Sand City Murders

by MK Alexander

  “Wait a second,” Chamblis said. “Off the record?” he asked.

  Durbin nodded and sat down again. He took over the questioning: “Want to tell us how you met this guy?”

  “I never did, not face to face. Strictly on the phone,” Chamblis started, “and he had a bogus cell number. It never worked more than twice.”

  “How did you make contact then?”

  “He called me.”

  “When was this?”

  “I don’t know, it was early March… Called me up and introduced himself as Dean’s associate.”

  “Dean’s associate? Your lawyer?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is that true?”

  “Don’t think so… I asked Dean about him later. Said he never heard of the guy.”

  “The guy… what’s this guy’s name.”

  “Jasper.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yeah. Never gave me a last name.”

  “So what did this Jasper want, the first time he called you?”

  “He didn’t want anything. He told me he could fix things.”

  “Fix things, like how?”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “Alright, what then— what did he say he could fix?”

  “I was having trouble with the zoning board, the Woodlands expansion. The city kept shutting me down, wouldn’t even give me a hearing. All that freaking money I was pouring into Dean’s pockets, going nowhere.”

  “And he told you he could fix this?”

  “No. I told him. I said, if you fix this, we could do business.”

  “Like a dare?”

  “Proof of service, let’s call it.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Next day, I got preliminary approval from the z-board.”

  “How?”

  “That’s the kicker. It was so easy, so obvious… Somebody, I guess it was him, just changed the application form… changed it from one acre lots to two. It was a whole new ball game. Two-acre lots are classified as a farmstead. And the board had a legal obligation to hear the case. I tell you, that blew Dean right out of the water. This guy was smart. I was impressed.”

  “What did he want in return?”

  “Nothing… not money anyhow.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I offered to pay him… he turned me down.”

  “He must have wanted something.”

  “Not at first. But he told me he might be asking for a favor from time to time, nothing much really.”

  “Like what?”

  “He wanted me to find a dog.”

  “What dog?”

  “I don’t know. I never found him. He didn’t even know what kind.”

  “What else?”

  “The car, the goddam Pontiac.”

  “You sent Eddie to buy it.”

  “Eventually... Took forever to find.”

  “That’s it?”

  “He wanted info about Jardel too. Anything I knew… his past, his parents, where he’s from.”

  “And.”

  “I couldn’t find anything.”

  “What happened?”

  “I sent Dean around to talk to him.”

  “Jardel?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing, that’s it… But that’s when things got weird.”

  “In what way?”

  “The girl in the freezer. She just showed up there one day.”

  “That was his doing, this Jasper guy?”

  “Wasn’t me.”

  “How come we found trace in your car then?”

  “Oh yeah, that…” Chamblis squirmed a little. “He borrowed it.”

  “Your car?”

  “Told me to park it in front of Fish City, with the keys in it.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing happened the first couple of nights. It was still there the next morning.”

  “Not sure I’m buying this.”

  “Okay, well, I zeroed out the odometer… On the third night, somebody drove it about nine miles.”

  “Somebody? You’re saying it was Jasper?”

  “Who else?” Chamblis looked at both policeman. “The girl was gone… that’s all I know.”

  “When was this?”

  “Beginning of March, I think.”

  “What else?”

  “Then it was the goddamn cane.”

  “What cane?”

  “He told me it belonged to Bobby Baker.”

  “The ball player?”

  “That’s what he told me…” Chamblis said and paused with almost a cruel smile. “I could tell he wanted it back real bad.”

  “Why is that, if it wasn’t even his?”

  “Don’t know exactly, but I sent Eddie out to look for it on the bike path.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing. Never found it.”

  “What else?”

  “Nothing else.”

  “What about these shoes?”

  “The fucking shoes… they just showed up in the mail one day.”

  “Really… What size?”

  “Eleven.”

  “What size are you?”

  “Eleven.”

  ***

  “I foresee a great danger for you tomorrow night, Patrick,” the inspector said as he hoisted himself from my car.

  “What? From Mortimer?”

  “Not necessarily… a different kind of danger awaits and I’m very curious to see how you will divide your time.”

  “What are you talking about, Fynn?”

  “I’m thinking about who will be at the Policeman’s Ball.”

  “Who?”

  “Amy, Jo-Anne, Alyson, Suzy, and even Anika... There maybe more. All these girls in one place? One misstep and I fear you’ll meet your doom.”

  “Very funny.” I laughed nervously. “What about you?”

  “Me? Mortimer has never seen me at this age, I am certain. I doubt he’ll recognize me.”

  “Don’t be so sure. You’re kind of hard to miss.”

  Anika came out to the driveway as we arrived. She had a very concerned look on her face. “Pader, this is terrible,” she began mostly in English.

  “What is it, my dear?” Fynn asked somewhat alarmed.

  “My shoes… they’ve all gone missing. Did you forget to pack them?”

  “Missing? I seem to recall many boxes of shoes, Anika.”

  “Yes, but my good shoes,” she said.

  “How many pairs are missing, my dear?”

  “Four, and all the same, my high heels. All in different colors, red, black, a silver pair, and my white ones.”

  “Can you make do with what you have?”

  “I suppose,” she said, then smiled, and laughed a little when she noticed the expression on my face. “Ah, who needs shoes anyway… it’s going to be a party right on the beach. I’ll just go barefoot.”

  Like father, like daughter, I thought to myself.

  “But Anika my love, this is my biggest fear… People formally dressed, but without footwear. It makes me think of the Flintstones, and you know how I’ve always detested such...”

  “What, that silly cartoon from so long ago?” Anika laughed and teased further, “I don’t understand why this upsets you so much.”

  “It offends my sensibilities, my innate sense of history.”

  “Really father, you’re starting to embarrass me.”

  chapter 37

  policeman’s ball

  We were ten minutes late to the dance, at least. It wasn’t my doing this time. “Fashionably late,” Inspector Fynn teased. Anika had some last minute preparations that seemed to take longer than expected. She finally appeared at the front door looking quite beautiful and sophisticated: A short black dress, a string of pearls and silver jewelry along her bare arms. Her blond hair was piled high on her head, tiny studs in her ears, and of course black stilettos.

  “Well?” she asked us both, while applying a l
ast coat of lipstick in front of the hall mirror.

  “Stunning.”

  “Gorgeous.”

  “Good,” Anika said and smiled satisfied. She straightened her father’s tie, black, and not tucked beneath his collar tonight. She made me turn around then decided to adjust my cummerbund. “You both look quite presentable. Off we go then.”

  I turned to see Fynn reaching for the jackal cane resting against the wall. I have to admit it looked quite correct with his tuxedo, but I felt a deep abiding anxiety at the sight of it. I gave him a questioning glance.

  “Ah yes, this is essential for tonight’s festivities,” he said rather cryptically.

  “What?”

  “For the auction.”

  We didn’t exactly arrive in style. No limo, well, no Vespa either, just my Saab. We picked up Eleanor in Cedar Bluffs. She was waiting by the door of her old house and also looked quite elegant, dressed in a white gown that came to her ankles, rather sheer and flowing. She also wore an ornate necklace in gold with small blue stones draped around her neck. Her hair had been recently coiffed, still shockingly white but not pulled back with the same severity as usual. Fynn graciously escorted her to the car, the front seat, and climbed in the back with Anika. A few minutes later we pulled up to the Beachcomber. It was already crowded, the parking lot seemed unusually full. One car there caught my attention, a Pontiac T-37, pumpkin orange, now shiny and polished with gleaming chrome bumpers and wheel rims. Oddly, Cinderella came to mind again. My car was whisked away by the valet.

  The night was cooperating weather-wise: warm, a bit muggy perhaps, but a gentle breeze blew off the water with a pleasant cooling effect. And there was the moon. I’d never seen it quite so large and full, rising into a cloudless sky over the ocean. There was that too, the sound of the pounding surf, crashing against the sand with its eternal rhythm, just in the background.

  “The super moon,” Anika said almost as if she were reading my mind.

  “Pardon?”

  “The rare occurrence when the moon is full and at its perigee, closest to the Earth. It makes it appear much larger than usual.”

  “You like astronomy?” I asked.

  Anika glanced at me and smiled. “My father’s influence… an astronomer and a policeman.” She laughed a little.

  I noticed strains of music coming from inside, low key techno pop just at the threshold of hearing and way below the murmur of conversations… hardly a treble note, but the beat and the bass could be felt as well as heard right through the walls.

  I half expected a grand entrance, as if someone might announce our arrival with formal ceremony, maybe Don Pagor, the Voice of Sand City: “Detective Chief Inspector Tractus Fynn and his daughter, Lady Anika… The Duchess Eleanor Woods and Sir Patrick Jardel…” Such was not the case. We handed over our tickets and slipped through the door unattended. Fynn and Eleanor, arm and arm walked off into the main ballroom. The Beachcomber was filling up quickly. There were probably about fifty people or so there already. The inspector seemed completely at ease. In the corner of my eye, I could see him laughing, conversing, happily chatting with the guests.

  I surveyed the room for familiar faces as well. Miriam was present and floating about. Amy and Jason were sitting together at the bar. Pagor could be heard, bellowing, but he was out of view for the moment. I saw Durbin as well, in a tux, presumably with his wife, and Chief Arantes, in full dress uniform— cap in hand and gold braids on his uniform. I could hear them all laughing. Gathered around them were officers Allen and Adams, and of all people, Eddie, though he was not in formal attire. On the stage, Randy and the Rumblers were setting up, doing their final checks with Murray at the sound board.

  Anika quickly spotted Alyson, apparently her new best friend, and also disappeared politely. I chose to remain by the front door and found a good spot where I could see who was arriving. From where I stood, a wide corridor turned sharply right to the main dance floor, the raised platform surrounded on one side by tables, chairs and casual sofas. Several columns sectioned everything off, and it was three or four steps down to the wraparound bar on the left.

  The mirrored walls gave me a pretty good view of everything and everyone. Behind the dance floor was a DJ station and a small stage… oh yeah, and three hanging disco balls. The fourth wall to my back was divided into huge doors that led outside to a covered terrace and the tiki bar in the center. There were steps down to the beach and the sand was cordoned off by a string of hanging lanterns arranged in a large rectangle. I could smell the torches, the sweet perfume of citronella.

  I made a point of lingering at the entrance. I was alone with my anxiety, leaning against the dark wall, eyeing people as they entered. I wanted to assess everyone who walked through the door. For me, this was a room full of suspects. I was looking down at the ground mostly, noting men’s shoes in particular. I started making grand announcements in Pagor’s voice, though only in my own mind, silently. Quite a few strangers passed by, unlikely couples some, and others only vaguely familiar. All six of Sand City’s councilman dutifully walked through, various other officials from the fire department and the DPW, and as the arrivals slowed to a trickle, I began to ask, who is conspicuous by their absence? One person I hadn’t seen was Evan James from the Chronicle. And not a tourist in sight either.

  Joey appeared from inside, gave me a friendly greeting and stood next to me drinking what I guessed to be a bloody mary. His perpetual smile was back. Anything sullen had fled with the last timeline.

  “Who’s your date tonight?” I asked.

  “I have two dates,” he said and grinned. “My mom…” He pointed towards the dance floor but I couldn’t tell exactly who he meant. “And Emma…” At least her reflection was easily seen: she was by the bar chatting with Alyson and Anika. “This is going to be fun,” Joey added.

  “So… I heard somebody found the treasure already.”

  Joey almost spit his drink out through his nose. “What?”

  “The treasure…”

  “Yeah, I heard you.” He grinned slightly. “But no, it’s still safe and sound.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely, I checked out the tombstone right before I came.” Joey took a sip from his drink and reached into his jacket pocket. He handed me a Treasure Hunt kit, complete with map, journal, compass, and gold foil coins. “You saw this, right?”

  “I did. It came out awesome.”

  “I thought so too.”

  Frank showed up pretty early for him, and with his wife Cathy whom I had never met before. She seemed pleasant enough. He looked unfamiliar though without his baseball cap, and completely incongruous without a flannel shirt, or better put, dressed in a tuxedo.”

  “Frank, you look naked tonight.”

  “What?” he asked, somewhat surprised.

  “No hat.”

  His hand reflexively reached up for a non-existent brim.

  “Oh yeah…” He laughed. “It does feel pretty strange.”

  I looked down at Frank’s shoes. Black Converse high-tops. Really? He almost got away with it.

  I turned to Joey after they passed. “How well do you know Frank?”

  “Pretty well.”

  “What’s with the hats?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The baseball caps.”

  Joey laughed. “Ever been to his house?”

  “Um, no can’t say I have.”

  “Well, he invited me and my mom over for dinner last month. His wife really, Cathy... she’s super nice…”

  “And?” I asked, a little impatient.

  “Oh, the hats. Sure… Frank has got the complete collection, every major league team… all lined up on a shelf in the hall.”

  “Really?” I thought about this for a second. “Well thanks, Joey… that sort of clears up a lot for me.” I immediately struck him off my list of suspects.

  Leaning from the Fairhaven Times rushed up the sidewalk looking quite dapper. It seemed imp
ossible. Fynn had mentioned he was gone from this timeline.

  “Jack... I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “Why is that? Wouldn’t miss it for the world. What’s shaking, Patrick?”

  “Not much. How are the Rockies doing?”

  “The Rockies? Oh yeah, the whole Colorado thing… Didn’t really pan out…” Leaning’s voice faded. “Seems they didn’t like my story on Bobby Baker.”

  “Your story, huh?”

  “Hey, somebody had to write it. I hear they’re auctioning off his cane tonight.”

  “Really? I think that’s just a wild rumor.”

  Leaning gave me a doubtful look.

  “Where’s your wife?”

  “At home… couldn’t get a babysitter.” He smiled, and gave me a slap on the shoulder, then vanished into the main room. I glanced at his shoes, still Ferragamo and probably size eleven.

  I’ll admit to my surprise at seeing Chamblis arriving for various reasons, most of them having to do with an official police investigation, and perhaps public opinion. My surprise evaporated soon enough though, when I saw his attorney Burton Michael Dean in tow. I didn’t suppose he was Chuck’s date and a few moments later, Jo-Anne came along the walkway, tugging on one of her high heels that had apparently malfunctioned. She put her arm around my shoulder for support and gave me a quick kiss. “Hey Patrick, how are you?” She smiled up at me. “Some date, huh?” she said and glanced over at Chamblis and Dean, then rolled her eyes. “Catch you later at the bar…” She gave me a wink too.

  Suzy appeared next, swaying up the sidewalk in a sheer metallic gown, sparkling with sequins. It showed off her slim figure in the most flattering manner. She was absolutely beautiful, stunning. It was almost beyond belief.

  “Patrick, I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Where else would I be, Suzy?”

  “This is true.” She gave me a huge smile and an equally large kiss. “It’s all thanks to you,” she whispered and lingered close to my face.

  “What?”

  “The new me.”

  “I think it’s all thanks to yourself.”

  “What a nice thing to say.” She beamed back proudly.

  “Fruit and bicycles, right?”

  “Yeah, who knew a DWI could be a positive thing?”

  “Who did you come with?” I asked.