Val Fremden Mystery Box Set 3

by Margaret Lashley

  “He’s had more than a few legal suits over shoddy workmanship on his building projects. And...well, something really odd.”

  “What?”

  “I dunno....” Tom hesitated. “Either it’s a huge coincidence, or something fishy’s going on.”

  “What?”

  “A few years ago, the guy who sold him property for a project down in Boca Raton went missing, too.”

  I sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t get it, Tom. What would be in it for Amsel if the seller disappeared? He already has the property.”

  “Apparently, the guy in Boca owned the property mortgage-free. Amsel worked out a deal with him to provide owner financing.”

  “Why would the owner do that?”

  “Amsel made it worth his while by giving him a pretty decent rate of return on the note.”

  “Is that illegal?”

  “No. Not at all. But the thing is, according to the guy who investigated the case in Boca, the mortgage had an unusual stipulation. It said that if the seller died for any reason, the debt would be erased and the note would be automatically satisfied...like it had been paid in full.”

  “Oh.”

  “Val, do you know if Greg owned Caddy’s outright?”

  “No. You should ask Norma. She’d know.”

  “I can’t. She’s disappeared, too.”

  “What?”

  “The investigators working the case found scuffmarks and footprints in the parking lot at Caddy’s. They said it looked as if there’d been a struggle. That lot’s made of crushed shell. They made some print castings, but they lacked any real defining detail. So far, all they could determine was that they came from two different individuals. One looked like a men’s shoe size twelve. It’s been confirmed that’s the same size Greg wears. The other was slightly smaller. Possibly a man’s size eight or a woman’s size ten walking shoe.”

  “Geeze, Tom. I wonder if those footprints could be Norma’s.”

  Tom came up and rested both hands on my shoulders. “Do me a favor, okay? Keep this under your hat. I really shouldn’t have told you.”

  “Then why did you?”

  Tom looked at me as if I had a bug on my nose. “Because we’re a team, Val. I don’t like keeping secrets from you.”

  My gut guilt-o-meter spun off the charts.

  “Okay,” I said. “I guess there’s something I should tell you, too.”

  “What?”

  “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  I slipped out from Tom’s grip and padded to my office. I returned with the slip of paper that had the word PObbLE on it. As I approached him, Tom had a look on his face I’d never seen before.

  I wasn’t sure, but I thought it might have been fear.

  “Uh...here. Look at this,” I said, and handed him the paper.

  Tom looked down at it, let out a breath, then laughed nervously. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, Val.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I thought for a second this was a pregnancy test.”

  I burst out laughing. “No way. If it was, you’d have heard me screaming all the way from your desk at the police station.”

  Tom shook his head. “I have to admit, I’m relieved.”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” I said. “I think my time for having kids has come and gone.”

  Tom gave me a hug and a kiss, then asked, “So, what is this, then?”

  “I found it inside the Skoal tin hanging from Goober’s dreamcatcher.”

  Tom scrunched his face. “Huh. What does it mean?”

  I shot Tom a look. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be asking you now, would I Sherlock?”

  Tom grinned. “Fair enough. So, you haven’t heard another word from him? No postcard or anything?”

  “Nope. But while you’re away fishing on Sunday, I’m going with J.D. to interview Jorge and Winky. He wants to see if they can remember anything that might be helpful.”

  “And what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?”

  “Cold Cuts is coming over for lunch. And she’s probably going to have to bring Freddie with her. You know, Bill’s dad.”

  “The crazy, naked fisherman guy?”

  I winked and pulled the trigger on my finger gun. “That’s the one. Care to join us?”

  Tom gritted his teeth. “I’d love to. But I think my SUV needs a good scrubbing.”

  “Wash Maggie, too, and I’ll let you off the hook.”

  Tom grinned. “Deal. So, is this the only clue you’ve got?”

  “Yes, besides some random things I remember Goober saying.”

  “Like what?”

  “It sounds kind of crazy, but Goober got a junk-mail letter from the AARP. I remember him saying it was a signal that it was time to move on. I dunno, Tom. It was almost like he was some kind of fugitive, and getting the AARP notice meant his location and identity had been uncovered.”

  “Hmmm.” Tom placed his index finger over his upper lip like a moustache. “That’s interesting. I mean, if he actually was on the run, the AARP thing could have been taken as a sign he’d been discovered. You know, those marketing companies have better tracking systems than NASA and the FBI combined.”

  I crinkled my nose. “I’m serious, Tom.”

  “So am I.”

  “You said Goober’s name wasn’t in your databases. Do you think Gerald Jonohhovitz could be an alias? That maybe Goober’s some kind of spy or something?”

  “I doubt it, Val. It’s probably just a misspelling. Sorry, but I just can’t picture Goober having enough brain cells to work for the CIA.”

  “Did you know Goober has two navels?”

  Tom looked at me funny. “What?”

  “You know how he never takes his shirt off, even to go swimming?”

  “Uh...yeah, now that you mention it.”

  “I saw his belly once. When we were hiding out from those crazy RVers in Lake Wales. It looked like he had two navels, Tom. When I asked him about it, he said he was shot in stomach. That it was scars.”

  “Well, that’s more plausible than him being a space alien,” Tom quipped.

  I punched Tom on the arm. “I’m trying to be serious, here. It would mean Goober was working in some kind of profession that could get him shot!”

  “Geeze! Take it easy, Val. Or it could have just been another one of his ludicrous stories.”

  I hated to admit it, but Tom had a point.

  “Don’t worry so much, Val. Like I said before, I think Goober’s just off doing his thing. He’ll turn up soon.”

  “I hope so.”

  I slumped onto a barstool at the kitchen counter. Tom came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me.

  “I tell you what,” he said. “As soon as I find Greg and get this case solved, I’ll take some time off and we’ll follow up on whatever clues you and J.D. dig up on Sunday.”

  “You’d do that?” I asked, squirming around to face him.

  “Of course. Like I said, we’re a team. Now, how about dinner. Are you hungry? I got the stuff to make broccoli and broiled pork chops.”

  Pork! I should tell Tom about Randolph!

  “Well, I do have one more thing –”

  “Don’t tell me. You’d rather have the pork chops fried. But frying isn’t good for us. How about a drink before dinner?”

  “Sure. But I wanted to –”

  “Try this,” Tom said, and pulled a bottle from the fridge. He twisted off the cap and handed it to me.

  As he disappeared behind the fridge to grab a bottle for himself, I took a sip. The horrid taste nearly made me spurt my mouthful of drink through my nose.

  “What is this?” I asked.

  “Kombucha,” Tom said. “It’s supposed to be good for you.”

  I looked at the label. It described the drink as “Green tea fermented with a symbiotic colony of bacteria and yeast.”

  Tom closed the fridge, opened his bottle and asked, “How is it?”

  “Taste
s just like the description on the label,” I said cheerfully. “Go on, take a big slug. I can’t wait for you to try it yourself.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Hey there,” Tom said.

  I cracked open a bleary eye. I was still face-down in bed, not wanting the day to start. But the aroma of a freshly brewed cappuccino gave me just enough incentive to roll over.

  Seeing Tom with his hair still tousled from sleep was almost enough to make me smile. The sight of two coffee cups in his hand pushed my lips over the edge.

  “Hey,” I squeaked in my morning voice. “Look at you –”

  Before I could finish my sentence, I was assaulted by a wet, pink worm. It was attached to the mouth of a wriggling clump of fluff.

  “Snoggles wanted to say good morning, too,” Tom said with a grin.

  “Ugh!” I groaned playfully and sat up in bed. “I just got used to having one man around the house. I don’t think I can take two morning people at once.”

  “Here, maybe this will help.” Tom handed me a cappuccino. Before I could stop him, Snogs licked the milky foam dripping from the side of my cup.

  “See how handy he is?” Tom joked. He picked up Snogs and held him to his chest. “Come on, pup. Let’s go.”

  “Wait. Where are you going?”

  “I’m taking Snoggles for a walk so we can both avoid the wrath of the un-caffeinated kraken.”

  “Ha ha.”

  Tom leaned over and kissed me on the nose.

  “Thanks for bearing the brunt of taking care of Snoggles,” he said. “Enjoy your cappuccino in peace.”

  I snuggled back into the pillows and sighed.

  “Thanks. I will.”

  I GOT OUT OF THE SHOWER to find Tom had prepared a sensible breakfast.

  Oh joy.

  It was a green smoothie and a yogurt cup topped with blueberries and banana slices. I guess my typical breakfast with Count Chocula was headed the way of dinner with Ben & Jerry.

  “Thanks,” I said, and took a sip of green goop. “Yummy.”

  “Glad you like it,” Tom said.

  “Aren’t you having any?” I asked, eyeing the olive-colored glop in my glass.

  “Already finished. Listen, after I get done with washing the cars this morning, I thought I’d stop by the grocery store and pick up the ingredients to make dinner. How does cabbage and white bean soup sound?”

  “Gaseous,” I mumbled.

  “What?”

  “Delicious. I said delicious.”

  “Good. I’m heading out. See you later this evening. Have fun with Cold Cuts and Crazy Man.”

  “Thanks.”

  After Tom left, I poured the green goo down the sink and made an effort to clean up the house. I knew Cold Cuts couldn’t care less about such things. But oddly, this morning my gut guilt-o-meter seemed to be directly gauged to how clean the toilet bowl was.

  I’D JUST USED UP THE last of the Ty D Bol when the doorbell rang. I smiled, put Snogs in his cage for the moment, and answered the door.

  “There you are,” I said. “It’s been too long!”

  “I know,” said the cute, brown-haired bohemian standing in front of me.

  Cold Cuts was dressed in a flowing, light-yellow cotton dress. It was the kind of outfit I always dreamed of wearing to the beach, but somehow ended up in shorts and a t-shirt instead. A chunky necklace of shells and driftwood hung around her slender neck.

  “You remember Freddie, don’t you?” she asked, more for Freddie’s benefit than mine.

  “Sure,” I said. “I’m Val.”

  I smiled at the tall, surprisingly muscular old man standing beside Cold Cuts, holding her hand like a child. He was naked except for a pair of sweatpants, which were accessorized by a brown leather belt wrapped around his waist.

  “Hi, Freddie,” I said.

  Freddie’s wandering eyes zeroed in on mine.

  “Albert,” he said.

  I eyed him up and down. “Okay, Albert. Please, come in.”

  Freddie wandered into the house.

  “What’s with the outfit?” I asked Cold Cuts.

  She blew out a laugh. “Don’t ask. Just be glad he’s wearing something.”

  “Is his dementia worse? Does he think his name’s Albert now?”

  “Huh? Oh. No. I told him we were coming to visit Albert, your dog. It was the only way I could entice him into the car. Well, that and the promise of beanie-weenie casserole for lunch.”

  “Oh, dear. I’m afraid I don’t have any of that.”

  “Don’t worry. I brought my own supply.”

  Cold Cuts handed me a yellow, covered casserole dish. “Put this in the fridge. And don’t eat any of the stuff. I put his meds in it.”

  “Sure. Y’all make yourselves at home.”

  Freddie spotted Snogs and bolted past me, making a beeline for his cage. He crouched on his knees next to it and asked, “Is he a bad doggy?”

  “No, Freddie.”

  “Then why is he in prison?”

  “Oh. He’s not. He was just waiting for you.”

  I opened the cage and two new best friends made their acquaintances.

  “How’s he doing?” I asked Cold Cuts as the two played tug-of-war with a rubber hotdog.

  “Dementia is a terrible and strange disease, Val,” Cold Cuts said. “It’s weird. Sometimes Freddie can quote Shakespeare, and sometimes, like today, he can’t remember that shoes go on feet.”

  “Huh.” I put the casserole in the fridge. “How are you holding up?”

  “Pretty well, thanks.”

  “And the Sunset Sail-Away?”

  “The resort is going gangbusters. That’s why Bill couldn’t make it. Too much work to do. We couldn’t leave it all to the help.”

  “Is he still doing the yoga lessons?”

  “Yes. And the sunset sails, too. They’re his favorite part of the job.”

  “I could imagine running a beach resort would be fun, but overwhelming.”

  “Sometimes, yeah. The work is unending. You never get it all done. You just give up for the day. But the people who come there remind me that I live in paradise, you know? They come for a quick vacation. I get to live there. When you think about it, Val, we’re truly blessed.”

  “I can’t argue with that. So, where do you want to go for lunch?”

  Cold Cuts’ eyes glanced over at Freddie. “Oh. I can’t take him anywhere in public. Not in that getup, anyway.”

  “Then how about pizza delivery?”

  “Sounds great. Pepperoni?”

  I grabbed my cellphone and hit speed dial.

  “One pepperoni pizza in paradise coming up!”

  “THEY MAKE A GOOD PAIR,” I said and opened the pizza box. I took out a slice and nodded toward Freddie and Snogs, who were chasing each other around the dining room table.

  “Yeah, they do. Kind of like us back in our Date Buster days.”

  “Oh, lord!” I said and nearly choked on a mouthful of pizza. “I remember Milly telling me about the first time she ever saw you. You were dressed like some rock-and-roll roadie in that rainbow Mohawk wig. Remember? Those fake piercings all over your face?”

  “Oh...geeze,” Cold Cuts said. “Scary Kerry. How could I forget?”

  “Milly said you made the horrible guy she was out on a date with disappear like magic. I remember thinking, whoever that woman is, I want to know her secret!”

  “And now you do.”

  “Which is?”

  Cold Cuts grinned and flicked her long, brown locks to the backside of her shoulders. “Don’t take crap off of anyone, of course.”

  I laughed. “Ahh...the secret to a long and happy life finally revealed.”

  Cold Cuts jabbed a pointy piece of pizza at me. “And don’t you forget it! Oh! That reminds me. Any news about Goober?”

  “No. But I did find something that might be a clue. I’ve shown it to Tom, Winky and J.D., but nobody seems to be able to figure it out.”

  “Sounds intri
guing. I love puzzles. Let me have a crack at it.”

  “Okay.”

  I padded to the desk in my home office and retrieved the slip of paper I’d found in the Skoal tin. As I stepped back into the hallway, I was nearly bowled over by Freddie. He was scooting along on his hands and knees with the rubber hotdog in his mouth. Snogs was hot on his heels.

  “I think somebody’s hungry,” I said to Cold Cuts.

  She looked over at Freddie gnawing on the plastic weenie. “I think you’re right.”

  “Here,” I said. “Have a look at this while I warm up Freddie’s lunch.”

  I handed Cold Cuts the enigmatic clue.

  “Pobble?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  I took the casserole dish from the fridge and popped it in the microwave.

  “Is it a name?” Cold Cuts called from the sofa.

  “I don’t know. Could be.”

  “How about a place? Like Pobble Beach?”

  “I think that’s Pebble Beach.”

  “I know. I was just brainstorming.”

  “Brain storm?” I heard Freddie ask. He dropped the rubber hotdog and looked out the window. “I don’t see any brains.”

  The buzzer on the microwave dinged, saving me from making an inappropriate comment. I poured the beanie-weenie into a bowl and carried it over to Freddie.

  “Here, let me,” Cold Cuts said, and took the bowl.

  She sat beside Freddie on the couch. As she patiently helped him with his lunch, I decided to take Snogs for a potty break.

  “Snogs!” I called. He didn’t answer.

  “He’s here. Under the couch,” Cold Cuts said.

  I got on my hands and knees. Snogs was busy chewing away at something.

  “What have you got there?” I asked.

  Snogs spit out his treasure.

  It was the little slip of paper from the Skoal tin.

  “Snogs, no!” I cried.

  I scooped up the soggy mess, which had been reduced to three gluey lumps.

  “What is it?” Cold Cuts asked.

  “Oh. He got ahold of the clue.”

  “Oh no! I’m sorry. It must have fallen from the coffee table. Val, I’m –”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’s okay. I’ll just set the pieces on the windowsill to dry out.”