The trip home was uneventful, and when we pulled into Skip’s yard in Pilot Rock, his wife came bouncing out of the house to welcome us.
“Home the hunters!”
“Lucy, sure and don’tcha you know, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” I said trying to match her Irish brogue with little success.
Always full of good humor, her green eyes flashing and red hair bouncing, she embraced her husband and delivered a loud kiss on his cheek before turning back to me. “I’ve no time to waste on the likes of you, Mr. Jim Stanton. You’re due home as fast as you can safely make it. Jan called and told you there is news, whatever that means.”
“I’ll just pack my stuff into my truck and make tracks then,” I said in a tone to match hers. “Skip? Can you divvy up the birds and I’ll take my cooler too.”
“What’s the news, Jim?” Skip had a worried tone.
“I’m guessing it has to do with an old friend. We’ve been expecting him to call for some time now, perhaps he has. If so, I need to step lively.”
He had the cooler in hand and was headed to the house. “I’ll be right back.”
When I pulled into the garage, Jan was standing at the top of the stairs that led to the laundry and then the kitchen.
“Hi!”
I hurried to her and gave her a hug. “What’s the news? Charley?”
“Kind of.”
I held her at arm’s length and studied her face. I could see a storm brewing behind her eyes.
“Jan?”
“I’m sorry. It’s about him, not from him. I don’t know how to tell you this.”
“Try straight from the shoulder.”
“He’s dead.”
“That’s straighter than I was expecting. Chloe?”
“Her, too.”
“Who?”
“They don’t know, but it wasn’t Aldo Frank.”
I was stunned into silence. She led me into the kitchen. I could smell coffee, and poured myself a cup and sat at the counter.
“When?”
“Ray called and said he couldn’t raise your cell. I explained the reception was spotty where you were, but he should try just after dark, figuring you’d be in camp. I knew you could call me from there, but he just said that you could call from home today.”
“When did he call?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“Do you have any details?”
“Not really. They were found dead in a Boise motel room. That’s all.
“When?”
“He didn’t say, and I was so numb I didn’t ask. I’m sorry.”
“No problem.” I looked at the clock on the oven. “I think I’ll unpack, clean up, and then try his phone.”
About an hour later, I had everything back in its place and was shaving when Jan brought me my phone.
“Stanton here,” I said with a towel in one hand and the phone in the other.
“Jensen here, Jim. I told Jan I could wait until you finished cleaning up. I know how I look and feel after a week in camp or on the boat. Shower feels pretty good.”
“It wasn’t a roughin’ it kinda trip. My partner has a big self-contained camper, including a shower that I used once. But yeah, I must admit this feels pretty good. But I have to hear more details.”
“Charley and Chloe were dead for at least two days prior to their discovery by the motel manager. They had failed to check out on time.
“It wasn’t pretty, either. Somebody had a party. It looks to us as if Chloe was the centerpiece, probably used her to dig information of some sort from Charley.
“He was no prize, either, before they used a razor on him. They suffocated Chloe with a plastic bag, but our medical people don’t think there was much life left in her at that point.
“Do you think they recovered the information they were looking for?”
“Charley’s dead, isn’t he?”
That made sense to me. “Any idea what they were after?”
“I’m guessing that it was the location of the evidence Charley had on Frank.”
“But you know Frank was in his place all that time?”
“Oh, yeah. We had a UPS driver try to deliver a package to his neighbor in the next building. We watched and listened as Frank verbally abused the driver for his ignorance and lack of attention to detail.
“That’s not a nice guy, Jim.”
“How do you figure?”
“I don’t care for anyone who abuses people who serve them – from waiters and waitresses to delivery drivers, cabbies or stews; you know? What kind of people treat those folks that way? Certainly not nice people.”
“Ray, getting to know you is just like peeling pickled garlic.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. So what’s the expected time of death?”
“Monday afternoon.”
“No clues to go on?” I asked.
“Just one; a young guy was seen in the parking lot on several occasions over the weekend. Staff at the motel thought he was a limo driver associated with a guest. They described him wearing a livery-like uniform. They saw him smoking, like he was waiting.”
“Any description?”
“Nothing beyond the uniform; nobody reported seeing a limo or even a shuttle like hotels and airports use.”
“Surprised they didn’t notify the police about the loitering.”
“From the description of the clothes, it appeared to them that the guy was a driver. There was a wedding party staying that weekend, and they thought he might have been connected to that.
“The wedding party also explains why nobody complained about the noise our people think must have been part of the scene in room 312,” he added.
“No shortage of loud music and carrying on over the weekend?”
“Drunken brawl, from the sounds of it.”
“The fruits of careful preparation.” I muttered.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing, just remembering something Charley told me about good fortune.”
“Well, his good fortune ran out despite his careful preparation this time, Jim.”
“Nothing else working for you in San Jose?”
“No, we’re about to pull out and go home. Without Charley, Chloe, or their evidence, there’s not much we can do about Mr. Frank. The SJPD has him in its sights, but they’re at a loss too.”
“What about Will Craig?”
“Oh, he’s back in town. Claims he took a quick holiday to New York, took in some shows. He had the ticket stubs and the hangover to prove it. Guy lives alone, works hard, and pines for the lost love of his life.”
“Anderson?”
“Oh, yeah; big time. You have to feel sorry for him.”
“That explains his hatred for Frank. I’d keep an eye on him if I were Audrey Jamison.”
“I hadn’t thought of that, but I’m going to mention that to her.”
“Well, keep in touch, will you?”
“I will.”
“When are you pulling the plug, Ray? You never told us.”
“End of the year. My final day of work will be December 30. By spring I should have my charter license. You and Jan should come up and spend a couple days on the water with me.”
“Send me a rate card and suggest some dates. I could stand it, and Jan loves it.”
“You will never need a rate card as long as you bring her. Besides, we’ll make enough money on you at the restaurant,” he was laughing.
“Thanks for that.”
“See ya,” and he hung up.
I finished up in the bathroom and then went looking for my girl.