Thin Blood Thick Water (Clueless Resolutions Book 2)

by W B Garalt

  “It’s all yours,” Maggie heard through the earphones. She tensed up her grip on the wheel and the airplane began to bank slightly to the right and began to climb. Max told her to relax her grip and slowly turn the wheel to the left to level the wings and slightly push it forward to lower the nose of the Cessna. Her right foot was pushing on the rudder pedal, which was an automatic reaction of a cautious automobile driver on the brake pedal. In this case, however, it had been pointing the aircraft to the right, so Max brought it to her attention. After a few minutes Maggie felt more at ease and a broad smile came across her countenance as she looked at Max. After approximately ten minutes of this he indicated that he was switching back to auto-pilot. Maggie nodded and let loose of the controls. She settled back in the co-pilots seat with an audible sigh of relief.

  “What a great feeling that was,” she said, still beaming a smile as she looked at Max.

  “There’s nothing like it,” he responded. “Well,…almost nothing,” he added, with that irascible twinkle in his eye that he had when he was in a comfortable setting with Maggie.

  The remainder of the three hour, 386 mile flight was uneventful, but Maggie kept Max occupied in between his flying duties with questions about the instrument readings and how they affected the flying. Max realized that the keen interest she had could possibly result in Maggie wanting to take flying lessons.

  The last twenty minutes of the journey was over a completely snow-covered surface. Contact with Presque Isle Regional Airport Tower was made and instructions for a visual landing were given. Touch-down was made at 10:10 AM.

  After the taxi to the parking area the travelers shut down their airplane and made their way through the twenty-something degree sunshine to the pilots’ sign-in desk. They noticed that the indoor temperature wasn’t all that much warmer than the interior of the Cessna had been. Don Chace had preceded them, landing at 9:15 AM on a commercial flight. The flight desk manager had notified ‘Mr. Chace’ when Max, running a little late, radioed to request a full-stop landing, and Don had watched them land. He was there as a private citizen, to make arrangements for a private meeting, introducing himself as ‘Mr.’ rather than ‘Inspector’.

  “That was a smooth looking landing guys,” was the greeting as he approached Max and Maggie from the lounge area. Extending her hand to receive a congratulatory shake Maggie thanked him for the compliment, surprising Don. He thought she must have piloted the landing.

  “Gotcha!” Maggie said, laughing at Chace’s confused look. “I was wondering how you would react to that.” The three of them shared a laugh over what was an inside joke between them. It dated back to when Maggie first met Don during the East Haven murder investigation. Maggie and Max had pre-arranged to meet for lunch. She had approached from behind as Don and Max sat at a bar. She had mistaken Don Chace for Max since they looked very similar from behind, and she had made a sexually-inappropriate comment as she hugged him from the rear. Maggie was embarrassed beyond words at the first impression Chace must have gotten, and Chace didn’t graciously let her off the hook. He teased her about it and, to make it worse, Max even went along with it. The trio had grown to be friends but Maggie never let a chance go by to catch Chace off guard, just to get back at him.

  Chace had rented a car and they proceeded to the Country Vista bed & breakfast, twelve miles northwest in Fort Fairfield, to check in.

  “Welcome to Fauht Fayahfield,” greeted the elderly proprietor, in her quaint native brogue. “I hope you’ll enjoy yoah stay heah.”

  The rooms were impeccably clean and, furnished in an eclectic country motif, formed a cozy, comfortable environment. Televisions were lacking in the rooms but a 40 inch flat screen, satellite-fed model was available in the first floor living room between 7 AM to 10 PM.

  After freshening-up in the rooms, the three ‘tourists’ met in the living room and agreed to drive out to the Customs house on the Maine/New Brunswick border to inspect the layout and decide on a suitable meeting space for the ‘sale transaction’.

  Driving westward on Main Street, Fort Fairfield, they soon encountered the signs highlighting the up-coming border crossing with large instructional displays showing the crossing procedures and requirements. From a parking area, they walked to an information office. Upon entrance, they encountered a familiar face. ‘Mr.’ (Inspector) Maurice Leblanc greeted them and the foursome seated themselves in some corner chairs of the waiting area to discuss the situation quietly.

  An important factor at the scene of the transaction, as a safety measure, was going to be situating the principals in separate areas, whereby both buyer and seller would be present during the signings and passage of the payment, but not face-to-face. It would simulate a legitimate transaction, but both parties would remain unseen by the other. That would be presented to the seller as a ‘quirky’ preference of the buyer.

  Another factor was at what point the seller, Mahlah Bickford, would be approached by officials to be detained for questioning. Since she had demonstrated a status of being shielded by her Native Indian lineage in Canada, it would be best to detain her on the U.S. side of the border. She could be expedited to Canadian officials after the fact. If she feared crossing the border to consummate the transaction, she would be told that the deal was off. If she insisted that the transaction be done on the Canadian side, she would be told that the eccentric ‘cash buyer’ would not leave U.S. soil for any reason.

  The customs office was too small to accommodate the transaction and there were no other enclosures near the border crossing point.

  “Could we rent a large motor home, or travel trailer?” Maggie asked. The foursome looked at each other for a moment mulling over the suggestion.

  “That’s it,” Chace stated. “I can arrange that. The buyer can stay in the motorhome, the seller can drive her vehicle through to the U.S. side. The cash can be viewed by the seller and placed in a separate vehicle, under-guard, during the document signings.”

  “You can be at U.S. Customs to detain the seller for questioning, as a citizen and resident of New York State before she crosses back over,” Inspector Leblanc said to Chace. “I will be there with back-up to make an international co-operative arrest at the border. If there is any disruption because of her Native Indian backers, you can hold her on your side.”

  “So I will be with the buyer and the attorney, and the seller will be there with her attorney, correct?” Maggie asked.

  “Not exactly,” Don Chace answered. “Max will be there as the buyer’s ‘attorney’ and I will be there as a ‘guard’.

  “If the seller is accompanied by Chip, who knows I’m not an attorney, won’t that spook them?” Max suggested. Chace went on to explain that Max could stay in the motorhome with the buyer and the seller wouldn’t see him. He suggested that, even if he saw Max, Chip would assume that he had flown Maggie to the transaction location.

  Maggie knew that she wouldn’t be expected to produce an actual cash buyer and assumed that a stand-in would be used. She suggested that the details of the transaction, however, should be as if it were an actual transfer of the Bickford Laboratory Real Estate. She would need a name in preparing the correct papers and would ask, through Chip, to provide the seller’s information and remind her to bring the keys to the property. All that was needed now was a date.

  Max agreed to contact Chip to explain the sale proposition so that he could pass it along to Mahlah Bickford. He promptly dialed the USAP priority number.

  “Hello Max. Is there an emergency?” Chip asked. Max knew by the immediate pick-up that he was at his office in Lakeside. If he had been away, the transfer to his cell phone would have taken a moment to process.

  “Not exactly, but something has surfaced regarding the Lab,” Max responded. “I’m flying into Lakeside approximately two hours from now and I wanted to make sure you’d be there.” Chip indicated that he would be there at 4:00 PM. Max acknowledged and they said their goodbyes.

  With that, the plan was set in
motion. Max would fly directly to USAP headquarters to meet with Chip and from there to New Haven. He would return the rented Cessna at Tweed Airport and stay in touch with Chip by phone until a date was set for the transaction. Maggie suggested that Max drop her off at New Haven first so that any probing by Chip concerning the ‘sale’ could be avoided. Max could claim ignorance of the details and have Maggie call him later.

  “Time won’t allow for that now, so you’ll have to handle it when we get there,” Max told her. Don Chace suggested that he could fly Maggie back to Hartford and she could take the commuter train to New Haven but it wouldn’t be until the following morning.

  “Thanks Don, but I have to fly co-pilot for Max, otherwise he’d have to fly back all alone,” she said with an obvious wink. Chace expressed his understanding with a chuckle. The group parted ways and headed back to the Fort Fairfield Inn to check out. They would then drive to Presque Isle where Max and Maggie would initiate their flight to Ithaca, New York.

  By 12:15 PM the group gathered for lunch in the lounge at the Northern Maine Airport, Presque Isle. Max filed his flight plan to Ithaca. As usual, he would cancel the landing request after making contact with Ithaca flight control and divert to the nearby USAP Headquarters air strip.

  After handshakes all around and a few burps resulting from the greasy hamburger lunches, the Ithaca-bound travelers taxied the Cessna rental to the assigned end of the runway. A clearance for takeoff was given by the tower and they were on their way southward.

  Back at USAP headquarters Chip was on the phone when Brad Charles walked into his office with a questioning frown on his brow. Chip hung up the phone, motioned for him to be seated, and asked Brad which of the planes in the USAP fleet Max had checked out. Brad indicated that all were accounted for and Max didn’t have any of them. Chip explained that Max was flying in at 4:00 PM with news on the Bickford Property which he wanted to convey in person. Brad was indifferent, explaining that he had no idea what was going on and his suggestion was to wait for Max’s arrival. Chip nodded as if he agreed, but sat with a blank stare until Brad rose from his seat with an irritable look and went back to the flight office.

  Brad had no sooner exited when Head Secretary Heather Copeland, working overtime on this weekend, walked in for ‘her turn’ for a question and answer session by her boss. She soon left with the feeling that Chip seemed quite nervous, and wondered why he would be questioning Max’s actions. Her raised eyebrows and quizzical expression surprised Partner Danyel Uhlman, as they passed on the raised walkway near the door to Chip’s Office.

  The atmosphere at USAP headquarters was suddenly inverted. Senior Partner Chip Chaplain was arbitrarily causing concern among the key operatives, as had been his habit lately. But now Chip was the person abruptly left hanging with questions and uncertainties. Although still completely in charge he felt vaguely challenged and somehow threatened by Max Hargrove’s phone call, although he had no idea why.

  Chapter 39

  By 4:20 PM on Sunday afternoon Max had lowered the altitude of the rental airplane to 2000 feet. The Ithaca air traffic control center had acknowledged the cancellation of the flight following, and the intention to land there, according to the flight plan which Max had filed. The USAP airstrip at Lakeside had come into view. Max circled the headquarters area checking the wind sock indicator to verify direction. He flew the Cessna across Black Bottom Lake as he approached the runway, into the brisk southeastern headwind which had caused a longer than predicted trip. The touchdown and the taxi to the hangar parking area went smoothly. After shutdown Maggie asked Max if it would be best if she simply waited in the plane while he met with Chip. Max thought it would be best if she described, to Chip, the general offer proposal for the purchase of Bickford Laboratory but with no names and no final details.

  No one seemed to be in the building as they strode through the hangar to the elevator at the rear. They knew that Chip would have had his eyes glued to the security monitors as they approached his office, even in the elevator. They casually stepped out of the elevator into the meeting room and went up the stairway to meet Chip.

  “Come on in, you two gadabouts, and have a seat around the cocktail table,” Chip said rather loudly. His face was flushed and his eyes were rather bloodshot as he extended his hand, first to Maggie, and then to Max. “You must be thirsty after that flight,” he added. “What can I get you?”

  Maggie had a glass of chardonnay wine and Max refused alcohol, explaining that they had to get their rented plane back to New Haven. Chip nodded, looking smug as he finally got the answer to one of his questions.

  “Why rent a plane? Didn’t Brad have anything available for you?” asked Chip.

  “Actually Maggie rented it,” Max lied, “to work with her associate who introduced her to a potential buyer up in Maine, and she asked if I’d fly her there. I agreed to it since I was off duty for the weekend.” Chip nodded knowingly but they knew he didn’t know anything at all about their trip.

  Maggie explained that only the preliminaries of a purchase offer had been broached and that she would need an introduction and a meeting with Mahlah Bickford, who was listed as the owner according to the parish records in Nova Scotia.

  “Max told me that you might be able to contact Ms. Bickford,” Maggie said to Chip, faking ignorance of any connection they might have. Chip had slightly over-imbibed on scotch whiskey, judging by the half bottle on the bar, and by his demeanor. He was in no condition to be his usual svelte, calculating self, and it was obvious to Maggie and Max that he wasn’t sure if he was disguising his relationship with Mahlah adequately.

  He rose from his chair and walked to his desk where he pretended to look for the contact information that Maggie would need.

  “I’ll get it to Max first thing tomorrow,” he said after shuffling some papers, “if that’s okay.” Maggie agreed. She suggested that, if he didn’t mind, he could pass along the suggestion of a purchase offer to see if there was interest. Chip indicated that he’d do that and kiddingly asked Maggie if he’d get a referral fee for his efforts.

  “It’s a little early for that,” Maggie replied with a smile. “But I know this buyer will offer a cash deal, and I know that it will be around the million mark. Anything beyond that should be discussed directly with the owner,” Maggie finished, with a more serious inflection in her voice.

  Chip, although a little slower due to his alcohol content on this occasion, picked up on Maggie’s unmistakable business voice and deferred any further pursuit of information. He seemed more inclined than usual to drift toward friendly chatting. Under other circumstances it would perhaps develop into a fun night among friends. On this early evening, however, he wasn’t exactly among friends, and the security guard was probably the only other person on the premises. With the goal of their meeting achieved, it was time for Max and Maggie to make their exit.

  “Damn! Look at the time!” Max exclaimed with manufactured urgency. “We agreed to get the Cessna back in New Haven by 6:00 o’clock. Maggie, we have to get moving. I’ll radio an amendment to our flight plan to land at Tweed-New Haven after we’re airborne.”

  At that, Maggie got up and started leaving. Max was right behind her as a slightly confused and pre-occupied Chip Chaplain ushered them toward the stairway which led down to the briefing room and the waiting elevator.

  Within twelve minutes the Cessna was started and idling. With pilot and unofficial co-pilot strapped in, they embarked on the final leg of their journey. After a taxi to the lake-end of the USAP runway and the alignment for takeoff, Max pushed the throttle to full power position and they accelerated down the runway.

  At 3000 ft. altitude and five miles south of Ithaca, Max radioed the flight controllers to amend their flight plan and to request a flight-following on the way to Tweed airport. The request was accommodated.

  “Well Mag, the ‘baited hook’ is hanging there for the fish to take a nibble,” Max said over the intercom. “And my guess is he’s probably on t
he phone with Mahlah Bickford right now, talking about how they can spend her proceeds.” He went on to compliment Maggie on her handling of the meeting and felt that Chip had no idea he was being set up.

  “Oh, that was a snap,” she responded. “I’ve handled bigger fish than him. I hope he can convince the other half of the equation.”

  “I think we should set up the transaction right away before they have time to think too much,” Max suggested. “I’ll call Don Chace when we land. Hopefully he can arrange everything before Thanksgiving.”

  Maggie ran through the list of what she would need from Chace, including a decoy buyer with the cash. She would prepare a legitimate-looking sales agreement and, from Max, she would need the specifics on the laboratory, the land, and the furnishings. Maggie added that she would try to get a copy of the recorded deed from her contact in Nova Scotia, to compare it when presented during the sale proceedings.

  Time arrived for preparation to land at Tweed Airport and the travelers set about the task at hand. By 6:40 PM the landing was completed successfully, the rented Cessna was presented for inspection at the airplane rental office and it was time for a much-needed ‘martini-with-a-supper-on-the-side’ for two.

  While Maggie drove, on the way to Jerry’s Jug, Max cell-phoned Don Chace to give him an update on the meeting with Chip Chaplain. Chace agreed with arranging the ‘sale’ as soon as possible. They set a target date for the following Friday, the 20th of November, one week before the busy Thanksgiving Holiday travel time. Chace told Max that he needed a few days to arrange for the $1.1 Million in 100 dollar denominations to use for the ‘sale’. He wasn’t specific as to the source but indicated that the cash would be marked for tracing in case it was mismanaged or misappropriated in the process. Chace mentioned that his job would be in question if that happened.

  Maggie took the longer route to Jerry’s Bar so that she could stop in at her office to pick up any important messages. Max waited for her in the Marshall Real Estate Services parking lot while Maggie darted in and out with a few notes in her hand. Max had taken over the driver’s seat in the meantime.