Harbor Nights

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Harbor Nights Page 9

by Rick Polad

“But how did she get the key?”

  “He leaves it in the boat—under the seat or maybe even in the ignition.”

  “Really? Makes it easy to steal.”

  I laughed. “Different life up here, Maxine. And pretty isolated. People don’t lock their doors. And the boat is in a little cove. If you didn’t know it was there you wouldn’t know it was there. This way, his friends can borrow the boat without bothering him for the key.”

  We finished eating.

  “Well, Spencer, you still haven’t found her, but at least you know where she’s been. Any ideas why she took the boat?”

  “Nope. There’s something she’s doing. Wish I knew what.”

  We got back in the car and I turned away from the harbor and gave Maxine the tour. We made a brief stop at a wonderful little museum in a log cabin and ended at Schoolhouse Beach, a beach with no sand. The beach was entirely small limestone rocks rounded by the waves. We made the loop and headed back to the ferry.

  As we turned right onto the harbor road, she said, “This all is pretty frustrating. Do you like doing this, Spencer?”

  I pulled around a slow van. “Well, as Grizzly said, I like asking questions. But yes, sometimes it is frustrating. But you ask enough questions and there are usually answers.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Yes, I like it a lot. I love solving puzzles and I sure like the freedom of not having to go to an office every day and punch a time clock.”

  “Do you always get the bad guy?”

  “So far.” I pulled onto the loading ramp. This time we were near the front. “But that’s only because I haven’t done it much. The police aren’t so lucky. But they have more than one case to work on.”

  “And from what I’ve seen, you’re not getting rich on this.”

  I turned off the car and waited for the ferry. “What do you mean?”

  “When you met me you were helping a little girl. She couldn’t have had money to pay you. And this time you’re helping your friend who you haven’t even talked to.”

  I chuckled. “You are correct. But I’m lucky enough not to have to worry about it. My folks left me enough money to last the rest of my life.”

  She didn’t respond for a minute and then reached out and touched my arm. “That must be hard, Spencer. If you ever want to talk...”

  “Thanks, Maxine. I appreciate it.” I lifted my arm and pointed out into the harbor. The ferry was coming. I would have loved to talk more, but mostly what I wanted to talk about was her.

  Chapter 22

  When I got home, I called Paul and asked him to get out another UMIB on Grizzly’s boat. Then I put a burger on the grill. A bottle of Schlitz was already half empty.

  The daytime temperature had reached ninety-four and the humidity had risen throughout the day. But the natural air conditioning of the woods next to Moonlight Bay kept the temperature down. The thermometer on the deck read 78.

  I ate slowly and thought about Maxine. I had very much enjoyed spending the last two days with her. Taking her hand when we crossed the street to Greenwood had been a natural response and I liked it. I liked when she touched me and I liked that she thought I was special. And normally I would be thinking about making love with her. But I was pretty sure that would never happen. I had met her on a case and at that time she was making a living as a prostitute. If we ended up in bed, I was sure she would end up wondering what I was thinking and if I was having second thoughts. I wouldn’t be, but I would always think she would think I was. And that would never be a good thing. So I raised my bottle to Maxine and called Stosh to see if he had anything new on the case.

  ***

  Hi, Spencer. Where are you?”

  “Still up in Door.”

  “Are you coming back anytime soon?”

  “Yes. Tomorrow, but not sure why I ever leave here. You have anything new?”

  “Nope. Do you?” asked Stosh.

  “Mostly just a lot of frustration.” I told him about Gunderson.

  “Well, nice chatting with you. Thanks for calling,” he said sarcastically.

  “Yeah, good. Don’t you want to hear about the frustration?”

  “Not especially. I’ve got my own, but I leave it on my desk. Then you call and think I wanna hear yours. I take it you still don’t know where Kathleen is.”

  “No. But I know several places where she isn’t and a couple where she was.” I told him about the boat.

  “Makin’ progress. Hang on a second.”

  I rearranged the pillows on the couch and stretched out. I heard him pick up the phone.

  “So, there’s a body in the morgue and a missing person. You think this is about the painting?”

  “To some extent, yes. But to what extent I have no clue. It seems to be what started all of this, but there has to be more to it than just an attempt to steal her favorite painting.”

  “I agree. Have you talked to Rosie?”

  “No. Has she mentioned me?”

  “Just to ask if I’ve heard from you.”

  “How’s the new detective doing?”

  “Pitcher? Okay. No complaints.”

  “Is she working with Steele?”

  “Sort of. Steele and Lonnigan are working separate cases, so Pitcher spends time with each.”

  “Does she get to choose who she likes best?”

  “No, I get to. That’s why I get the fancy desk.”

  “And the big paycheck. I’d like a favor.”

  “Of course you would. I’ll send you a bill at the end of the month.”

  “There’s a Chief Iverson up in Ephraim. Would you use your unofficial channels and see what you can find out about him?”

  “You gonna tell me why?”

  “No good reason. He’s not real cooperative and doesn’t seem to like me.”

  “So what’s to look into? Sounds like he’s got things figured out pretty well. Anything in particular?”

  “You mean other than trying to think of some reason to arrest me?”

  “I’ve been trying to think of a reason to arrest you for two years.”

  “Funny. But I’m serious. There’s something odd up here. Kathleen told her friend she didn’t call the police because she doesn’t trust them.”

  “From what you’ve told me, your friend is a little odd, so maybe it’s not the police.”

  “Maybe. But wouldn’t hurt to check.”

  “So says you. Gotta go. Late game out in San Fran.”

  “Okay. I’ll stop by tomorrow. I’ll take the third inning.”

  “You’re on.”

  We hung up and I decided to turn in and get an early start in the morning. Cubs and Giants. We always bet on what inning Stosh would fall asleep.

  Chapter 23

  I woke up early Thursday morning to the rumble of thunder, loaded my bag in the car before the rain started, and fried some eggs. I always hated leaving and thought maybe I’d buy a little business or hang out my shingle up here. But with the lack of crime, things might be pretty slow. That might not be all that bad, though—there was a lot of nothing I could do up here. Except for an accident before Green Bay, the drive was uneventful. The rain stopped just north of Milwaukee, but the sky stayed gray all the way home.

  I pulled into the garage, dropped my bag in the kitchen, and figured I’d get a shower before lunch. The red light on the answering machine was flashing three times. I thought it was nothing that couldn’t wait until after a shower.

  I was wrong.

  ***

  The first two messages were from prior clients. One said a check was in the mail and the other wanted to hire me again. Another happy customer. The third message started as I got the roast beef out of the fridge. I dropped the beef on the counter, closed the fridge, and replayed the message: We’ve got your girlfriend, Manning. If you want her back, we can make a trade. We’ll call back with instructions.

  No wonder we couldn’t find Kathleen. The message had been
left this morning. I wondered how long they’d had her. And what did they want to trade for? I guessed the next message would tell me. I wondered how they linked her to me. It must be someone who knew we were friends.

  I called the station. Stosh was out at a luncheon. Rosie and Steele were out doing whatever they do when they’re out. I decided to drive over and wait for someone to show up.

  ***

  I had been sitting nervously in Stosh’s office for fifteen minutes when he walked in. He saw the look on my face and asked what was wrong. I repeated the message. He sat and picked up the phone.

  “Marge, have you seen Steele and Lonnigan?” He sighed. “See if you can find them and get ‘em in here. Spencer, did you call up north?”

  “No. I came here right away.”

  “Okay, we’ll get a tap on your line. And…”

  My pager went off.

  “It’s the Ephraim police. I wonder how they heard about this.”

  “Only one way to find out.” He pushed the phone over to me. I made the call and sat on the edge of the desk next to the phone. Paul answered.

  “Paul, Spencer. How did you hear?”

  “Hear? Hear what?”

  “Hear what?” I almost yelled. “Why did you call?”

  “I got a call from the Coast Guard about an hour ago.”

  “They found a boat?”

  Paul was quiet for a long ten seconds. “No, they found a body—washed up on the rocks near Plum Island.”

  I was so upset about Kathleen that I hadn’t caught the emotion in his voice.

  I turned to Stosh. “The Coast Guard found Cletis Muddd floating up in Door.”

  Stosh looked surprised.

  “Spencer. Spencer!”

  “Yeah, Paul.”

  He was quiet again and I felt a chill.

  “Spencer, it wasn’t Muddd.”

  I sat down on the chair and asked without really wanting to know, “Who was it?”

  “Kathleen.”

  I could tell by the look on Stosh’s face that he knew the answer.

  “Drowned? Was it an accident?”

  “We’ll have to wait and see. But I saw her. She was beat up pretty badly, Spencer. My guess would be she died from the beating, maybe not on purpose, and they dumped her in the water.”

  I sat frozen in the chair hoping that it was a bad dream. The phone was still in my hand, but my hand was in my lap.

  Stosh got up and took the phone out of my hand.

  “This is Lieutenant Powolski.” He listened for a minute. “Do you have anything else?” He put the phone on speaker.

  “No, Lieutenant. Beat up pretty bad. I’m guessing they killed her and then dumped her in the bay hoping she’d disappear. But bodies always float up somewhere. Probably someone not familiar with the waters up here. There are better places to dump a body that would take longer.”

  I could hear Stosh telling Paul about the kidnapping, but it was like it was happening on television. Marge came in and dropped some folders on the lieutenant’s desk. She looked at me and instantly looked worried.

  I felt completely disconnected from what was going on.

  Stosh hung up. I could hear him talking, but it was like a dream and I was just watching. Marge looked like she floated out of the room. I could still hear Stosh talking, but it took a while before I realized he was talking to me.

  “Spencer. Spencer. I’ll have Lonnigan drive you home.”

  I had no idea why he wanted me to go home or why I couldn’t drive myself. I looked at Stosh and asked a silly question. “So, if Kathleen is dead, who is my girlfriend, the one the bad guys said they’re holding?” I spread my hands palms up and shook my head. “I don’t even have a girlfriend.”

  Stosh buzzed Marge and asked her to come in. “Marge, please take Spencer to the break room and get some coffee while I find Lonnigan.”

  I shook my head, trying to get hold of something real.

  “No. I’m okay. Let’s talk about the girlfriend. I’m not kidding. I really don’t have one.”

  Stosh sighed and squinted at me with concern. “Well, someone thinks you do. And thinking back, I could make a list as long as my arm.”

  “None of whom are current.”

  “Maybe so,” he replied. “But it’s how it appears to someone else. And it’s that someone else who counts. Let’s figure this out.”

  I needed to concentrate.

  “Okay. I—oh crap.”

  “What?”

  “Maxine. We just spent two days together. She was with me when I found Gunderson’s body. If someone was watching the store…” I dialed the inn, feeling sick to my stomach.

  Stosh told Marge he’d call her if he needed her.

  Aunt Rose answered.

  “Hi Aunt Rose, is…”

  “Bad timing, Spencer. I’m in the middle of…”

  “Rose! This is important. Is Maxine there?”

  “Well, of course she is. She’s upstairs making up beds.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “Spencer.” She sounded agitated. “What’s this about?”

  “When?”

  Now she sounded worried. “I guess an hour ago. Maybe two. Why?”

  “Go look. I need to know she’s there.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right back. You’re scaring me.”

  She was back in two minutes.

  “She’s not in the house, Spencer. What’s going on?”

  “Look outside and see if you can find her. I’ll hold.”

  That took a few minutes longer.

  Out of breath, Rose said, “She’s not here Spencer. What’s going on?”

  “Someone called me and said they had my girlfriend. She didn’t tell you she was leaving?”

  “No. She had some errands to do, but she usually tells me when she’s leaving.”

  “Okay. Call Stosh when she shows up.” I gave her his direct line.

  “You’re scaring me, Spencer. Should I call the police?”

  “No. I’ll call Paul. You just stay there and call as soon as she shows up.” I didn’t want to think she might not.

  I hung up and turned back to Stosh.

  “Who else could it be, Spencer?” he asked.

  “My next guess is Rosie.”

  As Stosh pulled out a yellow legal pad, Rosie walked in.

  “Marge says you want to see me.”

  I got up and hugged her. She looked shocked.

  “Never been so happy to see you, Rosie.”

  Stosh’s smile stretched across his face. “Me too.”

  “What the hell is the matter with you two?”

  I explained as she sat on the chair with arms.

  Steele walked in, looked at our faces, and asked who died.

  Stosh filled him in.

  He leaned against the door jamb and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sorry about Kathleen, Spencer. Sorry, that was the wrong thing to say.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Steele.”

  “So, who’s missing?” he asked.

  I told him about Maxine.

  The lieutenant looked up at Steele. “Where’s Pitcher?”

  He shrugged. “Beats me.”

  “Isn’t she with you today?”

  “She didn’t show up this morning. I figured she was off with Lonnigan. I’ve given up trying to keep track of this screwy schedule.”

  I looked seriously at Stosh.

  He picked up the phone and asked Marge to put out a call for Pitcher.

  He hung up the phone and turned to me. “Why would anyone think she is your girlfriend?”

  “No idea.”

  “Probably not our girl, but I’d like to find her anyway.”

  Rosie turned to me. “Spencer, how long were you guys together when you were waiting for me at the diner?”

  “Maybe a half hour. But…”

  She held up her hand. “And you said you were at the gallery before that. Could somebody have followed you?”

/>   “I suppose. But I didn’t notice anyone.”

  “You weren’t expecting to be followed. It would have been pretty easy to do.”

  I hated to admit it, but she was right. “So let’s say someone followed me. Why would they think she was my girlfriend?”

  Rosie smiled. “When I came in you sure looked like you were with someone special. The two of you made a nice couple.”

  I squirmed in my chair. “That’s crazy, Rosie. I just met her.”

  “Yes, but you have a way with women. You like them. Easy for someone to notice.”

  I thought about the possibility and felt awful. I hoped she was wrong.

  Stosh’s phone rang. He listened for ten seconds and hung up.

  “Nobody has seen her. Let’s assume for the moment they have Pitcher.”

  “Who’s ‘they’?” asked Steele.

  “Don’t know,” Stosh answered.

  “And what do they want?”

  “Don’t know that either.”

  I stood up. “This is about these paintings, and two are missing. I’m going back to the frame shop and take it apart. I missed something.”

  Stosh shook his head. “Someone already beat you to that. And they knew what they were looking for. You need to stay at your house and wait for a call.”

  “Come on, Stosh. I can’t sit and do nothing. I’ve got to find those paintings.”

  “Not so easy when one of them was taken by Kathleen and she can’t tell you where it is.”

  “Anything on Harbor Nights?”

  Stosh wrote on his legal pad. “We’ve talked to the employees. Nobody knows anything.”

  “Who’s there besides Bloom and Vitale?” I asked.

  “Just one other kid—a girl who works part time. We even talked to the cleaning crew. No sign of forced entry. And before you ask, we’ve checked all the art channels and pawn shops—nothing.”

  “Maybe we should find out who bought Green and Blue and the others. Should be easy to find out who.”

  “I already did,” said Rosie. “Company called Travel the World, Inc. Bloom says he has no idea who the owner is. He works through an agent.”

  Stosh pulled a file out of his basket. “Lawyer—Black and Reynolds.”

  “And you called them?”

  The lieutenant looked at Rosie.

  “Yes, I talked to Black. He says his client hired him so he could be anonymous. He gets paid a lot to keep it that way. I asked if he wants his stolen painting. Black said of course he does, but not at the expense of his anonymity. He assured me his client knows nothing about all of this.”

 

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