The Good Die Twice (14 page)

A voice bellowed from the kitchen. “My
business is by appointment only. Clients rarely know where I live.”
Dagger stood in the doorway. “What are you doing here, Sheila?” He
tossed his car keys in the basket on the oak-paneled bar.

“HELP ME, HELP ME, AWK,” Einstein yelled when
he heard Dagger’s voice.

Sheila turned, her face flushed, but she
recovered quickly. “Dagger, Darling.” She rushed to him but he
walked past her to the aviary and let out a soft whistle. Einstein
flew over and clamped onto Dagger’s arm. Einstein opened his beak
and spread his wings in a threatening stance. Sheila kept her
distance.

“I need to talk to you.” She looked back at
Sara and added, “Alone.”

Sara took Einstein from Dagger. “We’ll go
outside.”

Once they left, Dagger glared at her. “Don’t
ever come here without calling first and don’t EVER unleash your
condescending tone on Sara again.”

“I have to call your beeper number to talk to
you? I’m treated better than that by my maid. I have to have you
followed just to find out where you live.” She slammed her purse on
his desk but then noticed his face. “Dagger, Sweetie, what
happened?” She reached over to touch his bruised cheekbone.

Dagger pulled away and sat down at his desk.
“What the hell is so important that you had to disrupt everything
and everyone in this house?”

Sheila slid one hip onto the corner of his
desk. “Nice try, Chase Dagger. You know damn well why I’m here.
Daddy said that check was to pay you to marry me. And I want to
know if that’s true.”

Dagger leaned back in his chair and stared at
her. He didn’t know what he ever saw in Sheila. Yes, she was nice
to look at, but so was a ‘57 Chevy.

“Sure, whatever he said.” Dagger checked the
phone messages on his desk.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m sure your father has never lied to you
before.”

Sheila was silent for awhile. Then, in a hurt
voice she asked, “Have you?” She placed a hand on his arm. “Ever
lied to me? Did you mean it when you told me you loved me?”

Dagger’s head started to pound. He looked up
and wondered what it was going to take to get through to her. “If
you remember correctly, Sheila, I never told you that I loved you.
YOU have said that I love you. YOU have made comments like how nice
that WE love each other so much. YOU proposed to me. YOU set a
wedding date without even consulting me.”

She smiled seductively, batting her
eyelashes. “But you never once protested, Sweetheart.” Sheila
looked from the huge aviary to the cathedral ceiling high above the
catwalk. “That aviary is big enough that Einstein and I won’t get
in each other’s way. We can be happy here, Dagger. Let me make an
offer to Sara and I’ll buy the house from her as my wedding gift to
you.”

“Oh, god.” Dagger rocked back in his seat and
leveled a look of disgust at her. “You are unbelievable. This is
reservation land. You don’t just BUY it. You think money is the
answer to everything?”

“No.” Sheila settled both cheeks on the desk,
crossing one leg over the other, exposing her shapely legs. “Love
and great sex is the answer to everything.”

“You can get both anywhere, can even buy it
if you pay the right price.”

Sheila held up her hand, admiring her
engagement ring. “Only a man that truly loves me would buy me an
exquisite ring like this.”

“My point exactly.” Dagger stood up in an
attempt to maneuver Sheila to the door. “I didn’t spend a penny on
it. A client who had a cash shortfall paid me with that ring.”

Dagger chalked it up to his swollen cheek
that he was unable to see Sheila’s hand before it connected with
his face.

“She must have had some right hook.” Simon
handed Dagger a brown envelope as he watched Sara dab an alcohol
gauze onto Dagger’s bleeding cut.

“Maybe you need stitches.” Sara grimaced at
the fresh blood oozing from Dagger’s wound. Sheila had managed to
reopen it when she slapped him.

“WICKED WITCH, WICKED WITCH, AWK.” Einstein
flapped his wings.

“Your fiancee did this?”

“Ex-fiancee. And let’s not talk about her. Is
this from Skizzy?” Dagger pulled out the pictures and printouts on
the men believed to have killed Rachel and broken into Sara’s
house.

“Those are them, huh?” Simon peered over
Dagger’s shoulder at the pictures.

Dagger read from the computer printouts.
“Luke Gabriel, aka John Gage, John Galloway. Suspected arms
smuggler, kidnapping. Also suspected of passing counterfeit bills.
Never served time. Was arrested once for driving without a valid
license.” Dagger held up the second picture and report. “Maury
Genova, aka Manny Genteel, nickname Mince.”

Simon chuckled. “I can understand the
nickname. His face looks like he’s been in a fire. It looks like
head cheese.”

“I think he was the trigger man. He has a
list of misdemeanors as long as my arm. Been in trouble since the
age of thirteen. Served three years in a correctional institution
for petty theft, destruction of public property. Then nothing for
several years. He changed his line of expertise to armed robbery.”
Dagger flung his picture on the desk in disgust. He picked up the
last of the papers. “Joseph Callahan, aka Joe Keller. Another
rotten youth sob story with a string of misdemeanors. He graduated
to deviate sexual assault. Unfortunately, the women refused to
press charges. He met Manny in the correctional institution. I’m
sure they blame society.” He lined up the pictures on his desk.
“The question is, how did they get involved with Rachel?”

CHAPTER 23

Padre finished his coffee and studied his
notes. The verandah outside the lobby of the Dunes Resort was
spacious and ornate displaying large urns of potted plants. A
couple walked past dressed to the nines. Her brimmed hat matched
her floral dress and his suit was a cross between a tuxedo and a
Park Avenue power suit. They glanced at Padre long enough to run
their gaze slowly down his pane-checked shirt, khaki pants, and
deck shoes.

As they turned to leave, he looked down at
his attire and shrugged. All day he had run into people dressed to
the teeth, even if just for sunbathing. Many recoiled from him as
though he were some derelict begging for money, until he showed
them his business card. He had tried to remain as discreet as
possible, but hotel security soon latched onto him. It was bad
publicity for someone to be questioning their guests about an
alleged murder on the grounds of the Dunes Resort, especially since
he was out of his jurisdiction. So Padre accepted their offer of a
free dinner and a hasty check-out. But he wasn’t quite ready to
go.

“You stay with Papa. I’ll be right back.” The
young mother kissed her son and walked back into the lobby. The
boy, about four years old, pulled away from his father and walked
over to the railing, captivated by the workmen in the courtyard who
were cutting the evergreens into the shape of animals.

“What are they doing?”

Padre looked over to see the boy standing a
foot from him, his tiny finger pointing toward the courtyard, his
dark eyes round and wide in fascination.

“They just carved that evergreen into the
shape of an elephant. Do you see its big trunk?”

The boy turned and shook his head. “An
elephant?” he repeated.

“Are you on vacation?” Padre asked. The
sergeant had two boys of his own but it had been years since they
were this boy’s age. When the youngster nodded again, he asked,
“What did you like best about your vacation? The water? The boats?
Or maybe you built a sand castle on the beach?”

The boy handed a small green truck to Padre.
“The snowplow.”

“Snowplow?” Padre examined the truck. It
looked more like a piece of farm machinery. Even his boys when they
were young liked trucks. “I don’t think we have snowplows here yet.
It doesn’t snow until November.”

“There.” He pointed off in the distance.

Padre could barely see the yellow metal roof
through the trees. He could only assume it was a maintenance shed.
Thoughts clicked in his head. Maybe the killers didn’t have to go
far to hide the rug.

“Anybody here?” Dagger ducked under a sign
hanging low over the doorway of Harbor Rentals, a Lake Michigan
icon for the past eighty years. The owner had refused to sell his
property to the neighboring Cedar Point Yacht Club. But over the
years, the Yacht Club had come to rely on the many resources Harbor
Rentals had to offer.

Wood flooring creaked under Dagger’s feet.
Through the large picture window he could see the sun setting,
casting a streak of light across Lake Michigan.

A gray-haired man straightened up from his
sanding bench and cast an eye in Dagger’s direction. A gleaming
pipe fit snugly in the side of his mouth, spouting puffs of smoke.
He wore a navy blue sweater with patches on the elbows even though
the July temperatures were still hovering around eighty-five
degrees. The sparkle in his eyes and the sunburned face reminded
Dagger of The Old Man and the Sea. The office was located on a
converted houseboat and docked right at the entrance to Cedar Point
Harbor. The odors of fish and fuel fought for dominance.

Sailboats, motor boats, and charter fishing
vessels dodged the jet skis at the entrance to the marina. Boaters
walked the piers carrying coolers, fishing gear, and clothing.

“Howdy,” the old man said. “What can I get
ya?”

Dagger handed him a business card. “I was
hoping to speak to any of the crew on board Rachel’s Dream about
five years ago.”

“That’s a long time.”

“I know. But you look like a man who keeps
halfway decent records.” Dagger examined the old wheel the man was
sanding. Its smooth lines and texture testified to the old man’s
patience and attention to detail. The sign above the showcase of
antique boat wheels and fishing poles said Salty’s Antiques. “Are
you Salty?” The old man nodded, pulling a file folder from a
cabinet behind the desk.

“I remember that day,” Salty offered.
“Beautiful woman. Never did find her body, though, did they?”

“No.”

“Why the interest now?” Pleats of flesh
rested on his eyelids as he peered at Dagger inquisitively.

“You know bureaucrats.”

“Ahhh, and the insurance company wants to
make sure she’s not cooling her heels on some beach somewhere. But
I would think that her life insurance would be a drop in the bucket
for Tyler.”

“It’s a little more complicated than
that.”

“Here we go.” Salty’s leathery hands ran down
the rental agreement to the crew names. “We have a lot of turnover
in this business, I hope you realize.” He puffed vigorously on his
pipe in thought. “Grant Oakley quit about two years ago. I think he
went off to one of those islands in the Caribbean to work on a
cruise ship. But Pete Foster, he’s still here.” Salty took his pipe
out of his mouth and pointed it toward the picture window. “That’s
him putting Calcutta to bed.”

Dagger walked along a shaky pier and past
several slips until he came to the forty-foot sailboat. “Can I come
aboard?” he called out. “Salty said I could find you here.”

“Who’s asking?” Pete peered out from behind
dark sunglasses tethered to his head by a neon green strap. His
torso was bronzed and muscular and his hair bleached blonde by the
sun.

“Chase Dagger.” Dagger handed him his
business card. “I need to speak to you about the disappearance of
Rachel Tyler.”

Pete checked his watch and popped a beer can.
“Off duty,” he announced. “Do you want one?”

Dagger declined and sat down on one of the
bench seats. He tucked his sunglasses in his shirt pocket and
leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He found his ribs and stomach
felt better in this position.

“I read the police report so I won’t take up
too much of your time.” Dagger waited until Pete finished tossing
the bagged garbage on the pier and took a seat across from him.
“According to the police report, neither you nor your fellow crew
member heard Rachel call for help.”

“That’s right.” He took a long swig from his
beer, his gaze turning briefly to the cut on Dagger’s cheek.

“Is it customary for you to not radio for
help when you run out of gas?”

Pete took another long swallow of beer.
“Sure. Especially when the person hiring you tells you not to.”

“So you had no wind and no gas and you
decided to anchor for the night.”

“Mrs. Tyler said her husband would be taking
a small boat out to meet us.”

“So everyone fell asleep and when you woke
up, Mrs. Tyler was missing. What did you think?”

Pete shrugged, crumpled up his empty can and
tossed it into a five-gallon bucket nearby. “Old man Tyler picked
her up in the middle of the night. We didn’t know anything was
wrong until the Coast Guard showed up the next morning.”

“That was around six o’clock?”

Pete nodded.

Dagger studied his hands, picking at a sliver
of wood on his index finger. “Can I tell you my scenario?”

Pete stared at Dagger with his baby blues
blinking slowly.

“I think the crew had a few too many beers
and passed out. That’s why you didn’t hear the splash. That’s why
you didn’t hear her call out for help.” Dagger studied the man’s
Nordic features, a sure attraction for any woman with a heartbeat.
“Or maybe,” Dagger suggested, “you gave your buddy enough booze to
pass out and you and Mrs. Tyler had a party of your own.”

Pete flashed a quick grin, winky winky. “Now,
that wouldn’t be nice, would it?”

“It certainly would be difficult to admit to
the police much less to Robert Tyler. And maybe you had a little
bit of decency in not wanting to smear the reputation of a dead
woman.” But Dagger was certain it would take more than decency for
Pete to keep a secret. “Or maybe the price was right.”

“Never know.”