Drunk Driving

by Zane Mitchell

  Al and I slid from room to room, keeping our eyes peeled for any of the things Giselle had described. After a few minutes of searching, we finally discovered what had to be Dalton’s office.

  Inside, I pulled off my mask. “You gonna be alright alone?” I asked uneasily. Leaving Al behind wasn’t exactly something I felt good about doing, but I also knew we didn’t have a lot of time, and tromping Al through the house sounded painstakingly slow. In truth, his time was better spent in the office rather than touring the house with me.

  Al nodded. “I’ll call you if something happens,” he said, holding up his little flip cell phone.

  I would’ve liked to tell him to text me instead, but Al refused to learn how to text. “Okay. I’ll go fast.”

  Slipping out the office door, I pulled my ski mask back on over my face. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that aside from Val and Kip, we were alone in the house, and I sure as hell didn’t want to come face-to-face with anyone.

  The house seemed to wrap around in a circle, with another row of rooms on the second floor and double-decker wings jutting off in different directions. The living and dining rooms were situated in the middle of the house with a vaulted ceiling. I poked my head into every room, walked down every hallway, until I ended back where I’d started. Though it sounded dangerous with Dalton’s bedroom on the second floor, I went to the stairs anyway. Taking the first hallway to my right, I walked down the hallway, noting the empty hallway walls with the exception of the occasional piece of art. That was when I heard the moans and screams coming from one of the bedrooms.

  “Yes! Yes! Yes!” I heard Valentina chanting.

  I shook my head. Al was right. Hookers did work fast. Either she was faking or we needed to hurry up, because our distraction was almost over. I finished exploring the upstairs but was unable to find the hallway of pictures like Giselle had described. Nor could I find a massage room either.

  As I rushed back down the stairs to reunite with Al, the thought occurred to me that there was also no attached garage as Giselle had described. I frowned. I was starting to feel confident that whatever Giselle and Jordan had been through hadn’t occurred in this house.

  Back to the drawing board.

  Retracing my steps, I made my way back to Dalton’s office and slipped inside. I found Al seated on a rolling chair in front of a filing cabinet rifling through a manila folder. “This isn’t the place, Al. There’s no way that this was where that limo brought those girls. I didn’t find a hallway with pictures. I didn’t find a massage room. And I didn’t find an attached garage.”

  Al jerked his head to the side, beckoning me over. “Hey, kid. Come here. Check this out.”

  I rushed eagerly to his side. “Find something about the prostitution ring?”

  “Nah, nothing about that. But I did find an interesting invoice on his desk. It’s for that new car out in the driveway.”

  “Yeah?”

  Al nodded. “He got it from the same place you bought yours.”

  “Jeez. Is that literally the only dealership on the island?”

  “Seems like it’s the most popular, that’s for sure,” said Al. “And I hate to break it to you, kid, but they cut Dalton one hell of a good deal.”

  I looked down at the papers he was flipping through. “Yeah? What kind of good deal?”

  Al held up the first invoice for me to look at. “Look at that. Not only didn’t he get charged the tariff, but it also looks like he’s paying dealer cost.”

  “No fucking shit?”

  “Read it for yourself.”

  I lifted the invoice up and stared at it. In one of the corners, it had typing across it that read Business Owners’ Special Pricing. My eyes widened. “Holy shit. I bet this was the deal they were trying to give Artie!” I breathed. “Why couldn’t they give that to me?”

  “Because you don’t own a business?” said Al, looking up at me.

  “I’m partial owner of a charter boat business.”

  Al shook his head. “A silent partner. And you weren’t partial owner when you bought your vehicle.”

  “Technicalities! Maybe we’ll have to go back to the dealership and see if we can’t renegotiate now that I am.”

  “You’re splitting hairs at this point, kid. I think it’s too late for renegotiation.”

  I balked. “It’s never too late to save me money.”

  “It is too late. Now listen. There’s more. Seeing that invoice made me curious about what he paid for the rest of the cars out there, so I went through his file cabinet. I found this.” Al shuffled all the papers he’d been looking at back into a manila folder and held it up.

  I took it and flipped through each one of them to discover that they all had the same Business Owners’ Special Pricing discount listed and that he’d paid way under book value for each and every vehicle he owned. My jaw dropped. “Get the fuck out of here. This is bullshit!”

  “Hey, kid, relax. It ain’t the end of the world.”

  I shook my head. “Al. We’re talking thousands here. Not just loose change. I’m not as loaded as you are. I gotta make my dollars stretch. I’ve got half a mind to go down there tomorrow and see if I can’t have something done about the price I paid.”

  Al sighed as he returned the file folder to the file cabinet and stood up. “Whatever. I just thought you might be interested to see that stuff. But unfortunately, I didn’t find a single shred of evidence to tie Dalton to what’s going on down at Club Cobalt.”

  I sighed. “I didn’t either. Either he’s having these girls shipped somewhere else or he’s not involved whatsoever. I don’t even know where to look next.”

  Al patted me on the arm. “Don’t worry, kid. We’ll figure something out. We always do. Now come on. We need to get back out to the car and call Valentina before she does something she can’t undo.”

  I quirked a smile. “Oh, I think it’s a little too late for that.”

  “Oh, yeah?” asked Al, his shoulders slumping forward.

  “Yeah. But don’t worry. I can almost guarantee she doesn’t mind taking one for the team.”

  23

  “I can’t believe you’re seriously going over there. We’re in the middle of a murder investigation.”

  Gripping the steering wheel tightly, I stared at the road in front of me. “I gotta get it off my chest so I can focus. Besides, I told you, Al. I don’t play around when it comes to saving a few bucks. You should understand. You were around for the Great Depression.”

  Al frowned at me. “I was just a kid back then, thank you very much. And it’s not that I don’t understand wanting to save some money. I get that. I’m a businessman, after all. It’s just kind of embarrassing going back after the fact. We already did our negotiating. If a farmer had come back to me after I’d already sold him a tractor and he’d said, ‘You know what, Al? I got to thinking about it and I think I paid too much for this tractor. I’d like a discount,’ I think I might’ve laughed him off my property.”

  I shrugged. “Well, look. If it’s so embarrassing, then you can just sit out in the car and wait for me while I go inside.”

  Al sighed and then let his head drop into the palms of his hands.

  I looked over at him. “Fuck, Al. Why you gotta be so dramatic? It’s not that big of a deal.” I glanced back at the road again, but not fast enough to notice that I’d drifted off the road a little. My front tire hit a curb and made the vehicle bounce as I steered it back onto the road.

  “Jeez, kid, watch where you’re going!”

  I chuckled. “Curb check. Just checking to see if you were awake.”

  Al shook his head. “You’re gonna wind up wrecking this thing before you can even get back over there to ask for a discount! You put insurance on this thing, right?”

  My hand shot out and smacked the top of the steering wheel. “Shit! I knew there was something I was forgetting to do. Remind me to do that later today.”

  “Come on, Drunk. You gotta be more responsib
le than that.”

  My mouth gaped. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’ve been in the middle of a missing girl investigation, and now it’s quite possibly a homicide investigation. I’ve been a little busy. Cut me some slack, will ya?”

  Al’s head turned to look out the window. “Just get me there in one piece and then we’ll talk slack.”

  * * *

  “Hey, how you doing, Steve? Danny Drunk. This is my buddy, Al Becker.”

  “Mr. Drunk, Mr. Becker, it’s a pleasure,” said Steve Dillon, a barrel-chested man with narrow hips, smaller-than-average legs, and a bad toupee. His face was pale and shone beneath the fluorescent lighting, only his cheeks were bright pink, like he’d just undergone a chemical peel. “Please, have a seat. What can I help you gentlemen with today?”

  “Well, here’s the thing, Steve. Can I call you Steve?”

  “Only if I can call you Danny.” The man across the desk smiled jovially.

  I smiled back. “People actually just call me Drunk, if you don’t mind.”

  “That’s sure an interesting name. Are you from the States, Drunk?”

  I nodded. “I am. I’ve only been on the island a few months. Are you from the US?”

  Steve nodded. “Sure am. Lived in Ohio for the last twenty or more years. I moved out here when the wife left me. Wanted to start all over, you know?”

  I grinned. I knew a thing or two about starting over. “I sure do.”

  “So where in the States are you coming from?”

  I pointed at myself. “Kansas City here.”

  “I’m from a small town north of Omaha,” said Al.

  “Oh, Nebraska,” said Steve, his eyes widening. “I’ve got a brother in Omaha.”

  “Huh,” said Al, shaking his head. “It’s a small world, isn’t it?”

  “It sure is. Now why don’t you fellas tell me what I can do for you? Are you in the market for a new vehicle? If so, you’ve come to the right place.”

  I leaned forward, so my elbow rested on Steve’s desk. “Well, here’s the thing Steve. I actually bought a vehicle from you about a week ago.”

  “Did you? Is it that Rubicon I noticed you driving in?” he asked.

  “It is.”

  “Great choice. Really great choice. It’ll be great on resale value, too. Any of those kinds of Jeeps do well on the island.”

  “Right,” I said before flashing some teeth at him. “Here’s the thing. When I bought it, to say that I was taken aback by the sticker price would be an understatement.”

  Steve sucked air between his gritted teeth and then sat back in his chair, eyebrows raised. “Oh, don’t I know it. The prices here aren’t what they are back home, now are they?”

  “No. They really aren’t. But I just realized that when I purchased the vehicle, I forgot to ask for the business owners’ special pricing.”

  Steve’s face froze. He cleared his throat, straightened his tie, and sat forward again in his seat. “You, uh—excuse me?”

  I nodded and this time sent a wink in his direction. “You know. I’d like my business owner’s special discount.”

  “I don’t, uh—know what you’re talking about,” said Steve, lowering his brows and staring hard at me and then at Al.

  “Oh, I think you do,” I countered, sitting back in my seat and crossing one leg over my knee.

  Steve’s face was flushed now and the way he messed with his tie made me wonder if it wasn’t cutting off circulation to his head. I felt like grabbing the scissors in the cupholder on his desk and reaching out and snipping it at the neckline to save the poor guy. Finally, he spoke. “You own a business?”

  I nodded. “I do. I’m partial owner of a charter fishing company.” I pulled the check that the Cruz brothers had given me out of my wallet and showed it to Steve. “I invested a tidy sum of money in the company when I got to the island. Granted, they are still slowly making progress towards growing the company, but this is the first return on my investment. I look forward to progressively larger checks, of course.”

  Steve swallowed hard. “Listen, uh—will you gentlemen excuse me for a moment?”

  I glanced over at Al and then back at Steve. “Umm. Yeah, sure. Of course.”

  “I shouldn’t be long.” He pointed to a bowl of wrapped candy in a bowl on his desk. “Help yourself to a snack. There’s coffee and bottled water out on the showroom floor if you’d like something to drink.”

  “Thanks, Steve.”

  He nodded curtly before disappearing out the door.

  I clapped my hands together. “Well, what do you think of that, Al? He didn’t laugh me out of the building, now did he?”

  Al scowled at me. “Don’t count him out just yet, kid. This ain’t over.”

  I shrugged and sat back in my seat. At least I’d tried. If he said no, I could go about my business in peace, knowing that I’d done everything I could to save a few grand.

  Al stood up and arched his back. He shook out his leg.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “My sciatica is acting up.”

  “I got this under control if you wanna go take a walk around and loosen things up,” I suggested.

  Al did a few stretches in front of the door and then shook his head. “Nah. This won’t take long. I predict he’ll be back in here any second and tell you to take a hike.”

  I chuckled. “Whatever, Al.”

  With his hands on his back, Al shook out each leg in turn and then walked back behind Steve’s desk to look out his window at the parking lot. When he came back, he paused to look at a bunch of framed pictures on Steve’s bookshelf.

  I was lost in thought as Al looked on quietly.

  “Holy shit,” said Al finally, his eyes wide.

  “What?”

  “You’re not gonna believe this. Come here, take a look at this picture.” He waved his hand in the air, beckoning me to hurry.

  I got up and walked over to take a look at whatever had Al so excited. He pointed at one of the pictures. A silver picture frame held a photograph of a table full of men, all smiles. Between each of the men was a woman in a barely-there bunny costume. But the really interesting part was who was in the picture.

  “That’s Kip Dalton,” I said, pointing at one of the men in the picture.

  Al nodded. “Keep looking. Who else do you see?”

  I squinted my eyes and stared harder. One of the men looked familiar but had shorter hair than he had now, but the same caterpillar-like unibrow. “Is that Joseph Ayala the photographer?”

  Al’s head bobbed. “It sure is. And isn’t that the guy that just about smashed your face in the other day?”

  Sure enough, there was Vito with his arm slung around one of the bunnies. “Wow. Is this just a coincidence that Dillon’s friends with all the guys we’ve been investigating or is this some kind of cosmic clue?”

  Al shrugged. “If you ask me, coincidences don’t just happen. Ayala drove one of Steve’s vehicles. Dalton drives a handful of them. If I had to guess, Vito drives one too. These guys are obviously connected. We know for sure three of them are connected to Club Cobalt.”

  I stared hard at the picture. There were two more men facing the camera that I didn’t recognize and one with his back to the camera. “What if they’re all involved in Jordan’s death? If that’s the case, we need to identify everyone in the picture. One of them may be the owner of the mansion we’re looking for.”

  “I think we’re onto something,” said Al. He glanced over his shoulder and started stuffing the framed picture into the front of his cargo shorts.

  “What the fuck, Al? You don’t think Steve’s gonna notice your square boner when we walk outta here?” I hissed, snatching the picture out of his hands and putting it back on the shelf. “This ain’t the stone age, Mr. Flintstone.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and took a quick snapshot. No sooner had I slipped it back into my pocket than the door opened and Steve Dillon walked back into the room.

  Trying to divert a
ttention away from the fact that I had just been looking at his pictures, I smiled at him and took two steps towards him, my hand extended. “Steve. You’re back. So, what do you say? Can we do some kind of retroactive deal on my Jeep?”

  Steve frowned at me and kept his arms pinned behind his back. “Mr. Becker, Mr. Drunk, unfortunately I’m not going to be able to help you.”

  “But I’m a business owner, I—”

  He cut me off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t offer business owner specials. Now. I have a lot of work to do this morning. I’m going to have to ask you gentlemen to leave.”

  I glanced over at Al. The corners of his mouth had just begun to rise. I sensed a lot of I told you sos on the horizon. I looked back at Steve. “Oh, come on, Steve. Can’t we work something out?”

  Al stood up. “Come on, kid. You tried. Let’s go.”

  “But—”

  Standing in front of the open doorway, Al tugged on my arm. “Now, Drunk.” He looked at Steve. “We appreciate your time, Mr. Dillon. Have a good day.”

  With nothing else to say, I let Al drag me outside. We both got in the vehicle. “Well. That was sure an interesting visit.”

  Al nodded. “That it was.”

  “I may not have gotten the deal I wanted, but we got something.” I looked down at the snapshot I’d taken with my phone. “Now, I think we just need to figure out who the other men in this picture are.” As I stared at it, my phone began to ring.

  “Who is it?” asked Al.

  I put the phone to my ear, both eager to hear her voice and dreading what she might share. “Francesca Cruz. Is this a business or pleasure call?”

  “Unfortunately, it’s business,” she sighed.

  “Can I at least say it’s good to hear your voice?”

  “It’s good to hear yours too, Danny.”