The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3 (68 page)

"I
wouldn't believe it was Harry if I didn't know better," Betty said
admiringly.  She and I looked over Father Harry O'Rourke.  The chemicals from
the frosting kit, left on longer than safely recommended, had turned his
temples gray, and I added some tiny streaks here and there for effect.  His
eyes were red and tired looking.  "Pool water," I explained to Harry
as I rinsed his eyes with the stingy solution.  He thought I would blind him. I
told him not to think so far ahead.

Michael
brought over what he called his Roman Catholic attire, which consisted of
pants, blazer and shirt with collar.  The clothing fit Harry loosely, but it
did fit.  Equipped with cross, rosary and bible, Harry could pass for a priest.
 We opted to drive the rental car, and I gave Betty the keys to my BMW.  It
would be an uncomfortable ride for Michael and his cast if they needed to use
the car, but it was all I had to offer.  Harry's jeep was still at Pahokee.

"Well,
this gets Harry in, but how are you going to get in?" Michael asked,
looking at my blue-jeans and t-shirt.

"I'm
picking up my costume at the hospital.  No, don't ask."  I pulled Harry
away from the mirror and headed out to the car.  "We'll get back as soon
as we know anything," I promised as I closed the door.

"I
can't believe what you did to my hair," Harry whined as we drove over to
the hospital.

"Don't
worry, a little black dye and you'll be as good as new.  Besides, it makes you look
distinguished."

"Liar,
I look like a whisky priest."

I started
laughing.  "Then I did a good job." 

We drove
the rest of the way in silence.  I parked in the back, and we went in through
the MRI department.  Harry chatted up the technician while I lifted a gown and
slippers.  I changed into them, hiding my clothes under the paper towel
dispenser, a trick I learned from Harry.  I came out and shuffled my way behind
him until we came to a lone wheelchair at X-ray, which we stole. I got in the
wheelchair.  Harry had two comments about my disguise: "You shouldn't be
wearing underpants," which I ignored and "What kind of makeup did you
use to get all those horrible bruises?"  I told him that it wasn't makeup,
and all he said was "Ouch."

He wheeled
me into the elevator, but once we were on Dwayne's floor I was on my own. 
Harry exited first and approached the nurse's station to inquire after his
parishioner Dwayne.  I rolled by them and got as close to the guarded room as I
could. I just sat there like an orderly left me there.  No one questioned me
except to move me a bit when they needed the room to pull a bed through.

Harry
walked right into Dwayne's room without being stopped by the guard.  I hadn't
yet figured out how I was going to get in when someone grabbed my chair from
behind.

"I
think your bed is made by now," a thick Hispanic voice purred.  I looked
up and saw Betty in nurse’s scrubs.  She wheeled me briskly past the guard and
into Dwayne's room.  "There now, you wait here while I get you another pillow,"
she said, leaving the room to start a conversation with the guard.

Dwayne
occupied the first bed.  His eyes were closed as Father Harry was praying over
him.

"Is
he awake?" I hissed, rolling my wheelchair closer to the bed.

"I'm
awake," Dwayne said groggily as he glanced at me.  "You hit a tree
too?"

"No,
just you.  I’ve a bit of a ringing in my ears though.  How's your ears?"

"Just
fine, but my head feels like a five-Manhattan morning."

"Ouch. 
I understand that."

"Ahem,”
Harry interrupted, "Time is precious, and you're talking hangovers?"

"Sorry,
Dwayne, I bet you’re wondering why I'm here?"

"It
seemed a bit odd, but the last few days have been a nightmare.  I just thought
this was more of the same."

"Do
you know that you’ve a guard outside your door?"

"No,
but with this head I'm not going anywhere."

"Have
the feds been in to question you?"

"Someone
was in earlier, but I was so groggy that I couldn't tell you what he said or
what I said."  Dwayne swallowed hard.  "Father, could I have some
water?"

Harry
poured some from the pitcher into a glass with a straw.  He tenderly helped
Dwayne drink some and then returned it to the tray.

"I
know this is a bad time, but we're trying to stop something horrible from
happening.  I need you to tell me about why you were at the airport
Thursday."

"Bill
Metts called me and said that he heard of a storage facility that I could have
for my toy drive.  All I had to do was help his landscape crew move some
storage boxes out of there."

"Were
you supposed to drive the boxes anywhere?"

"No,
I drove over and was helping them load when your brother-in-law came and helped
me.  Good thing too, because my help took a break, and I would have been left
doing it all myself."

"When
you were finished, what happened?"

"I
remember heading over to the office to wash up before heading back into town. 
I got as far as the bathroom, and then I woke up where you found me."  He
pulled a very mangled hand through his hair.  “Thank you by the way.  I’m not
too fogged up not to remember you saved me from…”

I put up a
hand to stop him.  “Don’t think about that right now.  You can buy me a drink
sometime.  This Bill Metts, who is he?

“He's a
celery farmer."

"How
do you know him?"

"Some
of his workers send their children to the school."

"Why
would he have access to Pahokee Airport?" I questioned.

"I
never really thought about it.  I guess I just sort of rushed in to take
advantage of his offer."  Dwayne shook his head as to clear it.  "Wait,
Bill has a couple of crop-dusting planes.  He could have them there."

"Not
there but at Belle Glade.  Okay, now you're sure this Bill Metts called
you."

"Yes."

"It
wasn't anyone masquerading as him?"

"No,
yes, no, how would I know?  I only met the man a couple of times."  Dwayne
twisted uncomfortably in the bed.

"Is
there anything else you can tell us about your ordeal?"

"The
bastard that kept kicking me at the cabin kept telling me that I better
cooperate or all the children would die.  All I could think about was the
kids."  Dwayne's fist balled up.  "Cin, I swear if I ever... Hold
on."  Dwayne held up his hand as if it helped him bring clarity.  I can
tell you why I didn't think twice that Bill was genuine, because it was him
that donated the buses to the school.  The only bump in the deal was that the
school would let his church use the vehicles from time to time as long as it
didn't interfere with the school day."

"I’ve
a feeling that Manuel was..."

"He
came from one of Bill's farms," Dwayne filled in.  "My God, sorry
Father, if I had any inkling that accepting those buses would put the children
in danger.  I would have never done it."

"Dwayne,
I want you to rest.  If the feds come back, tell them everything you told me. 
I'm going to have to leave before they get here.  They don't like me much.  The
kids are safe.   We had someone there all day."  I got up to leave and sat
right back down as there was a commotion in the hall.

"What
do you mean?  I was told to put the woman in 351B!" an outraged Betty
explained.  "Okay, I'll go get her, but you better not blame it on me, no
way, ah no, not me."  She huffed into the room, grabbed my chair and
wheeled me out of the room right past the guard, right past a suit and down the
hall into the elevator, all the while keeping up her pissed off Latina persona.

The doors closed,
and I jumped up and hugged her.

"Careful,
honey, we're not out of the woods yet."

"You
have to call Michael and tell him that Bill Metts, a local farmer, is at the
root of all of this.  Have him find out what kind of planes he owns.  I think
we'll find out that they’re at Belle Glade right now."

"How
sure are you?"

"Very
sure.  As soon as I get dressed and Harry catches up, I'll call Dave.  We need
those priests, now."  The doors opened and I ran down the hall.

It was a
bit of a miracle that I didn't get caught and more of a miracle that my clothes
were still in the bathroom.  Someone, however, had stolen my shoes.  They
weren't good shoes.  I wore them deliberately so no one would want them and
they would be there when I got back.  Probably someone with a foot fetish.  Well,
I hoped they got some kind of fungus for their trouble.

I got into
the car and pulled it around.  I had driven barefoot before.  It was against
the law, but I hoped that I wouldn't be breaking any traffic laws on my way
back to the house.  Harry strolled out of the door still in character.

"Come
on, Father, move yer arse," I yelled in my best Cockney accent.

"Cute,
very cute," Harry said, getting in.  "Where are your shoes?  Oh never
mind, I should know better."

"Get
on your phone and call Buslowski.  Tell him what we know," I said, pulling
out into traffic.  The sun had gone down and we were behind the ball.  "Tell
him I think that they’ll reposition the planes tonight.  The airport doesn't
have a control tower. Betty will have briefed Michael by the time we get
home."

Harry was
speaking on the phone, so I shut up and let him handle it.  I concentrated on
my driving, and soon we were pulling into the driveway and into the garage. 
Betty pulled in right after us, and we all hurried inside to regroup.

Michael
was in the den typing furiously into the computer.  "They already flew two
planes out of Belle Glade.  The county guys watched them do it."  He was
studying the screen for a moment and picked up the phone and dialed.  "Thomas,
Metts has got three properties listed, but only one has a blacktop road long
enough adjacent to the property. 1532 South County Line Road.  I don't know,
use the OnStar."

"Where
are they now?"

"They
don't know.  They were following the plane’s lights and then lost them."

"What's
OnStar?"

"It's
a navigation communication device, all the expensive cars have them,"
Harry supplied.

"What
are they driving?"

"Lexus."

"How
does a priest afford a Lexus?" I asked to no one in particular as I left
the room.  I needed a change in clothing and to find some shoes as I was going
out hunting for the planes.  I would look at places that weren't necessarily
paved but firm enough to land a plane in.  You didn't need pavement, but they
would need clearance and security.  And I wouldn't need OnStar.  I had county
road maps.  Sometimes paper beats technology.

"Where
are you going?" Harry asked from the doorway.

"We're
going to look for those planes."

"We
as in..."

"You
and me."

Harry's
face lit up.  "It's a big county, but I bet we'll find them."

"How
can you be so sure?" I said, lacing up a boot.

"Because
you used to work out there, and you're wearing your lucky boots."

"Okay,
so why do you think these are my lucky boots?"

"Because
those are the boots you brought back from England.  They are the only footwear
to survive your trip, hence, lucky boots.

"How ever
do you remember all this?"

"I’m
very observant.  I think, as detectives, I should be Sherlock and you
Watson," he said and narrowly missed getting clobbered with my other boot.

There was
no time for that, so I picked up my boot and put it on after securing my “mean
knife” and ran out of the room.  I stopped briefly to tell Michael what we were
up to.  Betty had already left for parts unknown.  Michael would coordinate and
update us all.

"I'm
driving, you're mapping." I tossed Harry a penlight I took from Luke's
stash.  "And if we live through tonight, we’re going to have a little talk
about being detectives."  I backed out of the driveway and sped off into
the night.  I shook my head thinking, “Watson never drove such a hot carriage.”

I had
always dreamed of speeding down State Road Seven.  Well, tonight I passed
ninety without blinking.  I would have to slow down once we left the highway,
but until then I was going to let the little roadster have the road.

"Where
are we going?" Harry asked, pulling his seatbelt tighter

"To
the airport to get your jeep.  This car isn't going to be any good to us where
we're going.  I hope you have gas in it?"

"Dave
filled it up," Harry said smugly and added, "If it's my car then I'm
driving.  Shit!  Are you really going 105?"

"I'm
not sure the gauge is accurate at this speed.  Where was I?  The jeep.  Of
course you'll drive the jeep.  It's manual."