Double Doublecross (42 page)

“I've got some interesting facts about that murder at the beach the other day.”

“Good, let's have it.”

“We've got a match on some of the prints. The prints on the corpse belong to Philip Speed. He's a small-time hood out of Seattle, and he's wanted for the murder of Carl Regis in Lake Tahoe and several other homicides.”

“Good start,” said agent Johnson. “What else have you got?”

“There were two other sets of bloody prints we lifted off the car, and we traced them through our database and got matches for both of them.”

“The suspense is killing me. What did you come up with?”

“They belong to two enforcers who work for a known drug cartel operating out of Seattle and Vancouver.”

“Names?” said agent Mike Wilson.

“Harry Fennel and Dan Grover. They've got a short rap sheet for some criminal offenses. I've done a bit of research for you.”

“Thanks. You'll be after my job next.”

“There's more,” said Joe Jones. “We checked the blood on the car and found two different groups. There was quite a bit of it around the car—there must have been a fight. Also, there was a surgical pad close by with blood matching the blood on the car, and it didn't belong to the corpse.”

“So, one of them got hurt. I wonder which one caught it. Thanks, JoJo.”

“I haven't finished. There's more. There were more prints on the money and on the wrappers found in one of the cases—and they didn't belong to Fennel or Grover. One set belonged to the deceased, another set belonged to a guy named Carl Regis, who we believe was killed by Speed.
There were two other sets that we can't trace. One of them belonged to a woman, as far as we can make out. They must have been accomplices of some sort.”

“Thanks JoJo. You've been a great help.”

“You're welcome,
Mikee
,” laughed Joe Jones as he closed the office door behind him.

“The nerve of the guy,” Mike Wilson said with a sarcastic grin. “Let's sit down and take a look at the evidence and try to put together a picture. I've got a feeling we're on our way to Seattle.”

The one thing puzzling Fennel was who had given Carl Regis the help he needed to keep the money safely hidden before he, and Speed, had made their move to vanish from sight. They had waited months before their performance to eliminate their shadows, meaning they were not in possession of the money before that time. Therefore they must have had a collaborator or assistance from some unknown person.

They had been on the road for seven days since the incident with Speed. The wound to Dan Grover's shoulder was healing fast and mobility was beginning to return to normal. Harry Fennel had allowed him to rest for the journey but was now anxious to have his view on the subject of Carl Regis and his collaborator.

“Dan, how are you feeling today?”

“Better than yesterday. Why do you ask?” said Dan Grover

“I've been thinking about the theft and stashing of the money. Regis had to have an accomplice, but who was it? It couldn't have been Speed. They would have made their move a lot earlier if he was involved—and had the stuff in their possession. We've discussed this before and come up blank. What d' you think the answer is?” said Fennel.

“I don't know. They were both a couple of loners, especially Speed. His only friend, if you could call him that, was Regis, but that was because they worked together. Regis had a few acquaintances, went to the live theater and mingled with a few of the cast—nothing special, as far as I know. Nobody he would trust with a caper like the one he pulled. I was surprised he involved Speed.”

“That's true. Don't forget Speed double-crossed him and snuffed him for it.”

“Plus the fact Speed would have took off earlier if he had the loot. We're missing a connection somewhere for both of them. I'm sure Speed was a pure loner or leper, whatever you want to call him. I'm not so sure about Regis. He was more of a mixer—liked to spend money—a bit flashy, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean, but they must have had help from a third person,” said Fennel.

“What about Mr. X? You know, the guy who tipped us off about Speed?” said Grover.

“Somehow I don't think it was him. Why didn't he hand it over earlier? Besides, I don't think Regis had any male friends.”

“What about girlfriends? Did either of them have a piece of fluff they were screwing, supporting or living with?”

For a moment Fennel was quiet. He frowned as if he was trying to remember something. Then he pulled over into a strip mall parking lot and stopped the car. He looked straight ahead as if in a deep hypnotic trance.

“What the hell did you stop for?” asked Grover.

“I think you've just solved the problem, Dan.”

“How?” said Grover with a look of astonishment on his face.

“Regis had a girlfriend, you know, a live kept woman—or whatever you want to call her. I bet
she's
involved.”

“How did she get the bag of goods? We nabbed him before he could get the money to her, remember? We followed him with the bag to his Seattle apartment, roughed him up a bit—but the bag was full of his clothes.”

“Why would he have a bag of clothes? He wasn't going anywhere? Why carry a bag of clothes around? It doesn't make sense. We should have thought about it at the time. Somehow he managed to swap the moneybag for the bag of clothes immediately before we got there. Why didn't I think of that before?”

“Don't ask me,” said Grover, “So what? What do we do now?”

“Quiet! I'm thinking.”

“Big deal!” snapped Grover.

After a couple of minutes, Fennel turned to Grover.

“We searched the pad Regis had in California and found nothing, right?”

“True! True!” said Grover, he was getting tired of this conversation and his shoulder was beginning to throb. He needed to take a painkiller.

“If I remember correctly, we tore his place apart and found nothing, then we planted a bug and put a tail on him. The funny thing is, there wasn't any sign of his girl there. If I could only remember her name, that would help.”

“Why do we need her? She can't help us now.”

“She knows about our business and that's enough. She'll have to go. She might even lead us to Mr. X. Plus the fact is, the Feds must have found our prints all over the car so we'll have to disappear for a few months while we get an identity change.”

“This woman—what does she look like? Did you ever meet her?” Grover said.

“I met her briefly once or twice. She was a looker, a bit aloof but pleasant enough. She was living with Regis in his pad. Funny thing was, as I said before, we found no trace of her in the place.”

“You'll have to remember her name, Harry. Otherwise we stand no chance of finding her.”

“I'll think about it. It'll hit me sooner or later. Let's keep going. We'll be in Seattle in a couple of days.”

Rick flopped into his recliner. It had been a hard, fast drive for four days and he was exhausted. He looked at his watch, 8:30 p.m. He decided to wait until morning before calling Stan. What he and Sara needed now was a good night's sleep, but it was too early to turn in. After a coffee they unpacked their cases and relaxed in the family room. Sara turned on the television.

“I'm going to bed after the news,” she said with a yawn, “got to catch up on what's happened here since we left a few days ago.”

Rick said nothing. He was thinking back over the last two weeks, very conscious of his actions and the consequences. Although Speed had been a cold-blooded killer, he had planned and implemented his demise acting as judge and jury.

Then there was the anonymous entanglement with Fennel and Grover, two enforcers for the drug cartel. Although he had returned most of the money, he had held, harbored and used drug money belonging to a dangerous crime syndicate.

Would there be repercussions as a result of his actions? The only persons who could link him with the clandestine
events were Speed and Regis, and they were both knocking on the pearly gates.

What about Sara? She was the one who took the money from Carl Regis and planted it in the house. She was the one who had lied and deceived him about the money.

What about Fennel? He had always contacted him using a payphone and therefore could not be traced. The only question unanswered was the vague relationship between Sara and Fennel. Would Fennel remember the tie between her and Regis? Maybe—or maybe not. It was the only loophole as far as he could see.

“There's something on the news about Phil Speed,” Sara said, interrupting his thoughts.

“What are they saying?”

Sitting bolt upright, they listened intensely to the newscaster. The FBI had linked the murder of Carl Regis,
and
two travelers who had been on the interstate highways,
and
two small-time criminals associated with the illegal drug trade—
all
to Phil Speed.

In addition, they were looking for two hit men from Seattle who had killed Speed and were now believed to be hiding somewhere in the USA or possibly in Canada. They had not been seen for some time and were not expected to be heading for New York or anywhere in the Northeastern United States.

“There, I told you so. They can't connect us to them,” said Rick confidently.

“Shh! There's more,” Sara murmured.

The newscaster continued, highlighting the fact that Fennel and Grover were both dangerous individuals and should not be approached if recognized. The television broadcaster went on to say there were additional fingerprints
of two people found on the wrappers, but law enforcement was unable to identify them at this moment.

“Oh, my God! They're still looking for us.”

“Don't be silly Sara—we'll never be connected to this.”

Sara and Rick both spent a restless night, and by the morning, were both still exhausted. Rick made a pot of coffee and reached for the phone.

“Hi, Stan. It's me, Rick.”

“Well! Well! The vacationer returns. How're you doing? Have a good time?”

“Yeah, but I'm a little tired. I'll come in later if that's okay with you?”

“No problem, it'll be nice to see you again,” said Stan, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Rick arrived at the office just after 10 a.m. Pat James greeted him as he pushed open the office door.

“Welcome back, Rick. How do you like the office? I've moved things around a bit. You have an office next to Stan. You're connected up and ready to go.”

“Thanks, Pat. How are you feeling?”

“Oh, I got over it. I was a bit shaken up at first, but I'm back to my old fiery self as you'll soon find out.”

Rick smiled and made his way to the back of the large complex and stopped at the door of Stan Turner who was busy looking at his computer screen.

“Hi! I'm back.”

“Hey, Rick. Good to see you. How's it going?” Stan said getting up from his chair, and shaking hands with his friend.

“Everything's fine. Had a good rest,” he lied.

“I saw on TV they had some violence in your area of Florida. What happened?”

“Oh, it was just a bit of the usual gang turf warfare. We didn't see any of it. It's a great place for a vacation, Stan. You and Helen should try it sometime. I'll look after the shop while you're gone.”

“But I watched TV, and they said the guy who was bumped off was from around here. He was wanted for the murder of a local hoodlum in Lake Tahoe and some other rats around here. Didn't you hear about it?”

“Yes, we saw bits and pieces about it, but we were too busy having a good time.”

“I bet you were. How's finances? Need any money?”

“No thanks, Stan. I'm making out okay, thanks to you,” Rick said with a smile.

“Good man! By the way, I'm meeting with Tom Hughes this afternoon. I think there's a hitch with him and your house deal. Changing the subject, why don't you and Sara come over for dinner tonight? Say about seven o'clock—and don't bother about bringing anything, just bring yourselves.”

“No sweat about the house, Stan. I like the place and have decided to hang on to it.”

Rick thanked Stan for the dinner offer, went to his new office and picked up the local paper. Glancing quickly through it, he stopped at the bottom of the fourth page. There was a small column mentioning the Speed murder, but there was nothing he didn't know already. It mentioned Fennel and Grover were believed to be in Canada or somewhere in the northwestern part of the country.

Sara sat on her bed staring at the bundles of money she had taken from the robbery. After a count, she estimated there was close to eighty thousand dollars in her possession, more than she had ever had in her life. Hastily she placed the
money in a pocket of her suitcase, and began packing her clothes.

Finally, she scribbled a brief note to Rick, telling him she was leaving. Rick wasn't the man for her. It was time for them to separate. She paused to wonder what he would do and feel. Picking up the cases, she threw them in her car and drove off. With the money she could start a new life somewhere else, possibly with a new identity. As far as she was concerned, she was safely away from the past and heading for a new future.

F
ennel and Grover sat in the car in the middle of a Nevada casino parking lot. It had taken twelve days to cross the country avoiding the major highways and making frequent overnight stops in sleazy motels. Dan Grover was feeling much better, although his shoulder was still a little sore. Harry Fennel took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh.

“I think the heat's off now. The publicity has died down and they think we might be in Canada. All the same, we'll leave the car here and rent something less conspicuous for the rest of the trip. We could be in Seattle within forty-eight hours,” said Fennel. “Stay here while I get a Budget car from inside the casino. Look after the bag. Okay?”