The Black Widow - Mark Kane Mysteries - Book Three: A Private Investigator Crime Series of Murder, Mystery, Suspense & Thriller Stories...with a dash of Romance

by John Hemmings

  Lucy didn’t say anything. She’d fallen asleep in the back of the car. We were on the last stretch of the journey. We exited the highway and drove down a broad avenue lined with restaurants and shopping malls. We passed the Subic marina on our left and within a few minutes arrived at our hotel. Clark was sixty miles inland but Subic was by the coast and Lucy had found us a hotel overlooking the ocean. It was near to a hotel called the Lighthouse, which we probably wouldn’t have been able to afford, in an area which was still undergoing development and landscaping.

  It was going to be our new home for the next few days.

  Chapter Eight

  The Dutchman

  It was eleven thirty by the time we got to our room. Lucy started to unpack the bags while I telephoned Peter Hendriks on his cell phone. He picked up after two or three rings. His accent was British and he told me he lived in Subic. He was employed by a Dutch electronics company and was in charge of quality control. I explained why I needed to talk to him. He hadn’t heard about Porter’s arrest but confirmed that he was the one who had alerted the police about the location of the boat. He’d be happy to meet with me as long as we could do it this evening. Right now he was entertaining guests at the marina but he’d be free later. Tomorrow he was leaving for Manila for a few days to attend an electronics fair. He appreciated that I had no vehicle and was unfamiliar with the area so he said he’d come to the hotel. Would six o’clock be alright?

  It seemed as if the afternoon was to be wasted, but there was nothing I could do about that; if we’d got there a day later he wouldn’t have been there at all. I decided to call Cary for an appointment, but she wasn’t answering her cell.

  We spent the afternoon by the hotel swimming pool and occasionally in it. Lucy wanted to work on her tan and I was told to work on mine too. The pool was on a terrace on the second floor and there were uninterrupted views eastwards over the ocean. There were only a handful of guests staying in the hotel and we had an open-ended arrangement for our stay. We could pay for the room when we checked out.

  “You look like an albino; you need to get some sun on your body; you’re not a healthy color,” Lucy said disparagingly.

  I remembered an old magazine advertisement from when I was a child. It was advertising some sort of electronic contraption that was designed to give you a tan in the comfort of your own home, even at night time or in winter. The advertisement said this: ‘Handsome men are always slightly sun-burnt’. All over Manila I’d noticed beauty salons − some large and fancy and some little more than a hole in the wall − where skin whitening was a popular procedure. So the world was full of white people trying to get brown and brown people trying to get white.

  I’d arranged to meet Hendriks at the hotel lobby and then take him to dinner at the Lighthouse which was only a stone’s throw away. Lucy asked if she could skip the dinner with Hendriks. The TV had cable and there was a movie she wanted to watch. At seven I went down for our rendezvous.

  Peter Hendriks was a Dutchman. I guess the name should have been a clue. And the fact that he worked for a Dutch electronics corporation. He was also every inch of six feet four and very slim. His hair was the color of corn and he had bright blue eyes. He looked as if he could do with a hearty meal. The Lighthouse hotel was situated on a small promontory and there was an outdoor restaurant so close to the ocean that we could hear the water slapping against the rocks below us. When Hendriks spoke it was without a hint of a Dutch accent, but the rhythm of his voice was testament to his continental home. We ordered steaks and a salad and a couple of cold San Miguel beers.

  “I can’t help you much I’m afraid, I only met Larry once and it was more than a year ago through a mutual acquaintance. He was interested in getting a boat and he needed someone experienced to check the boat and engine to make sure it was seaworthy and in good working order. I’ve been working with boats both big and small for a long time and so I get asked to help with this kind of thing from time to time. The company I work for makes components for electronic navigation systems. So I checked over the boat and was able to give it a clean bill of health. Of course it wasn’t new, but after checking it over I thought it was in fairly good condition for its age.

  “Can you remember the price?”

  “I told him that in my opinion it was worth around half a million pesos. That’s about ten thousand dollars, perhaps a little more. I don’t know what he paid for it. I haven’t seen him since then. Then about two weeks ago there were rumors about a body that was found in the sea a bit further up the coast. It was believed to be the body of Larry Sands. I think his wife identified the body.”

  “What caused you to contact the police when you saw his boat?”

  “The gossip was everywhere. Subic’s a small place in terms of population – less than a hundred thousand – and the expatriate community here is obviously much smaller. I heard that Larry’s boat was missing. The theory being bandied about was that Larry had probably accidentally fallen off the boat when he was out fishing, but if that was the case you’d expect the boat to have been found drifting somewhere. Even if the motor was engaged at the time of the accident it would only have run for an hour or two. Once the fuel ran out it would probably have drifted ashore somewhere because the currents and tides to the north of here would have pushed it towards the coast. So when I saw it moored I thought that someone had found it. I recognized it easily enough, even though I hadn’t seen it since the day I checked it over. It was about ten years old and certain modifications had been made which made it distinctive. So I reported the find to the police, and that’s really all I can tell you.”

  “Can you tell me where it was moored or perhaps show me?”

  “I can run you over there after dinner if you like. It’s only about fifteen minutes away by car. But the boat’s not there anymore. I guess the police have moved it somewhere, or maybe they’ve returned the boat to his wife.”

  “Did you meet his wife?”

  “No, but I’ve heard she’s a local girl. Maybe it was Larry who told me that, I don’t remember now. I think they lived somewhere between here and Olongapo. I’m sorry I can’t help anymore. Are you something to do with the investigation into his death, or from the insurance company?”

  I gave one of my cards to Hendriks. “I represent a man called Dale Porter. Apparently the berth where the boat was moored belonged to him and the police have arrested him on suspicion of Larry’s murder.”

  “Murder? I thought it was an accident.”

  “Well the body was examined by the local medical examiner. I understand he wasn’t able to determine how Larry died; the body was badly decomposed. But your finding of the boat in Porter’s mooring has put things in a new light. Or at least that’s the police view of the matter.”

  “Who’s Dale Porter? I never heard of him.”

  “He was a friend and possibly a business partner of Larry’s. They’re both Americans.”

  Hendriks put his thumb against his jaw and stroked his chin with his forefinger, drawing attention to a couple of day’s growth of beard. I hadn’t noticed it before because his facial hair had been bleached almost white by the sun.

  “When did this happen? I would expect to have heard about it. News travels like wildfire in communities like this, especially bad news.”

  “Porter’s been away. He arrived back in Manila a few days ago and was arrested at the airport.”

  “Returning to the scene of the crime?”

  “Well, not far from the scene of the crime; if there was a crime. Porter says Larry owed him money and Sands gave him the boat in lieu of payment. I’m here to see if his story checks out. If it does then he’ll probably be released.”

  “Hmm. Well, good luck. Let’s finish up here and I’ll take you to the place where I spotted the boat. I’ve got an early start tomorrow. I have to get to Clark and then catch a flight to Manila. There’s no airport here unfortunately.”

  We drove northwards along
the Argonaut Highway in Peter’s Mitsubishi SUV for a few miles and turned left past a hotel called the Casablanca. We wound down a small road to a place Hendriks said was called Lower Mau. It was right on the water and there were several fishing boats moored there but not much else.

  “That’s the place where the boat was,” Hendriks said. I had Lucy’s camera with me so I took a couple of shots of the location, checked to make sure they’d come out okay, and then we headed back.

  On the drive back to the hotel I asked Hendriks about something he’d mentioned earlier. I wasn’t sure if it was an off-hand remark or whether it meant something.

  “You asked me earlier whether I was working for the insurers. Is that part of the local gossip too?”

  “Oh, yes. But I have to stress, it’s only gossip; I have no idea if there’s anything in it.”

  “In what?” I said.

  “The word on the street is that Larry’s wife is the potential beneficiary of a pretty big life policy on him. I heard the insurance company is refusing to pay out on the policy until they have conclusive proof that the body that was found in the sea is actually Larry.”

  “That’s interesting. It’s the first I’ve heard about it.”

  “It may not even be true. Can I give you a word of advice?”

  “Sure, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Places like this – and there are thousands of them all over Asia – are full of Walter Mitties. If you’re talking to local expats, and I mean particularly the ones who bum around with no apparent means of support, you’ll need to take a lot of what they tell you with a pinch of salt.”

  “Thanks, I’ll bear that in mind.”

  We parted at the hotel. As I got out of the car Hendriks said:

  “The guy who introduced me to Sands is called Paul Evans. He knows, or knew, Sands quite well and he may know Porter. I know he spends a fair bit of time in Olongapo. I’ll get him to call you if you like. Don’t worry; he’s not one of the Mittyesque guys I mentioned.”

  I thanked him and went up to the room. As soon as I entered Lucy shushed me with a frown. She was at a good part in the movie. I helped myself to a beer from the mini bar, looked at the price on the list on top of the refrigerator and put it back. I went downstairs and found a bar next door and ordered a beer there instead. The evening was pleasantly cool and there was a light breeze blowing off the water. As I sat there I considered what I’d learnt from Hendriks. If what he’d told me about the life insurance turned out to be true it could be a whole new ball-game.

  Chapter Nine

  The Medical Examiner

  Mercifully the movie had finished by the time I got back to the room.

  “Why were you shushing me?” I said.

  “You always spoil movies when you open your mouth.”

  “Was it a good one?”

  “So-so.”

  “Was the guy with the big neck in it?”

  “He’s got a big neck because his entire body is big. He used to be a football player; for the NFL.”

  “I hope he was better at football than he is at acting.”

  “You see?” Lucy said, hurling a pillow at me. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  “You missed a good dinner. We had steak,” I said, licking my lips theatrically.

  “What was he like then?”

  “Hendriks? Tall and thin. And Dutch.”

  “Did you bond?”

  “Excuse me?”

  Lucy remained seated on the bed but stretched out her arms and waved them in front of her jiggling her fingers and, in a deep menacing voice that was supposed to resemble a ghost or something, uttered the single word ‘Scandinavia’. Lucy was one of the few people on Earth who knew that my middle name was Scandinavian. She was one of the few people that knew what it was, too.

  “Holland isn’t part of Scandinavia,” I said.

  “Yes it is. I excelled at geography in school.”

  “I didn’t, but I still beg to differ.”

  “Anyway, was he helpful?”

  “He showed me where the boat had been stowed. It’s a place about four or five miles from here. He didn’t know Sands, except in passing, and he doesn’t know Porter at all. He did tell me something else rather interesting though.” I looked at her enigmatically.

  “Well go on, then. Aren’t you going to tell me?”

  I strolled over to look out the window. “It’s rumored that Sands’ life was heavily insured, and that Cary’s the beneficiary.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “He doesn’t know whether it’s true; but if it is it might explain something that’s been occupying my mind recently.”

  “Which is?”

  “After the body was found Cary purported to identify it as her husband, but the body had been in the water for five or six weeks so it’s difficult to see how she could have identified it. But no insurance company is going to pay out on a missing person; they need a body. So if Cary wants the money it would be in her interests to say it was Sands even if she wasn’t sure.”

  “But what about the driving license?”

  “All I know is that the police are still treating the identity of the body as inconclusive. Until the police are convinced you can bet your bottom dollar that the insurers won’t pay. We’ll see what Cary says about Larry’s watch and wedding band and anything else he may have habitually worn. If she’s able to give us a description of any such items your job will be to trawl around the local pawn shops to see if you can find them. Westlake thinks that they may have been removed by the fishermen who found the body. It’s equally possible that they may have been removed by the killer. Either way, if they were sold or pawned locally we should be able to find out the name of the person who sold or pledged them, and it would also help to establish that the body really is Larry’s.”

  “So you’re going to trust me to take part in the actual investigation? Awesome.”

  “I’ll have to have some cards printed for you. Your name isn’t on Santos’ letter.”

  “What letter?”

  I pulled out the letter that Santos had provided for me with all the panache of a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. The letter was on the official notepaper of the PNP. It was headed ‘TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN’ and it said this:

  ‘Mr. Mark Kane is a detective from the United States of America. He is assisting the police in an investigation into the death of a United States Citizen. Please provide any assistance that he may require in the course of his inquiries.”

  It was signed by Superintendent Vicente P. Santos and his name was typed below the signature for good measure.

  “Why didn’t you ask him to put ‘or his assistant’?” Lucy said.

  “Sorry, I didn’t think of it.”

  “I want a card with embossed writing on it,” said Lucy.

  “If you think it will help.”

  “So when are we going to see Cary?”

  “I’m delegating that to you. You can call her and say you want to make an appointment on behalf of your principal.”

  “My what? When?”

  “Me. Now if you like. Keep calling until you can pin her down. Here’s a tip. Tell her we’re hoping to be able to conclusively establish the identity of her husband’s body; that ought to do it.”

  “And because we really are hoping to do that it won’t even be a lie, will it?”

  “Try to make the appointment for tomorrow evening. I want to see the medical examiner in the morning, and Hendriks is going to put me in touch with someone who knew Sands and may know Porter too. I’d like to talk to him before we see Cary.”

  Lucy made the call but there was no answer. She tried again periodically and at about eleven she got through. She gave her the spiel that I’d suggested and an appointment was made for eight o’clock the next evening. We were invited to dinner at Cary’s place.

  “See,” I said, “that wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

 
“I’m a natural,” Lucy said.

  We had a big bed again and were lying side by side. Physical contact was out of the question though because I’d got sunburn.

  “Do you think Cary’s a suspect, then? Because of the insurance?”

  “Let’s just say that it widens the parameters of the investigation.”

  “Why can’t you just say yes or no? Why do you have to use those ridiculous words? ‘It widens the parameters of the investigation’, she said in an exaggerated mimicry of my voice.

  “It means maybe,” I said.

  Our hotel didn’t have its own dining room so the next morning we strolled along an adjacent footpath where there were lots of places to eat.

  “We’re going native from now on,” Lucy said. “It’s too good an opportunity to miss.”

  So we ate small grilled fish with rice and local vegetables and then walked along the artificial beach that was being created there to help it go down. At nine I telephoned the office of the medical examiner. To my surprise Santos had arranged for someone to telephone his office on Saturday, so they were expecting my call. I wrote down the address and we went out to get a taxi. We arrived at the office at nine forty five and were immediately introduced to Mr. Edwardo Aquino.

  “No relation to the former lady president,” he said, as we shook hands. I wondered how many times he’d said that. He was a small man, in his fifties I guessed. His skin was fairly light in color and the overhead light made his hairless scalp shine. He was wearing a white coat over a dark suit. He was about five feet four.

  “How can I help you?” he said.

  “I need to know as much as you can tell me, in layman’s terms, about your post mortem,” I said.

  He sifted through the notes in front of him. There were diagrams of the body with arrows and comments in handwriting too small for me to read, especially upside down. He leaned back in his chair, holding the sheaf of papers in front of him and reading from them through rimless glasses.