Death in Nostalgia City

by Mark S. Bacon

  “We get those directly from the local reservation,” the clerk said. “No middleman. We have pieces you won’t find in Polk or Flagstaff.”

  “I have a couple of small Santa Clara pots but nothing like this.” He set the pitcher down. “I was hoping to see Mr. Maxwell. Is he here?”

  “That’s Mr. Maxwell over there.”

  She pointed to a man across the room wearing a western shirt and tailored leather vest. As Lyle approached him, he could see a Maxwell family resemblance.

  Though Sean was considerably younger than his brother, and taller, the facial profiles were similar. Sean was leaning against a file cabinet, looking through a three-ring binder. His trim, western clothes and closely cropped brown-and-gray beard made him look like a prosperous rancher in a cowboy movie. He appeared lost in thought.

  When Sean looked up, Lyle introduced himself and watched for a wary look as he explained that he was investigating the accidents at Nostalgia City. “Wonder if you could help me. I’m talking with all the senior NC executives to see if anyone knows why someone might want to damage the park.”

  “Damage the park? I don’t understand. Weren’t they accidents?”

  Lyle thought Maxwell did understand. “You’re an executive of NC. I just thought you might have an idea why these things were happening.”

  “I’m not an NC executive. More like a consultant, now.”

  “But you were at the park from the beginning. I just thought you could--”

  “In fact, I was here before the beginning. And I’m still here. But I don’t have any idea about what’s going on, or why there’ve been accidents. I think it’s terrible, but I haven’t been briefed. Maybe security is not as good as it should be.”

  “I don’t know about security. I don’t work for them.”

  Lyle was glad he’d called Max before driving out to see Sean Maxwell. He didn’t call to get permission, just to tell Max what he was doing. He found out Sean was still on the NC payroll but didn’t work regularly. The president’s brother was a logical person for Lyle to question.

  Max’s response had been swift and surprising: “Ask him about anything you want. Sean is shifty. See what he says. I’d like to know myself. He’s no supporter of Nostalgia City, but I doubt he’s involved. Besides, everyone knows him. How could he do anything?”

  Lyle had the feeling he might be getting himself in the middle of a family quarrel, but he could hardly avoid talking to Sean. He had to meet all the players. “Do you think the railroad link to the casino will help the park?” he asked.

  “Of course. It’s absolutely necessary. Why ask me that? Oh yes, the bridge problem.” Sean glanced around at nearby customers then shot Lyle an irritated look. He motioned for Lyle to follow him to a quiet corner stocked with Native American blankets.

  “You think I had something to do with the bridge?”

  “No, but I guess you figured out it wasn’t an accident.”

  “I really don’t know. I heard some talk at the park. I attend meetings there every week or so.”

  Lyle had noticed Sean’s uneasiness, but what did it mean? Everyone at the park had some idea that everything wasn’t an accident. “Just wondered if you had any theories.”

  “I have no idea. My brother runs the park the way he wants to. If he can’t get better security, then maybe he ought to fire Bates and get someone who can do the job. I was against Bates in the first place.”

  “Why?”

  “His attitude. Just because he worked for the FBI doesn’t make him an expert in theme park security.”

  “But Bates thought so?”

  “He told us security people should carry guns. He was giving orders even before he was hired. I wanted to know why he left the FBI.”

  “Obviously Max--your brother--approved of him.”

  “At the time. Being an FBI agent sounded good to him. Now, I don’t know. Is that what you’re looking for, the security position?”

  “No. Bates’s job is safe, far as I’m concerned. You could call me a sort of consultant, too. Most of the time I just drive a cab.”

  Sean looked at him as if Lyle was either kidding or was a suspicious person.

  “You and your brother get along okay?”

  “Are you joking? Of course, we don’t. Everyone in the park knows that.”

  “They do?”

  “I was here for years. Then Archie came in and bought up all the land. He was in the driver’s seat.”

  “You work together when the park was being built?”

  “For a while. But Archie controlled the money and had his own ideas about the park. I became his consultant. And that’s what I am now. I’m happy back at my museum. He doesn’t tell me what to do here.”

  Sean sounded rightfully indignant, but straightforward, with nothing to hide. A great strategy--if it was a strategy.

  Chapter 21

  “Are you going to ask Marko to help with the investigation?” Hank Deming asked. “If you’re going to be a detective for Max Maxwell, why not be a real cop again?”

  Early Tuesday morning Lyle was preparing to drive to Phoenix to see Samantha and talk to her doctor. Then he was going to stop in at the Phoenix PD to see his friend and former partner.

  “I’m just going to ask Marko to do a little favor for me. I’m not looking to get my job back. You know that.”

  “Lyle, I don’t mean to belabor this. I just hate to see you turn your back on everything you accomplished.”

  Lyle ignored the comment. “I’m mainly going to see Sam and find out what her doctor says about her progress on recovery. I know she’s been really pushing herself in physical therapy. I’m concerned about her condition.”

  “How long you going to be gone?” asked his father. “I have a condition too, you know.”

  ***

  Lyle waited in the lounge of Samantha’s housing complex at the university. When she came out of the elevator, all thoughts of Nostalgia City and the accidents evaporated. She walked slowly, carefully until she saw Lyle, then she rushed up to him.

  He could see she was still moving cautiously with a little less of the unbridled confidence that characterized her, but she was still his Samantha.

  After an encouraging visit with Samantha and her doctor--his daughter’s rapid progress diminished his fears--he drove to the Phoenix PD headquarters. The station looked the same. No surprise. Lyle had been gone just over a year. He’d arranged to meet his friend Nick Markopoulos in a meeting room away from the investigations bureau where the two used to work together. As Lyle walked down the corridor and heard his footsteps echo, he thought about his ex-wife. Their divorce had become final when Lyle’s ongoing battle with Lieutenant Collins escalated into the charges and counter charges that led to Sergeant Lyle Deming’s reassignment to shuffling papers.

  The smell of the place was the same: a combination of floor cleaner, desert dust, a touch of sweat, and other elements all stirred and distributed by the air conditioning system that ran twenty-four hours a day, year-round. It reminded him of after-work poker games, drinking at cop-friendly bars, and the camaraderie. He missed those things. But as he passed a bulletin board and glanced at a departmental memo, he remembered things he didn’t miss: the politics, the occasional racist cop, and, most of all, crime victims’ pain. Burdened with a caseload that never diminished, Lyle had been unable to keep in touch with the victims he’d desperately wanted to help.

  “Shit,” he muttered to himself. He didn’t even like being in the building.

  When he spotted Marko standing in a doorway down the hall, he picked up his pace. Suddenly, a door opened and someone stepped in front of him. Lyle had to leap aside to avoid a collision.

  “Hey! Oh, it’s you. What are you doing here?” said the man Lyle knew well.

  He was number two on the short list of people Lyle hoped never to see again. The dark, beefy man was as surprised to see Lyle as Lyle was to see him. Did his blurted question carry a note of alarm? Or simply animosity
?

  “Visiting,” Lyle said. He continued down the hall. He could feel the man’s eyes on his back.

  “Marko,” Lyle said, slapping his former partner on the shoulder. “Imagine my running into that jerk, Bensen, after I’ve been here two minutes.” Lyle looked over his shoulder.

  “Forget him,” Marko said as he and Lyle moved into a sterile conference room.

  Markopoulos still looked the same: penetrating dark eyes, salt-and-pepper hair, and the trademark space between his two front teeth. Muscular shoulders made him look larger than his statistically average height and weight. The gregarious detective of Greek ancestry had been his partner for six years until Lyle’s forced transfer. Marko had helped Lyle through his divorce and later had been his leading supporter when Lyle needed it.

  After a few minutes of reminiscing, Markopoulos said, “I’m curious about what you said on the phone. You want me to run some names for you?”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  “You said you’re investigating the crashes at Nostalgia City. I thought you were driving a cab.”

  “I am. But Archibald Maxwell has sort of made me his personal private dick. I’m supposed to find out who’s been sabotaging the park.”

  “Sabotage? I thought they were accidents. Aren’t you having safety problems?”

  “That’s what the news says. But they’re not accidents.”

  “Wasn’t your buddy Earl Williams hurt?”

  “Yeah. I was talking with him when it happened. We had a wild ride for a few seconds.”

  Marko looked concerned.

  “Relax. I’m okay.”

  “Who’d want to sabotage a theme park?”

  “Marko, that’s what I’m trying to find out.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Two things. First, run these names for me.” Lyle handed him a list. “And could you get me motor vehicle info, too? Addresses, vehicles?”

  “Easy.”

  “I don’t think you’ll find a criminal record for that third name, but I’d like anything you can find out.”

  “You looking for something specific?”

  “I dunno. I don’t think he’s from Arizona. I’d just like a little history. And by the way, please don’t mention this to anyone.”

  “Like who ’m I going to tell? The National Tabloid News?”

  Lyle held up a hand.

  “Speaking of investigations, I’ve been doing some checking and--”

  “I think I know where this is going,” Lyle said.

  “Just hear me out, okay? I heard about a case similar to yours. It happened in California. Ultimately, the guy got reinstated with back pay, and then some. The city wanted to settle the mess.”

  “Couldn’t have been just like my situation.”

  “Testimony from the department shrink was involved.”

  “Where’d you hear this?”

  “My sister’s husband. You know, the attorney?”

  “And I bet he’d like to take my case.”

  “Nothing like that. Doesn’t even practice in Arizona.”

  “I appreciate your help--and your concern. But I really enjoy what I’m doing now. The cab, I mean. I meet people. I ask them where they want to go. I tell a joke. They’re happy. I’m happy. And I don’t even want to think about this,” he said, gesturing at the room, the building, his former life.

  “We know you were set up. If you saw one more shrink, I think you could turn things around, if only for your record.”

  “Maybe I like being crazy. People don’t expect as much from you, and they’re not surprised if you do something loony.”

  “You’re not crazy.” Marko grinned broadly this time. “You’re just confused by all those little voices you hear.”

  Chapter 22

  “I don’t know if this will come as a surprise to you,” Lyle said, “but just about everyone in NC knows it was sabotage.”

  Kate stared at the colorful Denny’s menu in front of her. “I’ve come to that conclusion.”

  The day after Lyle’s trip to Phoenix, he and Kate were seated in a corner booth in the back of the restaurant. The coffee shop had emptied after the breakfast rush and was an hour away from filling up with lunch guests.

  Unlike other theme parks, NC encouraged employees to eat in park restaurants, especially if they were in period costume.

  Lyle and Kate, however, were not in costume, nor were they wearing their name badges. They wanted to attract as little attention as possible.

  “This diner is really authentic, isn’t it?” Kate said, looking around.

  “I don’t think they needed to change much to have the right retro look. You been to a Denny’s recently?”

  “Once or twice. I wonder if they had a Grand Slam back in the ’70s.”

  “Or, Moons Over My Hammy.”

  After the waitress took their order, Kate looked at Lyle with anticipation.

  “I haven’t come up with much, I’m afraid,” he said, “but Maxwell wants a progress report anyway.”

  “Thanks for getting together with me, first. We’ll keep this meeting to ourselves, okay?”

  That was fine with Lyle. He wondered about the value of discussing the investigation with Kate. But she was drop-dead gorgeous, and having a coffee-shop lunch with her was the closest thing he’d had to sex in months. Also, Max had said he wanted them to work together, so that’s the way it would be. Maybe she could help him sort through possible motives.

  “Nobody in the park knows the details,” he said, “but there are lots of rumors.”

  “And with something like this, if we tell employees nothing’s happening, we’re only calling attention to the fact that something must be happening.”

  “Employees are worried.”

  “About their jobs, their safety?”

  “All of the above.”

  “I don’t blame ’em. Two people killed. Attendance in a nosedive. What are you going to tell Max?”

  “I’ve been wondering that myself. What do you know about Sean Maxwell? I talked with him the other day.”

  Kate’s eyes widened. “What can I tell you? You know he and Max don’t get along.”

  “That’s pretty obvious. Were they partners?”

  “Not exactly partners. They worked together--at first. I met Sean once when I was working for Max in Vegas. I think he’s pretty bright. At the time, he was telling Max what a wonderful place northern Arizona is. So what did you think of him?”

  “He seems a touch resentful.”

  “I wonder if he has reason to be. I don’t know if he and Max were ever really close.”

  “Has Sean been in the area a long time? I should have asked him that.”

  “Oh yes. He’s run his little store and museum in Polk longer than Max was in Vegas.”

  “How long did they work together?”

  “Max brought him into the project early on. But it didn’t last. Guess they didn’t agree on the direction for the park. At the time, Max was having financing problems.”

  “As in, not enough money?”

  “Only by a billion or two, according to what I’ve read. I don’t know how or why he and Sean split up. Max never talks about it in front of me. Obviously he found the financing he needed, and Sean faded to the background.”

  “But he still works for NC. Says he’s a consultant.”

  “Must be some deal with Max. I never heard about it, and the press didn’t mention it. If you think it’s important, I’ll ask Max.”

  “It’s only important if Sean’s been sabotaging rides and rolling empty cars down the hill at gas stations. How likely is that?”

  The waitress appeared and set heaping plates in front of Lyle and Kate.

  “So where does that leave us?” Kate asked.

  “The reservation, I guess. I found out the name of the angry individual who’s against the railroad--Johnny Cooper. He’s stirred up his followers against the train.”

  “Think he was involved in damag
ing the bridge?”

  “Could be. I can see why he’s on Bates’s hit list. He’s got a history.”

  “History?”

  “Couple minor scrapes.”

  That morning, Lyle had learned from Marko that Cooper was arrested a year ago for disturbing the peace, and again for simple assault. He’d never been charged. Lyle decided to keep the details to himself, for the time being.

  “I talked to the tribal chief,” he said. “Seems like a reasonable guy. Says he’s committed to making the casino successful and wants the rail line completed ASAP.”

  “Are you going to tell Max about Cooper?”

  “I should, though he’s probably heard plenty of dirt on the tribe from Bates already. Bates has been out to the reservation asking questions. I wouldn’t say he was equipped to do PR for the park.”

  “That winning personality.”

  Lyle smiled. “George Brown--that’s the chief--told me he worked out a compromise with Cooper. Maybe that will settle things.”

  “We can hope.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, then Lyle said, “That’s all I’ve come up with. You have any suspects?”

  “Me?” She started to shake her head then stopped. “Ever heard of Bobby Bostic?”

  “Are you kidding? ‘Stompin’ Down My Heart!’ One of the big hits of ’72. What about him?”

  “He’s pissed off at Max. Really furious.”

  Kate explained her encounter with Bostic and told Lyle about Bif Stevens.

  “Let me ask Earl about them. Big Earl knows everyone in the music business. If Bostic has a skeleton in the closet, Earl will know. He’s back on the air and sounds good.”

  Kate picked up the lunch bill from the table and held up a hand when Lyle pulled out his wallet. “My treat. You can get the next one.” She reached for her purse. “How did you happen to switch from the police to a theme park? Get tired of it?”

  “That’s the short version. Tired, burned out, ready for a change. Long story.”