The Good Die Twice (16 page)

“If I find out you’re holding out on me,”
Duranski warned, “I will be more than happy to show you one of our
best cells.”

CHAPTER 25

Early Tuesday morning, Sara pulled up in
front of Skizzy’s Pawn Shop just as the truck engine coughed and
died. “Darn.” She struggled to place the gear in neutral but to be
on the safe side, also put on the parking brake.

“Are you alone?” Skizzy poked his head around
Sara and checked both sides of the sidewalk and across the street.
“Hurry, hurry.” He closed the door behind her and refastened all
the locks and chains.

Sara set a cooler on the counter and a bag
saying, “I brought you some home-grown vegetables I froze and some
pickles and stewed tomatoes I canned. You should get the vegetables
into the freezer right away.”

Skizzy peeked inside the bag. “This what I
think it is?” He smiled, his face forming cherub cheeks, as if he
hid ping pong balls in his mouth. “Warm fry bread and fresh
coffee.”

“I made the fry bread this morning.” Sara
followed him down the staircase to his workroom. Skizzy was wearing
the same camouflage pants and stained tee shirt he had worn during
her previous visit. She wondered why he would wear military
clothing if he was so suspicious of anything to do with the
government, including the military.

“I’ve already swept the building for
listening devices. Big Brother didn’t sneak in here during the
night.” Skizzy wasn’t smiling.

“Do you do that every morning?”

“Yep, every morning. And if I go out for any
reason, I do it again when I return. Can’t trust them. They are
clever, yes sir.” He thumbed through pages of computer printouts
from the telephone numbers Dagger had given him. “Where is Dagger
this morning?”

“He spent the night with a sick friend in the
hospital.”

“Well, tell Dagger I highlighted all the
repeat calls and who they were to. Do you have something to put
this in? They have telescopic equipment that can read from miles
away.”

Sara blinked and stammered, “No. Do you have
an envelope?”

“Sure, sure.” He opened a large brown
envelope and blew into it, tipped it upside down. “Can’t even trust
bugs. Did you see that episode of X-Files where the government has
outfitted bugs with audio and visual equipment for spying?”

Sara smiled. “No, I must have missed that
episode.” She felt sorry for him. To be that neurotic had to take
its toll. And she wondered if Skizzy trusted anyone besides
Dagger.

“Well, I’m sure you heard about those
longhorn beetles that have been infesting some trees in Chicago.”
He leaned closer, his voice conspiratorial. “Chinese espionage.” He
nodded, agreeing with himself.

“I hope you don’t mind meeting me here.” Eric
Tyler nodded to the waitress that he wanted a refill on his coffee.
He and Dagger were seated in the restaurant at the plush Cedar
Point Yacht Club.

Dagger could see fishing boats headed out
toward the breakwall. Kids were already casing out their lounge
chairs at the pool.

“Actually, Eric, I think you will prefer that
we meet here rather than at your office.”

Eric looked puzzled. They ordered breakfast,
and once the waitress left, Eric said, “You were saying?”

“This is about Rachel Tyler.”

Eric smiled but his eyes were cold steel. His
hair looked as plastic as a Ken doll’s and his reaction seemed
pre-packaged. Absorb Question A and sift through files for
appropriate reaction.

“My father has been despondent ever since you
dropped your little bombshell. He has told me he refuses to go to
the police, doesn’t want the publicity.” Eric stirred his coffee
slowly. After several moments of contemplation, he said, “You know
this all sounds ludicrous.”

“How did you get along with her?”

Eric checked his watch. The waitress
delivered their breakfast and refilled their coffee cups. His cell
phone rang. He spent two minutes on the phone. “Sorry about that,”
Eric said. “Where were we? Oh yes, Rachel. Well, what can I say? I
was engaged to Edie when Dad married Rachel. I guess you can say we
got along like brother and sister. One big happy family.” He took a
stab at his eggs and chewed slowly.

He was a lot different from Nick. Nick was
more relaxed, laid back. Dagger could picture Nick partying til all
hours and saying the hell with it the next day when he was supposed
to show up for work. But Eric seemed more regimented, serious, all
business. He was definitely more like his father.

Dagger rubbed the sleep from his eyes and
tried to push thoughts of Padre out of his mind. Dagger had dozed
in the visitor’s lounge most of the night. Padre had a restful
night and the prognosis was good. The surgeon had reported that
most of the bullet had hit the gold cross Padre wore around his
neck. Only a fragment of the bullet had entered his chest. But the
thought that the man responsible might be sitting across from him
made Dagger’s blood boil. He was in need of sleep and tired of
waltzing the two-step with Eric.

Although this was a sensitive subject, Dagger
wasn’t in a sensitive mood. “Did your father know you had an affair
with Rachel?”

Eric choked on his toast and took a long
swallow of water. “Excuse me? Where did you hear that ridiculous
rumor?”

“Around.” Dagger chewed slowly and watched
the tinge of red creep up from Eric’s starched shirt collar to his
forehead.

The room was starting to fill up with society
fat cats clad in ascots and nautical blazers. Attractive young
women clung to the aging fat cats’ arms, some dragging along young
children.

“Well, it’s bullshit.” Eric pushed his plate
away. “Let me guess. Nick got drunk and ran off at the mouth. Truth
is, Nick was the one with the hots for Rachel. Not me.”

“Nick would have been a little too young for
Rachel. Maybe seventeen?”

With a shrug of his shoulder, Eric said, “You
know how those raging hormones work. I was totally faithful to
Edie. We were getting married. But I don’t even think Nick would
have touched her. She was Dad’s fiancee. We Tyler boys do have
scruples.”

“Where were you the night Rachel
disappeared?”

Eric’s gaze swept swiftly around the room
before resting on Dagger’s face. “If you must know, I was trying to
catch up on paperwork in my office. This is completely useless.
Unless you have a police shield to show me, I don’t owe you any
explanations. Now, if you don’t mind.” Eric checked his watch
again. “I have an appointment.”

“Look at you. I give you one simple
assignment and you screw it up.” Dagger held a bunch of flowers and
searched for a place to put them. He settled for the water
pitcher.

Padre laughed. “What did you do? Steal those
off the candy striper’s delivery cart?” He winced as he reached for
the controls.

“I’ll get that.” Dagger pushed the button to
raise the bed so Padre was in a sitting position. “I was glad to
hear you were awake and moved out of ICU so quickly.”

“That’s my insurance company for you. By this
afternoon I’m sure they’ll want me released.”

Dagger opened the blinds and walked past an
empty bed that had been tightly wrapped in stark white sheets and a
blue bedspread. He pulled a chair close to his friend. Padre’s
color looked better. He had lost a lot of blood and was lucky to be
alive. Padre would have died if it hadn’t been for Sara and her
unique talents.

“That Sergeant Duranski stopped by early this
morning to question me. Nice guy. Kinda like a Grizzly Adams.”

“Listen, Padre...”

“Hey, don’t start with that blame game. I
wanted to help out.”

“The doc says your medal may have saved your
life.”

“Yeah. God came through again.” He pushed
away the breakfast tray which contained a bowl of half-eaten
oatmeal. “That Sergeant Duranski said something about a wolf
finding me on the beach. What the hell is that all about?”

“That’s what he told me. It was probably a
dog though. Those country bumpkin cops wouldn’t know a wolf from a
dog if it bit them.” Dagger held up the photographs of the three
men. “Any of these men look familiar?”

“The two on the right.”

Padre had identified Mince and Joey. “Just
two?”

Padre nodded and explained how he had found
the bloodstained rug. “I’m sure they came back to get it.”

“Well, they got it. It could be anywhere.
They could have weighted it down and dumped it into Lake Michigan
or hauled it off to an incinerator somewhere.” Dagger told Padre
about his conversation with Eric Tyler.

“And you think he’s lying?”

“Of course.”

Padre looked over at the machines that were
beeping his heart rate and blood pressure. “That damn thing is
annoying. Unplug it. With my luck I’ll spend the afternoon waiting
to see a flat line.”

Dagger reached over and pulled the plug out
of the outlet. Immediately a voice came over the intercom and a
face appeared on his television screen. “Excuse me, gentlemen.
Please plug that machine back in.” A pudgy face framed in tight
curls smiled at them from the screen.

“Skizzy is right,” Dagger muttered as he
stuck the plug back in the socket. “Big brother AND sister are
watching.”

“Thank you,” the smiling face replied just
before it disappeared from the screen.

Padre continued, “I heard them talking,
Dagger. They said something about the body. I was in and out of
consciousness and I wish to hell my memory was better. Things are
kinda muddied.”

“That’s okay. It will come to you. Just
concentrate on getting better.”

“The hell with that. I want you to fill me
in. And don’t leave out a thing.”

CHAPTER 26

Dagger returned home around two in the
afternoon to find Sara sitting at his desk pouring over the list of
phone numbers.

Sara asked, “How is Padre?”

“Making surprising progress. He’s a tough old
bird.” Dagger pulled his shirttail out of his pants and wiped his
face.

“AWK.” Einstein fluffed his feathers and
squawked from a branch in his tree.

“Not you, fella. Padre.”

“AWK, SPREAD UM.”

“Mail come yet?”

“No.” Sara looked up from the reports. “You
doubted the possibility that there was anything to
investigate.”

Dagger smiled. Sara was right. He leaned
against the front door frame and stared out at the yard with its
perennials in full bloom and welcomed the rain shower he barely
beat home. He was silent for a while, thinking of Padre, Rachel,
and exactly how dangerous Rachel’s killer or killers were.

“It isn’t your fault Padre got hurt,
Dagger.”

Dagger turned away from the door. “I admit I
didn’t think this was going to be a big case. But I also didn’t
realize how dangerous it could be. That was my fault.”

The cool from the air conditioning felt
great. Standing in the doorway to the aviary, Dagger told Einstein,
“Little too cool out here for you, Mister. You better stay here in
your sauna.”

After grabbing a glass of iced tea, Dagger
retreated to his bedroom and closed the door. Thirty minutes later
he emerged showered, shaved, and wearing gray pants and a Henley
shirt. He shook his long, wet hair like a dog just in from the
rain. It fell in loose waves, leaving his shirt water-spotted. On
the coffee table was a plate containing a ham sandwich and a stack
of Dagger’s favorite mild peppers.

“Thanks.” He sank onto the sofa, his lack of
sleep and sore body taking it’s toll. “Einstein’s napping?”

“Yes.”

Even with the sound-proofed door closed,
Einstein could still be awakened by a phone call or loud noise.
Macaws were naturally light sleepers.

Sara carried the pages of phone numbers from
Skizzy over to the table. Dagger got a whiff of sunflowers when she
sat down and wondered what it would take to get her to give up the
few sack dresses she still owned. Maybe they could have one big
bonfire and burn the rest of them.

“Did you have any trouble with the
truck?”

“Not really.”

“Not really?” Dagger had taught Sara how to
drive a stick shift and the drive to Skizzy’s was the first time
she had driven his truck by herself.

Sara played with the hem of her dress and
studied the scars on her knuckles.

Dagger chuckled. “How many times did you kill
the engine?”

“A couple.”

“You’ll get the hang of it.” He pulled the
reports onto his lap. “What have you found?”

“One number was called repeatedly for several
months after Rachel disappeared. Then the calls were once a month
for the first year and then nothing until a couple of weeks
ago.”

“Who was it to?”

“The Carmelite Retreat. It’s a rehabilitation
institute in upper Michigan. When I checked the address, it is the
same as The Abbey, one of the Tyler resorts.”

“I don’t understand.” He read the addresses
on the reports, then looked at the printout from the Tyler web site
listing Tyler properties. “I wonder...” Dagger phoned Robert
Tyler.

“The Abbey is our property near Boyne,
Michigan,” Robert explained. “Why do you ask?”

“Have you ever heard of the Carmelite
Retreat?”

“No. Should I?”

“According to the report I have, Mr. Tyler,
The Abbey was purchased by the Carmelite Monks about six years
ago.”

“That’s impossible. I would have known
that.”

“Would you? Who besides you has the authority
to sell Tyler properties?”

“Just Eric. But he would never have done it
without my consent.”

“Are you sure about that?” Dagger listened to
Tyler’s breathing, imagining what other secrets Eric had kept from
his father.

“Let me check into this.” Tyler’s voice had
an edge to it. He was a man who insisted on control, who prided
himself on being on top of things. And who would never accept
betrayal from anyone, especially a son.