The Golden Years

More Players at the Dance

"Mr. Banks." The voice came out of the shadows in the car park, and then two men stepped forward, hands well out to the side. "Officers Price and Garcia, State Police. We'll take charge of those two from here."

"Garcia. You're the one I spoke to."

"Yes. And I believe I told you what the ground rules were."

"I didn't instigate this, they came to me."

And you thought you'd just keep following your nose."

"Well, I couldn't very well just let them go, and the cops here . . . " Eddie shrugged.

"We would have preferred to question them before requiring medical attention."

Eddie indicated an apology and waved a hand toward the two goons. "Have at them boys, they were just going to take me to their leader."

"Which means you weren't going to follow my rules." Garcia said, eyes narrowed.

"I only planned on talking."

"Sure, like these two." Price cuffed them both and stuffed them into an official police SUV. "You too, Mr. Banks."

"Am I under arrest?"

"Let's call it tourist protection. You always take a gun on holidays?" He asked, removing the clip and ejecting the chambered shell."

"Actually I do - did - in the past. Just habit."

"Not a good one. let's go."

"Will I get phone call?"

Garcia said something in Spanish and Price just laughed. "Get in, and enjoy the ride."

******

The State Police office was in an unassuming building on the main street of a town several miles from his Palm Sands hotel room. There were four other men present aside from Price and Garcia. The two thugs were hustled off to a holding cell, the broken nose given cursory attention from the local pharmacist.

Eddie was given a seat beside a cluttered desk, surrounded by the several policemen.

"Edward C. Banks, Retired Sergeant of Homicide. Twenty-five years of service. Widowed with three children--"

"I know who I am, and I'm pretty sure your friends here can read, so let's pass on the formalities and tell me what you have in mind. And I'd like to make a call."

"Mrs. Nursewood is fine." Price sat on the corner of the desk. "We checked."

Eddied gave an appreciative nod. "Thank you. Okay then, now what?"

"A blow-by-blow from the time you arrived at Palm Sands. And no detail is too small, as I'm sure you know."

Forty-five minutes, and copious note-taking later by the men present, Eddie finished his debriefing.

"How did you connect Biggs to anything?"

Eddie told them about the notebook, how he'd found it, and what he did with it, and the theory he came up with.

"Are you saying that notebook is out in the open, in a book basket on the hotel patio!"

"Nobody looked there before." Eddie said.

Two men promptly left the room.

"So you deduced all this from a notebook and some seniors' rumour about Biggs death?"

"It's what a detective does, officer."

"But you aren't--" Price slammed the file he was holding down in disgust.