Corner Office (From the Tales of Dan Coast Book 12)

by Rodney Riesel

“Yeah, smarty-pants,” said Skip. “What was the name of the island?”

  “It didn't have a name. It was an uncharted island.”

  “They eventually got rescued, so I'm sure it's charted now,” Red shot back.

  “They must have named it by now,” Skip agreed. “That was, like, fifty years ago, dude.”

  “Holy shit! It was a sitcom, not a documentary,” said Dan.

  “I know that, ya dick head, but it must have been a real island somewhere,” Red said.

  “It was filmed on a Hollywood lot somewhere!” Dan said, a little too loud. His face was reddening and he could feel his blood pressure rising. “Can we just drop it?”

  Skip pulled out his cell phone and tapped the microphone icon. “What was the real name of Gilligan's Island,” he said into the mic.

  “What the Christ?” said Dan.

  “Here we are, gentlemen,” said Lola. She stepped onto the patio. She was carrying a silver tray, similar to the one Marilyn used for hot tea. On the tray was a pitcher of sweat tea, three glasses filled with ice, an empty coffee cup, and a crystal sugar bowl. “Do you take cream in your coffee Mr. Coast?”

  Skip quickly shut off his phone and shoved it back into his pocket.

  “Just black,” said Dan.

  Lola placed the tray on the bar. “I'll be right back with the coffee pot.” She spun around and walked back into the house.

  Skip grabbed his cell phone again. “What was the real name of Gilligan's—”

  “Put that goddamn phone away,” Dan said through clenched teeth.

  “Sorry,” Skip said, and dropped it back in his pocket.

  Red kicked off his flip-flops and stuck his toe in the water.

  “Get your dirty feet out of her pool,” said Dan. His jaw was still tight.

  Red pulled his foot back and slipped it back into his flip-flop. “What got you in such a bad mood?”

  “The two of you, with your friggin' Gilligan's Island bullshit. Christ!”

  “You brought it up,” Skip said.

  “Someone's a little touchy,” Red said.

  “Here we are,” said Lola. She stepped back onto the patio and brought the coffee pot to the bar.

  Dan took a deep breath and exhaled as he walked to the bar.

  “Help yourself,” Lola told the three men. “Is everything okay, Mr. Coast?”

  “Yes. “Why?”

  “Your face is red.”

  “A little sunburned.”

  Skip was first to the bar, and poured a cup of coffee. He turned and handed the cup to Dan. “Here ya go, Dan,” he said. “Maybe this caffeine will calm you down.” He gave Dan a wink.

  Lola overheard Skip. “Are you a little stressed out, Mr. Coast?” she asked. “I have pills for that.”

  “No, thank you, Lola,” Dan replied. He took the cup from Skip. “I'm fine.”

  “Okay, but I have Zoloft, Celexa, and I think there's still some Cymbalta in there.”

  “Really,” Dan assured her, “I'll be fine.” He sipped his coffee, wishing there was a shot of tequila in it. Crap! he thought. Forgot my AA meeting this morning. Son of a bitch.

  “You okay?” Skip asked.

  “I'm fine,” Dan replied. He turned to Lola. She was on her way around the pool to the glass-top table. She carried her glass of sweet tea with her. Dan followed her.

  Lola sat down in one of the bamboo chairs. Dan sat across from her. Skip sat to Dan's left, facing the pool. Red decided to have a seat in one of the many lounge chairs.

  “Where should we start?” asked Lola. “You said you wanted to have a look around my house?”

  “Yes,” Dan replied. “I'll have one of my guys take a look around while we talk.”

  Red started to get up from the lounge. “I'm on it,” he said.

  “Skip, how about if you take a look around,” Dan suggested.

  Red relaxed back into his seat and shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, Skip, why don't you head on in and have a look around.”

  Skip stood up. “You got it,” he responded.

  “Lola, have you noticed anyone unfamiliar hanging around your house?” Dan asked. He turned his head to watch Skip making his way back around the pool and into the house.

  “No,” Lola replied. “Why do you ask?”

  “Just trying to cover all the bases,” Dan said. “How about Branson's demeanor in the days leading up to his disappearance? Was there anything unusual?”

  “No, not that I can think of. He seemed to be fine to me.”

  “You say your husband disappeared right after breakfast?”

  “Yes, cook made us breakfast around six-thirty. By seven, Branson was gone.”

  “You said he was supposed to meet his handler that morning?”

  “Yes, but he never made it there.”

  “How do you know he never made it there?”

  “Well, because he vanished before his meeting.”

  “Are you certain he didn't meet with his handler, and then vanish.”

  “I'm positive.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because he never leaves without kissing me goodbye and telling me he loves me. I always tell him to be careful, and take care of himself, and he always says, 'Don't worry your pretty little head about it, babe. I'll be back before you know it.'”

  Red continued to drink his sweet tea, not really paying attention to what was being discussed. Dan looked his way a couple times wishing the big lug would perk up and listen. He knew Red was probably wondering why he had sent Skip inside instead of him.

  Dan returned his attention to Lola. “Do you have any way to contact Branson's handler?”

  “No. All I have is the man's name, and like Red said, it's probably not even the guy's real name.”

  Hearing his own name in the conversation didn't even get Red's attention.

  “How about when Branson is on a mission, do you have any way to get in touch with him?” Because of his talk with Marilyn the night before, Dan figured he probably already knew the answer to that question.

  “Yes,” Lola answered. “Whenever Branson goes on a mission he gives me a cell phone number where he can be reached in an emergency. It's a different number every time. Branson calls them burner phones. When the mission is over the phone is destroyed.”

  Dan looked over at Red again. Red's eyes were still on the house. He was watching for Skip.

  “Maybe I better go in there and give Skip a hand,” said Red.

  “Yeah,” Dan agreed. “Maybe you better.”

  Red practically jumped out of the lounge chair and sprinted toward the back of the house. Just as he reached the edge of the patio, Skip walked back into the kitchen. Red stopped disappointedly in his tracks.

  “Where ya headed, Red Man?” Skip asked.

  Red turned back around. “Nowhere.”

  Together the two men walked back to their seats. Red plopped down in the lounge chair, and Skip in his chair at the table.

  “How'd everything go in there?” Dan asked.

  “Did you find anything helpful?” Lola asked.

  “The door at the top of the stairs,” Skip said, “the one with the wooden letters that spell Shelby—is that your daughter's room?”

  “Yes,” Lola answered.

  “I didn't know you had a child,” said Dan.

  Red decided to get out of his seat and join the others at the table.

  “Is she Branson's child?” Skip asked.

  Lola smiled. “No,” she replied. “Branson can't have children. Shelby is my child from my first husband.”

  “Does your first husband live here in Key West?” Red asked.

  “No. Lyndon lives in Marathon, on 81st Street. Shelby is with him this week.”

  “Have Branson and Lyndon ever had any problems in the past?”

  “With each other?” Lola asked.

  “Yes,” Dan replied.

  “Never. Lyndon and I had been divorced for almost twelve years before I ever met Branson
.”

  “How old is Shelby now?” Dan asked.

  “Fifteen.”

  “So she was just a baby when you and Lyndon divorced,” Skip surmised.

  “That's right.”

  “How long ago did you and Branson marry?” Skip asked.

  “It's coming up on two years,” Lola replied. “We've been together for almost three.”

  “Does Shelby live with you and Branson when you're in Kansas?” Dan asked.

  “You mean Oklahoma?” said Lola.

  Red and Skip shot Dan a look.

  “Oh, yeah, that's what I meant—Oklahoma.”

  “Yes, Shelby lives with Branson and me in Oklahoma.”

  “How often do you come down to the Keys?” Skip asked.

  “Two or three times a year, I guess. It's the only time Shelby really gets to see her dad, so she spends most of her time with him when we're down here.”

  “How long do you usually stay when you're here?” asked Dan.

  “Two or three weeks.”

  “Does Branson usually have some sort of spy business to take care of when the two of you come to the Keys?” Skip asked.

  Lola thought for a second. “Um … he usually has to meet with his handler a few times, and a few times he had to leave for a couple days.”

  Red downed the remainder of his sweet tea and sat the empty glass down.

  “There's more tea in the pitcher,” said Lola. “Help yourself.”

  “Thanks,” Red responded, “but I'm good.”

  “Have you all had your breakfast? I could make a frittata.”

  “No, thank you,” Skip said. “We just ate breakfast before we got here.” He sipped his sweat tea.

  Dan pulled a pen and a folded piece of legal paper out of the side pocket of his cargo shorts. “Lola, can you write down your ex's address in Marathon on here?” he asked, placing the pen and paper in front of her.

  “I sure can.” Lola quickly did as she was asked, and then handed the paper back to Dan. He glanced at it and then shoved it back into his pocket.

  Skip drank the rest of his sweet tea. “I think I'll get a little more of that,” he said. He got up from his chair and made his way around the pool to the bar.

  “Mama's recipe,” Lola whispered to Dan. “Splash of vodka, and just a touch of Coca-Cola.”

  “I guess I should have gone with the sweet tea,” said Dan.

  “It's not too late,” Lola responded.

  Skip returned with a half glass of tea and sat back down. He took a sip. “Fantastic,” he said.

  “Go easy on that,” said Red.

  Dan downed the rest of what was now cold coffee and scooted back in his chair. “I can't think of anything else, Lola.” He stood and pushed his chair back under the table. “We'll be in touch—oh, wait, do you have any of the numbers Branson gave you for the burner phones?”

  “No,” Lola said, “I don't. I rip them up and throw them away when he returns from each mission.”

  “You never saved any of them?”

  “No. Sorry. Would it have been helpful if I did?”

  “It might have.”

  Lola walked behind the three men as they strolled along the apron to the back of the house, and into the dining room. As he stepped into the house, Dan turned to Lola. “If you think of anything else that might help in our investigation, please, give me a call.”

  “I will.” Lola responded. She followed the trio through the house and to the front door.

  Dan pulled open the door and stepped aside to let Red and Skip exit first. He then stepped out onto the porch.

  “Thank you, gentlemen,” said Lola, and she pushed the door closed.

  Dan heard the locking mechanism turn as he walked down the front steps to the pathway that led to the sidewalk.

  “What do you think?” Dan asked, as Skip backed his Thing out of the driveway.

  “I think that dude's probably not a spy,” Skip answered.

  “Do you think he just took off?” Dan asked.

  “No, I don't. I think he was abducted.”

  “By who? Why would anybody want to abduct that douche?”

  “I can't imagine,” said Skip. “But I think we should talk to her ex next. Also, why would he bring both of his wives down to Key West at the same time? Seems like a good way to get caught at whatever it is he's doing.”

  Dan nodded his head in agreement. “I also want to talk to Retha Davis.”

  “Henry's Retha?” Skip asked.

  “None other than.”

  “I love that lady,”

  “Yeah,” said Dan. “You seemed to fool her too.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Isn't anyone gonna ask what I think?” Red asked from the backseat.

  Dan put his arm on the back of the seat and turned around. “Okay, what do you think, Red?”

  “I think I really wanted some of that frittata she offered,” said Red.

  Chapter Eighteen

  After leaving Lola Paragould's house Skip drove over to Dan's office. “Where should I park?” he asked.

  “Just park on the sidewalk in front of the building,” Dan replied.

  “No!” shouted Red. “I'm not getting tased again.” He pointed at the parking spots across the street. “Park over there.”

  Skip took a left at the intersection and whipped into an empty space.

  The three men exited the vehicle and crossed the street. They walked around the corner, and up the stairs to the second floor. Dan slid his key into the lock and opened the door.

  Skip walked through the door first, followed by Red, and then Dan. Dan left the door open.

  “Desk. Office. Bathroom. Case board. Nice!” Skip remarked. “It's got everything. Cool, bro.”

  “I'm glad you approve,” said Dan. He walked around the desk to his office door and pushed it open. “This is my desk.”

  Skip peered through the door. “Nice,” he said. He looked back at the other desk. “This is Red's desk?”

  “Yup.”

  “I'm not his secretary,” said Red.

  “I didn't say you were, Red Man.”

  “But he kinda is,” Dan said.

  “No, I'm not,” Red insisted.

  “Whatever,” said Dan. “It's your story.”

  “Yeah, it is,” Red shot back. “And in my story, I'm not the secretary.”

  Skip chuckled as he crossed the room toward the case board. He picked up the blue marker and drew a line across the board. He began making hash marks and listing them as the days of the week. “Marilyn Valdosta said she and Branson arrived in Key West Wednesday afternoon, and he disappeared Thursday morning.”

  “That's right,” Dan said.

  Red walked around his desk and sat down in the old wooden desk chair.

  “Hold my calls,” Dan said to Red.

  “Hold my ass,” Red responded.

  Skip and Dan laughed.

  Skip kept writing notes on his timeline. “Lola and Shelby arrived by plane that same morning. Branson did arrive on a different flight, but it was with Marilyn. A short time later, Branson left Marilyn to meet Lola at their home. Branson was called away from Lola's later that night, but returned about three hours later.”

  “He probably had to be with Marilyn for awhile Wednesday night,” Dan concurred.

  “Right,” Skip agreed, “but then he crawled back into Lola's bed in time to get up and have breakfast with her the following morning.”

  “And then he left the house to supposedly meet with his handler.”

  “Correct, but what he really did, was go back to Marilyn's to eat a second breakfast with her.”

  “Two breakfasts,” said Red. “A man after my own heart.”

  “If you're lucky maybe you'll run into him in a grocery store,” said Dan.

  Skip turned back to the board. “Branson was halfway through his breakfast when Marilyn decided to go out and get the paper.”

  “And
when she returned,” Red said, “Branson was gone.”

  “Why's it say Moose Tracks up here?” Skip asked.

  “It's a flavor of ice cream,” Dan answered.

  “Never heard of it.”

  “You shittin' me?”

  “I told him I never heard of it either,” said Red.

  Dan clapped his hands together. “Well, then, you boys are in for a real treat,” he said. “Let's get some ice cream!”

  “I could eat!” Red said, and jumped out of his chair.

  Skip stared at his two friends for a second, and then back at the case board. “Shouldn't we keep working on this?” he asked, jerking a thumb at the board.

  “Instead of ice cream?” Red asked. “Priorities, my young friend. Priorities.”

  “Yeah, Skip,” Dan said. “Get your shit together, man. It's time for ice cream.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  After making four different stops, at four different ice cream shops, to finally find Moose Tracks ice cream, Skip pulled up in front of Red's house.

  “You were right, Dan,” said Red, as he hoisted himself out of the backseat of Skip's Volkswagen. “Moose Tracks is some pretty good ice cream.”

  “I concur, Dan the Man,” Skip agreed.

  Dan climbed out of the front seat, the three men said their see-ya-laters, and Skip drove off down the street.

  “I'm gonna drive over to Retha Davis's house,” Dan said. “You want to ride over with me?”

  “I can't,” Red replied. “I have to interview Char's brother this afternoon for the cook job.”

  “Okay.” Dan walked to his car and got in.

  “Maxine working tonight?” Red asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Maybe I'll see ya later.” Red turned and walked up the sidewalk to his front door.

  Dan started his Porsche and drove away. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and searched through his contacts for Reatha and Henry's number. He hit the call icon with his thumb.

  “Hello?” Reatha answered.

  “Reatha, it's Dan Coast.”

  “What have I told your white ass about drunk dialing me, Coast?”

  Dan laughed out loud. “I was wondering if I could stop by and ask you a few questions.”

  “About what?”

  “About Lola Paragould. She said you gave her my phone number.”

  “Yes, I did.”