Deep Into The Night (Hartz Island Series)
Page 29
Cassie took over the coffee pouring from Kip and reiterated her new name. He smiled and joined Jack. When she stopped at their table, she said, “Hi. I’m Sammi. That’s with an i. What can I get you all?”
Jack grinned and placed his order of bacon and eggs.
“Oatmeal would be healthier.” She left.
People came in and out all morning. Finally, at eleven, there was a break. All the local news stations, including Seattle, had arrived, and a press conference was taking place outside the compound gates.
Jeannie, Cassie, and Montana stood behind the counter. In trooped two older men.
Jeannie sighed. “My Odd Men’s Club.”
They both went to the pine cupboard in the corner and picked out their cups, settling in at the counter. Jeannie poured their coffee.
“I thought you weren’t open any more on a Monday. I’m glad to see you changed your mind.”
“Amos, I didn’t. We have extenuating circumstances, and I felt the café should be opened to accommodate everyone. Next week it will be closed again.”
“Is it true about Mrs. Black? I think this is the first murder we’ve ever had on the island. Isn’t that something, our minister’s wife is a murderer.”
“How did you hear about it, Al?” Jeannie asked.
“My son. He’s on the volunteer Fire Department. He said he helped bag the guy. Who in their right mind would come to the door nude?”
The two men discussed at length all the events. Jeannie stood back and just listened. Cassie continued taking orders from the customers filtering in. Finally, the café was too crowded for the two older men and they left.
Kip, Jack, and Ray stood back in the shadows with ball caps and sunglasses on. They’d had a big laugh about Montana and Cassie wearing wigs but agreed with them. No one wanted to be in the spotlight. In the middle of the press conference, they slipped out and headed back to the main building. Jack wanted to see what was in room three and four. Not only were there steel doors with electronic locks, but also deadbolts. Finally, they were able to get one of the doors opened.
The men stood there and gaped. Thousands of DVDs, lined the walls. Computers, packing material, and shipping boxes were at one end. Several boxes had been prepared to be shipped.
Jack sucked in his breath. He had a sick feeling he knew what he was going to find. He pulled one of the sleeved DVDs, read the title, and then several others to make sure. He handed them to Ray to insert into the computer and pull up on the screen. They’d uncovered a high-end multimillion dollar porn operation. Unrepeatable words poured out of the men’s mouths watching images of young children.
“Last night I wasn’t thinking why Armstrong had so many dishes and the size of them. He downloaded and up-linked. Those dishes were never detected on any of the computer images.”
“It’s now making sense with those communication satellite dishes that he mounted on that rental house last spring. He was able to download straight in here from any part of the world. There was something so squirrely about him, and I couldn’t put my finger on it,” Kip said. “Interpol will find this interesting.”
“Hopefully the Black woman is right in that Armstrong will rot in hell,” said Ray. “The murder was clear-cut, only the motive might not be.”
“If I’d known about all this, I might have shot him in the balls ahead of Margery Anne,” declared Jack. “Death is too kind.”
Using a crowbar, they were finally able to enter the other locked door. Bad had been the word used by the rescued woman. Bad was too mild. What Armstrong didn’t download or smuggle, he filmed. Clothing, paraphernalia, and anything having to do with the dark side of sex filled the room.
“I take that back. Balls and dick,” said Jack, totally disgusted.
Jack called Canadian Border Services and informed Dan Williams. His group had been making arrests all morning. One of his agents had arrived on Hartz Island and was interviewing the women. They were North Korean women smuggled into South Korea but had entered Canada legally with the employment opportunity program. Technically, they’d been kidnapped from Canada into the USA. Lots of red tape for which agency would handle which aspect.
At four o’clock, Kip came through the café entrance. The last customer had just left, and Cassie was cleaning the table. Jeannie and Montana stood behind the counter. Kip turned the Open sign to Closed and locked the door.
“You’re all done for the day,” he announced. He had no argument from the three of them. “I’ve arranged for pizza and beer on the boat at six thirty p.m. sharp. I’ll pick you all up fifteen minutes before.” He left out the front, shutting it firmly.
“Let’s go hide in the kitchen just in case someone comes to the door,” said Jeannie.
Cassie and Montana followed her. The timer buzzed, and Jeannie laughed.
“Well, there is still baking to be done. I actually find it relaxing. You two take a seat.”
After pulling the pies out of the oven, she went into her pantry and came back with a bottle of red wine and three wine glasses. “Right now it is five o’clock somewhere. Montana open and pour, please.”
Cassie emptied her pockets of tip money. Counting it all out, she laughed. “The stronger my southern accent the bigger my tip. Jack left me a twenty.”
“I don’t think that counts,” replied Montana, sorting through her change.
Cassie opened Jeannie’s laptop and surfed the Internet. “What news stations were here? Maybe they’ve posted something.”
“KOMO News, KING 5, and KIRO 7,” replied Jeannie. “Also, Bellingham and Victoria.”
“Oh, my.” Cassie turned the laptop around so Jeannie and Montana could see the screen. She hit the play button.
An orange jump-suited Margery Anne was being led away with the reporter stating, “A plea of not guilty by insanity will be filed in court.”
“Montana, you might get called as a witness,” said Jeannie.
“I hope not.”
“Did she seem insane to you?”
“No, more like possessed.”
Montana wouldn’t look her in the eye. There were times not to ask, and this seemed like one of them. Often what wasn’t being said was just as important.
Kip timed their arrival at the marina to coincide with pizza delivery. Stepping onboard the yacht, Jeannie was glad to see Kip had set up everything in the upper salon. Furthermore, she was thrilled the heater decided to work and filter up. The men did most of the talking with the women listening. What information Cassie hadn’t been able to get off the computer, they gleaned from the guys. Jeannie watched Montana closely. Everyone was tired, so her behavior wasn’t abnormal, but still, she thought, something was amiss. Each time MAMW’s name was mentioned, Montana squirmed.
“So what about the kayakers?” Montana asked. “Are they tied into all this? We saw them on the beach. You can’t let that go.”
“That’s a good question.” Ray shrugged.
“With Armstrong dead, how will we know?” pondered Jack.
“My guess is the Korean men won’t talk. Hopefully, Margery Anne will,” Ray speculated.
“I don’t think she would have a clue about the kayakers.” Totally adamant, Montana continued. “She bought into Armstrong’s story. Margery Anne wanted to believe what he told her. And when she didn’t…” Montana sucked in her breath and shrugged and fidgeted in her seat. “Somebody should have talked to her before it came to all this.”
“We had nothing to go on other than she was having an affair,” said Ray. He glared at her. “We talked about this. She wasn’t breaking any laws.”
“Well,” Montana shrugged, “Maybe. But if someone had done something sooner… Well, maybe. Who knows?”
“That’s right. Who knows.” Ray shot her a look.
Jeannie had
the distinct feeling Montana had knowledge about Margery Anne that she wasn’t sharing. She hoped her friend had minded her own business, but sometimes Montana felt it was her business, and that spelled trouble.
At nine, they called it a night. Everyone wanted to get home to see the late newscasts. Cassie and Jack were in the lead, already climbing into the Tahoe.
“Hey, Jeannie, will you need my help tomorrow?” called Cassie.
“Yes. My daughter Betsy is still gone, so it would be great.”
“Okay then.” She waved, and they left.
“That’s good,” said Montana. “I’m tied up all day tomorrow.”
Jeannie didn’t say it, but she thought the comment was interesting.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Cassie speculated they were the only house left on the island without cable, plus a vintage television and a remote control that barely worked. Once she replaced the batteries, the remote control functioned better but not perfect.
“When we come back up here, we’re bringing a new television set. This thing is ancient,” said Jack.”
“When do you think you’ll be wrapping everything up?”
“Tomorrow. Hopefully, we can get on the afternoon ferry.”
She sucked in her breath and didn’t say a thing. At the moment, she wasn’t planning on returning to Seattle with Jack so the we wasn’t going to happen.
With the fire blazing, Cassie positioned the sofa to catch the heat and watch the television. She grabbed a couple of pillows and the Pendleton blanket, climbing in first in a semi-prone position. Jack joined her with his head resting on her chest. He had the controls.
Not much had changed since she was a kid. Without cable, the channel with the best reception came from Canada. The reporters had dug deep, with footage showing the trawler, the so-called employment agency, and the Korean woman who ran it all. They even invaded one of her massage parlors.
Before the newscast ended, Jack’s hand went slack, and he dropped the remote control. He was sound asleep, and she was wide awake, dreading tomorrow. Saying she wanted to be independent wasn’t going to cut it; he would want to know why. Cassie kept hoping the why would go away. Even if it had, Jack still deserved to know what she had done with Sergei’s accounts. She had to trust Jack to understand why she’d done what she’d done. The late night movie droned on, and Cassie finally fell asleep with her arms wrapped tightly around him.
He rolled over, waking her. Her body screamed for the toilet. Cassie pushed up and crawled over the back of the sofa. She turned off the television and headed to the bathroom. Returning, she stood at the glass door, looking out. At some point in the night, it had started to rain, making its own tapping music on the deck. Another comforting memory of being at the beach.
Cassie tossed a few pieces of wood on the embers and sat on the coffee table, staring at Jack. A slow smile graced her face, and a feeling beyond joy filled her heart. He’d released a person in her that she didn’t know existed. A confidence she hadn’t felt in years surged through her because of him. But more importantly, the ability to love another person beyond anything she understood existed within her. Cassie didn’t want to lose him, but she owed Jack the truth, and she would have to accept the consequences.
“I love you, Jack,” she whispered and kissed his lips. “With all my heart.”
He stirred and rolled over. “Cass?”
“I’m right here.” She climbed back in and pulled him in tight. The rhythmic sounds of the rain and his breathing lulled her to sleep.
In the early morning, she dozed and listened for the rain. She didn’t hear it. Jack snored quietly. He needed to sleep. Cassie eased out of the tight quarters and straddled the back of the sofa like a horse for a moment to stretch before swinging her leg off. She headed to the kitchen to get the coffee started. When the coffee finished brewing, she checked to see if Jack was awake for his. He wasn’t. She poured hers and frowned. Usually coffee made her smile, but this morning, she felt her cup was half full of dread and anticipation, so she doused it with a hefty amount of Irish Crème flavored creamer and headed to the shower.
Her brother had been so right about switching out the traditional water heater to the European style. She could stand there forever and never run out of hot water. She turned her body in all directions to allow the steaming water to pound away her worries. Finally, feeling a little energized, she finished up.
Jack was at the refrigerator pulling out various breakfast items. “I’m not having oatmeal, so don’t even suggest it.”
Cassie leaned against the kitchen sink and watched him fix breakfast. Other than her mother eons ago, no one had waited on her. She thought it was the sweetest thing.
“Ready,” he said.
They sat at the table, looking out the window. The rain had stopped, leaving thin clouds with the early morning light filtering through.
She ate her scrambled eggs and sighed. “Thank you.” Glancing up shyly, she smiled.
“For what?”
“This.” She touched his hand. “Everything. Being you.”
By his reaction, she knew he didn’t understand where she was coming from. She wasn’t even sure.
Jack dropped her off at the café and continued on. Jeannie waved when she walked through the door and pointed to the back. Montana had left the box of wigs and Cassie gladly adjusted the auburn one.
The café bustled with a constant flow of islanders and visitors. By two, the lunch crowd had diminished to just one table.
“You need to get something to eat,” said Jeannie.
“Would you mind if I used the laptop and checked my e-mail?”
“Not at all. Bring it out here. We’ll keep each other company.”
No longer auburn-haired, Cassie sat at the counter with the laptop, munching on the sandwich Winnie had prepared for her.
Cassie pulled up her e-mails, read through the titles, deleting all forwards. Her eyes widened, and she sucked in her breath, putting the last bite of her sandwich back on the plate. It was from Alexa, and it was not a forward. Taking a deep breath, she opened it and read.
“SK and thugs been to the bank. Threatening us and u! B careful.”
Her face clouded with agitation, and she shifted in her chair, murmuring several expletives. She bit her lip, deleted the message, and quickly closed the lid.
“Is everything all right?” Jeannie asked, looking kindly toward her.
“It is. I just didn’t realize how late it was.” She picked up the laptop, returned it to the kitchen, and grabbed her coat. Coming through the swinging doors, she said, “If Jack stops in, just tell him I started walking home. And thank you.” Waving, she exited fast and started walking.
Winnie poked her head through the window and asked, “What do you think that was all about?”
“Something was in her e-mail. She was fine until then.” Jeannie frowned a bit and then pulled out her phone. “I’m calling Kip.”
Fear and anger surged through her body thinking about that scumbag. She had to walk it out before she saw Jack. Every word and phrase she could think of to describe Sergei poured out of her mouth with each step. Not sure if Jack was at the compound, she jogged passed the entrance and ended up sitting on the big boulder by the trail. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes. She heard him before she saw him. Blinking fast to clear her eyes, she pasted a smile on her face. Jack came around the corner and tapped his horn.
Before she could even climb in, he said, “Sorry I was a late.”
“That’s okay. I wanted to walk. It felt good to stretch my legs.” She watched the scenery until they arrived at the house.
Jack backed in and parked by the door. He lifted the hatchback and headed in the house. “Come on,” he yelled. “Throw your stuff in the back and we can make it to the ferry.”
“Honey, what’s going on? Where are your things?”
She gulped and turned. “Jack, I’m not coming with you. I’m staying here.”
His eyes narrowed, and his hands went on his hips. Taking a deep breath, she gripped her hands.
He came around and stood in front. “Why?”
“Because…because it’s not safe…for me.”
His eyes turned icy, and he cocked his head.
She took another deep breath and elaborated, “I’d hoped the situation would have improved, but it’s gotten worse.”
“And what exactly is the situation?”
She knew the look: don’t bullshit me. Cassie patted the log and motioned for him to come and sit down. She told him what she’d done and he listened without interrupting.
When she finished, he stood. His hands ended up on his hips and his face registered shock. “So let me get this straight. You stole one hundred and eighty thousand dollars of already dirty money. Mob money?”
“I transferred it after I detailed how much money I lost because of Sergei. I only took what was mine.”
“Okay, if that’s what you want to call it. You transferred a very large amount of Russian Mob money that probably wasn’t even Koslov’s.”
“Yes, but at the time, I thought it was his.”
“Jesus H. Christ, Cassie! Do you have any idea how many banking laws you have broken? Not to mention the Internal Revenue Service!”