Undercurrent: A P.I. Munro Crane Romantic Suspense Thriller Page 7

  The whole thing was probably a monumental waste of time. With a sigh, he texted Doug and told him he’d be free next week. A day or two more at the most, then he was off this case. The whole thing left a sour taste in his mouth.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Sarah parked outside the U.S. Coast Guard building at Astoria Regional Airport in Warrenton. She was right on time for her eleven o’clock appointment with the Columbia River Sector Commander, Captain Kendrick, who she’d spoken to briefly on the telephone. He was the man who’d located the Lucky Strike and pulled Rick and Chef from the water six months ago.

  “I’m not sure what else I can tell you,” the captain had explained when she’d called yesterday, but she’d insisted and so he’d agreed to meet.

  The unremarkable Toyota Corolla was her vehicle of choice today. The guy at the rental company had said silver, but it was more of a dull grey. It didn’t bother her. Quite the contrary – the more nondescript the better. Besides, it tied in with her grey mood and the cloud-covered sky, which threatened rain at any moment.

  Her own car was parked downtown outside a restaurant where she was supposedly lunching with a friend. Kaz was in New York on business and had taken his bodyguard, Aneez, with him. Thankfully, they weren’t due back until Friday, which left plenty of time for her to do some investigating into Chris’s death. After last week, it was unlikely Kaz would think her foolish enough to keep digging.

  He didn’t know her very well. That bastard wasn’t going to keep her prisoner anymore. If she couldn’t look into Chris’s death as herself, she’d do it as someone else. She was a qualified journalist, after all, and old habits died hard.

  The dark wig, expertly tinged with grey, made her look older than her thirty-five years. Early forties, maybe? Was it her imagination or did it bring out the little wrinkles and fine lines which had developed around her eyes of late. Something else she could blame on her husband. To complete the disguise, she’d added a pair of spectacles. Glancing in the review mirror, she hardly recognised herself. Perfect. On the odd chance Kaz had someone watching her, this disguise would fool all but the most observant – off which his goons were not.

  “Good Morning,” she said, as she walked into the coast guard’s district headquarters.

  A smart woman in regulatory uniform sitting at reception glanced up. She wore an ear piece and spoke into a hands-free device.

  “I’ll call you back,” she said to the person on the line, and smiled at Sarah. “How can I help you?”

  “I’ve got an appointment with Captain Kendrick,” Sarah explained. Her hands were sweaty. She wiped them on her jeans. All the commander knew was what she’d told him on the phone. That she was Chris Elliot’s fiancé, and needed to understand what had happened so she could get closure on his death.

  “His office is on the first floor, through those doors over there.” The receptionist gestured to a set of glass doors behind which Sarah saw a flight of stairs. “You can go on up. He’s expecting you.”

  Sarah thanked her and went up to the Captain’s office. Questions about Chris’s accident ricocheted around her head. She hadn’t lied on the phone, she did need to understand what had happened. Hopefully, Captain Kendrick would have some answers.

  Captain Kendrick’s office was bright and airy, a total contrast to the dark corridor she’d just walked along. He had a great view too. His office overlooked the bars and shoals at the mouth of the Columbia River where it emptied into the sea. Known to be unpredictable, especially with changes in wind direction and swell, the river mouth was calm and glassy, reflecting the clouds above, and she could make out the small town of McGowan nestling in the hills on the opposite side.

  “Miss Belafonte?”

  Sarah smiled. “Please call me Julia.” The name belonged to a friend she’d had at college. It was the first thing that had popped into her head when she’d made the call.

  “Please, take a seat, Julia.”

  Sarah sat in a hard-backed chair which looked out of place in the plush office. It wasn’t designed for comfort and would have been more fitting in a classroom or lecture hall. Perhaps the captain didn’t like his visitors to stay for too long.

  Captain Kendrick, himself, sat in a black leather ergonomic chair behind a large, white desk which contained a flat-screen computer, an open laptop, a desk phone and two cellular phones, as well as a mound of paperwork. The Captain was a busy man.

  “I won’t keep you long. I just want to ask you a few questions.”

  The Captain smiled at her and his eyes crinkled at the corners. He had a friendly, open face, with a wide smile and lots of even, white teeth. He sat upright, shoulders back and had an air of capability about him that she liked. He probably made an excellent Commander.

  “Fire away. I’m so sorry for your loss, Miss Belefonte. I mean, Julia. I believe Chris was an extremely able seaman. It’s a tragedy he died in this way.”

  “Yes, thank you.” She hung her head for a moment, gathering her thoughts. It was okay to let the Captain think she was overcome with grief, for she had been six months ago. It would have been far worse if she’d been living with Chris all these years, but because she hadn’t seen him since that awful day four years ago, it dulled the effect of the pain. The sadness, however, of lost opportunities and the life she should have lived, that they should have lived together, was something else. Something which would never go away.

  “I’d like to talk about what you think happened that night? I believe there was an investigation into the accident. I’d like to know what was found?”

  Crane sat in his car and studied the layout of the airport complex. It was too dangerous to park outside the U.S. Coast Guard building. Too few cars there. She’d spot him in an instant. So he parked outside one of the other buildings where there were more vehicles, but even here he felt conspicuous like he didn’t belong. At any moment, someone could come out and ask him what he was doing.

  More to the point though, what was she doing? He was completely baffled. The disguise had been superb this time. He nearly didn’t spot her, and wouldn’t have except he was watching the entrance like a hawk and studied every face that emerged. The black hair tinged with grey had thrown him. She looked so much older. Still attractive, mind you, but more like a woman in her late forties or early fifties, rather than the thirty-something she was.

  He noticed she hadn’t removed the wig when she’d gone inside. What did that mean? Was this somehow connected with Mr. R. Copeland? And why the coast guard? He sighed and rubbed his forehead. None of it made any sense.

  Movement outside the coast guard building caught his eye and he watched as Sarah emerged, a frown on her face. She appeared deep in thought, and didn’t so much as look up before she opened the car door, threw her handbag onto the passenger seat and climbed in.

  Crane hesitated for a moment. He could follow her, but she’d probably just go back to Portland now she’d seen who she wanted to see. It was getting late and it was a two hour drive home, so he doubted she’d go anywhere else today. If it was Kaz who’d hit her last time, she wouldn’t want to delay her return. In fact, he was amazed she’d tried it again so soon. Whatever she was doing must be important to her. Important enough to risk another beating.

  She rose in his estimation. Brave woman.

  He watched as her grey Toyota cruised through the base and out onto the exit road. Still he didn’t move. He had to find out what she was doing in there, who she met with. Starting his car, he drove back to the coast guard building and parked in exactly the same spot Sarah had occupied just moments before.

  The receptionist smiled as he walked in the door. He was still formulating a plan when a smartly dressed man in a decorated uniform came through a pair of glass sliding doors. He held a pair of spectacles in his hand.

  “Susan, keep these behind reception. That lady I just saw left them on my desk. She might come back to claim them.”

  Perfect.

  “Oh, that would be my sister
,” he said, stepping forward and extending his hand. “She just sent me in to fetch them.”

  At the man’s confused look he added, “I was waiting in the car.”

  “Oh right.” He handed over the spectacles.

  “I’ll make sure she gets these,” he said with a grin. “I’m afraid she’s a bit forgetful.”

  “She seemed very upset when she left,” the man said, a frown creasing his brow. “I hope I didn’t upset her, but she wanted to know what had happened.”

  Crane nodded like he knew what was going on. “Actually, do you think we could have a quick word? I’d like to help my sister through this if I can, and it would help to know what you told her. She tends to keep a lot of things to herself.”

  It was a long shot, admittedly, and he’d made a sweeping assumption the news was unexpected, but whatever Sarah had wanted to know had distracted her enough to forget her glasses.

  The Captain paused, then glanced at his watch. “I have five minutes. Follow me.”

  Bingo.

  “I’m Captain Kendrick of the U.S. Coast Guard,” the man said, as he took a seat at his desk. “As you probably know, your sister was trying to find out what happened to her fiancé.”

  “Yes, I know. His death hit her very hard.”

  God, he was winging it. What the hell did he mean, fiancé? She was married to Kaz. Had been for six years. What the hell was she playing at?

  “Well, like I said to Miss Belafonte, it appeared to be a dreadful accident. The boat capsized in the storm, probably due to a collision with another vessel. We found scrapes on the starboard hull. There was no trace of another vessel on our radar. So whoever was there vanished from the scene. All three men were swept overboard. They weren’t wearing lifejackets.” He shook his head as the tragedy of it. “When we got there, we dived on the wreck, pulled Mr. Copeland from the vessel and resuscitated him on deck. Unfortunately, Mr. Manning was already dead when we got to him. There was nothing we could do. We never found Mr. Elliot’s body and called off the search after forty-eight hours.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  This case got stranger by the minute. Crane decreased his speed. His agitation was showing. It wouldn’t do to get a speeding fine on his way home. He calmed down and tried to focus his mind.

  Right, what did he know so far?

  First, Sarah went to see some guy in Astoria who survived a boating accident. A friend maybe? Whoever he was, she knew him well, judging by the fond greeting and the removal of her disguise once she’d got to his house.

  Second, she’d met with Captain Kendrick who’d commandeered the rescue mission. He’d said Sarah, or rather Miss Bellefonte as she’d called herself, wanted to understand what had happened. In other words, she was investigating the accident. Why?

  The Captain had mentioned a collision. Had the information upset her so much she’d left her fake spectacles behind? He put them up to his eyes and peered through them. Glass. They were obviously part of her disguise. She wouldn’t bother to go back for them.

  But the fiancé? What was that all about? He bit his lip and squinted against the afternoon sun which was just at the wrong angle and hit him from his side window. Was it an excuse to get the information from the Captain? Or was there more to it? Had there been something between Sarah and the man whose body had never been found? Lovers, perhaps?

  Crane drove into Portland and slowed right down to below the city speed limit. It was rush hour and traffic was bad. There was nothing for it, he had to cross through the downtown area if he wanted to get home. The slow pace gave him time to think.

  There was no way Sarah was having an affair. No way. He hadn’t thought so to begin with and now he was convinced. She was investigating this boating accident. The collision had surprised her. Upset her. He didn’t know why but he wanted to find out. He also had to find out who Elliot was and what he meant to Sarah. What was their connection?

  Then there was Kaz, his client. Did he already know about the investigation or was it more a case of he wanted to know? He’d said Sarah was into something, disappearing for hours at a time, acting strangely.

  Crane was willing to bet Kaz didn’t know what his wife was up to, but he sure as hell wanted to. The affair was a front, a reason to hire him. He grimaced at how easily he’d been taken in by Kaz’s manipulation. Other attempts to follow Sarah had failed. That’s why Kaz had hired him. He was someone new, someone his wife didn’t know and wouldn’t recognise.

  Except now she would. Perhaps not his car, but definitely his face.

  The question was, what to do with this information? Did he go to Kaz with what he knew? Tell him about the meeting with the coast guard? He should, after all, the guy was his client. And he owed him. Except he couldn’t in all good consciousness do that. Not after he’d seen Sarah’s black eye. If Kaz didn’t like the fact she’d gone to visit an old friend, he certainly wouldn’t appreciate her probing into the incident.

  Finally, two and a half hours after leaving Warrenton, Crane pulled up outside his cabin in the forest. Blaster and Spirit dashed around his car, barking their welcome. It was their supper time and he was late.

  “Sorry, boys.”

  He unlocked the front door and went inside, the dogs following closely at his heels. It felt great to be home. Too late for a kayak, though. The sun was already setting. In half an hour it would be dark.

  “Long day,” he said, as he went about making their supper, after which he threw together a sandwich, poured himself a beer and went to sit outside on the porch. It was chilly, so he wrapped a jacket around his shoulders and listened to the sounds of the forest as night fell. Crickets sung out of tune, leaves rustled with wildlife, foraging for their supper and in the background, as always, the river roared, full and fast.

  He could sit here for hours listening to that sound. He knew every gorge, every rapid, every boulder like the back of his hand. In his head, he followed its dangerous path, twisting and turning for miles as it raged downstream. It had taken time getting to know it so well, and a good few beatings, but they were friends now, the river and he. He chuckled. Maybe not friends, but they understood each other.

  After pondering the case for some time, he made a decision. What he needed was information and there was only one guy who could get that kind of information for him quickly. Doug.

  Crane met his old mentor for dinner the following evening at a Mexican restaurant west of the city. It wasn’t a great Mexican restaurant, but it was a good one. Unpretentious and reasonably priced, plus the relleno burrito would satisfy even the most voracious appetite.

  “Is this your way of apologising for being unavailable all last week.” Doug raised a sceptical eyebrow and picked up the menu.

  “Actually, no. It’s my way of pumping you for information,” Crane replied, enjoying the surprised look on Doug’s face.

  “You mean you’re not clear of the case yet?” Disappointment was evident in his tone.

  “It’s the case I want to talk to you about. It’s getting weirder by the day. I think I might be onto something here, but I wanted to run it by you.”

  The waitress came over and they ordered. Chile rellenos and carnitas, with a beer to wash it down.

  “So shoot.” Doug sat back, arms across his chest. “Who’s your client?”

  “A guy I used to know back in Afghanistan. Name’s Kaz Erkel. He’s some big shot businessman. Imports and exports, or so it says on his business card.” Crane slid the still-shiny business card across the table. “Ibex International Imports. Mean anything to you?”

  Doug picked it up and studied it, eyes narrowed, a frown on his forehead. “This is your client?”

  “Yeah, you know him?”

  Doug scratched the corner of his mouth while he thought of an answer.

  “I take it that’s a yes,” Crane remarked.

  He took a swig of his beer while he waited for Doug to decide whether he was going to answer or not. When no reply was forthcoming, he said, “Look, I�
��ve been tailing his wife. The guy thought she was having an affair – or so he said.”

  “But you think otherwise?”

  “I know otherwise.”

  Doug pursed his lips, but said nothing, waiting for Crane to continue.

  “She’s investigating some boating accident which took place off the Oregon coastline a while back. I think she knew the victims. The other day I followed her to Astoria where she met the sole survivor, a man called Rick Copeland. They looked like friends.”

  The waitress returned with their food, so they stopped talking while she put it down and enquired if they needed any more drinks.

  “Nah, we’re good,” Crane said, eager to get back to his story.

  While Doug attacked his carnitas, Crane continued, “So I looked up this boating accident. It was a fishing vessel that capsized forty miles off the Oregon coast six months ago. The coast guard reckons there was a collision and it went over, although they never found the other boat. Two of the three men on board drowned.”

  Doug nodded as he chewed. When he was done he took a swig of his bear and said, “None of this is of particular interest to me, however, just because of who your client is, I’m going to tell you something I probably shouldn’t.

  “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

  “You know it’s classified information.”

  “This is me, Doug.”

  His old friend nodded. “Kaz Erkel has been on the DEA watch list for years now.”

  Crane’s eyes grew wide. “What does Drug Enforcement want with him?”

  “At this stage they don’t have anything solid on him. It’s just rumours. On the surface, he’s a successful businessman. Imports cotton and textiles from the Middle East. Nothing strange there.”

  “So what’s the catch?”

  “We suspect he’s bringing in heroin. Lots of it. High grade stuff. Very exclusive clientele. Can’t prove it, though.” He shrugged. “Like I said, on the surface he’s squeaky clean. He pays his taxes, he does everything by the book. Got a partner who’s a hotshot accountant, name of Kramer.”