Chapter 19

Josie met me at the door. It was immediately apparent she had been crying. Either that or she’d developed a sudden allergic reaction, and it ­wasn’t ragweed season yet. I didn’t comment other than to raise one eyebrow. “I need to talk with both of you. Is Tod here?”

I was pretty sure he was. I’d seen his car parked carelessly in the driveway. She nodded and waved me into the living room. The heat and humidity had become oppressive so the house had been closed up and the air conditioning cranked. Tod was sitting on the big couch in front of the dead fireplace, head in hands.

“There’s been a development,” I said without preamble. Ever the taciturn detective, that’s me.

“I’ll say,” mumbled Tod. “I think we’re screwed.”

That wasn’t the reaction I’d expected so I stopped where I was and looked first at Tod, then Josie. She walked around the couch and sank down beside her husband, taking one of his hands in her own.

“Maybe you better explain,” I said, moving to a chair where I could see both Bartelmes and the entrance to the living room.

Tod heaved a mighty sigh and looked at me. “We just had a letter from our charter guy overseas. The first time we went to Yap, we went as tourists. While there we met some people who told us about this charter company in Singapore. They were able to get us a small salvage boat and industrial supplies we’d need to mount a serious search for the plane the second time we went over. So the first thing I did after we decided to make a trip this August was contact the company and reserve the boat and equipment we might need.”

“We even put a deposit down,” Josie said.

“And now?” I questioned.

“And now,” she went on, “we get this letter saying they’re sorry but there’s been a misunderstanding and the boat isn’t available.”

“Not even if we change our dates,” Tod said.

“Did you have a contract?” I asked.

“Sure, and we paid them a thousand bucks. They said they were sorry and the refund would arrive from their London bank in a few days. This really screws up our whole summer schedule.”

“There’s no chance of finding another boat to charter?”

Josie shook her head. “At short notice we might be able to get something else, but it’d cost a lot more. Money we don’t have.”

Tod lunged up off the couch. “We can sue for breach of contract, I suppose, damages or something like that,” Josie said, watching her husband start to stalk around the room. “But that’ll take ages and won’t get us closer to the plane. Even if we win.”

“Hang on a minute,” I said. They both looked at me. “Can I see the letter?”

Josie went to fetch it. Tod eyed me and said, “What are you thinking?”

“Timing. Timing might be important. Don’t they use email?”

“They do sort of,” Josie said, “but for contractual things it’s always been by regular mail.” Josie handed me the letter, written on creamy heavy paper with an embossed crest of the commercial salvage company.

Taking the letter in hand, I said, “I came over here to tell you about an incident of my own. This morning I was at the White Bear Lake station house to find out if there’s been any new developments about Cal’s shooting.”

“Have there?” Josie interrupted.

“No, but while I was in the building, somebody slashed the rear tires on my car. I take it as a warning that my involvement in this affair is creating some problems for somebody. Or potential problems,” I amended.

“That’s awful. We’ll pay for the new tires, of course,” Josie said.

“That’s kind of you to offer, but that isn’t the point and I won’t bill you for them, anyway. In fact,” now I was ad libbing, just making it up as I went along. I didn’t want to use them like this but my sudden brainstorm would work better if I didn’t have to rely on Josie and Tod’s acting abilities. “In fact, you aren’t going to get anymore bills from me at all, plus the original retainer, less a dollar for the old legal niceties, will be returned as soon as I can get back to the office and cut you a check.”

Tod looked bewildered. Josie shook her head. I couldn’t blame them for that. I was springing new deals on them as fast as I could make them up.

“I don’t get it,” Tod said. “You better explain.”

“Try this. I’ve been contacted by parties who wish to remain anonymous but who are interested in your efforts to find your lost relative. The interests of this party are their own, and I wouldn’t tell you even if I knew what they were. But I’ll be able to bring you substantial financial help in a few days. Your trip to Yap may be delayed for a while, but not until next year, and not forever.

“Now, here’s what you should do. Call a meeting, for, how about tomorrow evening or late in the afternoon? Invite everybody involved to come here. Tell your group you have an important announcement. When they get here you explain about this contract breach. Then you explain you’ve been working to locate a different charter company for a slightly later trip.”

“But— Tod started to protest.

I cut him off. “Do that. Take the afternoon and make some calls. Negotiate another contract with the salvage people, if you can. Or at least, begin the process. And don’t be quiet about it. We want the word to get around that you’re going ahead in spite of this temporary setback. Call my office and leave a message as to the time for the meeting. I’ll show up about fifteen minutes later. Then we’ll explain.”

“I don’t get it,” Tod said, “but I’ll do it.” His grin came and went.

“For one thing, you’re going to upset somebody’s applecart,” I explained. “This letter is dated almost a week ago. My tires were slashed today. It tells me that if this foul-up is not legitimate, more than one person is trying to mess you up, and they aren’t coordinating things. I gotta go. Trust me, we’ll sort this all out fairly soon.”

I left a quiet Bartelme living room and headed toward Minneapolis and the home of Madeline Pryor. I hoped she’d been sincere at the dance when she’d told me she was prepared to help in any substantial way she could. I was about to find out.