“It’s a small town. That’s not surprising, is it?” Bede snickered. Probably because my feigned innocence gave my voice a hokey ring.
“Did Bonnie tell you about an incident on the beach Wednesday night?” Brien asked Mitchum. Then he gave Mick and Willow a brief account of the story Cathy had shared with us at lunchtime.
“Yes. I’ll pay Snaggy and Moose a visit tomorrow and see what they have to say,” Mitchum replied, sighing. “Not the way I’d like to spend my Saturday, but I need to hear their recollection of the event before they get any foggier.”
“You may not have to do it. That’s one reason I dropped by,” Bede said. “I spoke to Al after lunch, and he told me he’d been unable to locate the dog’s owners—Dr. Elliot Mason and his wife. Then, I remembered what Carol Statler had just told me about an incident the night before last. She asked me if there could be any truth to it and I told her I wasn’t sure, but I’d speak to Snaggy and Moose. When I realized the dog found swimming in the ocean was now a dog with no owner, something gelled about the fact that a dog had been involved in the confrontation Carol described between two men on the beach. The word doc seemed like it might mean something else, too, after Al told Archie’s ownership had been linked to a Dr. Mason. I went straight to Sanctuary Grove, rounded up Snaggy and Moose, and had them tell me the story. I asked if they’d seen the dog Brien rescued this morning. They said yes, it was the same dog they’d seen at the marina and that it looked like the dog on the beach Wednesday night. I had less luck when I showed them a couple of pictures of Dr. Mason from the Internet. They said it could have been him, but it was dark that night. Most of the time, the man who drew the gun had his back to them.”
“Could the guy using the martial arts moves have called the guy with the gun ‘Doc?’” Brien asked.
“They voluntarily told me all about the ‘awesome takedown’ they’d witnessed but didn’t say a word about one of them calling the other one Doc until I asked.” Mitchum was twitchin’ after he heard that. His mustache also moved up and down until he grabbed it.
“A lot of good their testimony will do,” he huffed. “Let’s hope we don’t need it.” I ignored him.
“What else did they say about the other man who threw the first punch and then performed the ‘awesome takedown?’” Bede shrugged his shoulders in response to my question.
“Not much. They didn’t think they’d ever seen him before and didn’t see where he went after he reached the boardwalk. The man with the gun picked it up, put it away, and walked up the slope toward the resort.”
“Did Snaggy and Moose describe the guy who took off to the boardwalk?” I asked.
“In a vague way. They claim he was shorter than the man wielding a gun. Very thin—like a toothpick according to Moose—and bald.” My head turned toward Mitchum as if it had a will of its own. He held up both hands, warding off my gaze.
“Hold on before you jump to the conclusion that he’s the phony reporter that hassled Bonnie.” Then he spoke to Bede.
“Did Snaggy or Moose say the man was wearing glasses?”
“No, but I didn’t ask them about glasses.”
“Even if he wasn’t wearing glasses, that doesn’t mean it wasn’t the same spindly, nasty little man we saw at the clinic,” I argued. “The glasses he wore could have been as phony as his name and the claim that he was a reporter.”
“That could be true,” Mitchum said, as he helped himself to another taco. “Delicious, by the way, but I’d better cool it, so I have room for dinner when I get home. I haven’t given up trying to track down Teddy. He clearly misrepresented himself to Bonnie and refused to leave when she told him to go. Tomorrow, I’ll visit the manager of the rental company and see what he can tell me.” He gulped down his taco before he spoke again.
“The night manager at the resort also gave me the credit card number on file at the hotel for Elliot Mason. A guy like him must have a dozen of them, but we know he has that one with him. If Mason is the guy on the beach who was carrying a gun, he may be deliberately making it hard to find him because he’s on the run. If that’s the case, using a credit card would be dumb.”
“On the run from whom? Why?” I asked. As I said that, I caught Mick’s eye, pointed at the food and crooked my finger, beckoning him to come and get more. He looked at Willow, who nodded yes, and then handed him her plate as she gave me a thumbs up!
“If I knew that I’d have a better chance of sorting this out, wouldn’t I?” Mitchum groused. “Honestly, that he’s even on the run is pure speculation.”
“How does Earl Gardner fit into the picture?” Brien asked, reloading his plate with food.
“I wish I could tell you that. After Bonnie called and insisted that I ignore what Earl Gardner had said about not bothering the Masons and get into their suite, one of the first things I did was run a background check on him. Gardner came up clean, although he may know more than he’s saying about what’s up with the Masons. The story he told Al was obviously wrong, so I plan to have a chat with Gardner tomorrow. At this point, Earl Gardner comes across as a guy who’ll do just about anything to stay on the good side of a big sponsor that they’ve hooked to support the regatta.” The detective wiped his hands and mouth as if he was about to leave. “Bonnie told me to tell you that even though I’m on the case, it may take a while. In the meantime, you should plan on hanging onto the dog.”
“Before you go, Detective, you should probably hear this. Dr. Mason doesn’t just sponsor races, he bets on them.” Bede’s comments got a round of gasps and a groan from me.
7 Marina Missteps
Bede, our mysterious priest friend, didn’t explain how he’d discovered that Dr. Mason was a high roller in legal and illegal gambling circles. His “source” told him that Dr. Mason had run up tabs not just in the U.S., but also in gambling meccas around the globe.
“If he owes money he can’t pay, it’s no wonder Mason’s carrying a gun,” Mitchum had said. “Teddy doesn’t fit the profile of a debt collector or enforcer, but maybe he’s a bookie. He could be in trouble, too, if he can’t collect from ‘the Doc.’ I’ll make it a priority tomorrow to find out more about Teddy and to dig deeper into Dr. Mason’s financial situation. He wouldn’t be the first doctor to get in over his head trying to live well beyond his means.”
“Gambling can make that happen quickly,” Bede observed. “Can I take a brownie with me? I’d like to walk Bernie to his car.” I’d just set a platter of brownies on the bar as Mitchum headed for the door.
“Brownies?” the detective asked wistfully.
“How about brownies, to go, for both of you? Just give me a second.” The two men left with smiles on their faces as the aroma of chocolate swirled around us. We pounced on the brownies as soon as the door closed behind them. Willow and Mick were bursting with questions. They demanded to be told everything—starting at the beginning. It turned into a later evening than we’d planned as we talked while gorging ourselves on brownies and ice cream. When Willow fell asleep, we decided to call it a night. What a night!
Saturday morning, I felt like I had a hangover even though Willow and I hadn’t had anything to drink except diet cola and milk. A stress hangover was more like it or too much sugar. Archie trotted happily in front of us as we walked along an access road to a boat launch near the marina.
With the new addition, the boat launch had been moved. It used to be on the edge of what’s now part of the resort golf course. I’m sure the resort developers were happy about its new location, which still allowed locals to use the cove while causing less disturbance to the resort guests. They’d enlarged the launch and added a turnaround that made it easier for boaters to get their vehicles and trailers out of the area.
This early in the morning, a line had already formed as boaters waited for their turn. So far, no one seemed too irritated. They were all smiles when they caught sight of our dashing furry companion wearing a bright red bandana around his neck.
Suddenly,
I thought I heard movement behind us. When I stopped and turned around, the large hedge next to us was still moving. As we continued, I heard it again.
“Did you hear that?” I asked Brien.
“Yep! Don’t worry. It can’t be anything very big. A rabbit or a squirrel, maybe.”
When we got to the marina, we headed to the new section right away. As soon as we entered through the gate, a middle-aged couple stopped and spoke to Archie.
“Hello, fella. I haven’t seen you for a few days.”
“You know him?” I asked.
“My wife and I have seen him walk by with his owners several times—a well-dressed gentleman with his wife, a tall, stunning blond woman, on his arm.” The chatty fellow’s wife yanked on his arm. I thought that maybe she didn’t appreciate his appraisal of Mrs. Mason.
“We don’t know who these people are. What are they doing with Dr. Mason’s dog?” Then she took another look at Archie and scanned Brien from head-to-toe. She whispered something into her husband’s ear, and his eyes opened wide.
“This is the same dog, isn’t it? My wife has a good point, what are you doing with the dog found swimming alone in the cove?” Then his wife whispered something else.
“Are you sure, Mona?” he asked her. Then she shook her head in what appeared to be exasperation.
“Of course, I’m sure, Cary! You’re not the only one who has an eye for a stunning blond. I’d recognize those biceps anywhere.” Cary did a double-take—not at Brien, but at his wife. She winked at me as I suppressed a grin. Brien only blinked, oblivious to the exchange or maybe taken aback by the reference to him as a stunning blond with unforgettable biceps. My Brien has a shy streak.
“We’re anxious to find them and make sure they know their dog’s okay now that his rescue is in the news. When did you last see them?” I asked.
“Like I just said, it’s been a few days,” Cary replied.
“Can you be any more exact than that, please?” I asked. “All we have at this point is Dr. Mason’s name. The vet who made sure the dog was uninjured called and left a message, but the Masons haven’t responded. We know he has a boat, but he doesn’t seem to be entered in the race.”
“Nope. He’s doesn’t even own the right kind of boat. When did we last see them?” he asked Mona.
“This is Saturday…” she paused for a second. “It’s been a few days since we saw the dog, but it was early Thursday morning when we saw Dr. Mason and his wife.”
“Are you sure?” Cary asked.
“Of course, I am. They were having a party with people from the regatta—remember? We were wondering why they were taking those photos since he’s obviously not in the race. Then we heard one of the gentlemen thanking Dr. Mason for his sponsorship.”
“You’re right. That was Thursday morning, wasn’t it? We went to the Regatta Exhibition Hall later and saw Dr. Mason’s name and his picture, but we never spotted him.”
“Did they have their dog on the boat with them?” Brien asked, and waited for them to think about it before responding.
“No, I don’t believe I saw him. Did you, Mona?”
“No. No dog,” she said emphatically.
“You’ve been very helpful. Please keep what I’m going to ask you next between us, okay?” They looked at each other, and then Mona replied.
“Sure. We don’t want to get mixed up in anything. Do you want to know about the man getting onto their boat a while ago?”
“Uh, yes, that’s it,” I lied.
“We didn’t think it was a problem since it was the same man that we saw shaking Dr. Mason’s hand on Thursday. He was in some of those pictures in the exhibition hall with sponsors and organizers of the event. Cary remarked about Dr. Mason sending his errand boy around here awfully early.”
“Is this the man you’re talking about?” Brien held up his phone, showing them a picture of Earl Gardner.
“That’s him. A real suck up if you ask me. That’s what I meant by errand boy.”
“Should we have been concerned?” Mona appeared anxious as she asked that question.
“No, but we’ve already spoken to him. We’re trying to identify Dr. Mason’s other friends or associates, hoping they can help us locate him and return his dog. Did you recognize anyone else at the party?”
“There were others whose pictures are displayed in the exhibition hall. Is he missing?” Mona whispered. I looked from side-to-side before I replied.
“Yes, we believe so. Please keep this quiet. No one wants the word to get out given his importance to the regatta.”
“Maybe he’s gone on a bender somewhere. I saw the wife emptying a bottle of champagne after their little party. That’s one way to stop a man from drinking.”
“When was that? Where was I?” Mona asked.
“You were right next to me—when I stopped to tie my shoe, remember?”
“That couldn’t have been more than half an hour after the photographers and their other guests left. They were all drinking champagne. It doesn’t keep well, so maybe she was dumping the leftovers.”
“Those weren’t just any leftovers. A bottle of MCIII costs hundreds of dollars. I know that for a fact because it was a distinctive label that I hadn’t seen before, so I looked it up later. She must have had a darn good reason to get rid of it.” As Cary said that, I glanced at Brien.
“Did you see Dr. Mason leave the boat? Was he intoxicated?” Brien asked.
“Sorry, we were already on our way out of here when Cary caught that last glimpse of the stunning blond woman. Very observant, isn’t he, to have noticed the champagne label?”
“Yes, he is,” Brien responded. “We don’t want to hold you up anymore. Which boat belongs to Dr. Mason?”
“Goldilocks—it’s sitting right over there. You can’t miss it. It’s the biggest boat in the place. Good luck finding the guy. Mum’s the word,” Cary said as he and Mona left.
“What do you make of that?” I asked as we continued toward Mason’s boat.
“I’m with Cary,” Brien replied. “You don’t dump champagne like that overboard unless you’ve got an excellent reason to do it.”
“If the bottle contained more than expensive bubbly—like poison or a knockout drug—that would be a reason to dump it. Maybe she forgot to toss the empty bottle overboard, too, and her ‘errand boy’ came back to retrieve it.”
“That makes sense,” Brien agreed. “Well, it makes sense if Angela Mason and Earl Gardner are a couple of high-living lowlifes. Let’s hope Mitchum can keep Gardner on his radar while he investigates Mason and figures out who Teddy really is. This is getting complicated, isn’t it?” We’d wandered down to the end of the dock and were staring at the boat.
“Wifey-wife ought to be on Mitchum’s radar, too. As a suspect as well as a missing person,” I added.
“Will you look at the fishing gear? That’s intense!” Brien commented. “Mason must have switched from racing to fishing as his favorite watersport.”
“How big is this boat?” I wondered aloud.
“Sixty feet would be my guess,” Brien replied. “If I’m right, that makes it a yacht.”
I’d never heard of a fishing yacht. A regatta that included sailboats was referred to as a yacht race. What I know about boats I could write on a sticky note.
“Can I help you?” someone asked. As we turned, the guy who’d been at the entrance when we arrived stood there with both hands on his hips. We’d flashed our resort employee IDs when we reached the entry gate. At the time, he’d been dealing with several other people and had let us go on through.
“We’re trying to find Dr. Mason or his wife, so we can return their dog to them. They’re not at the resort, so we thought they might be on their boat.”
“Goldilocks is a great name—this boat looks ‘just right’ to me.” Brien laughed as he spoke in an exaggerated surfer dude tone. He almost sounded like Mick.
“The boat is named for his wife. I heard him call her that once. S
he didn’t seem to like it. He explained that the name came from a role she played when she was younger—much younger. She didn’t care for that comment either.”
“I hope Mrs. Mason enjoys fishing, Greg,” I addressed him by the name written on a tag hanging around his neck.
“It’s top-of-the-line gear, that’s for sure. The boat’s loaded with all sorts of amenities for his wife and her friends, too. A lounge with a bar, a luxurious master suite and bath, and several guest rooms. Even a fifty-five-inch flat screen TV.”
“A galley, too, right?” Trust Brien to be curious about where the food was kept on board.
“Yep. Sub-zero appliances, plus a grill on deck to cook up your catch…” He stopped speaking. “How do you like that? It looks as if someone broke in!” He pointed to a door that was ajar, and I spied a couple of dirty footprints that led from this side of the boat to the door. The footprints were still damp, and I didn’t see any coming back this way.
“You need to have our resort security crew patrolling this area,” Brien observed.
“I made the rounds myself not more than an hour ago.” He groused as he stepped into the spacious flat, open back of the boat. “Besides, that’s not up to me—way above my pay grade. The umpty-umps that expanded the marina are still in charge of security. Get Al on their case, not me.” Brien took the card out of his wallet. Archie was peering into the boat, whining.
“How do you spell that?”
“What?”
Radical Regatta! Page 6