Trevar's Team 2

by Kieran York

  “And the second murder,” he said with a quizzical glare in my direction. “You run around with all those women, so you’d have some information.”

  Laughing, I put my hands into my pockets and then pulled them inside out. “I’ve got nothing. The killer didn’t leave a calling card. No prints; no hints. By the way, how is your daughter?” I always asked that when the topic of lesbians came up. His youngest daughter was once so very crazy about Summer.

  “My daughters are all fine.” He closed his eyes. His hand mopped his face a moment. “I’m not sure my wife is ever gonna get over how Sarah is. Guess she’s trying.” He paused, recalling when his daughter ran off with Summer. “We were both devastated about it. And we were even more hurt when Sarah went back with her first lover. This is just between you and me. Trevar. I’da picked Summer for my kid anytime over the smartass lesbian she’s with now.”

  “Summer is a fine human being,” I certified. Although I wouldn’t have needed to say a word. “Sarah will be okay.”

  He turned and walked back behind his desk. “Yeah, I believe that. Oh, by the way, I put a detail on your friend. Evan Finch.”

  “I greatly appreciate that, Tom.” I knew it’s procedure for a tail to protect someone that has recently had an attempt on their life. But Tom wanted to take credit. At this moment, he seemed to need it more than I did. “Thank you.”

  “How’s Rachel?” he asked. His question was a welcome conversation changer.

  “She returned home this morning. Doing much better.”

  He pressed the pen to his lips. “Look, tell her I asked about her. Damn, she was one of the best officers this force has ever had. And you had to do your head-hunting program to steal my best cop. For your P.I. firm. That was a step down. Then she gets shot.”

  “How is that my fault?” I questioned with a good-natured lift of my hands. Palms were upward as if I might be blessing his office. “Rachel was needing a career change. Some excitement.”

  He gazed out of the window. Over the last four years we had this conversation probably ten dozen times. He would forever hold it against me.

  “Get out of here,” he sharply barked. Just as he did after nearly all of the meetings we’d shared.

  “Tom, I’ll keep you informed. And thanks for shunting the reports to us. No matter who the Perrault shooter was, nobody wants the killer caught more that Trev’s Team and you. The sniper shot Rachel. And he killed Perrault. And we both want the killer of a harmless, helpless young woman busker. Whatever the reason, it wasn’t fair play.”

  I then scurried out of there. Before he had to tell me a second time to vacate his office.

  While sitting in my convertible, I returned Rachel’s call. She announced, “Tess Norris said the resemblance of the man, Ryder Hodges, is close. She still wasn’t certain she could formally I.D. him.”

  “Just like Summer couldn’t identify him. Kids wear hoodies, billed hats, sunglasses. It isn’t all for skin protection. But Rach, at least it wasn’t a matter of hearing ‘hell no’ that wasn’t him.”

  I felt dejection. In my gut of guts, I knew it was Ryder. He killed Pixy. No doubt in my mind. The questions were many. Was the other man who traveled with him also involved? Why would Ryder have killed Pixy? Motive? This entitled, spoiled brat of a filthy rich family didn’t need to kill anyone for money. And she was a busker. A disabled street person. What was his motive? She obviously hadn’t seen him in the commission of a crime. And if she had, she couldn’t have communicated it. Money, blackmail? There was no reason to have killed Pixy.

  Hatred was left on the table. Did he hate her because he assumed she was lesbian? Or for her talent in entertaining. It was minimal, and it was haphazard. Her charm was trying so hard to be entertaining.

  Going down my contact list, I returned Summer’s call next. She had, as I insisted, left her bike at the marina. She’d used Rachel’s car to drive through the central district. She had inquired in a few of the luxury watering holes where college kids hung out. She’d asked the waiting staff about Ryder. Most said he dropped by once in a while. At the Ale House, Summer asked a bartender for information. She’d known him from meeting at a LGBT party. He promised he wouldn’t let Ryder know she’d asked. Ryder was often seen with a kid named Javier something-or-other. When Summer attempted to tip the bartender, he declined. He said whatever she wanted Ryder for, he was glad to help. The two men had always been trouble, the bartender offered.

  Summer told me that she was about to contact Rachel, and report the first name of Ryder’s pal. Rachel would then scour the various news sources, and high school yearbooks for both young men. The probability was that Javier was Ryder’s sidekick. The two of them had knocked Pixy around. Time would tell.

  And time was ticking.

  My third callback was to Evan. She picked up immediately. Her earlier call wasn’t an emergency. She just asked if she could bring anything for dinner when she returned, and asked if I was okay.

  “Evan, I’m fine. You’re the one that almost bought the farm this morning. How are you?”

  “The day has improved since nearly being murdered,” she joked. “I’ve been sitting in a quiet little university office writing about boring research. Is there anything I can bring for dinner? I’m passing by some great takeout joints.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I’m going to make a nice homemade dinner when I get back to the yacht. Rachel requested my cooking. She missed it.”

  “Summer mentioned that you’re a great chef.”

  I laughed. “I do try.”

  “Well, then can I get some groceries?”

  “Our pantry is well-stocked. Just take safe roads, and call if you spot anything crazy.”

  “The tail is meeting me immediately when I leave here. And I’ve been watching the rental car through my office window, so I’m staying secure.”

  “Please take care. I don’t want anyone harming you.”

  My voice expressed my interest. There was a mild, repressed chemistry. An attraction. But we were playing it safe. She would be leaving in weeks. And neither of us were interested in a summer romance. Perhaps the truth was, we weren’t willing to take a chance on any romance. Particularly a temporary one.

  As I made my way through traffic, I decided to check out Perrault Cosmetics. Things weren’t breaking on that case. I disliked thinking negatively. But contract killings often take years to chase down.

  Glenda Perrault was off selling cosmetics. Ross was at her side. Fine, I thought, I really came to see the people I considered more suspect when it came to murder.

  “Hi, Curt,” I said as I entered his office.

  “I’d prefer you call me Dr. Rhodes.” He pressed his spectacles back. There were times when his eyes gleamed raw anger. He hated me, and that made my job easier. Snidely, he said, “If you had a title you’d worked for, would you like me calling you by your first name?”

  Yes, it had made my job easier. He was way too insistent on his M.D. title. I’d check that out. “Well, Dr. Rhodes, I actually do have a title. I’m not the pretentious type, so I don’t insist on it being used. However, if you’d like to call me Esquire Trevar, I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

  “You may have a law degree, but you’re nothing but a gumshoe.” His acerbic words pressed through his pursed lips.

  “I’m going to find out who killed your employer.” I knew that would trigger a reaction. He wanted to think he was in charge.

  “I want you out of my office, and don’t come back.” His mouth was trembling as words spewed, “You don’t know what you’re doing. I don’t know why Glenda put you on the payroll.”

  “Speaking of payroll. I’ll bet as a stockholder, and on the board, that you’re making a few bucks. Probably doing very well for yourself.”

  His face became inflamed. “I’m not in the Perrault’s big money category, but I am being paid as the founder of the face creams.”

  I knew when I was being lied to. I considered my next comment.
“Maybe the money Perrault gave you to buy the rights/patents for the products has run out.”

  “What do you know about my business dealings. The case has been sealed.”

  “Actually, the transactions are mostly public. No wonder you were a little miffed with Wendell. He was way smarter than you – doctor. He put together contracts that probably boggled your mind. Bought out your rights, the patent. Lock, stock, and barrel. Then kept you on here at the lab. Maybe to keep you quiet. But about what?” I tried to speculate what Dr. Curt had on Wendell.

  “Get out of here,” he ordered as he stormed to the door.

  “Sure.” I walked slowly. He hated that. “If you had anything to do with Wendell’s murder, I’m going to find out.”

  His face was very, very stormy. I noticed the rapid blinking and a facial tic. I waited ten seconds, and bingo – the trifecta of nerves – his face flushed brightly.

  On the way to my car, I called Rachel to ask if she’d check out Curt’s credentials. Also, to see what went on with the transfer of Perrault stock, as well as rights. Who held the patent to the best-selling facial products?

  When I arrived back on board The Radclyffe, I was thrilled to see both Summer and Evan entertaining our resident invalid. Seeing Rachel contented was a treat. Although I could tell that she held laughter in, to safeguard her wounded ribs, her semi-laughs were heartwarming.

  Rachel had been checking out the credentials of Curt Rhodes. She awaited a call from a Central American medical college. Shady, and not terribly reputable, the college was at least old enough for him to have gone there decades ago.

  “Both patients are doing well,” I said as I sat on the edge of Rachel’s bed. Glancing over at Evan, I teased, “You do look as if you’ve been in a fight.”

  She touched her taped skin. “A couple of scrapes and scratches. I’ll probably have a bruise or two. But I’m fine.” She smiled.

  I considered that if she wouldn’t have noticed the Jeep had been tampered with, she might not be alive. “You look great.”

  Evan gave a nod, and said, “I’m mostly concerned about playing at the Purple Sand volleyball game tomorrow. I’m hoping I’m not too stiff to play, and I’m hoping I can bring my game.”

  “Great, we can all cheer you on,” I offered. “Except for you, Rachel. I’m betting that your personal physician won’t allow it.”

  Rachel gave me a look of exasperation. “Hanna won’t be here for dinner, but she asked if you would save her some chow.”

  “I’ll get started on that now.” My first response would have been, that I was glad Hanna wouldn’t be around to growl orders. But I was behaved enough to just make my getaway. I exited to the gallery, and heard Evan following me.

  “Can I help,” she asked.

  “Sure. I’d like that.”

  “I can’t wait to meet Hanna.”

  I bit my lip. “A little overbearing, but her heart is in the right place. And certainly, she’s done a great deal for Rach.”

  “She told Rachel that she would check out my scratches, and make certain they weren’t infected. I might be added to her patient list.”

  Laughing, I shook my head. “I could certainly check out your wounds, so she wouldn’t have to.”

  Evan flirted, “Yes you certainly could.”

  As I began fixing Rach’s favorite meal, I realized I was impressing Evan with my culinary acumen. “The menu is a wonderful lemon shrimp pasta. Shrimp, lemons, mushrooms artichokes, etcetera, with a cup of grated Parmesan cheese. We’ll place that on a bed of clean baby spinach, then add shrimp sauce. Garnish with green onions and cheese. A chocolate cheese cake dressed with designer pecans, caramel, and love.”

  “Incredible,” Evan stated.

  When I began serving dinner, I winked over at her.

  “As long as Hanna isn’t here,” Summer joked, “Rach said she can join us at the table. I’ll fix some cushions and pillows to make it nice and comfy for her.”

  We convened in the luxury of the dining room. Candles warming, conversation bubbled. The evening was a jocular time of comradery.

  At eleven, everyone made their ways to their appointed beds.

  I awoke when I heard Doc Hanna entering.

  Rachel had given Hanna an entry card, so the doctor could get in both the marina private entry, and aboard our yacht. I hoped the doc would return the card. I figured she would when romance faded away. Rachel never allowed women much of her time, and seldom any of her future. This had a different feel to it. Yikes, I thought. What if Hanna was in charge of me, too?

  I was welcoming to her. Awoken in the middle of the night was fine. I heated up dinner for her to eat. As we sat across the breakfast nook, she briskly chowed down. “Thanks for fixing this. It’s delicious,” she complemented my chef hobby.

  “Glad you’re enjoying it. For me, it’s recreation. I find it soothing.”

  “Some days I find being a doctor gratifying. Other times, I find it a little horrifying.”

  “Why so?” I asked.

  “The responsibility.” She frowned. “You should know. When you’re protecting people, you’ve got their lives in your hands. Rachel nearly lost her life guarding someone.”

  “Yes, but with us, it isn’t an everyday kind of thing.”

  “With me it’s been nearly every moment of my life since I became a M.D. When I’m not caring for someone, I’m worrying about them. Thinking of how I could make them better.”

  “That’s more responsibility than you need to worry about. I just do my best, and once in a while I second-guess, or feel guilt. But usually not so much.” I edged, skirting the truth. I hadn’t had a great night’s sleep since Rachel was shot.

  When Hanna finished, I took her plate. “Thank you.” She looked away. “You know I’m falling in love with Rachel.”

  “I knew you two are sweet on one another.” I was trying for an easy-breezy conversational tone. “Rachel, seems fond of you, too.” For the next ten minutes, Hanna listed probably everything nautical she knew. Telling me, perhaps because she thought I needed a boat lesson. Or enlightening me on her vast grasp of general knowledge.

  When she left my side, I went up to the flybridge. I gazed into the night sky. Sitting on the upper deck, I searched the shadows. Night on the ocean seemed to be another realm. The star’s luminescence blinked. Mellow colors softly blurred in splotches on top of the sea. Clouds scooted across the horizon. I closed my eyes as I considered the sound of the tide. As it receded, there was evening’s fluency in silence.

  It seemed abundantly clear that Rachel and Hanna might end up together. In which case, I would need to begin liking the doctor.

  “Hey, Beryl,” I heard my name. “I checked your stateroom, then I ran into Hanna and she said you were up here. She seems nice to me.”

  “I’m sure she is.” I patted the cushion beside me. “Have a seat. The sky is performing a heck of a show tonight.”

  “It is lovely. Beryl, I hope you know how much I appreciate your looking after me. All of you. You’re so hospitable.”

  “We run a sweet ship.” My mind was not feeling at ease. It was swirling with suspects. There had to be clues I wasn’t seeing. That concern never left me.

  I felt Evan’s hand on mine. “Do you want to talk about it? About whatever is bothering you?”

  “The cases. They both seem to be stagnating. I know we are discovering a great deal, but nothing is fitting. One case has too many prime suspects. The other has one, but bringing charges seems impossible.”

  “Today I did a search on John Hodges. You weren’t kidding when you said he’s powerful.”

  “Powerful. He gets his way by bullying or buying. He wins. I’m worried about any case we may build. John Hodges can afford to buy his son’s freedom. The kid must be aware of that.”

  “I backhoed some information on Ryder.”

  “Backhoed?”

  “A term I use. I went way back, checking old deleted files. Redacted information. Sometimes you c
an take a file back, and the information is there. Ryder was in trouble during high school – even then. But it was expunged since he was under eighteen. He just turned twenty-one and for some reason, any filings in the last three years were wiped clean. However, there are ways. I can’t be sure of everything, only that he was a wild, reckless, pain-in-the-ass kid.” She grinned as she confessed, “I’ll tell Rachel about backhoeing. Or as they say in scientific research, hacking for clues about guppy sex.”

  With a brief laugh, I asked, “You’re into guppies?”

  “All things in the oceans. The utopian frontier,” she dramatically answered. Then she offered, “Seriously, if I can help in any way.”

  “Thanks. Tomorrow I’m going to ask Rach and Summer to interview classmates. Call the women that interacted with him at Harvard. Dirt might be covered up his actions, but chat often uncovers it. Gossip. Glossed up and wiped away. Money is a pretty good disinfectant. But general scuttlebutt usually stains pretty thoroughly.”

  I considered, if need be, I could send Summer up to Cambridge to do some snooping. When I looked up, Evan was walking away. She then turned, came back to where I was seated, and she leaned over to kiss my cheek. I felt chills.

  “See you in the morning,” she whispered.

  I’d just ignored Evan. I knew better than to ignore a woman. Both Evan and I knew that I wasn’t ready for romance. Not when I was trying to defang crime.

  Chapter 10

  Morning seemed fairly well-behaved. Hanna had scrammed from the yacht very early. Emergency suturing waited for no woman. She was off to save someone with her handiwork. Thankfully, she had saved Rachel. While exercising in our gym, I concluded that maybe she had little post-it-notes scattered about with tasks, and suggestions she might have had.

  After a shower, and an imaginary search for a list from the doctor, I fixed breakfast for everyone. By this time the women were awake. Summer was jogging on the beach. Rachel was probably breaking her promise to Hanna by getting up to be seated at the breakfast nook. Evan helped me in the kitchen. I slid my crazy ship-imprinted apron on. She’d tied it securely. It was nice to have her around.