“Don’t worry about that. We will. You know that don’t you? And when we do, it will go that much harder on you. You’ll probably end up doing hard time here in the Bahamas for smuggling, breaking immigration laws. You’ll be far from home, on your own here.”
Winston sat silent for a moment, letting that sink in.
“Wouldn’t you rather do your time back in Washington? Where you’re close to your family? Where your mom can visit you? You know that there’s a lot of sympathy for your back home. You might get a judge who sees you as a victim. Goes easy on you.” Once again, Winston looked at the young prisoner.
“You don’t think I’m scared of these toy cops do you?”
Winston watched the kid’s eyes. It was false bravado. “He knew you, didn’t he?”
There was a flash of recognition in Clayton’s eyes.
“He knew you needed to skip the country, knew you could fly a plane. How did he recognize you?”
Johnson-White smirked. “I’d never met him before, but he knew me and my sister. But don’t think I’m going to rat him out. That’s not my style.”
“You don’t have to, Clayton. You just told me who he is.”
Winston got up and banged on the interview room door. The big constable opened the door.
“That all for today, suh?”
“Yeah. I’m done with him. He’s all yours. I’m sure that a bunch of prosecuting attorneys in the U.S. are going to be fighting over who gets to bring him home. You’ll hear from one of them eventually.”
Winston left the police station and walked to his rental car. It would be so nice to be heading home for a quiet evening with Frannie. They’d have meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy and green peas, his favorite dinner, and watch TV. Just bask in each other’s presence.
But it wasn’t to be. He had a new mission now. Winston still had one more job to do.
As he walked off, he sang to himself.
“Siii-lent night, hoooo-ly night.”
****
Ted found it next to impossible to sit still on the two and a half hour flight from Seattle to San Diego. What was he doing here? Did it really makes sense to be following leads in California when Cat lay unconscious in a Seattle hospital?
But this might lead him to the bastards who shot her. When he got his hands on them, well, he didn’t want to think about it.
He flashed back to that slum in Mexico City where they finally collared the pendejo who killed his father. How coolly Hope had shot him down. Could he be so cool when he finally met up with the baboso who shot Cat?
It was just that morning that he’d gotten an alert from a Trojan horse he’d planted in Karen’s bank’s system. Someone had used her Visa card at the Julian Gold Rush Hotel in Julian California.
Where the hell is Julian? He’d never heard of it.
Turns out it was a couple hour’s drive east of San Diego in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. A Victorian gold-mining town that now survived on tourist dollars.
So, who would be using Karen’s card in Julian? Was Karen holed up there, or did her killer make a stupid mistake?
There were too many questions and not enough answers. He needed Cat’s cool head and investigator’s mind, to sort through this shit.
The Alaska Airlines flight touched down in the middle of San Diego at Lindbergh Field. Who’s crazy enough to build an International Airport right in the middle of a city? What if a plane crashed someday? It would take out a couple blocks of densely populated urban buildings.
Oh well, not his problem. He made his way to the shuttle and picked up his car at the rental lot.
He was charging this trip to the case, so Karen Randall would be paying for the bright red Mustang convertible. If she was still alive, that is.
Ted took I-8 east from the airport then turned north on CA-79. This was so different from the Cascade Mountains of the Northwest. Equally rugged, instead of being covered in evergreens and dense brush, the Sierra Nevadas were brown with scrub trees and lots of open spaces.
The sixty-mile drive took Ted the better part of two hours. Not an unpleasant afternoon though, with the top down and temperatures in the high seventies.
Ted pulled up to the two-story Julian Gold Rush Hotel where he’d made a reservation. Why not stay where her credit card had been used.
The old Victorian building certainly had a romantic feeling. He wished Maria was with him. The white hotel was trimmed in lavender and had a wide front porch
“Good afternoon,” the good-looking woman behind the counter said.
“Hi. Ted Higuera. I have a reservation.”
The blond woman gave Ted the once over. “Are you checking in by yourself?”
“Yes. This is a business trip. I should only be here one night... I hope.”
“We have you in a second floor room,” the woman said. “It was once stayed in by
British Prime Minister Lloyd-George and writer C.S. Lewis.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Ted said, reaching into his jeans back pocket for his wallet and handing her his Amex card. “I’m looking for a woman. Maybe you’ve seen her.” He handed the clerk a picture of Karen Randall.
The clerk looked at the picture. “Oh yes, Karen Anderson. She was here yesterday. She met a friend for afternoon tea.”
“Karen Anderson?” Ted took the picture back. “I thought her name was Karen Randall.”
“Oh, yes, that’s her married name. I keep forgetting. I’ve know her as Anderson for most of my life. Her parents have a cabin near here. She’s been coming in since we were both teenagers.”
Ted smiled. Gotcha! “How cool is that? I’d love to surprise her; can you tell me where her parents’ cabin is?”
“About ten miles out of town, on Miner’s Road.”
That was all Ted needed. He got directions to the cabin and headed back out.
In fifteen minutes, Ted was pulling the Mustang into the cabin’s driveway.
It was a rustic looking place, with a shingle covered porch and four-pane windows on each side of the front door. Ted could picture some old miner and his lady sitting on rocking chairs watching the sun go down.
He knocked on the door and saw movement through the windows. The door cracked open.
“Yes?”
“Mrs. Randall, I’m Ted Higuera. Remember me?” he extended his hand. “I work with Catrina Flaherty.”
Karen opened the door all the way. She was dressed in cowboy boots, jeans and a red and white gingham shirt. For an older lady, she looked damned good.
“Yes, Ted. I remember you. What are you doing here?” She stepped aside to let Ted enter. “Can I get you anything? I just made a fresh pot of iced tea and I have lemonade.”
Ted sat on the patched sofa. “Lemonade would be nice. It sure gets hot up here.”
“It’s the humidity.” Karen went to the kitchen, along the wall of the cabin, and found a glass. Then she reached in the ancient refrigerator for the pitcher of lemonade. “It always seems hotter than it really is.”
“Coming from rainy Seattle, this is sure a treat.”
“Mr. Higuera.” Karen handed Ted the glass. “I’m sure you didn’t come all the way up here to discuss the weather.”
Ted took the glass and sipped to give himself a moment to figure out his response. “No. I didn’t. Your disappearance has caused quite a commotion, you know.”
“Why should anyone care where I go?” she said.
Ted thought her high-pitched Minnie Mouse voice would drive him crazy.
“Well, for one thing, the police are still investigating your husband’s disappearance. You are a person of interest in a homicide investigation and your leaving town doesn’t look good.”
“I just had to get away.” Karen continued to stand over Ted. “I couldn’t stand all the pressure. The police, the FBI, the IRS, Dick’s family, the press. They were all hounding me. I needed to get away to clear my head.”
“Well, you’re clearing your head has created quite a
stir. The police want to know where you are.”
“Well, they could talk to my brother. Danny knows where I am.”
“He certainly isn’t sharing that knowledge with anyone. I had to dig pretty deep to find you. Who would have thought you’d be holed up here in the mountains? I sure didn’t take you for a country girl.”
“My dad bought this place when I was a teenager. He and Danny used to hunt and fish in these hills.”
“Your brother hunted with him?”
“Oh yes, Danny was quite the hunter.”
“Does he keep a rifle here?”
“No. We wouldn’t leave firearms or anything valuable here. He has his guns at home. We only use the cabin a few weeks a year. Anyone could break in and steal stuff.”
“Hmmm... Anyway your husband’s disappearance is beginning to look like a murder investigation and you’re in deep doo-doo.”
“That’s a lot of falderal. I know that Dick isn’t dead. He’s too smart for that. He took a powder, that’s all. That’s why I hired you in the first place. To find him. How are you coming, by the way? What am I getting for my money?”
“I do have some news for you,” Ted said. “The San Bernardino Sheriff found a body in the desert. Just some bones really.”
“Oh.” Karen’s hands went to her mouth. “Is he...?”
“We don’t know yet. The police are still testing for DNA. It will probably be some time before they can make a ruling.”
“I don’t understand.” Karen sunk onto the sofa next to Ted. “Who would kill Dick?”
“Whoever it is, they want to cover up their little secret. Whoever killed your husband shot Cat.”
“Oh my God! Is she okay? I mean, I never thought it would come to that.”
“Well, to start with.” Ted leaned closer to her. “Where were you the night before last?”
Chapter 26
Chris had never seen such blue water. After flying all night on the red-eye out of Seattle, he’d switched to a small Embraer 170 jet in Miami for the hop across to the Bahamas. Now, approaching noon of the next day, he saw a fairy land of islands surrounded by turquoise water in a sea of deep blue. It looked just like in the James Bond movies.
The Lynden Pindling International Airport was on the west side of the island. It was a long taxi ride to the police station on the other side where Clayton was being held.
He couldn’t get used to driving on the left side of the road. When the taxi driver pulled the mini-van out into traffic, Chris almost screamed to him that he was in the wrong lane.
The drive through Nassau was interesting. It looked much like Lahaina, Maui, which he visited several times with his family. Multi-colored buildings clung to the streets. Most were two stories with open balconies on the second level. There were shops of every sort and a large open-air market. Palm trees lined the street as they drove along the bay with massive cruise ships tied up at the piers.
He was dead tired. A night in an airline seat, Jennifer had only been able to get him coach, only senior partners flew first class, was no way to rest.
Chris felt over dressed in his pin stripe suit in the warm tropical weather. he loosened his tie and made a mental note to himself to thank Jennifer when he got back to the office. She had booked a room for him in the world famous Atlantis Hotel on Paradise Island. He’d take care of business at the police station and spend the rest of the day pool-side. It was too bad that Hope hadn’t been able to get away from her restaurant. This would have been the perfect romantic getaway. But it was a business trip.
The white uniformed constable led Chris to the small interview room. Sitting at the lone table in the room was his client.
Clayton, wearing a white T-shirt and shorts, looked like a lost little boy. His head hung down and the posture was limp.
“So, we meet again, Mr. Bond,” Chris said as he pulled out a chair.
“Chris. It’s good to see you.” Clayton had none of the old defiance in his eyes. “I thought I’d be here forever.”
“They treating you all right?” Chris set his briefcase on the table and pulled out a file folder.
“Yeah, I guess so. I mean, for being in jail and all.”
“Let’s get right down to business.” Chris examined the papers he’d gone over a dozen times on the flight. “There’s no easy way to say this. You’re going to do time.”
He stopped and studied his client. The fire had gone out of Clayton’s eyes.
“I’ve been wheelin’ and dealin’,” Chris went on. “The U.S. Attorney wants a piece of you. So do half the states from Washington to Florida. Stealing an airplane is a federal offense. Stealing half a dozen is off anyone’s radar. And we’re not even talking about the civil suits here.”
Clayton hung his head.
“Then there’s the Bahamas. They have you on illegal entry and smuggling charges. You could spend most of your life behind bars if everyone gets their pound of flesh.”
“Chris...” Clayton’s voice seemed very weak and far away. “What’s gonna happen to me? How am I, are you, going to get me out of this?”
“Okay, here’s the good news. I’ve got a plea bargain deal for you. The Bahamas is going to extradite you back to the U.S. to stand trial. It’s cheaper and easier for them to just wash their hands. You really didn’t do any harm here.”
Clayton turned and looked outside the windows.
He must be searching for a last glimpse of freedom before the walls close in around him, Chris thought.
“The Island County DA is going to take the lead on this. He lined up the other prosecuting attorneys and they all agreed to give him first crack.”
Chris had Clayton’s full attention now.
“Here’s the deal. We waive extradition. A U. S. Marshall will escort you back to Camano Island. You’re going to plead guilty and allocate to your crimes. You’re going to show great remorse. You’re going to promise to finish school while you’re doing your time.”
Clayton nodded.
“You’ll get six years. Don’t expect to get out early. They had enough charges to put you away for twenty years.
“You’ll only be twenty-three when you get out. That’s still very young. You have an opportunity to build a life for yourself. These guys are being pretty lenient. It could have been much worse.”
“What about my book?” Clayton asked.
“No deal. You can’t profit from your crimes. I may be able to make a deal with the prosecutor. You have to pay restitution for your crimes. Maybe he’ll let you publish your book if all the proceeds go to your victims.”
“Chris... thank you.”
Chris looked long and hard at his client. He was about to go out on a limb here. Dad would accuse him of being foolish. Catrina would tell him to dive right in.
“Clayton, there’s more.”
Clayton looked up.
“I’m not going to just abandon you. You’ve had some bad breaks in life. No one deserves the kind of childhood you had. It’s no excuse for what you’ve done, but I can’t just walk away from you.”
“Uh-huh?” Clayton had a confused look on his face.
“I talked to a friend of a friend. Actually, he’s a friend of my father. He’s a senior engineer at Boeing. He says that if you can get your GED in prison, he’ll sponsor you, help you through college. The University of Washington has one of the best aeronautical engineering schools in the world. He can get you in, he’s on the faculty. You have the IQ. If you can pass the SAT’s, he can get you admitted to the program.
“You can go to college while you’re serving your time. You could have a BS in aeronautical engineering when you get out.”
Clayton lost it. Tears flowed. He snorted then reached in his back pocket for a handkerchief.
“I did some investigating. One of the partners at my firm knows a guy. He’s a Hollywood producer who knows a writer. His name’s Dave Larson. This guy’s good. He’s ghost-written a couple of books. You might have heard of him. Dave wrote
The Last Jewish Gangster. I called him Friday. He can’t wait to meet you. Maybe your book can raise enough money to pay your restitution.”
“Chris, I... I... don’t know how to thank you. Why would you do all of this for me?”
“Because you were right. I was born with a silver spoon. For most of my life, I didn’t appreciate what I had. I hated my dad for who he was because I could never live up to him. I learned a lot about life up in Canada. I was almost killed by terrorists. I spent months in the hospital thinking about my life. I feel like I was spared for a reason. If I can help you and others like you, then maybe I can pay my good fortune forward.”
Clayton nodded, lost for words.
“That will be your payment too. When you get all this behind you, when you get back on your feet, you’ll be required to pay it forward. I’ll be watching you.”
****
Ted’s skin crawled. His stomach growled. The sun was coming up, spreading its light through his office window. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept, been home, had a good meal. Was it only three days since Cat was shot? Only a day since he’d made the whirlwind trip to California?
He knew Dan Anderson had done it. He’d shot Cat and had something to do with Randall’s disappearance; Ted just didn’t have any proof and didn’t know how pull it all together.
He considered sharing his suspicions with Tom Bremen. Bremen wanted the scumbag who shot Cat as badly as he did. But in the end, Ted decided to wait until there was more evidence. He needed proof and only he could get.
He’d hung around with Catrina too long. She wouldn’t let little things like search warrants or constitutional rights stop her. She would plunge ahead and do the right thing, let the chips fall where they may.
Of course, there was a down side. They’d gotten the goods on Richard Freeman, the Chief Security Officer at Millennium Systems. He’d killed two people. But he walked. The court threw out their evidence because Catrina obtained it illegally.
When Freeman disappeared, Ted always suspected that Catrina had something to do with it. She wasn’t the type to turn the other cheek.
Bikini Baristas: Ted Higuera Series Book 4 Page 26