Chapter 43
Carlos Moss had really wanted to be helpful. Was prepared to snoop around, ask the right questions of the right people, find everything there was to know about Tommy Griffin.
But Tommy Griffin has just been shot dead. A sniper up in the mountains. At least he was able to break this news to Rosie. She said, ‘I bet he wishes he’d finished that steak now.’
Carlos Moss was supposed to head out here to ask a few questions about the man. Act like a private eye. But now he can’t.
No one is in the mood to let a Customs and Border Protection officer see his body, no matter how cool Carlos’s shades are. Carlos doesn’t want a wasted trip.
Rosie will be expecting results, and he doesn’t like to let Rosie down.
When she rang, he’d hopped on the first flight from South Carolina to Palm Springs.
It was his day off, and he was supposed to be painting his porch, but when Rosie D’Antonio calls asking for a favour, you put the paintbrush down.
They’ve got a detective agency now, Rosie, Steve and Amy, and Carlos wonders if they’d ever look to hire someone new.
Someone, how to put this, American?
It’s not that Carlos wants to leave his job, he loves his job and is good at it. But this opportunity has come at a fairly unique time for him.
Around a month ago he started watching Bridgerton and is now hooked.
Carlos has never been to England, but now thinks maybe he’d fit right in.
He’s aware that Bridgerton is from a whole other century, but places like England don’t change so much, do they?
You look at Bridgerton and then you look at Hugh Grant and it’s the same thing.
So, yes, Carlos thinks he could handle working for a private investigator in England. He’s keen to do a good job in Palm Springs, regardless, but the idea of sitting on the lawn of a stately home while somebody brings him a cup of tea is giving him extra impetus.
His original plan was to walk the streets for a while, but the place was a blast furnace. And then he couldn’t get into any of Tommy’s many country clubs to ask questions. So, again, no luck.
He has a final ace up his sleeve, however: the airport. Now this is a club that Carlos belongs to.
He’s emailed ahead already and keeps his eye out for a woman named Ruth Kirkland. She’s the head of security at Palm Springs International.
Carlos is in full uniform, and not just because he’s doing a job of work today. Even when he goes on holiday he wears his Customs and Border Protection uniform. It gets you on the plane first and through customs first.
A small blonde woman approaches him and offers a hand.
‘You gotta be Carlos Moss,’ says Ruth Kirkland. ‘I’m Ruth.’
Carlos shakes her hand. ‘Really appreciate you helping me out here.’
‘We like to catch bad guys,’ says Ruth, signalling for Carlos to follow her. ‘You like to catch bad guys?’
‘I love to catch bad guys,’ says Carlos. ‘And this guy is very bad indeed.’
‘Even better, then,’ says Ruth and swipes a security lanyard against a white panel. She pushes open a door and leads Carlos into the innards of the airport. Carlos looks around. Nice set-up they’ve got here. Bigger than he’s used to in South Carolina.
‘You said from the 15th?’ says Ruth.
‘He was killed today,’ says Carlos. ‘So I figured our guy might fly in a couple of days before.’
‘Gotta buy a gun from somewhere,’ says Ruth. ‘And acclimatize to the heat.’
‘Do you ever acclimatize to the heat?’ Carlos asks.
Ruth shrugs. ‘I mean, buying a gun is definitely the easier bit. I’ve pulled all the footage from the 15th through to this morning. You okay looking through all that? You know what you’re looking for?’
‘I know exactly what I’m looking for,’ says Carlos. ‘I’m much obliged to you.’
Carlos has an image of Jakob Eriksson on his laptop. He’s pretty distinctive, which should help speed things up.
‘You know where he flew in from?’ Ruth asks, leading Carlos down a long corridor, offices on each side.
‘Nope,’ says Carlos. ‘We don’t even know if he did fly in, it’s just a hunch.’
‘I figure it’s a pretty good hunch,’ says Ruth. ‘We had someone else asking for the same footage.’
‘Who’s that?’ says Carlos. All of the offices have tinted windows so you can’t see in. Carlos knows the drill though. Interview suites, search suites, break room, all airports are the same.
‘Interpol,’ says Ruth. ‘They’re, like, the European police.’
‘You send it to them?’ Carlos asks. Rosie will want to know.
‘We had to,’ says Ruth. ‘Even though they’re Europeans, they’re still cops, huh?’
‘I guess,’ says Carlos. ‘Probably got uniforms.’
Ruth opens up an office door and shows Carlos inside. She has set him up with a desk and a computer.
‘If you need coffee, there’s a machine two doors down,’ says Ruth. ‘And if you need me, I’m first left, second right, up the stairs and directly behind you. I’ll come and check you’re okay in an hour.’
‘Can’t thank you enough for your help,’ says Carlos, taking his seat. If Interpol is already looking through the footage, this part of the trip might be a waste of time. But he wants to send Rosie something.
Ruth leaves him in peace and Carlos starts his search. If Jakob Eriksson has been in and out of this airport, he’ll find out soon enough. A bit of him would like to find the information before Interpol too.
If Jakob Eriksson has flown in from Europe, Carlos figures he’ll have had to fly via LA, Vegas, Phoenix or Denver. Those are the nearest hubs.
Start with LA flights? Europeans like LA, though Carlos can’t think of any good reason why.
Let’s find ourselves a tall, bald killer. How hard can that be?
Carlos has set aside six hours for the task and settles in.
He knows how these things go. The first LA flight comes and goes, he scans the faces.
A couple of bald guys, a couple of guys in caps, but none is Jakob Eriksson.
Patience is the key here. The second flight now, again, a sea of faces, moving at double speed, a couple of bald guys, a couple of guys in –
Carlos stops the tape. There he is. Jakob Eriksson. Flying into Palm Springs on the day before the murder. Rosie’s going to love him, and the whole thing took under ten minutes.
Good news, Carlos is now one step nearer to waltzing in tight breeches at a Regency ball. Bad news, he has five hours and forty-five minutes to wait for his plane.
Carlos takes his iPad out of his backpack. He’s finished Bridgerton, but he figures this is a perfect time to start Downton Abbey.