In The Company of Deceit

Chapter 25 - Sometimes Crime Pays

Captain Virgil Watters took a bite of the powdered donut and sat back looking like Larry Park's version of Al Jolson. He set the balance down on a piece of letterhead and dusted his hands off to the side of the desk. Ted and his partner both bit their cheeks to keep from smirking at the image.

"The Provo Hotel killings." Virgil's thunderous voice bounced around the panelled office.

"Sir?" Ted ventured.

"The D.A. is very unhappy with the results; both with the 'who did what to whom' and the unrecovered monies." He framed the phrase with air quotes, which only intensified the Jolson image, and Bruce couldn't help it, he burst out laughing.

"Something funny about that Detective Dickerson?" Bruce shook his head but couldn't answer for choking.

"Sir... your face... the donut...?" Ted made a gesture around his own lips.

Virgil grabbed a hanky from his pocket and wiped his face clean. "Is that better, Detective?" His brown eyes flickered gold with displeasure.

"I'm sorry sir, it just- you looked like─"

"What is the D.A. asking for, sir?" Ted interjected rapidly.

Virgil eyed his donut and decided to leave it for the moment. "We have lawyers and families all clamouring for answers, citing everything from sullied reputations to wrongful death suits. And, they all seem to think they have a claim on the money."

"That's horseshit."

"That may very well be, Detective, but we are up to our plumbing in it as a result."

"The coroner couldn't make a definitive determination about the killings, what the hell are we supposed to do? As for the money, it could be anywhere. Hidden. Stolen again. Lost. Who the hell knows."

"That is where the name Detective comes in." Virgil growled with icy irony. "There are a number of unidentified prints on the pack belonging to Wireton, as well as the Ashbury-Stark luggage. It might prove prudent to begin there." A large black hand formed a fist and drummed on the desk, sending little showers of white powder from the donut onto the floor.

"Sir that could be hundreds of people from baggage handlers, bus personnel, other passengers... Christ you name them."

"No Detective, you name them." Virgil pulled his chair forward and picked up his donut, holding it in front of his mouth and glaring at Bruce.

******

"What did you get?" Bruce asked as Ted came back to his desk and carelessly tossed the file across to him. Two days had passed and Captain Watters was looming in Ted's dreams.

"About twelve sets of unidentified prints. They ran them through all the databases and got almost zilch."

"So they are plain vanilla citizens that, like you said, could have contacted the bags anywhere."

"What we do have," Ted gloated as he sat down and put his feet up, "from Belinda's bag, are three sets of female prints. Belinda's, Virginia Stahl, and one other."

"Sure, the daughter."

"Wrong, my young friend." The gloat carried over to the expression. "There are no prints on Ashbury-Stark's bag belonging to Mildred, the daughter."

Bruce stared at his partner, his mind racing around the apparent importance of that fact, and then it hit him.

"A different bag."

"Bingo, partner. Somebody substituted the bag sometime after the arrival at the hotel. Everyone agreed she never let the thing out of her sight. Took it everywhere, dinner, shopping, you name it. She always had the bag with her."

"So then how could it be substituted?"

"One possible time would have been when she left it in the hall while she was in Wireton's room, otherwise Hagen would never have been able to swipe it."

Bruce pushed the folder back across the desk. "That doesn't jibe. How would he know when it would be left alone and what, did he magically conjure up a duplicate at just the right time?" Bruce sat up. "Wait, you said, one possible time."

Ted dropped his feet and sat forward. "Kate Semple and Belinda confronted Mookie just before he burst into Mickey's room. In their statements Belinda fled to her room and Kate went to call the desk. Nobody mentioned the bag. Later when Belinda came out of Mickey's room, the officer on the scene said she looked frantically around and collapsed. So if she didn't take it with her when she fled, it sat unattended in the hall until she came back."

"Okay, but it must have been there or she wouldn't have hung around to get mixed up with the three guys."

"Right again, partner. So, on the bag Hagen took we only have his prints, Virginia Stahl's, Belinda's and─"

"Holy Shit, Semple's was the other set!"

"Ta da!" Ted grinned and sat back again, his vision of Virgil now one of smiling, complimentary appreciation for good detective work. "I had the boys do a check around town for recent luggage sales matching the description of our bag, and it seems a Miss Kate Semple bought one just last week on the night it rained so badly."

"You didn't tell me about this?"

"If I was wrong I intended to take Virgil's flack on my own."

Bruce had nothing to say. He just looked a little sheepish at his partner.

"One big problem, partner."

"What's that?"

"She's gone and there is no record at any of the transportation sources of anyone matching her description buying tickets anywhere and the hotel lost and found had Belinda's original bag."

"But she had to travel somehow."

"We've got notices out on her right across the country, but dames can change their appearance like chameleons and with nearly half a million bucks she can buy anonymity as well. The two detectives just looked at one another with 'what can you do' expressions.

******

Kate tipped her seat back slightly, sipped her drink and looked out the window. A bright blue sunny sky smiled back. She closed her eyes and counted over and over in her head, the nearly half a million dollars she'd found in Belinda's bag. She thought of all the events leading to this moment, and the absolute out of character actions she had taken. A smile took shape.

"I wish I could have dreams like the one you seem to be having." Kate opened her eyes and saw the flight attendant grinning down at her. "It's lunchtime, Miss Harlow, would you care for something light or something hot?"

Harlow. She'd almost forgotten. "Light I think, and another of these please." She passed her glass to the attendant and raised her seat back.

Seven thousand in the top of the duplicate bag, enough to give Virginia and Benjamin their celebration, plus another fifteen hundred to acquire a new driver's licence, passport, and some other necessary papers in the name of Cynthia Harlow, was cheap at twice the price. The best part was leaving town; it had been via the old reliable thumb and short skirt method, virtually untraceable.

The flight attendant set the tray of food in front of her and handed her a fresh drink.

"Enjoy your meal, Miss Harlow."

"Thank you, I will." Kate smiled.

Now she could begin again, maybe on the sun coast of Spain, build a new life under her new name. Maybe write a book about her adventure. Yes, that would be fun. A book describing the rebuilding of her life. She might even get Richard to promote it . . . anonymously of course . . . wouldn't that be an ironic lark. Her laugh caused several heads to turn, and Kate acknowledged them with her raised glass.

The End

Thanks to everyone who rode the bus with me and stayed on. I hope it entertained and was worth the trip. This came about from a bus trip I took with my son back in the 70s. Toronto to Palm Springs in 36 hours, $60 each! (about 7 times that today and 8 hours longer). Changed buses in St Louis and they lost our bags. They arrived a day later. It was quite an adventure with one of the stops in Albuquerque, where we had fantastic steaks for dinner.