She raised her eyebrows. “Well, I have a few answers.”
Touché. I liked this kid. Behind me, on the other side of the terminal, jet engines revved, and a Boeing aircraft began its takeoff roll down the runway.
“Your agency has the trucks with the painted sea creatures on the tailgate, correct?”
“Yes.”
“How many do you have with a seahorse?”
“Three.”
“You sure? That was a quick answer.”
She bobbed her head back and forth. “I’m sure.” She smiled and raised her chin slightly. “I do all the paintings.”
“Nice job. They’re good.”
“Thanks. Why do you ask?”
“A friend of mine—”
“I don’t have any available right now. Two are rented out, and one is in the repair shop.”
“So only two driving around the island right now?”
“Yes, just the two.”
“Any chance you could tell me where the renters are staying?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
“It’d help me out a lot. I’m not going to bother anyone and will only take a few pictures of your beautiful artwork.”
“I’d like to help you, but I can’t. Sorry.”
One call to Arabella and she’d get all the information I needed.
“Okay, thanks.” I turned to leave but stopped and turned back. Before Abby slid the window shut, I said, “By the way, your English is good.”
She smiled and blushed. “Yeah, when my sister and I were young, we watched a lot of the Disney Channel. I guess it rubbed off.”
“Imagine that.”
CHAPTER 35
AS I DROVE back from Abby’s Seaside Truck Rental, another call to Arabella went to voicemail. I stormed into the office, grabbed my desk phone, and dialed her number, thinking she might answer a call from the office. No such luck. Voicemail, again.
My rib throbbed, and I leaned back and took a few deep breaths.
Erika came over and handed me a bottle of water. “Well?” she asked. “Are you going to tell me about Mr. Jeffrey’s truck?”
I winced, repositioning, trying to alleviate the rib pain.
“You need to see a doctor,” Erika said.
“Probably.” I opened the water and drained half of it in one gulp. “What are you talking about? ‘Mr. Jeffrey’s truck?’”
She smacked her arms on the table and laid her glasses on a stack of papers. “Malfena called me as soon as you left Karpata. She lives in my neighborhood. You’ve met her.”
I sighed. “Yeah, I know.”
“Well, when she mentioned a white truck with a seahorse, I thought of Mr. Jeffrey. She said it looked important to you.”
“Maybe. But don’t say anything. I have to talk to the police.”
“Of course. Who would I say something to?”
“Yeah, right. Probably half the island.”
She smiled. A rarity. “Not quite half.”
I sat in my desk chair and smiled to myself. “Isn’t it time for you to leave for the night?”
“Yes, it is.” She stood and stretched her back. “Oh, and I saw Mandy go to the beach. You should go and make an introduction.”
She was right, but, at the moment, I didn’t have the energy. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
In my apartment, I popped open a Bright and stood in the middle of the room, staring at the phone, willing Arabella to call. No matter how hard I concentrated, neither the landline nor my cell rang. For backup, I grabbed another beer and walked out on the veranda.
Halfway through the second beer, my intense focus paid off.
“You called?” Arabella asked, after I answered my cell.
I told her what I had discovered from Malfena.
“Je bent gek,” she said. My Dutch was nearly as bad as my Papiamento, but the rough translation was something like that’s crazy. Then she said, “I am on my way.”
“Bring some food. I didn’t cook.”
“See you soon.”
My cell rang again the instant Arabella hung up.
Chuck. “Hey, R,” he said, “remember how we’ve always talked about landing on the road out by Spelonk Lighthouse?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I have a job, and it involves landing on that road.”
“What kind of job?”
“Flying.”
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I figured that. But why land there? Besides, you’re not a bush pilot. How many off-airport landings have you ever done?”
“That’s where the client wants to be picked up.” When he continued, his voice sounded meeker, less confident. “It shouldn’t be too tough. That’s why I have the Tundras.”
With everything percolating through my mind, this wasn’t making any sense. I rested my head in my hand and leaned back in my lounge chair. I knew better than to ask the next question but did anyway. “Why not pick them up at the airport?”
“Don’t know and I didn’t ask. Ten thousand dollars keeps my mouth shut.”
“Ten thousand dollars?”
Chuck giggled. “Yeah. This guy is paying me ten big ones to pick him up at Spelonk and fly him to Venezuela.”
I sighed. “Think about it. Doesn’t that sound a little fishy?”
“Hey, ten grand is ten grand. This trip is a cash cow. It’s only about sixty miles, one way.”
“One way is right. One way to the pen. Or maybe worse.”
He paused a moment. “You want to go along?”
“Not even for a million bucks. Besides, if I’m in jail, who’ll send you postcards?” I took a deep breath. “Think carefully about this. Who’s the client, anyway?”
“Some guy I met at the bar a few nights ago. He wants to do this in a couple of days, maybe Friday. He’s going to call and give me more info later.”
“Who was this guy?”
“Don’t know. Never seen him before.”
“What’d he look like?”
“Pretty average, I guess. A little shorter than me … long blondish hair … sunglasses … hell, I don’t know. I don’t pay attention to guys.”
“What color eyes?”
“I just said he had on sunglasses.”
“How’d he find you?”
“Not sure, exactly. Maybe he saw one of my cards. Or he asked Jan.”
“Did you ask him why he wants to do this?”
Chuck exhaled into the phone. “Well, Mr. Detective with a thousand questions, like I said, ten grand—”
“I know, I know. Ten grand is ten grand.”
Arabella came into the apartment carrying two brown paper bags. “Do me a favor, call me before you do this. Don’t go until you talk to me again, okay?”
“Alright already. I’ll call before I go. Hey, one other thing.”
“Yeah?”
“My neighbor said that the cops were looking for me.”
I sighed. “What’d you do now?”
“I don’t know.” He paused. “Seriously, I have no idea. But if I get in a jam, I’m calling you.”
“I’d expect no less.” I hung up.
Arabella tossed me a small brown paper bag. Based on the smell and the grease spots soaking into the paper, I assumed it to be a burger and fries from the food truck near the police station, one of her favorite joints. Not good enough to pass for a Five Guys or an In-N-Out burger, but, in my opinion, the best on the island.
Watching her pull the burger and fries out of the bag, I almost questioned the healthiness of her menu choice but decided against it. Regardless of her diet, she was healthy. Much more so than me.
She propped herself against the railing with her meal and a Bright. “Who was that?” she asked as she squeezed mayonnaise onto her fries.
“Chuck,” I said with a mouth full of burger.
She closed her eyes and paused a moment, then said, “Ook dat nog.” Translation: “That’s all I need.”
“He says the cops are looking for him.”
She shrugged. “I know nothing of that.”
No point in telling her about Chuck’s plan and ratting him out to the fuzz. Besides, maybe I could still talk him out of it. Or maybe “fix” his plane so it wouldn’t start. Anything to stop him.
“Any news from Rockford?” she asked.
“Nothing. I think they’re stonewalling me.”
“What do you want to do?”
Beer sometimes helped me think. Not always, but sometimes. I took a sip.
“According to Abby’s Truck Rental, there are only two seahorse trucks rented right now.”
She stopped mid-chew. “Nice work, Detective.”
I raised my beer bottle. “I have my moments.” I leaned back in the lounger. “Lester was at Karpata. He had to be. No way the other seahorse truck just happened to be at Karpata the same time as Tiffany.”
Arabella bit her upper lip and took a deep breath. She was quiet for a moment, then said, “We need to question Mr. Jeffrey.”
In unison, we took a gander at the front parking lot. No sign of Lester’s truck.
“We need to know who the driver of the other truck is. Rule them out,” I said.
“I will get that information.”
“Soon?”
“A soon as I am able.” She munched a couple of fries. “Lester was spending time with Mandy, correct? Is that an issue?”
I snapped my fingers. “Hey, Erika said that Mandy was at the beach.”
Arabella turned and looked across the street. “Well, the only person on the beach is some guy practicing karate.”
I peeked over the railing. Tough to tell from this distance, but Karate Guy resembled the same guy I bumped into coming out of Vinny’s the other night.
Mister Freckle Eye.
But Arabella was correct; no one else on the beach.
“Now what?” she asked and walked to the edge of the lounger, her eyes moving across my body.
CHAPTER 36
I WOKE EARLY, which for a retired guy living on a tropical island, meant sometime before nine in the morning, but never before eight. Except on run days with Arabella, which implied seven o’clock or earlier. Thankfully, this wasn’t one of those days.
Before retiring, I’d never slept well. Bad dreams kept me tossing and turning all night. On the rare occasion I managed some sleep, the phone would ring in the early morning hours, jolting me from slumber, the person on the other end describing the next nightmare.
No nightmares on Bonaire. At least, not until recently, that is.
The photo labeled SCENE was open on my computer. A glass of Diet Coke with most of the ice melted sat next to the keyboard, along with half of a microwaved apple donut. I hadn’t touched either for at least twenty minutes.
The picture of the blood-circled classified ad was enlarged two hundred percent. The increased size didn’t reveal any hidden clues, but the larger letters made it easier for me to read. I had memorized it earlier, though. Not hard to do. Four-wheel drive for sale. Call Bill. My intense staring hadn’t inspired an “Aha!” moment. Not yet, anyway.
On a piece of paper, I had scribbled every variation of 4WD, 4x4, and four-wheel drive I could muster. A dozen internet searches followed; anyone within a hundred miles of Rockford named Bill selling a four-wheel-drive vehicle. Wasn’t sure what good it’d do if I found someone, considering Bill’s truck was a two-wheel drive.
Strike two.
Or was it strike three? Or maybe four, if that were possible. Was it possible?
Time to change gears. I hadn’t seen Lester since the incident at Ruth’s place and needed to find him, ask about him being at Karpata. Mandy had also disappeared. They might be together. If so, that could be bad.
I ate the last bite of the donut and drank the watered-down soda, then clicked off the computer. The brake hoses still sat on the counter. The acid from the baster—if that’s what it indeed was—hadn’t eaten a hole in the rubber as I had hoped. Nor was there any trace of a rotten egg smell like Richter claimed there should be. I bundled up the hoses and threw them in the trash. Next, I rinsed the saucer, plate, and glass, before laying them in the sink. The brake hose dead-end was at least strike four.
As I headed downstairs, my cell pinged with a text from Arabella.
It said she’d try to talk to Schleper today and get the info on the other seahorse truck as soon as possible. She’d be over this evening and should she bring food? I texted back “Okay, okay, and yes, please.”
Sometimes, but not often, I’m a man of few words. Especially when it involved texting.
Before clicking off my phone, I noticed Arabella’s previous text, the one she had sent after our run at Windsock. The words, not the picture, caught my attention.
Just 4 U.
I grabbed the sheet of paper and studied the 4WD scribble. That had to be it. The ad wasn’t a real ad. It was a clue. A dare. A tease by the murderer. He had left a taunt aimed solely at me. After Bill’s death, I’d be one of the few who could decipher and understand its meaning.
I called Penn and, surprisingly, he answered. I didn’t bother to ask about the WGN News developments from several nights ago. My hunch trumped anything the WGN people thought they knew.
“Larry David, I have something for you,” I said.
“What, no fifty questions today?”
“I need you to do some research.”
“Should I pick up your laundry, too?”
“Just listen.” I told him what I needed.
“That sounds familiar.”
“It should. I’ll do some internet searches of my own, but I need what you can get. I don’t have those resources.”
“This could be big, R. The link analysis wouldn’t pull this.”
“Might be what we needed. Maybe get some traction.”
“Speaking of the ad, the circle around it was blood. Bill’s.”
I didn’t know what to say.
Penn was already doing a lot for me, but I decided to go ahead and push more. “I also need background on one Lester Jeffrey.” I spelled the name and gave a brief description of age, gender, and race. Arabella could also get this information, but since Penn was on the line, I might as well use him. “I know it’s a lot. Thanks.”
“Okay, I’ll get on this, but you know I’ll need to tell Traverso.”
“That’s fine. Maybe he can bring more to bear on it.”
He paused a moment and spoke in a low voice. “Since we’re sharing information, I have some news on the weapon.”
“You mean the one you don’t have?”
“Never said we didn’t have it.”
“Never said you did.”
His voice went back to normal. “Do you want what I have or not?”
I sighed. “Yes.”
“It was a .357 Magnum, an old Colt Trooper II model. Left at the scene, right on the kitchen table.”
“I guessed that.”
“Listen to me. I’m trying to do you a favor. Jeez … The ballistics aren’t in the system. No criminal history on the gun and there weren’t any prints.”
“Well, that’s not what I expected.”
“But dig this. Four empty casings in the cylinder, a couple with partial prints on them.”
“Four? The sketch only showed three shots.”
“Yeah, I know. Based on powder, corrosion, and oxidation on the casing, it looks like the first one was fired long before the other three at Ryberg’s place.
“That’s strange.”
“That it is.”
“Get any DNA hits?”
“Nothing’s come back yet.”
“Anyone have any ideas why the weapon was left behind?”
“Not even a guess from anyone. Makes no sense.”
“It does to someone.”
“I’ll see what I can do on this research and get back to you. There’s a lot here, and I may have to go back some ways. Is email okay?”
“Y
es, and thanks, Larry David.”
I hung up and thought maybe I should take back a couple of those strikes.
CHAPTER 37
ERIKA WAS ON the phone when I went down to the office. I plopped in my chair, leaned back, and studied the ceiling, hoping the dirty tile would somehow tell me the next move. Nothing. Maybe clean ones would have more imagination.
“That was the police,” Erika said, hanging up the phone. “Tiffany’s parents arrive today.”
A sinking feeling circled my body, shot into my heart, and settled deep in my chest. I couldn’t look them in the face, at least not yet.
“Erika, can you please pick them up at the airport?” I asked in a low voice.
She shook her head. “Since you have so much to do, I guess I will have to.”
“Thank you. I want to meet them. Later.”
“Yes, I am sure you do.”
“Seriously, I do.” I remembered the unit Erika reserved for them only had a queen-sized bed. “Do we have a bed to move into their room, something for Ozzie to sleep on?”
“No need. Ozzie is not coming with them.”
“No?”
“He is staying at a neighbor’s house for a while.”
I bounced a fist off my desk. Poor Ozzie, already getting shuffled around.
“The police came to my house last night,” Erika said staring at her monitor.
“Why?”
She turned around. “Not sure. They asked questions about you and Tiffany.”
“What kind of questions?”
“How long have you known her? Why was she on the island? What did I think?”
“What did you think about what?”
She paused a moment, shaking her head. “What did I think about you hurting her?”
“What?”
Erika’s cellphone rang. I shrugged, gave a small nod. She answered it, and Papiamentu streamed from her mouth. I didn’t understand any of it, but her facial expressions and the pitch of her voice gave me pause. She looked at me, tears welling in her eyes. I leaned forward and handed her a Kleenex.
“Masha danki. Ayo,” she said, dropping the phone on the floor. Her cheeks flushed, and she buried her face in her hands, elbows resting on the desk.
I put a hand on her shoulder. “Erika, what happened? What is it?”
Diver's Paradise Page 18
