Colton Banyon Mysteries 1-3: Colton Banyon Mysteries (Colton Banyon Mystery Book 20)

by Gerald J Kubicki

  “Not yet. I need more information,” he told Dave. “Ask him what happened to Sofia after her sister died.”

  Presently, the man spoke. “Sofia was a sexy thing. I tried to help her, but she went off with some warlord. I only saw her one more time. Try the herb store down the street. Mr. Sun knew her, too.”

  Banyon gave the old man another bill and told Dave to ask one more question. “What was her last name?”

  Mr. Cho replied, “She went by the name of Kerns, Sofia Kerns. I’m sure of that. I had to check her papers when her sister was killed.” Mr. Cho stopped for a second, and then he continued. “There is one more thing that I remember. A few months later, a Nazi showed up and was asking about Eva and a book. I didn’t know anything about a book, and I didn’t tell him anything about Sofia.” He reached for the money and grabbed it from Banyon. He then spoke some more in Chinese, but no one translated.

  Dave motioned for Colt to leave. They retreated to the hallway but Loni stayed where she was. Banyon asked Dave why Loni was staying behind.

  Dave shrugged. “He wants to talk to her.”

  Shortly, Loni came storming out of the room and slammed the door. They were seated in the car before she said anything.

  “Dave, take us to the herb store,” she demanded. Dave said nothing and put the car in gear.

  “What did he say to you?” Banyon asked, concerned.

  She sat in silence, her arms folded across her chest. Finally, she said, “He wanted to know why I was there. He thought that I was his reward. He wanted to know why I would be with a white man when there were so many Chinese men to serve. Women served men, he said. Then he said that you probably don’t even pay me for sex. He then offered me some of the money to service him.”

  “You’re kidding. What a jerk. What did you say?”

  “I told him that his dick was too short to bother with.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  The herb store had seen better days. Or maybe it was decades or even centuries. As they entered, aromas and odors that seemed as old as the building assaulted Banyon. The small room was crammed with jars and small boxes filled dried vegetation. There were large tubs of seeds and beans along one wall. As he peered closer, he noticed that some jars appeared to have bones and animal parts suspended in liquid. It was not a place that Banyon would ever go to shop. A very old man puttered in the back of the store behind a long counter. His frail, stooped body and long, wispy beard told of a long history. He perked up as they approached.

  The man spoke before they reached the counter. Loni translated. “He says that he can see that we are here for an aphrodisiac.”

  “Is every old person in China sex-crazy?” Banyon asked.

  She ignored him and talked to Mr. Sun. Their conversation was fast and continuous. Banyon heard the name Sofia Kerns mentioned several times. Mr. Sun nodded his head as he talked. He pointed to several products on the shelves and Dave went and collected them.

  Banyon then heard another word he knew: “America.”

  Loni turned to Banyon and said, “Pay him. He only takes cash.”

  They returned to the car and Loni told Dave to drive them to the Hall of Records. She then turned to Banyon and explained what she had learned.

  “An herbalist is more like a doctor then a businessman. Mr. Sun has been selling herbs and prescribing treatments for more than sixty-five years. He said that Sofia was one of his best customers during the war. She had a specific recipe for a very popular tea. He wasn’t much older than she was and they often dated. After her sister was killed, she came to him for help. His parents didn’t want trouble with the Japanese occupiers, so they refused to protect her. She went to work for a warlord, as a kind of nurse. During the war, the warlord was killed. When the Communists took over Shanghai, Sofia immigrated to America.”

  “The recipe must be the one that is in the book,” Colt reasoned.

  “Yes, Mr. Sun remembered the recipe, all but one ingredient. The ingredients are in the bag. He told me that he had been looking for the last ingredient for all these years. I promised to send him the name of the herb if we find Sofia.”

  “Did he know what the recipe was used for?”

  “He said that it was used in ‘curing people with the shakes.’ I think that he meant alcoholism.”

  ***

  For the next two days, Loni pored over records of people who had immigrated to the United States between 1945 and 1949. The records were incomplete and she became very frustrated. But she was focused and was driven. She was in her element and time stood still as she worked. She had Dave drive her to the records building as soon as it opened in the morning. He picked her up both evenings after the building had closed. In the end, she had found no record of a Sofia Kerns.

  Banyon spent his time leading the Yakuza around town. He bought presents for his sons, ate in open-air restaurants, and made a visit to the bank. The banking industry, like the phone industry in China, had skipped over several generations of products. Many people in China had cell phones, but few had landline telephones. Similarly, Banyon was surprised to find that he could use an ATM card and get RMB money. Few businesses accepted credit cards and none accepted checks. The cunning Chinese did not want anyone tracking how their money moved around, which would lead to taxes. It was a cash-only society.

  Their flight left Shanghai that evening. Banyon had upgraded them to first class at a substantial increase in the cost of the return flight. Once again, their seats were adjacent to one another. Loni wanted to talk.

  “Colt, I’m not discouraged. I placed a call to a friend of mine at the FBI. Records in the USA are much better. We will find Sofia.”

  “That’s not what is bothering me,” he said. “I trust your ability to find her. It is just that there are so many people involved in this case. There is the Yakuza. I think they are after money. The value of the book to a collector is not enough for the Yakuza to pay so much attention to us. There has to be something else. Then there is the lawyer and Hal Jones. I think they’re after the note with the codes on it and maybe the book, too. These are dangerous people. They’re white supremacists. I think Jones was once a Nazi, maybe a spy. Next, you have the affable Dr. Thorne. She clearly wants the book and could care less about anything else. Why is she connected to the FBI? Gamble told me that they’ve used her before. Finally, we have the recipe that could cure alcoholism. Somebody may be after that, too.”

  “A cure for alcoholism would be a good thing, wouldn’t it?” Loni asked.

  “The implications of finding a cure for alcoholism are so broad that someone will find a way to make it evil. You can count on that.”

  “You are just tired, Colt. You are not yourself. You’re being too cynical.” She was concerned about his mood.

  “I can’t stop thinking about it,” he replied with resignation.

  Changing the subject, Loni said, “Colt, I want you to know that this was the best trip that I ever had in my life. There was so much excitement and adventure and you took care of me when I needed it. I appreciate that more then you know. I probably shouldn’t say it, but I am crazy about you. I just don’t know how to express it.”

  Banyon smiled. “The one thing that I learned on this trip was that you are more than just my friend and partner. You are a real woman, too. We sure had some awkward moments.”

  “What was your most awkward moment?” she asked. “I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours.”

  “That’s easy,” he replied. “It was when you kissed me on the lips.”

  “But I have kissed you before,” she said.

  “Yeah, but you kissed me on the lips and not like a relative.” He made a point to open his mouth and point to his tongue.

  “Now you tell me your most awkward moment.”

  She scrunched up her mouth and puckered her lips like an aunt would. “It was when you didn’t kiss me back.”

  Part Three

  Road Trip

  Chapter Forty-Four

>   Banyon peered out his office window when he heard a car door slam. Loni was always prompt. Today she was dressed in white short shorts and a pink tank top. She had worn her customary high heels to appear taller, as well. Banyon was willing to bet that there wasn’t a dollar’s worth of material in the whole outfit. The shorts and the high heels accentuated her legs. Her long hair flowed in the breeze. She had on a very sexy look and Banyon wondered if it was on purpose.

  They had returned from China three days ago and had not spoken to each other since. Banyon hoped she’d gotten over her jet lag this time. Today she had called and said she had great news and would be at his house at two o’clock. He opened the front door and stood there in greeting. She carried a folder under her small arm.

  “Do you want it on the lips or the cheek?” she asked cheerfully.

  “Come here,” he said. He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, and then pecked her on the lips. She grabbed him around the neck and pulled him close.

  “I’ll do it, if you do it,” she said.

  “You first,” he said.

  Her mouth found his and she gave him a non-relative kiss. “Your turn,” she smiled.

  He gripped her tightly and ground his mouth on hers. Her lips began to part. He was tempted to investigate her mouth but a pang of guilt rushed into his mind. She was the live-in girlfriend of his good friend. He pulled back.

  “Wow, could you always do that, or have you been practicing?” Loni remarked. “You can kiss me like that anytime.”

  “Well, maybe on special occasions, anyway,” he replied diplomatically.

  “And this is one of those,” she remarked as she slid passed him and entered his house. He followed her into the office and sat down behind his desk.

  She started as though she was making a presentation. There were several pieces of paper in the folder. She passed the first one to Banyon. The rest she dropped to the floor and sat wide-legged with the papers between her legs. Banyon leaned back in his chair so that he did not stare.

  “You know that I worked with the FBI before, right?” she began. “Well, they went and traced Sofia Kerns for me. She is alive.”

  Banyon leaned forward. “You found her?”

  “Not quite, but the news is good. Sofia Kerns immigrated to the United States in 1946. From what the FBI gathered, she must have been wealthy when she got here.”

  “Really?” asked Banyon.

  “Yeah, she bought land all over Los Angeles and parlayed it into a fortune, according to income tax records. She seems to have retired and moved to Mobile, Alabama.”

  “Why Mobile?” Banyon wondered aloud.

  “I’m not sure. She has moved several times since leaving Southern California. She’s lived in Miami, Galveston, New York City, and even San Francisco.”

  “That’s odd,” commented Banyon. “But, do we have her address?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Loni, why are you holding back?” he asked. She clearly didn’t want to get to the bottom line too fast.

  “Okay, all we have is a post office box address in Mobile. Her Social Security checks and investment statements go to a post office box.”

  “So…” Banyon was getting a little frustrated.

  “I’m going to have to go down there to find her,” she said. “After the hurricane hit there a couple of weeks ago, it might not be safe and she might be gone.” Her eyes seemed to be pleading with him.

  Banyon knew about the destruction of hurricanes. He’d grown up on Eastern Long Island where hurricanes were frequent visitors. The one that hit the southern Gulf Coast, where Mobile is located, last month was the worst in history. That was saying something. He knew Loni could not fly down there. She would have to drive and faced many possible dangers. He could not let her go alone.

  “Well, sounds like we need to take a road trip.” he remarked off-handedly.

  A look of surprise registered on her face. Loni was prepared to address that opportunity. She bent down spread her legs farther apart and shuffled papers on the floor. Banyon watched as her long hair slid over her shoulders and down to the floor. He wondered if she would ever come up for air.

  A hand, holding a map, appeared from the jumble of hair.

  “I have colored the map with the route that we should take,” she said. “I have booked a motel a few blocks from the post office. It will take us thirteen hours to drive there. I think we should rent a jeep for the trip, and leave early in the morning. I have made a list of supplies that we should take, including a tent, just in case. I also rented walkie-talkies so we can keep in touch.”

  “So, what is it that I need to do?” he asked, knowing the answer.

  “You drive,” she said as her eyes rose over the desktop. She gave him a questioning stare as well.

  “When do you want to go?” he asked.

  “We can pick up the jeep tonight and then we can make plans. I’ll stay here. Carl will understand. We can leave by five o’clock in the morning.” She was once again very excited and jabbered away. Banyon shook his head and laid out his own version of the plan.

  “I’ll pick up the jeep and pick you up tomorrow at eight o’clock in the morning. We will stay overnight in Jackson, Mississippi. If we leave Jackson by five o’clock the next day, we will be in Mobile around ten o’clock that day. Tonight, you are going home to Carl. Is there anything else that we need to discuss?”

  “Do you think that I should bring some guns?”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Colt picked Loni up at the office. They both were dressed in white shorts and golf shirts. Her shirt was blue and his was black. She had packed only one bag for the trip. Colt was impressed. The jeep was big and roomy and both were eager to start the road trip. They tossed her bag into the back and took off.

  Driving was second nature to Colton Banyon. He had driven to nearly every state in the lower forty-eight. Sometimes it was business, sometimes it was for vacations, but he didn’t need a map to find most cities. He knew how to travel by car. He loaded up on his favorite CDs, starting with the Eagles’ tour album, and had sung himself horse by the time they reached Springfield on I-55. He didn’t care if he was off key, and Loni seemed to be completely entertained. On some songs, she joined in. She was laughing and smiling and Banyon suddenly realized they were having great fun together.

  “Did you ever sing in a band?” she asked. “You can keep a melody, but you are always off key.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I sure did,” he replied in his best Southern trucker voice. All he needed now was a CB and a big trucker horn to qualify as an over-road driver.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Shucks, little lady, it weren’t nothing. Played sax, too.”

  “You play an instrument?” she asked in disbelief.

  “Yup, but I had to give it up. Had mouths to feed. Had to find man work,” he drawled.

  “You’re awful sexy when you talk like that.” She batted her almond eyes at him.

  “Yup, that was the problem, too.”

  Chapter-Forty-Six

  Binh Handa had been watching cartoons on TV at the Days Inn in Schaumburg, Illinois, when his cell phone rang. The call came from Japan. He knew that he was being punished for letting a pickpocket steal his wallet in Shanghai. He felt that it was a bad sign and told his uncle as much. His uncle sent him duplicate identity papers. It took two days. Then he told him to fly to America. Binh was the only clan member who spoke English, even though it was poor English. The uncle said the man and woman had learned something in China and he wanted Binh Handa to stay close to them.

  There was no preamble to the conversation. “They are driving to Mobile, Alabama. They are looking for a woman named Sofia Kerns. They will stay at the Super 6 motel on Ocean Street. Get there before them. You know what to do.”

  Before Binh could ask a question, his uncle hung up. Where is Alabama, he wondered?

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  James Duggan was ahead of everybody. He was
cruising along I-55 somewhere in north Arkansas. He had listened to the taped conversation between Loni and Colt the evening before and set out driving that night. He was a survivalist and a trained marine. His car was always packed, and he had only his clothes to collect before taking off. He would be in Mobile by evening and would try to find the old woman before Banyon got to the city.

  His plan, if he found her, was simple. He would dress up as a lawyer and inform her that a man and a woman would approach her with knowledge about an old book. Duggan would warn her they were grifters and were after her money. He would tell her to call the police if they tried to talk to her. She was old; she would listen. He would tell her that if the book were, indeed, hers, he, James Duggan, would deliver it personally. He carried a waiver sent by fax from Billy Bond. The waiver gave him the right to collect the book in her name. He just needed to get her to sign it.

  He really didn’t need the book any longer to find the money. He did, however, want the book for the cause. Once he had the money and the book, he would be able to take over the organization. Billy would be gone and no one would question his right to be the new leader. He was filled with zealous fever.

  Duggan had found the translation of the codes from the book on the files he had taken from Colton Banyon’s computer. But he had made an uncharacteristic error. Before he’d found the translation in a file marked “Maya,” he had sent a copy of the files to Billy Bond, thinking that Billy could help him steal money from Banyon. Billy now possessed the codes, too.

  Billy had called Duggan the next day. Duggan recalled their conversation as he sped down the nearly straight highway.

  “I think that it is time to persuade Mr. Jones to give us the addresses. Don’t you think?” Bond had said.

  “How convincing should I be?” a confident Duggan had replied.