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

by Rodney Riesel

  Skip felt as though The Amazing Gary was looking right into his soul. “Whoa,” he whispered.

  Gary pulled the door open the rest of the way. “Enter,” he said.

  The three men walked into the room. Dan noticed a look in Skip's eyes that he could only describe as fear and awe mixed with a dash of uncertainty.

  Gary waved his long skinny arm toward the round wooden table in the center of the room. “Please, have a seat.” Gary put his hand on Red's shoulder. “I'm glad to see you were able to talk them into coming.”

  “Talk us into coming?” Dan asked.

  “Wh-what's he talkin' 'bout, Red Man?” Skip asked.

  “I'll be back in a moment,” said Gary. He turned slowly, with great theatrics, and left the room though a doorway that was draped with a thin medieval-looking tapestry.

  “That dude is scary,” Skip said. “Am I the only one who thinks he looks just like Grand Moff Tarkin?”

  “Grandma who?” Red asked.

  “Never heard of her,” Dan replied.

  Gary walked back into the room. None of the men had taken their seats yet.

  “Sit,” said Gary.

  Red sat to Gary's right. Dan sat across from Red, and Skip took the chair across from Gary, only taking his eyes off the creepy dude just long enough to get a quick look at the crystal ball sitting in the center of the table.

  “Mr, Coast, I was surprised you never returned to speak with me in private,” Gary said. “Considering how easy it was for me to summon the spirit of your deceased w—”

  “There was no reason for me to come back,” Dan interrupted.

  “And yet, here you are.”

  Dan shifted in his chair. “Red asked me to come,” he lied.

  “Did he?” Gary asked. He turned to Skip. “And you must be Skip Stoner.” He took Skip's hand. Gary's eyelids fluttered the moment his hand came in contact with Skip's. “Skip Stoner … or at least that's what you would want us to believe.”

  Skip pulled his hand away. His eyes darted to Red, and then to Dan. He smiled nervously. “Almost had me there for a second, dude.”

  “Yes, I did,” Gary agreed. “So many secrets.”

  “I'm gonna wait in the car,” said Skip, his voice cracking. He stood, and hurried to the door.

  “What's his problem?” Dan asked.

  “Like you,” Gary responded, “he has trouble facing his past.”

  “I'm fine with my past,” Dan shot back.

  “The broken capillaries in your cheeks and nose, your dry skin, the yellowing of your eyes, all tell a different story,” Gary said. “And you're what … in your early forties?”

  “I am.”

  “You look older.”

  “Says you.”

  “No,” Gary replied, “says your ravaged countenance … and your tortured soul.”

  “I thought we were here to talk about Red?”

  Gary reached out his hands. “Would you like to speak to her?”

  “Would you like me to beat the shit outta ya, right here in this room?”

  “Calm down,” Red whispered.

  The front door opened, and Skip walked back inside. He swung the door shut behind him. “Okay, I'm fine,” he said. He hurried across the red shag carpet and took his seat.

  Gary continued to stare at Dan. “Isn't there anything you would like to know, Mr. Coast?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Dan replied. “I'd like to know next weeks lottery numbers.”

  “Once wasn't enough?”

  Dan glanced over at Red. “Did you tell him I was a lottery winner?”

  “No,” Red said.

  “That's why he wants me here. He thinks because I lost my wife in a tragic accident, I'm ripe for the picking. The Amazing Gary is going to summon my dead wife's ghost. I'll be so grateful, that I'll give The Amazing Gary a big chunk of my lottery winnings. Because, after all, that's probably what Alex would want.” Dan looked back at Gary. “Is that about right, Amazing Gary? Is that what the suckers and the feeble-minded assholes do after they walk through that door?”

  “Thanks, pal,” said Red.

  “I didn't mean you, Red,” Dan said.

  “Then who did you mean?”

  “Yes, Mr. Coast,” Gary asked. “Who did you mean?”

  “Kiss my ass,” Dan said. He started to get up.

  “Wait,” Skip said.

  Dan settled back into his chair. “What?” he asked.

  Skip looked at Gary. “If you're as amazing as you say you are, and can do the things you say you can do, then where is Branson Pudgewheat … Breckenridge?”

  Gary appeared intrigued. “Who is Branson Breckin-whatever?”

  “Shouldn't you already know that?” Dan asked smugly.

  “That's not how it works, Mr. Coast.”

  “How exactly does it work, Mr. Amazing?” Dan responded.

  “I think Amazing is the dude's first name, bro,” said Skip.

  “Shut up, Skip,” Dan groaned.

  “Is this a case you're working on?” Gary asked.

  “Yes,” said Red.

  “A missing person case?”

  “Yes,” said Skip.

  “That's right,” Dan said, “make sure you guys give The Amazing Gary all the information he needs to fool you into thinking he's actually amazing.”

  “I need something of the victim's,” Gary said. “A personal item, or even something he may have touched.”

  “Whaddaya got, Dan the Man?” Skip asked. “Give him something.”

  “I don't have—” Then Dan remembered, and reached into the side pocket of his cargo shorts. He pulled out the notes containing the burner cell phone numbers Branson had given to Marilyn. Dan tossed the wad onto the table next to the crystal ball. “He touched those pieces of paper.”

  “Oh,” Red said, “those are the phone numbers he gave—”

  “Shush!” Dan said. “Don't give Mr. Amazing any more information. I'm sure he can do this all on his own.” Dan grinned snidely at Gary.

  Gary stared at the phone numbers. “I'll make a deal with you, Mr. Coast,” he bargained. “If I help you solve this case, you have to come back here alone … and we'll talk bout your wife.”

  Dan's eyes went around the table and settled on Gary. “Okay,” he said. “You help us solve this case, and I'll come back alone.”

  Gary reached out to shake on their agreement.

  Dan pulled his hands back. “I ain't touchin' you.”

  Gary chuckled as he picked up the pieces of paper. He held them between his hands for a few seconds. He took a deep breath and exhaled. Then he held the notes between his index finger and thumb. He pressed the papers against his forehead, closed his eyes, and tilted his head slightly upward.

  Dan snorted. “You know you look just like Carnak the Magnificent, don't you?”

  “Silence!” Gary hissed.

  After a minute or two, Gary laid the phone numbers back on the table. “Let's join hands,” he said.

  “I ain't touchin' him,” Dan repeated. “Skip, switch chairs with me.”

  “I don't want to touch him either, dude.”

  “C'mon, switch with me.”

  Skip sighed. “Okay, dude.”

  The two men got up and took each other's chair.

  “Ya know, dude,” said Skip, “he can probably still read you through our hands.”

  “I doubt that's how it works,” Dan said, taking Skip's and Red's hands.

  Gary reached out and also took Skip's and Red's hands. The lights in the room dimmed.

  “Nice touch,” Dan sniffed. “I guess you expect us to believe you dimmed those lights with your mind control?”

  “No,” Gary replied. He looked to his left at a small dark figure standing by a dimmer switch. “I expect you to believe that my assistant, Andre, dimmed the lights.”

  Andre nodded his head at the men.

  Dan nodded back.

  “What's up, Andre?” Skip asked.

  “Shut up, Skip,”
said Dan. “We're trying to concentrate here.”

  Gary shut his eyes again. “It's so very foggy. Everyone, please close your eyes and concentrate on Branson.”

  “Gary knows Branson's name,” Red whispered in amazement.

  “We told him Branson's name, ya moron,” said Dan.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Quiet, please,” Gary scolded. “Concentrate. Think about the case.”

  Everyone shut their eyes tightly and thought about Branson, Lola, Marilyn, and the other parties.

  “I see a young man,” Gary said. “He's in a dark place. It's cold.”

  “Is he alive?” Skip asked.

  Gary ignored the question. “There's not just one. There's two. Two of them holding Branson down.”

  “He has two wives,” said Red. His eyes popped open guiltily.

  Dan shot Red a look.

  “Sorry,” Red whispered.

  “I see an M. Mary. Marilyn, perhaps. A name that begins with L.”

  “Lola,” Skip said quietly.

  “Thanks a lot, Skip,” said Dan.

  “Oops.”

  “Lola,” Gary repeated. “I see a little girl. A gunshot rings out. The smell of gun powder is in the air. I see something else … a large bloodstain. And now … I see a man planting grass. That is all … ” Gary dropped his head.

  Everyone opened their eyes and exchanged glances.

  Gary opened his eyes and slowly lifted his head. He gazed into the crystal ball. “He's dead.”

  “What?” Dan asked. “What did you say?” He let go of Red and Skip's hands.

  “The man you're searching for is already dead,” Gary replied. “That's all I can see.”

  “Who killed him?” Red asked.

  “Where's the body?” asked Skip.

  “Some place dark and cold,” Gary replied.

  “Under freshly planted grass,” Dan added. “Are you saying someone shot him, and then buried him?”

  “That's a possibility,” said Gary.

  “But you don't know where.”

  “Near water, I think.”

  “Well, we're on an island, Amazing Gary.”

  “I know that, Mr. Coast. I'm just telling you what I saw, and felt.” Gary stood. “We're done for today.”

  The lights came back up. Everyone turned toward Andre. Andre turned and walked through the tapestry covered door.

  “But I needed to ask you some questions, Amazing Gary,” said Red. “I interviewed a new cook. His name starts with a Z. Also, I slept with Char a couple nights ago. I need to ask you—”

  “It will have to be another day, Red,” said Gary. “I'm feeling weak and tired.”

  Dan stood. He grabbed the papers off the table and shoved them back in his pocket. “You better take a nap, Amazing Gary,” he said. “That was quite a workout. I know I need a drink.”

  “I would imagine you always need a drink, Mr. Coast,” said Gary.

  “I'm not much of a fighter, Amazing Gary, but I'm pretty sure I could kick your ass, so watch it with the smart-ass remarks.”

  Gary put up his hands in a show of surrender. “I'll save the remarks for your return.”

  “My return?”

  “When you come back to see me, after you've solved the case.”

  “I agreed to come back if what you told us helped solve the case. You weren't much help.”

  “Time will tell,” Gary responded. “Time will tell.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  It was a little after four when Skip pulled into the crushed stone parking lot of Red's Bar and Grill. He put the car into reverse and backed into a spot on the far side of the lot, next to the picnic tables.

  “I think that went pretty well,” Red commented, as he climbed out of the passenger seat.

  Dan glared at him. “I hope you're not talking about our magical time spent with The Amazing Gary.”

  “What else would I be talking about?”

  The three men walked across the parking lot toward the entrance.

  “The dude seemed to know quite a bit,” said Skip. “Those cell phone numbers did the trick.”

  “Not you too?” Dan said.

  “What?” Skip asked. “He knew Branson was already dead. He knew he was in a dark cold place.”

  “He knows about someone planting grass over Branson's body,” Red added. “That's not something you could guess at.”

  Dan looked at Skip in disbelief. “How bad did the doctors say your traumatic brain injury was?” he asked.

  “That's hurtful, Dan the Man.”

  “Sorry, Skip, but you can't tell me you actually think The Amazing Gary knows anything about Branson's disappearance.”

  Skip shrugged and kept walking.

  Dan's attention went to Red. “The Amazing Gary doesn't already know Branson is dead; he's just guessing. Everyone knows that if someone has been missing for a week, there's a good chance they're dead. The body's in a cold dark place? What the Christ is that supposed to mean? Most dead bodies are in a cold dark place. And we live on an island. Of course the body is near water.”

  “He said there was a blood stain,” said Red. He walked up the steps and through the front door. “He said Branson was shot.”

  “He didn't say Branson was shot,” Dan argued. “He said he saw a gun, and smelled gunpowder. As far as the blood stain, it's like everything else he said. If there's a body, there's a good chance there's a blood stain. And if it turns out Branson was stabbed, then The Amazing Gary will just say that seeing the gun just represented the murder weapon. Those phonies always have an answer for everything.”

  “Sounds like you always have an answer for everything,” Red commented.

  “So, you don't think Branson was murdered?” Skip asked.

  “No,” Dan replied.

  “You said, 'if he was stabbed.'”

  “I just meant—never mind. Make me a drink for chrissakes.” Dan pulled out his favorite stool and hopped aboard. Skip sat to his right.

  As Red prepared Dan's drink he asked, “What'll ya have, Skip?”

  “That rum and Coke was pretty good earlier. I'll have another one of those.”

  Red slid Dan's drink across the bar to him. “What's next?” he asked.

  “You should call Lola,” said Skip.

  “What for?” Dan asked.

  “Find out if Branson carried a weapon. Also, find out when and how Shelby got to her father's place.”

  “I don't feel like calling,” Dan said. “I'll drive over to her place tomorrow morning and talk to her.”

  “Suture self,” said Skip. “Give me those cell numbers and I'll check them out.”

  “Suture self,” Dan repeated with a sigh. “You gotta stop spending so much time with Red. Dan pulled the numbers out of his pocket and laid them on the bar.

  “Sounds like someone's a little jealous of our friendship, Skip,” Red proclaimed.

  “Looks that way,” Skip responded. He picked up the cell numbers and put them in the side pocket of his board shorts. “Don't worry, Dan the Man. There's no need to be jealous. We're all in this thing called life together. It's you, me, and Red Man. One big three-way, bro.”

  “Thanks, Skip,” Dan said. “You have no idea just how nauseous that made me feel.”

  “Don't mention it, bromigo.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Thursday morning around ten, Dan pulled his Porsche into the driveway of Lola Paragould's house. He had called ahead, and hearing his car pull in, Lola was waiting at the door.

  “Good morning, Mr. Coast,” Lola called out from the doorway.

  “Good morning, Lola,” Dan replied.

  “Beautiful day.”

  “So far.”

  “What do you mean? Are they calling for a storm? Will there be lightning. I don't like light—”

  “It was just a figure of speech, Lola,” Dan assured her. “I don't think there's going to be a storm.”

  “Oh, thank God. I do not like lightning. I would n
eed to get my prescription filled before a storm, that's for sure. Come in.” Lola pulled open the door, and Dan went inside.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee, Mr. Coast, or perhaps a glass of sweet tea?”

  “Tea sounds good.”

  “It'll only take a moment to fix a tray.”

  “Would you like me to wait by the pool?”

  “Heavens, no!” Lola gasped. “The front porch is for sweet tea. We have our sweet tea on the front porch.”

  “But we had sweet tea out by the pool the last time I was here.”

  “We did?” Lola looked to the ceiling in thought. “Oh, I remember, there were three of you that day. That's why we had sweet tea by the pool.” She turned and headed for the kitchen.

  “Oh-kay, Good to know,” Dan said. He added to himself in a whisper: Parties of at least four are allowed to have tea by the pool. Parties of less than three—sweet tea on the front porch.” When Lola was out of sight, he put his index finger between his lips and waggled them, making a blubbering sound.

  Dan tip toed across the foyer to the kitchen. He quietly watched Lola from the doorway.

  Lola went to the cupboard, took out two glasses, and placed them on the counter top. She froze for a moment, staring into the cupboard. Finally she reached back inside and took out a prescription bottle, removed the cap, and popped two pills into her mouth.

  One pill, three times a day, huh? Dan thought.

  Dan watched as Lola's lips moved. He knew she was once again reciting the poem about pretty girls and high school cheers. It was obvious to Dan that Lola's elevator didn't go all the way to the top. It would be obvious to anyone who met her. Lyndon had said that Branson and Lola's relationship was more like a mother and son relationship. From what Dan had seen so far, he couldn't imagine Lola in a relationship like that. Lola seemed childish—less a nurturer than someone who needed to be taken care of herself.

  But if that were true, where was Shelby? Why hadn't she come home to be with her mother? Maybe Lola was only the motherly type when there was someone else around to be motherly to. Without Branson or Shelby around, maybe Lola reverted back to the one who needed to be taken care of, like when she was a kid, and Judge made all the rules.

  Dan backed stealthily away from the doorway, turned, and tip-toed to the front door. Once on the porch, he sat down in one of the four white wooden rocking chairs, and waited.