The Price of Beauty in Strawberry Land (15 page)

“Okay, Theresa.
 
Let’s just pretend that did happen.
 
How long would you keep the item and what would be the disposition?
 
I mean how long would you continue to try to make delivery before doing something else?”

“Undeliverable items are held for claims – assuming the sender, recipient or some legal representative of either party would file a claim.
 
We do send out notices when this happens – but Mr. Reno – we just don’t have many circumstances like that.”

“Can you tell me if you have a package in claims for a Mr. Watson Clark?”

“No, I cannot do that.”

“Can you tell me if you have a package in claims for a Mr. Barry Lassiter?”

“No, Mr. Reno, I cannot do that either.
 
I can’t give you any of that information.”

“I didn’t ask for the package, I just asked if you had one.” I was trying.

“I know what you asked and the answer is still no.
 
We are a licensed confidential courier service.
 
We do not give out the names of any clients or any delivery or receipt information.
 
Sorry.”

“Theresa, thank you for your time – I’ll be back in touch.”

I called Larry Parker.
 
He was actually in his office.

“Larry, I think I have found the file.
 
But we’re going to need a court order to get it.”

I explained what I had learned at the Commercial Appeal and what I had learned from Theresa at Chase Courier.

“But you don’t even know the package is there?” he argued.

“I know they have been trying to deliver a package to Watson Clark, and I’ll bet you a steak dinner that package contains the file we are looking for.
 
They couldn’t deliver to Watson, so they tried to return it to Lassiter.
 
Unfortunately, he had already taken a dive off the 100 North Main building.
 
So they just keep trying to deliver on both ends, with no success.
 
Watson knew this and knew that he would need to return to the Commercial Appeal to get the file.
 
I think he intended to do this and, probably would have destroyed it - but the bad guys got to him first.
 
Had they waited, he might be alive and the file wouldn’t exist.
 
Ironic, isn’t it?”

“What if I visit Chase Courier and see what I can find out?
 
I’ll flash the badge around and maybe they’ll tell me something.
 
I would be more comfortable going to a judge if I knew the package actually existed.
 
Let me try and I’ll call you back.
 
You be in your office?”

“Unless Bubba and Bobby come back, then I’m leaving.”

“They came to see you?” There was concern in his voice.

“Yep.
 
They told me my nose was getting in their way. We had cookies and coffee and they left happy.”

“Carson, I told you.
 
Be careful and get that pistol out of your car.
 
I hope you don’t need it, but if you do, you’ll have it.”

“Seems odd.
 
A policeman is telling me to arm myself – but okay Larry.
 
I’ll do that.
 
Call me after you visit Chase.”

Then I called Monica.
 
Her maid answered and told me she was in the garden – it would be a minute or two before she got to the phone.

After making my apologies for not calling sooner, I explained that new developments might make my original investigation useless.
 
I didn’t share details, but asked her to not file any divorce papers until she heard something definite from me.
 
I assured her that this would take no longer than a couple of days and then I could give her the complete story.

She agreed and seemed relieved.
 
Underneath that crust, I believe Monica knew the truth about her husband and his illegal office activities – she just didn’t want to admit it.

Ransom

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
I
was busy playing with the mail and anxiously waiting on the return call from Larry, when Marcie buzzed and said I had a visitor
.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“His says his name is Phillip Chaney.
 
He claims you two recently met.”

I’m not sure we ever really met but I told her to send him over.

Phillip Chaney was a handsome young man.
 
Tall, muscular, athletic and blond wavy hair – that Troy Donahue look – I call it. He was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt – he looked nervous.

I shook his hand. “Phillip, welcome to my office.
 
I’m not sure we were formally introduced at Mary Ellen’s party, but you were certainly pointed out to me by many of her guests. What can I do for you?”

“Mr. Reno, I’m not sure what you can do and I hope I haven’t made a mistake by coming.
 
I heard your name at the party and they told me you were a private detective and how you had helped Mary Ellen in the past. I guess I’m here now because I need help, and I don’t know where else to turn.”

He dropped a plain white envelope on my desk – no name, no address.
 
The envelope contained a poorly typed note on plain white paper with large capital letters. It read:

IF YOU WANT TO SEE CHARLOTTE ALIVE, FOLLOW THESE INSTRUCTIONS.

BRING $200,000 IN SMALL BILLS – TENS AND TWENTIES. RETURN TO HUMBOLDT AND REGISTER AT THE HOLIDAY INN ON HWY 45 IN JACKSON.
 
YOU WILL BE CONTACTED THERE WITH INSTRUCTIONS FOR DELIVERY OF THE MONEY.

IF YOU DON’T BRING THE MONEY – SHE DIES.

IF YOU CONTACT THE POLICE – SHE DIES.

IF YOU INVOLVE ANYONE ELSE – SHE DIES.

THIS IS NO JOKE.

“Okay, Phillip.
 
Your turn to talk.
 
Tell me where you got this?”
 
I still wasn’t sure why he was here.

“It was left on my front porch – taped to the door.
 
I didn’t find it until just a few hours ago.”

“Have you contacted the police?”

“Absolutely not – can’t you read what it says?
 
If I involve the police, they will kill her.”
 
He was shaken.

I handed the note back to him.

“I’m sorry Phillip. I can’t help you – or rather I won’t help you.
 
I won’t help you unless you take this note and your story to the police.
 
Otherwise, I can be of no help to you.
 
You can’t negotiate and deal with kidnappers – it never works out – believe me.”

“But what am I going to do?
 
I’ll happily pay the money, but I don’t want to see Charlotte hurt – I couldn’t stand it if I did something that got her harmed.
 
I just want to pay the money and set her free.”

“Then I suggest you do that.
 
I’ll forget this meeting ever happened and you can handle this yourself.
 
But I want you to consider this, the chances are good they will take the money and kill her anyway – that’s the best reason you need the police involved.
 
They also might just decide to kill you too, and still take the money.
 
If you try to handle this situation yourself, you’re not as smart as I think you are.
 
Kidnapping is a federal offense, which means these guys got nothing to lose – once they cross the line there is no crossing back.”

I had his attention, but he was really scared.

“Phillip, either you take that note and leave or sit down and let’s discuss what we need to do. Your decision – and you need to make it now.”

He sat down.

“Okay, I’ll assume that is your answer and your decision to handle this my way.
 
I’d like to hear you say it – please.”

“Yes Mr. Reno.
 
We’ll do this your way.
 
Just tell me what to do.”

“First, I have some questions.
 
During the party, I overheard you and Charlotte in a spat.
 
She left crying – what was that about?”

“It was about money.
 
She needed money to bail her father out of trouble.
 
He was in deep with gambling debts to some guy named Mickey Campbell, I think.
 
Her father had tried to get money from her mother and that ended up getting him put in jail.
 
I overreacted when she asked for money and I wanted to talk it out – we never did.
 
I promised to talk with her father but that just seemed to make things worse.”

“Did you ever talk with him?”

“No, I never did.
 
And I’m not sure where she went after our fight.
 
I never saw her again that night.”

“How did her father contact her?
 
Do you know?” I asked.

“She said he called her the afternoon of the party.
 
I don’t know what was said other than he knew we were dating and he knew I had access to money.
 
I assume he was using whatever pressure he could – she never really said.”

“Did you know that he was at the club during the party?”

“No.
 
You’re kidding!
 
Charlotte never said anything about it.”

“I’m not sure she knew it – we would need to ask him or her, but I saw him.
 
I know he was there and I know he met with Mickey Campbell.
 
That’s what I know.
 
Now, where were you Friday night and Saturday?”

“I stayed in Jackson Friday night and flew the plane back late Saturday.
 
Truth is, I drank too much champagne at the party and that made Saturday a tough day – I had to sober up before flying.”

“When did you last see Charlotte?”

“At the Club, when we had our fuss.
 
That’s the last time I saw her.” He was leaving something out.

“Okay, it seems I have to pull information from you.
 
When is the last time you talked to Charlotte?”

“She called me at my hotel room – sometime Friday night, Saturday morning.
 
I’m not sure of the time – I was drunk. Remember?”

Was that a question?

“I remember that is what you told me.
 
Where did she call you from and what did she say?”

“I don’t know where she was calling from – probably her house. She didn’t say and I didn’t ask – I don’t think,” he was stumbling over words.

“What did she say?” I asked.

“Most of it I don’t remember.
 
She just wanted to make up from our fight and said she loved me and would be over to see me the next morning.
 
That’s really all I remember.”

“No discussions about money or her father?”

“I don’t think so.
 
But I was drunk – remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. When did you learn Charlotte was missing?” I asked.

“I had a message from Sheriff Epsee when I got home Saturday afternoon.
 
I told him what I knew – which was basically nothing – and really didn’t get too concerned.
 
Charlotte is the type who would really pout when she didn’t get what she wanted.
 
I figured that is what she was doing – just pouting.”

“Did you tell him about her asking for money?”

“No – it didn’t seem relevant, at the time. Guess I should have, huh?”

“Not necessarily, I’m still not sure it’s relevant.”

“So Mr. Reno – what are we going to do?” he asked.