Deceived (13 page)

Chapter twenty-seven

Sam backed Lee’s Mustang out of the short driveway and headed to Kure Beach in search of a phone. He parked near congested bungalows a few blocks inland of the beach, and he walked the remaining distance in as slouchy a stroll as he could manage to disguise his height. The late afternoon sun cast his shadow long on the pavement before him, and he slouched further until his back ached. As casually as he could, Sam stood in line for his turn at a phone booth. When the kid wearing baggy shorts in front of him finished his call, Sam took his place at the exposed booth, dialed Eddie Sherman’s number, and held his breath.

“Sherman here.”

“Eddie, this is Sam. Did you find anything in the computer from the hotel file?”

“Where have you been? I heard you were suspended! I’ve been looking for you for two days now.”

“I really can’t go into it right now, Eddie, but if you have something on this, I could use your help.”

“Well, yeah. I guess you could. I did find out something that seemed out of sync. There were calls
from one particular hotel room to two local numbers that turned up repeatedly on the hotel’s automated operator system exactly two months apart. Same room, same numbers. See, all the numbers are stored on the computer’s hard drive for billing purposes, and they are kept on file on the server for a period of two months after guests leave in case someone tries to skip out of the hotel without paying. Then collection agencies are enlisted and they challenge the people on the receiving end of calls made to try to find the whereabouts of the person who skipped.”

“A tracing mechanism?”

“That’s right. It’s something a lot of hotels still use, though most won’t accept calls this way. They want guests to pay on their own dime, their own calling card.”

Sam was puzzled. “So someone has a favorite pizza joint and wanted it delivered when here on business. Or a girlfriend. What’s so unusual about that?”

“Well, they weren’t calls to a pizza joint. And it wasn’t just one call to order a pizza. It was a bunch of calls made on consecutive days—sometimes five calls a day—over the course of a weeklong visit. There weren’t any other calls recorded from this room, either,” explained Paul.

“Who were the calls to?”

“Do you know the Blue Moon Gallery?”

“Yes, so it must be a buyer or an artist calling?” Sam didn’t wait to hear a response. “Where was the other place?”

“Johnson’s Fish Company down in Southport,” reported Paul. “Seems like an odd combination, art and fish.”

“Sounds more like fishy art,” muttered Sam.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, Eddie. When were the calls made?”

“As I said, two months apart. The last batch of calls was made just last week.”

“Last week? You mean like Monday?” Sam was shaking.

“No, the night before your partner got it,” Eddie whispered. “I am sorry to bring that up.”

“Thanks, Eddie.” Sam realized he was standing tall at the phone booth and slouched again. “Did you figure out who the room was registered to on those occasions?”

“The room was paid for with cash, and I already checked out the name of the guy the desk clerk was given. It was a phony. Sorry; that’s a dead-end.”

“Thanks. You’ve helped me tremendously. Would you do me one more favor? Please don’t mention this to anyone else.”

“I started the report, but I haven’t turned it in yet. I’ll hold on to it for a few days, if that’ll help.”

“Yeah, it’ll help. Thanks. I owe you a beer.”

“No sweat, man. And I like Budweiser just fine,” Eddie replied.

Chapter twenty-eight

Sam drove slowly back to Jenny’s house, taking the most indirect path he could manage on the narrow island. Once the garage door came down, Sam ambled into the condo and was bombarded with questions from Jenny and Molly.

“What did you find out?”

“Who did you call?”

“Did anyone see you?”

Holding his hands up to stop their questions, Sam sat down and shook his head. A long silence hung thick like beach fog. Then he started his own questions.

“Jen, have you taken any of your paintings to the Blue Moon Gallery yet?”

“No, I haven’t had a chance,” Jenny looked sadly at her hands. “But what has that to do with all of this?”

“I suspect the gallery’s connected to Johnson’s somehow.”

“How do you know that?” asked Molly.

“Phone calls, repeatedly from the hotel to both Blue Moon and to the fish company we visited in Southport,” Sam pondered.

“Okay, so we know that Johnson’s is bringing in the drugs, but what does a local gallery have to do with this?” Molly asked. “And the prostitution ring. You suggesting there’s a tie?”

“I’m going to find out,” Sam drummed his fingers on his leg.

“
We’re
going to find out,” Molly corrected him. “Your kind friends at Johnson’s took my brother and my boat. I’m in this whether you like it or not.”

“Molly’s right, Sam,” Jenny spoke softly. “Lee’s gone, so I’m in. What’s our next step?”

“Forget it! It’s too dangerous,” Sam shot back. “I lost my partner, and I am not about to lose you two. I think it would be a good idea if you went to your sister’s house, Jen. Take Molly with you so I know you won’t be in the way.”

“Sure, dude.” Molly folded her arms and sat back on the sofa forcefully. “I’ll sit tight.”

Jenny cleared her throat to ease the tension. “Would you like something to eat? I have some ham and stuff that friends brought over.” She motioned to Molly to help her in the kitchen.

Molly acquiesced.

“Sam,” Jenny called over her shoulder as she pulled the ham out of the refrigerator, “you can sleep on the couch, and Molly can sleep on the hide-a-bed in the studio. Perhaps tomorrow
you’ll
know what to do.”

Chapter twenty-nine

Gulls screeched as Jenny tossed bits of bread—early-morning delights—upward on the beach. Sam watched her from the porch, coffee in hand.

She’s been so strong
, he mused,
even while she stays in the same house, sleeps in the same bed…and I have stayed in chaos so as not to think of Lee
. Sam glanced down at the burnt-orange Durham Bulls T-shirt he was wearing. Lee’s shirt. “Must keep going,” he whispered.

“Keep going where?” Molly stood only a breath behind him in an extra-large T-shirt, apparently from Lee’s wardrobe also. Combing through her bed-rumbled hair with her fingers, Molly didn’t seem upset by Sam’s non-reply. She stepped back into the house and found a mug for herself before returning to the porch.

“Be careful, wherever you’re going.”

“I have no intentions of being anything but.” Sam gently inched toward her, close enough to smell toothpaste on her breath, close enough to see the concern in her eyes. Close enough to kiss her.

“Good morning, you two!” Jenny opened the screen door before Sam had even noticed her returning to the house.

“Morning,” Molly piped, suddenly aware that she was still the only one not fully clothed. She nipped momentarily into the studio in search of Jenny’s loaner jeans and short-sleeved sweater.

Jenny went into the kitchen and busied herself with a breakfast of bacon and eggs. In another moment, Sam followed her to refill his cup and looked for bread to make toast.

After the three had eaten their fill, Sam reiterated his instructions and admonishments, and out he went.

Chapter thirty

Ignoring a few random stares and snickers from officers realizing who he was under the blonde wig, Sam barreled into Chief Singleton’s office. Singleton was on the phone, his back to the door. His shoulders shuddered when Sam slammed it.

“I’ll call you back, Hon. Someone just barged in.” Singleton closed his cell phone and placed it on the desk before motioning Sam to sit, his poker face never flinching.

“And what’s up with you, Goldilocks?” A faint smile curled on his tight lips.

“Oh, the usual.” Sam slid into a chair away from the door. “Murder, mayhem, prostitution, drugs…for starters.” Sam’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “Once we get through that list, perhaps you’d like to tell me what you know about Lisa Owens.”

“Chuck’s wife. Stands about 5’4”. What about her?”

“Much more to her than that, don’t you think? Like her business, for starters. She travels a good bit, she says, in search of art for the gallery. You think she shops for something else along the way?”

“Wouldn’t know.” Chief looked at the files on his desk. “I don’t know art much.”

Sam pushed on. “Like I said, we’ll get back to her. In the meantime, I’ve got this idea rolling around in my head, and it keeps bumping into notions I’m not sure what to do with. You know—murder, mayhem, prostitution, drugs.” Sam prattled on, marveling at Chief’s unflinching face. “Let’s start with murder. Lee’s death. It’s really boggling me that we don’t have someone in hand at this point. Worse than that, actually. It’s pissing me off. And the further down I dig for answers, the more mayhem I find.”

“For instance?”

“For instance...” Sam leaned back, his fingers forming a triangle for effect. “There are some nice girls down Navassa way. Their bosses are gorilla-sized cops who protect their interests by chasing me all over town. Know anything about that?”

Chief was silent.

“Or we could talk about some friends of one of our very own here who sell more than fish. A lot more. Should I mention that I’ve found a link to the rent-a-cop killing on Bald Head? Or should we just focus on a particular fire set to get us off the trail?”

“You’ve been a busy boy, Sam. You’ve got my attention.”

“What I want is the truth, Chief.” Sam relaxed his hands to his lap.

“We know about Navassa. It’s about to go down, and the gorillas, as you call your brethren, are about to
go down, too. It’s not our jurisdiction, so all we can do is wait that one out. As for what’s happening in Southport, I can’t help your buddies on the force to choose their friends any more than I can pick out for you your clothes—or choice of hair color. I can call whomever you like in here, and we can ask him what’s going on right now.”

Sam measured his words like they were candy being doled out to a child. “I didn’t mention that his friends were in Southport, Chief.”

Silence.

“Oh, of course, that’s out of our jurisdiction, too.” Sam leaned forward and repeatedly traced a triangle on Chief’s desk.

“It is.”

“But Lisa’s not, is she?”

“As in Chuck’s wife?”

“The very same.” Sam leaned back against the wall, then forward toward Chief. He noted the color of Chief’s ordinarily ruddy face was getting deeper. He waited for Chief to speak.

“Come on, Sam. Let’s take a walk.” Chief slowly got up from his chair.

“No, Chief. I think I feel safest right here in the police station, amid the best force in North Carolina.” Sam held his hand out in the “stop” position until Chief eased down again. Then Sam sat back, tipping his chair toward the wall, and stretching out his legs.

“Lisa is…well, she can be very persuasive,” Chief started. “I didn’t intend for it to all go this far.”

Sam rocked on his chair, setting a rhythm for Chief’s speech. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear a confession, but it looked like that’s what he was going to get.

“I stopped in her gallery, looking for a gift one afternoon about a year ago. Didn’t even realize who owned it until later.” Chief’s words were measured, labored. “She was so friendly, so knowledgeable about what was there that I felt good about spending some money, you know? I made up excuses to visit her again a few weeks after that, and then another time. Before I knew it, we were having coffee together; then…it just happened.”

“What happened?”

“She…I…we started sneaking around. First, we just met at her gallery. Then it got more serious. My wife and I are having some trouble, and Lisa, well, she just seemed to care so much about what was going on; I couldn’t stop it.”

“Though I am not a man of the cloth, I am sure your confession makes you feel better. But that’s not what I want to know about. I want you to tell me how she’s involved with the fire.”

“At Golden Sun? Lisa?” Chief’s face drained.

Sam watched. “You’re just talking about an affair.” It was a statement more than a question.

“Yes!” Chief was defensive. “What else did you think I was talking about? She’s not involved in anything wrong…well, you know what I mean.”

“I know you’re in deep with her if you can’t see what’s going on. I’ll be in touch.” Sam stood to leave.

“Wait, Sam. You can’t…. Don’t go. I want to know what else you’ve learned.”

Sam weighed his options. “Chief, I’m still digging. I thought Lisa was connected, but maybe I was wrong. You need to deal with this…relationship, though. Sounds like it’s clouding your vision.”

Sam opened the door to leave, looking hard at Chief. He seemed smaller than usual.

Chief put his hand up, motioning Sam to sit again.

“Let’s talk.”

“I’ve had enough of the infidelity crap, Chief.”

“It’s not about that. It’s about Lee.”

“I’m listening.” Sam fell back into his chair and resumed his rocking.

“I found out more about Lisa during our visits than I wanted to know, but you’re right when you say I’m in so deep. She’s got me.”

“Skip the drama.”

“She’s a mule.”

“What?”

“Lisa runs up and down the coast ‘in search of art’ while carrying whatever her brother needs her to carry. The gallery is more or less a front.”

“Her brother. And who is this fine fellow?” Sam asked, guessing before Chief answered.

“Tripp Johnson, in Southport. He got her involved shortly after she opened the gallery.”

“So you know all of this, and you didn’t stop it. Nice.”

“I’ve been working on it. I need to stop Johnson, but the police down there are looking the other way, and it’s out of my jurisdiction. I’ve looked higher up the food chain, but I get stymied there, too. This is really big.”

“Why doesn’t Lisa just stop?”

“Family reasons. She’s threatening me with blackmail if I take Johnson down, and I am guessing he’d kill me or hurt my family if anything happens to her. When Lee was killed, I put two and two together. I confronted her about her brother’s dealings and begged her to stop, but she wouldn’t have it. Then she…she dumped me. I’ve been waiting it out, hoping to crack it from a different angle.”

“Just how far is her range?”

“All the way up the coast. She has helpers who come into the gallery bringing stuff from Johnson, but I haven’t been successful at nailing anyone yet.”

“So you’re working on it without her knowing?”

“Half-heartedly, I suppose, until Lee got killed. I think it was a message for me. You mentioned one of our finest was involved. Who?”

Sam hedged. “I was making a guess; that’s all.”

“Well, when you get it figured out, let me know. I can work with you from here, just me. You stay out of Lisa’s space. I’ll deal with her.”

“I’ll think about it.” Sam was out of his chair again. “Stay off my back. I’ll call if I need backup.”

“Sam…”

Sam waited, his hand on the door.

“The bug on your cars…I didn’t….”

“But it was convenient not to stop it?” Sam watched Chief look away.

“I didn’t know it was done. There’s someone else who wants you out of the picture.”

“Yeah, I know. I just don’t get why you’re backing down for the punk.”

“It’s not someone here. It goes higher. I’m just taking orders, Sam. If I don’t, I get canned…or worse.”

“What I don’t understand is how you can look yourself in the face every single morning and come in here like everything’s fine. I thought you were bigger than that.”

Sam pulled open the door and nearly mowed down Chuck Owens, who was standing just outside the office.

Chuck’s face was magenta, his eyes darting back and forth, but his feet were frozen to the ground.

“You heard?”

“I heard enough.” Chuck’s eyes held Sam’s.

“I’ll take care of it, man.” Sam placed his hand on Chuck’s shoulder. “You’re too close. Stay calm. I’m going to need your help later.”

Sam moved past Chuck and sped up on his way out of the station. Chuck was a good guy; Sam felt sure. He probably didn’t know anything about his wife’s doings. Sam wanted to be a fly on the wall in Chief’s office right about now, but he thought better of being in proximity to those sparks.

Taking the back street to the beach toward Jenny’s, Sam watched his rearview mirror. He was not followed, so maybe Chief and Chuck were going at it b
ack at the station. Things were moving fast.

Jenny’s Jeep was not in the driveway, and Sam was surprised to find the condo empty. “Didn’t think they’d leave so quickly, but it’s for the best,” he muttered.

He found a napkin on the kitchen counter with a number scratched on it, and a note with a telephone number on it: “Sister’s in Raleigh. Come when you can.”

Feeling better thinking that Molly and Jenny were out of harm’s way, Sam returned to the Mustang. If the Chief were telling the truth, then Sam only had to look out for Andy. He hoped.