by Kit Crumb
She followed him in, shutting the door behind her. Once in the house Ramos and Buck moved onto the porch, waiting for her call for help.
Platte walked to the hall. “You’ll have to excuse me for just a minute, make yourself at home.”
M looked around the room. The mantel over the fireplace had no pictures. Where there might have been a television there was a large computer center. She stepped around the captain’s chair and tapped the space bar on the keyboard. The screen came alive. She reached for the mouse but stopped and turned when she heard Platte enter.
“I hope you don’t mind, I was going to check my email”
Platte seemed totally unruffled. “I’m going to put on some coffee, would you like some?”
She shook her head. “No. thanks.”
Platte was wearing a robe. When she turned back to the computer the screensaver was a montage of pornographic stills.
“I hope one of those has given you some ideas,” Platte said.
M stepped around the captain’s chair. “Ideas for what?”
“It’s obvious that Amy was too shy to come here and thank me in person so she sent you.”
M didn’t feel threatened but wondered if just maybe this man believed what he was saying.
“Tell me again why Amy is grateful?” M said.
“You were there. You must have seen how I prevented her from tripping and falling onto the blood splatter. Tessu would have fired her on the spot for destroying evidence,” Platte said, taking a step closer.
She placed a hand on the back of the captain’s chair. “You’ve got to be kidding. Do you really think that Amy is going to express her gratitude with sex?”
Platte took on a look of surprise, and raised a hand to his face. “She never told you? We’ve been living together almost from the moment she joined the crime scene team, we just broke up.”
She had to remind herself of the evidence. For a minute he almost had her convinced he hadn’t killed her and that he didn’t know she was dead.
“No, she never said a word.”
“I know that she felt guilty, it was such a silly argument.” Platte seemed suddenly aware of his dress, pulling the robe together so that it overlapped, he tightened the belt.
“Oh my God, those pictures and this robe, it’s not what it seems.”
She didn’t want to call out. She didn’t want Buck and Ramos rushing in. She wanted to find out how far Platte would carry this charade, if indeed it was.
“Maybe you’d like to explain,” M said.
It was as though she hadn’t said a word. She realized he hadn’t really stopped explaining, but had only paused in his narrative as if to recall a moment.
Platte smiled. “Amy enjoyed our love making, those pictures were her idea. She loved to have sex in different places. Do you know we once made love in the back of her VW right on the beach?”
He giggled at the pretended memory. It was when he didn’t stop that she walked to the front door and opened it. Buck and Ramos stepped up, guns at the ready, as if to go into the house, but she blocked their way.
“I’d like you to put your guns away,” she said.
The men peered around her at the man now facing the computer, leaning over the back of the captain’s chair, alternately giggling and crying. They holstered their weapons. Ramos sent Buck to the cruiser to radio for an ambulance.
“Is he coherent enough to answer questions?” Ramos said.
She just shook her head and walked out the front door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
M HAD REACHED THE END of the walk when Buck pulled up and leaned out of the car without shutting off the engine.
“Got a call there’s been a break-in at the Bamboo Reef. Dispatch said the intruder was described as wearing all black--sounds like our guy has struck again.” She just stood for a moment still caught up in Platte. “C’mon, get in.”
She could feel herself change gears. She didn’t know Nikki all that well. They were the same age and had met in junior high a couple of times. She had met her for the second time when she began diving. By then, Nikki’s father had passed away and she was running the dive shop.
“Was she hurt?”
Buck looked over at M.
“I don’t know, but there was a call for an ambulance. They took the call about the same time I did.”
She ran around and climbed in, and they headed north on Main, leaving Dungeness Bay behind. She could just see the cinder block structure that housed the dive shop on the crest of the hill when they were passed by the ambulance. Buck accelerated to keep pace. He didn’t want her taken to the hospital before he had a chance to question her.
When they reached the gravel parking lot they sat for a minute and watched the emergency medical technicians run into the building.
He turned to M and smiled. “That’s long enough, our turn.”
As if on cue they burst from the cruiser at the same time and found the EMTs attending a women lying in a pile of wet suits.
“Is she able to talk?”
The woman sat up.
“Yeah I can talk.”
The EMTs backed away.
He pulled out his ID.“Buck Shore, Bay County Sheriff’s, I think you know M.” Nikki gave her a nod. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Nikki not only told them the story, but walked Buck through the event. She walked them from the back of the building where she was filling air tanks to the position where she was when she shot the intruder with the speargun.
“I shot him from here, didn’t even slow him down.”
M was standing by the office door.
“He was standing here when you hit him?”
Buck turned a questioning look her way.
“Blood,” M said, and Buck smiled.
“He take any money?” Buck said.
“He couldn’t have,” Nikki said, and walked over from the office.
“Why is that? Your office is trashed.”
She stopped at the display case. “The till’s here, he never went near the case.”
Buck jotted down the description of the intruder and promised to send an officer who would file a report for insurance purposes. He walked around the building once with M and determined the point of exit. When they got back to the cruiser, the scanner was lit up like a Christmas tree. Buck turned down the static and pulled out onto Main.
M read over Nikki’s description of the intruder several times. “It’s the same guy, no doubt about it.”
Buck turned on the siren and lights as they approached town. “What do you suppose he was after?”
“No idea. What’s the call?”
He turned east and drove to the top of Spyglass Hill.
“Where we going?” M said.
He cut both siren and lights as he turned south on Bay view.
“Code two, Dungeness Bay Hotel.”
“I thought you had the place staked out?”
“Night only, and wouldn’t you know he’d strike during the day.”
He parked behind the bookstore on Main. They walked to Central and entered the hotel lobby from the side. Inside everything seemed quiet, tourists moved in a relaxed manner in and out of the elevator. Guests lingered in the lobby discussing their itinerary. When they reached the front desk the morning manager looked up and smiled at Buck.
“Can I help you?”
“You have a message for Sheriff Ramos?” Buck said.
“Yes, but I think he should read it.”
Buck leered at the manager, removed his wallet and flashed his badge.
“I’m sure he won’t mind. I’ll take it.”
The manager didn’t argue. “If you insist.”
He led them to the elevator where they stood in silence waiting for the doors to open. “This way, please.”
Buck looked over at M and shrugged. Two minutes later when the elevator jolted to a halt the manager exited and moved briskly down the hall. He stopped in front of the Greens’ room.<
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“I thought there was a message,” Buck said.
The manager extracted a key from his pocket, opened the door then paused.
“The maid was sent up to prepare the room for guests and found this.”
With a flourish he opened the door wide and stepped to the opposite end of the short entry hall where he flipped the light switch and pointed at the wall.
“Shit,” Buck said.
M read the message aloud. “Octavio Ramos, alone this room, tonight.”
Buck stepped up to the wall. “At least it isn’t written in blood.”
He turned to the manager.
“You know the drill, nobody in or out. I’ll send an officer right over.”
Buck didn’t bother looking around for clues as he stepped back into the main hall and headed for the elevator.
M hustled in right beside him. “What does this guy want?”
He shook his head. “This could be the break we’re looking for.”
They rode down in silence, when the elevator door opened she looked up at the big clock on the lobby wall.
“Drop me off at the Lobster Pit on your way out of town, will ya?”
“I think Ramos will want you in on the plan for the night’s activities. I know I will,” Buck said.
“I can meet you at the station in a couple hours. I promised my managers lunch for taking care of business and keeping the gym open when I couldn’t.”
He held the door.
“Okay, but I’ll expect you around two.”
They drove south through town doing barely twenty, hitting red lights at both Spyglass and Pirate’s Knoll, then getting bogged down behind an RV towing an SUV.
“Tourists. Can’t live with ‘em, can’t shoot ‘em,” Buck said.
M smiled over at him, but he never took his eyes off the road.
“This would be a ghost town without them, baby,” M said with a small laugh.
He put on his blinker and turned into the parking lot in front of the Lobster Pit. “No it wouldn’t. It would turn back into a sleepy little fishing village.”
She climbed out of the cruiser and mouthed “thank you” at Buck through the rolled up window. He smiled and winked. When she turned he watched her hips sway as she walked to the restaurant. She still likes me, he thought, and began whistling the theme from Indiana Jones as he drove off.
She spotted her crew sitting in a back booth as soon as she walked through the door. Mark Lima and Andy Neal were sitting with their backs to the entrance, facing the black belt that had been with Neal when he found M. When he shot to his feet, Mark and Andy knew it was M, and stepped out of the booth.
“I’d like to give each of you a big hug,” M said. “But as Andy can attest, it would be very painful.”
As the three of them climbed in one side of the booth, no one laughed. The conversation ranged from her recovery to the new equipment she had ordered.
“I feel like I’ve lost a day, but the weight machines should be here tomorrow.” She sipped from her water. Her appetite still hadn’t returned.
Andy picked up his water glass and held it over the center of the table “A toast.” The others put down their forks and picked up their water, clinking glasses. “To the best employer, instructor and friend. M, to your health.”
She kept her glass up. “And to the best staff,” she smiled at Big Jake, “and student.”
Again they clinked glasses, this time drinking.
A few minutes later, Mark put down his fork and leaned against the backrest. “I’m stuffed.”
The waitress began picking up the plates, putting them in the now empty bucket. “You sure made short work of that,” she said. “Anything else?”
M gave each one a look, which was returned with a shake of the head.
“I guess were done.”
The waitress set the check on the end of the table. M reached over and picked it up. “Wow, you guys aren’t cheap.”
She pulled out her Visa credit card and placed it on the end of the table with the check. The waitress scooped it up and walked back towards the kitchen.
“I’m going to call and find out where the delivery truck is. Mark, I’m leaving it all up to you. I’ll give you a call as soon as I find out…”
“Excuse me.” The waitress held out M’s credit card. “Your card was declined.”
M turned her head sharply in the direction of the waitress.
“Did you try it twice?”
She set it on the table in front of M. “Yeah, sorry. Do you have another you’d like me to try?”
M dug into her billfold and pulled out a fifty.
“This should cover it.”
She picked up the card, gave the strip on the back a quick glance and slipped it in back in the wallet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
M PULLED INTO one of the public parking spots in front of the Fort Point Sheriff’s department. She couldn’t help notice when she drove up that the gated yard in the back was empty. When she pushed through the front door the energy level was almost non-existent. The dispatcher, a slender, blue-eyed brunette greeted her. Molly was an officer but chose to remain at the station.
“Where is everyone?” M asked.
Molly walked over to dispatch to answer a call. “The hotel.”
M sat on the edge of the nearest desk.
“Can you tell me what happened to Edward Platte?”
Molly swiveled around to face M.
“Sure, you were on the case. They sent him to San Francisco to be held for psychological observation.” She keyed another call asking directions for a domestic disturbance. “Do you want me to let Ramos and Buck know you’re on your way?”
“No thanks, I’m headed home first.”
Molly gave a wave as she turned back to the microphone to answer another call.
M stepped out into the sun and took a minute to put her hair into a French braid and fold down the Fiat’s canvas top. She figured that as long as she was headed up north she might as well enjoy the trip.
On Hwy 101, she let the Fiat gently roll into the corners before accelerating and shifting. She loved this part of the drive and found herself actually anticipating the curve that would bring the ocean into view, and where the road descended to just above the beach. For miles she watched breakers roll up the beach as she drove past, forcing herself to focus on the road, finally giving in, pulling off the highway onto a beachfront parking lot.
She tossed her shoes in the back seat and rolled up her cuffs, straightened up and looked longingly out to sea as if her father’s schooner might appear on the horizon. Her stomach tightened as she walked down the beach, and she felt tears form but blinked them away. Closing her eyes, she crouched, settling into the sand. Each wave flowed over her feet and ebbed away taking with it a little sand and some years until she was a teenager once again, standing on the poop deck of her father’s schooner, pleading with him not to be put ashore. A rising tide returned the years with a splash and she was on her feet back-peddling. Glancing at the horizon, she wondered, was it really so many years ago? Turning, she trudged back to the Fiat wondering at the memory that had haunted her these twenty-five years.
Pulling back on the highway she challenged every curve and straightaway driven by a fragmented memory she couldn’t understand and couldn’t forget. Finally slowing, she entered Dungeness Bay, stopping for the light at Pirate’s Knoll. She continued one more block, turning left off of Main onto Ocean View and left again on Sea Bass until she came to the back of the Malmstrom Building, drove up the alley and parked. She hesitated as she walked past the dumpster where she’d last seen the homeless man, and shook off the feeling of helplessness at not knowing who he was or why he was killing people. Or why he hadn’t killed her. Where the alley met the sidewalk, she looked up and down the street half expecting him to jump out.
The two big bay windows of the studio that looked out into the street were clean. Peering in, the activity pleased her. Half a doze
n students and several people she didn’t recognize, were moving one of the thousand-pound, multi-station weight machines across the floor on a four-wheeled platform. Mark Lima rushed up to her when she passed through the turnstile.
“Sensei,” he gave a short bow, “we’re moving all the machines to the side of the room to make a clear space for the new ones to be rolled in.”
“Great,” she said, pausing briefly to scan the activity then hustling across the room toward the stairs. “I’ll be down in a minute to let you know when they’ll arrive.”
She tried to take the steps up to her apartment two at a time but stopped when her ribs started to ache. When she got to the door, she noticed that the lock and door jamb had been replaced. She had to jiggle the new key Andy had given her to get it into the lock. The door opened smoothly when she gave it a push, but she didn’t enter at once. Instead, she took a moment to re-create the attack in her mind. When she stepped in, she stopped at the spot where she’d come up from her roll, where she’d first been kicked, then looked to her right where she thought the homeless man was standing when she entered. It was funny how she kept thinking of her attacker as a homeless man, but why the disguise? If he’d gone to the trouble to camp out in the alley and scope her out why didn’t he follow through and kill her?
She crossed the room and picked the phone up off the kitchen counter, crossing to the bedroom talking continuously, switching the phone from ear to ear, and pinching it between shoulder and ear as she changed clothes. Finally hanging up as she sat on the edge of the bed to put her shoes on. Odd someone had paid off her Unical card and closed the account.
She used the key to throw the deadbolt and slowly walked down the stairs, watching the activity as she descended. Mark met her at the foot of the steps.
“Tomorrow between ten and noon,” M said.
Mark gave a short bow. “I’ll have everything ready.”
He sensed that she wanted to ask him something, “Yes, Sensei?”
She closed to within a short foot of Mark and spoke in soft tones. “Did you ever notice a homeless man hanging around?”
Mark flushed and looked at his feet. “Yes. I saw him in the alley, dumpster diving when I was emptying the trash. He said he was looking for something to eat.”