Death in Nostalgia City

by Mark S. Bacon

  “I hope so. We’re all waiting for you. Let’s get this cleared up.”

  He sounded as reassuring as the computer voice in 2001: A Space Odyssey.

  Lyle switched off the phone then immediately scanned the terminal. “They know we’re here. They traced my phone. I should have thought of it.”

  “Can they do that?”

  “Yes.” Looking left and right, Lyle steered Kate outside. “I’m sure cops are all over the place. They’re looking for two people. Let’s split up.”

  A cab was just depositing someone at the curb. Lyle held the door then tossed Kate’s bags inside. “Tell the cab driver to take you to the harbor where we were the other day. The Long Wharf.”

  “What’re you going to do?”

  “I’ll be a few minutes behind you. Meet me at the gate for the ferry to Provincetown.”

  “Provincetown. Where’s that?”

  “Cape Cod. We’ll hide out. Do you have any money?”

  “Over a hundred.”

  “We’ll need more. Do you have an ATM card? Let me have it, and the password.”

  “What if you’re late? We don’t know what time the ferry leaves.”

  “Give me your disposable phone. Keep the Arizona one. I’ll call you if I have to. Now go.”

  He watched the street as Kate’s cab pulled out. No one followed her. When she was safely away, Lyle relaxed and felt a little less conspicuous. All he needed to do was get as much cash as he could then meet Kate. He knew Logan security was normally tight anyway. Ever since two of the four 9/11 hijacked flights took off from Logan, it had become the most security-conscious airport in the nation. And as Steve Travanti tracked them heading to Logan, he would have called out a bunch of cars and alerted airport security. Officers in police cruisers must be monitoring the airport access routes. Of course, he wouldn’t be in this situation if he hadn’t called Travanti after Kovak’s murder and they had just left town--forget it.

  The nearest ATM was tantalizingly close--just inside the terminal. But that was crazy--or was it? Lyle walked inside, his eyes constantly moving. The building hummed with a crush of travelers. He found the ATM, withdrew as much cash as possible from both their accounts, and headed for the exit. Glancing at his watch, he hoped he’d be on time for the ferry.

  Just as he reached the door, a man in a suit passed close by. A hand grabbed Lyle’s arm. “Stop.”

  Lyle spun around and shoved his wheeled suitcase into the man’s legs. The man fell forward over the case and had to release his grip on Lyle to cushion his fall. Lyle dashed outside, madly looking for a cab.

  Twenty yards ahead and two lanes over from the curb was an empty taxi. As he sprinted toward the cab, Lyle glanced over his shoulder and saw the plain-clothes policeman--security guard, or whoever it was--close behind. The crowd forced Lyle’s pursuer to dodge in and out.

  Lyle just had time to dive into the back seat of the cab and say, “Go. Now. Step on it.”

  Looking out the back window of the cab, Lyle saw the man pull out a cell phone. He could read the guy’s angry lips. Soon the cab was too far away.

  “Circle the airport and come back to another terminal,” Lyle said.

  “What airline?” the cabbie asked. He had an eastern European accent.

  “Doesn’t matter. Keep going. I’m trying to get away from a jealous husband.”

  “Ooo, you’re a bad guy,” the cabbie said. He turned briefly to Lyle and smiled.

  The Boston cops stationed outside the airport would now have a description of the cab.

  “I drive a cab, too,” Lyle said to the driver.

  “You do? Where is this?”

  “St. Louis.” No sense in leaving behind any more clues than he already had.

  “You like it?” Did the cabbie sound less suspicious?

  “Sometimes. What I hate is fares who give you a lousy tip or stiff you.”

  The driver’s head nodded up and down. “Me, too.”

  After a couple of minutes, while they were still on airport property, Lyle pointed to a road on the right. “Where does that go?”

  “Over there is the water shuttle and the Hyatt Hotel.”

  “Let’s try the hotel.”

  When they pulled up, Lyle thanked the driver and gave him a good tip. Although everything in him wanted to get away from the airport, Lyle took his time and walked into the hotel. In the gift shop, he bought a baseball cap. Then he walked back out to the street to catch another cab. He waited for one that didn’t look like the first one. As he got in, he glanced up and down the street then pulled the cap low over his eyes.

  Chapter 56

  Kate stood next to her two bags, holding her ferry ticket in her left hand. Crew members of the large catamaran were shuffling a crowd on board, obviously getting ready to shove off. Kate could hear the rumble of the ship’s powerful engines and smell the exhaust. She’d been standing on the dock for about twenty minutes. At first, she expected to see police pull up at any moment, but the one policeman she saw paid no attention to her. Later, she started looking for Lyle.

  “Do you have a ticket for Provincetown?” a uniformed crew member asked her. “Time to board.”

  She shifted her feet around her bags and looked down the pier. A block away, Lyle was jogging toward the boat.

  He bought a ticket just in time and leaped aboard.

  In less than a minute, the ship started to move. Kate and Lyle stood by the rail and looked back at the wharf. There were no screeching sirens, no policemen running toward the boat, arms waving in the air. Only two children waved at them from the dock. Kate waved back.

  “Have any trouble at the airport.”

  “Not much. I maxed out both our cards and got cash. It took longer to get here because I switched cabs a couple of times and walked the last mile.”

  “Where’s your suitcase?”

  “Decided to travel light.”

  As the boat sped away from the harbor, they headed inside.

  “It’s best if we don’t sit together,” Lyle said under his breath. “Just in case.”

  Kate and Lyle sat two rows apart in the air-conditioned cabin. The rows of airline-style seats were filled with people in casual clothes, from tank tops and shorts to short, flimsy dresses. That morning Kate and Lyle had changed clothes at the hotel so they blended in, except that Kate’s only shoes were the high-heeled ones she’d worn at work. She’d left her room in such a hurry she’d forgotten her running shoes. Kate wondered if anyone on the boat was looking for them. She eyed a man in slacks and a sport shirt who pretended to read a paper--while actually scanning the crowd.

  ***

  Low clouds hung over the tip of Cape Cod as the commuter catamaran motored into the dock at Provincetown. Kate didn’t think it would be hot and humid, but when she left the cabin and walked ashore, the sticky, moist air wrapped around her like a wet towel.

  Lyle joined her when they were well away from the boat.

  “You think Renke will have people looking for us?” she asked.

  “Good thought. He might prefer that his men get to us before the cops. Or maybe he’ll just wait for the cops to get us. I’m a nut case, remember. No one would believe me.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “Find a place to stay. The police won’t have given up on us. But at least I ditched my phone. I tossed it in the back of a delivery truck. Good luck for Travanti if he follows that. If we pay cash for everything here and are careful, we should be able to get a plane from somewhere--not Boston--back to Arizona.”

  “Then what? We’ll still be wanted for murder.” Kate lowered her voice for the last few words, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was nearby.

  “We’ll get help. I’m not worried. Should be, but I’m not. Funny, huh?”

  “Hilarious.”

  They picked up a Provincetown map in a gift shop and asked a young, curly-haired clerk if she could recommend places to stay.

  “Yah don’t have ah rese
rvation?”

  Kate shook her head.

  The clerk chuckled. She pointed out a couple of places on the map they could try.

  Provincetown looked out on a narrow, hook-shaped tip of land at the end of the much larger hook shape that was Cape Cod itself. The town spread out along the bay. Blocks of gift shops, restaurants, espresso shops, and bars sat on either side of Commercial Street, the main drag. The town was a few miles long but only blocks wide.

  After she and Lyle found no vacancies at two B and Bs and two motels, even the wheels on Kate’s suitcase seemed to roll with more difficulty. Finally, they found themselves in front of Captain McDougal’s, a weathered house just off Commercial Street that had been converted to a B and B. A row of flags hung off the porch. A motionless U.S. flag and a nautical pennant were flanked by two rainbow banners.

  “Colorful,” Lyle said, pointing to the banners. “You see lots of those here.”

  “We’d be less conspicuous checking in if we were the same sex.”

  “And you were a foot shorter,” Lyle said as they walked inside and up to a bar that served as the front desk.

  “My turn to ask,” Kate said.

  She looked at the stocky man behind the counter. He wore a Hawaiian shirt that was slightly too small and had an earring in each ear.

  “We’re looking for a room.”

  “Reservation?”

  Kate shook her head.

  “I got one. It’s not our best. Around back. You get to it from the rear porch.”

  “We’ll take it,” Lyle said. “Sign us in, honey.”

  Kate picked up the pen on the counter and created new personas for them. They were from Seattle, she decided. They had already agreed they would settle for one room for the two of them--and be happy to find that. She thought Lyle seemed pleased with the idea.

  “You’re a long way from home,” the clerk said. “You get a lot of rain there?”

  “Oh yes. Buckets.”

  Lyle paid cash for the night and they carried Kate’s bags to their room.

  Eclectic, Kate thought, would be a generous way to describe the irregularly shaped room with an alcove near the door, a fireplace in the corner, and a hodgepodge of furniture. The room smelled of lavender--and Lysol. On the wall across from the bed hung a tired-looking, framed print of a sailboat, the kind you saw in ads for art schools.

  Kate hung up blouses and slacks from her suitcase, hoping they would lose a few of their wrinkles by morning.

  “I need to buy a razor and toothbrush,” Lyle said, “but first, let’s eat.”

  ***

  Commerce Street was packed with pedestrians who spilled over the curbs and on to the pavement. Kate was uneasy. The Mardi Gras atmosphere--the music, the aroma of frying fish, the crowd--seemed to offer them cover, but she felt conspicuous, especially in casual clothes with her stacked-heel pumps. Everyone seemed to be looking at everyone else. Gay or straight, you came to P-town to see and be seen.

  Lyle obviously had similar thoughts. “We need to blend in here. We’ve got to find you some flat shoes.”

  “I’d like to get out of these, too,” she said raising a foot, “but I don’t see any shoe stores.”

  “How about flip-flops?”

  Chapter 57

  Two hours later, they were back in their room. Kate had bought men’s tennis shoes in a clothing store and a Cape Cod T-shirt--a souvenir, she said. For dinner, they both devoured plates of fish and chips while each kept an eye over the other’s shoulder.

  “Tomorrow,” Lyle said, “we either have to rent a car or get public transportation--maybe a cab--to Hyannis. There’s a small airport there. Maybe we can make connections out of Massachusetts. But if we rent a car we’d have to use a credit card.”

  “They can trace us that way, right?”

  Lyle nodded. “A cab might be better. I’ll check the phone book--if we have one in the room.”

  “But first,” Kate said, “Let’s check in with Max. Is it safe to use my disposable Boston phone?”

  “Sure. It’s a dumb burner phone, prepaid, untraceable. Doesn’t even have GPS.”

  Max answered on the first ring. “What the hell’s happening out there? You’re in the news.”

  “You might ask if we’re okay.”

  “I know you’re okay. You’re calling me. Aren’t you all right?”

  “Thanks for the sympathy, Max.”

  “Where are you?”

  “We’re hiding out in Provincetown on Cape Cod. We have the evidence we need against FedPat. I have memos that show Bedrosian hired a private eye named Renke to attack the park. One of his men killed Lyle’s father. They’re responsible for everything. We can prove it.”

  “You’d better, because the cops are looking for Lyle. They say he killed someone at FedPat.”

  “Renke killed him. I saw him come out of the office.”

  “You were there?”

  “Yes. Before that we got Renke to confess to all the trouble at the park.”

  “You sure of all this?”

  “We have proof. Lyle’s with me and we’re on our way back.”

  “If your evidence is that good, we can void the agreement with FedPat.”

  “We’ll also get Bedrosian arrested. Oh, Max, talk to the sheriff’s office. Tell them to check out the train. This guy that Bedrosian hired said he was going to disable our steam engine.”

  Max swore. “Good thing the train’s not running yet. I’ll get security right on it.”

  Kate told him she had used an alias and said she hoped she could put the finishing touches on the press day at NC before she had to talk to the police.

  “What’d he say?” Lyle asked when she hung up.

  “He’s going to call out his legal attack dogs for us. They’ll cancel the FedPat agreement. We just have to get back to NC with our evidence.”

  “He mention the police?”

  “They’re looking for you. Apparently they talked to Brent Pelham and our friend Clyde.”

  “I thought Max was going to fire Bates.”

  “So did I.”

  “Obviously, the sheriff will be waiting for me at my house when we get back. Lemme call Earl and see if he can get me a place to stay. We should get with the attorneys and work out our case before we talk to the sheriff or anyone.”

  She gave Lyle a hopeful smile. “I also need to call Drenda and see how the plans are coming--and see if my cat’s okay.”

  ***

  Kate’s muscles ached, particularly in her neck. Looking over her shoulder ever since the airport had worn her out. Lyle looked tired, too. When they checked in, she had noticed the room had but one queen-size bed. When they finished their calls, Lyle sprawled out on the bed, staring into space. Raising himself on one elbow, he said, “Did Max ever ask you if you thought I was crazy?”

  “Clyde told him about your police record.”

  “I know. Max told me. Were you worried?”

  “For about a minute.”

  “It was all made up. I was on a stakeout one day. Two other cops relieved me when my shift was over. They swore I was talking to people who weren’t there.”

  “And you were really just talking to yourself.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Then why weren’t you reinstated?”

  “Because I’d made mistakes. I told you about that. I didn’t really care at that point. It was a way out, and I took it.”

  “And tomorrow, we’ll find our way out of here.”

  “Right,” Lyle said, yawning.

  “I’m pretty tired, too,” Kate said. “I think we’d better turn in.”

  Lyle agreed. Kate went into the bathroom--such as it was--untied her new tennis shoes and pulled off her clothes. She decided she’d wear just the Cape Cod T-shirt to bed. After combing her hair, she walked into the bedroom. The light was off but she could make out shadows.

  “Lyle?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You asleep?”

  “Not yet.�
�

  “Good.”

  “You want to talk?”

  “No.”

  Kate pulled back the sheet and slid underneath it. Lyle was lying on his back. She reached out to him. The hair on his chest felt soft. He made a noise, then turned to her and put a hand on her waist. She felt it slide around behind her and she arched her back toward him.

  She and Lyle had survived the onslaught thus far and proved they made a good team. They’d be ready for whatever the police, Joe Renke, or anyone threw at them. And to Kate, seeking temporary comfort in each other’s arms was the most natural thing in the world.

  Chapter 58

  Kate opened her eyes. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. Then she saw the hackneyed sailboat painting on the wall and knew she was in Provincetown, Massachusetts, in bed with Lyle Deming. He was still asleep, breathing heavily, dead to the world.

  Kate knew she would not fall back asleep. Groping for her watch, she saw it was a little before 6 a.m. She got up and dressed, pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. She glanced in the mirror and was pleasantly surprised. Her hair needed work but it didn’t look half bad in a tousled, casual sort of way. First priority, however, was coffee. There was none in the room, but she vaguely remembered seeing an espresso shop not far away.

  On the chance she could find some in the lobby, she walked in and was surprised to see the person who had checked them in sitting reading a paper. He didn’t look the type to be up early or to be interested in the newspaper.

  She glanced in a corner and saw an empty glass coffee carafe. “Where can I get a paper?”

  “There’s a box down on the corner to the right.” The guy motioned with one arm while barely lifting his head from his paper.

  “Isn’t there a coffee place just down the street?”

  “Yeah, Charlie’s. It’s that way too. We serve continental breakfast here in the lobby in an hour.”

  Kate couldn’t wait, so she headed out around the front of the house and stopped to listen. After a night of music and drink, P-town slept. The glow of dawn offered only murky rays to light the morning. Ocean dampness cooled the air. Kate walked a block to Commerce Street then down a block to Charlie’s Espresso Stop. Two customers were in front of her. Kate ordered two large coffees to go, bought a Boston paper from a news rack, and headed back.