New York City Murders

by W. D. Frolick

  After they shook hands with the pilots, an African-American flight attendant in her late twenties, introduced herself as Gloria Stockton. She helped Buck and Kristie store their luggage then excused herself, saying she’d be back in a minute.

  Kristie looked around and could hardly believe her eyes. “Wow!” she said, “I’ve never seen so much leather and luxury in all my life.”

  “Pretty swanky,” Buck agreed. “So this is how wealthy people like Jackson Chandler travel.”

  Kristie laughed. “It sure beats flying economy on American Airlines. I could get used to this way of living.”

  The flight attendant, overhearing their conversation, smiled and said, “Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee, tea, water, soda, beer or a cocktail? Breakfast will be served once we reach cruising altitude.”

  “It’s a little too early for a beer or a cocktail, but I’d love a black coffee, no sugar,” Kristie said.

  “Make that two, please,” Buck said.

  While waiting for his coffee to arrive, Buck pulled out a folder from his seat pouch. It was a brochure detailing information about the plane. He began to read. The jet was a Gulfstream model 650ER with seating capacity for up to 19, and it could sleep up to 10 people. It had a range of 7,500 nautical miles and a maximum cruising altitude of 51,000 feet. Just as Buck had finished reading the brochure, Gloria arrived with his coffee.

  Shortly after 6:00 a.m., the pilot received clearance for takeoff. The plane taxied onto the runway, and a few minutes later Buck and Kristie were looking down at the spectacular lights of New York City.

  Once the plane had leveled off, the pilot’s voice came through the speakers. “We have now reached our cruising altitude of 41,000 feet. The weather en route to our destination looks good. The current temperature in Port Vila is 68 degrees. We anticipate a smooth flight. Our flying time will be approximately 23 hours, which includes one stop to refuel. For your information, Port Vila is 15 hours ahead of New York time. Please sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight. Breakfast will be served momentarily.”

  After enjoying a delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee, Buck and Kristie reclined their seats, closed their eyes, and dozed off. They awoke in time for lunch. After lunch, they decided to discuss operation EXTRACTION.

  Woods opened the package. He pulled out an information sheet and scanned it. “It looks like we have all been booked into a five-star resort called Eratap Beach Resort. You and I will be sharing a two-bedroom unit, the pilots will be in a two-bedroom unit, and Gloria will be in a one-bedroom unit. It says that Mayor Chandler has made arrangements to pick up all of our expenses. Expenses for food and drinks at the resort are to be charged to our room. For any expenses incurred outside of the hotel, such as a car rental or meals, we are to use the cash in this envelope.”

  Buck counted the money and found that the envelope contained ten thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills.

  “That’s very generous of the mayor,” Kristie said. “I only hope we can reward him by finding Kruger and getting him back alive.”

  “I think we need to come up with a story as to why we came to Vanuatu,” Buck said.

  “What do you suggest?”

  “It’s simple. We’re boyfriend and girlfriend, and we’re on vacation..”

  “Boyfriend and girlfriend? Why can’t I be your wife?”

  “Because you aren’t wearing a wedding ring.”

  “Oh, yeah, you’re right. I guess boyfriend and girlfriend it is, then.”

  “It’ll have to do.”

  The plane touched down at Bauerfield Airport in Port Vila at 4:09 a.m. Vanuatu time. At that hour of the morning, everyone was dead tired, including the piolets who had taken turns napping, during the long flight. Buck and Kristie and the crew were cleared quickly with very few questions. Buck spotted a waiting airport limousine. He approached the driver, and he agreed to take them to the resort.

  After checking in at the Eratap Beach Resort, a bellhop loaded their luggage onto a pushcart and showed them to their respective accommodations. The accommodations were located next to one another overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Buck and Kristie said goodnight to the crew and went into their unit. Since they had slept a lot on the plane, neither of them felt sleepy. Buck pulled a bottle of red wine from his suitcase. He found wine glasses in the kitchen and poured them each a drink. “Here’s to finding our friend Kruger,” Buck said.

  “I’ll drink to that,” Kristie said, and they clinked glasses.

  After finishing off the bottle, they went to bed and made love. Still not sleepy, they cuddled and began to talk.

  “So how do you want to go about finding Kruger?” Kristie asked.

  “I’ve brought several pictures of Kruger. His normal look, his disguise as Duckworth, and his disguise as Smith. God only knows what he looks like now. I’m sure he’ll be wearing a new disguise. It could prove hard finding him when we don’t really know what we’re looking for.”

  “All we can do is show his pictures at the best hotels. Knowing Kruger, he won’t stay in any low budget places. He likes to live high on the hog.”

  “You’re right. Kruger likes everything first-class. That could prove to be his Achilles heel,” Buck said.

  CHAPTER 31

  The day after arriving in Port Vila, Kruger took a cab into town and went straight to the National Bank of Vanuatu. He met directly with the manager, Claude Richard, and opened two accounts––a checking account and a savings account. Kruger wire transferred fifty thousand dollars into his checking account and five hundred thousand into his savings account. The bank manager was ecstatic to have Thomas Richard Goodfellow, a Canadian, as a new customer. Richard told Kruger he liked Canadians. As a bonus, he gave his new customer an extra half of one percent interest on his savings account.

  “I’m thinking of purchasing property in Port Vila. Do you think that’s a wise move?” Kruger asked.

  “Yes, Mr. Goodfellow, I think that would be a sound decision. Our government encourages foreign investment in our country. I have several Canadian clients who have purchased homes and businesses here. Every year the values keep increasing.”

  “That’s good to hear. Is your government stable?”

  “Very stable, Mr. Goodfellow. The Republic of Vanuatu is a parliamentary democracy with a president similar to the United States.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “Here, Mr. Goodfellow, please take this brochure with you. You’ll find what you’ll need to help with your decision on purchasing property in Vanuatu plus a lot more valuable information.”

  Kruger took the brochure. “Thank you, Mr. Richard. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

  “No, Mr. Goodfellow, the pleasure has been all mine. If I can be of further service, please drop by anytime.”

  Richard gripped Kruger’s hand firmly and shook it vigorously.

  When he arrived back at the resort, Kruger put on his bathing suit and went for a swim in his private pool. Feeling refreshed, he retired to the patio with a double Scotch and the brochure Richard had given him. He flopped down on a lounge chair and began to read. Kruger was pleased to learn that Vanuatu did not have any income, estate, or capital gains taxes. Becoming a resident was not too complicated. If you had a monthly income, that you could bring to Vanuatu, you could apply as a “self-funded” resident. All you have to do is have a Vanuatu bank certify that you can deposit VATU 250,000 which was about USD 2,250 per month. That wouldn’t be a problem if he kept all the ransom money. At a minimum of two percent interest, his monthly income on the twenty-five million would be more than double the requirement. The brochure went on to state that if you purchased some form of real estate or agricultural project valued at VATU ten million (approximately USD 89,000), you could become a resident for one year with annual renewals. After ten years of residency, you could apply
to become a permanent citizen of Vanuatu. When Kruger finished reading, he smiled, picked up his drink, took a sip, and rolled it around on his tongue to savor the taste before swallowing. Life is good! Tomorrow he planned to start looking for oceanfront property. He went to the phone and called a real estate agent that the front desk receptionist had recommended.

  At 10:00 a.m. the next morning, an attractive forty-year-old real estate agent with First National Real Estate named Shelly Saunders pulled up to the entrance in a cherry red Camaro convertible.

  As Kruger approached her car, Saunders got out and extended her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, Mr. Goodfellow,” she said, smiling warmly.

  Giving Shelly Saunders the once-over, Kruger liked what he saw. “The pleasure’s all mine, Ms. Saunders,” he said, returning her smile. “Please, call me Tom.”

  “Okay, Tom. Please call me Shelly. I’ve done some research based on the criteria you gave me on the phone yesterday, and I’ve lined up several spectacular properties for you to view today.”

  “That sounds great. I can hardly wait to find my new home.”

  “Well, let’s get started, then,” Shelly said as she got behind the wheel.

  Kruger slid onto the passenger seat and buckled up. Shelly gunned the engine, and they took off, gravel spewing from the rear tires.

  After viewing four oceanfront properties, Kruger hadn’t seen anything that he liked. But the fifth property turned out to be precisely what he had in mind. It was a sprawling ranch style home located on Devils Point Road. It came totally furnished with four bedrooms, each containing an ensuite bath. It was a larger house than Kruger needed, but he loved the property, the white sandy beach, and the view of the ocean. The asking price was AUD 465,000, or approximately USD 338,000. Kruger put in an offer at AUD 450,000, with a fifty-thousand dollar deposit, and within twenty-four hours his offer was accepted with a closing date in two weeks.

  The day his offer had been accepted Kruger was ecstatic. He asked Shelly out to dinner to celebrate. Before she picked him up, he changed his appearance by getting rid of the false beard. When she arrived, Saunders was surprised to see the beard missing.

  “I like what you’ve done,” she said. “You look younger and much more handsome without the beard.”

  Kruger accepted her compliment with a wide grin. “Thanks. I like it better shaved off as well. It was too hot and itchy in this warm climate. A beard is more suited to living in Canada, especially during our cold winter months.”

  Over wine, while waiting for dinner, he found out that Saunders was a widow with no children. Shelly was born in Sydney, Australia and had moved to Vanuatu several years ago when her husband, Sam, was promoted to bank manager of the ANZ branch in Port Vila. Three years ago, at the age of thirty-nine, her husband had a massive heart attack and died at work before he could be taken to the hospital. After his death, Shelly said she had buried herself in her work and had not gone out on any dates. He could tell that she was lonely and ripe for the picking.

  When she asked Kruger about himself, he gave her the story he had memorized. He told her about his Canadian birthplace, Barrie, Ontario, located on the shores of beautiful Lake Simcoe. He mentioned that his dad had been a lawyer and his mother, just like her, had been a real estate agent.

  Shelly picked up on the word “had” and asked, “Are your parents not working anymore? Are they retired?”

  “Ten years ago my parents were both killed in a boating accident. It took me a long time to get over it. Like you, when you lost your husband, Sam, I threw myself into my work.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear about the tragic death of your parents. What did do you do for a living?”

  “I was a workaholic stockbroker who drank heavier than I should have. But that’s in the past. I came to my senses and realized there’s more to life than work and booze. Recently I made a decision to retire from the rat race and find a quiet place in a warm climate to enjoy the rest of my life. A friend recommended Vanuatu, that’s why I’m here.”

  “Were you ever married?”

  “No,” Kruger lied. “I was married to my job and didn’t have time to get involved in a serious long term relationship. But now that I’ve retired and have all the time in the world, you just never know. If the right woman comes along, I might change my mind.”

  Like a wide-eyed hungry fish, Shelly swallowed his bullshit story hook, line, and sinker.

  Changing the subject, Shelly said, “I have a cousin, Joan Parsons, who married a Canadian and lives in Winnipegosis. She’s a grade nine high school teacher, and her husband, Walter, is the principal. After Sam died, Joan invited me to visit her and her family. A year after he passed away, I decided to take her up on her offer and went to visit them for a few weeks in July. It was warm, but you couldn’t sit outside after the sun went down. That’s when the mosquitos came out. They were as big as dive bombers and almost ate me alive.” Shelly laughed. “I was glad to get back home.”

  “Winnipegosis? It sounds like Multiple Sclerosis or Cystic Fibrosis––definitely a disease I wouldn’t want to catch. Where is it located?”

  Shelly laughed. “It’s not a disease, it’s a small town with a population between six and seven hundred, located on the Mossey River and Lake Winnipegosis. It’s about four hundred kilometers northwest of Winnipeg.”

  “Winnipeg? Where is Winnipeg?”

  “You’re joking, aren’t you? Winnipeg is the capital city of the province of Manitoba, in Canada.”

  Kruger’s face flushed. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. I’ve never been good at geography.” He quickly changed the subject.

  “After dinner, why don’t we go back to my villa for a nightcap? We can sit out on the patio and listen to the waves roll in.”

  Shelly accepted, and as soon as they walked through the door, like two wild animals in heat, they attacked one another, clothes flying in all directions––the nightcap on the patio completely forgotten,

  CHAPTER 32

  The day before Buck, Kristie, and the flight crew arrived at the Eratap Beach Resort, Kruger had checked out and moved into his new house. Unknown to everyone, the villa that flight attendant Gloria Stockton had been assigned was the one Kruger had occupied.

  The morning after arriving in Port Vila, Buck rented a car. He and Kristie decided to drive around and become familiar with the island.

  As Buck drove, Kristie asked, “Where should we start our search for Kruger?”

  “I’ve made a list of all the five-star hotels and resorts in the area. The computer came up with five. I’ll program them into the car’s GPS system, and we can start with them. Knowing Kruger, he won’t be staying in any dump.”

  “You’re right. Kruger likes luxury. If he’s here, he’ll probably be staying in one of the best places.”

  They spent the rest of the day showing Kruger’s pictures at the reception desk of Tamanu on the Beach, The Havannah, Irriki Island Resort, and Ramada Resort without any luck. No one could recall seeing anyone resembling Kruger. Exhausted, and frustrated, they went back to the Eratap Beach Resort. Before heading to their villa, Buck showed Kruger’s pictures to the young lady at the reception desk.

  “Somehow he looks familiar, but I don’t think he’s the man that stayed with us recently.”

  “He’s probably changed his appearance and won’t look like any of these pictures. Can you describe the person you’re thinking of?”

  “The man who stayed here is almost your height. His head was shaved, and he had a gray beard. I’d say he’s close to sixty years old, and he looks to be physically fit.”

  “Was he an American?” Buck asked.

  “No. If I recall correctly, Mr. Goodfellow is a Canadian from Toronto. I saw his passport.”

  “Did he speak with an accent of any kind?” Kristie asked.

  “He spoke like you. Most Canadians use the word eh a lot
. I don’t recall Mr. Goodfellow using it at all.”

  “Is he still staying at the resort?” Buck asked.

  “No. I think Mr. Goodfellow checked out the day before you arrived. He was staying in the same villa we gave to the lady from your flight crew.”

  “Did he say where he was going?” asked Kristie.

  “No. I assume Mr. Goodfellow was going back to Canada.”

  “Okay, thank you for your help,” Buck said.

  “May I ask why you’re looking for him?”

  “I’m sorry, it’s a personal matter. Thanks, again,” Buck said and turned to Kristie. “Let’s go back to the villa and have a drink. God knows I could use one.”

  “Good idea. I could use a drink too. We can toss a few ideas around and start fresh in the morning.”

  “It looks like we struck out again,” Buck said. “If Kruger is here, we have no idea what he looks like. It could take forever to find him.”

  “You’re right. Let’s forget about Kruger for now and have that drink.”

  They decided to take their wine out to the patio and watch the waves ebb and flow. Relaxing in lounge chairs, Kristie said, “I can see why Kruger wanted to come here. It’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.”

  “Yeah, I could get used to this life. It sure as hell beats the traffic, smog, and chasing bad guys in NYC.”

  “This would be a great place for a honeymoon, Mr. Woods.”

  Buck smiled. “Don’t get any ideas, Ms. Karlsson.”

  “I’ve got a great idea. Why don’t we order in room service, and after dinner we can figure out something exciting to do.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. How about I jump your bones.”

  Buck chuckled. “I think I could go for that.”

  After dinner, hand in hand, in bare feet, they decided to take a stroll on the deserted beach. The full moon reflecting off the ocean created a romantic setting. Periodically they would stop to embrace and kiss tenderly. The gentle breeze off the water felt refreshing after the heat of a long day.