Nowhere Man: A Riley King Mystery

by Richard Neer

  I mapped out the route on my phone. The Paulsens were in their late seventies and like many that age, tend to be wary of strangers. Showing up at their door unannounced would be a wasted trip. Alex Tomey was my best option. A call from an active and respected fellow LEO would have a better chance of success than a surprise visit from a grizzled PI with an expired license.

  As I started for my car, Sarah Bernstein touched my sleeve. “Mr. King, do you have a moment?”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “Katrina called and she’s coming in to cover the dinner hour. She said we both don’t need to be here. She gave me the night off.”

  “That’s nice. Does she want me to stick around and wait for her?”

  “That’s not what I had in mind. I was thinking that maybe you and I could have dinner this evening.”

  “As much as I like the food here and the company even more, I’ve got a long drive ahead of me tomorrow so I don’t think coming all the way back up here works. I live on Hilton Head and that’s almost an hour away. Raincheck?”

  “Actually, I was thinking of meeting you near the island at an Italian place I want to check out. See what the competition is up to.”

  “I could handle that. When and where?”

  She gave me the name and address of the place and said to meet her there at seven. I gave her my best rakish look and said I looked forward to it.

  On the drive back, I wondered what was behind this sudden invitation. Dashing as I may be, not many women a two decades younger have come on to me of late. In the last five years, the number is exactly --- zero. Did the mist of Ralph Lauren Blue I spritzed on after my shower do the trick?

  She had to be after something. Young Sarah was certainly attractive --- stylishly cut light auburn hair, deep set intelligent eyes, flawless skin. She dressed well and Ginn had pointed out how fit she was. Conjuring up a lustful fantasy about her would be easy. But I wasn’t looking at this as a date. It was an opportunity to find out more about Jason and Kat, and what had happened at the Brand X compound.

  What was in this for her? If she desired my body, I’d be happy to loan it to her for the night, but I figured she wanted something else. I doubt that she was intrigued by the Townes disappearance. Did an old case I had worked on intersect with her interests?

  Ginn and Tomey were already enjoying an early cocktail in the great room when I got home. Tempted as I was to join them, I decided to limit my consumption to a glass of wine at dinner with Sarah.

  After some small talk about the weather and a quick précis on the progress of the case, I said, “So Alex, the Paulsens are in Florida and I need to find out if Dugger is telling me the truth. Mrs. Paulsen might be the only one who has the answer. A call from you might unlock the door.”

  “You expect her to admit to an affair she had forty years ago? And to remember the exact night in question? That’s asking a lot of a woman pushing eighty.”

  “I’m open to better ideas.”

  “I’m not comfortable pressing her on that.”

  “I don’t expect you to. I was hoping you could call her husband and see if he’ll talk to me about an old case. I’m willing to drive down and meet them in person.”

  “And you’re going to ask her in front of him?”

  “No. I’ll have to improvise. If I can somehow get her to trust me, I might be able to take her aside. Or failing that, accidentally bump into her when she goes out shopping.”

  “Sounds like you might be away for a few days. I hope you don’t plan on taking Moses with you.”

  “And separate the two of you this close to the holidays? I wouldn’t think of it.”

  The weather had turned. A severe Canadian cold front drifted in, unusual for this early in the season. We might even get flurries tonight, a rarity for Hilton Head. The Carolina mountains were going to be hit with a virtual blizzard, which made the ski resorts happy. Not a fan of cold weather, a little sunshine in Florida would be welcome.

  Ginn said, “I’m not sure you looking at this right, 5-0. You be better off finding out where that band got them tunes. Trace it back from there.”

  “They’re not due back east for four days. This story’s been on ice for forty years. Flying out to their last gigs in California seems like a waste when I can just wait a few days and catch them on their home turf. By the way, I have a date tonight. With Sarah Bernstein.”

  Both Ginn and Tomey sat straight up at that news.

  Ginn said, “You acted like you wasn’t into her when I pointed her out. Then I leave and you hit on her. Some sneaky shit going on there.”

  “Actually she asked me. But I think she is interested in something other than my considerable animal magnetism. Any ideas, kids?”

  17

  Home of The World’s Largest Meatball. This was the claim to fame proudly displayed as you entered the Mulberry Street Trattoria in Bluffton. Apparently there was a Guinness Book of World Records competition a few years back and a meatball the size of a small horse prepared by this eatery won the blue ribbon.

  As I waited for Sarah to arrive, I contemplated how many steers had given their lives to form the giant appetizer. I wondered how large an oven was necessary to bake such a thing. And then the ultimate question --- was the publicity worth it?

  Once Sarah arrived, all my thoughts of the enormous meatball vanished. She looked ravishing. Dressed down from her hostess attire at the Frog and Peach, she was wearing blue jeans, ripped at the knees, topped by a loose fitting pink cotton shirt. I wanted to ask if she’d come by the torn knees honestly through hard work, or had paid extra for the privilege of sporting this silly designer trend. I’d have to get to know her better before posing that question.

  She smelled great too as she brushed past my cheek with an air kiss. “Sorry I’m a little late, Mr. King. There was a wreck on 278.”

  “I think if we’re going to be friends, Riley will do fine.”

  “Impressive piece of meat.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  She blushed, as if she didn’t realize what she’d said. This was not going to be Charlene redux. “I meant the life size cut-out of the meatball. I’m so awkward. I don’t go out much so… I didn’t mean…well, you know.

  “I think you need a nice Chianti.”

  “Only if they serve it with Fava beans.”

  We both laughed. Coming from her, the overused line from Silence of the Lambs didn’t seem as clichéd. A quick online search revealed that Sarah Bernstein’s law enforcement background was as an FBI agent, like the fictional Clarice Starling. Maybe her career choice was inspired by Jodi Foster.

  We sat, ordered a bottle of wine and perused the menu. I said, “So is this what they call oppo research? Is Kat thinking about putting an alligator sized salami in the window?”

  “Don’t think so. Ms. McCann has exquisite taste. She insisted on original watercolors from local artists on the walls. I think Jason designed the interior. He’s very talented.”

  “Dogs playing poker is my speed so I’m not one to judge.”

  “I somehow doubt that.”

  “So, ever since you suggested we have dinner, I’ve been wondering why. You say you don’t go out much, but I’m sure you can do better than a broken down old detective.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a very attractive older man.”

  “Uh huh. Well, thanks.”

  Older man, eh? I was tempted to prove otherwise right on the table, like they do in the movies but why mess up the nice place setting?

  The server came with our wine. I gave it the swirl and sniff I’d seen my sophisticated friend Ted McCarver do. It didn’t smell like vinegar, so I nodded my approval. Sarah seemed to find the act convincing.

  The wine was served in plain water glasses, the way many authentic Italian spots in New York do. She drank deep and swirled it around with her tongue, before swallowing.

  My turn to try the wine. It wasn’t vinegar.

  I made light conversat
ion. “So how did you get into law enforcement. I was FBI too, as I’m sure you know.”

  “I did my homework on you, yeah. I was an army brat. My dad assumed I’d follow in his footsteps. He was disappointed they didn’t have a boy, I guess. Dad is a light colonel and I did think about enlisting but it wasn’t for me. I went to college, then law school. The parents approved. Got my degree and joined a small firm. Did work as a public defender for a while. Didn’t like that much either. When I heard the FBI had an opening, I applied. Thought with my legal background I’d have a desk job but the Bureau didn’t see it that way. I had martial arts training and they saw me as a field agent. You can fill in the rest.”

  “Sounds to me like you’ve been trying to find a vocation, something you’re suited for that you actually like doing. You’ve been trying to meet others’ expectations and you’re unsure of your place in the world. You think the restaurant business is the answer?”

  “Thanks for the psychoanalysis, dad.”

  Dad? There went the fantasy about my chances. I tried not to let it show.

  I guess I failed. She said, “I’m sorry. You’re probably right about me. But I really like working at the restaurant. Katrina’s been great. If the Frog and Peach is successful, she wants to expand into Old Town Bluffton and make me the manager of the Beaufort store.”

  The waitress came and we ordered. My choice was simple --- I went for lasagna. Hard to mess that up, although it has been done. Sarah’s order took considerably longer. She asked questions about how each item was prepared, the size of the portions, what side dishes went well, and the like. The girl tried to answer all her questions, but lost patience five minutes into the inquisition. So Sarah ordered the first item she’d asked about. Advance scouting for the Bluffton expansion.

  After the exasperated server left, Sarah said, “Jason says you’re working for the widow of some musician who vanished forty years ago. Tell me about that.”

  I did. We talked while we ate and I must say, the food was excellent. Kat had her work cut out for her to compete. Anytime I tried to bring up the X incident, Sarah changed the subject. There was more to it, much more, given the way the principals refused to talk about it.

  I got the feeling that she was probing me for information. Not about Townes, but about my attitude about cold cases. Was I the type to let things slide or did I keep shaking the tree until something fell. I tried to play it cool, like I would just walk away if an easy solution didn’t present itself.

  She invited me to her place in Bluffton for a nightcap. I got the feeling she was lonely and despite the ‘dad’ comment, would have been happy with a one night stand. I begged off, and asked for a promissory note that would never be honored.

  The sky turned white with flurries as I drove home. Old Town Bluffton is pretty when it snows, a rare occurrence in the Lowcountry. The bridge to the island was already slick, but the A5 handled it with aplomb.

  I wasn’t buying that Sarah knew little or nothing about Brand X. This smelled like the government covering something up. God knows I’d been there myself when I worked in the bureaucracy. I was wondering what it could be when the car phone sounded.

  Jason Black was on the other end, wanting to know if I’d made any progress. I told him of my plans to drive down to Florida the next day if Tomey had been able to set it up with the old couple.

  Black said, “Want some company? I can spare a couple of days and a little warm weather wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

  I needed him about as much as Bosco needs a bicycle for Christmas, but he was good company and he could regale me with colorful stories about his days touring with Joni Mitchell, Cat Stevens, CSNY and others. Maybe I could gain his trust and get him to tell me the things that Sarah Bernstein would not.

  I told him to pack his bags and await further instructions.

  He said ‘Yes, sir’, Marine style, and signed off.

  18

  I had misgivings about taking a new car on a six hour road trip. Ginn quipped that it would be like the maiden voyage of the Titanic.

  I said, “The ice on the roads has already melted and there’re no icebergs this far south. This is sour grapes for me going with Black instead of you.”

  “Yeah well, Black ain’t the same as Black. But don’t sound like much danger involved rousting a couple of eighty year olds. Tomey said they eager to talk, unless it takes them away from shuffleboard. Maybe they can explain the finer points of the game to you. Only game your tired old ass will be up for soon.”

  “Hey, there’s room in the back seat if the boss lets you go.”

  “Lemme see. I can spend time with Alex or an old private dick and a washed up hippie singer with a bad haircut. Let me look up no-brainer and see if that picture is there.”

  Despite his protests, I knew he didn’t like being left out of the action, but his time could be better spent doing something else. Even Christmas shopping. The trip would give me time to bond with Jason.

  Tomey had told me that the Paulsens were keen to talk about old times. This was a welcome change. Instead of figuring out a way to wheedle a relevant morsel from a reluctant witness, Alex said they couldn’t wait to share what they knew about Bolton and Dugger.

  For a moment, I regretted bringing Black along. In fact, I reconsidered the whole trip. Could I get what I needed with a phone call? It was possible, but it’s easy to lie on the phone. Even easier to hang up if a sensitive area is clumsily broached.

  At six a.m., I said goodbye to Bosco, who wanted to come along. I loaded a go-bag and drove to Bluffton, where Black was waiting at a Dunkin’ just off 278. As I pulled into the lot, he came out of the shop bearing two large coffees and a box of doughnuts. Be still my heart.

  He said, “I wasn’t sure what kind you liked so I brought an assortment. Half of them are old-fashioneds. Did I guess right?”

  “Great guess. They’re my favorite. I could have picked you up at your place. You sure it’s all right to leave your truck in the lot for this long?”

  “Why drive out of your way? Trip’s long enough as it is. The truck’s not in the lot. Kat dropped me off this morning.”

  “You’ve got yourself a winner there, boyo.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  “I almost brought my dog along. I’ve been neglecting him lately but he’s not a great traveler. Pants like crazy in the back seat when I take him anywhere and I don’t want to drug him.”

  The Audi is extremely quiet for a convertible, but not as quiet as a hardtop. All the seats were heated and ventilated, something I never would have ordered but the car came loaded to the gills. I punched the Paulsen’s address into the nav system and the pleasant female voice began to recite turn-by-turn instructions. I didn’t know her long enough to trust her completely, but since most of the drive was on I-95, I wasn’t worried she’d betray my faith.

  Once we took care of niceties, Jason said, “I hear you had dinner with Sarah last night. How did that go?”

  “Fine. She’s a sweet kid.”

  “Kat thinks very highly of her.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “I didn’t say that. In fact, if you two get along, maybe the four of us can go out together some time.”

  “That might be nice, but I’m not sure I’ll be seeing Sarah again any time soon.”

  “Oh, why is that? Not your type? She is a little young, but she’s not some kind of callow millennial. Got a good head on her shoulders and those shoulders ain’t too shabby either.”

  I hadn’t intended to get into this so early into the ride. I wanted to soften him up with music gossip first but the opening was there and I took it. “Of course, you’re aware she’s former FBI. I think she still is working for them.”

  “That’s crazy. She’s been with Kat for years now. The restaurant keeps her busy. She gave up her old gig and Kat’s grooming her for bigger things.”

  “Jason, I don’t find her sudden change of heart very convincing. I was with the Bureau for t
en years. I know how they work. Whatever happened with this Brand X affair has loose ends. You and Kat are two of them. It’d be just like the Bureau to assign someone to keep tabs on you. And who better than someone who sees you both almost every day?”

  Black clasped his hands together and drew them to his chin. He wriggled in his seat and not because the leather was too cold.

  He said, “Hey man, Kat told me you were asking about that. She said she asked you to back off. I’m asking you the same thing. We’re trying to put that chapter behind us. Kat’s a pacifist and a feminist. She hates violence and she was forced to kill another woman. And the woman she killed was someone I was close to at one point.”

  “Okay, but why did Kat say that if I kept digging that you two would be in danger?”

  “She meant our relationship. Riley, I bore a lot of guilt over the years about the way I treated Wendy, my first real love. Fucked up a lot of relationships with women. I’m still seeing a shrink about it. Dredging up all this stuff just as we’re starting to get over it could really set me and Kat back.”

  I could appreciate how he felt about Katrina. If it was just to satisfy my curiosity, it wouldn’t be worth sticking my nose into their affairs. But Kat didn’t warn me off because it would bring back unpleasant memories. There was something else going on.

  Ginn had counseled me to keep my eye on the ball and he was right. I had to focus on finding out what happened to Colton Townes. That was the priority. For now.

  19

  “Both those sons of bitches should burn in hell.”

  I was tempted to ask him how he really felt, but Paulsen was on a rant and I didn’t want to interrupt. Jason Black and I sat with him and his wife beside the pool at his coop complex. The sun was hot. Black and I were shaded by a large market umbrella, cantilevered over a glass topped table.