Welcome to Deep Cove (The Vellian Books Book 3)

by Reed, Grant T.

  “What am I looking for?”

  “Anyone who had problems working for Maury or Kline. Disciplinary actions taken. Attitude problems. Anything Maury can think of that might single out someone who would sell out Sal Rogers.”

  “I love paperwork,” grumbled Merle. “You know my claws weren’t made for note taking.”

  “With the absence of any bulls to slay, you’ll have to make do.”

  “And what are you going to be up to while I’m doing all the dirty work?”

  “I’m off to find our friend Rudy Wilson. I have some questions for him.”

  “I’d better be getting that badge you promised me,” huffed Merle.

  * * * *

  Rudy Wilson lived on the outskirts of town. His forefathers had been amongst the first to settle the region and had established their property a few miles inland from the coast. There were plenty of farmsteads up this way, but most of the land had been parceled out in larger plots and the houses were far apart, sometimes a mile or more. So sure was Garrett that no one would answer the door, he almost went straight to the neighbour’s. In the end, he realised he might have the opportunity to snoop around if they weren’t home and continued to Rudy Wilson’s farm.

  He tried to mask his disbelief when Mrs. Wilson answered his knock and he fumbled with his investigator’s badge, nearly dropping it when the round woman glared at him from the half open door. “What do you want?” she snapped. “You with the sheriff’s department? Found that weasel of a husband of mine yet?”

  “No mam, my name is Garrett Willigins. I’m not with the sheriff’s department, but I would like to ask you some questions about Mr. Wilson.”

  “I don’t have any insurance on him,” snapped Mrs. Wilson, staring at Garrett’s shiny new badge. “I wish I had some, but I don’t.” She was about to close the door when Garrett interrupted her quickly.

  “Actually, mam, I’m looking for your husband on behalf of Mr. Kline.”

  The woman’s scowl deepened and it looked as if she might say something nasty. She cleared her throat instead and transferred her gaze across the recently ploughed fields. “So, he hasn’t shown up to work either?”

  “No mam,” said Garrett carefully. He watched the older woman’s face for signs of emotion, but she retained her hard look. “May I come in and talk with you?”

  “I already told the police everything I could when I filed the report three days ago.”

  “You filed a missing person’s report with the police?” asked Garrett.

  “Didn’t I just say so?” snapped Mrs. Wilson. She stepped closer, assessing Garrett’s face. “Do I know you?” she asked. Her intelligent eyes bored into him and he resisted the urge to step back.

  “Um, yes mam. I was here last year to get a cat from your barn.”

  “Yes,” she said, nodding. “I remember you now. Why didn’t you say you were from around these parts? I thought you were an outsider, like that other fellow who come calling last week. Can’t trust those city folk you know?” Turning from the doorway, she ambled deeper into the house. “Are you going to stand there, Mr. Willigins or are you coming in for lunch?”

  “Yes mam,” said Garrett, following after the older woman. Once inside, he closed the door and removed his footwear before following her into the kitchen. The house was warm inside and the windows were open. It was apparent Mrs. Wilson had been baking all morning. Fresh loaves of bread sat on the counter as well as fresh cookies. In the center of the table, sat a bowl of apples she’d been peeling for a pie.

  “My boy’s have healthy appetites,” she said, clearing a spot at the table for Garrett. “Rudy has a bit of a sweet tooth himself.” At the mention of her husband, Mrs. Wilson began to hum agitatedly. Going to the stove, she removed the lid on a pot of soup and stirred it. Collecting herself, she shuffled her ample frame back to the table and cleared away the pie tins and the bowl of apples.

  “You said you filed your report on your husband three days ago?” asked Garrett. At her nod, he continued “And how long has it been since he’s been home?”

  “Five days now,” she said tersely. “At first I thought he’d gone to that cathouse of his, but he’s never been gone for two days. When he didn’t show up on the second morning and there was no sign of him at the brothel, I had one of my boys go down to the police station and bring back a deputy.”

  “Mrs. Wilson, do you think your husband would leave you and the boys?”

  “Anne,” replied the older woman, pulling up a chair at the table. “Please, call me Anne.” Garrett nodded and Anne continued. “We’ve had our fights over the years, but I don’t think that he would. We had a row the last day I saw him.” Anne looked upset as she recalled the argument.

  “If I may ask, what did you argue about?” asked Garrett.

  “The farm,” said Mrs. Wilson, “the farm and his work for your employer. I wanted him to quit working for Mr. Kline. We’re honest people Mr. Willigins and our farm is an honest business.” Garrett nodded his understanding – having had his own reservations about working for the gangster. “Rudy said he couldn’t turn away the money, because he’d make more in one day than two weeks of working the land. Times have been tough around here and Rudy felt like he wasn’t providing for me and the boys. I told him we would get by. We’ve seen tough times before, but Rudy would have none of it. He said that Mr. Kline was a fair man and had always treated him good. He couldn’t turn away the money, and he wouldn’t disrespect the man who’d given him a job when he needed one.”

  The door to the farmhouse opened and two strapping lads came into the house for lunch. Anne looked at the men with pride as they came into the kitchen. With an effort, she pushed herself up from the table. “These are my boys, Rudolph Jr. and Colton. The men nodded, each thrusting out a beefy hand for Garrett to shake. “Mr. Willigins is here on behalf of Mr. Kline. He’s looking for your father.” At this, both men distanced themselves from their mother’s visitor. Anne immediately stepped in and ordered her boys to get cleaned up for lunch. “Would you be so kind as to get the ham from the cold room?” she asked of Garrett. “My old knees are no good on the stairs anymore.” Realising he had no say in the matter and that he would be staying for lunch whether he was hungry or not, he nodded politely and followed Colton’s pointing finger in the direction of the cold room.

  * * * *

  Garrett seated himself on a boulder at the end of the jetty. Behind him, the pier continued three hundred feet to the lighthouse. Garrett’s mind wasn’t on the lighthouse though, or the encompassing ocean. He didn’t hear the sounds of the waves lapping at the shore, or the cries of the gulls overhead.

  At first he’d thought Mrs. Wilson was covering for her husband, but instincts told him these initial rumblings had been wrong. Garrett had learned long ago to trust his gut. If Rudy had decided to turn traitor and sell Mr. Kline’s trade secrets, Garrett now felt his wife knew nothing of these plans.

  Leaving the Wilson’s farmhouse, he had made his way to the lighthouse. Banging on the old door at the bottom of the structure, he had waited several minutes before noting the pull cord beside the latch. Feeling stupid, he gave the rope a tug and sure enough the old attendant appeared on the walkway three stories above him.

  “I’ll be down in a minute,” called the old man “My hearings no good, so if you’re talking, I can’t hear you.”

  The old sailor managed his way to the bottom of the tower and tugged open the weathered door. He greeted Garrett with a suspicious look, his good eye scrutinising the younger man. “Yes, sonny?”

  “Good day,” said Garrett, raising his voice. “My name is Garrett Willigins and I wondered if I could ask you a couple of questions?”

  “I’m not deaf,” said the white bearded attendant. “I just don’t hear so well above the wind up there.”

  “Sorry,” apologised Garrett. “I wanted to ask you if you know the Wilsons from up the coast?” Garrett pointed along the road toward the farmhouse.

&nbs
p; “Rudy and Anne?” returned the attendant. “Course I know ‘em. Anne makes the best pumpkin pie in these parts. She used to be a looker too. Got three boys all growed up. Good lads. ”

  “Yes sir,” agreed Garrett. “What I was wondering was if you ever see Mr. Wilson walking along here?”

  “Sure,” replied the keeper. “He works most days on the docks over there. See him ‘round here often. Sometimes he comes up for tea.”

  “Have you seen him lately?”

  The old man thought about the question. “Been over a week, I suppose. Him and his boy Jr. were here for a visit.”

  “And he hasn’t walked by in the last few days?”

  “Not that I’ve noticed,” said the man, scratching under his white whiskers. “I’m busy most times keepin’ the lamp goin’ and checking the weather reports. I don’t need no damn globe to tell me when a storm is brewing though. I can feel it in every joint. Ain’t no fun getting old, sonny.”

  Garrett nodded his understanding. “Are you the only attendant?”

  “Yup,” replied the old man with a proud grin. “Twenty-three years service. I got me bunk up there and me charts. Like I said, lots of folks like to see how the place works. I get company for tea often.” The old man suddenly blinked as if a thought had struck him. “Say, would you like to come up for a tour?” he asked. “I have tea on the stove right now!”

  “I would like that,” said Garrett honestly, “but I have to find Mr. Wilson.”

  The attendant frowned, but then nodded his understanding. “Well you come back anytime and visit old Lanny. You seem like a good kid. If you see Rudy tell him I have those sea charts he ordered.”

  “I will do that,” agreed Garrett. Leaving the lighthouse, he had wandered to the boulder strewn jetty he now occupied.

  Scooping a small pebble from the beach, he tossed it into the waves beside him and thought about the morning’s search. He glanced back up the coast and along the trail he had followed from the Wilson’s farm. Colton had told him his father walked this path to and from work, and that he had walked it himself looking for his father the morning following his disappearance. Now, five days later, Garrett had walked it twice and found no signs of Rudy. ‘Just drop it. Rudy Wilson sold out Mr. Kline and he’s long gone with his payment,’ interrupted a small voice inside his head, but before he allowed himself to finish the thought, his feet were moving again. Turning left, he headed back toward the Wilson’s property. Traveling up the coastline several hundred yards, he stopped when he came to a narrow footpath cutting down from the cliffs above. It was like an alarm bell going off in his head, and he forced himself to slow down as he scrambled over the scree. This path could be used to reach the upper establishments, including the whorehouse Rudy frequented.

  Reaching the top of the cliff, Garrett was sweating heavily and breathing hard. He didn’t stop to catch his breath though, and the sounds of many gulls drew him onward. Pushing his way deep into the foliage and thorn bushes lining the trail, he fought his way toward the cries of the birds. Kicking at a nearby gull, he thrust himself through the last of the mountain scrub. Several gulls took flight as Garrett exploded into a small clearing containing the remains of a man. Two of the gulls brazenly remained within a stone’s throw, squawking and flapping their wings in agitation. Charging the birds, Garrett sent them winging before returning to the body.

  The Smell of the decomposing man made Garrett’s stomach churn and he covered his nose as he moved in to examine his gruesome find. Despite the damage caused by the scavengers, Garrett recognised Rudy instantly. His fears were now a reality. Rudy hadn’t turned traitor and Garrett no longer had a suspect. To make matters worse, Rudy’s body was crucified to a large birch and arranged almost identically to that of Kline’s bookkeeper.

  * * * *

  “You found him just like this?” asked the uniformed man for a second time.

  “Yes,” agreed Garrett.

  “And you said you were looking for him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Garrett watched the two men circle the body. The officer asking the questions had removed a notepad from his belt and was taking notes. He had introduced himself as Detective Honi. The second cop was examining the spikes driven into Wilson’s ankles and did not bother to introduce himself. Focusing on Honi, Garrett answered. “He hasn’t shown up to work for several days. Mr. Kline was worried for his employee.”

  “And you work for Mr. Kline.”

  “Well sort of. As I mentioned, I just received my P.I. certification. I owe Mr. Kline a little money for rent on one of his properties. In order to pay it off, I’ve taken on a few tasks for him.”

  “I don’t have any patience for rogue dicks, Mr. Willigins.” At this, the second cop snickered loudly, but Honi shut him up with a scowl in his direction. “I’ve just been assigned to Deep Cove, but don’t think I was born yesterday. I’ve walked the streets of Cassadia for over eight years and I’ve seen all kinds of shit, Mr. Willigins. For every prostitute or homosexual deviant out there, there’s a dick in the background making trouble.” Again the second officer broke into uncontrollable laughter. “Do you find this funny Johnson?” asked Honi. “I personally don’t see anything funny about a dead man nailed to a tree.” Johnson controlled his outburst and shrugged.

  “I’m not here to make trouble,” assured Garrett. “I only checked this path because Mrs. Wilson informed me that Rudy liked to visit a particular house of pleasure. Since she filed a report with you guys, and Rudy here is within your jurisdiction, I figured I better report it to you.”

  “That’s awful dutiful of you,” replied Honi. “But under what circumstances would you not have reported to us?” The policeman reached into an upper pocket and retrieved a cigarette.

  “I didn’t mean I wouldn’t have reported finding his body,” said Garrett guardedly. “I was simply explaining why I did.”

  “I see,” said Honi. Flipping the page in his notebook, he scribbled for several seconds. Without looking up, he spoke again. “That’ll be all Mr. Willigins. I’m sure I’ll be in touch. Now, if you’ll be so kind as to vacate my crime scene.”

  11

  Daddy’s Boy

  Don Kaxaun sat in his favourite leather chair, the stem of a wine glass gripped between his fingers. Of all the rooms in his manor, he felt the library was the most comfortable. Beside him, the fireplace crackled with dancing flames and the heat felt luxurious. Outside, it was raining again and the dampness had worked its way into the manor. Kaxaun’s eyes glided over the multitude of shelving and books, but his mind was not on the treasures within the bound tomes. He set his wine glass down and opened an envelope containing the missive he had received earlier in the day from Pacorro – the Syndicate’s First Assassin. Scanning the page once more, he read the information contained on the sheet.

  We have used the information Don Fergani procured from the Dragon Council showing the orders were sent from the port town of Deep Cove. Number Two had the ingenious idea to trace the sales receipts of all global view units sold in the region from the last two years. There are only three dealers in the whole of Vellia licensed to sell the communication devices and the northern vendor has a son who lives in Deep Cove. The son has been quite forthcoming with his information on his sales receipts. Only seven units have been purchased in the last two years.

   The Deep Cove police and the harbour master have upgraded pre-existing units.

   The university purchased a global view unit through the teachers’ union.

   Jonathan Gervani, owner of the ‘Wayward Gambler’ and the ‘Golden Gon,’ purchased two units care of the online gambling community.

   Rudy Wilson purchased two units care of his employer Mr. Kline.

  A quick check on Rudy Wilson’s employer –Daniel Kline – provided us with the information needed to proceed with our enquiry. Kline is a small time thug. He runs various lines of business from his hilltop manor on the coastline and owns sever
al smaller properties throughout Deep Cove. We have traced one of the G.V.units to his warehouse and the hardware insignia matches that supplied to us by the Dragon Council. Daniel Kline or someone within his organisation issued the orders to General Omik from this unit. We have obtained a full listing of Kline’s employees. Awaiting your orders.

  Number One,

  Number Two

  Kaxaun’s manservant – Philip – arrived at the library carrying a folder under his arm. The door was open, but the man stopped and knocked anyway.

  “Enter,” said Kaxaun draining the last of his wine. “Is that Kline’s folder?”

  “Yes,” agreed Philip. As usual the man wore his black suit and his shoes were flawlessly polished. “Shall I have your dinner brought into the study, my Lord?”

  “Please,” returned Kaxaun, accepting the folder from the slim servant.

  “More wine?” offered Philip.

  “One more glass with dinner,” agreed Kaxaun. Philip nodded and turned to leave. “A question,” said Kaxaun and Philip turned attentively. “You come from near Deep Cove, don’t you?”

  “Yes Sir. Lovely town. Sometimes I miss the sea.”

  “Do you per chance remember anything about this man Daniel Kline?”

  “Certainly, Sir. He runs the local muscle. Somewhat of an entrepreneur.”

  “And if I remember correctly, he would be in his early sixties now?”

  “Yes I believe that to be about right.” Philip nodded in agreement.

  “His estate is large and situated on the coastline. He owns several business and properties, does he not?”