Death in Nostalgia City

by Mark S. Bacon

  “No, but he’s sending somebody to the airport.”

  “We have to talk to the pilot. Tell him we’re not landing in Flagstaff.”

  Kate felt a chill.

  “We don’t know who we can trust,” Lyle said.

  “But Max?”

  “We need to slip into Nostalgia City as quietly as possible.”

  “What do I tell him?”

  “Tell Max we’ll meet with him and the attorneys tomorrow. Tell him he doesn’t need to send anyone for us.”

  “Where do we go?”

  “Let’s ask the pilot if we can set down somewhere else. Maybe Prescott. We can rent a car or call someone. We’ll find a way.”

  Chapter 61

  Kate padded into the lobby of the Maxwell Building early the next morning, waved her badge at a security guard she didn’t recognize, and stepped quickly into the elevator. She had come in early so she could hide out and work without anyone in Nostalgia City knowing she was back. Later she would find an empty office somewhere in the park where she could work until everything was resolved.

  The hallway outside the PR department was still. Kate listened to the echoes of her steps as she walked. The jingling sound of her keys made her think of a jailer. Once inside, she set her purse and briefcase down and headed for the coffee room.

  The night before, tired as they were, she and Lyle downloaded the documents and recordings Kate had emailed to herself. They transcribed critical portions of the Renke recording and made an extra copy of everything for Lyle to keep. Lyle was to stash the originals in a Polk bank safe deposit box that morning. Kate now carried the transcript and document copies in her briefcase. When they had talked briefly to Max on the phone, he’d said nothing unusual had been found on the railroad tracks and security was still checking.

  After she started the coffee machine, her attention was drawn to papers and photographs spread out over the department conference table. She first saw the list of media people who had sent in an RSVP for the press day grand opening. She was pleased to see the number of major news outlets that would be represented. Many of the reservations had been made late the day before. She moved to the layout of photographs showing the new theme area and the new Indian casino train depot. She glanced through them and smiled.

  The moment she heard the noise behind her, she remembered leaving the door unlocked--as she had in Provincetown. This flashed through her head as she spun around and nearly knocked over--Bobby Bostic.

  The former singing sensation jumped back. “Oh! Kate. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “Bobby, what’re you doing here?”

  “I’m an early riser. I’ve got a meeting in the entertainment office so I just took a chance you might be here. Oh, Kate, what happened to your eye?”

  Kate had tried to use makeup to minimize the large bruise. Obviously, it was still noticeable.

  “I’m really busy, Bobby.” Kate saw that the once-upon-a-time teen idol must be an early riser. He was already dressed in a trendy sport coat with shiny slacks, his dark, curly hair all cemented in place.

  Bostic picked up a photograph of an outdoor stage. “Is this where the celebration will be?”

  Kate grabbed the photo out of his hand. “We haven’t released any of this yet. Not until the grand opening Friday afternoon.”

  “Do you have any of me?”

  “Photographs of you?”

  “I’m gonna be one of the featured stars.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I forgot. You’re going to be on a float, right?”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Yes, Bobby?”

  “I was wondering--”

  Bostic paused and looked as if he was going to put a hand on Kate’s shoulder. She moved slightly along the edge of the table.

  “If I was in the first float, then I’d be ready for the show after the parade.” Bostic’s pleading voice went up an octave. “And I’m still only booked for three days. I’m starting to think Nostalgia City doesn’t respect me or the other--”

  “Bobby, I don’t care where you are in the parade. You stay there. That’s how it was planned. And if you’re not ready to give us 150 percent when you’re on stage, I’ll make sure you never get booked here again. For three days or three minutes. Is that clear?”

  Kate led Bostic out of the office and held the door for him. When he was gone, she realized she’d summarily ejected the volatile singer. But after decking the homicidal goon in Provincetown, a petulant rock star was nothing. She shrugged and went into her darkened office. Instead of turning on the lights, she drew the shades and let in the early morning, high-desert sun. Joann had made neat piles of mail, phone messages, and printed copies of some e-mail. Kate noticed a phone message from a week earlier near the top of the stack: “Vets group chair says they will boycott NC--and tell the media.”

  No they won’t, she thought. Then her mind returned to Kevin Waterman.

  She called his office. No answer. She left a voicemail. She tried to sound casual even though she wanted to get her hands around his neck.

  As soon as she hung up, her phone buzzed. It was Max.

  “Kate, where the hell’s Lyle? What’s goin’ on?”

  “Slow down, Max. What’s up?”

  “That bastard Bedrosian doesn’t know he’s licked. Now he’s saying that if we don’t make good on the contract by the end of the week he’s going to file an injunction.”

  “He’s lying. As soon as our attorneys hear what we’ve got to say, it won’t be FedPat that’s taking over Nostalgia City. It’ll be the other way around.”

  “Think so? Have you seen the Phoenix paper?”

  ***

  “Delivery for Lyle Deming. Morning, bro.” Earl held out a large coffee and a newspaper. Lyle invited him into his motel room.

  “You sleep okay?” Earl asked.

  Lyle flopped down on the edge of the bed. “I’m okay.”

  Earl looked suspiciously at the two rickety-looking motel chairs, finally settling for the one that appeared to be least likely to collapse. “You better have some of the coffee before you see the paper.”

  “Bad news?”

  “Front page of the second section.”

  A two-column story said Lyle was wanted for murder in Massachusetts. It identified him as an ex-cop discharged from the Phoenix PD because of a history of mental problems. The story didn’t connect the murder to Nostalgia City, although it did say Lyle was employed at the park.

  “It says my whereabouts are unknown.” Lyle said.

  “No they’re not. Your whereabouts are right here in this cheesy motel.”

  “Pretty soon Undersheriff Rey Martinez is going to figure you’re helping me. You weren’t followed were you?

  “Little late to ask that now, isn’t it? Don’t worry. I took your advice coming over here.”

  “It’ll just be a day or so and we’ll have the bad guys in the slammer.”

  “You hope.”

  Lyle borrowed Earl’s phone and called Marko.

  “Where are you?”

  “Back home.”

  “Not in your condo!” Marko’s voice went up.

  “C’mon, gimme a break.”

  “Sorry. What are you going to do?”

  “Talk to Maxwell’s attorneys, then maybe see the San Navarro County prosecutor.”

  “Did you see the Phoenix paper today? The Boston cops are saying you’re crazy.”

  “Uh-huh. The article said I had a history of mental problems.”

  “You’re lucky that’s all it said. Somehow the Boston and Peabody cops got parts of your personnel file and they’re spreading the details all over.”

  “They can’t do that. How’d they get it?”

  “Collins. The Boston papers printed some nasty crap about you.”

  “Imaginary friends?”

  “Uh-huh. It stirred up a lot of trouble here in the department for your old buddies. Collins and Bensen are finally taking s
ome heat. The chief is involved.”

  “But the damage is done. Now I sound as credible as Daffy Duck.”

  “Maybe not. You’ve got strong evidence, right? And witnesses? Didn’t your blonde bombshell see the murder?”

  “Kate was down the hall. I’m a little short in the witness department. The guy that got killed could have been our star witness. What do you hear from Steve?”

  “Travanti? He says they found your prints all over Kovak’s office. One of their theories is that you killed Kovak because you think he was involved in your father’s death.”

  “But didn’t you explain?”

  “I’ve tried.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “He’s pretty freaked out. He helped you, and you got him involved in this. Now his boss is breathing down his back.”

  “So, I’m a wacko and he doesn’t have to cut me any slack.”

  “Would you?”

  “Shit, I don’t know. Travanti should have Renke collared. I told him to.”

  “They were watching Renke.”

  “Were?”

  “Apparently he disappeared.”

  Chapter 62

  Kate found a hiding place. In a vacant office, a block from the Maxwell Building, she caught up on good news and bad. An email from the head of railroad operations told her maintenance on the park’s main steam locomotive was a little behind schedule. She made a note to have one of her people check on it. She tried Kevin’s line again. This time a clerk in accounting answered. Kevin had not come in yet, but was expected. She left another message.

  She called Drenda who sounded enthusiastic. Positively bubbly. She said the new theme area and shops were nearly complete and the speaker’s platform was under construction. Drenda said she had been talking up the project for two weeks. She was eager to get Kate’s opinion on various final details.

  “I’ll stop by your office later this afternoon,” Kate said, “after I talk with Max.”

  “All of a sudden, he’s developed an interest in our project.”

  “Max? I thought he was ignoring it. He hasn’t mentioned it since he approved our plans.”

  “He drops by to look at construction,” Drenda said. “But he rarely makes comments.”

  Kate’s secretary was her next call. She told Joann only that she had a stressful time in Boston and that she wanted to hide out to avoid interruptions while she did last-minute work on press day. This was her first and only priority, she said, until it was history, so to speak. Joanne--who was proving to be a valuable, circumspect assistant--didn’t ask questions but brought Kate up to date on the grand opening and said she would relay phone calls.

  “Several of the reporters who made reservations asked about Lyle Deming,” Joann said. “They wanted to know if there was any connection between him and the accidents at the park.”

  What irony, Kate thought.

  Next, it was time to call Max again.

  “If we can get Engine 43 steamed up,” she said, “we’ll be ready for the grand opening. The press response is higher than I expected. We’ll get tons of TV coverage.”

  “Good. ’Bout time. The attorneys from Reese, Reese, and Genet will be here at two-thirty.”

  “I’ll come over ahead of time with the evidence. We can talk strategy. Are they civil and criminal?”

  “Just business. I contacted Slade Foster for the criminal side, but he may not get here until tomorrow.”

  “I wish we could tie it up all at the same time. It’ll be complicated.”

  “What about Lyle?”

  “He’ll be there. Wait until you hear everything he did to expose Bedrosian.”

  “Do you think he’s, you know, sane?”

  “Max, c’mon. You said you were smart to hire him.”

  “Just checking, that’s all. Did you read the story about him in the paper?”

  “I explained to you before about Lyle and the Phoenix police.”

  “I know.”

  Kate paused. If it was going to be this difficult to explain things to Max, what would it be like to outsiders? “Max, Kevin Waterman is involved in a lot of this stuff.”

  “That weasel from FedPat? I told Clyde to check him out, but he didn’t come up with much. Thinks he’s harmless.”

  Kate knew otherwise, but was it really time to let Max know about the tap on Kevin’s phone? Kevin’s phone! She’d forgotten. She would retrieve the memory card and drop by Kevin’s office.

  She told Max she’d meet him after lunch then headed out to track down Kevin. Walking across the street toward the Maxwell Building, she really hoped she didn’t run into anyone. She made it up the elevator to Waterman’s floor. The door to his office was ajar. She walked in hoping to catch him off guard. The office was empty.

  “Mr. Waterman’s not here,” a clerk said from outside the office. She told Kate that Kevin had just left. He’d gone out without saying anything.

  She’d missed him again.

  She thanked the clerk, who went back to her work, then Kate strolled casually back into Waterman’s office. The desk was clear save for a telephone, an accordion file holder, and his computer monitor. She bumped the mouse on his desk and his monitor sprang to life. She sat down and started exploring his desktop with the mouse. Let’s see what he’s been up to while we were gone, she thought as she opened his calendar. He had nothing down for June 28, the day before, which was Tuesday. Monday contained a notation, “Mr. Maxwell, 10 a.m.” Other notes for the week were routine. Funny that Max hadn’t mentioned talking with Kevin. Maybe the meeting hadn’t taken place. Before she left the building, she ducked into the electrical closet and retrieved the memory card. Back in her temporary office, Kate plugged the memory card in and started playback on Kevin’s last few calls. The first two were unimportant business, the last one, a call to Kevin’s girlfriend.

  “They’re after me, Nicole.” He sounded scared. “My cell phone battery is dead. I’m calling from the office. I can’t talk. I have to get out of here. I’m going down to Phoenix to stay with Toby. I’ll call you soon. I’ve got to get away.”

  Chapter 63

  Lyle’s Mustang was out of reach. He wanted to get his car, but his condo was off limits, so he drove to the reservation in a car Earl rented for him.

  He had called Jen Smith at the casino office to ask about Johnny Cooper. The motorcycle-riding-accountant didn’t sound surprised to hear from him. “I was going to call you,” she said. “You don’t really look like a homicidal maniac. What’s going on?”

  Lyle managed to overcome some of her hesitation and persuaded her to ask Cooper to meet with him. Cooper set the time and place. Jen told Lyle the details.

  Lyle turned off the main highway and followed an unpaved road that twisted its way around the edge of a small chaparral-dotted bluff. As the road rose up the hill, it afforded a view of a canyon off to the east. Lyle made another turn, as he was told to do, and the road changed from gravel to dirt, then to two narrow tracks in the red dust. Finally, the path ended at a rock outcropping where two beat-up pickup trucks were parked. Four men in jeans and western shirts were standing near the edge of a cliff.

  Lyle stopped his car near the trucks and walked slowly toward the men who talked in muted voices.

  “Johnny Cooper? I’m Lyle Deming.”

  “So you’re the ex-cop, huh?” a tall, angular man said. He had long hair the color of the Arizona night and he fixed Lyle with a dark-eyed stare. “The shit at Nostalgia City is bad, bad for everybody. People have been killed. This was not our doing. We had no part in the death of your father.”

  “I believe you. I have evidence that proves it.”

  Cooper leaned against a rock worn smooth by millennia of wind and sand. He waited for Lyle to continue.

  “I’m glad I finally have the chance to talk to you. With the evidence I have now,” Lyle said, “we’re going to the police. We know the big insurance company, Federal Patrician, has been behind everything. They’ve been pulling the
strings. I know how you got into this--and why.”

  After seeing the look in Cooper’s eyes, Lyle didn’t expect him to deny anything. He was correct. “I also know you were not involved in hurting anyone.”

  “So what is it you want?”

  “I need your help. If you’ll testify against the men who did this, I’ll do everything I can to see that you get a fair shake. We can help each other.”

  Did Cooper realize that Lyle needed him more than he needed Lyle?

  “The sheriff, the tribal police will come for us.”

  “Sheriff Wisniewski is sympathetic to your cause. I think you know that. George Brown will help. I’ll help too, in any way I can.”

  One of the other men said something to Cooper that Lyle couldn’t hear. They took a few steps away and talked.

  As Lyle looked into the canyon, something caught his eye--railroad tracks. Cooper had selected a meeting place overlooking the rugged valley where the NC casino express would soon be chugging through, loaded with tourists. Lyle wondered if Cooper was worried about preserving his past, about long-dead generations of ancestors who probably had roamed these same canyons and mesas. The past could be a powerful force. What sort of hold did it have on Cooper? Lyle would most likely never know.

  When Lyle turned his attention back to the men in front of him, Cooper had taken a few steps forward. “We’ll call you when we decide.”

  Chapter 64

  Driving back from the reservation, Lyle called Kate on a newly acquired phone.

  She heard something in his voice. “You okay?”

  “Better than Janet Leigh in the shower scene.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  Kate leaned back in her chair. Lyle explained what Marko had told him, then said, “So I was hoping to recruit a witness. I wanted to get the Indians who sabotaged the bridge to testify against FedPat.”

  “Any luck?”

  “They may be leaning our way, but there’s no way to tell. Cooper wants to think about it.”