by Keene, Susan
Ryan called his office and had them bring another SUV. I called Roger and told him what happened. He didn’t sound happy. “Kate, maybe you should rethink your plan to investigate this yourself. The FBI, Federal Ministerial Police of Mexico, Coast Guard, and at least five local agencies are trying to solve it. This guy's serious. Maybe the man in the coffee shop was a decoy?”
“Ryan and Nathan ran back to the store to question him. He was nowhere in sight.”
“You guys want to come down and visit with an artist?”
“Maybe later. Right now we need to get going.”
“Don’t touch that car until my crew gets there.”
The four of us sat on the curb. The cops were prompt as were Ryan’s men who brought a white Ford Explorer and transferred our belongings from the defunct car.
We had begun our trip at eight, afternoon approached evening before we were on the road again.
“Do you think it could have been the drunk guy in Starbucks?” I asked.
Ryan sat beside me in the back seat. “I don’t understand how someone could have vandalized the car on a busy street without anyone noticing.”
Nathan looked into the rearview mirror. “Hate to bring this up, but I’m hungry.”
Amy had an idea. “Let’s go through a drive-in, order the food, stop at a rest stop and have a picnic so the car is in our sight.”
We followed Amy's plan and arrived at The Ritz-Carlton after midnight. Ryan had rented a two bedroom apartment with a panoramic view of Lake Michigan.
The car sat in valet parking under lock and key.
Our plan included a trip to Northwestern Memorial Hospital, the old neighborhood where the Tuckers lived, and the travel agency we knew helped them plan the trip.
We had room service bring breakfast to avoid any more mishaps. Ryan rented a pickup truck and a car so we could leave the SUV where it sat.
Amy and Nathan left for the hospital. We headed to meet the neighbors.
We went to the house listed on the information we had. It looked lived in. The lawn was shaggy and hadn’t been trimmed in the recent past. A new Volvo sat in the driveway with a flat tire.
We stopped at the house next door to the old Tucker home. A middle-aged woman answered the door. “Hi, my name is Kate Nash, I’m a private investigator.” I showed my license and gave her a card. “This is my associate, Ryan Meade.”
“May I help you with something?”
“We hope so. Are you Mrs. Caulfield?”
“Yes, how can I help you?”
I took a deep breath and began. “There has been new information in the case of the missing Tucker family. We were hoping you could give us some insight into them.”
She stepped outside and looked around the neighborhood. She pointed to the truck parked on the street. “It that your truck?”
Ryan looked at me and nodded to her. “Is there a problem?”
She stepped back out of the doorway.
“Ivy Tucker was found dead two weeks ago in St. Louis,” I said.
“It can’t be. Please, come in.” She stepped aside and made room for us to pass. “May I get you a drink?”
Ryan smiled. “No, Mrs. Caulfield, that won’t be necessary.”
“I insist.” We followed her to a small kitchen in the back of the house. “Even after all of these years, I have never been able to get those poor people off my mind. Such a horrible accident.”
A coffee pot sat on an old fashioned blue tile counter. I scanned the room. It was a throwback to the ninety’s. Coffee cups were hung on hooks under the cabinet. I hadn’t seen it done for years. My heart pitter-pattered. My mom stored hers the same way in Florida. I was sure I didn’t have another emotion to waste on her, but maybe I did.
She placed the cups in front of us along with a spoon, and pushed a cream pitcher and sugar dish our way. As she talked, she folded up the newspaper she must have been reading when we interrupted her morning. She turned the paper upside down so we could not see the subject of her reading. Once she had it the way she wanted, she slipped it onto her lap. “I don’t know how familiar you are with the story of the Tuckers. They left here ten years ago and were somehow lost in the Sea of California and never seen or heard from again. It must be a case of mistaken identity. Ivy is dead, is this someone’s idea of a cruel joke?”
“I know it comes as a shock to you, but somehow Ivy survived. No one knows how she did or where she has been. They positively identified her from fingerprints her parents had taken when she was young. The reason we are here is to talk to you about the family.”
“It is hard to wrap my head around this news. Do you think the rest of them survived?”
“No. There has been a man around. His actions and disruptions leads us to believe the rest are dead and he doesn't want any investigation into the accident if that is what it was.”
She stared at me with eyes so hard I wanted to shrink; they brimmed with tears. Her facial expression didn’t soften.”I wonder where she was? Three years ago, the authorities went through the horrible ritual of having them all declared dead. Sharon’s brother came, cleaned out the rest of the house, put it up for sale, and left. I assume he received the life insurance monies and all the rest.”
“What do you mean by all the rest?”
The woman crossed her legs, picked up her coffee, but never took a sip of the liquid inside. “Oh my. There was Sharon’s BMW and her beautiful jewlery. He had a Land Rover, they had a boat. The collection of Mexican Art they had in their home had been valued at several hundred thousand dollars. They sometimes loaned pieces to museums.”
“What happened to their belongings?” I asked.
“A man came, said he was her brother from Mexico. I called the police, but the man had papers, deeds, records of all types and a will signed by both doctors.”
Ryan hadn’t said anything up until then. “So did the furnishings and personal items stay in the house for seven years until they were declared dead?”
“No, men in large trucks came and packed it all. An FBI agent dropped by and said the man was the Executer of the will and everything would go into storage until the Tuckers were found, or seven years passed, whichever came first.”
“Do you know what her brother’s name was?”
She walked over to a bulletin board on the other side of the room. “I don’t remember off hand, but I wrote it down. I’m not sure why. It had nothing to do with me.” She went through the items on the board. After a few minutes, she turned around with a note in her hand. “Here it is―Alberto Flores, La Paz, Mexico. He didn’t give me a street address. He said the loss of so much family made him so sad, he never wanted to come here again.”
Ryan glanced at me and back at our hostess. “So Dr. Tucker was Hispanic?”
“Yes, thus the big trip so she could show the children and her husband where she was raised and her beautiful homeland. All of them were bilingual. The children spoke Spanish at home and English when they were out.”
Ryan continued. “Did you ever sense the Tuckers had any family or marriage problems?”
She became increasingly more upset. “Heavens no. All three children came here after school for years. They were a happy, normal, loving family.”
“Are there any other neighbors we should speak to who knew the Tuckers well?” I asked.
“No, we have made a cycle in the past ten years. Most of these homes are occupied by executives who get transferred every few years. The only other people were the Cramers, Matthew, and June. June died a few years ago and Matthew moved away without saying goodbye.”
“We won’t keep you any longer. I only have one more question. Can you describe Alberto Flores?”
“It was a long time ago.” She closed her eyes and I wondered if she did it to conjure up an image. “He was about five-feet-ten, dark hair, and eyes, and a deep tan. He didn’t speak with an accent although the card he gave me indicated he lived in Mexico.”
Ryan stood and pulled out my chair. “Thank you f
or all of the information. You were very helpful.”
She walked us to the door. As we left she asked a question of her own. “How did Ivy die?”
“She died from a coral snake bite.”.
She said nothing, closed the door and watched us through the living room window as we drove away.
CHAPTER 8
O ur next stop was the travel agency listed as the Tucker’s source of information. The lady at the counter said, “They were a lovely family. I didn’t do much for them. They had the trip mapped down to the tiniest detail. My only contribution was to provide the name of a seaworthy boat rental in Smith River.”
“Do you know if they were going to hire a captain or any other help for the trip?” I asked.
She laughed and said, “You’ll probably think this is crazy after all these years, but I remember the captain’s name. It was Upton Bridges. It’s not a name you hear every day and it stuck with me all these years.”
Ryan wrote the name down in his notepad. “Do you remember anything else about the trip?”
“Only that when the FBI was here to investigate, they gave me another name for the captain. They said a sailor and his wife were both hired. The Agent said the woman was hired to do the cooking. I know it isn’t true. There is no way Dr. Sharon would take someone along to cook. She was excited about the family cooking together on the boat. She had all the meals planned.
“They had to have had a very good reason to go with another captain and bring on a mate. They were going to stay gone for three full months. Captain Bridges took the job because he was about to retire and he didn’t care how long the trip.”
“Did you ever Google Bridges to see what he looked like?”
“I did. I could describe him to you but if I could find him, so could you.”
I handed the woman my card. “If you think of anything else, no matter how small, would you please call me?”
“Yes, but what is this about? Are you writing a story or something?”
“Actually, we found Ivy Tucker dead on our front porch two weeks ago and we are going to find out what happened to her.”
Both of the travel agents’ hands went to their face. “How horrible. I wonder where she was for over ten years? Do you think any of the rest of them are alive?”
“I’m afraid we don’t know much. But it is a puzzle we intend to solve. Thanks for your help.”
At six o’clock we met Amy and Nathan in the room. Ryan loosened his tie. “Anyone hungry? I’ll treat us to dinner at the Torali. It’s right here in the hotel. We can exchange information over some good food and a bottle of wine.”
“I’m game. Do I need a jacket?” Nathan asked.
“No. It’s casual. The food is good and Kate and I didn’t stop to eat today.”
Amy walked over and put her hand on the door as if she was ready to go. “We didn’t either.”
The restaurant encompassed the entire top floor of the hotel. A little less than half of it was open air. A bar separated the inside from the outside. We chose to sit in a back corner where we had a complete view of the city and the rest of the cafe including the alfresco tables and the bar.
For an appetizer we ordered fried calamari with sweet cherry peppers and marinara sauce. We munched on the octopus as we studied the menu. The waiter recommended the Flat Iron Wagyu steak to Ryan. Amy and I chose King salmon, with romanesco and capers.
Nathan handed me the wine list. “Do you have a favorite?”
Amy smiled at him. “I like a Pinot Noir, so does Kate.”
Ryan picked a Cabernet to complement their steaks. No one said anything until the food arrived and Ryan had finished the ritual of tasting the wine.
I began to eat my salad. “We found out a little about the Tuckers from their neighbor. She made them sound like saints. She did say no one came to the house until after they were declared dead, except for the FBI who packed their belongings and put them in storage. Once they were missing seven years. I find that strange. At that time, Sharon’s brother flew in from Mexico, cleaned out the house, put it up for sale and she thinks he also was heir to any money they had.”
Amy sat her wine glass on the table. “Same thing at the hospital. Wonderful, sweet, hardworking and dedicated doctors, Sharon went to UNAM, short for Universidad Nacional Autonoma de Mexico, and Harvard Medical School. We heard the word genius more than once today when her name came up.
“Eric was a pediatrician. They met at Harvard. Every chance they had to spend together, they did. Two different people told us as they passed one another in the hall, they would touch each other’s hands.”
Nathan took a small notebook from his pocket and opened it. “The three kids, Dallas, Max, and Ivy were their lives. Nothing bad there. Nothing.”
Ryan added. “The most significant fact we heard was her brother's name, Alberto Flores and he lives in La Paz. She described him. He fits into the parameters of what we know of our stranger.”
Dinner relaxed me. We talked and laughed and shared another glass of wine. As we were about to leave, the waiter brought four different desserts to our table. “These were sent to your table by the gentleman sitting outside at the bar.” He looked up and out. “He isn’t there any longer.”
I looked at the opulent plates he sat on the table. “How did the gentleman pay for these? Did he use a credit card?”
“No miss, I went to the bar to get the wine for you and he paid cash for the food and a generous tip. He asked me to bring these to you before you paid your check.”
“Can you describe him?”
“Yes, medium height, black hair, and dark eyes. I’m sorry if I did something wrong, ma’am. He spoke as if he knew you.”
Amy pushed the tray to the center of the table. “No, you did nothing wrong. We would have liked to say hello and thank our friend, that’s all.”
Ryan looked up at the waiter. “Please bill this to room 2724.”
“Yes, sir. You don’t want the pastries?”
“No, we're all too full. Please give them to the staff.”
During the ride downstairs to our rooms, no one said a word. The elevator door opened, nobody moved. On my signal, Ryan and Nathan stepped out into the hall and looked around. Amy and I followed. I didn’t let go of the breath I held until we were in the room and the door locked behind us.
We cleared the rooms police style, guns drawn, closets, bathrooms, living room, and kitchen. Nothing seemed out of place.
I took off my jacket, gun holster, and shoes before I plopped on the couch. “He’s here. It’s spooky. The description from the waiter and the next door neighbor are enough alike to make me think it is the same person.”
Ryan sat next to me.” I wonder if the man who went to the Tucker home three years ago and settled the estate was Doctor Tucker’s brother.”
Amy walked in from the kitchen. “I have my doubts. We've read volumes of information on them. His parents are deceased. His brother lives abroad and his sister in a nun in Wisconsin. There's never been a mention of her having living relatives. She was an only child with parents who both died young. What do you think we should do next?”
“Get some sleep,” Nathan said and followed his words with a yawn.
Amy perched on the arm of the love seat. “I say we talk to the FBI, although they don’t always tell everything they know. I’ll call first thing in the morning.”
On his way to our room, Ryan stopped at the window. He turned toward us. “I had forgotten how beautiful the skyline is against the lake.” We all joined him and picked out landmarks we had seen in photos all of our lives.
Nathan put his hand on the wall and leaned forward to look down the side of the hotel. “What do you think about this guy who dogs our every step?”
Amy went to stand beside him. He moved his hand off the window and put it around her. “I believe he's the key to this mystery. I know we haven’t seen the end of him. Don’t you wonder how he knew what hotel we booked, where we would have dinner, and w
hat time?”
Ryan didn’t move, he stared out the window. I put my hands on his back. “At first I thought he must have had listening and tracking devices on the car. Since we changed to rental cars, I’m lost.”
Amy put her finger in front of her mouth in a don’t say another word gesture.
I tapped Ryan to get his attention. Nathan had already begun a sweep of the rooms for a bug. We got more than we bargained for. A contraption hidden in the sprinkler, looked like it both listened to our conversations and videotaped our movements.
Ryan stood on a chair, pulled the device out and took a closer look. He handed it to Nathan who did the same. Nathan took it to the kitchen sink and ran hot water on it for a few minutes, then flushed it down the toilet in the bathroom. He came back into the room. “It’s not a brand I’m familiar with. Anyone else recognize it?”
“The symbol on it was Chinese. Most of the stuff we use is from there. I took a picture of it and sent it to Jacob before you destroyed it. I don’t think it was a professional grade. Jacob will track it down in the morning and let us know. I believe it's something you could buy online, maybe even on Amazon.”
We searched but didn’t find anything else. Another reason to make me think he was an amateur. Amy ushered us all into the bathroom. We closed the door, turned on the water in the shower, the sink, and flushed the toilet so no one could hear our conversation if we missed a listening device. “I say we change our story about Ivy’s murder. Don’t mention anything else we find out. Let’s say it’s time to go home, leave this to the authorities, and get back to our lives. If we do give out any information, let's make sure it’s misleading.”
Everyone gave a thumbs up and we went to our separate rooms. The desire for conversation or romance had been killed by the spy camera and bug we found.
The next morning before we went out to breakfast at IHOP, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number and answered hesitantly. “Hello, Mrs. Caulfield.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Slow down. Tell me again what happened. Really, what did he want? Did he threaten you? No, we don’t have any information yet. We are going to the FBI tomorrow and then heading back to St. Louis. If anything else happens, Mrs. Caulfield, call me, and thank you.”