“So, we ask again, do you think Joe could be the one who has kidnapped your daughter?” Carson asked,in conclusion.
“I don't know, maybe. He knew about the insurance money and Muffin's school. He could have done this.”
“We don't handle these sorts of things but we'll get in touch with the cops that deal with kidnapping. In the meantime, we'll give this Joe Speckle another visit and see what he has to say.” Carson said.
The detectives wrapped up their conversation with the grief stricken ladies, tried to reassure them the girl would be returned safely, and headed over to pay Joe Smithson another visit.
Chapter Thirty Seven
“No, no don't do it. No!” Michael woke up from another hideous nightmare, like the one's he'd been experiencing the last few nights. He looked around his stateroom realizing he was on the ship and not in his bed at home, safe and warm with his wife of thirty years. The ship was rocking slightly as Michael looked at his alarm and noticed with disgust it was two thirty in the morning. He got up and sat on the side of his bed, thinking about what he should do next and wondering what his future was going to be like.
He had been very careful in the planning and execution of the crime, but still things could go wrong. Killing a man, even someone as despicable as Charles, was something that had a tendency to weigh on a man's conscience. Sleep was out of the question, so he got up and did what he normally did in this situation, paced back and forth in his small stateroom hoping to exhaust himself to the point where he would be able to go back to sleep.
That whole terrible day and night was a blur, a nightmare that Michael couldn't wake up from. It haunted him night and day. He wanted to run and tell everyone about his crime, but dared not. “Just calm down. It's going to be okay. If Danny and that stupid girl stick to their stories, no way they'll connect me to the murder.” He continued to pace. “When we get back in port, I better call Sherry and make sure she has her story straight.”
The whole horrendous episode ran through his mind like a bad movie.
Valerie had told him about Charles' return and all about how people were following him and he was in fear of his life. She also told him about the clandestine meeting that was to take place the next day. Why he decided to end Charles' life he still wasn't quite sure, but nevertheless he concocted an elaborate plan almost on the spur of the moment.
Danny was coming to San Diego for some kind of seminar. One of his harebrained, get rich quick schemes he was always getting mixed up in for some reason or other. Michael had called him and asked him or almost begged him for the items that he needed to carry out his plan.
Reluctantly Danny agreed to help his step-father. He stole the truck, got the X, and the pistol. He didn't ask any questions but after Charles ended up dead he pretty well put two and two together and came up with murder.
Michael could see in his mind the whole horrific scene. He followed Charles after the meeting with Valerie, forced him into the truck at gun point, injected him with the drug and took him to a secluded location well after dark. He could see the strokes of the baseball bat on Charles' head and body as he lie helpless in the truck bed. The blood, the moans, the horror. He then took Charles to the downtown building under construction and with great difficulty took him to the fifth floor. He took out the .22, his hand was trembling but he managed to put two well placed rounds between Charles' eyes.
He drove the truck to the parking garage, left it and then took the trolley and bus to the airport and made his escape. His wife, Mary, thought he had already left to go to his ship two days prior. That's where his alibi, Sherry, came in. If the cops came nosing round his lie, she would say he was with her the entire time.
What could go wrong, he thought. Things always have a way of going wrong. But what was done was done. He hoped because of his actions Valerie and Muffin could finally have the life they deserved.
Chapter Thirty Eight
Chuck and Carson pulled up in front of Joe Smithson's place not really expecting to find him at home but hoping to ascertain some type of information as to where him and Lola had taken off to. The same little ratty dog was barking as before so Chuck rang the bell and they waited. They rang the bell again and finally the little red-haired man came out with a look of disdain on his face. “You two again. What is it this time?”
“We need to see Mr. Smithson, please,” Chuck said, ever so politely.
“I'm pretty sure he's gone. But if it will make you gentleman feel any better, we'll make sure. Okay?”
“Can you put the mutt up?” Carson growled as always.
Dog safely secured, the detectives headed back to Joe's trailer and knocked loudly. No answer. They knocked again, still there was no reply. Just on a hunch, Carson turned the door knob and low and behold the door was unlocked. “Well looky here. It seems to be unlocked. I'm sure Mr. Smithson wouldn't mind if we took a look around. What you think, Chuck?”
“I don't know Carson.”
By then it was too late, Carson had already opened the door and was heading in. “Well I guess it wouldn't hurt,” Chuck said, sort of as an after thought.
The place was just as they had left it the day before. Only this time they were looking for something specific they weren't looking for before. This time they needed to find out where the love birds had flown off to.
“See if you see any printouts of itineraries, or e-tickets.” Carson said, digging through a stack of papers on an old desk. “And check out that laptop over there. See if you can find out where he booked a flight to.”
Chuck accessed the laptop and was relieved to see that it wasn't password protected. Without much difficulty he found what the detectives were looking for. “Here it is, Carson. Two tickets, round trip to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. Due to return in one week. Wow, quite a little vacation, huh?”
“Well, we got what we need, let's roll,” Carson said hurriedly.
Just as they were about to walk out the door the little red headed man showed up. “Hey, what are you guys doing in here?”
Carson and Chuck pushed by him. “We were just leaving. Have a good day,” Carson said.
Back in the car, the detectives headed for Lola's place. They hadn't been there since they found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow in the bedroom closet. More than likely she wasn't at home either, but they might as well check it out before pursuing the suspects across the border, down Mexico way.
“If this Joe character is in Cabo then how could he be involved in kidnapping the girl?” Chuck inquired after riding for a few minutes in silence.
Carson thought for a second. “I don't don't know, but one thing I do know, these events are connected, some how, some way. It's a jigsaw puzzle, Chuck. We just have to put it together.”
Chuck just looked at Carson quizzically. “So there's got to be be some more pieces to this puzzle that we're missing, right, Carson?”
“That's right. Only the pieces are still in the box and we can't see them yet.”
“Right.”
By the time they got to Lola's it was starting to get dark. They made their way to her door and knocked loudly, not really expecting, but hoping she would be there. Of course there was no answer, so they knocked again with the same result. “Figures,” Carson said. “Let's go check with the manager and see if we can talk them into letting us in.”
They found the manager's office and entered hoping they could get some info without a lot of hassle. A bell jingled as they opened the door. An attractive young lady in her mid-thirties was behind a desk working diligently on a computer, just barely looking up as the detectives made their way into the small, but stylish office. “Be with you in a sec,” the young lady replied. “Have a seat.” She pointed at a couch that was along the side of the wall, underneath a beautiful oil portrait of the President.
The detectives sat down and looked around the office for a moment. Just as they were settling in, the manager abruptly finished what she was working on. “Okay, now what can
I help you gentleman with. Looking for an apartment, just had one open up, stunning view of downtown San Diego and the bay. Only $2500 a month.”
Chuck cleared his throat. “Oh, no ma'am, we weren't looking to rent an apartment. I'm Detective Brown and this is my partner Detective Carson, SDPD, flashing his shield. We wanted to inquire about one of your tenants. A Ms. Lola Perez. This is in connection with an ongoing criminal investigation.”
“Lola Perez?” Are you kidding me. Her apartment is the one I was was just telling you about. Funny thing. Yesterday, some men came and moved her out. They were in a moving truck, so I didn't think anything of it. They paid the remainder of her lease, in cash. They said she had been called away suddenly and wouldn't be back. I thought it was odd, but they paid her lease.”
“So, you didn't actually see Ms. Perez then?” Carson asked.
“Well no, I didn't. I had never seen the men who moved her, but they had her keys, so what could I do?”
“Thanks ma'am. You have been very helpful. If you see anybody else snooping around her place, you give us a call,” Chuck said handing her a card.
Heading back once again to their unit, Carson's cell chirped. “Carson.”
It was Sam Tomas over at the morgue. “Got a stiff on the table that might interest you. If you got a minute, why don't you guys stop on by.”
Chapter Thirty Nine
Entering the morgue Chuck and Carson felt that same uneasiness that always accompanied their visits into the land of the recently deceased. That queasiness in the stomach, a throbbing in the head caused by the chemical fumes and the death in the air. “Good evening gentleman,” Tomas beamed, sounding like a host off a cheesy late night scary movie production.
“Cut the crap Tomas. What's so important you had us drive all the way back downtown for?” Carson growled.
A body lay under a crisp white sheet. Sam Tomas whipped the sheet back revealing a body that was carved up like a Christmas turkey, as if making a presentation. “Voila. Meet Mr. Joseph Smithson, if you hadn't already met him under better circumstances.”
“Well, I'll be,” said Chuck with a gasp. “We just came from his place. Guess he didn't enjoy his vacation in Cabo quite as much as he hoped”
“His plans were cut a little short. Someone ended them a little prematurely. That's for you guys to figure out. He ingested a nasty dose of a poison that is supposed to emulate a heart attack, but only a medical school dropout or a lay person would be fooled. So I'm ruling his death a homicide. Funny thing is, according to the Mexican authorities, somebody had gone to a lot of trouble to try and cover their tracks. Cleaned and sanitized the glasses they were drinking out of, wiped down all the mirrors, doorknobs, and so forth. The couple checked in under phony name, however, the killer forgot one important thing. In the back pocket of his trousers was his wallet with his drivers license, with of course, his full name and address. Brilliant plan, huh, detectives.
“So how did you happen to call us? The question still remains,” Carson asked.
“Smithson? How many Smithsons are there running around the San Diego area. Had to be connected to your victim, right?”
“Yeah, you're right, dead right it would seem,” Chuck opined.
“So now we've got two dead Smithsons. At least we have a pretty good idea who pulled off this caper. A lovely Hooters' girl by the name of Lola,” Carson said.
“Lola. Indeed. Interesting name. Well I hope you find her. If she's still in Mexico, good luck.” Tomas covered up the body, the presentation was over.
“Yeah, you're right Sam. Hopefully she's back in the good ole USA,” Chuck replied as the detectives headed towards the door. Time to find out what had happened to the girl friend, now suspected murderess. Not to mention there was still a little girl who had been kidnapped.
The guys headed back to the office to see if they could find out if Lola was back in the States from her short trip to Mexico. The trail to the missing girl had to lead through her, she was the key. And what about the missing puzzle pieces? A major player in this game of death was being overlooked. The detectives needed to find out who it was before anyone else ended up on the coroner's table.
Chapter Forty
Lola had caught the first flight to La la land and grabbed a cab from the airport. She told the driver to take her to the Days Inn Airport, which was only a mile or so away. She had been instructed to procure a room and wait for Pete to arrive.
Arriving at the motel, she was somewhat surprised as to why he had picked such a dump, but assumed he had his reasons. She opened the door to the check-in office where an old man with a scraggly white beard and a bald head was reading his morning newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee. He didn't notice Lola at first. She stood silent for a moment assuming he would eventually see her. He didn't. There was one of those little annoying bells on the counter so after a few moments more she rang it loudly, bringing the little old man back to reality. “Oh, sorry, didn't see you. Could I help you, young lady?”
“I'd like a room please,” Lola said somewhat impatiently.
“A single or double?” The old man inquired.
“Just a single. It's only me. I'm all alone, as you can see.”
“Would this be cash or charge? And could I see some identification please?”
After what felt like an interrogation, Lola was finally able to get a room. So key card in hand, she headed up to the fourth floor, room 412, to wait on her co-conspirator to arrive. In her haste she bumped into an old lady heading to the ice machine and almost knocked her down. The encounter made her even more nervous and uneasy than she had already been. The old lady looked at her with disdain. “Excuse you, young lady.” Lola just glared at her, she was in no mood for exchanging words, she had to get to her room.
One hour later, she waited, pacing the floor. “Where is he? Where is Pete?” Her self conversation was cut short by a quiet knock at her door. At first she thought she was imagining the light tapping. Maybe it was coming from next door. She stood petrified, half hoping it was the one she was waiting for and half not wanting to see to see him at all. There was another knock. This time a little louder.
Looking through the peep hole she could see it was indeed Pete, impatiently waiting at the door. She eased the door open with the chain still on and peeked out. “Open the door Lola. It's Pete.”
She flung the door wide open to let in her newly arrived guest. “Pete, it's so good to see you,” She beamed, giving him a big hug and kiss.
Holding a bottle of expensive champagne, Pete returned the gesture. “I thought we'd have a little celebration. Grab a couple of glasses. Let's get this party started.”
Pete poured two sparkling glasses of the bubbly and handed one to Lola. “A toast, to Charles and all his money.”
“I'll drink to that,” Lola said, taking a big swallow of champagne.
Pete pretended to drink but actually didn't, as Lola finished up her glass, reaching over to pour herself another. She didn't notice Pete wasn't drinking and finished her second, looking for a third.
“Wow, this is some good stuff here,” she said, starting to slur her words.
“Only the best for the best, my love,” Pete said, almost wincing at the cornball line that had just passed from his own lips.
The cheap hotel glass slipped from Lola's hand and hit the floor, as she fell on the bed, the room spinning around like a carnival ride. “Spinning, round and round. Pete let's dance. You wanna dance?”
“Yeah, let's dance,” Pete said as he snatched Lola off of the bed and drug her to the balcony door, pulled back the curtains and slid the door open with a thud. “Let's get some air, what you think?”
“Air, would be good,” Lola said as the room continued to whirl and she felt herself losing consciousness.
From out a pouch on his belt Pete pulled a piece of line and proceeded to tie a knot in it. A hangman's noose to be more accurate was what it actually was. He pretended to dance with Lola, who was oblivious at
this point as to what Pete was doing. Suddenly the noose was around her neck. He tied one end securely around the railing, lifted Lola off her feet and tossed her off the balcony, snapping her neck like a twig. She twitched momentarily and then went lifeless. Pete admired his work for a moment then laughingly said, “Sorry your services are no longer needed, but you can hang around for a while if you like. What a pity. I kinda liked that girl.”
Closing the patio door, locking it and pulling the curtains to, Pete eased out of the room and went down the back stairs without being seen by anyone. “Now let me get back to little Muffin and a half million dollars in cash.” He said to himself as he made his escape.
Chapter Forty One
The little teenage girl, Muffin, sat in a dimly lit room, tears trickling from her eyes, down her face that was contorted in pain and fear. The only furniture was two chairs, old and raggedy, and thankfully a television set tuned to her favorite, the Cartoon Network. The loneliness of her situation surrounded her, it covered her like a suffocating wet blanket. She wanted to scream but what was the use, she was alone. No one would hear. Why had someone did this to her? Who were those strange men in black with dark glasses and hoods? What did they want?
She actually laughed at the cartoon that was playing, momentarily forgetting her plight. But soon returned to the reality of her situation. She tugged at the rope that bound her to the chair. It was light so she was able to slide in around the wood floor, it screeched and almost echoed in the empty vacant room.
Suddenly, the doorknob turned and an individual she knew came abruptly into the room, followed by the two men in black. “Muffin, are you okay?” These goons didn't hurt you, did they?” Her uncle Pete said with obvious compassion in his voice.
Too shocked to speak at first, taking in the fact that her uncle was behind her abduction, she just stared in amazement. She began to cry again. “I want to go home, Uncle Pete.”
Seven Years After Page 9