“Should I call the police?”
“Not yet. The police never take a missing person report seriously for the first forty-eight hours, unless it’s a child or there’s evidence of foul play. Let’s keep my investigation low-key for now.”
“If I’ve learned anything in thirty years in the hotel business, it’s that things you hope won’t come out, always do. Always. More so with a celebrity. It’s just a matter of time.” He pushed the stack of pictures together. “You’re right. I’ve got to do something. Okay, Chuck, we keep it off the record. Now tell me: What the hell’s going on in my hotel?”
“That’s what I intend to find out. And when I do, you’ll be the second one to know—after Bob Martinez.”
###
“Come in, Mr. McCrary. Whatever this big emergency is that couldn’t wait ‘til tomorrow, it had better be a matter of life and death, or else I’m gonna be severely pissed.” Giselle Foreman, the chief accountant for the Port City Palace, looked at me over the top of her glasses. “Since I can’t be pissed off at my own boss, you’re next in line. Do I make myself clear?”
I didn’t have to be a detective to know that she wasn’t a happy camper.
“Now convince me this was worth me missing a family trip to the beach on a beautiful Sunday afternoon.” She sighed. “Okay, okay, I know it’s not your fault. The boss may know all about managing a hotel, but he stopped using computers when they put more than ten buttons on them. He said to help you any way I can, keep your visit under my hat, and not to ask questions.” She gestured to a chair across from her desk. “Let’s get this over with.”
I slid the pictures across the desk. “I need to know who these two men are. They’re in rooms 3405 and 3406.”
“That’s all?” Foreman glanced at the pictures as she slid a keyboard in front of her. “Why couldn’t this wait until tomorrow?”
“It was Mr. Wallenda’s decision to call you in. And, while I agree with that decision, he should be the one to tell you why it’s important.”
“Well, he has conveniently gone home and left me holding the bag.”
“I sympathize with you. If it’s any consolation, this is ruining my Sunday too.”
She waved it off. “Oh, forget it. I’m just venting. 3405 and 3406, you said? Let’s see… those rooms are both registered to XPVV Corporation. They were checked in with a corporate American Express card at the same time.” She pushed the keyboard aside. “That doesn’t help, does it?”
“Did they sign a register card when they checked in?”
Foreman glanced at the screen. “They checked in yesterday. The register cards would be scanned into our data base by now.” She pulled the keyboard over again. “Here they are.” She rotated the monitor so I could see.
The two signatures were illegible.
To order Quarterback Trap, click here Amazon.com.
Dangerous Friends
The fourth Carlos McCrary novel, Dangerous Friends is available in both electronic and print editions on Amazon.com. Free to Kindle Unlimited members.
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A fast-paced action thriller about ecoterrorism, political corruption, and felony murder.
Chuck McCrary is a wisecracking former Green Beret turned private investigator with a special genius for helping people in trouble—especially if they can pay him for his efforts.
Michelle Babcock, the granddaughter of South Florida’s legendary restaurateur and Chuck’s friend, Hank Hickham, has disappeared. She wakes Chuck with a 4:30 a.m. phone call, desperate for help. James Ponder, her drug addicted boyfriend, has involved her in a double murder that could put her in prison for life unless Chuck can find her a way out.
Michelle only expected free tutoring in college chemistry when she slept with James Ponder, a graduate student obsessed with global warming protests, who has a talent for ecoterrorism. Instead, she is sucked into an unhealthy circle of friendships surrounding an amoral professor whose secret agenda has yielded him millions of dollars with more loot to come. Michelle is swept up in a nightmare of political corruption, terrorism, and mega-million-dollar crimes.
Chuck uncovers a conspiracy involving arson, murder, and the Chicago mob. A mysterious millionaire has masterminded a string of mega-million-dollar stock market scams that reach back for five years. The mastermind intends to cut his losses by murdering anyone who can lead the cops back to him. That includes Michelle, Chuck, and the conscienceless professor, who becomes Chuck’s unwilling ally.
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One reason we keep turning pages in Dangerous Friends is to watch the gripping character of Chuck McCrary. The skill with which he handles clients, police detectives, mob assassins, and FBI agents—all while controlling the outcomes of the case—is as remarkable as the clues he uncovers. Chuck seeks justice without regard for the legalities involved and tries to leave the world just a little better than he found it.
A preview of
Dangerous Friends
Chapter 1
The burner phone rang five times before James Ponder got it out of his pocket to answer. “What took you so long?” the familiar raspy voice asked. “You think this is a hobby or something, Lamp Post?”
“No, no, no, Mr… I mean, Redwood.” Ponder caught himself in time—only code names over the phone. Or at least over that phone. “No,” he finished lamely. He knew that Redwood would reject any explanation and he couldn’t tell him the truth. “Sorry.”
“Are you high again?”
“No, no. I haven’t had a hit all day.” Ponder inhaled, held his breath, and admired the beauty of the swirling smoke that rose from the hand-rolled cigarette.
“Hmph. You must to be clear-headed,” Redwood said. “There are millions of dollars at stake here. As well as the future of our planet. The package is on the way. It’s due to arrive tonight. We can’t change the schedule now. I’ve already made the arrangements from my end. Don’t fail me again, Lamp Post.”
Ponder released the smoke from his lungs. “What time do we make the delivery?” He coughed.
“I’m waiting to hear from my other source. I’ll call Kinetic with the time. But you do have the present ready, right?”
“It’s ready. We’re just waiting for the, uh, package to arrive. I have good news. You know how I complained that we need more dedicated volunteers. I may have another recruit for the, uh, the real work we do.” He took another hit. Man, this is good shit.
“Listen, Lamp Post. I told you, three people are enough. The more people involved, the trickier the security gets.”
“This girl is different, Redwood. She’s smart, she’s dedicated to the cause, and she comes from a rich family.” And she’s been screwing my brains out since that party last Halloween. “I’ve worked her around for five months, bringing her along. She’s a perfect addition. I think it’s time we brought her in on the operation.”
“No. We planned this too long to bring in an unknown quantity. She’d be a wild card. Leave her out of this. Watch her reaction to the operation. Then you’ll know if she’s as dedicated as you think.”
“Well, uh, there’s a little complication…”
Redwood remained silent. Ponder hated that about him. When the boss wanted an explanation, he didn’t ask the question like a normal person. No, he waited and let Ponder stew.
“She already knows about the operation. Look, I swear she’ll be all right with it. She’s a true believer, man. Besides, I told her it would be a peaceful protest.” Ponder didn’t tell Redwood that he had bragged about the up-coming operation while he snorted cocaine with the girl. Then when she asked for details, he’d made up some bullshit explanation.
“What kind of protest did you tell her it was?”
“I told her we would drape a banner across the front of the package with our message on it.”
Redwood sighed. “It can’t be helped. That train has left the station.” He laughed at his little pun. “You realize that you have placed the whole project at risk—again.”
“Yes, sir
, but it will be all right, I swear.”
“And you realize that if you’re wrong about her, there will be serious repercussions. For both of you.”
“She’s okay. I’m certain of it. She’s coming over here later to wait for Kat—Kinetic’s call.”
“Remember, Lamp Post. Clear-headed. If I find you’ve gotten high again, I shall be… disappointed. I don’t want anyone injured or killed this time; it causes too much backlash. You remember how much I hate to be disappointed, don’t you?” The line went dead.
Ponder’s stomach knotted. He rubbed the stump of his left little finger. A few years earlier Ponder had accidentally killed a night watchman during an assignment. Redwood had sent two thugs after him. One thug had held his wrist while the other had cut off his little finger with a hack saw. “Just follow orders next time,” the man with the hack saw had told him. “Redwood don’t like it when you improvise.”
Closing the flip phone, Ponder giggled and took one last drag before crushing the joint in the ashtray. The girl would bring Oxycodone to keep him happy when the marijuana wore off. And later Ka-BOOM! He would see the carnage and feel the adrenaline rush, and Redwood couldn’t blame him for the deaths.
Chapter 2
The girl picked up her phone and punched reject. “I feel kinda bad sending Daddy’s calls straight to voicemail like that.”
Ponder wrapped his arm around her waist and tried to reach her phone. “Why don’t you turn the goddam thing off? You’re an adult for crissakes. This isn’t the nineteenth century, and your father doesn’t own you. You must assert your own personal identity.” He spoke with the certainty of long practice and much repetition of well-memorized slogans. “You don’t have to be defined by your subservient role to a patriarchal paradigm. You deserve your privacy. We deserve our privacy.” Ponder rubbed her breast with his chin, tickling her nipple with his beard.
She rolled onto her side to face him, grabbed his hand, and kissed the palm. James had such a… a… facility with words. If only he wasn’t such an adrenaline junky. “I know, James, but… Daddy’s gonna be worried, you know?” She leaned backwards and set the phone on the nightstand. “Besides, Katherine or Steven might call.”
She wrapped James’s arm around her waist and rolled onto his chest, straddling his body. James was a more persuasive speaker than she was, but she was better at persuading with her body. She wiggled her hips, giggled, and nuzzled his neck under the beard. “That got your attention. I feel that.” She ground her hips against him.
James wrapped both arms around her waist. “Omigod, that feels good.”
She nibbled his earlobe. “It could feel even better.” She rolled off and reached for her purse. “You’d better put on a condom. I brought some.”
James lay there with his eyes closed. “Not this time. What are the odds, just this once?”
“We discussed this. We won’t bring children into this world yet. Not until we clean up some of the pollution.” She nibbled on his earlobe.
“I’ll put on a condom, if you turn off your phone. Don’t worry, we have my phone. I don’t get as many calls as you do.”
“What if Steven calls me instead of you?” She noticed Ponder’s eyes narrow. “What, you’re jealous? That’s so bourgeois.” She hoped she had used the unfamiliar word right. She’d learned it in her poli-sci class the week before. “You know how pissy Steven gets if we don’t answer his calls no matter what we’re doing. Or whom.” She smiled.
“Forget Steven.”
“We can’t do that, especially not now.” She stroked his beard. “James, the project will happen any time, maybe tonight. We gotta be ready and available. Are you that easily distracted?” She blew in his ear. “Speaking of being ready and available…” She ran her fingers down his chest. “I’ll bet I can keep your attention, even if the phone does ring.”
Chapter 3
When John Babcock carried his coffee into my office, he looked as nervous as a nudist at a church picnic.
“Sit down, John. You said on the phone that you had a family emergency. What happened?”
“Mickie’s in trouble, Chuck.”
“Your daughter Michelle, right? I met her at Hank’s Super Bowl party.”
“Yeah. She’s a freshman at the University of Atlantic County.”
“What’s her full name?” I asked.
“Michelle Teresa Babcock.”
My heart twanged when John told me her middle name. I’d once dated a woman named Teresa. I wrote it down anyway. “What’s her major?”
“Environmental studies.”
I wrote that down too. “How can I help you?”
John rested his hands on his thighs and his chin dropped to his chest. “Mickie’s disappeared. I called Hank, and he told me to call you. Said you helped him out of a tough spot a while back.”
Good old Hank. He’d sent me several clients in the last year. “Disappeared how?”
“She doesn’t answer her phone. I emailed and texted her. She doesn’t reply.”
“How old is she?”
“Eighteen. She’ll be nineteen this summer.”
“When’s her birthday?”
“What difference does that make?”
I shrugged. “Maybe none. It’s the way I work as a private investigator. I get lots of facts. When’s her birthday?”
“Geez, I don’t know. Sometime next summer—June I think. Penny would know.” Penny was Hank’s daughter and John’s wife.
“Never mind. I’ll get that later. Where does Michelle live?”
“At home. She commutes to school.”
“What’s your address?”
He told me and I wrote it down. “How long has Michelle been out of touch?”
“Since Saturday morning. I think something bad’s happened to her.”
“What does Penny think?”
His lips twisted in a half smile. “Her maternal instincts tell her that Mickie’s okay. Penny thinks maybe she skipped out with a boyfriend. She reminded me that we did that when we were in college.”
“But you don’t think she’s with a boyfriend,” I said.
“She doesn’t have a steady boyfriend.”
“Sometimes parents don’t know their kids as well as they think.” I smiled to soften the comment. “Face it, John. Legally, Michelle is an adult. There are things you and Penny don’t know about her. She has a right to her privacy even if she does live at home.”
“Mickie may be eighteen, but she’s not really an adult. I remember when I was her age. I didn’t have a lick of sense. Frankly, she’s naïve about the real world.” He lifted his coffee. “Maybe Penny and I’ve been overprotective. Okay, maybe I’ve been overprotective. You’ll understand when you have daughters.” He sipped his coffee.
“When’s the last time you heard from her?” I asked.
“Couple of days ago. Last Friday night at dinner Mickie told us she and a few friends from the university were gonna build houses for Habitat for Humanity during spring break. A local motel out in west Port City agreed to house the volunteers so they wouldn’t have a long commute through rush-hour traffic. At least that’s what she said. She packed a bag and left Saturday morning. Nobody’s heard from her since.”
I looked at my wall clock. “Okay, it’s two-thirty. Why come to me now?”
“This morning I had some business out near the Everglades. I called Habitat for Humanity and got the address where they’re building this week. I was gonna drop by and surprise Mickie. Take her and her friends to lunch.”
“Good for you.” I smiled. “A great way for Dad to check up on his little girl.”
He shrugged and grinned. “When I showed up at the job site, she wasn’t there. She hadn’t been there at all.”
“So she played hooky today?”
“Unh-uh. She wasn’t there Saturday or Sunday either,” John said. “She hasn’t ever worked for Habitat for Humanity. She’s not on their volunteer list.”
Chapter 4
&
nbsp; John met Snoop and me at the door. “Penny would be here if she could. Her school’s spring break is a different week than UAC, so she’s at work.” He raised an eyebrow at Snoop.
I put a hand on Snoop’s shoulder. “John, this is Ray Snopolski. He’s a retired Port City police detective who works with me from time to time.”
Snoop shook John’s hand. “Everybody calls me Snoop.”
“You gonna help Chuck find my daughter?”
“Yes, sir.”
John gestured us in. “Her room’s down this way.”
Michelle’s bedroom was the second door on the right. The heavy perfume scent hit me before I turned on the light. When I did, it looked like her closet had exploded. “John, did burglars ransack her room?”
He shrugged. “What can I say? Neat, she ain’t.”
Piled against the front wall to the left of the door were assorted shoes and sandals. Textbooks and notebooks littered the bed; more were stacked in a corner of the room. An HD television had a string of Chinese paper lanterns hung across the corner of the screen. Bras and a swimsuit were piled into another corner, surrounded by a herd of blouses and pants in various colors. One corkboard displayed photos, a sparkly bow made of translucent red ribbon, posters, two blue first-prize ribbons, and assorted medals on tiny chains. Wildlife pictures in idyllic settings covered another corkboard. A pile of clean clothes was stacked behind the door. I knew they were clean because they were folded. I figured Penny had laundered them. Two thermal glasses, half-filled with amber liquid, sat abandoned on a nightstand next to a one-liter carafe filled with seashells. Two half-burned scented candles filled the rest of the crowded space.
I turned to John. “We won’t do a thorough search. It takes hours to search a room properly.” And this one could take days, I thought. “If Michelle’s in trouble, I can’t afford to spend the time. We’ll do a quick-and-dirty for clues to where she might be, but it will take time. Why don’t you wait in the living room?”
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