by Jim Beegle
When he unlocked the door to their room, he was detailing his conversation with Alan Ketchem. He led her into the room and went to the kitchen while she excused herself to the bathroom. When she returned she found him sitting on the couch, a beer for each of them on the coffee table. She sat down beside him and took her beer. Before she took the first sip turned to ask a question.
“There’s still just one thing I don’t understand,” she told him.
“If you’re only unclear about one thing then you’re doing much better than I am.” But, he smiled as he spoke and she realized that he was more relaxed than she had ever known him to be. The years had fallen off his face in the last two days.
“I’m sorry,” he said to her gently. “What do you want to know?”
“How did you know it was Amy and Hamilton?” He let out a long, loud breath as if he had been expecting her question. “It’s OK. if you don’t want to tell me. I’m just curious.”
“No,” he told her putting his beer down “I don’t mind telling you. It’s just not something I can still really believe myself.” When he stopped speaking she saw a distressed look pass over his face. Then, as if to shake himself free of a bad dream, he continued.
“Hamilton was my favorite suspect from the beginning. No one but Hamilton had the knowledge of the money and the access to me that he could gain through Amy. If it had just been Hamilton, I think I could have done this without having to get anyone else involved. But he made a mistake the very first time I talked to him as Amy’s alleged kidnapper in the Ft. Lauderdale airport.” He paused and took a drink from his beer before continuing.
“I almost missed it too. I was so overwhelmed by the idea that Amy might be in trouble, that I wasn’t paying attention. It wasn’t until a few hours later, when several other things fell in together, that I figured out it was all a set up.”
“What was it? What was the mistake?” she asked.
“They knew I was going to the Bahamas,” he told her. She stared at him in bewilderment.
“But hadn’t you told Amy where you were going?” Marin finally said.
“No,” Mark answered simply. “No one knew where I was going or how I was getting there.”
“What about the first trip you made down here?” During their walk Mark had told her the story of his first visit to Nassau.
“No, I didn’t think there were any records from my first visit here either. In fact, I had gone to a great deal of trouble to make sure that there was nothing anyone could use to trace me here. To tell you the truth, I am not really sure why.
Maybe some of Cecil’s warnings and paranoia had worn off on me,” Mark said with a crooked smile. “I paid cash for everything, and what few receipts I did have I destroyed. But, like most people who think they have covered all their bases, I was wrong.” He got up and walked over to the breakfast bar where his briefcase sat. He popped it open, took something out, and walked back to the table. He stopped directly opposite of where Marin was sitting and dropped his passport in front of her before retaking his seat.
“When I entered the country that first time they stamped my passport with a tourist visa, just like they did this trip.” Marin picked up the document and flipped to the page that held the large official-looking stamp.
“When I got back, I forgot to put my passport away. It stayed in my briefcase for the weeks that followed my return. This is the only thing that anyone could have used to locate where some of the money was.” He leaned back in the chair.
“You see, I’m very bad about keeping up with my briefcase. If someone interrupts me when I’m carrying the thing, I will put the thing down to talk to him or her. It always ends up somewhere it doesn’t belong. I had it with me the night I told Amy and Hamilton about the money on Monday. But I don’t think either one of them had started looking for information as early as that night. Tuesday and Wednesday night it was missing in action in the software lab at Micronix and I had no idea where it was. Somebody usually brings it back to me because I am well known for losing it around my office.” He gave her an embarrassed smile. “Someone returned it to me early Thursday morning and I took it home with me that night.”
“Friday I left for my office with the briefcase, visited you, and then went to the ranch. I don’t think anyone had access to it either Friday or Saturday. Sunday night I didn’t sleep much and actually had it in my sight the whole time. That left Thursday night. The only person who had access to the thing Thursday night was Amy.” He paused to catch his breath.
“Like I said, it took me a while to put all that together and I almost missed it. But once I realized that whoever was behind this knew I was going to Nassau and then figured out how they found out I was going to Nassau, it vastly narrowed the field of players.”
Marin framed her next question slowly and with caution. “If you knew it was Amy, then why did you go through all those elaborate plans to give her a way out?” she asked, handing him back the passport.
He took the document and flipped it over in his hands a few times before looking back up to answer. When he did, she could see the pain in his eyes.
“I was pretty sure Amy was in on it, but I wasn’t absolutely certain. Hell, maybe deep down inside I just wanted to believe that she couldn’t do something like this. I also couldn’t discount that she was being forced into helping Hamilton for some other reason. Either way, I had to be sure. As long as there was the slightest chance she wasn’t part of it, I had to do what I could to protect her. But …” his voice trailed off, not really needing to finish the answer.
They spent Saturday and Sunday doing what most people do when they visit the Bahamas, sleeping late, eating too much, touring the islands, playing in the casino, and in general relaxing and having a good time.
Marin especially enjoyed the evenings. They always end up walking on the beach in the moonlight and talking about anything that came to mind. Mark became more relaxed and more animated with each passing day. He regaled her with stories of college and pranks with the computers. He spent one whole afternoon, during a sight-seeing boat tour of Nassau, telling her about the early days of Micronix and how much he had enjoyed that time in his life.
She told him about her early marriage and the fun and pain it had brought her. They discussed her painting and where she had learned to do it. They spent hours telling stories back and forth. But, she especially looked forward to the way Mark had taken to telling her good night.
They had not talked very much more on Friday night after he had explained how he had come to the correct conclusion that Amy was involved in her own kidnapping.
Mark was still fatigued and tired and the combined effect of either the wine at lunch or the drugs still in his system sapped a good deal of his energy. She resolved to make it easy on him and said that she was tired and was going to bed. When she got up from the table, Mark did too.
“I haven’t thanked you for all that you did and for dropping everything and coming down here when I called”
“I was glad to do it. You said you were in trouble and that’s all I needed to know,” she said, smiling up at him. He didn’t say anything else but instead came around the table, leaned into her, and kissed her softly on the lips. The kiss reminded her of the one they had shared Friday night when he stopped by her house to get the printouts. But this time his contact bore no resemblance to a friendly goodbye. He lingered and she pressed into him and relished the event. Saturday and Sunday nights were similar, but the kiss became kisses and the time needed to perform each one increased in proportion with their number.
* * *
The jangle of the phone yanked her out of a sound sleep Monday morning. It rang twice before she managed to find it and put the receiver to her ear. She said hello simultaneously as Mark picked it up the extension in his room and did the same.
“Hey, Slugger,” came the voice from the other end.
“Hiya, Pat,” she heard Mark respond.
; “Look, I just got a minute before I catch my flight. It’s all set up,” the voice Marin now associated with Pat said.
“When?” she heard Mark ask as she softly replaced the receiver into the cradle. She was still wondering what was set up as she went back to sleep. When she got up about an hour of so later she found out.
“Ah. Oh?” she said, looking at him folding clothes and putting them in his suitcase when she went to find Mark after she got a cup of coffee.
“Yep,” he said looking up at her. “All good things must come to an end.” He stopped when he noticed the change in her face. He put the clothes down and walked to her. “Actually, that isn’t quite right. Let’s just say a brief interruption. How’s that?” He leaned over her and kissed her on the forehead. It wasn’t so much what he said, but rather how he said it, that caused her to forget her disappointment in having to return to the United States.
“OK, but I am going to hold you to it,” she told him as he gave her a quick hug before returning to the suitcase.
“I hope so,” he said, smiling and winking at her.
“When?” She asked.
“Tomorrow morning. I’ve already booked the flights,” he told her.
That evening they invited Jonus and his wife to join them for dinner. They talked and drank and ate for hours. It was the most enjoyable evening Marin could remember having in her life.
It had also been captivating to see Mark tell Jonus goodbye. The parting was tormenting, as it can only be between two good friends; this surprised her later that night when she remembered they had only known each other for little more than a month.
Before leaving Mr. Roddy had given Mark an envelope that he handled with great care. She knew it was important because the first thing he did when they got back to the suite was put it in his briefcase. She made a mental note to make sure he had it when they left in the morning.
* * *
Mark and Marin checked in and got boarding passes before retiring to the airport coffee shop. They each had one more cup before boarding the American Eagle flight to Miami, where they would change planes to Dallas.
When they arrived in Miami and deplaned, Mark took her hand and walked her to the gate for the flight for Dallas. As they sat in the boarding lounge Mark handed her one of the boarding passes.
“I’m not going back to Dallas with you today,” he said as she took the ticket from his hand.
Apprehension and disappointment hit her system all at once. “Why not?” she managed to stammer.
Before he answered, he reached over and took her hand. “Marin, I am not trying to get rid of you. Trust me, nothing could be further from my thoughts at the moment. I have to go to Phoenix and tie up a few more loose ends. I will be gone tonight and tomorrow night, but I will call you both nights. I want you to promise me something?”
“What?” she asked him, reassured not only by his explanation, but the look in his eyes.
“I want you to have dinner with me Wednesday night. I have something very important I want to talk to you about” he told her gently.
She looked into his eyes once more before answering, what she saw in them gave her the final reassurance she needed.
“I don’t know,” she said playfully. “I’ll have to check my calendar,” she told him with a smile. They both laughed as he squeezed her hand.
<<<<<<<>>>>>>>
The flight to Phoenix left on time and arrived on time. When he got off the plane he saw Pat waiting for him just outside the security area.
“Slugger, you look rested. If I didn’t know better I would even venture to say you had the makings of a tan working there,” he told Mark as they shook hands.
“Well, you could say that. Here hold this,” Mark told him, handing him his suitcase and then walking toward the exit doors of terminal two. “Is everything all set?” Mark asked over his shoulder as Pat caught up with him.
“Well, it’s been like trying to herd cats, but yep, it’s all set. We go straight from here to the meeting. Thanks by the way,” he said, holding up Mark’s suitcase and indicating he did not much care for his new job as Mark’s personal porter.
“I sure hope you know what you’re doing,” his friend said as they dodged winter-weary travelers arriving to enjoy the sun of the Arizona desert.
“Oh, I know what I’m doing, Pat old buddy. For the first time in a long time I know exactly what I’m doing.” He smiled as they walked through the automatic sliding glass door out into the afternoon sunlight. “Did you manage to round up a quorum?”
Pat took a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and fitted them on his face before answering. “Like I said, it’s been like herding cats, but yes, I got the legally required number of warm voting bodies.” As he finished speaking a red Acura pulled up and stopped at the curb where they were standing. The window rolled down and Kirstin leaned over the passenger seat.
“Need a lift, sailor?” she asked with a smile. Mark laughed as Pat threw his bag into the trunk of the car.
“I forgot to ask you,” Pat said, closing the trunk, “how’s Amy?”
Mark opened the door on the front passenger side and looked at Pat.
“Single,” was all he said.
Shake Up In DECCO
AP Business Wire—In a move that took the software industry by surprise DECCO Systems Inc. announced at a press conference yesterday afternoon that company president, Mr. Arthur Ness, was resigning. It is rumored that the board of DECCO, a Phoenix-based software designer with sales last year of $525,000,000, asked for Mr. Ness’s resignation following an unscheduled meeting of the board late Monday night. Further adding to the speculation that Ness’s departure was unexpected, was the board’s endorsement of Mr. Patrick McDowell as his successor.
McDowell, currently living in Denver, CO, was one of the founders of Micronix, a Dallas-based firm. Micronix wrote the popular Gamma software widely utilized in the printing and publishing industry. DECCO bought Micronix two years ago in a stock swap valued at $85,000,000.
In his first official act as president of DECCO, McDowell announced that the long awaited release of the upgrade to Gamma would be delayed by at least six months while Micronix continued to work out problems with the software.
DECCO stock closed mixed.
(Story continued Shake Up Page 3)
* * *
Mark flipped the Wednesday morning copy of The Dallas Morning News over to page three to continue reading what the reporter had to say about the firestorm he had started in Phoenix two days ago.
While he was looking his attention was drawn to a picture of his soon-to-be ex-wife, smiling from the People of Business column. It was an older photo of her taken a few years back, but he immediately recognized her. He read the short article written under it:
International Bank Of Commerce announces the promotion of Ms. Amy Vogel to the position of Director. Ms. Vogel replaces Mr. E. Hunte who recently resigned to pursue other interests. Ms. Vogel began her career at IBC fifteen years ago while attending college…
Mark smiled at the code phrase; “resigned to pursue other interests.” So Hamilton had decided not to come back and claim his old job or Mark’s old wife? He was still smiling when his phone rang.
“Hello.” He said, still looking at the paper.
“Good morning,” he heard Marin’s voice on the other end. “Did you sleep OK after we talked last night? I didn’t wake you did I?”
“No, I was up reading the paper,” he told her.
“Seen the business section yet?” she asked.
He laughed, “It’s an old picture, trust me.” He shifted in the chair. Now sitting up, he continued.
“I’m glad you called; I was just getting ready to try to call you. I forgot to ask you about this last night. Would you mind going with me to Eastland this afternoon? We can stop for that dinner I promised on the way back.”
“Sure, I would love to go with you. Want me to pick you up?�
�� she asked.
“No. I’ve got the car I left here last week. I checked when I came in last night; it’s still in the parking lot. Let’s hope I can still find the keys,” he laughed.
“Well, call me if you can’t. What time will you be by?” she asked, laughing with him.
He looked at the clock on the nightstand. “How about ten or so? We need to be there by one this afternoon.” He paused. When he spoke again his voice became softer and more subdued. “Oh, and Marin?”
“Yes, Mark?” She dropped the laughter when she picked up the change in his tone.
“Wear something black,” he said quietly. “We’re going to a funeral.”
Chapter Twelve
Mark stood in the cold, buffeted by the even colder wind coming out of the northwest. He was trying to remember if it was the ancient Greeks or Romans who believed life was a circle and was lived in cycles, which were always doubling back upon themselves. He was standing just a few hundred feet from where he had stood a few weeks ago and found himself looking down on the same coffin he had looked down on the last time. A little dirtier and more shopworn, from having spent all of that time buried in the cold Texas ground but, at least this time he had remembered to wear a coat.
The group in attendance had also increased swelling by over thirty percent—consisting today of Marin, the minister, Winston Lawton, and himself. Mark was pleased when Winston called him to corroborate that the permits to rebury the body had been completed and he had asked to attend the service.
In addition to the location, the minister was also a different one this time. It would have been nice to have the same one as the first time, to maintain the carrying forward/complete circle theme. However, trying to explain this whole sordid story to a man of the cloth was more than he or Winston wanted to tackle. So, instead the good pastor calling the signals at the proceedings today was a friend of Winston’s.
“Ashes to Ashes. Dust to Dust,” the minister intoned.
