The Golden Years

Finger Wagging Time

Eddie sat on the sofa, surfing with the TV remote, his focus wavering between the screen and the California king bed. The guilt returned and he became angry inside. I don't have to feel guilty. I still have a life to live - such as it is. Why is it bugging me?"

"Would you like something to drink?" Riley called from the kitchen.

"Uh- yeah, okay."

She joined him on the sofa, handing him his drink. "If you want news, channel four is local."

He clicked on in time to see the end of a frazzled housewife rescued from a dinner disaster by a food delivery genie. The station logo filled the screen then a sombre looking, professionally groomed man, greeted the home audience, and led with breaking news.

'Good evening. Agents of the FBI, State Police and local police released a joint statement to the press, announcing the arrest of several prominent citizens along with members of a local criminal syndicate.

'The stunning revelation included our very own Mayor Orin Colt, Connor Anthony, owner of the well-known tavern, along with members of the town council, Dwayne Phelps, Harcourt Browne, and Eileen Mason. The syndicate members identities have been kept confidential due to ongoing investigations beyond our own locality.

'The charges mentioned run from profiting from the proceeds of crime, extortion, bribery, falsifying legal documents, and evidence tampering. Chief Wendell DeSuza refused comment, and was led away by Agents of the State Police.'

"That must have been what your husband was documenting." He muted the sound.

"All those people . . . how could they do that?"

"Easier than you think, Riley. A few positions of power can contaminate a lot of people - and sadly, a lot are willing to just go along. Tom wasn't one."

"They did kill him, didn't they?"

He rubbed her arm in a sympathetic gesture. "I don't know, Riley. Maybe that will come out in the investigations, but it won't be soon. 'Beyond our own locality' suggests this was wide spread." He took a sip of his drink. "You know, this might open up the Rancho Mexico business deal again. A good lawyer might get you what you deserved."

She looked at him, mouth open.

"What?"

"Brian was in a lot of those pictures we found. How come he wasn't mentioned?"

"Brian?"

"Brian Helms, Tom's partner."

"Little fish? Or maybe they didn't find him." He stretched and finished his drink. "Where did he live?"

"He had a condo out in Twin Hills. We went there once for a celebration." Her voice trailed off.

"What?"

"That where I remember that woman from." She sagged back on the sofa cushions.

"What woman?"

Riley told him about the celebration at Brian's and all the people in attendance. Gail, and Ashby, another face she couldn't place at first, were there together.

"Gail Amitov. The woman I introduced you to at your show."

"Yes. I'm positive."

Eddie stared at the silent TV screen. A weather announcer was relishing the fact that she was the bearer of bad news. He unmuted the programme.

'. . . moving rapidly up from the south. We can expect several inches of rain over the next twelve to eighteen hours, driven by winds gusting as high as seventy miles per hour. Flood warnings are in effect for the following--'

"That's here she's talking about?"

"Yes. The whole valley really."

"You know," he hesitated, considering the circumstances, then blundered on. "About Gail. There was an old guy, another guest at Palm Sands, that told me she left rather suddenly and that Jim, the owner, was carrying all the bedding out to the dumpster. I don't think that was a policy of the place - trashing all the bedding after a check-out.

"He also told me about another guest who died under mysterious circumstances. A guy named Biggs." He watched for her reaction.

Her forehead wrinkled. "The same Biggs as- that Tom was . . .?"

He nodded. "I think the Palm Sands has a much larger role in all this than anyone knows."

"We should tell those agents."

"W-e-e-l-l, I don't think they would appreciate hearing from an out of country, retired cop, who has already meddled enough."

"But--"

"I'm just saying maybe I do a little poking around before we ring any alarms."

Riley looked into her wine glass and swirled the few remaining drops around. "You mean, we do a little poking around."

The grin split his face and his cheeks reddened, as her words replayed in her head and she saw the glaring double entendre.

"Edward Banks, you are a disgusting old man."

"Oh, now I'm an old man." He was still grinning.

******

The door opened and the man's face took on a scowl. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm pretty sure you've seen the news." Ashby pushed his way into the house.

"Exactly! And I don't need you here to make it worse."

"It can't get any worse, Brian. The whole operation has been blown. It's only a matter of time before we are found."

"They know where I live! Nobody's been around. You being here just makes trouble for me. Why did you come anyway?"

Ashby looked around. "I need a drink."

"I doubt that's the reason," Brian said, with disgust.

"Gail has disappeared without a word. That in itself is a different warning, Brian. She would never just run off like that. Not when I'm holding the key to her finances."

"She was at that Palm Sands." Brian's interest suddenly altered. "That's where Biggs was--"

"I know, I know! And it makes me wonder."

"Wonder what . . . you mean him?"

"Yes. Just who the hell is he, Brian? Everyone seemed to run around doing as they were told by this anonymous - puppeteer. Who is he?"

Without asking, Brian mixed two large drinks. "It can't be him, not Monestario. That little creep that runs the hotel? He's Mister Big, for Christ sake?"

"I don't know, but I'm not discounting it."

"Still, what the hell has that got to do with you coming here?"

"Safety in numbers, Brian. We can back each other up. We can- we can come up with something plausible--"

"Plausible! Bullshit, Gavin. Pure bullshit. We're talking the FBI here, not friggin' Wendell DeSuza - he's already in the dumper anyway."

"There must be something. I've got money. Lots of money I can lay my hands on."

A sudden crack of the thunder startled them, and a gust of wind rattled the shutters of the house.

"Money isn't going to buy your way out of this, Gavin."