CHAPTER FORTY-ONE: The Conning Linguist
Peter Grimes was on the phone, trying to find out information about the plane crash.
“What in the hell happened?” screamed Peter. “I get you out of jail and this is the results I get?”
“I’m sorry, Pete,” said the voice on the other end. “We got our wires crossed somewhere.”
“That’s a piss-poor excuse, and don’t call me Pete.”
“Sorry.”
“Damn you, Peltier. You told me you were an electronics wizard. You were supposed to arrange a plane crash with nobody on board. The plane was supposed to crash way offshore and no survivors were to be found.”
“Well, no survivors were found, Pete.”
“You idiot – that’s because all three people on the plane died – and quit calling me Pete.”
“Sorry Pete,” said the white-haired gentleman on the line.
“Shit,” screamed Peter. “And just who in the hell were those people on the plane that died?”
“You’re going to love this one, Pete. They were the last people on the liver transplant list in front of that Verona guy.”
Peter was stunned. “What did you just say?”
“I said that they were the last people on that transplant list. Is there a bad connection or something?”
“That’s what I thought you said.”
“Well, I’m glad your hearing isn’t going.”
“My hearing is just fine. How did you even know about the list?”
“Ms. Vanderhousen has been keeping in touch with me. She’s been letting me know what’s going on around there. She’s a sweet lady.”
“Vanderhousen? She had no business doing that. Where in the hell is she? Damn it, how did you get her to do that?
“I was a good friend of her third husband. We met in the joint.”
“She married an ex-con?”
“Hell, her other two husbands were ex-cons, too. She loved the touch of a man who’s served time. I think I’m going to take her out when I get back.” Peter was feeling a little sick. He never thought of Ursula in any way other than his faithful secretary. The thought of her being with low-life cons was something he couldn’t handle.
“Well, she’s not here. She called saying there was some type of family emergency or something.”
“That’s odd. She hasn’t missed work in a while,” said the gentleman.
“Ever,” said Peter. “Never mind about her. I’ll deal with her later.” He was uneasy with the fact that someone knew more about Ursula than he did.
“Hey, easy, Pete. Save some for me,” the gentleman laughed.
Now Peter was feeling nauseous. “Don’t worry about that. I’m a happily married man. Now, just tell me…”
“That’s not what your wife told me,” the man chuckled.
“What - my wife? - What were you doing talking, hell, never mind. Just tell me how you arranged to have all those people killed,” Peter was frazzled.
“Hey, I learned a lot in prison, Pete. I arranged a contest for an African Safari and rigged it so those three people were the only winners. Pretty clever, hey Pete?”
Grimes was livid. “Why didn’t you tell me about this plan, Peltier?”
“I wanted to show you how resourceful I was. I found out about the Carlos Verona deal and decided to speed up the process a little. Now, that kid can have his liver and you’ll get more money than you ever dreamed of.”
“Oh, God. You are a complete moron. Do you know how suspicious this is going to look? What are the odds of all three of those people on the list being on an African safari at the same time and all dying in a plane crash?”
“Not too good, obviously.”
“Damn right, not too good. It’s going to look ridiculous. All fingers will be pointing directly at Carlos.”
“Hold on, Pete. That’s why I used Verona Travel as the contest sponsors. All fingers will point to him. You’ll be home free. You’ll have control of everything Carlos was working for.”
Peter held the phone for a few seconds. “You know what, Peltier?”
“Please, Pete, enough of this last name crap. Just call me Dave.”
“Okay, Dave. Maybe you’re on to something. What about Wainwright?”
“I got that covered, Pete. Every link to Wainwright in this area was destroyed and I got all the documents showing he was on the plane. The locals believe it, too. Since Wainwright was never even here, it was no problem convincing them that one of those passengers was William Joseph Wainwright. The only person who ever saw me sign anything was a little boy who couldn’t read. Wainwright is part of the local folklore here.”
“What about the media and the fact that his body wasn’t found?”
“These guys are so easy, Pete. They just want a story. They’ll eat up the fact that Wainwright died from the plane crash. They love stories like that. Riptide.”
“What do you mean?”
“Riptide. The authorities will be led to believe that his body was carried out into the ocean by riptide. It happened at the right time of day and the plane was close enough to the water for that to actually happen. I got it all figured out. Those media fools should be here anytime.”
Peter started smiling. “Maybe you’re right, Peltier.”
“Please, Pete. It’s Dave.”
“Right – Dave.”
“That’s better, Pete. Now you can really get rid of Wainwright. Saving him for Carlos won’t be a factor anymore.”
“Dave, you’re a genius.”
“Hey, I’ve been here a year. I’ve learned a lot. It’s amazing how people can be so easily manipulated with just a phone and fax machine.”
“Thanks, Dave. I’ll keep in touch. I’ll get you back here in a couple of days.”
“Thanks, Pete,” said Dave Peltier. He hung up the phone and thought, Now the real fun begins.
Nick was driving west on I-10. He hadn’t been on that road for seventeen years. He started thinking about Lafayette. He had no idea what he was looking for, but knew the answer would be found there. He got his second look at the Mississippi River as he crossed it in Baton Rouge. He was traveling across the Atchafalaya swamp and realized how peaceful it looked. He thought about his relationship with Jamie and smiled about it. It was really great. He had been so in love with her. All those years, all he could think about was the breakup. It felt good to be able to think back on the good times they shared. He smiled as he thought about Maw-Maw. He thought about his mother and father, wondering what it would have been like to have a family with a mom and dad. And for the first time in years, he started wondering whatever happened to his Uncle Dave.
The Devil's in My Bathroom Page 42