Trevar's Team 3

by Kieran York

  “She hasn’t mentioned cutting us loose to me. But she knows that’s fine. Maybe she just said that to you because she’s guilty.”

  “Trevar, you don’t trust a soul, do you?” He implied that we just wanted to milk the case.

  “Hey, the money is already in the till. Mona Ross will pay out our contract no matter if we work the case or don’t. Our Team is just curious to see where all our little clues lead. If your department comes up with Mark Novak, please let us know.”

  His jaw crunched down on the pen. “He’s long gone.” There was a pause. The Chief was wrestling with what to say, or how to say what he wanted to say. “What about the Simon Wagoner case?”

  “We’re working it. Aren’t you?”

  “I haven’t got enough evidence on your cousin to arrest him. I get any eyewitnesses, you can bet I’m going to be cuffing him.”

  “Boyd didn’t do it.” I considered, even if he did do it. I would suggest a plea of no intent-no crime. But he didn’t.

  I turned before I opened his door. “Tom, you mess with a false arrest against him, and Boyd and I shall own a big chunk of this county.”

  “Threatening?” He leaned across his desk. It was a Columbo kind of challenge.

  “Warning. As only I can warn you. He’s a good guy. He’s family. And if you’d go out there to The Sea Fortune, you might find the killers.”

  “Trevar, you know they drift into international waters the minute we get near. Anyway, they’re too busy picking crap off the bottom of the ocean.”

  “It’s gold coins and bullion. Not crap.”

  “According to their financial reports, haven’t struck a lucky pot of the stuff. Just small stuff.”

  That had told me that Coleman and his partner Laski weren’t reporting their bounty. They not only wanted to capture Boyd to take back their satchel of treasure. They wanted him dead because he could report that there was plenty of gold coming off the wreckage that slept on the ocean floor. They probably wanted Boyd killed for being able to testify against their tax scam.

  I exited the building with sadness. The only possible thought that would allow me a handful of elation was that I would be spending another night on the yacht with Clarissa. As planned Jill would take her back to the book shop in the morning. And Jill would be her bodyguard.

  I stomped off to the parking lot. Always observant, I scanned the panorama of cars. I was pretty sure I saw the car that Dimitri had been driving. That meant I would need to sweep the rental car for devises. Sometimes I loved technology. Other times it was a nuisance.

  One thing I was convinced of - Boyd Trevar was not implicated in the death of Simon. Now, I realized that he was the only bleep on the Chief’s screen. Tom firmly believed Boyd was guilty.

  Life’s little twists and turns amazed me. This case could end badly. I was convinced that Boyd might not have looked up his cousin if not for the fear of being killed. He was out numbered, and out gunned by the treasure hunting, sex trade kingpins that had killed Simon. He called me out of fear. He hoped I could help him.

  I made no pretense that his call to my drunken, tattered part of the family tree was about wanting to spend time with me. It wasn’t to meet me for lunch so we could catch up on family stories.

  I had no family stories. My parents were always drunk. My father was dead. My mother was probably dead. I hadn’t seen her for over twenty years. And his self-righteous mother and brother didn’t give a flip about my poverty-stricken lineage. We were struck off. I once read Carson McCullers book that referred to family as “The we of me.” But the nucleus of the Trevar tree had been separated. They were ashamed of my branch. And who could blame them?

  The good that came of being snubbed might have been beneficial. I’d battled my way to become a prestigious, wealthy litigator. My goal had been to be able to buy and sell anyone who’d ever looked down their nose at me. I was never going to be embattled by impoverishment. The Team helped me see I was contributing to criminals being on the streets. That was lining my pockets.

  I have no idea which side of the family provided my conscience. But I sold my mansion in Palm Beach. I cashed out and bought a yacht. I also had seed money to begin Trevar’s Investigators. I’d been chasing criminals since then. So, had my aversion to being poor, and treated poorly, triggered my determination to acquire wealth? Quite possible.

  Yet, I questioned the sequence of my life. Why did I have a built-in animosity and mistrust of rich people? Chief Tom Powers would offer his opinion. I mistrusted everyone. He was pretty much correct.

  Occasionally I’d chuckle to myself about the paradox that becomes an offshoot of my mind. Animosity, I repeated to myself under my breath. And here I was lecturing Pluma about her animosity.

  Chapter 14

  Morning nestling near Clarissa felt so natural. When I met her, I’d felt an attraction, but I hadn’t felt the earth pitch me off my feet. The woman that had instantaneously rocked my world had deceived me, and she had run away to serve as a nun in a religion I didn’t even believe in. Most people don’t get so much wrong. I had.

  Since then, I haven’t trusted. But now my feelings were expanding for Clarissa. I didn’t believe I needed to consider trust so vitally. It was there. My thoughts derailed, I had also believed my former lover wouldn’t betray me.

  Clarissa awoke in my embrace, our kiss was warm, the morning was lovely. We showered together. We were overpowered with urges, and with passion. After finally getting out of the shower, and dressing, I slipped on my oversized wristwatch.

  In my embrace, Clarissa lifted my arm to examine the timepiece. She commented, “Your watch certainly has all the bells and whistles.”

  “My watch is actually also a hidden spy camera/recording device.”

  “Really?”

  “We all wear either these watches, or other mini-spyware. It’s standard for enforcers to wear bodycams. Us, too. The pinhole cams, are amazing surveillance systems. The pinhole lenses are so tiny they can be in pens, on buttons, or broach cams - any jewelry. Even small magnetized cameras can be distributed in an area where people might be pilfering, or a potential crime scene. They’re wireless, mini, hidden.”

  She grinned, “Dare I ask?”

  “No,” I replied. “We only use cams on the job. I’ve gotten good at using my watch. If I’m talking with a suspect, I just put my fingers up to my chin, rubbing my face. If we are getting a confession, it’s invaluable. When I’m chasing a perp, I turn the watch to whatever direction were trotting. Very easy, after a while, to get used to the various techniques. And it is imperative that we use it in confrontations. Avoids lawsuits, falsely accusing us of any infractions. Don’t you have security cameras in Pages?”

  Embarrassed, she admitted, “We do, but I rarely even check them. Book readers are usually honest, and honorable people. I don’t think they’d steal books. And if they do, perhaps they needed the book more than the author and I need to pay our bills.” She chuckled. “But we do keep them on, in case of a robbery, or an altercation. Neither of which we’ve experience.”

  “The Team uses ours on a regular basis. Like today, I’m going in to talk with a client, Mona Ross, and she’s going to want to amend our contract. I’ll record the meeting. Make certain we’re paid, and also that she doesn’t renege on the agreement to discharge the contract.”

  Her frown ruffled her forehead. “I trust my vendors, and those I work with.”

  I gazed at her face. Trusting. I wondered if I deserved a woman so confident in humankind. Perhaps if she were my custodian, slash, lover, she would help me to learn to have faith in others. She didn’t need a security wristwatch.

  Again, the morning’s breakfast was a treat. I was astounded by how perfectly the women were working to get the meal accomplished. Even Pluma’s morning greetings were relatively innocent, for her. She only said, Nos vamos al infierno. And what breakfast gathering doesn’t want to hear that we’re going to hell?

  It had been a while since the quar
tet had an official morning conference, in person, about the cases. We’d invited Clarissa to sit in, but she decided to clean up the galley after our delicious breakfast. That in itself had been an event. Each of us cooked, baked or fried our specialty. That way the Team got to sample a variety of omelets, pancakes, fruits, and some Creole shrimp over rice.

  While Clarissa stayed behind in the galley to wash up, the Team sat in our conference room, with notebooks and lists. Rachel gave out the assignments. She stated that since Johnny was back in Washington, Jill could go back to bodyguarding Clarissa. Summer would be tracking Mark Novak, and also checking in on Gary Dodge. I would first stop in and pay Mona a call. Because Chief Powers had sensed that she would be cutting off the Team, I just wanted it down in writing.

  We had no intention of dropping the Donald Ogden case. The consensus was that it may not be solvable. But then again, we felt it might have been someone he knew, or someone had been hired to carry out the killing.

  Something was going on between Dodge and Novak. Johnny Groversen had cared about Gary Dodge, then friendship went to hatred. Johnny had allowed Gary to party with him. In the big leagues. Johnny had slobbered over attractive women. Some would be so impressed with his Washington ties, they’d bed him. Others still wouldn’t give him the time of day. He’d spent a couple days imitating a senseless, drunken frat boy. This was undoubtedly his Washington routine also.

  Donald had perhaps partied with him in their younger days. But he’d settled down. That was most probably to secure his marriage, and his millions. Perhaps Mona was going to be expected to cough up future campaign monies.

  Chances are the women at the society parties that Gary went after, as a touted war hero, might have been impressed. If not, he might have just helped himself if they became inebriated. Sad state of affairs.

  But I didn’t have a feel for Donald’s fit in the trio of friends. Other than the obvious. He was a political groupie. Everyone in the case was using everyone else.

  Rachel summarized what we knew. Johnny and Gary probably tolerated one another for prestige. Johnny was impressed with Gary’s hero status, which was bogus. Gary hung out with Johnny because he liked the glamorous and glitzy world afforded by a senator’s son. Donald was a friend to both men, for probably both reasons. Donald married up with promise of rich company, and with a fortune in his grasp.

  “Donald’s charm ran out,” Summer said as she sat back. “The marriage hadn’t worked so great for him.”

  Jill closed her eyes a moment. “Maybe he was killed by someone wanting to rob him.”

  I added, “Donald was well-exercised, a runner, a regular at the gym, but from the photos, it didn’t look like he had time to fight back. Why would he be running, and then stop along the way to chat with a killer carrying a substantial knife. The blade had to be a miniature machete. The knife has never been recovered. I’m thinking it went into the ocean. The Chief sent divers, and they found nothing. If Donald had time to see the knife, before being disabled, he probably would have had time to fight. It was a surprise attack. But the perpetrator got close enough. Donald wouldn’t have stopped running if he saw a weapon, and particularly if the person acted drugged, or in any way threatening.”

  Rachel surveyed the scene photo. She shrugged. “He was either flat out overtaken by surprise. Or he knew the killer. Stopped to see the new weapon his friend had purchased.”

  Summer guessed, “It could have been either scenario. But it’s worth checking out Donald’s friends. They leave a lot to be desired.”

  “In this case, since Johnny and Gary are now estranged,” I surmised, “it might get down to the last man standing is the killer.”

  We all snickered. We all knew that most private detective agencies would be bolting away from the possibly random case. The question is always, is the killer non-existent? Someone murdered Donald. The knife wounds hit where he was vulnerable. Killing points. A hired killer would know them. An infantryman would know them. A street gang member would know them.

  Nothing was giving up answers. We all went our separate ways.

  I drove to Ross Architects. When I finally entered Mona’s enormous office, she pointed to the chair. I sat, obediently. Then I spoke. “Mona, I don’t feel we’re giving you much for the enormous fee.” I lifted my arm, with elbow on the desk, and leaned my chin on my hand.

  “I know it’s a waste of your time and my money. But I wanted to feel better about things with Donald. I did want to know if it was a random killing. Keeping you on the case helped ever so slightly.”

  “I see.” I leaned toward the desk. “It heals your conscience for wishing him out of your life, or you feel forgiven for his death.”

  “I don’t understand.” Her head lifted, haughtily, and she challenged. “Well?”

  “Perhaps both. You tell me.” I returned her challenge.

  “I’m just doing everything to see his murderer brought to justice. And quite frankly, it looks better, being his wife. I should show that I care. And the spouse is always the first suspect.”

  “Isn’t that a tad hypocritical?”

  She slammed down her daily agenda book. “Whatever you are inferring is wrong. The entire company knows Donald and I were having trouble. It wasn’t a secret. But I didn’t want him killed.”

  “Tell me about why one of his buddies might want him dead? Because I’m telling you, I don’t buy the stranger theory.”

  “You said you checked his ex out and you believed her to be innocent. Johnny and Gary are numb sculls, but I don’t think they murdered him.”

  “As friendships go, they were convoluted in many directions. Donald was having a problem with Johnny. Gary was part of it. Not one of them was the type of friends I’d want.”

  “There were issues, of course. Long time friendships often crumble under the weight of their differences. Different paths. Life changed them. The military changed Gary. The power of being in Washington changed Johnny.”

  “And what changed Donald?”

  “Too much money. Too soon. And he hadn’t earned a penny of it. His head got too big for his inferiority complex.”

  “And that big head was nearly chopped off. Who hated him that much? Enough to kill him?”

  “He hated me enough to kill me,” she accused.

  “But he didn’t kill you.” I watched her face as expressions rolled like a film. “In fact, he told me, when I interrogated him, that he wanted to stay married to you.”

  She laughed, cruelly and harshly. “I see he conned you, too. He deceived me. As he did everyone he came in contact with. He portrayed himself differently to everyone. He could be beguiling, but he was treacherous. And yes, he could have killed me.”

  “Why would he so often have been in contact with Gary Dodge? On a burner phone?”

  “I have no idea. Look, he was stealing from the company. Maybe Gary was an accomplice.”

  “Accomplice,” I scoffed. “Gary is delusional.”

  “Maybe Donald was attempting to help Gary.” She stood.

  “Were you aware of what might have been said on Donald’s burner cell?”

  “Look, he had a two-pack of those phones…” Her eyes batted. Maybe they were a freebee given to him by a supplier. He probably only used the damned thing to see if it worked.”

  “How do you know it was from a pack?”

  “I saw them.”

  “What happened to the other phone?”

  “I have no idea. He probably pitched it out. Destroyed it. It probably had some information about his trying to take over my company. Or maybe he was secretly talking with one of his girlfriends. How do I know? Look, you’ve been paid to date. I checked our contract, and we’ve probably overpaid. But I shall provide the full contract amount. Take the money and consider it a gift. You’ll be out of my hair. The police believe it was a transient, or a drug addict. I don’t want you back here.”

  I pulled out the contract. “If you wouldn’t mind signing off.”

  She s
cribbled her name. “We’ll transfer final payment to your account.”

  “One more question. Did you know Gary wasn’t a hero?”

  “I suspected it. Even Donald suspected that he was no saint.” She stood. “Now please, don’t bother me again.”

  So much for the bereaved widow’s healing process.

  When I got outside, I walked slowly to the rental car. I’d phoned Rachel to tell her to use the identity number on the burner phone. The other burner phone would be one digit away – before or after the number on burner cell. Then she should find out activity of the phones one digit away – the number before the number after. I suspected that the two-pack phones would have consecutive number.

  “I’ll see if I can’t get the numbers they called. It’s a long shot because maybe the second wasn’t used at all.”

  “Whatever you can get. I feel as though I’m trying to locate a needle in a thousand haystacks.”

  “Oh, the woman that called you before, Ravyn, called again. Still didn’t officially give her name, just said to meet your friend at the same place as before.”

  “Did she give a time?”

  “Lunch. I mean she said to meet for lunch. Probably noon.”

  “If she calls back, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll drop by the BBQ joint. After that I’m going to sniff around for Mark Novak. He’s off the radar with Tom’s detectives, too. Check out the breakfast place. This case is ruining my palate and my sensibilities. Mark must have talked with someone about where he lives. I don’t buy that he just went missing. He’s out there. If possible, I need to know where he lays his head at night.”

  “My guess is that he’s done a runner. If he meets up with Gary, we’ll know. Summer said that Gary is now buying food at the corner convenience store. He’s eating in.”

  “That must be a culinary delight. I’m off to meet Ravyn.”

  I went through the same rigmarole as I first did when meeting up with the stripper. She was alone, and trembling. She’d heard a conversation between Mickey and Dimitri. They were drunk enough to be talking loudly. She only listened because she heard Simon’s name mentioned.