Retribution ("M" Mystery) (14 page)

“Hey, these have lips. I can get both hands on this first step if you give me a boost.”

Jake ran over and placed one of Buck’s feet on his shoulder.

“Man, you need to go on a diet.”

He was grunting with the effort but managed to climb three steps in a rush before having to rest.

Jake tried to look past Buck up the tunnel. “What do you see up there?”

Buck held himself tight against the wall with the tips of his fingers, his face pressed up against the space between steps. Slowly, and with great care, he tilted his head up. “The bottom of the next step.”

Jake looked at the tide lapping at the mouth of the cave. “Climb on down and we’ll get a ladder and some climbing stuff and return at low tide.”

In a fit of an adrenalin rush, Buck climbed to the mouth of the tunnel.

“Douse the flares.”

Jake turned them upside down, shoving the flaming magnesium end in the sand, plunging the cave into darkness. Buck clamped his eyes shut, knowing when he opened them they’d have adjusted.

“Now shine your light directly above my head, looks like I have a cable up here.”

The light illuminated a twisted length of cable the thickness of a broom handle wrapped in leather. He gave it a tug then pulled himself into the mouth of the tunnel. He braced his back against one wall, using the cable to support his feet and free his hands, knees half way to his chest, he pulled the flashlight from the front pocket of his waders and shined it up the shaft.

“There’s something up here about another twenty feet, could be a beam.”

Jake was shining his light up trying to see what Buck saw but the illumination didn’t go past the cable and his feet.

“Watch out,” Buck said.

He reached into the front pocket and extracted a flare, and held it to one side. Looking away, he struck it with the cap until it ignited. With a flick of his wrist he sent it upwards, tumbling end-over-end. His first glimpse was orientation. As gravity took over and the flare began to fall, he had a second chance to examine the shaft.

“Shit!”

Jake stood directly under the shaft and watched the spinning flare until the last minute, then stepped aside letting it fall to the floor where it sizzled out in two inches of water.

Buck adjusted his position a little. “I think we’ve got a body up there.”

Jake sloshed back under the tunnel in an effort to hear. “What do you see?”

Buck’s flashlight only penetrated about six feet. “Not sure, I thought I saw a shoe and a leg.”

Pressing with his feet to keep his back against the opposite wall, he slowly crabbed up the tunnel until he was just below two legs protruding from a horizontal shaft.

“Looks fresh, probably one of the occupants forced down here by the fire.”

He half crabbed, half slid up until he was level with the body, “Looks female.”

He was tired from keeping the tension in his legs and was looking for a way to cross the tunnel and enter the horizontal shaft. He nearly lost his footing when his light shone across the hand and reflected off a ring of pearl and red corral depicting a tiger and dragon. Buck caught his breath.

“M.”

Chapter Thirty-six

Mark Lima was getting nervous
, hoping M would arrive before the new machines. When the phone rang, he snapped it up thinking it was her calling to say she was on her way.

“Black Dragon Studio and Gym, how may I help you?”

He hung up the phone then picked it up pressing intercom. “All staff to the front, the new machines are arriving. All staff to the front.”

Mark fingered the credit card in his back pocket. Even though the equipment was leased, M was still required to send a small check in advance of delivery and pay another ten percent when they arrived.

Andy was outside standing between the cones that reserved the curb space. The forklift rolled out of the rear of the truck, down a ramp and through the double doors into the studio with inches to spare on either side. The machines sat on pallets wrapped in foam and cellophane. As each one came through the door on the forklift, Mark would read the label and direct the driver. Two others would be waiting to help orient the machine. It was a slow process, but in the end the various weight and pulley machines would end up right where they belonged. Usually M liked to direct each placement herself so he figured she must be caught up in the police investigation of the murders.

When the final piece of equipment was unloaded, Mark walked outside to meet with the driver, but as he stepped from the building, the truck drove away. Andy met him at the curb.

“What do you think of that? They took off before I could pay,” Mark said.

Andy looked down the street. “I guess they just circled the block.”

Mark watched the approaching truck put on its blinkers and got out of the way so it could park between the cones. The two managers walked to the rear of the truck, standing to one side as the forklift drove down a ramp. They stepped around and looked in at twelve weight stack and pulley machines wrapped in foam and cellophane waiting to be unloaded. The burley forklift driver walked up next to them, looking first at the machines then through the window into the gym. “Sure you got room for another twelve?”

Mark shook his head. “There’s been a mistake. Let me pay the ten percent for the ones delivered and take these back.”

The driver scratched his stomach. “No can do. I gotta drive to Spokane and make a pickup, truck’s gotta be empty.”

Mark turned to Andy. “Try her apartment again then call the Sheriff’s department.” Then he said to the driver, “How would you like to take a break?”

He smiled at Mark. “That I can do.”

Mark turned around to find the staff out on the sidewalk, some in the street looking at the second load of machines.

“Alright, as long as you’re out here, we’ve got about thirty minutes to get ready.”

Everyone followed him inside and into the back mat room.

“We’re going to roll up the mats and line the far wall with the new machines. But don’t unwrap them, we’ll send them back as soon as this is ironed out.”

Moving the machines went faster without the need to place them in a particular order, orienting and unwrapping them.

He watched the driver load the forklift back into the truck, then headed inside.

“Okay, I was told you’d have a credit card. If I could use your phone I’ll call our card service center,” the driver said.

Mark felt a wave of relief when he handed over the card. At least he’d have the ten percent paid for. When M showed up he’d let her sort out the double order; that’s what it had to be.

The driver set the phone down but didn’t hang up. “Rejected. You gotta ‘nother card? ”

Mark shoved the card back in his hip pocket. “How about a company check?”

“Sorry, no can do. Certified checks only.”

Mark wasn’t sure what to do next. “I’ve got someone looking for the owner right now, if you could just wait around. I’m sure she’s on her way.”

“I’m outta time, pal. Gotta be in Spokane by tomorrow afternoon. Tell ya what I will do, though. In exactly five minutes, I call the cops and have ‘em put a lock on your door until I get my money.”

“Thank God,” Mark said.

The driver turned around following Mark’s gaze, thinking it might be the owner. But he knew the owner to be a woman and the only person coming through the door was a short, pudgy, slightly balding, man. He turned back to Mark and reaching for the phone said, “Sorry, pal, gotta call the cops on this.”

The pudgy man had dashed up and snatched the phone away. “That won’t be necessary.”

The driver stood to his full six feet. “Look, I don’t want no trouble here, but unless I get my money, I’m calling the cops.”

He took a step toward the shorter man, who was now surrounded by three black belts. The man reached inside his coat and pulled out a wallet, extracted a credit card and held it out to the driver. “No trouble. Run this one.”

Looking from one black belt to the next, he warily took the card. The little man then handed him the phone. Everyone listened as the driver made the call. Turning, he handed the card back. “Card’s good, bill’s covered. Name says, Ned Scott. You the owner?”

“No,” Scott said. The owner’s attorney.”

The driver stammered out a pleased to meet you as he shook the attorney’s hand. Staff and students parted as the driver left.

Scott walked the shaken manager into the office, deposited him in an overstuffed chair. Then continued around to the business side of the oak desk and sat down. “What’s going on?”

Mark took a deep breath and made a short bow from the shoulders. “I’m so glad to see you Mr. Scott.” He took another breath and gathered his thoughts. “It started with what I think is a double order of new equipment. M left me a credit card in case she didn’t get here in time, but when he called it in, it was declined.”

Scott frowned. “That’s impossible, she has more than enough funds.”

“I don’t know, sir. After she got out of the hospital she took me, Andy, and big Jake out for lunch and that credit card was turned down, too.”

Scott rocked back in his chair, listening. When Mark finished he rocked forward and folded his hands resting them on the desk blotter.

“I’m not at liberty to explain, so you’ll have to trust me when I say that Mary Malmstrom has plenty of money. If any of her credit cards were declined it was a mistake.”

Mark sat up straighter and gave a sigh. “I believe you, sir, but when that driver wouldn’t take a company check and threatened to lock us up, I didn’t know what to do.”

Scott walked around and patted him on the shoulder. “You did just fine. Do you know where Mary is now?”

Mark half smiled, he wasn’t used to hearing her called by her first name.

“I sent Andy to call the sheriff’s office. She was helping on the murders. But that was a couple of hours ago.”

Scott paused at the office door. “Are you going to be alright?”

He joined the attorney at the door. “Yes, sir.”

“Good, then business as usual. Lock up at the regular time. If I locate Mary before then, I’ll give you a call.”

Mark gave a short bow then squeezed between the attorney and the door to stand behind the front desk.

Chapter Thirty-seven

The five boats banged
into each other and the walls of the cave with every wave, it was high tide.

One of the EMTs had climbed to the top of the tunnel, found a beam that spanned the opening and secured a pulley. Two others had started an IV of saline to re-hydrate M while they figured out a gurney system that could lower her down the narrow tunnel to a waiting boat.

Buck dropped from the last rungs of the ladder they’d bolted to the cave wall, splashing into waist deep water. He was soaked from head to foot with sweat and seawater.

“You look exhausted.”

He sloshed around to face a grinning Jake Johnson who looked equally tired.

“You should talk. Now what the hell’s so urgent that I had to come down?”

Jake held up a metal box wrapped in plastic. “We need to open this up, and you need some food.”

Buck looked up the tunnel then at the metal box. “Got a boat?”

“As a matter of fact I do.”

Two officers were turning a twelve-foot aluminum rowboat around, working it back and forth between boulders until they had it pointing out.

Jake and Buck pushed their way from boulder to boulder, trying to stay close to the wall to avoid the splashing from each incoming wave. Finally rushing to the boat and throwing themselves in, they lay in the bottom laughing.

Suddenly the cave echoed with the sound of an engine. The officer nearest the mouth waved off the boat, splashing through the water in an attempt to head it off. Jake stopped laughing and turned his head. “That must be our tow.”

Officer Eric Lemon leaned over the stern and tossed a towline to the officer. “Hey, one of you guys, toss me the bow line.”

Buck sat up and fished around among the life jackets, finally untangling the line. Swinging it around his head like a lasso, he let fly in the direction of the officer.

When Lemon spotted Buck he gave a wave and yelled, “I’ve got a message from Ramos. Is Jake there with you?”

He looked down at Jake, who was clutching the metal box to his chest. “Are you here?”

Before Jake could answer, the bow of Lemon’s boat was raised to a steep incline by a wave, then dropped with a slap as the wave passed.

“Oh shit!” Buck said.

The wave passed over the head of the officer who was attaching bow and stern lines. He lost his grip on the bowline in the process of trying to stay on his feet. Jake sat up just as their boat swung sideways, and the incoming wave lifted the side of the little aluminum vessel dumping its occupants into the five-foot deep water.

Lemon guided his boat out of the cave, spun it around and headed back in.

Standing 6” 1’, Buck was easily a head out of the water. The shorter Jake took a slap in the face with every new wave.

“If you guys are through fooling around…” Lemon said.

A thoroughly drenched officer reached out and grabbed Lemon’s bowline, reeling in the little craft like a fish, then steadied the bow while Buck and Jake waded, sputtering and splashing, moving as in slow motion to reach their rescue boat before the next wave hit, nearly capsizing it in their haste to climb in.

“Get us the hell out of here,” Buck said.

Lemon revved the 1932 Johnson nine-horse outboard, barely cutting through the next big wave.

“Where’d you find this?” Jake shouted over the scream of the vintage motor.

Lemon headed north around the point to a privately owned cove, running the little boat up on the beach, up-ending the motor to keep the prop out of the sand. All three men were tossed onto the beach when they made the mistake of leaning on the same side. Buck stood up, stepping out of his waders. Lemon was already at the bow.

“Give me a hand,” he said, tugging on the bowline.

The two pulled the boat several feet above the slapping waves.

Buck looked over at an unmoving Jake, “You alright?”

Jake, laying on his back, didn’t say a word, simply held up the metal box. He handed Buck the box so he could peel off the waders. “I thought these things were supposed to keep you dry?”