Trevar's Team 3

by Kieran York

  “There’s a great deal I don’t know about Clarissa, or you.”

  Jill walked slowly back to where I was standing. “Has my fellow team member been moaning?”

  “Jill, Summer feels as though you get the best jobs, I guess. I want both of you to be on our Team. I’m not sure how to fix this rift.”

  “Do you want me to resign? I can go back to enforcement.”

  “I don’t want you going anywhere. We had a terrific trio, and now with you, we have a perfect Team.”

  “I didn’t ask for this assignment. It was in Rachel’s hands. Summer doesn’t seem to understand the basics. When I studied criminal justice at the academy we were told that we take whatever assignment we were given. One of our instructors said that because it is so essential that we be on the same page, we should consider enforcement like being a member of the military. Chain of command. I don’t think Summer has ever had that discipline. Now, if you want to fire me for saying that, I do understand. And I respect you, whatever you do.”

  Nodding, I spoke pensively, “Summer is guilty as charged. She was the youngest, and she was the muscles, and had an instinct for crime chasing. But she’s young, and she’s been on the streets alone for the few years before she joined the Team. She isn’t disciplined. And to be honest, Rachel and I worked around her. Your being part of the Team changes the dynamics. I predicted that you would train her to have discipline by your example. Summer has a strong loyalty. She’s got an instinct. She’s feeling shoved aside right now. I want you both to be patient. Because she’s got a hair-trigger temper, she’ll take what I say as picking on her. I have no right to ask, but will you be an undercover mentor to her?”

  Jill’s grin flashed. “I’d much rather go through a hail of gunfire. But I’ll try.”

  “Something about these cases makes me feel that we’re going to need one another. More than ever before.”

  This time her nod was affirmative. She left the shop with a simple wave.

  Turning, I saw Clarissa coming my way. “How’s my reinforcement?”

  “Clarissa, I’m fully armed and ready to defend.”

  “Do you realize the more I see of you, the more feelings I have for you?” she questioned.

  “I’ll sleep nearer the landing of the loft. Try to keep us parted,” I teased.

  Her grin suddenly lifted. “We’re both trying desperately not to allow this.”

  “I still want to get to know you better. You were a librarian?”

  “And you were a lawyer?”

  Chuckling, I confessed, “I probably got shot at just as much in my previous profession. Maybe more. But I’ve survived.”

  “Haven’t other women you’ve been with objected?”

  “Sure. All but the woman I fell in love with.”

  “Lilia Franco?”

  “Yes. And she was fine with my profession because I was her bodyguard. She understood that people are in need of my services.”

  “Was that why you loved her?”

  “I don’t visit that portion of my nostalgia. We just loved one another. I’m not sure there are reasons.”

  “Probably not.” Her sigh was understood by both of us. “And in your teen years, what were you like?”

  “Raffish youth.” I grinned. “I needed to study hard to get through college and law school. So, I was actually very tame. Then after graduation, I had a little party inside of me, and then got to work.”

  “Beryl, I wish you loved me as you loved Lilia. That was what love should be like.”

  “I’m beginning to, but you’re right. I wouldn’t be beneficial for you. I couldn’t be the person you need in your life.”

  Our gaze was too long. But I couldn’t take my eyes from her face. If love could be reversed, concluded, or sent off to a faraway dynasty of lost stars, would I want to lose love?

  Avoidance was a luminous, gleaming beam of light that shined too brightly. And perhaps, dimmed to rapidly.

  Chapter 10

  Because of scheduling conflicts, we made a decision to change the original morning plans. Jill would relieve my bodyguarding Clarissa earlier. I would hightail it back to the yacht, and shower. At that point we would do a conference, with Jill on her phone giving her input.

  My agenda, or docket as I often referred to it, included: Team meeting. Chat with Chief Tom Powers at Homicide Headquarters. Appointment with Mona Ross at Ross Architects. There was a yearning that perhaps Mona would terminate our contract. She had kept us on to see if we could discover a murderer of her hubby. I assumed that was so that she would no longer be under suspicion for the killing. I was realist enough to believe it could very well have been a random homicide by a crazed drug addict. But that scenario set off a little alarm system.

  I’d always had that little alarm system going off – signaling my brain. But at times, I ignored it. Those were not good times. I was taking advantage of not making a decision about Mona’s innocence.

  I was much more anxious to find a way to draw out the Sea Fortune’s Scumbag-Hucksters and Coleman’s strip joint/sex trafficking/escort business. I wanted to save my cousin’s honor, and his freedom from a prison stay. I was also protective of him. I didn’t want him murdered by the killers of his friend, Simon. But there was an addendum to my reason for wanting this case solved. I hated women being abused. Sex trafficking, and the sex industry, were grimily intrusive ugly acts against women. Itching to see Jurg, Dimitri, and Mickey charged, I could use the womanpower of both Summer and Jill.

  I was pretty certain I could find trouble to get into that afternoon. But the morning was spoken for.

  After my shower, I pulled Summer aside and cautioned her about being a Team member. “The two of you are needed for the cases we’re working on. We can only accomplish success when our Team is together. Our synchronicity is the hidden ingredient. I realize you don’t like working the boring case of Donald ’s murder. But until we get the contract torn up by Mona, we’ve got to ethically give it our best try. Jill isn’t being given better assignments. She wants criminals off the streets. You want the streets cleaned up.”

  She argued, “Donald was murdered by a violent stranger. It’s going to be an unsolvable mystery. The cops have no clues – no clues exist. Can you honestly say it isn’t a cold case?”

  “Summer, I’m not at all convinced that it can be solved. I don’t want to wait until someone squeals or confesses. The people we’re investigating could have murdered him. Maybe it is probable that they did not kill Donald. And no one ordered a hit on him. But it is possible that one of them did it or conspired to have him killed.”

  Her eyes were fired up for another line of argument. “I don’t buy it.”

  I intersected her debate. “Summer, will you please cooperate? We are a team. The Team. Please give Jill a chance. I know it isn’t easy. But our business depends on it. How many times have we depended on calling audibles. We’ve been hooked up together. It’s our reaction, and our closeness to recognize one another’s idiosyncrasies, signals, messages – that saves us. Our lives depend on one another.”

  She spun around and walked out of the office. It was going to be a short, sweet conference. I was pretty sure Jill could feel the cyber glares of Summer. But everyone stayed cool enough for the meeting to end. Ours was a be safe motto. Take care and take care of one another.

  My nerves were relatively secured when I entered Tom’s office.

  Chief Tom Powers immediately began with his order to bring Boyd in to be interrogated by a couple of the homicide detectives. I would divert his invitation. My chat at homicide headquarters was to do just that.

  “Tom, come on. Jurg Laski, Mickey Coleman, and Dimitri Zhenya are looking for Boyd. They’ll kill my cousin. Mickey and Dimitri now know that Boyd and I are related. They paid a visit to threaten my friend, Charissa Lamb. They entered her bookstore and frightened the hell out of her. I now need to use one of the Team members to give her 24-hour protection. That’s 25% of my workers. I’ve got Boyd in
safe storage, Tom. I’m not turning him over so that it leaks out where he is. And Trevar Investigators are working two cases.”

  “Get back to you guarding the rich and famous.” He sat across from me. “I don’t want you women getting in my way.”

  “Perish the thought that crime gets solved. By the way, have you spoken with Jurg Laski about the murder of his diver?”

  “They aren’t always available to us. You know that we can’t go into International waters.”

  “I got that, Tom, but these are potential killers.” I knew he was right. Twenty-four nautical miles from the coastal shoreline. Twelve to twenty-four was considered the contiguous zone. The waters can be patrolled for drugs and contraband by the Coast Guard. And they have the right to board and search.

  “You want me to rip the treasure hunter’s ship by its moorings? You women don’t pay any attention to the rules. You don’t worry about probable cause or anything else.”

  I grinned. “You have more resources that we do, Tom. I agree, we are a little less dainty about suspect’s treatment. And a little less concerned about a few other areas of law.”

  “Damn right you are,” he fumed. “As a matter of fact, we did talk with Jurg and a guy named Dimitri. They claimed they found little hooks beneath the hull. Someone was attaching bags of coins under the boat. Stealing the skippers stash. They don’t know where Boyd went with Simon. Simon was killed while he was with your cousin.”

  “If you’d find the speedboat they were in, you’d see it was full of bullets.”

  “All we know is Simon was full of bullets. Close range.”

  “Glad you at least met with Jurg,” I said. “Tom, they are career killers. The mob.”

  “I’d love to get them, too.” He scratched his head. “That scumbag, Dimitri called me a name.”

  “Oh?” I inquired.

  “I heard him say ‘douche nozzle’ when I was leaving.” Tom blushed.

  Then we laughed. “I’m sure he has called me worse,” I said. Dimitri wouldn’t have told Tom about my assault on him. Not terribly masculine. I wouldn’t offer it up. Maybe in twenty years at Tom’s retirement party, I could bring it up.

  “Also, you might as well forget the Donald Ogden murder. And stop bothering Johnny Groversen. I don’t want trouble from Washington.”

  “Tom, Johnny could be involved.”

  “He was friends with the dead man, Trevar. End of story. We don’t have trouble with his father and we don’t want trouble with him.”

  “You think it was a random killing. But what if it wasn’t?”

  “You and your Team face it. The killer won’t be identified unless a jailhouse snitch trades a name for time served. I’ll back away on interviewing your cousin, if you leave the Groversen family alone.”

  “You’re trying to restrict our investigations. Tom, I have a feeling…”

  “You and your feelings. Stay out of the homicide business. Do your little bodyguard and missing persons business. Leave the murders to us to solve.”

  I began toward the door, then swirled around. “In other words, you don’t want the crimes solved.”

  His eyes narrowed. “We’ll get the killer of Simon eventually. Maybe the killer of Ogden will have a lifetime Stay Out of Jail card. It’s not looking optimistic for a lockup.”

  As I exited, I was still grinning about his encounter with Dimitri. Tom and I constantly played this crime solving competition. He knew I wouldn’t remind him of how many crimes Trevar Investigators had solved. He liberally furnished forensic clues, and other information that wouldn’t be available without his permission. It was a win-win, or perhaps a draw-draw.

  My drive to Ross Architects didn’t take long enough.

  Sitting across from Mona’s elaborate circular table, she immediately began her harping, haranguing droll list of expectations. “You’re providing the surveillance of two of Donald ’s friends. Isn’t that a waste of my money?”

  “Can you provide me a list of anyone you haven’t mentioned. We’ll be glad to turn our investigation in whatever direction you’d like as long as it’s vital to the case. Mona, I feel it was someone he knew. And it was all about hatred. Why are you so certain it wasn’t his pals, Johnny Groversen or Gary Dodge?”

  “Because Johnny was not even in town. And Gary is a despicable rodent, but why would he kill Donald? I suspect Donald was slipping his old pal money. My money.” As an aside, she said, “Donald felt power when he bought people. And he was the biggest purchase I’ve ever made.” Her chuckle was cruel. She then sat back, when I failed to appreciate her humor. “At any rate, Gary wouldn’t have killed the golden goose.”

  My thoughts were suddenly whipping around with tornadic speed. “Wait! Donald was paying Gary?”

  “Probably the loans were out of friendship. Some of the money I believed Donald was stealing to pay a blackmailer to keep quiet about his philandering, or maybe his pilfering company funds. I mentioned before that Donald had his hand in the till. He was taking from me, and I’m certain he was being paid by our competition by selling quotes and the espionage of our company plans. Even if your detectives can’t find the funds, I know he was siphoning out a great deal of money. You can’t locate the crime because you’re too busy chasing Donald’s worthless friends.” The conversation went quiet. Then she added, “Donald threw his ‘hero’ grifter a few crumbs.”

  “At least we brought it to your attention that Gary was not a hero.”

  “I hadn’t already surmised that he was no hero. But I knew all along he was a rodent.”

  “Mona, if you’re dissatisfied with my company, I’ll immediately rescind all of our previous contractual agreements.”

  “I just want to see some data providing me with backup to my suspicions. Proof that the bum I married was not such a sweet guy.”

  I stood slowly. “I’m only going to say this once. We do not make it up as we go along. You want to prove your innocence to the homicide detectives. I understand that. My Team will only verify the truth.”

  After leaving the Ross Building, I was hot under the collar. I called Summer, to check and see if she’d come up with anything on Gary. We decided to meet for a quick lunch down the street from Gary’s apartment. Away from the place Gary often when to eat. Since we would be talking about the case, it was safer from inquiring ears.

  Summer called Gary the least interesting person she’d ever surveilled. He’d dug in at his apartment. He went out to the same pancake house for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Ate alone. He was chummy with the staff, and only went to the bathroom before he ate, Summer dubiously reported.

  That I considered strange. He was nearly across the street from the pancake house. A five-minute trip – so one would think he could have wee-weed at his apartment, then on to lunch. And he didn’t look at all like the type to be insistent on pristine hands. Yet, he went to the men’s room to scrub up. Sometimes, Summer said, it was occupied, and sometimes not. We should have a gentleman on the Team to check toilet activities of potential perps.

  Summer and I were seated. She mumbled, “Trev, I tell you, this Gary is a weirdo.”

  “Mona seems to think he’s okay, except for being a rodent.”

  “Mona,” Summer repeated as she opened the menu, “is difficult to define. She runs hot and cold. I asked Rachel about Ross Architects financials. She said that there probably were some shortages. And so far, nothing on Gary’s banking practices. Seems there probably weren’t any. He was pocketing cash.”

  Both Summer and I ordered the Florida breakfast special omelet. That included shrimp, and Creole sauce. We both must have been hungry, and the lunch was fairly appetizing. The lemonade was excellent. We ate our way through most of the meal before we resumed our conversation.

  “Nothing more about the phone dump. The burner cell only showed Gary’s landline number. Tom didn’t provide the ping information of the trace phone. Jill even talked with the Chief, and nothing new.” I placed a forkful of pancakes in my mouth
. I immediately noticed Summer’s jaws tightening.

  “Trev, if Rachel and you can’t get information, surely Jill can squeeze it out of her old boss.”

  “That’s not what I was saying. Summer, please make an effort. We’ve got to be on one page. Two homicides. Both potentially dangerous. Certainly, the Simon Wagoner case is teeming with dirtballs. Dangerous dirtballs.”

  “I don’t suppose Mona is done with us on the Donald Ogden case.”

  “Nope. I asked her if I could tear up the contract. She’s vehement about us continuing to find a killer that I’m not sure is around. A hidden person, not connected to Donald in any way, other than the fact that they met on a beach pathway, is dubious. Donald was filleted. Someone wanted him to hurt. And then die.”

  “She just doesn’t want to go down for it.” Summer then charged, “Maybe she did do it. She sure as hell hated Donald. And she could easily afford a hitman.”

  “A hit man would probably have just gored the guy in a few critical places. He wouldn’t have butchered the guy. Bullets are quicker, and smarter for a hitman.”

  Summer finished her drink. She joked, “Maybe he was being paid by the jab wounds. Or maybe hitmen have a menu that the client can pick from.” Summer giggled, “Yes, and hit special of the day. Client’s pay, hitmen slay. Massacre by knife, to be made to look like a random act, an added charge.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “Well, someone must have taken home a big paycheck.” I paused, “I have never understood the basic option of a life of crime. Why select crime, when there’s always an alternative?”

  “Remember, Trev, you rescued me from a detox center where I was about to be transferred to jail.”

  Recalling that day, I questioned why a bright, lovely kid would we be ruining her health. I signed her out as a guardian of the court. Everyone knew I worked pro bono with women. “I trusted my instincts, Summer. I knew you were to special to be tossed off to the side.”

  “What made you think I could be saved?” she asked.