A Case of Deceit Page 9

  “Dee, here,” I answer as I shake his hand.

  “Anything special you looking for, Dee? Or, just a general history of the place?”

  “I need a history of the Wenner place and old man Wenner. Also, if you have anything on the history of smuggling in the area, I’d like to see those too,” I tell him as I look over the names on the spines of the books in front of me.

  “Not many people realize that smuggling has a history in Ashville and the Wenner Estate,” he says as he taps his lips with his forefinger a few times, glances over the titles, grabs a couple of books off the shelf, and hands all but one to me.

  “You're in luck as I'm a huge history buff and have read every book I can on Ashville and the surrounding area.” He leads me to a quiet table and chair in a small corner of the library.

  “People around here don't talk about the smuggling aspect of our history. Most do not want to know and others just want to keep it quiet. There is talk that smuggling still happens around here, so I wouldn't advertise that fact that you are looking into it,” Justin says softly. He pushes his glasses up his nose with one finger and then lays his hand on the book he put on the table.

  “Some people in town didn't want this particular book in the library, but the head librarian is a firm believer in not censoring what people read. This is the only copy of this book here that I know of. I think you might find it very interesting,” he says in a low whisper. Curious now, I look at the title of the book, 'Secrets of a Smuggler' by a Nick Johnson.

  Still in a whisper, Justin continues with his font of knowledge, “Mr. Johnson was a longtime resident of Ashville. He died about five years ago, the official findings are suicide.”

  My gut is talking to me again. “How did he die?”

  “Bullet to the head,” Justin whispers with his lips barely moving and then he walks away.

  Ah, crap. It seems to be the pattern of dying around here. I pick up the book and start reading.

  ***********************************************************************

  I exit the library and check my phone. I’m surprised to notice that a few hours have passed since I walked inside. I didn't think I was in there so long, but I got what I came for. Information. A lot of it. Nick Johnson's book answered some questions that I had. I wish he were still alive; I would have loved to talk to him.

  I notice that I missed several calls while I was in the library, a few from Fedora and one from Angela. I skip over the message Angela left me and call Fedora.

  “Damn it, Dee, I was getting worried when you wouldn't answer the phone.”

  “You worry too much. Bad for your health.”

  “I found some information I think you will find interesting. The local editor here is a nice older gentleman. He’s very talkative too.” Fedora sounds just a bit smug as he relays this information.

  Before he can tell me more, I interrupt him, “Meet me at that restaurant on the edge of town. The one called 'Marlene's Diner'.”

  I want to talk somewhere other than the hotel. Plus, I need some coffee. Maybe pie too.

  “Why not here at the hotel?” Fedora asks.

  “I'll tell you later. Bye.” I hang up before the man can argue with me.

  I feel excited and wary at the same time with the information I found in Johnson's book. I hop on the Harley, put Tee's goggles on him and start for the diner. I have a sudden hunger for coffee and pie.

  Marlene's Diner is one of those old fashion places that are slowly dying out. A nice place, well taken care of, that has its town regulars. It has been around for decades. It was also the favorite eating establishment of Nick Johnson according to his book.

  I stroll inside and a kind looking older woman with the name tag 'Marlene' greets me with a smile and a friendly hello. I hope I got lucky and she is actually the Marlene who owns the joint. She shows me to a corner booth and I ask her if she is indeed the owner.

  “Yup, that's me. My kids run the place now, as I'll be eighty-seven next month, but I like to keep my foot in the door a few times a week.” She smiles and places a menu in front of me. I ask her what kind of pies she has today.

  “You're in luck dearie. We got apple, blueberry, and my personal favorite strawberry-rhubarb. I'll even throw in a big ol' scoop of vanilla ice cream.” Marlene smiles and looks like everyone's ideal grandmother.

  “I'll take the strawberry-rhubarb then and a big cup of coffee,” I tell her and watch as she walks away.

  I take my phone out and decide to listen to Angela's voice message while I wait for Marlene to come back. I punch in my code for my messages and hear Angela's voice.

  “Dee! I've been trying to reach you. Where are you? I think those goons tried to come into my office. I'm ok, but I heard the outer door rattle. I have set the alarm so I don't think they'll break in. I need to talk to you. Call me back. Better yet, come to my office.”

  Angela sounds upset, but then she usually does lately. I have many unanswered questions about Angela right now. She can wait for a while longer. She has her alarm set, if they try to break in, it'll notify the police. She's safe for now. I spot Marlene making her slow way across the restaurant toward me. I hope the old woman is in a talkative mood.

  Marlene sets a full carafe of coffee on the table and a good size piece of pie with the promised big scoop of ice cream in front of me. Then she slides a small plate with a few pieces of bacon on the table.

  “For your little furry friend in the bag,” she says with a wink.

  I glance up in surprise. “Yup, I saw the tiny thing stick its nose out for just a second. No man nor animal can resist our home cooked meals.”

  “I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't bring Tee in here. But he's my buddy and I can't leave him outside with my bike,” I apologize to Marlene as I break a small piece of bacon off and feed it to Tee.

  “No problem dearie. I doubt anyone will even notice the small thing.”

  “Marlene, can you join me for a minute? My name is Dee Watson and I would be honored to buy you a cup of your own coffee.” I'm hoping she feels friendly enough toward me to sit and join me.

  “Best offer I've had in weeks, Dee Watson. I need to rest for a bit anyway.”

  “Thank you.” I pour two cups of steaming coffee in the cups provided on the table. Slide one over to Marlene and pick up my fork to taste the pie.

  “I was wondering Marlene if you would mind me asking you a few questions?” I ask her then take a bite of the pie. It tastes great. I take a sip of coffee and look at the older woman.

  The light from the window makes her white hair glimmer like a halo. The many lines in her face testify to her age and that she smiled through life. Her eyes might be dim with years, but they are sharp as she watches me eat another forkful of pie.

  “I've lived a long, full life dearie. When anyone asks me if they can ask a few questions, they are either a reporter or a cop. Which are you?”

  “Neither. I'm a private investigator.” She might be eighty-seven, but there was nothing wrong with the woman's mind.

  “A private investigator, how nice. What do you want to know?”

  “I understand you used to know Nick Johnson,” I state as I slip Tee another piece of bacon.

  “Sure I knew him. He used to eat here every single day. Now why are you asking about that old coot?”

  “Were you two friends? Did he talk to you about his life? Or I should say his past life as a smuggler?”

  Marlene sets her coffee cup in its saucer and raises an eyebrow at me. “Is that why you're here? Because of Nick? He's been dead for a long time.”

  “I'm looking into the death of Tony Bandoni and Nick came up in my investigation.” Marlene isn't stupid and I sense I can trust her. I tell her some of what I've found out so far. I leave out Sid and his crew and the hole in the ground.

  “That's quite a story, Dee.”

  Marlene pours us some more coffee. I don't say anything as the older woman seems to be lost in thought. I let her have her time
.

  “You might be on to something, though. I never did buy into the theory that Nick committed suicide. I never knew Tony Bandoni, although I have heard of him plenty of times. But Nick, yup, I knew Nick.”

  Marlene watches me finish off the tasty pie. I feed Tee the last of the bacon.

  Marlene leans over the table and motions with her hand for me to lean toward her. I do. She whispers, “I knew Nick quite well. In fact, we were brother and sister.”

  She slowly leans back with a smile. They were siblings? That surprises me. “Really? I was under the impression Nick didn't have any siblings.”

  Everything I had read about Nick at the library and in his book, he never mentioned siblings. He did mention Marlene's Diner, but only as a place he ate at all the time and that he was friends with the owner. Interesting.

  “It's not something that is well known. A few relatives know, but we don't talk about Nick. He was the black sheep of the family. He and I were actually quite close.”

  Marlene leans toward me again and says proudly, “He bought me this place all those years ago. I was a single mother trying to raise two sons after my husband was killed in the war. Nick was a good man. A man that got into some bad business, but he got out of the smuggling thing. He wrote that book. He was turning his life around in his old age.”

  She sits back again, shakes her head, and tells me, “Nick and I had different daddies. We weren't raised together. That's why no one knew. I was positive he never took his own life.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Marlene is full of surprises. She sits across from me, sipping her coffee with a faraway look in her eyes and a small smile playing on her lips. Me, I was thinking too, but it wasn't of fond memories of days gone by.

  There are so many strings leading to the same big messy ball of yarn. Smuggling. I know smuggling is still a very strong enterprise for many. With the marina, being so close to the Wenner place it made sense that it is ideal for a drop off point. From the Wenner estate the smuggled goods, whether they be drugs, people or any other commodity could split off in dozens of directions.

  Smuggling is a very lucrative business. It is also a secretive business and to the ones doing it, worth killing over. People dealing with smugglers and their goods stood to make millions. That would make the Wenner estate worth killing for that is for sure. Not for mythical gold bullion but for being a gateway for the smuggled goods. That must have been what Tony was referring to when he said the place got him and others killed.

  Tony had lived in Ashville for most of his life. He had to have known or at least heard about the smuggling in the area. From what he wrote to Cynthia in the confiscated letters that Detective Ward took, he found out about the Wenner place being a smugglers hub after he and Angela purchased it. He still wanted to go through with the plans of making it into a hotel/spa/nightclub but minus the smuggling part.

  Now Cynthia is the majority owner, with Angela owning only a small percentage.

  Ah, crap.

  That made Cynthia a target now. I need to contact her and warn her. Whoever is behind Tony's murder and I believe Nick Johnson's, will not hesitate to kill again I have no doubt about that.

  Marlene interrupts my dark thoughts, “Well dearie, I've rested these old bones long enough. So it’s time for me to get back to work.”

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Marlene. Thank you for the information and the coffee and pie.”

  “You're welcome dear. It was good to talk about Nick again. Do be careful. There are still some wicked people around here,” Marlene says as she stands up and pats my hand.

  “Marlene, you wouldn't happen to know who was in charge of Nick's case. Who decided it was suicide?”

  The older woman hesitates, and then she frowns, “It was a Detective Ward. I only talked to him briefly, but he was a nasty little man. He wouldn't tell me anything but to mind my own business when I tried to ask about Nick's case.”

  “Yeah, I met the man,” I state. I can still see his mean eyes and smell the cigarette smoke that surrounded him.

  “I promised Nick years ago I wouldn't tell anyone that we were brother and sister. He said it would only bring me trouble if people knew. I kept that promise to him, Dee. So, I couldn't tell Detective Ward I was his sister. I doubt it would have made a difference anyway.” With a small sigh, she turns and walks away.

  As soon as Marlene leaves, I pull out my phone and punch in Cynthia's number. I have to warn her. Maybe she can find business out of town for a while. I don't want her to be the next convenient suicide.

  “Hello?”

  “It's Dee, Cynthia.”

  “Oh, thank goodness. I was worried when I didn't hear from you. Did you find it?” I can hear the genuine worry in her voice. It's nice to have friends.

  “I'm ok, sorry for not getting back to you. We have a few problems.” I fill her in at what happened at Tony's house, about Detective Ward, Nick Johnson and my suspicions.

  “Dee, Detective Ward phoned me about twenty minutes ago. He wants to come over and talk about my father's case. At least that's what he said.”

  Ah, crap.

  “Is there someplace you can go, Cynthia? Someplace out of town maybe?” I ask, as I don't like the sound of Ward wanting to see her.

  “Do you think I'm in danger?” Cynthia's voice was calm, as it always seems to be. My admiration for her went up a few notches.

  “Yes. I do. I need you to leave now, Cynthia. Don't tell anyone where you are going and don't let Ward in the house.”

  I hope she can leave before Ward gets there. I'm too far away to be much help right now. I feel frustrated and useless.

  “I'll leave right now. I don't even need to pack a suitcase. I have somewhere I can go. I'll have my phone with me.”

  “Good. Don't answer the phone unless it's me calling. Go now. Bye.”

  “Be careful,” she says before ending the call.

  One smart woman, I love it when I don't have to go into long explanations. I just hope she manages to avoid Ward.

  I am debating whether to call Fedora or not, as he should have been here long before now when I see him walking toward me. He doesn't look happy either. He slides into the spot that Marlene had occupied earlier and scowls at me.

  “I thought you might have gotten lost, Fedora.”

  His frown doesn't leave his face. “Dee, we got a problem.”

  “We have lots of problems as this case keeps getting more and more tangled,” I tell him as I mirror his frown.

  “We got another knot in it.”

  I don't like the sound of that. I wait.

  “Dee, Billy's in the hospital.”

  “How do you know?” Why is Billy in the hospital, what happened?

  “It was on the news, that's why I'm late. I was watching the stock report on TV and a newsbreak came on. At first, I didn’t know who they were talking about when the news anchor said a badly beaten man has been found on the abandoned Wenner Estate. A William Rikers has been identified. Then they flashed a picture of him and it was Billy.”

  “Did they say why he was beaten or who beat him?” What was he doing at the Wenner place?

  “No, they didn't release that information,” Fedora states. “I don't like this Dee. It's getting out of control. Why would anyone want to hurt the kid?”

  Fedora doesn't know about the smuggling angle. So, I fill him in. In the middle of my explanations, Marlene wanders over, gives Fedora a clean cup, and sits another full carafe of coffee on the table. I introduce her to Fedora and he charms her as only Fedora can. She walks away giggling, giving us a brief glimpse of the charming young woman of her youth.

  Fedora's easy smile vanishes as soon as Marlene is gone. “Dee, they interviewed the detective on the case. He says he wants to talk to the last people seen with Billy. That's us.”

  I narrow my eyes at Fedora, my gut was yelling at me again. I hate it when it does that. “Who was the detective they interviewed?” I already know, but I want it co
nfirmed.

  “A hard-edged cop called Ward. I don't like his looks,” Fedora says.

  I know what Fedora means. Ward is one busy man lately. I tell Fedora about my run-in with Detective Ward. I also tell him my suspicions of the man. Then I get an idea.

  “With all your fancy high-tech toys, do you have access to anything that can give me data on someone?” My idea is growing as I wait for an answer.

  “What kind of data?” Fedora asks.

  “If I give you something with a person's DNA, can you run it and find out about that person?”

  “I can't myself, no,” he states. “I can send the DNA to a friend of mine. He has a lab set up for DNA research.”

  My idea takes root again after being sidelined for half a second. I reach into the satchel and carefully remove Ward's cigarette butt that I picked up off Tony's floor. I lay a clean napkin on the table, set the cigarette butt on it, and push it toward Fedora.

  “This is Ward's. Can you get his DNA analysis from your friend’s lab?” I have a hunch about Detective Ward.

  Fedora carefully wraps the cigarette butt in the napkin and sticks it in his jacket pocket. “I'll send it by overnight courier to my friend and tell him it would be a personal favor to me to put a rush job on this. That still doesn't answer the question of what do we do now about Billy or this smuggling information.”

  “We find answers, that's what we do now. We might have to split up again. We also need to stay out of Ward's way,” I tell Fedora.

  “I'm going to find Angela and have a talk with her. She knows more than she is letting on. She has to. If Tony knew that their new property had been used for smuggling, Angela must have known it too.” I don't know why Angela would let that piece of news out of her story, but I'm going to find out.

  “You send that butt off to your friend and see if you can find out how Billy is doing now and if he’s talking. I bet your new friend the editor of the newspaper would know,” I say.

  “Thanks for reminding me,” Fedora says. “My friend the editor had some interesting information to tell me about the smuggling here. If I had known you already knew about the smuggling I wouldn't have been so smug.”