Deceived (16 page)

Chapter thirty-eight

Cars with car-top boats are not an uncommon sight in beach towns. In fact, it’s a regular occurrence during summer months. Kayakers, windsurfers, and big-boat boaters all do the same thing to get their small crafts from one place to another.

What was curious about Sam’s little procession was that the car carrying the small boat belonged to the Coast Guard.

Usually, all the Coast Guard’s boats were docked near their station. Their ribbed inflatable could fit two of the dinghies Sam was borrowing inside it, and their fast maneuverable cutters docked nearby, always at the ready.

Following in the Mustang, Sam watched Hoops’ brake lights flare as they started to climb the high-rising bridge over Snow’s Cut, an east-west passage on the Intracoastal Waterway just north of the town of Carolina Beach. Great. A wreck.

Sam got out of the Mustang and walked up a few feet to Hoops’ car.

“Thanks for coming, Hoops. Hope it’s okay for you to be away like this.”

“Just doing my duty, Sam-Man; just doing my duty.” Hoops lit a cigar and took a long drag.

Sam moved away from Hoops’ open window to get a breath of fresh air. Looking toward the top of the bridge where a blue light was flashing, Sam noticed a sailboat mast creeping toward the bridge.

Three steps forward, Sam saw it.

Toothless’ long silver hair. Toothless stood at the helm, impatiently calling out to a small craft in front of him as he headed west toward Masonboro Sound.

“Hoops! Get on your radio! I saw Mike’s boat heading west.”

Hoops cupped his hand to his ear to hear Sam better.

Sam repeated: “Mike’s boat! It’s heading west.”

“Not much I can do about it now, sitting in this traffic.” Hoops obviously enjoyed another pull on his cigar. “Besides, you said Mike wouldn’t mind if you borrowed his dink.” Hoops pointed to the car-top treasure.

Sam threw his hands in the air. “Hoops, I wasn’t going to bring you into all of this. It’s a mess, and I need your help.”

Hoops leaned over the seat toward Sam. “What’s up, Sam-Man?”

“Mike’s a dirty cop. He and Andy both. They are involved with a drug ring, and they took hostages when I tried to bust up their little party. They may be on that boat right now! Please. Do something!”

“What, no part-ey girls, Sam-Man? That’s not like you to lie to a brother. But just the same, if Mike’s doing wrong, we’re gonna set him right. Tell me more.” Hoops nodded to the passenger side door.

Sam obeyed and climbed in. The stench of Hoops’ cigar reminded him of Lee. Methodically, he recounted everything he knew.

Hoops listened. Then Hoops reacted by grabbing his radio.

“Coast Guard base Zero-Three-Three, do you copy?” Static.

“You’re on, Hoops. What’s up?”

Sam recognized Hoops’ sidekick Allen Morris on the radio. Hoops dispensed with the formal talk.

“Switch to forty-two.”

“Switching forty-two.”

Hoops tuned the radio into channel forty-two, a clear frequency not typically monitored by casual boaters or towboat operators. The curious could pick up all kinds of conversations if dialing around a radio, but Hoops’ cryptic monologue was one Sam could barely understand.

“Looking for a rum punch. I’m stuck at Snow’s Cut facing west. Can you pick up and deliver?”

“Copy. Can do. Want a single or a double?” Allen was on.

“Make it a double. One more thing. Could you check on my cat Moonglow for me? I left her with nothing for breakfast, and I think she’s going to be spitting mad when I get back.”

“Copy. Will do. Out.” Allen’s voice was replaced by static.

“Cat? Rum punch?”

“Yeah, Sam-Man. You never know who might be scanning the radio.” Hoops slowly explained as if Sam were one tool shy of a tool shed. “Rum punch means possible drug runner. Single means unarmed, not much of an offense. Double, be prepared for the worst. My cat/dog/parrot/whatever’s the name of the boat so Al can do a quick trace to ownership and alert bridge tenders, and ‘breakfast’ is code for hostage. When I ‘get back’, that’s Hoops-speak for bring back up. Al’s fast. He’ll get some guys and take the cutter out for a spin. We’re using the element of surprise here, so Mikey’s pal will be none the wiser.”

Sam shook his head. “He’s probably armed, Hoops. He’s got hostages. He sees a cutter coming, and what’s he gonna do? Shoot and dump?”

“He won’t have time. Not to worry, Sam-Man. We’ll nail him. Anybody else with him?”

Sam thought about Scuz Number Two. “No, nobody else in the cockpit.”

“Think they’re all on board? Must be a pretty cozy group if all the hostages,
and
Mike
and
Andy are down below.”

Sam counted on his fingers: “Tripp Johnson, Mike, Chuck, Lisa, Andy, Jenny, and Molly, one goon below, and Toothless at the helm. Nobody was sitting in the cockpit except Toothless, so either they were all down below, or….”

Sam didn’t wait for Hoops to answer. He dashed back to the Mustang and did a seven-point turn to get off the bridge, the only road off the island. Sam headed back into Carolina Beach.

Chapter thirty-nine

Sam floored it back to the city docks in Carolina Beach, slowing down long enough to cruise the small parking lot. No sign of the Owens’ Ford Taurus. Driving slower down the road running parallel to the main road, Sam searched between every house and condo complex. Still no sign of it.

Sam headed back to the gallery. Parking in the alley behind it, Sam walked around the buildings that backed up to the gallery. When he got to the front of them, he saw what he had dreaded.

“Shit.”

A public dock with slips for transient boaters jutted out into a cove surrounded by open green space filled with picnickers and play structures. Beyond the cove’s entrance was an entrance to the Intracoastal Waterway.

Tripp and Company had come from Southport by boat. That’s why there wasn’t another car at the gallery. And that’s why Mike and Chuck were so eager to wait just outside the office’s back door, trying to stay out of sight, but prepared to leave as soon as the boat had arrived.
Clever
, Sam thought. He cursed himself for not checking it sooner. Whoever was on the boat had several hours’ head start.

Sam was hopeful as he drove down a street leading to Chuck and Lisa’s house. He turned off the main drag into a three-street subdivision of odd-looking contemporaries with hard angles and fogged skylights set in their rooflines. Reaching their house, Sam noted that the Owens’ car wasn’t in the driveway. The front door was wide open, though.

Sam cautiously entered. No one was inside, but it was clear someone had been: the house looked like a hurricane had pummeled it. Pieces of shattered pottery and glass lay on the tile floor. Furniture was upturned, cushions strewn about. The contents from a floor-to-ceiling bookcase were scattered, and the Oriental rugs were contorted off to one side.

Sidestepping the mess, Sam searched bedrooms, kitchen, and bathrooms. Every room had the mark of the same decorator.

Through the partially opened sliding glass door to a tidy patio, Sam saw the back of someone slumped in a lounge chair. Sam held his breath, then tiptoed out the sliding door. The figure did not move.

Cautiously, Sam slid around the side of the chair to where he could touch the man, who sat with a dazed look on his unshaven face, his countenance as rumpled as his clothes.

“You want to talk about it, Dan?”

Chief Dan Singleton didn’t say a word, but he did turn his head to look at Sam. With tears streaming down his red eyes, the Chief shook his head.

“Look; I’m sorry she wasn’t what you thought she was,” Sam soothed. “She’s made a real mess of things with her brother, and I know Mike Smith and Andy Keller are in on it, too.”

Chief cut him off. “Andy…. I thought she really loved me. She was seeing him, too. She was using me—using us, trying to see who she could get to first.”

“Lisa was with Andy, too? Aww, Chief, I didn’t know. What about Chuck?”

“That’s how I found out about Andy. After you left my office, Chuck stormed in, cussed me out, and cussed Lisa too. Said she was a slut, and he was not gonna take it anymore. Then just as quick, he stormed out of my office. I saw him grab Mike, and they left. I came over here to calm him down, to try to talk some sense into Lisa, but I walked in here and just lost it.”

“You trashed the place?”

“I didn’t mean to. It was rage. I…I really loved her.” Chief started sobbing, rocking himself back and forth like a mama rocks her infant.

Sam sat down in a green plastic chair. A stainless steel grill was poised for action near a comfortable looking table and four chairs. Just a step off the concrete patio was a small garden plot with bright yellow squash blossoms open in the late day sun. This was where a family had gathered. Sam felt sorry for Lisa and Chuck’s boys. They were away at college, so as Lisa pointed out, they could manage on their own now. Still, a family wrecked is a child ruined.

“Chief, we need to get going. We need to find Chuck and Lisa and Tripp. Come on. I’ll tell you what I know. Maybe you can think of a way to stop this madness.” Sam tugged gently on Chief’s shirt. “I need your help, Dan.”

Chief wiped his eyes. Slowly, he stood up, straightened his shirt, and looked around.

“I can’t go back in that house. Let’s walk around the side.”

Sam thought that was the best idea, too.

Chapter forty

“Do you have a phone on you?” Sam walked shoulder to shoulder with Chief as they came around the side of Chuck and Lisa’s house.

Without a word, Chief handed Sam his cell phone.

“Hoops, it’s Sam. What have you got?”

“Sam-Man, you were right. Al and the boys got Mikey’s boat. They came alongside, and just like you said, one stupid fool drew a gun on them. He was whacked, Al said, all high on something. He didn’t look so good after their little visit, Al said.”

“Was he alone?”

“No. Another two ratty-lookin’ guys were down below working on a joint. Not anyone Al had ever seen before, he said. Look; I dropped the dinghy and the motor off behind the Causeway Diner, near the dumpster. I told the manager you’d be by to get it as soon as you could. Everything cool where you are?”

“So far. I got the Chief with me, and we’re on it.”

“What more can I do for you, Sam-Man?”

“Not sure at this point. Keep your phone handy, though. I left mine on board my boat, so I’m using Chief’s. I’ll call again in case something comes up that you think I need to know about.”

“Did they get Lisa?” Chief’s eyes glassed over once Sam ended the call.

“No. Only Mike’s boat and the Scuz Brothers, who, I guess, work for Tripp Johnson. They were the decoy to buy the others some time, I bet.”

Sam wasn’t sure how much more he should say, but he plunged ahead anyway.

“Seeing how Mike’s boat was used to put us off the scent, I’m pretty sure Mike was in it from the start. Do you think he and Lisa—”

“Don’t go there, Sam.”

“Look, Chief; we need to know all the players, here. Why would Mike get a cut of it if Lisa wasn’t, you know, involved?”

“Who said he’s involved? Maybe he’s just a hostage, like Chuck. Maybe Lisa’s being held now against her will.” Chief sounded almost hopeful.

“Not likely. She was a mule. You said so yourself. No, I think she’s in it up to her eyeballs. I’m just trying to figure out how deep Chuck and Mike were in on it. It could make a difference for all of them.” Sam eased into the Mustang and waited for Chief to do the same.

“Let’s go find out.” Chief was almost chipper.

Sam didn’t like the look in Chief’s eyes, but he decided having someone on his team—even someone half-crazy—was better than no one at all.

“Where’s your car, Chief?”

“Down the street. I parked there in case Lisa had company…. I didn’t want her to see me coming, I guess.”

Sam drove past Chief’s car on the way out of the neighborhood, then stopped and backed up.

“What kind of supplies you got in there?”

“Standard issue.” Chief paused and smiled. “And a little something extra.”

“Bring whatever you got. We may need it.”

Chief returned to the Mustang in seconds with the standard issue Glock and a towel-wrapped pump action patrol rifle, unwrapping the latter briefly to show Sam.

“Impressive. From your own personal collection?”

“Something like that. Do you know what we’re up against?”

Sam popped the trunk. Chief carefully laid his Remington inside and closed the trunk.

“Mike and Chuck are carrying their standard issues,” Sam recounted as he drove south down the beach road and past the aquarium entrance. He turned right into the Fort Fisher Ferry landing’s parking lot, got a ticket, and parked in a line waiting to board the ferry. “One of the hostages was able to make off with Tripp Johnson’s gun at the gallery, but I suspect he’s taken it back. I don’t know about Andy. He wasn’t showing.”

Three cars were in front of Sam and Chief as they waited for the just-docking ferry to unload cars.

Without turning, Sam asked the question that had plagued him all day. “Chief, you said in your office that you were following orders. Whose orders?”

“Commissioner Martin. He said
he
was just following orders, but one can’t tell with Martin. I didn’t have the spine to stand him down. He said if I questioned him again, I’d be out, just like that. I’ve worked for a lot of years toward a comfortable retirement with full pension, and I wasn’t about to screw that up because someone has it in for you. What did you do to Martin, anyway?”

“Not anything I’m aware of. Did he tell you to do anything other than bug my car or crush the Camaro before the case was closed?”

“No. But either way, I should have stood up to him. Shoulda told him no. You’re a good cop, Sam. I see now you didn’t have anything to do with Lee’s death.”

“Doesn’t matter now. What does matter is we have to get to Johnson’s.”

The khaki-clad ferry attendant signaled for Sam to move forward. Sam slowly rolled the Mustang onto the ferry; blocks were set under his wheels, and he was instructed to turn his engine off.

When Sam and Chief climbed the ladder to the upper deck, they walked to a railing away from the other passengers.

“Who are we looking for, exactly?” Chief leaned over the rail.

“Lee’s wife, Jenny Elliott; Molly Monroe, a…my friend who accidentally got messed up in all of this; Lisa, Chuck, Mike, Andy, and Tripp Johnson.”

“What makes you think they’re in Southport?”

“Two reasons. First, Mike let the Scuz Brothers, who accompanied Andy to the gallery, take his forty-two-foot sailboat
Moonglow
out for a spin. The Coast Guard picked them up heading south down the ditch, and they were armed and ready. Second, the fishery is the only place I can think of where they’d be holding hostages without anybody stopping by to see what’s going on.”

“Holding or disposing?”

“Probably preparing to dispose.” Sam bit his lip, imagining what Jenny and Molly were going through. “Molly and Jenny surprised Lisa at the gallery. She was getting ready to take flight with two suitcases of cash. I can’t believe she kept that much around.”

“Can’t just walk into a bank with two suitcases, now can you?” Chief was back to his old cantankerous self.

“Suppose not. There were plenty of places she could have hid it in the gallery. In hollow display pedestals, art pieces, wherever. She was getting ready to leave, so she gathered it all up. Did you find anything at her house?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Chief looked at the wake created by the ferry as it left the dock. “Really, I don’t know what I expected to find. I was just so….” He slammed his fist on the railing.

“Yeah. I would be too if I were duped and used. Sorry. Let’s keep going.” Sam put a hand lightly on Chief’s shoulder. “Tell me what she told you.”

“About what?”

“About anything. How did you learn she was a mule? And how did you find out who her brother was?”

“One afternoon, I walked into the gallery and there he was. She didn’t want to introduce me, but he was ballsy enough to. I watched him hand her an envelope. He said it was for a painting he’d commissioned by one of her artists, but he didn’t look like the cultured type. When I asked her about it later, she couldn’t keep up with his lie, so she said it was for something else, a fancy table she was expecting to be delivered by an artisan who lived in the mountains. Then she started, you know, coming on to me, so I dropped it.”

“So how did you learn she was delivering for Tripp? Seems like something she wouldn’t be too eager to discuss with the chief of police.”

“She wasn’t. I found out on my own. One night, we were supposed to meet at our favorite hideaway in Wilmington. She didn’t show up, so I went looking for her. I drove by her house, and her car wasn’t there. Then I went by the gallery and saw her. I was just about to get out of my car to ask if she was all right, but I stayed put for some reason. Maybe it dawned on me that what was going on between us was wrong. I was thinking I would break it off, but then I saw Andy coming out of the gallery right close behind her with his hand touching her back. You may have noticed I get kinda jealous when I think about her and anybody else. I couldn’t think straight when I saw her hug him affectionately, the way she does…did me. I could feel my palms getting sweaty. I ducked down in my car so they wouldn’t notice me. Then I watched as Andy helped Lisa load several boxes from his car into hers. When he drove off, I followed Lisa. She headed to Wilmington, then out on to Highway 40, heading west to Raleigh.”

“Where did she go?” Sam waited patiently as Chief calmed down enough to continue.

“There’s a rest stop in the middle of the highway where the traffic passes, heading east and west on either side of it. Do you know it?”

Sam nodded.

“She pulled off there. I followed her and parked a safe distance away. I had even got out and snuck around a bush to get a closer look when she waved at this sleazy-looking guy who parked right beside her. He helped her transfer the boxes from her car to his; then they both drove away. I took a chance and followed the guy. His black Cadillac had New York plates. I wrote down the number, then followed him to the interstate and all the way to the ramp heading north on Interstate 95. I followed him for a little ways, then made a U-turn and came back down here.”

“What’d you do with the license plate number?”

“Called it in, of course.”

“And you don’t think he was just an art lover?”

“Not a chance. I checked the sleaze-bucket out with a friend of mine. He’s a bail jumper with a sheet as long as your arm.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Chief walked to the other side of the ferry’s top deck, close enough to a gaggle of tourists to signal that the conversation was over.