now, what about Lyle? I tell him to wait for a few days and he flies off to Boston. And then we don’t hear from him.”

  “He’s called in. I know he’s working. If he had something, he’d call.”

  Max walked the length of his office in front of the windows. “Well, if we don’t come up with something soon, it won’t matter anyway. We’ll be working for FedPat--if we’re working at all.”

  “You said if my media blitz worked, we’d have time to recoup.”

  “But our cash flow has to improve right then and there. We’re already in violation of our contract. Legal department says if we can show a positive upward trend, they can fend off court action. For a little while. If it comes to that.”

  “FedPat doesn’t sound so supportive now.”

  “Bastards are playing hardball. I got another call into them. We just need a few concessions.”

  “Sounds as if everything does depend on making a big splash over July Fourth.”

  “Not like that splash we had out there.” Max waved a hand in the direction of McHale’s Navy.

  “I’m getting the press invitations back from the printer today. They’re beautiful. We’re calling it, Flashback: History Alive! That should start some buzz.

  She turned to go but paused at the door. “I’ll call Lyle again.”

  “I’m inclined to fire his ass,” Max said. “Tell him.”

  On the way back to her office, Kate thought about the tap on Kevin Waterman’s phone. She’d put a new memory card in the machine three days before. By now, there must be something--something that she or Lyle could use. She decided she’d replace the card again that afternoon and spend the evening listening.

  ***

  It was just after noon and Travanti still hadn’t called. Lyle sat in a coffee shop corner booth with his notes and papers spread out in front of him. The dog-eared pages had marks from a highlighter and scribbled annotations, as if a college student had been using the material to cram for an exam. Lyle looked at the pictures of the three FedPat executives who were hoping to grab the CEO’s office. Bedrosian’s grin reminded him of the character Barnaby from Dark Shadows. Any one of the aspiring CEOs--or Shaw himself--could be directing the sabotage at NC. But only one of them, as far as Lyle knew, had been talking to Kevin Waterman.

  He pored over all his articles, reports, and notes. His instincts told him he had to grill somebody soon, maybe confront Bedrosian.

  He sipped his coffee--then sucked in a quick breath when he realized he was thinking like a cop again: stakeouts and interrogations. Walk in the front door, identify yourself, read ’em their rights, then ask questions. But he wasn’t a cop anymore. He was free to attack the problem any way he could. And staring down at his old notes, he had an idea. But he’d need Travanti’s help. And someone else’s.

  He reached for his cell phone and dialed Travanti’s direct number. When the captain knew it was Lyle calling, his voice lowered slightly. Lyle knew he didn’t find out anything.

  “Sorry, Lyle, but I don’t have very much for you.”

  “Were you able to check those names?”

  “Yes, but not much came back. Outdated traffic warrant’s about all. And as far as the company goes--”

  “I don’t want to talk about this on a cell phone,” Lyle said. “Can I come over? It won’t take long, then I’ll get out of your hair.”

  Travanti protested that he didn’t have much more to say, but Lyle insisted so the police administrator agreed. Lyle detected a slightly apologetic tone in Travanti’s usually strong voice. He thought it meant that Travanti had either not checked up on FedPat or had not done a very thorough job. Either way, it might make the high-ranking Boston cop more receptive to Lyle’s idea.

  Chapter 43

  Glad to be home from work--even if she was two hours late--Kate uploaded the contents of the latest memory card to her iPod. Even before she changed her clothes, she had Kevin’s voice for company. She pulled on sweats, grabbed a fruit drink from the fridge, and listened.

  The first forty-five minutes were consumed by routine calls. Kevin called someone named Drew who apparently worked in the NC printing department. They talked about baseball, the weather, and exchanged a couple of crude jokes. Like Kevin, Drew seemed to be from the East. He talked about the Phillies as if they were his home team. Obviously, Kevin had made at least one friend in NC. Good for him.

  Kate fixed dinner while listening to Kevin and his girlfriend exchange sexual innuendoes. Just when Kate’s food was ready, Kevin got a call from Bedrosian. Kate sat with a notepad and pencil next to her dinner plate.

  “They’re still not close to making their performance standards.” Bedrosian was talking. “Maxwell was too optimistic when he started Nostalgia City. So much the better for us. One more accident and they’ll be in bankruptcy.”

  “Looks to me like they’re there now,” Kevin said.

  “They must be working on something to attract more visitors. Can’t imagine Maxwell sitting still.”

  “The casino railway is scheduled to open at the beginning of next month. I’ve also heard talk about them opening a new theme area at the same time.”

  “On the Fourth of July weekend?”

  “Right. Maxwell seems to think this will be the start of a big upswing.”

  “Fourth of July weekend celebration. Fireworks and fun on the train. Think that’ll help them any?”

  “Honestly, I don’t see how.”

  Kate stabbed her baked chicken breast mercilessly as she listened. She sliced it in pieces then speared the sections with her fork. “Wait and see, Kevin,” she said aloud.

  “I’ve been reading your recent report,” Bedrosian said. “It’s good. And you have good ideas about ways to cut costs and streamline administration.”

  “They waste a lot of time and money here.”

  “What’s the atmosphere like? Anything different since the old man was killed?”

  “Security is way higher. Like they expect a terrorist attack or something. More guards at the entrance to the employee lot now. They’ve searched my car twice in the last few days.”

  “Searched your car? Why didn’t you report this?”

  “I--was going to.”

  “Do they search everyone?”

  “Not everyone. Maybe it’s random.”

  “File a complaint. Send a memo to security. No. Send it to Maxwell. Tell him you’re being harassed. And tell him you want to start getting daily reservation reports. First thing every morning.”

  “Yes, yes. I’ll do that.”

  “Sounds as if they’re watching you. We need to be more careful. Do you have a cell phone?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “From now on, we should talk on your cell. Or I’ll call you at home. Don’t trust them. They violated their contract with us and now they’ll do anything to ke
ep us from exercising our legal rights.”

  “What do you think they’d do?”

  “I don’t know. Just a precaution. Has anyone else questioned you?”

  “No. Just that one time.”

  “Well, if you run into Deming again, lemme know.”

  “Damn,” Kate said, dropping her fork so she could write.

  Her dinner got cold as she scribbled notes. It sounded to her as if that would be the last conversation they heard between Kevin and Bedrosian.

  Before the call ended, Kevin asked Bedrosian if he thought he would be named the new president/CEO when Shaw retired. Kate wondered if Bedrosian had noticed the patronizing tone in Kevin’s voice. Maybe he did. Maybe he liked it.

  She didn’t know that Clyde had decided to keep a closer eye on Kevin. Searching his car might be a good idea, but it certainly alerted Bedrosian to Kevin’s vulnerability--and to the fact that his phone might be bugged. Did Bedrosian sound as if he were planning another “accident?” Kate wanted to call Lyle. She looked at her watch. It was after midnight in Massachusetts.

  ***

  Thursday morning, Lyle sat in his hotel room, looking at the telephone, procrastinating. Steven Travanti had just called him to confirm that everything they’d talked about the day before was set.

  It had taken Lyle about a half hour the previous afternoon to persuade Travanti to help him. Although he was sympathetic and had no love for insurance companies, Travanti had, in fact, not been very aggressive in digging for information. The information he provided on Topaz was no more than Lyle had already discovered. Lyle let Travanti off the hook. He told him he didn’t have to question people about FedPat or find out anything else. He could, however, just help Lyle with one little idea.

  Once Travanti agreed, he and Lyle devoted the rest of the afternoon to setting things up. Lyle was surprised at how easy it was. The hard part would be calling Kate for help.

  Finally, he punched in her number.

  “Kate? It’s Lyle.”

  “I know. How are things in Boston?”

  “I found out everything I can without alerting FedPat any further.”

  “I don’t know how important that is anymore.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I just listened to another phone recording. Bedrosian is suspicious. He told Kevin not to use his office phone to call him anymore. Clyde’s men searched Kevin’s car twice at the employee entrance.”

  “I need your help.” Lyle blurted it out before he could pause to think. He took a chance. Kate’s voice sounded considerate, even warm.

  “What can I do?”

  “Come to Boston.”

  “What for?”

  “I think we can get the evidence we need, if we get inside FedPat.”

  “I hate to leave right now. Our big press event is two weeks from tomorrow. How long will this take?”

  “Not sure.”

  Kate was silent.

  “Sorry for blowing up at you the other night,” he said. “I was tired. You probably think I’m crazy. I know your job is to protect the park.”

  “It’s okay, Lyle. I understand. Now, exactly what do you want me to do?”

  Chapter 44

  “You know some weird people, Lyle,” Kate said three days later.

  “Fringe benefit of being an ex-cop. Which person do you mean?”

  “Lenny Renaldo.”

  “Oh, he’s harmless.”

  “Harmless? A convicted felon who still counterfeits money?”

  “Is he printing again? I warned him about that.”

  Kate and Lyle were sitting in the crowded bar at a seafood restaurant in downtown Boston waiting for a dinner table. She had spent five hours on the plane from Phoenix and she was ready for a real meal. Lyle was definitely more upbeat than when she had seen him last.

  She gave him a hug when he met her at the airport. And he hugged her back.

  Sunday night restaurant patrons were causing such a din it was difficult for Kate and Lyle to hear each other so she was not worried about being overheard. “Lenny wanted to know if I was your girlfriend. Is that what you told him?”

  “Nope. He’s nosy. I told him you were working with me and needed new identification. You were supposed to get a drivers’ license, Social Security card, and anything else Lenny could throw in. Did he come on to you?”

  “Mostly just teased. He had to take my picture for the license. He kept one for himself. Stuck it up on the wall.”

  “Did you get a Massachusetts license?”

  “Yes. He said you gave him the name and address to put on it.”

  “I got you an apartment in an extended-stay hotel.”

  Kate pulled out her phony license and handed it to Lyle.”

  “Good name, Jennifer Norris. So, you’re older than I thought.”

  She grabbed the license out of his hand. “Lenny let me pick my age. This is close enough. And thanks for the compliment.”

  “License looks good. We’ll get you a local cell phone tomorrow.”

  “Did you get me a job as a temp, like you said?”

  “Yes. Jennifer has an appointment at the temp agency tomorrow morning.”

  “Why not use my real name?”

  “When you start temping at FedPat, it’ll be better if you use another name. There are any number of ways that FedPat people might know you. You’re on lists of NC executives. Kevin Waterman knows you. It’s safer this way.”

  “How exactly did you manage this?”

  Lyle looked up at the bartender mixing drinks. The clink of glasses and the whir of the blender combined with the voices of 150 Bostonians.

  Lyle leaned toward Kate so she could hear him. “Last time I was here I found out FedPat was going to need lots of temps this summer. At the time, I thought it was useless information. But I was thinking like a cop. I don’t have to follow police procedures. I can do whatever--like try to get on the inside.”

  “Or get me on the inside.”

  “Right. This guy I know who works for Boston PD--his wife is a big human resources executive. I figured she might know people at temp agencies. To make a long story short, Steve’s wife knew the head of one of the agencies that FedPat uses. Steve and his wife just asked her to do them a favor.”

  “So once I get there, what do I do? I’m not sure I’m spy material.”

  “Yes you are.” Lyle smiled, brows raised, and nodded.

  “So you want me to use my charm on these insurance guys.”

  “It’ll work. Believe me.”

  “You should’ve told me this before I left Arizona.”

  “I did.”

  Kate returned Lyle’s smile. “As long as I don’t have to sleep with anybody. Anybody I don’t like, anyway.”

  “Let your conscience be your guide.”

  “’Cuse me. Did I hear you say you were from Arizona?” said a middle-aged guy sitting next to Kate. He turned so he could get a better look.

  Kate glanced over her shoulder and nodded. She could smell scotch on his breath.

  “I was in Phoenix once,” he said. “Sure hot there.”

  “It’s a dry heat,” she said.

  Fortunately, at that moment, Lyle and Kate’s table was ready and they moved from the bar.

  The guy next to Kate swiveled in his seat to watch her walk by--and slipped off his barstool.

  “See what I mean,” Lyle said. “You’re going to be perfect for this.”

  A part of Kate was nervous about snooping at the insurance company, but the greater part of her was eager to get started. Her biggest worry was that she wouldn’t be able to find the evidence they needed in time. She had only a few days. She and Lyle sat at a table and started checking out the menu.

  After her conversation with Lyle Thursday morning, she had made plans quickly. She called Max and told him where she was going, but omitted the fake ID and the fact she was going to be working for FedPat. She said simply that Lyle was close to getting critical evidence, but needed
her help. Kate told Max she would keep an eye on Lyle, and Max sounded relieved. Then she called Bruce. They hadn’t planned to get together that weekend, but Bruce sounded sulky nonetheless. Kate didn’t tell him how long she’d be gone.

  Finally, she called Drenda and told her she had to go out of town. She impressed upon her the necessity of the new square being finished in time, saying that press invitations were all ready to go. She also asked Drenda to look in on her apartment while she was gone and feed her cat.

  After she visited Renaldo for the fake IDs, she had stopped to see Travis Stringley, Lyle’s electronics expert. He had several small boxes of gear for her. “Lyle ordered this stuff,” he said. “It’s exactly what he needs. He’ll explain how it works.”

  “I have all the eavesdropping equipment,” Kate now told Lyle after they placed their dinner order. “Am I going to have to ‘wear a wire’ as they say on cop shows?”

  “Maybe. The one I ordered is real easy to use and practically undetectable. It’s just a tiny transmitter. We may not need it, but if you find someone who knows about the attacks on NC, a tape--or the digital recording--will be additional evidence.”

  “What am I looking for?”

  “Anything you can get your hands on. See if you can get into Bedrosian’s office.”

  “I doubt he’s going to have an NC-sabotage flow chart on his wall. I’ll have to go through his files.”

  “We need to find a solid connection between FedPat and the hired muscle that’s doing the dirty work.”

  “Do we know who that is?”

  Lyle told her about Topaz, Renke, and Art Jones. It sounded promising, but Kate had hoped for a little more damning evidence.

  The waiter arrived with their salads and asked Lyle again if he wanted a drink. He ordered a soda.

  “What’re things like at NC now?” Lyle asked.

  “Spooky. Everyone’s on edge.”

  “What’d you hear from Kevin’s phone?”