Fatal Chances (The Red Lake Series Book 5)

by Rich Foster

  More than fit she thought, it's a great body!

  But she would be lying if she denied being untroubled by the small wrinkles that appeared around her eyes. And whereas she once could eat anything, of late calories seemed to easily accumulate.

  She turned to look at her profile. My butt's still tight! She thought by way of encouragement, but doubts still snuck in. Does everyone begin to feel like this?

  Insecurity was a new experience for her. Brad had worshiped her. She never doubted herself while she lived with him. But of late small sprouts of self doubts took root and sprang up.

  Maybe it is because Harry is less demonstrative than Brad?

  She studied her face in the mirror.

  Maybe I am just afraid of growing older?

  She picked up her bag and bottled water and left the health club. On the way back to the office she took time to window shop thinking it might alleviate her funk. However, it only worsened as she passed a clothing store window in which a twenty something was dressing a mannequin, and her first thought was, That look is too young for me.

  Her morning completely ran aground as she walked passed Marie's Restaurant where she spotted Harry at a table with an unknown female whose Snow White look of jet black hair and ruby lips she found unsettling.

  Her skirts too short, she thought in a moment of feminine cattishness. I wonder where she came from? Harry sure looks enamored.

  In a snit, she whirled around and headed back toward the clothing store.

  *

  If Harry was not distracted that evening by the days events, or if Paula successfully found an outfit to bolster her day's slip in confidence, the squabble might have been avoided. But, over dinner, when Paula casually asked what was new, he merely said an insurance investigator turned up to look into Harvey Stockman's apparent death. He omitted to say she was an attractive female with whom he lunched. This only fueled Paula's pique.

  Unfortunately, Harry mistook her quiet brooding for weariness and when she announced she was going to bed early, his kiss to her cheek was cursory. Paula fell asleep irritated with Harry and herself.

  Chapter Six

  The sun was barely above the horizon. It was only between breaks in the eastern hills that the rays come through to dance on the lake. Harry watched the patterns with satisfaction for a few minutes, then he padded barefoot into the kitchen and filled the coffee pot with French roast and water. Into a skillet he sliced a left over baked potato, dropped a wad of butter and sprinkled the top with pepper and garlic salt. He peeled off a half pound of bacon slices and dropped them on the griddle to sizzle.

  A heavy hand hit his side door three times. Harry peaked out the window, a man stood pensively on the stoop. He was broad in the shoulders and a bit too thick in his waist. His hair had succumbed to grayness and his rather average face was furrowed by a frown. Harry guessed the man was in his fifties.

  The man was looking around the woods behind him and did not notice Harry at the glass. His hand came up as he turned and he gave the door another blow. Harry opened the door.

  “Bit early isn't it?” he asked peevishly, as he feigned an irritation he did not feel.

  “Special Agent Drew Lawrence, Department of Justice, Drug Enforcement Agency, Los Angles Division, Las Vegas District Office.” he flashed a badge as he spoke. “You assaulted two of my men, we need to talk.”

  It was an order not a request. Harry seldom took orders at least since his discharge from the Armed Services.

  “My bacon is burning. I'll be in my office at nine. I'm sure you can find it.”

  Harry began to close the door. Lawrence put his hand up against it. Harry looked at the hand with a bemused smile.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Lawrence, please do not take this as an insult but you hardly seem as fit as the two men who kidnapped me yesterday. And I assume you checked me out before you foolishly came to pound upon my door at this hour, so you should know I can kill more readily than most. So unless you want your arm broken I suggest you remove it and stop harassing this law abiding citizen. I'll speak to you at nine.”

  Lawrence's face flushed, and the corner's of his mouth twitched but when Harry pushed the door closed there was no resistance.

  *

  Harry arrived at nine-ten. Lawrence was tapping time with his foot in the hall. Harry unlocked the door and waved him in.

  “Have a seat,” Harry offered as he dropped into his chair behind the desk. Lawrence chose to pace.

  “Look Grim, I can tell you're feeling pretty smart because my agents screwed up yesterday, but I am not letting a two bit shyster screw with my investigation.”

  “Or your career I suppose? It doesn't look good when your guys ignore the constitution.”

  Lawrence put his hand on the edge of Harry's desk and leaned forward. “I think you are dirty Grim and I intend to bring you down.”

  Harry rubbed his face, partially to hide his smile.

  “Have a seat Agent Ness.”

  “The name's Lawrence,” Drew huffed.

  “It was a joke, Eliot Ness? Junior G man?”

  Drew was not amused.

  “So what is it you think I am guilty of because, unless prohibition has returned, the last illegal substance I ingested was some weak pot twenty years ago.”

  Lawrence ignored Harry's comment.

  “What is your relationship to Rico Marcelli?”

  “None.”

  Lawrence sniffed as though a foul odor entered the room.

  “Then why were you in his office last week?”

  “He asked me to come.”

  “And why was that?”

  “Why don't you ask him or whoever told you I met with him?”

  Lawrence plowed on. “What is your relationship to Barton Dirk?”

  Harry was becoming miffed.

  “We fought and served together for the same country, constitution, and flag you supposedly represent, asshole!”

  Lawrence's face became florid.

  “Listen pal we got you. We have copies of payments to you made by both Harvey and Julia Stockman, who as I am sure you know are related to Vito Donatello.”

  “Who is also the uncle of a thug named Vinnie Tagliero, who grew up in Red Lake. What is your point? Obviously, this may have something to do with drugs but it has nothing to do with me.”

  “We will see!” Lawrence turned and stalked toward the door.

  “Tell you what Drew, just to let you know I am an okay guy and to show I carry no hard feelings about yesterdays events, I will withdraw my complaint. That should cut your boys loose with a minimum of embarrassment.”

  Lawrence glowered at him. “We're watching you Grim!”

  When he slammed the door, the office windows rattled.

  Harry took up his phone.

  “Is the sheriff in yet, Carey? he asked Red Lakes only female deputy.

  “Since seven.”

  “Ask if he can see me in half an hour.”

  *

  Gaines smiled as he tapped his pencil on his desk.

  “It was worth the paperwork to see the feds sweat.”

  “Condescending crowd aren't they? The big cheese showed up at my house at six-thirty this morning,” Harry said.

  “Well I got an earful for a half-hour last night and though I agree with the ends toward which Mr. Lawrence works, I do not approve of the means.”

  “So is Crew Cut and his buddy loose?”

  Gaines referenced a paper on his desk, “David Hurst and Rolf Anderson are being released probably as we speak. You gave Hurst quite a concussion, I don't think you made a friend, Harry.”

  “Should I reread Dale Carnegie's book?”

  Gaines leaned back, “Seriously, Harry it would seem you have yourself in the middle of a drug operation. Agent Lawrence did not share much, but he did say they have been building a case in Las Vegas for the last two years.”

  “Against who, Marcelli?”

  “He didn't say but my guess is someone down the food cha
in. Marcelli would be too well insulated. Guys like that go down for tax evasion not dealing.”

  “It has to be Donatello. Lawrence made a point of telling me I received money from the Stockmans and a friend warned Paula that federal agents were looking at my bank accounts.” Grim snorted as he derisively added, “As if a few grand was much of a payoff?”

  “Well, It's outside my jurisdiction. I don't see the tie into Red Lake other than the Jillian Donatello's murder and in my opinion she was killed here out of convenience not because her husband was doing business here. During the investigation Harvey Stockman took great pains to stress that he disapproved of his wife's sister, her husband, and their entire lifestyle.”

  “It may not be...” Harry paused.

  “What?”

  “Outside your jurisdiction. Herb Lanski reluctantly admitted to me that Donatello is in escrow on the Stockman's lake house.”

  Gaines' crinkled face grimaced at this news. “Not the sort I care to see coming in.”

  “Julia Stockman feels the same way. When Donatello hugged her at the memorial service she went as rigid as a virgin at a frat house party.”

  “The lady has good judgment. More than I can say for her late sister.”

  Harry nodded. “I'll let you know if anything comes up.”

  Gaines called after him, “Watch your back Harry, you have a way of pissing people off.”

  When he was gone Gaines' fingers drummed the edge of his desk. Not much to do but let Harry run with this. If there is anything there he'll stir it up, he's a bear pawing a hornets nest.

  *

  Harry's phone beeped. It was Paula.

  “I'm going to take the day off and go shopping in Beaumont.”

  “Do want some company?” silently he prayed, Please say, no! I detest shopping.

  “No, I'll see you for dinner."

  Harry failed to notice the tepid enthusiasm in her words.

  The morning was what May days were meant to be, so he decided to avail himself of it before the summer crowds arrived and blocked the roads with cars and choked the lake with boats.

  A half hour later his outboard was running on a plane toward Cransden Point and Woods Bay his favorite fishing spot. His phone vibrated in his pocket, like the Cicada’s he collected as a youth.

  He eased the throttle back and the roar died away as the boat settled in.

  “Harry,” said Barton's familiar voice. “We need to talk, call me as soon as you have a throw-away.”

  “Urgently or when I have time? Right now I am on my way to fish.”

  “No hurry. Call me later.”

  Dirk cut the connection. Harry stared at the phone. He felt regretful that his asking for help brought the feds into Dirk's life, he was a man who lived under the radar.

  He pushed thoughts of work aside and opened up the throttle.

  For the remainder of the afternoon he drifted north of Cransden Point, sipped cold beer, fished, and tried to figure out what was going on. Despite not having a client he felt himself being pulled into a maelstrom. The feds were unlikely to leave him alone.

  On his way home he dropped down past Cody's Marina and was pleased that the slip fingers were assembled. He made a mental note to bring his houseboat in from the hook. He idled into the marina where he tied the runabout off in his assigned slip. From there he jogged the three blocks to his office.

  Crystal Rosen's card lay on the blotter of his desk.

  He dialed the cell number.

  “Crystal Rosen, speaking.”

  Her voice was is good as her looks.

  Harry went straight to the point, she did not seem the type to indulge in pleasantries.

  “Do you have a complete list of the passengers and crew on the Sterling Princess?”

  “I wish! The company is not forthcoming and I can guarantee the Panamanians will share absolutely nothing!"

  “That's if they bother to collect evidence of anything.”

  “That too!”

  “I'll see what I can do.”

  There was a pause before Crystal dubiously asked, “You think you can get it?”

  “Perhaps,” was Harry's only reply.

  Harry stopped off at the local Radio Shack. He bought himself a throw away phone. Back at the marina he took the runabout far offshore and then idled slowly while he talked to Dirk.

  “The DEA lean on you?” Harry asked.

  “A guy came by, asked a few questions. He followed me in Vegas.”

  “I figured you spotted him, I got the crew cut but gave him the slip in the terminal just to amuse myself. Then the two turned up here and tried to grab me.”

  “I bet that didn't work out well for someone?”

  Harry heard Barton chuckle. He continued, “This morning a bigger fish showed up to threaten me and get his agents cut loose.”

  “Those federal boys do like to threaten. Guy talked about my pilot's license, the I.R.S., anything to squeeze me.”

  “Didn't work., huh?”

  “I told him I would match my service record with his anytime. He left in a huff. Then he staked out my house.. I found it annoying, so I called in a favor in Washington. A guy I met on a job down south said he would deal with it. Five minutes later the guy was gone.”

  “Might be a good time to take a vacation?”

  “Perhaps. You need anything up there?”

  “Maybe. Is Ziggy out and about?”

  “In is a better word for him, I don't think he has seen the sun in a year, He lives in that computer room.”

  “Ask him to give me a call. I have a small job for him.”

  “Need me to come up?”

  “No. Just let me know if you go away.”

  Late that night the telephone intruded on Harry's dreams. He glanced at his watch, One A.M.? A hell of a time to call!

  “Hello, this better be good.”

  “Harry? It's Zig.”

  The guy sounds chipper for the middle of the night.

  “Don't you sleep Ziggy?”

  “Why what time is it? Did I wake you?”

  Ziggy ran on his own internal clock, it seldom meshed with reality as others knew it.

  “Forget it,” Harry said, “I have a hack job for you. I want to get the crew and passenger manifest for the Sterling Princess.”

  “When?”

  “Three weeks ago, I'll send you the specific dates, but it was the run they lost a passenger on.”

  “Heck, that narrows it down to a few dozen trips!”

  “That bad?” Harry asked.

  “Close. Never be a crime victim on a cruise ship, the chance of justice is about zero. Where is the boat flagged out of?”

  “Panama, but they have offices in Miami.”

  “Anything else you need?”

  “Address's to go with the names. Don't bother with kids. They are too small to do what I think happened.”

  “I can run a criminal check on all of them but it will cost you more.”

  “Go ahead, it may narrow the field.”

  "No, problem."

  Ziggy cut their connection.

  Harry found himself wide awake. He thought about Ziggy cocooned behind his monitors running through trillions of bits of data, probing and testing firewalls, sometimes for money and sometimes merely for the thrill. Guys with Ziggy's skills worried him, they were the real terrorist threat to the future. He stared at the ceiling; it was two hours before he drifted off into troubled dreams.

  Throwing money at Ziggy was a gamble but business was slow Harry could go fish the lake or chum the investigative waters. In the back of his mind was the promise of a tenth of a tenth from Crystal Rosen.

  Harry drove to the office alone. Paula said she was coming down with something and stayed home. He thought it was probably the blues, something she was given to feeling at times.

  Introspection is bad for one's health.

  When he opened the office Harry found the red eye of his answering machine winking at him. The message was fr
om Jack Leeds, a private eye from San Francisco who did a lot of divorce work. Harry returned the call.

  “I need you to do a skip trace on a guy who when he escaped his loveless marriage, took all the marital assets with him, not to mention his administrative assistant. The ex-wife thinks he might be in your area.”

  “Why?”

  “They took a trip out there three years ago, Wright swore it was God's country. His words, not mine. I like pavement and civilization.”

  Harry laughed.

  “Wilson Wright and Jan Dunn left San Jose a month ago driving a Ford Econoline van with California plates, QFU 295 They went to Las Vegas for three days and then traveled to Salt Lake City, where they did some spring skiing at Snowbird.”

  “Are they still open?”

  “Three weeks ago at least. The last time Wright used his gasoline credit card was a small town south of Beaumont. Unfortunately, when the bill came, his wife canceled all the cards, just to spite him and so the trail ran cold.”

  “Anything else?”

  “As I said, Wright liked the outdoors, he also worked in the software industry. I see on the internet that Beaumont is an up and coming place for programming. I figure it's easier for you to check it out than me.”

  “And if I find him?”

  “Just give me a call and I'll fly over.”

  Harry found himself smiling as he drove over the pass. It was good to be working at something that paid. Beaumont was not so large that it would be very difficult to find someone new in town.

  There were several avenues of inquiry, real estate firms, job agencies, local motels,...Harry permitted such thoughts to trail off and let himself enjoy the drive. He loved the steep canyons and snow capped peaks of the Lazarus Range.

  In Beaumont he stopped at a drive-through coffee stand and then continued to the industrial area which sprang up in recent years on the outskirts of town as computer firms replaced ranch related activities. For the next hour he cruised the parking lots on the possibility Wright had a plan when he left San Jose and a job was waiting when he arrived.

  Of course he could be in Poughkeepsie for all I know? Or his girl friend may have the van?