Corner Office (From the Tales of Dan Coast Book 12)

by Rodney Riesel

  A few minutes later, Lola joined Dan on the porch. “That's Judge's chair,” she said, pointing at the rocker Dan was sitting in. “Would you mind scooting one seat over, Mr. Coast?”

  Dan stood. “No, that's fine.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lola didn't bring the silver tray with her this time. Instead, she just carried the two glasses of iced tea. She handed one to Dan.

  “Thank you,” Dan said.

  Lola sat down in the chair next to him. “What was it you wanted to talk about, Mr. Coast?” she asked.

  Dan sipped his tea. “I spoke with Lyndon yesterday morning.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes.”

  “How is he?”

  “He had a splinter in his foot.”

  “He never wears shoes. When we were married I would always have to tell him to put on his shoes. Lyndon never followed the rules. I guess that's why it didn't work out between us. Did you see Shelby?”

  “Yes,” Dan replied. “Very nice young lady.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “Does she follow the rules?”

  “How's that?”

  “You said Lyndon never followed the rules. Does Shelby follow the rules?”

  “I guess, as well as most teenagers.”

  “How about Branson, is he a rule follower?”

  “Better than Lyndon ever was.”

  “Lola, does Branson carry a weapon?”

  “I, uh … he, uh—”

  “Nothing you tell me will leave this porch.” Dan loved saying that. He was so convincing when he said it, that even he almost believed it.

  “Yes, he carries Judge's old revolver.”

  “Branson carries your father's revolver?”

  “Yes. I believe it's a .38—snub-nose, I think he calls it. It's not very big.”

  “Doesn't Branson have a weapon of his own? Doesn't the government provide him with a weapon to use?”

  “They do, but he's only allowed to carry it when he's working. He carries Judge's when he's not on assignment.”

  “I see.”

  “Did he have it with him the day he went missing?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because after I realized he was gone, I ran right up to the bedroom and checked to see if it was in the lock box. It wasn't there. Only Branson, Shelby, and I know the combination to that lock box.”

  “What time did Shelby go to her father's on Wednesday?” Dan asked.

  “Let me see … it must have been sometime late in the afternoon, because she was still here when I went to the grocery store.”

  “What time was that?”

  “I want to say … five-thirty, maybe.”

  “And Shelby was still here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know where in the house she was when you left?”

  “She was in her bedroom packing up some things. I had told her that I would give her a ride to Lyndon's after I returned from the store. When I got home, she had already left.”

  “Did Branson give her a ride?”

  “No, she took a cab.”

  “Was Branson here when you got home?”

  “Yes. He is who told me Shelby had called a cab.”

  “How did Branson act when you got home?”

  “Fine, I guess. Although he did tell me he got a call from Washington while I was out. He said he might have to go on a mission in the next couple of days. But, as you know, he disappeared before that.”

  Dan downed the rest of his tea.

  “Would you like some more sweet tea, Mr. Coast?” Lola asked.

  “No thank you, Lola,” Dan replied. “I better be getting to the office.” He handed his empty glass to Lola.

  “Mr. Coast?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think you're going to find Branson?”

  “I'm doing my best.”

  Lola reached over and put her hand on Dan's arm. “I don't know what I would do with out him. He gives me purpose.”

  Dan nodded his head. He had no idea what to say to that. He stood, and walked down the steps.

  “So, you'll be in touch?” Lola asked.

  “Yut.” Dan was almost to the sidewalk when he paused and turned around. “Lola, why didn't you tell Lyndon or Shelby that Branson was missing?”

  “I didn't want them to worry, of course.”

  “I see.” Dan continued the walk to his car.

  Lola stayed in her chair and sipped her sweet tea as Dan backed out of the driveway. Dan saw her wave goodbye out of the corner of his eye, but as he was about to wave back, his cell phone rang. It was Skip.

  “What's up?” Dan asked.

  “It's Skip.”

  “I know.”

  “Those numbers were a dead end.”

  “You checked them all?”

  “I emailed them to my old man at the FDLE. He ran them through the database. None of the numbers have been used in over three months; some as much as two years ago. The two most recent numbers came back with a few hits on a few different towers.”

  “Does that mean we'll know where Branson was during that time?”

  “Not necessarily. Burner phones work off of other carriers' towers, and their data doesn't get stored the same way as a regular cell phone. Also, jumping around to whatever tower the burner can find means pinpointing an exact location is difficult. What I can tell you is that Branson never left the country with the two most recent cells, and he was never in DC or Langley, or anywhere else you would expect a spy to be. Most of the hits were here in the Keys.”

  “He was probably here with Lola during those times,” said Dan.

  “Probably,” Skip concurred. “My old man did say that if we could get permission to use Lola and Marilyn's cell phone records we could cross reference the calls they made. Maybe they called the same burners during the same time periods. We could use that information on their cells to set up a timeline. Probably take a couple weeks to do.”

  “We'll forget about that.”

  “That's what I figured, dude,” Skip said. “One other thing … ”

  “What's that?”

  “Just for the hell of it, my old man put in a few calls to Woods County, Oklahoma, and Thomas County, Kansas, to see if Lola's and Marilyn's common-law marriages required any kind of certificate or registration.”

  “Great idea.”

  “It was my old man's idea,” Skip admitted.

  “I figured.”

  “Where are ya right now?”

  “On my way to the office. I ordered a small bar and fridge the other night and they're delivering it today.”

  “You need help?”

  “Probably.”

  “I'll be there in twenty, bro.” Skip hung up.

  Who can you count on, if you can't count on your bros, Dan mused.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Dan drove three times around the block before finding a parking spot on Fleming Street. He pulled in, and shut off the engine. He jogged across the street and up the stairs to the door. Once inside, he quickly realized that leaving the windows open did in deed help with the musty smell.

  The bottles of booze were still sitting on what had become known as Red's desk. Dan unscrewed the cap of the tequila bottle and poured a little in the same plastic cup he had used the day before. He then checked the ice bag in the bathroom sink. Crap—all melted.

  Dan added a little 7UP to his cup and took a sip. He didn't mind a room temperature drink at all. He turned, leaned against the desk, and stared at the case board. His eyes moved slowly down Skip's timeline. After reading everything on the board at least twice, the only conclusion he came to, was that he was craving Moose Tracks ice cream. He walked to the case board, picked up the eraser, and erased Moose Tracks. He hoped he would eventually forget about it.

  Dan placed the eraser back in the tray and picked up the red marker. He took off the cap and started to write.

  “Whoa,” said
Skip. “What are ya doing, bro?”

  Dan turned around and saw Skip standing in the open doorway. “I was gonna write down everything Amazing Gary said yesterday, and what Lola told me this morning,” Dan replied.

  “Let me do that,” Skip urged.

  “Fine.” Dan handed him the marker.

  “Make me a drink.”

  “Please?”

  “Please make me a drink, Dan the Man.” Skip walked up to the case board and began making notes. The first thing he wrote was, Branson is already dead. Underneath that he jotted cold dark place, someone planted grass, and buried Buried near water.

  “That's better. There's no ice.”

  “That's fine.” Skip stepped back and looked over the board. “Am I forgetting anything?”

  Dan handed Skip his drink. “Let me see,” Dan said. “Amazing Gary also mentioned a gunshot, blood, a young girl, and two women bringing Branson down.”

  “Good memory, bro.” Skip stepped back up to the board and wrote down everything Dan had said. “Okay, on to Lola. What did she have to say this morning?”

  “She said Branson does carry a weapon.”

  “What kind?”

  “That's the crazy thing,” Dan replied. “Lola said that Branson carries her father's old .38 snub-nosed revolver when he's here in town. She also said he has a weapon he uses when he's on a mission.” Dan made finger quotes around the word 'mission.'

  “Why only when he's on a mission?” Skip asked.

  “According to Lola, the government doesn't allow him to carry it when he's not working.”

  “That's obviously a lie,” Skip said as he added to his notes.

  “Also,” Dan said, “Shelby stayed at the house when Lola went to the grocery store Wednesday evening. Lola said Shelby took a cab to her father's in Marathon.”

  “What time did she take the cab?”

  “Sometime after five-thirty.”

  Skip started to add it to the timeline, and then paused. “So, Shelby might have been there during Branson and Lyndon's altercation.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “She could have overheard the argument … which means she knows Branson is having an affair.”

  “That's what it would mean,” Dan agreed.

  Skip added the information to the timeline. “Did Lola say why she never informed Lyndon or Shelby of Branson's disappearance?”

  “She just said she didn't want them to worry.”

  “Huh.” Skip wrote down, Didn't want them to worry. “That's odd.”

  “Is there anything about this case that isn't odd?” Dan downed the rest of his drink.

  Skip continued to study the case board. “The one thing we all agree on is that Branson isn't a spy.”

  “Correct.”

  “And any money he does have, probably came from other women just like Lola and Marilyn.”

  “Right.”

  “Those women could be dead, and the money he has could be from life insurance.”

  “It could be.” Dan poured himself another drink.

  “I wish we knew who those women were.”

  “They probably came from states where common-law marriage is legal.”

  “But if Branson handled all the paperwork like he said he did with Lola and Marilyn, then there's probably no record of those marriages.”

  Skip's cell phone rang. “It's my old man,” he said. “Hello?” Skip listened for a little more than two minutes before saying, “Okay. Thanks, Larry,” and hanging up.

  “You call your dad by his first name?”

  “Why not, bro? Scout and Jem called their pa by his first name.”

  “Never read it. What did Larry find out?”

  “He said there's no record in either county of a Lola Paragould or a Marilyn Valdosta filing for a marriage license. He also said neither state requires any kind of certificate to be filed for a common-law marriage.”

  “And for Branson to collect life insurance, he wouldn't have to be married to Lola or Marilyn anyway.”

  “Correct-a-mundo,” said Skip. “He only has to be named as the beneficiary.”

  “That means Branson's whole common-law marriage ruse is just so he can go from one woman to another without being charged with polygamy.”

  “Looks that way, bro.”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Come in!” Dan hollered.

  The door opened. “Delivery for a Dab Coast?”

  “Dab Coast?” Dan asked. “It's Dan Coast.”

  The guy looked at his clipboard. “Says Dab Coast here.”

  “Do you really think Dab is someone's name?”

  “Hey, pal, I just deliver the stuff.”

  “Bring it right in here,” said Dan.

  “I'm all by myself on this delivery,” the guy remarked pathetically.

  “We gotcha covered, broham,” said Skip. “Come on, Dab.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Thursday evening Dan was standing at his grill turning hot dogs and brats. A tequila, Seven, and lime sat on the side shelf of the grill. The serving plate sat at the ready on the opposite shelf. Maxine was resting in one of the Adirondack chairs next to the fire pit; she was reading the Key West Citizen. Buddy was lying on the ground next to her.

  “You want me to make you a drink?” Dan called out.

  “No, thank you,” Maxine replied, never taking her eyes off the horoscope, which she read just for kicks.

  Dan continued to stare at her as though the answers he was looking for would suddenly appear on her face. Did she not want a drink because she's pregnant? he wondered. Is she not drinking because she wants to get pregnant? Is she so depressed from finding out she wasn't pregnant that she can't drink? That's not possible. Come on, Maxine, it's been four days. Tell me what's going on, for chrissakes!

  “What are you looking at?” Maxine asked. She was now peering over the top of the newspaper.

  “Nothing,” Dan replied. He returned to his dogs and brats, turning them one more time. “You want your buns toasted?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Hop up here on the grill.”

  “Never gets old.”

  Dan took a sip of his drink, set it back down on the shelf, and walked to the back door. When he walked back outside, he was carrying the rolls, ketchup, and mustard. “I thought you said you bought potato salad.”

  “I did,” Maxine responded.

  “Where is it?”

  “In the fridge.”

  “I looked in the fridge.”

  “I bet you did.”

  “You must have forgotten it at the store.”

  “I put it in the fridge.”

  “It's not in there.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “You probably left a grocery bag in the cart, at the store. The potato salad was probably in that bag.”

  “You say probably an awful lot.”

  “Probably.”

  “You want me to go in and get it?”

  “It's not in there.”

  Maxine groaned. “I'll get it.” She climbed out of her chair and headed for the back door.

  Dan gave her a condescending grin as she walked by. He knew she had left the potato salad at the store. He couldn't wait until she walked back outside without it so he could say “I told ya so.”

  Maxine walked up the steps and through the screen door, letting it slam behind her.

  Dan craned his neck toward the door, trying to see and hear what she was doing in the kitchen. Thirty seconds passed. “What's the matter, can't fi—”

  Maxine walked out the door carrying the potato salad. She held it up and returned Dan's grin.

  Son of a bitch! “Where was it?” Dan asked.

  “It was in the fridge, right where I said it was.”

  “Did you put it in the cupboard on accident?”

  “It was in the damn fridge!”

  “I don't believe you. I looked in the fridge.”

  “It was right in the fr
ont, on the top shelf. It was right in plain sight. If it was a snake it would have bitten you.”

  “If it was a snake, I probably would have noticed it.”

  “Some how I doubt it.” Maxine carried the potato salad and two plates to the picnic table, and then returned to her chair. “That was pretty nice of Arnold to fill your propane tank, wasn't it?”

  “I guess.”

  “You guess? What's that supposed to mean?”

  “Why would he refill it?”

  “To be a good neighbor.”

  “Sounds a little far-fetched. What kind of a weirdo wants to be a good neighbor?”

  “You have some serious issues.”

  “Only some?”

  “I was trying to be nice.”

  “Stein probably refilled the propane tank because he was the one who emptied it the other night.”

  “Yeah,” Maxine said with a sigh, “probably.”

  Bev's back door swung open. “Hey neighbors,” she called out.

  Maxine waved.

  “Dogs and brats are almost ready,” Dan hollered back. “Make me a drink, and come on over.”

  Bev's focused on the drink Dan had sitting on the shelf. “Looks like you already have a drink,” she commented.

  “I meant, make me another drink, and come on over.”

  “You want anything, Maxine?”

  “No thanks. I'm good.”

  Bev turned and stepped back into her kitchen.

  “You have booze here,” said Maxine. “Why are you making her fix you a drink?”

  “That's the price she pays for eating my hot dogs.”

  “You invited her over.”

  “So? The folks on the Publix television commercials invite us to come to their store for groceries, but they still make us pay.”

  Maxine shook her head, as she so often did. “You have an answer for everything.”

  “Mind of a genius.”

  “Ya think?”

  “I've never taken an IQ test, so we'll never know.”

  “I'm pretty sure you can't spell IQ.”

  “Ouch.”

  Bev walked back through her door carrying two glasses in her hands. One was a rocks glass filled with Dan's tequila, Seven, and lime, the other was a glass of white wine for herself.

  Maxine noticed Bev was limping on her way over. When Bev got closer, Maxine asked, “What's the matter with your ankle?”