Jane nodded, her pink hair shining in the morning sun. Heads snapped in Bernard’s direction at his endearing use of the name Janie.
“Well, you all have bits and pieces,” Liz said. “Manny, you start it off.”
“No, wait,” Geoff said. “I have a confession to make which is where it all started. Dottie, I’m sorry I didn’t take you into my confidence. The whole relationship with Ramirez spiraled out of control. Bottom line, when the economy went bust ten years ago, he loaned me money. Trouble surfaced when he kept raising the interest. I couldn’t pay putting my family in jeopardy. Dottie, Frank, and my dear daughter Charley, I hope someday you can forgive me. I’ve given my statement to the Daytona Beach Chief of police. He told me I may face prosecution for not informing them of ABC Trucking’s drug smuggling activities.”
“Oh, Geoff, you didn’t tell me that,” Dottie said.
“I know, sweetheart. No more secrets, I promise. I wanted to know what I was facing before I said anything. The chief said if I tell them everything I know about the operation my testimony will play in my favor. I’ll tell you more later. Alright Liz, pick up the story,” Geoff said leaning back in his chair with a big sigh. He had begun to clear his conscious.
“Okay, Manny. You fill them in on the double lives so many played.”
“First, Jose Ramirez. On the surface he owned ABC Trucking which turned out to be a front for drug smuggling from Miami north to the southern states and on up the east coast. We subsequently learned that Enrique Vasquez was in the process of taking over the Daytona Beach operation,” Manny said.
“And surprise, surprise, he was having an affair with Rachel, Ramirez’s wife,” Liz said.
“Oh, my,” Dottie said sipping her mimosa.
Manny spoke up. “Forensics has confirmed that Vasquez poisoned Ramirez and you Bernie.”
“What?” Bernie said.
“Yes. The tests the doctor performed the day you fell ill after playing golf showed arsenic in your system. The arsenic in your body matched that ingested by Ramirez. Rat poison. DBPD detectives found the poison in a shed on the Ramirez property. Our theory is that Vasquez used Ramirez to poison Geoff who unwittingly stirred up trouble. Geoff, you knew too much. Bernie, remember your golf game when you suddenly were taken ill? You and Geoff switched glasses as you told Fred when he interviewed you, something about his glass being frosted. The arsenic pieced the cases together. Bernie, you were one of the lucky ones in the case,” Manny said pausing for a sip of ice cold beer.
“Then there was Janet Scott,” Liz said picking up the story. Her brow furrowed as she gazed at everyone waiting to hear what she was going to reveal. “She was never in the military, and never worked for the Feds. She built an elaborate scheme to take over the cartel. Her real name is Juanita Lopez.”
“Wait,” Frank said. “I checked her references. They were stellar.”
“Umm, yes, and how did you find those references? Telephone numbers, email addresses? And what did you do with those two itty-bitty treasures?”
“She gave them to me…she played me. Stupid! Stupid!” Frank said.
“Don’t feel bad but learn from it. She played a lot of people. She saw your job post, she knew Geoff was involved somehow with ABC, and knew he was your father.” Liz said.
“She was scheming to take over not only Ramirez, but to kill off Vasquez. Her goal—take over the biggest cartel out of Venezuela,” Manny said. “She suddenly saw her chance—Vasquez was in her cross hairs. One more thing, Forensics has a positive ID of the remains pulled from the car explosion as Enrique Vasquez.”
“Charley, tell us what you told Fred, how you escaped from the car.” Liz said.
A shudder ripped through Charley, quickly wrapping her arms around her body. Taking a gulp of air, she focused on Liz. “When I made it to the rest area, I called you, Liz, and then went to freshen up. I was so surprised, happily so, when Rachel walked in.”
“By the way, Charley, Rachel’s story rings true. It was a coincidence that she and Vasquez stopped at the rest area at the same time you were there. According to her, she and Vasquez had been searching for you and Geoff for several hours, driving back and forth on the road where you disappeared, up and down side roads. They were hungry. Rachel, like you, needed to freshen up. She was as surprised to see you as you were to see her,” Manny said.
Charley sighed. A coincidence. “She and Vasquez thought I was a threat because of the video Michael shot—I could recognize the smuggling green truck and connect it to ABC Trucking—”
“Like I did when you showed Liz and I the video,” Manny said.
“They knocked me out with something. I’ll never forget the smell.”
“Rachel told us Vasquez was in the back seat,” Manny said. “When you got in the car he leaned over slapping a rag with chloroform over your nose and mouth.”
“When I came to, I heard them scheming that they were almost rid of all ties to Ramirez, and he and Rachel could take over the cartel. I didn’t bat an eyelash…pretended to still be out of it. Hearing them talk I realized that Vasquez was going to kill me. I continued to play dead in the front seat, slumped over. They had tied my ankles and wrists, taped my mouth so I couldn’t call for help. They kept getting in and out of the car. But when Rachel, I think it was Rachel, opened the door on my side, she walked into the bushes. I thought Vasquez was out of the car so I took a chance and frantically squirmed to roll out of the car, kept rolling with the momentum from falling out of the car not knowing there was an embankment…rolled down…under a bush. I was lucky I didn’t roll into Rachel. I could hear her thrashing her way back to the car…and then there was an explosion. That was all I knew until Bentley found me giving me a sloppy kiss. He started barking, a huge deep bark. Yes, you pretty dog,” Charley said scratching his soft ears. Bentley sat, stoic, ears up.
“I wonder what’s going to happen to the real estate agency,” Bernie said, winking at Jane dressed in her favorite dress on the fourth of July—navy blue with red and white cabbage roses. She patted Bernie’s hand,” You are lucky to be alive, Bernard, but yes, Charley, what about the agency?”
“I really haven’t had time to check. Rachel’s under arrest. Kitty and Hank called, said the building’s landlord locked the doors and hung a closed sign in the window. That’s all I know. The three of us would like to pool our resources, take over the lease, but no way do we have enough money. We’d have to negotiate a lower rate and ask for a free month until we reorganized. At least until we closed a few sales. The two of them had several closings in the pipeline, and after the Springers, I was getting more clients. A couple, one of my clients, was eager to buy but no offer documents were signed,” Charley said. “One thing I do know, none of us, not me, Kitty, or Hank qualify to own an agency.”
“Why not, dear,” Dottie said. “Seems like you three would start with a leg up, your pipeline?”
“Charley’s right,” Bernie said, popping a cantaloupe ball into his mouth. “She needs a Broker’s license, a broker of record.”
“Oh, for goodness sake, Dad,” Geoff said. “A licensed broker wouldn’t be lolling about.”
“Grandpa Bernie’s right. I learned how someone can start a private agency when I was studying for my real estate license,” Charley said.
“How do you find one of those brokers, Bernard?” Jane said.
“Easy. You’re looking at one,” Bernie said with a chuckle.
Shocked, everyone’s eyes turned to the patriarch of the family. Liz and Manny exchanged glances—who would have thought. Help is on the way.
“Come on Dad, you never—” Geoff started to say.
“Never what, son? How would you know what I did before you were born? I owned my own company, drafting services for large construction projects—made the Kingman’s initial fortune. I was first to adopt CAD in this area. I got my broker’s license just in case I ran into a good deal through my drafting business. But I never took advantage of it,” Bernie said.
“CAD…stands for what, Bernard?” Dottie said.
“Computer Aided Design—no more slaving over the drafting table. And, also under your radar, Geoff, I’ve kept my license current—taking a short Continuing Ed course every year, renewing my license every two years—”
“Dad, how did you do that without my knowing and—”
“You were busy. Besides it tickled me to have something to do. So, Charley, how about we go into business together?”
“Wow, you mean it, Grandpa? It would be a lot of work and—”
“Not for me, sugar. You, yes. Me, no. I’ll be the broker of record to qualify the business, but you will be the owner of record. I have no intention of coming out of retirement…well, long enough to sign the papers, and, of course, keeping up with my Continuing Ed. And I’ll be available to give advice, consult from time to time. Then it will be up to you to make a go of it.”
“Bernard, the girl will need an investment, some cash to get started,” Jane said.
“I’m aware of that. You’re not the only one who has money squirreled away, my pet. Charley, you check on the fees to start the business. Put together a budget—rent, utilities, marketing, etcetera. Sign up those two agents you spoke of. Tell them about our deal. Talk to the landlord. How much to continue the lease minus the first couple months. Make a deal for the rent, and you want the doors open immediately. After all, he doesn’t have to go through the hassle of finding a new tenant, maybe even having to renovate. You’ll take it as is. So Granddaughter, do we have a deal?”
Bernie stood, arms outstretched. Charley threw her arms around him kissing both cheeks.
“We have a deal Bernard Kingman. I won’t let you down. I promise.”
“That never crossed my mind, sugar.”
“Well, Bernard, you let Liz and I know if we can help,” Jane said.
Bernie patted her hand, looking into her pretty blue eyes, nodding his head. He turned to Charley. “Jane is always looking for a new adventure. Mortimer, Jane’s first husband, had a willing partner in their fortune, the millions they amassed.” Lately, Bernie wondered if he and Jane could build such a relationship.
Chapter 55
────
FRANK STOOD AT THE far edge of the terrace arms across his chest, his back to the family. Staring at the horizon, at the waves building out in the ocean, he felt the power of the waves as tension swept through his body.
His sister had come through a near death ordeal. He was thankful for that. He envied her new relationship with their father. But Frank’s struggle had nothing to do with his family. His business was on the cusp of a major breakthrough, but he was facing the real prospect of losing it all. The late hours solving major technical roadblocks as he toiled designing the next generation of drones in the residential and commercial markets, mediating staff issues—all for nothing.
With the death of Ramirez, it finally came to light why his dad kept telling him the gravy train was over. No more investments in DroneKing. He now understood that the family’s beloved beach house was in jeopardy. Frank felt responsible for both his startup business and his family being on the verge of bankruptcy. No matter how he worked the numbers, nothing added up to anywhere near enough funds to go forward.
Charley tapped his arm, held up a mimosa, the crystal glass sending shards of rainbows from the sun over her white halter dress.
“Penny for your thoughts my brother,” she said, sipping her drink as she gazed out over the turbulent ocean.
“I’m happy for you, sis, sounds like Grandpa has thrown you a lifeline. As for my thoughts…they’re not worth a penny,” Frank whispered.
“Hey, come on. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong that a million bucks couldn’t fix,” Frank said.
“Umm. That’s quite a sum. I thought orders were pouring in after the conference especially for the toy drone—Pigeon. You have a business plan, production and office space. True, your administrator didn’t work out, but I don’t see a problem—”
“You’d think orders pouring in would be a good thing for a toy like Pigeon. But sister dear, not if they come in by the hundreds with no money to buy the parts to build them. No toy drones to fill the orders. The attendees at the conference were intrigued with Mercury and fell in love with Pigeon. Pigeon was an unexpected hit,” Frank said.
Liz joined the pair, the two women flanking him. Tavis sauntered over making it a foursome, draping his arm around Charley.
“Surely with orders a bank will—” Charley began to say.
Frank glanced at Liz then Tavis. “You’d think, but no. I have no track record, haven’t produced anything but a nice prototype. My design hasn’t been tested in the marketplace. Sure a few crazy people at a show in Vegas liked what they saw but a bank won’t loan money on any of the above. The orders aren’t pre-pay. They pay on delivery. After all, DroneKing is a startup. If they pre-paid I could take the money and run—never deliver.”
“But you’re also building an incubation center for research, innovation in the technology?” Liz said.
“Silicon Valley, Liz. Startups come and go, emphasis on go, as go under, close up shop taking investor’s funds with them. I made a few calls to possible investors. I was told they had picked their winners in the drone category. ‘So sorry,’ they said. ‘Call us back when you have several million in revenue. Not sales, mind you, in revenue. Maybe we can take you to a billion.’ Thanks for nothing.” Frank rocked back and forth on his heels.
“Not a very funny joke,” Tavis said.
“They weren’t joking partner. They were dead serious. Hearing Dad’s problems…that well has dried up. We need a half a million today, another half million the day after.”
“I’ll sell my new Lincoln convertible in Arizona—fifty grand,” Tavis said.
“Hold on a minute, Frank,” Liz said. She scooted off across the terrace. Charley saw her make a beeline for Grandpa Bernie and her Aunt Jane. The three heads together made a colorful picture—springy red curls, a pink bouffant, and a silver fox.
Liz grabbed Jane’s hand, who grasped Bernard’s hand, the train of three circling around Frank making six heads bent into a huddle.
Frank and Jane carried on an animated conversation for the first few minutes. Then Bernie had something to say. Bentley aware his BFFs had moved to the other side of the terrace, stretched then trotted over assuming his sphinx position between Frank and Charley.
Sitting under the umbrella table on the opposite side of the terrace, Manny, Dottie, and Geoff sipped their mimosas. Manny looked over at the crowd and smiled. He loved it when his wife and her Aunt Jane were scheming.
“Geoff, that group over there is cooking something up. And when my sweetheart and her Aunt Jane get together, it’s usually about one thing,” Manny said.
“And what’s that?” Dottie said.
“Money.”
Right on queue the crowd looked over at the umbrella table.
All smiles, Bernie was the first to break away striding over to his son. “Geoffrey, you know those bottles of champagne we bought at the turn of the millennium?”
“Yes, they’re still in the wine fridge as far as I know,” Geoff said.
“I’ll go, Frank said. “Charley, you get the glasses.”
“What’s going on children?” Dottie said.
“Wait for the champagne, Dottie,” Bernie said.
Dottie and Geoff locked eyes with Manny their brows scrunched. What was going on?
Frank returned with the champagne, handing a bottle to Tavis. The two, with great effort, popped the corks as Hildy and Charley returned with crystal champagne flutes.
“And what are we toasting?” Geoff said while Frank and Tavis did the honors of pouring the bubbly.
Jane lifted her glass. “Here’s to DroneKing, Inc. I’ve just been appointed the first Director investing a half a million now and another half million when needed. Geoffrey, with the money you’ve already invested in Frank�
�s company you are appointed the second Director provided you accept two-hundred thousand to get Kingman Construction on its feet again.”
“What the?” Geoff said.
“You heard her,” Bernie said. “Provided you accept the terms. And I just loaned my granddaughter fifty grand to reopen the agency under the name of King Real Estate.” Bernie savoring a sip of champagne and placing a quick peck on Jane’s pink bowed lips.
Manny laughed looking at Geoff. “I told you to watch out when Liz and her Aunt Jane get together.
“Hildy, this calls for some hors d'oeuvres. Charley, come help us,” Dottie said.
Frank took a deep breath. “Tavis, last one in the water is a Loggerhead turtle.”
“I’m with you brother.”
Tavis chased Frank down the boardwalk. The pair ran into the rolling waves shoes and all. Swimming a few yards out, they pumped a high five and swam back to shore. The crashing waves earlier in the morning were now rolling surf as the tide began to recede.
Both men spoke at once. “Pigeon! The holidays!”
Laughing they walked up to a sandy knoll, sat rolling up their wet jeans. Ideas of how to tackle the orders spewed out, one after the other, incomplete sentences, phrases, building on each other’s ideas.
“Pigeon—a toy drone for Christmas…” Frank said.
“Colors. Offer kids, parents a choice. A group of kids playing need to know which toy is theirs…” Tavis said staring out at the water envisioning a group of small children playing with Pigeon.
“Silver, black, red, yellow, green, midnight blue…” Frank sprang to his feet, starting to walk down the beach Tavis matching his stride. They turned. Headed back to the beach house, walking faster and faster.
“Outsource. We have to outsource,” Frank said. “I know the head of a model airplane company…”
“They’d have the staff…” Tavis said.
“Who wants a model airplane as a gift when you can buy a toy drone?” Frank countered.
“That company would know how to put small toys together…like a drone. Heck, a model airplane and a drone—both have propellers,” Tavis said with a chuckle.
A Toy for Christmas Page 18