Chapter Seventeen Another Piece of the Puzzle
Chapter Seventeen
Another Piece of the Puzzle
Friday
Madison was up early again. Mario and Luigi blinked several times. Was it time for breakfast already?
“Good morning, my sweeties. Mommy has a busy day today. I have to go into the city, but I’ll be back for dinner,” she said, and she stroked the purring piles of fur.
Madison stood, stretched, and padded to the kitchen.
The only sounds she could hear were the doves, a stray gull, and small motor skiffs heading out toward the bay.
She was having a metaphysical moment. She did an imaginary split-screen in her head.
One side was the bustling vibration of delivery trucks and motorcycles, the blaring sirens of ambulances, and jolting horns from fire trucks.
The other side was what she was experiencing at that moment.
Six months ago, she would never have given any thought to a life outside the city.
Her life had always been in overdrive. But where was she going?
Maybe, just maybe, she was where she belonged.
For now. But for now was fine. She breathed what felt like a sigh of relief.
The universe was surely unfolding as it should, or at its will.
She was finally feeling comfortable with the ride. At least this ride.
She checked the clock on the kitchen stove.
She had an hour before she had to head to the ferry.
Fridays gave some relief to the parking lot, leaving over half the spaces available.
It was a three-minute drive from her house, but the afternoon forecast called for rain, and she didn’t want to trek a garment bag up the hill.
Olivia joined her on the patio. “Good morning. I think I’ll go into the office with you,” she offered. “I am sure my desk looks like someone threw a grenade.”
Madison chuckled. “I am going to take the eight o’clock.”
“I’ll be ready.” Olivia took her mug downstairs and pulled herself together.
Madison went through the rest of her morning routine and headed out the door, but not before giving her furries a kiss on their heads.
They were halfway to the ferry landing when Madison realized she’d left her water bottle behind.
Rather than circle back, she pulled in front of the Waterwitch.
Just as she was about to open the door of her vehicle, she had another sighting of someone who looked a lot like Geoffrey Wilson.
He was walking into the Waterwitch. Madison ducked below the steering wheel.
“What are you doing?” Olivia asked.
“I think I might know that guy.”
“What guy?” Olivia looked out the window of the car and caught a glimpse of the back of a man entering the store. “Who is he?”
“I’m not sure, but I think it’s this guy named Geoffrey Wilson. One of our advertisers.”
“What’s he doing here?” Olivia asked.
“Good question. And I don’t know if that’s really him.”
“Madison, are you alright?” Olivia hadn’t seen her sister-in-law this jumpy in ages.
Madison let out a deep breath. “Yes. I’m alright, but there’s something I have to tell you.”
“What?” Olivia looked concerned.
“I think I may lose my job,” Madison said, as she slowly sat up and drove to the ferry without stopping for water.
Olivia was stunned. “But why?”
“Didn’t you see the email?”
“To be honest, I hadn’t checked since yesterday morning.”
“Merger. The parent company is merging with another multimedia company.”
“What does that have to do with you? Us?”
“You know how it goes. They pare down the staff in a cost-cutting mode and shove the additional work onto whoever remains.”
“But why you?”
“Because a machine can do what I do.”
“You’re talented, Madison.” Olivia was emphatic.
“Thank you, but you know how it is. I’m never allowed to make any of my own decisions. The autonomy they promised has yet to happen.”
“But you do a good job of juggling.”
“Except I didn’t sign up to join the circus,” Madison said, and pulled into a parking space.
“Do you have any plans?” Olivia asked as they walked down the gangway. “I suppose the next question is, do I have any plans?”
“You have a degree in psychology. You can teach.”
“I can’t wrap my head around this just yet,” Olivia said calmly. “I’ll wait it out and discuss ideas with Lincoln. But what about you?”
Madison began to tell her about her idea. “Victor and I were chatting about resurrecting my blog but turning it into a podcast. He wants to be the man on the street asking, ‘Where are you going in that?’”
“That’s brilliant!” Olivia beamed.
“I have a lot to mull over. Meanwhile, we have the house for two years, so I’m thinking about subletting my apartment.”
“Whoa! Seriously? The Manhattanite in White is going to live full-time at the shore?”
“I could be the Smuggler in skimmers,” Madison retorted.
“At least you have your sense of humor.”
“Yes, and it ain’t easy, considering everything that’s been happening lately.” Madison reminded Olivia that a lot had happened over the past few weeks. Break-ins, muggings. But she also involved herself in the investigation.
“I know I might be overreacting, but seeing that guy is more grist for the paranoia mill.”
“When we get back, check with Nancy. She may have some security footage.”
“Good idea.” Madison threw her arm around Olivia. “I knew there was a reason I like you so much!”
Viggo was also up early that morning. He and Diogo went for their walk/ride on the Henry Hudson Trail.
They stopped at Popamora Point on their way back and spent the next ten minutes playing catch as Viggo pondered what the menu should be for the following evening.
He would have made roasted clams, but he was all clammed out.
He had already decided to grill a few ribeye steaks, make twice-baked potatoes, and a goat cheese and beet salad.
Nothing fancy, but he was a grill master.
Perhaps a colossal-size shrimp cocktail to start.
“What do you think, Diogo?”
His pooch looked up at him. His pull toy was still in his mouth. Diogo made some sort of doggie sound that Viggo took as an affirmative answer.
“Okay, buddy. Let’s get back. I’ve got to get to work.”
Viggo hopped back on his bicycle, and Diogo tagged along behind.
Burton was up and at ’em early, too. There were new reports on his desk that needed his immediate attention.
Before he started on Arlo’s case, he reviewed the minutes from the council meeting.
Something struck him as odd. There was a request from the state house to review the Taylor Marina property for zoning.
He shrugged and checked the date. It was before the Wainwrights took over.
He examined the query. It was from a state senator who had been surrounded by rumors of graft a decade before, when parts of another shore town were seized under eminent domain.
The local government essentially evicted the owners, but with some financial compensation.
It appeared someone was trying it again, but here, in Smuggler’s Cove.
The query implied that the marina property could be considered “spot blight,” and therefore, could be condemned.
Burton checked the senator’s website for any hints as to why he would pursue this.
He had no jurisdiction. But it appeared he had influence.
Burton began to scroll though the photos on the senator’s site.
For someone who wasn’t well-known in political circles, he knew a few important people. People with mega bucks. Interesting.
His desk phone rang while he was peering at some of the faces with recognizable names. “Yeah?”
“Hey, Chief. We got the sample studies. Your instincts were correct. The blood on that stone is a match for Dennis Farrell.”
“Whewww.” Burton whistled. Burton replayed the video from the wildlife cam.
It fit. Two men appeared to be having an argument.
One was Dennis Farrell; the other, a well-dressed middle-aged man.
The man shoved Dennis, who fell backwards and hit his head on a rock.
The perpetrator jumped into his SUV, slammed the vehicle in reverse, backed over another rock, and took off.
The driver didn’t realize he’d scratched the underside of his SUV.
There wasn’t that much paint on the stone, but it was enough for analysis.
Burton now had a face and perhaps a vehicle. All he needed was a name.
Burton was careful to use Photoshop to remove Dennis from the photo. He didn’t want any more amateur gumshoes getting involved, although he knew Viggo would show it to Madison. Burton also knew that Madison had the good sense to follow his instructions: let the authorities handle it.
He sent Viggo a text with the photo.
Show this to a few people. See if anyone recognizes him. Mikey said he was the guy who assaulted him, so he must be hanging around somewhere.
Arlo was able to get a ride home from one of the orderlies the night before.
In return, he promised he’d bring him a real cup of coffee in the morning.
Arlo stopped at the Waterwitch, where they served the best coffee in town.
As he walked into the shop, he froze in place.
There was a guy who looked like the one in the photo Burton showed them the night before.
Arlo slowly turned his head away, just in case the man recognized him.
He didn’t know why he should, but just in case, he pretended to be checking the selection of cheese.
The man purchased a donut and coffee and left.
Arlo’s eyes followed the man as he got into his vehicle.
For the first time in his life, Arlo had the good sense to think fast. He craned his neck to get a partial glimpse of the license plate.
He borrowed a pen from the cashier and wrote it on a napkin.
“Thanks. Oh, and two coffees, please.” Arlo was rather satisfied with himself and hoped Burton would be happy, as well.
But first he had to visit Mikey and deliver the promised cup of coffee.