Radical Regatta!

by Anna Celeste Burke

  “Some rich old guy at the exhibition hall.”

  “What’s going on?” Willow asked. “Eew, that smell! I’m going to be sick!” Then she turned and fled toward the house.

  “Is this him?” Brien asked, holding out his phone with that picture of Earl Gardner on it.”

  “It could be. Old guys all look alike, don’t they? He had hair.”

  “Whatever you say, tough guy. What were you supposed to do with the collar once you had it?” I asked.

  “Take it to a car that’s waiting at the corner a block or so down—that away,” he said, pointing. “I left my bicycle near there.”

  “Don’t move,” Brien said. “You may be a kid, but assault and battery isn’t kid’s play. For all you know, this dog could be a trained killer.” As Brien said that, Archie wagged his tail and stepped forward. The guy on the ground pulled his legs up to his chest. Mick took a step after Brien and then hesitated.

  “Go on, our stinky pal, here, isn’t going anywhere. He doesn’t want to risk losing an appendage to this vicious attack dog.”

  “Do you?” I asked him. Mick didn’t wait around to hear his answer. The teen on the ground shook his head no.

  “Can I take off this disgusting shirt?” he asked.

  “I don’t care. Move slowly, though, so you don’t upset the dog.” He eyed Archie as he removed his sweatshirt very slowly. Fortunately, he had on a T-shirt underneath.

  “Where are the police?” he asked. “I want to talk to the police and call my parents. I didn’t have anything to do with a murder.”

  “Don’t worry. You’re going to get your chance to talk and talk and talk. Watch out for the twitchy guy with the big, bushy mustache. He’s almost as nasty as this dog! Didn’t the rich man who hired you warn you to wear gloves and body armor to protect yourself from the dog?”

  “No,” he replied. “He didn’t warn me about you, either.”

  “I may be a crazy chick, but you can thank your lucky stars I was with the dog to control him. Did the guy say why he wants the collar?”

  “No, but he told someone on the phone that he had an idea about how to get the information in the dog’s collar. Now I know why he said, ‘Don’t worry. I know you don’t want the dog back.’ Who wants to live around a killer?” As if on cue, Archie growled.

  “Guys like the one who hired you aren’t afraid of a little thing like murder. You’d better come up with every bit of information you can remember if you want the police to protect you now that you’re in deep doo-doo.” Then, I laughed maniacally.

  “I’m pretty sure he was on the phone with a woman,” he blurted out.

  I heard sirens growing closer, and then the screech of tires. The police turned onto our street and pulled up in front of the house. Brien and Mick came running back about thirty seconds later.

  “He got away!” Brien shouted.

  “Was it Gardner?” I asked.

  “The driver tore off before I could see for sure. He came up on the curb, trying to run me down. I got a few numbers from his license plate. I’ll send them to Mitchum.”

  “Babyface, here, says the man who hired him was on the phone with a woman who didn’t want the dog back. Who do you suppose that could be?”

  12 The Missus

  It took a while for the police to figure out how to transport the odious would-be criminal on our lawn. Brien asked the officers who hauled him away to take it easy on him since we’d already scared the bejeebers out of him. Besides, when the police notified his parents, I don’t believe my juvenile assailant was as relieved as he thought he’d be to have them waiting for him at the police station. I heard his father bellow from where I stood a foot away!

  By the time we sat down to eat, our pizza wasn’t hot anymore. After all the action, I didn’t care. We were starving—even Willow.

  “Hopefully, he’ll never do anything like that again,” Willow said. “You may have saved his life, too. If Earl Gardner’s the one who killed Uri Popov and tied him up like that, what’s one more murder?” When Mick got home, he’d told Willow about the most recent trouble at the marina. We hadn’t had much to add, although we did give them an update about what Bede had told us about Uri Popov.

  “Whoever was behind the wheel would have taken out Brien if he could have done it,” Mick said. “With the sirens closing in on us, too. That was audacious!”

  “I didn’t expect him to try that and he almost got me! I can see him trying to set up Mason if Gardner had something on the doctor that he could use to sell the idea to Nizenski.”

  “Tying up the dead guy in Nizenski’s boat slip was a message of some kind, but it wasn’t a very good way to frame Mason or anyone else as you said earlier, Brien.” Then I reconsidered the issue from the point of view of a man obsessed with another man’s wife. “If Gardner is bent on having Goldilocks all to himself, that’s a reason to want Mason out of the picture. Maybe he’s not thinking clearly and tried to set up Mason even though it was such a lame attempt.”

  “Mick was right that he’s audacious. He may not be afraid of me, Mason, Uri Popov, or the law, but he could still have a lesson coming if he’s working against Nizenski and not for him,” Brien added.

  “Let’s see what Bede discovers. Uri Popov could have been working as a lone wolf. If he was here to pick up some expensive jewelry and changed his focus when he saw Mason or someone else stash information in the dog’s collar. I wouldn’t put it past Angela Mason to be a thieving skank. Although, as much as she dislikes the dog, I doubt she would have chosen his collar as a hiding place.”

  “Under the right circumstances, she might not have had another option,” Willow asserted. “If she’s the one who shoved the dog overboard, she would have removed the collar first, right?”

  “It’s clear the missus is up to something,” I said. “Mitchum may figure out their scheme once he’s had a chance to chat with Earl Gardner. He may be audacious, but even if he’s having an affair with Angela, he might not want to take all the blame by himself.”

  By the time we’d started eating the donuts, Mitchum messaged Brien. I was giddy from the sugary donuts, so I let out a “woohoo” when Brien gave us the news.

  CLOSE ON THE LICENSE PLATE NUMBER. YOUR UNPLEASANT VISITOR’S TALKING. I SENT A SQUAD CAR TO PICK UP EARL GARDNER.

  “Good! I hope they hold him overnight while they check out whatever story he gives them,” Willow commented.

  “I wonder where Angela Mason was when Earl Gardner spoke to her,” Brien added. “I hope Mitchum has the good sense to get Gardner’s cellphone when they haul him in for questioning. It’s been a long day and Mitchum’s no spring chicken.”

  “Come on. You don’t want to sound like that baby-faced gangster wannabe. Mitchum’s not that old. Besides, if Gardner’s smart, he’ll start playing ‘let’s make a deal’ and use Goldilocks’ whereabouts as a bargaining chip. That phone call is proof, so he ought to make sure he has his cellphone on him when he gets to the police station.” I was quiet for a few seconds and then yawned.

  “Uh, Gidget, even if Gardner thinks he’s a genius, sending that kid here was anything but smart,” Mick observed without a hint of surfer dude in his voice.

  “You’re right. I’m probably giving Gardner too much credit to believe that he’ll cut his losses and ask for a deal. Now that you’ve said that, Mick, what I hear coming out of Gardner’s mouth is one word: Lawyer! Squawking the word repeatedly, at the top of his lungs, like Pepe!” When I yawned again, it set off Willow, and then everyone else—even Archie.

  “Time to go!” Willow said.

  “Yeah, the doctor told her to get plenty of rest. Life sure has become more interesting in the last few days. Call me if you need me tomorrow,” Mick said.

  “Me, too,” Willow added as she yawned and waved. “Goodnight!”

  Once Willow and Mick left, I showered and then fell into bed. Brien was already snoring, and so was Archie. Our furry companion was sleeping on the foot of the bed, which
was a first. The visitor on the lawn must have spooked him, or maybe he was staying close to protect me. His soft fur against my toes was so comforting, I conked out in an instant.

  Sunday morning, I worked like mad trying to catch up on my cyber snooping. I didn’t find much more on Earl Gardner, but there was a ton of gossip on Angela Mason. The tabloids went to work on her long before she’d married Mason. She was Angela Kurtis when she first gained recognition in Hollywood as a starlet. The rumors started right away, claiming Angela Kurtis was a made-for-Hollywood name and that she was from Serbia or Croatia. She was tantrum-prone, and her public spats earned her plenty of additional attention.

  She was a gorgeous blond, though, and was photographed on the arm of one handsome man after another. A frequent guest at Hollywood events, she was regarded as a party girl. On-screen, Angela was the vision of innocence when she starred as Goldilocks in a Disneyesque feature based on the Three Bears children’s story that blended real people with animation.

  Her fame didn’t last long, however, because the Hollywood “it-girl” was difficult to work with on the set, too. By the time she was in her mid-twenties, she’d moved on, joining yachties and jet setters, and her partying went global. That had to be the way she met Dr. Mason.

  In her thirties, she turned up on the arm of the fifty-something plastic surgeon as Angela Mason. By then, he was a bigger star than Goldilocks, and wealthy enough to provide her with a privileged life. Several things caught my eye as I read post after post about the woman before and after she married Mason. I tried to explain everything to Brien as I shared what I’d learned.

  “Maybe Bede ought to check with Interpol about a connection between Uri and Goldilocks. When she first arrived in Hollywood, there were all sorts of rumors about how and when she came to the U.S. Depending on her country of origin, I suppose it’s possible she and Uri might have crossed paths.”

  “Even if that’s true, she would have been a kid.”

  “You’re right, Brien. She doesn’t have much of an accent, so she must have been young when she learned to speak English. That doesn’t mean she didn’t return to her native country or stay in touch with family there. I found another situation where she might have met Uri. She was at a Swiss Villa when the owner was robbed of a priceless necklace with a suspicious past.”

  “Was Uri Popov there, too?” Brien asked.

  “No one speaks of him by name, but from what Bede told us the description of the robbery sounds like Uri Popov’s MO. ‘Now you see it, now you don’t’ is how one reporter said the owner explained the necklace’s disappearance. The owner’s wife wore it at a party, took it off, and in minutes, it was gone. She assumed her husband had returned it to a vault until he asked her later what she’d done with it.”

  “Wow! That could be Uri’s work. He’s like a cat burglar.” Brien tiptoed with his hands curled into what I guess were supposed to be paws. Then he spun around and sprang up onto the couch. Archie thought it was great and did the same thing.

  Brien had barely landed when Archie bounded onto the couch. My sweet, silly Brien wobbled and then tried to right himself as if he was on a surfboard. Archie wasn’t finished, though. More bouncing and the two of them lumbered into each other, dropped onto the couch, and rolled off onto the floor. Brien kicked the table as he fell. It all happened so fast! I laughed at the astonished look on both their faces as their heads popped up.

  “Cat burglars, Tom and Jerry style,” Brien said, grabbing Archie and hugging him. “What’s suspicious about the necklace’s past?”

  “There was a dispute about who really owned the piece. A reporter interviewed an anonymous informant who claimed it was the property of the Russian government. Originally part of a Russian czar’s collection. It was stolen during World War II by Nazi sympathizers and changed hands several times after the war ended.”

  “No way! Did they ever find out where it went after it was stolen in Switzerland?” Brien asked as he rose from the floor without using his hands.

  “Show off,” I said before responding to his question. “The same informant who said it belonged to the Russians, claimed it was back in their hands and would eventually be on display in one of their museums.”

  “Eventually is a long time since it must have been stolen years ago, right?”

  “Yes, the robbery occurred almost twenty years ago. I’m sure if it had turned up in a museum someone would have made a big deal about it by now. My guess is that Uri sold it to the highest bidder or gave it to the person who hired him to steal it in the first place.”

  “If it was Uri,” Brien added. “Let’s ask Bede. He probably knows more about the necklace than what you found in those published posts.”

  “Who knows what the informant meant by ‘Russians,’ either, since it was stolen after the fall of the Soviet Union. That’s when guys like Nizenski made their fortunes, so maybe one of the new billionaires hired Uri to steal it.”

  “That’s the kind of information Bede ought to be able to get his hands on. What was Angela Mason doing in Switzerland, by the way?”

  “There were only tidbits about it in gossip columns. ‘Angela Mason in recovery from an unfortunate accident’ is the lead-in for one article. Then it mentions a ‘Switzerland clinic where her husband is rumored to practice his handiwork,’ and there’s a snide comment about wagering on what work she’d had done.”

  “Is that about the time you said her looks had changed?” Brien asked.

  “It is.”

  “So that explains it. It may be nasty, but at least it’s not bogus reporting.” I shut my laptop. The time had gotten away from me and we had another mission on our agenda for the day.

  “I suppose that’s true.” I stood up and stretched. “We’d better go do our spying before it gets any later. Mitchum and Bede will call or text us if there’s news. Or, if we see something interesting, we can call them.”

  “I let Archie romp with Pepe. Pepe’s worn out, so he ought to be okay for a few hours on his own.”

  “If you get worried, you can run home and check on him while I keep an eye on the Blazing Star,” I suggested.

  “No can do! We don’t separate until we get to the bottom of what’s going on and help Mitchum clean it up. I wouldn’t have let you go outside last night if I’d known that’s what you were going to do. If you’d taken Archie out back, I could have kept my eye on both of you while I put Pepe to bed.” I shuddered, realizing what could have happened if I’d been attacked by someone other than a sixteen-year-old with little experience as a thug.

  “You’re right. We stick together, Moondoggie.” If this had been one of those Gidget or Beach Blanket Bingo movies, one of us would have burst into song. Instead, I slung a backpack over my shoulder. Then I tossed Archie’s leash to Brien and pointed at a cooler I’d loaded earlier. With a few steps of the Twist, I danced my way out the front door. “Time to boogie.”

  “We’re right behind you,” Brien said, grinning as he snapped the leash onto Archie’s harness, grabbed the cooler, and followed me out the door doing a few Twist steps of his own.

  Our boogieing came to a quick stop before we got into the golf cart. Even though Mitchum was still in his car, I could tell by the expression on his face that something was terribly wrong. He obviously hadn’t slept, but more than fatigue was responsible for the grim face and the weary way he hauled himself out of his car.

  “Have you reached a dead end with Earl Gardner?” I asked.

  “That’s one way to put it,” he said as he slammed the door, and leaned against it.

  13 Second to Die

  Like celebrities, when one culprit dies, another seems to follow. I don’t know if it’s true that they die in threes, but the body count does seem to rise once we find the first one.

  In this case, the second to die wasn’t completely unexpected. After we’d discovered that Earl Gardner was probably involved with Angela Mason, Dr. Mason would have a motive to do him in. That’s if Dr. Mason was sti
ll alive. If not, we were already in a “trouble comes in threes” situation.

  Mason couldn’t possibly be the only one angry enough to get rid of Earl, depending on whose bidding Gardner had done or failed to do when executing the botched attempt to grab Archie. After eluding the police, Gardner had been found on a back road, thrown from his car after it rolled over into a ditch and burst into flames. With no witnesses, there’s a chance that what appeared to be a single-car accident was something more sinister. Still, a desperate man who didn’t take the time to buckle his seat belt, driving too fast on a dark, twisty road, is a pretty good recipe for an accident. Mitchum was trying to sort it out.

  “We’ll have to do an autopsy before we know if he was killed when he was thrown from his car or if he was already dead before the crash, and the accident was staged. Highway safety investigators are trying to work out how the accident occurred. There was liquor in the car, so if Gardner had been drinking, it would make an accident more believable. The autopsy can also tell us how much he’d had to drink.”

  “Liquor as in an open container?” I asked. Mitchum nodded. “Doesn’t that strike you as a little too obvious.”

  “Yes, it does, which is why I’m asking for an autopsy. The timing is suspicious, too. If someone got to him before we did, it must have been a matter of minutes. That tells me, he was being tailed before he tore out of there.”

  “I could believe he was drunk by the way he came up on the curb after me. I took it personally, although I hardly knew the guy.” Brien gave Mitchum a quick explanation of what he was talking about.

  “I read the report about the incident, and it mentions that a driver came up on the curb while fleeing the scene. There’s nothing in it to suggest his movements were as deliberate as you’re describing them. Why would he have anything against you?” Mitchum’s mustache twitched, perhaps wondering what we’d been up to. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.