brand-new white Jeep Grand Cherokee Limited.”
I sat and thought about what he had told me. Joseph Fleet watched and said nothing. He knew I was processing the information. If Ronnie and Sarah Ann had wanted to disappear with the money, what better day to leave than a Friday? The banks were closed for the weekend. By the time Fleet became suspicious, they had a two-day head start.
“If they planned this together—”
“They didn’t,” he cut me off. “I know my girl. Something is wrong and I want you to find her.” His stare was chilling. I didn’t necessarily agree, but I felt compelled to help him.
There was another long silence. All parents think they know their children. The fact is that some parents don’t have a clue. Others know their kids as well as they can, but there are always those dark recesses that parents do not and should not know about. We sat staring in different directions and sipping our beers. I had the feeling this was not going to turn out well.
I didn’t see any reason to stay longer. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll see what I can do.”
I got up and held out my hand. He rose and took it.
“Thanks,” he said. He looked tired and troubled. “If you have any questions or need anything,” he said, “call Roy.”
Fleet reached into his inside coat pocket, took out an envelope and handed it to me.
Inside was a check for $10,000. “Too much,” I said.
“Doesn’t matter. Find her.”
“I may want to talk to you again.”
“Just call Roy. He’ll set it up.”
Roy appeared from nowhere and stood at the door waiting to escort me out. We walked back out to the car and Roy opened the right rear door for me again. In the car, Roy turned around and handed me his card: Roy Husky, Fleet Industries, Special Projects Coordinator. It meant bodyguard, strong arm, and a lot more. There were two handwritten numbers on the back, beeper and cell phone.
“How long have you been working for Fleet?” I asked.
“Long time. Since jail. He took me on when nobody else would. I saw an ad in the paper for a chauffeur. I was supposed to send a resumé. What a joke. I was young and full of the devil and had just got out of prison. So I sent a note saying I didn’t have a resumé, but I could drive like hell. I couldn’t believe it when he called me to come for an interview. He asked me if I had been in jail and I said yes. He asked if I was tough and I said tough enough. He asked if I could take orders and I asked him what the job paid. When he told me, I said I damn sure could take orders. He taught me how to act, how to dress, even how to eat. He made me go to night school and get an associate degree in business. Joseph Fleet changed my life. He’s like the father I never had. I owe him.” Roy’s voice was intense, his eyes piercing. “Don’t let him down.”
He turned back to the windshield and put the car in gear and headed back toward Mountain Center.
I decided I would not want Roy Husky for an enemy. I knew when someone was telling me the truth and his loyalty to Fleet was genuine.
Joseph Fleet was harder to read. He had no reason to lie to me but I felt something was missing and I was sure sooner or later I would have to know what it was.
My mind wandered. I was a long way from Wall Street and there were times I missed the frantic pace of the city. The move from the University of Connecticut campus to Wall Street was a dream come true. I had always been interested in high finance and the way it worked. I graduated magna cum laude and set my sights on the Street. I knew it was a long shot. I made my resumé as provocative as possible, even including the imaginary fortune I made in an advanced finance class when they gave us an imaginary $10,000 to play the market with. According to my interviewers it was the single most impressive thing on my resumé. So much for grades! I received four offers, took the best one, and my career began. I played with my money and everyone else’s. I had considerable funds. During my junior year in college my parents were killed in a commercial airline accident in South America. Dad was on business with IBM and had decided to take Mom along. I was devastated. We were a very close family. I had no siblings. In one tragic moment I became a very rich orphan. Between their personal assets, the IBM insurance, and the airline settlement I was financially set. Seven figures rich. I had total disdain for the money and so I gambled it boldly in the market on things that I thought made sense.
Timing is everything and mine was perfect. I worked long hours and had almost no social life. In truth I was still in mourning and work was my therapy. On the Street, I could do no wrong. I made a name for myself along with a lot of connections. In five years I amassed a fortune for many, including myself, and called it quits. I was burned out, rich, alone and except for Billy, I had no nearby friends. I needed to be around friends and people I knew and so I took Billy and went back to the only place that felt safe and familiar—home. Looking out the Fleet limo window on a beautiful fall day, it seemed like a lifetime ago. Actually it was only ten years.
“You getting out or do I have to throw you out?” Roy asked. He was standing outside the car with my door open. Thank God he was smiling.
“Sorry. Lost in thought.”
Roy got back behind the wheel and the driver’s side window went down.
“I’ll need pictures,” I said. “Lots of them and as soon as possible.”
Roy nodded without question. I think he understood what I was looking for. I sensed a lot of intelligence behind those steel gray eyes.
“I’ll call,” he said.
Billy was still in the office.
“Hey, Chief. Gym time,” I said.
Today was a gym day and I needed to work out and think about the case I had just received and didn’t really want. So what did I expect? I couldn’t be an investigator if I didn’t want to investigate!
Mr. Moto’s Fitness Solutions was an expanding and well-equipped fitness center in the heart of Mountain Center. Every time I went in it seemed Moto had added something new. Billy and I had worked out at least three times a week for years and it showed. I was slightly over six feet one inches tall, one hundred ninety-five pounds and in excellent shape if I do say so myself, except in comparison to Billy, who was a solid rock. I wasn’t sure what Billy weighed because he would never get on any scale. I, on the other hand, was obsessed with weighing every day. Billy found that amusing. In fact, Billy found a lot of things I did amusing. Blood, you are strange, he always said.
“Donnie!” Moto semi-shouted as I walked through the door, always the same greeting. He half-smiled at Billy and nodded and Billy grunted back. They never exchanged pleasantries. Billy and Moto carried on a fake feud that each found amusing and each perpetuated. Occasionally they argued for the sport of it. All the regulars in the gym understood what was going on between them and added fuel to the fake fire whenever possible. Truth be known, they liked each other a lot as evidenced a few years back when Billy came to Moto’s aid on Spring Street. Moto was being hassled by a group of bikers, maybe four or five. Billy happened on the scene and before Moto could protest, Billy had put two of them on the ground. Moto is a black belt and really didn’t need any help. Billy knew this but the scene made him angry. It was definitely motivated by racism and Billy had been there before. He couldn’t help but get involved. Mind your own business, Moto had said. I can
