Tilt-a-Whirl

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“You got the number?” Morgan asks.

“Yeah,” the chief says. “We're on with the phone company … pinpointing the location.”

We're all standing behind Gus's desk, staring at the fax machine as it prints out page number three.

“It's a self-serve machine on Ocean Avenue,” Jane Bright yells from a desk phone. “Boardwalk Books. 1733 Ocean Avenue.”

“Helen?” the chief barks into the dispatcher's cubicle. “Who's close to 1733 Ocean?”

“Cochran?” Morgan's yelling at one of his men.

“Pescatore and Murphy,” the dispatcher yells back to the chief.

“Send them!”

“Boardwalk Books!” Morgan's bellowing at a guy who must be Cochran. “1733 Ocean. Take the forensics team. Go!”

“Sir?” Ceepak says to the chief.

“No, you can not go. We need you here.”

Ashley's mother walks through the front door. She's wearing her black wig and floppy hat, and she freezes when she sees all of us standing behind the front desk staring at a beige box grunting out paper.

“What's going on? Is it him?” Is it the kidnapper?”

“We think so.”

“What does he want now?”

“It looks like he's honoring our request for more specifics,” says Ceepak.

“Is that good news?”

“Yes, ma'am. I believe it means we're one step closer to bringing Ashley home.”

“Can I read it?”

“No need,” the chief says. “We'll handle it from here.”

“Are you sure?”

“It's for the best,” Morgan chimes in, giving the official FBI seal of approval to the chief's suggestion.

“In fact,” the chief suggests, “you might be more comfortable at your own home. I can have Officer Bright drive you.”

“All right, Robert. You know best.”

Ceepak and me look over at the chief, who's sort of blushing.

We've never heard anybody call him “Robert” before.

Of course Pescatore and Murphy found no one at Boardwalk Books. The coin-operated fax machine is tucked in a corner, hidden behind bookcases filled with beach reads. The sole employee was up at the cash register. Business was extremely slow, so he was sipping cappuccino and reading. He hadn't seen the fax sender walk in or out. Preoccupied with his froth. End of story.

Also, the bookstore doesn't believe in security cameras. The owner, this guy I've met a couple times, is a big fan of George Orwell's 1984 and doesn't want us “to go down a slippery slope” to governmental mind control or world domination, I forget which. Besides, what kid is going to shoplift books on his summer vacation?

Cochran, the FBI guy, dutifully dusted the fax machine for prints. He even impounded all the quarters in the money box. I'll bet you there's three or four in there without any fingerprints on them at all.

That would be our guy's loose change.

So all we have is the fax.

Once again, we have copies, and the interrogation room looks like a Barnes amp; Noble, everybody hanging out reading. The chief, Morgan, Ceepak, and me-we're all studying what the kidnapper wants us to do next: Mrs. Hart.Listen carefully! We have your daughter and have not yet harmed her in any way even though I have been tempted.If you want your daughter to stay safe and unharmed you will put ten million dollars in cash in several rolling suitcases. $100 bills are fine so are $1000s but please give me some $20 bills too.You are to place the suitcases inside the Ship John Lighthouse at noon tomorrow. The first floor. Just inside the door. The padlock and chain have been removed and you will be able to enter. When you do so, you will find instructions as to where to find your daughter at precisely 2 P.M.Yes. Sorry. You will have to wait two hours.I have friends who are with Ashley.Any deviation from these instructions will result in the immediate execution of your daughter.The friends watching over your daughter did not like your late husband so do not provoke them.Ceepak is to bring the money and then leave and not look back.If he stays, if he brings the FBI agent with the sunglasses, if he even brings a dog, your daughter dies.If the money is marked or in any way tampered with she dies. If the Coast Guard tries to stop me from leaving the island, she dies.You stand a 99 per cent chance of killing your daughter if you try to out smart us. Follow our instructions and wait until 2 P.M. and you stand a 100 % chance of getting her back. Don't try to grow a brain. Don't underestimate us. It is up to you now.Victory!

Squeegee

Everybody finishes reading about the same time. We know we will have to show this to Betty, just not right away.

“ We,” Ceepak says. “Us.”

“Yeah,” Morgan chimes in. “Saw that too.”

“Stands to reason he'd have associates,” the chief says. “Ten million dollars is a lot of money.”

“I thought you guys told me Squeegee was a junkie.” Morgan is leaning back in his chair.

Something doesn't smell right.

“We found drug paraphernalia near the Tilt-A-Whirl,” Ceepak says. “In the spot where we know the man in the Timberland boots was hiding.”

“Right. Behind the bushes.”

“What's your problem, Morgan?” the chief sounds grouchy, upset at Morgan for slowing things down.

“It just doesn't make sense.”

“I know what you mean,” Ceepak says.

“What doesn't make goddam sense?”

“Chief Cosgrove,” Morgan speaks in this slow, easy rhythm. “Since when is a junkie capable of pulling off something this big? Most junkies can't even mastermind their next score or their next bath, let alone an elaborate scheme like this. Yet, every step of the way, this thing's been carried out with military precision. The hit at the Tilt-A-Whirl. The grab on the beach. The smooth nautical getaway. The photo. The timing of the faxes.”

“What's your take, Chris?” Ceepak is interested.

“Let's run this thing down,” Morgan says. “If Squeegee is in the bushes because, let's say, he tailed Mr. Hart and his daughter to the Tilt-A-Whirl, why doesn't he just nab the girl then? If the ten-million-dollar ransom money is his ultimate motive….”

“Don't forget,” the chief says, “he called Hart a ‘fucking slumlord.’”

“I remember. So first he takes a little revenge and pops seven bullets into Hart. Fine. Then, he wants to sweeten his revenge by grabbing the daughter and ripping off the slumlord's estate for ten million bucks. Okay. But if that's the plan, why doesn't he just grab the girl at the amusement park? He's got a gun. The girl's in no state to resist. Why didn't he grab her then?” Morgan asks it again. “Why does he wait?”

“Only about fourteen hours,” the chief answers.

“Still, he waits.”

“He knew,” Ceepak says. “About the will. The probate. The potential for delay. The need to find the executor, contact the insurance companies….”

“Exactly,” Morgan says. “Sound like typical junkie thinking to you guys?”

“No, sir.”

“Sounds more like the mob,” the chief is getting with the program now.

“Or a gang,” Morgan adds.

“Danny?” Ceepak swivels in his chair. “Your friend Becca? What was it she told you?”

“You mean about Mendez and his crew?”

The chief stands up. “His crew?”

“Yeah. He and his buddies were hanging out around the pool, flexing their muscles….”

“Danny? Focus, okay?”

“I remember some of the names. Mendez. Ramirez. Echaverra. All these tough dudes, she said.”

“Gentlemen,” Morgan says, “we may have found us our ‘us. “