“Thank you, Mrs. Francis, for telling me.” I look down at the floor. “I loved Jeannie and spending the rest of my life with her would have made me the happiest man in the world.”
“Bobby.” Ron Francis says, coming in from the balcony. “Thank you for coming. Captain Sprague has been very helpful. Thank you for putting us in touch.” Ron leads me over to a small sofa.
“Please, sit down.”
I find a seat on the couch and Ron sits down in the armchair across from me. “Now why don’t you tell me what really happened to my daughter?” His voice has a hard edge to it and for the next forty-five minutes, I explain all that I know.
When I’m done, he says, “Thank you, Bobby, your story sheds some light.” His cell phone rings. He answers it, waves an apology and walks out onto the balcony, closing the sliding glass door.
“Bobby,” Chako says, sitting beside me. “Jeannie told me about your problem with the puzzle box. I think I may be able to help you. I don’t think she knew I was born in that part of Japan where many of the puzzle boxes were made. My family knew Mr. Nueriuma’s family. We were often allowed to play with some of the simpler boxes as children. It is possible that I might be able to help you open your puzzle box.”
I’m dumbfounded. “She didn’t mention anything about that. She said she didn’t know of anyone who could help us get it open. We never talked again after she left the boat.” Another wave of sadness washes over me.
“I don’t speak of my childhood much, so I’m sure she didn’t know. We were so poor, there weren’t many pleasant stories to share.”
Mr. Francis walks back into the room, “Bobby, I have a meeting with a Detective Murphy. Thank you again for stopping by and explaining the situation. Chako, would you show Bobby out?” He stalks into the bedroom, leaving Chako to walk me to the door.
“I’m very sorry for Ron’s behavior, Bobby. As you can imagine, he is taking Jeannie’s death very hard.”
“Understandable. We’re all pretty shaken up.”
“May I have your cell phone number?” She asks me. “I will call you later today. Maybe we can meet and I will see if I can help you open your puzzle box. Ron usually takes a nap around five p.m. I will call you and meet you downstairs in the bar. I like to have a glass of wine before dinner.” She says with a little smile. Then she wraps her arms around me and hugs me tightly. I hold on to her to keep from losing it completely. She releases me from her hug and turns around to step back into the room. She looks up at me with tears running down her face.
“Thank you” I say. She nods and gently closes the door.
I hurry to the elevator and ride down to the lobby where I find a place to sit down and think about what Chako told me about Jeannie from their last conversation. It was very comforting. And slowly, it registers what Chako said about the possibility of opening the puzzle box. I grab my cell phone and call Murphy.
“Murph, it’s me, Bobby.” I rush on without even giving him a chance to say hello. “Jeannie’s mom, Mrs. Francis – Chako – she thinks she can open the puzzle box. She’s going to call me around five p.m. and meet me in the hotel bar to give it a shot. Do you
think you can make it here by then?”
It takes him a few seconds to process what I’ve just told him. “That’s incredible. I’m meeting her husband this afternoon. Can she try then?”
“I don’t think she wants her husband to know. She said he takes a nap at five, so she wants to try then. Hey, I never mentioned anything about the puzzle box or the drug deal, to him, okay? I just thought it would be too much.”
“Yeah, you’re right. He doesn’t need any more to worry about. I’ll see you at round five in the hotel bar.” I disconnect. I’ve got a few hours and I need to get some fresh air, so I decide to go for a drive to clear my head.
I walk out of the Hilton, and the van is right where we left it. I spot the valet and hand him my ticket and another five dollars.
“There was some guy checking out your van, but I told him to get lost. I just thought you should know.” The valet starts to walk over to the van.
“Wait a second. Could you just give me my keys? I need to check something out.” I grab the keys, walk over to the van, open the back hatch and take out the backpack. I bent over to check the undercarriage of the van and noticed something attached there. I get up slowly and back toward the valet.
“Stay right here,” I say and dial Murphy’s cell phone.
“Murph, I think there’s something attached to my van. I’m afraid it might be a bomb. It could be on a timer or set off by remote control or the ignition.”
“I’d better call the bomb squad. Where’s the puzzle box?” Murph asks me, “Do you have it or is it in the van?”
“It’s safe,” I tell him.
“I can be there in twenty minutes, but the bomb squad will be there sooner. Don’t leave that spot. Keep everyone away. Is there someone who can alert hotel security?”
“I’ll send the valet.”
I tell the valet to inform the front desk of my suspicions and that the sheriff’s office has been informed. He turns a little grey, nods and runs into the hotel. I hear the sirens off in the distance.
The first unit to arrive is from the Costa Mesa police. A uniformed officer strides into the lobby, I assume to tell the manager they need to set up a perimeter to keep people safe.
The Sheriff’s Department is the next to arrive, sirens blaring. They seal off all the entries and exits to the hotel. Murph pulls up, the car still rocking as he gets out and I follow him into the lobby.
Ron Francis walks up before we get very far, “What the hell is going on here, Bobby? I’m supposed to meet with Detective Murphy. He’s bringing release papers for my signature.”
“Mr. Francis, this is Detective Murphy.”
They shake hands and Murph says, “I’m so sorry for your loss, sir.” He turns to look at me, “I think the local police and the bomb squad have everything under control.”
“Bomb squad?!” barks Ron, “Does this have anything to do with my daughter’s death?”
“Mr. Francis, can we go up to your room to talk, sir? It will be much quieter,” Murph says. “All of this,” he waves his hand toward the front doors where police are swarming, “is purely precautionary, I assure you.” Wow. Was I ever this calm when I was a cop? “I have the papers for you and I can explain what’s happening there.
Murph leads Jeannie’s father back toward the elevators. I call DJ and explain the situation and tell him I’ll call him back later today. I hope my van stays in one piece, but the way my luck's running, that’s asking a lot.
Chapter 31
Alexis has noticed the man who followed Paladin to the hotel and parks where she can keep an eye on him. She calls her handler and explains that Bobby Paladin has someone tailing him. She wants to know what her options are. Her handler tells her to sit tight, observe his actions and wait for further instructions. She positions herself in a coffee shop across the street and settles in to watch and wait. Paladin comes out and looks like he’s going to leave, so she stands up to go. She sits down again when he returns to the valet. She’s startled when she sees police and sheriffs pull into the hotel parking lot, sirens blaring, followed by a bomb squad van. They effectively shut down the hotel. No one was going to be able to enter or leave. This was definitely out of the ordinary.
She decides to go on the offensive and try to catch Paladin’s shadow. She sees Detective Murphy arrive and he and Paladin walk into the hotel. Through the glass lobby doors, she can see Bobby walk to meet them. If the bomb squad is there and Paladin is talking to Detective Murphy, it must somehow concern Bobby. She notices the tail getting out of his car and heading toward the hotel. She clicks three quick pictures of him with the special zoom on her phone and quickly sends the picture to her handler, just as the media vans start to arrive. Bobby Paladin looks like a ringmaster in this particular circus.
◆◆◆
Four hours la
ter the bomb squad has finally safely disarmed and removed the bomb from my van. A black Lincoln SUV pulls up and a short, stocky bald man with glasses gets out of the passenger side while the driver gets out and stands by, apparently waiting for orders. They look like suits. They must be ATF, FBI or some other government agency.
I can hear the deputies and cops quietly talking to each other. It looks like the feds are taking command after the local guys did all the heavy lifting, and they’re pissed. The bald guy walks over to the Site Commander and presents him with some paperwork. After some arm waving, finger pointing and yelling, the other agent walks up, confiscates the evidence from the bomb squad and puts it in the rear of the SUV.
Murphy walks out of the hotel with the Costa Mesa police chief, looks at me and says, “What the hell is going on now?”
Before I can answer the short, bald suit walks up to Murphy and asks, “Are you Detective Dwayne Murphy?”
“Yes. And you are?”
“Agent Art Peterson with the ATF. I have a federal warrant requiring your men to surrender any and all evidence in the Jeannie Francis murder investigation. We’ve taken your computer files from your office and I want the rest of your notes. Now.” He hands Murphy the warrant.
Murphy reads it through and looks disgustedly at Peterson, before he says. “You guys can’t just walk into my office, take whatever the hell you want, then come to my crime scene and demand I give you my notes. I don’t give a fuck about any warrant. This is my case and this murder happened in my jurisdiction. I’m calling the Captain right now.”
“Suit yourself, Detective. Your Captain was the one who allowed us to remove the items from your office.”
Glaring at Peterson, Murph gets out his phone and calls the Captain. I can hear Sprague yelling from where I’m standing, telling Murphy to surrender every bit of evidence he has or he’ll suspend him until hell freezes over. Murphy disconnects as the color rises to his cheeks. He reaches into his inside jacket pocket, opens his black notebook and rips out a bunch of pages.
“That’s all that I have, Peterson. You have everything else.” His voice sounds calm but I can see that that the muscles in his jaw tightening.
“Thank you, Detective Murphy,” says Peterson, smugly. “Stay out of my way on this or you’ll find yourself suspended. Understand?”
As Peterson turns back to his partner, I see Murph extend the middle finger of the hand at his side. Peterson and his partner talk for a few more minutes before stepping into the black Lincoln and speeding off up the street. Murphy turns around and is about to say something when we hear a huge explosion. Everyone hits the ground and we cover our heads. When we look up, we see that the Feds, and their car, with all the evidence they had confiscated, have been blown to bits. Murphy’s computer with all of his files from all the cases he was working on, including this one, his written notes and the bomb evidence, are all gone.
“Holy shit!” Murphy finally manages.
“I thought the bomb squad disarmed the bomb that was under my van.”
“They did. Maybe it had a second kind of trigger. I don’t know what the hell is going on but this has turned into a real shit storm. I’d better call Debbie. We’re going to be stuck here for quite a while.”
When he’s finished talking to his wife, Murphy walks over to the bomb squad guys. “Could you guys have missed anything in the bomb you removed from the van?”
“No way.” replies the taller of the two. “We double-checked it all and it was completely disabled. We don’t fuck with that stuff, you know that. We don’t want to end up like those guys.” He nods towards burning Lincoln. “It had to be a second bomb.”
“Okay,” says Murphy. “You guys do your job and search the area surrounding the crime scene and see if you can find any traces of another bomb.” He turns to the remaining officers. “The rest of you help out with the search of the hotel grounds. Remember, no one in or out of the hotel. Check all IDs. If you find or see anything suspicious —and I mean anything—you let me know right away. Let’s get going.” The group scrambles into action. He turns to me and says, “It’s like a mine field here, for shit sake.”
“Murph,” I say, “The hotel must have video.”
“Right. I need your help, but do your best to keep it low key. Check out all the public areas and see if anyone might have been hanging around. You know, acting funny or nervous.”
“Okay.” Uh oh. I’m starting to think and feel like a cop again. I was a good street cop but now I’m just a carpenter. Playing detective is not my thing anymore, but Murph needs all the help he can get before the Feds step in and take it all away again. “It’s a bitch they got all your evidence.”
He looks at me and grins. “You should know me better than that. I always back up my current cases and keep them with me.” He holds up his keys and I see a flash drive hanging from his key ring.
“What about your notebook?”
“Oh that. I gave them Debbie’s shopping list. That’s why I had to call her.”
◆◆◆
General Sandoval stands in the hotel lobby and watches the police scurry around like rats. He goes totally unnoticed, hiding in plain sight. In a polo shirt, shorts and deck shoes, he’s in the same outfit as almost every other man in the lobby who wasn’t in uniform. Paladin had walked right by him.
He turns toward the elevators to return to his room. No one would stop him from completing this deal, no one! As the doors slide open, he steps aside to make room for a frantic family with their luggage, trying to get out of the hotel. He’ll check out tomorrow. He knows there’s no way to leave the hotel tonight. His fake documents will hold up to Homeland Security’s scrutiny. He’ll be long gone by the time the Americans find that he’s a phony – if they ever do. He’ll only be here for a few more days, tying up loose ends, like John Gomez and Bobby Paladin. He has already made arrangements to move to a country with no extradition treaty with the Mexican or the United States governments. He knows if he can pull off this deal and safely escape the United States, he will never be caught. A few more days and a few more bodies is all it will take.
Chapter 32
Detective Murphy stands at the front desk and identifies himself. There is panic all around him with guests trying to check out. He catches the attention of the hotel manager who comes over after Murphy flashes his badge.
“I need to see all the video tape from every camera you have on the hotel site,” he says.
“Don’t you need a warrant for that?” asks the Manager.
Murphy finally loses it. He shouts, “Don’t you understand what’s happened here?” “We’ve found two bombs in the immediate area. I’ve requested a warrant, but I need to see those tapes right away! We’re running out of time.”
The lobby goes quiet as everyone turns to face him. What the hell. Murphy steps up on a coffee table, holds up his badge and says, “Thank you for your attention. I need all of you to return to your rooms. No one is checking in or out for a least a few hours. We’re in the middle of an investigation and we require your full cooperation.”
He jumps down from the table as the questions start. Over the roar of voices he leans in close and says to the manager, “Would you like to stay here in the lobby or would you like to show me those surveillance tapes?”
“Follow me.”
The front desk manager returns with the hotel’s Executive Director, who introduces himself as Ian Mackenzie. He’s tall and slender, almost to the point of being cadaverous. Even his skin and hair are ashen. He has a slight accent, but Murphy can’t place it.
“My desk manager says you’re demanding the surveillance videos from every monitor on the premises. Is that correct?”
Using what he hopes is not the last of his patience, Murphy says, “Listen, Mr. Mackenzie, there were two federal agents killed right down the street a few moments ago, so yes, I need that video.”
“I don’t think I can do that without…” Mackenzie stutters.
M
urphy holds up a hand to cut him off, just before he explodes, “You’re costing us valuable time! I need to see that fucking video!”
Murphy watches with some satisfaction as Mackenzie turns in a huff and snaps, “There’s no need to use that kind of language, sir.” He heads down the hall, the desk manager scurrying behind. Murphy follows them to the security office.
“Detective Murphy,” Mackenzie hands the tapes to Murphy. “Here are all the security tapes for the last eight hours.”
“You use VHS tapes? It’s not digital?”
Mackenzie sniffs, “The system is old but still works perfectly well. We record over the tapes every 30 days.”
Murphy takes the tapes. They have the date, time and location written in pencil on the label. Talk about old school. He distractedly nods his thanks as Mackenzie steps back to the reception desk, where he has a big job ahead of him.
Murphy has to figure out a way to copy the tapes before the Feds get here. Who the hell has VHS anymore? If they can’t be copied in time, maybe he can hold some back. Surely the Feds won’t know how many tapes there should be. “Bobby,” he says into the phone. “I’ll meet you in the lobby. We have to figure out how to copy some VHS tapes and fast.”
◆◆◆
I’m sure the two Feds were killed by the same people who killed Jeannie. I’m looking around the crowded lobby when I hear yet another argument break out at the front desk, this one louder than the others. A group of Canadian tourists is trying to check out. There’s a shouting match between the desk clerk and a very large man wearing very short shorts, sandals and a Montreal Canadians jersey. On the floor beside the group I see a huge video camera bag. The bag’s outside pocket is slightly open and I can see a couple of extra tapes showing. Could I be this lucky? The man is switching from French to English, swearing in both languages.
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