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

by Gerald J Kubicki

  The instructions then said he had to pull down hard on his injured arm and it would pop back into joint. He was unprepared for the loud pop and the searing jolt of agony that accompanied the maneuver. He passed out again.

  Somehow, he’d gotten into the bed and slept, suffering feverish dreams along the way. He knew he had to return to the real world, but wasn’t sure if he was ready.

  His phone began to ring again. His concern was heightened when he reached for the phone with his right arm. He thought he could feel bones scraping inside his shoulder. The pain took his breath away. He gritted his teeth and used his left hand to capture the instrument.

  His voice sounded like sandpaper. “Hello,” he said.

  “Duggan, where the hell have you been, boy?” Billy Bond spat into his good ear. “You were supposed to call me two nights ago. Are you shacked up with some bimbo?”

  “I was hurt,” Duggan managed to say.

  “Don’t tell me that an eighty-something-year-old geezer got the drop on you. What’d he do? Shoot you with a bird gun full of rock salt?”

  “I’m fine now,” Duggan lied.

  “Well, did you get it? Stop talking so much and just tell me.” Billy was an irritating person even when he was in a good mood. Duggan suddenly remembered why he hated lawyers.

  “What I got is the key to his safety deposit box.”

  “Hmm, let me see here if we got a safety deposit box listed in his assets.” Duggan waited as Billy scrolled through a list of everything that Jones owned. Billy was the executer to the Jones estate. He’d conned the old man by offering to set up a trust for free. The fact that Jones had not signed it made no difference to Billy; it was signed now.

  “I do declare. He has a box at the Atlantic…You sure he’s dead?” Billy asked. He didn’t want Duggan to get to the box before he did and held back the address.

  “Pretty sure,” replied Duggan.

  “What the hell does that mean? We need him dead before we can raid the account. Stop flapping your jaw and tell me what happened.”

  Duggan didn’t tell Billy the whole truth, but told him that when he opened the hutch drawer, a stun grenade had gone off in his face. The old man had been tied up in a chair only a few feet away and would have felt the effects of the blast. He explained that he couldn’t see real well, as the gas had burned his eyes. But he still managed to get the key. He was pretty sure that Jones was dead. “He was almost ninety, for Christ sake,” Duggan added.

  “Well, dumb-ass, get your dick in your shorts and get over to his house to make sure he’s dead. He has to be dead before we can get into the safety deposit box. Then call the police and report an anonymous break in. They will find him and think somebody came to rob him and he put up a fight.”

  “That’s what happened, Billy. Can’t I just call the police now?” Duggan asked.

  “Duggan, you may be the stupidest man I ever met. Did you wear gloves? You’re not even sure he’s dead. He could finger you, not to mention me. I need to know that he’s dead, do you hear me?” Billy was pushing all the buttons that would motivate Duggan. He was doing a good job.

  “I can’t go until tonight. He has guns and if he’s alive, he’ll shoot to kill. You got a problem with that, fat man?”

  Billy was rebuked by Duggan’s answer. “No need to call me names. Just make sure you take care of everything tonight. Call me when you leave the house. I plan on flying down as soon as the police announce the death. That should be about two days from now. We’ll hit the box then.”

  Duggan hung up the phone and decided he needed a little more rest before he got up.

  Chapter Eighty-Five

  The cybercafé was very busy and Loni had to wait for a computer. It was as if people thought they had to be near a dock to send an e-mail as they all hurried to tell the folks back home they were having a good time. Colt wandered over to the information area and learned some things about Cozumel.

  The cruise director was talking to several people who were patiently waiting in line to leave the ship.

  “Cozumel is a small island several miles off the coast of the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico. It is the number one tourist destination in the world. More people visit Cozumel than any other tourist attraction, even Hawaii. On average, there are seven cruise ships docked here every day. It is known for its beautiful beaches, but most of all, for the crystal-clear waters that surround the island. If you do nothing else, please snorkel these waters,” a young and very fit man said from a small podium.

  Banyon grew up on the ocean. He felt a pang of regret that they didn’t have time for a dive. He tried to imagine Loni in a snorkeling outfit, which put a smile on his face.

  He saw Loni frantically waving at him from the cybercafé and headed back. She’d finally gotten a computer and accessed her e-mail. She waved him to her station and showed him a message. He told her he didn’t have his glasses and could not read it. Loni noted that she didn’t need glasses and read the message for him.

  “Agent Gamble traced the bug on our car to another car filled with electronic equipment. It was parked at a private airport in Mobile, Alabama. The car is registered to a James Duggan. Duggan is an ex-marine and a known white supremacist. He works out of Atlanta.

  “He chartered a flight out of the airport two days ago. The flight landed in Jacksonville, Florida. Gamble is sending Agent Kriss to Jacksonville. He wants us to meet up with the Agent later tonight.”

  “Interesting,” Banyon replied.

  “I’ll bet Duggan works for that lawyer, Billy Bond,” Loni said. He is a white supremacist.”

  “That, I think, means he was the one who bugged our computers and probably has the codes,” Colt added.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Don’t you remember the banker calling me about someone trying to get into my bank accounts? They would have had to make a copy of my hard drive to do that. They found the codes, alright.”

  “And they have gotten greedy,” Loni added, following his train of thought. “They figured out they needed the locations and went after Hal Jones.”

  “Right,” Banyon said. “And we also know that Hal Jones is dead. The question is did they get the locations?”

  “Well, there is nothing more we can learn here. Let’s get a cab and head for the airport,” Loni said.

  “No message from Dr. Thorne?” Colt asked.

  “None.”

  Colt and Loni swung back one more time to see if Sofia was in her suite. No one answered the door and they could not even leave a message as the suite door fit the door frame so snuggly that there was no place to slip a message.

  “I’ll call the purser from the airport and have him deliver a note to her. She likes to have the young purser visit her,” Loni smiled.

  “Too bad,” Colt said. “She was fun to talk to.” He took Loni by the elbow and guided her to the line to exit the ship.

  After the long walk to the customs area, they hopped a cab and went directly to the airport. The island was like many parts of Mexico that Colt had visited. Small shops clogged the road through the city. The traffic on the island was also dense. At the airport, Loni called the purser while Colt managed the tickets. An hour later, they were airborne and asleep.

  Chapter Eighty-Six

  They arrived in Jacksonville right on time. Colt was starved and told Loni he wanted to stop for seafood at his favorite restaurant on Beach Boulevard as soon as they picked up their rental car. As they walked down the ramp, they noticed a group of Jacksonville police officers in the crowd. As they exited the reception area, an average-sized man stepped forward. He introduced himself as Detective Pellegrino. His shirt appeared to be two sizes too small. His biceps bulged from the short sleeves. Banyon was sure he worked out a lot. He spoke with a Brooklyn accent.

  “Are you Colton Banyon?”

  “Yes,” Banyon said slowly.

  “And are you Loni Chen?” the detective asked.

  “What is this about?” Loni managed b
efore the plainclothes cop read them their rights.

  ***

  They were handcuffed, driven to the station, and then separated. Colt now sat in an interrogation room. He was hot and thirsty and the hammering hangover headache was back. He knew they would make him wait awhile to wear him down. He honestly didn’t know what was going on. He wanted to ask Wolf, but he was sure that someone was watching him.

  Finally, Detective Pellegrino came in and before he sat down, he displayed a few karate moves. Banyon saw this as an attempt to intimidate him. It looked like he was preparing for a martial arts fight.

  “Do you know a Sofia Kerns?” he demanded.

  “Yes.” Colt tried not to embellish, as he knew that everything would go on record. He wondered if Sofia had changed her mind and was now trying to stop them from recovering the recipe and the book.

  “How long have you known her?” There was a list and the detective was reading the questions.

  “We just met onboard a cruise ship out of Mobile,” Colt said. “I didn’t know her before getting on the ship.”

  “You left the cruise ship when it docked in Cozumel. Yet you had tickets for the return trip. Why did you leave the ship, Mr. Banyon?”

  “You have arrested me for leaving a cruise ship?” Banyon was angry.

  “Answer the question,” Detective Pellegrino growled.

  “I don’t know that I have a good answer,” Banyon stated.

  The detective was suddenly aggressive. “Why did you kill Sofia Kerns?” He stood up and slapped the table.

  Banyon’s head snapped up. “Oh, no. Sofia is dead? Are you telling me she’s dead?” Banyon’s eyes welled up. His throat tightened. He could not think straight.

  “She was murdered this morning, about the time you left the ship. You were seen near her room,” the detective said as he pointed a menacing finger at Banyon.

  “We went to say good-bye. We never entered her room. We thought she was on deck exercising.”

  “So, you admit you knew her routine, then? What was your motive for killing her?” Detective Pellegrino persisted.

  “Detective, we were on the ship for only two days. Sofia exercised a lot. She always had on exercise clothes.”

  “When was the last time you saw her alive? Was it in her suite when you killed her?”

  Colt realized the detective was overplaying his hand. “I was with her until around lunchtime yesterday. We didn’t see her last night. I am innocent. Loni Chen will back up my story. She was with me all the time.”

  “Maybe that is because she was in on it, too.”

  Chapter Eighty-Seven

  Binh Handa was resting comfortably in his first-class seat on his flight from Cozumel. He had completed his assignment and was now winging his way home. He’d done well and now relived the experience as he sipped a beer.

  He had timed his mission so he could leave the ship immediately. He thought about taking her room key. He knew he needed a room key if he wanted to leave the ship with the other passengers, but he was worried that the ship had photo IDs built into the system. It was too big a risk. So he had left the ship the same way that he entered it. After all, this was Mexico. Things were lax here, he had been told.

  There had been a knock at the door while he was in her suite and he was prepared to fight, but the visitor left. He’d waited for several minutes, and then slipped out, carrying an empty tray. He went directly to his hidey-hole.

  He’d changed from his porter clothes and into travel clothes, then rushed through the corridors and down into the bowels of the ship. Security was tighter than he expected, and the Mexicans carried rifles. That made him very nervous. He’d decided to wait until the tourists started pouring on to the tarmac before he made his move. He would blend into the crowd. All he had to do was to make a call to his uncle to report his success and catch his noon flight. He was not able to get a direct flight to Japan and had to connect in Los Angeles, where there would be a four-hour layover. But by this time tomorrow, he would be back in Japan and collecting his reward. That made him happy. Killing the woman had made him sad.

  The old woman did not struggle much. When she answered the door, he grabbed her and threw her on the bed. She was skinny and unable to fight him off. He sat on her chest as he used the large pillow to suffocate the life from her. He then stripped off her clothes and carried her nude body to the shower. He banged her head hard against the wall, drawing blood, and left her slumped under the pulsing massage shower. It had to look like an accident.

  She probably wouldn’t even be discovered until he was far away, he thought. He was home free.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t consider that Loni Chen was very persuasive. From the airport in Cozumel, she had called the ship’s purser and sweet-talked the man into writing a note and delivering it personally to Sofia. The purser went directly to her room and knocked on her door. When no one answered, he decided to leave the note on the table inside. He heard the shower running as he entered the cabin, and eventually found Sofia, dead in the shower.

  It took the ship’s doctor about five minutes to determine that she had been suffocated—all the telltale signs were there, including a couple of feathers from the pillow in her mouth. All hell broke out and it didn’t take the Mexican authorities long to discover that a couple booked on the ship had flown the coop. The Jacksonville police were asked to intercept Banyon and Chen.

  Chapter Eighty-Eight

  Banyon was worried as he sat in the interrogation room at police headquarters. He and Loni did not kill Sofia, but he was pretty sure he knew who did. He told the detective that he saw a Japanese man on the ship, in the casino. Banyon told the detective the man was following them. The detective left the interrogation room. A few minutes later, he returned, did some more martial arts moves, and then sat down.

  “There is no record of a Japanese man traveling alone on the ship. In fact, there were no Japanese at all on the ship. Do you want to change your story?” Pellegrino asked as he cleaned his fingernails with a lethal looking knife.

  “But, I saw him,” Banyon said.

  “Okay, why was he following you?”

  “I don’t really know.”

  “This is not going very well for you, Mr. Banyon.”

  Presently, there was a tap on the glass mirror and the detective left the room again. Banyon was sure the police would realize he was not the killer and would let him go. But he was concerned about how long it would take and how much information he would have to divulge before he was released. He also wondered if Loni was confirming his suspect story.

  The door finally opened again. In walked his interrogator, another detective, and Loni. She was smiling.

  Banyon began to feel better immediately.

  “Colt, Steve, I mean Detective Pellegrino is a master in martial arts. He and I rolled together. It was so much fun.

  “Yeah,” the detective said as he cracked his knuckles. “She is real good in the clinch. I’ll go to the mat with her any day.”

  Banyon was not sure what all that talk meant, but he was sure that big Steve and little Loni had wrestled around a little bit. It didn’t make him happy.

  “You are free to go,” Detective Pellegrino said as he winked at Loni. “But we would like it if you could help us with this case.”

  “How can we help?” a shaken Banyon replied.

  “We have been able to view the security cameras onboard the cruise ship. All the halls have security cameras.” He now read from a note pad. “A porter entered Ms. Kerns’ suite at 7:45 a.m. He left at 8:45 a.m. We have a copy of his picture.” Pellegrino handed it to Banyon. “Is this the man who was following you?”

  The picture showed a Japanese man. The face was blurry. “I’m not sure,” he replied, “but he sure looks Japanese to me.”

  “You see, that’s the problem. There are no male Japanese crewmembers on the ship. Furthermore, as you know, there were no Japanese vacationers. We don’t know where he came from.”

  �
��Do you suspect that he killed Sofia?”

  “The timing is right and there seems to be no record of him anywhere. That is very suspicious. He most certainly is trapped on the island, or on the ship. We need a detailed description to do a manhunt. What more can you tell us about the man?”

  “I can tell you everything about him,” Loni chipped in. She held out her hand. A wallet had appeared.

  “What is this?” The detective looked suspiciously at Loni as he snatched it from her.

  “That is his wallet,” she stated flatly. “I thought it might be handy someday.”

  The detective pulled out the driver’s license and compared it to the photo. “Looks like our man, alright. How on earth did you get his wallet?”

  “I am a trained professional, remember?” she admonished the detective. “I spotted him trailing us in China and lifted his wallet. I never had a chance to return it.” She grinned sheepishly.

  “I’d better get this on the wire to the Mexican authorities,” Pellegrino said, moving toward the door.

  “He is Yakuza,” Loni added. “He has many tattoos. Also, you should check with the airlines. My guess is that he is heading back to Japan. He would have booked a ticket as soon as possible.”

  “Leave your cell phone numbers and where you are staying with this detective,” he said, indicating a short, nearly round, black detective.

  “I’ll leave our business cards and write the hotel name on the back of them,” Loni replied.

  Detective Pellegrino asked one more question. “Why did you come to Jacksonville?” He stood in the doorway, but both Loni and Colt knew that it was a technique to put them off guard as he asked the question.

  “Vacation,” they said in unison.