Photo Finish

by Terry Ambrose

  Meyer slumped forward in his chair. He wiped at his cheek. “I never knew Bob until I became his landlord, but he makes fifteen because he didn’t need to die either. Actually, sixteen when you count Roger. He got medals himself in Vietnam.”

  “How many, Meyer?”

  His jaw tightened and he croaked. “Eighteen survived.”

  I realized now why Meyer felt such a loss—and what I’d never found in Shapiro’s boxes. “What happened to Bob’s medal? Why wasn’t there anything—”

  “I buried that and the photos of the presentation with him. So he’d have it forever. Why’d you want to know about Korea?”

  “I’m tired of murder, drugs and liars.”

  Meyer cocked his head to one side. “Who’s a liar?”

  “Harris. She’s a fraud. I don’t know who she is, but she’s not from LA. And me, I’m a liar, too.”

  Meyer shook his head. “You lie for a reason, a good one, to get to the truth. I ain’t so sure about her.”

  I pulled her rental application from my files, unsure if I was angrier with Harris or myself for believing in her. I found the letter from The National Geographic Society. It was signed by Elmore G. Pendergast, Editor. There was no specific contact information for Mr. Pendergast, but there was the toll-free number for the National Geographic Society in the masthead. I searched their web site first and found nothing for an editor by that name. I tried the toll-free number. They, too, told me they had never heard the name before. So, there was no assignment. No letter of authorization. Nothing.

  Next, I searched Google for Harris Galvin. Another big nothing. I went to AnyWho.com. No records. I tried everything I could think of and kept getting the same result. No Harris Galvin.

  Meyer stood behind me. “What in the dickens are you trying to do?”

  “Find something, anything, on Harris. She doesn’t exist.”

  “You didn’t check her out when she rented from you?”

  “That only confirmed that there was nothing negative. There’s nothing at all. She’s a ghost.”

  Meyer shrugged. “Well, she hasn’t bounced any checks or anything, right?”

  “For all I know, she’s part of the witness protection program.”

  “You think so?”

  “Noooo. She played me. I don’t know how or why—not yet anyway. Hey, what about the flash drive. Where is it?”

  “I dunno, I thought you had it.”

  We spent the next fifteen minutes tearing apart the room. Thank goodness I didn’t have a webcam in my apartment, otherwise, it would have looked as if we were practicing for one of those funniest videos they show on TV. I’d search one place, then Meyer would. I’d forget that I’d searched there, so I’d do it again. Then so would he. Finally, after arguing over who’d lost the video for about the third time, we realized that only one person could have it. Harris.

  I stormed out the door and to her apartment, determined to confront her and get the drive back. I banged on her door. Through the window, I spotted her finishing up a conversation. Man, this woman could talk. Her voice drifted through the open window. “Be sure he’s got it. All of it.”

  A pause.

  “Thanks. Two o’clock. Where we discussed.”

  The door opened. I said, “Where is it?”

  “What?”

  “The flash drive. You must have pulled it from my PC. Give it to me. Now.”

  “Sorry, no can do. My sister needs that.”

  And that’s when I realized what she was doing. The “who” was James Stone or Frank Willows. The “it” was money, probably a bundle. And at two o’clock Harris would sell that flash drive. How blind I’d been. Harris had a partner and it wasn’t me. I was just the patsy. “I won’t let you do this. I’m calling the cops.”

  “Wait!”

  “It’s too late, Harris, or whoever you are—you’re not Harris Galvin.”

  Irritation flashed in her eyes, then disappeared. She raised her hands in front of her, as if in surrender. “Okay. You figured it out. I’ll give you the drive.” Her shoulders slumped. “Come on in, I’ll get it.”

  Whoa! She’d given that up way too easily. She was the best liar I’d ever seen, what was she up to? I stepped into her apartment. A small camera bag lay on the floor to one side. Next to it was a toothbrush, a small tube of toothpaste, a sweatshirt, a small makeup bag, and the two-thousand-dollar camera. “You were going to leave after you got the money.”

  She nodded. “You’re just too sharp for your own good.”

  I glanced around the apartment. “You’re leaving everything else? What about all your camera gear? Your furniture? Your clothes? I’d have to get rid of all of this.”

  As she crossed the room to the camera bag, she said, “The furniture’s rented. You could give the clothes away. And the camera gear, well, that’s from my last job.”

  “Job?”

  “Yeah, my last job.”

  What kind of job gave you thousands of dollars worth of equipment?

  She reached into the bag and began to rummage through it. “I put the drive in here.” She turned to face me, her face grim, a small pistol pointed directly at my chest. She shouldered the camera bag. “I’m sorry. I was trying to keep you out of this, now you’ll just have to do me one last favor.”

  Of course, her last job. “You stole it.” How dense could I be? Well, I had nothing she could want. “I don’t have any money, Harris.”

  “I don’t need your money. You know, you’re good. Almost as good as me. You got me with that Dodgers thing.”

  I cocked an eyebrow in her direction. “How’d you know I was lying?”

  “Your body went stiff when I hugged you. That’s a first. I knew something was off, so I came back and checked it out. Nice touch, but it did give me an idea. You, Mr. Professional Skip Tracer, are going to meet with James Stone on the corner of Kalakaua and Kapiolani in just a little over an hour. You’re going to collect a briefcase full of cash.”

  “And then what?”

  “Why, honey, I disappear.”

  “What about me? You’re going to leave me with Stone?”

  She shrugged. “Well, you’ll still have the drugs and you can probably use those to negotiate. I’m sorry about that, but how you two resolve your differences is going to have to be between the two of you. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

  Chapter 34

  Harris draped a beach towel over the gun and jabbed it into my back. She did the usual one-wrong-move threat and guided me back to my apartment. When we entered, Meyer appeared agitated to see me and Harris together. On the other hand, after she’d closed the blinds and the slider, which would give the impression that I wasn’t home, he didn’t seem surprised at all when she pulled out the gun.

  He said, “Guess this means you two ain’t on friendly terms anymore.”

  Harris pushed me down onto the couch. “No, we’re all still friends. For another hour or so.”

  I said, “Gonna get close in here.”

  Harris sat, still grim-faced. “We’ll survive. In half an hour, we can leave.”

  I leaned forward, elbows on knees staring into her eyes. “So, how much was true? You said your sister needs this money. Does she really need a transplant?”

  “Don’t try to scam me, McKenna. I’m a pro.”

  “I got that—now. I was just curious about why you’d do something like this.”

  She shrugged. “Whatever. I wasn’t planning this, things got out of control back home, so I had to leave for a while.”

  “San Francisco.”

  “Don’t get too curious.”

  But I was. “You never had a concussion, did you?”

  She smiled. “Nice touch, huh? I had some headaches, but when you guys kept going on about doctors, I just couldn’t resist. Besides, it kept you off balance.”

  “And there’s no sister, is there?”

  “All you need to know is that I’m Harris Galvin from El Monte and I have a twin siste
r who needs a kidney transplant. As the old joke goes, if I tell you anything else, I’ll have to kill you.”

  “You need me.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve still got him.” She pointed the gun at Meyer.

  We sat in silence for a few more minutes, the temperature rising in the apartment. We all jumped when there was a sudden knocking on the door. I said, “That’s Alexander. I called him and asked him over for lunch.”

  Alexander called out, “McKenna! I know you in there. How come the place is all shut up?”

  She whispered, “Send him away.”

  “Where? What do want me to tell him?”

  “McKenna, come on. Open up. It’s me.”

  “Send him away.” She pointed the gun at Meyer’s head. “Tell him to go get lunch or something.”

  Good idea, Legs. I went to the door. “Hey, Alexander, change of plans buddy. Can you go get us some lunch? I’ll buy—pay you when you get back. I’m not, uh, dressed right now.”

  “Fine, you want your usual?”

  “Yeah. Get me a Magnum burger and some Volcano fries. Get three, Meyer’s here, too. And don’t worry about the expense, I’m buying.”

  “What? You don’t eat—“

  I interrupted him, “I know they’re expensive. But, this is a special occasion. Magnum burger, definitely. Volcano fries, no question. I’ll fill you in over lunch.”

  There was a short pause. “Okay. If you say so. I be back in maybe twenty, thirty minutes. Depends on how busy they are.”

  “What was that all about?” Harris glared at me, then pointed the gun at my face.

  “You—you, told me to have him go—get some lunch.”

  “Where’s he going?”

  “There’s a restaurant down on Waikiki, he likes it there.”

  “You’d better not be lying.”

  I shook my head. “It’s one of his favorite places. They’ve got pretty waitresses in short shorts. He might not be back for an hour or so. If they’re busy, he’ll have to wait. He may even have a beer while he’s there. With the parking and everything, he could be gone a long time.”

  Harris appeared satisfied. “All right. We’ll give him two minutes, then we’re going. Give me your cell phone. I don’t want you making any calls.”

  Ugh. So much for Plan B. I could only hope that Alexander had understood my coded message—go to Lulu’s Restaurant.

  Chapter 35

  Perfect, I thought. Just goddamn perfect. Here I stood on a Waikiki Beach street corner waiting to meet a killer. No cell phone. No way to escape without getting Meyer killed. And wearing a goddamn Giant’s hat. I’d feel better standing around in that stupid dancing bear getup I always joked about—at least with that no one would recognize me.

  I glanced across the street and up to the second floor. The bitch was in Lulu’s Restaurant, smiling at Meyer, sipping a cool drink, enjoying the trades as they drifted through. From her vantage point she could see my every move and keep her gun close enough to quickly kill my friend. If I screwed up, Meyer would die and Harris would disappear.

  An ABC Store occupied the first floor of the building with the restaurant. Next to that stood one of Waikiki’s many skyscraper hotels, the Park Shore. I suppose Stone could have taken a room and be watching over me. Or maybe he’d hidden behind me at the zoo entrance. Or on one of the other street corners. Would he find my behavior suspicious? Would he recognize the box I carried? And where was Daniels? No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the memory of the conversation with Harris.

  “It’s simple, McKenna. I’ll be sitting in that restaurant at the window. I can see your every move. If you do something to scare off Stone or if you try to tip him off about where I’m at, I’ll shoot Meyer and disappear in the confusion. You, on the other hand, will be watched by Mr. Daniels. Because he thinks you lied to him about the violin, he’s quite willing to kill you if I tell him to or if you do something that he considers, um, uncooperative. Your only chance to save both of you is to play this exactly the way I told you to. You tell him you’re just the drop man, I’ll be watching from somewhere and if he pays up, he gets the safe-deposit box key as well as the flash drive.”

  “But then I won’t have the drugs or the evidence. I won’t have any leverage!”

  “Sorry about that, hon, guess you’re out of bargaining chips.”

  Meyer had remained silent. He and I most likely had the same questions. Are you intending to kill us? How will we stop him from killing us? And the ever popular, what if he double-crosses you? Crap, that put us back to the first question.

  “There’s a dead-man’s switch. If I don’t stop it, my e-mail service sends an e-mail to the police with a copy of the flash drive file attached and links to Stone’s web pages. And there are images of Stone’s web pages, too. So it won’t do him any good to delete the pages from MySpace.”

  She’d even given Meyer her good camera, saying that it would give him something to hang onto. Actually, I think the fancy Nikon with the big lens and flash attachment was meant to serve as a prop. It would divert attention from the real action. He’d be viewed as the tourist sugar daddy, she as arm candy. The men would envy him, the women would despise him, all for flaunting a woman like Harris.

  Harris was so thorough and yet, she’d involved me. I’d asked, “Why’d you need me? You could have pulled this off all on your own.”

  “Actually, you were a good investigator—found the plane, the people, in no time when I wasn’t one hundred percent. And you had the connections through Alexander. I don’t know if I could have done this without you.”

  So I was good for something—screwing up my friend’s family.

  She pointed her gun at Meyer. “You’re driving, by the way. I won’t be needing a car.”

  Meyer’s jaw dropped. “You don’t drive either?”

  She said, “It’s a little trick I picked up from McKenna. There are plenty of ways out of Waikiki if you don’t want to drive. And there are just as many ways off the island. The cops can’t watch them all.”

  Had she thought of everything? How depressing, the woman was a planning genius.

  I waited, every now and again stealing a glance at the restaurant across the street. Nothing. Just tourists. Surfers. Couples strolling arm-in-arm. A family with five sunburnt kids that ran in every direction made their pass on their way to the Honolulu Zoo. Dad was oblivious. Mom looked like she was trying to herd cats, her frustration ready to overflow. The main entrance to the zoo was just a few hundred feet behind me. Soon, they’d be having a great time. They’d watch wild animals from around the world. I’d be here, completely panicked. I checked. Two-fifteen. Harris still sat up there with Meyer. But, there was no sign of Alexander. He must have misunderstood. I was so screwed.

  Someone planted a vice-like grip on my shoulder, then spun me around. He wore jeans, a tee shirt and a light, nylon jacket. The jacket hung on one side, as though he’d stuffed a gun in the pocket. And, thank goodness, he carried a briefcase in one hand. Had he brought the money?

  “That my violin in that box?” His breath smelled of alcohol, lots of it. His dilated pupils and the way he swayed on his feet reinforced the obvious—he’d gotten loaded for the occasion.

  “That’s it, you have the money?”

  “You’re not very bright, old man. But I’m feeling benevolent—here in the midst of frigging Waikiki.” Stone leaned over and whispered, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you right now. Where’s Daniels?”

  “Daniels?”

  “Don’t screw with me, I know he set this up.”

  I shook my head. “I’m just here to deliver and collect.”

  Stone shrugged. “I know he’s doing this for that little bitch, Molly. I’ll deal with her after I’m done with you. Hand it over.”

  Oh, shit, she was Daniels' girlfriend. She’d gotten my number from him. “Not so fast. I need to see the money.” Where were the cops when you needed them?

  Stone did a half-as
sed survey of the area. People moved in every direction. Some crossed the street toward the beach. Others strolled back to their hotels or downtown. The same thing with the zoo. Harris had picked her location well. This was a completely open, yet completely private meeting area. No one cared. No one wanted to be bothered by the other people. And she could sit and watch it all from the comfort of a second-floor window seat.

  Stone’s senses were obviously dulled. He seemed unconcerned with whether we were being watched or not. “How stupid do you think I am, old man? I ain’t showing you nothing until I see that violin and its contents. It had better all be there. Understand.”

  I did, and it wasn’t. The drugs were still in the safe-deposit box. Where the hell was Alexander? Where were the cops?

  He swayed more than a palm tree in the wind. “Some people don’t like my business. You apparently don’t mind it, not if you want money. Or maybe you and Daniels think you can replace me. Let me give you a hint, you’re too old for that shit. Besides, Daniels will screw you over the first chance he gets. Now give me my goddamn package and we can all go away happy.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief, he wanted to talk, to intimidate me first. Well that wasn’t going to work—I was already intimidated.

  Stone leaned into me again, his face now just inches from mine. “It’s going to cost you your life if you keep up this shit.”

  I considered holding my nose, but resisted the temptation. “The money?”

  Stone grabbed my shirt. Uh, maybe I could be intimidated more.

  “I’ll bury you right here if you give me any more lip, asshole. Now, one last time. Are you gonna turn it over or are you gonna die?”

  A couple walking by eyed us over their shoulders. The man started to turn in our direction, but the woman grabbed his shirt sleeve and yanked him away. I said, “Like Shapiro? Did you make him the same offer?”

  I detected the faintest bit of surprise on his face, his eyes flashed an emotion, probably satisfaction. “Yeah. Like Shapiro. My partner made him a generous offer. He didn’t like it. I straightened it out.”