Chapter Fourteen More Pieces of the Puzzle #3
Myra was circumspect. How could she continue the conversation with Charles if the rooms were bugged? They had been together for many years. He should understand her code words by now. She dialed his number.
“Hello, love.”
“Hello, Mr. Martin.”
That was Charles’s first clue that Myra could not speak freely. “Yes, Ms. Regan. How can I help you?”
That was Myra’s clue that he knew there were, or could be, unwelcome ears.
“You may recall I’ve been considering moving south.”
“Yes. Florida, I believe?” Charles was in the game.
“Yes. I found a lovely spot in Pensacola. Sunnydale. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”
“I have indeed.”
“There appears to be a number of prospects looking at the same model I am interested in, but I have not yet decided whether or not it’s right for me.
They offered for me to stay here for a few days.
Test drive it, so to speak. However, they are having an open house this weekend, so unless I give them a deposit, I may not be able to rent one of the lovely villas. ”
“I see. How much are they requiring?”
“Sixty thousand dollars.”
Charles let out a whistle. Myra hoped no one else within earshot could hear it come over the phone line. “That’s a lot of bacon.”
“I know there is a limit of fifty on single debits per day, so I will need you to approve the rest.”
“I see.”
“They said it would be refundable up to thirty days.”
“That should not be a problem. We can oversee it. Sign a promissory note, and we will wire the money.” Charles was giving her the go-ahead. It would be three days before any banking could be done, regardless.
“Alright. Thank you, Mr. Martin. Enjoy the rest of your day.” Myra stood and walked to the door. When she opened it, Clayton almost fell into the room. Myra had no doubt Clayton was listening, which meant there were no audio devices in that particular office.
“My banker suggested I sign a promissory note, and they will do a wire transfer. I trust that will be acceptable. You can phone my banker if you want confirmation.”
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll draw up the papers in a jiffy. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Water?”
“Water with lemon, no ice, please,” Myra replied.
“Coming right up!” Clayton practically waltzed out of the room.
In three days, there would be a chunk of change in the account.
That should please her nephew. He’d been in a vile mood lately, pressuring her to rent more units or sell more drugs.
Ever since that Jeremy kid got wise to the shortages, they had to lay low for a while.
Up until then, they were collecting an easy five thousand a month they added to their other “ventures.”
Things had been running smoothly during the pandemic. Bodies were moving as fast as the Indy 500. But now, they were down to a handful.
She suggested a scheme to visit oncology suites where patients were getting chemotherapy.
The person would pretend to be waiting for a family member and go on about how they were moving them to a wonderful care facility at Sunnydale.
Then they would show them beautiful, glossy brochures.
“Wouldn’t you rather be somewhere like this?
” was their tagline. Surprisingly, it worked rather often.
The only hitch was finding people who had no family to intervene.
When they were successful, they received a generous bonus.
They were the latest edition of ambulance chasers.
But Max put the brakes on that one. It was too complicated and required too much coordination.
A few minutes passed, and giddy Edith returned with a small tray that held a Barre carafe filled with water, a matching tumbler, and a matching bowl with several wedges of lemons. They really put on the Ritz, Myra thought to herself. “Thank you.”
“Let’s finish up all this bothersome paperwork, shall we?” Clayton grinned.
“Yes.” Myra scribbled her fake name. Not only was it not-so-legal, it was also illegible. Perfect. She handed the folder back to Edith, who couldn’t wait to get her mitts on it.
“What do we do next?” Myra asked sweetly.
“I’ll give you a set of keys. If you don’t mind, we will put you in the villa you saw today. That is, if you don’t mind the furniture. When you decide to move in permanently—see, I said ‘decide to move in,’ because I know you are going to love it here—then you can choose whatever style you want.”
“That sounds like a splendid idea.” Myra so wanted to use her fake British accent. “I’ll go back to my hotel and have my things sent over. Will that be alright?”
“Perfect.” Clayton clutched the folder against her chest as if someone might rip it from her fingers. That would come soon enough.
“And what about the open house? Will you be showing the one I am staying in?”
“Oh, absolutely not!” Edith gasped. “They are all similar models. The only difference is the exposure. Yours has a northern one. Keeps the place a little cooler.”
“I see. Well, thank you, Ms. Clayton, I mean Edith. You have been most helpful.”
“My pleasure. When you unpack your things, please give me a jingle, and I can go over the weekend events we have planned.”
“Sounds delightful. Thanks again.” Myra got up from her seat and placed the folder with her copies of the agreement into her Louis Vuitton tote bag.
Edith walked Myra to the main entrance, where her car was waiting. “Chat later!”
Myra waved and sped off. She wanted to get back as soon as possible. She hadn’t unpacked everything, so shoving her toiletries into her bag wouldn’t take but a few minutes.
Facilities Building
Yoko and Danny did their morning evaluation of the property.
It entailed driving up and down all of the paths, checking for plants that needed attention.
They stopped several times to pluck a few dead leaves off the hibiscus, trim a few branches, and spray for bugs, if they found any.
On a normal day, the process would take approximately two hours.
Yoko took down notes while Danny drove. In some instances, they had to return to some areas to replace something.
By the time they made the rounds, it was noon.
Lunch break. Also, Yoko’s opportunity to go back and check out that truck’s bumper, if all went according to her plan.
As they were walking into the warehouse, Yoko asked Danny if it was necessary for them to change. She doubted they provided more than one small uniform since the day before. “I hardly have a speck on me.” Yoko looked down at her pants.
“I suppose it’s okay, but you can’t go into the lunchroom.”
“Can you do me a favor? I brought my lunch and put it in the refrigerator. Would you mind grabbing it for me? I don’t mind eating out here.”
Danny shrugged. “Sure. No problem. I’ll be right back.”
Yoko almost felt guilty that she was stealing ten minutes of Danny’s lunch break. She decided to bring him coffee the next day. Maybe a donut to go with it.
She watched him walk into the building and calculated how long it would take him to walk to the far end, get her lunch from the kitchen, and return. She figured she had a sliver of time.
As soon as he was out of sight, she casually walked toward the area where the trucks were parked.
She remembered it was the truck on the left that had the marks on the bumper.
Several feet separated it from the other parked vehicle.
She looked around as if she were looking at the scenery, not looking for anything specific.
Even though it was a facilities yard, there were ample trees, birds flying overhead, and a clear blue sky.
It was rather nice for an industrial area.
She spotted two guys leaning against the building, smoking cigarettes.
Do people still do that? The men must have been no older than thirty.
That was plenty of time to have heard all the ads and seen all the horrid commercials with sickly, dying people.
They looked over in her direction. She grinned.
“Those things are going to stunt your growth!”
Both young men laughed out loud. “Too late for that!” They flagged her off.
She was confident they thought she was simply a coworker taking a stroll.
Yoko walked to the rear of the yard, where she had climbed the chain-link fence the night before. She dodged between the trucks and made her way toward the front bumper. Her front flap pocket contained a small plastic evidence bag, a penknife, and an emery board.
Looking toward the building, she began to scrape the paint flakes into the bag when Danny’s head popped into view. She dropped the bag and placed her foot on top of it.
“Nice looking rig,” she called out to Danny as he started walking toward her.
“Yeah. They spare no expense when it comes to the rigs around here.” He handed her a brown bag and held a white one in his other hand.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. The lunch counter didn’t look very appetizing today, so I got myself a couple of dogs. The company spared no expense on the appearance of the place, and the quality of the tools, but the food is rather meh.”
To Yoko’s surprise, Danny sat on the front bumper of the rig. “It’s a nice day today. Figure I might as well enjoy it. I mean, we work outside, but we don’t get to relax.”
Yoko wasn’t sure which way she should move.
She had to get the plastic bag out from under her shoe.
As she opened her lunch bag, she intentionally dropped a napkin.
“Sometimes I am such a klutz.” She bent over and scooped the bag up with her napkin.
That was a little too close for comfort.
She shoved the crumpled napkin and the plastic bag in her side pocket.
Danny handed her one of his napkins. “I always get extra. Mustard ends up everywhere on me. I guess I’m just a slob,” he said, and chuckled.
Yoko didn’t think Danny was anything close to being a slob. He was well-groomed, and his boots were always clean. “I wouldn’t say that.”