The Golden Years

Contact

Eddie went over the logic of his concerns until Riley finally had to agree. Without anyone to come and stay with her, she shouldn't stay in the house alone. After a bit of awkward back and forth, he suggested he could stay with her - on the sofa. He would keep his room at the hotel but say he was going touring for a day or two.

"But how long could we keep that up?" She worried.

"I don't know. But as long as those goons are out there . . ." He paused, his mind struggling with another idea.

"What?"

"Maybe we should toss out a red herring."

"I have no idea what you mean."

With a huge sigh and his most sincere cop expression, he told her about the notebook.

"Why didn't you tell me? I could have gone to the police."

"I don't think so. I'm not quite sure the police aren't in some way connected." He related Hiram's story of the night Biggs was killed and how the police cleaned up without a word.

"Then there's nobody we can trust! The whole thing is pointless - I might as well give them what they want."

"No, no, no. That is a sure way to get yourself- listen, as long as they don't have that book, they can't risk anything happening to you - or me - now."

Riley looked distraught. "So what's this red herring business?"

"They don't know what we found at the bank. Maybe even the notebook. I'll let them get a good look at me leaving with the box. Ten to one they'll follow me."

"Yes, but then what?"

"Riley, trust me, okay?"

******

Ashby's ear was glued to his phone as he gathered the latest report.

"Banks left her house carrying the box they brought from the bank. He went straight to his hotel room."

"The woman?"

"She's still in her house."

"One of you watch her, the rest get onto Banks. He must have the contents of that safe deposit box, and is planning on helping her somehow. Get that material, and see Banks retires permanently . . . and Vincent, don't screw up."

The earlier call had left him with an acid stomach and a blinding headache.

******

Eddie, checked his room then carefully took the phone receiver apart, smiling at the tiny bug nestled inside. He removed it, put the phone back together and dialled a number he'd previously looked up.

"La Ciena Police Department."

"I'd like to speak with the Chief of Detectives, please."

The Desk Sergeant responded with a curious sociability, and put him right through to the Chief, surprising Eddie at how easily he was accepted.

"So, you were a big city homicide cop." The voice sounded as if from an older man, when Eddie introduced himself.

"Kept me occupied. Maybe I should have looked into a slot in a place down here, seems pretty laid back and calm."

The Chief barked a laugh. "Don't let those rosy glasses fool you. We get more than our share even if the place is small."

"Which leads me to why I called. I met a woman at an art show here--" the laugh was intimate and gruff. "Nothing like that. But I liked her work and she gave me her card. When I called to tell her I was interested in making a purchase, she told me that she was being watched by some men outside her house. Now I don't know if she reported it, but I thought it sounded suspicious enough to give you a heads-up." He gave him the name and address for Riley.