Chapter Thirteen Covert Operations #2
“Maybe it’s because he reminds you of your father?” Viggo didn’t want to insult Madison, but he also didn’t want her to feel afraid of something that was likely just a figment of her imagination.
“That is entirely possible. Emotional scars run deep,” she said with confidence.
Viggo decided to drop Diogo off at his house, and then the duo headed to the new Borough Hall, where the police station was located.
They approached the security entrance. “Hey, Captain!” the guard said. “What brings you to our spanking new building?”
“Hi. I’m … I mean, we’re here to see Chief Burton,” Viggo answered.
“You heard about his promotion? He deserved it.” The guard pushed a clipboard through the opening in the Plexiglas window so the guests could sign in. He looked at Madison. “You’re Ms. Wainwright, right?”
“Yes. Yes, I am,” Madison replied cordially.
“You guys did a great job with the marina. I mean, it’s the best-looking building on the water. At least around here.”
“Thanks. Kirby was well-liked, and we wanted to do it for him and the town.”
“It’s becoming a regular hangout after work. Boy, nothing like a nice juicy clam sandwich.” He rubbed his stomach. He picked up the phone and told the chief he had visitors.
Viggo was carrying the rocks in his duffel bag. The guard pointed to it and said, “Gotta check your bag. Regulations.” He peered inside. “Rocks?”
“A new hobby of mine,” Viggo said with a straight face. Madison didn’t contradict him. The guard buzzed them in.
The chief rose from his chair. “Madison. Nice to see you.” He shook her hand. “You as well, Captain. What’s on your mind?”
Madison and Viggo looked at each other. Which one was going to lay out the wild suggestion that another person could be involved with Dennis Farrell’s demise?
Viggo started by saying that he and Madison were discussing the recent chain of events, and there had to be more to the mystery than a couple of treasure hunters. Viggo pulled the rocks from his duffel and placed them on the conference table.
“A new hobby?” Burton joked.
Madison snickered and offered her take on the situation.
“There are too many loose ends from when Dennis Farrell’s body turned up and the recent incidents.
Kirby seems to be the common denominator.
But why? Once they, whoever they are, got their hands on the map, that should have been the end of it, no? ”
“Good point. And, yes, Kirby is the common denominator.” Burton turned the whiteboard around to reveal his latest summation. “This is what I was talking about.” He nodded to Viggo. “Having a set of fresh eyes.”
Madison blinked several times. It was like being in the middle of a homicide investigation with her Uncle Kirby’s name smack-dab in the center.
“This is why we want you to set up the meeting with Arlo.” Burton stood and presented her with a W. Ludolph brass binnacle nautical compass. “It’s valued at over one thousand dollars.”
“I’ll be careful. Now if I can just remember what it’s called.” She grinned. “I’ll phone Arlo now to set it up. Do you have the number?”
Burton read the number in Dennis’s file. Madison dialed.
“Hello. This is Madison Wainwright. May I speak to Arlo Farrell, please?”
“You got ’im. What can I do for you?”
“I heard you do appraisals of nautical objects. Is that right? I have a compass that I would like to get an appraisal for. Just a rough idea what it’s worth. Could you possibly come by tomorrow afternoon at three o’clock?”
“Hang on.” Arlo checked the desk calendar. As usual, there was nothing booked. “Yep. Three, tomorrow.”
“Excellent,” Madison replied, and gave him the address. She would save the shoeless part for when he arrived. She didn’t want him to be put off by some crazy quirk.
She ended the call, gave the thumbs-up, and the three resumed going over the whiteboard.
In the upper right corner of the board was the information about Dennis.
The upper left corner had notes about the break-in at the boat house and a photo of the boot print.
The lower left corner had information about Pauline’s, which was nothing except the approximate time of the incident.
The lower right corner contained information about Crusty’s attack.
Burton explained how Arlo fit in. “We need to get a copy of his boot print and scrape the treads to see if there is any evidence that could match Pauline’s property, or any glass fragments that could match the framed map.”
Madison nodded, and Burton continued. “We have a CSI agent scheduled to arrive at your house around two thirty. When Arlo arrives, you ask him to take off his boots, and then the two of you go to the lower patio.” He paused as Madison jotted something in her notebook.
“Keep him busy for fifteen minutes. Ask him how many of these compasses he’s seen.
Stuff like that. Arlo is a talker and will go on until you escort him upstairs. ”
“How will I know when the coast is clear?” Madison asked.
“Keep your cell phone handy. The agent will send you a text.”
“Got it.” Madison then realized they should hide Uncle Kirby’s boxes, just in case they were what Arlo had been looking for. “Excuse me a minute.”
She phoned Olivia. “Liv, put the boxes in the guest room for now. I’ll explain when I get back. Thanks.”
“Good thinking, Watson.” Viggo smirked.
“It’s Emma Peel,” Madison said matter-of-factly.
Burton looked a little confused by their secret language, but shrugged it off. “Any questions? Concerns?” he asked.
“I’ll see if Lincoln is available. Just as backup,” Madison suggested. She knew Viggo wouldn’t be available. There was a regatta in the bay, and the Coast Guard always provided a small response boat with two crew members.
“Now what about those rocks?” Burton asked with a grin.
“Back to our speculation that more than one person is involved in these incidents … Madison had the idea to go back to where Dennis’s car was found.”
Burton cocked his head. “Go on.”
“Even though the coroner declared it was an accident, couldn’t someone have facilitated the accident?”
“Like pushed him into the river?” Burton quizzed her.
“Maybe … but take a look at these.” Madison enlarged the photos on her phone, and Viggo showed him the spots on the rocks.
“Interesting theory.” Burton pulled a magnifying glass from the pencil holder on his desk. He peered at the photos and then the rocks. “We might be able to get a paint match, or something close. And we can also check to see if this is blood—animal or human.”
Madison let out a sigh of relief. “I hope this is helpful.”
“I guess we’ll find out,” Burton said. “But I have to caution you, the ruse tomorrow is key. I don’t want you to get caught up in anything unnecessary.”
Viggo chimed in. “That’s his way of telling us to stay out of his police work.”
“I know asking you to help with Arlo is out of the ordinary; in fact, I could lose my position by enlisting non-employees. But this is an unusual situation, and my concern is that it’s escalating.
I want you to be careful, and yes, I don’t want anything to compromise this investigation or your safety.
We’re working with crumbs right now. After tomorrow, I’d like for you, Madison, to please remain a bystander. ”
“Understood,” Madison replied, and nodded. She truly didn’t want to compromise anything, including her safety.
“Alright. We’ll recon after Arlo’s visit.”
As they were leaving, Madison reminded Viggo of the basket of snacks. “You can have them for dinner.”
“Why don’t you join me?” he suggested.
“I’d love to, but I’ve been goofing off a lot with work, and I have a few memos, too.”
“Rain check?” he said, and remembered what he got the last time he asked for one. He smiled. “The last one went rather well.”
“Dinner, Saturday?” Madison suggested. “Your place. You cook.” She thought to herself: That was one gutsy move, Madison. Olivia will be proud.
“Deal,” Viggo said. “Mind if I grill something?”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Madison grinned. “I’ll swipe something from Lincoln’s wine fridge.”
Viggo drove Madison back to her house. They sat in the car for a few minutes, going over the mechanics of tomorrow’s mission.
Madison said she planned to set everything up that evening: placing pairs of shoes outside near the front door; slippers in the entrance.
Viggo took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Be careful.”
“I will. I’ll send you a text after we pull off this caper.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, opened the car door, and hopped out.
“Good night, Emma Peel.”