BAD TIME TO BE IN IT

by David Burnsworth

  “I still can’t believe she bopped the mayor,” he said.

  With more than a hint of coolness in her voice, Tess said, “We don’t know what they were doing.”

  “If that boat leaves the dock and heads out to sea with her on it, there’s only a few reasons to go through all this trouble.”

  “Is that all you ever think about?”

  “Yep.”

  “Figures.”

  The man hopped onto the boat and swung himself to the console. Soon after, the boat lights turned on and the mayor could clearly be seen fiddling with the controls.

  “Probably checking the fuel level,” Crome said. “You know, he was a client of ours a while back. What a tool.”

  “Should we be looking at him?” she asked.

  “I doubt it,” Crome said. “It was a private security job and he’s still living.”

  Another figure appeared. It was Harmony.

  Tess let out a slight gasp.

  “Gotta be some angle she’s playin’ here,” Crome said. At least he hoped so. Anything else would be, well, he wasn’t sure what that would be. There was every bit of thirty-plus years between their ages.

  They both watched Harmony, wearing a tank top and short skirt, board the boat with the help of the mayor. He then untied the lines and started the motor and they left the slip.

  “We’ve got to go earlier to see if anyone besides the two of them got on that boat,” he said.

  “You’re assuming the mayor isn’t our dirt bag.”

  “Oh,” Crome said, “he’s a dirt bag, all right. But I’m pretty sure he’s not the kidnapping kind. Want some coffee?”

  She held up her bottle of soda. “I’m good.”

  Crome went to his kitchen, dumped out the old grinds and filter, and reloaded it, adding enough water for a full pot.

  Tess said, “You’re not drinking?”

  It came out with equal parts surprise, apprehension, concern, and approval.

  He looked over at her. “I’m not popping amphetamines either if that helps you.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  She was one sharp cookie. Probably smarter than him and Blu if he had to guess. He knew what she meant. It wasn’t a secret to him that he was a functioning addict. Just because he’d been able to wean himself off of the red pills didn’t mean he was clean. Every day for him until Maureen’s disappearance consisted of drinking at least a six pack. Now even the booze was on the back burner. He’d hate to see his blood-nicotine level, though.

  “What would?” he asked.

  “What would what?”

  “Help you?”

  Straightening her back, she looked directly at him. “What would help me is for you to not go off again and try to solve this yourself.”

  “I thought we’d moved past that,” Crome said.

  “Frankly,” she said, “I only have to put up with you for as long as I care to. But Blu is your business partner. And he’s your friend. You tried to screw him over.”

  “Blu plays by too many rules.”

  “Not so sure I agree with you on that one,” she said.

  Where was this going? He had no idea.

  “Did you find a new place for us to watch on the video?”

  “Don’t like the topic of conversation?”

  “Something like that,” he said, not sure what else to say.

  She gave him a grin, but he knew it wasn’t from happiness. Her friend was in trouble and she was taking out some frustration on him. That was okay. He deserved her words. She was a good kid.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’m ready when you are.”

  The coffee pot beeped. He rinsed his mug out, ignoring the dark rings coloring the inside of it, the ones keeping track of the days since it had been washed properly, and filled the cup.

  He seated himself next to her again and she pressed play. They watched the comings and goings of people in the marina. After a while, Crome could pick out who worked there by what they were doing on the screen.

  Crome saw something and said, “Hold it.”

  Tess paused the video.

  “Back it up thirty seconds,” Crome said.

  She did.

  There it was. A man strolled down the dock, passed the mayor’s boat, and then slipped back on from the stern. It was a smooth move and not one most people would have picked up on.

  She replayed it in slow motion and paused at the best shot at the man’s face. It was grainy, but Crome could tell he was in his fifties, well-toned, and agile enough.

  Tess said, “You recognize him?”

  “Nope. But ten gets you twenty he’s our guy.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Thursday, mid-day

  DAY FOUR

  Blu stood against the wall of the back conference room at the Palmetto Pulse. The room was now empty except for some folding chairs where Patricia, Tess, and Crome sat around a matching temporary table. Josie set up trays of sandwiches and chips and had a cooler of drinks.

  Everyone ate except for Crome and Tess.

  Patricia said, “You better eat something.”

  “I’m on a liquid diet,” Crome said, holding up his cup and vape pen.

  “We ate while viewing the video feed,” Tess said.

  Blu said, “So what do we know?”

  Tess, sitting next to Brack, said, “We know that Maureen and Harmony are missing. We know that Crome was contacted about Maureen’s disappearance but none of us has been contacted about Harmony’s. We think it has something to do with a past client of Blu Carraway Investigations. And we have a shadowy picture of a man who got on the mayor’s boat thirty minutes before they did.”

  “There hasn’t been a ransom request,” Brack said.

  Blu said, “It’s been four days since Crome first got the picture and voicemail.”

  Tess asked, “You two aren’t hiding anything, are you?”

  “There’s too much,” Blu said.

  “What do you mean, ‘there’s too much’?” Tess said.

  “I mean there’s too much to sort through,” Blu said. “We’ve given you everything we can think of related to Maureen. We’ve only known you and Harmony for about a year.”

  “Then we have to get new information,” Josie said.

  Patricia’s niece was one sharp young woman and he hoped she would be going to work for Blu Carraway Investigations when Patricia finally closed the doors to the Palmetto Pulse.

  “That’s why we’re here,” Crome huffed.

  “What I mean,” Josie said, “is you aren’t going to find anything here. We need to retrace Maureen’s and Harmony’s steps.”

  “I already did Maureen’s,” Crome said.

  “And we have Harmony’s on video,” Tess said. “She’s right, though. How did the abductor know when and where to strike?”

  She’d printed out pictures of the man. No one else had recognized him, either.

  “He followed them.”

  Patricia said what everyone in the room was probably already thinking. “It could have easily been me instead of Harmony.”

  Blu said, “So he’s an opportunist.”

  “Now there’s a big word for ya,” Crome said.

  “Think about it,” Blu said, “The guy’s a planner, but he’s flexible. If the mayor didn’t know who he’d have on his boat until maybe an hour before he did, that didn’t give our guy enough time to plan for who. He just planned for someone.”

  “But what if it hadn’t been Harmony or Patricia?” Tess asked.

  “Either he would have let sleeping dogs lie,” Blu said, “sort of a ‘no harm no foul’ decision, or he would have taken someone else.”

  “Except they wouldn’t have been related to us,” Brack said.

  “And we’re back to that,” Cr
ome said.

  “Unless—” Blu stopped himself. “Damn.”

  “Unless what?” Crome asked.

  Blu looked at his partner. “Unless he was tracking Harmony.”

  Thursday afternoon

  Crome listened to the logic coming from the team of people in the room. Those he’d been to war with, traded vodka shots with, played horseshoes with, and generally considered his friends. They were saying he and Blu were the targets of this and they were all saying it.

  Two women were suffering only God knew what because of them. That’s why he wasn’t drinking right now. Booze slowed him down, took away from the caffeine and nicotine flowing in his veins.

  “How the hell can someone keep two women chained up in this town with no one else knowing?” Tess asked.

  Crome was about to dismiss it, but then caught himself. She was right, it would be hard.

  Blu said, “They can’t.”

  “What do you mean?” Patricia said. “Remember that wacko in Spartanburg that had that poor woman locked up in a warehouse for three months. It can be done.”

  “One, maybe,” Crome said. “But two? It gets ex-po-nentially harder the more you add to the equation.”

  “He could be keeping them separated,” Blu said.

  Crome hadn’t thought about that yet. That was why they made a good team. Together, they could cover all the angles.

  Patricia said, “So he’s got two different properties with a woman chained up in each? I don’t see it.”

  “What if there are more than Maureen and Harmony?” Tess asked. “Or more than one abductor?”

  Before Crome could think about what she’d said, Blu said, “I’ll have Powers run down all the missing-persons cases. It’s worth a shot. Maybe there’s another one connected that we don’t know about, yet.” Blu stood, threw his plate and empty chip bag in the trash, and walked out.

  Patricia’s phone chirped. He watched her look at the display and drop her phone.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Thursday six p.m.

  DAY FOUR

  Blu parked in front of the Pirate’s Cove on the Isle of Palms and he and Crome walked up the stairs from the beach side and stood on the back deck. The message Patricia had received was that the mayor’s body had washed up on the IOP beach. Tess had bolted out the door when she found out. Blu figured looking for a group of gawkers would be the easiest way to locate exactly which part of the beach.

  The air temperature was a solid eighty-eight, the sky a clear blue. The surf was out from low tide, and most of the sand was covered with brightly colored beach towels and umbrellas.

  The mayor, elected in 2007, had been popular with the citizens of the holy city. He’d helped bring in the cruise lines and the city had prospered through the recession. With all the industry in and around the city, he could have had a long tenure. He’d even hired Blu to do some personal security at one time.

  Blu reminded himself to pull the client file on the mayor to see if anything was there, but he didn’t think so. It made sense that the killer was tracking Patricia or Harmony. The mayor was collateral damage.

  While Blu and Crome scanned the beach from their elevated perch, Brack’s dog joined them, followed by Paige, the manager. She said, “You two are welcome to stay as long as you don’t shoot up the place.”

  Blu got the impression she wasn’t joking. “Fair enough.”

  Crome knelt to pet the dog. “You know who found the mayor?”

  “Some tourists on a morning walk,” she said. Paige looked down the beach at the crowd watching the police work from behind the tape line. “We really don’t need this.”

  Charleston relied heavily on tourism. Vacationers didn’t want to stumble across dead bodies. At least, not the tourists that they would want to have visiting and spending their hard-earned money on daiquiris and shrimp cocktails.

  Crome didn’t reply.

  Shaking her head, Paige said, “I can’t imagine what Maureen and Harmony are going through.”

  “Is Brack down there?” Blu asked, motioning toward the group of people.

  “Yes,” she said. “Is that where you’re going next?”

  Crome stood and started for the stairs. “Yep.”

  Paige said, “Can you take a couple trays of tea to the police officers?”

  Blu and Crome each carried two drink trays of four teas. They found an area sectioned off by crime-scene tape that held back the crowd from members of the police force. Among the gawkers were Pelton and Tess.

  “What’re the police saying?” Blu asked.

  “Nothing,” Tess said, more than a hint of disappointment in her voice.

  The IOP police chief, Ron Bates, saw the two new gawkers and came over. Six foot two and lean for being over fifty, he wiped sweat off his forehead, took one of the teas, and signaled for his men to do likewise.

  Those that weren’t gloved up and collecting evidence came over and grabbed teas of their own. The trays were empty in no time.

  Crome asked, “What are you thinking?”

  Bates sucked down half his tea and eyed him. “You must be Mick Crome.”

  “Guilty,” Crome said.

  “Normally I wouldn’t say anything, but I understand we have more to worry about than just the mayor.”

  The body had already been removed and it looked to Blu as if the police officers working the scene were combing through the sand.

  “You find anything on him that might help us locate Harmony?” Tess asked.

  “His pockets were empty, if that’s what you mean,” the chief said.

  “Did he drown?” Blu asked.

  “I don’t know yet,” the chief said. “He had a significant head wound.”

  Tess turned and walked away from the group. Pelton followed her.

  Blu turned back to the chief. “Can you let me know when you have the time of death?”

  The chief said, “You’ve had knowledge of a missing woman since Monday and I find out from Brack today. You have some nerve asking me for help now.”

  There was nothing Blu could say in reply. The chief was right. If Crome hadn’t acted like a complete ass, maybe Blu would have considered bringing in the local authorities to help. He simply nodded.

  After a moment, the chief looked away. “I’ll make sure you know what I know. The mayor washed up on my beach, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t die here. Charleston County will have to take this on. I’m not equipped to handle it, anyway.”

  “You guys find his boat?” Crome asked.

  Still looking away, Bates said, “No.”

  Friday morning

  DAY FIVE

  Tess knew the mayor’s body washing up changed everything, at least as far as Harmony’s disappearance was concerned. Blu’s friend, Detective Powers, was put in charge of the investigation. When Blu shared with him the video of Harmony and the mayor heading out on the boat along with the man who had boarded an hour before, he took notes and promised a delicate touch with the media. He also committed to having all the similar missing-persons cases reviewed.

  The irony of the whole situation, at least as far as Tess was concerned, was that if the other media outlets got hold of the information, there was no telling how it would get spun. In a preliminary discussion, Powers mentioned a theory that Harmony could be working with the kidnapper.

  She hadn’t seen Blu get as upset as when he heard that. Crome had to separate his business partner from the detective. Objectively speaking, the theory could not be dismissed. What Blu was most likely trying to do was to keep Crome from blowing up. By taking the lead in the irrational reaction, he put Crome in the role of acting like an adult. It was a good play and it worked.

  Otherwise, Crome might have pulled a gun and shot the detective.

  What wasn’t clear was any real linkage to Mau
reen and Harmony and the mayor. Therefore, Maureen was considered a separate case. It was assigned to a different detective in Myrtle Beach. Blu had tried to convince Powers that it would be double work for nothing and to keep them together, but no proof was there.

  Tess knew this was a mistake for a lot of reasons. One of those reasons appeared when Crome elected himself to work with the Myrtle Beach detective and wanted to take off. The last thing she and Blu needed was Crome running on his own again. All the work done to rein him in would get blown out the window.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Friday morning, the Pirate’s Cove Bar

  DAY FIVE

  Amidst all the chaos, Crome watched as Brack Pelton made a call to Myrtle Beach. He put it on speaker.

  It was answered on the second ring. “Brack?”

  “What’s up, Williams?”

  “That’s Detective Williams to you.”

  Smiling, Brack said, “That’s why I’m calling. I’ve got you on speaker here in my bar.”

  “Yeah?”

  Crome knew from a background check on Pelton that Detective Williams had helped track down the kid’s uncle’s killer a few years ago.

  Brack said, “You guys caught a case, a missing person by the name of Maureen Lewis.”

  “It’s not mine.”

  “How hard would it be for you to get it?”

  It was a good idea and not entirely easy for Crome to admit as much.

  “Now why would I want to add to my caseload?” Williams asked.

  “Because then you could work with yours truly again.”

  “I remember something about getting fired in Charleston for doing exactly that.”

  “True,” Brack said, “but you can’t blame everything on me.”

  There was a pause in the conversation, as if Williams considered something.

  “You there?” Brack asked.

  “I’m here. I’m just trying to figure out what angle you’re playing.”