Panic in the Panhandle, page 13
The voice, and choice of grammar, was unmistakable. My heart began pounding against my chest. Maybe yesterday’s sales pitch was actually going to pay off.
“I don’t have anything on the calendar, Big Baby. How can I help you?”
“There is someone here with whom you would like to speak, I believe. If you can arrive before the top of the hour, I can arrange an assignation.”
It was just past nine thirty. The recycling center was twenty minutes away. I’d have to forego a shave, but a shower was a must if I was meeting someone. I wasn’t sure what the word assignation meant. I’d have to figure it out on the way.
I’d never been to Paradise Springs Reuse and Recycle before yesterday. Now, as I drove through the gates for a second time within twenty-four hours, I sat a little taller in the driver’s seat. I’d managed to avoid the worst of the massive potholes that had almost devoured me the day before.
The sense of victory was short-lived.
A vehicle emerged from the conglomeration of Big Baby’s inventory near the back of the lot. It was Longfellow’s car. The 1964 Lincoln Continental sported a jet-black finish that was so clean, it could have just rolled off the showroom floor and that was even with the awful conditions of the road leading here. The chrome front grille was polished to such a shine I could see my reflection in it from twenty yards away.
The vehicle rolled to a stop a few yards away from me. The engine’s low purr cut off and a moment later the driver’s door swung open. The Vampire emerged from the car with a fluid motion I’d never be able to achieve while exiting an automobile.
I’ll admit it. I was a little jealous of the gracefulness on display.
I’d never actually seen the man close up. He wore a suit that fit him so well it must have been custom tailored. All black, by the way. His shirt and tie were black, as well. The only color in the ensemble came from a royal blue pocket square and his two-toned wingtip shoes, which featured the same royal blue on the vamp parts of his shoes. That and a royal blue feather in the band of his wide-brimmed fedora. Once again, black.
The fact that part of his footwear was called vamp was not lost on me.
He removed his hat to reveal salt-and-pepper hair parted on the side that fell across his eyebrows, reminding me of photos of rock legend Keith Richards in his younger days.
The thing that answered any lingering questions about how Mr. Longfellow got his nickname was his pale white skin tone. It was like he hadn’t seen the sun in years, or centuries, if you believed the stories.
I didn’t honestly believe them. Well, maybe I did. In the Springs, one could never be too certain about anything.
Big Baby stepped out of their office and spread their arms wide.
“Welcome, gentlemen, to my humble office. I do hope you don’t object to this little tête-à-tête I’ve taken the liberty to arrange. Please make yourselves comfortable.”
Our host introduced us, then poured each of us a tall glass of ice water.
“What is the meaning of this, BB? You know how being out in the sun isn’t good for me,” The Vampire said.
“Which is why I brought you both inside.” Big Baby gestured toward me. “Mr. Simpson is looking into the horrific murder of Fran Cohen. Yesterday, he came to me seeking to ascertain whether you had any involvement in the matter. I surmised since you were bringing me your business this fine morning, I would bring the mountain to Muhammad, as it were.”
“What makes you think that?” The Vampire turned his whole body toward me. He stared at me with cold eyes so dark brown, they seemed to be black.
The question piqued my interest. Or the fact that the question didn’t come with a denial is what piqued the interest. I was in luck. The pin I’d found was in the truck. I dashed out and returned a moment later.
“Because I found this near the crime scene.” I held it out so both Big Baby and The Vampire could see it. “I have reason to believe your recycling route goes right past Mr. Cohen’s condo. And that you were opposed to his plan for the city to start a curbside recycling program.”
My two-part answer worked better than I’d hoped. First, it left him speechless for a moment. It also gave him enough to think about that he didn’t come right back at me by asking how I knew about his route.
“A pin? Really? You think I murdered someone because you found that trinket. BB, I thought we were buddies. Instead, you’ve lured me in here to be subjected to this silliness. Aren’t you better than that?”
Big Baby raised an eyebrow. “Steady on, my friend. Rather than behaving like a toddler unable to control their emotions, I suggest you respond to the allegations.”
“They’re not allegations.” I’d done some homework after my chat with Mom. The Vampire had shown up at a city council meeting to voice his opposition to Cohen’s proposition. “It’s a matter of public record. Unless you want to call the report in the Paradise Springs Palladium a lie.”
“That rag.” The Vampire scrunched his hawklike nose as if he’d caught a strong whiff of dead skunk. “It’s nothing more than a mouthpiece for business interests like Cohen.”
“You don’t deny it, then.” I had him. It was a moment that would have made Kate Beckett from Castle proud.
“I do not.” He lowered his gaze, his focus apparently on a ruby-encrusted ring he was spinning on his pinkie finger. Then he sighed. “That does not make me a murderer.”
I mentally put a check mark into the Motive column. With the pin in my hand, I skipped over Means and went straight to Opportunity.
“What about this, Mr. Longfellow?” I held the pin out to him again. “Big Baby seems to think it belongs to you. Are they mistaken?”
He licked his crimson lips. His gaze darted back and forth between the mountain of a human behind the desk and the small, round collectible. That told me all I needed to know.
“No. How do you know that specific bauble belongs to me? Perhaps I have one exactly like at home and you’re attempting to create evidence to fit a certain narrative.”
“What do you mean?” His response threw me. Maybe I wasn’t quite up to Kate Beckett level yet. Especially since I’d served up a softball of a question that was open-ended. He could answer it pretty much any way he wanted.
“I know what people—stupid people—in the area think about me. I’ve dealt with it all my life. Do you know I have a medical condition, Mr. Simpson?”
I shook my head. It wasn’t tough to infer I was among the stupid people Longfellow mentioned, so I kept my mouth shut. It was like signing up a new customer. If I pushed too hard, he’d shut down and I wouldn’t get any more out of him. Just like getting too aggressive in order to close a service agreement always blew up in my face.
“It’s called porphyria, or more specifically porphyria cutanea tarda. Those with my condition commonly refer to it as PCT. Have you ever heard of it?”
Once again, I remained silent and shook my head. Maybe this was a situation where he, like a criminal mastermind, was about to go off on a monologue. If he kept talking, he might incriminate himself. It would make for an easy way to wrap up the case.
“Of course you haven’t.” He took a drink of his water. His hands were covered by form-fitting gloves, similar to calfskin driving gloves. “It’s an uncommon genetic affliction. In my case, the most obvious symptom is an extreme sensitivity to sunlight. If I’m exposed to the sun for even a short period of time, my skin starts to blister, especially my face and hands. Remind you of a specific creature from folklore?”
“It does.” It would be foolish to deny it. And insulting. “Can’t you get any treatment?”
“Nobody wants to help the awful vampire. I’m the Creature of the Night.” He leaned back and let out a long laugh. The bitterness in it couldn’t be missed. “There is no cure. The best thing those like me can do is tailor our lifestyles to make the best of the situation. Thus, the hat and gloves. If it wasn’t cloudy this morning, I would have waited until after sundown to make my recycling delivery.”
“Wow. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Perhaps,” Big Baby said, with a gentleness, belying their massive size, “you could have asked someone. Like that fellow on the television says, Be curious, not judgmental.”
“You’re right.” I sat up straighter and cleared my throat. “I should know better. A lot of people prejudged me when I first came to the area. I didn’t like it. I promise to do better.”
They both gave me a quick nod. Evidently, my apology had been accepted.
Now that I knew about Longfellow’s condition, a laundry list of questions came to mind. Here was a chance to put Big Baby’s words to my advantage.
“If you’ll allow my curiosity, it seems like you’ve chosen to lean into the rumors about you, what with the black car, which is gorgeous by the way, the clothing, only going out at night. Right now being an obvious exception. Why not try to get the truth out?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” He gave me a long look. “People choose to believe what they want, regardless of what the truth is. I learned from an early age, there are certain benefits to serving as the Friendly Neighborhood Vampire. Especially in this locale.”
“Ha, ha.” Big Baby slapped a meaty paw on the desktop. “The most astute of observations, my friend. We should formulate a campaign for a new community slogan. Paradise Springs, Where the Uncommon isn’t Uncommon, or Welcome to Paradise Springs, Where the Extraordinary is Anything But.”
“Those sound great.” I rushed the words out before things could get even further off track. The Vampire had leveraged his alleged medical condition to avoid answering my question. “I’d like to circle back to my earlier question, Mr. Longfellow. Does this pin belong to you?”
“I’m afraid it’s impossible for me to say.” He removed his gloves and applied some lotion from a tube he’d taken from one of his blazer pockets to his hands and neck. “You say you found it near the crime scene. How can I be certain this isn’t a ruse of some sort? Without some sort of official chain of custody to establish the provenance of the item, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
“In that case, I believe our business here is concluded.” Big Baby rose to their feet. “Thank you for your prompt response to my summons, Mr. Simpson. Please call on me in one week. At that time, I shall have a response to the proposal you submitted. Now, Mr. Longfellow and I have a transaction to complete.”
Without giving me a second look, Big Baby and The Vampire left me. By the time I recovered from the abrupt dismissal and dashed outside, they were out of sight.
I scratched my chin as I mulled over my next move. It seemed as though Big Baby and The Vampire thought they were finished with me.
They couldn’t be more wrong. I knew it down to my core that the pin belonged to the mysterious Mr. Longfellow.
All I needed was a way to prove it. Then I’d have him.
Chapter Sixteen
I spent the afternoon responding to calls asking for emergency animal removals. They weren’t exactly emergency situations in my book, but when someone is willing to pay crisis rates for me to remove a harmless blue-striped garter snake so they can proceed with their party, who am I to argue?
The upside to the busy afternoon was that it left me with little time to think about the case. When an animal finds a spot it likes, it prefers not to be moved. Especially when the change of scenery is forced by a human who is often accompanied by a stick and/or a metal cage.
And what’s a critter to do when it’s cornered? Bite the rude human disturbing it. Even an adorable little chipmunk will try to take a chunk out of you if it feels threatened. That’s why I always wear gloves and long sleeves and give the task at hand 100 percent of my focus.
I am a literal example of the once-bitten, twice-shy cliché.
Once I finished stashing the removed critters in their temporary cages back at my place, my mind went straight back to the case. I didn’t want to think about anything else for the rest of the day, so I dialed the one person on the planet who could make me forget about everything but her with a simple shrug of her shoulder.
“Five thirty’s a little early for a booty call, Elmo. What do you want?” Nic asked after we said hi.
“Can’t a guy call a woman who’s his friend but not his girlfriend without it automatically being about sex?” I’d drunk-dialed Nic once, four years ago. The conversation hadn’t gone well. And cost me a round of drinks at the Riptide when she told everyone the story.
“It’s possible, I suppose, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. So, to that end, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”
“I’m in the mood for a nice dinner that someone else makes for me. I’ve got reservations at the Bayside for seven. Care to join me? I’d rather not dine alone.”
“What’s the catch?”
“There is none. I swear. Just you and me and the finest seafood on the Gulf Coast.”
“You buying?”
“Absolutely.”
“In that case, I’m in. Pick me up in an hour.”
I pulled into a parking spot at the marina five minutes early. Nic and I may have been in an off-again phase of our relationship, but any minute I got to spend with her was a gift from above. Thus, the early arrival.
With butterflies flapping away in my stomach, I knocked on the door to her cabin. The nerves may have been caused by worry that I’d overdone things by getting her a small bouquet of flowers.
Or something else I preferred not to think about just then.
She opened the door and let out a low whistle. “Well, look at you. A suit jacket and everything. Not bad, Simpson.”
“You’re looking pretty good yourself.” In fact, she looked fantastic in a little black dress that made her look like she’d just stepped off the catwalk at a New York fashion show. I handed the flowers to her. “For a lovely lady on a lovely night.”
“Thank you.” She batted her eyelashes at me, then with a laugh, turned and gestured for me to follow her. “You better watch out. Between the flowers and dinner, I might find myself falling for you all over again.”
“I’m glad you like them.” It was better to refrain from making further comment. If Nic wanted to get back together, she’d tell me. We’d talked about our relationship one night over a bottle of Puerto Rican rum and agreed that we were both too old to play games when it came to the heart.
While I’d always carry a torch for her, it was reassuring to know the lay of the land. And that land did not include us getting back together. Tonight was about a couple of friends spending some time together unwinding. Nothing more.
Well, mostly nothing more.
Normally, when I went to the Bayside, I parked in the lot across the street. It was free and the sixty-second trek to the restaurant was way better than paying to park in the restaurant’s on-site lot.
The situation at hand called for a different approach. I pulled up to the valet station and gave the attendant a salute.
“Mr. Elmo, Ms. Nicola, long time no see,” he said as he facilitated Nic’s exit from the truck.
“That it is, Sarge.” The attendant’s given name was William Harrison. Formerly a sergeant in the army, he lost the lower portion of his left leg during a fire fight in the Middle East. The limp caused by his titanium prosthetic was barely noticeable. Everyone else in town called him Billy. I called him Sarge to honor him for his service. My dad was a sergeant when he died. That connection mattered to me, but I kept it to myself. It was a subject that was a little too close to the heart for me to share.
When I exchanged my key for the parking stub, I slipped a fifty to him. “Were you working last Friday night, by chance?”
He eyed the bill, then glanced at the restaurant. “I was. Why?”
“Was the big boss here all night?” The restaurant was closed on Mondays. Unless she was out of town, Claudine was at work every other day of the week.
He ran a finger between his shirt collar and his neck. “She was, but now that you mention it, she left early.”
I concealed another fifty in my palm as I shook his hand.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “She left around nine and was back around eleven. Why?”
“No reason.” I handed him a third fifty. “Forget I asked.”
One of the advantages of providing on-site services to businesses in the area is that I get to know their floor plans as well as my own. In this case, that meant I’d been able to request a specific table at the Bayside. It was a window-side table for two overlooking the water. The nighttime view of the ocean from our vantage point was breathtaking.
It was also mere feet away from where Claudine liked to hang out when she had a free moment.
I made a point of saying hello to her on the way to our table.
She narrowed her eyes for a moment before raising her eyebrows. “Elmo, I apologize. For a moment, I didn’t recognize you.”
“He can be quite dashing when the occasion calls for it.” Nic allowed me to pull out her chair and seat her. Normally, she thought it was old-fashioned. It was as if she was trying to score points on my behalf.
“This evening is a time for celebration, so what better way to do that than to dress up and share a meal at the finest restaurant around.”
“That’s very kind of you to say.” Claudine actually smiled for a moment. It was a gesture normally reserved for big shot diners. “Please let me know if I may be of any assistance this evening.”
She nodded to us and walked away as our server arrived. I made sure I ordered a bottle of the restaurant’s finest champagne loud enough for her to hear. That would guarantee a return visit.
“Wow. You actually ordered a bottle of Dom Pérignon. What’s going on? And what’s with those questions you asked Billy?”
“Later. You only live once, my friend. Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we shall die, and all that.”
Her eyes lit up. “Since you’re holding out on me, then you won’t whine when I order the surf ’n’ turf? I missed lunch to accommodate a last-minute tour booking.”
