Trevar's Team 3

by Kieran York

  My mind cast backward to a story I often quoted. “The glowworm story.”

  “Glowworm?” she asked quizzically.

  “Right. People respond to safe harbors. You can’t ask more of people than they can give. It’s analogous to the glowworm story. There was a talented glowworm. The trainer asked it to glow blue. It complied. Then the trainer asked for red. The glowworm again glowed what the trainer asked for – red. Finally, the trainer asked for the glow to be plaid. The glowworm worked and worked to achieve the command and glow plaid. Finally, the glowworm glowed plaid, but then exploded.” My expatiation ended on a somber, meditative, and lamenting, way. “This is what happens when we require too much of people. You were your own person. I recognized that precious talent you have.”

  Summer’s eyes were damp. “I’m glad you saw that in me.” She walked to the door. I thought she might turn and grin. She did not.

  Although when we parted, I should have headed across town to check on a creep or two connected with Simon’s murder, I drove in the opposite direction. I went to the beach behind the luxury buildings where Donald was knifed to death.

  The beach was white, and with a small brow of sea debris. Walking the path made me check the scene thoroughly as I strode along. When I went by one area, I saw red stains off to the side. Usually, after an investigation, all signs of the crime are removed. But some of the blood must have bled into the sand and remained. Foot and bike traffic had then uncovered the few spots of blood. I took my sample packets out and placed the sand inside. Suppose, I considered, forensics got the visible mess cleaned. But perhaps this was off to the side, and didn’t come from Donald, but from his killer.

  A long shot, but I would provide the packets to Tom Powers. Perhaps they might be useful and buy me some cred with Tom. It might give me a couple paybacks from the homicide chief. I was grasping at straws on this case. Or maybe just hoping for some strands of DNA that were compatible with a killer. I would mention that he might want to do a DNA check on Johnny and Gary.

  Walking back, I thought about Donald, and what he might have been thinking on his run. Although I only met him once, he didn’t seem like a guy marrying an older woman and scheming to scam money from her. But everyone commented that he was a chameleon. He wasn’t someone I would have suspected until after interviewing those who knew him.

  Gazing out on the ocean, I wondered if I was always able to identify evil. It was my business, but so much of detective work was revealing one layer after the other. Each pronouncement when interviewing a suspect came from their vantage point. I’d missed the signs before.

  As I realized my thoughts were all about the heartless living among us, I watched the surf meandering along the shore. I felt the sun. My thoughts turned to protection of the good, the precious people of life. I closed my eyes and Clarissa was a life-size image on my mind.

  Clarissa Lamb’s existence was all about the warmth and spirit of kindness. I wanted to hold her, kiss her and make love to her. I perhaps hungered for living with and for what she was all about.

  I was realistic enough to know that she wanted nothing to do with me. She wanted friendship. She understood that she couldn’t allow a crime-fighting woman into her life. I immersed myself into solving theft, killing, malefactions, hatred of one another. I wondered if crime soiled the spirit of those chasing after the wicked.

  Back in my car, I directed it to one of the filthy examples of the underworld. Sheeran’s Club was part of the sex industry. It seemed as though there were two considerations of this. From Mandy’s viewpoint, it was a choice for women. It was the only industry where women can make more than men. Her escort service protected the women, paid the women handsomely, and took women off the streets, and sometimes off drugs. Most of them made a choice, and most of them were able to help themselves.

  Their view was that they met the needs of men. Mandy expressed the idea that many women marry, and it is for money, being taken care of. The inducements varied. It was consensual sex.

  I’d argued with Mandy that the sex trade objectified women.

  The one place we agreed was that sex trafficking was against the woman. The land of pimps, of corporate sex trade, or diminishing the woman’s choice, was on so many street corners.

  I didn’t see Ravyn’s car in the parking lot. I also didn’t see Dimitri’s four-wheel beater. I rethought the reasons for my stopping by. I continued on, bartering with myself about if I should go back to the yacht. I could pick up a change of clothing for spending the night bodyguarding a woman I was beginning to have feeling for. And I could talk with Rachel about Jill and Summer’s disputes. +And if I were lucky, Pluma would squawk out her own profane objections to the world’s problems.

  It had been a busy morning. I felt like pilfering an hour from company time. I wanted to walk barefoot on the sands. My mind was filled with clues. The time was a criminal watch ticking in my brain.

  I selected an isolated beachfront. Kicking off my shoes felt good. As I walked, I excavated thoughts about the crimes. Just as a deep-sea diver excavated gold, I was pulling in various strands of not only what someone said, but how they said it.

  Words filled the cavern of time. It was as though these cases bounced off the canyon rims in some forgotten place. While I attempted to clear and strain thoughts and to relax my brain, I was becoming more encumbered by each clue.

  Chapter 11

  Dreams, at times, bothered my night.

  They reminded me that, at times, my profession placed me in a world begrimed and loathsome. Akin to many of my childhood remembrances. Being raised by non-functioning alcoholics, in slum areas, I’d purposely selected a lifestyle, as a prominent defense attorney. I was housed in a pristine mansion and lived an immaculately clean existence.

  Once in a while there was a feeling of displeasure. Handshakes with trashy criminals would make my well-groomed hands feel defiled. Assisting criminals to gain their freedom made my heart feel lousy, contaminated by evil.

  Being a detective is another form of leaping into the grime of criminal activity. Less take-home pay, but being on the opposing side of evil, was there for me when I became a P.I. Still awaiting me some nights, was treachery. I awoke in the middle of the night. A dream of being chased by the scum of the earth. I was roused from sleep. My throat was tight and dry. Ahead of me were streams of lewd women. They weren’t exuberant, their terror became my terror. Fear.

  I sat up on the cot, wiping my eyes. I was rumpled from sleeplessness. I could hear Clarissa’s breath across the room. Morning finally rescued me.

  Suddenly, Clarissa was kneeling at the side of my cot. “Beryl, are you okay?”

  I swallowed, “I’m fine. Sometimes I have nightmares. Sorry.”

  Touching my face, she looked concerned. “Nothing to be sorry about, Beryl.” Her soothing hands were placed on my cheeks. Her fingers felt like soft clouds. Her eyes linked to mine, and tears were forming. “You sleep so fitfully, but it’s going to be fine. Please smile.”

  My lips contorted for a moment, then rested into a beaming grin. “Just for you. Thank you for making me feel better.” I paused, allowing my lips turn down. “My life has been so messed up, and your life has been so tranquil and how life is supposed to be. I wish I could be for you. I’m frightened that instead of me allowing your happiness into my world, I might drag you down to mine.”

  “I was thinking, you smiled once,” she teased, “and that makes me confident I can make you smile again.” She added, “It may be too late, but I’m reconsidering us. We’re together for a reason. We should be able to share our moments. Love is a miracle. And I’m throwing it away for a very shallow reason.”

  “It isn’t too late,” I whispered. When our lips met, I took her in my arms. My eyes clamped snuggly as I felt the power of our kiss. It was warm, tender, and peaceful. I savored her nearness. We embraced, beginning another kiss, just as the sensor alarms went off.

  I jumped to my feet, as I grabbed my Beretta tightly. I f
elt the cool handle. “Stay here, call Rach, and lock your bedroom door.” I ordered.

  Carefully, I descended the circular stairway. I surveyed the store. Glancing at my phone, I could see it was the alarm I’d set last night, nearest the backdoor. In slow motion, I drifted against the wall toward the back. With a rapid spring, and gun aimed, I burst into the storeroom. Aiming, I then quickly lifted my gun, pointing toward the ceiling.

  I yelled up to Clarissa, “Come on down, it wasn’t a break in.”

  When she looked in, she saw me grin, as I lowered the gun to my side.

  She burst into laughter, “It’s Patch.”

  “Patch? I wasn’t aware you had a cat.” I lifted the white American Shorthair cat. His fur was soft, and had multiple dark colors splotched over his coat, and by his ears.

  I placed the purring cat into Clarissa’s open arms. “He’s the store cat. A stray. He sometimes stays over with the two women booksellers I introduced you to the other day. Yesterday they worked different shifts. They must have thought the other one took him. When they do that, they just leave him here for me to cuddle. I’m so sorry,” she apologized.

  I laughed. “I’m just glad I didn’t take one of his nine lives. I’m sort of a sharpshooter.”

  I tickled the top of Patch’s head. “Patch, you put the fear of goddess in me.”

  “We found him in the magazine department. He’d hidden out behind one of the display racks. We tried to find his home, but it became evident that he didn’t have a home. We care for lost or homeless cats. Stray kitties gravitate to safety. They come here, and people see them. We usually find them homes quickly. Patch was meant to be the company cat. Everyone loves him.”

  “He’s a lucky cat,” I commented.

  “And we named him Patch for the obvious reason. He has a black square patch on his white back. That was the first thing I noticed when I met Mr. Patch.”

  I phoned Rachel back to call off the Team alert. She told me that Jill was already on her way. In fact, Jill was entering the front door before I’d said goodbye to Rachel.

  I asked, “Did you bring small handcuffs, Jill?” When she frowned, I explained I had the beautiful cat in my custody. She commented that we needed paw-cuffs.

  While I showered and dressed, Jill went across the street and brought back a box of luscious pastry for us, and for the women working at Pages. Clarissa had brewed a large pot of coffee, so we sat. It felt so easy, so natural, being near Clarissa.

  “Excellent,” I said as I bit into a Danish pastry. “Just right for my energy level to get back to normal.”

  “You really must have been moving quickly to have gotten a draw on a cat,” Jill joked.

  Clarissa continued teasing me, “Jill, she still has the moves.”

  “Oh, really?” Jill remarked with her eyebrows lifting. “Do you have anything you want to tell me?” she asked. When I didn’t reply, she poked, “Come on, you two. Fess up.”

  I answered, “Jill, nothing to tell. I promise you. Clarissa was talking about my…”

  “Sorry, Trev,” Jill said with a smile. “I won’t tell Summer that Clarissa claims you still have the moves.”

  I had to chuckle because Clarissa was finding it funny. “Okay, nothing has been happening.” When Clarissa went to open the entry door for her staff, I scolded Jill. “Jill, drop it. We’ve talked about it. We aren’t sure it would be a good idea.”

  “Because?”

  “Because we’re so different.”

  “Come on, Trev…”

  I interrupted, “And why are you calling me what Summer calls me? I thought the two of you are enemies.”

  “I like calling you Trev.” Her lips pursed. “It has nothing to do with Summer. And don’t change the subjects. Clarissa has feelings for you.”

  I picked up my pistol from the small table. “You two are probably complicit. Have a safe day.”

  I tucked my gun into my body holster. I shook my head as I headed out the door. When I got to my car, I sat for several moments before my phone tone alerted me to Rachel’s call. She was chuckling. “How’s your first day on animal control?”

  I was certain that Jill and Clarissa had immediately told her, and probably Summer. “Give me a break.”

  I heard Summer’s voice in the background, “And ask her how her moves are?”

  “Rach,” I said with a humorously stern voice, “is there a reason why you’re calling?”

  “I got a strange call. Woman, disguising her voice. She said to tell you that she needed to meet you at the same place.”

  I sat up. Only one woman would be attempting to hide her meeting with me. Ravyn. “I’ll be going back to where Ravyn and I lunched. I have a hunch it’s her and someone suspects her of talking with me. She has something to tell me.”

  Rachel paused, then said, “It could be a setup. Be careful.”

  “Will do.”

  “Do you need backup?”

  “Naw, I’ll check it out carefully.”

  When I arrived at the small BBQ restaurant, I scoured the area. I saw Ravyn’s vehicle. I swerved into the parking space beside it. “I took a chance that you were calling.” I ordered a cup of coffee.

  “Look, I overheard Mickey and Dimitri talking last night. They were saying that Jurg wanted to put a GPS tracker on your car. They’re wanting to find Boyd Trevar. I just wanted to warn you. You’re a smart woman. I don’t like to see crap happening to women. Have you ever thought of turning Boyd over?”

  “He’s my cousin and he didn’t do anything. If Simon stole the treasure, then he probably hid it somewhere on the coastline. Or even on the Sea Fortune. Boyd doesn’t have it. I looked, it isn’t with him. Besides, he was so terrified, he would have given the gold back immediately. I’m a vigorous, robust, tough woman, Ravyn. He is the absolute opposite of me. He’s a diver. He’s never had a speeding ticket in his life. He’s square, and he’s very, very …,” I paused selecting the word. “He’s self-preserving. He likes beautiful seashells, and the ocean floor’s adventure. He wouldn’t be into a heist like that. He hasn’t got the …”

  “…balls for it?”

  “Right. I always have the balls for dangerous gigs. But he isn’t the valorous type. Jurg, Mickey, and Dimitri live on the edge. Boyd doesn’t. And I haven’t made up my mind about Simon.”

  “Simon never wanted to be the one in trouble. He was a messenger boy, but hell, he was a chicken shit. I started out as a lowdown, hookup whore, and I could fight. Simon wasn’t going to go up against gangsters.”

  “I don’t have any idea who has the treasure. One of them might have redeposited the treasure on the ocean floor. All I know is I don’t have it, and I’d bet the farm that Boyd doesn’t have it.” I stood, looking back down at her. “Anything else?”

  “Naw,” she answered. But she was lying. Ravyn might have been okay at conning the typical john at a strip club about her emotions, but she wasn’t fooling me. The woman knew more than she was saying. But she wanted to tell me something.

  “Thanks for all you help, Ravyn. I really appreciate you letting me know. Just remember, I’ll try to help you, too. I know someone and she could help you.”

  “You don’t get it. I’m implicated.”

  “I also know a hell of a good defense lawyer. I could take any charges against you and have the case buried in writs. Moral turpitude is nothing. And I’m betting anything you did, beyond that, you were coerced. Please help me?”

  She nodded negatively. She was terrified of what the three men could do to her. And Simon wasn’t around any longer to protect her. One day soon she would spill her information. I felt certain of that. And I would be there with my ears pinned back.

  It only took me twenty minutes to drive to the garage area we’d rented in West Palm. Rachel was calling the car rental company to meet me there. I pulled my Mercedes into the garage, took what I need from it, locked everything securely, then searched.

  Last night had indeed been a busy night for the skip
per and his two goofs, or one of the three. My vehicle had a tracking device. From the inside fender, behind its wheel, I pulled the magnetic tracker. The hidden tracker was an off-shelf magnetic GPS. I dismantled it. I then worked the electronic sweeper to see if there were additional GPS units. I called Rach, to have her warn everyone to use their bug sweepers to check their vehicles. My auto was parked behind Pages. I’d probably overlooked setting the alarm system, or it had been overridden. Whatever, my Mercedes had been compromised. It was clean now. Rachel promised to look into the security safety of our other vehicles.

  Meanwhile, I locked up the garage. Within ten minutes, the rental car was delivered. Wonderful, a nondescript beige Honda. A perfect undercover car is like getting a new lease on life.

  I needed more than that fresh lease. I placed power alarms on the rental car. If anyone tampered with it, I’d hear the alarm system’s siren blast.

  The Blue Sea Bar was certainly a squalid dump. Not knowing which lowlife might be affiliated with the rotten threesome, I hedged my bet with Ax. At least by chatting with him, I knew which side he was on. His buddy, Simon, was most probably shot to death by the Sea Fortune slicksters.

  “You keep a talking with me, and you’re gonna get me killed,” he grumbled.

  “Just a few questions. Can I trust Ravyn?”

  “I reckon so. She’s got ‘er an act about not givin’ a crap about nobody. She loved Simon. She was beholdin’ to him. Hell, if she wasn’t. But she cared. Doubt any of them treasure chasers gave a fuck about Simon. He was nothin’ but a gofer.”

  “Why do you think Ravyn didn’t get out of the business earlier?”

  “She couldn’t. Mickey had her afeared for her life. She wouldn’t have walked. Now, she’s got a little age on her. Where’s she gonna go? Nowhere safer than Sheeran’s for her. She’s built up trade, and she’s making okay money.” He hesitated, swinging around in the seat, looking over his shoulder. “You git on outta here. If you got sense, you won’t come back. Dimitri gets ahold of you, and he’ll pitch your ass in the sea and take target practice on ya.”