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Authors: Jack Ambraw

Tags: #mystery, #military, #Subic Bay, #navy, #black market

BOOK: Decker's Dilemma
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CHAPTER SIX

1745, Friday, December 27

Decker gave an abbreviated version of what he had told Agent Bogen and what he had overheard after his interview. “The navy investigator ruled it an accident or suicide,” he added. “I stopped and chatted with Pitchford on the quarterdeck before we left the ship. He saw the message traffic about it. With no other apparent motive, the official theory is that he either lost his footing and fell overboard or jumped on his own because of Claire. The navy's going to keep searching for several more days, but, unless they find a body, the case is closed.”

“I can't believe it's suicide,” Mo said. “Hell, no woman's worth that.” He caught Vega's eyes and turned red. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Vega said, reassuringly. “But do you guys know anything else about the missing parts?”

“I'm surprised you're interested in navy talk,” said Decker. “You never seem to want to hear about our heroic efforts at sea and keeping the world safe for democracy.”

“I usually don't,” Vega said, taking a swig of beer. “I have to put up with sailors every day on the job.” She straightened in her chair, her face turning serious. “It's just something I'm working on. The black market's a big deal in Olongapo. People are always stealing stuff from base and selling it in town. It's mostly small stuff like soap and cigarettes. Things that aren't worth the time to investigate, for us or the navy.”

“All he mentioned was some missing parts,” Decker said. “We don't stock soap and stuff. Another department does that.”

Vega leaned in and spoke in a hushed voice. “I'm not worried about those things. The black market's been relatively quiet for a few years. Until recently, that is. Over the past few months there's been a flurry of activity. Military parts. Expensive items. We received a report a few days ago about material from the base making its way to town. You made me think of it when you mentioned the missing inventory on the ship.”

Decker perked up. “That rings a bell. Kippen mentioned they were expensive items. I'd completely forgotten about that.”

“You think someone on the
Harvey
is involved?” Hack asked, one eyebrow raised.

Vega took another drink of beer and leaned back in her chair. “I don't know if it's a sailor on the
Harvey
, but someone is working from the inside. Someone on base. I'm not even supposed to know about it, though. My boss doesn't think a woman should be a cop. He treats me like I'm an idiot, or his personal secretary or something. But all his paperwork comes across my desk, so, naturally, I read it. We all know who's the real idiot. And he hardly ever let's me out of the office unless I'm with him.”

“That sucks,” Mo said.

“Sucks big time,” Vega agreed. “But at least I get to read everything that crosses his desk.” Her eyes twinkled and a broad smile spread across her face. “If I can solve a case like this, it'd prove a woman can be a damned good cop.”

“Why not talk to the navy police?” Mo said.

“I can't talk to anyone,” Vega replied. “I can't even talk to Filipino cops in neighboring towns. ‘That's not your job, young lady' is all I ever hear.” She looked at Hack. “You're navy girlfriend, what's-her-name, Cassandra?”

“It's Leeandra,” Hack corrected her.

“Okay, Leeandra. She works at the supply depot, right?”

Hack leaned forward and set his beer down hard. “What do you mean? I'm sure she's not involved with black market stuff. She's not the type.”

“I'm not saying she's involved,” Vega laughed. “But maybe she can help.” She put a hand on Decker's leg. “Maybe you guys can look around the ship, too. It's about navy material, and that's your job. It'd only be natural to do some extra checking on things.”

Decker leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “What do you think, guys?”

“Count me out,” said Mo. “You'll come up with wild schemes, and Hack and me'll be the ones who do the dirty work.”

Decker shot Mo a look of mock surprise. “When have I ever talked you into doing something you didn't want to do?”

“About every other weekend for the past year.”

“I believe that's an exaggeration,” Decker smiled. “I am deeply offended.”

Mo nudged Hack with his elbow. “You don't need me, you got the new guy to do your ‘detective' work now.”

Hank put his hands up as if he'd been accused of something. “I don't like the sound of this,” he said.

“Look, Decker, just go the navy police,” Mo said. “If the black market has anything to do with Kippen taking a dive, they need to be the ones to investigate.”

“We're talking murder,” Decker said, his voice tight.

“Hold on, guys,” Vega interrupted. “I didn't say there was a murder. Besides, the navy investigator found no motive, so I doubt there's any connection between the missing parts and Kippen's fall. But I do know something's going on with the black market. Just look around the ship a little. That's all. I'm just interested in your inventory problem because if there's something fishy going on, I'll need hard evidence to go to my boss.”

Decker sipped his beer, and tipped the bottle toward Vega. “Let me think.”

“Maybe we should wait a week or so and see how things go in the supply department,” Hack said.

“A week?” Vega protested. “Someone could cover their tracks by then.”

“But maybe Kippen's body will be found and it'll be clear it was an accident.”

“Even if they find him, it won't prove he wasn't pushed,” Decker said.

Mo looked at Hack and pointed at Decker with this thumb. “I don't like the sound of this. All I know is that if Columbo here gets involved in whatever is going on, it ain't going to end well for anybody. Especially you and me.”

“This could go on all night, guys,” Vega said, changing the subject. “Let's get out of here. It's getting crowded, and the band's about ready to start.”

Decker, Hack, and Mo agreed and the three sailors and police officer walked out of Cal Jam and stood on the crowded sidewalk.

“I'm headed to T's Tavern,” Mo said. He looked at Hack. “Wanna tag along?”

“No, I'm going to Leeandra's.” Hack glanced toward the corner. “Gotta find a ride.” He turned to Decker and Vega. “What about you two?”

Vega slipped her arms around Decker's waist and looked up at him. “We have dinner plans.”

“I bet you do,” Mo said, with a smirk as he turned on his heel to head toward his favorite dive.

Decker laughed. “Unfortunately for me, it's not like that,” he called out, but Mo waved his hand in dismissal and just kept on walking. Decker turned back to Hack. “Before we say
magandang gabi
, let me introduce you to the best trike guy in the islands, and he's right here at your service.”

At the corner of Gordon and Magsaysay, a Filipino wearing a red Chicago Bulls t-shirt and faded jeans leaned against the seat of his tricycle, a red Honda four-stroke 125cc motorcycle with a metal-framed, plastic-covered sidecar, One of the most popular, cheap, and prolific modes of public transportation in the islands, trikes swarmed the streets by the hundreds .An old navy baseball cap sat on the man's thick crown of brown hair and he lit up with a wide smile when he saw the group walking toward him.

“Hack, I'd like to introduce you to my number one
pare
, Rusty Ramiro.”

Rusty shook hands with Hack. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Hack. Decker is a good man. He helped my family. A friend of his, is a friend of mine.” He turned to Decker. “Emil can see everything now. We feel so fortunate.”

Decker smiled and put his arm around Rusty's shoulders. “We'll talk about that later. Hack, if you ever need a trike, Rusty's your guy. I've known him almost as long as I've been stationed here.”

“I need to get to 501 Jones Street,” said Hack.

Rusty cocked his head towards his trike and as Hack folded himself into the sidecar, he kick-started the engine and put the bike in gear, sending a cloud of exhaust fumes billowing from the tail pipe. Decker watched the trike disappear down the street among the dozens of other motorcycles. Vega tugged at his arm, and looked up at him. He gave her a squeeze and the best smile he could muster, trying to put Kippen and the subject of black market shenanigans out of his mind.

CHAPTER SEVEN

2054, Friday, December 27

Hack gripped his seat with one hand and clamped the other over his mouth to avoid breathing the noxious brew of dust, humidity, and exhaust fume as Rusty zoomed through the side streets of Olongapo weaving in and out of traffic clogged with trikes tailgating each other. They finally came to a stop near the corner of Jones and 12th streets, where Hack saw Lee standing inside the courtyard of her apartment complex talking to her landlord, an elderly Filipina in a flowered nightgown. Hack climbed out with a grunt of thanks and flipped Rusty twenty-five sentimos.

“I'm happy to drive you anywhere, Mr. Hack.”

“I'm just glad I arrived alive,” Hack mumbled as Rusty roared off.

Hack and Leeandra Mansfield had first met at the bookstore on base when he stopped in because of the air conditioning. The bookstore was halfway between the ship and Main Gate, a perfect place for a pit stop on the way to town. Lee was there to buy a magazine, and they crossed paths at the checkout counter. They'd had lunch a few times, then dinner and drinks and dancing one night at the Sampaguita Club on base. Hack could've done without the dancing, embarrassed mostly at his clumsiness, but the evening couldn't have gone better. They'd been dating ever since.

Hack unlocked the courtyard gate and walked towards the two women. Lee had on baggy green gym shorts, a white t-shirt, flip-flops, and a bag slung over her left shoulder. The thick brown hair he loved to run his hands through fell just below her neck, and he imagined tracing his fingers down toward her collarbone and beyond. Unwilling to wait, Hack walked up and put his arm around Lee's waist. She cut short her conversation with the old woman, and turned to greet him with a kiss.

“Welcome home, sailor. Christmas wasn't the same without you.” She took a step back to get a good look at him. Hey, what's wrong? You look sea sick?”

“I'm fine. I think the exhaust fumes must've gotten to me.” He slid the bag off her shoulder. “Did you just get home from work?”

“Sort of,” she said. “I worked late and then went to the gym.” She patted her flat stomach. “I have to work hard to keep it this way.”

“Mmmm,” Hack said and put his hand over hers.

Lee giggled and then made a pouty face. “Hey, I saw you walking with Decker on base. You were across the gym parking lot from me. I tried to yell.”

“Were you spying on us?”

“Of course I was.” She rested her hands on his chest. “I always want to know what you're up to. Especially when you're with Decker.”

“He's not a bad guy.”

“He's a jackass.” She smacked him lightly.

He bent and kissed her below her right ear. “Maybe so, but underneath the jackass exterior, I think he means well.”

Lee ran her fingertips down Hack's chest. “Well, just be careful. He just seems like trouble.” She looked up, her mouth set in a straight line, her expression serious. “I heard about Kippen.”

“Yeah…”

“Everyone was talking about it at the supply depot. What a freak accident. I met him a few times when he'd come over to check on parts. He used to call us a lot, too, about high-priority stuff. He seemed like a nice guy.”

“He
was
nice,” Hack said. “Everyone liked him.”

“He must have been clumsy to fall off the ship like that.”

“I don't know about clumsy. It might have been suicide or—”

“Suicide?” Lee interrupted.

“His girlfriend broke up with him last weekend. He was apparently upset.”

“You said ‘or'… or what?”

“Or he had help going overboard. Kippen mentioned missing parts to Decker, and Vega thinks it might be part of a black market operation.”

“She thinks someone pushed him off the ship because of that?”

Hack shrugged. “I have no idea. I think it's just talk.”

Lee frowned and leaned into him, gazing up into his face with inviting blue eyes. “Oh well, let's forget about that.I hope you can stay tonight.”

Hack didn't reply but unloosened her arms, picked up her bag, and walked with her up the stairs to her doorway. As soon as she put the key in the door the power went out. A regular occurrence in Olongapo once the clubs cranked up for the evening and drained what little electricity there was coming through the lines. Tonight, it would be no air conditioning, and no television.

Lee unlocked the door and tried the lights out of habit. No luck. “Angie should be home,” she whispered to Hack. “Angie, honey,
nandito ka ba
?”


Oo, nandito ako sa kuwarto,
” came a soft voice through the darkness.

Angie came out of her bedroom holding a candle, and wearing jeans and a deep blue T-shirt with the word “Navy” printed in white across the front.

Lee took a sack out of her bag and handed it to the maid. “Here, I brought you something.” Angie lit another candle on an end table and walked into the kitchen,

“I try to help her out with meals,” Lee whispered to Hack in the darkness. “She buys her food at the local market, but I know she enjoys American food, so sometimes I bring her food from the supply depot cafeteria.”

Lee took the candle from the table and led Hack to the bedroom. “Let's let her eat. She's shy.”

Lee set the candle on the dresser while Hack fell back on the bed. She lay on the bed and cuddled up next to him “What do you want to do? We could go out, but the bars are always crowded. We could stay here, if you don't mind the heat.”

“Let's stay in,” Hack replied. “It feels good to be away from the navy for a night. I have duty tomorrow, though, so I need to wake up early.”

“Good,” Lee sighed. “I didn't feel like going out anyway.” She leaned over to give Hack a kiss, running her hands through his blond hair. “Mmmm. You're
maganda
.”

“What's that mean?

“Beautiful. Pretty.” She gave him another kiss. “You look very
maganda
lying here in my bed. My
maganda Mahárlika

“Thanks, I think. And what's Mahár…? I can't pronounce it.”


Mahárlika
. It means noble warrior. I heard it from a guy at work.” Lee tickled him along his midsection with her left hand. “And I have some news.”

Laughing and squirming, Hack grabbed her hand. “It's never a good thing when someone starts a sentence like that.”

“It's a good thing this time, but there is some bad news.”

“I knew it. What's the bad news?”

“I called my detailer again last night.”

Hack sat up with a serious look on his face. “What'd he say?”

“Remember when I told you a couple weeks ago I'll probably have to transfer? Well, he said I have to change duty stations,and there's nothing available in Subic. They offered me something at the Pearl Harbor supply depot.”

“Did you take it?”

“Not yet. I told him I'd think about it. He also had something in Long Beach and Yokasuka, but I don't feel like moving to Japan, and Long Beach doesn't sound as nice as Hawaii. What do you think?”

“I think you ought to go where you want to. I could try to transfer to Pearl Harbor when my time's up on the
Harvey
.”

“That'd be nice. They have plenty of ships home-ported there. I feel bad we just met, and now I'm going to be leaving.”

“So, what's the good news?”

Lee sat up and pushed Hack onto his back on the bed. “Get undressed because I have a surprise for you.”

Hack smiled. “I like these kind of surprises.”

She jumped to her feet. “I'll be back. Close your eyes until I tell you to open them.”

Hack did as he was told, undressing and slipping under the covers with his eyes closed. He could hear Lee open a drawer, close it, and then leave the room. Five minutes later, he heard the door open a crack.

“Still have your eyes closed?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now open them.”

Hack opened his eyes and focused on Lee standing in the doorway in the dim candlelight. She had on a red silk babydoll and black fishnet, thigh-high stockings. He watched her walk slowly to the bed, her ample breasts swaying in the loose-fitting top. She slowly pirouetted, revealing that she wasn't wearing underwear. She put her hands on her hips when he was silent. “You're supposed to say I look
maganda
.”

Hack turned on his side, reached out, and ran his right hand along her hip. “You look amazing,” he whispered.

Lee climbed back on the bed straddling his midsection. “I'll take that.” She leaned down and nibbled on his earlobe, her voice a husky whisper, “Now, where were we?”

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