Mike Befeler Paul Jacobson Geezer-lit Mystery Series E-Book Box Set: Retirement Homes Are Murder, Living with Your Kids Is Murder, Senior Moments Are Murder, Cruising in Your Eighties Is Murder

by Mike Befeler

  “It’ll probably get you locked up as my accomplice.”

  Meyer had stopped bouncing. That was good because I didn’t need an eighty-five-year-old pogo stick destroying my apartment.

  “I have another thought,” I said.

  I rummaged through my nightstand drawer and found the copy of the Kina Nani visitors’ log. I pointed to the illegible name. “This person signed in the night of the murder. Could be the signature of Harrison Young.”

  “Can’t help you with that,” Meyer said. “I could only read it with a magnifying glass.”

  “We’re quite a pair of detectives, with my memory and your eyesight. Between the two of us, we don’t even make one lame-ass amateur.”

  “But think of all the life experience we’ve had,” Meyer said. “A young kid like Detective Saito can’t match us.”

  “Somehow that doesn’t give me a sense of confidence,” I said.

  Meyer looked thoughtful. “So we either turn it over to Detective Saito or we try to do something ourselves.”

  I sat and tried to think up a good plan. There appeared to be no other alternative. “All right. Here’s what I need to do. First, I’m going to pay Harrison Young a visit.”

  “Won’t that be dangerous?”

  “Probably. You don’t have to come. This is my problem, and I need to step up to it.”

  Meyer regarded me with his fuzzy stare. “Give me a break, Paul. I’m in this with you.”

  I shrugged. “Okay. We’ll put both our asses on the line, then. If we confront Harrison, we may get him to admit what he’s done. In fact, if we have a hidden tape recorder, we can collect some convincing evidence for Detective Saito.”

  “What’s to keep Young from overpowering both of us?”

  “We outnumber him. We’ll have to be smart and light on our feet.”

  Later I caught the van over to the shopping center and bought a small tape recorder with cord-attached miniature microphone accessory. When I returned to Meyer’s apartment, he looked like a caged tiger pacing back and forth.

  “I don’t know if this will work, Paul.”

  “I don’t either, but I need to give it a try. As I mentioned before, you don’t have to come with me.”

  “We need some kind of backup plan,” Meyer said.

  “Such as?”

  “We need to let someone know where we’re going, just in case we have a problem with Young. That person could alert Detective Saito, if necessary.”

  “What about Henry?”

  Meyer smiled. “Sure. I’d feel better if Henry were our backup. Let’s go talk to him.”

  * * * * *

  “You’re both nuts,” Henry said, after Meyer explained the plan. “Let Paul hang for what he’s done.”

  “But he hasn’t done anything,” Meyer said. “We need to prove that Harrison Young is the murderer. I’m taking my cell phone along. I’ll call you as we’re going up to Harrison’s apartment. Then you can notify Detective Saito.”

  I gave Henry a slip of paper with Saito’s phone number.

  Henry shook his head. “Two pissants.”

  Next, I called Harrison’s number from Henry’s apartment.

  “Yeah?” a gruff voice answered. I hung up.

  “He’s there. Time to go.”

  I called a taxi, placed the tape recorder in my pocket, and with a strip of duct tape attached the microphone inside my aloha shirt.

  * * * * *

  As we rode toward Windward Passage, I said to Meyer, “All we have to do is stay alive for half an hour.”

  “That’s encouraging.”

  “We get him to talk, then Detective Saito shows up. Harrison Young wouldn’t kill us in his own apartment. It would be too risky for him.”

  The cab dropped us off in front of Windward Passage. I looked up at the twelve-story building, the tallest in Kailua, as Meyer pulled the cell phone out of his pocket. He had it in a Ziploc bag.

  “Why the protection for your phone?” I asked.

  “So it won’t get ruined if I get caught in the rain.” He dialed Henry. “We’re here. Call Saito.”

  Meyer resealed the phone inside the plastic bag and thrust it back in the pocket of his khaki pants.

  I switched on the tape recorder I had hidden in my pocket. “Show time,” I said.

  We waited until a resident opened the door, tailgated into the building, and then took the elevator to the ninth floor.

  As we walked along the hallway, I looked down at the gray carpet and wondered what the hell we were doing. Taking a deep breath, I rang the doorbell of apartment 910. Our fate was sealed tighter than the cell phone in Meyer’s Ziploc bag.

  I stepped to the side, out of view, per the plan Meyer and I had discussed. When the door opened, Meyer said, “Mr. Young. I’m here to see you regarding a stamp collection.”

  “Who are you?” he said.

  “I’m Adrian Penniman.”

  “The guy who stood me up?”

  “I apologize,” Meyer said. “I had a family emergency.”

  “That’s what the stamp store owner told me.”

  “I’d like to see the Swiss collection.”

  “Would you now?” Harrison Young said. “Why not?”

  Meyer started into the room, and I followed. Harrison had turned his back and was lifting a stamp album off a shelf.

  “Say, how did you know where I lived?” Harrison spun back around. Our eyes locked, and his brow furrowed. “Well, if it isn’t Paul Jacobson. What brings you here?”

  I saw his set jaw and the one-inch scar on his cheek. I gave him my most deprecating smile. “Just checking out stamp collections.”

  His eyes narrowed. “How did you figure this out?”

  “You’re a guy who attracts attention, Harrison,” I said. “First you knock off Tiegan; then you steal his stamp collection. A typical lawyer.”

  “You got something against lawyers?”

  “I don’t like them much. Particularly the murdering kind,” I said. “So, how’d you get into the robbery and murder racket?”

  He looked at me, and a smile crept across his face. “Just supplemental income to support my family.”

  “You don’t strike me as a family kind of guy.”

  His gaze hardened. “You know nothing about me.”

  “Other than being a scumbag lawyer, that’s true,” I said. “Just trying to get to know my neighborhood murderer a little better.”

  “These stamps will assure a good life for Ali.”

  Meyer said, “Who’s Ali?”

  Harrison turned toward Meyer. “Kid I adopted from Afghanistan. When I was stationed over there, I found a boy living in the streets. Brought him back to the states and fattened him up.”

  “Sounds like Hansel and Gretel,” I said. “You going to eat him?”

  Harrison Young laughed. “You’re a real comedian. Maybe you’ll soon be a dead comedian.”

  “Hey, I try to please,” I said. “Where is good old Ali?”

  “He’s visiting my brother’s family in Miami. But I support him.” Harrison glared at me. “And you aren’t going to get in my way.”

  “You’re quite the role model for little Ali.”

  “I don’t care what you think. When I sell Tiegan’s stamp collection, I’ll get close to half a million bucks. That’ll get the kid through college.”

  “I can just see it. He gets a check from home. Courtesy of murder and rape incorporated.”

  “I’ve never raped anyone.”

  “Well, that’s one on your plus side, Harrison.”

  “You always yammer this much?” he asked.

  “Only when I’m around murderers.”

  “Maybe you better back off a little, Paul,” Meyer said, his gaze darting from side to side.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said. “I know. Don’t get the murderer riled up.”

  I thought back to an incident described in my journal. I pointed at Harrison Young. “After you whacked Tiegan over the head with a
bottle, you must have used a master key to get in my room to leave the murder weapon and a Swiss stamp.”

  A wide grin spread across his face. “That was fun. I had to think on my feet. See, I was going to steal the stamps from Tiegan, but he woke up. Had to kill him and did that ever give me an unexpected thrill. Then I came up with the idea of framing you. I knew you lived in the same building. After I planted the bottle and stamp, I placed an anonymous call to the police suggesting the murder weapon and some stolen property were in your apartment. And I bet the police have been trying to nail you for the murder.”

  “No, Harrison, they’re going to get you. And you were the one who hit me over the head with a bottle and left me in a ditch.”

  “You must have a hard head. I thought I took care of you, like Tiegan. After doing it once, I enjoyed trying again. With your defective memory, I didn’t have to worry that you would identify me.”

  “I’ve been wondering,” I said. “How did I end up in the ditch?”

  He chuckled. “I found out from a stamp store guy that you had been snooping around. You were butting in where you didn’t belong. Came up to your apartment to have a little friendly chat.”

  “Hell. It couldn’t have been friendly if you whacked me over the head.”

  “After a little man-to-man persuasion, you accompanied me to my car,” Harrison said.

  “You mean you gave me a free ride in your beautiful gold Lexus?”

  “I thought you couldn’t remember stuff.”

  “I don’t remember your car from that experience, but I’ve seen it since.”

  “You been playing amateur cop?”

  “Something like that. And then you tried to poison me at Pearl’s.”

  Meyer gasped.

  Harrison smiled. “I never did understand how you survived that. I figured a little arsenic on the buffalo wings would take out an old guy like you.”

  “Nah,” I said. “I’m too tough. Besides, the wrong person ate the food.”

  “Too bad,” Harrison said.

  “I’m curious,” I said. “How’d you happen to be at Pearl’s that night?”

  “When I found out the knock on the head didn’t work, I bought some poison and followed you. Pearl’s seemed to be the perfect place. Big crowd and confusion.”

  “Does Ali know his adoptive daddy is such a bastard?”

  “Ali must be so proud,” Meyer said.

  “Leave Ali out of this.” Harrison’s eyes narrowed.

  “Hey, you’re the one who brought him up as the reason for all of this,” I said.

  Meyer looked at his watch. “We should get going, Paul. My water aerobics class will start soon.”

  “Shit,” I said. “This is more fun than swimming.”

  “You don’t like swimming?” Harrison asked.

  “Nah. I hate the ocean. Being in it, that is. I like looking at it. Meyer here is a good swimmer, but I sink like a rock.”

  “Really?” Harrison’s eyes lit up. “I have an idea of just the place for you.”

  Chapter 25

  I looked at Harrison Young. “I get the impression you have something in mind that won’t make little Ali proud.”

  “Enough talking,” he said. “Let’s head down to the car.”

  “On second thought, I like it here,” Meyer said.

  Harrison reached in the top drawer of his desk, pulled out a handgun, and pointed it at Meyer’s forehead.

  Meyer’s eyes bulged.

  “I wouldn’t do anything stupid, Harrison,” I said. “We’re old and almost dead anyway. Also, the police will be here any moment.”

  “That so?” he said with a sneer. He pointed his gun toward the door. “Move.”

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” I said. “The place is probably swarming with cops by now.”

  “Yeah, right. They don’t care about sorry old wastes like you two.” He waved his gun at us. “Let’s get going.”

  He jabbed the gun in my back, and I stumbled toward the door. Then we were in the hallway and moving toward the elevator.

  I was hoping to see some other people, but we had the elevator to ourselves.

  Once downstairs, Harrison put the gun in his pocket and steered us into the parking structure. When we reached the gold Lexus, he beeped the doors open.

  “You drive,” he motioned to Meyer.

  “That wouldn’t be such a good idea,” I said.

  “Don’t give me any lip, old man.”

  “You can have it your way,” I said. “It’s just that having a half-blind guy drive might cause some problems.”

  “All right. You drive.” He pushed me toward the driver’s side.

  I tested the steering wheel while Meyer struggled into the passenger side with the gun-toting Harrison Young behind us.

  “This will be interesting,” I said. “I haven’t driven in five years.”

  “It’ll come back to you,” Harrison said. “Now, let’s get started.”

  I fumbled with the key he had given me, trying to waste as much time as possible, but the car started the first time. I tried to back out, but the car wouldn’t budge.

  “Release the parking brake,” Harrison said in a cold voice, as he pushed the gun into my shoulder.

  “Yes, sir. Where is it?”

  “On the left.”

  I tapped the peddle and we lurched backward. I found my driving legs and aimed us out of the parking structure. As we drove past the front of the building, I surveyed the turnaround circle. No Detective Saito. The one time I wanted to see him.

  We came to the street.

  “Turn left,” Harrison said.

  I jerked the steering wheel and stomped on the accelerator. We shot around the corner.

  “Drive normal,” Harrison said, pushing the handgun into the back of my head.

  “That’s as normal as it is for me. I’ll try to get used to the car.” We turned left on Kailua Road and headed across Ku’ulei Road. Then I noticed Meyer squirming in his seat. “Uh, oh,” I said.

  “What’s the problem?” Harrison said.

  “Just a little DNA evidence being left on your seat,” I replied.

  Meyer didn’t say anything.

  “It’s not a good idea to kidnap old guys,” I added.

  “I’m not kidnapping you,” Harrison said. “We’re going for a little one-way ride.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” Meyer said.

  “If I’m not going to live much longer, anyway,” I said, “how did you get keys to my apartment and the trash chute?”

  “Easy. Moki. I found out he was a guard at Kina Nani. I bought him drinks at a bar and offered to take him back to his apartment. When he passed out, I copied his keys.”

  “And I bet you even signed in to Kina Nani earlier in the evening of the night you bumped off Tiegan, later recognized your mistake, and came back to steal the page.”

  “No way. No one at Kina Nani has ever seen me. Except for Tiegan, who’s dead, and Moki, but he wouldn’t remember anything, given how drunk he was. I used Moki’s copied keys to get in the service entrance.”

  “So now all you have to do is get rid of us and sell the stamps,” I said.

  “That’s right. Third time’s the charm. Knocking you off, I mean. You’re going to be very dead; then I’m heading to the mainland tomorrow morning. Get away from this place and sell the stamps. Park up ahead.”

  I pulled in and managed to not hit the curb.

  “Out,” Harrison said.

  Meyer slid out, and I looked at the wet spot on the seat where he had been.

  Harrison Young opened the trunk and retrieved a coil of rope and a small toolkit. He motioned toward a boat anchored along the side of a canal just ahead. I helped Meyer in and then stepped in myself. Harrison hopped aboard, untied the line, and started the engine. He spun the boat around and pointed it down the canal. I estimated that we had an hour of light left.

  “Where you taking us?” I asked.

>   “We’re going on a little cruise,” Harrison said.

  “I’m not much of a swimmer,” I said.

  “Swimming won’t help you,” Harrison said.

  The canal emptied into Kailua Bay, and once we were in open water, Harrison gunned the engine. We powered along the nearly empty beach—only a woman walking a black dog, several kids still splashing in the gentle waves, and a man packing up his windsurfing equipment.

  My stomach tightened the farther we traveled from shore. I took deep breaths trying to think of something pleasant, like being on land again.

  Fifteen minutes later we passed Popoi’a Island. I watched a flock of seagulls rise from the small flat rock surface. I wished I could fly. In the distance, a car traversed the point between Kailua and Lanikai. Unfortunate that nobody knew we were here.

  It would have been an enjoyable boat ride at dusk, except I hated being on the ocean and knew that Harrison Young didn’t plan to take us back to shore alive.

  I looked over at Meyer. The blood had drained from his face, and he was rocking back and forth.

  I kept hoping a police patrol would come charging after us, but no other boats were in sight.

  We headed toward the Mokulua islands, and Harrison steered for the left island. He cut the engine. We drifted into a spit of sand and scraped to a stop.

  Unfortunately, we had the island to ourselves.

  “Everybody out,” Harrison said.

  Both Meyer and I struggled out, our legs stiff from the cramped ride.

  Harrison pulled the boat up farther on the sand and grabbed the coil of rope and toolkit.

  “Walk over those rocks,” he said, giving us both a not-too-gentle shove.

  I stumbled, regained my balance, and followed his directions.

  After a short hike, Harrison said, “Stop right here.” He extracted a knife from his toolkit and cut a section of rope.

  “Put your hands behind your back,” he told Meyer, then tied Meyer’s hands together with the rope.

  “Do the same,” he said to me, and then bound my hands with the other end of the rope. Meyer and I were now both connected, with a short tether between us. From the toolkit, Harrison extracted a hammer and something else I couldn’t see.

  “Now comes the fun part,” Harrison said. “It’s swimming time.”

  I looked down at a rock shelf that dropped off into deep water.