Poof!

by M. Lee Prescott

“If you hear from him, tell him to call, okay?”

  “Will do.” As Mike hopped out, I saw Wilda slip inside. How does she do it? I always move like a herd of buffalos.

  Chapter 25

  I had just made my second pass down Water Street, Frank right behind me, when the phone rang. “Hey,” I said.

  “Ricky, it’s me,” Josh said, voice low. “Can you talk?”

  “I’m actually in a dicey place right now. Can I call you back in five minutes?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  We hung up and I headed downtown. I had not seen anyone as I drove past Meridian, but had no wish to pause long enough for abduction, torture or worse, nor did I want my new car destroyed. When I found a parking space a block from Brackett and Pearson, I pulled in, Frank a half a block behind in a questionable space.

  I grabbed my phone and called Josh. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Ricky, someone’s tracking my phone.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “They call constantly and hang up.”

  “What’s caller ID say?”

  “Either private caller or an unfamiliar number.”

  They’re trying to find out where you are. “Where are you?”

  “Still at my parents’ which is not where I want to be.”

  “Can you square it with the gatekeeper so I can pick you up? I’ve gotta a quick stop, then I’ll come get you. I have Frank so they won’t bother us. Didn’t I tell you to get a new phone?”

  “This is the new one. Member, I gave you the new number yesterday?”

  “Well, call and cancel immediately. Then take a hammer to that phone or throw it in the ocean. We’ll grab some burner phones later.”

  “When’ll you be here?”

  “Bout an hour, maybe less if I can’t find anyone at Brackett and Pearson. See you soon.”

  Phillip Brackett was in court, as was his partner and Jill Carlson. I asked the

  receptionist, Tina, for an estimate as to when they’d be back and she was vague. “Might be soon, or they’ve been known to head out to Aquinessett for a round, then pop back later in the day. I haven’t heard from them. Sorry.”

  She didn’t sound a bit sorry. “Well, thanks. I’ll stop in again.”

  “Best thing to do is make an appointment, like you did with Ms. Carlson.”

  I nodded and headed down the stairs. Appointment, indeed. Give the thugs plenty of time to get into position.

  On the off chance that court had ended several hours ago and billable hours were now ticking off on the fairways of the Aquinessett Country Club, I decided to swing by. I was not dressed for the Club, but could probably slip into the pro shop, where most golfers had a drink after a round. The pink shirts would no doubt frown at my jeans and collarless shirt, but too bad. I wasn’t hopping into a golf cart and heading out to the links.

  As I rounded a hedge of rhododendron badly in need of pruning, I spied the porch, crowded with men, shooting the breeze. A worker was raking near the path and I stopped him. “Hi, you wouldn’t happen to know Phillip Brackett, would you?”

  “Yes, Miss.”

  “Is he here?”

  “On the porch.”

  “Can you point him out?”

  His eyes registered suspicion. “Do you know him?”

  “Of course! It’s just hard to tell who’s who in those hats.” I batted my eyelashes, which probably scared him.

  “Yeah, right.” He studied me for a few seconds, then said, “What the hell. Striped shirt, on the end.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and scooted off before he decided to raise the alarm. As I planned my strategy, I remembered the pro, Don Something, my friend, Mark Fallon’s buddy. Don had helped on a previous case, but only through Mark and I didn’t remember his last name. Then, I got lucky. As I approached the porch, a teenager, called, “Hey, Don,” and a lanky guy in golf shoes, chinos and one of those half shirt, half vest things golfers wear, came down the steps. I waited until he chatted with the teenager and then called to him. He turned, brown eyes studying me.

  “Can I help you?” he said, his tone clearly asking, ‘Can I help you off the premises?’

  “Hi, I’m Ricky, Ricky Steele, Mark Fallon’s friend.”

  Hand on hip, he nodded. “Ms. Steele, what’s up?”

  “Sorry to bother you. You look busy, but I could use a favor.”

  “Please tell me it’s not gonna turn up another body in the woods.”

  “No, nothing like that. I’d just like to speak with Phillip Brackett and I’m not really dressed for the porch. Could you, perhaps, ask him to step round back, say someone wants a word?”

  “I can, but there’s no guarantee he’ll come.”

  “Just say it’s a woman asking for him, no name. Please, I promise it’ll only take a minute, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

  “I’ll try only cause Mark’s good people and I like your dad. Haven’t seen him recently.”

  I smiled. “Thanks, I’ll wait back here.”

  Brackett appeared almost immediately, no doubt expecting some chicky-poo. When he spied me, he made no attempt to hide his disappointment. Early forties, thick auburn hair, shiny face and blue eyes, he had the look of a player, who got what he wants despite a paunch and that shiny face. “Who are you?”

  “Ricky Steele. I spoke with your associate, Jill Carlson a few days ago.”

  “Lots of people speak to Jill. She’s a busy lady. What’s this about?”

  I was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that he knew exactly what this was about, but played along. “Meridian Imports.”

  “What about them?”

  “You represent the company, I believe?”

  “We represent a lot of companies.”

  “Do they all employ thugs and kidnappers?”

  “Lady, I don’t know what you’re on, but Meridian is a legitimate, and successful business.”

  “Funny, I don’t know any legitimate business where a visitor would be drugged, tied up and buried alive. Nor one who would torture and kill one of their employees.”

  “Now I know you’re high on something. I’ve known Wade Pullman and Oscar Winters for years. Meridian’s one of their most successful ventures.”

  “Oh, what are the others – prostitution, pornography and slave trading?”

  “This conversation is over.” He turned to walk away.

  “Do you have kids, Mr. Brackett?”

  “None of your goddamn business.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. So, how do you sleep at night knowing you represent people who exploit young children in such despicable ways?”

  “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

  “The school?”

  “The what?”

  “Jill didn’t know about it, but I bet you do. Have you been involved in legal issues related to Meridian’s real estate holdings in the city aside from the Water Street building?”

  “You know I can’t tell you that. Now, we’re done. I’ll have you thrown out on your ass if you don’t leave immediately.”

  “Nice bluff. I have as much right to be here as you do. I grew up on this course so don’t try to threaten me.”

  His expression shifted slightly and I expected him to bring up my father, but instead, he remained silent.

  “Look, Mr. Brackett, I’m not interested in messing you up. I’m just trying to find two missing kids, tiny kids, who are destined for unspeakable horrors unless we find them.”

  “I take care of Meridian’s legal matters concerning trade and commerce. I know nothing about any kids.”

  I was sure he was lying. “Please, Mr. Brackett. Please help me.”

  “Wade and Oscar belong here. They usually have a Friday game, ends around three.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Leave it alone, Ms. Steele. That’s my advice to you.”

  He turned and walked away, but instead of rejoining his buddies on the porch, he headed across the practice gree
n toward the men’s locker room. As he reached the doorway, he pulled out his cell phone.

  Time for me to hightail it!

  Chapter 26

  After swinging by the Bluffs to grab Josh, we went to get him a new phone. We spent over an hour chatting with Chipper, the salesman about the wizardry which had enabled someone to wipe Josh's phone clean.

  "To be honest, it's a little above my pay grade," Chipper said, scratching his head. "Amy might know, but she doesn't work today. You know, if they’ve got this kind of shit, you might be better with burner phones?"

  "Maybe, but we’ll start with this.” We thanked him and headed out. Pay grade or not, Chipper had managed to put up all kinds of firewalls and Josh had taken out the contract under a different name. I suspected that this would be Plan B with Plan C, a bag full of burner phones, not far behind.

  As we drove out of the parking lot, I said, "They're probably looking for you. I think I should take you back to the Bluffs."

  "Yeah, it sucks, but I don't want to put Mike or Charlie in danger. Can I come back to the office and say hi before I go back?"

  I gazed over at him with raised eyebrow,

  “She called the house.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “Look, we’re friends. That’s all. I had to get away from my parents for a few hours or I’d go nuts.”

  “I’m sure they’re concerned.”

  “Maybe, but I can take care of myself.”

  “Just like Jimmy?”

  “I’ve got protection.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “My dad loaned me his gun.”

  “Which, I presume he is licensed to carry, not you.”

  He shrugged, gazing out the window.

  “Have you ever fired a gun?”

  “I was on the Harvard Rifle Team.”

  “I see. It’s not the same, you know, shooting at a paper target. Firing a round into a human being coming straight at you is a very different scenario.”

  We drove the rest of the way in silence. I let him off at the entrance to my building and headed to the back of the lot to park. By the time I got up to the office, the door to the Inner Sanctum was closed and Wilda sat alone, feet on her desk, reading a novel.

  “Hey, boss.”

  “Guess my office is occupied.”

  Wilda shrugged and went back to her book.

  I plunked myself down at Mike’s desk and spent the next half hour on the phone with Lolly, Katie and Alice, advising them about the danger and suggesting that we postpone our get-together. This would mean I’d have to spend four hundred dollars on Ruth’s clamboil tickets, but it was a small price to pay when friends’ lives were at stake. All three of them refused to reconsider, although Lolly did waver. Katie assured me that she be fully armed with pepper spray, pistol, stun gun, and hand cuffs. “I’ve got extras, Rick. We should all be geared up.” Alice said that after missing our last caper that there was no way she was missing this one. Finally, I threw up my hands and said, “Can’t wait!”

  I attempted to reach Doug Roberts, but they said he was out. I suspected he wouldn’t tell me about his meeting with Wade Pullman, even if it had happened. I would have intercept Wade and Oscar at Aquinessett, provided they hadn’t gone underground. I googled Wade Pullman and Oscar Winters and came up with zip. All roads led back to Meridian Imports and that website was useless unless I was in the market for a tacky scarf or cheap jewelry. I decided to run background checks on both owners. The service I use can take up to twenty-four hours so I set things in motion, then knocked on my office door.

  Mike opened it, red-faced, her clothes slightly askew. Friends, indeed.

  “Hey, Josh. Let’s get you back to the Bluffs. I’ve got a bunch of errands to run.”

  “Mike can take me.”

  She nodded.

  “Only if Wilda’s got your back.” I turned and Wilda gave me a thumbs up. “Okay, well I’m heading out. Don’t stay too late and be careful.”

  I did a bunch of quick errands, Frank on my tail, then headed home. After organizing my purchases, I decided I needed company so strolled out to the Tacoma. “Hey, Frank, I’m heading to the Rainbow for dinner. Wanta come along?”

  “Thanks, but I’ll hang back.” He lifted a large bag of fast food, that had, no doubt been delivered by one of his associates.

  I shrugged, left a note on Vinnie’s door in case he wanted to join me, and walked the two blocks alone. The place was deserted, except for a couple of regulars at the bar, but it was early. I ordered kale soup, salad and a chorizo roll. When Jack asked what I wanted to drink, I said, “Just water,” and headed for a table in the back. I missed Charlie and wondered what he was up to. Already in too deep. I sighed, sipping my water, gazing around.

  Just as my food arrived, Vinnie walked in, nodding at me, then going to the bar to order. He brought a beer and bowl of peanuts to the table. ‘Hey, Rick.

  “Hey, Vin, I would have banged on your door, but I didn’t see the truck.”

  “Just got back. Been at Charlie’s all week.”

  “That’ll be a full-time job for you for the next six months.”

  “Maybe. He’s got a bunch of people in and outta there. ‘Sides, I’ve got other projects.”

  “And, you’re commitment phobic. Can’t stay with anything more than a minute.”

  “Pot callin’ the kettle black.”

  “I suppose.” I took a bite of my chorizo roll and sighed again. How could I miss someone I’d met a minute ago?

  “Heard you guys have been dating.”

  “I’m sure. We’re friends. We had dinner. End of story.”

  “That’s not what I heard.” He winked at two young women sitting at the bar.

  “And, about that,” I said, leaning forward to block his view of the bombettes. “When did I give you permission to blab about my private life to complete strangers?”

  “Charlie’s not a stranger. As I told you, he’s good people and he’s hot for you.”

  “Is not.”

  “Is to. Can’t stop talkin’ about you, babe. Get used to it—you’ve got a boyfriend.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! Can we please change the subject?”

  “Sure, what’s new?”

  “This case, the missing kids. It’s going nowhere. Did you ask around about Meridian?

  “I left you a message. Didn’t you get it?”

  “Where?”

  “Your home line.”

  “Well, it’s not there now.” My paranoid barometer jumped sky high. Had Meridian’s thugs tapped into my phone, too? “When did you leave it?”

  “Last night.”

  “But I was home.”

  “Not when I called.”

  “This is what I’m talking about. These people are so far ahead of us. They seem to be able to tap phones and locate us at will.”

  “Well, they would.”

  “Oh?”

  “They’re serious bad guys, Rick. Want my advice—step back, get out and throw your phone away. If they’ve hacked into your land line, they probably have your cell too.”

  “How can I back out when they’ve got all these little kids? I can’t just abandon them?”

  “What’re the cops doin’?”

  “Not much. They cleared out their warehouse except for a small suite of offices where they conduct their legit import business. So, what did you find out?”

  “The owners are sleaze bags, but they’re slippery sleaze bags. They’re also in bed with very bad people.”

  “Who?”

  “A group wackos called Javelin. They’re a mix of white supremists and neo-Nazi types. Some have military training. According to my guy they’ve got a bunch of meth labs scattered around the city. About a year ago, they got interested in the child trade and somehow hooked up with Meridian. My guy thinks one of the owners, Wade Pullman owed them money. I’d bet the ranch one of them killed your guy and probably grabbed you.”

  “Lovely. Where can we find them?”<
br />
  “You don’t find them. That’s an order. The cops have them on their radar. That’s all you need to know. Next time Wilda and company may not get there in time and you’ll disappear without a trace.”

  “They must have a headquarters somewhere.”

  “People like that don’t have headquarters. They move in the shadows. Oh, and they employ a couple of tech. geeks, Silicon Valley drop-outs. One’s supposed to be in a class all by himself, mega genius with an ax to grind.”

  I propped my head on my hands, suddenly bone tired.

  “Leave it alone, Rick. Get new phones, have someone de-bug your house and car and go back to trailing cheaters.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Look, you’ve got a new guy in your life, great neighbors and friends and despite all odds, you make a decent living as a PI. Leave Javelin to the cops.”

  I stood. “I gotta go.”

  “Sit. I’ll be finished in five and I’ll walk you home.”

  “Not necessary. If I know Frank, he’s waiting outside.”

  Before Vinnie could protest, I patted his shoulder and walked toward the door. The night was hot and muggy, the air thick as pea soup. I stood on the Rainbow stoop and eyed the street. No Tacoma, no Frank, no nothing. Except for a few cars in the lot, the street was deserted. Should I wait or be stupid? Stupid won out as I started walking. I went less than a half a block and knew something was wrong. Since I had no wish to disappear without a trace, I turned back. Something rustled in the bushes alongside one of the few vacant lots and I ran full tilt until safely inside the bar.

  Vinnie had moved to the bar and was chatting up the two women. He spied me and nodded. Breathless and shaking, I had no wish to disturb his little tete-a-tete so I headed for the seldom used payphone and called Wilda. She answered on the first ring.

  “Yup.”

  “Wilda, it’s me.”

  “Yup.”

  “Is Frank still on duty?”

  “Nope.”

  “So, no one’s watching me?”

  “Spike’s out there.”

  “What’s he drive?”

  “You won’t see him. That’s not how he works.”

  “What about Frank?”

  “Night off. He’ll be back in the morning.”