Murder at Fire Bay

by Ron Hess

  She nodded her head once. I guessed it might not be to her liking, but maybe in pursuit of a story it was okay.

  “You can call me Leo.” I reached forth my hand, as if to cement a new relationship. She took it, but I could tell she was reluctant. No doubt thinking about all that sausage and grease I had so recently ingested, she released my hand rather quickly.

  “I have a story for you,” I said, “but it can’t be told here. I would like to meet with you somewhere else later this evening. Is that possible?”

  She looked around the room slowly. I decided that intrigue suited her.

  Her face came back to me. “Where and when?”

  “Wherever you would like. Preferably in a quiet place out of sight.”

  Her eyebrows raised. “You have a new car that people will notice. I think I should come to your place at the High Bluff.”

  I wasn’t really in favor of that, what with Mrs. Mordant’s nose for news, but perhaps I could get away with a visit or two. I could say that Emily was interviewing me for a newspaper article. Only later that day did I wonder how she knew where I was staying. No secrets in a small town.

  “Okay, for this time it will work. Bring a heavy coat and dress casual. This has to remain confidential until I say otherwise, okay? I know you reporters don’t like to be put in a spot like that, but it’s for my safety and for the prevention of crime.”

  She took a deep breath and looked around the room again. Her mouth twitched to one side. I could guess this wasn’t to her liking, but the reporter in her told her this was more than a basketball game.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Good. You won’t be disappointed. Remember, not a word to anyone. You’re the only one I know I can trust.”

  I felt a guilty twinge in my gut when I made that last statement, but I had to have her completely on my side. She nodded, and left while I sipped on the dregs of my third cup.

  “Well, Bronski, sitting with the enemy?”

  I came near to dropping my coffee cup. Had he been there the whole time?

  I looked up to see him coming into my range of vision. Never again would I sit with my back to the door.

  “Good morning, Chief. Nope, I learned a long time ago, it’s good to be on the good side of the town newspaper, especially when people are complaining about lost packages,” I said quietly.

  “Yeah, I guess it does at that.”

  He was quiet for a few seconds as if trying to make up his mind about something.

  “I understand another package was found,” he said in a loud voice.

  I’m sure my eyes looked like they were going to fall out of their sockets, as I tried to motion with them toward the rest of the room. This was not for public consumption. If only one person in the restaurant put two and two together, rumors would be out and about in no time.

  “Uh huh” was all I could say, along with a look that said something like, “are you crazy?”

  He sat down in the chair opposite me and pushed Emily’s dishes aside.

  A waitress came and plopped a cup of coffee down. “That’s five bucks you owe me, Chief.”

  He nodded, and waved her off. She left with a smile. Evidently, an inside joke.

  “Who told you?”

  “Ashley,” he said, this time in a quiet voice. “She said she wanted to keep the local law informed. I understand you found it on Saturday. Why didn’t you call?”

  “Eventually I would have, after I talked to my people. You must remember the post office is a federal institution. I only brought you in as a courtesy.”

  He nodded, as if accepting this explanation.

  I looked at my watch. “Chief, I have to get to work. See you later.”

  “Right, Bronski. Keep me up to date on this.”

  I left the restaurant, puzzled and angry. Why had Ashley told him? For points? Did they have a thing going? Why would someone in the drug scene, as she was, keep the law informed? Ashley was smart, there had to be a reason. Was the police chief a player on the drug scene or had he simply goofed there in the restaurant?

  All these questions whirled in my mind as I pulled into the postmaster’s parking place. I felt I was behind the eight ball with no corner pocket to hide in.

  Chapter 23

  As I entered the main floor of the post office, I took great care to look upbeat and casual, taking time to converse with the troops. It was especially important now for me to have their respect. Their big complaint of too much overtime was going to be resolved. I had the Boss’s promise on that. Another employee was to be hired shortly. With that out of the way, the attitude problem was beginning to inch up on the scale.

  I made it to my office and closed the door. The first thing I did was to dig out my trusty tape recorder. Mostly I used it to record my to-do items, but now it was going to become my undercover partner and reside in my shirt pocket behind my pocket insert with its assorted pens. Hopefully, the fact my pocket bulged a little would be ignored. Every time somebody talked to me, it would turn on and record their voice. It was one of the few ways I could hope to combat Ashley and her poison.

  We shared the same phone system, which meant she knew when I was talking, and vice-versa. I knew she was in her office, so I decided to run a little test. I called a local restaurant to reserve a table for lunch. While I talked, I listened for any telltale clicks. Sure enough, Ashley had listened in. I hung up so quickly that she was caught by surprise. My phone line light stayed on for at least three seconds after I hung up. Her listening in meant I had to make confidential calls elsewhere. Thank goodness we live in a time when cell phones are a given for the hurried executive. I decided to purchase one ASAP.

  But first things first. I picked up the phone and dialed the in-house number for Ashley. “Ashley, could you come to my office, please?”

  “I’m awful busy.”

  I could feel my face light up. “Ashley, do you have a customer standing in front of you?”

  “No … ”

  “Then get the hell in here!” I said, and hung up.

  After about five minutes, she came dragging through the door. She stood there in the doorway, her eyes shooting daggers.

  “Close the door—softly, Ashley, softly.”

  She surprised me by doing just that. Evidently, she understood a loud door slam carried a message to the people on the main floor.

  “Sit down, Ashley.”

  She crossed her arms. “I prefer to stand,” she said. I could almost hear the icicles tinkling.

  I just shook my head. “Very well.”

  I went on to tell her about the conversation with the police chief about the package I found on Saturday. That I was in charge and I would decide who would be told and when. Her mouth dropped open and then closed, her lips in a narrow line.

  “So, tell me, Ashley, is the chief in on your little game of drug pushing? Hmm . . . ?”

  She regained her composure. “Why, ah don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “Ashley, he stated in a loud voice right there in the restaurant that you had found a package on Saturday, a day, I remind you, that you chose not to be here. It’s a documented fact.”

  “Why, ah can assure you the chief is not involved in any way with drugs. He is a friend of mine. I simply wanted to keep him informed so he would know what’s going on in the community.”

  “Once again, Ashley, I remind you who’s in charge around here. You are not to discuss these lost packages with anyone except me or the Boss.”

  “Oh, ah think we know who is in charge around here, don’t we?”

  And, so help me, she pulled the picture of her and me out of her pants pocket and held it up for me to see, smiling her smile. “Besides, I already called the Boss on this. He was most appreciative.”

  I managed to close my mouth before it opened all the way. “Oh, I’m sure he was,” I said. I watched as she put the picture away. “One more thing, Ashley. Do you know who killed Gloria out there on the water?”

/>   The icicles became even longer. “No. May I go now, Mr. Bronski?”

  I nodded. The door closed softly behind her. I reflected over what had occurred. I had hoped to catch her unawares, but maybe I was hoping for too much. Playing games was not a forte of mine. There was nothing on the tape that would show guilt on Ashley’s part. I looked down at my shirt pocket again to see if anything was noticeable. Nothing was, so I decided to keep on carrying the recorder. Someday Ashley would screw up and say something that I could use to send her sweet tail to jail.

  I looked up at the clock: time for lunch. Once again, I forced myself to saunter around the main floor as if everything were hunky-dory. Everybody was quiet.

  As I went by Martha’s case, she muttered, “How do you like it?”

  “Like what?” I answered quietly.

  “Little Miss Sweetness has decreed there be no talking on the main floor.”

  My heart sank. Crap! There was going to be trouble. All because Little Miss Sweetness, as Martha called her, couldn’t keep her ego in check.

  I sighed. “Thanks,” I said. At that very moment, I wasn’t sure what I could do about it.

  I wanted to trust Martha, to confide to her what Ashley was up to, but for the moment, I decided not to. Hadn’t the Boss said not to trust anyone? It was good advice and I meant to follow it. I exited the back door and made for my car in the postmaster’s slot.

  As I drove away, I noticed Ralph also pulling out of the parking lot. Again, I tried to recall the voice that night at Ashley’s place. It wasn’t the chief’s. Could it have been Ralph? It had to be someone who was strong enough to drag me to the bed and remove my clothes. Ashley couldn’t have done it; her arm muscles looked too small.

  I looked in my rear view mirror and noted Ralph was a block behind. He stayed there until I pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot and then drove on by. Ashley was taking no chances. She was doing her best to know where I was at all times.

  Twenty minutes later I bolted out the door after a quick meal of soup and a sandwich. Ralph’s car was nowhere in sight. Good, maybe I had a little time to make my acquisition. I drove over to a hardware store. I had noticed an advertisement for cell phones in the local paper and I meant to have one. Thirty minutes later I walked out of the hardware store, cell phone in hand. For some reason, it was a great morale boost. Some people feel cell-phones are the curse of modern man, but to me it was God’s gift. It would help balance out the evil that swirled about me—or such was my hope.

  Since I had a few minutes before I would be missed at work, I drove out to a parking area near the beach and watched the waves come in. I took a cautious look around. Good, no Ralph. I slouched down in my seat. It was time to try out God’s gift to man.

  “Boss. It’s me.”

  “Bronski! Where in hell have you been? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all morning. You’re going to have to do a better job of staying in touch!”

  “Yes, sir,” I answered, all meek and mild, but underneath I was thinking “Dam her!”

  “Boss, before we start, I need to give you my cell phone number. Please do not tell a soul I have it, okay? Not even Ashley.”

  “Okay, Bronski, I have the number. Now tell me why you have fallen off the wagon.”

  “I haven’t,” I said. But I knew my answer was suspect. Ashley’s poison was spreading.

  The Boss then told me how I had had so much to drink at Ashley’s party I had to stay the night. “And in front of the town council! Bronski, how could you? Do you know how much harm you did to the Postal Service?”

  I then told him what really happened. How I was being blackmailed by Ashley. That she was into the drug scene big time, and that I suspected the local police chief was also. I also told him how I found the package in a trashcan.

  “Yeah, I know all about that. Ashley said she found it. Bronski, you can sure tell some whoppers. The computer says she was there on Saturday.”

  “I’m telling the truth, Boss.”

  “Yeah, well.”

  Obviously, the Boss didn’t believe me. I regretted giving him the cell phone number. He would use it while I was at the office and I didn’t want that. I decided to change tack.

  “Boss.”

  “Yeah, Bronski.”

  “Can you tell me where Ashley came from?”

  “Someplace in Florida, I forget what town. She came highly recommended.”

  “I’m sure she was,” I answered.

  “Any new info on Gloria?”

  “No, I haven’t had time.”

  “Well, find some time and stay out of the bars!”

  I didn’t answer the last remark. I simply hung up the phone. Let him think what he wanted. Right then, my faith in human nature was at a low ebb. After all we had been through together . . . to think the Boss would believe her and not me. I found it hard to digest.

  I sat for a few more minutes staring at the waves, looking for some thought to bail me out of this situation. I yearned for Jeanette and the simplicity of our life at Howes Bluff. I had to tell her about not only my supposed transgression, but also that I had lied to her about everything being okay with Ashley. I took a deep breath and dialed John Crouch at the postal inspector’s office.

  He picked up the phone on the first ring. “Yeah, Bronski.”

  “You know this phone number?”

  “I just got it from your boss.”

  “We need to talk,” I said.

  “Yeah, I bet you do.”

  I went on to tell him about Ashley and her attempted blackmail and how the Boss seemed to believe her over me.

  “Do you know where she came from in Florida and why she chose to come to a place like Fire Bay?” I asked.

  “No, Bronski, I don’t know why she chose Fire Bay. Maybe she wanted to get away from the fast track of the lower-48.”

  “Are you going to investigate what I just told you?”

  “Maybe,” he said, “but I have to tell you that you don’t look very good right now.”

  We said our good-byes and I put the phone back in my pocket. I checked the tape in the recorder in my shirt pocket and headed back to the office.

  I walked into the main room and noted again it was as quiet as a man in a closet when the husband has unexpectedly come home. I stopped to talk to an employee, and immediately Ashley came busting out of her office.

  “I thought I told everyone to be quiet out here. Oh, it’s you.”

  “Yes, Ashley, it’s me,” I said, trying to give her a cold, granite-hard look. And, with that, I headed back to my office, leaving her to stand there on the floor. There were a few snickers in the background.

  It wasn’t long after I was back in my office that Ashley knocked and entered. “You took almost two hours for lunch. Where were you?”

  “I took my time reading a newspaper. Why?”

  “Just don’t try anything funny, Leo. Remember?”

  “Remember what?” I asked.

  She waved her hand and gave me that look of disdain. She hauled out the picture of her leaning over me again. “Oh, you mean the picture of you leaning over me.” I’m sure my face became red.

  She bared her teeth in a snarl and shook her head, then walked out the door without saying a word. I looked down at my shirt pocket, but I could see no outline of the tape recorder. But Ashley’s actions suggested she suspected I was trying to trick her into saying something.

  Chapter 24

  At 5:30, I was sitting on the edge of the bluff with the old man. He was being strangely quiet this evening. There was no slobbery muttering this time. Evidently, he had given up trying to communicate with the dummy that sat beside him. I couldn’t say that I blamed him. I was so lost in my thoughts I was barely conscious of his being there. I wished the day were over, but it wasn’t. I had a reporter coming and then the hardest job of all, calling my wife and telling her what had happened at the party and how I was on the outs with the Boss. Well, it was time to get my man back to the kitc
hen’s warmth.

  “Arness, are you ready to go?”

  He struggled to say something, and I thought, oh, no not again. “Short . . . ”

  There it was, plain as day. Short. I decided he meant we had stayed out a short time.

  “Yes, we did stay out a short time, didn’t we? Sorry.”

  It looked as though he was going to shake his head, but then he nodded.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  He gripped the sides of the wheelchair and leaned forward. Off we went, with me barely keeping the wheelchair under control as we careened down the hill to the house.

  Mrs. Mordant waited at the door with a grimace and raised eyebrow. “Someday you’re going to have a wreck!”

  “Sorry, ma’am,” I said, “I guess I do get carried away coming down that hill. I’ll try to go slower next time.”

  “Hair . . . ”

  “Would you listen to that! Dad, you’re doing better!”

  Mrs. Mordant wiped her eyes and wheeled him off to his room. I watched them go, thinking about his situation, and how lucky I was to be standing there in one piece.

  It was 6:30 by my watch when I heard a knock at my door that I had come to recognize as being Mrs. Mordant’s hurry-up-I-don’t-have-all-day knock.

  “There’s a Ms. Jems downstairs wanting to talk to you,” she said, through the door in a voice loud enough to wake the dead. Or was she giving me a chance to jump out the window and make my escape? I was sure Mrs. Mordant knew all about the woman with the buckteeth. I roused myself off the bed and said I’d be right down. After a quick check in the mirror I walked downstairs to see Emily, dressed casually in Levi’s and sweatshirt, standing there in the kitchen.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee?” I asked.

  “No, thank you,” she murmured.

  I knew we couldn’t talk in the kitchen, and talking in my room for very long would raise the town’s eyebrows. There was only one place to go, and that was the bluff. I retrieved my jacket and got a cup of coffee.

  “Shall we go?” I asked, hand on the doorknob.

  Mrs. Mordant looked aghast. “Why, you don’t have to leave. You can chat in the TV room while I work here in the kitchen.”