Debts Unsettled, page 17
“Boss… you don’t have to tell me every step to take. This isn’t my first rodeo.”
“Yeah, but maybe I can help make it your first rodeo with no screwups. So, do what I say… you might get through this.” Daniel paused, BTH did not respond.
“If he forces us to the point of sending him photo proof, without warning, he’ll appear behind you. I want you to kill them both, grab the book and get out of there. Wear gloves the entire time, leave no evidence that can tie you to her or the room. As soon as you take the picture, turn around with your gun ready. If he’s determined not to give me the book, he’ll try to save the woman. Put him down.”
“What are you talking about boss, turn around after I take the picture? You’re worrying me.”
“Never mind. Do what I pay you for, BTH. Have I ever given you a bum steer?”
Bob hesitated. “No.”
Haven’t I always made it worth your while on the other jobs?”
“Yeah, you have, boss.”
“If I get the book, you can do whatever you want with the woman to make her disappear for good.”
“You can count on me, boss. You’re not gonna want to hear this… but you’re coming across like you’ve got a screw loose.”
“I don’t pay you to analyze me, BTH. That’s way beyond your abilities—just do what I tell you to do.”
31
Stephanie Clark finished the day’s photo shoot. She got into her rental car, not wanting to say goodbye to the Mountain Moonshine Festival and Car Show. She kept glancing in her rear mirror as Dawson, Georgia, faded out of sight.
So far, the best day of my trip.
Another rental car had slinked out of a side street. The driver maintained a strategic distance.
Stephanie had excellent photo opportunities at the three-day show and enjoyed learning about its car culture and moonshine history.
The people were great to work with and the variety of activities kept her camera clicking. Where else would one find a legal moonshine distillery under the same roof as the City Hall and the Georgia Racing Hall of Fame? Sunday’s activities included sampling whiskey and a church service.
She came away in love with a car. A 1961 Ford Starliner. Chrome—lots of chrome—on jet black paint. The owner had the interior done in red Italian leather. While photographing the car, she talked with the owner, finishing her conversation with, “I will own one of these someday.”
The car’s owner—mid-sixties, bald, and resembling a fire hydrant in a Hawaiian shirt—gave her his card. “When you’re ready, call me. I have connections and can help you find the right one.”
She looked down at him. “Thank you.”
Stephanie wanted to try a Cracker Barrel. Even though the Portland metro area has several, she has yet to try their food. She pulled out her phone and googled to find the nearest one, which was not too far from her hotel. On a good day, the drive back to her hotel was an hour, but the traffic in Atlanta… who knows?
She pushed “Directions” and began her drive back.
I will visit Dawson again… when I’m not working.
Stephanie turned into the Cracker Barrel parking lot and parked. BTH slammed his palm hard against the rental car’s steering wheel as he swore and grumbled, “I was hoping for room service at the swanky hotel.”
While continuing to monitor Stephanie, he found a parking spot.
After she began walking toward the restaurant, BTH got out his car and followed her. When she neared the restaurant’s front door, he waited until she entered, counted to 15, then walked in and milled around the gift shop until they took her to a table. He walked past the counter, ignoring the receptionist’s effort to help him.
He found a vacant table behind Stephanie and took a seat. A young man in a Cracker Barrel polo shirt approached. A couple followed close behind him. “Excuse me, sir, but this table is for this couple.”
BTH replied with a hiss in his voice and a smirk on his face. “You’ve made a miscalculation. This table is mine.”
Confused, the young server, not wanting to cause a scene, turned to the couple, pointed to a table the bus boy was clearing. “Would y’all mind sitting at that table? It’ll be ready in no time.”
The man glared at BTH, who looked up while putting on his unnerving smile.
“No problem,” the man said.
Seated at her table, Stephanie considered her menu choices. She noticed the little man walk past her. Via a framed wall-mirror, she followed him as he walked to the table behind her. She recognized him from the Moonshine Festival and watched him try to be sly while waiting in the gift shop.
After hearing the little man argue with the server, she switched to the chair on the opposite side of her table. She now faced him. As usual, her camera was with her—she’s never off duty—always on the lookout for interesting shots.
She picked it up and aimed it at him, taking no care to be discreet. Her first couple of pictures were of him looking into the camera’s lens. He looked away, which allowed her to take a profile shot.
She got up, walked to BTH’s table and sat across from him.
Her camera on her lap, held with both hands, she leaned into him. “Look… I don’t know what you’re up to, but you are lousy at stalking. Over the past couple of days, I have photographed you multiple times at the festival. So, whatever you’re thinking, rethink it. I attached your photos to an email and sent them to my office. In the email, I told them you're stalking me. You’ve blown whatever you’ve been trying to cover up or carry out. Back off, or next I dial 9-1-1.”
Stephanie walked back to her table and signaled to the server. “I’m ready to order, please.”
Shook up, BTH rushed out of the dining room.
BTH sat in his car, dreading the call he had to make.
“Boss, she made me. She took pictures of me and sent them off to her office.”
In anger, Daniel went off. “Why am I paying you, BTH? First you get caught searching Michael’s apartment and end up with a broken arm. Now you blow your cover on the other side of the country.”
BTH whined, “But I fooled her parents and got the information we needed.”
With restraint he reserves only for BTH, Daniel replied, “Okay, here’s what you do. Tomorrow, follow her to see if she moves on to a different location. If she does, let me know ASAP. Then get back to Portland as quick as you can. We need to set up a solid alibi for you. I’m sending in another player. Maybe she can get the job done.”
“Do I get to fly in the private jet again?”
“Be at the Atlanta airport by tomorrow night. I’ll send your flight information to you.”
Daniel ended the call while muttering, “Frickin idiot, I can’t trust him to do anything.”
“Katrina here.”
“It’s Daniel. I need your help.”
“Hello, Daniel, my dear. How can I help you? Whatever it is, I guarantee it will cost you way more than you pay your low-life convict friends.”
“I don’t have convict friends, Katrina, so the amount I pay them is zilch. I’m liking your fee.”
“Well, Daniel, I’m guessing your fee isn’t bringing you the results you want, so you’re calling someone you know who will.”
“Okay, you got me there. I need you in Atlanta at once. Write this down.” He gave Katrina his phone number. “I’ll have more information by the time you get there.”
“Are you going to give me a hint, or do I make stuff up when I get there, then bill you for my vacation?”
“You’ll have the information when you get there. Some things don’t change, Katrina, and you’re one of them. Trust me, you will enjoy this one. And I trust you’ll pull it off well. At the airport, pick up a photography magazine and read it, ads and all.”
“Sounds like a fun job. But are we in agreement on my phenomenal fee?”
“Your reward will equal the results. If the results are phenomenal, your reward will reflect that.”
Katrina was small for a hit-woman, and dangerously attractive. She’ll lure you into her web of charm faster than a bullet leaves the barrel.
“Does my husband know about this, Daniel?”
“What happens in Atlanta stays in Atlanta. Besides, you know he won’t miss you, and I have no plans to see him. The Willamette State pen is the last place I’d visit.
“Katrina, as I’ve said before, we should take our relationship to a level higher than phone calls and emails. Dump that guy. We’d be good together.”
“Daniel, I don’t think I’m good with anyone. Although the few times we saw each other across the room on visiting days, I liked what I saw.”
“A casual relationship is okay with me, Katrina.”
In her best southern accent, Katrina said, “Daniel, you make a poor girl’s heart flutter.”
“With the fees you charge, Katrina, you’re far from poor. You’ll have a text with directions waiting when you land in Georgia.”
“We have a deal, then. I’m looking forward to meeting my mystery date.”
Daniel opened his mouth to come back at Katrina’s dig but held back. “Don’t forget to buy, and read, a photography magazine.”
“It’s on the list I’m making as we speak.
“Good; later.”
Again, in the southern accent, Katrina said, “I am so looking forward to it, Daniel.”
32
Before going to the hospital to visit his grandmother, Michael stopped by his office to check-in with Trevor.
At his desk, he took a few minutes to reflect on the past few weeks. The only descriptor he could come up with was, “Amazing.”
Michael pushed the intercom button on his desk phone. “Trevor, come into my office, please. Only bring what will kill me if I don’t deal with it now.”
Trevor chuckled. “I’ll be right there, Mr. Mays.”
It took Trevor a few minutes to check and gather the information. “Good morning, Michael. It’s still awkward for me to not call you Mr. Mays, but I’m working on it.”
“It’ll get easier with practice.” Michael saw Trevor held a few folders. “Let’s move to my conference table.”
Trevor went over the information he had brought in. Most of it was signatures needed. He did an excellent job of summarizing each before Michael signed. “Last, but not least, we received a response from Kassidy Frank, Mr. Cailen’s attorney. She’s requesting a meeting but asking for several dates to help her find a fit with Mr. Cailen’s touring schedule.”
“Give her two dates, both with early afternoon times. Should be enough leeway for her and her client to get to our office.”
“Will do. Is there anything else?”
“Yes.” Michael handed him the flash drive. “Get this to IT and ask them for whatever metadata they can retrieve from the photos? Tell them I need it last Friday.”
“I’ll shoot for this afternoon.”
“Thanks. I’ll be out for an hour. I don’t recall any appointments being scheduled this morning. If I do, please reschedule them to this afternoon or later this week.”
He told Trevor what happened to his grandmother. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Michael. I’ll clear your morning.”
“Thanks.”
Michael approached a woman sitting in the hospital, Information-Kiosk. “Hi, my name is Michael Mays. My grandmother, Louise Nelson, is a patient here. Please check her room number.”
After entering the information into the computer, she looked up. “I show Louise Nelson as being checked out.”
“That can’t be. A man shot her yesterday, followed by surgery yesterday afternoon?”
“Dr. Haskel signed her release an hour ago.”
“Is he still in the hospital?”
“I’ll check. Give me a few minutes, please.”
“Sure,” Michael said, as he walked off, running his fingers through his hair as he circled the Information-Kiosk.
Did white haired Joe get to the doctor? Did he threaten him… or buy him off?
She waved him over as she hung up the phone. “Dr. Haskel is still in the hospital and asked that you meet him in the second-floor Chapel in 15 minutes.”
“Thank you. I need a cup of coffee. Is there someplace close?”
She pointed directly behind him. “Down the hall to the left, there’s a small coffee shop.”
“Thank you.”
Coffee in hand and following the signs, he made his way to the second-floor Chapel.
The doctor was there, seated and waiting for him. “Hi, Michael, I’m sure you’re confused.”
“That’s an understatement, doctor. Help me understand this.”
Dr. Haskel handed Michael an envelope. “This is for you.” Michael did not say a word. He set his coffee cup on an end table, accepted the envelope, opened it, and read:
“Michael, I know you’re upset that I’m not here when you returned. Doctor Haskel is a long-time friend and agreed to honor my decision. I told him about the threat we face. He too is a friend of Dr. Marvin Malcom, the retired ophthalmologist you met as we left church the last time you visited.
Marvin agreed to take me in and care for me. Dr. Haskel knows Marvin well and trusts his ability to do that. I felt very vulnerable being in the hospital.
I’ll contact you soon, but I believe this is best and takes pressure off you.
Please don’t be mad at me or Dr. Haskel. Again, we both believe it is best for you and me.
Love,
Your grandmother.”
As Michael looked up, the doctor said, “Michael, your grandmother was gaining strength far faster than I could have imagined. Her injury is no longer life threatening. Dr. Malcom is a fine physician and surgeon, albeit surgeries related to the eye, but I trust him to give Louise excellent care, and I’ll continue to check on her daily.”
“Doctor.” Michael wiped his face with his hands and rested them on the sides of his neck. He took a deep breath. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Michael, I wouldn’t have agreed with your grandmother if I thought this move was detrimental. The move will be good for her emotionally. And it will lessen her risk of infection.”
“Well, I know my grandmother better than anyone. It doesn’t matter what I think. She’s decided, and I trust her judgement. Thank you, doctor.” Michael stood, shook the doctor’s hand, and headed back to his law office.
* * *
BTH was in the atrium-themed hotel coffee shop hours before he would have chosen to get out of bed. He wanted to make sure he didn’t miss Stephanie or disappoint Daniel again. His gut told him she would check out, so he did the same.
He sat eating the Breakfast Special. His table was behind a partition that allowed him to see the front desk while being discrete. After finishing his omelet and hash browns, he spread two individual containers of Orange Marmalade on his last half-piece of toast. After admiring his ability to spread the marmalade evenly, he looked up and saw Stephanie approach the front desk.
He shifted behind the partition until only his left eye viewed Stephanie.
By the time she had completed checking out, he’d finished his toast and washed it down with the last gulp of orange juice. He left a $10 bill on the table and made his way to the lobby.
After Stephanie exited the front doors, he hurried to the doors but stopped to check before walking out. She wasn’t there.
He stepped through the doors and looked to his right.
She was walking into the parking lot.
He ambled across the registration parking area, then kept his eyes on her while ducking behind vehicles until he found his car.
Stephanie locked her doors and sat in her car, reviewing notes from the day before.
Ah, there it is.
It was the name and address of the cabin she reserved during lunch on her last day at the Moonshine Festival and Car Show.
A couple she shared a table with talked about an Oktoberfest they had left that morning. They said the festival ran until next weekend.
After they introduced themselves and heard what Stephanie was doing in Georgia, the wife said, “Oh, honey, it’s the cutest little town. Perfect for the brochure you’re working on… don’t you think so, Sam?”
“Stephanie, I agree with Gloria. It’s a quaint Bavarian Village and a great Oktoberfest. There’s outdoor recreation—”
Gloria burst into the conversation: “And it has over a hundred shops for… shopping.”
Sam laughed. “And she did some shopping, while I played golf on an outstanding golf course. Rooms in town are hard to find. But when we checked out, a man at the golf shop told us the cabin we stayed in—on the golf course complex—is available. That was five hours ago. If you’re interested, I can call and check.”
“I’m very interested, Sam. Thank you.”
Sam called and talked with the golf course representative while Gloria recommended her favorite shops to Stephanie.
Stephanie heard Sam say, “Great, I’ll hand her my phone. She can give you her information.”
She made a reservation, thanked Sam and Gloria, and said goodbye.
Stephanie opened her Google Maps app and entered the address the man at the golf course gave her. It was just over four hours to Helen.
* * *
BTH followed Stephanie out of the hotel parking lot, but hung back, trying to always stay a few cars behind.
He didn’t want to lose her or scare her into calling the police. His boss would have his hide.
33
After an early dinner, while heading home, Michael’s mind churned at the thought of being a target while at Woodstock Park in 1986. He was at a loss for explanation, but concluded the shooter traveled through time just as he does. And the shooter used a picture taken of him by his mother’s stalker.
The only thing he could do was to avoid being photographed by anyone, especially his mother’s stalker.
