Magic Moment (29 page)

Dick spoke as if he hadn’t heard Chase. “Oliver came to me. A one-time favor that didn’t turn out to be one-time.”

“Is this the place to talk, Dad?”

Dick’s eyes shifted around. Their spot was secluded. “We’re fine. Only keep your voice down.”

“What’s going on?”

Again, another silence on Dick’s part, and Chase waited.

“For years I knew Oliver was involved with illegal drugs,” Dick said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“How many years? What kind?” Chase asked, as if only slightly interested.

“Many years. Cocaine.” More silence, then Dick went on. “He’s my friend. A good friend. Several times the warehouse was almost down the crapper, like when Artie moved into the next store. Oliver kept us afloat.”

Chase silently recalled when Artie Colina bought the vacant warehouse next to the Donovans. The business had been a fish market and was great for the Donovans’ produce business. But Colina turned it into another produce market, selling his goods at much lower prices. After a year, Dick bought out Colina and merged the two warehouses.

“I didn’t know we were in trouble,” Chase said, his disbelief sincere. “When you bought Artie’s warehouse, I only noticed more money coming in.”

“I never involved you in business problems. You were in school. Your mother had recently died. The business was my responsibility.” Dick frowned. “I worried, though. Thought I might have to pull you from that pricey, fancy university, and send you to a state college. I wasn’t about to do that.”

Chase said nothing. Of course, a state college wasn’t adequate for Dick Donovan’s son.

“So what happened?”

“Oliver did more than loan me money. He made sure Artie sold. Oliver knows people. If you get my drift.”

Chase got the drift very well. Coercion, bullying — Daniels was good at intimidation — he forced Artie to sell. “Was that the only time you borrowed from Daniels?” Chase asked.

“No, many times. Never any questions or hesitation, and we’re not just talking the business, Chase,” Dick said with a difficult sigh. “Certain times it was me. I don’t have your flare at the blackjack table. As I get older, it costs more for a pretty little trophy holding my arm and spreading her legs.”

The warehouse, Dick’s status within the trade, the businessman’s association, having a gorgeous — and lately, much younger — woman, his envied lifestyle, motivated the man.

“I tried to get money the legit way, borrow from the bank,” Dick said. “Turned down every time. Assets over-extended. You and I spend more than the warehouse makes.”

Chase decided another round of drinks, this time a double for each, was needed and signaled the waitress. Juke box jazz hummed, the men not resuming their conversation until after the fresh glasses were delivered.

“Dad, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Chase, you didn’t even notice the accounts dwindling. You handle money worse than I do,” Dick said with a light laugh.

Chase realized this father’s actions were partially due to Chase’s spending. He had never cared where money came from, as long as it was there.

His private account from his gambling winnings had remained untouched over the years. Chase hadn’t tapped it until these last few months with Laura, to pay for their excursion down the Atlantic, to secure their wedding, to reimburse his aunt for their expenses.

Had his father approached Chase, the money would have been available.

“I wish you’d told me, Dad,” Chase said gently.

“Maybe if we were more like those TV fathers and sons.” Dick smiled. “When you were growing up, I remember you always watching
Bonanza
reruns.”

“I liked the horses.”

Dick arched an eyebrow. “Oh, was that it? I thought you wished I was more like Ben Cartwright to your Little Joe.”

“You’re up to your eyeballs in debt. Can’t get a second mortgage.” The house in the Philadelphia suburbs was worth nearly two million dollars. “What happened?”

“All the money Oliver had loaned me over the years didn’t come through his legit businesses, but from the drugs.” Dick took a mouthful from his glass, swallowed hard, and went on. “He had used couriers, traveling by plane, exchanging the drugs and money. Only after nine-eleven, the security got tighter, searches weren’t so random anymore, and the damn customs dogs got nosier. Oliver was looking for a new route.”

“I see.” Chase had stepped on a tightrope with his method of eliciting details. He envisioned Saunders holding his breath and turning blue, afraid Chase would make a mistake.

“Oliver came up with a plan,” Dick said. “He would special order fruit. Packed with the fruit would be the drugs. Everything would be shipped to the warehouse, picked up by Oliver, and I would receive a share of the profits.”

“Dad! Drugs? How many times did you lecture me? Since grammar school?” Chase regarded the one sincere, nurturing fatherly act Dick had fostered.

“I know, Chase. I’m not so lacking in a paternal nature. Plus, with you having a baby, I’ve stopped to consider someone peddling that shit to my grandson.”

The older man let out a low breath, almost as if disgusted with himself. “The money was damn good, Chase. When Oliver came to me again, I couldn’t say no. It became a regular thing.”

“Oh, Dad,” Chase muttered.

Maybe it was Chase’s own guilt that he had spent money as foolishly and rapidly as his father. Maybe it was compassion for a man who had been seduced, and couldn’t refuse the lure of easy money. Maybe it was hearing Dick Donovan refer to a grandson in such an adoring tone. Whatever it was that started a rip through Chase’s soul, he knew he had to help his father. The
how
appeared an entirely different story.

“Laura. She hadn’t a clue what she had observed,” Dick said. “She was roaming the loading dock for packing slips. Had I known she was working late,” his voice drifted off. “She saw my partners. They will go to any lengths not to be identified.”

Legalities dictated the information come freely. Chase, choosing to nurse this drink, felt as if he sat on Laura’s knitting basket with both needles sticking upwards.

“I sanctioned Laura’s fate. I had no choice.” His voice was reserved. “I was in deep. My partners were unbendable. The bawdy intentions before they got rid of her, a bonus to those doing the job.”

Chase managed not to suffocate on the only words legally permitted. “Dad, I don’t know what to say.”

“Did Laura tell you specifics with the FBI?”

Chase gave the response Saunders had dictated. “They asked about invoicing procedures. She had no idea why they asked, but the FBI snooping scared her. That’s why she resigned.”

“When she resigned, my partners panicked,” Dick said. “I insisted Laura was no threat. I was out-voted.”

Silence hung heavy. Dick stared into his glass. Chase considered his father as he contemplated the frenzy called his life.

He needed Dick to name those partners. That was the evidence needed to convict those bastards, protect his wife, and aid his father.

Dick’s slumped shoulders and defeated expression made Chase physically ill. Either by the detriment of his dirty deeds, or the torment of admitting them to his son, sitting across from Chase was a severely broken man.

“Dad, we’ve hashed enough problems for one night. You okay driving home?”

Dick nodded. “You heading back to Sea Tower?”

“No. I told Laura I’d have to wait for the boat’s compressor to come in,” he lied. “I need a night away. I’m staying at a hotel. I didn’t think I was welcomed at the house.” At the house, he wasn’t able to converse freely with Saunders.

Chase forced his best cheerful voice. “We’ll meet for breakfast,” he said. “How’s that sound? After a good night’s sleep, we’ll talk and find a way out of both our hell holes.”

When Chase arrived at Rita’s Diner the following morning, he found his father sitting in a booth nursing his coffee. Upon seeing his son, Dick’s apprehensive stare broke into a huge grin, almost as if he feared Chase had changed his mind.

For Chase, entering the diner had an eerie feeling. This was where it all began. He blinked quickly, escaping the vision of Laura perched on the stool, her green eyes wide and confused as Saunders beleaguered her.

Chase smiled. “Morning, Dad.”

The bacon and egg breakfast started on a pleasant note. At times over the years, the two Donovans had shared diner breakfasts, easily discussing the few mutual interests they had, horse racing, basketball, football, Dick’s golf handicap and Chase’s skill at the gaming tables.

The conflict between Dick and Chase Donovan arose when the father refused to accept his son’s decisions, arguing against or ridiculing them — and Chase.

“Chase, under different circumstances you, Laura, the baby, and me as Grandpa, may have been welcome,” Dick reflected after the waitress had poured fresh coffee.

“Yeah, maybe. Laura turned me on initially, but the reality is I don’t love her. I don’t want to be a husband, or a father.” Harmony wasn’t Saunders’ plan.

“You don’t have to love your wife, any wife.” After a long pause, Dick tilted closer to his son. “Yours, on the other hand, is a subject requiring further discussion.”

Chase eased back. “Dad, don’t worry. If you don’t have the money, I’ll get it somewhere. While she’s in the hospital with the baby, I can get to Atlantic City. Win some at the tables.”

Dick was direct. “Your financial dilemma isn’t the issue.” He glanced around, then looked his son straight in the eye. “My partners insist on their original plan. Laura has to go.”

Chase arched an eyebrow and faked ignorance. “Go? Go where?”

“Nothing’s changed since the boat.”

Chase pursed his lips, mustering up just the right amount of protest. “We’re not heading back down that road, are we? I don’t want to stay with the woman, but she is
my son’s mother. Besides, without Laura, who’s raising this kid?” He snickered. “You can bet your ass, not me.”

“Chase, listen. You didn’t listen to me before and look at the mess you’ve created.” Dick gulped his coffee. “Two of my partners
cannot
take the chance on being identified. What did Laura tell you she saw?”

Chase was casual. “She saw you and Daniels with two other guys.”

“Who did she say she saw?” Dick repeated.

Chase lifted his mug. “She wouldn’t tell me. She got all coy and shut up. Like I said, she’s full of it. I’m calling her bluff.” He swallowed his coffee.

“No!” Dick said sharply. “We can’t do that.” He looked around, ensuring no one stood within eavesdropping distance. With an index finger, he beckoned Chase closer.

Chase wore his best inquisitive expression. “What?”

“My partners, besides Oliver, are Alan Blair and Chuck Hunter.”

Bingo, Saunders.
The roller coaster spiraled in the pit of Chase’s stomach. Cocking his head as if feigning unfamiliarity, his eyes widened on cue. “Dad, doesn’t Alan Blair sit on the federal bench?”

His father nodded. “Worked his way up from traffic court.”

Chase’s features became pensive. “Blair and Hunter?” He paused, giving the impression he searched for recollection. Actually, he was weighing his words carefully. “Didn’t I meet them at your twenty-fifth anniversary party?” Chase asked, of course, knowing the answer.

“We’ve been friends from childhood,” Dick replied proudly. “Alan had the hots bad for Lonnie at my wedding, but she couldn’t be bothered. She was extremely obnoxious. It figures that aunt of yours ended up a spinster.”

Hearing that Lonnie loathed Alan Blair nearly made Chase laugh. Undoubtedly, she had gotten a whiff of the man’s character flaws from the get-go. Lonnie had her great love, a brave soldier. Blair, federal judge or not, wasn’t fit to lick the deceased man’s army boots.

“We all make our choices,” Chase muttered, his comment having various subtle meanings.

“True.” Dick lifted his mug as if in a toast to his son.

“I don’t care what Laura saw, or who’s afraid, or who’s got problems,” Chase said. “I’ve got my own.”

“Chase, you have to understand. Alan was brought in as insurance. If we ever got in a fix, he’d make it go away.”

“Fix?”

“If Oliver or I ever got caught with a cocaine shipment. But now that Laura saw us all together … ,” Dick added.

Guilt crawled through Chase as he considered the listening device attached to his belt. His father confided in him. He trusted his son, and what was Chase intending to do? The regret left Chase quickly when he remembered those he loved in Sea Tower.

“Whose idea was Laura’s boat outing?”

“Oliver and Chuck. Alan had squared a few things for Chuck. Out of friendship, of course.”

“Of course,” Chase said. Like a technicality on a search warrant that got an arrest tossed.

“Anyone who may recall they once were acquainted, Chuck and Alan give the appearance of having severed their ties,” Dick said. “If anyone ever found out a personal connection between them still exists … well, Chase, you can figure out the rest.”

Chase nodded. He certainly could.

“I doubted Laura recalled seeing us on her first visit with the agents,” Dick said. “I’m sure she was nervous. But if the agents persisted, my partners feared she would remember. Laura’s resignation as my bookkeeper wouldn’t stop the questions.”

Chase said nothing. Too numb, too shocked, too sick by what he was hearing.

“Oliver suggested Ron Caldwell,” Dick went on. “Laura knew Ron and would accept the ride. Ron and the other man, Lou Kent, moonlight as Oliver’s couriers. He had complete faith in them. Laura, so sweet and unsuspecting, did exactly what was expected by accepting my offer of a ride and walked right into the trap.”

Chase bit his tongue to hold back the acid retort.

“Inviting you to dinner was to keep you from the boat,” Dick continued. “When I got your voicemail declining, I prayed you were shacked up with some overpriced whore.”

Again, Chase didn’t speak. Dick had prayed his son was with a hooker, a bizarre, let alone sacrilegious, prayer. On the other hand, one of Chase’s prayers was just answered. Ron and Lou, their names, on tape for what they had done to Laura.